Everything's different

"To prove to myself once and for all that I am good enough and I deserve to be happy."


I wrote that on the wall in the Kimmel Center last New Year's Eve. I was bound and determined, very heartbroken and a little bit hopeful on the adventure of a lifetime with a friend who'd seen it all. 


It's hard having someone you've trusted your entire existence to look you in the face and tell you that everything you are, everything you could ever be, would never and could never be enough. It's even harder having the best support group in the world there to tell you that you're beautiful and exactly everything you should be when every bone in your body believes that you aren't. The nightmares, reliving him listing all of your flaws -  real, exaggerated and completely fabricated - there comes a point when they seem more real and that moment is more true than anything anyone can ever say. And suddenly you're sick. You believe all the awful things he said. You deserved all the awful things he did. You can't sleep. Eating is hard. There's circles under your eyes from the exhaustion and the tears shed around the clock. 


And you wake up one day and realize that this isn't you. And one jerk does not get to do this to you. But that in the few minutes it took for him to do this, it will take you days, months, maybe even years to recover. But it's time to recover.


And that was last year's resolution. It's not over, I still have a lot of work to do, but I at least know that I deserve to be happy, and most days, a lot of me thinks I'm good enough. Or at least alright enough.


This year, I don't know if I have one. Something about love comes to mind. I seem to be on some kind of journey to figure it out. But I'm fighting with every fiber of my being to not have my resolution have anything to do with love. So then dance comes to mind, but I can't figure out what I really really want to gear everything towards that will somehow be new for me. So then there's the weight thing, but I'm already working on that. 


So what is my New Year's Resolution?


I found this awesome quote today about how we shouldn't be looking for flaws to fix, but instead for areas of potential. I think that in and of itself is something I can use for a resolution. They aren't flaws...they're areas of potential. All of it. Everything I'm upset about. Everything in my past and present that hasn't worked the way I really thought it should. Anything that I would normally do that whole Eeyore thing about...maybe it doesn't have to be like that. Okay...shit happens. We all know that. But it happens for a REASON and I have always believed that. So what good can I get from it? What lesson can I take away from it? Or what could be waiting for me because of what I've experienced? 


I'm not saying I want to become Mrs. Sunshine...but maybe if I can try to find the strengths instead of the flaws. Maybe I can change things then. Maybe it'll all work out just how it should, no looking back, no second guessing, no regrets.


Happy New Year everyone! Here's to living down the Apocalypse...I hope...

My hair's long now

Truth: I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. I think that's usually my truth but now it's just annoyingly obvious to me and probably anyone who's been paying any kind of attention to me.

Someone from my past hasn't made me shake like that in almost  2 years. I don't know why it was this time. Why walking into the restaurant was so heart-wrenching for me. The way you looked at me - were you looking at a person you know you have power over, proud of your conquering, or were you trying to read someone you know you have no business coming back to see or talk to, and yet something in you moves you to do so every time? Were you trying to figure out why even though we all know the answer?

Everyone shakes their head, sighs and walks away from me before they've even given me the chance to tell them what I really think. The new girl said it's written all over me. I guess I haven't managed to convince myself that what I'm trying to say is what I really feel. And I guess I'm as much of an open book as ever.

Maybe that's why I've lost control again. I'm trying to prove to myself that I can figure it out, I am better than that and there's something out there for me...but it's not working. It's just helping to jade me more. 

I don't trust the new one. I'm waiting and watching for what he isn't going to like, for why he'll just up and vanish one day. I went on a date with someone else a few days after seeing him just to detach myself from the idea of him a little bit. It was nice, I had fun, but it was immature...and then I found him again.

Truth: I think he's awesome but I can't read him and that terrifies me. The people I thought I could read turned around and stabbed me in the back, so what is someone I can't read capable of?

http://youtu.be/01Du8S6Tksw

Dorothy

This time of year is my favorite, by far. It's filled with all kinds of childhood memories that warm my heart  in a way nothing else has yet to. My fondest of those are probably of Christmas Eve, and what comes to mind initially isn't the presents, but my family. They're wacky and crazy and we don't really keep in touch the way we should, but Christmas Eve always brings us together. For the most part. Well, it used to.


And it was all because of her - my Nana. When I was little I wouldn't go near her without my mom or dad pushing me in her direction. I thought she was weird, and stuffy and overall just disinterested in my life. I wasn't like the rest of my cousins - I wasn't very loud, I didn't look for trouble, in fact, I was usually the one my aunts and uncles could get the information out of. Not that I was a tattle tale, but scared of breaking rules - oh ya. But she made Christmas Eve magical, and we had so much fun those nights the majority of the time.


The year after she died, we found a few presents hidden in her closet waiting for the special night. She worked, up until she got sick and really couldn't anymore, and she worked only to save it and spend it all on gifts for her 18+ grandchildren. Each year, one or two of us would get an extra special gift, and I can say that happened to me a few times. One year it was skis for my family so we could go on a trip and Brittany and I could really learn how. One year it was a beautiful painting of a ballerina, that I'd made fun of earlier in the evening not knowing it was mine. And this final year, when she wasn't around to smile as I opened the boxes, she gave me a Coach bag that I still have safe and sound somewhere, and a statue of a ballerina and a mirror that she herself had painted. My mom and dad have that statue in their room, and I can't wait to put it and the painting somewhere perfect in my own home someday. 


