Remembering What I Deserve

It shouldn't be hard to never accept less than you deserve. But we do...or I do at least from time to time. I want so much for the right thing to work out and the right people to work out that I try and force things in my life. I'm not good at accepting no for an answer. I'm not good at realizing that many times no answer is a no in itself. I try and turn conversations into yes's. I try and warp reality in my mind so that it pleases the vision I have for myself. And I end up acting in ways I'm not proud of and allowing people to treat me in ways I don't deserve. Because I twist it into something that's okay with me when the reality of the situation is that I'm not okay with it. In this way I feel like I have control in instances I'm actually spiraling out of control.

But when I step back and look objectively, or when I tell my story to someone else, I hear the advice I would give a friend in my situation...such as, "He stopped pursuing you because he had you, you allowed yourself to not need pursuing." or "You need to get out. You've been open about how you feel, and he's told you he doesn't reciprocate in that way, so there's nothing left for you there. It's a toxic relationship." And listening to me giving myself that advice now, I realize I am right...and my friends have been right all along.

I realize that I've stuck around too long with someone who simply does not care for me. Someone who will take what he can get but doesn't want to be there for me at the end of the day. Someone who will call me when he's drunk then keep it casual when he's sober. Someone who is crazy about his ex-girlfriend still all the while that I am crazy about him.

And I am choosing the out. It stinks. It's not what I want, and it's not what I had planned. I feel chemistry, and I really like the guy. He's incredible and really deserves the best. But he's not the guy for me because the right one wouldn't make me feel this way, really. The right one would prioritize me and be interested in my life as much as I am interested in his. He would flatter me and spoil me and be proud of who I am.

So I take comfort in that although I have not found "the one" yet, I am learning the kinds of people that are not "the one." I am learning the kinds of relationships that will end in hurt versus those that have potential. I am still not actively searching but I know that everything happens for a reason and that if it's not working out, it's because it's not supposed to work out, and I need to come to terms with that.

It's easier said than done...but I am striving toward it. I love my life, and I have the best of friends and have made some of the most incredible memories this summer, just being with new people and in new places.

Setting the Record Straight

I just need to get something off my chest that has been bothering me in my newly single state.

I feel as though a general assumption is that the person who calls for the break-up is automatically okay. Obviously, I am talking about myself, and I was the one who wanted to break up with my ex. The misconception, however, is that the heartbreak is only one-sided...on his side.

If you know me at all, you know that I am loyal in my relationships. I value my friends and the people I invest my time and emotions with are the most important people in my life. My ex, who I dated for over a year and a half, was THE most important person in my life for that length of time plus over a year prior, during which time we were close friends.

Perhaps if a break-up is warranted by something such as cheating or violent behavior, feelings can simply be cut off due to the horrible hurt and realization that one deserves better. But my break-up was not warranted by those reasons. For me, quite simply, I didn't know that my future included the person I was with. I didn't dislike my ex. I didn't wish bad things upon him. I didn't want to be alone at night, and I didn't want to lose his friendship.

What I did want was freedom. I wanted time to explore myself and see who I became. I wanted to go places and meet people and do things that simply did not interest my ex. I wanted to be with someone who completed me in every way, and I had come to realize that that person simply was not him.

I've heard before that in relationships, you are always falling into love or out of love. You are either constantly finding things about your significant other that make you happy or you are losing sight of why you are together in the first place...I had been falling out of love for a long time.

I couldn't prolong the inevitable, and I couldn't lead my partner to believe I was on the same page as him any longer. After what seemed like years of thought and debate, I concluded that I needed to be single. I needed to not make decisions as part of a package I was not committed to. I ended the relationship.

But was it easy? Did my heart remain whole? Absolutely not. My heart shattered into a million fragments. It splintered and contorted and fell apart at the seams because the person I loved and had wanted to be with forever was not the person meant for me. And it is hard. It is certainly hard on his end, and he has the hardship of not having a choice in the decision...but it is far from easy on me.

