An open letter to this one guy

Thanks for being initially drawn to me by my superficial good looks (also, shout out to genetics for gifting me with at least basic genes so that I may attract the opposite sex). I appreciate that you find me attractive.

The thing is, I am much more than this. I am much more than my slightly round 5'3" frame, and long brown hair. I am a human, a person, full of contradictions and discrepancies. I am not something to be put on a pedestal to be stared at, but I am also not something to be handled roughly. I deserve to be treated with the care and respect that comes with any relationship, and letting me make my own choices is part of that equation.

I'm glad that you seemingly care enough about me to break things off before "they end on a bad note". I would be even more impressed if you had given it longer than 2 weeks and two days to decide to do this, based off the fact that you and I were not compatible, were not interested in the same things, or didn't have the 'spark' necessary to fuel a romantic interest. I am less impressed with the fact that you took away my choice of whether or not I would "like who you are" based on your own personal assumption that you are a 'bad person'.

But you still want to be friends. Because obviously, you're not that bad of a person to be friends with. Just not date. Whatever the fuck that means.

So great.  You mentioned once that you are your own worst critic (welcome to life, sweetheart) so I get why you think you are such a bad person. Unfortunately for you, I hate being told what to do, or what I think. And you cannot tell me that I wouldn't like who you are.

Because you don't know that.

In fact, it genuinely upsets me that you say this. Clearly, we haven't made it far enough into the "getting to know you stage" for you to see that I don't judge people based on their looks, education, gender, sexuality, economic status, whatever but that I judge people based on how they treat others. In fact, I pride myself on my ability to actually get to know people as people. To base my feelings on how I've seen them treat others, or how I've seen them treat me. At the end of the day, this is what matters. How you as a human treat the world around you.

But gee thanks, for taking away my opportunity to actually get to know you more, so that I could make a more educated decision on that. I really appreciate you telling me what I think, and what I should do because that is clearly a great way to treat people.

So maybe this is the answer I was actually looking for -- because if you are the type of person who is going to tell me what I am going to think, or who you think I am, then maybe this wasn't going to work out after all. I just wish I had been able to figure that out in a different way than having my heart squished through a text message.

I am a human, as are you. So I'm not going to harbor a grudge for all eternity (because its something I'm working on, not because I think you deserve it), but maybe just a few days. But I do want to tell you this, so that maybe someday you can find happiness.

We are all human, full of discrepancies and contradictions. People make mistakes, make good and bad choices, and can change with the wind. We are both fragile, yet resilient against heartbreak and heartache. We are our own worst critics, but out there are people that will love you for all the things that make you hate yourself.  Until you let that hate for yourself go, and accept that you are human, you will never be able to find that person nor will that person be able to find you. Until you can love yourself, you cannot fully love someone else. Remember that you are a human and being you isn't something you should ever be ashamed of.

Being you isn't something that you should ever be ashamed of. 

So go figure it out. Learn how to love yourself, and how to change your own hateful self-talk.

Just remember that you cannot decide how others view you, just as you cannot change who you are. It is not your place to form others opinions for them, and to take away that inalienable right from them.

Maybe then we can be friends.

Passion: a strong and barely controllable emotion

A lot of what I write about, or have written about before is passion -- finding my passion, using my passion to do good in the world, having a passion to guide me through the pitfalls of adulthood.

But after this TEDTalk, I've begun to think that maybe I shouldn't be looking for a singular passion to guide my life. I've had trouble (and noted before) that I have too much passion for many different things, passions that change with ebbing tide. These passions change depending on where I am, and what I feel I am supposed to be doing to help others at that point in my life. For awhile, my passion was being an RA. Helping others, giving advice, cultivating a community that still thrives today, regardless of the fact that we no longer all live ten doors away from one another. I've found an overall passion in Student affairs, but some days the draw to cultivating community through social media consumes me -- other days it is working towards the implementation of a first generation student group. I guess I am lucky in that I have so many passions that help fuel me every day.

So now I'm thinking, that instead of trying to narrow down my passions, or define the fact that my passion is a fluid yet all-encompassing thing....maybe I should just work on being passionate about life as it comes. Take every day as a an opportunity to find new passions, revive old passions and just be passionate about the experience of life as is.

Maybe this is the answer. That to fulfill my goal in life I don't NEED one passion to fuel me, or even three! That my passion for all things will allow me to fulfill what so many miss in their own passionate paths: I can find passion for life itself, and everything that comes my way. Instead of having passion hold me back, I can use it as my ticket towards a greater understanding of what it means to be me. To be human in its most simplistic form. To be passionate about living my life, regardless of the fact that it fits no molds, or follows no particular path.

Passion is what I felt always set me apart, but not for the right reasons. Now, I'm finally seeing it as it was meant to be -- the thing that sets me free and allows me to become what this world needs me to be.

Today I am thankful that:

I have the ability to communicate with the people I care about.
I have a phone that wakes me up in the morning.
That I have a puppy who loves me unconditionally.
I can drink coffee.
I have a mug to put my coffee in.

I am alive

I want to work on being more thankful for what I have, and who I am. So for the next few days, weeks, whatever it ends up being, I want to use this space to remind myself of the different things that make me the luckiest version of myself.

I am healthy.
I can see.
I have all 10 fingers which allow me to type to my hearts content, and struggle through calligraphy.
I can read.
I have two parents who love me, and love one another.
My parents are healthy and alive.
I have a wonderful brother who is off following his dreams.
He too, is healthy and happy.
I have fabulous friends who remind me to be more grateful for their presence in my life.
I have a job to go to.
I have a vehicle to transport me to the gym and to work.
I have two grandmothers who love me and are within 20 miles of me.
I have a family that I trust and love.
I have a roof over my head.
I know that I will have food to eat today, tomorrow and for the rest of the week.
I have clothes that fit and keep me warm.
I have access to technology to continue my pursuit of my own dreams.
I have and am gaining even more of an education.

I am alive.

Put me on the shelf, discipline myself

I haven't found time to write in awhile, and I'm not sure why. I definitely don't think its because I've finally figured out the answers to all my questions, or the way that the neurons tumble through my brain.

In attempts to pollute my brain with the thoughts of writing, I've been reading back on some of my older posts lately, thinking about how much has changed yet so much is still the same. I find solace that some of my questions now have semi-reliable answers, and that I have seemed to at least find a steadied floor underneath me.

As I read, the syllables tumble through my brain and bring relief while also bringing that heart-tugging burn into my throat. I can feel the words swirling through my lungs, pushing their way into creases-es, looking for escape. Looking for me to write them out and let them live.

Yet I cannot seem to bring myself to help them out. I feel them cry out, sting my eyes, pull my stomach down like the immanent drop of a roller coaster, yet I cannot help them find the exit. I've become selfish with my treasures and I do not know why.

I just don't know why.

I want to write, and to find a resting place for the tidal wave of characters. Rip out the roots and plant them somewhere else to grow; stop them from pulsating in my veins.

Sometimes I fear that when I die my blood will be black ink and the inside of my body will be an endless tattoo of adjectives and verbs. They throb within the marrow of my bones and tap out Morse code beneath my eyelids when I sleep.

These words are there -- I know it. But why am I suddenly so afraid to explore what they want to tell me?

Why cannot I find the time to breathe the life into them that they in turn breathe into me?