Just breathe

I inhale slowly, like he told me to, letting it flood my senses. It burns my throat slightly, but I don't cough. I am in control. I feel it spreading through me, my tongue tingling, I take another hit, but I feel nothing, or everything, I feel too much and I can't stop, I can't turn it off ever, I sip some wine and swirl it around on my tongue, swallowing, my head feels pressurized, everything is magnified by ten, but still I can't forget, I can't shut off my thoughts. I suggest more wine but he says I've had enough. I mumble under my breath, I think they can hear me but I'm not communicating, I can barely hold my head up, my thoughts coming faster than usual, melancholy, depressed, they say this is a downer, oh I feel it. I am ruining their vibe, but I can't help it. He tells me to go watch a funny movie but I don't want to be alone. I stare at the moon and mention its brightness, they laugh at me, I don't know why I didn't mean it to be funny. They carry on a conversation but all I can think about is G-d, what my purpose is in this world, and how I can be a giving person without getting hurt. I am aware that I am saying too much, I should stop talking now, I really should. I know I should just go to bed, but I don't want this weird night to end, and yet I know I will wake up tomorrow and pretend it never happened. He asks me "Are you good?" and I smile and nod and tell him yes, I'm good. And in a strange way, I think I am. 

On Body Image

I thought it was just me. But it isn't.

I sit on the couch with an old classmate looking through high school pics and reminiscing about the 'good 'ole days'. After all, it has been quite some time since high school. But the more we talk, the more it seems that we had a very different high school experience. While she went to a high school where she was young, thin, popular and had lots of friends, I was the awkward overweight teen who stood out in all the pictures, had a bad haircut, and had a hard time making friends. With every picture came more regrets, more shame, more self-hatred. The best way to explain it is that I was mad at "her" for being overweight and missing out on all the experiences, even though her was me and it wasn't really my fault.

"Oh my gosh, you lost so much weight, you look emaciated!" which is her way of saying 'you look hot and skinny', but the word emaciated conjures up images of bodies of people in the holocaust, and why would you want to look like that? But apparently thin is in.

Even famous people hate their bodies, apparently. But the question is, why? Is being thin going to make you happier? Looking like Brad Pitt going to make you more attractive? Will changing anything about yourself going to make you into a better person?

The problem is, if you can't figure out how to change your thoughts, control your mind, change your way of thinking, you can change your body, but inside you will still hate everything about you.

On Flying

We don't live in fear, we don't board a plane and wonder if it'll be our very last plane ride, if we will be hijacked midair. We roll our eyes and take off our shoes and go through security, bemoaning the liquid carry-on rules, the increasing baggage fees and the decreasing baggage limits, we roam the airports in search of electricity so we can stay connected, that is our one goal in life as we watch our batteries drain with fear in our eyes to never be without. But we are always watching, on our guard, alert. Or we are being watched, as we leave our bag for a second to walk over to the garbage can, and we know there is someone wondering if we will come back. We imagine saying "Oh no sir, that is not my bag," as we walk away, slowly, casually, imagining the bag blowing up behind us and leaving chaos and fear in our wake.

No? Is that only me?

I watch the travelers, wearing leggings and baggy clothing, traveling gear, nothing fancy, our hair and makeup and basic hygiene put on hold as we travel for 3, 5, 10 hours at a time, we confine ourselves to claustrophobic seats and even smaller bathrooms, our internal clocks screwed up as we cross time zones and date lines, getting to our destinations at ungodly hours and being forced to perform, to smile and hug and greet people and be a generally polite human being when all we want to do is scream that this is not human, and please I just want some sleep!

There's the safety video that is meant to catch people's attention and leaves me with raised eyebrows and headshake. A nun, really?

At least water and oxygen is still free. Barely. 

Wait, that's your BROTHER?!

