Fooling the Fool

“Not all scars show, not all wounds heal, sometimes you can’t see the pain someone else feels”

Once upon a time I felt like I was on top of the world. Now I feel like I am on the bottom. Once I thought my life was falling into place. Now I feel like it has fallen apart. So Who am I Fooling? Can’t they see behind this mask? Don’t they feel my pain?

I’ve been down in the dumps the last few days. Or is it months? I can’t remember. It seems this year I’ve been more sad than happy, more down than up, more tearful then cheery. And by now it’s hard to remember when I’ve been gloomy or why. On the up side it does make it easy to recall the few great moments I’ve had. Those few passionate kisses, the rare moonlight strolls, the gentle touch of hands wiping away my tears, the tights bear hugs, the memorable chats that seemed to go on forever, the wild dancing in the nights, the reckless drunken moments of craziness, the rolling laughter and the fun.

Yes they say that in order to truly appreciate the good one must first experience bad. But who are we fooling? Would I have enjoyed the good less if I wasn’t in such a slump? Can good not be fully appreciated when contrasted with neutrality or indifference rather than with bad?

I know I know. I’ve heard it all before. “Love yourself first”, “Learn to be happy on your own”, “It’s empowering not to need a man”, and “You are more than the men you like”. But as much as I keep hearing these things, I also know that the whole Fake It Till You Make It isn’t really working for me. Either I really like being in victim mode, or I just don’t know how to stop feeling sorry for myself. I want to stop looking at other couples in envy. I want to stop being jealous when I see a pregnant lady walking by. I want the dream. YES I want to be in a relationship. And not just any relationship, but a LOVING relationship. Not because I’m pathetic, or weak or lack self-esteem when I’m on my own. But because I’m human. And we humans, as the social animals that we are want contact. Someone else to be with, to share ourselves with, to laugh with, to love. Is it so wrong to want it? Is it so bad to think I deserve it?

 I’m not sure if people don’t realize or just don’t want to realize how sad I am. They see this as a fresh start to my new life. All doors are wide open and I am free to walk through any one of them. But those who truly know me can probably tell that although I keep myself busy,no not just busy but exhausted. Although I am overloaded with work, and surrounded by friends… I am not in a happy place. Not just yet.

Time Heals All Pain…

…but for some it may take a little longer.

As it snows once again on the pages of my blog, I suddenly realize that it’s been more than a year since I’ve been blogging. More than a year since I’ve been writing, sharing my deepest feelings and my inner-most thoughts. More than a year of hurting, crying and then bleeding it out on these pages in dire need of support, of a listening ear, sometimes in need of more.

Only a few months ago this was my canvas and I needed my words spilt across it like blood. I was an emotional wreck, out of control. And in an attempt to fill the pain of lost love, I drowned myself in wild nights of dancing filled with men and rum. I am not sure which one I consumed more of…either way, it never seemed enough.

Time, it changes everything. Just a few months ago I was a mess. Today… today I woke up and as I sat up in bed and saw myself in the mirror in front of me, I noticed that I was alone. I smiled sadly at the reflection and pondered at my new reality. Only a year ago I would have woken up in his arms. Feeling warm, comforted, and secure.

Thankfully the thought did not linger long. It’s not that I’m over him. But I guess I’m adjusting to this new life. I cannot say that I do not think about him. His name crosses my lips at least once a day and he is often present in my thoughts. At times I just wonder what he’s doing, or how he’s doing without me. And when I feel particularly lonely,  I ruminate if I would have been happier with him right now.

Mostly I allow my mind to remember only the good which makes me reminisce. But once in a while a waft of bad memories come flooding into my mind. And then I wonder if it’s truly him I’m missing or just the feeling of being in a relationship and of being loved. Cause “maybe, just maybe, the best thing we can ever do is admit and accept that someone isn’t right for us. Even if at one point, we swore they were Mr. Right.”

Moment of Truth

I just had an enlightened moment. All this time I had this feeling that I had lowered my standards. That I had lost myself in this game of love. I lost the girl who had hopes. I lost the will to have dreams. I lost my self-confidence, forgot who I was and let myself be defined by the men in my life.

But suddenly it hit me. I don’t have to search for me at all, because I never lost me. I’ve always been here. The girl who always believed and the woman who makes her own choices in life.

Yes I came to this country for a man, for love.  But given the chance I’d do it again. Not because a man asked me to, but because I want to, for me. I didn’t do it because I was weak, I did it because it’s what I wanted. I chose to move, I chose to take a chance on love, on life. I chose the road that I walked on. I chose my fate, my destiny, my life. And while I was happy with my man, I was happy with my choice. So yes, some women will make fewer compromises than I. They will follow their career. They live to work. Me, I work to live. And instead of following a career, I followed my heart. A career I can make anywhere I choose. And I chose to make it next to the one I loved.

