Taking Myself Back

Wednesday, I got out of work and started on my own little vacation, heading out to my grandma's. Her house has always been one that holds my fondest memories, and it's associated with many of the people that I hold most dear. I love staying there. This week, I was there overnight twice in a row, catching up with three of my cousins, who just so happen to be three of my closest friends, getting some time in with my grandparents, and getting some R&R for just me. I've come back refreshed and renewed, and I'm glad to be home.
One of the reasons I've come back with so much peace and energy is in part due to my best girlfriend, Raile. She and I have grown up together, and know each other maybe more than we know ourselves. It seems that no matter where we are, the differences we're going through, the many choices we make, the different paths we take, we are always in the same boat.
Thursday night, Raile stayed over with me in the upstairs blue room (it's always been called that) at our grandparents'. Among many many many things that came up in conversation that night, I spoke of how lately I've been very insecure about my appearance, my choices, my actions, my decisions, my speech, my thoughts, etc. I've been in doubt about almost everything. I told her that I don't know why this is, that I can't pinpoint one little or big reason, or even a handful; that it's just silly and I wish I'd stop, because I feel whiny and witchy and frustrated and annoying.. you get the idea. I don't like it, and I can guess well enough that others don't appreciate it either. During my rant against myself, Raile was quiet, looking at me, thinking and listening. After I had finished another sentence of worried and upset emotions, she said, "I have a question. Do you find that you feel even more insecure when you're with someone?" I exclaimed, "Yes! And I don't understand it! You'd think that when you're with someone you'd be happier with yourself because you know someone likes you, but both times I've been in a relationship, I've been entirely insecure!" Raile said she just realized she's been doing the same thing. "The whole time I've been listening to you, I've thought, 'Wow.. that's exactly what I'm doing and how I feel. Why?'" After going off on a tirade about ourselves and wondering why this is so, we quieted down into our thinking modes and sought an answer.
Surprisingly, it didn't take long. We analyzed why we feel so doubtful and came to the conclusion that we are both torn by trying to please the guys we're with and our parents at the same time. A worthy goal, yes? Well, it would be if we went about it the correct way. Raile and I have been so caught up in being spouses rather than the best friend, in trying to make people happy and not disappoint anyone, that instead of acting, we've been stuck, worrying over whether we can or not. For my part, I feel that if I make a decision it will be the wrong one. That I'm constantly being critiqued and judged, as if I'm being auditioned for a role as the perfect daughter AND girlfriend. This is entirely in my head (of course). For the past few weeks, I've been in stress mode because I'll do or say the wrong thing, or realize that I had done something wrong who knows how long ago, and beat myself up over it. I've been cautious of speaking of certain things so as not to bring on unwanted unpleasantness. I've been doubting things about myself that I never had before, because all of a sudden everything needs to be spotless and clean and shiny. Why? Because now I know people are watching, people that I care deeply about and don't wish to anger, disappoint, or lose.
Talking over this, going through our completely similar symptoms, we laughed at ourselves and said at the same that we wanted to call our respective young men and apologize for an hour. However, that would have defeated the purpose of trying not to beat ourselves up anymore. This was Raile's biggest piece of insecurity. Mine was feeling so critiqued that I wouldn't do anything that could be remotely silly; I wouldn't be me. To be honest, neither are very fun. Also, entirely honestly, neither of us should feel this way! Just the thought of dropping the facades, of casting aside worry and self-doubt, was so freeing that we sat in silence for a time, occasionally breaking it with, “Wow...”
Raile and I have amazing, loving, supportive parents. I've made mistakes before, and so has she, I'm sure; they still love us, and, to my knowledge, they don't keep a scoreboard of our falls and trip ups. Raile and I also have accepting, encouraging, and strongly attached guys, who claim to like us for who we are. If this is so, then trying to change and feeling so insecure because we fail time and again doesn't help them to feel more for us. In fact, as I told my best friend, after looking at myself and realizing what I've been doing, I wouldn't blame Anaro for getting fed up and taking a break of me. She said she wouldn't blame Selarch either. “They've put up with so much,” was said frequently Thursday night. In the end, we concluded to tell Anaro and Selarch what we'd discovered, and ask them to call us out on this ridiculous thing we've been practicing. It's almost been a week, and so far I can say that I've had much more fun running around throwing wet clumps of flowers at people and picking said flowers out of my clothes than I would have had sitting in the dining room with nothing to say.
The point we found isn't even that they like us, so we should be us, but that we don't like it ourselves. It was tiring, nonproductive, worrisome, and made us both irritable and depressed. Raile and I, besides this whole episode, have relatively high self-esteem for young women in today's world. We would like to stay that way. Through our conversation, I remembered something I'd told myself about 2 years ago: Don't value yourself by what others think of you, but by what you know of yourself. Most times, people aren't judging you harshly, and even more often they aren't thinking of you at all. You are not the center of every one else's world. You are near the center of yours. I want to make sure that I like that near-center, that the near-center is entirely me. I want to remember the feeling I had when I finally decided that I don't want to be tied down and engaged/married before 22 or 23... Who knows, maybe longer.These years are mine, and I'm just setting out and making footprints in them. Anaro doesn't want a wife right now, he wants me. My parents don't want to think that I'm going to spend these years doing everything I think they want me to do, they want me to do what I want to do. These years are supposed to be fulfilling, not depreciating me.               Now I'll repeat that 7 times daily.

