Love Medicine (Not the Book I Once Read)

“In love as in medicine: first, do no harm.” (Source: Thought Catalog)

I have not stopped thinking about the above quote since reading it earlier. If I could have this tattooed down the back of my arm, I would. Talk about wearing my heart on my sleeve.

I got called a tough girl at my gym tonight as I reset for a third attempt on a 95lb. hang squat clean & jerk. I finally got under the bar properly, with “no fear” as my coach said. I got the bar overhead, and then brought it back down, tired, spent, but accomplished. I could have given up, walked away, went home for the night without hitting that lift, but something caused me to think, “No, just one more shot.” And my tired, slightly defeated self wrapped her hands around the bar and gave it her all.

I’m waiting for a time when other parts of my life come together like that. I’m waiting for the time when all those lonesome moments, all those hours spent wondering if I’m being deceived, all those disappointments and broken dreams don’t matter anymore because someone thought, “This woman is like no other I’ve ever met,” and he is man enough to do right by me. Passing up meaningless dates with unremarkable women–no matter how good their hair is or the way they put on their lip gloss–will be so simple, even he’ll wonder what’s wrong with him.

How many times have I picked myself up from the ashes of a train-wreck relationship and said, “Just one more try.” Something keeps me going. Something tells me that I’ll eventually get it right, that he’ll* eventually get it right, and that the universe will eventually let us both get it right.

But it’s hard. No one said it would be easy. And I guess I never asked for a fast pass through all of this.

In the meantime, can we all agree on no more harm done to me? Can we make sure that men with whom I am involved don’t have the capacity to manipulate or to deceive or to break my trust the way too many have in the past? Can we aim for no more train wrecks? Because that all sounds nice.

Let’s shake on that, universe.

Please.

Bleeding Hearts* Whoever he is.

Okay. Awesome.

This week has been the most unproductive week. Ever.

I got home to Corvallis late on Sunday after flying back from the wedding weekend of a lifetime (yes, it was so good, I doubt even my own hypothetical wedding could top it). Monday, I woke up feeling like I had been run over by a bus. I was weak and tired and certainly felt under the weather, so I had to call in sick to my internship. Tuesday, I only felt like I had been mildly run over, so I was able to go about my daily activities and get through class.

Wednesday was my “me” day. I stayed in sweats all day, worked on some job applications, dabbled in homework, blogged for a bit, and watched all of the available episodes of Pan Am. It was a great lazy day–until I started feeling sick again. I had felt off all day, but then the sniffles set in, and yesterday was useless by all accounts. Luckily, ballet was canceled due to my instructor’s own illness, and I ended up sleeping all day, save for a doctor’s appointment and the class I had to facilitate at 5PM.

Today? Well, I slept most of today until I got up to meet with my counselor. I’m not sure it was the most productive talking session I’ve ever had because I felt pretty floaty and out of it the entire time. I rambled on and on about the wedding weekend, stating that the reception was so interesting because we didn’t dance and that I spent about three hours talking and reconnecting with all sorts of different people and friends.

My counselor stopped me there and said, “What does that tell you?”

And I realized that I’ve been feeling pretty down in Corvallis because my social network is so tiny. While I love my Corvallis friends a lot, the truth is, there are only a few of us, we’re all transplants to the area, and there is a lack of variety in things to do.

As the conversation continued, I mentioned something about how a job had closed at University of Hawai’i. My counselor asked me if I thought Hawai’i would be a good location for me to move to.

Ideally, yes. Realistically, no.

I don’t do well at starting over from complete scratch. I do my best when I have a good and varied network of people in a city. I would do fine moving back to Seattle, moving to Portland, or pursuing an opportunity in Los Angeles. The Bay Area is iffy, although I do have some friends in San Francisco.

This is the exact type of reasoning I need to remember during my job search. As much as I love traveling and being adventurous, I also love having a home base, a place where I can get a hold of someone that I know and go out and play. And I like being in places where those “someones” aren’t always the same. I like being in places where my “someones” can cross paths with each other and make new friendships, too.

It’s hard saying I can’t do it all. I’m not Wonder Woman, and I’m not the type of person who can just plunk down in a strange city and be okay. I can do that for a little while, a month or two or three, but longer than that, I need something more substantial. I’ve wrestled with this before, feeling isolated when I took my first job. My boyfriend at the time kept telling me to get out and meet people and make new friends, and I would cry and cry and try to explain that I couldn’t just do that. I was trying, but it was very difficult for me.

I like having a foundation, and I like branching out from there. That’s how I made it through my undergraduate career. That approach has worked to an extent here, but my networks in Corvallis are much smaller. I need to remind myself that this isn’t a weakness. This is how I operate, and I know myself. To be happy, I have to listen to myself and have faith that everything will work out in the end.

So, that said, watch out, West Coast cities and friends–I’m coming for you.

Wait Another Day

I will wait to love you
I will wait another day…
I will waste
another dream on you.

I am an impatient little lady.

With my world in chaos, I just want to crawl into a set of strong arms, and bury my little face in a broad chest. I want to feel tiny yet safe, vulnerable yet protected.

I know I’m not alone during this time. I have the best support networks possible–my mom, my extended family, my friends, my cohort, my supervisors, even my university. I’ll venture to say I even have myself. I have stories and memories that make me smile.

What’s missing is that stable rock. That foundation that’s going to look me in the eyes and not give a damn that I’ve been snotting all over his favorite sweatshirt because I’ve been crying for the past billion years. It’s not a “need,” though–just a “want.” I will get through this stage of life with who I have right now.

So, I will wait.
I will wait for you. Patiently.

And I will wait to love you, whoever “you” may be.

Hasta Luego

'Dith Face.This is the face of a young woman  who stands on the edge of twenty-five years, lessons learned filed away nearby.

Old lesson: You can’t love someone else until you love [or fix] yourself.

New lesson: It hurts when you know someone you love hasn’t fulfilled the latter part of the old lesson. And it hurts when you know you need to let them figure it out on their own without you.

I knew what needed to happen. Nearly six years ago, I met this boy, and about four years ago, I made the choice to fix myself. I hate that it’s not on my account this time, but I respect him. Among a plethora of other feelings of which he’s already well-aware.

So that’s where I am right now. And I guess it’s time to try and fix me again. For now, it’s grad school, attempting to secure an internship abroad during the summer, more writing, more dancing, more baking, and feeling beautiful, brilliant, and worthy of my own respect and love.