The Breaking Point

And I was doing so well.....

There are inevitably things in every life that test one's limits. Some are minor, and you come through with no issues. Others challenge your very will to exist. In times like those, I guess people turn to whatever it is that should help them. Maybe that's a god, friends, a lover, shopping, food, an old addiction, or a new one. But here's the problem. At some point, all of those will fail you or kill you. Then you're left with the same demons that you were running from in the first place, and then some.

But here's something that I've been curious about since I was young. Why do we run for something better; an escape, a salve, anisthetic? What do you do when you have a cold? Chicken soup, tea, painkillers, maybe some NyQuil. But do you ever just have a cold? Why is there this overwhelming need for denial of the experience? Pain and suffering aren't exactly fun, but they're key parts of being human and alive. I won't pretend to think it's normal, but I've generally gone head-first into every experience, good or bad, if for no other reason than the fullness of that experience. Confront the situation and emotions head-on and embrace whatever the result may be. Children do it on a daily basis. It's part of their self-discovery and familiarization with the world. In adults, I guess it's masochism.

But regardless of one's natural tendencies toward managing this life and everything that comes with it, everyone will at some point face challenges that require a certain degree of suppression. Maybe you have to be strong for your family, maybe you're supposed to set the example, maybe you have to have the self control for both of you, maybe you'll get arrested if you don't, maybe you've got resposibilities and obligations to fulfill. When this happens, there will inevitably come a point when everything you've built up has to go somewhere. And god help whoever or whatever is around when that happens. If it's no one else, then it's yourself. Something will become the target of that release. For children, that's a tantrum. For adults, it's sadism, or something. Then comes the rationalization for the outlash, and the apologizing, and the lost friendships, or the broken homes after a divorce.

So, then, we're left with a choice of sorts, aren't we? Experience everything and risk the pain, or suppress and risk hurting others. That's over-simplification, really. There are degrees of compromise within each option and the blending of the two. Sure. But generally people will gravitate towards one or the other. I can't say which is better; it's relative to the person, really. Just like the threshold of what one can and cannot cope with.

I don't have the answer. I rarely do. Maybe the answer lies not in how you deal with what life has to offer, but in how that translates into the way you treat other people and yourself.

Just a thought.

Addendum

To the previous.....but not on the same exact topic. In my head there's a connection, but I don't have the energy to explain.

Sundays.

Since I can remember, Sundays were spent with my family. Lunch wherever, then back to the house to just spend time together. In the past couple of years, those days took a detour. Progressively less time spent at the house with my family. There was still lunch, but even those got fewer and farther between. Now I look back and realize I haven't sat down to a meal with my mother and grandmother in months. Thanksgiving doesn't count.

I could blame the trend on a few things, but in reality it's my fault. See my previous quotable blog about "No One Makes You Do It." I chose other things and people over the family. It used to be the four of us, then daddy was gone, and it was just the three. And it was kind of empty. But we slowly found ways to fill that gap. Not replace him, we never could. Nor would I want to. Daddy, I miss you so much sometimes.

A relationship or physical distance is never an excuse to neglect your family. Ever. Especially if that distance is a tiny 35 miles from Plano to Southeast Dallas. I'd make that drive for friends in a heartbeat. Why then, is it just too much to do it once a week for the people who shaped who I am?

And now, the regret. They can't go out and enjoy lunches anymore. They're mostly confined to the house unless I'm driving and then trying to escort them wherever, praying neither falls. Because if it's not distance, it's my selfishness. It hurts more than I could possibly express to see my mother right now. I almost don't recognize her, and it's hard to find the real person behind the medication and exhaustion. So I avoid it, because it sucks for me. I made life hell for her in my teens, and I still can't get over my ego to be there for her when she needs me like she never has.

I've really been craptastic as a daughter and granddaughter. But I guess there's still time. There's always time. Until there isn't. And that's a regret I could never carry. Tomorrow is Sunday. And I'll be in the ghetto. With two of the most amazing women I've ever known.

This detox is going to kill me.

My Own Personal Jesus

I like to think that I'm unique, maybe a little fucked-off kinda special. But I know that much of my generation probably feels the same way....hell....I'm sure every generation does. This is probably more of a commentary on humanity than anything else.

But.

Today held one of those moments that really focuses on ones own little quirks. For me, music is so much more than background noise for my life. I can't deal with total silence. If I'm doing anything, I need this stuff to sustain my focus. Or break it. Either way.

