Mr. Right… Now

I am not embarrassed or ashamed. 

No apologies or excuses. 

I am not looking for a soul mate. 

I don’t want Prince Charming. 

I’m just a girl… and I wanna to have fun. 

That’s all I really want. 

Some fun. 

I am 36 years old. I have never been married. I have not shacked up or had a ridiculously long engagement that ended in heartbreak. I’m not some jilted lover who is pining for the one that got away. My biological clock is not shrieking because it is almost too late. 

Yes, I cry at weddings. Of course I have imagined hosting a huge, expensive party where 500 of my closest friends watch me exchange nuptials. Most girls have. We are taught that is we what are supposed to want. The wedding industry has been telling us that is the ultimate goal of dating. I’m still not actually under any delusion this is going to happen. I don’t even think it would be that much fun. I would probably resent the expense and get drunk and ruin the whole thing anyway. It’s still fun to think about though. 

I’ve also daydreamed about magically falling into a huge sum of money that would allow me to never worry about finances again. 

If we want to talk about fantasies I am also a broadway actress and Olympic athlete who has a multiplatinum record that has been nominated for a Grammy. 

In my rich fantasy life I have jumped out of airplanes, climbed mountains, and rescued kittens from trees. I have penned bestselling novels and my memoir is the hottest book in all the book clubs. I’ve made the rounds on all the late night talk shows. Jimmy (both of them) loves me and I am his favorite guest. I hide from the paparazzi because I am just a humble artist doing what I was born to do. 

I play on Tinder and I flirt with cute bartenders. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not looking for a booty call or a string of sexual conquests. I don’t have any intention of sleeping with every man who makes an offer. By the way, has anyone ever noticed how quick so many men make that offer??? It feels like they are just casting a net and hoping to drag in the days fresh catch. 

I am looking for interesting, smart, funny people to have some adventures with. That’s all. If we are exceptionally lucky we will end up friends. I want to spend time with someone special. I want to invest energy in getting to know them and equally as important, I want them to get to know me. 

I want to know what makes him smile and laugh. I want to know how his day has been. Does he like puppy and otter videos? Will he see an owl and think of me? Better yet, will he snap a quick photo and send it to me just to make me smile? I can still have all of that even if I don’t want to plan our joint retirement, can’t I? 

What book is he reading right now? What movies can we share with each other? Can we watch the sunset and marvel in the beauty of our planet, both of us reveling in the fact that we got to see it together? Will he know and appreciate the fact that I am a cryer and I actually enjoy it? Will he think it’s cute that I cry at Folger’s commercials? 

At some point in the near future I will be moving on to the next grand adventure. Can we part ways without hurting each other’s feelings? Can we acknowledge the bittersweet feelings goodbyes bring? Can we be excited for the other’s future escapades? Can we actually fall in love a little and still move on when it’s time to go? 

Is it possible to share your present life with someone without planning a future? 

Yeah. I think so. I want this to be true. 

I don’t want to be rescued because I am not a damsel in distress. I don’t want to be caught because I don’t need a cage to keep me safe.

I just want to have fun. Maybe with a little love sprinkled in so I don’t get tired of traveling alone. I may not be looking for Mr. Right, but I am looking forward to hanging out with Mr. Right Now. 

Kiss and Tell

Despite all the Tinder rules and safety practices I put into place, sometimes someone sneaks past my reservations. He was most likely charming and funny. I assure you his smile was genuine and went all the way across his face. 

He made me laugh. 

For privacy issues, I will not use any identifying information. I will simply refer to him as The Professor. The only problem is my asshole girlfriend, who by the way has found the love of her life, brought up Gilligan’s Island. I prefer to imagine it a little different. 

So, The Professor and I… dammit. She ruined his nickname. Wonder Woman, I feel like this is revenge. What else can I call him? I’m sticking with The Professor. 

So, The Professor and I were meeting for a drink. Unfortunately, the pub I selected was packed. It was freezing outside. We ended up seeking shelter in my car so we could peruse Yelp! for a bit. 