On one of my Facebook stalking routes I came across a profile picture of a pretty girl and a pretty boy in a pretty picture with sunlight slanting over them. Someone commented on the picture, "And, who may I ask is this with [you]?" Someone else replied, "That's her brother." I would have been more taken aback had I not seen the same guy in another picture with another girl whom I'm friends with. (I have to say, he's a good looking guy. But that's not my point.) My point is, why would you pose in a rather intimate picture with your brother?

I saw another picture of a shirtless guy and a girl in a bikini with the caption "Look who I came across!" Apparently, also brother and sister, and if I understood correctly from the comments, they were both backpacking in Europe (separately) and chanced upon each other, prompting a sibling reunion. If the half naked thing wasn't enough, the siblings were commenting back and forth on each other's bodies, saying things like "I look so fat, look at my bloated stomach, but you look great!"

Okay, what we learn from this is that I have too much free time on my hands and should stop stalking random people on Facebook.

But seriously, I was never that close with any of my brothers, one of whom can't stand me for some reason. I'm not saying that the way I act with my family is normal, but neither is being overly close to your brother to the point of raising eyebrows.

I recently moved to an area where 2 of my (single) brothers live. I barely see them, but when I do they pretty much ignore me. Now, I know this is an unfortunate holdover from the somewhat dysfunctional childhood we had, but to me it's just normal.

I was feeling pretty homesick so I kind of sort of asked my brother if he wanted to hang out, and I was not surprised by his response of "I don't like you, why would I want to hang out with you?"

I am all for having normal healthy relationships with your brothers, but if you choose to post a picture of the two of you as your profile picture, please do us stalkers a favor and write #sibs.

I don't know how

I don't know how
to separate the private from the public
so I just say nothing.

I don't know how
to bare my soul
to leave everything behind on the stage

I don't know how
to close the divide
between what I'm feeling and what I'm saying

If only I could be that brave
if only I could be that good

if only,

My grandma calls to ask how I'm doing,
but there is so much we don't say,
were taught not to say from a young age.

My father says
he barely speaks to his mom anymore
because after all the things we are not allowed to talk about
there isn't much left to say.

We couldn't mention when my dad got his first cell phone,
because he was clearly too poor to have one.

We didn't talk about the new house,
don't tell them you are unemployed,
let's keep the transparent paper-thin charade going
as long as we can,
so they believe we are something
instead of losers.

I can't really say
that I spent 4 years in college
with not much to show for it.

Well
I'm sick of being a loser,
It's hard to move past all the
family drama,
all the things we never said.

These people,
these performers
speak about racism,
speak about love
and hate
and self-loathing

They speak of  broken homes
and broken hearts,
cut up bodies,

they speak of themselves,
they open their hearts and souls
they dig deep
and use their lives
to wow audiences and judges.

I want to be one of those persons,
I want to perform
not just write
in a dark dusty corner
forgotten.

I want to invoke tears
applause
feelings of awe

I want to feel that I too
can share from deep inside

But there is so much we do not say,
it's like locked up
in a box
deep inside

I don't know how to let it out.

Stop and smell the rainbows

"Come outside," he says.

Really? Now? In the middle of all this? What is it that you need that is so urgent it can't wait until I'm off the phone, until I'm done cleaning up other people's messes.

What do you want now when I'm busy, when everything is messed up and I'm trying to deal with it?

"Come with me," he says.

I follow him outside, impatiently barking at him. "What do you need?"

"Look," he says. And points up at the sky.

The voice in my ear fades away, as everything slows down. I stare up at the most magnificent rainbow coming out of the clouds.

"It was much bigger before," he says.

I smile. I pause, and take a breath before everything speeds up again.

There is always time for beauty.

