Letting Go

Just to be clear, I didn’t write this. Although I wish I had. I came across this a few years ago and it’s still relevant. Thought I’d share it.

You have no idea what it’s like to skydive, but you imagine it feels very similar to what you are preparing to do. You are about to let these hands go and your feet will follow from beneath you. None of it feels natural, none of it feels safe, all of it feels like the scariest thing you’ve ever done. You’ve done it in the past, all the landings before this one have been awkward, some have even caused injury; especially the last one, you told yourself you’re never going that high again. Ground zero, where you were always in control, was safer.

But the thing about ground zero is it all feels the same after awhile. There are no thrills at the street level. The only time you’ve ever felt alive is when you’ve gone that high and landed, awkwardly. To convince you it’s okay to go up there again, that you’re not crazy, you’re going to fully trust the person who is on your back, jumping out with you. They’ve done this too, had their own share of awkward landings, and they’re a little nervous as well.

YOLO you two say (not out loud, in your head) and then you jump.

There is no ceremony for act one of letting go. It’s a singular, quiet act witnessed only by the affected. You get no credit for it, because, hello, you’re kind of doing what you’re supposed to do. That’s what they tell you, but thinking of it as an obligation might be your first mistake. If you want who you say you want, you are doing what’s necessary but it’s also kind of what you want. Contrary to what some people think, a person not letting go isn’t solely driven by selfish behavior. As I’ve said on this blog before, more women equals more headaches and you don’t want that. You want to be free from a life that arguably had too much freedom.

But fear keeps you there.

The reason you get gun shy when it’s time to let go of all the other people who have been in your life, dating you, paying you attention, making you feel good, is because you have yet to trust the person you really want to be all those things. And yet, you know if you continue to seek solace in these people, you will never get the results you want. And the other people in your life, the people who have dated you, paid you attention, made you feel good, deserve better.

Positive attention comes at a premium. There is something to be said for the people who have no obligation to commit to you, who don’t wait for the titles to bend over backwards. Their kindness, their love (and make no mistake about it, that’s what it is), is a gift. Their presence is indeed charity that contributes to your well-being. You appreciate it, reciprocate it even by being equally supportive.

But then someone comes along and for whatever reason, you want to make room for them. What that means is letting go of all these other people who have kept you safe, who have not hurt you, who have been reliable. The question as to why this person and not the others, isn’t worth asking. It only begets more questions. You will ask why, and someone (maybe your inner voice) will say, why not? You have no answer for that nor any other question. You try to tell people it’s your gut that’s telling you to just go for this, but you know your gut has no idea what it’s talking about.

You know you can’t predict the future. The best you can do is plan for it. You have no idea if letting go of all the others before you’ve even gotten a commitment out of this one person is going to work in your favor, but that is not why you do it. You do it because everyone who has been in your life prior to this person, deserves this one act of fairness from you, and this new person who you claim to really want, deserves your best effort.

This is act one of letting go.

Don’t fall, fly; forget about the jump, forget about the landing. Feel alive as possible in the space between where you left and where you’re headed.

Working On It

It’s been a little too long since I’ve posted anything worth going public about. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to write about, or that I don’t have any motivation to write. I have plenty of drafts written up but nothing I’ve ever felt like finishing. This is one of the few that’s been important to me for awhile now.

 

For the past couple of weeks I’ve been slowly working on my house. After the first three months or so I became content with whatever was in it. Rather than spend any time and effort on improving it, I took advantage of the comfort I found in coming home from work with a halfway decent house.

When I was a kid I always had this image in my head of how I wanted my future house to look like. It looked like the prototypical house at first, then I started adding things I liked from the things I saw: wood floors, enormous windows, kitchen with an island, a master bedroom with king-sized bed, etc. If you’ve been to my house, then you already have an idea of what it looks like. I can tell you this much, it’s nothing like I imagined it to be.

Now I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, or take a giant dump on the countless blessings I’ve gotten in the past year and change. What I’m trying to say is, I settled. I worked my ass off to get where I am and for whatever reason, I became content with the life I had been living. Yes, I wanted more. But did I want to work for it? Not really. So I relaxed, and bought into the idea that everything I had was enough for me. And I think it showed in other aspects of my life that didn’t just included what I did in the privacy of my own home.