I have no idea how the time passed so quickly. I giggled and listened to his stories. I even tried to tell a few of my own. Although, I have to admit I got all flustered and messed up the punch lines. 

Finally, we decided we needed to find somewhere to eat and get a drink. We found a “tequila bar.” It was actually just a bad Mexican restaurant. I ordered a Modelo. He ordered a frozen margarita. I know, manly… swoon. 

We talked, and I laughed. He’s quite the performer. I was thrilled when he reached across the table to hold my hand. His thumb absently drawing circles. 

At some point the vibe in the restaurant changed. There was a shot girl. Loud obnoxious music was blaring. The Blackeyed Peas. I’m not even kidding. The lights were still up. It felt a little like a bad bar after last call. Time to go. 

We went back out to the car to talk some more. The cold weather is good for a few things. Cue the song… “He kissed me in a way that I’ve never been kissed before…” 

When the first kiss with someone is good, it is good! It makes up for all the stress from wondering what it’s going to be like.

Kissing The Professor gave me butterflies and made me laugh. I had goosebumps where he put his hand on my shoulder. His stubble was just perfect. When it was time for me to leave he started to leave and stopped, turned, and leaned in to kiss me again. Good move Casanova. 

I was a grinning fool for the seven hour drive to Massachusetts. Every single stop I had a little skip in my step. I guess I don’t need to tell you, I can’t wait to see him again. 

P.S. let’s not tell The Professor I told you all about it. I don’t want him to think I kiss and tell. 

I Met Someone

Television commercials are cunning. I think the mad men are trying to tell me how to live my life. They want me to question my choices. Do you think they want me to feel bad about myself?

There was a commercial for a dating site. It was filled with people whispering “I’ve met someone” to their closest friends and family. Wait a second! Is that my end goal? Is that what I am supposed to be doing? Meeting someone? I knew I was doing this all wrong. 

Do I have to meet just one person? That doesn’t work for me. I would have to spend most of my time missing him. I think I may have found a perfect solution. 

I meet lots of people! I go out and have fun. I let you buy me dinner or a drink. I listen to your stories and decide if I would like to hear some of them again. If you manage to entertain me, I lose track of time and can’t wait to see you again. Those are the best nights. 

Despite all the fun, sometimes men amaze me. I think there should be some rules or protocols to follow when one chooses to sign up for Tinder. 

1. Don’t act all pissy when I don’t answer fast enough. You don’t own me. That behavior just sets off all kinds of warning flags about your potential for being scary or dangerous. Controlling men are automatically out. I have way too much to do to worry about your fragile ego. 

2. Don’t assume I am going to sleep with you. Surely that doesn’t have to be explained. I don’t have to have sex with every man who expresses an interest. Once again, you don’t own me. 

3. Please don’t ask for or send me naked photos. I promise: your penis is not that special. If I wanted to send them to you, I would. 

4. Don’t ask me out if you are leaving your wife and kids at home to fend for themselves. Don’t lie and say you are separated or divorced if you are not. 

5. Don’t ask me out if you can’t afford to date. Sorry. I’m not sorry. 

6. Don’t lie. 

7. Come ready to talk! I like conversation. 

8. Don’t text me in the middle of the night wondering if I am available. No. I am not. 

I’ve met a lot of people. Sometimes it is fun. Sometimes I wish I had stayed in. Maybe one of these guys will make me want to change my ways. I certainly hope not. 

Distorted Beauty

Selfies became a lot more fun when I found apps like Prisma. Now I can make myself look like a cartoon character even if I don’t know how to draw. 

I guess some people may think selfies are ridiculous, however when you spend as much time traveling alone as I do, you gotta get pictures somehow. 

It has nothing to do with vanity. 

I spent years hating every single picture that I ever saw of myself. I struggled to smile for the camera. I tended to avoid pictures if I could get away with it. I simply did not want there to be any record of the way I looked. 

I made funny faces. 

I am too fat. 

My nose is too turned up and my nostrils flare when I laugh too hard. When I am mad. When I am tired, happy, or sad. Okay, my nostrils just flare a lot. They are active little boogers.

