The Bachelor

Ahhh The Bachelor. My guilty pleasure of every week. Yes, it is drama filled. Yes, those are not dates you would ever take in real life. Yes, it is very hyped up. Yes, Chris Harrison gets annoying when he announces that "this is the last rose this evening."

But, I love this show.

Why? Because when I watch this show, I feel less desperate about my own love life. I have yet to apply to abc.com to be the next Bachelorette. [However, if I do reach a desperation point in my life, I will totally, without shame, nominate myself to be on that show!] I do not throw myself at men the way some of the women do on that show. I do not cry over him kissing another girl if we aren't exclusive. I don't pick cat fights. 

However, I sympathize with these women. I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, which makes it all the more capable of being broken or hurt. I can't help it, I've tried to change that about myself, but it is who I am, so there. But I see that part of me in many of these women who genuinely appear to be on the show for a chance to win a man's heart.

Most people, want to find love. They want to feel connected to another person.  While the show is certainly dramatized and romance is hyped to the max, there is something real about the emotions that run rampant on the show, that make it [at least to me] interesting to watch and be a part of. 

Oh, and it certainly doesn't hurt that all the Bachelors that have been on the show have had smokin' bodies. A little eye candy on a Monday night never hurt nobody!

5 Secrets

Apparently there are only 5 key things to making a man fall in love with you.

1. Share an activity
2. Cheer him on
3. Let him be himself
4. Tell him what you think
5. Give him his space

Now the full article can be found at: http://yahoo.match.com/y/article.aspx?articleid=6057&TrackingID=526103&BannerID=722004

1. Cooking, going to the gym, hiking, etc. I've tried to do these things with previous boyfriends. They didn't want to do something new with me. I've asked. I've tried. They want me to cook for them. They don't want to be part of the process. They don't want to go to the gym with me, because that means they have to wait for me to finish with my cardio and weights.  I've never been able to work towards a common goal with any of these guys I've been with.

2. Cheer him on? I used to go to almost every single game my ex boyfriend played.  I encouraged Maj before he went to Soldier of the Month Board. I knew he could do it, and I told him so.  I love telling the guys I'm dating what I think they look good in, because then they will wear it more [which is a good thing for me, right?].

3. I have never tried to change a man. In fact I told Maj's mother that I do not take on projects.  I don't want to change you. I don't want you to change me. I want to accept you for who you are, and I want you to accept me for who I am [your typical, type A, organized, anal, personality, that likes to plan things days in advance].

4. You're not a mind reader. Neither am I. Got it. Please don't read my mind...its better that way!

5. Space. Ok, I got it. But at what point do you draw the line on space? This is the one I have the most issue with. I have had boyfriends who wanted to attach themselves at my hip and it drove me crazy. I had others where I wouldn't hear from them for days, which drove me crazy. How much space is space? How much space is signaling that "He's just not that into you?"

I really have no conclusion that I have been able to reach and share with you on this one. I am conflicted. It only take 5 things? Really?!?

If it only takes these 5 things to make him fall in love with you, then how many secrets are there to get him to notice you, date you, and become your boyfriend?

Kind Of Pretty I Like

As you are probably already aware, I am in love with Luke Bryan! I think he is an amazing country artist. He writes almost every single song on his albums. I think his voice is beautifully charming. His music sooths my soul, no matter what kind of mood I am in. 

This is one of my new favorite songs from him. I am hoping it is on his new album in 2011! It's called "Kind of Pretty I Like."

The reason I love this song so much is because its something I have always wanted. I am not the most beautiful woman in the world...I wish, but I wanna be the kind of pretty my man likes.

What woman doesn't want to know that her man still thinks she is sexy no matter what she is wearing? How can you not want a guy to fall in love with you while you are messing with the radio in his truck?

I'm a simple girl. I like simple things. Luke's song is about a guy still being crazy about his girl when she is doing normal, everyday, simple things. It makes me smile. :-)

My Bible

I have tried in my life to become closer with God. I was raised Lutheran, went to church, Sunday school, and all that jazz growing up. However I've never been able to really entrench myself in having complete faith in God. I was never able to turn to the Bible for help or guidance when I was going through a rough time-- including Basic Training. If there ever was a time when I was seeking extra strength and perseverance it was then. Yet, I couldn't find what I was looking for.  I've bought and tried to read The Purpose Driven Life. But I can't relate to it. I feel like a fake reading it. 

