You are 16, Going on 17

Tonight is the last night of 2016. My last post was over 2 years ago.

Spoiler Alert: Not much has changed.

And yet, everything has changed. I wrote about wanting to get my life together, to leave Never Never Land. On November 28, 2014 I was sitting in my That's Chinatown Baby Apartment (a movie reference I still don't understand because I fell asleep) and I wanted to be different, but I didn't know how.

The year that followed was messy and elaborate, fraught with drama, hi highs and low lows. I experienced joy, rejection, polyamory, depression, drug use, love, freedom, accomplishment, shame, confusion (not necessarily in that order). By December 2015 I was crying every day, had been fired and was thus unemployed, generally unable to get out of bed, listening to sad songs over and over and over again. I was numb. I was lost.

I vowed to be Less Of A Mess. Not perfect, but not such a disaster.

The first step was giving up hard drugs (to me that means anything other than weed) for one year, and seeing what happened. The next step was to force myself to exercise, I chose hot yoga because it's a solo activity that you do with other people. Also I like to be warm. Next was finding a therapist. Next was finding a job. And so on.

As I reflect on 2016 I can see it has been a pretty crap year for most of humanity and the world in general. But for me, and my inner world, it has been an essential year of pain, reflection and growth. I had a good upbringing, I had parents who loved me, I wanted for nothing. I'm intelligent, creative and expressive. I am a 29 year old, middle class, caucasian woman living in Canada. Despite these facts, there were many mornings when I wished I hadn't woken up.

These days when I wake sometimes I feel happy, sometimes I feel overwhelmed, sometimes I feel nothing. But I have learned to take the time to reflect on how I am feeling in that moment and breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. Accept where I am. Make a conscious decision to have a positive experience today. It's not always easy, but when I look back on where I was one year ago today I can say for certain that it does get easier.

I want to share my story. Maybe for selfish reasons, as I admittedly love attention. But perhaps it's so that I myself can understand what happened, how I got to this place, who I really am, and what can happen now. And through that understanding maybe someone else will read this, maybe it's you, and know that they are not alone. That life is hard. Every experience is unique and unforgiving, but it is experience that shapes us and leads us to new opportunities.

At some point in 2017 I'll be launching a new blog where I will be transcribing chronologically my diary entries from 1999 up to the present and will also respond to my past self with my present perspective. If you are interested in this story, please come along. But know that it will change how you look at me, if you know me personally. Admitting the truth of things can be a double edged sword, it hurts you to tell it, and others get hurt in the telling. But what is life without a connection to one another? What does it mean to have a singular experience, while being enmeshed in a collective reality? How can one person feel like many different people throughout their life?

I hope we can find out.

It Came In The Night

I've been tossing and turning the past few nights, unable to fall asleep. My long-time friend and compatriot, marijuana, has not been helpful, and I can't help feeling a bit betrayed. The blissful doze I usually enjoy has been a nightmare of twitchy leg, heart palpations and anxious half-imaginings of my future. In my mind I watch as my life unfolds for ten, twenty years in various directions, depending on which decisions I make Right Now. Suffice it to say, I'm freaking out. 

But why? I'm almost 27 years old, a fact I've been dropping a lot lately, trying it on like uncomfortable but necessary lingerie. And I have essentially zero responsibilities. I have a full time job that isn't stressful. I have no mortgage, no kids, no debt (except to my father), no pets, no ex-boyfriend drama, and very little hair on my head to give me bad hair days. If I had my way, I would go on hitting my one hitter and making the minimum amount of effort until I wake up one day, old and magically wealthy, watering my plants and baking for local neighbourhood something or other. Sadly, this is not realistic in any possible way. 

Real life is messy and difficult and exciting and - hopefully - somewhat rewarding. After Australia I promised myself a year off to 're-adjust', 're-focus' and generally get my shit together. Well that year is up and it's time for me to stop masturbating to erotic literature and doing my nails (which are, necessarily, separate activities) and actually do something productive with myself. And this blog is the gateway to that, according to my prophetic visions. After re-reading my last post, which I now find endearing and somewhat questionable, I was reminded of how open I was just a few short months ago. And now that I'm writing this I'm finding it's easy, as it always is, to write how I'm feeling. I've come to understand that not all people have the same flair for self expression that I do, and I should take advantage of having a 'natural skill' at something. Even if that skill developed from being an extremely self-absorbed [self-aware??] child, teen, and young adult. I am now in my mid-twenties (which technically still makes me a young adult but just go with it) and it's time to express myself and challenge myself and maybe I'll finally have the courage to leave Never Never Land, and grow up. 

