Give and Take

give and take

This little, yet so important life lesson is one that I have yet to master.  I can be quite selfish at times, and at others, so overly independent that I push away others.  I would like to think that I am a giving person, although I have certainly gotten better at it over the past few years.  I have made it a conscious effort to be there for friends when they need somebody, to stop canceling plans at the last minute because of my selfish reasons, and to remember important dates like Birthday’s and Anniversary’s.  I have truly made an effort to try and make the people that are important in my life feel special every now and then and to let them know that I care and love them.  I still feel like I am failing though.

Relationships should certainly be a two way street.  There should be a balance of give and take and neither party should feel like they are giving their all, yet getting nothing in return.  This is where I fail at relationships.  My pride is too strong to ever let anybody know that I need them.  Yes, everybody wants and needs to be and to feel needed.  Especially men.  As a pretty independent female, it is very difficult for me to admit to anybody, let alone a man, that yes, I do NEED you in my life.  I will never ask for help, never cry in front of another, and would never expect anybody else to pick up the pieces to any mess that I have made. However, that does NOT make for a healthy relationship.  It is OK to need somebody, it is OKAY to rely on somebody else, even if it is just for a moment in time.  It not only strengthens the relationship, but adds value to that other special person if your life, that they are serving some greater role than just a companion.  While it is easy for me to state this, it is much harder for me to live.

I have always thought that strength was a virtue, a quality that was sought after by others and especially by mates.  Am I strong?  Probably not.  I melt down in the shower, and before I fall asleep more times than I would ever admit.  But I am the only person who lives through those melt downs.  I do not share my sorrows or my burdens with those around me.  Ever.  I suppose it is a good reason as to why my romantic relationships do not last long.  There is no greater need for that other person, pushing aside the sex and the fact you may not have to spend every Friday night alone.  That is not how we were meant to survive, I am sure.

I have these dreams that my knight in shining armor will come to my rescue, destroy the walls that I have built and I will finally trust somebody enough, or feel comfortable enough with somebody to LET them help me, to LET them be there for me, to LET them comfort me in my times of need.  I have come to learn though, that there truly is no knight in shining armor, and people, especially men, will only give you what you are asking for, and nothing more if there is a fear of rejection of their offer.  We need to be ready to receive the comfort, we need to be ready to rely on somebody else and we need to find it okay in our hearts to lean on somebody and let them carry us for awhile.

Dr. Ian K. Smith briefly discusses in his article how it is OK for the female to be successful and independent, but to not forget that the man still needs to feel needed.  The ironic thing about this article, is in the comments about the article, instead of the article itself.  The comment section is filled with hateful and disgusting things written about both men and women.   The men are calling the women narcissistic and the women are calling the men pigs.  The men are saying that degrees and job titles mean nothing to them, that women have become overly self-involved.  Worrying about their bills, luxury clothing, degrees, makeup etc, but not worrying about their men.  Interesting point.  You may be on to something.  Got it.

So moral of this story is, perhaps it is okay to TAKE a little more often.  Of course we never want to lose our nurturing or generous spirits, but perhaps we could all have stronger relationships if we just needed and took a little bit more.

XO All yours,






Damaged Goods

They say that you are only as sick as the secrets you keep.  Perhaps it must be true, as I have been sharing my secrets and in return feel lighter, more at peace with this life as a result.  I suppose that my secrets aren’t even necessarily MY secrets.  They are the secrets of those around me, those things that others have done, which have affected me, and have caused me uneasiness and anxiety in shining lights on.  I truly like to think that I have it all together, that I have it all figured out, and that I am living an honestly happy life.  Some days, that is true.  Most days, it is a lie.

Can a person be damaged?  Yes, and I am. I am sure that years of growing up in an abusive household, a crazy household, an unstable household.. had something to do with the damage.  I am sure that leaving my anxiety unacknowledged and untreated for so long also had something to do with that.  And I am sure that falling in love, the only true love of my life thus far, with an alcoholic of all people, also added to the scarring.