My relationship suffered. I stopped going to church. I went to the gym less frequently. Indulged in more video games. Didn’t call my parents enough.

I did enough to just get by. It was a shit show.

I went to the funeral of one of my nursing school teachers a few months ago. I remember a lot of my classmates not liking her, but I appreciated the time she took to get know us personally. She went beyond the teacher-student relationship, and she became friends with those of use who reciprocated the efforts she made. Her mother spoke at the service, and as good as my memory is, the one thing I could remember was how they had not spoken for a significant amount of time. Her mother never reached out to her because she had always thought there would be more time. “You always think that you have more time. You don’t. Don’t take advantage of the time given to you.”

I listened.

Over the past month or so I started working on my house again. I ripped out the carpet and installed laminate floors. I started furnishing the extra bedroom downstairs so my pup could have a room to play in any guests would have a bed to sleep on other than my couch. I installed ceiling fans and lights in the rooms that didn’t have any, so I wouldn’t have to walk around in the dark anymore.

I realized I wasn’t doing enough in my relationship and that the girl who put in 100 with me from the beginning deserved a lot more than I was giving her. I didn’t want to waste her time, not anymore. I know it’s easier to say this now that we’re looking back, but if you’re reading this, I appreciate everything you’ve ever done for me. I’m sorry for the fights. I’m sorry for being content. I’m sorry that you and I weren’t it for each other. But the silver lining that comes with the end of our relationship is the greater possibility that you will find someone who is much better to you and for you. I can only hope for the same.

Time doesn’t wait for anyone. It keeps moving. It’s ridiculous to believe that putting off your problems will one day make it easier to solve them. Time is the most precious thing you can give to someone, because there’s no getting back. I killed a lot of time in 2015, and unfortunately not just my own. I got married to the idea that it was enough, but it wasn’t, and it won’t ever be.

Work on it.

On Lessons Learned

I’ve been told on more than one occasion that being able to talk my way out of a terrible situation is going to bite me in the ass one day. The people closest to me understand that I sometimes lie, and I do it pretty well. This is especially true when it comes to getting the things I want, and getting myself out of trouble. The only problem with being good with your words is that people stop believing anything you say at some point, so you need to find a way to spark a certain emotion to divert the focus from what you’re saying, to what you want them to hear.

All but one of your romantic relationships will end, that much is true. That is, if you’re lucky enough to find the one person willing to tough it out with you for the rest of their lives. But on the road to finding that one person, you’re going to bump into several others who will seemingly leave just as quickly as they came. The entire relationship might have lasted a week, 3 months, or several years, but at some point we all ask ourselves if the time spent was time wasted. The answer to that question has an inverse correlation to the answer of another: Did I learn something from that relationship? If the answer is yes, then no, it was not time wasted.

Whenever someone takes an exit out of our lives, whether it be the result of our own decision or theirs, we tend to focus on the things they’ve left behind. While the memories, thoughts, and feelings of that relationship can vary from each experienc, there is one thing that will remain constant: there’s a lesson to be learned.

I’m not the perfect boyfriend, nor will I ever claim to be. I’m going to make mistakes. I’m not going to know exactly what to do at every single moment. I’m not going to always say the right things. I’m still learning.

So what did I learn from you? Most of the lessons I took away from the time we had together were lessons I had already learned in high school. I held on too long and fooled myself into thinking that one day something might change. I gave you more opportunities than you deserved and I loved you longer than I should have because I fooled myself into thinking that whatever it is we had was worth going through hell and back for. I knew better, but it didn’t matter. We “loved” each other, but not enough to really work on being together. So we were stuck in a grey area that was further complicated by the fact that we started to see other people. We wanted each other enough to hang around, but refused to stay for any meaningful period of time. As much as we wanted to leave and let go, we’d always find a way back to each other somehow. It was an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. But eventually, I learned.

