Sunday, October 16, 2016


I have a talent.

That talent is the reason I pushed myself to create a blog in the first place (sure, a blog I don't think I'll promote to my near and dear ones, but that I won't fuss about if they happen upon it somehow).

I'm very good at building walls. So much so, that people who learn more about me often seem genuinely surprised by their discoveries. Some people even seem to doubt my authenticity when they make new discoveries about my past/present self. I consider myself to be an honest person (but maybe I shouldn't?) who will tell people the truth if they ask for it. But most people don't ask. So, most of the time, I don't tell people things.

And "if it's not broken, don't fix it."

So people almost never ask.

But broken doesn't always look like broken.

I should clarify that I don't mean this as a cry for help, although I realize that it absolutely sounds like one. All facts considered, I'm fine. Things aren't as easy; things aren't as nice; I'm not as nice, lately, but I'm fine. I'm here. I show up to classes and I show up to shifts and I show up to rehearsals and I do what I'm supposed to. I'm so grateful for the human beings who, whether they know the impact of it or not, continue to treat me like a human being that they enjoy being around. It seriously might be the one thing keeping my head above water.

I don't enjoy showing my uglier emotions. I seriously enjoy making other people happy; seeing people feel uncomfortable because of what I feel bothers me. A lot. I've never really been the weep in the lobby/hallway/corner of the classroom and hope I get noticed kind of gal. I get incredibly frustrated with myself when I do break down in public.

Perhaps (I'm no doctor, I don't know anything for sure) I've been placed in too many emotionally awkward situations as the comforter who wasn't wanted, or the person who didn't have the words to comfort the crying person, or the person being essentially "milked" for all the worry and attention I could give. Because that's what some people need (or think they need); attention. If someone is there worrying for them, they feel better, and the longer they can keep them there trying, the better.

That sounds cynical and harsh, but I've been the worrier in that situation more times than I can/care to count. I know a lot of people who, at one time or another, have been that kind of an emotionally needy person. Ironically, many of those needy people are not particularly in tune with the emotions of others. And so, much of my friendship/relationship experience has been "give love, maybe get a compliment." And while compliments are nice, they don't heal real pain (again, I'm not a doctor - I should say that at least for me, compliments do not have healing powers). "You're so sweet" only goes so far.

{You should know that this is hard for me. I do not like being a whiner, and that feels like exactly what I'm doing. I don't explain myself in depth much, so when I do, a lot of negative emotion pours out. It's a scary valve to open, but I need to do it once in awhile. Again, this is why I'm not advertising this blog to my family/friends. I do not wish to impose my uglier emotions on anybody. I'm just putting it out there in the universe to be rid of some of it, and to be able to reflect on it with better clarity.}

My husband is not one of those emotionally needy/draining types. Sometimes, with my social anxiety, my evolving philosophies on life/love, and my unfortunate insecurities, I feel drained having a constant companion because it gives me so much ammo for worry and overthinking. And with my emotions so heavily involved in all that (he's pretty great, I couldn't not love him if I tried), loving a spouse is a messy thing for me sometimes. Our love is not perfect. But it is understanding, and warm, and kind, and fun, and inspiring, and empowering, and enlightening. And, though distance doesn't change that love, it taints it while the distance exists. 

Every day, every hour, every minute/second/millisecond, it's a little harder to breathe than it was before. It's a little harder to smile than it was before. I'm a little more lonely, I'm a little more sad, I'm a little less strong, I'm a little less in control. I'm a functioning human being, and I'm still me, for all intents and purposes. But missing him is not a small matter. I feel as though a lens was taken off of my eyes. Everything looks darker and less rosy (and I didn't even realize how rosy things were, by comparison, until it wasn't what I saw everyday). He honestly and truly, with his pure and loving heart, his ready laugh and his understanding soul, makes every day that he's in my life better and brighter. It's awful to have less of him in my life.

He and I did make this choice, because we wanted to be able to succeed simultaneously. We are both perhaps too "sweet" to tell the other person to put their goals and dreams on hold. We are working toward similar goals, and we understand one another (not always perfectly, but as best we can). If nothing else - if, for some reason, one of us gets too overwhelmed, calls it quits and cannot continue with the situation - we have learned what it is to miss the other person terribly. We have both learned so much more about the good we bring into each other's lives, and for that aspect of it, I am so grateful.

