Feeling Like A Joke

I've been meaning to do this sooner, but the intersnacks have been dodgy.

The interesting thing about blogging for me is that it works as a diary, helping me sort through the mountains of ridiculous crap floating around in my head. When I don't have the option, things sort of pile up and, no matter how much I stew over it, I can't just let things go. There's this weird part of writing things down that helps me release them. Sure, I could simply sit down with a pen and paper and get to scribbling, but...

No, wait. That's exactly what I did. And to be honest, it really didn't work. You see, I've been having a terrible time sleeping, which is most likely related to the state of mind I've worked myself into. Last night, for some inexplicable reason, I thought it a good idea to scrawl down the free fall of thoughts in my head. Of course, it was three in the morning and they didn't exactly come out orderly and pretty.

Actually, they came out like some haphazard list of possible blog topics, most of which I've already touched on in previous posts and others I'm not sure if I'm strong (or stubborn) enough to write about. The most common theme throughout them is feeling lonely, and health of body and mind. To me, if you have a healthy mind, your body will follow suit, mostly because you'll be motivated to get up and out and actually do something. It's been raining here, and getting up has been a chore.

Anyway, one of the points I jotted down, the first one, has been stuck in my craw for days. It's the source of a lot of heartache. And so, I'm writing about it. Here. In hopes of being able to let it go after. The thing is, I tried confronting it before, but it doesn't seem to matter how much I deep breathe or stretch my mind and body, it's there, needling away at me. I even tried talking about it, but what good is that when you feel stupid for even bringing it up.

Here's a shocking point, it's hard for me to talk about things. Surprise. It's easy to assume I'm a great talker, because I blog and vlog, but that's simply not the case. There are only two people who I feel comfortable telling anything to. I fear anyone else will take it the wrong way, maybe personally, and then offer up advice that won't help. The thing everyone needs to learn is - advice usually isn't what the person talking wants...or needs.

Back to the point, and the issue that's helped derail me from the path I was quite content to be travelling on. I'm a joke. Maybe not to you, or anyone else, but to myself, which is the person who counts the most. Today, and for the last little while, I feel like everything I do or say is a joke. And not when I'm actually being funny, but the serious stuff. My writing. The relationships I have. What I do for others. My love for knitting. Respect for animals. Everything just feels like one big joke and I'm the punchline. And not a very good one. The kind people chuckle at uncomfortably.

It doesn't seem to matter how much effort I put out or time or love or dedication, I feel pathetic. As though I am a sad little attempt at living. Where nothing I do or say matters enough to be taken note of. It's as though I'm simply playing a role, and not doing a very good job.

To be completely up front with you, it's a craptastic way to feel. And, in the battle between common sense and unreasonable feelings, rational thinking never wins.

I've tried putting a mask on and saying, I'm fine and going about my day, but the hitch is, I'm analyzing every piece of my life and losing grasp of what it is I cherished. The longer I harbour this passenger, the more I become the fool, and the feelings of displacement grow stronger. Other not-so-awesome thoughts pop into my head at unfair times. Like feeling invisible. Unwanted. A piece of furniture that always gets in the way, takes up too much room and isn't very pretty to look at. Then, the loneliness seeps in. A silent messenger who comes in the middle of the night when I'm laying next to someone.

Then I start wondering, why I'm not getting what I want?

I know it isn't fair, to want someone else to make me feel better. To distract me. To help me through the tangled knots of my mind. To reassure me that I'm not so bad. To love me even when it's hard to love myself. To forgive my bad mood. To understand where I'm coming from. To see me for who I am, not who I want to be or think I am. To demand attention. To want to be held, kissed and hugged, simply because I'm not happy with the reflection in the mirror.

It isn't fair of me to project my own demons onto someone else.  

The hardest part is, I've been here before, and  it's frustrating because I don't know how I got here again. This girl isn't me. I'm not supposed to be resentful or bitter. This uncertainty doesn't look good on me. I thought I managed to free myself of the constraints of my past, but it's there, sneaking up when it finds a chink in my armour and delivering blow after blow. Apparently, this baggage isn't going anywhere.