And now that this story has come to an end; I may be less naïve and trusting than before. And I may be more cynical. I may be more sheltered. And I may be more skeptical. But I am still willing to give up everything for love, as long as in the process I don’t give up the most important thing of all: ME.

I AM…
“I AM A DAUGHTER, A SISTER, A GRAND-DAUGHTER, A NIECE, A COUSIN, A FRIEND. I AM A PARTNER, A STUDENT, A YOUNG GIRL, AND A GROWN WOMAN. I AM CONFIDENT AND SCARED, TERRIFIED AND EXCITED. I AM LOVING AND CARING AND THOUGHTFUL AND HOPEFUL. I AM SICK AND TIRED. I AM SHY AND FRIENDLY, AND CAREFUL AND CARELESS. I AM BROKEN AND WHOLE. I AM MISUNDERSTOOD, MISGUIDED, AND MISLEAD. I AM HARD WORKING AND DETERMINED BUT A LITTLE SCARED ON THE INSIDE. I WISH ON STARS AND DREAM MY DREAMS. I PRAY TO GOD AND CRY MY TEARS. I SMILE ON THE OUTSIDE, WHILE I’M DYING ON THE INSIDE. I LISTEN TO OTHERS WHO WON’T LISTEN TO ME. I WALK ON EGGSHELLS AND I WALK ON FIRE. I BELIEVE IN PASSION BUT NOT TRUE LOVE. I LOVE YOU AND I PUSH YOU AWAY. I WANT YOU BUT NOT SO CLOSE. I AM EVERYTHING AND NOTHING ALL AT ONCE AND ALL I WANT IS FOR YOU TO LOVE ME. ”

Analyze My Blues

I’ve been thinking lately about my choices in MEN. I don’t really have a lot of experience, after all I have been off the market for 10 years. But from my recent dating expeditions and maybe looking back to the guys I chose when I was 20…it seems that I definitely have a type.

Without a doubt it is obvious to see that externally my men are fair-skinned and blond. Not that I haven’t dated a few dark-haired guys, but usually when I look around my head spins at the site of a blond. I love somewhat long hair on guys, baby face, full luscious lips that just make you wonder how kissable they are, and blue eyes that can make you melt. If it seems like I am describing Brad Pitt that might not be too far from the truth. Admittedly he is my type.

If I could choose a sign, I would no doubt be drawn to the Scorpio men’s intensity, loyalty, obsessive nature, sexually insatiability and passion.

But what I’ve been more fixated on lately is the characteristics of the men I choose: sarcastic, and ridiculously smart, funny, flirtatious, charming, good drinkers, and outgoing. Some were passionate others less. But all were callow and emotionally detached.

So why am I choosing the men that I choose? Why am I flabbergasted when at the end I feel hurt, and lost; crushed when my expectations weren’t met? And how do I know that next time I won’t repeat the pattern?

Those questions make me wonder if our past hinders us or helps us move forward. I mean, if I know what type of men I have been choosing and I know that those men are no good for me, do I now go for the opposite even if I’m not attracted to that, only to avoid repeating the same mistakes and the same men?

Self-Inflicted Pain

When we stick our fingers in the fire,why are we so surprised when we get burned?

People hurt themselves in many ways. Some starve their bodies to look beautiful; others cut themselves in order to feel a sense of control. Some get addicted to drugs in hopes of not having to deal with overwhelming feelings. Me, I just fall for the wrong men; and when I fall, I fall hard.

When I fall head over heels for someone I seem to always lose my sense of self. I give my self completely to love and let myself be consumed by its illusion. Insecurities drown me and I willingly allow myself to be bruised and battered. I need to know that someone is desperate to give me their love, that they consider me theirs, and that they will love me when I don’t love myself.

For each man I loved, I wept. At 20, however, I could pick myself up just as quickly as I had fallen. Love was momentary. Moments of lust were fleeting and so in a blink of an eye, like a butterfly I could fly away to my next destination; disappear without worries, without regret, without looking back. But letting go gets harder with age. Love becomes more intense and with it so does the heartache. It’s like that with everything, I think. As children were not afraid to fall and bruise ourselves. But as we grow up we realize the consequences of that fall, and we become afraid of the pain.

Breakups nowadays are different. They hurt more, they last longer. Wounds that never completely heal, scars that are always somewhat visible. Each break up feels more cruel than the last. Each pain feels so hurtful, so real, so intense. Each broke my heart, shattering it into a million pieces. They left me to wonder if I am a failure, undeserving of love; not good enough, or smart enough, pretty enough or sexy enough. They left me staring at myself in the mirror, looking at the fool looking back at me and wondering if their dying love was a reflection of my flaws.

