Monday, October 27, 2014

Greetings From a Hopeless Romantic Fool



I’d like to interrupt my normally scheduled tirade of opinions with more of my own ‘issues’ (part of my contractual obligation with the Universe).

You know that shitty feeling you get after you feel that someone has fooled you? It’s even worse when you realize you’ve done it to yourself (especially if it happens right after they’ve finished with you).

A few months ago (pre-exposure) someone called me a ‘hopeless romantic’—and I was offended a little. I didn’t want anyone to think of me like that, it’s too weak-sounding. I’d rather be considered a hardass. Since then, I’ve been dealing with a few painful truths about myself. I’ve also found some fun things about me, little idiosyncrasies that I’m beginning to embrace in a way that tells me I’m finally beginning to take myself seriously—all of me, and not just what I want to be seen. I even had a bit of an epiphany.

Yay, me.

After much thought, serious internal seesawing, more thought, ripping off a band-aid and exposing myself more (and still hurting more), I admit it. I am a hopeless romantic. I do believe in happy endings (get your mind out of the gutter).

And I am a fool. I’m so fucking convincing I can make myself believe anything I want to believe. About anyone. MAYBE, even, I was never fooled by anyone. Maybe it was always me fooling myself.

You know what? It’s ok. Well, it will be. I just have to start using my powers better.

Balance is a funny thing—and probably something I will never achieve. The Libra curse. Some days (Ha—only some!) I’m like a damn pendulum, back and forth, one extreme to the other. But I’m aware of it. And maybe I can begin to minimize the distance between ends, slowly getting nearer to balance. At least a little. Before I die. That’s not too much to ask, right?

I don’t want to be hard anymore. And I don’t want to be angry or cynical, either. I have to be honest, I am still fighting that. Every fucking day; epiphany notwithstanding. (It has helped, though.)

Why do I feel the need to be heard? To explain myself? Do I think it’s going to change how you think about me? Make you like me? Or love me?

Why are you even reading this?

(Couldn’t help myself there! J )

I get a little extra verbal when I feel—

Forget it. I’m ALWAYS extra verbal.

I want to be understood. I want to be listened to. I want someone to care enough to listen to me when I talk.

Have you ever been on stage, or in the middle of a sporting arena, and looked out into the audience for that one person who wasn’t there to see you, to be there for you? (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, there’s a scene like that in plenty of movies.) That’s what I’ve been feeling like.

I question that a lot. Fuck it; I question everything. But my first thought about that is, “Why?” Because I do have people around me, who understand me, listen to me…who want to be there with me. Why can’t I appreciate that? I mean, I do, but…why can’t I appreciate it more? Why isn’t it enough? How is it that I can let one situation fuck with my head so much?

Because I believed. Whether or not it was someone else fooling me, or just me all along, I believed.

Belief is a powerful thing. It is the basis for the idea that our thoughts create our existence. It is the reason that so many people use affirmations daily, and that others think they’re a waste of time. It all comes down to what you believe. It is the reason that someone that everyone else thinks has everything would take his or her own life. Whatever we believe is our own truth.

I’m wrestling with my own truths now. But, now knowing my own fantastical powers of persuasion, I can turn them on myself (again—but I’ll try to do better this time, and be a little more conscious about it).

I have to believe in myself more. I have to value myself more. I’ve found that I can have a tendency to separate myself from “everyone else,” where I can allow certain things for others that I realize I don’t believe in for me. Sort of like the idea of believing in miracles, but never expecting them to happen ‘here’. A reverse arrogance, I suppose. You can be or do or have whatever you want—remember, I’m everyone else’s fucking cheerleader. Maybe it’s time to be my own. And to really believe what I say.

Why do I watch the happy endings of movies all the time? Just the endings? Over and over again. Or read the ending of a good book over and over? It makes me feel good. Without cynicism.

I’m not going to let myself get hard. I’m trying to close the distance and separation I feel. In spite of everything, I believe in love, of all kinds.

I believe I need to work on acceptance.

--and patience (that fucking word again).

I will work more on gratitude. I will focus on what is really there, and not what isn’t.

I will believe in good, and love and miracles…for everyone…for myself.

And like Julia Roberts said in Pretty Woman: “I want the fairy tale.” Because I believe in fairy tales.

There. I’ve admitted it. To the internet (that makes it binding).

So, I’m a hopeless romantic, and a fool. And soft. I guess I can live with that (I’m going to have to, right?). And so very lucky to have so many loving people around me. I do know they are there, even if I don’t always act like it.

I will try to have more patience (!!!) with myself. I will also try to limit my expectations only to myself and what I can do.

…I have so much to work on…(heavy sigh)…

--but I will still be “offering” my opinions on everything.


Believe that.