Welcome to Cyberspace

I recently took my sisters to an audition for the play 'Pride and Prejudice'. The next day, I logged on to the social network of Facebook to see that I had a friend request. It was from a young man that had been at the audition the day before, and I was surprised to receive it because we hadn't spoken and weren't acquainted. However, I accepted it, since I was going to be taking my siblings to rehearsals, and perhaps we could get to know each other. I was wrong; my mother took my sisters to play practices. Though I never met him, I now “know” him, because we have chatted a handful of times. In person, I realize that he wouldn't have said half of the things he typed to me, but this is just one of the ways that it is evident that people seem to be more comfortable in having online relationships than they are in real life interactions and conversation. With today's social networks, we have instant contact, instant dating, and instant personal makeovers.

Immediate and public conversations have their drawbacks. Anyone on your friend list

and anyone on the other person's friend list can see what you're saying, what you've

commented, and what the other person has as well. Not only can they read your words, they can respond to you, whether they know you or not. In some cases, a stranger will repeatedly talk to you on a mutual friend's wall, and will eventually just ask to friend you themselves. Hoping to eliminate the middle man, you accept and end up talking to someone you have never met, and, in most cases, never will. This has happened to me several times, the most recent being last fall. I now know the details of a certain young man's life in Texas. I don't know if it's something about females, being a stranger, or if it's just me, but every time I've gotten to know someone on a more personal basis through just the internet, they are always more comfortable in telling me secrets, opening up their inmost thoughts, and confessing sins to me. With the Texan, to illustrate, in a few weeks I was his constant support. In a few more, cell phone numbers were exchanged and he would text me every day, asking what to do in different situations. Another young man that I had known a long while ago and got back together with over the internet, I helped quit smoking. In every case, these strangers say, “I don't know why I'm telling you this...”. There is something about speaking with a person that doesn't know you or your past, that can't judge your daily actions, that isn't biased enough to give one sided advice. Apparently, it's addicting, and it's freeing; obviously, it's easier.

In talking online to random people, there is also a chance that one of you starts to have an interest in the other. I can't count on two hands how many times I've been asked out by an online stranger, whether we were 'friends' or not. For example, my first serious relationship was with a guy I had met once and then got to know online. Of course, it never really progressed, because he was used to the ease of just being 'together' online or in text and I wanted real life interactions. We saw each other perhaps 8 times, maybe less, and were only together for about 4 months. However, I have had my share of letting boys down as well. Every time, I'm taken aback by how casually they take asking someone out online compared to when I've been asked out by boys of the same circle face-to-face. There isn't such a need to build up courage, there isn't such a loss or embarrassment, as there is in person. Online, it's also much easier to keep talking to someone after the let down, or even the agreed date, because you can always be at the same place at the same time. No need meet up, worry over schedules, or even gas prices. No need to worry about how you look, how you sound, how you act. The virtual world is just plain easier.