I learned something needed to change, otherwise we’d continue on lying to ourselves and the people around us. Living on borrowed time and stolen moments was no way to love, and it certainly wasn’t a way to live. So I learned. I learned that we needed to find a way to stay away from each other. I learned that we needed to burn a bridge. I learned to fight with you. I learned to push you, to blame you for things you didn’t do, to make you angry with me, to make it so the very idea of speaking to me would be the last thing on your mind. I lied to you. I told you things I didn’t mean. And normally you’d call bullshit when I’d say the type of things I had said but this time around you paid no attention to my words, just at how upset/angry you felt when you heard them. I found a way. I wanted you to hate what I did more than you loved who I was.

It worked.

Home is

“For the days you love me, for the days you hate me, and for all the moments in-between.”

It’s been a little over seven months since I’ve moved out of my parent’s place. It’s been a little over seven months of walking into an empty house. I say house because on most days, it didn’t really feel like home.

Every person that’s come to visit me has made a similar comment once I start showing them around: “It’s just you in this house? This is too much space for you.” For the most part, they’re right. I have three rooms completely untouched, and two bathrooms I refuse to use because I don’t want to have to clean them. Most days I enjoy the privacy. I enjoy being able to do what I want, where I want, and when I want. I enjoy the freedom. But if I’m completely honest with myself, sometimes I’d like to be free from this life that arguably has too much freedom.

Then I got Reek. As lazy as this puppy is, she’s a handful when she wants to be. Housebreaking her hasn’t been the easiest journey, but she’s young, and she’s learning. I’ll admit it’s a bit brutal when I leave for work every morning, but it’s lovely being greeted every afternoon with excitement–and pee. She adds a little bit of color into this house, literally (I need to replace my carpet pretty soon) and metaphorically. Being solely responsible over another living thing has taught me a lot about responsibility and making difficult decisions. When a choice presents itself between going out after work or late in the evening or going straight home to make sure she gets walked or played with, it’s going to be Reek every time. I love this puppy, even though she can be a pain in the ass when I’m trying to nap.

I guess you could say the inspiration behind this post is a result of a question my class was asked when we were in the third grade: “What’s the difference between a house and a home?” Kids shouted out all kinds of answers, and as good as my memory is, I wouldn’t even know where to begin listing them down. I just remember shouting out, “Home is where you live, a house is where other people live.”

The year leading up to me buying this house and waiting for it to be completed was difficult, and sometimes painful. I remember being so anxious and eager to finally have a place of my own, to do with as I pleased. It’s what I’ve been wanting since I graduated from high school. I wanted to get out, and so I did. I went from a home occupied by six people to a house all for me.

After seven months living on my own, I can try to answer the question a little bit better than my 8 year old self did:

A house–this house–is just a building. A bunch of wood, metal, piping, wiring, insulation, plaster, glass, and whatever else mandated by city officials to ensure it meets safety requirements. I have no emotional attachment to the physical aspect of this building, only a financial one. When I see and think about this house, I don’t pay attention to the furniture, appliances, or electronics. I think about the people I’ve invited over, the people that helped me add to the house. The people who’ve sat on my couch and watched movies or played video games with me. The people that I’ve cooked for in my kitchen and shared a meal with on my dining table. The people who’ve commented on the cleanliness of my closet and the disorganization of my bedside tables. The people who’ve fallen asleep on my bed, even when I didn’t want them to. The people who’ve left me notes in random places to find. The people who’ve helped me take care of Reek. The people I’ve chosen to share this house with.

A house doesn’t make a home. Home is the collection of memories you’ve made, the connections you’ve shared, and the people most important to you. Home is wherever love is. Home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.

What Are You Afraid Of?

A few days ago someone made a comment to me that I was afraid of commitment while simultaneously touching on the idea of me afraid of being alone. For awhile now my friends have made a joke about my inability to stay single, going so far as to kick me out of the “singles club.” I usually hit them with the typical response, “Just because she’s a girl friend, doesn’t mean I want to make her my girlfriend.” It sounds cliche, but you know what? It’s the truth.