My neck is short and thick. 

You can’t see my collar bones. 

I am built like a potato, all lumps and no curves in the right spots.

I perpetually looked constipated or pissed off in almost every picture. 

I was dressed wrong. 

I was not thin enough. 

My hair did not look right. 

My teeth looked odd. 

I spent so much time berating the image of the girl on the paper that I couldn’t appreciate the memory that had been captured. 

It goes beyond a low self-esteem. I was full of loathing and resentment. I just knew I was not enough. 

I hated the camera. I made fun of “those silly girls” who had the audacity to playfully pose for their own shutter. I convinced myself they were somehow the antithesis of who I should be if I was to be taken seriously. 

There was not one single event that was the turning point. Slowly, I started posing for photos with friends. I started out standing behind everyone a peeking over their shoulder. There must be a hundred pictures of my son and I with me grasping his shoulders and peering around his head. 

Once iPhones had the forward facing camera, making faces in the camera replaced making faces in the mirror. Don’t lie. You know you do that too. It has nothing to do with liking the way I look, it’s almost like a curiousity about what my facial expressions look like to other people. 

Occasionally, I take a photo that doesn’t look too bad. If the light is just right and I am relaxed I like some of the photos. Honestly, part of it is practicing posing, angles, and lighting. I feel like I am making progress. 

I’m not going to pretend like I feel like I look good the majority of the time. I still hate so much about what I see. 

Aging is difficult. 

I have more acne than I did as a teenager. 

I can’t even begin to imagine what is happening to my pores, all of the sudden they decided to become prominent, and they collect debris like tiny gaping hoarders. 

The skin on my face is thinner, drier, more oily, blotchy, and something is happening my eyelids. It’s as if the tissue is migrating to under my eyes instead of holding my eyebrows up. 

My eyelashes have decided to abandon me. Perhaps they have migrated up to my brow. 

There is a very deep ravine marching across my forehead. There is no way to smooth it out anymore. 

There are gray hairs sneaking their way into my brunette locks, which has taken on a dull sheen if I don’t get it colored by a professional. I was also unaware of how the shaft would become thinner and increasingly prone to breakage. 

And don’t even get me started on my chin. All I can say is tweezers are no longer optional. Perhaps this is the lash’s new address. 

Despite my dissatisfaction with essentially every body part and feature, my son has my smile and my nose. Really he looks very much like me. I think he is the most handsome dude ever. I realize you are most likely suffering from the delusion that your son is the best looking kid to walk the earth, but you are mistaken. It’s okay, I won’t correct you. Well, not out loud anyway. 

How can I despise the features of my face, when I see them on my son and feel they are perfect? How can I tear down someone else’s child? Bet you didn’t know I was someone’s perfect child. I would never say the things to another woman that I say to myself. There is a bit of honesty I was going to insert right here, but it really made me sound like an asshole. It had to be cut. Just know I am not as kind as that last statement sounded. I am really quite snarky. 

So, what have I learned? 

It takes a conscious, purposeful effort for me to be kind to myself. Sometimes it takes just as much for me to be kind to others too. I have to frequently redirect myself and somehow prove that I am not quite the ogre-spinster I picture in my head. 

Yes. I know. Looks are not everything. If you are nice and behave in a warm, loving way, you are are beautiful. There are a million other cliche phrases I can insert here to fight the good fight against the shallow tide pool of my judgemental mind. Let’s be real though. A girl wants to be pretty. I want to feel pretty.

I’ve spent years trying to pretend I didn’t care and acting out all my tomboy fantasies. I kept my hair chopped off, dressed in horrifically ugly T-shirts with obnoxious sentiments, I even wore a doo-rag religiously for several years. I was trying to prove to myself it was okay for me to hate the way I look. I didn’t care anyway. So there! 

All I managed to accomplish is a profound delay in acquiring the skills necessary to operate the various tools of femininity.  

I still don’t know how to use the curling iron. The blow dryer is frequently a disaster.

I can’t paint my own nails. 

Eyeliner is pretty much hit or miss. 

