Getting to Know Frustration

I get back home from work and I am tired and drained. Having to cater to people and their needs truly does take a toll on a person, I don’t care what anyone says. When I get home all I want to do is take off my uniform, pee, and veg out for a little. That is me unwinding. Sometimes I don’t speak very much. Sometimes I just want to sit in silence. There are times that I may crave a beer and drink it (or two or three) while I watch my favorite t.v show. There are times I smoke a little pot. Unwinding and how you do so, I feel, is a personal choice. After living alone for most of my 20’s, I am used to this being my style of unwinding. Even when I was in school and living with my mother, other than the booze and the pot, this has always been my style of unwinding.

Oh how the comforts of unwinding have changed since rooming with someone.

We all get it. Having roommates is hardly ever easy. It’s almost like having a relationship, so many things to consider. So many more people to have to keep in mind. It is a self-inflicted punishment, one that usually arises out of convenience. Yet even though we are aware of the risks involved when deciding whether or not to have a roommate we still always give into the temptation of taking the most instantly gratifying way.

So here I am with a roommate. My usual unwind after work has now taken a turn.

I decide that once home, I was simply going to relax on the couch with my dog for a bit and catch up on a few of my shows that I haven’t had time to watch in the last few weeks. I do my usual routine.  I come home and change out of my uniform. I use the bathroom and after I’m done I get to my favorite spot on the couch and settle in. I begin to channel surf and just as I am about to locate the t.v show I have been waiting all week to watch, in comes my roommate.

“What’s wrong with you? Everything ok?” She asks me and I look up at her questionably.

“Yeah, everything is great. Why?” I answer as I turn and look back at the t.v.

“You just seemed annoyed or agitated.” She walks off and into the kitchen.

“No, well I’m not. Just here relaxing after work.” I smiled more to myself than to her. How did I look agitated?? I literally just sat on the couch and clicked on the tube. How can one misinterpret that into agitation?

“Ok, because if you are annoyed with something you can talk to me.” Lexi walks back into the living room holding a small McIntosh apple and continues the inquisition. NOW is when I begin to get irritated but I still try to keep it to myself.

“Nice, well I’ll surly keep that in mind the next time I’m annoyed or agitated.” I reply while I continue to scan the t.v guide. I’ve realized that at this point I’ve gone through half of the channels without even realizing. Great.

“Sooooo you are annoyed about something?” She was now staring at me from her bedroom doorway.

“What? No. Why? I just said that I wasn’t. I’m literally just trying to relax. I’m tired.” A flicker of annoyance dances across my face and hold onto my words. Who does she think she is ruining my winding down time? Like seriously.

“Well, You just said that you’d tell me the “next time” that you’re annoyed. That would mean that not this time but the next, insinuating that this time you’re annoyed but not willing to talk about it.” Her intention seemed genuine but this conversation had turned so annoying that her genuine concern no longer mattered. I wanted to flick her away from me.

“I honestly was just fine until a few seconds ago. This current conversation just got really annoying.” All of this talk about agitation and annoyance was starting to make me really agitated and annoyed. I was almost tempted to go into my room and curl up with a nice quiet book. Too bad it was a book that I currently didn’t want to read.

FUCK! Could a girl just watch some goddamn t.v without being interrogated?

The conversation didn’t end well. By the end of it I told her how this was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to live with her from the beginning. I felt as though I couldn’t just be myself without her questioning, probing, and prodding.  I had hurt her feelings because I hadn’t sugar coated what I was feeling. It took me a day and a half of meaningless small talk to get her “back to normal”.

I understand now that what I had considered to be an interrogation was just a kind girl giving a shit. Should I have gotten irritated and snappy back? Of course not, but I am only human. If I’m tired, hungry, stressed, or moody… well, who knows what could happen. But am I an asshole? No. I care. I truly do, especially when it comes to good people.

I’ve heard of adults being “stuck in their ways” but I  don’t want to be one of those. Yes, I’m used to my own ways of doing things but that doesn’t mean that I can’t change routine or break it a little. Breaking routine, the way I see it, is living.