Ocean Breath

The path leads straight into the water
it's as clear as day
the only way to go is down,
follow the white broken lines
follow the cars
just follow,
but you're happy to,
the sun and wind in your hair
the ocean spread out before you
as the road you take goes straight into its depths,
it seems
you speed up,
awaiting
anticipating
the salty air permeating
your being
you want to be breathe water
you want to be the water
fluid,
in motion,
overwhelmingly beautiful
breathtakingly wonderous
you sense no danger
as the wide open road
propels you foward
and the ocean welcomes you
with open arms
but at the last second
it curves,
you turn the wheel
follow the white broken lines
around the bend
the foliage
obscuring the water
the beauty you see no more
you mourn its loss
but you know it wasn't meant to be.

Muscle Memory

I thought I had forgotten how to run, but I guess my muscles remember. Vaguely, but they do understand how it works.

Oh how they ache, I can barely sit or stand without feeling the burn. There's a great path by the canal near where I live, it's 2.5 miles around.

I got halfway around and could barely breath but there is really no stopping when you have to get back to the other side of the canal. Except there is a bridge in the middle but I decided not to cheat.

As I was walking the last leg, a woman passed me on the trail, jogging at a slow pace. My competitive side kicked in, so I jogged past here and then switched back to walking. So she got past me.

Then I did it again a few times, leapfrogging her just to psych her out. It got her to move faster, but then I gave up.

You win. Game over, I can't breath.

But then I got home and jumped into the pool, so it was all worth it.

We hold each other

A beating heart. That is what we were each given.

A heart keeps us alive, until it stops beating.

A heart causes you to feel.

To feel pain, to feel joy.

To feel fear. Loneliness. Uncertainty.

We hold each other because that is all we can do, the more we hear, the more pain we feel as each video comes scrolling through news feeds and we want to block it out, stick fingers in our ears and pretend it is not happening, but it is. It is and you can't stop it, you can't stop the pain.

You can't stop the violence, as you hold yourself, arms crossed over your body, rocking with the tears, wishing it would stop.

*People judged us they couldn't see the connection
When I look at you, it's like I'm looking back at my reflection
I don't see nothing different, our pigments they coincide
We hold each other so tight they couldn't break us if they tried

What causes one person to feel the pain of another across the globe, cry with families of Jews killed in our land, soldiers ripe in years, babies even, stabbed to death for protecting what is theirs.

It makes no sense, but all we can do is keep holding on and pray for the redemption.

*Lyrics from "Hold Each Other", a song by A Great Big World

I want to get better

When I get a cold, I get it bad. Really bad. Wake up with aches and shakes everywhere can't move no interest in anything bad. Boxes of tissues and bottles of cold medicine bad. Wondering if I'll ever get my sense of smell back and how many people I am annoying with my nose blowing bad.

I finally went to the doctor after the pain in my sinuses became too much. I was convinced that I had a sinus infection, having gotten them all the time when I was little. I remember once when I was about 5 years old, I was so sick I couldn't even put on my socks, I was sitting on the bed in a fog and my mother had to do it for me. Pain in my sinuses clogs my whole head, the pressure makes it feel like my eyes will pop out, like I'm underwater in a pool filled with chlorine, like something is compressing my face.

So I marched in there ready to tell the doctor that I already diagnosed myself and please write me a prescription for antibiotics, thank you very much.

But after a few questions she announced that I do not present with a sinus infection, I simply don't have the right symptoms. Damn, I knew I should have answered yes to 'Do you have a fever, sore throat?'. Just give me the drugs and let me be on my merry way!

She did give me drugs. She prescribed steroids as an antihistamine to dry up my sinuses and allergy medicine to prevent it from building up again. She said in a week I should be good as new.

She also informed me that what I have is common, and some people live with it for months before going to a doctor. This? I thought. Why, why would anyone want to live with such pain, such discomfort?

But we do it every day, we have an ache in the back, foot, an itch on the arm, stomach, we feel minor pain and we chalk it up to lifting boxes, or nothing, or something that can't be explained. We have twitching muscles and stiff joints and we shrug and say eh, that's life, what can you do.