Another person told me a few weeks ago that I was good at running to different girls because I was looking for comfort without any emotional reciprocation. For awhile last year, that may have been true, but since the start of the new year I’ve made a conscious effort to not dive in head first and actually take a snail’s pace when it came to relationships. That steady pace came much to the chagrin of some, which lead to the “afraid of commitment” comments I’ve been getting.

It’s not so much that I’m afraid of commitment or being in a relationship with one person. It’s just that I want to be sure of this person before I go on and waste any more of their time. The worst thing you could do is waste someone’s time by not being 100% with them. You’re doing no one any favors by sticking around any longer than you need to. This goes back to a post I wrote in 2013.

One day you’ll be the reason for the pain you wouldn’t wish on anyone, even in your angriest moments. But it’s a role that needs to be played. Saying “I love you” again and again is a lot easier than telling someone you can’t love them anymore. You’re afraid of being the bad guy, so you stay. You’re afraid of missing them, so you stay. Neither of those are good enough reasons to continue on with someone who isn’t right for you. You’re going to have to break their heart, and they won’t understand why, no matter how much you try to explain.

[…]

I’d need to find someone who’d give me that look that made me feel alive, invincible. That look that only I could appreciate. That look, that person I selfishly wanted to myself. That person that turns you into a hopeless romantic, that ruins you, that makes you not want to settle for anything less.

No, I’m not afraid of commitment, or being in a relationship, or spending the rest of my life with a single person. I’m just afraid of spending the rest of my life loving the wrong person.

Run Away, Love

I haven’t been writing too much lately, or rather, I haven’t been posting. I tend to work on 5-10 posts at a time but I never really publish them until they’re finished. This one got bumped ahead for reasons I don’t need to share.

For the last year and a half I was running. Not physically, of course. God, no. I shook off responsibility and did what I could so I wouldn’t feel alone. I became what I never wanted to be, and it wasn’t until last week that I realized something had gone wrong. I’ve written extensively on the men better than me, and my desire to be the type of men they were, but last year I lost my way. I fell. I fell into a really dark place and out of desperation I made the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I made my wants a priority, and in my greatest moment of weakness and selfishness I disregarded any sort of consequences that might result from any mistakes I made. To be frank, I stopped caring about everyone else and only looked out for myself. It wasn’t until just recently that I had given up hope of ever being the kind of man worthy of loving someone the way they had. But we’re not our mistakes.

The men that loved the most important women in my life, the men I look up to, they weren’t perfect. Each and every one of them made mistakes one way or another and hurt the people they loved and the people that loved them. They too, fell. But that’s not the point. It’s about the women that loved them, and chose to forgive them. I’ve been sitting on this firm belief that in each relationship, whenever a mistake is made, you need to ask yourself one question: “Do you love this person more than you hate what they did?” Once the answer is no, it’s time for you to leave. That’s when it comes time for you to walk away from the person you once loved. My grandparents always found a way to answer yes. My parents always found a way to answer yes. My sister and brother-in-law have always found a way to answer yes. Me? I’m still working on that. But I haven’t given up.

“Love doesn’t require you to be perfect, but it does require you to forgive.”

I’ve gotten quite tired of running.

The Folly of Pride

I’m generally a very lax person. Problems don’t tend to bother me any longer than it takes for the said the problem to occur and I usually let  Something happens, I react, and I move on. Pain is inevitable and at some point we’re all reminded that we’re only human. But suffering? Suffering is optional. This is me addressing the few moments where I let my emotions get the best of me and I held on to something a little longer than I should have. These are the moments where I actually care.

Earlier this year I wrote an entry titled “On the ones that got away.” The point of that post was to highlight the power that emotions can have over a person. Unless you’ve decided the person you’ve involved yourself with isn’t meant for you, no one ever wants to be the one who gets away. When we let a relationship end we naturally feel like we failed in the relationship. No one wants a relationship to end, because no one wants to fail. So what do we do? We stay longer than we should, because we think we’re better than their past or their future. We force something out of nothing because we want to be able to say that we made it when no one else could. This is the point where the relationship becomes more about your pride and ego than it does about love and passion.