I'm a child again. A sad, dysfunctional child wanting the approval and affection of the people I love. Who feels disappointed in herself for letting others down. For letting herself down. The little, ugly, chubby, messy girl with the ratty hair and ill-fitting jeans. She is at the centre of who I am. And the little bitch is strong, and demanding.

I guess this has been going on since Christmas. Ever since, I've felt as thought things have changed. Inside me and all around me. And there's truth in change. We stop doing things for reasons. I'm trying hard to work through those, but the glue and staples don't seem to be holding.

Usually, I pull away. Distance myself. Put up walls. Hide out until the storm passes, or at least ravages and ruins everything in its wake. It seems as though no matter how hard I try not to, I revert back to the girl who doesn't want to get hurt and only ends up hurting myself. The thing is, I'm trying, to talk, to explain, to have some sort of connection that feels real, but I doubt whether it's working. Maybe I'm looking for feed back. A nod. Blink of an eye. Or perhaps just a simple clearing of the throat.

Everything I've wrote on this blog in the past is truth. I know that in my heart, even if it is stubborn and angry right now. Love is the way. You have to be beautiful inside to be beautiful out. Happiness comes from within. It's the little things in life. But the funny thing is, no matter how much you know to be true, all it takes is a shift in weather to fog up your glasses and change the way you see the world.

I'm hoping for another change in weather soon, so I can go back to seeing myself and the world for what it truly is.

And now, a quote:

Perhaps I shouldn't have posted this. That's it, I'm writing about cake tomorrow.

Top 12 Blogs Of 2012

Not other people's blogs, no. Why would I do that? It's just silliness to promote other people.

For those who can't hear, I am being sarcastic. As it goes, there are a lot of blogs I read that I absolutely adore and would love to recommend to you. But, it just so happens, this week's blog isn't about theirs. It's about mine. This last year, I wrote a plethora of blogs. As I went through my journey of finding out who I am and where I want to be, I pretty much detailed my evolution here. You poor people.

And now, for no other reason than to recap 2012, I give you the top 12 blogs I wrote.

Number 12:

I wrote a little blog post called All That Noise in the lush month of February. For some reason, it writing it was like a light bulb going off in my little brain. I began to see, all around me, the ways in which we are distracted. It allowed me to open up to some rather paranoid ideas about the government keeping us distracted in order to control us. While it sounds crazy written out like that, I believe there is some truth to it. And I've made a conscious effort to unplug and soak in the sounds of silence.

Number 11:

Sometimes, every once in awhile, people do guest posts on other people's blogs. I did one last year on Jane Alexander's blog. It was titled On Not Being The One. This small post really opened up a wound that was very raw to me. But sometimes writing or talking about our hurts can help heal them. That's what I hoped for. It's a hard day when you realize you aren't the person other people want you to be. And you have to let go because of it. This blog is important to me. Not because it is fancily written, but because it rings with a honest truth of a moment in time I hated experiencing.

Number 10:

Because I write, I feel words are important. Last March I wrote a little article that received a fair bit of hits, a few comments and was shared by a number of people. The title was Words Will Never Hurt Me which was actually kind of deceiving because it really does go on to detail how important and wounding words can be. I put this in the top twelve because growing up words did a lot of damage to me and I fear they still are doing damage to others.

Number 9:

My post titled Childlike Wonder would have been number one except I learned a lot of life-changing things last year. Why this one strikes a chord with me, even today all these months later, is because I love looking at the world with fresh eyes and being excited over it. It is a refreshing thing, to be able to look at your surroundings and loved ones each and every day with new interest and understanding. That's why I encourage us all to hang onto the wonder we possessed as children.

Number 8:

Last year, I took note of the universe on a grander scale. I've always loved the stars and moons and planets, but back in January, I looked up at the sky and my breath was stolen from me. I fell in love and have been looking up ever since. It is the enormity of the world we live in that brings me to my knees and I feel I have captured that in the post titled Ever-Expanding. It makes me feel small and insignificant and that is actually a good thing.

Number 7:

In a world where we are so driven by image and prettiness, I find it hard to exist sometimes. The pressure is immense to look good. But when you feel like crap. And treat your body like crap. It's hard to look like anything other than crap. Or at least that's how I feel. Back in July I was told I was 47% pretty. This sparked me to write a blog post called The Pretty Percentage and it touched on why I was perfectly fine with being 47% pretty and why prettiness simply doesn't matter.