Online, you can pick and choose how you want to seem. In typing, no one can tell if you have a speech impediment, or how long it takes you to get across what you're trying to say. You can choose who you are going to talk to, who you are going to ignore. What people see of you is in your hands in the pictures and videos you put up and allow others to tag you in. In effect, you can portray yourself as you always wanted to, even change who are you entirely, and no one would know. I've met people in person and then became friends with them on facebook, and have been quite surprised at how different some people paint themselves when it's under more of their own control. Some classmates of mine, that I have had one-on-one conversations with, are utterly unrecognizable in who they have created as their internet alter-egos. Online, either everyone knows you, or nobody does.

As the internet access on various devices continues to rise, people will no longer need to know how to socialize. There are already online colleges, classes, counseling programs, shopping sites, etc. It won't take long before you won't need to leave your house for anything. The web-cam will ensure that you see your loved ones. Businesses are constantly and continuously buying into the idea of online consumers, and why wouldn't they? The flesh and blood world isn't the place to be anymore. Welcome to cyberspace.

The Mathematics of Love

A mathematical problem I am

You say you are a question

Well, for you seek answers

I, a solution

I label you 'Why?'

You ask if that fulfills or lessens

I assure you it does neither

It is only my perception

In finding the equation

You wish only to press on

Though I can wait and deliberate 

For I must be the one

To query at this time

You give me more to say

 Listing lists of pros and cons

Arriving, yet not to lead the way

Setting guides and boundaries

My decision is made

I declare your answer

And you my solution became

The marks of your trade

I will pleasure to erase

And to you forever

I will myself equate

Why fear?

In the dark of a room, with the door closed behind. The switch you've flicked upwards, in that time the light takes to turn itself on, do you move further or do you pause to see inside? Waiting for the room to be revealed, waiting to see something hide. The decision to step forward, the decision to remain still. The room clothed in darkness, why do you fear? 

Before you can see the results, before you are certain of the future. While still testing, still deciding, where do you reside? The knowledge you have already should be enough to stay, the situation moves forward; why do you hide? 

Something pulling at your arm, keeping you in place, dragging you to the floor; but will you cry? Still waiting, still deciding, testing whether you will fall, be caught, or stand tall. Will you decide in time?

Questioning your courage, fearing your resolve, at a loss with none to hold. Exaggerating the outcome, and knowing you'll be alone. It isn't even an inquiry as to whether this is true, it's expressing your emotions, telling others this is so. Telling others what you muse. 

So where does fear reside? In the thoughts you keep to yourself, growing bigger, growing bolder. Festering and poisonous, consuming your mind. The darkness contains it, and you stand still, waiting to be taken, waiting to be killed. Raise your eyes, the answer is there. At the far end, in the silver lining, in the air. Walk to the exit of the tunnel, run if you can, glimpse the sun behind the clouds, and breathe. Hide nothing; secrets are the ground in which fear grows, black and deep, sharp and neat. Lies are the food, silence is essential, and you should know. In voicing hurt, sharing your dread, putting in light the things kept in your head. Keep steadfast and plod on. Fighting this battle with yourself, it's time that you won.