He was my best friend. For over two and a half years, I shared everything about myself with him. My best moments were shared with him, and he held me up in my lowest points. We learned about each other, about loving, and about how to be the kind of boyfriend and girlfriend a boyfriend or girlfriend would need us to be. I like to think that we are both better off for the people we are lead to in the future. I like to think we were a stepping stone for each other into future loves which will make the love and happiness and then hurt of our relationship seem worth it and part of a larger, more complex plan than we can envision for ourselves.

For him, he found someone. Approximately a month after the relationship ended, he met and began to date someone else. It bothered me. I questioned over and over why I was so bothered when I did not regret my decision and also would not have wanted to try again, even given the opportunity. I didn't harbor bad feelings toward the girl or wish ill upon their relationship. But I wondered why it still mattered so much that he was with her.

After lots of internal examination, I came to the conclusion that the hurt is rooted in my desire. I desired a life partner. I desired someone to hold my hand and put his arm around me and tell me I was the most beautiful thing he'd laid eyes on. He did those things for me...but he was not the person I wanted. For her, he could be. I struggle because I see a person I loved and desired to be what he simply was not with someone who could be everything he's looking for. They both have a shot at something I fought for for a year and a half and never won. I didn't want my relationship to fail. I didn't want to be the one to say that it wasn't working. But it wasn't working, and it did fail.

It hurts. It was my decision, and it hurts. I didn't choose it because it was easy. I chose it knowing that it may be one of the hardest things I will have to choose in life, and I chose it anyway on the gamble that I can be happier in another situation down the road. I have the capacity to love and give to someone so fully, I just need the right person.

And I have faith that will happen. I am disheartened but I am not over. I am not giving up, and I am optimistic about the future. Already, I am spending time with people I never had the time for when my life revolved around my boyfriend. I am meeting new people and experiencing new things and going new places, and I thrive in those environments. But I hate when other make light of how I feel because it was my choice.

I just need to set the record straight that my choice does not mean I am hurt-free yet hurting does not mean I have regrets. Am I happy with my decision? Yes. Am I ready to try again with someone new? Yes. Am I hurting still? Yes. But I believe in a big God who holds my hand when times are rough and surrounds me with His love and tells me I am the most beautiful thing he has ever seen because I am made in His image. And I know that one day, He will give me to someone deserving of my heart...until then, I am happily His.

Memories.

I just decided to revive my blog & found this post that I never completed from several years ago & have decided to post it to preserve the memories. Put yourself in my shoes. This memory is dear to my heart...    


     Last night, in a bout of desperation, I convinced my mother to see a 10:40PM showing of Eat Pray Love. She was at a dinner date with a friend at the time, and her date ended up joining us for the movie. Turns out, this friend was actually one of my dad closest friends from work at Bellsouth. Before she left us at 1:10AM this morning, she unloaded several boxes of miscellaneous things that had been packed at my dad's office when he passed.
     Arriving home last night (well, this morning...), I was naturally curious to see what the two heavy boxes held. Without further ado, I proceeded to open both boxes and assemble the items contained in them on our living room coffee table. Memories were unleashed as I fought back tears, seeing the simple items that he had treasured enough to make room for in his cubicle. At the top of the stack were framed pictures of my brother and I, as well as shots of the four of us - Mom, Daddy, Patch, and me. There were high school pictures of Kristy and Teri and photographs of his grandkids - Lyndsie, Koby, and Kristopher. There was a small album of pictures I'd never seen before - me with Santa Claus, rolling a snowman, in the mountains with Daddy. Continuing, I pulled out awards he'd been given by the company along with innumerable letters and cards from friends who clearly had admired the man he was. There were several pocketknives of various sizes as well as a few larger knives (scary man! lol). He had coffee mugs, an array of dental hygiene products - four containers of dental floss, three toothbrushes, and a tube of toothpaste - as well as several carvings and paperweights and even gifts that Patrick and I had given him for past birthdays and Father's Days. 
     Most dear for me among his collection, however, was his plane memorabilia. My dad was a sergeant in the U.S. Air Force and fought in Vietnam. I remember going to air shows across the state from a young age. I can remember standing with Daddy on the base as he told me about the different planes and showed me the kinds that he had flown in. I was introduced to pilots and had every kind of autographed picture stuffed into my hands by men who had been friends of my dad. I sat on the wings on fighter jets for a picture and reached in my pink knapsack for my Mickey Mouse camera to take pictures of the fighter pilots performing an air show. Daddy taught me about the plane and let me ride piggy-back when I got tired of walking around all day. But he never lost interest; he was always fascinated. Among his most prized possessions at his office were his plane models, calendars, and huge framed photographs.
     Looking through everything that has been lost to us for ten years brought back so many memories. It was reassuring to read notes from his fri