Well, you can do something, if you want to get help, if you want to get better. I have found that it is seemingly much easier to do nothing then to attempt to resolve your situation, because as a pessimist I anticipate failure as inevitable. And why bother trying when you will fail anyway.

BUT what if you could make a change and help yourself, make your situation better? Shouldn't you at least try?

I could have lived without my sense of smell, or with a box of tissues as company. I've done it most of my life. My family used to make fun of me for blowing my nose so loud. But now when I wake up in the morning with barely any tissues on the floor beside my bed, and a clear nose that I can breath from, I am grateful to have gotten the help I needed to get better.

It's not always easy to change your situation, but imagine how good it will feel if you try, and instead of failing, think about this- what if you succeed?

After darkness comes...lightning?

I'm sitting in my car at midnight and I know all the stories of people being shot or jumped outside late at night, and despite the warnings in my head I can't go inside. I lock my doors, turn off the ignition and just sit there, listening to "Roses" by The Chainsmokers over and over again while I watch the most breathtaking lightning show taking place in the sky, and I can't go inside, if I could I would sleep out here, sleep on a cloud so I could be closer to the light, I would stay here forever to watch this sight that takes my breath away and makes my heart pound in awe of what the Creator has done.

I can't go inside, because I lied, I lied when I said that everything is great, I lie because you probably couldn't handle the truth and I probably can't handle the truth. The truth is, that you can change your job, your location, your situation, your friends, you can change all the facts about your life but you cannot change yourself, and as I already knew, wherever you go, there you are. It sounds depressing, right? What if you are so sick of yourself, what if you are so boring that a guy can't stand to talk to you for more than an hour and says "Let me know if you want to do this again sometime" which you know is code for "You are so boring and that was a waste of my time" so clearly you bore people to death, and the bottom line is that you will die alone.

Your mom says that isn't true and that you have a lot going for you, but what does she know, she's been married to the same guy for 35 years and she claims she only married him because he was the only Jewish guy she knew and she knew she was supposed to marry a Jew.

What do you want to know? What do you want me to tell you? I could tell you every single crappy detail of my new life, but what would be the point? You can't help me, and who the hell reads this crap anyway?

I had to say that.

I'm sorry. (Not really, but maybe that's what you need to hear. If you are reading this.)

My first instinct was to run to an 'ex' and beg for validation, please, tell me what you ever saw in me, tell me that I'm interesting, and funny, and smart and worth being around, tell me that I'm likeable, that I'm lovable, that I'm not boring as hell or broken, that I'm not gonna die alone. But what would that do? Best case, he'd probably say something lame and generic to try to make me feel better, worst case he'd be a jackass and say something mean. Or ignore me altogether. Then I would be left to peel my shame off the ground, the last little shred of dignity that I may have had left.

No, I'd rather stay up alone and wallow.

And sit outside watching the lightning, waiting for some creepy killer to knock on my window. Or do they even knock?

In an effort to try to cheer me up:

Thank you and goodnight.

My Bubby, with love

I'm sick. I hate when I have a cold, my body feels weak and tired and all I want to do is go to bed.

But my body is betraying me, because so many things are going right in my life. Thank G-d.

I have a new job, new car, new apartment, new city/state. I picked up and moved and started a whole new life all on my own, and with G-d's help everything is working out.

I woke up this morning to the most gorgeous view outside the window of my grandparents' condo. I love spending time with them, although when I was younger I did not appreciate it.

They are old, and they are wise. And they take care of their family. I felt that especially today.

My grandfather helped me with my new car, walked me through the whole process and was with me every step of the way. He was patient with me. He explained everything.

The more time I spend with them, the more I regret having brushed them off when I was younger. I thought they were boring. I thought their habits of saving everything, from plastic cutlery to peanut tins was funny. I thought they were old and slow.

It took time and patience for me to realize what a treasure I have, and how much I should appreciate them while I still can.