As life with a roommate continues, I get to know frustration a little more and I accept it as an obvious part of life. It’s a daily struggle to adapt to living with a person especially one who is so different from who I am. Yet, the struggle is a rewarding one because with each hurdle jumped, our friendship grows a little bit more…..and there is such beauty in that kind of frustration.

 

The Land I Loved

The day I left was the saddest day of my life as an adult. The funny part is? I didn’t have anything to really hold me there. In other words, it’s not like I was leaving anything behind per say, only the dreams of my future.

It didn’t hit me as we were placing all of our belongings out onto the curb. My things that I had worked so hard for just out there exposed and left behind. It didn’t hit me as we pulled away and watched as the neighborhood I had called my home for the last year fade away from view. Everything that had become familiar to me that year was slowly fading and with each second that ticked by it was all becoming just a part of my past.

The silence during the first half hour of our car ride was needed because the lump in my throat wouldn’t have allowed for otherwise. It was once my turn signal indicated our arrival onto the interstate, and that moment of me looking into the rear view mirror, that a warm sadness washed over me. California had won. A true and real feeling of failure is what ran through my veins. It wouldn’t be for weeks that I would get to feeling like “me”again and then even still, it was a hurt “me”, a healing “me”.

My eyes welled up, the tears hot and intrusive. I could no longer hide my hurt once they overflowed and ran from the hiding spot behind my sunglasses and down my cheeks. I didn’t even bother to wipe the tears. What for? The pain was real and there was no sense in hiding it. Instead I chose to live through the emotion, actually feel what it was I was going through. I had fallen in love and for me this death was worth the mourning.

I’m sure many reading this will think I’m being dramatic. Only those who have taken risks and failed will understand where I’m coming from and really, those are the people I’m talking to. Only you are the ones who can relate. If you’ve never been through something similar, if you’ve never failed before and were left with nothing more than a a hole in your heart, read this and realize, your day is coming. That is for sure. It’s best you read up so you’re not blindsided as I was.

As a kid I had always dreamed of living in the rural parts of California. I had seen so many pictures and documentaries, the lay of the land in northern California was like a dream. The first computer I ever got that could actually surf the internet, I spent time looking up and researching places around the U.S that had always interested me. Cali was definitely my number one. I didn’t want to head there to be rich and famous. Fuck that. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. I wanted to live in California because it was something that had called to me as a child. Those beautiful mountains. The sky which seemed to always look so candy colored. The way the leaves turned to those amazing autumn tones in the fall with bright yellows, oranges, and reds. It was no surprise to anyone who knew me that the second I had cash saved up, off I was. I drove out to the West Coast without a moment’s hesitation. The people in my life dishonestly supporting me didn’t deter me. It was my dream, not theirs, that I was hunting for.

I had been purposely positive throughout the three days it took to drive there. I thought about how quick I would find a job. I thought about how awesome it would be to live in the new apartment, in my new neighborhood, with my new neighbors. I imagined all the cool places I’d finally get to see. Santa Monica Pier, Venice Beach, Hollywood Blvd, the Sunset Strip. If there were any doubts at any point in time, I crushed them with thoughts of positivity. There would be no Negative Nancies in my head bringing me down. No sir. I was (still am) a firm believer in the Law of Attraction so for me, negative thoughts weren’t even an option. It wasn’t until a year later that I looked back and realized, maybe the negative thoughts that would slip into my mind here and there was just life trying to prepare me for what would later be a shocking reality. But like Karma I find Hindsight to be a bitch.

My theory on Los Angeles’ smog problem is that it isn’t pollution, per say, that is floating above everyone’s head. It is my belief that the layer of smog that always lingers are the souls of the innocent who venture out to L.A and never return to be the same again. I mean hell, they don’t call it the City of Angels for no reason. I imagine it being like a trap box for the innocent. The interior of this box looks so appealing. It’s dressed up in opportunities and gold. Shiny things hang in its interior, attracting you like a fly to a light bulb. You get there one way, with a pure and maybe even naive way of being. Before long, the doors to this box snap shut and you are trapped inside, doing things out there to survive that you never thought you’d  have to do.