So what do all those memories add up to? Christmas without her - now for the 6th year in a row. They've gotten progressively better, I think we're just adjusting to the way it is now and letting go of how it used to be, and I still can't decide if I'm okay with that. But I voiced something about the holiday to someone that I've never actually said aloud before the other day - 


"My family doesn't have a lot of money, but they deserve it. Ever since she's been gone, I've tried to fill her shoes a little bit and take really good care of them on Christmas. I know it upsets them sometimes, and my wallet hurts for a little bit, but it's so worth it."


I have always, always wanted to be just like her when it came to Christmas. Her name means "goddess of gifts," and she really, truly was. 


So, Nana, I don't really get to dance on Christmas for you, but I promise I'll look after them. As long as I do that, a little part of you is still here with us. 


Merry Christmas everyone. All my love.

I am...

Strong
Imperfect
Driven
Passionate
Loving
Compassionate
Obsessive
Determined
Beautiful
Damaged
Crazy
Funny
Awkward
Exhausted
Full of laughter
and of life
Weathered
an Old Soul
Careful
Spontaneous
Impulsive
Afraid
Intuitive
Imaginative
Down to earth
Playful
Soft
Loud
Outgoing
Dangerous
Stressed
Nostalgic
Talented

There. Me. Spelled out without once saying anything that I am not. And so begins the journey of solidifying everything that I am and want to be.

Give me a C

So...it happened. I broke down. Julee caught me crying and it was done. I wasn't allowed to take class and then I was whisked off to the chiropractor.

All by myself.

I am terrified of chiropractors, which is part of the reason I've never been. And all I kept thinking was, "Oh I so am not wearing the right kind of underwear for this." But that wound up not mattering. I could keep my pants on.

And the Dr. was so nice to me. He and the receptionist couldn't understand why I'd put it off for so long.

No one should have to just deal with that kind of pain.

You're only 21. You should not be falling apart already.

I couldn't help but smirk when he said that. Yup, that's precisely how I feel. Why don't you take that up with God for me?

So the morning from hell. I cried for at least 45 minutes, heartbroken that I wasn't dancing and gasping every time I had to move. I couldn't hide it. Then sheer terror. Then my life flashing before my eyes as my bones cracked. Then walking and rediscovering legs with no pain. Damage control through the department. Being told I look like I need a nap. Excellent. No time for a nap. Final diamond scholars day...essentially now.

So, if I tried to sum up the past 9 months of this...what could I say? It's been exhausting. It's taken over my life. It's become something extremely close to my heart. I'm not sure I can let this go. It's transformed me. Everyone can see that. I am stronger. I am more myself than I have ever been. I can admit that I'm whiny and emotional at times...and you know what? That's okay.

And this morning, the universe took control and showed me how strong my support group is. I had more than a handful of people genuinely concerned for me, and happy that I finally went and got checked out. A handful of those people actually took the situation out of my hands for me, knowing that I couldn't do it on my own.

I'm so lucky to know all of you.  

Solo

Day of dress rehearsal for my final performance at Temple University as an undergraduate. How am I feeling, you might ask? Not here. Surreal. I feel like I'm floating through the motions, but I'm not processing them. As I began typing that, I thought I would say I wasn't experiencing them, but that's not true. I am very much experiencing this, it's just not hitting me. I wonder when it will.

There is a lot of fear in me, which I wasn't expecting. Not just fear. Terror. What's going to happen next? I have a job. But it's not my favorite. I have a house. I have a few rehearsals a week. But that's not enough. Coming from the girl who needs to dance every day for multiple hours...I don't have the money to support what I need to survive. I keep talking about getting a car, or whining about my future husband who's in Australia and how on earth will I get him to take me in the company, or the new clothes I should very much like to take into my closet, but the truth is, I don't need that. I need to dance. And I mean it.

Very soon, I am going to have to deal with the insufficient supply of classes that can help me support my need. And that terrifies me.

I can always give myself class, I suppose, but that is just not the same.

None of this matters at the moment because I have a show to be focusing on. This is what I mean. I'm here, but not really. And just typing the words "I have a show," is making my heart twitch nervously. I'm not in shape to be doing this performance, so I think I'm avoiding dealing with it.

That lower back pain that I've been talking about on and off, well it's definitely here. Walking has become an issue, and somehow I still danced yesterday. Here's hoping I can keep it going for the next three days. The pain medication is not helping at all, though, and that is scary. I have no options left but to fool everyone in the audience into thinking I'm fine and hobble off the stage when it's all over.

Won't be the first time I've done it. I can do it again.

I can do it.

I will do it.

Because I have to do it.

Everyone needs to take care of their bodies.

I know your secret. Take care of yourself.

Sorry, guys. I know you were talking to me, both directly and not, but the thing is, you don't get it and I could never ask you to get it. I don't have time to take care of myself. It's actually more ridiculous to ask me to do that than it is to ask me to grin and bear it. If I were to take care of myself, it would mean sitting in an office for the rest of my life dressed in heels and a nice outfit. I was not made to dance, but I was not given the heart to do anything else. I refuse. Give me pain, tears, love and sweat. Give me the few years I have. I'll take all of this pain, all of the nights I'm not sure I'll ever move again, just so that I can walk on that stage and be me for at least one more dance.

So there you have it. Secret's out. I'm having a lot of trouble walking, but I'm still going on stage tonight, tomorrow and the next day, and I won't let any of you know that I'm any different than the next girl.

I can do this.