Counting your blessings on a daily basis is sometimes difficult for a pessimist like me. 2009 has been tumultuous, to say the least, and riding out the waves of this year have left me feeling like I’m drowning at times. Nevertheless, it’s Thanksgiving and when all is said and done, I have a pretty amazing life. At the risk of seeming extraordinarily cheesy, here is a list of things I am truly thankful for:
…Thanks, mom, for your unconditional love and support. I feel so fortunate that you are the first person I want to call with exciting news and the only person I want to talk to when life goes terribly wrong. I love calling you on Sunday mornings to recap my weekend while I’m still in bed, love that you play equal parts mother and best friend, and love that you love me so ferociously that it seems like you absorbs my feelings, both good and bad.
…Thanks, CJ, for your amazing sense of humor and for showing me that the word “disability” only applies to people that let it. Thank you for being Elton John to my Kiki Dee during our duets to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.” Being your sister is my biggest blessing.
…Thanks to my amazing girl friends for choosing to love me even when I’m at my most stubborn and irrational. Thank you for hours-long talks dissecting and analyzing relationships, tragedies, life decisions and everything in between. Thanks for laughing over bottles of wine and gifting me toy punching bags that swear when I hit them. Thanks for traveling the world with me, introducing me to road races, chanting Britney & Gaga songs with me at the top of our lungs, and for generally being my extended family.
…To my guy friends, thank you for proving to me that, even though there are huge assholes in the world (and that it seems that I have dated most of them), there are still men who know the real meaning of integrity and loyalty. Thanks for offering a different perspective and a pinch of tough love when I need it the most.
…Thank you, Boston, for being my home. I feel lucky every single day to live in my favorite city in the world, and I truly never get tired of the view from the MGH stop on the Red Line or walking through the Common on weekday mornings. Thank you for Fenway Park, running paths along the Charles, and every last sketchy Irish pub in the city.
…Thanks, kickball, for reminding me to not take myself too seriously and for making me remember that I love being part of a team.
…Thanks, legs, for carrying me through mile after mile and letting me run off pain, heartbreak, and frustration.
…Thank you to my family in California: to my older cousins for sneaking me sips of beer and defining my idea of “cool” when I was growing up, to my younger cousins for being two of my best friends even though we live a country apart, and to my aunt and uncle for being such great role models. I am thankful that our family is cancer-free and I am praying and remaining positive for a quick recovery for my Uncle Bruce.
…Thanks, Ipod, for being the miracle that carries my sanity (aka, favorite music) during my commute, at the gym, and everywhere else.
...Thank you, Old Saybrook, for being the place I most belong, for having sandbars and scallop shells, and for providing a place for my family to come together and bond. Thank you, Grandpa, for having the foresight to know that we would need a place like this.
...And lastly, thank you to whoever decided to let me have my health, a great place to live, and a job that provides me with funds to see my favorite bands, buy pumpkin pie ice cream, and hit the town for day drinking or bar hopping with my favorite people.
Happy Thanksgiving! :-)
Monday, November 30, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Bex and Breaking Hearts
I've been drafting this post in my head for almost a week now, and I'm finally (fairly) confident that I can type it out without even the slightest hint of tear in my eye. Being in your mid-20s, I guess, is all about taking chances: professional chances, chances on friendships and trust, and chances in love.
I've taken some pretty big leaps in the past two years, starting a new job, captaining my own sports team, meeting new people and learning more about myself along the way. The one area in my life that I constantly feel confused about is love. I have dated and dated and dated. I've dated quiet, work-focused guys, and crazy, outgoing guys, and some guys just because they were really freaking hot. Other than the big ex, none of them (really, none) have affected me the way that Ted did.
When you end a relationship with someone, especially when you don't want it to be over, it is the most helpless feeling in the world. I've had to do it twice in the past year and each time was heartbreaking. I don't think I'm alone in the fact that I think really hard about what I've done wrong, how I could have been better, what I could have given them that would have made them love me more. The absolute worst aspect of the end of my relationship with Ted is that there was nothing I could have done, nothing that I've learned from the breakup. For once, the line "it's not you, it's me," actually applied to a girl. It was him: his issues, his inability to commit, his confusing and ass-backward explanation for everything that had happened between us.
