Too Much/Not Enough

*deep breath*

I realized today that I'm not grounded right now. What I mean by that is I've lost my coping skills. My really good coping skills. I replaced them with people that didn't deserve to be any part of my coping mechanism arsenal. I replaced them with being wanted, really. Which, considering my history, this isn't a surprise to me. 

I am going through the things that grounded me this year. I keep feeling like I'm losing my way. I know what I want. I really do, but I feel like my grasp on it is so weak.
Shame spirals suck.
Anxiety brain fucking sucks.
I have anxiety brain right now, and I can't word. For real. Talking is not my forte right now, and that's okay I guess?
Doing things that require my focus are not my jam right now either. (Writing doesn't count)
I'm checked out, but I'm not checked out. Really my focus is on trying to do what I can to manage my anxiety and keep it from escalating. I mean it's pretty gahtdamb high, but it could be worse. But not much because then I would be in panic attack territory.
My anxiety is so high that I've forgotten how to effectively communicate. To not make assumptions. To ask for clarification when I need it. To pull out my thoughts and feelings, examine them, see them for what they are, name them, and then talk about them.

*deep breath*

I was going to take a nap when I got home, but I decided to sit my ass down and write. Until I go to my counseling appointment: writing, friends, music, a hair cut, cooking, my animals, reading, and work at the Ronald McDonald House. Seriously, there is something about that place that is so peaceful. Even when I'm running around like a crazy woman. Or get busy. Or annoyed.

So. This evening I am going through the books that really impacted me this year. There have been so many, and there is no way that I can get through them all in one evening or one post, but I've been thinking about some quotes all day. Or since last night. Oy last night. I wrote what I wrote. I said what I said. That's going to be another post that I won't be able to read again.

I also thought about just laying me all out there. Instead of just letting someone see bits and pieces of me, Imma let them see the whole thing. Everything. I feel like even with this fucking blog, y'all are only seeing bits and pieces of me. Maybe? I mean these last few posts have been me really peeling back the layers. Of stripping down to the real me. I think that's partly why I'm so fucking anxious. What is everyone going to think? Of me. Is this okay? Am I enough? Am I too much?
Because the not enough/too much dichotomy has been a thing that I've been battling for as long as I can remember. Which is why I don't let my guard all the way down.

Michael Arceneaux wrecked me with this guard down concept this evening in his book "I Can't Date Jesus"
He says, "It wasn't until my thirties that I had an epiphany: I was attracting unattainable people because I was no less unattainable. I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't know how to let my guard all the way down. I knew how to volunteer the kind of information that gave folks the sense of connection; it was a tactic to throw them off the scent of who I really was and what ate away at me. I became even better at it, because the few times I felt I was trying to get close to people, they rejected me or used what I had divulged against me. That deepened my underlying cynicism that falling in love with someone opened the door for them to destroy parts--or all--of me...In life people will disappoint you, but the key is to learn how to find within yourself the sense of peace and confidence that keeps you whole during the times when you are let down."
That is in bold because, honestly, this is the definition of my relationship with the world. Even with friendships. Even. With. Friendships.
Even with my relationships with my family. Even. With. Family. 

Too much/not enough.
Too much/not enough.

I'm not entirely sure when this message came into my life. I'm not even sure where it came from--like the original source. I can just remember the most recent moments that reinforced this insidious belief (insidious is my word of the week, by the way. Not really). I thought to heal that I needed to throw myself out into the world. To open myself up to friendships. Open myself up to my family...to an extent. Not all the way. That's going to take a minute still. I was going to open myself up to dating and hopefully start a relationship with someone. This all has been my mission over the last couple of years. I stepped into this slowly and tentatively, while I was working on myself. On my confidence. On my self worth. Of knowing that I am not too much and that I am truly enough. All on my own. That I was the one who decided I was enough, not others. The tendency to look outside of myself for that validation made its way back in this year though.

See, to some extent, bouncing yourself off others isn't necessarily a bad thing. But it also shouldn't be your main source of validation. It comes from you. Yourself. Well, and some hardcore counseling. I thought I had learned this lesson, and in less than a year, I seem to have forgotten it again. But have I really if I'm working all this out? I didn't forget, but I did lose sight of it for a while. I lost sight of me being enough. Not the too much/not enough. Enough. As I am. I'm okay. As I am. (I don't mean "just" okay. I mean I am okay).

