Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Breakups Hurt
There's a ton of ways to get over a breakup. You can stay local, as local as your own bed, and surround yourself with your laptop, empty ice cream tubs, dirty dishes, a bottle of wine with no glass in sight, and tissues. You can decide to explore a bit more and actually make your way to the bathroom and...well...bathe. You can even go as far as putting on some make-up, brushing your hair and going to meet a friend for lunch. Whatever you end up doing, whether it's one of the above or a blurred mix of a few, your end goal is the same: to stop the pain.
Everyone knows about the steps. Maybe you acquired these steps from a know-it-all magazine, listed out between "10 Ways to Please Your Man" and "Who Wore It Best". Perhaps it was at a girl-night venting session, or maybe even a desperate Google search. Whichever way you learned them, the basics are denial, sadness, anger and acceptance. Somehow, you might end up feeling even more lost than you did before you tried to justify your actions on these steps. There's a good reason for this. There are no steps. There is no key phrase to live by. There is nothing a pint of Cookies and Cream, bottle of Johnny, or Sci-Fi movie can teach to magically break free of the chains of a damaging break up. All you have is time.
The first couple of weeks are crucial to your own survival and sanity. The aforementioned steps can be picked out in these weeks, but there is a lot of gray area. One of the strangest feelings in life will most likely be felt during these weeks. When you manage to somehow hate and love the same person, all at the same time. It makes no sense and feels as crazy as laughing and crying at the same time, which to some people is actually what happens. How can I want to just rewind time to the last moment we were happy together yet daydream about carving my initials on the hood of your brand new car? Trust me, it's crazy moments like these that you'll eventually end up forgetting first and probably for the best.
While most people think that you should stand up tall and brush off the pain, I tend to disagree. Actually, I completely disagree. How can you actually believe that smothering your feelings about something very emotionally impacting to you and putting on a smile is healthy? It's okay to cry, scream, listen to those songs that you swear were written for you, and click through your pictures, deleting any and all that remind you of your ex. Don't get me wrong, there is a time for everything. Don't make the mistake of lingering in this self-deprecating limbo. Feel your heart away but remember that sooner rather than later, you will have to wake up from it all. You can't hurt forever. How do I climb out of this phase you ask? Let's explore.
Friends, how many of us have them? All of us. That's right ladies and gentlemen. You're friends are your greatest assets. They were there from the start. The audience that applauded your high moments and awed at all the sad times as well as throwing up their fists during those arguments. They knew you before it all, and if you're lucky, will know you for a long time after it's all over. Vent to them. Talk it out. Let them hug you and curse him with you, but love them back. Respect their time and make sure you're not making everything all about you. If they're being a friend to you, you must always return the gesture.
Other than friends, there is a plethora of escapes from the tears, food, and LifeTime Original movies. You can turn to god, assuming you have one. If not, perhaps the instrument you decided to pick up a couple months before the ex walked into your life. Maybe a new sport, brushing up on your mechanic skills (on your car, NOT his) or even time with family. Whatever it is, use it to fill up the time you would normally be with him.
One day, you're going to get out. You're going to wake up and feel new. You will still remember the pain, the good times and the bad, but you will not hurt. You'll look back and appreciate the lessons you learned along the way. Remember that you are worth more than all those tears. You deserve to smile. So turn that frown upside down and conquer this world as you were meant to.
Good luck to all of you heartbroken lovers out there. You're time is now. Get it done.
Everyone knows about the steps. Maybe you acquired these steps from a know-it-all magazine, listed out between "10 Ways to Please Your Man" and "Who Wore It Best". Perhaps it was at a girl-night venting session, or maybe even a desperate Google search. Whichever way you learned them, the basics are denial, sadness, anger and acceptance. Somehow, you might end up feeling even more lost than you did before you tried to justify your actions on these steps. There's a good reason for this. There are no steps. There is no key phrase to live by. There is nothing a pint of Cookies and Cream, bottle of Johnny, or Sci-Fi movie can teach to magically break free of the chains of a damaging break up. All you have is time.
The first couple of weeks are crucial to your own survival and sanity. The aforementioned steps can be picked out in these weeks, but there is a lot of gray area. One of the strangest feelings in life will most likely be felt during these weeks. When you manage to somehow hate and love the same person, all at the same time. It makes no sense and feels as crazy as laughing and crying at the same time, which to some people is actually what happens. How can I want to just rewind time to the last moment we were happy together yet daydream about carving my initials on the hood of your brand new car? Trust me, it's crazy moments like these that you'll eventually end up forgetting first and probably for the best.
While most people think that you should stand up tall and brush off the pain, I tend to disagree. Actually, I completely disagree. How can you actually believe that smothering your feelings about something very emotionally impacting to you and putting on a smile is healthy? It's okay to cry, scream, listen to those songs that you swear were written for you, and click through your pictures, deleting any and all that remind you of your ex. Don't get me wrong, there is a time for everything. Don't make the mistake of lingering in this self-deprecating limbo. Feel your heart away but remember that sooner rather than later, you will have to wake up from it all. You can't hurt forever. How do I climb out of this phase you ask? Let's explore.
Friends, how many of us have them? All of us. That's right ladies and gentlemen. You're friends are your greatest assets. They were there from the start. The audience that applauded your high moments and awed at all the sad times as well as throwing up their fists during those arguments. They knew you before it all, and if you're lucky, will know you for a long time after it's all over. Vent to them. Talk it out. Let them hug you and curse him with you, but love them back. Respect their time and make sure you're not making everything all about you. If they're being a friend to you, you must always return the gesture.