I’m not sure who I’m really whining about: My soon to be ex-husband or Mr. Temptation. Or maybe I’m still just moaning about the idea of love; the idea that fell through just when I started to get my hopes up. As much as it was good to know that I could love again, to do so I had to become vulnerable and open up my heart. And so with love failing me again, it feels like a double break up, double pain, and double the trouble.

Relationship Contingent Self-Esteem

Another blogger just wrote a post wondering why women stay with cheaters. I understand the question and in the past I would have asked the same. But by now I also understand the answer. I am not one of those women. I left. But the choice was not as simple as ABC. It wasn’t easy to leave, and it sure as hell wasn’t my first choice, or my second for that matter.

 There are a few simple and quite obvious answers to the question of staying such as the number of years you’ve been together with someone, the history you shared, the life you built. After 10, 20 or 30 years it’s not easy to just up and leave because of one “little” mistake. There’s also the other blatant reason for staying: the kids. When you’ve got one, two or even more kids together, wrong or right, sometimes people chose to stay for the kids’ sake.

But what if you haven’t been with someone for that long and you don’t have kids together? Why stay then with a cheater who causes only pain? The answer then is harder to explain because it’s one that no one really notices. It’s hidden beneath the surface, only obvious to the experienced eye: Self-esteem! Low self-esteem and even worse relationship contingent self-esteem ensures that we stay because we undervalue ourselves; we think we can’t get anything better, or maybe we don’t deserve anything better. We evaluate our self-worth solely based on the outcomes of our romantic interactions.

 I can’t pin down why some people have a low self-esteem or for how long. But I do know that emotionally abusive relationships only worsen the problem. Those relationships slowly, secretly but surely stomp on our (maybe already low) self-esteem; causing us to devalue our worth, and diminished our confidence.

Even when you’re in a disastrous relationship, the one that everyone can see is spiraling out of control like a train wreck waiting to happen, it’s harder to get out than what others may think. After committing to and investing time and energy into something, anything; your gut reaction is not to throw it away. Ending a relationship is kind of like admitting failure. It’s another thing you attempted to do that didn’t work out. That’s another blow to the self-esteem. And so in an attempt to protect your dignity, (and investment) you grip on to it as tight as you can and you “throw away good money after bad money“.

Blind Love

“Kissing is a means of getting two people so close together that they can’t see anything wrong with each other.”

Now that my double vision is finally clear, I have come to appreciate that although unintentionally, I like so many others have been a charlatan, and knowing this now means that I realize the hypocrisy of my own words. Just a few months ago it was me who didn’t want to be woken up, me who was living in a dream world. Me who was ignoring the blinding red flags and keeping my eyes wide shut. When it comes to love we’re all just hypocrites. We don’t get to pick who we fall in love with. And most of us see what we want to see when we love someone and sometimes we get taken for a real ride.

As outsiders it’s easy. We see the truth as it is. We are objective and are vision is nowhere near blurry. So we go around telling people what to do and what not to, what to feel and how to love. We all become “accredited” psychologists capable of giving love prescriptions and advice. We analyze the situation, and we hastily give our recommendations out.

And if were not psychologists we’re psychics with a clairvoyance of the future, capable of foreseeing the disasters ahead, and instantly ready to give our word of advice, call attention to the red flags and highlight the “should be obvious” warning signs.

We know the difference between wrong and right. We can see when someone is just no good, and so we rush to expose the truth and tell our friends to move on. Everyone is a big shot when it comes to giving others counsel, or telling others what to do. We are know-it-alls. Quick to judge and criticize, predict and warn. And sometimes when we’re not cautious we accidentally spit out the not necessary “I told you so” card.

But when it happens to you, when you’re the one that’s foolishly in love… it’s different. When it comes to our own lives we’re not only blind to the truth (those signs and signals staring us in the face), but we’re also deaf to the lies. Not only do we not listen to others but we don’t even take our own advice (the one we would have been so quick to give other). Suddenly we do irrational, silly, and uncharacteristic things “in the name of love”. We make excuses, we ignore the negative signs. We only listen to our heart, because if you “win the heart the mind will follow, and the intellect can always find logic to justify what the heart has already decided.” We’re ready to make our own mistakes. We’ll ditch friends, we’ll steal, we’ll fight, we’ll fake and betray ourselves. Some of us cheat. Others turn a blind eye.

“But love is blind and lovers cannot see
the pretty follies that themselves commit.”

Shakespeare

Lowering My Standards: From Hero to Zero

When I first started writing this post I meant for the title “From Hero to Zero” to be directed at the men I pick and choose. But by the time I finished writing it, dissecting the words on the page and analyzing it in my mind; I felt that the title was more suited to me. Somewhere in my past I was the hero, the courageous girl who could stand up for herself. Once upon a time I had a strong backbone, high standards, and refused to be pushed around. I knew if someone had done me wrong, and I had the audacity to walk away when that happened.