Or at least pretend to. 

Heart vs. Facebook: An Experiment In Romance

"Why don't we just date for like 2 weeks, be really lame about it, then have a really dramatic break up?" was my suggestion, as I laid beside him in bed the next morning. We laughed about it and he jokingly (so I thought) agreed. 

It had been building for months, the tension, the taboo. We work together and with his constant flirting, my friend's disapproval, and the basic fact that any time someone tells me not to do something I want to do it more, I knew it was only a matter of time before we consummated the attraction. And why not? 

I was surprised when I checked in to Facebook the next day and saw that he and I were 'officially' in a relationship. This was something I haven't done in years. Publicly attach my name to someone else's whom I am romantically involved with is not high on my list of things to do. I could explore the reasoning of that for ages, but I'll just get back to the story at hand. I called him asking why he had done such a thing. "Babe. We're dating. We agreed on this." was his response. And so I laughed and went along with it. 

At first no one believed us. I jumped in, posting pictures of him, and us, with obnoxious hashtags. Public make outs (which are not new for me at all, but still generally try to avoid at my place of work), calling each other 'babe' incessantly, sleepovers more often than not. In spite of my reservations, it was fun. 

Yet within a few days we were more comfortable in public than in private. I no longer knew how I felt...was it a fake relationship? Sure he hadn't answered my text in a day or two, but he liked my picture on Facebook...and I was getting texts and comments from people inquiring about my new boyfriend. Who would you believe? 

I was confused. My heart said one thing, my mind said another, my Facebook page said yet another. About 9 days in to our facade of blissful coupledom, an old flame of his came back to town unexpectedly. I was understanding of the situation, as I have a spot or two in my heart reserved for those separated by distance. I told him to figure it out, if you want to be with me then be with me. If not, then fuck off. 

It was unsettling, a tough but interesting situation. Not that I hadn't had some competition in the past, but this was the first time I wasn't confident in the outcome. I waited around for a day or two, eventually realizing that I was wasting my time, and our experimental fling was over, despite the relationship status on my profile page. 

When we finally talked I was neither surprised or devastated. He was apologetic and perhaps a bit too concerned. I listened to Robyn's 'Dancing On My Own' about a million times. I erased our Facebook history, my pretend indulgence in the #hesakeeper movement. I went to work. I got asked out by someone else. I declined. 

If anything, this whole experiment showed me that a part of me is lonely, and I am jealous of those couples who hold hands in public, who know each other's friends well, who post pictures of themselves on vacation or their pet in a hundred different positions. It's annoying, it's lame, and I am envious. 

At the same time, I value my freedom. I hate feeling like I have to report to someone else, no matter what the nature of our relationship is. The first time the 'ex' and I got drunk together I yelled "I belong to no one!!!!" at him about a dozen times. 

He was playing a show this past Saturday at a bar I frequent when I'm not working. Exactly one week after the end of our two week relationship. He asked me to come repeatedly, as a friend, of course. I was working, and got cut in time to catch the very end of his set. But I didn't. Instead I took my time finishing up at work, and went to meet up with one of my best friends for a drink. We went by the bar afterwards, and made our excuses for not being able to get there earlier. I imagine that he looked at me with a kind of wistful longing, like perhaps he had made the wrong choice. But then again, it could have just been the weed, and my dry contacts. And I danced, not on my own, as it turns out but with my best friend. 

Someone asked me what the point of all that was, anyway. On the surface it was a funny approach to a potentially dramatic situation. Plus, we both honestly really love attention. But if I look deeper, I think it was a very valuable lesson in humility for me. And as much as I don't know what I want, and will not be satisfied until I get it, I know what I don't want. That is, someone who's not as into me as I'm into them. Also, I should never be afraid to fall for someone, or to be honest about my feelings. I had a crush, it didn't work out, so what? My value as a person and possible partner does not come from the amount of times I've been accepted, or rejected. It comes from a thousand different experiences and beliefs that shape my personality. I belong to no one. And, for now, that is exactly what I want. 

Afternoon Affirmations

Well the waiting game is over. The best way I can think to put it is...it's like when you're watching a television show, and see the edges of the set. You always knew it wasn't real, but now you've seen too much, and you can't enjoy the story anymore. Anger is pointless; I'm slowly accepting the fact that not every single person I come in to contact with will fall in love with me (probably...) So c'est la vie. I'm happy that I took a chance. Also I am never putting a time limit on sex again. My faith in 'if it feels right, just do it' has been affirmed.