The Meaning

It occurred to me while searching for my own blog, as I had forgotten the URL, that the word or name 'Falador' isn't unique to me or my blog, and that I should share the background of it. First, no, it's not the city in Runescape, which is apparently an online nerd heaven, not that I'd know...
I referenced a male friend of mine in my last post, part 3, the survivor. It's lucky that I did, as he's in this story, right at the center, and now I don't have to worry about introducing him. We shall call him Rejad, even though he isn't Indian or whatever ethnicity that name sounds closest to to you (yes, that sentence needs two 'to's.). Rejad and I have known each other for 10 or 11 years, and have been friends for .. gosh, was I 17 or was he? One of us was, so we've either been friends for 3 years or 5. Sad that I can't even remember. I do remember how we came to be friends, however, and that is more central to the story.
On one of Rejad's birthdays (again with the confusion as to who was 17), my mom urged me to send him an e-card. Rejad and I didn't talk... Or, more accurately, Rejad didn't talk. He was one of the most quiet persons I had ever not met, despite some efforts of mine and my friends to get him to speak. Looking back, he probably laughed at us the whole day, and I don't blame him. He was 2 years older than I am, and still is, as a matter of fact. All of my friends were older than me, excepting some cousins, so it wasn't the age that made me nervous about sending him a virtual birthday card. It was that I felt he would either 1. think of me as the oddest person he'd ever not met, 2. think I had a crush on him, which I didn't, or 3. ... well, there really was no telling what his reply might be. Summoning all of my courage, I found one that I thought of as amusing, knowing that he liked odd things for reasons of his own, and sent it to him. I still remember the card. It had a dog on it, sniffing the screen, and the words said something like, "Well at least you don't smell old yet." It was a wonderful card.
To my amazement, shock, and horror, within the next few days I got a reply. From Rejad. To me. My parents had the time of their lives teasing me about it. I can't even remember what he had said; it was something witty I'm sure, along with a heartfelt thanks for the card in celebration of his birth and reaching an older age. I wrote back. He wrote back. I replied. He replied. It was fantastic.
I found out that Rejad had a peculiar sense of humor, could write well, and was obviously more comfortable writing to a girl than speaking to one. Among the inside stories and jokes of our letters, there is the answer to the name of his blog. Rejad had said something, to which I replied with some words, among them, "Cra.. uh.. nice of you." He combined the shortening of 'crazy' with 'uh' and 'nice', creating the fantastic word 'Crauhnice', about which he has made up a definition, a principle, and pretty much written a few books about (yes, I'm advertising for him).
After a while, we spoke to each other in person at our church fellowship gatherings, and a splendid friendship grew from that. In our letters, we spoke in other languages entirely. Languages like German, Portuguese, French, etc. Online translators are such helpful things.  Our friendship grew so much that we decided we must have nicknames, or he decided that, as next I knew he was calling me Falador. It took a while for me to find the correct language this came from, and when I did, I don't think I got the proper translation. Of course, he wouldn't tell me what it meant, so I had to try several of the different translators found online in my quest to find the meaning of my name. Eventually, I found that it meant, in Portuguese, 'Talker', or 'Chatterbox'.. even, my favorite, 'Speaker of nonsense'. And that was my name from him. And that is the name of this blog. And there.. you have it.

These are the people close to me. These are the people that made me. Part 3

I wasn't part of the gang. I wasn't part of the adventure. The only way I would be involved is if I happened to be there or if someone came to me for advice about their big adventure. It happened that way for my road as well. Instead, not necessarily saying I flew solo, it was as if I had a back-up crew for when I desperately needed someone to be there. And yes, when that time came, my friends and family were by my side in an instant, but no one was involved. They knew what was going on, but they weren't there to see and feel it with me. To share the experience. I sometimes felt it was because they didn't want to. I was always the dependable one, the one who didn't forget, the one who either got things together or at least helped to do so. That's why it hurt. Countless times, mostly with a girl friend, we'd make spontaneous plans for the weekend anywhere from 3-6 days in advance. After so many weekends of no-shows, I started to realize I'd have to remind them. For a while I was fine with that, but eventually I received the feeling that the plans weren't fun anymore and I was unwanted. Of course, that wasn't true, it was just that my friends were more forgetful than I was; but after so many times of making plans, checking a few days before hand to see they'd not forgotten, and finding they had.... you wonder. 

As far as friends of the opposite sex went, I had many. I was a person that, from ages 11 to 15, girls thought was a snob and boys thought was the best chick they'd every met. Not because of any physical favors I'd give them, nothing like that ever happened, but because I let them be who they were. I didn't try to change them, like other girls they'd been close to. They could be comfortable with me, and they respected me because I respected them. Through the years, over and over, I'd hear a male friend say to me that I had a 'gift for guys'; that I understood them. I didn't disagree, as I felt I understood most things and people more than others my age, but I also didn't take it for granted. 

Our friendships weren't all serious, and none of the friendships were the same. I had friends from the neighborhood that would come over to supposedly shoot hoops with my brothers, but really had come to banter. They loved the banter. I have a ready wit, and I use sarcasm in every day life, and they thought it was the coolest thing to watch me put one of them down. They were my brothers as well, and they protected me like I was a sister. If a new boy came around that they didn't think I should be with, they'd let him know. Those friendships were some of the easiest to navigate, because they were simple and honest. Some of my other friendships were of a completely different nature. With boys that weren't from around where I lived, I was the one they came to for an ear. Friends in other states, friends I'd had years before and had just started talking to again, friends that were entirely new still, and friends that I saw about once a week would pour out their inmost thoughts to me, confess their sins to me, and ask me what to do. I never fully understood what it was that inspired such confidence and trust in me, but I never let them down. They in turn fulfilled a need in me to be recognized, were there if I needed a laugh, and encouraged me in everything I did, telling me I could do anything. That I was special.

