Matters of the Heart

There's a song that keeps running through my head today; a beautiful song called Human After All by the very talented Sierra Noble. There's one verse in particular that I can't stop thinking about.

If I'd know that it would end

I would have paid a little more attention

Memorized every look and touch

Every fragment of us

Remember, we said we were gonna live forever

And we would paint over the writing on the wall?

Chase that sunset till we're blind, then wake up to find

We are only human after all...

Isn't that how it goes? Pain is a part of life; people are going to hurt you, and disappoint you, and let you down, and the biggest challenge of all is trying not to let the past affect your future. Once you've had your heart broken, it takes a herculean effort to forget how difficult that was to bounce back from and remain open to the joy of a potentially new beginning. It's a daily challenge, after that new beginning, to enjoy the middle when you're constantly living in fear of the end... and I believe that, for whatever reason, it's even more difficult for me than most. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my conscious, no matter how my logical mind tries to point out how ridiculously ovedramatic it is, and how the actions of a few, even in succession, shouldn't create an expectation, is a whisper-scream that tugs at my heart and refuses to be stifled. "Everybody leaves," it says, "because you're not worth the fight."

I've mentioned before that grief, to me, feels like a bottomless chasm; one that, if not approached carefully, will absorb you completely. There have been days, in the past few months since my mom's death, where I've felt closer to the edge than usual, to the point where it's physically uncomfortable, but I've managed to turn myself around and keep going. Today, though... today, I feel like I've fallen in, and I don't know what to do, and I don't know where to turn, and the overwhelming hopelessness of it all cuts me to the core.

But this is not who I am.

I am the girl who will do anything to make you laugh. Who believes in happily ever after. Who has so much to offer the world, and so much love to give. I am brilliant, and fiercely loyal, and thoughtful, and I always strive to see the best in people, no matter who they are or where they came from. I would never purposefully do anything to hurt anyone, but I am human, and I make mistakes.  I believe in second, and third, and fourth chances. I am accident prone, but in a clumsy, endearing way. I love Broadway musicals and holidays and snow and severe weather and Jameson and oversized hooded sweatshirts and cuddling and I prefer rainy days to sunny. I am too sensitive, and I am easily hurt, but I am also quick to forgive. When I'm happy, I sing-speak. I get excited over silly things, like sparkles and vibrantly colored pens and Ring Pops and Disney movies and I believe, really believe, in true, unadulterated, can't-live-without-you love. I am also impatient, insecure, and imperfect, but damnit, that doesn't mean that I am not worth loving.

That doesn't mean that I am not worth the fight.

 Life is beautiful, but it's challenging. Love is, too. Nothing worth it is ever easy; you just have to know which battles are the right ones to fight, which is no simple task. I'm just tired of fighting one-sided. I'm tired of being the one to work harder, to step outside the box, to love without limits or geographical boundaries. I don't quit because it's too hard. I don't believe in "too hard". Call me a hopeless romantic, but if you care about someone, really care about them, you do your best to find a way to make it work. I wonder if I'm ever going to find the person who thinks that I'm worth a little bit of 'difficult'. After all, you have to at least try before you can fail.

I realize that I've been fighting the wrong battles, with different men who are all, deep down, exactly the same, over and over and over again. I realize that I'm going to make a lot of mistakes, and kiss a lot of frogs, and nurse a lot of broken hearts during the course of my lifetime. But sometimes, you need to take a step back and be sad, and hurt, and overwhelmed, and know that even as you make your way through that pint of Ben & Jerry's and half a box of tissues while watching The Notebook for the third time, you're going to be okay. The hurting sucks, but it's necessary to heal.

I have a date with my comfy pajamas, some ice cream, and my puppy tonight, because today, I am hurting. I just hope that means that the healing part is right around the corner.

Windshield Wipers, Black Ice & Imaginary Snowbanks

Driving in the rain at night is a terrifying experience for me. In general, I'm a pretty confident driver, and tackling rain/sleet/hail/snow during daylight hours is no problem. However, there's something about battling the elements at night that turns me into a 90 year old woman behind the wheel.

 

The first thing that freaks me out is the pavement; when it rains at night, the entire road turns into an ominous-looking black ice-like creature intent on total destruction. Even when it's 80 degrees, I fully expect that if I slam on my brakes, I'll go slip-sliding into a snowbank, so I always make sure to keep a cautious and completely respectable minimum of 100 feet to half a mile between the car in front of me and my trusty Milan.

