On my last trip to my parents house, I brought back my boxes of high school memorabilla. Since Emily died, I've lost alot of interest in collecting things. But I am still a pack rat when it comes to sentimental things. Cards, letters, notes, photos- I save all of it. Even movie ticket stubs. It's a sickness, I know. But I'm getting better. At least now it's organized.
Which is what I spent my morning doing. Organizing and going through 4 years worth of cards, letters, and little trinkets from what seems like a lifetime ago. And yes, I did manage to condense the box just a bit. I read cards from friends that I've long since lost touch with. Graduation cards from people that have since died, making those written words all the more precious. I love the internet- but I think it has robbed society of written letters. Instead of writing cards, people send a text or e-mail. And even though you can save those on a drive somewhere... it's simply not the same as holding a piece of paper that was once held by someone you loved. My Aunt Pat has been doing alot of research into our family's history, and found a love note written by a great grandfather. The poem talks about how his love will endure, even when the letter has faded with age. It's timeless, in a way the internet will never be.
But back to my meandering. I came across notes from my teachers, and as I read their words it's hard to believe I was ever that girl they wrote about. I read some of my essays about my hopes, dreams, and fears for the future and realize that in some ways that 16 year old hasn't changed all that much. I find at 30 I still have some of those same fears. I saw glimpses in my writings of the pains that I was trying so hard to hide. I wonder if dealing with them then would have saved me quite a bit of therapy.
I found an e-mail from my friend Maria that caught me unexpectedly. It was sent shortly after she came to stay with me and Emily after September 11th. She wrote at the bottom that if she and her (then) husband were ever lucky enough to have a daughter, she hoped she would be like me. I sobbed then- the ugly kind of cry that leaves your eyes red and puffy and your head feeling like it's stuffed with cotton. 2001 seems like such a long time ago. Who knew that only ten years later she'd be gone. I'm realizing more and more that aside from family, there aren't many people left in my life who've known me since I was a teenager. Maria met me when I was an obnoxious 15 year old. And despite the terrible teens, she ended up being one of the dearest people in my life. I wish she was here to help me navigate adulthood in the way only a friend can.
I don't keep in touch with my high school friends. I read the letters, notes, and cards- all full of declarations that we'd be "BFF's" for ever. I was tickled to be reminded of nicknames my friends had for me. Did you know I used to be called "Muppet?" I'd forgotten all about it, but those cards brought me right back to it. At the time, it was unfathomable that we wouldn't be a part of each other's lives. In some ways, I regret that I didn't try to stay in touch more. I believe people come into your life for a season, and don't always stay. Even though I think the internet has taken away some things in life- I will say that I am thankful for Facebook. Even though it's not the close relationship sworn in those letters- it is nice to keep up with some of my friend's lives.
It makes me even more thankful for the friendships I have now.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Are you there World? It's me...
If my blog was a book- it would certainly be covered in a layer of dust. Anyone still with me, or have you all given up? Let me remove the dust and uncover the keyboard....
I've actually written a couple of posts sporadically in the last year and a half, but I didn't want to hit publish. At the time, there was so much going on I didn't feel right posting my "dirty laundry". Now reading back on the few drafts that I saved... it's really not all that bad. Perspective, eh? I thought about using bits and pieces of various posts and starting over- but one of the things I like about journaling is that it's a journey. And re-reading some of those thoughts I'd written gives me a glimpse into the person I was, and the changes I've gone through since then. So I'll leave those posts as they are. I might re-post a few here and there, we'll see.
So what have I been doing for the last year and a half? For starters- I've moved into a place of my own. I will leave it at that for now. If I re-post some of the drafts I've written, they go into more detail. But that is for another time. I survived another year of Emily's birthday, Christmas, the anniversary of Emily's death (I still hate phrasing it like that, but there really isn't anything better to call it), and another birthday. It still sucks eggs. I also turned 30 this year. That kind of sucks eggs too. But then again, my sister will never get to complain about turning 30, so that kind of makes me feel like a jerk for whining. Actually, it wasn't really turning 30 that bothered me. It was turning 30 without Emily that was getting to me. I couldn't help but imagine all of the awful things she would have been doing to mark the milestone. So because I was feeling blue- I got a motorcycle. Talk about a midlife crisis.