My father grew up in a house with 4 boys. If they did have any emotions, surely they never showed it. The only one who apparently 'lived freely' was Uncle Neal. He was the fun one, the adventurous one, the one full of life and laughter. He wrapped himself around a tree driving drunk when he was 25.

Growing up, I learned that tears meant you were weak.

I learned that saying "I love you" makes you vulnerable.

I learned that opening a door to trust brings pain.

I learned to stuff my feelings deep inside, to bite or be bitten, to put up a wall to keep others out.

A lot has changed over the years. We aren't the people we once were. We agreed to bury the past, make peace with it so we could move on. Things are different now.

I never saw my grandmother as a very motherly being. She was simply my grandmother. She sent me cards on my birthday. She came to every graduation. She called to say hello and see how I was doing.

I never felt anything. I didn't know how to feel, at least not to them.

I saw her in the kitchen today, wearing an apron, preparing breakfast. She left me a glass of orange juice in the fridge. She made me a bowl of oatmeal.

I noticed a tube of lipstick on the counter. Its girlishness seemed out of place in this kitchen.

Then I looked around. At the heart-shaped card from a student of hers, where she volunteers to tutor. At the pictures of all of us, her grandkids and great-grandkids. At her knickknacks, her 'Edith Bunker' cookbook, at the charm and personality of her kitchen.

I looked at all the patchwork quilts she made over the years, and all the lives she's touched. Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough, that she could have done better in grandchildren. I wonder if she wishes I had gone to Harvard or Yale, instead of City College. I wonder if she is embarrassed to introduce me to her friends, because I am religious.

She blows me a kiss as I say goodbye.

It's hard to say "I love you" but I think she knows.

New York

My feet are freezing in my tights and boots, and my body is all confused. I should be in Florida right now, but here I am, in New York, the greatest city in the world.

I miss it, I really do. I miss the buses, the noise, the pollution, I miss the crowds, the NYPD Blue, I miss the comfortable feeling, like a favorite old sweater, that this place gets me, that it is me, and will always be a part of me.

I'm excited to tell people that I moved to Florida, and I'm happy there. I'm in New York for a visit, to see my friends and be here for Yom Tov. But then I'm going back, back to Florida where I live now.

Yes I live in Florida now. I have a job and  a car and an apartment with a pool. Do I sound all grown up? Cuz that's how I feel.

I will always be New York, you can't take that away from me. But right now I can't wait to go back to the Land of Sun.

Skating

My heart was in my throat for the first half hour as I relearned how to ice skate. It's not something I forget, but every time I feel the panic anew, the unsteady feeling beneath my feet, the fear of falling, the longing to be wearing shoes again on steady ground.

I'm not a pro in any sense, yet after going around a few times, I felt myself easing up, moving with the music, enjoying myself thinking, maybe I can do this without falling embarrassingly on my bottom.

I didn't fall once, thank G-d, but every time I witnessed someone else fall, I reminded myself to not be cocky because that could have been me.

The ones who fell almost immediately got back up and kept going, either for fear of being trampled of simply because they refused to admit defeat. We will all fall at some point in life, it is inevitable. What we must remember is to never stay down, to get back up as fast as you can, muster as much dignity as possible, and keep going.

I weaved in and out of skaters trying to avoid a collision. This is nothing like driving, I thought. I'm pretty confident on the road, and comfortable enough in the fast lane that I pass plenty of people, and get annoyed when people pass me because I'm slow. But on the ice I don't really know how to stop without slamming into a wall, so the possibly of bumping into someone in my path is pretty high. People will always get in your way, cut in front of you, try to trip you up, but you have to swerve, to avoid them, to not get tangled up and not let it distract you from your goal.

