Day 6: Never Say Never…

Day 6 of the Reverb Broad 2011 challenge asks us to “list ten things you would never do.” I balk at saying I’ll never do something because usually when I do I end up eating my words. However there are some things I don’t want to do. Ever.

I will not…

1. Wear leggings. I distinctly remember the moment when my friends and I realized that this vile 80s trend was coming back to society. It was 2006 and we were working at Target, stocking the new Merona wear after hours. A friend pulled out tiny black pants and began wailing “NOOOOOO!!!” Soon four of us were lamenting about leggings and the hideous nature of them. We solemnly vowed never to wear them–nobody looks good in them and inevitably people try to wear them as pants. THEY’RE NOT PANTS. THEY NEVER WILL BE. I’ll take a great pair of patterned tights or a fabulous pair of dark wash jeans any day, thankyouverymuch.
2. Stop loving Disney. Disney World is my happy place. Watching The Little Mermaid, Lilo and Stitch and The Emperor’s New Groove  make me infinitely happier than the combination of  a gallon of Mackinac Island Fudge and a good bottle of Riesling. Disney provided me with the framework for dreaming, daring and becoming a strong woman. I’m forever grateful for that.
3. Ever be a gourmet chef. I can barely prepare boxed macaroni and cheese. It’s a miracle that my shiny new crockpot is still in working condition after a month of use. Let’s just be honest–I will never be able to prepare gourmet meals. I will, however, always enjoy a well-prepared and/or made-with-love dish. I love food, I just suck at cooking it.
4. Take friends for granted. I have an amazing group of friends who reaffirm me when I’m down, celebrate when I have good news and entertain me on a consistent basis. They mean the world to me. I always want them to know how much I adore them, whether it’s through silly texts, meaningful cards or quality time spent karaokeing/shopping/eating/chilling.
5. Buy Crocs. Can someone please explain these shoes to me? They’re hideous and they look stupid. Plus, if you go into a Crocs store it smells like farts are on fire (because of the rubber material they use to make these monstrosities). (Sidenote: I just giggled for five minutes straight because I penned the analogy “farts on fire”. BWAHAAAA! Ahem…) There’s no way I’d ever put money towards these damn things. They’re gross.
6. Be ashamed for what I like and don’t like. Yeah, I watch Jersey Shore and the Kardashians. I know more about pop culture than what’s going on in the world. I’m more likely to spend my money on accessories and cute tops than stash it away for a rainy day. I like documentaries and hate horror movies. I’m seriously into Beavis and Butthead right now. I despise the Twilight books. I’m unapologetic about all of these things. If they bug you, that’s on you, not me. I’m just living my own charming life and loving it. I won’t be shamed.
7. Take love for granted. Once upon a time I dated a man who I thought I was going to marry. And then he attacked me (and left a bump on my wrist from where he bit me. Yeah–he bit me.). So I dragged him to court and took myself off the market for two years. Then I dated a man for a few months, fell for him and he decided to break it off by cutting off communication with me. My heart’s more than a bit scarred. So now that I’ve found someone who wants to coddle it and take care of me, I’m going to do everything I can to show him that he’s wonderful and loved and supported. Because I know what it feels like otherwise. Nobody should ever feel those things. Ever.
8. Regret the choices I’ve made. In the words of the amazing musical RENT, “forget regret or life is yours to miss.”
9. Stop learning. Three words describe me: life-long learner! I may go for a PhD someday; I may get a Masters in a totally different field. I may just take random classes at a community college. I might just take a community education course every now and again. Whatever I choose to do, I feel most alive and inspired when I’m challenging myself to learn and grow.
10. Stop loving myself. It’s hard at times, but perseverance and experience has taught me that in order to accomplish anything I need to believe in myself. And as Oprah once wisely said “it all starts with love.” Words to live by, indeed.

Completely and Utterly

It’s as if a switch is turned off inside of me lately.  I don’t know what it is, what triggered it, what the cause could be but I’m hating the symptoms. I’m not myself lately. I’m feeling unsure of myself, shaky, teary-eyed, tired and unclear.

I’m not even speaking correctly. Lately I’ve been practically stuttering over words, twisting my tongue or pausing in order to remember correct words and phrases. It’s like the verbal part of my brain has suddenly shut down completely. It’s frustrating because I’m usually so sure of myself, comfortable in my skin, laughing easily, spitting out thoughts and views so easily. Not lately though. I know this is just indicative of something bigger and deeper. I just don’t know what.

My confidence is completely shaken. I’m living in a completely grey area right now, unsure of everything. And it’s not just because my partner has relocated thousands of miles away. It’s much more than that. It’s uncertainty about my future and what I want and feeling helpless because of finances (and essentially having no car) as well as not feeling completely on top of my game job-wise. I’m doing the best I can in spite of extenuating circumstances but some days I just feel beaten down. Tonight I just bawled on the phone because I just don’t know what to do. Or how much more I can take. I know it’ll get better. Because it has to. Because I’m a warrior and I’ve survived much worse. But at the moment I feel completely and utterly helpless.

Fittingly, Coldplay’s “Every Teardrop is a Waterfall” is playing on my iTunes as I wrap up this entry. That’s what it seems like at times. It’s not the big things, it’s all of the little things that add up to something that feels utterly overwhelming.  It’ll get better; it just has to.  I just have to breathe, do the best I can and trust that things happen for a reason. And if none of that works, you may get a phone call from me asking you to grant me several moments to freak out. Because as a last resort that works. Let’s just hope that I don’t have to do that too often.

