A Wise Woman Once Said...

"How many of our friends spend hours hating on their ex and picking apart the women that replaced them? How many of our mothers let their lives stop when our fathers left them? How often do you find yourself referring to someone from your past enough to the point where your friends can finish your sentences because they’ve heard it so many times before? We live in the past because that’s what our present is made up of. I get it. I do it.  But it’s time to move on.

He left you. He hated you. He called you crazy. He picked you apart. He slept with his back to you. He cheated. He lied. He forgot your anniversary. He loved someone else more. He ignored you. He never listened. He made you insecure. He broke up the family. He didn’t keep his promise. He changed. He never changed. He stole your best years from you. Well, the worst thing he ever did was take up permanent residency in your thoughts. Some of us still haven’t moved on from the mistakes our dad made. He was the first man we let stop us from moving forward. That’s a long time to hold on to something. It’s also a little creepy. His job was to teach us our manners and scare us out of being late for curfew, not be our example of love from a man."

Recently I've acquired a serious addiction to http://www.hellogiggles.com/. It's inspiring and beneficial to read what these smart, witty women who are all twenty-somethings with similar experiences like me have to share about themselves and the world around them. I first read this article a few weeks ago and continue to go back and re-read it. Each time I read it, a different part screams out to me, but the underlying theme remains the same. Letting go. Specifically letting go of the resentment I hold that's holding me back.

I've had two fathers walk away from me in my 23 (almost 24) years of life. First when I was 4 and second a year ago this summer. That's rough. And I don't want you to think I'm the only victim in this. The strange, ill-composed family I once knew is now shattered. I like to depict myself as a bitter, independent 23 year old woman who relishes in her ability to stay detached from those around her. But, the fact is it's easier to be bitter towards my dads. It's easy to not get hurt if you don't form new relationships with others. It's a lot less scary to stay in my house and watch American Dad reruns.

 He was the first man we let stop us from moving forward.
The more I allow my bitterness and anger towards my dads (and others) build up inside of me the more I am holding myself back from connecting to anyone on more than a surface level. And that's super lame and not who I want to be.

http://hellogiggles.com/single-girls-guide-11

The Art of Finding Yourself

These past few months have been filled with many "firsts" for me. First time in a foreign country. First time being single since preschool (maybe not really but that's what it feels like). First time kissing a boy who didn't speak the same language as me (literally, not figuratively). First time feeling truly alone.

There I was, my bags of clothes, books and toiletries spilling out all over the floor, my shoulders aching from the heavy load, sitting on the uncomfortable European mattress, listening to the first silence I had heard in weeks. When the taxi dropped me off, I thought he had gotten the wrong address. I was at a bar, miles from the center of town. He assured me this was my hotel and I was ushered inside where I tried to communicate with the waitress who spoke about as much English as I speak German. She showed me to my room up the tiny spiral staircase and I gratefully locked the door behind her and collapsed onto my bed. It was then that it hit me. I had been traveling the last 36 hours and had not had time to absorb that I was completely alone, in a country where I didn't speak the language and I knew no one. I suddenly felt overcome with grief and for the first time since I got on the plane in San Francisco three weeks earlier, I felt scared.

It was just getting dark when I arrived. Too early to go to bed, but too late for me to safely maneuver through a town I had never been to before. I tried to fill the silence by turning on the tv. The German language dubbed over the American television only angered me. I longed to hear anyone speaking English. I missed my new friends from school. All I wanted was to connect to someone.

This wasn't a new feeling that had suddenly appeared for the first time. I've been spending my entire life trying to connect to those around me. The majority of these connections end poorly for me, with those I trust pulling the rug out from under me just when I start to settle in. I had spent the few months prior to going abroad trying to learn how to be content with just myself. I read more. I spent more time alone. I went out with friends who I had spent too little time with in previous months. I felt so independent and so prepared to "find myself", but when I put myself in a situation where I would learn more about myself than I ever had before, it terrified me. I finally realized while sitting on the bed in Dachau, with Family Guy playing in German in the background, that my months of soul searching led me to the inescapable fact that I have no idea who I am, and I'm not ready to define myself. I felt like by figuring out who I am meant putting myself in a box and sealing it up; there's no changing who you are once you go down that path. Perhaps I'm just scared that once I figure out who I am I won't like what I find but regardless, I know that I create my own destiny and as cliche as it is I am the one who gets to decide who I become. No amount of bad parenting and poor choices can take that away.

Now that I'm back home I've decided I'm in no hurry to find myself. I know where I am today and I know where I'm going tomorrow and that's enough for me.