The gift of mileage

If I told you my holidays were relaxing, I’d be lying.

I come from a family who spent our holidays driving up and down the east coast to see grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc. Holiday breaks were not meant for sitting at home. We went on day trips, overnights, and week long trips.

We didn’t always have just one destination in mind. Stopping in for coffee or lunch at a distant cousin’s or great aunt and uncle’s home on the way. I’m one of the lucky few who has a strong relationship with relatives spanning generations and distances because my parents took this time.

These relationships and road trips were something I took for granted growing up because, well, it was my normal. I didn’t know anything else. Now living two states away from my immediate family and farther from extended family, my travel time has doubled. I’m lucky if I get to make all or any of the trips with my parents and brothers.

This year, after earning my time off and seniority, I was able to take enough time to see all of my grandparents. I’m glad I did. Two days before I returned home for Christmas my grandmother was admitted to the hospital with kidney failure. Just this week, she passed away. Being home I got to hold her hand, talk to her, and kiss her forehead. Things I may have missed had I needed to take an emergency trip home.

I won’t lie and say I was never bitter or always gracious about hopping in the car as a kid. As time has worn on, I’ve realized a few hours in the car and a few thousand miles is worth the life time of memories.

I answered the call

I answered your call. I answered your damn call.

I told myself I was done and I said I wouldn’t do it again. But too many whiskeys and not enough restraint, I answered the damn call.

You’ve become more brazen. You don’t just call when you’re alone or headed home. You’re with friends and you make sure they know. You make sure they know how you say you feel. Then excuse yourself to continue the conversation.

I liked it better when it was secret. I liked when they thought you still didn’t call. I guess I could pretend you had let go then and they were just slips.

It’s no longer just calls, you FaceTime. Showing me off to your friends, tell them about my life. Tell them you’re going to visit me and tell them they’ll meet me. Really? Even in my whiskey state of mind, I knew it wasn’t right.

I thought it was done, you’d gone three weeks without picking up the phone and dialing my number. I thought I would resist much easier, but I answered the call.

Growing into sensitivity

The older I get, the more affected I am by people and their emotions. Anxious people make me anxious, my heart hurts when I see people truly sad. But positively, the same goes for happiness. My friends’ and families’ happiness makes me happy.

After a week of over-socialization, I’m suffering from a little bit of withdrawal this overcast Monday morning.

I had plans every dinner break last week, my parents came into town, and I even had plans after work. And I had plans all weekend. I got very little sleep, but honestly that’s how I like to live. Busy is good, busy keeps me high, doesn’t let the lows set in. I rode the high of their emotions and my own.

Busy lets me enjoy life in the moment and not overthink.

Now, in the stillness, I have time to think. Think about my visitors being gone, think about how people I’ve grown close to are moving away, and think about all that needs to be done.

Those don’t have to be negative thoughts, they aren’t. I’m happy for those people and life is full of responsibility. But sitting in stillness can feel like emptiness. I’m coming down off the high, so the normal feels low. Normal is not low, but for now, it is.

The stillness won’t last long, plans will come, and I leave town Friday.. and again the two weekends following. Then the cycle continues.

I’m working on building a life that’s here, not away. So the away isn’t the high, so my new home is where I long to be. I can’t ride the high of people so far away and I can’t let that be where my happiness lies. Settling down into a new home, is not settling. Making new connections is not letting go of the old. So here’s to finding happiness here and finding those people who I can share in those emotions.

Nine months later and this place is still new.

 

Love is not a feeling, it’s a choice.

On my way to work I’ve been driving past a church sign that says “Love is not a feeling, it’s a choice.”

Now, not being a deeply religious person or well-read when it comes to the Bible, I’m sure this ties back into scripture. But as I’m sure the sign writer hoped, it got me thinking. Not what verse it may be (Full disclosure, I googled it. It’s not word for word from the Bible.)  or what it means in a relationship with God, but what it means in our daily lives.

Love IS a choice. We can choose to show love and compassion or we can choose to judge and reject.

It is so easy to judge those who are different from us or choose to live their lives in other ways. It’s easy to judge ourselves and the choices we’ve made. But we can choose not to.

