limbo.

warning: this is a serious ramble.
I hate uncertainty.

I can’t make up my mind to save my life sometimes, but at least I have clear boundaries when I play mind games with myself.

I don’t like not knowing where I stand with people.
I don’t like not knowing where people stand with me.

Is it appropriate for me to hug you when I say ‘hello?’

Do I text you ‘goodbye’ or just stop responding?

            When you said you’d text later, did you mean it?
           

...

At least when I am uncertain about myself, I’m causing my own troubles. When I’m in limbo with other people, I feel like can’t brace myself with any form of expectation. If I have expectations, then I’m bound to be let down. Sometimes I wish I could read peoples’ minds. That way, when they say ‘let’s be friends’ or ‘I’d love to grab a coffee some time’ I’d know what they were thinking.

I have a number of great friends whom I depend on for support and encouragement and all around good times, but sometimes I want more. I want to make sure that if ever I’m in need, there will be somebody there for me. I just hate the process of making sure that those “somebodies” are worth it. I hate it when I think that they are, and they aren’t. I hate opening myself up to someone who refuses to open up to me. I hate putting my faith and trust into someone and having my plan backfire.

I guess what I dislike so much isn’t limbo, its uncertain levels of sincerity.

Sometimes I don’t know how to interact with people. Sometimes there’s a friend that wants to be more than a friend, but I don’t feel the same. Sometimes there’s a friend that is a great friend, but I want more.

Maybe I just don’t like the instability of relationships. I dislike change.
I like having new friends, but I don’t like making new friends. If I text too many times, will they think I’m desperate? If I don’t text enough will they lose interest?

I hate that I play like I have all these walls to keep people out, but they oh so easily fall down. I let people in, too many people. I trust to easily, and sometimes I feel taken advantage of. If I didn’t let them in then they wouldn’t have had that chance. I wonder what I’m doing to myself. Why do I want more? And is more actually better? I don’t want to sacrifice quality for quantity, especially when it comes to friends. I’d rather have a few close friends then a bunch of acquaintances. At least with close friends you’re never in limbo.

mirror.

I met a stranger in a cafe.

It was a total fluke, a chance meeting. I rarely hang out at cafes. I was meeting a friend, and it seemed like the only appropriate public venue.

I brought some homework and I set out to make some serious headway before my friend got off work. I noticed someone rustling by the chair across the coffee table. It was him. He asked if I minded him sitting there, and I said it was okay. He read his book, and I typed away. I could hear him laughing and I couldn’t help but wonder why. Eventually I got up the courage:

“that book must be hilarious, you keep laughing at it.”

We talked for nearly an hour. It turns out that the book wasn’t funny, it was actually quite serious. It had an eerie way of mirroring his life. He came across passages that resembled thoughts he had days ago.

We talked and talked, and he said that it was amazing that he kept meeting people like me. Like me. I think back on it now, and realize that maybe he meant people like him.

I met a stranger in a cafe, and that stranger was me. He wasn’t me right now, he was me from another life. He had seen different things and experienced different things, but he was me. He was a mirror of me. I can’t stop thinking about that day. I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop thinking about me.

I had a heart to heart with a friend about all of these things that she is going through right now. I saw myself in her. I saw my struggle in her. I saw my perseverance in her. I saw my passion in her. Almost as if she was me. Not me right now, but me from another life.

I read a blog that really spoke to me. It spoke to me because I felt it was speaking about me. I read the words and it was like they were coming from my thoughts onto the screen.

All of these mirrors keep finding me places. I see myself in my friends. I see myself in strangers. I see myself everywhere and I can’t help but notice a number of things.

1.      I am blessed to be me. NO ONE will ever know what it is like to be me, as I will never know what it is like to be them, and I am thankful that I get to experience MY LIFE fully as myself.

2.      You are blessed to be you. NO ONE will ever know what it is like to be you, as you will never know what it is like to be them. Be thankful that you get to experience YOUR LIFE fully as your wonderful self.

3.      I am confused. I have been struggling with a number of issues recently, and I am finding it hard to find myself within my own life. My sense of self feels damaged in some ways, and only time will tell what I build myself back up to be.

I met a stranger in a cafe. He wasn’t ‘strange’ at all. He was me in a different life. I can’t help but wonder if I will ever see him again.

thinking.

I find myself thinking late at night. It doesn’t matter what I think about, just thinking in general.