Until We Meet Again

I’m not good with goodbyes. At my high school graduation I was one of the only seniors to cry. I sobbed when I had to bid my sister farewell when I moved from the UP. I’ve stopped saying adieu to friends when they move because it’s just too hard on my heart. And I bawled like a baby when I had to say goodbye to my boyfriend when I left for Russia for two weeks. Bawled. Like a friggen baby.

So this next chapter in our relationship is not going to be easy. He’s accepted an amazing job that is going to be an incredible step for him in his career. I know he’s going to do a phenomenal job and he’ll finally feel fulfilled career-wise, which is something he hasn’t felt for a while. The catch, though? The job’s in Florida, approximately 1,824 miles from where I currently live and work.

And he’s moving on Monday.

It’s really hard for me to think that in a few days he won’t be a short distance away. I’m mourning the things that I wanted to do with him throughout the coming year: cavort around the Renaissance Festival, laugh together at Second City, curl up  to listen to fall thunderstorms, trim a Christmas tree. I took it for granted that he’s be around and we could continue to make memories. But with one phone call, the trajectory of our relationship changed. And it has to, because he needs this. I want him to be happy. But that doesn’t change the fact that I teared up when he told me about the offer he received. (I won’t even get into the guilt I feel about that.) And it doesn’t help the mourning that inevitably has to be done.

Perhaps I’m being overdramatic. Are the tears truly justified? One of my best friends lost the love of her life in February, completely unexpectedly. She was dreaming of the life they’d build together and all of her hopes shattered when she learned that he’d died from an undiagnosed heart condition. Another one of my best friends is in a really long-distance relationship with someone serving in the military. While he’s on missions, she has no idea where he is and can have little to no communication with him. Compared to the heartache that they have to endure, my issue seems small. At least I’ll still have him in my life. At least I can still talk to him on a nightly basis even if we can’t hold each other quite as frequently.

And yet? It hurts. My day will be fine until I realize that I won’t be able to kiss him until maybe Thanksgiving once we say goodbye on Sunday. Those little realizations wash over me like a tidal wave, leaving me unable to breathe and a bit disoriented. I’ve taken for granted the time we’ve spent together because I assumed that we’d always have it. I love our Sunday morning rituals of drinking coffee while reading the paper. I love feeling him curled up next to me in bed. I adore riding in the car with him as he attempts to drive and air guitar at the same time. The little moments are the things that make the relationship and those will be the things I miss.

Innately I know that we’ll be fine. I just know it. We’re strong individually and even stronger together. I know in my heart that we’ll come through this challenge an even better, more in-love couple. It’ll be hard, but it won’t be forever. I’ve come to realize through all of this that I want him in my life no matter what. I’m lucky to have him in my life and nothing–not baggage, not negative self-talk or doubt nor distance–will keep me from loving him. Come Sunday I won’t be saying goodbye because goodbyes are forever. This is merely a detour on the journey the two of us are on together. I plan on kissing him passionately and saying “until we meet again”. Because the reunions will be epic. Just like our story.

Thriving

Three years.

I have come so far in three short years.

I don’t want to remember that today is an anniversary of sorts. Yet as my life takes me through fun adventures, I can’t help but flashback, even momentarily, to the moment three years ago when my life changed. When the man whom I thought loved me more than anything rushed at me and bruised me deeper than he will ever realize. Three years ago today I changed.

I’ve talked and written a lot about my healing process. About how much pain I felt, how I chose to fight, how it continued to hurt long after the  nights spent crying until I was dehydrated and disoriented ceased and the court visits came to an end thanks to an understanding judge. Even today it still hurts. The scars of the relationship are still there, not as visible, but still showing from time to time as I navigate a new-ish relationship and face all of the fears that stem from being in a relationship with an insecure, angry, abusive shell of a man. I still cringe when I accidentally mess up around my boyfriend, fearing that I’ll be yelled at or blamed. I sometimes find myself bracing for a negative reaction from my partner when things don’t go exactly perfectly–I expect a blow up or to be insulted. I don’t want to expect these things, but it just happens because it became an ingrained part of me because of my first, very fucked-up relationship. The scars–they are still there. They sometimes still ache.

But I will not make today about the negative. Yes, he hit me. Yes, he turned my life upside down and I’ve had to fight a lot of fear because of him and that horrible moment. But so much good came from it. I refused to be a victim. I am a survivor. More than that, I have thrived. After he attacked me, I made the conscious decision to follow my heart, listen to my gut and kick ass no matter what. That first semester of grad school after the attack, I not only received a 4.0 (my first 4.0 semester ever!) but I designed a leadership program for my residential area, deepened a lot of friendships and began to rediscover who I am. I’ve since received my Master’s Degree, relocated to a new state and have continued to redefine myself as well as discover who I am as a professional, person and creative being.

Today is the anniversary of the day I began to redefine who I am. Three years after The Incident, I can’t say that I’m fully healed (is anyone ever truly?!?) but I’m so much better and happier than I imagined I ever could be. This day, and that moment, will likely always be with me. But it’s because it will define me as a survivor and strong woman who thrives and not as a victim. I may always have scars from that relationship, but I am in no way the same girl I was back then. I’m Krissy: an evolving woman who embraces her journey and cannot wait to see what lies ahead. I’ve survived something hellacious–I know I can take on anything. And thrive. Today is a day to celebrate that.

With Love from Russia

Taking in the wonder that is St. Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow

 

20 hours traveling each way. 14 days abroad. 12 women. 2 cities. 1 country. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. 1 tired woman. But let me make this clear: I am so happy that I’ve had the chance to travel to Russia. I’ll write more about my journey later, but right now? My brain is mushy (yes, even two days after landing). So enjoy this lovely picture of me beholding St. Basil’s in Moscow.