Here's where the shame comes in though. Let's talk about the shame: I'm disappointed in myself. I am really disappointed in myself. Admitting that is hard, but I know it's in there and needs to be named in order to be worked out. I worked SO FUCKING HARD on myself, only to get back to this too much/not enough bullshit? I spent all of that time and money (therapy, medicine, and books). I spent all of that time sifting through shit only to come back to this? However, when I think about it, I have only been working on this for a couple of years. I have only just now recognized this whole too much/not enough deepest insecurity thing. Or named it not that long ago. So I suppose over 25 years of that bullshit belief isn't going to completely go away in a couple of years. It's probably going to be something I am going to have to confront over and over again for quite some time. I don't want to say my whole life because I can't right now, but I do know I will have to keep working to fight against this thinking when it comes up.

Hope.

Here's where the hope and optimism comes in: I don't think I have ever been more resilient and willing to work so hard on the relationship I have with myself. On my relationships with others, and how I approach those relationships. Despite what I'm feeling, I have to take a step back and look at my history vs now; how I would have dealt with myself then, and how I am dealing with myself now. How am I examining and processing all of these feels and the too/much not enough thing? I'm fighting it with all that I have right now, and it IS working. It's actually working. I wrote this on my white board that's hanging on my refrigerator: Fight, Deandra. FIGHT. You will do this. You are a badass bitch. Honey, you better work. Werk.
I intended this for the next year. Because this is going to be a year of fighting and working towards my goals.
But I also need those words in this moment right now.
Because I am fighting. I am challenging my thinking. I am opening up to a few people, and they are challenging my thinking. They are showing me what full acceptance looks like. I have revealed some of my deepest things to these people. Specifically, to two people (ladies, you know who you are), and they aren't judging me. Even the things I thought might be judgement worthy, and too much, were not at all. I honestly have never let myself feel and be accepted on that level. I don't think that I've ever just let people see me like that. As I'm typing this I realize that I really am not alone here. There are people who love me, and I love them dearly.

Here's where my anxiety brain tries to take over, and prepare for the worst. Or, the too much/not enough message gets going.
What if they see too much and leave? You're too fucked up. What if they finally stop putting up with your bullshit and just bounce? Are you going to test those relationships and try to sabotage them to try to get people to prove that they are present? Because I think that's what we need to do. Let's test them.
What about not being enough? Why don't you retreat because you think you're too much and then let them see that you are actually not enough? That you aren't on their level; you aren't enough so you might as well not try. Let's just step back, and leave them alone. Let them live their lives. You're not smart enough. You haven't lived enough. You haven't been out in the world long enough. You aren't good enough at this whole relationship with people thing. You have fucked up your life, and nothing you do will ever be good enough. So just retreat. Leave people alone, and let them move on. Do not fight for those relationships. You aren't, in so many different ways, enough.

Oof. That's hard to write out. Like, it's one thing to mention the not enough/too much thing, but to actually write out the things that go through my head? The things that influence my behavior? Whole nother thing. To let y'all see this? Black Jesus Christ, it's a lot.

I'm not saying this thinking IS me though because it's not. I'm not my thinking.

But here is what I am: I AM smart. I am beautiful. I am worthy of relationship. I am a badass bitch. I'm a motherfucking dragon. I do have it in me to do that things that I want to do. I am lots of wonderful things. I also struggle. I am made of THOSE things. Yes, I am even made of the struggle. I'm made of the fight. I'm made of courage, resilience, and vulnerability. I'm made of love, kindness, and compassion. I'm made of empathy. I'm made of humor. I'm being forged out of all of these things, and it is beautiful. It's messy sometimes, but it is beautiful. I am a person. I would have previously said fearfully and wonderfully made. It actually seems really appropriate here though, but not in the way that I used to use it. Because this is coming from within. This is coming from my own determination and will. It's not up to a deity.

Maybe there is a Spirit out there guiding me in some ways though. I think I feel her sometimes. I think I have encounters with people that She kind of made happen. I still can't explain how I feel about Her. But I feel Her. I feel a presence sometimes. But She doesn't control me. She doesn't demand that I give up everything to follow Her. She just wants me to love myself and others. Hm. I never in a million years thought I would be at a place where I could believe in something again. It's okay though. Like, I'm okay with it. I feel at peace with that.

This is confidence and security. In myself, and, yes, even in others.
How can I be both confident and insecure though? 

Willowdean Dixon says it so well: "Sometimes figuring out who you are means understanding that we are a mosaic of experiences...I'm fat. I'm happy. I'm insecure. I'm bold."

