Posts tagged growth
Posts tagged growth
Why does it still hurt sometimes? I am happy. I really am. But sometimes something will come up and it will take me to the past. It will take me to a time with a different happiness and it will hurt all over again. Sometimes I can think about the past and remember the good times and then be thankful that I had them and move on. But right now? Right now it only hurts. I know it does not hurt like it did just a few months ago but I want to go away and not come back.
That last sentence sounded childish. Maybe this pain is a good thing. Maybe it will help shape where I am going now.
All I know for sure is that I am with someone who is incredible and who is good for me. I just want to make her happy and she makes me happy.
Sometimes I wonder if I worry too little about my own happiness. Sometimes I think I sacrifice too much. But that sacrifice makes me happy. That sounds insane but giving myself up for others is an amazing thing to me and makes me feel good.
Really, I just have to go. I need to press on and go. No more doubting. I have been telling myself to go boldly and I have been doing it. Now is no time to stop. Press on. Go on. Take this as far as it will go and see where that is. And, most importantly, be happy doing it. Cause if we cannot find happiness in what we do, why are we doing it?
The past may hurt, at times, and the future may seem too far away, but, that is okay cause I live in the here and the now. And you know what? The here and the now is one of the greatest places that I have ever been.
So the car is still not fixed and my family is barely limping along. The awesome thing is that I am still happy. I know that things will be okay. I have been wanting to post this for a while know but I have been afraid that the happiness is not permanent and would have hated to have to post a retraction.
I know that there is no such thing as permanent happiness but things are back to normal for me now. I am my happy go lucky, nothing gets me down, ready to take on the world self.
It is a good feeling to be back to my normal outlook on life. Looking back at the past few months it seems a little silly to me that I took such a drastic turn, but then again with the cocktail of disaster that hit me and my family it kind of makes sense, but not for me.
I never really turned away from what I believed but I went to places that I did not like. I did not make poor decisions per-se, but mentally things got darker. Really it is hard to explain but I think some of the things that I thought through needed be worked out.
I don’t want to say that I am happy that all this happened or even that I am happy about the way it happened. I can just see the good amongst the bad. Something that goes along with being back to my self. I like being me again.
This might be the last post filed under both “Jordan” and “Break Up.”
I talked to her the other day. This was against my best judgement and the judgement of everyone I know. This means that it was inevitable.
I sent her a message since i found a few more of her things at my apartment. I needed to know if she wanted these back or if she wanted to forget about them. In the conversation I asked her to call me.
I found out that she is happy. She is doing well and her new boyfriend is treating her like she is meant to be treated, like a princess.
This has made me happy. Very happy. I know that she is happy and healthy and is being taken care of. That is all I ever wanted for her. I think I can move on now. Things are going to be good for the first time in a long time.
“I suck at being single.”
That is something that I have been saying for a while and suddenly people are asking me what I mean by that. Well here you go.
I am a hopeless romantic.
I want to be the guy who brings the girl the flowers. I want to be the guy who shows up unexpectedly just to be there. I am the guy who will carry a girl up the stairs just because I can. I am the guy who lifts weights so I can do things like that.
Not only that but I turn into a cynic when I am single. It is a slow change but it happens. I turn into some one that I do not like as much. I am not entirely sure why. Maybe it is because it feels like I have a lot of love to give and there is no one to give it to when, at the same time, I see woman constantly flock to jerks who do not treat them right. Maybe that is the cynic talking but even the speech of a cynic has some truth in it.
I am not a cynic yet. I am not. I know that the last few lines makes it seem that way but it is the Internet is for. I was venting a bit, sure, but I am not a cynic yet. I still have hope.
Let it be known that I refuse to turn into a cynic this time. I am a man who is full of Love and is looking for some one to share it with. That is all I need right now.
Unfortunately (or fortunately as some would see it) I lost the pictures I was going to post of the infamous week of Camp Lela. I will do my best to describe the last night of that week.
It started simply. The counselors were going to take the last night to have a little fun as usual. It began to rain, though. There was no way for there to be a camp fire that night. The wood was much too we… or so everyone thought. I have many skills that are all but useless till post-apocalyptia comes along. This includes making fire from nothing no mater the situation. There was fire.
Then the second issue of the night comes. The fireworks that we were going to use to celebrate the end of another camp were missing. Everyone was blaming everyone else for the missing explosives. The which hunt began. Little did we know that the person who has never pulled a prank in her life decided this was her time. Not only did she hide our fireworks, she hid them in plane site and gave us hints about it all week long hidden in her conversations. It was glorious fun in the end.
Now we had our fire AND our explosives. It started with someone, I will not name who :) , threw a few hundred black cats into the fire. After that we sat around innocently talking and telling stories. Then it began. The ghost stories. One of which included one involving a one armed, chainsaw wielding, maniac. As the story ended there was a rumbling from the woods. Out came a six foot four inch, cloaked figure with a chain saw. The women screamed and the guys ran. It was glorious.
There were a few more explosive tricks after that, but none more fun than the stupidest game ever. We had 3 mortar shells. Instead of launching them we decided to stand in a circle and light one. Last to run wins. We did this 3 times and I technically won all three but lost on a technicality. My friend took a piece to the face and took the win with it.
After words some one, again unnamed, got into the old nurses cabin and we all just talked and had fun with no kids around. It was again great.
Eventually we all ended up around the fire again. The night was somewhat uneventful for a few hours after till someone who was way too concerned about our safety said they would not sleep till we went to bed. Being considerate we put the fire out and went to our respective cabins. Some of us stole into the bathrooms to continue one on one conversations, others into utility closets. Another and I sneaked behind the cabins and had a conversation deeper than most I have ever had. We shared our backgrounds and our stories. We shared what hurt and what made the pain go away. He became a closer friend than I thought we would ever become that night.
We did eventually get to our beds and got at least an hour of sleep. I would have not traded that sleepless week for anything. Well, almost anything. But that is something for another post entirely.