Lost Loves...

     I think everyone thinks about them. The lovers that come and go. & I use the term "lovers" very lightly...not necessarily meaning that I fell in love with these boys or that they fell in love with me...but just meaning that at one point - at one time or place in my life & whatever kind of person I was then & the kind of person they were then....they had a piece of my heart. They may not have known it. You don't have to know you've touched someone's life to do it. Some of these boys hurt me; some of them I hurt; some went away, & I never knew why. Some made me cry for days; some made me happier than I've ever been. Some are responsible for bringing sunshine into my life, & some were like an ever-present rain cloud. Some I think of fondly, & some disgust me these days. But you never really forget about those people. The memories run together. A few memories stand out more so than others...there are a few boys even I will claim to have loved. But mostly, I'm left with a handful of shards...pieces to puzzles I no longer have or was never able to finish.
     I could throw those pieces away. I could discard them as junk, as useless objects that really complete nothing in my life, because the puzzles no longer even exist. & really, I guess I wouldn't be bad off without these pieces. But for whatever reason, I hold onto them - detrimental to my happiness or not. I hold onto those shards, I look at those shards, I review those shards. There is a part of my mind like a washing machine - turning over and over these random pieces, trying to wash out the grit and make sense of the mess. 
     But tonight, I don't really care to come to conclusions. I don't think there are conclusions. Because, remember? There is no puzzle. No, tonight...I just want to talk. Talk and remember. Cause there were some good times. & that's why I hold onto those pieces. Because no matter how many pieces are jagged, piercing my skin each time I clench my fist tightly around them, there are a few that are really valuable. An original composition, a breathtaking landscape, a salty sea breeze, the taste of cigarettes and booze, exhilarating freedom. And those pieces...are what make it all worthwhile.

     C - I remember twirling on a swing in the park, when you surprised me by asking to meet there. You teasing, telling me stories that I soaked up every word of. I remember hugging over the hood of your Bronco and you asking me to the military ball. I filled up with happiness. I'd never pictured it. I remember Mardi Gras over a year ago...how you tied my car keys to your Mardi Gras beads and ran from me when I needed to leave. I followed you into the back room and we kissed for the first time by the school security cart. I remember you sat with my through my scrapbook club meetings and took me to Chick Fil A after your zero period workouts. I remember that crazy snow day when we tore up a field with the 4x4 and you held me in the snow while I pet horses in a snow-covered pasture. I remember when that cop gave us hell. I remember you showing me that old logging trail. I remember being happy when you started calling more...just to talk. I remember when you took me aside and sideswiped me, telling me it just wasn't working. I remember being dazed and crying in the hallway until some friends found me and sat me down and let me talk it out. I remember taking the writing assessment that morning, my vision blurred as I tried to focus on the writing prompt.