So. Here I am. I've opened up some more. To the fucking internet.

(This is all going in a book this year anyway)

Married.

SIDE NOTE: I'm not angry, sad or hurt over the whatevership. He's lost me. He lost me a while ago. Which is fine. Just read. Cringey as this may get. Just read. 

Mark. 

At one point he was a front runner in this whole real life bachelorette shit show. 
Like neck and neck with SB. But then I realized, for a while, that no one really could top SB. Until they could. 
Because it's possible. 

Antyway. 

So Mark. 

Blue Eyes is what we called him at work because for a while I had to come up with nicknames to keep track of the guys I was talking to. I really am not just saying this to say it. For whatever reason, in June, not long after the boy slept in my bed, I was feeling like a badass. Because, you know, a boy slept in my bed and I could do anything. I could get anyone. I was confident AF. 

Enter Mark. So I see him on the dating app. Where SB is the OG in this whole dating saga, Mark is not far behind him. Actually today marks my one year friendiversary with SB. It has been a long fucking year. Mark and I had matched probably 2 or 3 times before this oh so fateful June. We talked. We connected well. He was cute (wait, is this something to still call a guy? Cute? I feel so weird calling someone "hot." Can I use the term handsome? Somehow that seems antiquated, but also appropriate for grown-ass men. I also just don't like calling people hot. But cute doesn't seem right either. You know what? Good looking) He was good-looking. I liked him, he seemed to like me. We would have some great conversations. Then he'd just disappear. A month or two later I would match with him again, like, "Oh my god! Where did you go?" 
So he disappeared for a few months, and I moved on...until I came across him once again. I was like, "Okay, last try." So last try, and it was somewhat successful, I suppose. Until it wasn't. 
We talked quite a bit. I kept trying to nail him down, but I was also talking to these four or five other guys so it wasn't like a priority at that point. Though I did like him a bit more than most of the others. We talked on the app, and eventually moved over to Snapchat. Where we talked regularly. Video chatted, sexted, video sex. Like all of it. I asked his relationship status. I did my digging. Because, y'all, I am REALLY good at searching for people, places, and things. If you need something looked up? I'm your woman. If you want to know something about someone? Come to me. I will scour the internet. I did my scouring, and I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Also, again, I did ask his relationship status. Additionally, I if he was looking for a fwb or long term. See where this went? Relationship. He was interested in pursuing a relationship. 
I was excited because, gahtdamb, FINALLY! I was finally going to meet Mark in person. 
*derisive laugh* that's cute. 
Long suffering can be one of my traits, but it's not always a good one. I will hold onto things that I just need to let go of. 
Shark philosophy: "Take a bite when you explore things. Don't be afraid to let go if it's not what you thought it was." I should have listened to the fucking shark philosophy. But, as life motto #2 goes, "Well, I thought it was a good idea at the time!"  
I should have let go. 
But I didn't. 
I really wanted this to work out. 
Like I said, long-suffering. Emphasis on the suffering. 
Not in a good way. 
Is this an unavailable man scenario?
Probably would qualify. 
Because they are my jam. 
And I hate it. 
I'm actually a bit of a paradox. Aren't we all to some extent though? I am impatient, but I am also patient. 
Antyway, so. 
This trying to meet up thing. It was a fucking nightmare, y'all. A. Fucking. Nightmare. 
Yeah, I was getting really tired of this bullshit. 
I did actually back off, and pursued a possible relationship with, god, what is his internet nickname. We actually used his real name at work because, y'all, he was a cool dude. Until he wasn't. I'm not sure I wrote about him, but he is not the focus of this post. Maybe I did though. I think it was the not enough, too much post if I ever published it. 
While I was doing that, I was okay with Mark dropping away. He'd check in every once in a while, but I was cool because I had this other dude (I really need to find his internet name). 

*Side note: I don't use people's real names on my blog. They have a blog name. I and my friends know who I'm talking about, and if a dude that I've written about ever read the blog they would be able to identify themselves. So there's that. 