There is a very fine line between pride and hubris, and admittedly, I’ll occasionally suffer from both. Pride will get in the way of a lot of things when you allow it too, and I’ve allowed it to get in the way of plenty.

There’s a little over a month and a half left of 2014, and I’ve learned plenty of lessons this year. But on of the most important I’ve learned is that just because you’re struggling, doesn’t mean you’re failing. I’ve half-assed and bullshitted my way through most of my life because, to be quite honest, not many things seemed important enough to warrant my undivided attention and best effort. Not only that, deep down, I’m afraid of failing. As many relationships as I’ve been in, I can count on one hand how many I can honestly say I gave my all. Why so few? Because I’m afraid my best won’t be good enough. It’s an absolutely frightening thought that the best I have to offer won’t be good enough for the person I’m asking to stay. But the bittersweet reality of it all is: the happiest moments were when I tried by hardest; when I did everything I could. Yes, those moments eventually passed and the relationships along with them, but it’s a painfully pleasant reminder of how beautiful life can be.

So this is an apology to the women who didn’t receive my best effort, you deserved better and undoubtedly have already found better.

And this is a thank you to the women who brought out the best in me, whether or not you deserved it.

Safe and Sound

You haven’t felt this way in longer than you can remember. You told yourself that you wouldn’t allow uncertainty or doubt to affect the decisions you make. You’d insist on playing it safe; make the right choice, and the right choice always entailed being confident it was the correct one.

That confidence you have no longer applies here. Your emotions get the better of you. The moment you start gaining some ground, you intentionally shoot yourself in the foot because fear somehow convinced you that it was only a matter of time before you failed. You’d much rather fall from the third floor than the penthouse, so you call it quits early before you’ve invested more of yourself. You stay close to the ground because that’s where you’re in control, that’s where you’re safe.

But you know better than that. At least, you should. Because the funny thing about staying on the ground level is that while there are no risks involved, there isn’t any excitement either. It stays the same. You know if you continue to keep your feet on the ground you’ll never get the results you want. You understand that the few moments you’ve ever felt alive in the time you’ve been on this earth were the moments you decided to leave the area you’re most comfortable.

You don’t know what will happen in the future. You don’t know if everything will work out in your favor. There isn’t a guarantee you won’t get hurt along the way. But you take the risk anyway, because to you it’s worth it.

You just hope it isn’t too late.

I love you, mom

As the title suggests, this one is for the woman who raised me. The woman who taught me how to clean my plate and swallow my pride. The woman who insists I have the rest of  my life to be in a relationship, but keeps bugging for grand-babies. The woman who refuses to let me move out of her house because I’ll always be her baby boy.

I’m not going to sit here and rehash everything I’ve already written about my mother and the lessons she’s given me, that’s what hyperlinks are for. Instead, I’m going to take the time to thank her for the unconditional love she’s given to me and my family. I can honestly say that my mother is the rock  that keeps my family together, because we’d more than likely fall apart if it weren’t for her keeping us in line. Lord knows my dad and I would be lounging around watching TV and eating fast food all day and night if it weren’t for her wanting to go out on our days off. I’m also 90% sure my sister and I would’ve killed each other by now if it weren’t for my mom always reminding us that we’re all each other’s got when she and my dad are gone.

It’s always frustrating whenever her birthday, Christmas, or Mother’s Day rolls around because I never know what to get this woman. She’s essentially received handbags and wallets for the past three years because that’s as far as my creativity gets. To prove my point even further, I always give her a gift receipt because she’s exchanged a little over half of the things I’ve gotten her. At this point I feel like I’m better off giving her my credit card for the afternoon and telling her to have fun.  This woman wants absolutely nothing other than to see her family happy and healthy, but she’d give us the world if any of us asked. For that, we’d never be able to repay her.

So this is a thank you, mom.

