Somtimes You're the Hammer, Sometimes You're the Nail

I guess you can really tell what my mindset has been lately, by the way I've been writing.

I swear I really am an upbeat person usually, but I guess lately I've been using this blog pretty exclusively for my deep dark dronings.

Recently turning twenty has been kinda difficult. You're a kid but you're not. You have a lot of responsibilities with limited freedoms and for some reason I can't shake this constant sadness that seems to follow me a lot lately. But, I for one, am sick and tired of being sad and choosing to see the negative in my surroundings. It's very nineteen of me, and frankly I'm above it (I hope you can feel the irony emanating off of that sentence).

I wanna talk about something happy - but I'm having a hard time thinking of what..

*To be clear - I sat here on my back porch for about 10 minutes after finishing the above sentence, trying to figure out what to write about. I kinda stream of consciousness write. I'm not a big pre-planner

**Actually, just kidding. I got really indecisive and went to bed instead of finishing this article. Think I'll seek out food before I make any final decisions.

***I have been sitting on this post for, I believe, almost four days now - but I finally decided how to finish it

I arguably grew up in Ocala, Fl. I say arguably because I didn't actually live there after the age of about two, but so much of my life is there, and so much of my family history lives there.

My parents grew up there, my whole family is there, and some of my favorite memories stem from nights on my grandma's farm. Bonfires and laughter, redneck karaoke, and the memories of playing manhunt in the woods with all of my older cousins.

I remember sitting on the counter of my grandma's bathroom while she got ready for church and she let me play with her make up. The moments where I was the only grandkid she would let in the kitchen while she was cooking dinner, because all I wanted to do was talk to her the whole time.

I remember the pain of having to go to my dad's house there every other weekend, and how for some reason, Ocala felt like a much different place when I was with him. I remember the day he showed up at the farm (what I call my grandma's house) after I hadn't seen him for a few years - I was so scared because I didn't recognize until he spoke (booze and drugs have a way of morphing you into a different person).

I wish there was a way for me to be a good enough writer that you could feel what I feel in these memories. I wish you could taste the warm coffee, smell the damp air of the early morning on the farm, and feel strength of the words and life that came out of my grandmothers mouth.

I wish I could walk you through the Orange Park Mall as a high school kid, while I realized how big my world had gotten and how strange it was that time in Ocala seemed to stand still.

I wish that I could make you understand how this place shaped me, and how I am who I am, as a result of what happened there. Even the ugly stuff makes me happy to think about because I wouldn't be me without it. I think I would be so much more shallow and spoiled of a person if it wasn't for my life and what I went through, and the memories I made there.

I'm not sure if this was a happy post, so much as a sentimental one, but I have to let my mind go where it wants to go. Maybe one of these days I'll be able to write something funny again. Oh well!  

Vomit on His Sweater Already - Mom's Spaghetti

I wonder what it must be like to grow up in a house where alcohol wasn't the enemy.


I feel like that's a funny thing to say, and if you didn't grow up with an alcoholic parent or a close friend/family member that abused alcohol, I don't think you could truly grasp the idea of fearing and feverishly detesting a substance.

Growing up, I hated alcohol. With the kind all encompassing hate that most eleven year-old girls would put toward a middle school nemesis or something of that nature. I blamed alcohol for why my dad was a crappy father, and why my childhood was so fucked up. I think it was easier for me to blame the alcohol, than to blame my dad. I wanted to love my dad, and I wanted to believe that he would be good to me if only he wasn't drinking.

Well, of course, I found out later on that drinking or not, BJ (yes, that's my dad's name) was always going to be a shitty father. It wasn't his fault really. My dad was just a kid that never grew up. I don't know a whole lot about him, or how he grew up. I don't know why he turned out the way that he did.