At 18, I had 2 close girl friends, one a cousin, and about 6 close guy friends, 2 of them cousins. I had an outer circle of friends as well, but I never went to them for anything but a lark, and it was pretty much the same with them. The close friends that have stuck with me through thick and thicker have blood ties to me. My feisty red-headed cousin, my athletic no-nonsense cousin, my sensitive and laid back cousin, and my young brooding cousin. The close guy friends I had when I was 18 either fell away or moved away or wanted to get too close. Only one of them has survived, and our friendship has withstood so much that it's the hardest to navigate of all. Of late, I might talk to one of them about once a week. Feisty and the jock are getting ready to leave the state and country. Laid back is in 2 bands and baseball with practice sessions taking up lots of time. The young one's mind is full of baseball, video games, and girls, while I'm not sure what's going on in the survivor's head. I'd love to know. 

In my life, I have family. I have 5 blood sisters, and 4 blood brothers. Then I have 4 brothers and sisters of my own. I have 5 blood aunts, and 8 aunts to myself. Uncles.. well, I have 5 blood ones. I have blood 3 nephews, one who will live in my heart and memory, and 1 niece with another on the way, while any young boy or girl I meet under the age of 10 is instantly a nephew or niece of mine. I have no children that are tied to me by blood as of yet, thank goodness; that's for later. But I have so many proteges and young men that have either said I'm their mom or that I could be, that I can't count them all. I have many sons. Some have grown and are gone, some are just entering. Don't ask me why I don't have daughters... for many reasons, I don't think it works like that with girls. (There was a time where a close guy friend was a daughter, as he was Arwen and I was Elrond.. and those are the types of stories I have with that friend.) I have 2 parents, one father and one mother; that way I can still say to someone trying to fill that role, "You're not my parent. Thanks anyway." 2 is plenty; I couldn't love any other parents as much or more than I love my own.

This is my family, not even counting my first cousins. It's big. I don't feel alone because I don't have over 400 friends on facebook or 150 contacts in my phone. I don't need them. With a family of this size, with a support group such as this, who needs the 'friends'? 'Friend' is a term I use for the people I speak to about 3 times a month. Those people are wonderful people, sure, but they haven't impacted my life. They haven't shaped who I've become, guiding, directing, and encouraging me. They haven't been close to me. They haven't remained close to me. My friends have made me laugh. My family has made me. And I... am blessed.

These are the people close to me. These are the people that made me. Part 2

The pressure of this was felt at all times. I was responsible, and I kept things like that in mind- “What will this do to the example I'm setting?” - but my Dad also reminded me from time to time when I had thought I'd got it right... and he didn't seem to think so. At those times, with differing opinions on something of middling to major importance, he would occasionally surprise, humble, and raise my confidence by allowing me to do what I thought was best. We would discuss the issue or circumstance, he making his points while countering mine and vice verse, and then I'd think on it for anywhere from a few minutes to several days, depending. I always felt slightly guilty whenever I went against his specific wish in doing what I had decided was better, but he never said a word. He blessed me.

Maturing was daily, it seemed. I came to a point, at 12, where my own mother was asking me for advice. She would rant and rage about some problem she and a friend were having, and did she do something wrong, or tell me the latest argument with dad and how she couldn't have done anything wrong. At 16, my parents went on a trip to another country, leaving all of the kids younger than myself here with me. My older brother and his wife were here at nights, but during the day, my parents had passed all responsibility for their children's safety and well-being to me. They did this two more times, once at 17, and the next at 18, trusting me with lives. With my dad, it was harder to tell when he actually saw me as growing up. He would talk to me as an adult, sometimes let me in on something going on within the family or circle of family friends, but he had a different system for allowing me to grow after my sister had changed so much. It was harder for him to trust me. I think, mainly, that he thought my mom had too much faith in me, that, if I fell, she would break. He would fence me for her safety.