Something has just occurred to me (that negativity valve, man! Releasing it sucks, but it makes room for other stuff).
The question "how's your husband/hubby doing?" has been asked of me with greater frequency, lately. Maybe I just notice this question more than when people ask about me. I'm not completely honest when I answer about myself. I'm more honest when I answer about Josh. I'm not "throwing him under a bus" by any means when people ask me, I just answer that he's alright but that grad school is difficult and he struggles sometimes. That's more honest, or it's at least more information than I generally give about my own condition. I want people to worry about him, because I want him to know he's being thought of and worried about.
But are people in tune to that? Maybe I should give some of my friends/family members more credit than I've realized. Do people know I'll answer about him but that I'll leave truths out about myself? Usually when I mention that Josh struggles sometimes, people respond with "He misses you." Maybe people are just finding the only way that I let them in to tell me that they are concerned for both of us, and they know the situation must be hard. Hmm.

Must be better about being honest. Mustn't worry so much.

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Responsibility, what's that?

Feeling a whole lot of feelings, lately.

I can't even listen to more than one sad song in a row without getting into a slump for a significant part of my day. I have something of an empathetic personality, and I feel sadness easily if that is the emotion being presented to me. Or if I'm bored, sadness is usually what decides to kick in these days. I'm a little more prone to negativity and sadness without my best pal around.

It's amazing what a trick it is to get by without someone whose presence you've grown so accustomed to. I've been doing a very sloppy job, lately. It's a little ironic. I'm here and living separately from my spouse/best friend for school, but because I miss him so much I'm having a very hard time with school.

I've turned assignments in on time and I've generally been getting by, but barely. And I'm struggling with that fact. I'm typically a little more of a go-getter and a doer when it comes to schoolwork. I think it's important, especially as a theatre student. It's like those memes you see about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley hating their homework when their homework was MAGIC. When the bulk of my homework is for a major which could be definitively described as "magic", it feels ridiculous to slide by, only doing the bare minimum.
And frankly (pardon my French, I know the swears bother some of my near and dear ones), if I'm going to spend time in my life to get a degree in Musical Theatre, you bet your ass I'm going to do my damnedest to do it as well as I can. This is a degree that is not particularly well-respected by most of society. I'm going to get the most goodness and awesomeness out of it that I can, because I believe in it.
But, as I said before (and to contradict everything that I just barely said), I'm struggling with motivation, lately.

Image result for harry and ron hate homework

Are there tricks for that? The sadness also brings me tiredness, which kills motivation even further... But honestly, (it might get really real for a second here) I wonder if I really want to be rid of the sadness. The sadness means that I'm not cold, heartless, or emotionless. The sadness means that my husband and I miss each other and still help one another to be happy when we're around each other a lot. The sadness makes me appreciate what I do have that is good. Sadness matters. But I really really really don't like it right now. It's just hanging around a little too much. My entire outlook has changed "colors."

Image result for sadness

I honestly just wish I were Wonder-Woman, but I'm not (as my recent minor toe injury tried to remind me). I wish I could be as motivated as I hoped I would be when these crazy plans were made, but I just feel stuck. I wish a lot of things.

"If at first you don't succeed, try... try again." - The Rescuers
Image result for the rescuers

New Radicals - You Get What You Give (Original)


Tuesday, September 6, 2016

That's enough, please.

School struggles + minor foot injury + struggling to get enough hours at work to get by + struggling to get enough hours of sleep to get by + missing my favorite human so SO much = a cranky, emotional me.

Forgive me if I'm a little less pleasant today than I generally try to be. I have been receiving a couple of subtle reminders a week lately that what I'm striving to do is "just crazy" and "selfish". I gather that in some eyes, the choice my husband and I made looks like utter selfishness/career-first-spouse-later thinking. I assure you all, the decision was actually made from a place of love and support of one another.

He and I unfortunately do not have perfectly aligned schedules in education. He did not want to pull me away from a program I was thriving in, nor did I want to keep him away from truly progressing with his goals/dreams. While others "love their spouse too much to be separated from them," I love my spouse too much to hold him back from accomplishing great things, and he feels the same way.

We all love differently, and all love is important. Granted, living apart is kind of miserable (and I only say "kind of" because I know others have it so much worse; we do at least get to see each other in person now and again).

