Thursday, July 15, 2010

It's Raining Men. . .

I had someone come up to me quite seriously and ask me if everything was going okay. I replied, "ya" because I believed everything was going great for me. But they then preceded to inquire more, meaning they didn't believe me. They stated that I had seemed to be less open and more reserved than usual. I chuckled inside and began to retell the story I blogged about previously called Hurt. They understood my reservations for the evening being that I was with that same group of people. And I explained to him that I really liked these people, but now I feel I have to filter everything I say as to protect myself from another crushed ego.

So on the quiet, solo drive to our usual hot spot for food, I began to think. Surprising I know! But I thought about maybe why I was feeling so reserved around a group of people whom I consider to be my closest friends. I asked myself, "Why is it that they make me feel insecure? Especially in an environment where confidence is the currency?" My conclusion was simply this: My closest friends are 90% male and about 80% of them are single. There for, my nightmare of High School dating has followed me into adulthood.

In High School, I was basically Kurt, from Glee. For those completely unfamiliar with Glee, Kurt is a love struck, always sings back up, doesn't fit in, perpetually alone guy who never gets the man. And that's me. I always wanted to shine and have the guy I was in love with, love me back. But of course never did. And then always seemed to crave that attention from anyone who would give it to me. As confident as I may come across sometimes, I still find myself checking for the dirt under my fingernails when guy walks by. Or more realistically, sucking in my gut, looking up as to not show my double chin, and never raising my arms above my head so that I don't abruptly take flight from my bat wings when a guy walks by. (I can have an entire blog dedicated to Why I don't wear Shorts. But I'll save that for another time.)

Confidence is what men say they want in a woman. So how come it's something I can't get a grip on, even when I don't view the "men" in my life to be potential mates? WHY do I still, at 31, feel like I'm 16 and get asked to the prom only because their first date cancelled on them three days before the dance. -And yes that really did happen to me. What is it in women that give the men such power and control over their self worth?

I came to this idea. Women are born with an instinct. Much like a mothering intuition, we are born with an inner desire to find a mate. And for me, I have had that on my mind since I was in kindergarten. Being married and a mom is what I have always wanted to do. Nothing else held much desire for me because I wanted to be a wife and mother for my life. I've got the mother thing down packed. It's the wife thing I find to be troublesome. You see as a mother, I can do it all by myself. I don't really need anyone else to complete the task, and I do mean in the "raising of" definition. However, I am stuck. I am frozen in time, waiting for my mate. And there's not much I can do to move things along any faster. I must wait. Much like every other single woman out there. I know of many quality women, who are still waiting for their time to be a wife. And waiting is pretty much all we can do. Sure there's making yourself available, making sure you are attractive, preparing yourself by going to school, becoming something/someone in the meantime. But because we are waiting, we give the power of something we hold to be of great value to the men we seek.

I'm not entirely sure I know where I'm going with this, but I do know that I haven't figured it all out yet. There is no real ending to my blog tonight. Only unraveled threads that may never be mended. I guess the only thing I can say is this, Men will always hurt me. But only because I let them. However finding that is the process in finding that special someone. A dear friend once told me that dating is like flashing someone. You go up to them, open your trench coat and reveal yourself to them. They may or may not like what they see. But if you didn't expose who you really are, like only showing a little bit of yourself. A leg here, a shoulder there, etc. They'll never get to see the real you. And then never fall in love with the real you. So as much as it may hurt sometimes, and as much as you feel it safer to stay hidden, please don't. Make confidence your currency, shave your legs, even get a bikini wax and chose wisely who you flash because it's you who holds the power. Flash on sisters, Flash on.

Friday, July 9, 2010

The Long Run. . .

So today I ran my first complete mile. And for those who know what I really look like, that's no small feat. I began running over two months ago to bring up my endurance in dancing on the stage. It worked wonders. Though i could never really "run". I'd jog for a small amount and then practically want to collapse after 1/8 of a mile. So I started up my spinning classes again to boost my self esteem about my exercise ability because I know I'm good at spinning (stationary cycling). I tried to run a little before or after my spinning class, but I never really felt like I was anything more than an embarrassment to those who watched me on the track. Not even my "NO FAT CHICKS" t-shirt would make me feel good about my aerobic endeavours. (The sheer irony of me wearing that shirt, and the look on people's faces as they would try and figure it out would always make me chuckle.)

So as I faced another boring day of me waiting around for something to do, I figured why not go to the gym. I didn't have a class to go to, nor any desire to run. I figured I would just simply walk around the track listening to music and ponder my thoughts in the cool air conditioned atmosphere. But once I walked outside, and felt to lovely 80* weather, I decided to not waste a punch on my pass and simply walk down to the old Cyprus track and walk there.