There were some pretty experienced skaters on the ice, some much younger than me. I tried to go faster, even considered doing some fancy tricks, but alas that was sure to make me fall and feel like a big idiot. So I stuck to the 'safe' route, simply skating in a circle. You won't succeed if you don't try, that may be true, but you also have to know your limits. When you first learn to swim, most often you don't do so in the deep end. You start slow in the kiddy pool. When learning a new skill, you start at the bottom and work your way up. Yes, it's often frustrating to see people far surpassing you, and wishing you could be as good as or better than them. And maybe one day you will be. But envy and self-pity will get you no where, but hard work and determination will.

If you want to be great at something, you have to give it 100%.

What I learned tonight is that skating is not for me, and I'd much rather sit it out and watch the kids have a good time.

Never Alone

I hold it/her in my hand and speak to it/her softly. Why must men use male chickens and women use female ones, I wonder. I no longer think of it as an 'it', but a shivering mass of fear. We have one thing in common, this chickie and I. We are both afraid.

I watch the blood and gore, the stench of excrement stifling, holding a paper over my mouth so as not to accidentally inhale any feathers. PETA makes a spectacle out of this every year, but I'd like to believe that there really is no suffering. That for these chickens, death is a cleansing process, a relief, that they meet their maker in peace, having served their purpose here on earth.

I hold the chicken in my hand as I swing, and I wonder where I belong. As much as this age-old ritual is for the purpose of atonement, for me it is also a family ritual. I recall years of going to kaporos the night before yom kippur in middle of the night, my brothers holding the chickens in their gloved hands and swinging it for us. I have never touched a chicken in my life until today.

But this year has been a lot about firsts for me. I earned my bachelor's degree. I will soon own my first car. I've moved cities. I took a rode trip. I held a chicken in my (gloved) hands. While some of these things may seem ordinary to some, to me it is a big deal. I am growing up. I am asserting my independence and conquering my fears.

Although I tend to be a 'loner', one of my biggest fears is being alone. Not physically. I don't mind being home alone, even enjoy the peace and quiet. But throughout everything I go though in life, I want to know that there are people I can share it with, be it friends or family or a special someone. I admit I have made foolish decisions at times, simply based on the emotion of loneliness. I do realize that it is better to be alone then to be with someone who makes you feel bad about yourself. But I also realize now that the feelings of inferiority come from within, not without. No one can make you feel anything that you don't already feel inside. Maybe their personality brings out the worst in you, but it cannot be attributed to them.

I sit on the floor with my back to the washing machine trying to get some privacy as the kids come in and out climbing over me. I am enjoying this, my new normal. I chose this. I am happy here. I chat with my father even as I hear him playing Word Whomp in the background and he denies playing a game while talking to me on the phone. We talk longer than normal, and it is nice, no tension, no pressure, no ulterior motive, just a chance to speak to my father and enjoy his company.

I get a call on the other line and see it's my mother. My father thinks she is calling me because she is worried that he doesn't want to talk to me anymore. I remember when I was younger people would ask me if I was closer with my mother or my father, and I remember thinking that was a dumb question. I am equally close with both of my parents, I have different relationships with each of them.

After I hang up with my father I call my mother and we talk for awhile. There's a comfort in hearing their voices.

Sometimes I think of G-d as a 'friend' in the sense that I have conversations with Him in my head and think we are 'good'. Then I start thinking how serious Yom Kippur is, and how holy it is and I get worried. Maybe I'm not worthy of good things, maybe I have more to atone for then I first thought.

Let's say it really is this simple: You are never alone. I am never alone. We are never alone. Sometimes I think G-d is 'out to get me'. I get mad at the way things turn out and wonder why He can't do for me what I think I need. But let's say I'm wrong. Maybe this is exactly what I need, this growing up and breaking free, this cutting my strings so I can fly. This letting go so I can move on and grow up and discover the world on my own.

It's scary, yes. I cried, I sobbed at the thought of having to buy a car by myself. The thought of going to a dealership by myself was terrifying. But then a funny thing happened and it all worked out. You might call that luck, I call it G-d's intervention.

We might think He's 'out to get us' but remember that He does know best. Remind yourself of that in a few months when everything is working out, when everything is coming together when just a few short months ago you could have sworn that your life was falling apart.