I feel that I need to understand the here and now. Eternity, I don't have to try to understand. I get it. It's going to be more love and joy that I've ever experienced. I don't have to worry about that. What I do need to concern myself with, at least I feel, is making sense and making calm with the here and now.

So my "Bible" has become Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat Pray Love. She doesn't have all the answers. And I don't go to her, looking to find the answers or solutions to my problems. But I read this book over and over again because she makes me feel like I am not alone in my search for more. She makes me feel as though I am not the only "normal" person who has all these different facets of her personality, who can go through 500 emotions in one day, and still live a "normal" life. Reading this book, I am not alone. I have her words, her struggles, her thoughts and emotions that mirror many of mine to find solace in. 

I keep her book on the table beside my bed. There are underlined passages. I pick it up and turn to certain parts when I need something to comfort me.  I don't read the book cover to cover. I just read it now for what I need. 

Gilbert talks about so many different things in this book. Love, friendships, understanding your relationships, divorce, breaking up, searching for God in any form, seeking balance, not being able to shut off her mind, family, work, culture, traveling the world, prayer...

For me, it is easier to relate to Eat Pray Love than it is the Bible. Yes, they encompass many of the same areas, but Gilbert writes about it in a way that makes sense to me.  Her words touch my heart. Her words about God and prayer touch my heart.

So maybe I am sacrilegious.  Maybe I shouldn't say that Eat Pray Love is my Bible. But I don't know what else to call it.

Like Gilbert I firmly believe that God dwells within you, as you. I have a close relationship with God.  We talk. He knows me [I'm still trying to fully understand myself]. And if it were truly necessary for me to find the solace and guidance I need in order to understand myself and the world I live in within the text of His Book, then I think He would bless me with that ability. However, He hasn't [yet?].  Instead, I feel He is blessing me by allowing me to find it through the words of someone else.

As Gilbert writes, "...If God wanted me to be a shy girl with thick, dark hair, He would have made me that way, but He didn't. Useful, then, might be to accept how I was made and embody myself fully therein." (192)

Hope in Tennessee

I have never, up until this past October, cared much about college football. I have strictly been an NFL chick all the way.  However, something changed back on 10.02.10. I fell in love with the Tennessee Volunteers. It was a casual thing; the game was on in the background as La, Ben, and I played with the new puppy. Yet, as the last few minutes of the game started to expire, I started rooting for the team in that pretty shade of orange that I have since, also fallen for.

On October 2, the Vols played LSU.  The LSU Tigers marched down the field in an attempt to beat the Orange and White. There were only a few seconds left on the clock, LSU had to snap the ball to even have a shot at winning.  They did, and their play collapsed around them.

Victory! Victory was Tennessee's!!! They beat the 12th ranked LSU Tigers!! Yay!!!

Eh, not so much. Although time had expired and players were shaking hands, there was a flag on the play.  Tennessee had to stop celebrating and LSU had to stop being completely frustrated. 

It turns out Tennessee's defense had gotten a bit discombobulated and rushed to get on the field, leading the Vols to have 13 men out there [rather than the 11 that rules allow for].  This gave LSU another chance.  It gave LSU time on the clock for another shot at a play.  This time LSU delivered and the outcome of the game changed just-like-that.

This is why I fell in love with Tennessee.  They were so close to winning, but it was just snapped out of their hands.  I guess I could relate to them back then.  I had been so close to having my happy ending, but then, just-like-that, it was gone.  Doesn't mean I won't be fortunate to have a different, or even better happy ending. It simply means the one I thought I was going to have at that point in time, was quickly taken from me.

In fact, I have a feeling that it will turn out just as good for me as it did for Tennessee. Although, the Vols lost all of their games in the month of October, they came together, and won all of their games during November, ending the regular season with a 6-6 record.  And they qualified for a bowl game. 

Maybe they didn't win against LSU. But the season ended better than they thought it would have back in October.

It's through Tennessee that I see hope. Hope for a new happy ending.

Associated Press

Bayonet Wound

Why do they say that your heart is broken? When something is broken, it typically means it needs to be replaced.  The bumper on my car for instance; has to be replaced after my brother smashed it into a few mailboxes.  It can't be fixed.

