Foolish Thoughts

I was recently asked to do a guest post on brookem’s blog.  It was an honor to be asked and fun to do.   Go check it out!

View more pictures here.

It’s a miracle both my mother and I survived my teenage years.  I have a feeling karmas going to be a bitch. 

I found this scribbled on a piece of paper along with my notes from camp.  I don’t remember writing this, but I remember feeling this way and after reading it, all those feelings washed over me and puddle in my gut.  I’ve been part of this camp for three consecutive years.  Each year has gotten exponentially harder.  This past year I was given the opportunity to write the camp story: a day by day account of camp.  I was excited.  I knew how to do it.  I was confident.  But just like every year, even though I convince myself that it will be different, and it’s probably all in my paranoid head, I never feel like I belong there. It’s a strange, guilty feeling.  To work this particular camp is an honor and a great opportunity, but after three years I think I need to move on.   

“Tied together by stuff too difficult to explain to someone new.”  storypeople.com

I’ve been there.  In a relationship that isn’t working but you stay together because it’s easier than breaking up and starting over.  You rationalize with yourself that this person knows everything and it would be too difficult and complicated explaining to someone new.  They do, they know you.  They know your favorite song is Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones and they find you softly mumbling the lyrics to Can’t Take My Eye’s Off of You, because that’s what your mom used to sing to you.  They know you prefer to watch movies at home with the commentary on and it’s rare that you make it through without falling asleep.  They know you prefer wine to beer and you’ll never turn down a shot of tequila.  They know when you are mad or upset that it’s best to leave you alone, you don’t want to talk about it.  They know you like your coffee with a splash of hot chocolate first thing in the morning.  They know, no matter which side of the bed you start on you will eventually end up in the middle, on your stomach, one arm tucked under, the other above your head.  They know you love to have your back rubbed as you fall asleep.  They know your favorite book is Charlotte’s Web, but you hate the movie.  They know you love to look at other families’ photos and how you like to drive at night glimpsing into strangers windows just to see what they’re doing.  They know you hate to have your ears touched and you hate the sound and feel of cotton balls.  They know you love to take naps on the couch in the middle of the day.  They know you can’t sleep with your feet covered.  They know your extended family and how at times, they are crazy and loud and how much you are like them no matter how much you hate to admit it.  They know you hate to be asked the same question twice, you hate to repeat yourself.  They know how sarcastic and mean you can be.  They know your favorite place to be is sitting in Hampstead Heath Park in London , reading a book.  They know why you have a scar on your right middle finger.  They know your favorite restaurants, the color of your eyes, your spot on the couch.  They know little things, big things, secrets, stories, events, reasons and explanations.  They may not know all of you, but still, they know you.  They know too much to simply move on and explain it all to someone new. 

But, is that reason enough to stick around?  Do you stay because it’s easy?  Some do.  I did for a really long time.  For me it was too hard to explain why I wanted out, why I wanted to leave.  We had built a past, a present, and dreamed of a future, but I didn’t want it anymore.  But I didn’t know how to tell him.  And I thought I’d never find someone who would know and understand me like he did.  So I stayed.  Then I realized I wasn’t just hurting myself but I was hurting him as well.  So I ended it.  At the time I didn’t give an explanation, I just said I couldn’t do it anymore.  It was hard, for both of us.  He didn’t understand and I couldn’t explain it to him.  It took years before we were able to speak to each other and be comfortable in the same room.  It’s been 6 ½ years now and within the last two months we have made a mends and are trying to be friends again.  I’ve missed him.  I’ve missed our conversation, our drives, and I’ve missed his family like crazy.  I’ve missed out on a friendship that could have been, had I just been straightforward and explained that I wasn’t happy.  Instead, I stayed because it was easier.  Since then, I’ve made a pact with myself to never settle because it’s easy.  It might be hard, but it will also be fun to get to know and share with someone new.

“If you hold on to the handle, she said, it’s easier to maintain the illusion of control. But it’s more fun if you just let the wind carry you.”  storypeople.com

I’m a controller.  Not in a sense that I need or try to control everything.  But if it is in direct relation to me specifically, then I feel a need to be in absolute charge over it.  For instance, work.  If there is a job to be done and I am the doer, then you better believe it will be done and under my conditions.  There is a certain way I operate, an order to which I execute.  This applies to cooking, shopping, driving, money and watching movies.  I wish to do these things alone.  However, I concede to this notion when I’m entertaining within a group.  I resign all control to the group.  I’m up for any and all they have to offer.  I effortlessly convert into a follower.  If a crowd of us are going to dinner, I want someone else to decide where we are going and at what time.  Within a group I become easily persuaded, unless, as previously stated, it pertains to work.  This originates from college, primarily lab classes, where you work in a group but receive an individual grade.  This lesson took only once to learn.  I would much rather do all the work, get an A and allow the group to copy, than put my grade into the hands of strangers. 

I’m a controller, yet I believe I’m still easy to get along with.  I enjoy being alone just as much as with a group.  I need to feel like I’m in control at times and out of control and worry free at other times.  I need the balance.  Some things are important; while others I can sit back enjoy the ride and let the wind carry me.

I’m not sure what to make of it.  I’m still trying to figure out what “old unconscious patterns” it is referring to.