What I do know, the most prominent memory I have of him in my head, is the morning he called my step-mom from jail. He had gotten arrested for cocaine possession the night before. Amy (my step-mom), was storming around the house on the phone with BJ (I guess that was his one phone call), screaming and cursing. So, in true Amy-I don't give a shit about BJ's kids-fashion, she put me on the phone with my dad and screamed for him to tell me why he was in jail. I will never forget that moment. That moment right there, that moment that feels almost frozen in time, was the first moment I ever knew I was being lied to. He got on the phone and said something to the effect of "Hi Baby, I love you so much. Daddy didn't do anything wrong. His friend just lied to him about what he had in the car. I just got lied to baby. Daddy didn't do anything wrong."

Fucking lying bastard.

I'm not really sure what it must do to a kid to know that they are being lied to at such a young age. I really don't know what the repercussions of that moment were on my life. All I know is little me was sad, and scared, and that was possibly the loneliest moment of my life. Being lied to is a lonely feeling. Especially when the person lying is someone you would jump in front of a car for. Someone you would give anything in the world to be able to believe their lie. 

I always have such a problem tying these things up. My life isn't tied or cleaned up yet. So, for now, that's all I have for you. I don't really feel like this story or this portion of my life is a sad one. I know if you're reading this, and you don't know me (and I hope you don't - it's an an anonymous blog for a reason), this could sound like a sob story, but I don't see it that way. This moment helped make me who I am. It made me both strong and weak.

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Update * 

I realized recently that the very moment I stopped blaming alcohol and realized the issues really lied with my father, was the moment I had my first sip of alcohol.

I went to a party with some co-workers, and I had always promised myself that I would never drink, but I was going through a bit of a hard time and I just wanted to let lose. I had spent my life terrified that if I drank, I would become an alcoholic just like my father. Regardless of that fear, I did what everyone else was doing, and I had some cheap wine. It tasted terrible, but the dizzy sensation I started to detect within myself, was mildly entertaining. So, I had a bit more to drink, and I acted silly, but I was never really drunk. After that night I didn't have a single sip of alcohol for 6 months. Not because I was afraid of it or anything, I just didn't really see the need for it unless I went to another party. That fact was a huge revelation for me.

I didn't mutate into an alcoholic all of a sudden, and I realized that alcohol had no control over my actions. It was in that moment that I came to realize that alcohol wasn't the problem. My dad was.  

Teenagers Scare the Living Shit Out of Me

I want to talk to whoever is out there listening (or more likely: not listening) the way I would talk to a confidant or friend. That's really what this blog is all about. I didn't title it Pointless Dronings of a 20 Something to be ironic.

So, in that spirit, I'm gonna tell you whats on my mind this morning as I lay in bed drinking coffee and contemplating my life (oh the drama).

This morning the idea (*or more accurately: the entity) of insecurity ways heavily in my mind. I like to refer to it as an "entity" more than emotion, because insecurity, of any brand or genre, has the ability to completely envelope you and transform you from the person you once were, into a far less desirable, and thoroughly discontent human being.

Okay, I'm not going to attempt to explain insecurity to you any further. If you are a human being above the age of eleven, you are already well acquainted with the subject. Instead, I shall focus on the core and origins of my own personal self-esteem issues. Who doesn't want to hear about other peoples problems? Am I right?

Job/Job Interviews
I am one of the most confident people you will ever meet (situationally). I have the ability, and the skill sets, to walk into an interview for a job, nail it, and walk out of there with the job. I have done it on more than a few occasions. Nothing about the process concerns me, and I am always convinced that there is no one better than me for the position.

Adults/Public Speaking/Sales
Want me to have a full blown discussion with an adult about politics (or pretty much anything)? I am your girl. There is virtually no adult who could intimidate me out of of a intellectual conversation. Need someone to represent your brand and sell it to every person they come in contact with? Sign me up! Want me to get up and teach a lesson, or give a presentation in front of a huge room of people? I have no problem with that.

These things do not scare me. I do not feel insecurities bubble up inside of me as I consider these things in my mind. I do not lie awake at night wondering if I'll succeed. I am already convinced that I will.

Folks, we have just come to the truly entertaining portion of this program: what I am insecure about.