Yea, as a child I dreamed of going to Northern Cali but the opportunity arose for me in L.A. I figured that I could get myself started in the city. It would be my first foot through the door and then once I saved up a bit I would migrate up north.

I never even made it to saving up.

The California life is expensive. The cost of living was ridiculously high and real jobs were scarce. Just by looking around, the amount of homeless people or those collecting cans and plastic could be proof of what I’m telling you. My story during this time could have gone many different ways. It could have gone better. It could have gone way worse. It’s kinda funny because now thinking about it, they way I lived in L.A was so carefree, it was almost as though I was tempting danger to come dance with me. The streets of Los Angeles, the devil’s playground, and I was out and about living as if I were still out on the Island of Sanibel. I spoke to strangers. I would go out and try to explore my surroundings and many times, during this exploration, I would get lost and wind up on a block a didn’t belong. The drinking was out of control and there were more than a handful of times that in a moment of sheer blackout, would take my car and attempt to drive home. I always made it of course, but that is only because I have the best guardian angel out there protecting me.

There were so many mistakes I made when arriving to Cali. There were also many obstacles that also got in the way, obstacles that prolonged the feeling of settling down. I don’t think that in the year that I lived there did I feel at all settled.  Jobs weren’t working out. Food was scarce. Bills were piling up. The roller coaster of emotions and the stress were taking a toll on me. Secretly I would cry myself to sleep on almost every night. It would have been one thing if it would have just been myself that I needed to worry about. The fact that my sister decided to come along on my little adventure was what hurt me the most. Not because she came along with me but because she was suffering. This was my dream that I was trying to live out and now that it was going horribly bad she was suffering. To look at her face filled with so much anxiety and sadness really broke my heart to pieces and so the day I was confronted with the opportunity to return home, her face was the one I saw. In my mind, I saw her looking at me with the eyes full of hope of going back home, and that’s what made me break.

The decision was literally made from one day to the next and to be honest it wasn’t too hard of a decision to make. We were already 3 months behind on our rent. We had no food except for a bag of rice and a couple cans of tuna. By this time anytime we grocery shopped it was mainly baby food and soup cups that we ended up getting and that was to be split between my sister and I, along with my dog and her cat. Crazy right?

It had just been a few days before our planned departure that I had received an e-mail from our landlord stating that if we didn’t have the three months of rent we owed him within 48 hours, he would be there with police escort to evict us. Instead of leaving as planned, our trip back home was to be expedited. We gave our neighbor’s some of our things. Actually, we were trying to sell our stuff to them but after realizing that they were in no greater shape than we were, we freely gave things away. We then packed the car with whatever we could bring, but my small two door sports car couldn’t hold much, so we just left mostly everything behind. Like I mentioned earlier, the amount of people that are homeless or who rummage the garbage for food or things to help them get by is astronomical in L.A. So instead of leaving much of our stuff inside the apartment when we left, we decided to set what we could carry out on the curb for people to take. I mean for us it was like, “Well we can’t take it with us, so let’s leave it for those who will truly need it.” It was 6 am in the morning when we finished, the sun was just beginning to wake up. Our plan was to get out of there before our landlord showed up with his police escort. To be behind on a month’s rent is bad enough, but to owe three months is ridiculous. The fact that he hadn’t thrown us out sooner was a shock to me and a testament to how kind he was, for he was a really nice landlord, and there was no way my sister and I could face him.

As we got into my car, I noticed that there was already a family going through what was just a few seconds ago our belongings. It was truly a bittersweet moment that to even think about it now tugs at my heart.

I lost a lot on this adventure of mine to California. Not just my physical belongings but I also left behind a sliver of my dignity, piece of my heart, as well as a chuck of my soul. Yet, with my losing or leaving behind a few things I had also gained much more than that. I took with me my experiences of meeting new people, good and bad. I have taken and stored away beautiful memories and also some scary ones. Everything that I have obtained through my journey to and from California has served a wonderful purpose and have also gifted me with amazing stories for me to share. Who knows if I’ll ever go back and attempt at living there again but at least now I know somewhat of what I should be expecting.