This decision is still something I struggle with every day, and I guess I'm just trying to say... Judgement from others doesn't make it any easier. I realize it's not anyone else's job to make my life any easier than I choose to make it myself, but some consideration is always nice. I don't think these judgements are being spoken with malicious intent, but it does still hurt to be judged even by someone with the best of intentions. And I kind of feel like (sorry to pity-party) I'm already hurting enough without anyone needing to add anything to it at all.

Que "Everybody Hurts..."

Sunday, August 28, 2016

"Then there are friends who sail together..."

"There are those who pass like ships in the night, who meet for a moment, then sail out of sight with never a backward glance of regret; folks we know briefly then quickly forget. Then there are friends who sail together, through quiet waters and stormy weather, helping each other through joy and through strife. And they are the kind who give meaning to life."

I wish I knew who said it first. It's been running through my mind almost constantly for the past week. I'm so grateful for the week I've had, I don't know how to express it in my own words. I'm just so so so grateful for friends who show love.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

I'll be wearing red

There is so much that I want to say, and yet so few words come to mind.

Two years ago (from yesterday), a precious little was born. Due to many health complications, he had to be delivered at 29 weeks (with all the health problems that he had, this was the only possible way to save his life). After a week of fighting through it as best he could, the sweet little passed away. This little was my nephew, who I only got to meet once.

Although it was a heartbreaking day, I hope I never lose my memories of the morning I met him. As my wonderful, courageous, and tender-hearted eldest sister held her precious child, I reached my hand out to hold his, knowing that it would likely be the only time I could ever embrace him in any way. I didn't ask to hold him. He was so small and fragile, and moving him could cause him stress and further problems, and I also didn't want to take away any of the time that my sister had to hold her beautiful baby.
The second my thumb touched the palm of his hand, his tiny fingers curled around it in a faint but firm grip. I say "faint but firm" because he didn't have much strength at all, but his little hand seemed to be latched as tightly as was possible around my thumb. I don't think I will ever be able to perfectly describe the emotion of that moment. All I know to say is that it was overpowering, beautiful, and sad.

It may be difficult to understand for some, but I miss him. I get to hear my other nieces and nephews laugh and cry, I get to read them stories and sing songs with them, and I get to know who they are. All I know about sweet little Gideon is that he fought his many trials so hard, he seemed to love and find comfort in music, he was and is dearly loved... and that I got to hold his hand one magical time.

A family that might not realize my love for them recently and unexpectedly lost a little, as well. I only met him a few times, but I know that he was a sweet little boy who also was and is dearly loved by his family. And I know that his favorite color was red, and that I plan to wear red on Friday in order to honor him in some way.

I feel as though I have been watching the world through grey-tinted glasses, as of late. This time of year will always mean a bit of sadness and heartache for my family (and theirs). I have, unfortunately, been a less than bright force in the world around me for a while. I ought to be cherishing the precious moments, and making brighter the world around me (and seeking to improve the lives of those around me). Whether a lifetime lasts only the span of a week, or four years, or twenty-eight years, or a hundred years... What seems to matter most is the way in which we show love and are loved in return.

Gideon's willingness to hold on seemed to be the gift he had the power to give to his family. My sister, her husband and her other children were devastated by the loss of his precious life, but they were so grateful that they had time with him at all.
The immediate grip of his tiny little fingers around my thumb felt like his gift for me; it felt as though he knew I wanted to hug him tightly and he did what he could with the strength he had to "hug" me, as it were. His sweet little spirit touched so many hearts in the short time we were blessed by his presence.

As I drove toward home on the day I met Gideon (which was, as it happened, also the day he passed away), the song "He Lives in You" from The Lion King Broadway cast recording began to play. So many of those words resonated with me as I drove, and cried, and listened to the words:
"have faith..."
"he lives in you, he lives in me..."
"he watches over everything we see..."

I want to believe that these precious little ones are guardian angels, who are now watching over their loved ones. They are still in everything we see, because they have blessed us with their light.

I wish comfort and love to anyone who has suffered/is suffering a loss. I wish to be a person who brings some comfort and/or joy into the lives of others. And of course, I wish we didn't have to say goodbye. Life is precious, and fleeting, and we may never understand it.
And I wish I was a person who knew how to love more unabashedly and bravely. As it is, I simply try to make people happy, but sometimes I don't succeed.
Again, this family might not realize that I love them dearly and am grateful for their part in my life. But I hope they know that they are loved, and I hope that they are able to be comforted during this heartbreaking time.

I'll be wearing red on Friday.