As soon as I worked through three out of the five guys. Wait. No, yeah it was three of five. Mark popped back onto the scene, and I was thrilled. Like we talked every day, had serious conversations, and silly ones. He liked me; he thought I was cute; he could make me go stupid with just a particular look or...fuck... a wink. Or, Black Jesus in heaven, this lip lick thing that he did. *Melting* We had some awesome sexting and video sex message sessions. Oh my god. He also had this tattoo that I just could not get enough of. He had this amazing sex appeal, and he kind of looked a bit like Paul Rudd. Y'all, this dude's sex appeal was off the charts. I can't even explain it, and even now I'm smiling like a fucking idiot while I remember that. I'm laughing now too. Great. Oh, now here's the blush and warm feeling. Aaaaaaand we're going to finish that off with that like tummy, "Oooo!" thing. 
I need to get a fucking grip here. 
Ooof. He was good, and he was so good that I was dying to meet him in person. 
I tried so hard to get him to meet with me in person. We talked about what we were going to do on a date! We scheduled a gahtdamb date. Then he flaked out. He had to work. 
Then we tried to rain-check, but he was really noncommittal about it. Very vague and ambiguous. Y'all. I MOTHERFUCKING HATE AMBIGUITY AND VAGUE, HEDGEY, SHIT.
He was though. 
I'm not sure why I kept at it honestly. I'm going to have to process this, and I need to send my ass back to therapy to get through this bullshit. 
No, I do. It was the gahtdamb connection that we had. Like we got each other. I let him see me. Y'ALL I LET HIM SEE ME. What I mean by that: I felt safe enough to be completely myself with him. I felt seen, and I felt heard. I felt like I mattered. Which I did anyway, but there is something about another person outside of yourself validating those things--Seeing things about you. Liking them, even. I didn't do that thing where I hold myself back, trying to mold myself into the person that I think someone wants. In other words, I could be my ridiculous, funny, smart, beautiful, awesome, serious, imperfect self with him. That means so gahtdamb much to me. I don't let that out lightly or flippantly. I don't let everyone see that, but I did that with him (Aaaaand now here are the tears I have been holding in). 
Even now I'm feeling so raw and exposed. My anxiety is off the charts. I need to cry. I need a Valium. I need sleep. I need to write. I need chocolate and peanut butter. I need to finish this beer. I need to feed my animals. I need to spend time with my cat because I haven't seen her since yesterday evening. I need to talk. I need a hug. I need some sex (yeah, I said it). I need to feel okay. 
Back in October, I finally got tired of the bullshit, and I just very bluntly asked Mark (I almost used his real name here) 
Me: "Are we ever going to meet in real life?"
Mark: "And I will answer soon but short answer is that the last few months have been so many one-thing-after-anothers"
Me: "Ooo Lordt, that sounds a bit...not necessarily ominous but not wonderful." 
(I knew I wasn't going to like his answer)
Me: "Clarification, because I just overthink everything (I do some of my best and worst work when I overthink): my meeting in person expectations are like meeting for covfefe and talking for a couple of hours. Just FYI."
Mark: "Oh I know (smiley face)"

About a week later:

Me: "I hope you didn't ghost on me?"
Mark: "I didn't. Been a crazy week and it isn't over"

Few days later (my birthday):

Mark: "Hey happy birthday! I'm still in the thick of it here but I'll talk more and explain what's up when I get a chance to breathe"

Me: (general thanks and year 31 musings) "And okay. Not sure what words of support to say so just enter words of support here."

A couple of weeks later:

Me: "Just checking in. How are you?"
Mark: "Doing a bit better. You?"
Me: (enter general life happenings here)

Just after midnight yesterday morning (Merry fucking Christmas to me):

Mark: "You know that thing people do where they avoid things because they're difficult to deal with, but then it just keeps looming and getting bigger and/or so much time has passed that it barely seems worth it so you make an excuse in your head that eh might as well not worry about it now
That's what I've been dealing with for the last few weeks.
So, I tried to make the most of it--
I've been in a weird place with my relationship status. We've been separated, poly, separated, and then her dad died. That was the big thing I had been dealing with. Regardless of the separation status, I needed to do my best to make sure she was ok because I value her as a friend if nothing else. 
So, I wasn't trying to mislead you at all but it wasn't an important point at this point. 
Until it was. Y'know?
At this point I don't really know what's going on but I'm going to behave as though I'm not in a committed relationship."

*cue low-key panic attack*

Me (much later that day): I'm not sure where to even begin with my questions. 
Mark: "I get it. I won't take 25 years to respond."

Me: "So separated from a marriage or a committed relationship? [because separation is a marriage word. Like separated from a marriage. It's a marriage word]
Also me: "How long had you been together? Had you always been poly? *Poly when not separated [that is]

What I'm about to type is where I just felt like I couldn't breathe right. I still kind of feel that way. I'll explain why after I type this. Or this might be self-explanatory. 