There was a post I previously made about how I’ve only truly been in love twice. I’ll go ahead and correct myself by saying that it was three times. California. She is beautiful. She is enticing. She was a ruthless love.

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Art Work Credit: Jet Victory Follow on IG and FB

Feeling Lost? You May Be Living for Others…

My parents divorced when I was only four years old. My sister wasn’t even one yet. It was almost instant that I was thrown into the role as “Mommy’s Little Helper” and although I was more than happy to help, it still wasn’t a role I chose.

Growing up wasn’t easy. Between trying to keep my grades afloat and helping out around the house, while also ultimately helping mom raise my sister, I’ve never really had a true and unique identity. Sure, I knew my name and what my favorite color was but anything deeper than that I could attribute it to someone else. They way I talked, the way I thought about certain things, it wasn’t 100% me but a compilation of everyone else.  It seemed that at that very point in my life I was always trying to please everybody else. The weekdays were dedicated to trying to impress my teachers and friends. After school was the time to really show my mom what a big girl I was and would win her over by helping with the day to day chores as well as serving as an entertainer/baby sitter for my sister. I spent every waking moment with that little rascal once school was out for the day and every summer break was dedicated to being with her from sun up till sun down. For 20 years her and I shared a room. We woke up together, we’d play together, we’d fight and cry, and tear each other’s hair our a few times a month. It’s no wonder how she ended up being my best friend after all these years.

The weekends were rough because that was a completely different world than what I was used to. I had to spend the weekends at my father’s house. Not only were they a different culture to absorb, but the stress that came along with having to deal with him and his new family (5 step brothers and his “younger than my mother by many years” wife) were a burden. It wasn’t long before I began to hate going to go visit him and eventually I would stop going all together. Still, during the time I did have to visit, it was a time in which I had to put who I was on hold just to please them, just to avoid ridicule. It wasn’t until I graduated high school and moved out of state, away from everything I knew, that I began to uncover who I truly was but even still, that too took time. I had been conditioned to be a people-pleaser and that made it hard to live life as I wanted.

I moved to Florida in ’08 and within the year I was signed up to school. I enrolled as a Forensic Psychology student. I had a plan. I was to work 5 days and go to school 3 days, taking 3 classes at a time. I wanted to plow through school while working, graduate, and then enter my career. That was almost 9 years ago and still I haven’t graduated.

One of my truest reasons as to why I haven’t graduated yet is due to finances. The other 95% I wouldn’t discover until just recent . It wasn’t until after my retreat from California, and about two years after I left Jersey for the second time, that I realized what my underlying issue was. I truly was at a loss for I really didn’t know who I was, and in turn, had no clue as to what I wanted for my life.

I look back to most of the decisions I’ve made in my life as a young adult and although most times I felt as though I was choosing to do what was best for me, I realized that instead I was making decisions based on what would make my family happy. The choice to move to Florida and make it on my own was truly my choice but that came after tons of time with my uncle convincing me to do so (Thanks Unc!). The major I picked to study in school was something I picked due to what I happened to really like to read at the time, but what really nailed it in for me was how happy my mother got when I told her what I wanted to study. “Hay Nati, that’s so good!! You can find a job with the government and get great benefits!! You would never have to worry about anything!” She’d tell me with joy in her voice. How could I study anything else when mama bear was so happy??

School wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be and I don’t mean academically. Honestly, FGCU isn’t a very tough school to complete. My problem was the level of dedication I had for it. It was hard for me to place so much energy into something that wasn’t giving me immediate payouts. Don’t get me wrong, I loved going to classes. Learning is paramount for me but it was everything else that came along with it. I lived off campus and so when I wasn’t in class or at the library studying, I was working or at home completing my homework. My life didn’t have much substance other than that. I wasn’t making friends due to the fact I wasn’t ever really on campus unless it was to attend class and I for sure didn’t have time to go out and meet people. Basically, all I ever did was work and go to school. I wasn’t traveling nor meeting people. It was a very “blah” time in my life and soon I began to question my purpose for doing all that I was doing.