Number 6:

This place is full of hurt. No, I am not talking about the living room or house I am sitting in. Actually, it's filled with love right now because I have this big dog sitting on my right and he's sleeping and lovely. What I meant is the world. The world hurts. It's cold and mean. Ruthless and violent. Except, that's just what we are shown. There are a lot of lovely things in it. I made it an effort to try to concentrate on those lovely things. In order to clear up a few things, I wrote a blog in December and thought it important to say it out loud. I Am Not Here To Hurt You.

Number 5:

For some strange reason, I wrote a few blogs on sexiness, indirectly. Well, one was straight up out there called Sexy, but it didn't make the cut. Not because it wasn't good, but because there was more important things to say. What did make the cut was a blog called For The Sake Of Sexy Times. Some people might be surprised this made it so far up the list. The reason is because, even though it is silly and funny and maybe a bit cute, it is important. Because we all need to learn how to love and accept ourselves and that's what I think the driving message behind this blog is. Besides, we all need a bit of comedic relief every now and again.

Number 4:

Once in awhile, I try to get all poetic and it comes out wrong. But by some sort of miracle  I think I hit the nail on the head in Where The Forest Meets The Sea. Not only does this post give you a glimpse at who I was as a little girl and who I am now, but it shows you what I want to be. The girl I am on my way to becoming  That's important to me. Mostly because I lost sight of her and was straying way far off my path. Now I have this post to come back to. I find it oddly beautiful. In a sighing way.

Number 3:

It's getting hard to narrow them down. I find myself rereading the posts. And I've put If Wishes Were Fishes at number three because, even though it is a huge gaping expose on who I am, that's just it. It's all about me. It's a detailed list of everything I wish for and was written at a moment when I truly felt lost. But after finishing it up, I felt clearer and lighter. That day, I struggled to write, so I sat down and just wrote "I Wish". Funny it turned out to me one of my favourite blogs of last year.

Number 2:

Last year, or maybe even the tail end of 2011, I realized that when you stand darkness all it takes is one person to hold a match and you can find your way. This is written out in more detail in April's post The Darkness. The darkness is of course representing depression, sadness, grief, and loneliness. I think everyone feels these things, but a lot of us are afraid to talk about it. This is another post where I get a bit more flowery and I really thought this was going to come in at number one, that's how much I learned from it. But no, it fell short at number two.

Number 1:

It was all about love, wasn't it? 2012. Learning about love. Opening myself up to it. Accepting it. Understanding it. Finally coming to terms with the fact that it is a necessity, no matter how much my cynical heart tried to argue. Growth and love, two very common themes out of all my posts last year. And, yes, I know I wrote a lot about it. Probably annoyed some people, but I think it is important. Besides, Love Is Good, which is exactly what the number one post is titled.

Well, there you have it. Now, I wonder what 2013 will bring in the ways of rambling and ridiculous posts by me. I guess there is only one way to find out. Jumping into it. Happy New Year, lovers, losers and long lost friends.

To Be Desired

Last night I was in bed, unable to get to sleep, and I started thinking about desire. No. Not my phone. The act of desire. Feeling desired. Or making someone feel desired.

You see, people like to feel desired. Not just women either. Men too. They want to know that others think they are attractive. We all do. And not just from our partners. Even when we are in loving, caring, amazing relationships it can still feel good to have someone else desire you. Compliment you. Think you're the bee's knees.

See, most of the time, the task of making us feel desired comes down to the people we take to bed with us. Mostly meaning our partners, girlfriends, boyfriends, wives, husbands, sidekicks. It's kind of their job to make you feel desired. Attractive. Admired. Coveted. Longed for. I mean, it shouldn't be hard to do, right? Because you shouldn't be going to bed with someone you don't find attractive, right?

Well, not exactly. Trust me, my bubble was busted too.

A couple months ago a male friend told me men will sleep with any girl (we are saying girl simply because it jives with the fact that I am a heterosexual woman and am really only interested in forming sexy relationships with men who like the ladies. For all I know, this might actually apply to gay men as well, but at the point in time we were actually discussing men who like chicks.) Anyway, this friend also went on to clarify that it didn't matter whether the dude was even attracted to the person or not, he could still knock boots with her regardless of whether she was hot or not.  