We can choose to love people despite their differences and their perceived flaws. We can choose to love ourselves despite our perceived flaws.

You can love someone or at the very least show them compassion without understanding them or agreeing with them 100%. None of us are living a 100% perfect life, no one knows all the answers. So why not open our hearts and minds?

You lose nothing by loving, but you lose a whole hell of a lot by hating. Love can break your heart, but hates weighs on your soul. I refuse to believe we lose when we open our hearts.

In this world that seems to spew hate so readily, be the love. You don’t have to change the world to make a difference, change yourself, change the world for the better for even just one other person. But be light, be love.

Choose love.

In the words of Drake…

I don’t know how to talk to you.

It was probably a mistake seeing you. Okay, it was definitely a mistake.

Maybe I didn’t watch you as closely before or maybe it’s just being away, but your feelings sprawled across your face like I’ve never seen before. And to be honest, that hurt.

You lit up when I said I was planning on moving back up to the northeast. I could see the questions flash across your wide eyes. “When? Where? How soon? What does this mean?” It means I’m making plans, but not with you. It was a mistake sharing those ideas when it’s so soon, when the plans are still in their infancy.

Teasing and sarcasm were so much of our routine before. In only the way people emotionally guarded as us know how to do. But one you would have laughed off and told me was good before, hit you like a slap across the face. The hurt escaping as your eyes sank, mouth dropped open. I smile, trying to make it clear I’m not serious. “I’m just teasing… if you can’t take it don’t dish it out.” You sit up straight… look in your beer “No no… that was good. You know I like when people mess with me that way.” But not today… not from me.

We talk about our daily lives, our dreams, our hopes, our plans, knowing that the time together is increasingly fleeting. We catch up, we see on another, it’s open and honest.

You share your plans of a move, a new career, a new future. You ask me to visit you in a place you aren’t living yet, a home that won’t exist for months to come. But you’re already sprinkling me in, just briefly, but you’re putting me there.

You’re not asking me to move with you, not asking me to get back together. That’s not what we are or what we’ll be. But you’re putting me in your future, like you’ve always done before. The way it hits, you might as well be asking me to move in.

So no, I don’t know how to talk to you. I don’t know how to show I care and don’t want to give up on friendship. But I can’t commit in the way you do, the way you want me to. It’s so simple, you’re not asking much, but it’s asking a lot of me.

It’s been 8 months since we were ‘together’, but now it feels like just yesterday.

 

Seek gatekeepers, not tour guides

The thing about information is once you share it, it’s no longer just ‘yours’. You’ve passed it on, you’ve copied the key. You select who you share it with, but by doing so hope, pray, that they will treat it with the same security you do. You hand over the key and hope that they don’t find another locksmith. Hope they act as a guard to the castle, not a tour guide.

The story and details will never be the same coming from another’s lips. They can’t. All their background, experience, and bias slowly morphing it into something else. Morphing it into their own.

When you pass on information, it’s no longer yours.

We don’t pass out copies of our house key without strong consideration, but our hearts, our minds, our goals, and fears, those keys seem to be cut much quicker. Maybe not something huge, maybe not our deepest darkest secrets, but the locks keep turning, one by one. Soon, you don’t know who holds a key or the dreaded copy of a copy.

It’s far worse than telephone, being known, or assumed to be known. Telephone there’s hesitation, are you sure that’s what was said? You get to the end of the line… hesitate… announce what you heard… but safely add a question mark. When people hold a key, they assume it works, it’s right, it’s been cut by machine. There’s no static, no wires to be crossed.

I’ve had to learn that copying keys is no safe business.

Seek gatekeepers, not tour guides.

….but…

The reality is, you’re not going to change. Not for me, not for anyone else.

You’ll continue on your merry-go-round and complain that for you it all stays the same, but somehow everyone leaves, everyone changes.

While everyone finds themselves and settles down, you continue to say “we’re just too young.” But when will we become not “too young”? At 30? 35? 40? Not everyone has to follow the same path, but it seems to be what you long for.

Commitment? No thank you. …But please spend the night every night… and can I meet your mom?

Moving in together? Pass. …But why don’t you leave stuff here… and we can get ready for work together in the morning…

Long distance is not for me. …But when are you coming home… and when can I come see you?