I took an Ethics class during my last full semester at FGCU before deciding to move cross country. Mr.Mathews’ class was amazing and it truly changed my life for the better. In this class I was introduced to the Law of Attraction, The Secret, and many other life changing ideals like meditation and chakra cleansing. I learned about vibrations within the Universe and how to break away from the conditioning society has placed on us. This class was the end of who I was before and the beginning of who I was becoming. This class was what triggered my self discovery and since then there hasn’t been a day that goes by that I am not grateful for this time in my life.

It’s been about five years since I took that class and since then, finally at almost the age of 30, I have been making many of my own decisions. Some have worked out in my favor while others happened to be nothing more than a learning lesson. Sure, life hasn’t been perfect but I can’t even pretend that it ever will be. Yes, there have been moments in which I may have gone off the deep end a little. You know what they say about idle hands right? Yet still, I am grateful for every rough second I spent, or crazy situation I’ve been in. It has been an aid in my self discovery process and better yet, they have been choices I made because I wanted to make them. How awesome is that!?? Its taken some time but I’m beginning to slowly figure shit out. I’m starting to see what it is I like and where I see my future headed. I don’t take society or even family (anymore) into account when I dream up my future. I’ve done enough of that and look at where it got me. Following others and what they want for me has done nothing but confuse me and slow down my growing process when it comes to life and what I want to get out of it while I’m here.

I’m sharing this because I understand what many people go through when it seems like they’re lost and have no clue as to what to do with their lives. I understand because I too lived my life for quite some time for everyone else BUT for myself. It leaves you in a state of disorientation. Many people are going through this exact situation and don’t even realize why it is that they feel the way they do. If just by reading this I can help one confused person feel better as to why they feel the way they do then this time spent writing this was not time wasted.

Now that you’ve read this and feel that maybe you could fall in this criteria of living life for others, it’s time that you begin to start living life for yourself.No matter the age or the stage of life your in, you can begin to take control of it. Start setting healthy boundaries with others and begin to replenish and take care of yourself. Also, go into your self discovery knowing that there will be choices you make that may turn out not the way you planned. Realize that that is OK and that that is the beauty and purpose of life. No one life is perfect so to have that level of thinking would be harmful to your Self. The world is imperfect and it is in those very same imperfections that you’ll find happiness, bliss, adventure, and life in its purest form. Living this dream we call life in its purest form will aid you in your self discovery and you will live a good and happy life.

In the end of it all, what more could we want than to live out life the way we were meant to live it if not happily and with full hearts??

Beyond the Obvious

Looking at her he sees an angel full of purity and innocence. Her skin immaculate, childlike and flawless. He knows she is a book full of secrets. A walking journal of sorts. We all have skeletons in our closet, but she’s got full bodies. He’s sure of it. Yet love is funny. It makes you do things you wouldn’t even think of doing, it makes you feel things you never knew you could feel.

Love makes you look beyond what’s obvious. To him she is an angel sent from God. She has no idea how she’s saved him in more ways than one. In his darkest moments, he felt her breath. It was warm against his skin. It penetrated and melted his heart. He could stare into her eyes forever. He could get lost in those deep brown pools that would infiltrate and pierce his soul. He could swim with In Those Eyes For Eternity. A Laguna and as mysterious as one too. What could lurk deep within those dark Waters? Turtles, fishes, leeches? Or maybe the Loch Ness Monster?

Maybe something even darker and more foreboding.

Still he cares not.

He loves her and with love he can conquer them all.

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Photo Credit: Arturo G. Muse: Natal Galvan

Roaring 20’s

As I slowly close out my twenties, I can’t help but get thoughtful. I analyze the last ten years of my life and think about two things, one, how quick it all went, and two, what I’ve learned in the last decade.