Eyelash curler? Oh, the medieval torture device that must have been invented by a masochist? Nope.

The eyebrows? Yeah, that’s tricky. Mine are frequently crooked, giving me a mildly surprised expression. 

My clothes frequently don’t exactly go together. How the hell do people know what makes an outfit? Maybe there is a book. I should google that. 

Despite my desperate and often humorous attempts to appear like I have an ounce of taste, I like it. I like wearing clothes I think are cute. I enjoy having long hair. Red lipstick is my absolute favorite thing in the world. Sometimes I even feel kinda cute. 

So, I am going to keep taking the damn selfies and practice smiling like a girl. I am going to take selfies making funny faces too. I may even try to learn how to giggle. I owe it to myself and all the people who love me to record the fact I was here. 

When I am lucky, I will see a glimpse of the daughter my mother thinks is beautiful. Maybe someday I will feel a little less disdain towards her. 

Headed Back To The Wild Northeast. 

Last week I was chillin’ with this little lizard in Florida. Tomorrow it is time to pack for my next adventure up North. 

I’m excited to head back to Massachusetts and more than a little relieved that my anxiety has not spiked like it used to before every trip. 

I am looking forward to seeing old friends. I am excited about a dinner date I have planned with Tinderbabe. I am ready to tackle a new hospital and meet new people. 

All in all? 

Life is good today. 

I got to introduce my son to Gremlins. I have no idea how I let him get to almost grown without watching it with him.

I had a week to recover from Disney World Plague. I was so sick by the time I got home. Miserable. I blame all the rugrats. Children should not be allowed in Disney World until they have been swabbed for communicable illnesses. 

New adventures are in the air. After Massachusetts, I will be starting in Maryland. I can’t wait! 

Girl Friend Code

If only we were lucky enough to have warning signs detailing the road work and the distance we would have to travel to get passed it in our regular life.

Oh, I forgot. We DO have these warning signs. We have friends and family who are able to view our lives a little more objectively. They are the voice of reason when emotions cloud our judgement.

I was dating this guy recently. He was handsome, smart, and charming. He said all the right things. He managed to be attentive without making me feel stifled. He went out of his way to make me feel beautiful and smart. I was ignoring the indicators of potential problems.

He complained about his (dead-end) job. He was supposedly working on his master’s degree. Except he was not actually working on it. He talked about not “needing” money to be happy. The relationship was moving FAST. I was a little overwhelmed by all of this. My head was spinning. He was so good-looking. I ignored those things making me nervous and focused on the good stuff.

He called when he said he would. He made me laugh. He seemed to have read all the right books. He was so good-looking. He told me how much he liked me. He pointed out the reasons I was unique. He found my kryptonite. He made me feel special.

Then one day he called with a complaint about parking tickets and a boot on his car. Hmmm. How many parking tickets have you not paid? Once again I just sat on my concerns until later in the day when he texted me from a different phone number because his cell phone service had not been paid.


It’s okay to be having financial problems. I get it. I have struggled with money for most of my life. The part that made me nervous was his insistence of these things being no big deal. Then, he got defensive and mildly aggressive. I stopped talking to him at this point.

I had several girl friends who were not as enamored by this fella as I had been. They had not voiced their concerns until I voiced mine. Everyone wanted to avoid being the negative bitch. The problem is I count on my women friends to tell me when I am not using my brain. I chose them to serve that role in my life.

I find myself not being completely honest when I don’t like the guy a friend is dating. I think we all do it.

At some point we have to make sure we stand up for our female friends. Dating is dangerous. I was imagining what Nancy Grace would have to say about my death and who would portray me in the Lifetime movie before I was ready to break contact with this dude.

I was not hurt, nor was I actually in danger. I was still very much in the getting to know you stage with this man. I dodged a bullet.

So, what is the best way to live up to The Girl Friend Code? What are the absolute traits we have to help our friends avoid? How do we help our lovely, strong, capable friends avoid being a headline? Any suggestions?