     K - I remember the first time we'd really interacted. I remember late nights those first few days...on the phone for hours. I remember going to bed at 4AM and waking up for 5AM workouts, both asleep on our feet, laughing at each other and with each other. I remember hearing your voice break as you talked about your ex and realizing slowly but surely that I wanted you to be mine. I remember how everything changed that week and we fell asleep on each other during the bus ride home. I remember coming home and not being able to get you off my mind. I remember being confused as you reached out to me, depended on me, cared for me, confided in me, but still harbored so much pain from your ex. I remember praying that you would be happy, even if it wasn't with me, because my heart broke for you. I remember when my dad died. I remember crying to you and you holding me. I remember your mom bringing over a casserole and you giving my mother a flag case and carved name plate for my dad. I remember you meeting my family and my brother making fun of you in your "lumberjack shirt" but my eyes shining, not being able to imagine a better person's arms to be in. I remember sitting in your hot tub with another couple and realizing that you might finally feel the way that I did. I remember holding your hand and hanging out at your house. I remember our ups and downs...so many ups and downs. I remember sleepless nights and endless crying. I remember the first time we broke up. & I remember dressing up in my cutest and sexiest clothes for a week after, knowing you noticed me. I remember leaving for the mountains that weekend and being out of phone service and showers. I remember coming home, the house to myself, and sitting in my pj's when the doorbell rang. My eyes filling with tears when it was you...with your best friend prodding you to say what you'd been saying to him since I left - that you wanted me back. I remember being happy again, but it didn't tide us over. The same issues popped up. & it was too late to fix things. I couldn't compromise, nor could you. I remember when your dad died. & I went to your house & saw you shaking in pain, & I sobbed, because I couldn't reach out to you...I remember not being myself for nearly a year.

G - I remember you showing up to my 17th birthday celebration as a tag-along with my friend. You teased that everyone you'd just met was getting naked as we stripped to underwear to wash off after mud-wrestling in the rain. I remember you reaching out, offering consolation, when in the past six months I had lost my dad, my cousin, my closest ex's dad, and my friend's mom. I remember our beginning conversations, getting to know each other. I remember J calling me, telling me to come hang out & hinting that you were there. I couldn't come swim but at the last minute was able to come. I remember J telling me later that you'd left when I couldn't come but they'd called you when I changed my mind & you turned around, speeding back to beat me there; I thought you'd been there the whole time. I remember that first kiss, when I grudgingly offered a kiss on the cheek, but you turned last minute and surprised me (pleasantly, of course). I remember laughing later when you said I tasted like fruit loops, and you liked it. I remember both being out of town for a week - you in North Carolina with family and me in New York at a West Point summer camp. I remember coming back to my room every day to several missed calls and a voicemail from you. I remember talking for minutes at a time during my limited free time at night, & when we lost service repeatedly, we'd call back every time. I remember never laughing harder, never teasing more, never being more connected with anyone before. I remember when I was trying to fly home standby and I kept getting bumped off flights. I sat in the Newark airport for over eight hours and we talked the entire time. We had so much in common. I remember the first time someone put a guitar in your hands. I was hard to please, asking you to play song after song until I was satisfied...you had real talent. & I'm a sucker for a musician. "45", "Sweet Home Alabama", "Sweet Child O' Mine", "Wanted Dead or Alive", "Twenty-One"...all my favorites and the strings were putty in your hands. I remember when you came bowling with my youth group and looked so cute in your blue jeans with the Skoal rings. I was proud to be with you. I remember riding around in your truck, feet out the window, as you showed me where you'd grown up and who you'd grown up with. I remember sitting in that cab for hours while you shared your music with me. I remember falling asleep together on the futon and waking up in your arms.