Am I writing this to garner sympathy?  I’m not sure.  I suppose that it’s a dirty secret that I have always kept locked away.  My walls are higher than the Empire State building, and longer than the walls of China.  There are days when even I cannot break through my own walls to get to the heart of my own being.  It’s startling.  I find that writing, reading, and examining the beauty in nature helps me to reconnect to those lost and buried feelings and emotions, that I DO possess, but oh so easily keep locked away.  I date, a lot, but haven’t found those butterflies that I once had some years back.  I get nervous that the butterflies will never return.  Isn’t life about those damn butterflies?

I have found myself involved in reckless situations, experiences that other people just shake their heads at, and even those, do not bring me great deals of excitement anymore. I have already spent a great portion of 2014 experiencing life in insane and daring ways.  I have hopped a plane to Florida to live with a stranger for a long weekend (incredibly handsome stranger!), got myself quickly involved with an old fling, whom I was well aware was erring on the slightly insane side, but needed a little danger in my life, and then started the process to get in on the prison scene (as employment…. obviously!).  They have all been fun, exciting and thrilling… but they don’t phase me. I suppose I am almost like a junkie who is desperately seeking that high that they once had, but can never seem to capture any longer.  My activities get riskier and more exaggerated, and yet, they don’t fill that void, that desperate need for true happiness and that feeling of LIFE!!  How does one feel ALIVE?! Anyone?

Ah yes, repair the damage.  Back to the damage.  If you keep injuring, or injury badly enough a part of your body, there’s a chance you are going to damage the nerves and never feel pain or pleasure in that area of your body again.  Is it the same with our hearts?  Can you be stabbed and wounded so many times that you no longer feel emotion?  Can your heart finally be shattered into so many small little sharp pieces that it cannot ever possibly fit back together again? The cracks are just too many to keep any hope and love inside any longer? I certainly hope not… but I am not convinced that that’s not true.

I have believed for so many years that I do not have trust issues.  I have prided myself on the fact that I believed that I was SO trustworthy, that everybody had my full trust until they gave me a reason not too. I realized a few days ago that I have been lying to myself this entire time.  I do not trust anybody.  I do not even trust those closest to me.  I’m not sure that I even trust God sometimes.  It was a startling realization and one that I did not feel proud about.  It was devastating to me to realize that I have ruined and sabotaged so many relationships in my life over trust, and I have just to realize all of this.  It saddens me to think that my one love of my life could still be here next to me, if only I had trusted him.  I am not talking about the jealous trust, but more like, “do you have my back,” trust.  Will you be there to pick me up when I fall, kind of trust.  I have never given anybody the opportunity to be there for me.. EVER.  I am always “okay,” and I am always smiling.  My struggles are solely internal, and have never shared an ounce of them with those that I love.  I have never given anybody the chance to wipe away my tears, to hold me when I cry, or to promise me that they would take care of me.  I truly realize that if I gave somebody that opportunity, and they abandoned me, that I would break for good.  The kind of break that you don’t come back from, ya know? I now realize that I have been protecting myself from that kind of devastation for most of my life.  I have seen, heard and felt devastation in most of my younger life, and it’s not a place that you want to be.

Devastation is the lowest place on Earth, it’s the lowest place our minds and hearts can go, and devastation slowly begins to chip away at your soul.  It begins to crumble your faith, it causes you to shy away from those around you, it forces you to operate in survival mode and it makes you question the value and worth of life itself.  When you have lived in devastation for so long, you begin to find that you will do anything in your power to avoid that place ever again.  It’s like driving 100 miles out of your way just to avoid a few minutes of traffic.  It doesn’t really make sense, but you tell yourself it was necessary, and it causes you less stress, until you realize how much money in gasoline you wasted just to avoid a minor setback.  Dammit.

I just read an article by Linda Riley, which explains how we cause a lot of damage to ourselves, and questions whether or not there is a point where we become too damaged to love again.  I’m not sure that she really ever answers the question, but she makes a great point when she says that we choose the level of intimacy and trust that we put in a relationship.  The more hurt we go through, the less likely we become to put that love and trust into our next relationship, perhaps creating another relationship which will add another scar to our hearts.  The article certainly did not make me feel any better, as I’m not sure that one could ever even count the amount of scars that adorn my heart and my soul.  I truly want to believe that I will fall in love again and be able to throw caution to the wind and go in with my entire being, but I also thought that I didn’t have trust issues until a few days ago.  I do know however, that it is something that I am working on, and will continue to work on until the day I leave this Earth.  I do, so badly want to feel love, to feel peace and happiness, to feel protected and safe, and to truly trust another human being with my heart.  I will do it one day. That is for certain.