Being fenced in was hard sometimes. It made it so that little things seemed bigger, like calling a bank to activate your new debit card, or going to drivers' training. I started working at 15 as a self-employed office cleaner... a cleaning lady. Until 18, my mom was my sole employee, but we never talked about that much. In her eyes, I worked for her, but we both did equal amounts of work, so we might as well have been partners. We would spruce up the building my dad's company was at, managing condos and their properties. It would only take about an hour at the most, and the check was $50. Once a week. That was my first job. My second job, at 17, was much more of a growing process. I had to actually fill out an application for that, have an interview, and train, on my own. I did it, and two weeks later I was working as a library aid three days a week. And that's how my dad would work. Saying, no, no, that's not how this family operates, and then saying, you need this experience; it's the next step. I hated both phases, going through them. In each, I felt alone. Perhaps that's what he did. Taught me to be alone.

I've always trusted that my parents have my best interest at heart, I've always known that they care. Even with 9 siblings, for most of my life I felt tended to. My mother focused in on the small things, while my dad would keep the big picture of his older children in mind. When I had a problem with a friend, I would find my mom. When I needed guidance in making a decision for my life, I'd seek my father. When I went through a growing phase in my emotional or spiritual life, I would talk to both. I knew even then that whomever I spoke to would tell the other, but I've always found that even the most attentive listener will somehow change the story to my dissatisfaction, and I liked us all to be on the same page. 

My parents cover both aspects of me and where I want to go, through all of my changes and all of my goals. My mom wants me to experience life at the fullest, while sticking to my morals, and my dad wants me to achieve all that I need for a good, full life. They both have the same vision in how they see me as an adult, or in the phase of becoming one. Sophisticated, educated, well-rounded, confident, and happy. Sitting at a coffee shoppe, discussing life and all the oddities thereof with some confidante from a college class. I have to admit, that picture is highly appealing. I also admit that my parents know me well enough to guess how much I'll have to grow outside of my comfort-zone to get to that level. For one, my thoughts on life and it's oddities have always differed with those of others, making the conversation more interesting for me, but not for them. For two, though I talk quite a lot with classmates while at school, I don't bring them home with me. For three, in my experience, classmate or not, good friends have been hard to come by.

These are the people close to me. These are the people that made me. Part 1

I've grown up in a normal city, with a beautiful downtown, and a high class up town. I'm in the middle. The middle isn't so bad; there are stores and restaurants near by, everything is close. There is the occasional fight within blocks of our house, a meths lab behind for a short time, and all of the young men wear their pants to their knees. However, nothing bad has ever happened to us. We are somehow protected, and I always thank Yahweh for it.

I have three older siblings, two brothers and a sister. These are half-siblings, from my mom's previous marriage. I was the first child she had with my father, though they waited two years, which is understandable, already having three kids. So there is a gap of three and a half years between me and the youngest of my mom's first marriage; everyone else had around 2 years between them. After me, my parents had 4 children. All girls. For a while, they had thought of stopping, but my mom's heart was touched by a young boy my aunt was fostering along with his sister. He was something I had never seen -- completely out of place. My aunt could not handle him all the time, so we would babysit him on the weekends, and he connected. His sister had cerebral palsy, she was 3 or 4, and my aunt wanted to adopt her. The thought of having the pair separated broke my mother's heart, and she decided to do one of the craziest things in the world-- make him part of our family. My dad, of course, was a bit shocked and not at all sure what she was thinking. However, after prayer, they decided, and the process began. During the long and arduous wait for finality, my mom became pregnant with the youngest, a boy. And there our family stopped.

 My place in all of this was defined, yet with blurred edges. I have middle child syndrome, as they call it, as I was the fourth oldest with 6 under me; but I also have the oldest child syndrome, as I am a first born. My personality shows both of these at work. I went through a period where I felt I didn't belong and I didn't really know who I was.. or that no one else did. That no one paid any attention. So I became an introvert, mostly entertaining and keeping to myself, always doubting what others thought of me. I became shy, because I felt no one else would understand or care. My older siblings, especially the oldest, my sister, didn't exactly have a talent to manage at that time; they mostly wanted to keep to themselves once they reached a certain age, and only exercised the rights of the older sibling rarely. Therefore, my managing skills could be used, and were. You have to see, though, that my dad has been a manager in business since 17, and it is hereditary.