 

The second thing that drives me insane is the 'rain-volume-to-wiper-blade-speed' ratio. I'm not sure if it's because my car isn't high-tech enough, or if it's just some cruel joke that Mother Nature likes to play, but I can never, ever, ever find a comfortable speed for my wiper blades. When it's monsooning, no matter how fast I try to urge them, they are still unable to hold back the flood; at that point, I usually end up squinting through the windshield, navigating based on colors and shapes (while muttering things to myself like "Shit, how many sides does an Stop sign have again?" and "Was that a 'Caution' sign or someone's yellow rain poncho? Jesus Christ, I'm going to die.") and praying I don't run over any small children. The opposite of this, of course, is that super-annoying drizzle that doesn't quite warrant your lowest wiper blade speed, resulting in that ear-shattering screeching as it scrapes across your windshield, because you know that the second you turn it off to save your eardrums, the water buildup will start. Wait... what's that you say? There's a manual control on the wiper blade that allows me to just wipe the windshield clean whenever I want? Yeah, I know all about that, and that just requires way too much energy.

 

Stop judging me with your eyes. I can feel it from here.

How many cars are in this picture? Yeah, I can't tell, either.

The final coup de grace in regards to driving in the rain is the headlights. Oh dear baby Jesus in heaven, those terrifying, god-forsaken headlights.

Let me explain.

The other night, I was craving a Ho Ho Mocha from Caribou Coffee (thank you, by the way, for refraining from commenting on how appropriate it is that I would crave a drink with 'Ho' in the title) so I ventured out excitedly to obtain one. When I left my apartment, it was dark out, due to the fact that the sun now sets at approximately noon, so I couldn't tell that the darkness was masking an ominous sky that was pregnant with rain. I made it all the way to the coffee shop unscathed, but when I emerged, victorious, drink in hand, it had begun to rain. And I was at a coffee shop on one of the busiest streets in the city. And to get home from said coffee shop... I had to turn left.

You see, Zoolander and I have one thing in common... we both suck at turning left. Turning left across a busy street is a challenge for me on a bright, sunshine-y day, but on a rainy night, it's pretty much game over. Still, I had to get home, and I didn't want to turn right and go half a mile out of my way just to make a U-turn, so I took a deep breath and slowly approached the left-hand turn lane, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I'd get lucky, and the swarms of Mayfair-going patrons would have chosen to take the night off to prepare for the upcoming Thanksgiving Holiday.

No such luck.

When I slowly turned my head to check out the oncoming traffic situation, I was immediately blinded by headlights. So, so many headlights. It was like a swarm of bright, angry orbs whizzing by at warp speed, coming at me from every direction. That's the problem at night; not only do you see the headlights on the cars, you also see the reflection of those headlights on the wet pavement. So as I try to figure out what's real and what's a reflection while also trying to gauge exactly how far away the car is and how fast those headlights are coming at me, at some point, my eyes begin to cross, and I lose the will to live. This generally takes about five seconds, at which point I will literally say, out loud, to myself, "Fuck this. I'm never getting out of this parking lot," or some fascimile thereof. And, I am stubborn as hell, so no matter how many cars are lining up behind me, I refuse to make any risky moves, and will wait for hours (read: minutes that feel like hours) until the road is clear and I feel that I can safely make the turn without accelerating too fast, hitting black ice and sliding into a non-existent snowbank. And that, my friends, is why I hate driving in the rain at night.

On a more serious note, since it's Thanksgiving tomorrow, I hope that everyone has a wonderful holiday. We really all do have so much to be thankful for; it's so easy to get caught up in the negative and overlook all of the blessings that we've been given. Tomorrow marks the beginning of my favorite time of year; I absolutely love the holidays, but, of course, this year, they'll be bittersweet. I'm actually dreading going to my Aunt's for dinner tomorrow night, which makes me very sad. I love my family and I can't wait to see them, but the absence of my mom will be hard to ignore, and brings tears to my eyes even as I type this. I will get through it, it's just so frustrating to me that my favorite time of year will be coupled with a lot of sadness this time around. Still, I'm continuing to put one foot in front of the other, and lean on my friends and family who have been so kind and supportive. I know that sense of loss will continue to slam me in the chest when I least expect it, but I'll get through it, and although I miss her every second of every day, I know she's up there looking out for me, skipping the holiday meal and heading straight for the dessert table. Love and miss you, Mom.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!