But somehow, without my knowledge, or awareness, something changed and somewhere along the line I faltered.  When did this change happen? I don’t know. When have I started lowering my standards? When was it that I started allowing the men that walked into my life, to walk all over me?

I remember when I was 7 I had a “boyfriend”. He was my first one. We were really cute together. We had play dates, went to each other’s house after school, watched cartoons, did our homework, and when we were done we would go out to play in the park. It was a great relationship, one without too many complications. One day when he saw me crying at school, he came up to me to comfort me and when he asked what had happened, I told him a secret. That secret as secrets go, was supposed to stay between us. But when he broke my trust and told one of the teachers, I immediately wrote him off. With no explanations necessary, from that day on I no longer wanted to call him mine.

When I was 9, I had my second boyfriend. He had given me a hair pin with a cute note asking me for my hand. Finding the gesture absolutely sweet I accepted. Only that when I realized he was doing the same with other girls… I let go of his hand and never gave mine back. He too no longer had a second chance in my book, even years later when we grew up.

At 15 I found myself stuck in an intricate love triangle. The two boys fighting over my attention had decided to make the decision over who would win me, their own. They hadn’t considered my thoughts on the matter. But I wasn’t going to be a prize to be won. I was not going to allow them to make that choice for me. I knew who I liked better regardless of who won. And I stood my ground.

15 years later, the question that needs to be asked is: what happened between then and now? Why is that now I’m willing to forgive and forget so easily? Why do I let the men in my life make me feel weak, control me? Why do I need the false endearments of a man who doesn’t really love?

The Love of a Father

I’ve been pondering lately about why it is that some girls like me have this vision of prince charming on his magnificent white horse? Why are we always on this hunt for Mr. Right? What has led us to believe that we will bump into this perfect stranger and that this stranger might be the “one”? The one, who fits us flawlessly, thinks we’re perfectly wonderful, sexy and smart. He laughs at our jokes, is interested in what we have to say, and completes us in every way. And best of all he wants to be with us till death do us part.

And then it hit me. My whole life I’ve grown around that man. That wonderful person who has been a constant in my life. The first love of my life, my father.  This is a man who has always made me feel good about myself. Told me how beautiful and bright I was, listened to everything I had to say, gave me security when I needed it but also pushed me forward to reach the horizon.

A man who ran behind my bike for the 100^th time to prevent me from falling and bruising my knees because this girl had (and still has) no sense of balance.

A man who sang me songs before bedtime with his beautiful voice; songs which till this very day when I hear them make me tear up. And as I grew up  he read me bedtime stories and books. We read the hobbit together when I was only five. Chapter by chapter we would solve the riddles making our way to the end of the adventurous tale.

A man who had pneumonia for a week after jumping into the chilly waters of Lake Michigan in the breezy April air to get my $1 Frisbee which had fallen in, and I couldn’t bear to live without.

A man who broke his arm, as he let go of his daughter’s hand to twirl around on the ice skating rink, trying to impress me. Mission accomplished dad I’m impressed!

A man who sadly accepted his little girl would never be the math whiz he was, but would still sit with me till the early hours of dawn, tears in his eyes and frustration plastered all over his face, helping me study for a mathematics exam, as we sat side by side solving the problems away.

The more I think about it, the more clear it seems to me, that the reason I still believe in love, in relationships and in men; the reason I still believe that one day I’ll find a man who is so wonderful, so caring, so loving, and so worth it…is because I know they exist. I’ve been lucky enough to meet that man and grow up at his side. Or maybe I should say my mother was lucky (and smart) enough to meet him, fall in love with him and marry him.

Happy Birthday Dad! Here’s to many more years spent together.

Different Versions of Me

I read recently that every person has different versions of themselves. A woman for instance can have “the soft feminine version of her, the protective masculine side, the naughty sexy her, the adventurous her, or the fun-loving side”.

 It got me thinking… could it be that different people get to see different versions of me? My friends have all said that when they’ve looked they see me as a confident, intelligent woman. Sarcastic, but sweet. Not shy or reserved.  Talkative and flirtatious; courageous, sexy, a little wild, spontaneous and fun.

But it seems that when in proximity of an object of my infatuation I seem to lose my sense of self. I change for the men I like. I become weak, and let them control me. I organize my life around them.  And thus a new me is defined. Just as I mold myself to fit perfectly into their strong muscular arms, I change just a little to impress them and make sure that they stay for at least a little while. I make myself someone they could love, hiding my imperfections and  concealing my emotional side, trying to fit perfectly into their lives. So it’s no wonder I get the dates, I lure them in with my witty remarks, poise, and charm. But by the time the third date comes around I become someone who tries to please. I am a different version than the woman they encountered the first time.

If each version of me leads to a different outcome, a different future, a different love; I need to figure out which version of me will lead me to Mr. Right, rather than Mr. Right now.