Even knowing that, I'm still searching for reasons why. How can someone be sending you pictures of the sunset from their camera phone and then be breaking up with you three days later, saying that they don't want to put the effort into a relationship with you? How can someone exhibit such contradictory behavior, opening car doors and being a gentleman one minute and ignoring you for his friends whenever the next? And how can someone who so obviously needs help push away the one grounding and steady influence in his life?
More than anything, I'm worried about him. I hate that a breakup means the end of contact with that person. I hate that I have to use Facebook comments as my only connection to analyze whether our breakup helped alleviate the pressure and depression or whether he's gotten worse. I hate that I have absolutely no idea if any of his friends know how unhappy he is, and I hate that I can't tell them to ask him how he's doing, really, without betraying a trust that isn't ours anymore.
And guess what? I'm also worried about myself. My two oldest friends have called me this week to tell me they are getting married and having a baby, respectively. I know, at 27, that I'm not exactly old. I know that it's absolutely wrong to pressure yourself into believing that you've missed your chance to fall in love. But it's devastating to see your friends find what you want so badly, as you make mistake after mistake, and struggle to have even one functional and meaningful relationship.
My hope is that I'll look back on this post sometime in the near future and realize that I shouldn't have worried so much. A part of me still believes that I'll keep meeting people until I meet the right person and just know. But I'm also afraid that, especially given my apparent need to close people out when they care about me, I'll miss that opportunity.
I've taken some pretty big leaps in the past two years, starting a new job, captaining my own sports team, meeting new people and learning more about myself along the way. The one area in my life that I constantly feel confused about is love. I have dated and dated and dated. I've dated quiet, work-focused guys, and crazy, outgoing guys, and some guys just because they were really freaking hot. Other than the big ex, none of them (really, none) have affected me the way that Ted did.
When you end a relationship with someone, especially when you don't want it to be over, it is the most helpless feeling in the world. I've had to do it twice in the past year and each time was heartbreaking. I don't think I'm alone in the fact that I think really hard about what I've done wrong, how I could have been better, what I could have given them that would have made them love me more. The absolute worst aspect of the end of my relationship with Ted is that there was nothing I could have done, nothing that I've learned from the breakup. For once, the line "it's not you, it's me," actually applied to a girl. It was him: his issues, his inability to commit, his confusing and ass-backward explanation for everything that had happened between us.
Even knowing that, I'm still searching for reasons why. How can someone be sending you pictures of the sunset from their camera phone and then be breaking up with you three days later, saying that they don't want to put the effort into a relationship with you? How can someone exhibit such contradictory behavior, opening car doors and being a gentleman one minute and ignoring you for his friends whenever the next? And how can someone who so obviously needs help push away the one grounding and steady influence in his life?
More than anything, I'm worried about him. I hate that a breakup means the end of contact with that person. I hate that I have to use Facebook comments as my only connection to analyze whether our breakup helped alleviate the pressure and depression or whether he's gotten worse. I hate that I have absolutely no idea if any of his friends know how unhappy he is, and I hate that I can't tell them to ask him how he's doing, really, without betraying a trust that isn't ours anymore.
And guess what? I'm also worried about myself. My two oldest friends have called me this week to tell me they are getting married and having a baby, respectively. I know, at 27, that I'm not exactly old. I know that it's absolutely wrong to pressure yourself into believing that you've missed your chance to fall in love. But it's devastating to see your friends find what you want so badly, as you make mistake after mistake, and struggle to have even one functional and meaningful relationship.
My hope is that I'll look back on this post sometime in the near future and realize that I shouldn't have worried so much. A part of me still believes that I'll keep meeting people until I meet the right person and just know. But I'm also afraid that, especially given my apparent need to close people out when they care about me, I'll miss that opportunity.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Bex and [Almost] Sabotaging Relationships
I've met someone. As is typical in my life, the entire romance happened completely ass-backward, but for once, it seems that I've met someone who embraces my flaws and is willing to stick with me long enough to figure out just how I operate.
