Worry Wort

People all across the board will tell you to not live in the past. What good can come from it? None I suppose. While I currently enjoy my present (albeit sitting on a broken-down bus), I can't help the thoughts from my past creeping into the forefront of my mind. And they pop-up in the most unusual places and at the least expected times.

I'm not mad that these thoughts occur as it is a testament to how relaxed I am here. And it's a good thing I'm relaxed here because I can calmly attend to these repressed thoughts. As they flood my mind, I can accept them, be at peace with the memories (often painful), and let them go. All the while, forgiving the subjects of such memories.

One such memory occurred a few days ago. My new travel buddy and I were walking around having a pleasant time exploring when something around me must've triggered it. I was dolled-up in a sassy little leopard print dress, my hair blonde and curled at the time. I was with a man I was deeply in love with for reasons I can't begin to explain now. That's for another time.

I like getting dolled-up for me but at that time it was nice to have someone special to get pretty for. I made sure to be pretty for him often. We had been dating for a month and were out on a date. It was the summertime in Michigan and the humidity was strong and made my thighs sweat. Thigh sweat doesn't help an already excited and nervous heart during the early stages of dating; but I remember the heat felt good. I felt good. I felt really good. There was something about this man that floored me. We walked around a bustling town on the outskirts of Detroit and decided to grab a burger and beer at one of the many Hipster joints that now make-up most major cities in America.

I've talked about this man before I can still honestly say I fell in love on the first date. I made a conscious decision and for whatever reason, chose him. At this point, we were divulging in the silly back-and-forth flirtatious, who-will-be-the-one-to-say-it-first phase. It may sound soon to those reading but I thought he was a knight in shining armor and you don't take these fairytales lightly. Note the word: thought.

As we sat, him drinking his craft beer while I drank a cider, he gave me a look. A look that told me he had something serious to say. My first insecure thought was, "oh my god, he doesn't like me anymore." Then he said, "I have something I want to tell you."

He loves me.

"Or rather, to ask you."

Okay... He loves me and he's going to ask what I think about it. Maybe he wants me to meet his mother. Maybe he wants me to meet his children. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh... what could it be. He loves me but he's gonna ask something stupid like, do I love him. Well he oughtta just be a man and say it first.

"What is it?"

"Would you ever jerk me off with your feet?"

Did I run? No. Did I walk? No. I didn't so much as crawl my pathetic ass away from him for asking this. Instead, I sat there in an awe that didn't so much make my heart race from anger but rather stop from sheer confusion.

See, at this point, we hadn't even had sex. This was something I revered in our relationship. We took our time to get to know each other; to share true and meaningful secrets about ourselves. Things we wouldn't normally share with others. Things that meant something. Things that mattered. Things like foot to genital stimulation apparently. Would he try to do it to me in hopes of reciprocation? I wondered. Oh. My. Gawd. I couldn't imagine going to heaven (or hell) for things I've already done, but to go down like this?

I had what I thought to be a caring and giving emotional relationship which I later discovered was manipulation in which I would care for and give to him out of feeling sorry for him. What I was sorry for I never really understood but for whatever reason he was a apparently a victim and I felt really bad for the guy.

Statements like this feet thing were only the beginning which is why I think the thought occurred. I remember the bad stuff towards the demise of our relationship but to recall the little things at the beginning are what hurt the most. To look back and now see the signs that screamed "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM THIS GUY!" make me feel foolish. And what makes me feel foolish more than anything is that I was a lot like the woman I am today.

And that's the difference between living in the past and learning from the past. It wasn't that long ago that I allowed myself to be treated this way. It's scary because I think I'm strong now, I thought I was strong then.

And I was. I eventually left. After series of broken hearts, I pulled myself out of it. I never backed down but at that time I genuinely thought he was as good as it gets. I thought he was one of the greatest men that ever lived and I told him this in not so many words on a regular basis.

Our relationship hasn't taught me so much what NOT to look for in men and vice versa, but rather has scared the shit out of me that I might fall into this trap again.

A friend of mine is falling in love and is dealing with many reservations. She's still believing the lies she's been told about herself and the world which are playing into her current relationship and therefore setting it up for failure before it even begins. I think she may have actually found a decent one yet she compares him to the crap boys of her past. She's afraid. She's afraid of the pain she could potentially feel again. I don't blame her for one second either. Who on earth would ever want to go through it again?

I suppose that's what love is. To love someone, is to give them the chance to break you into a million pieces. To say "I love you" is to say: "You could destroy me. You may break my heart, devour me, and leave my carcass to rot; but I'm going to give it all to you regardless of that possibility. Knowing this could be the result, I'm making the conscious choice to love you and to give you my heart and therefore, give you the chance to hurt me."

I gave a similar spiel to this particular man at the beginning of our relationship and despite everything, I hope to do it again with someone who actually deserves my love. I know I can't live in the past or assume every man out there is like this one but I can take the past and learn from it.

But it doesn't make it any easier.

So I don't dwell on him or the person he was or the relationship we had but I think of the sassy little blonde who had hope and despite all the hurt, gave her heart away. I forgive her or rather in some weird way, giver her the chance to forgive herself.

I've said before, there is a difference between moving on and letting go. I've moved on. I fell in love again, moved to L.A., dealt with another broken heart, then let go of everything I thought I had control over and now sit on a bus in Ireland.

Writing this as it broke down delighted me. How perfect. As I talk about losing control and here I am with no control of the situation, so I sit back and enjoy where I'm at.

I've moved on. I've even let go of the people and the places, but I'm working on letting go of the worry and the fear that bind me because I want to settle into a career that I believe in. I want to nest and build a home from the ground up--wherever that may be. And, since we're being honest, I want to fall in love again.