It’s the push and pull of what you really want, but are too afraid to really ask for. It’s the fear of asking for more when really wanting 100%. It’s the fear of “everyone leaves, everyone changes.” Stuck in limbo of not wanting to hold on, but not wanting to let go.

And forever in that limbo you’ll be. Wanting love, commitment, and just plain “more”. Settling for lust, apathy, and so much less.

You can’t get without asking or doing. It’s not just going to happen. Opening up is scary, but the reward might just be worth it.

 

Family first

Mother’s Day got me thinking about how much I’ve missed these past 7 months after moving away.

Every holiday, birthdays, and little family gatherings. Sometimes I feel bad for myself about it, but not right now.  I get to see my family around the holidays or soon after, but I don’t get to see my extended family like before.

I talk to my mom almost every day and my dad a few times a week. They know what’s going on in my life and I try to see them once a month. But talking to my godmother yesterday, I remembered what family has always meant to me. I may have whined and complained about road trips to see extended family as a teenager, but I got to develop real relationships with my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. All of whom have shaped me in some way or another.

Sitting with one of my lifelong friends yesterday, one who gets to go home even less than I do. We talked about how growing up and moving away has given us new appreciation for our parents. Both of us couldn’t wait to grow up and get out, now as adults we have a much different view. We’ve both moved away and don’t necessarily want to move back to our hometown, but don’t want to be too far either.

When you’re starting out, you have to give up quite a bit to follow your dreams. And that’s OK, it’s expected, and hopefully fulfilling. It also teaches you quite a bit. It teaches you what matters most. Family, friends, relationships, hobbies. For me, family comes first. That encompasses my closes friends too.

Money and jobs are great, but they’re nothing without people to share it with. Call me crazy for driving 14 hours round trip once a month to see people for 48 hours, but I think it’s time well spent. Those visits are something that can’t be replaced or substituted with anything else.

Relationships don’t have a dollar value, they’re worth so much more.

Monday well spent

In this mad rush of a world, sometimes it’s nice to slow down and just enjoy morning coffee.

In the crazy world of news, everything has to be done right here, right now, and before anyone else. Be the first to break the news and break it right. Get the best angle and get it out there before anyone else does. It’s exhilarating and exhausting in all the best ways. Normally, it’s also how I live my life in general. Everything new, now, and fast. Constantly wanting change and the next thing to come around the corner. But sometimes, it’s nice to appreciate the here and now. It’s nice to sit in a comfy T, drink too much coffee, and write long, thoughtful letters to loved ones. No next step, no planning, just being with my thoughts. The worry can wait.

Sometimes it’s nice to remind myself that life isn’t a race to the end. Life is about the here and now. Life is about appreciating what’s right in front of you. Planning and thinking about the future are great, but not at the cost of losing today.

I’m starting this Monday slow and hoping it carries through the week.

Filling the space that was once me

At first I felt bad for me.

You were seeing someone new.

You had moved on and you had moved on fast.

But with every date and every bed you fell into, came a new “I miss you” to my inbox.

Another late night phone call begging me to come home.

At first I felt bad for me.

Showing up to my friends parties living the life you lived with me, but with a new date.

Calling up my friends and trying to make plans.

At first I felt bad for me because it felt like you had won.

There was no one new in my bed, just me.

But the further I walked away, the further you followed.

Holding tight onto the life you had begun to build around me.

Phone calls to me like a cigarette after sex.

Going out with her, but with a mind on me.

“I miss you, I need you, I want you.”

At first I felt bad for me, but now I know I was wrong.

As you tried to fill the Katie sized hole left in your life, I made myself whole on my own.

Tried to get girls to fit that mold, that only I can fill.

They don’t see what you’re holding onto. Don’t know that those are my friends you’re trying to introduce them to.

They don’t know the routine you’re following, is the one you made with me.

They don’t know how you’re not letting go.

At first I felt bad for me, but you don’t even see what you’re doing.

You’ll never see, that the only one who could fill that hole is me.

At first I felt bad for me, but your pride is becoming downfall.

At first I felt bad for me, but your new girl isn’t a new me.