A heart that hurts, from a love that left, is not a broken heart. It can't be replaced.  The love from one man shouldn't be replaced by the love and affection of another man. That's called rebound. A heart gets stabbed when it is hurt by someone who you really were in love with.  It is stabbed with a bayonet.

Bayonets are knife-like devices that can be attached to the barrel of a fire arm.  Rather than shooting with a bullet (killing you, leaving you unfeeling) the bayonet would stab the opponent in hand to hand combat.  Bayonets leave a + looking flesh wound in the victim.  This makes it harder to sew and heal.

When your love decides he doesn't love you anymore, your heart isn't broken. Instead, its wounded by the bayonet.  The stab wound is bleeding, gushing dark red fluid that quickly stains each of the white sterile towels that the attendants apply to the broken flesh. The doctors struggle to sew up the + shaped flesh wound, so that the bleeding will cease and the body will heal. It may only seem like it is a flesh wound; something on the surface, but it's not.

It is a wound that affects the muscle and tissue of the body. The muscle and tissue can not heal over night. Nerves will not grow back instantaneously.  No, the bayonet leaves an injury that takes time to heal.  Rehabilitation is necessary is most cases, depending on where the weapon left its mark.  The wound is deep from the bayonet and will take many months to heal before the body feels like its old self again.

In the mean time, as the bayonet wound is healing, as the nerves, tissue, and muscle attempt to rejoin and restrengthen themselves, the victim tries to carry on with their previous life and activities. From time to time it is difficult; sometimes impossible; others without a hitch. 

There are times when something makes you feel rejuvenated, wonderful, and full of happiness. Others there are times when you want to shut out the world, lie in bed all day, and cry until there are no fluids left to drain.  Mostly though, there are the days where you simply trudge through, feeling the wound with every step but also feeling alive and thankful to be so after such an ordeal.

Such is the life of a victim of a bayonet wound. The good news is, there is a wonderful chance of survival and a fulfilling, happy life in the future, once the wound has healed itself.

The Back Up

There are stories, songs, and friends who all talk about it: Their back up.  Not their back up plan that consists of adoption, moving to a foreign country, or being an accountant.  I'm referring to their back up mate.  The person that they go back to when they are single; the one who they have made a pact with that "if we're 40 and still not married, we'll be together"; the one they refuse to let go of for fear of being truly alone in this big world forever.

I used to have this man who was my back up. Actually I had two. Insurance purposes really. The first was my high school boyfriend Kevin. We dated on and off for over a year and a half, never wanting to be alone. On unspoken terms we had decided we were the back up for each other. While we might have cared about one another, we knew we just couldn't be right for each other. Then there was Jeremy, my crush from high school, who lived in another state.  We'd chat about how we could be together one day, far, far in the future, because we did care about each other and maybe that's just how it was supposed to happen. 

I don't have a back up anymore. Kevin and I no longer speak. Jeremy and I still talk, but I have decided to take him off my list as a back up. I don't want to talk to him only when I am single and lonely. I don't want to think that maybe all these heartbreaks, tears, and rejections will led to a road that is only my second choice.  I don't want to believe that I will end up with someone, just because I don't want to be alone. That's not romantic, and it most certainly isn't even nice. 

I can tell however, that Jeremy has not taken me off his list. That I am still, in his mind, his last resort to find happiness in this crazy and unforgiving world. But he should take me off that list. I don't like knowing that the only reason he speaks to me in volumes is when he is lonely and searching for a friend to care. I do care, I just want more than to be your back up.

I want someone who picks me as their first choice. Not someone who decides that he'll take the pasta dish because they are out of the 18oz Certified Angus Beef Prime Rib.

I want to have my first choice of prime rib too, even if I do love pasta.

Ideal Man

When you're single you are told two pieces of advice:
1. Figure out what you really want in a man and don't settle for less.
2. No one is going to fit your ideal mold.

Uhhh, so what is a single gal really supposed to do? Those two doctrines contradict themselves. This isn't religion here. So what is the easy answer here about how I am supposed to go about single life?