And it's back to square single. Which is for the best anyway, as I have many plans for 2014, and after all I am getting older. Most people I talk to can't believe I'm 26. Maybe because I'm working full time in the service industry. But I prefer to think it's because I still have the shining face of a 21 year old. Or, more likely, the sense of humor and ambition of a 19 year old. 

I'm finding it very hard to motivate myself to reach beyond my limits. To learn new things, to be creative, to exercise, etc. I feel like I have become complacent, in a very happy and social way, that is. I keep saying 'In 2014 I will do this' etc. But what is the difference between January 1 and December 1? Or 4, 17, 23? Days and weeks and months blend together and I can't believe that one year ago today I was preparing to leave Calgary forever. How things have changed! Yet how they've stayed the same...

Probably the best way to motivate myself to do something is to just do it, and not sit around pining about it. And so I will write when I don't feel like writing. I will be alone when I don't feel like being alone. I will smile when I feel like not smiling at all. Attitude follows actions, and if I don't actively appreciate the life I have then I am a fool. Every where I look in my amazing and snuggly apartment is evidence of beautiful moments and people that I've experienced. My heart is full of gratitude. 

We Used To Wait

Sex is a complicated issue for many of us these days. When do you do it? How long should you wait? Will he lose interest if you wait too long? Will he think you're a slut for not waiting long enough? Will you even like him afterwards or will you just make up an excuse about having to work your office job on a Sunday, then awkwardly run into him at the beach after promising to call him but you never do? It goes on and on. I remember when the song 'What's Love Got To Do With It' became popular when I was in high school. My Christian teen self was horrified at the thought that you would have sex with someone for no real reason, other than to have fun. Love has everything to do with it!!! I thought. And then you grow up, and you have sex, and you realize that really it can be whatever you want it to be. 

One of my best friends waited until she was married. One of my other best friends has been having casual sexual encounters since he was 17. I went from a dedicated virgin with a purity ring, to a secret sinner, to a married and divorced woman all by the time I was 20. And after the divorce I was left single and church-less, free to navigate the deep and tumultuous waters of my sexuality in a child size raft. After a couple years of trial and error, relationships and flings, lovers and one night stands, I had come to the conclusion that I was just done for a while. Done with love, done with sex, even done with flirting. What is the point of it all anyway? 

And then I met him (to sound completely and utterly dramatic). We did not have carnal relations the first night...or the second...or the third. In fact it has been a month since we met, which seems like a minute as well as a year. And still no P in V. We decided to wait (frankly it was his idea), to have a period of time called courtship, a word I haven't heard in a long while. The very notion of this strikes up a blaze of suspicions and questions...does he have a disease? Regrettably small equipment? Is he dating someone else? Is he a sociopathic murderer? I suppose only time will tell. 

The thing is...we used to wait. I think that as a generation and culture we have become incredibly impatient. 50 years ago it was common, respectable and expected for a couple to wait until they were extremely serious, if not married to consummate their relationship. Even 10 years ago I was preparing myself to wait an indefinite amount of time for 'the one'. And today here we are, wondering what on earth could possibly motivate someone to NOT have sex. I don't have many regrets in my sexual history, one or two perhaps, and I count myself very lucky for that. But honestly I'm still not sure about this new/old approach to it. I'm as nervous to let him into my body as I am to let him into my heart, and the two have become inexplicably linked. After years of sex now, feelings later (maybe), it's pretty challenging to reverse it in my brain. As much as sex is a place of vulnerability and a sacred union between people, it has also become a shield for us to hide behind. 'It's just sex' 'there was no feelings, just sex' 'what's love got to do with it anyway?' And that can be a fun, hilarious and thrilling place. But it can also be very empty and lonely. I now strive to find what's right for me, and to not compromise myself for anyone. Most often finding what's right takes some time, which takes patience, which takes understanding. It can be lonely, and confusing. One may get blackout wasted and throw yourself at various coworkers/strangers/exes, to no avail. But I have come to believe that how you feel about sex and relationships is a direct reflection of how you feel about yourself. Or, in the words of Ru Paul, 'if you don't love yourself how the hell you gonna love someone else?' Take time, buy a vibrator, figure it out for yourself.

I'm not sure what will happen with my waiting game. Maybe it will be awful, and then we will be awkward around each other and never talk again. Maybe it will be like stars exploding with rainbows and unicorns and we won't ever want to be away from each other's side. Or maybe it will be a unique, enjoyable bond built on mutual affection and trust. As much as we, as a culture, generation and society, try to downplay the significance of sex, it is a big deal. If it's your first, your fifth, or your ninety-ninth, it is meaningful in some way, and denying that fact is denying your connection to your own sexuality. I am extremely excited and absolutely terrified to find out what happens next.