J - You are, perhaps, singularly the person who has had the most influence on my life...& I doubt you even know it. It was because of you that I joined a movement I never would have considered without your encouragement. & that movement singularly has had the biggest impact on my life thus far. I remember crushing on you from the day I met you ,when I was still an awkward eighth grader and you were a rising-in-popularity freshman. I remember being silly and girly and air-headed and trying to impress you, thinking I had a chance. I remember when I realized I was foolish, and I didn't. I remember when I felt like you began to take me seriously. When I joined you on your home turf and felt almost equal. You were a god to me. It's unseemly how much I looked up to you. You were everything I wanted that I couldn't put a finger on. Yet you drove me nuts. As soon as I felt really good about something, you'd do another thing to tear it all down and cut me down to size and scare me back into my old way of thinking. I remember I resigned myself to just being in your life...because whatever that cost me, it was infinitely better than losing you. I remember being jealous of everyone who got more attention that I did and then cursing myself for giving one person so much POWER over me. Cause that's exactly what you had: power. I've never ever given someone so much free rein over me. I would have done anything you wanted. But finally, I developed a backbone. I was able to argue with you, rather than just agree and fall into the trance I always did. I fought back. I had a job and a mission, and I became determined to forget you and immerse myself in something I had control over...cause I couldn't control you. No one can. But then you threw me for a loop. Those last few months of your senior year...working closely with you. Teasing more than ever before, yet not allowing myself to hope. Those days when you put your hand on my leg, saying "Truuuuuuuust....", as I flinched, convinced you were fixing to tickle me or dead-leg me. But you didn't. & you did do right by me. I didn't approve of a lot of things you did...but you had never done me wrong at that time. You were open with me as far as I knew, and I felt like if you opened up to me even a little, it'd be worth it. & it was. But then there was the senior walk. I remember looking for all of my boys, ready to hug, but secretly keeping my eye out for you. I remember hugging your friends (& my friends), then hearing your name further down the line. I turned, once again cut down to size...you'd passed me by. But when I looked, you were coming back to hug me. & it was a long hug. & then I felt your lips on my hair...what?! I pulled back to look you in the eye and saw your mind made up. You kissed me full-on, for the first time, in a hall full of people. I soared. I remember a year later, when I was at a party and heard you'd be there. I remember specifically avoiding you, not trusting myself to be good. But it was no good. You found me, and I fell into your arms like before. & it's a bittersweet thing.

J - I remember being crazy about you. I remember rushing hormones and late nights and early mornings. I remember you picking me up after a scrapbooking crop and heading out to Camp Blood. I remember holding hands and screaming through the wooded trails as you tried to convince me that the chainsaws were fake. I remember when you came to Synago & made me happy, talking to all of my church friends and hanging out by the bonfire, holding my hand and making me feel safe. I remember Halloween night, hanging out behind Ephesus for what seemed like ages, waiting on Z to get the call from A about where we were going. I remember playing on the playground together and ending up freezing all night, sleeping in my car. I remember when you ran up to J and Z in Z's truck and what you were wearing. I remember teasing before meets and snuggling on the bus. I remember being gross and sweaty together after practice and walking together to first period. I remember when your truck broke down and we had to sit outside in the freezing cold forever while your dad came to get us. I remember feeling like life was simple. You liked me, I liked you, and that was enough at the time.

Z - I remember meeting you. I remember taking down your number but secretly deciding I was interested in one of your friends, not you. I remember trying to keep flirting to a minimum over text the next day, so that you wouldn't get the wrong idea...but then I agreed to come back that night. & then I agreed to play pong with you. & then I gave you a kiss on the cheek for good luck. & then it was a kiss on the lips. & then I was a goner. I remember texting my friends to come get me before I was dumb. But then I agreed to walk around the block with you...and for whatever reason, I trusted you. Every ounce of me wanted you to be a good person...and you were. I was fortunate. I could have fallen for a lot worse of a person. I remember leaving your house that night for another party. I remember getting back to our house and settling in for the night, chilling with the guys who came to stay over from further down the beach. But then you called...and wanted to come over. So I met you and brought you back. & the following morning, we walked hand in hand to the beach at like 0530. When you suggested watching the sunrise - quite frankly, I wasn't digging it. & lying on the beach beside you, my sides covered in powdery white sand...I definitely wasn't digging it. But I was digging you. & I listened to you make promises and tell me I was something special and you didn't want to forget me. But I didn't believe you. I'd met boys like you, I thought...& I wasn't convinced. So you walked me home, & I didn't expect to hear from you the rest of my trip. But then that night, you texted me & we met up. & we walked all over that beach town, hand in hand. Then we sat in the park and I laid my head on your chest and we talked...for hours. I remember your hoarse voice: "shawty I was just playin..." & I remember deciding then that I didn't want to lose you. Because it was your senior trip and you could have been anywhere in that town, but you chose to be with me...on your last night. I remember parting again - this time hoping against hope that it wasn't over...and that I would hear from you again. I remember thinking I was settled in for the night at 3AM but then going back out with a friend. I remember again walking down the beach, this time with a different boy...one that was into me, but I was torn. I wanted you. So I put off the other boy, and then you began to text me again. This time, I went to your place. & for our last night, I fell asleep in your arms. The next morning, I can hardly recall. I feel like I didn't give a good enough goodbye, I was so sleep-deprived from days of roaming at night. But it wasn't over. I felt connected to you, even at home. I had faith and I trusted you. You weren't the typical summer romance. You cared for me...& I cared for you. I remember phone calls and sharing music and keeping posted. I remember being so frustrated when visits didn't work but kicking myself for acting like it was such a huge deal...it was rough. I remember being terrified that you'd stop caring for me. & then the memories stop...& I strain & strain & strain, but I don't know what else to remember. ...There is nothing else to remember.