Yeah, it seemed pretty harsh to me. Mostly because the thought of someone sleeping with me only because Monday night bowling was cancelled made me feel sad. My friend said, even though men preferred their booty buddies to not be dogs, if push came to shove...you get my point. And then I found myself kind of disenchanted because sex isn't just sex to me. Maybe I'm a hippy but I think there should be some sort of attraction going on there. But even if there is that initial mind blowing chemistry it doesn't mean it's going to last forever. Or even a year.    

We've all been there, knee-deep in a relationship only to see the sex fizzling out. We go from feeling desired to feeling like yesterday's dirty laundry pile on the floor of your bedroom. The truth is, a lot of us have been in relationships where the sexual, affectionate, complimentary, ego boosting side of the relationship dies and has to be buried in the backyard next to the remains of Crumpy the hamster. Some people think the death of the hanky-panky is inevitable, that it will dwindle regardless of how you try to avoid it.

I don't want to believe that's true. I want to believe there are people who can live their whole lives together and find one another more attractive each year that passes. I want to believe there are couples who enjoy each other physically no matter how many days, weeks, months or years pass.

One might call this wishful thinking.

Because we all know things change. The compliments stop. Affection gets put on the back burner. Sex lessens, and sometimes stops altogether. Kissing is reserved for hellos and goodbyes and goodnights. Holding hands becomes virtually non-existent. And cuddling? Well, that's just for the honeymoon stage. It's almost as though the better you know someone, the less you actually want to touch them. Or touching them becomes less important for some reason.

Don't get me wrong. I'm sure you love them, but do you lust them? Do you desire them?

It's like that terrible scene in the first episode of Breaking Bad. It's Walter's fiftieth birthday and his dutiful wife is intent to giving the birthday boy a little action. She's going to take care of him because it's his special day. Except, her laptop's open and they're talking about chores that need to be done around the house as she gives him some manual pleasure. In the short scene so much is conveyed. Maybe it depresses me because I understand it. I've done something simply for the sake of doing it before, like it's expected, a quota I needed to fill.

We grow up. We get old. We move in together. Have kids. Buy homes. Work overtime. Stress about money. Get annoyed with each other. Become resentful and bitter. I get it. Life happens. But part of me wonders if it can't be avoided, not life, but the breakdown of desire. What if we simply put our phones and computers away. Turn the television off. Mute the world around us so we can reconnect, and not just mentally or emotionally, but physically as well.

So often, it simply turns to routine. Trying to schedule intimacy into our busy lives. If we're lucky. Sometimes we just let it fall to the wayside and gradually forget what it's like to be wanted. And, essentially, that's what desire comes down to. Feeling wanted. Being wanted. Having someone touch you because they want to, not because they're supposed to.

I guess it's easy to desire someone you don't really know. A picture. A model. An actress. The cute girl who serves you coffee. It's harder to desire someone you see everyday. The girl who always wears sweatpants around the house, who cleans the kitchen floor, or nags you for leaving your crap on the dining room table.  The guy who comes home dirty, picks his toenails, and can't seem to put the toilet seat down.

Or maybe we just forget how attractive they are. The qualities we lusted after in the beginning disappear. We just don't see them anymore. We forget what initially drew us to them. Or maybe we simply grow accustomed to seeing them, to the point where we don't really see them at all. They turn into a piece of furniture. The old worn leather chair you've had for so long. It's comfortable, and even if unsightly, you're just used to it.

Either way, I've never really felt extremely desired. You know, to have someone unable to keep their hands off me. Probably because I've never been 'sexy' (please see this blog to understand). Those who have had lusted over me usually don't really know me. And maybe that's the kicker. Maybe the 'can't keep my hands, lips, eyes off you' thing is specifically for the beginning, or internet affairs. On hold for those who don't really know us and can let their imaginations turn us into something we aren't. A fantasy. The perfect recliner, not the cute ottoman that you really are.

The thing is, if you feel like a piece of furniture - functional, practical, scotch-guarded and safe - then that's probably how others will start to look at you. Perhaps you need to desire yourself before other people will desire you.