Regardless, I know what I want in my ideal man...who probably does not exist. Here he is:

• I'm thinking brown hair and brown eyes. That's typically what I am attracted to.
• Tall. I like guys that are about 6 feet despite the fact that I only reach 5'1".
• He has to make me laugh...a lot. He has to laugh at my jokes and sarcastic comments, too.
• He has to be interesting. Have ideas. Have goals. Have opinions.
• He must listen to country music. I've come to realize that vastly different musical tastes can make car rides unenjoyable when you just have anything interesting to really talk about. Doesn't have to only be interested in country, just have it be one of the listened to genres.
• He works out. Not a juice head or anything, but a guy who enjoys being active and tries to lead a healthy lifestyle. He must be able to do more push ups than me in 60 seconds as well. 
• He won't make me watch scary movies. He won't try to scare me. I don't like creepy, scary TV shows or movies. If he can respect that, we will get along.
• He has that rugged, country, military, all-American look and attitude; that certain je ne sais quoi about him that is hard to put into words or describe fully. But when you see it, you know he's got it.
• He likes to travel and see new places, have new experiences. I'm all for hanging out and watching a movie on a Saturday night at home, but he has to want to see and learn new things in his life. I'm talking continental US & Europe here.
• He has to understand himself. He has to be comfortable with who he is. He has to be proud of himself and his accomplishments.  If he doesn't like something about himself, then he has to be cognizant about that and work towards changing it.
• He has to be my cheerleader too. I'm all for cheering someone on, but it needs to be reciprocated.
• He has to know what is going on in the world. I'm not asking for a politico or a stringent  advocate of something, just have a good idea of what social, economic, political, and military events are happening in the world and be able to talk about what he thinks about them. 
• He has to be close to his family. If there are issues there I want him to acknowledge them, not hide from them. He has to be his own man though and not depend on his family's ideals as a crutch.
• Have a good job. I don't have credentials of what a "good job" really means, but he has to be responsible. 
• Does he have to like football?? Good question. I'm not sure yet.  Does he have to have been in a fraternity in college? Another good question. Hmmm. Be a beer drinker? Yes.

• Look like this? YES!                             

Marry Yourself

Check out this article: http://www.someecards.com/2010/10/22/woman-marries-herself-taiwan

A 30 year old woman in Taiwan marries herself.  Sounds like an odd thing to do.  But the woman explains that when you get to be a certain age in Taiwan if they aren't settling down and having a husband and family, it can make those single gals feel inadequate, probably unfulfilled in Taiwan's society. Moreover, the woman explains that we tend to shower our "sweetie" with gifts and attention, many times leaving ourselves out to dry.  Expressing your love for a man through a marriage and huge wedding should be something you're also willing to do for yourself. Self-marriage seems logical. 

She isn't the only one to think so.  Samantha, from Sex and the City, breaks up with Smith. Why? "I love you, but I love me more. I've been in a relationship with myself for 49 years and that's the one I need to work on."

Now I am not saying that I'm going to throw myself a wedding [although I do have the dress, flowers, and centerpieces ready...] What I am thinking about it is the concept of really treating yourself well. So many times women, including myself, get lost in the world and dreams of their significant other. My personal jury is still out deciding whether or not this is how it should be when you really love someone, but what they have decided on is that I need to treat myself with as much respect and love that I have given to my significant other.  If I don't, how can I expect him to really treat me the way I feel I deserve to be treated?

This Ain't a Fairy Tale

I'm not a princess and this ain't a fairy tale.

That's right. Despite the fact that Sleeping Beauty figurines and "princess" paraphernalia decorates a few shelves in my room, I am not a princess. Moreover, I do not belong in a fairy tale.  Not one you've created or one that I have concocted.

I hate when I start off dating someone new. They think I'm amazing and go on and on about all these great qualities that I have. And I do. It's not that I don't acknowledge that fact. However, its many times the fact that at first they can't seem to get past those stunning qualities and see that I am a real woman.

Read: I am a real woman. I have issues. I have faults. I make mistakes. I say things I shouldn't. I get angry, sad, frustrated, and 500 different emotions.  I'm stubborn and sarcastic.  I complain. I am selfish. I change my mind. Then, I'm dead set on a certain path.
                                    But,
I'm also smart, funny, beautiful, confident, selfless, happy, excited, flawless, and articulate my thoughts and feelings perfectly at times. I love like crazy. I believe in lost causes. I laugh. I am goofy. I am brillant and witty.  I am patient. I am loyal if you give me your love back. I am flexible.  I will trust you.

I am not a stock character even on my best days.