Mark: "Separated from a marriage. Together way too fuckin long lmao (smiley face). 13? 14? Years. I got married at 19. 
Poly had been a recent thing because situations didn't allow us to have as much time together as we needed."

*cue all the feels* 

Me: "Do you still live together? How did poly work out for the both of you? Like actual relationships outside of that or just casual fwb type of relationships? What was your intention with me?"

Mark: (nothing)

I'm still having a hard time breathing when I read those words. 

Here's why: CONSENT.

I didn't know. I legitimately didn't know. I did my job. I did what I was supposed to do: I asked the right questions. I looked him up. I did my investigating. I gave myself the go ahead to let him into my world. 
Had I known? I would have NEVER matched with him or started anything in the first place. I am not a poly person. I am very much into monogamy. It's my own preference because I know myself. Sometimes I really wish I could do the poly thing because I know that self-actualization doesn't come from one person. I also know, through my #adventuresindating, each man had some great qualities. If only I could have taken those and put them into one dude. Which I know isn't possible. I can't get the words out of my head and through my fingers and onto the screen here. I have a perfect way of summing it up, but it's not coming out right now. 
Even if it was a poly thing with Mark, it wasn't ethical at all. All parties involved are supposed to know and be okay. CONSENT, MAN. 
Antyway, I'm tired. I'm angry. I'm sad. I'm hurt. 
I didn't know. I wasn't even given a motherfucking choice here. I feel so conflicted. I have so many fucking feelings, and they are just swirling and rampaging around inside of me right now. I can't just grab one and say, "This is EXACTLY what I'm feeling." It's not working that way. 

NOTE AGAIN: I'm not angry, sad or hurt over the whatevership. He's lost me. He lost me a while ago. Which is fine. 
It's that I had my agency stripped from me. I didn't have the chance to make a choice. I would have never chosen this in a million years. Ever. I think he knew that too. 
I know he knew that. 
I know he knows that. 
He had every fucking opportunity to tell me. 
He didn't. 
14 years of marriage. 
14. Years. 
Of. Marriage. 
He just casually left that out because that's something you can just avoid in the hopes that it won't come back to bite you in the motherfucking ass. 
Married. He is Married. 
Am I explaining why I'm so upset well enough? Because I don't know. 
My choice was stripped away. I would never do this. Ever. Married people, even separated, are so off limits. Poly people are off limits for me. I want more than what they are able to give when they are in a married relationship already. I can't do it. I wouldn't do it. I want a certain future and freedom.

I am not okay with this. 
I need a hug. 
I need to see my therapist. 
I need a Valium. 
I need some sleep. 
I need to cry. 

Married.  

You know what insidious feeling is creeping into my soul right now? 
Shame. I feel shame. This has got to be my fault somehow. I missed so much. I should have picked up on this when he was being so hedgey. Maybe I expected him to be dating other people. I did. I thought that was it. I never in a million years thought it would be 14 fucking years of marriage. 14 years. 14. I got sort of involved with someone who was married. Or involved? What is it even?
I feel shame. 
I am ashamed. 
I'm also mad as hell. 
 

Fear.

I'm afraid.
Of rejection.
Of feeling things.
Of vulnerability.
Of liking someone more than they might like me. Or thinking they do at least.
So I hide.
My feelings.
Guarded. I am so fucking guarded.
Im constantly watching for signs that confirm that I'm being rejected. Constantly. Because it's happened so fucking much. So I just assume that it's going to happen. So I keep my distance, or I retreat into myself.
Then I battle. With my thoughts. Knowing that I'm feeding my confirmation bias. Knowing that I'm feeding into that lie that I'm too much or not enough.

I had an awesome date with someone last night...and into today. Yeah, that's right. I stayed over on the first fucking (lol) date. Yo, it was awesome. He is awesome. Real. No bullshit. It's refreshing. He's like... available.

As y'all may know, unavailable men have been my thing because they're safe. But it's also heartbreaking. I'm used to that kind of heartbreak though. I'm used to that particular kind of rejection.
But that from someone who is actually available? I don't know. That feels different somehow.
So here I am. Sitting at the aquarium typing out this gahtdamb blog post. Confronting my shitty thinking, trying not to panic and replay everything that happened in the last 18 hours, searching for signs that confirm that I'm being rejected. Or that there isn't something to explore with this person.

What's especially scary? Being seen. Shit. Being seen is a huge deal for me, but it's also, like, unnerving. Being an Enneagram 4, being understood and seen is both the most thrilling and most terrifying thing ever.