And maybe I'm just rambling to fill space.

I Am Not Here To Hurt You

People don't want to hurt you.

Well, let me rephrase that. Most people don't want to hurt you.

Sure, there are some sadistic bastards out there who take pleasure in causing harm, but they are actually far and few between. That may come as a shock. Probably because we live in this crazy world where we are constantly being told how hurtful and distrustful everyone is. Everyone is out to get us. They want to steal our homes, cars, and boyfriends and girlfriends. Our friends and family are moments away from using and abusing us. Co-workers are going to take credit for our work. Bosses are going to overwork and underpay us. Cooks will spit in our food. Grocery clerks will overcharge us. Random people we don't know want to clone our identities and become us.

Well, that's just crazy. Isn't it? Sure, you're all nodding your heads, but the paranoia is there, it's set in, and it's spreading. Because we all know what happened to so-and-so. She went to wherever and ran into what's-his-name and the humdinger and the what-cha-ma-call-it and nothing will ever be the same again. Her life is ruined! And there are a hundred stories to back up the don't trust your neighbour vibe we are cultivating. Whether we like it or not, no one can be trusted. I heard it on the news; so it must be true. 

To counteract it, we have to be diligent. We can't become victims. No one wants to be made a mockery of! Square your shoulders, narrow your eyes into suspicious slits and watch with the dedication of a hawk all the people you come in contact with. They are all out to get you. You can't trust anyone. No one wants to see you happy. Humans are self-serving creatures that want to creep into your house at night and take all your good memories and laughter and love. 

It's so ridiculous, but I was there once. I thought people were out to get me. After you catch your friends talking bad about you and have enough run-ins with creeps on the street you start to believe what the media is selling. This is where the fear comes in. Controlling-lock your doors when you enter your house-check your backseat-don't stop to give the lost man directions-fear. A fear so thick and suffocating that we don't walk anywhere alone late at night and certainly won't open our doors if someone is banging on it crying for help. Why? Because we are going to get mugged or tricked or taken advantage of.  

I'm sorry to tell you, it's a lie. And it's been a lie since we were kids when we were told not to talk to strangers. These feelings of antipathy carry on until we are adults. Strangers are painted as these evil monsters who want to rip out your fingernails and feed you poisoned candies. Except, and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we are all strangers - and sometimes we get lost and make mistakes. Sometimes we do horrible things. There are even times when we are mean. But then we are also nice and giving, caring and sweet. And every-so-often, we need help, just like everyone else.

If given the chance, maybe all of us strangers can change things. There are a handful of individuals trying to divide us, of that I'm certain, and modern society is indeed a step backwards. We want bigger fences and less connections, or so we are told. We are no longer a tribe. We do not know our neighbours. The days of borrowing sugar are long gone, and I highly doubt anyone introduces themselves to the new people who move in on their block. Our welcome mats have long been disposed of. And the lonely pit we are all now dwelling is getting a little deeper every day. Eventually, we won't be able to get out. 

Right now, most of us are merely existing in this world. To simply exist means to eat, sleep and breathe, and that is just a waste of life. We want to live here. And to live is to thrive and grow. I spent many years dwelling in my hurt and I allowed it to make me jaded. It brought me so far away from the girl I wanted to be, the girl I knew I was, that I lost sight of what I was doing. It took me a long time to get back to where I belonged, to find my home again.

Life is precious  It is fleeting. We have no time to waste. Which is why we need to cherish the moments we are here. The moments we are together. We need to appreciate ourselves and each other.   

If the world doesn't end next week, I propose a radical movement of love based on trust and forgiveness. Perhaps if we let go of our past wrongs, then we can move into future rights. Stop the negative thinking and let some positive light shine in. And, most importantly, understand that there are more good people in this world than bad. Hopefully, with a little hard word, some laughter and plenty of cookies and cake, we can undo some of the damage that has occurred. I want to try to change this perception that mankind is uncaring and unforgiving. Maybe then we can start to unravel this horrendous knot of apathy and animosity our society is entangled in.

From this day forward, know this - I am not here to hurt you.

And I choose to believe you are not here to hurt me. 

Holy Crap

I haven't blogged in ages.

I promise to do one next week. And it's going to be good.