My siblings respected me naturally then, and still follow me. They look up to me as an example, and at times I don't know what to do with it, except to do my best. Of course, in the early teenage years, there were rough spots, but overall I was 'the good one'. The two oldest, my sister and brother, were strongly opinionated as teens, especially when it came to their relationships with the opposite sex. My sister left my parent's house at 18 to move in with her dad, whom she saw on weekends, and step-mom. She married her boyfriend, whom my parents objected to at that point, soon after. These choices were her own, and she took her life in her hands, making the decisions she felt were best. They now live in another state, with two children of their own, and her husband has had hard times with work. My brother had a good heart, and could be logical if he chose to, but he was very passionate, and that sometimes got in the way of good thinking. He had a few 'problem girls', one that he'd honestly thought of marrying, but he allowed my parents to speak into his life, and saw the light of how things would fall in reality. He fell in love at 20 with a girl he had known pretty much his whole life, his best friend's sister. They married, and moved into our basement-apartment. He graduated a year later, and she became pregnant. Work was scarce, and, though he had a degree in engineering, he couldn't find a job. He worked for my dad until just last year in July, and they moved out Thanksgiving weekend '10. His wife is now pregnant for their second. 

So you see, though they were generally good children, they did mess up the good example bit, and I was then the first. The first to do things right.

I'm on the right track, I just haven't started yet.

I recently ended my first semester of college, doing well in all of my classes and making the Dean's list.  Prior to college, I was homeschooled my entire life. I'm not one of those that fears the outside world; I've done plenty of extracurricular stuff to well acquaint myself with the diversity of human beings this earth possesses. I'm one of those that fears the inside world; I fear failure. 

I conquered that fear of failure in respect to school by succeeding in every class I was in. Then, those tasks were assigned to me, and I to them. I sat down to homework with a vengeance. I jumped in with two feet, starting school, proving to myself that I am plenty capable. Capable of tackling tasks created for me by someone else. 

Lately, I've been waking up around 7 or so every morning, with this big pit in my stomach and a huge pain in my head. I've been worrying again. Yes, I admit it, I really do worry over silly things sometimes, over-thinking and over-analyzing all over the place. However, I usually know what I'm worried about. This past half-week I haven't. I was frustrated with myself, telling myself there is nothing to worry about because I'm not doing anything but going to work 4 times a week. In fact, since school ended, I've been so bored that I considered registering for summer classes. My mind needs to be occupied, and not with some un-named anxiety. Stress is not a good thing to have on my emotions list.

Last night while talking to my best friend, I was telling him of my boredom and trying to figure out what was bugging me and why. He's used to me being worried over things, though he doesn't like it, so he was struggling along by my side to find this unsettling fact. Asking me a few questions in hopes of narrowing it down, with me replying  in the negative to all of them, he sighed and gave up for a few seconds. In that space of time, I inhaled, held it, and blew it out slowly, trying my best to not get angry at him because I was frustrated with myself. In that space of time, I felt vulnerable. I grabbed onto that, and told him, "I think I'm afraid." "Of what?," he asked. I was quiet, thinking of all that I'd done recently, then thinking of what was coming next. "What are you afraid of?," he asked again. I laughed slightly and replied, "Growing up." 

I turned 19 in March, I have two jobs and a beat up jimmy, I just picked a major for school, I know who my friends are and who my real friends are, and I know where to go for advice. I have a base, I have a foundation. I still feel that little prior to now has prepared me for what is coming in the next 2-3 years. I have a rough plan for my life, a plan that I'm happy with and excited about. There is a wide open space in front of me, blank and untouched. I haven't made a ripple, or at least I don't feel I have. With this space, I don't know where to start. What steps do I take first, how do I know they are the right ones, am I ready, can I do it?                Will I fail?

I have to create my own tasks now. I've never been too great at starting something of my own and finishing it. I begin with a bang and I fizzle out. This time though, it isn't some small project we're talking about. It's a big chunk of me. Now is the time I become who I'm going to be for the rest of my life. After a few years, it will be harder and harder to change. After another few, it will be well nigh impossible. And after that, you're stuck. I don't want to be stuck.