Last night I realized something about myself: I feel compelled to come up with a new idea before bed. The context of this idea doesn’t matter. It could be a new conclusion for a paper I’m writing, an idea for an outfit for the next day, anything really. Sometimes I even just think of strings of words that sound pleasant together.

Our hearts melted. Into each other, the warmth of our love was like glue. We were bound together in this moment.

Some nights I struggle to come up with a new idea. Last night I went to bed at a reasonable hour, and found myself tossing and turning for hours. For FOUR hours.

I could wear the green dress, or maybe not. Was the main effect supposed to be significant? Did I analyze that correctly? What will I eat for breakfast? Maybe I should move my furniture... or maybe not since I’ll be moving soon.... I need to buy more pasta. I don't think I have any eggs left.....

I felt like my thoughts were spinning within me and I couldn’t keep up. I felt like I couldn’t get one solid idea- only parts of this and parts of that. I felt incomplete. I couldn’t stop thinking for long enough to start sleeping. I wanted to fall asleep. I wanted to feel rested. I was all 'cocooned' up in my blanket. I was warm. I was ready to jump into dream land... but I was stuck in reality.

crunch.

I’m proud to set my own goals.

Sometimes I set goals that I know I will reach. I get a sense of accomplishment when I check of that last thing on my ‘to-do’ list. I’m proud to hand in that paper on time. I feel good about myself.

Sometimes I set goals that will be tough to reach. I push hard, and the struggle is worth the pay off. I find that there is a thin line between goals that are tough to reach, and those which try to break me. I feel broken. I set a goal for myself which I knew would be tough. I tried very hard. I pushed myself. I worked myself to the bone, exhausted myself. I tried, and I tried, and I tried.

I failed.

Maybe not quite yet, there is still time, but I’m feeling the crunch more than ever and I want to give up. Life is so much easier when you set goals that you can soar right by. Life is so much easier when you have lowered expectations. Life is so much easier when you can coast by.

But that’s not my life. That’s not my style. I could never settle for that. I know that sometimes I set goals that are too distant to reach. But I will try, and I will feel that I let myself down when I don’t make it. I’d rather almost make it than to never have tried. This sense of failure is worth much more than a sense of accomplishment that I didn’t have to try for. Sure, I could be a bit more reasonable about this when I’m setting up my next goal, but I’d rather not.

Sometimes I like the pressure. Sometimes I crave ‘crunch time.’ Sometimes I put things off until the last minute because it feels better that way. Sometimes I feel let down when perfect isn’t perfect enough. And sometimes I just let go. It’s not over yet, I won’t give in. I'll push harder, try harder and strive for more. I am jumping, a leap of faith, and I am falling.

faith.

"When all the dust is settled and all the crowds are gone,
the only things that matter are faith, family and friends,"
-Barbara Bush.
I found this statement in a pocket sized book my sister gave me, and it left me wondering. I know my family, I know my friends, but what about my faith?

I was never a religious person. As a child, I was baptised in a United Christian Church. My parents took me to Sunday school every week. As soon as I was old enough to make the decision, I decided to stop going. I never looked back until now.

I have a lot of respect for other peoples' religions. I have attended many religious services, I have bowed for many prayers. I don't hate God or the idea of a spiritual or holy deity, I just don't have time in my life for that relationship right now.

I started thinking I could find God for myself. Things were going well with my family, my education at university was flourishing, I was eating well, sleeping well, and generally in a good mood. I started looking for God. I started thinking prayers to someone beyond myself. I came close to the leap of believing, and then my world ended. My world ended, and I blamed God.

Why do we turn to God in sadness? Why not in happiness?

I have struggled in my life with many battles. Some were battles against the world, and others were wars I waged upon myself. In the deepest and darkest pits of my depression, I turned to God. I asked how He could do that to me; to make me feel so horrible and worthless. I asked how He could let bad things happen to good people. I asked how He could take people from me when I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I asked, and He never answered. He never answered, and I turned away.

The farthest thing from religion is science. I turned from God to higher education. I filled my life and my mind with textbooks, formulae, research and so on. I became so academic that when school ended for summer, I took more courses just so I would have papers and tests to write. My life slowly turned around and I considered God again. Maybe if I approached Him on a good day, He'd have an answer. I compared this idea to my childhood. I only ever asked for cookies if the jar was open and I saw someone having one. Maybe I should only talk to God when He is ready and listening.