Ted and I met through mutual friends in February at a Bruce Springsteen cover band show. He's pretty rambunctious (read: loud) and I had been warned by friends that I may find him a little "much." We made it through that night with relatively little drama and/or interaction, which I guess prompted him to completely forget who I was when I met him again at a friend's graduation party in May. We spent most of that event completely hating each other as we played an extremely competitive game of volleyball (of course, we were on opposite teams). Apparently, even a vitriolic spat over volleyball was not enough to make Ted remember who I was. Two months later, while attending a party on the Cape, Ted walked up and introduced himself to me. For the third time. In six months. Are you serious? I was pissed.
In what I now realize is classic Ted, he spent the entire weekend trying to make it up to me. In what I've always known is true Rebes fashion, I pretty much did everything I could to push him away, including making fun of him when he (jokingly) proposed marriage, telling him to shut up when he told me how beautiful I was, and basically completely ignoring him. Thankfully, at the last possible moment, there was some drunken dancing in the basement of my friends' rented Cape house that showed me how completely in sync Ted and I were -- and how much fun I could potentially have with this kid. Alas, no numbers were exchanged because Ted, completely rationally, thought I despised him.
Cut to Monday morning. I am at work, thinking about what an idiot I am. I have been complaining for months about the shortage of attractive, funny, outgoing men in the Boston area. Finally, someone fitting that description shows an intense interest, and I tell him I hate him? Rebes, ftw. Just kidding. I had to do what any normal 20-something would do in this situation. I Facebook stalked him. And somehow this led to a date. Probably the best date of my life. Which led to another date (in which he drove into the fire hydrant next to my driveway, causing $4,000 worth of damage to his car). And now we've beend dating for more than a month. I have no idea where this is going, but I do know I'm having fun, I'm dating someone how actually pays attention to me, and I really hope I don't fuck this up.
Ted and I met through mutual friends in February at a Bruce Springsteen cover band show. He's pretty rambunctious (read: loud) and I had been warned by friends that I may find him a little "much." We made it through that night with relatively little drama and/or interaction, which I guess prompted him to completely forget who I was when I met him again at a friend's graduation party in May. We spent most of that event completely hating each other as we played an extremely competitive game of volleyball (of course, we were on opposite teams). Apparently, even a vitriolic spat over volleyball was not enough to make Ted remember who I was. Two months later, while attending a party on the Cape, Ted walked up and introduced himself to me. For the third time. In six months. Are you serious? I was pissed.
In what I now realize is classic Ted, he spent the entire weekend trying to make it up to me. In what I've always known is true Rebes fashion, I pretty much did everything I could to push him away, including making fun of him when he (jokingly) proposed marriage, telling him to shut up when he told me how beautiful I was, and basically completely ignoring him. Thankfully, at the last possible moment, there was some drunken dancing in the basement of my friends' rented Cape house that showed me how completely in sync Ted and I were -- and how much fun I could potentially have with this kid. Alas, no numbers were exchanged because Ted, completely rationally, thought I despised him.
Cut to Monday morning. I am at work, thinking about what an idiot I am. I have been complaining for months about the shortage of attractive, funny, outgoing men in the Boston area. Finally, someone fitting that description shows an intense interest, and I tell him I hate him? Rebes, ftw. Just kidding. I had to do what any normal 20-something would do in this situation. I Facebook stalked him. And somehow this led to a date. Probably the best date of my life. Which led to another date (in which he drove into the fire hydrant next to my driveway, causing $4,000 worth of damage to his car). And now we've beend dating for more than a month. I have no idea where this is going, but I do know I'm having fun, I'm dating someone how actually pays attention to me, and I really hope I don't fuck this up.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Bex Being Bummed Out
Someone hit me with the grumpy stick this week. You'd think that the sunny, gorgeous weather would lift my spirits a bit, but I'm having a hard time focusing at work and putting things into perspective.
Needless to say, I've been listening to this song on repeat all day. Somewhere in my brain, the lyrics are relevant to my life even though I'm pretty sure I haven't been through a recent breakup.
My fingers are crossed that my witty self will be back joking about my drama tomorrow, but in the meantime, join me in my melancholy and enjoy Taylor Swift.
Needless to say, I've been listening to this song on repeat all day. Somewhere in my brain, the lyrics are relevant to my life even though I'm pretty sure I haven't been through a recent breakup.
My fingers are crossed that my witty self will be back joking about my drama tomorrow, but in the meantime, join me in my melancholy and enjoy Taylor Swift.
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