...I'm fairly certain that "I didn't cite half my memories half as well as I should like, and I cited less than half of them half as well as they deserved..." (in a funky twist on Bilbo Baggins).
But these are the things that my minds swirls with, daily. These are the puzzle pieces that tumble repeatedly in the laundromat of my brain. & whether having them on my blog (which is the new paper) will torment me or ease my mind, I'm not sure. But continuing to tumble will be no worse than already and if perhaps the spin cycle ceases, I may be better off.
So if you're reading this, try not to judge too harshly. You may know some of the people I speak of, but I don't speak for their benefit; I speak for mine.
"& that's all I have to say about that." - Forrest Gump

Happiness...

"...is a warm gun (bang, bang, shoot shoot)..." Just kidding. But I am happy. This semester is very chill...although I'm miserable when I'm not working and have nothing planned...and 90% of the time, I just want to get up and drive far away from here. But mostly, I am happy. I am happy and I am blessed and I am learning everyday.
     Waitressing at Ruby Tuesday is better than I could have imagined. When I was merely a customer, I thought it was a slow location and I wouldn't make many tips. As a server though, I always have my hands full, and I am meeting some of the most interesting and admirable people that I work with. I also have always been a people-person, and I've learned that the slower the restaurant may be, the more time I have to interact and provide quality, memorable service...resulting in tips I wouldn't get otherwise. I love the management and my coworkers and the bustle of the work. I love surprising my coworkers constantly when people I know come in. I feel like I am always talking and catching up with customers I know - teachers, neighbors, people I used to babysit or pet-sit for, members of my church, friends, family...I love seeing people I know. And I love feeling so connected, so in place with everyone and everything I've grown up with and alongside. It's comforting.
     Lifeguarding, on the other hand, is now drawing to an end. The approaching weekend will be the last weekend the pool is open, and I am working a nine hour shift on Saturday. Oddly enough, my love of that job has come to revolve around the children that go to the pool. Precious, darling little Caroline, fun-loving Bella and Anna, goofy Garrett and tiny, pot-bellied Alex, the triplets, crazy Gavin and sweet Chloe, precocious Elle, sly Raegan, chubby Charlie, silly Nathalie, and all of the other children. They are all so dear to my heart, and I'm sad that the summer is coming to a close. I will miss them all until next year, although I am hoping my name will spread as a reliable babysitter, because I have already begun babysitting Bella and Anna. :)
     I have lots to look forward to as well. On October 2, I'll be driving to Macon to see Corey Smith in concert and then will drive an additional two hours to stay at GA Southern for two nights. On October 6, I'm excited about the Drake concert in ATL. I'll probably be around local bars for local music like Clay Coley at Taco Mac as well. In addition, there are Raider meets to attend, festivals at Stone Mountain, and hopefully a substitute teaching workshop on October 1 (I just got a call today.)! Slowly but surely, I am crossing names off the list of friends I need to catch up with - people I missed all summer while I was grounded. I'm catching my balance, get reoriented and refocused, and striding forward.
     Still though, I want out. This is my favorite season. Fall excites me and it awakens my wandering spirit more so than any other time of year. I feel the chilly breeze and see the sun shining on the open road, and my heart YEARNS to get out. I literally get sick to my stomach at times for the pure longing for adventure. Cliche? Maybe a little. But I swear I relate myself to pioneers...there's a piece of me within never wanting to sit still, never wanting to settle, always wanting to push into the next area of untamed wilderness, going where I have never yet even dreamt of. I'll start small...I want to drive back up to Myrtle & camp on the beach. Then I want to drive, then hike, to Cali. I want to go everywhere and meet everyone and see everything. I want to be everything I can be (No Army pun intended). I want to snowboard in Utah and sit in hot springs in Colorado and explore the Grand Canyon. I want to ride a donkey and a camel and a dolphin and a whale. I want to scuba dive and spleunk and sleep under redwoods. I want freedom and I want "the unexamined life" (from Wicked).