A number of times in my life, a certain song or album has come along at the perfect time. Any other day, I would've thought "yeah that's pretty good." But at these times, I obsess to a degree that borders on ridiculous. Then, for the rest of what will probably be forever, that stuff is linked to where I was at that time. Mr. Crowley = Michael. Freshmen = Kirsten, Carey, Krissy. Everclear = shithole apartment in the ghetto. Vault = it's good to be young and stupid. Has Anyone Seen my Baby = how could I have ever been so fucking stupid. Meat Loaf = you know you need to get out, now. Etc, etc, etc.

When things affect me to a large degree, meaning when I go through extremes of emotion, I revert into the kid with the headphones in the corner. My music saves me. From others, from myself, from reality, probably from you. Sometimes it's healing. Sometimes it's a sharp little knife that breaks open the scars to see if they still bleed. They do.

Thus, today I find myself sifting through vinyl at Half Price Books for an hour. Looking for what, I don't know. Probably something to make me feel better. Generally, I find an answer. Or some kind of band aid. Not today. Today I find memories by the pound in the form of 12x12 cardboard covers.

The More Things Change

Earlier today, I was passing time in a trivial way with a few not-so-trivial friends. I remember saying something to the effect of, "It's okay to be a heinous bitch, as long as you're hot." While this was just one line in a chorus of sarcasm, I began thinking about the truth and consequences of it.

Later in the day, I saw a friend that I haven't had the chance to hang out with in what seems like forever. He's been through some major stuff in the past year. And, as is the case with many of the people I care most about, I've been a useless friend through most of it. Darin, baby, I'm so proud of you.

In between those two events, I get a call that gives me flashbacks to college, from someone I would have died for at one time. I knew that tone of his voice, that unspoken desperation, and that sinking feeling that there's nothing I can do.

Of course I have a point. Be patient.

How much potential does physical change have to alter one's self? And is time more powerful an agent for change than experience? Or can one memory throw one full force back into old habits, healthy or otherwise? And when does one, after endless trying, throw in the metaphorical towel and give up on another when nothing changes or (even worse) when so many changes result in the unforgiveable?

I don't have the answers, but I can speak to some of it. Perhaps physical transformation doesn't really change a person. I believe that, when the change is positive, the outside finally matches the spirit that's been inside all along. "Baby, you look wonderful. And it's not just your body, it's that glow I haven't seen in you for so long." I know I'm now more comfortable with myself than I've ever been. Whether it's external stuff or experience, I still can't tell.

On the darker side, some things may never change. Addiction, elitism, narcissism, pathology, dishonesty. Maybe some have yet to experience that catalyst which will throw their world into a tailspin and force them to evaluate. Maybe they refuse to adjust. If one is any of the above, no amount of surgery or makeover will change the behavior. It may, however, reveal it.

So, what's the lesson here? I'm not exactly sure. But this I know........It takes a special kind of person to observe life's events and then choose to really improve themselves. It takes immeasurable courage to admit that this part of who one has been for the better part of one's life, is wrong. They blame no one else for where life has taken them, and take active steps to correct the balance.

They are my heroes.

Ah, Clarity

I'm a big fan of letting life roll and simply enjoying the ride. Of taking in the experiences, good or bad, and learning from them. Sometimes it's an easy lesson; sometimes it breaks you. Sometimes you're grateful to make it out alive. At some point, you have to hit the brakes, or hit the wall. Or both. What good is real experience if you don't take just a little time to evaluate it?

I also really believe in being true to, and listening to yourself. And that's where I sometimes get tripped up. I'll ride out a situation long after I know it's a bad gig, just to see if maybe something will get better around the next curve. Lesson: it probably won't.

Having said all that, these past couple months have provided more insight, experience, lessons, fun, and pain than I thought possible. It's exhausting, but I love it. Thank you to those who force me into experience and self evaluation. Thank you to those who keep me grounded. Thank you to those who know I need honesty, not pandering. And thank you to those who say what makes me feel better, even when we both know it's crap.

I really do have the best friends in the world.

Addendum to the Application

I found something that more perfectly adds to the "Application to be my Boyfriend" than any question I could ever ask. Excuse the plagiarism, but it's straight from this new book I'm reading. Sometimes, other people have found ways to say exactly what you want better than you ever could. So here it goes.....