Other than friends, there is a plethora of escapes from the tears, food, and LifeTime Original movies. You can turn to god, assuming you have one. If not, perhaps the instrument you decided to pick up a couple months before the ex walked into your life. Maybe a new sport, brushing up on your mechanic skills (on your car, NOT his) or even time with family. Whatever it is, use it to fill up the time you would normally be with him.
One day, you're going to get out. You're going to wake up and feel new. You will still remember the pain, the good times and the bad, but you will not hurt. You'll look back and appreciate the lessons you learned along the way. Remember that you are worth more than all those tears. You deserve to smile. So turn that frown upside down and conquer this world as you were meant to.
Good luck to all of you heartbroken lovers out there. You're time is now. Get it done.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Our next performer is...
As the first reader was obviously wrapping up his story on the beauty of failure, I remembered that I was about to walk on stage, alone, all eyes on me and my neon green tank top. Immediately, my palms started to sweat. I took a swig of water, hoping more than ever before that it was bourbon. As the roar of applause started to fill the room and my own insides began to freeze, I heard my name. I stood up as certain as I could knowing that the potential of actually vomiting in front of this lovely crown was quite real. Suddenly feeling calm knowing that I was being introduced by a friend, I found comfort in a quick hug as he tagged out of the ring. Unfortunately for me, we weren't on the same page. What was expected to be a hug turned into an awkward pat on the shoulder and suddenly, I was thrust back into the realization that sometimes things don't turn out the way we dream. As the worn metal tips of my heels clanked with each timid step I took, I tried to decide what to say first. Normally in situations like these, a minute feels like an eternity. Not now, not for me. Time was speeding up and before I knew what I was going to say, my lips started explaining to these strangers that I was nervous and had given up on my planned introduction. Great.
A considerable number of months ago, I witnessed the talents of a poet who's name I won't mention in fear that his talents have brought him fame and a booking agent. He seemed so naturally graceful on stage. His presence was poetry enough, his words solidifying his right to be heard. He discussed one particular subject. Being a nervous wreck on stage. I first thought to myself, he had to be kidding. He spoke as if he was born to be a public figure. His approach was unlike any I had ever heard. At the risk of butchering his explanation, I'll continue to say that what everyone considered "butterflies" or the feeling of free fall was actually energy emanating out of us, and into other people around us. So essentially, the feeling of being nervous was actually inflicted upon us by those around us.
I asked the audience to close their eyes. Mainly, because if I had closed mine, I would have fall off the stage, but also because I felt like it calmed them down. According to my previous lesson on nervousness, I had to get them to relax before I could. Worked like a charm. As soon as their eyes were taken off of me and placed onto themselves, I knew I'd get through my performance.
I started with a poem discussing typical situations that people go through in relationships. Losing yourself in someone else. Becoming unsure of you're own convictions. Your gut becomes this fickle wad of jealously, paranoia and lust. It's a damn shame. The words came out of my mouth with such authority, that I almost convinced myself to forget my current love. I'll say this once and let it be known: Poetry is medicine. Follow the dosage. Beware of operating heavy machinery. Love is the heaviest.
The applause warmed my blood. I was ready for hardball. My next poem was torture for myself and my loved ones. It is based on a horribly true story. I was once told by a clairvoyant that said relationship was so painful that I would rather feel physical pain than the emotional pain. That because my reality. Bruised, battered and left for dead. As I continued through the poem, my eyes kept falling on the recognized faces. I felt somewhat guilty for dragging them through something I had no choice to bare. They would lower their eyes, each and every last one. I loved them more.
As I wrapped up my final poem, I anxiously waited for my breath to run out so that I too could run out and feed myself some much needed nicotine.
The thrills of performance. What a bitch.
A considerable number of months ago, I witnessed the talents of a poet who's name I won't mention in fear that his talents have brought him fame and a booking agent. He seemed so naturally graceful on stage. His presence was poetry enough, his words solidifying his right to be heard. He discussed one particular subject. Being a nervous wreck on stage. I first thought to myself, he had to be kidding. He spoke as if he was born to be a public figure. His approach was unlike any I had ever heard. At the risk of butchering his explanation, I'll continue to say that what everyone considered "butterflies" or the feeling of free fall was actually energy emanating out of us, and into other people around us. So essentially, the feeling of being nervous was actually inflicted upon us by those around us.
I asked the audience to close their eyes. Mainly, because if I had closed mine, I would have fall off the stage, but also because I felt like it calmed them down. According to my previous lesson on nervousness, I had to get them to relax before I could. Worked like a charm. As soon as their eyes were taken off of me and placed onto themselves, I knew I'd get through my performance.
I started with a poem discussing typical situations that people go through in relationships. Losing yourself in someone else. Becoming unsure of you're own convictions. Your gut becomes this fickle wad of jealously, paranoia and lust. It's a damn shame. The words came out of my mouth with such authority, that I almost convinced myself to forget my current love. I'll say this once and let it be known: Poetry is medicine. Follow the dosage. Beware of operating heavy machinery. Love is the heaviest.
The applause warmed my blood. I was ready for hardball. My next poem was torture for myself and my loved ones. It is based on a horribly true story. I was once told by a clairvoyant that said relationship was so painful that I would rather feel physical pain than the emotional pain. That because my reality. Bruised, battered and left for dead. As I continued through the poem, my eyes kept falling on the recognized faces. I felt somewhat guilty for dragging them through something I had no choice to bare. They would lower their eyes, each and every last one. I loved them more.
As I wrapped up my final poem, I anxiously waited for my breath to run out so that I too could run out and feed myself some much needed nicotine.
The thrills of performance. What a bitch.
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