Thursday, October 20, 2016

Locked Up

Let's rewind a bit.

Ten years ago today I would be a month away from bagging a new boyfriend. That's a terrible term to use, I know, but at the time, I was probably explaining it that way to one of my girls. High fives all around, I hit the jackpot. I would eventually fall in love too. But now, a decade and a divorce later, I would also realize that I lost a piece of myself in the process. In actuality, there were several pieces that went MIA along the way. Although, the exciting bit now, being on the other side of the hardest parts of this shit storm, is that I'm starting to find those missing pieces. They've been just waiting for me to let them out. 

When I was 17 I had a lightness. I was free in my ways. And I was messy but I was quick too. I was quick in my decisions and quick in my wit and there were people who loved all of that about me and missed it. I wish they had vocalized all of this more when I was younger. It would have given me some confidence in my offbeatedness (not a word, but it is now) that I eventually ended up suppressing most of. I went far too into conforming to the normal molds we're all taught instead of following the daydreams.

Most of my t-shirts came from Hot Topic and I wore a lot of accessories that included skulls. I spent a lot of my time trying to fit in a social life since most of my socializing happened on the ball field. I didn't read as much but I was writing a whole lot. I doodled future tattoos in the sidebars of my homework. I changed my MySpace song about 20 times a week. I was all over the place in interests, in my friends and in my personality. I had an insane crush on Usher but I was also listening to a lot of One Republic and The Fray and Blue October and ... Papa Roach too. I was a little different everyday, which was what most expected of me.

Let's fast-forward a bit.

You'd find my mess get a bit cleaner. I became anxious and extremely anal about every facet of my life: my school work, how clean my college apartment was, a routine for every day of the week. I thought this was a good thing. My relationship made me better. I'm learning that was never true. I thought I stressed less with him. But that's where the worry developed. I don't know why. I'm certainly not blaming him. I do blame myself for not realizing it sooner though. The mess was a part of me. I liked the mess. I'm starting to get a little messy again. 

I'm also starting to cultivate a beautiful list of what I want both out of life and out of a partner. I may never get married again and that's okay because if there's a next time, I'll be getting married for different reasons and with different feelings. But in the meantime, I'm not scouring or hunting or looking for anyone. I'm not looking for a husband. If someone falls into my lap and we have a great experience, I'll pocket it and keep it tight and and appreciate it. I just don't need any preconceived notions put on me. For example,

Single, Young Mom: "Oh well she's probably looking for something serious. She's looking for a husband or someone to take care of her and her daughter."

That's all bullshit. I'd rather have something serendipitous happen. I'd rather have fun. And I am building a newfound pride in myself that I can take care of both myself and Claire without a man by my side, I don't need a him. I want to want. I don't want to need. 

And I do want.  I want someone to tell me that I'm being an asshole when I'm being an asshole and who actively supports my ideas. 

I want someone that will travel with me. And be excited about it.

I want someone who doesn't care that I'm not super domesticated but appreciates my eye for aesthetics. Knowing what the word aesthetics means would be a giant plus.

I want someone that will take me to the batting cages. And not have a chip on their shoulder when I'm a hell of a lot better.

I want someone that doesn't expect me to cook a lot, at least not meaty dishes because I don't eat meaty dishes and touching raw meat freaks me out.

I want someone with passions of their own and not only talks about them but pursues and participates in them.

I want someone that likes the rain as much as I do. It's so easy to thrive off the sunshine, it's harder to have clarity when you can't see straight.

I want someone that will push me and not let me sit idly watching time slip away. All of that time could be used to chase a dream or finish a project or do something worth remembering, I want someone that appreciates that notion.

I want someone that will speak up about their feelings and not be a giant wimp and miss the boat. There are too many men in my present life that give me those vibes. Your time is now, say it. Say whatever you want to me. Say everything that went unsaid.

A decade ago I was taking every day as it came and living the hell out of each hour. I didn't stay locked up so far inside my head. So I'm taking some advice from my teenage self and finding her again. I can hit the reset button as many times as I want until I feel comfortable. But my head, all that was tightened with a key, it's all out now. 

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