I shouldn't be put on a pedestal for making all your dreams come true.  If I am, that's when I disappoint you, and you end up leaving me. 

For all those boys who thought I was this fairy tale come true [Zach, Cerda, Maj, Clint, & Brandon]:: I need a man who loves the "perfect side" of me and the other side too.  I am a complete package- this isn't an a la carte menu where you can pick and choose to love the best parts of me, and decide you'd like to bail when the fantasy doesn't fully manifest. I hope that you do find that fantasy woman...call me when you do. I'd like to meet this perfect creature, who fell in love with a mere mortal like yourself.

Is There an App for That?

Grief. Sadness. Crying. Indifference. Defiance. Contempt. Independence. Happiness. Freedom. Loneliness. Ambivalence. These are just some of the emotions I have been feeling in the last month as I have put forth in my effort for my heart to forget Maj. It has not been easy. After roughly 2 full weeks of crying, crippling depression, and just mangled feelings in general, I was able to, for the past 2 weeks start breathing again. I have started to see the signs of my full acceptance of what has occurred.  I have started to believe in the positive things in my life, rather than focusing on this negative.  I have felt very happy; felt alive even. 

Despite these positive emotions I have been having I also have my moments of sadness. I can't say it is even just a singular moment where tears fall from my eyes. Mostly it feels like a headache does...it is there, you notice it, but still you have to trudge along and not pay it much heed.  It is a constant emotion that I simply can not shake. There are times when it is not present at all; like when I was front row at the Luke Bryan concert last week. But then there are times when I know its there, I let myself feel terribly sad for a moment, but rather than have it disappear, the sting of sadness? regret? longing? love unrequited? remains. 

After other breakups I would see something or think of a memory and immediately start bawling.  Once I had calmed down and the crying ceased, I felt better. I was able to cry out my frustration and feelings then.  This time around though, I can't seem to be able to fall back on my normal remedy to fix my heart. 

So here I ask, in this world of technology, where everything seems to have a quick solution...Is there an app for that? Is there an app for moving on? Is there a special formula I should follow in order to see results?  Is there a guide to the galaxy of a broken heart?

I've enlisted advice from some of my closest friends.  All weekend I asked my cousin how she was able to move on from her previous long term relationship.  Carina always helps me whenever I send her a message stating my disapproval of how I am handling the situation.  The truth is, I don't know how to handle this! I don't feel like myself! I feel so much more mature than I have in past breakups.  While this should be a good thing, I simply don't understand how a mature woman deals with such heartache.  Why aren't I crying? Why am I able to feel so happy so soon after? How can I still miss him? How can I believe things happen for a reason? Why am I not crying all the time?

Charlotte York says that it takes half as long to move on from a past relationship as you were in it (meaning: 1 year relationship, 6 months of grief before fully moving on).  Laura says it just takes time, but that I will be able to fully recover.  Carina says there is no set place or stage that I should be in at this time. "As long as you're doing the best that you know how to do, you're fine! You're making strides and I'm so proud of you!"  Elizabeth Gilbert once drove into a new relationship, another time she took a year hiatus to Italy, India, and Bali. Carrie Bradshaw starts dating again sometimes, others she dyes her hair and redecorates her apartment.  Hayden suggests just getting back in there and playing the game with new boys.

So again I ask for a simpler solution: Is there an app for that?

Is recovering from heartache an individual process? Or can it/should it follow some sort of established protocol in order receive the fullest results?  Is there a right and wrong way to move through the termination of a relationship?

Diamond Ring

About a month ago I had Chinese food and received a fortune cookie that read : You will soon gain something that you have always wanted.  A few days later I was engaged. I thought ecstatically, maybe fortune cookies are (somewhat) true! 

From the moment that ring was slipped on my finger, I felt amazing. I felt so lucky, special, beautiful, wonderful, and above all loved.  I thought that everything was going to be better from now on, because I had this pretty little token on my left hand.

It was a beautiful ring. I never would have picked it out myself, but it was classic and timeless. I simply fell in love with it. It sparkled in the sun the way my pond does on a very sunny day.  It was bright and light, and made me feel like the happiest girl in the world. 