I have hopes of getting a third job in the near future, something I'm going to work at, not expecting it to just fall in my lap like the others. I have a session early next week where I'll register for fall classes and make my major official on paper. My four month anniversary is coming up next Wednesday (laugh if you will, I know it's short ;). Perhaps I have started and haven't yet seen the outcome. In any case, the choices I will be making will have impact, an impact I have high hopes will be positive. Failing at life is not an option. What do I do with this fear? Let it debilitate me, paralyze me, stop me? No. Do I forget the fear, put it out of my mind, ignore it? No.  Just because you don't have to worry doesn't mean you shouldn't care. Do I ask others what they think, relying on their confidence in me? No. You can't value yourself by what others think of you, but only by what you know of yourself. What do I know? That this fear can push me, but I can direct where to.

Life Changes- An Introduction

                  Growing up, you think of your life as being that of a fairytale, complete with a happy ending,

perhaps some tragic twists for excitement, but always going according to your dreams; sticking to what

you always wanted. As you get older, you come to realize that life has a mind of its own, and we are

only in as much control of our fate as those before who got stuck with dead-end jobs and a pile of

divorces. I love and agree with the saying, “Everything is a choice,” but that mainly applies to what

you do with the cold, hard facts of life. Nothing is easy, and you have to strive to even make a choice;

work in order to see. The life you thought you would have and the life you end up living are rarely in

accordance. Comparing what I had wanted my life to be with where I am now and where I am going

is a perfect example.

I had wanted to live quietly, to be honest. Most likely get out of high school, date some guy,

and get married to produce children. Not really into going to college, nor getting a real job. Against

everyone's wishes, I was adamant on this. I was not confident enough in my social skills, let alone my

mental skills, to even think about going to college without cringing and getting a headache from stress.

Now, of course, I get a headache from the overload of homework, and cringe at the thought of the gas

I'll be pumping into my 2000 GMC Jimmy guzzler in order to get to school. On the way there, I laugh

at how scared I once was, and reassure myself to just take things as they come. Life is too short to die

early from the heart attack I could give myself, worrying over things. Things like how long it's going

to be before the man I'm with and I can be completely serious due to school and finances, let alone get married and have kids. Oy vey, that was a big change.

Leading up to where I am now, something else was to change, several times: my choice of

career. Started out with the basic answer: elementary school teacher. Then schools started to close and

teachers were losing their jobs. Quick switch to becoming a librarian. I work in a library as an aid, and

have always enjoyed the office atmosphere. However, after I did a little research, I found that the

college I'd enrolled in didn't have courses in library sciences. The nearest college was in Grand Rapids;

too close to move to, too far to pay for the gas to drive to. Ditched another idea while settling on my

old mainstay: piano teacher. Quiet and comfortable. After this semester, I now plan on changing that

once again, going for a 2 year degree to become an administrative assistant. My work ethic and

professional personality finally made it evident that this was the right choice. I was dating a young

man during my tumultuous career swings, after having been through 2 other disastrous yet semi-

relationships. It was quick, though it was supposed to last a lifetime; a few months after we had

crashed through plans for everything, he dumped me, and a few more after that I was with the person

I'm with now. I never thought that dating more than one boy would happen. My life seemed to be

taking me willy-nilly.

My goals have remained relatively the same: succeed in what I set out to do. There is another

constant, self doubt. It has lessened, noticeably, since experiencing more that life has to offer.

Confidence in myself, in who I'm seeing myself become, has grown. The quiet life I once wanted with

a sort of quiet passion is now replaced with a want to travel, to dare, to try. Perhaps it's only a phase

one goes through, being afraid of trying new things before you ever have, and then wanting more

and more once you've tasted something fresh.

I pity the people who feel responsible to track my growth, my changes. I can hardly keep track

of them myself. It's an odd thing to compare yourself to yourself.. to see the differences and

similarities in what are essentially two separate beings, two different people. Maybe we all have split

personalities and need to see a shrink; though it could just be me with the issues. However, I've

heard time and again, “I'm so different from what I used to be.” It's true that people change. Our

goals, our thoughts, our ideals. We make the choice to give ourselves the opportunity to grow.. right

into someone else entirely.