• Thank you for all of the meals you’ve made for us. They’re few and far-between because of your work schedule, but I’m not lying when I say you make the best spaghetti.
• Thank you for all of the toys and games you’ve gotten me. I can admit you spoiled me, and I never really understood the value of a dollar while I was growing up, but I do understand the value of happiness.
• Thank you for all of the support you’ve provided while growing up. I hardly ever come running to you with my problems, but that doesn’t stop you from knocking on my door and forcing them out of me.
• Thank you for all of the fights you’ve let me win. I realize now that pride doesn’t come anywhere close to what love can make you feel.
• Thank you for all the nights you’ve reminded me you loved me. You act as if I’d ever forget.
• Thank you for all of the mornings you’ve checked in on me before you left for work. It’s difficult seeing each other because our shifts our opposite. And although I’m cranky when you wake me up, I’m always appreciative of every single day we have together.
• Thank you for all of the times you took care of me when I was sick. I’m better at my job because I’ve modeled myself after the care you give.
• Thank you for all of the moments you asked me “Why, what did you do wrong?” whenever I went through a breakup. Although most times they weren’t my fault, those questions gave me reason to look back and see what I could have done better.
• Thank you for all of the lessons you’ve left me and continue to give me. I’m a better man because of it.
• Thank you for always being there when I need you and even when I don’t. I don’t know where you find the time or energy.
• Thank you for loving me. I know there were times when I made it very difficult for you.
• Thank you for being my mom. I couldn’t ask for a better one.
• Thank you for all the above and more. I couldn’t possibly list everything you’ve done for me.

I love you, mom. I still don’t know what to get you this year.

One Hunnid

For whatever reason, my love life frequently manages to become the topic of discussion the unit I’m sitting in. Don’t misunderstand though, I appreciate the opportunity to get things off of my chest to actual people rather than anonymous internet audience. The feedback I get is just a bonus.

“No relationship is perfect.”
“This isn’t a movie, it’s real life, and that kind of love just doesn’t exist.”
“What are you holding out for?”
“You’re not going to get everything from a single person, the things she didn’t bring you, you’ll find in other people  in your life.”

Over the course of the past few weeks I’ve had several people at work tell me and explain in great detail that I had made a mistake. With the exception of maybe two coworkers, and three patients, the general consensus is: I fucked up.

But did I really?

I don’t think it’s entirely unreasonable to believe there is a perfect love. I’m willing to concede that there isn’t a perfect relationship, nor is there a perfect person. But I do believe that there is that perfect person for you.

A few weeks ago I let a 90% relationship go, because I thought that missing 10% was important enough to hold out for. It took almost everything in me to let go of that 90%. Some people spend what seems like an eternity searching for a partner to spend the rest of their lives with, and won’t even come close to 90%. Shit, I’ve seen married couples that haven’t even gotten close to 75%. I’ve seen people who find that to be enough for them, and I guess that’s okay. I’ve seen people content with the relationship they’re in, because they found it easier to keep saying “I love you” than to say “I can’t love you anymore.” I’m in no position to judge another person’s relationship, but if you’re not completely happy, you shouldn’t have to settle with what you’ve got.

I don’t think many people understood the amount of fear and apprehension I needed to get past in order to do what I did. It was difficult. I’ve spent more than enough nights debating with myself whether or not I made the right decision. I was afraid. Even though I do just fine on my own, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid of being alone. But the the thing I’m most of afraid of is waking up one day only to come to the realization that I settled. Or maybe worse, her doing the same thing. I’ve grown to appreciate people’s time, after all it’s the most precious thing someone can give you. I’m not here to waste anyone’s time, and once I start feeling like I do, I’m out.

Again, I don’t think it’s entirely unreasonable to expect to find everything you’re looking for in a single person. Yes, we can find the humor that’s missing from her in our best friends. Yes, we can find the drive and determination that’s missing from her in the friend we hardly see because he’s too busy working his ass off. Yes, we can find the comfort that’s missing from her in our parents. But is that really acceptable? Is that what we really want? At the end of the day, when you go home and lie in bed, wouldn’t you want to be next to the person who has the capability of giving you anything and everything you’ll ever need or want? This is the person you’ll be sharing your life with. She herself doesn’t need to be perfect, but when she gives you the look, you know she’s the perfect person for you.

We owe it each other to find that 100%. More importantly we owe it to ourselves.