Aging...

For some reason, I decided to browse through previous posts.  Funny story, I wrote one about my older brother.  You can read it here.  I was going crazy because he was turning 26 and he was OLD!

I turned 26 in June.  Guess who's old now?

Also, I feel old.  One of my best friends is about to pop out her first kid.  My little nephew Kade.  That's crazy to me!  She's ready, for sure.  She's going to be a great mother.  Ten years ago I DEFINITELY WOULD NOT HAVE SAID THIS, but her husband is ready, too.  He's going to be fantastic at raising that little kid.  

It's super hard to wrap my mind around people having kids, for some reason.  I think it probably has something to do with the fact that I AM 26 and definitely have no intention of having a child in the super near future.  Having one in 10 years seems scary.  

But, clearly, my plans are never really what happen.

14 Months...

...ago today, my dear old grandfather passed away.  Definitely one of the hardest things I've ever had to deal with.

Frankly (and he would roll his eyes at my saying this), I think his passing is part of why I don't write much anymore.  I don't mind being useless as much as I used to, either.  Hear me out, though. 

In my cobwebbed brain, I have a blog trying to unravel its way out.  But, the harder it tries, the more my brain wraps sticky webbing all over it and pulls it further and deeper into the darkest confines of my emotionally unstable self.  

The post will be titled, "What I Should Have Said".  The premise is that at Gramps' memorial, there was open non-mic time.  All kinds of people spoke.  People I didn't know, people I did know, some of them didn't make a ton of sense, all of them loved Gramps.  A couple days before the funeral, I had told my mom (who mentioned they were having a hard time finding people to do eulogies) that I would be happy to do one and even had some stuff written up that I could throw together and read.  When open not-mic time started, I couldn't speak.  I knew I couldn't.  Honestly, I didn't even try.  I knew I'd basically say, "I'm not gonna make it through this without breaking down, so bare with me," break down and that be all I got out.

Fact of the matter is this, I had/have a TON to say.  There are soooo many things to say about my grandfather.  I talk about him all the time.  I'm finally at a point where I don't cry about it every day, but I definitely couldn't have said them then and can't find a way to write it down now.

No joke, I think of things to say almost every day.  There are so many stories, so many fond memories about him, part of me wants to write an all out memoir.  Probably still call it "What I Should Have Said", and make each "chapter" about one bullet point I should have said at his funeral.

But that's why I have nothing of value to write about.  Maybe during this whole being unemployed thing, I'll actually sit down and do something about it.

Unemployed

More than anything, I hate being unemployed.  I feel it looks and sounds irresponsible.  I've been unemployed since the end of May and, for the most part, no one has said anything about it being ridiculous (to my face, at least).  There was one LOVELY comment on Facebook to David about how he's the only one paying the bills.  To say I flipped my shit would be an understatement.  There was throwing of things... I've worked long and hard for a long time and get some pretty awesome money from unemployment insurance (bam, baby!).  David had to almost physically keep me from commenting rudely to the person since they definitely could not say that.  I can cover all my own bills and them some.  So whatever.

Being unemployed is SOOOOOOOOO boring.  I can't stand not having tons to do.  So I've found ways to keep me busy.

I'll admit, it took about three weeks to get bored enough to start finding ways to stress out.

After that, I just basically kept the house cleaner than normal and swam all the time.  I eventually got to a point where I was working out more than once a day.  Then I added just intentionally being awake at a decent hour every day.  Even if I wasn't doing anything terribly productive at all times, at least I wasn't just ultra lazy.

Then about three weeks ago, I decided I wasn't going to just keep talking about renovating parts of the house.  It was time to act.  I was raring to go - let me tell you!  I ripped out all the hall and front room carpet and padding in about an hour and 20 minutes.  By the time the room was prepped to have the floors redone, it dawned on my that I was throwing a going away party later that week.  The floors are going to need about 72 hours of either no walking on it or only light traffic.  So that had to wait.  Then, during the party, things were spilled on the concrete and I had to wait.  Then, David was going to have people over too soon for me to paint it until this week.  THEN, it was too humid today (although, I think we may be being too careful about the humidity part).  I'm just afraid to start it when it's humid because if it does take longer, I might end up with two extremely hateful cats (they're going to be locked up somewhere for all of this).

