Archive | January, 2013

My Crazy: An Open Letter

22 Jan

Hello Universe,

I am broken. Have been for quite some time. I just thought I’d write a disclaimer about my crazy so that in the future, it can be met with more understanding.

It took a few years for me to get it in the lockbox I keep it in. Before that, my crazy was all over the place, wreaking havoc upon innocent victims and destroying friendships and relationships. But I locked it away tightly and only little wisps would creep out from time to time.

Over a year ago, it was let out briefly. The victim was someone I should have never have involved in any way. I allowed myself to push Victim to a breaking point. I kept going until something exploded. And shit, did it explode. It spilled over onto several other victims and I could do nothing to stop it. I blew everything up into a million pieces and as I scrambled to glue some back together, I realized it was useless. I had pushed too far. I had let the crazy out entirely and it had consumed me.

My crazy is simple. I push people to do things. I push them to be my friends, to date me, to give me attention. I used to do this a lot to boys I was dating. If I wasn’t getting enough attention, I would call, email, text, and stalk until they responded to me or said what I wanted to hear. It made me pathetic and vulnerable and I was always anxious and miserable but I felt I had to act this way to get what I wanted. Meanwhile, the smart part of my brain knew if I just backed off, everything would work out smoothly. I would actually hear it shouting at me “LET IT GO! GIVE IT SPACE! GIVE IT TIME! YOU ARE SO ANNOYING RIGHT NOW!” However, no matter what I did, the crazy always won out. I would delete contacts so I wouldn’t have the number to text constantly but then I’d cave and find it somewhere in my phone book or Facebook and continue in the destructive path of the crazy tornado.

This isn’t a real example but I want to share the things I am capable of. This would have taken place over a matter of a few hours.

Boy: I can’t talk. I’m busy right now. Talk to you later

Me: Ok. So when later?

Me: Are you still there?

Me: I’m sorry I keep bugging you but I just want to know when we can talk.

Me: Why are you treating me this like?

Me: Did I do something wrong?

Me: I’m so sorry. I’m so stupid. I feel so worthless

Boy: Um. You just sent me 845 texts. We went on one date. WTF is wrong with you.

It isn’t all my fault. I was broken years ago. Attention was used as a weapon against me in several relationships and I learned that if I pushed hard enough, I could get it out of everyone. I didn’t realize by pushing, it wasn’t the attention I wanted, it was someone responding so I would shut up. It made me look insane. On the surface, I was a great catch. I’m cute, funny, a nerd girl. I can talk to anyone and make friends with everyone. But when the crazy would sneak out, it was clear deep down I was immature, cruel, manipulative and demanding. I was unhinged and was not a girl any one could handle being around.

To steal from Mean Girls, it was like word vomit. Things would just spill out of me and I couldn’t stop it. I’d think of something great to say at 2 am and text it to whoever was my victim at the time. These were never great ideas. They were usually sharp retorts or, in most cases, they were cleverly worded pity texts. They were guilt trips. They were bait for compliments. I mean, they were pretty well crafted, I usually got responses. But they weren’t genuine and they didn’t help ease my anxious nature. They just made my crazy look like those little pot belly pigs in petting zoos that are so fat you can’t see their legs but they still hobble over for more food from your hand. I was feeding my crazy delicious attention delicacies and it was LOVING IT.

Today I write this with the crazy wrapped tightly around my chest and heart and I can’t breathe. A year ago, it was clear that the crazy wasn’t just for dating boys who didn’t give me enough attention. It was for every situation where I was frustrated, where I was lost and desperate and just wanted an answer or closure. It was how I dealt with the situation. A year ago it was with a girl I wanted to be friends with so desperately. Today, it’s the same situation with a different person. I wasn’t getting everything I wanted and I noticed that when I pushed, I would get an answer. But it wasn’t never a clear answer and I hid behind text messages and emails in order to push and force a response. I realize now that patience truly is a virtue. That if I just had waited a little longer and given more time and space I wouldn’t be here, licking my wounds, my soul burning with the searing pain of being called ‘crazy’ again.

I think we all have those words that sting. “Crazy” is one of them for me.  Someone hurt me very badly with that word and I find it to be the greatest insult. I am crazy, yes, but who the hell isn’t? Who isn’t broken in some way? Who isn’t covered with scars? Who doesn’t do seemingly insane things to get attention or results or sex or friends or whatever is desirable to them? Maybe we just all need to step back and look at each other’s flaws and see ourselves in them. I have met so many people who do similar things to what I have done. We are all glued back together in some way. But I personally think broken mirrors put back together are more beautiful with their cracks and shards than any smooth looking glass. The shapes and colors that reflect from something damaged are more stunning than anything that has remained perfect and without error.

I can only hope the world never runs out of second chances. My crazy will always get out and hurt me and those around me and I can’t regret that more. But if the world is generous, you can always start again with a bigger lock on your box.

“There will always be a part of me that is dirty and sloppy, but I like that, just like all the other parts of myself. I can forgive. Can you say the same for yourself, fucker? Can you forgive? Are you capable of that?”

–Silver Linings Playbook

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Moving On…

22 Jan

I’m over you.

I didn’t get nervous butterflies in my stomach when I saw you today. I didn’t have a hard time thinking of things to say or get worried that I’d say something stupid. I didn’t get embarrassed when you made fun of my lunch bag. I didn’t care that my hair was in a ponytail or that I was  wearing unflattering pants and old sneakers.

The crush is gone. The crush that I so desperately wanted to be something more. The crush that consumed me for the better part of 3 years is gone, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.

I can stop looking for you, hoping to run into you on the street or in the store. I can stop stalking your house, checking to see if the lights are on when I walk by. I can stop checking my phone obsessively to see if you’ve texted. I can move on.

No more daydreaming about a future together that I know will never exist. No more being weak and letting you walk all over me and leading me on, however well-disguised that may have been on your part. I can talk to/flirt with/date other guys without thoughts of you popping into my head. No more adult sleepovers that only end with me feeling ashamed of myself, no matter how fun they may have been. I’ve had enough.

No more pretending like I’m over you and building up walls to protect myself that come crashing down with one look, one message. This time it’s for real.

It’s over.

Song of the Day: One More Night by Maroon 5

I Found It!

7 Jan

First post of the new year…hurray!

This isn’t really going to have any content other than to share this gem:

I thought you were shorter...

I’m sitting at work, clearly working hard, and stumbled across this guy on Facebook. This is the photo that led to Alia’s “I thought you were shorter” comment that led to the name of our blog.

You’re welcome.

Song of the Day: On My Own from Les Miserables because I CAN’T STOP LISTENING TO IT. Seriously. It’s been at least 6 times today.