Sometimes things have to fall apart in order for good things to fall into place. Cosmic shifts. I don't know if I believe all those sappy quotes but what I do know is that I don't need you. I don't need you. I don't need you. I don't need you.

Maybe I don't believe that. There are days that I fall back into old patterns, fall back on old relationships, ones so old and covered in dust there are no good feelings to fall back on, no matter how hard I try to drudge them up. But I remind myself that it's okay, I don't need that anymore. Throw down your crutches, let go of your security blanket, ride out the storm on your own.

You are not alone.

Get up and go

The rain hasn't stopped in days. They wave their hands and say, "Well, it's hurricane season, you know". No, I don't know. I barely know anything about this place, I can't turn the corner without my GPS. Each morning I step gingerly over puddles to get to my car, and each evening I must wipe my feet thoroughly before entering the house to avoid muddy footprints.

I read about the earthquake in Chile as the walls shook from claps of thunder this morning, and I truly felt like it was a day to stay in bed. I wanted to call in "Not interested in coming to work today due to the gloomy weather" but I didn't think that would fly.

I love driving. I love the freedom of being able to get in my car and drive to work, or to stores or aimlessly, to be unchained. I left my old life behind and created a new one, and I'm happy. If part of that means leaving my friends behind while I try to figure things out, then I'm sorry. Sometimes when people ask how I am I really have nothing to say.

A professor with whom I was close recommended me for a research project and I am beyond flattered. He said that I stood out from all of the hundreds of students he taught, and then he made me promise that I wouldn't get stuck here. I wanted to play dumb and ask him what's wrong being here, but I think I know.

I know, because I am terribly afraid of failure. I know, because it is so much easier to lay low, stay under the radar, take each day as it comes, live off the grid, and any other term that is meant to describe not being active, not trying, not living the way life is meant to be lived.

Before, I was like a balloon filled with air, filled so much that I was ready to burst at any second, and coming here was like making a hole and letting the air out, getting rid of the tension, being able to breathe again. It was the best thing I ever did.

I'm here because of a friend, a person with whom I hope to be friends with for a long long time. But I also know that I can't stay here forever, at least not at this job or at this level in life. Soon I must move on.

I do want to promise that I won't get stuck here. I want to make a vow to myself, that I will set goals for myself and achieve them, that I will figure out what I want to do long term and work towards getting there, that I will find my passion and go for it, that I will go back to school if I have to and never stop learning.

I want to promise future me that I will not only try but that I will succeed, that in years from now I will look back at this moment and know that it was a turning point, that I made a decision to change things and then I did.

But although I know all this to be attainable, I also know I am too scared to try, too scared of failure to do anything.

I did try. In my own way. I drove to an abandoned looking building and circled the block twice, didn't go inside. Turns out it was the wrong place so I gave up and went home.

This is comfortable, this waking up in a new place, this going to a job where I barely have to think and there isn't much for me to do and still I get paid, this having dinner be cooked for me, having everything I need at my fingertips, having new family and friends to annoy and enjoy. I love it.

And yet, I know I'm hiding from life.

I don't want to break the news to him because I know he'll be disappointed when I leave. He's so happy to have me on board, so excited to show me what his plans are for the place, how much the company will grow in the next few months, years even. We're partners again and I love that. But this is holding me back from really living. I'm just pretending right now. Laying low, taking it easy, not thinking.

I think a part of me knows that me staying is not for him, but for me. Because sometimes, it is so much easier to stay, then to get up and go.

Confessions from someone who's never been in love

I've never been 'in love'. I abhor the term, as it conjures up romantic chic-flicks where guy meets girl, guy falls in love with girl, guy and girl live happily ever after. Or something equally as purge.