Someday we'll know...

     Four years and a little over a month ago, I was in the hospital in Newark, NJ. Awaking from my eighth surgery since October 2005 - a fifteen hour long pelvic reconstruction - I could hazily see my mom and dad standing over me. Vaguely, I realized that there was still an anesthesia tube down my throat, and as I came to, I became distressed at not being able to communicate. I tried to talk, choking on my tube, to ask for apple juice or an ice chip or anything to run down my tongue and throat so that my thirst would be satisfied. However, the nurses couldn't give me anything because it was so soon after my surgery, and I would certainly throw it up. Yet as I tried to pull the tube out of my mouth, I became so aggressive in trying to sit up and be able to talk (I felt fine, even if I wasn't.) that I threw up anyway. My mom pleaded with nurses to take the tube out of my mouth and gave me a pad of paper and a pencil to communicate with. At last, I was relieved of the tube and able to talk (hoarsely) and sip on juice. I remember my doctor coming out to talk to my family and showing me my new x-ray. I was whole again; my hips were even and the damage done from that original surgery righted. I sank into a daze and finally an uneasy sleep as my family watched over me, and I was transferred to my own room in a special wing of the hospital for recovery.
     Several days later, I was still swollen from surgery. I looked down at my fingers the size of sausages and laughed at that fact with the man who came to beat on my chest, maintaining circulation. But my hospital stay was far from filled with lots of laughter. My hips, although not in pain, constantly felt as though there were hundred-pound sandbags atop them; the pressure weighing on me felt unreal at times. I was in a daze most of the day, missing my friends at home, and crying that I even had to go through all of this. I remember my mom staying with me - buying a fan when my room's AC unit didn't work in the middle of June and making sure I was always comfortable. Eventually, I was forced to try and move from the bed to a wheelchair and get into the hallway so that my sheets could be changed and my back aired out so as not to get bedsores. I remember groaning as the nurses tied a belt around my waist and lifted under my arms, instructing me on how best to put my weight so as to cause minimal pain. My knee on the side where the surgery had been most intrusive refused to bend and became awkwardly positioned once I was seated in the wheelchair, causing me to shriek and sob with my inability to move my own leg until the nurses could move my limbs into better positions. I was expecting to stay out of my bed for an hour, at most, but they never came back to help me again until four hours later. I was exhausted and furious at myself for being weak and pitiful. I began to cry.
     My mom reached into the bag by my bed and pulled out a mix CD I had made prior to my surgery: "Hospital Mix #1." Knowing exactly which song I needed at that moment, I switched to the fourth track, a song I had fallen in love with in 5th grade, from the A Walk to Remember soundtrack. It was called "Someday We'll Know," performed by Mandy Moore and Jonathan Foreman. As I laid in my bed, feeling exhausted and depressed and alone and more pitiful than I had ever before felt, my mom reached for my hand and began to cry with me. This song has touched my heart for many years and has been, for a long period, a song I called my "favorite." It brought me peace in the month I was in the hospital and rehab in NJ. Mostly, it just made me cry. But sometimes, I needed that. Sometimes, I felt so much at once, and my body needed to be drained...so I could fill up with good things - cards from home, visits from family friends, and phone calls to my best friend...even a cute boy who got my number in rehab. With such a heavy heart, I couldn't appreciate everything around me - the love flowing from every person connected to me, a giant web of fibers flowing through me and from me and to me; I couldn't see that when I was so weighted down. And I needed that support system. This song, in its own different way, reminded me of that love. It made me cry...and away with all my tears flowed all the despair laying atop my soul.
     Tonight, again, I sit with a heavy heart. Tonight, again, the pressure makes it hard to breathe, hard to move, hard to foresee a brighter future. Tonight, again, I cry out in despair. Tonight, again, I recognize that I can't make it alone. Tonight, again...I am healed.