Tinder Talks

I do not even know where to start. Did you seriously just ask me if I like cuddling? What kind of question is that? I thought we were on our way to having a nice conversation about work. I was all geared up to explain more about what I do. Then, he had to ruin the whole conversation. Instant turnoff. “Do you like cuddling?” I guess this explains that service where you can hire someone to come spoon with you. Sorry buddy. I don’t give my cuddles to just anyone.

Then, the other guy… WHAT? Indubitably? Ugh. The pretentiousness of this dude is so thick I doubt I could ever get passed it. He may have been trying to be charming and cute. It is a shame he failed so miserably. He never recovered. Unmatched.

Keeping in mind, I am not looking for Prince Charming. Nope. Not at all. I just kinda want free dinner. Which is going well. I have met or have plans to meet several people. I don’t even know if I would call this dating. Perhaps it is just socializing. It is fun. Life does not have to be so serious.

I have even met a guy I really like. Tinderbabe. Ha! He just laughed when I told him his nickname. He is cute, smart, and funny. Who else do we know with those traits? We have a lot of similar tastes in movies and Netflix, so it works. I am comfortable and myself when I am with him. I feel like I have made a new friend. He even watches Downton Abbey with me. How freaking sweet is that? I am glad I swiped right on him.

If I am being honest, the only thing Tinder may be good for is an ice breaker. I am not going to pretend you can get to know someone on Tinder. For the most part, these are strange people with some interesting proclivities. There are several people looking for BDSM friends (I cannot figure out another way to word that), a dude looking for toes to suck (I failed to get a screen shot because I swiped left so fast), a guy just wanting to give massages (with no reciprocation required???), and many married looking for a third or FWB.

Some of my complaints.

  • Pics that are blurry and group pics. It is rude. Why even post a pic if you can’t tell anything about you?
  • Memes instead of pics. Again, what is the point?
  • Photos of your children. Are you using your kids to catch women? That is gross.
  • Incessant sexual innuendo. I have actually just started telling people I don’t appreciate it. Sometimes they stop and we can have a pleasant conversation. Other times, they have to get unmatched. I don’t have time to constantly redirect you. I believe I made it clear up front I am looking for people to hang out with, not a string of one night stands.
  • Married men looking for FWB. I don’t like it. I don’t care if you say your wife is cool with it. I still find it creepy.
  • Drug references. Are you not presentable at all? Why would I want to go out with you?
  • Repeatedly asking how I am and never the conversation never going anywhere. SAY SOMETHING!
  • Typing ‘U” instead of you. Are “U” that busy?
  • Only messaging me after 11:00 at night. Clear message for a booty call. No thank you.

Tinder is a quick and convenient way to meet people. Social media is strange. The common decency filter is often removed and replaced with inconsequential communication. Most of the people I communicate with are not people I would EVER date. I guess I am just as guilty as these guys are. I am using them for distraction and entertainment just as much as they claim to want to use me.

Walking through Memories

 Looking back on the past can be dangerous. I tend to either romanticize or vilify all the characters of my personal story. People have drifted in and out of my life and I have to say they have all left a mark on who I have become. Some people left me with nothing but fond memories and we simply drifted apart. Others left me with wounds and scars, which eventually healed despite my best attempts to delay closure. I compare every situation to one of the unhappy endings, which allows me to justify my stubborn nature. I am not about to compromise on anything for anyone.

This is my mistake. I use the past as justification for continued unhealthy behavior. Sure, I have made some bad choices when it came to people, however this does not mean I am entirely incapable of maintaining a healthy and happy relationship.

When I look back on previous “relationships” (which should be in quotes because I am not going to act like I have had any great love affairs) I realize I was never actually invested in getting to know the other person, nor was I interested in finding out who I was when I was with them. I was always looking for a reason they were not THE ONE. You know which one I am talking about. I was not going to allow myself to be vulnerable until I knew it was forever. I was not going to invest anything into the relationship until I KNEW!  I was so cool, I was freezing them out.