I've come to some realizations. I used to think of relationships as 'real' or 'fake'. If a relationship ended, especially if it ended badly, I labeled it as a 'fake' and claimed it basically never existed. It was easier to look at it that way then to deal with the pain of liking someone, or someone liking me, and then those feelings disappearing. My mind would go through mental stress of 'why don't they like me' or 'what did I do' and that was what hurt me, cut me down, made me feel like I wasn't worth it. But despite those feelings, I can now acknowledge that to get to that hurt place, there must have been a 'real' relationship to begin with, at least to some extent of reality.

Here are my life's lessons:

* You learn something from every person, no matter how shitty they treat you. Years down the line you will be doing something or thinking something and suddenly remember who taught you that. You will silently thank them for adding something to your life.

* When it's done, it's done. Walk away, don't stick around for more pain.

* Be with someone who wants to be with you.

* No relationship is better than a dysfunctional one.

* Food is never the answer.

* Don't start the year with them if you can't finish it with them.

I don't believe in 'settling'. You will meet a guy, and he will be perfect for you. Not perfect. Perfect for you. Sometimes they seem so perfect on paper, or they have all the qualities you are looking for but you just can't stand them, or they make you feel bad about yourself, or every time you think of them you get jealous because of the life they are living which seems so much better than yours. Sometimes a guy can seem perfect and you really really want it to be him but you know that it is not and will never be him.

Because somewhere out there is your perfect, and if you just hold out a little longer... I know you will meet him. And all the waiting will have been worth it.

So we all had burgers

We sit on bar stools at night
eating burgers
and sausages
the juice dripping down my chin
trying to keep the onions from sliding out of the bun,
thinking
THIS
this is it,
these people
this time
this place,
here I have found a home.

So we all had burgers late at night,
my third dinner
I think,
can't quite remember
it was an exhausting day
but I get to come home
to family,
not by blood
but by choice.

Tomorrow is September 11,
I think wistfully of the towers,
kinda miss seeing them
on the horizon
I see them in pictures now
and old TV shows
and once a year on the news
and media
telling us
screaming at us
begging us
to never forget.

And although it's a day
that some among us were not around for
and many cannot remember
because fourteen years have now passed,
it's a day that we cannot
will not
won't let us
forget.

So we sit up late at night
eating burgers,
complaining about the traffic jam
responsibilities
exhaustion
menial day to day conversation
that mean nothing
and everything
just an all-American burger
in an all-American land.

A celebration
dedication
commemoration
of freedom.

Every Day

She always used to cut her hair
really short
said she liked it better that way,
more comfortable under her shaitel.

I always had the feeling that
she didn't mean it
that she just said it
because she stopped believing she was beautiful.

She finally decided to grow it out
was excited to see how long
it would grow,
to get it cut and styled, colored.

But then she cut it all off
when the cancer came,
decided not to wait for it to fall out
in tufts.

Said she's okay with it,
she's losing weight
because she can't stomach anything
she sees that as a plus.

I watch her fumbling with her mask,
she has to wear it on the plane.
I wonder what the other passengers think,
if they're dumb enough to think they could catch her germs.

I wonder about the air she breethes
and if it's killing her slowly,
or if the cancer is doing that
all by itself.

I see her eyes
above the mask
they're smiling at me,
telling me that she is okay.

For once I want to be the one
to comfort her
and not the other way around,
tell her everything will be okay.

I lay next to her trying to sleep
the TV flickering
she asks if it's bothering me
if I can't sleep.

But her presence is comforting,
I fall asleep wishing
I could wake up next to her
every day.

Super Girl

He offered me a Hello Kitty sticker.

I told him I hated Hello Kitty, did he have anything else.

He informed me that all the other stickers were boy stickers.

Despite trying to explain to him that stickers are gender neutral and I can like a 'boy' sticker, he didn't agree.

Then he dug this from his stash:

I put it on my laptop to remind myself that no matter what the world tells me, I don't have to be a 'girl'. I can be anything I want to be.

#BreakingStereotypes