"You don't pronounce dog "dawg", lounge in Sean John velour, and you know jewelry belongs on a woman, not your neck. You don't refer to yourself in the third person or drink anything pink. You do eat carbs but will never Blackberry over dinner. You would never say "the bomb," or "nizzle," but an occasional "bi-atch" for good measure is okay. If you always order teriyaki at Japanese restaurants, I'm not the girl for you. I need someone with a sense of adventure, even if that means a spicy tuna roll. LOL would never be used in any of your communications with me. You've experienced pain at one point in your life, have evolved communication skills, and want to find a partner. You're intelligent, tender, and audacious with an enduring sense of character. You know when to swallow pride, grab me, and fight for it. An emotionally available man who doesn't acquiesce because it's easier than confrontation has a spot beside me. Men with mommy and daddy issues or who manage their anger with drugs or alcohol need not apply. A robust sexual drive is essential, really, no seriously, I mean it. Enjoy photography, listening to music, with me by your side, sipping wine from your glass (preferably, you'll be the one creating the music with your acoustic guitar? My God, noting is sexier) Holding my hand and kissing me on the street is a have-to. It's all about passion. I crave it and give it, good. A good first date would include honesty and alcohol. And, most of all, be armed with an attention span, and appetite for everything, and an open mind."

Roller Coaster

I find that categorizing any one thread of consciousness as "life" to be a little redundant.

However, since my thought patterns bounce from deeply personal to trivial to profound to ridiculous in a matter of minutes, I'll allow it. I choose to blame this one on either inefficient choices or my own inability to focus. Either way.....

The past few weeks have been a little blurry. I have, for the first time in years, lost my sense of time and perspective. I can't say that I hate it, but it's not comfortable. My immaturity has led me to seek out all forms of distraction from what I should be doing while my responsibility has kept me somewhat grounded. Somewhat.

I can't remember a time outside of my mid-teens (just like everyone else) when I've been through such extremes of emotion, mental stability, and the most frightening of all, consciousness.

Gut-wrenching pain to childlike euphoria. Complete apathy to undistracted motivation. Unquestionable confidence to crippling fear. Irrational rage to quiet resignation. Fill in with varying degrees of numbness and salience.

A profound thing happens when you realize you have the power to control a large part of what happens in your life. It's empowering, and terrifying. Think about it. If you don't like where you are in life, you can change it. Sure, things might get worse before they get better. Or they may not be what you thought. But therein lies the experience. And it's all about the journey, after all.

In the middle of recent events, advice from multiple sources has come flooding back to haunt and help me. Some came from my mother, from friends, mentors, my own crazy mind. Some I should have listened to the first twenty times, some I thankfully took immediately to heart, and some I've yet to get through my head and really accept. So, for purposes of The Greater Good, I'd like to share some things that have saved me.

First and foremost: Pinpoint your passion.

Don't expect anyone else to make you happy.

Don't compromise what's important to you, for anything.

You don't have to make the same mistakes twice. Or maybe you do.

You are beautiful.

We only get one shot at this life, and wasting time is the biggest disservice you can do for yourself or anyone else.

Your parents are human, too.

A great smile and cute shoes will only get you so far. After that, you'd better have some substance to back it up.

Don't expect him to change. Choose what you can and cannot accept, then decide if it's enough.

There are an infinite number of people in this world to love and share infinite lives with. Who's to say there's really only one?

Failure doesn't build character.

Rage against the dying of the light.

If you do not find peace in yourself, you will never find it anywhere else.

Your behavior has consequences.

Be willing to fail.

The quarter life crisis hit me square in the face like nothing I've ever experienced. Why? Probably because I expected it to. Maybe I needed an excuse to pull my head out of my ass for a second. I need to remember a few things, above all. I'm young. Really. At 25, I've experienced more than I ever thought I would and more than many of my friends ever will. And for that I'm grateful. But I know now that I've barely scratched the surface of what life could be. I have all the time in the world to check things off my list. Or crumple it up and throw it in the fire, ready to accept whatever things that forces stronger than myself have planned.

I hope some of this is helpful. Some of you will dismiss these as emotional masturbation. That's fine. Maybe it is. Who's to say I've never been selfish? But rest assured, my intentions were mostly noble. And finally, something new, for the looking forward....

"Believe, when you are most unhappy, that there is something for you to do in the world. So long as you can sweeten another's pain, life is not in vain." - Helen Keller