XO all yours,



Snowflakes in June <3


So I sit here alone …finally alone, and it hits me.  I hate being alone.  I’ve loved it for so many years, loved the freedom of just me and my own walls, me and my own thoughts, but my thoughts have turned to a season of gray skies and I can no longer stand to be alone with them.  The thoughts I used to find entertaining, are no more than ghosts in the night, spooking me whenever they need some amusement.  Torturing me with the past, the gray sky present, and the future which I’m not sure I want to see.  I’m afraid I have forgotten how to love.  Forgotten how to fall, forgotten how to breathe.  I laugh more these days, partly because I do not know how else to survive, and partly because I just feel I’m a visitor, and guests should always have a good time.  I’m afraid I know no feeling greater than lust, and afraid that perhaps I do.  I feel abandoned and betrayed.  I feel homeless, a wanderer with no movement.  I can remember and nearly feel the feel of “home,” yet I can’t go there.  I’m so tired of falling apart and so tired of picking up the pieces.  Perhaps I shall just leave them there on the floor, and go find better pieces somewhere else.  I’m scared of everything, and yet nothing at all. When you’ve already lost it all, what else is left to take?  Damaged much?  No, more like scrap metalled.  The days get longer and my tears are frozen.  I’ve pleaded and I’ve begged, I’ve screamed, I’ve cried more tears than I thought possible, I’ve been angry, I’ve been hurt, I’ve been numb.  It all brings me back to this.  Sitting here staring at the wall, pleading with God that I will wake up from this nightmare.  I never wake up.  So I sit here and listen to this love song that brings me back to a love story that never happened.  A love story that really only existed in my head, but brings me back those butterflies that I’m afraid I will never find again….

  It was certainly winter, right before Christmas, and the snow was falling from the sky as me and a dear friend walked home from a night out.  It’s the only moment I have ever truly felt alive.  I could feel each snowflake hit my skin, feel it melt into my body.  I could feel his lips on mine, but I could see the snow falling, see each distinct pattern each flake held, even though my eyes were closed.  I could smell the winter, could smell the cold, could feel the warmth of another body next to me, through the layers of winter coats.  I felt so alive.  I could feel the warmth of my home, the love of a family, the beautifulness of a season I so truly hate.  I could feel for a moment what true love felt like, what pure bliss was.  I wasn’t in love with him, I was infatuated with the moment, my mind was finally quiet, a quiet that I have never had.  My senses had taken over, and I was living fully, through each detail, through each second that passed.  I could feel each line on his lips, could feel the butterflies of the innocence of the moment.  The kind of nervousness that takes over you during your first kiss, yet this wasn’t my first kiss, it was an awakening of the magic that life can have.  The magic that comes from never knowing when those butterflies might find you again, from not knowing what the next moment will have in store for you.  I find whenever the sadness takes over me, when the burden of my life is becoming to great to bear, I put that song on the radio and I drift back to that moment in time.  If I felt it once, my God, I will surely find it again.  It’s the hope of that magic that makes me want to see tomorrow, gives me hope that there is still magic to be found. That moment makes me crave snowflakes in the summer.  I look back in my old writings, and I find this story, retold in so many different ways, whenever my path became darkened.  It’s the story of my true salvation, my first rite in becoming human so to speak.

I had forgotten how calming writing is.  My thoughts make so much more sense on paper than they do in my head.  To light some candles, put some music in minor on, and just release everything that keeps me from believing, that keeps me from living.  If only I could find a love affair as fulfilling as a piece of paper and a pen.  If only a lover could help me slow down time and catch every detail, every moment, every movement the way a pen can.  It’s when I write that I realize I’m not crazy.  I realize I’m far too deep than my own brain can comprehend.  I realize my soul doesn’t belong here, that it’s trapped.  I realize that perhaps maybe my soul should be the one guiding me through life, as I know not the way.  I fear perhaps I have become so lost, I’ll never find my way home again.  I too fear, that this is perhaps where I belong, lost in sorrow, drowning in tears, yet so numb inside.  So fearful to be loved, so fearful to  experience that night of snowflakes all over again, as perhaps it would be too much to bear.  


XO All yours,