I could go off and allow myself to feel all unworthy and unlovable, or I could be reasonable and consider my responsibility for these failed relationships. Trust me, I was not easy to deal with. On a good day I am high maintenance. If I don’t like you, I am insufferable. However, I am not broken beyond repair. I am not some unlovable freak who no one wants to be around.

So, what is the point of all this reminiscing? Should I beat myself up because I could not figure out intimacy sooner? Remember poor Bridget Jones and her stack of self-help books? That bullshit is not the way to achieve good mental health.

Personally, the path to health comes from a dedication to being honest with myself. I have never experienced a period of my life that was either completely magical or utterly dismal. Nope. Everything is a lot more moderate. I think life tends to ebb and flow through various stages of comfort. Even on my worst day, I can find something good that happened. The best days still have annoyances. The key to my happiness lies in my ability to keep things in perspective. This includes the past! 

I have no intention of spilling all my deep, dark secrets here on my blog. The details are not important. Everyone has things they are not proud of. It is imperative that I allow myself to be multifaceted and to celebrate the lessons I have learned. I have never had anyone important to me demand perfection. Nope. For the most part, the assholes were not in my inner circle. So, why would I care what they wanted from me? The people who matter have liked me for who I am, not what I should be. 

Despite my failure to successfully engage in this whole relationship thing, I cannot employ that excuse to avoid intimacy. Then I would be robbing myself of potential greatness. Every relationship does not have to be perfect. I can learn to be myself and enjoy someone else’s quirks. I can let them see my unique place in the world.

I can trust people until they give me a reason not to. There must be a way to protect yourself and still drop the coat of armor enough to let someone in. I am interested in seeing what that is like. I wonder if the scary ever dissipates.

I have to stop telling myself strength comes from not needing other people. The real courage comes when you allow someone to penetrate the prickly outer shell. I can only learn from the past if I am willing to venture out and be bold. Remember, this is my adventure. I don’t want to miss it all because I am too scared to take the leap.


Removing The War Paint

 There is something immensely satisfying about coming home after 13 hours of work and immediately removing all traces of the makeup I adorn myself with. Shedding the white coat and scrubs and realizing no one can force me to wear pants for the rest of the night.

It is such a relief to come home and focus on my real life. Call my family. Fix some dinner. Get ready for bed. I may turn on the TV for a few minutes to scope out the weather and then I am hopefully unwound enough to settle in for some much needed sleep. 

I think I am acclimating to the environment. It could be the 50 degree weather we had the past two days… Lovely. I was not shivering every time I opened the door. 

I try not to think about work too much when I am not there. I am finding the task much easier these days. Figuring out how to let go of the patients when I leave the confines of the hospital is probably going to be the best lesson I can learn. 

Removing the shroud of intense responsibility should feel like a relief. There should be a lightness in my step. It is okay to have a life outside of my career. My job does not have to be the defining characteristic of my existence. I can be so much more. 

Still learning lessons. Still growing up. It is part of what makes life interesting. I am grateful for all the opportunities I have been given. I only have to remember to use them well. 

I may be overanalyzing EVERYTHING

 I know they are completely random. I know they are stupid and simply a way for people to troll for your private information. All of that aside, this one needs to be evaluated.

First of all, I do not have a boyfriend. I am not even dating at the moment. If anyone wants the job, I am taking applications. I am too busy finding new ways to love my boyfriend??? Are you actually kidding me? Who finds this appealing? Is loving someone that freaking difficult? Yuck. 

My favorite line is “Nyki is a real girl.” This has actually been a goal of mine for a while. I have practiced fixing my hair, I even own a good hair dryer and a flat-iron. I wear dresses. I shave my legs with some regularity. Okay… that part is a lie. I only shave my legs sometimes. It’s okay because I am the only one touching them. I have been saying for ages I just want to be a real girl! HA! Facebook is stalking me.

Part of me found this random result funny. Another part of me found it revolting.

I am noticing some interesting things about myself. It’s funny how so much time alone gives you plenty of time to *think. Well, thinking may not be the best word for what I do. I agonize. I dwell. I have internal debates with myself. I tear myself apart and judge every facet of my personality. I judge myself for every quirk I find. I have to convince myself to ignore the little voice emanating from somewhere in my mind.