So I had a date last night. It went really, really well. I like this guy. I hope I see him again.
I have to get over this fucking fear.
Of being too much.
Of rejection.
Of all the lies that I've believed in the past.
Getting past this thing. Trying to sift through things, looking for any and all signs or indications that I'm going to be rejected, and the trying to get out ahead of it. This, self-sabotaging. I can be good at that sometimes. Self-sabotage. Oof. I'm like an expert.
But I'm confronting it all head on.

*Note: All puns are intended. I own that shit.

What In The Fuck Am I Doing Part 2

December 20th update: I'm changing my mind regarding the sex on the first date thing. That's okay too. I think it just has to be with the right person. With everyone else so far? That hasn't been it. At all. Looking back, even though it's only been two months (y'all so much can happen in such a short fucking time!), none of these people were the right people. I already felt hesitant with them from the beginning. Well, everyone except Mark, but that's no longer a thing (he didn't necessarily ghost, but became unavailable because of a thing that came up. I still don't know what that thing is, and I don't know that I ever will now. That's okay. I wish him well in life. I'm not really feeling that I lost out on something anymore).
Also, can we talk about the shaming and weirdness that happens when someone chooses to have sex on the first date. Like the rules and regulations surrounding that. The games. What if I want to? What if the guy does NOT shame me or think less of me for doing that with him. If I wasn't okay with it, I wouldn't be doing it. But I've had some people tell me if I want a relationship, don't do it on the first, it's the third date thing. I say fuck that shit. That's game playing.
Additionally, what if that wasn't THE (having sex on the first date) main determining factor of whether a relationship would begin or not?
Some of this comes from purity culture. Some of it comes from how society views men and women and their respective expressions of their sexuality. Some of this comes from even my own insecurity.
But I don't think I need to worry about this anymore. I think these messages are bullshit.
Okay so another thing here. We told are that we can't trust ourselves--we can't make our own decisions. This was a thing I constantly ran into when I was a Christian, but it's pervasive outside of Christianity too. This is interesting to me. But I also shouldn't be surprised. Because this is the message that women get: we are not aloud to make our own decisions, to trust ourselves, and to trust our bodies. To even trust other people.

 So what in the fuck am I doing now?

Trusting myself. That's what I'm doing. I'm going to take a chance and trust another person. This is really, really difficult for me. I think I need to though. 

Edit: What in the fuck am I doing?
Moving forward. In many ways. I got a second job, and I absolutely love it.

These what in the fuck am I doing moments have been brought to you by the end of NaNoWriMo, realizing that I am a bad-ass bitch (You better work. Thank you, RuPaul), and realizing that I lost my way again.
NaNoWriMo brought a whole lot of things out of me. As I threw myself into developing my main character, I realized that she is, in a way, an extension of me. Of course that meant that I was writing some hard truths I didn't necessarily want to face; however, I did. It was revealing. I needed it though.

I'm going back to school this semester. I changed my major to sociology with a minor in psychology. Who is surprised by that? I certainly am not.

I kiiiiiiind of want to see if I can complete my degree before my brother gets through his. A little competition. I haven't told my family that I'm going back to college. I've told my mom, dad, and my friends. That's it.

The last things I want to say in this post: I accomplished so much, I did so much work, only to get a little bit off course again. I'm back now.

I'm a little bit blown away by how life can change in such a short period of time. But it can.

NaNoWriMo. Or, What Did I Just Get Myself Into?!