Girls (*shiver*)
Do not, under any circumstances, put me in a room full of girls alone. Girls scare the living shit out of me. They are, in my mind, the one and only enemy of my life. They are mean, judgmental, high maintenance, and who I am is never good enough for them. My lack of "girlfriends" is one of the most prominent points of insecurity in my life. They are the group I strive the hardest to fit in to, and subsequently, the only group I can never befriend. I usually date these insecurities back to 5th Grade, when every girl in my neighborhood wrote "We hate you Breana" and signed their names to it, on the asphalt outside of my house. Those girls had never spoken to each other a day in their life, until I took my bike around the neighborhood one day and invited them all to play together, because I thought we should all be friends. I guess they agreed. Just not friends with me. 

Boys/Relationships
I use to be one of the most confident girls when it came to boys. I thought I was the shit. I was pretty enough, but mostly I was just smart, confident, and determined. If I saw a boy I liked, I went after him. It really didn't matter who he was. That's how my first relationship came to be. I thought he was perfect. I did anything and everything necessary to get his attention, and it totally worked. We fell in love and dated for three years. Turns out that Matthew loved his porn addiction, more than he loved me. He lied to me over and over and over again for the entire term of our relationship, and I just kept taking him back. What those lies did to my sixteen year-old self, was plant the seed  that I wasn't good enough. I wasn't enough to keep him from lying and I wasn't enough to keep him satisfied. My subsequent relationships taught me the same thing.

The Boy..
And now we come around to the reason I was inspired to write this post today. There's this boy (of course there is - there always is), and I really like him. So, naturally, I am terrified that he is going to become completely bored of me. I am very old fashioned and conservative. Basically that means, I am not going to sleep with him, and I believe wholeheartedly that he should have to work at wooing me. This is a really great game plan until you realize there are virtually no guys that are willing to do that, under those circumstances (mostly I am referring to the no sex part). Given that life experience and (here's the kicker), given the fact that I have never physically met this man (Tinder, am I right?), I am sick to my stomach that he's already bored of me. Why do I give a damn? I don't know and I am trying to figure that out. I have never met him. His presence in my life will make no difference other than I felt like I connected with him better than I ever have with anyone. We could talk and talk and talk and never stop. We have stayed up all night talking almost every night for a week. I haven't found that since my first boyfriend and I was in high school then. It borderline doesn't count.

So, I lay here in bed, hoping he's still as interested in me, as I am in him. And praying that God gives me the opportunity to at least see where it goes. If any of you read this and have a similar experience as me, please leave me a comment or shoot me an email at anon16408@gmail.com

I would love to hear from someone.

Hardly Golden

"Really too late to call,
So we wait for morning
To wake you is all we got
To know me as hardly golden
Is to know me all wrong, they warn"

-The Funeral by Band of Horses

Trying not to miss him is like trying not to breath. I keep waking up in the morning to these dreams of him. They're so unfair. I wish they would just leave me the hell alone. 

He keeps coming to me. Leans in to kiss me. Like nothing bad ever happened. Like he never stopped loving me. The truth is (and what my dreams won't admit to), he never loved me to begin with. I loved him and (the saddest truth is) I still love him. I loved him more than I ever have anyone else. He was an artist, and a writer, and I thought he was brilliant. He thought I was a child. 

Maybe I was. 

My body wants him to love me. My mind keeps telling me he does. I wish I had never met him. I wish I could move on...

What happens if I love him forever? I'll love his mom, his brothers, his dad, and his cousins. I'll yearn for the life I could have had if I only I had been to him, what he was to me. He was the future. He was finally being happy. He was walking down the aisle with tears in my eyes, and light in my heart. 

And now? Now he is pain, and anger, and the reminder that I might not ever be good enough. He is the reason that I wake up crying, and the reminder in the middle of the day that I can't call him and I can't text and I have to pretend not to care.

I heard this song by Band of Horses and for some reason it just felt like it summed up how I feel about Caleb. Like he never really saw me and I have to live with that. 

Okay, melodrama over. 

I promise I'll try to be more upbeat next time.