Nowadays I keep my eyes peeled and ears open to hearing stories of people living out their dreams, taking care of themselves, and finding true love. I'm finding that the best things happen during the worst periods of our lives and when you least expect it. And it happens. Your world will be rocked and shake you out of the not so comfortable zone.

A few days earlier, I tossed 3 dead flowers into the Lough Leane at the Killarney National Park. I was sitting on the jagged ledges only a few feet above the lake. I sat in silence with my friend as another memory came floating to the surface. Same man. Different show. I was always putting on a show for him. Playing the part he insisted I play. The part that "suited me best." This particular time it was for him and his comrades. The more they mocked, the more I smiled--never breaking character.

Anger fluttered for the briefest of moments until sadness intervened. I saw the dead flowers. Anxiety pulled them out of the ground and peace threw them into the water.

I throw away the act of pretending to be something I'm not. For anyone or anything.

But it was more than that. By pretending, by allowing such treatment, I was telling the world that I thought this behavior was okay. That I was okay with being in this situation when I wasn't.

I throw away the lack of self-love and self-respect. And not just with him, but with all men and women who I've allowed to objectify, humiliate, harass, use, and abuse me. This is the toughest because like most things, they start out innocent. You start letting little things go. You let opinions slide. You try to be the bigger person. You just want to get along with people and for them to like you.

Which lead me to the third dead flower: Lies.

You don't need people to like you. Is it grand if they do? Sure. But you are not here to make anyone happy but yourself. Bonus if you can make loved ones happy but their happiness is not your responsibility. My ex had me believe that his happiness and well-being were in my control and vice versa. Good for him, I wanted nothing but to make him happy. Turn the tables and he realized he could control me by manipulating my emotional well-being, to the point that I was convinced I was shit, he was God, and without him I was hopeless.

This is not the girl my parents raised me to be. I'm the type of chick who gets in fights with boys when they put down my friends. The type of chick who some consider to be a "ball-buster." The type of chick who didn't dream of being the First Lady, but of being President. But there I was, lying half-naked, feeding this man-child ice cream in bed (literally spoon-feeding), while he told me all the things I could be better at and ways I could look better too and I believed him. The only answer I can give to why is that manipulation is a great power. We face it all the time in society and are constantly being manipulated by the government, media, and other big businesses.

At any rate, why the hell all of these thoughts I thought I was done thinking have been burning a hole in my brain here in Ireland is beyond me. Perhaps it's because for the first time I'm witnessing what real men are, what they do, and how they do it.
Not that they haven't all been perfect. I've had a few unpleasant run-ins. But overall, I've been treated well.

Or--maybe it has nothing to do with this trip and perhaps it all has to do with the fact that I'm growing and taking time for me. I'm learning how to treat myself which is great but painful when you do look back in the past and see how you treated yourself then.

I'd be lying if I didn't say I wasn't a little mad. I'm extremely angry and hurt the more I think about it. So I'm going to think about it, then let it go.

A few hours after I sent the dead flowers away, I met a kindred woman in her 70s who was living out my fantasy life. She told me that anywhere there is a mountain or trail, her legs were there. She was lovely, strong, and as sassy as sass can be. I wanted to walk through her brain and take in every bit of wisdom. I told her what I was doing here and she nodded her approval. She told me her story and how she got to where she was. She told me she used to worry.

She knew I suffered the same without even asking.

"I'll tell you what to do with your worry. When you find something you feel the need to worry about--go ahead and worry. Spend the entire day worrying. Worry about everything you could ever worry about and tell yourself, today I'm going to worry. And worry like hell. But when the next morning comes, it's over. You can't worry anymore. Set yourself a goal and that's it. You're no longer allowed to worry."

Okay. After 24 days of being surrounded by people non-stop, I was planning a little solo excursion where I would pamper myself with some solitude and privacy. There, I would walk around naked, sleep in late, eat sweet things, think about everything that pains me, and possibly get rip-roaring drunk.

As far as the pain, when my excursion was over and I had written every stupid thought I could think of, I would let it go--leaving the bitter and keeping the sweet. Because it hasn't been all bad.

I learned about so much of myself through this particular relationship. I learned I can in fact be a tremendous girlfriend and lover. In all my heartbreaks with both lovers and friends I can say, I loved and loved hard. Hating is easy. But to love, now that takes strength.

I also realized how beautiful love can be, given it's with the right person.

I feel as if these posts are sounding repetitive but I'm not here to write for anyone else. I'm currently working out my shit and as you can see, it's not easy and for every step you take, you may take a couple backwards along the way. It's also not always pretty or funny... It's actually quite embarrassing to bare everything that's in your heart. Hence, the occasional need to get rip-roaring drunk.

I have a couple more days then this little excursion will be over. I doubt a past memory or worrying thought will never pop-up again, but I can tell myself I worried about that already. Nothing more can come from it.

Now go eat some ice cream.

(Which I've done pretty much every day for the past week because it's nearly impossible to cry when you're spooning a big scoop of salted caramel, peanut butter, Irish Coffee, or chocolate gelato into your mouth. I also don't know why they give you such small spoons. I ignore the fact it's probably so you'll take smaller bites and enjoy the flavor. I can still savor the flavor while challenging myself to see how much ice cream I can appropriately get onto such a tiny spoon that will successfully make it to my mouth. Needless the say I have yet to master the art of eating ice cream s-l-o-w-l-y. But that's for another day and another post.)

Also...

In case you were wondering...


I never did fulfill the request.