That's just the outside surface of what's been going on. Inside? I'm still a bit of a mess- but then again, aren't we all in some way? I was still talking to a therapist up until about 6 months ago. I miss talking to her- alot. But I realized that she'd given me all of the tools and skills she could to help me function. It got to a point where I just didn't have anything else to say that I hadn't already said. And since her counseling and advice for my problems never changed, I figured I'd be better off saving my monthly co-pay and try doing what she said. Turns out she was right on just about everything. I guess that's why she has all of those letters after her title.
Now it's just a matter of listening to her and going through each day. I learned alot about myself talking to her. And realized that I was messed up long before Emily died- her death just brought it all to a breaking point. So while I can't say that I am "cured"- I'm functional. And I can get through the days without longing to curl up under the covers and let the world go by without me.
So here I am. Still wandering through trying to define how high is up- but at least feeling like I'm going forward and not falling back down.
If you're still out there- thanks for listening.
I've actually written a couple of posts sporadically in the last year and a half, but I didn't want to hit publish. At the time, there was so much going on I didn't feel right posting my "dirty laundry". Now reading back on the few drafts that I saved... it's really not all that bad. Perspective, eh? I thought about using bits and pieces of various posts and starting over- but one of the things I like about journaling is that it's a journey. And re-reading some of those thoughts I'd written gives me a glimpse into the person I was, and the changes I've gone through since then. So I'll leave those posts as they are. I might re-post a few here and there, we'll see.
So what have I been doing for the last year and a half? For starters- I've moved into a place of my own. I will leave it at that for now. If I re-post some of the drafts I've written, they go into more detail. But that is for another time. I survived another year of Emily's birthday, Christmas, the anniversary of Emily's death (I still hate phrasing it like that, but there really isn't anything better to call it), and another birthday. It still sucks eggs. I also turned 30 this year. That kind of sucks eggs too. But then again, my sister will never get to complain about turning 30, so that kind of makes me feel like a jerk for whining. Actually, it wasn't really turning 30 that bothered me. It was turning 30 without Emily that was getting to me. I couldn't help but imagine all of the awful things she would have been doing to mark the milestone. So because I was feeling blue- I got a motorcycle. Talk about a midlife crisis.
That's just the outside surface of what's been going on. Inside? I'm still a bit of a mess- but then again, aren't we all in some way? I was still talking to a therapist up until about 6 months ago. I miss talking to her- alot. But I realized that she'd given me all of the tools and skills she could to help me function. It got to a point where I just didn't have anything else to say that I hadn't already said. And since her counseling and advice for my problems never changed, I figured I'd be better off saving my monthly co-pay and try doing what she said. Turns out she was right on just about everything. I guess that's why she has all of those letters after her title.
Now it's just a matter of listening to her and going through each day. I learned alot about myself talking to her. And realized that I was messed up long before Emily died- her death just brought it all to a breaking point. So while I can't say that I am "cured"- I'm functional. And I can get through the days without longing to curl up under the covers and let the world go by without me.
So here I am. Still wandering through trying to define how high is up- but at least feeling like I'm going forward and not falling back down.
If you're still out there- thanks for listening.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Worth more than silence
Usually my disappearance from my blog is the result of not having anything to say. Lately it’s been the opposite- I have too much to say, but I am not sure how to say it. One of the down sides of a blog is you aren’t always able to write freely. It’s one thing to write about yourself, but when it involves a sensitive situation with another person… the lines between public and private become blurred. Metaphorically, I don’t want to “air my dirty laundry”, so to speak, but yet my “dirty laundry” is stinking up my whole outlook these days.
Confused? Just wait. It doesn’t get much better.
For starters- I’ve moved out. Into my first big-girl-on-my-own space of my own. Which is exciting, and long overdue. I just wish that it had been under better circumstances. While I am LOVING my own space, and the freedoms that come with not having to answer to anyone else, my heart hurts because it has come at a high price. I’ve lost a relationship with someone that at one time meant more to me than just about anyone in the world. And I don’t know how to fix it. I feel the same sense of loss as I do with Emily. Only in some aspects it’s harder- especially knowing that this person is still very much alive and still very close by. But while the physical distance is short- the emotional distance might as well be to the moon. I’ve never dealt well with having someone this angry with me. At least, not so angry for this long. And with the unresolved guilt I still feel over my up-and-down relationship with Emily, I’m even more sensitive to leaving things unresolved. Life is too short, and you don’t always get a chance to make it right.