I still remember the day I turned 21. I had recently moved to FL that year and barely had any friends. I spent my day working and then afterwards went out for a few drinks with my middle aged co-workers (who at this point were like family away from home) and my boyfriend at the time who, unbeknownst to me, was getting ready to leave me in less than three months. My birthday wasn’t anything crazy. Now looking back on it I feel like it was a perfect representation of how my twenties would go. I had fun, but was it a roaring good time? Neh. I’ve always heard amazing stories of kids turning 21 and mine was nowhere near as exciting. At the time, I was a little bummed out about it. I had no crazy stories to tell, nothing to truly brag about. Now looking back on it I think to myself, “You moved to a completely different state, alone, and succeeded that year. Not many people do that. You did.” But in a young mind that doesn’t count. What counts is the amount of shenanigans one can get into and live through in order to get to tell the story later. Well, at least I’d always have my 25th birthday! Right?…

My early twenties was FULL of mature bad decision making. Up until you hit your twenties, you are young and immature. You know nothing about life and therefore you constantly make bad choices, not truly knowing that you are because foresight is almost non-existent. Yet while I was growing up, I had always been told how mature I was for my age, ever since I was a little rugrat. I had to grow up quite quick once my parents divorced and so that left me with hardly a fun childhood. I was like a mini parent, always making sure to help my mom out with my little sister, even on the days I really didn’t want to. So here I am now, a true young adult, living in a state far far away from home. I was over the top responsible when it came to working, paying bills, saving money, going to school, ect. and although at the time I thought I was making great choices (because mature people always make good choices…) I was also making really really stupid ones. By the time I was 23 I had made just a handful of friends my age and began going crazy. I was finally doing things that any average kid my age was doing. It was as if I was making up for all the fun time lost. I began partying like no other. It seemed like I was finally doing what kids my age had been doing since high school. I began drinking a lot and experimenting with other “fun” substances and throughout the cloud and haze I began associating with people that weren’t really the best influences. My picks of boyfriends were even worse and although I had always been a heavy thinker, making sure I was always 5 steps ahead of the game, I got sucked into the world of living for the moment, even if that moment wasn’t one I truly wanted to be apart of. It had taken me a long time of living alone and wanting friends that got me to that place. Once I had made those friends, actual connections with people, I would do almost anything to keep them from going astray.

My early twenties were full of moments in which at the time I thought I was doing the right things, the right things for me anyways. Even though I felt like I was doing the best I could, my delivery (or lack there of) on certain matters just wasn’t great. This is why I say that this period of my life was full of “mature” bad decision making. My mentality was if no one liked what I was doing or how I was doing it, Bye Bye Felicia, out of my life you were cut out, for good. Did it have to go to that extreme? No. Absolutely not. But at the time, I felt like I was living my life and how dare you have an opinion on it.  In retrospect I see how stupid and frankly, immature that was. People are always going to have their opinion, and they’re entitled to it. All I should have done was either ignore it or talk it out. Instead, I was trying to stubbornly stand my ground. By doing that I cut out many people from my life that to this very day I still genuinely think about.

The year of my 25th birthday was the year I hit my quarter life crisis. I was tired of living in this small town of FL where nothing ever happened unless it was trouble that would find you, even if you weren’t looking for it. I had realized that I no longer wanted to be here and I had saved enough money to take a venture to any place I had truly wanted. Since a child I had always dreamed about California. It was never in regards to moving out there to become famous or anything of that nature, but I had simply always been drawn to it. The diversity of people and things to do, combined with the mountains and the yearn to want to climb them all, it called to me. That spring I took off. My sister and I had packed our cars and off we went to see what Cali would offer us.