However, after arguing on the phone and being made to feel like I was a silly child, I started to see the ring in a different light. It felt like it was my reward for listening and following direction.  Did I really want to do that? Was I really willing to give up my thoughts and opinions for a ring?  Did I really want to become a Mrs. after I had so long defended my want of keeping my last name? Is this really wanted?

The answer, truthfully was no.  However, I didn't realize it at the time.

Yet, I did not break off the engagement. Instead, I trudged along, planning a wedding for October; buying flowers, talking to a caterer, planning to move to North Carolina.  Maj called it off in true Maj (or is it man) fashion. 

I took my pretty ring off and placed it in the box on my vanity.  And there it sat, for nearly 3 weeks.  I refused to really notice it's presence among my other jewelry boxes.  I didn't want to think about it. I had many other things that were making my emotions feel mangled, that the ring was the last thing on my mind.

I spoke with Maj, who expressed the sentiment that he felt as thought he would never receive the rings back from me so that he could return them to the jewelers in North Carolina.  Grudgingly, I made the effort to look at the box. Then, to open the box. Next, to look at my ring one last time. 

I pulled it out and slipped it on my finger.  It had lost it. The spark, the beauty, the splendor of emotion that I had felt only 3 weeks previous had vanished from the rock.  It looked dull and lifeless. Dead. Was this the same ring, I wondered. 

It was then that I knew, I had to send it back to him. No sense paying for a ring that neither of us wanted. No sense holding on to the thought of a life that neither of us really wanted either.  Yes, we had dreamed and hoped about being married, but when reality struck, when the fantasy was gone, it was true that neither one of us wanted that life together. 

So I mailed the once beautiful and whole ring back to his North Carolina P.O Box.  I bawled my eyes out the entire way to the post office.  I believe it was the shattering reality of lost dreams and lost love that led me to cry those tears.  Or perhaps it was the loss of Maj in my life forever.  The sweeping him into my past.

Maj Understood

"This is my favorite picture of you," Maj said as he showed me on his phone.  It was a picture of me, standing in front of the memorial for Southern soldiers from the Civil War. 

"Why?" I asked.  You couldn't see my face. My back was to the camera.

"Because this is what you love," he replied.

No one had ever understood me in that way.  No one had even shown interest in what I was truly devoted to uncovering.  But he was. This wasn't the first time Maj had been introduced to it either.

Not too long into our relationship, I sent Maj a copy of my senior thesis, because he said he was interested in reading it. 

A few months in, we were driving around Augusta and I saw a memorial in the center median of Broad St.  I wanted to stop, but I didn't outright express that. But Maj could tell I really wanted to look at it, so he insisted that we stop so I could take pictures and examine it closely.  I was ecstatic! I was so giddy at discovering this. And I was so happy that he let me explore this opportunity.

When his favorite picture of me was taken we were drive back to North Carolina from Augusta.  We were stopping in Camden, SC because we thought it would be fun to see the Revolutionary War museum.  Maj was driving down the street when he pulled off near a park, because he had spotted what he thought was another memorial for me to explore. 

When I asked him why he had stopped, he told me it was because he knew I would ultimately want to see it.  Maj had done it for me. 

Carrie from Sex and the City loves the Love Letters from Famous Men, Vol. 1 in the movie.  Mr.Big types them up and e-mails them to her.  You need someone who understands what you care about.

I began to wonder.  Maj understood what I cared about, what made me who I was.  But did I understand what he really cared about? Was that part of our downfall? 

Artifacts

There is a box that sits on my vanity. There is a box stuffed in the back of my closet. There are folders and movies that I will not even look at.  There are journal entries I do not so much as glance at.  These are the artifacts of lost love. 


Archeologists dig in the dirt. They sift through layers and layers, in the search for a relic of someone's past life.  Shards of pottery that are elaborately decorated, tools, arrowheads, sometimes even clothing.  Through the discovery of such small items, archelogists have been able to understand ancient civilizations and their way of life. What would an archeologist find out about me if he sifted through the artifacts of my lost love?


In the journal entries, he would see that I was a worrier.  He would regard me from the lists I made in my entries about what to do with my life, as someone who was indecisive at points in her life.  He would seem my happy reminisings about spending time with my sisters in college and see the pain of separating from an old boyfriend.  He would see the joy, the worry, the tears, and the happiness that my next would bring. 


In the folders he would see magazine clipings, stickers, and photographs.  He would see "love" quotes that I tried to find when I felt like my words were not enough to express how I truely felt. He would see scrapbook pages that I had made of happy times.