But how do you make someone forgive you- when they are just as much at fault? There were certainly things I could have done better- and given the chance to handle things differently, I probably would. But you can’t change the past. But while I am willing to admit to my mistakes and my failings, I won’t take the whole blame. It’s not a matter of being “right”. I don’t care about right or wrong. It’s a matter of thinking enough of myself, and having enough self worth to know that while it’s true that sometimes it’s easier to obtain “peace at any price”- sometimes the price is just too high.
By now, the old me would have apologized for everything, and would be begging for forgiveness- regardless of fault. And believe me; the thought has crossed my mind. Peace at any price again. But the new me? The new me has realized that she is not a doormat. The new me has realized that she is worth friendship, that she is worth being heard, and she is worth being loved for herself- not for what she does. Maybe the fact that the relationship crumbled over what now seems so insignificant is a sign that it wasn’t built on equal footing in the first place. And that is a hard truth to swallow.
What I want the most is simply to talk. Even if things can’t be repaired- I wish at least for the chance to try. Or I would be thankful for even a simple acknowledgement. Just to know where I stand. I hate confrontation more than anyone, and avoid it all costs- usually by hiding behind words. There’s a safety at least in written words. You can hit send and the ramifications are easier to deal with from behind a screen, rather than face to face. But it’s still better than silence. One of the cruelest ways to punish someone is by silence- you can’t reason with it. But yet it sends a message loud and clear- when you reach out to try and you’re met with nothing… that pretty much speaks volumes of what the other person thinks of you.
My worst fear is being unloved. And it’s happened- or at least that’s what it feels like. But you know what- it’s not the devastating end of the world I imagined it to be. Because I have realized this one simple truth:
I’m worth more than silence.
Confused? Just wait. It doesn’t get much better.
For starters- I’ve moved out. Into my first big-girl-on-my-own space of my own. Which is exciting, and long overdue. I just wish that it had been under better circumstances. While I am LOVING my own space, and the freedoms that come with not having to answer to anyone else, my heart hurts because it has come at a high price. I’ve lost a relationship with someone that at one time meant more to me than just about anyone in the world. And I don’t know how to fix it. I feel the same sense of loss as I do with Emily. Only in some aspects it’s harder- especially knowing that this person is still very much alive and still very close by. But while the physical distance is short- the emotional distance might as well be to the moon. I’ve never dealt well with having someone this angry with me. At least, not so angry for this long. And with the unresolved guilt I still feel over my up-and-down relationship with Emily, I’m even more sensitive to leaving things unresolved. Life is too short, and you don’t always get a chance to make it right.
But how do you make someone forgive you- when they are just as much at fault? There were certainly things I could have done better- and given the chance to handle things differently, I probably would. But you can’t change the past. But while I am willing to admit to my mistakes and my failings, I won’t take the whole blame. It’s not a matter of being “right”. I don’t care about right or wrong. It’s a matter of thinking enough of myself, and having enough self worth to know that while it’s true that sometimes it’s easier to obtain “peace at any price”- sometimes the price is just too high.
By now, the old me would have apologized for everything, and would be begging for forgiveness- regardless of fault. And believe me; the thought has crossed my mind. Peace at any price again. But the new me? The new me has realized that she is not a doormat. The new me has realized that she is worth friendship, that she is worth being heard, and she is worth being loved for herself- not for what she does. Maybe the fact that the relationship crumbled over what now seems so insignificant is a sign that it wasn’t built on equal footing in the first place. And that is a hard truth to swallow.
What I want the most is simply to talk. Even if things can’t be repaired- I wish at least for the chance to try. Or I would be thankful for even a simple acknowledgement. Just to know where I stand. I hate confrontation more than anyone, and avoid it all costs- usually by hiding behind words. There’s a safety at least in written words. You can hit send and the ramifications are easier to deal with from behind a screen, rather than face to face. But it’s still better than silence. One of the cruelest ways to punish someone is by silence- you can’t reason with it. But yet it sends a message loud and clear- when you reach out to try and you’re met with nothing… that pretty much speaks volumes of what the other person thinks of you.
My worst fear is being unloved. And it’s happened- or at least that’s what it feels like. But you know what- it’s not the devastating end of the world I imagined it to be. Because I have realized this one simple truth:
I’m worth more than silence.
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