What it offered us was slap of reality, with a dose of breaking us down, and a lesson on humility. It took all but a year for life to really serve me up a lesson that it normally takes people up to a lifetime to learn. My quarter life crisis, like any other life crisis, was full of a lot of learning and relearning. Learning how the world worked, relearning who I really was. We lived out of our cars for longer than anyone would ever want to. We borderline starved, having to eat baby food in order to obtain the nutrients we needed for a fraction of the price of having to make a real meal. We had been so far behind on bills that eventually everything I had worked so hard for had simply slipped from my fingers and into a pool hand me downs for everyone else to enjoy. Intertwined with all this mess, you could also find people that made our situation worse. We met some really grimy people out there. People that by looking at them you would think were honest to good people. People you felt like could help you out in some way, or at least could add some light into this dark phase of my life, but instead took advantage until there was utterly nothing left.

California broke me down. I moved back to Jersey, not even FL but Jersey, with my tail between my legs. Here I had assumed relocating to California would be so easy like it had been when I had moved to FL but I was so wrong, on so many levels. Now here I was, crawling back home with the need to be around family and friends from my old life, a life I never wanted to come back to, with a need to regroup after my worse than awful travel adventure. Since then it has been years of me revamping myself, recreating from the rubble that was left behind from my adventurous travel, but not before making a few more minor mistakes (that were not so minor). I say mistakes, but in reality it is just one mistake I keep making over and over, they’re just dressed up in different costumes.

The desire to make other people happy and smile has been a quality and yet a downfall of mine throughout my entire life. I tend to put other people first, and then it’s my needs and wants that come in second. You could be family, you could be friends, or even strangers. No matter how we are connected, once we are, your happiness and well being are goals for me. People need uplifting?..DUN DUN DUN DUN! Here I was to the rescue! In my early years I always considered that to be such a good quality to have because, honestly, now a days who really does that? As I’ve gotten older I’ve learned what a hindrance it could be.How can someone place everyone else first and still think that the life they’re living is their own? Up until just recently I have done just that. I have been living the life of everyone else except my own and here I wondered why it was I was so happy (because I am always happy) yet so not happy. There was something missing and what was missing was me. I had taken myself out of my own life for so long that I had become completely lost and wasn’t sure how to find me again. I was dependent on making others happy and once those “others” had left my life for one reason or another I was left alone with not fully knowing who I was anymore or what I truly wanted.

Anyone that has read my other blogs knows what kind of trouble I have been in with the law in the last recent months. Although I am not proud of it, I can honestly say that I’m truly grateful for it happening. Many things that have happened as a result, both good and bad, one of the things I am most happy for has been for the self improvement phase of it all. I’ve obviously have had to cut my partying back some and as a result many of my friendships here in FL have suffered. As a result of that, I have had a LOT of alone time. People often say that when bad things occur it is really a blessing in disguise. I know that this was one of those times. For instance, I was sentenced to mandatory counseling and it was in that counseling that I discovered so much about myself that I honestly wouldn’t have ever learned if it wasn’t for me seeing my amazing therapist. Even as our sessions together slowly dwindle down to the last few, I cherish every second for she has really made life just a wee bit easier for me, if you can imagine that. Not being able to go out as I once often did has allowed me to have much quiet time, which in turn has helped not only my writing and my wallet, but also has given me the opportunity to dive into my self and get to know me all over again.

I have now really figured out what it is that I want to do next. There is no more idling here. There is no more of me waiting for someone to give me a purpose. I am my purpose. I’ve figured out that not everything that we think of as a “need” is a need, and that some wants should come before certain “needs”.

In just a few months I will be completely out of the awkward twenties phase and commencing my thirties. I have set goals and although I don’t have a certain time frame to accomplish them, I have goals that I have placed for myself. Coming from me, that’s huge. Not goals that mean something to other people, but goals that mean something to me. Since a kid I have always felt that my thirties were going to be better than any other phase previously lived. Fuck my high school years ( I actually feel bad for people who’s prime was hit in high school). Fuck my weird and awkward twenties. It was deep in my soul that I felt that my thirties would rock, and I still feel that way now more than ever. I look forward of what’s to come and mainly because it’ll be MY life that is finally being lived out by me.

Finally.

11236012_919972328052829_1223187122_n Photo Credit: Natal Galvan, Muse: Angie M. and Natal Galvan