In the box in the closet he would find photographs from 2 weeks of absolute love bliss. He would find 5 letters in their envelopes. Letters that I read over and over again to keep me sane while I was at basic training.  He would find a poem that was written just for me. He would find a bird dog, an Irish teddy bear, and a duck.


In the box on my vanity he would find rings. He would see a beautiful diamond ring that resembled my grandmother's. He would see two matching bands. 


What conclusion would the archeologist come to? Would he assume that I was one of the fortunate ones who found their soulmate during my lifetime? That I became wife, mother,and grandmother? Would he presume that I waited for my soldier's return with no avail?


Would the artifacts of my past properly reveal my life's conclusion to an archeologist?

What Hurts the Most

"What Hurts the Most" is a song sung by Rascal Flatts that came out in 2005. I remember it semi-perfectly as it conjured up memories of one of my high school friends, Dale, who passed away a week before prom and a month before our high school graduation.  Dale had a girlfriend at a time and I remember getting ready in my dorm room freshman year, TV on CMT, and the video coming on. If you've ever seen the video, you might understand how it would remind me of Dale and Amanda.

However, in my case, what hurts the most was not the fact that he walked away, when we had so much to say.  Rather, what hurts the most is the fact that he stopped believing me and what I had to say. 

It is awfully heartbreaking when anyone who is close to you stops believing you and trusting you. You wonder how to get your friend's trust back, and if you're lucky you succeed. Depending on the damage that has been done, your friendship can be repaired and restored like a 1964 GTO.

But then, there are those others who do not feel that they will ever believe you. Who say to you, "I will probably live the rest of my life thinking that you were lying to me."

What hurts the most is knowing that he doesn't even want me to try to repair the "damage." He doesn't care any longer and he appears content with believing that he will always think I was lying to him.

It's like trying to repair a damaged high school reputation when you are in grad school.  Seems pretty impossible. And you wonder if it is even worth it to try to change their mind. 

Really Relieved

I received a text from my ex-fiance, Maj last night: "Did you get back in?"

Maj was referring to my attempt to re-enroll in grad school after he had, 2 days previous, convinced me to withdraw from the semester so that after our October 2nd wedding I could move to North Carolina to be with him. 

When I did respond that I had in fact been able to work the whole grad school issue out, he replied with: "Good I'm really relieved."

You're really relieved?! Well, good, that was my hope. I'm glad that you are relieved that while you may have hurt me, you did not in fact get in the way of me wasting the entire fall semester.  I'm glad that your guilt ridden conscious can be satisfied in knowing that you didn't mess up my education any further.

This was not about you. This was about me & my education & my future.

Had you wanted to reply a better response could have been: "Good. I know how much your education means to you." "Great to hear! Happy for you!"

Next time, relieve yourself elsewhere.

My Gut

I had a feeling that he would leave.

This gut feeling that knawed at me throughout the entire deployment. Yet, I stayed. I was sincerely devoted to Maj and being there for him as he went on his nightly missions. I cried myself to sleep some nights, wondering how I could do this to myself. How could I have fallen in love with a guy who was thousands of miles away? How could I believe that he was sincere in his feelings when he had spent such little time together? Did I really believe that things would be wonderful between the two of us when he was finally safe and in the same country? Maybe it was silly of me, but I did...

My gut knew that when I got the phone call in August that he was breaking up with me, after I drove to North Carolina to see him. My gut knew that when he called in September that he was calling off the engagement. My gut knew that although this is what I wanted, it didn't feel right. It wasn't the way it was supposed to be. 

I knew back in September of 2007 that Maj would not be the guy for me. I knew that a long distance relationship between this then-fraternity boy would only end in heartbreak for me because of the lack of commitment (and possibly feelings) he had for me. 

So the moral of the story: When your gut is telling you that this isn't going to work, listen. When your gut is breaking your heart and your dreams, still listen.  Your gut knows the truth and it seeks the truth that your heart wants to ignore. Your heart wants a happy ending. It wants the lace, the fancy cake, and vows. But your gut wants you to be safe. It doesn't want you to know anymore heartbreak than you need to feel. 

According to my best friend Carina, it takes a strong woman to listen to her gut when happily ever after is at your doorstep.