What have I gotten myself into?
Last week, in the comments on a Facebook post about writing, one of my friends told me about National Novel Writing Month. Intrigued, I searched the net to see what this NaNoWriMo business was all about because I had never heard of it before. Turns out? It’s kind of a big deal, and there are lots and lots of people who participate in this crazy project.
What is it? During the month of November, people take on this massive project of writing a 50,000 word novel. So starting at 12:00 am on November 1st and ending on November 30 at 11:59 PM. It is preferably a fiction novel. There are WriMo Rebels who do choose to go the nonfiction route, and I seriously thought about doing that because I do want to eventually write a memoir or two. Like essay formats (which I think I’ve mentioned before). But fiction?! LOL! That’s cute. I haven’t written anything fiction-y in years. Years!
But why not? What do I have to lose here? I’m in between classes right now. Speaking of which, so I found out that, even though I’m technically in the advanced writing specialization course, I still have to reapply for financial aid when I want to move to the next course. *eye twitch* Y’all, it’s a good thing I can write super compelling essays and shit. I rocked that financial aid app, and I will do it three more times over the next several months.
Antyway, I will be taking on this novel writing endeavor; I am writing a fiction novel. I’M WRITING A GAHTDAMB FUCKING NOVEL, Y’ALL. HOLY SHIT. *taking a moment to freak out*
Like I just can’t get over the awesomeness of this decision and project. What better way to usher in my 31st year of life, right?
I began my 30th year of life changing my life. Now I’m doing it again. I think this is going to be my 30s. Well, at least the first half.
While excited, I’m also anxious and scared. I haven’t had to create a main character in a long time. I have to figure her out (MC will be a woman). I have my plot out, and it seems like that might have been the easy part in all of this. Developing my character has been a whole nother thing; however, I think it’s going to be easier than I think. See, I am good at free writing. I might have a topic in mind, like I did tonight, but then my brain just goes, my fingers go, and I create something that morphs into its own beautiful thing. I do believe that this novel is going to turn out the same.
One of the hardest parts in this, other than developing my main character, will be putting away my editor self. I have been told I will want to edit the shit out of this book; however, that completely defeats the purpose of this project. That is for later. The point is to just write my ass off. There are several methods that work for people, and, when the 1st rolls around, I will see what works for me. But this inner editor? When we’re working on this project? She has to shut the fuck up and sit the hell down. We can edit AFTER NaNoWriMo is over. We did decide on a compromise though: I can edit my essays when the second part of the writing class starts, and i can edit my blog posts (yes, I will still be blogging through this whole gahtdamb project...because I need an outlet). We just gon’ write.
Tonight, my intention was to come home to prep for the month. That didn’t happen. I went with my aunt and cousins to make food for the guests at the Ronald McDonald house. It WAS a nice change of pace, but I’m now freaking out about all of the stuff I want to do; however, do I really NEED to do all of the things I think I need to do? Well, yes, some. If I was really going to go crazy, I would take my ass up the highway to the maze that is IKEA to get my Kallax desk/shelf system thing. I have been eyeing that thing for nearly two years now.
Also, okay, here’s a thing, so why do the guys seem to message me at the same time? I swear to Black Jesus this happens all the time: either SB will message me and then Mark will (he’s still a thing...maybe). Or the other way around. I’m not even kidding! This really happens. It just happened while I was sitting here typing this.
Antyway, back to my prep, I want that desk. I feel like my life will change if I have that desk. It’s not even that expensive, honestly. It does require *some* assembly, and it also requires wall anchoring. Both of which I completely do not know how to do. I don’t have the fortitude or skill (yet) to put shit like that together! Maybe I can get SB to do it and hang up my pictures. Dude is SUPER handy.
What I’m going to do instead is use what I have on hand for now. I have a folding table, and I’m going to set that up as my writing table. I do have to get a chair that isn’t a stool, but that will be an easy thing to do. I want to get a bulletin board and a dry erase board. Both of those, however, do require wall hanging. I’m going to get a dude over here, that’s for sure. So while I have this grand vision for my personal writing/craft/schoolwork space with that gahtdamb IKEA shelf/desk, it’s just noth that practical right now. I will eventually get there. Maybe that will be one of my halfway point rewards? I think that’s a great idea, actually.
Oh, I was also going to mention something about my new notebook. While I was working today, I realized that I can’t always access my writing website to add ideas and shit. I then realized that having a bunch of notecards, while a great idea, is not exactly practical either. Hello, can we say lost? The solution? A little pink notebook that will easily fit in my purse. I feel like this is a necessary writer’s tool for me as I will be able to whip it out and write down whatever is coming to mind when it comes to mind. Or something like that. It is really comforting to know that it’s going to be there, and I can jot down my ideas without losing them in some way.

Well, here I go. I’m going to write a motherfucking novel.
I’m doing it.