I find myself wondering why I feel so unaccomplished. Is it normal to feel like you have not done anything worthwhile? Sometimes I feel excited or proud of something I have done. I may look in the mirror and feel attractive on that particular day. This short-lived pride leaves me feeling vain and cocky. So, I have to find all the reasons I should not feel good about myself at that moment.

I am terribly confused. How is a person supposed to have a healthy sense of self or “love” who they are without being arrogant? How are you supposed to maintain a sense of reality? What is the trick to having a healthy self-esteem?

I have to admit I am proud of my accomplishments. The problem is I am afraid to admit it, even to myself. I don’t want people to think I am conceited. I don’t want to be cocky. I desperately want to avoid being one of those assholes who think they are special. So, I hold myself to impossibly high standards and judge every shortcoming harshly. It is easier to point out my flaws.

This self-depreciation is not attractive. It makes confidence hard to maintain.

So, how do you foster a sense of confidence? How do you be realistic about the things you seek to improve, while giving yourself credit for the progress you have made? It is much easier to focus on the mistakes I make. It is easier to see the things I still need to learn.

I find the unique traits of the people in my life endearing. I love the quirks of my friends and family. These differences keep us all interesting. So, while I admire this in others I abhor my inability to fit in. Which is funny since I often do my best to stand out and not be part of the crowd.

We are all enigmatic in different ways. I like to be alone, yet loneliness often creeps up and surprises me. I think one of my main goals in life needs to focus on my need for moderation.

I tend to be all or nothing.

Black or white.

Win or lose.

All the while, I am fixating on the middle ground, the gray shades, or the process of playing the game. It is exhausting. I think too hard, too much, and too often. I find myself questioning the motives of everyone I know. I find myself disregarding the relationships I have. I minimize my role in other people’s lives. I convince myself I am not important to them. Worse, I convince myself they are unimportant to me.

I find myself wanting to be “cool.” So, I attempt (badly) to maintain an apathetic attitude towards much of the world. The problem lies in the simple fact that I am most assuredly not cool. I am warm, passionate, and above all loyal. So, I think I may be fighting with my inborn personality trying to achieve something I found desirable at some time in my life.

I wonder how many people are at war with their personality? Why do we seek to be someone other than who we actually are? It seems unfair to disregard our true self for some imaginary idealized impostor. This is certainly confusing when I think about how much I abhor apathy in other people. They just seem so much more relaxed and sure of themselves. Obviously, this could all be an act on their part as well. At what point is it okay to be honest about how you feel or what you are thinking?

This whole fixation of being politically correct and making sure our ideas do not offend anyone leaves me without much to say. Why don’t people pick up on my cues when I am being sarcastic? Or playful? Why do they assume I am being an asshole? When is it okay to point out the absurdity of most of the situations we encounter on a daily basis? So much of life leaves me shaking my head and wondering why everything has to be so damn difficult. Why can’t we do things in a reasonable way?

It may be my delivery. I am trying to be more soft-spoken and to not say every thing that pops into my head. My ADHD meds help with that.

So, does this rambling have a point? Perhaps.

It is okay to tone down your personality when you are with people you do not know well. It is okay to hold your ideas close to the vest. Is that even a saying? I think it is something like that. I could look it up, but I just don’t want to right now. 

Sometimes I need to give myself a break. Go with the flow. Stop evaluating my motives for every single thing! It is okay to feel cute when you look in the mirror. It is okay to feel pride when you have worked hard for something. It is okay to blend into the crowd when it would not help you achieve your goals to stand out.

I don’t have to prove anything to anyone, including myself. I need to allow myself to be who I need to be in that moment. This does not necessarily mean I am fake. Sometimes it is better to sit back and watch.

Someday I will figure out how to be at peace with myself. This won’t mean I don’t have things to work on. It just means I can accept who I am at the moment. I am not entirely certain where this acceptance comes from, and I imagine for me it will be an ongoing process. I am most likely okay with that today. I need to analyze it.