Closure.

I suppose much of life is about closure. I guess it’s impossible to lose once we finally find it – but is it something we ever really find? Or do we just get so tired of looking we lie to ourselves?

I’m approaching a full year of completely single, minus a few little things here and there. And right now if say I have closure, because I’m happy. I’m unbelievably happy. But if I wake up tomorrow sad, I can’t say any of it will make sense anymore. I know more than a few women who have spent entire happy hours on ex-boyfriends from five years ago, and plenty of people still blaming new partners for others’ mistakes.

I don’t know what the real answer is, or if it’s even a black and white issue. I’m leaning toward grey. Maybe it’s a day-to-day issue; maybe it’s an if this-then that type of thing.

I suppose that’s not the worst thing – after all, today I’m happy.

Walking away.

I have a problem. I mean, it’s a problem in some cases.

I learned early in life that loyalty is important. That when things get tough, I’m to make it work anyways. I learned to stick around.

I did not ever learn there should be criteria for who deserves that. I mean, doesn’t everyone? The benefit of the doubt – also know as naivete, innocence or trust – is something I hold in very high regard, and don’t want to lose.

I guess I finally get it, though. Relationships of any kind are a choice, and when they don’t work out – and so many of them don’t – it’s okay for that person to lose their benefit of the doubt. If everything is a choice, I get to make them, too. 

It’s okay to walk away from people who are bad for me. Not because they ever did anything really wrong. Just because they’re trouble. It’s okay to do what’s best for me. It’s okay to be a little selfish. 

Perspective.

I decided I wanted to move a few months ago. I say this at least once a year, each time something big changes in my life. But this time is a little different – I feel less like I’m running away from something and more chasing a dream or two. I’m also learning that dreams are sometimes even more abstract that I realized. I feel like I’m chasing a feeling rather than a position or place. And that’s a really great feeling. Chasing feels much better than running. 

That said, my perspective on everything changed that say. Suddenly everything turned into, “Well that guy’s a jerk, but I’m moving anyway so who cares.” Or, “My boss is awful today but it doesn’t matter really because I’m moving in five months.” I’ve done this with almost every situation I’ve encountered lately.

It’s a great fall-back. It makes everything seem okay because it doesn’t matter, and not caring is not something I’ve ever been good at on my own. I usually care about eight times too much. Approximately. 

But it also means I have very little drive to fix anything that’s happening right now. I’m just kind of going with it, because my circumstances will change soon. This is not something I am used to. I like to fix things.

So i’m left in this place where I don’t know what the right answer is – work to fix things that won’t be variables soon, or simply wait it out?

 

Old vs. New

I’m going through one of those moments in life where every day seems to be a constant reminder of how strange human interaction can be. How things change in an instant; past ghosts reappear, old temptations resurface and new excitement fades – all seemingly at the drop of a hat, and usually all at once. So then I’m left wondering – what’s the point? If it all seems like a cyclical reminder of things that didn’t work out and unhealthier but easier options returning, why am I even trying to find something with meaning, something that matters? Because at the end of the day, everyone else is dealing with the same things. Everyone else has old and easier, so why even try new? New takes effort. New is scary.

I tend to believe the potential reward outweighs potential hurt, but I’m beginning to think not very many other people do. 

Home

What is home, exactly? It’s a state of mind rather than one single place for me. It’s not Dallas, Fort Worth, Austin or any of the places I daydream about daily. It’s a feeling. But what does a feeling look like?

For me, it’s the highways between San Marcos and Huntsville. Between Fort Worth and Corpus Christi. New Braunfels and College Station. Abilene and Pittsburg. San Antonio and Oklahoma City. It’s the hay bales, cattle, horses and ramshackle barns lining the landscape. The trucks, Main streets and churches filling up the tiny towns between the gas stops and beer pickups. It’s the single headlights flooding a two-lane highway at 3 a.m. It’s the fields for miles, interrupted only by a single house and occasionally a cross. It’s the pine trees so prevalent it seems as if nothing else exists beyond the 20 feet on either side of the highway.

Home changes over time. Old pictures fade and new ones fill our memories. But these? These were all my first home.

Puzzle Pieces

Tonight I felt like crying. Not because it was a bad night, because it was so good.

Today I felt like crying, too. Because it was so bad, and nothing went the way I wanted it to. And I made a lot of mistakes. And that boy never said anything back. Neither did my ex-boyfriend. And I didn’t make a whole lot of money.

But tonight? Tonight was as simple as a few much-needed beers and a table full of boys humoring me in my work attire. Tonight was confidence, and a reminder that it’s all about perspective. Tonight was too many calories and too much money on take-out after drinking too much. Tonight was a nap at 8 o’clock. And those boys never called after they left. But that’s not what it’s about always, is it?

Sometimes it’s just about the puzzle pieces. Sometimes it’s about putting the good pieces together, and getting rid of the bad ones. Sometimes it’s about making the picture what I want it to be, rather than letting the universe decide.

And that’s a good realization. 

 

It’s always ourselves we find in the sea

maggie and milly and molly and may

went down to the beach(to play one day)

 

and maggie discovered a shell that sang

so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles,and

 

milly befriended a stranded star

whose rays five languid fingers were;

 

and molly was chased by a horrible thing

which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

 

may came home with a smooth round stone

as small as a world and as large as alone.

 

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)

it’s always ourselves we find in the sea

 

- e.e. cummings

 

I dated a guy once who told me he thought I seemed like the kind of person who needed to live near water. He wasn’t very smart overall, so this turned out to be an incredibly insightful comment for him to make. I do need to be near water in some capacity. And stars. That’s where I find my peace. In the vast wonder that overwhelms both of those places and the secrets they hold. I think that’s probably where God keeps all his secrets. In the stars and the water. That must be it. Why else would they be so beautiful?

Peace is interesting because everyone’s definition of it is different. My peace isn’t calm, but rather bursting with life. My peace is happiness – the kind where my heart feels it’s going to burst out of my chest because it’s so full. That’s when I feel the most balanced, and I can’t imagine a peace that doesn’t feel like that. Contentment maybe, but not peace.