I Can't Remember Happy Moments

I am working my way through "The 52 Lists Project: A Year of Weekly Journaling Inspiration" by Moorea Seal.
Y'all I have had this book for over a year now. For the longest time, I just let it sit in a random basket in my room. Then I got it out to fill out List 1: List your goals and dreams for this year. Fair enough, I was ready to do that. I was on my new med combination, feeling awesome about myself, going through therapy, and really wanting to get life started for myself. Maybe I have had this book for like a year and a half because bowling better, or taking lessons, was on my goals and dreams for the year list.
Antyway, I let this book sit around for a while because I just thought that I could organize this all in my head. I went back to it recently, and I looked at that first list. Some things I had actually accomplished! First, setting up my second bedroom; it is now the guinea pig room. Second, making my house my house: I have two pictures haphazardly hanging on the wall in my living room. Sitting on my living room side table I have a weird-ass little dried out horseshoe crab named Simon, a weird-ass bird statue, a bowl of stones and crystals, and an abalone shell with some sage. My house is now invite company over two days out and the house will be company-ready by then. As opposed to planning a month in advance.
I'm feeling especially thoughts and feels right now. I'm really trying find my way back to myself because I feel like I got so caught up in the #adventuresindating thing that I lost sight of who I was becoming before that. It totally took over my life! That was not my intention at all. Now that I've come to this realization, I am doing something about it.
First, I am actually working through this list project book. I have filled out some lists already, and I'm in the process of reevaluating my goals for the year. See, my year starts in November because my birthday is in November. So November to November is my year. I'm starting with List 1, which is technically supposed to be a winter list, because, well, this is where I just gahtdamb want to start. I'm a grown-ass woman and can do whatever the hell I want. But, yeah, November to November. Except that I did technically start doing this last week. Or two weeks ago. Whatever. That doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm doing this. This morning, I erased the yearly goals I had written down a year and a half ago because they've changed. I have a different perspective, a different outlook on life, and I have different goals that I now want to achieve. I will be working on that one today and tomorrow.

Second, I'm going to write about it. Yes, I'm going to write about my lists. I think it's important to help me process it (Y'all, my stomach is growling hardcore right now. I'm hungry AF) because I process my feels and emotions out loud. Listen, do you know how hard it is to face some of these lists?! Um, it's really fucking hard.

Which brings me the actual topic of my post today (how's that for a transition, eh?).

List 3: List The Happiest Moments of Your Life So Far.

Y'all, I'm struggling with this one. I have skipped this one for two weeks now. I keep looking at it and coming up empty. I even wrote above the title, "Why can't I remember?!" What is my brain doing to me here? Or is it my own doing?
The "Take Action" part says it all, really. "Sometimes it's easy to forget all of the wonderful things that have happened in our lives..." No shit.
So here's my theory: every good memory I might have is not remembered as a pure, happy moment anymore. It has been muddied with the events that happened after because it always seemed like there were some consequence or price to pay for those happy moments. Or those happy moments happened with people I fell out with. Or who are no longer here. I am having a really difficult time zeroing in on the actual happy. Or I just don't remember them altogether. Is that a trauma response? Some of these things happened in what seems like my past life. Are they still happy moments if they happened when I was still a Christian? Or when I was still so fucking naive? Is it okay to list those moments? I just feel like all of them are tinged with a "then the other shoe dropped" narrative. Or whatever.

There has been a lot of pain in my life. Sometimes I can't see past it, but List 3 is going to help me get there, and I'm going to get through this happy moment existential crisis. So many crises right now. But they aren't, like, holding me back this time. I'm just working through them as they come up.

A Woman Has Some Questions

Okay so tell me this:

Is it unreasonable for me to not want to have sex on the first date, or whatever the fuck you call online meet-ups nowadays.
This is not unreasonable. Why is this a thing? Why am I feeling, like, crazy for wanting to set this boundary. Why do I feel crazy for saying, "No." Even if I have wanted to have sex. But after having sex on the first whatever-the-fuck-you-call-it with a couple of guys, I don't like it.
Also, figuring out that this is a determining factor as to whether a relationship of some sort moves forward or not? Heeeelllll to the no. That's so much pressure. I don't want that. At all.
This is okay. I have to keep telling myself that this is okay.
I feel like this has maybe already cost me a relationship, but if that's the case then that wasn't something I needed, right?
Why am I even questioning this?
Is it crazy for me to have a standard of respect? Like respecting me is taking me on a couple of dates, see how things go, and then ASK/DISCUSS when we are ready to have sex. That's what I want.
I have a hard conversation ahead of me with Freckles. It's not going to end well, I don't think. I think that he will probably assume that I've been leading him on or something.
But I haven't been. I'm allowed to change my mind. I'm not obligated to him or anything. My, "WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, DEANDRA?!" moment is really, truly making an impact.
Setting boundaries is one of those things.
I'm basically doing a 180.
But that's okay.
Right?
This is hard. Not because I don't know what I want; I do. It's because I know what I want, and the way this is going is not it. The way this whole dating thing has been going is not it.
This is just not it.
And that's okay.
Right?