"Ninety miles outside Chicago,
Can't stop driving, I don't know why.
So many questions - I need an answer.
Two years later, you're still on my mind.


Whatever happened to Amelia Earhart?
Who holds the stars up in the sky?
Is true love just once in a lifetime? 


Did the captain of the Titanic cry?
Ohhh...


Someday we'll know if love can move a mountain.
Someday we'll know why the sky is blue. 
Someday we'll know why I wasn't meant for you..."


   

First off...

     I stole this idea from Macy Dennis, but I'm glad I creeped & saw her blog, because this is perfect for me, a born writer. :) I know the idea of reading a blog about someone else's daily life may seem a tad ridiculous to some (I am not yet accustomed to the idea, myself.), but I hope this will turn into a way for friends and family to stay posted on what I'm up to as well as an outlet for my thoughts and feelings and beliefs and a way to record my growth as a person. Who knows? I may even record poetry and songs I write from time to time. I kept a journal from first grade through the end of my junior year, and I still randomly record thoughts or fleeting glimpses into my brain into a notebook where I can go to release. So, I think I like the idea of a blog, and I think it may help me to just "say what I need to say."

     I guess I'll start with sharing a bit of what's been on my mind lately. As many of you know, I am currently putting in long hours lifeguarding at a really nice pool just a few exits down I-20. I love the kids - which is strange for me, a girl who usually shies away from voluntary interaction with children. However, these kids - a little girl named Caroline in particular - have stolen my heart and it really makes me anticipate being a mom in the future and possibly even some kind of career with children...MAYBE. Regardless, I am so excited and proud to have put in over 63 hours this week, 23 of which will be overtime pay (heck yeah!). Alas, good things do not last, though, so following this week, the pool will switch to weekends only, and I will begin picking up shifts waitressing at Ruby Tuesday, which I also enjoy. In addition, I took a Paraprofessional Assessment several weeks ago and have just recently applied to be a substitute teacher for Douglas County during the fall semester. Hopefully, I will hear back to register for a training workshop soon!
     As far as college goes, I am fully applied to UGA for entry as a new student spring semester - awaiting only my transcript, which is en route. Meanwhile, I am excited for my friends who are headed off to new places and can't wait to roadtrip around the state and visit the different schools they attend. I miss my senior year more than I can put into words; the memories will always be dear to me. It's no piece of cake seeing all of the Facebook posts about starting school and moving into dorms and beginning a new chapter when I am still here. It seems so unfair that I don't get that this semester as well. But I'm not one to give up at the base of an obstacle, and I see any obstruction as something put in my way to make me stronger. So I guess it's just keep truckin' until I get my chance to shine and then I'll make sure I'm the brightest of them all, eh?

     As far as relationships, my mother and I are on better terms than we have been in a while, and I do love her dearly, despite our differences. Patrick is Patrick and he will never be anything but - I can depend on it. My friends are amazing, though I still feel behind from being grounded all summer. And romantically? I'm not looking for anything, never am. I am happy being me, and that's really all I need to know until I decide to be me + one.

     In the future, I plan to continue saving for my red Jeep Wrangler, perhaps take a week-long hiatus "into the wild" through the Outward Bound program, and read as much as possible. I want to go dancing at the Irish Pub, go to my first club, hit up some concerts, and make time for those I've been missing. I want to sign up for every Study Abroad opportunity I can find, and I want to make the most of every second I have. I want to venture into the nightlife I miss so dearly. Being grounded, more than anything, has just made me want to fly higher.