After the whole front room is done, I really have no idea what I'll do to keep myself busy.  Swimming a mile only takes up about 50 minutes of my day.  I think I'm gonna up it to two miles as soon as I can, but that'll still only be around 1.5 hours.

Maybe I'll renovate another room.  Maybe I'll actually start writing again.  No idea.

Disappointed

I'm disappointed.

In myself.

I sort of always considered myself to be a decent judge of character. Turns out, I'm not even sort of a judge of character.

In only 7 months, I've lost two friends, both of whom I was somehow duped into considering close friends.

Apparently both were totally two-faced. They were both liars (sometimes in action and sometimes with words). I reached out to both as best I could. I even attempted to form bonds between them and people I considered friends who considered them acquaintances (neither of them are a treat, and forming bonds seems to take outside help/bumpers).

The loss of each of them are not even similar. Frankly, they can't be compared outside of that.

All I know is this: I thought they were good people. They aren't. Horrible is a better word to describe the types of people they are. As far as I know (and I've had other people in close to judge me and help me come to this determination), I'm not to blame. When communication was needed, I initiated. When backing of was necessary, I backed off. When they needed anything, I offered, at bare minimum. If they had a bad day, I invited them to come play with me. Etc.

Turns out, one of them seems to find pride in the fact we aren't friends anymore and they can successfully avoid me. The other is hiding behind an "attempt to make up" (without giving detail, since I'm clearly cloaking myself, no REAL attempt was made. The closest it came to a real attempt put me in a potentially horrible situation I didn't feel I needed to put myself in). At least the first one had never claimed to make an attempt to right their wrong - just victimize themself.

Both of them have caused rifts that don't only involve me. One specific cut really cut many people, several of whom are waiting for me to forgive before they forgive (but still no apology has been made).

And it makes me sad. I all but pushed these people into friendships with others that are now ruined. I, in a fairly huge way, am the root cause for so many people being hurt. The people hurt would probably lay no blame on me. But I do. And that bugs the ever living out of me.

I'm hurt, too. Obviously. And I'm starting to feel like I just need to stop making friends and trying to keep friendships.

I strongly believe that friendships that are worth having are not friendships you try to keep. But because my judge of character is apparently worth shit, I'm starting to wonder (with no logic, I'll admit) which ones (if any, which isn't fair) are worth keeping.

I'm insecure enough that I consistently assume I'm bothering anyone I see or talk to on a regular basis.

I've always struggled to feel truly bonded to people. I feel like I've blogged about that before. I think it has to do with being adopted. It's easier to feel fully attached to people who only sort of matter than those who always have and always will. In many ways, I think my grandfather was the only person to fully break that barrier. It's easier for me to hear the L word from a friend than a really good friend. It's easier to hear, "I'll miss you," from an acquaintance than a friend. And it has nothing to do with .... anything. Really. It has to do with the fact that the more invested I feel, the more it will hurt when the relationship goes away.

So when I get burned, I'm afraid of someone else burning me and something inside me puts up a barrier. My subconscious assumes that I'm going to get burned by someone else close to me and it really is a fight in my head to continue to continue being close to them.
Example: friends A and B screwed me totally. I assume friend C (who is as loyal as a puppy.... I have a real person in mind for friend C) will "dump" me eventually. To the extent that I don't text her things I normally would at the risk of seeming clingy or dependent or needy or just whatever.

It's the worst feeling in the world. And it's totally unfair to people who do care abt me. I'm assuming (honestly without really knowing why) the worst in people who don't deserve that. And it even halogens with family members I don't necessarily talk to every week.

Long story short (sorry the first part was so lengthy), I'm insecure enough to totally fall into depression and true insecurity because people who mean a lot to me are so OK with tossing me into the dirt and hoping I become a fossil in their memory while I continue to fight for friendship and connection (even though it should not be a fight).