I walked at a moderate pace, not about to waste the opportunity to burn some calories off and my Cheerios from breakfast. (I'm on a low carb/sugar eating plan.) And forced myself to run one good lap. So I began, completely siking myself out thinking, "I'll be completely dying by the time that last corner comes around." But to my utter surprise, I wasn't and just kept going. I did feel that slight twinge of where my legs and heart would normally give out. But that's all it was, a slight twinge. So I began to think, I could make it 1/2 a mile. And if I could make it a 1/2 half a mile, I could try for one full mile!

Now my pace was slow, and my strides short. But I was running! And once I completed that last step, I still felt as if I could go on. I have always been a slow runner. I just couldn't ever get my legs to go fast enough. Not for lack of trying mind you. So I pursued sports that didn't require too much running, like volley ball and well volley ball. But now, I'm a runner. An actual runner! This fat girl is a runner. And I can still go on. I can still run more. I am going to keep running.

My life for me has always seemed like I was climbing up an escalator that was going down. And I'm sure a lot of you feel that way too sometimes. But this last few laps around the track of life for me have been a struggle. And there were days where I stopped fighting and let myself ride down the escalator to places that were less that wonderful. I regret so deeply those moments. But have learned things I never would've otherwise.

I have many days where I just don't want to run anymore. That I am so tired of running and getting no where, I'd rather just stand still. Today, I chose not to stand still, and the Lord blessed me for it. As small as one mile is, it is something that I never imagined for myself. But now have. I will continue to FIGHT the good fight. And so should you. Whatever your trials are, FIGHT! The absolute power we hold is immeasurable. I went a mile. How far will you go today?

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Hurt. . .

Tonight is a repeat of last week. I place expectations that the evening will be filled with positive events. And once again I am hurt by people who have no clue the depth their daggers go. I have never in my life stated that I was a good speller, nor have I stated that my vocabulary was even close to being average. In fact those two factors have brought much pain and ridicule for most of my life. So why is it that I "allow" others to place their intelligence above mine? These particular individuals who so quickly damaged my self esteem tonight do in fact believe that they know more than others. And continually correct/point out others' imperfections and replace them with a much shinier, well versed version of their own.

Now I don't have much of anything against these individuals. They are truly quality people. And seemingly are my friends. Plus the particular circle of friends where they find home is a humorous gaggle. Therefore the roasting of one another is implied. So I ask this, Is standing your ground, and stating how much it hurts to be ridiculed based on things you have never voiced having, petty?

Normally I would turn the other cheek and laugh. Trying my best to hold back tears while they've unknowingly skated far away from the offense. Then go back the next time, practically setting myself up for the fall by playing the "nothing's wrong" part. This may seem to be rambling because it's late and my emotions are heated, but I am looking for suggestions. Do I continue to turn the other cheek? Or do I say what sound much like a temper tantrum in my mind?

The Long and Winding Road. . .

I have always found myself saying, "There's just never enough time to get everything done." And since my girls have been gone, I have found myself drowning in the sands of unused time. I also describe myself as a verbal person. My emotions are usually verbally driven and released to the universe daily. So I figured why not combine my massive amounts of solitude with my ever growing need to express myself and finally do something with this blog I have had for a while.

So. . . Here I go.

I met my ex in October 1998 on a blind date. And I knew instantly that I was going to marry him. And I did. Seven months later. The marriage started down hill from the beginning. But I believe I was in denial for most of it. One girl, Two girls, Three girls later, my patience ran out. And I placed a proposition before him. And he chose the road that would leave me standing alone. The road I had been avoiding for years but regrettably knew was unavoidable.

Everything I had believed to be my life, wasn't. And then everything I believed in, slowly began to fade. And then nothing was familiar to me anymore. I started to sink into a numbing and comforting abyss. One I believed I would never escape from.

I am no longer engulfed in that pain. However the scars from those days are still fresh and very real. I don't believe I will ever fully recover from my "failed" marriage. Nor gain my sea legs for the endless ocean that is being a single Mother looking for love. (A love that seems very unattainable.)

This does seem to be a depressing beginning to my blog. However I do have a reason for mentioning all of this. I discovered a word shortly after my divorce that has stuck with me. It in fact is the name of my blog, Idiosyncrasy. It's formal definition, a person's peculiar characteristics fits me. But I fell in love with the medical definition of, an unexpected outcome. Because my life has truly placed me on a road that I never, ever expected to be on. The road signs are sometimes in Greek, the pot holes are big and covered in Oreo cookies, my dyslexia kicks in when reading the speed limit signs because the kids start fighting, and I always seem to just miss the last exit for a Coke. But I am where the Lord always knew I'd be. So I can't be too far off the mark. Can I?

For anyone who even cares to read this, I hope you find something in this mixed up life of mine that will bring a smile to your face. It's the only thing I have left that seems to have stood the test of time/travel, my sense of humor.