My wish for you...

I used to love to write. I used to love to read. Words were my passion. Sometimes life seems to get in the way. You get so caught up with something or someone and forget about you. It doesn't mean that something or that someone isn't worthy or deserving of your time or your attention...you just forget to breathe. You get so wrapped up in expectations and emotions that some other things take a back burner. That said, I'm going through a break-up. And it's a hard one. A very, very hard one. I'm not going to pretend to be this tough-take-no-prisoners-men-suck-love 'em and leave 'em chick. Because I'm not. My friends, The Midnight River Choir wrote, "Fools of love will play the games that love wants to, don't be fooled by pain because I promise love hurts too..." So, Pretty Boy and I broke up (he's still very Pretty, by the way). And it's been rough on me. I don't hate him, I don't wish ill will toward him and I'm not secretly plotting some evil revenge tactic. That's how I know I truly care for him. My wish:

Dear Pretty Boy:

On the eve of our would-be anniversary, I wish you this: That life gives you everything you want, need and desire; that you realize the man I see when I look at you and you do whatever it takes so that the rest of this big wide world can see it too-there is too good a man in there to not be shown to as many people as possible. My wish is that you find a true, kind, loyal love that makes your heart beat fast and drives you to be a better person; that you surround yourself with good, honest, kind, caring people who lift you up and stand behind you. My wish is that you know how much you taught me about life, love and myself; you helped me see the real me and as emotional and difficult as this journey has been...I wouldn't trade a moment. You helped me discover that nice girls can finish first. You inspired me to deepen and grow my relationship with Christ. And most of all, I wish you know always and forever that I choose very selectively who I let in my life and you know more about me than anyone on the face of this planet. You are meant for great things...go out and conquer this world and I PROMISE to do the same.

Silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone. ~G.B. Stern

I like the ellipsis. It's my favorite punctuation mark...

Anyway, I started a new job on Monday. I'm really trying to practice gratitude and graciousness (the difference in those two? no idea). I have been blessed in so many ways. Not to sound cliche and corny but I really do think everything happens for a reason. Or more importantly, the choices we make, good and bad, lead us to the path God has chosen for us. Sometimes it takes a little longer than we thought and sometimes we think we are on the right path because we refuse to surrender long enough to see what is right and what is right in front of us. The job is wonderful so far. I'm now working in Dallas and feel like I finally jumped off the hamster wheel that had become such a huge part of my life. Which is ironic considering how much I hate exercise. One bad thing: I was previously working a job which had me in shorts and t-shirts and tennis shoes most days. Now that I'm in a more professional work environment, I've worn heels three days in row (counting church on Sunday) and seriously? My feet hurt. I'm a flats kinda girl. I love the way heels look...but ouch! I'm guessing it doesn't help that my shoes primarily come from Payless, Target and the likes. Can't you tell I'm practicing gratitude? I've highlighted this entire paragraph about four times because I do not really know the point of these words I've strung together in some sort of semi-sentence-like structure. But maybe I'll save some sweet girl from buying cheap yet cute shoes and living in foot agony for a couple of days.

On to more serious issues. I've been thinking about addiction a lot lately. I'm well-read and "therapized" on the subject but I've been struggling with a deeper understanding. I'm the daughter of a recovering alcoholic, the granddaughter of a recovering alcoholic, the niece of two recovering alcoholics and many other people in my life have struggled with alcoholism or addiction in some way. I think addiction is still such a misunderstood disease. There is such blame and shame and guilt that even when the decision is made to admit to a problem, the repercussions of past behavior make it an even larger mountain to climb. I think everyone, addict or not, should read the Twelve Steps, Traditions and Promises. You can find them here. My father recently celebrated his "birthday" at Alcoholics Anonymous. He is ten years sober and I'm so proud of him. Ten years may not seem like a long time to some, but it's ten very precious years to my family and me. Ten years to finally get to know a man I never really knew. I'm so very grateful (see how I incorporated my gratitude theme?) for the people in my life who have made the choice to better themselves, therefore bettering the lives of all who love them. Addiction is a family disease, it attaches and grabs on and makes everyone sick. But, little by little the wounds heal and you see hope. I'm not a doctor or a therapist. I don't pretend to understand why people do the things they do. Why some people get help and why some people continue to live a self-destructing lifestyle. What I am is someone who has seen what I truly believe to be miracles. Someone who is loyal and tries to love unconditionally. Someone who knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, if I were to find myself struggling with anything, I have a multitude of people to reach out to. And for that? I am truly very grateful, full of gratitude, thankful, obliged...etc.

And so it is...

Things happen. Bad things. Good things. Fair things. Unfair things. For reasons unknown. As a society, we are so arrogant. We go through life with egos and walls and underserved prejudices. I'm just as guilty as the next guy (or girl). I want it to be easy...for things to just come to me. Not material things per se, more like answers. I want to wake up in the morning and not think sometimes. But thank God, thinking is a necessary part of a productive lifestyle. I feel (maybe undeservedly) I have an innate sense of right and wrong, but I've learned, through many painful and humbling experiences that my sense is not necessarily the correct sense.

The most common adjective I've heard to describe myself is either "sweet" or "kind" or "sensitive", or my least favorite: "emotional". Instead of being grateful I'm not known as "the bitch" or "rude" or "mean", I often wish I was described as "sexy" or "beautiful" or even more importantly "weird". I want to be viewed as I view myself (the weird part, not the sexy part). Kenny Rogers said, "Every person is three people: the person you think you are, the person others think you are, and the person you really are. The closer those three people are, the better the person you are." This resonates so deeply with me. A couple of years ago my cousin K, my brother and I flew out to New Orleans to spend the weekend with my cousin E who was attending college nearby. We all had different flight times and K's girlfriend was supposed to pick me up and drive me to DFW airport. However, she overslept and did not make it and I ended up missing my flight and had to fly standby and ended up making it to New Orleans about 5 hours later than intended. While this caused a big fight between K and his girlfriend, I could never be upset with her because she texted K and said, "I bet she's not even as mad as you are. You know how eccentric she is". This was the highest compliment to me.

I've always felt a little different. Like I thought differently, felt differently, cared about different things. Not better, just different. In fact, throughout most of my adolescent and teenage years, these were often feelings of being less than or not good enough. I've just recently learned how to embrace the way I think, the way I feel and the things that matter to me. I never thought anyone would "get" me. I'd just about given up. I'd tried hanging out with different groups of people and dated several different guys; desperately searching for that connection with somebody, anybody. A nonjudgemental and true understanding. When I finally met that person, I honestly didn't think it would be him. He's a pretty boy...in every sense of the phrase, and I mean that in a very loving way. I was instantly attracted to him, gave him my phone number (Because he asked. I don't just randomly give out my phone number) and never heard from him. I chalked it up to a handsome guy flirting with me and went about my life. Again, I let my prejudices and judgements take over and thought, I'm sure he's just like all good-looking guys. Fast forward three years later: I'm writing my very first blog post while pretty boy is softly snoring next to me. The only reason I am even writing is because he put his laptop in my lap and basically said, "I have faith in you, please write something", and promptly fell asleep. The story of what happened between the night I met pretty boy and tonight is for another day. But, I'm glad I didn't give up. I'm glad I let down walls and I'm glad I found someone who inspires me, who has faith in me and who I know will never give up on me...someone who finally "gets" me.