I started to respect myself. I developed confidence and lost any form of modisty I had ever known. Modesty never gained me the respect or recognition I deserved. Once I had deemed myself awesome enough to be happy, I turned back to God:
"Hey God, its me. I just thought I'd say hi and show you how well I've been doing. I want you to be proud of me like I am of myself. Talk to you later."
"Hey God, me again. I got another good mark back, aren't you proud? I tried so hard and did so well. I just thought I'd let you know."
"Hi God, its me. I'm not feeling too well today, I have a cold. Ugh. I thought I'd say hi anyways... Hi."

And then the world crumbled and I didn't understand. If God isn't there on a good day, and He isn't there on a bad day, how do so many people 'find' him?



I've heard people express their 'oneness' with God. I struggle enough finding peace within myself. Sometimes I wonder why I'm going to school. We learn so much about nothing, really. All of these studies are useless. The body of knowledge of any experimental field is useless. Experiments only prove what you found, not that it could be found again. Some studies are replicated time and time again, but the theoretical analysis is still debatable. Causality is still debatable. I wonder sometimes if I care enough about the world to want to change it. Recently all I want is a bigger, more organized closet.

I feel like I might be losing faith; but how can I lose something I never really had? I'll try again. I'll pray again. I'm calling out to You again. I am jumping, a leap of faith, and I am falling.

poop.

everyone poops.
why doesn’t anyone talk about it?

Sometimes I’m afraid of my own bodily functions. I worry if my tummy grumbles in class... Will anyone hear it? What will people think?

My digestive system is a cause of concern for me. I have been diagnosed with a number of issues in my system. Most recently, I was advised to stop eating gluten (the protein found in wheat). Since then, my issues have settled down considerably... but sometimes I still have issues. Sometimes I have pain. This pain puts me in a bad mood, and I get snappy at people. People get upset with me, and I want to explain, but I can’t.

Everyone poops, but why can’t we talk about it?

I worked as a teaching assistant at a Montessori school in a toddler classroom. Every day I had to give updates to parents when they picked their children up:

So-and-so had x many bowel movements today.
S/he really struggled this afternoon with a firm bowel movement.
So-and-so didn’t have a bowel movement today, but was really gassy all morning.
So-and-so had some diarrhoea this morning, and is wearing spare clothing because the diaper leaked.

At that age, parents are so interested about what goes in and out of their children. I pay attention to my diet for the most part, and I pay attention to my ‘bathroom time,’ but why is it so taboo?

Everyone poops. Why can’t we talk about it?

Sometimes I accidentally eat gluten (cross contamination, or in a dressing I thought was gluten-free). It hurts. It makes my stomach turn and I get horrible pains. I want to tell people I’m having a poopy day, but this type of behaviour is not socially acceptable.

Sometimes I sneak it in anyways. Maybe in a one-on-one conversation with a close friend I’ll mention some sort of ‘tummy issue.’ I feel relieved. Sometimes other people have these issues too and we can talk about it and it feels better knowing that I’m not the only one having a poopy experience, knowing that if I say I’m not feeling well they’ll understand and sympathize.

Everyone poops. Why can’t we talk about it?

baggage.

"Life's too short babe, and time is flying
I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine..."
(taken from the musical RENT, particularly here at 5:50)

I feel like I'm attached to people in a way that others might not experience. I feel that I develop a relationship with every person I meet. Not necessarily deep relationships, but a connection nonetheless. And as people walk in and out of my life, those relationships- those connections- they give and take and change pieces of me.

I gave my confidence to my ex boyfriend. I would rather say he took it from me, but years later I realize the role I had in the diminishing of my now beaming self worth. We were together for years and when he left me, I felt he took a piece of me away.

I was angry and I carried this baggage with me. I carried it for days, for weeks, for months, for years. I’m still angry. I feel like he wasted my time. I feel like I wasted my self.

A more recent break up showed me how full of baggage I really am. I decided to do some ‘spring cleaning.’ It may not be spring, but my mind and my heart are cluttered by this nonsense. Screw baggage. I am myself. I am plenty good enough at anything that matters to me. I am worthy. I am awesome. I don’t need this baggage.

I purged my negative thoughts. I purged my negative self worth. I emerged with confidence. I feel lighter, emotionally. Somehow this lightness has transferred to my physical being. I feel I walk lighter without these thoughts and emotions weighing me down.

I am embracing this fresh start. I am equipped with smaller, empty, matching luggage. I will fill my new ‘baggage’ with positivity and amazement. I will embrace new relationships with realistic expectations and open-mindedness. I am lighter, I am flying. I am jumping, a leap of faith, and I am falling.