- I’m writing this on Tuesday night, right before I begin my first real vacation in over two years. To say I’m excited is putting it mildly.
- To some, this vacation might not be exciting. We’re not going on a cruise or spending a week in NYC. We’re spending 4 days in Orlando, which is about a 2-hour drive from where we live. We’re leaving today around lunchtime to drive up there and then will be hitting up 3 parks: Aquatica on Thursday, Disney World on Friday, and Sea World on Saturday.
- I’ve never been to Aquatica. It’s the newest water park in Florida (this is a total guess, but it’s pretty new) and looks like a lot of fun. Plus, the park is open year-round, unlike Adventure Island which is only open seasonally. (Adventure Island is about 20 minutes from me.)
- The last time I went to Disney World I was about 11 or 12. I think I grew out of it, after going every year since I was a kid. I wanted more fun, less “childish” theme parks like Universal Studios, Islands of Adventure, and Busch Gardens. But I am so excited to go back and see how much it’s changed and stayed the same.
- Sea World is by far my favorite theme park. I’m a total animal lover so this fulfills all my needs. The shows are amazing and being so up close to the animals is great. You can pet dolphins and stingrays and feed sea lions and seals. It’s a blast.
- Sadly, I have to wake up early to get my run in. I’m scheduled to run 2 miles and I can’t say I’m looking forward to it. I ran on Monday so I wouldn’t have to run on Saturday and it was pretty rough. I’m hoping this run will go much better.
- In any event, it’s going to be such a fun vacation! See ya on the flip side, yo.
May 2011
“Do you feel a lot of pressure on you to graduate in December?”
My mom posed this question to me over the weekend and it got me thinking. In a way, I do feel pressure but the pressure mainly stems from me. I want to be a college graduate in December. I want to stop living off my mom, get a full-time job and start acting more like an adult. Being a full-time college student and working part-time is no fun at all. I just want to be finished with this phase of my life and make 2011 the year I begin a new era of me.
But that’s not what’s going to happen. It all boils down to the same foreign language crap I’ve been dealing with since I changed my major. Basically, here’s the run-down:
- November 2008: I changed my major from education to journalism. This was also the month I learned that I would be attempting a Bachelor of Arts degree, not a Bachelor of Science which requires 10 hours of a foreign language. With the B.S., taking a foreign language in high school would count. I also learned that my financial aid would probably be taken away since I had already attempted so many hours and that there was an exemption test to exempt me from the language classes. At the time, the exemption test seemed like the best way to go.
- January 2009 – April 2010: I took my journalism classes, with the knowledge of those 10 hours looming in the back of my mind. Still, I did nothing about them and just pretended this pesky little requirement didn’t exist.
- April 2010: Signed up to take Spanish I in the Summer and Spanish II in the Fall, which would keep me at my December graduation date. I wasn’t happy about this decision, as it would lead to another hectic semester when I was hoping to have a little bit of a break.
- May 2010: Found out that I would have to pay $1,600 for my Summer classes since my financial aid still hadn’t been reinstated, and my scholarship didn’t pay for Summer classes. Freaked out a bit, especially when I received word that I may be dropped from my classes if that money wasn’t paid by the end of the first week of classes. I ended up dropping my Spanish class and resorting back to learning it myself. Very unhappy with this decision.
- July 24, 2010: Signed up to take Spanish I in the Fall, and Spanish II in the Spring, giving me a May 2011 graduation date.
Am I happy about this decision? Yes. Am I at peace? Yes. Am I a procrastinator extraordinaire? Yup.
But I am happy and at peace with this decision, because I think it’s the best one in the long run. I feel less pressure to get everything done in one semester and am more relaxed about everything. For the upcoming Fall semester, I’ll have 14 credit hours and we’ll just have to see how it affects my running schedule. I’m keeping it the same for right now.
The good news is that I’ll only have 2 classes during my last semester: Senior Seminar (a class everyone takes during their last semester of college) and Spanish II. That semester will be my easiest yet!
Also, all the fun graduation stuff is gone by the time December rolls around. I’ll get fresh, new, exciting 2011 graduation stuff! At least there’s that.
Where I’ve Come From
My post last week prompted a few commenters to tell me to stop being so hard on myself and give myself some credit. And while I think it’s natural to be harder on yourself than you are on other people, I also want to take a moment and think back on where I’ve been and how much I’ve accomplished in spite of my circumstances.
You see, my life has never been an easy one. I grew up in what many would think was a normal home. My parents were married. I had an older brother. We lived in an apartment where I got dirty daily, playing outside with friends from the neighborhood. My mom was a preschool teacher. My dad worked nights at a paper company. I attended public school, had sleepovers with girlfriends, and bickered with my brother over the smallest issues. My dad woke us up in the morning, every single morning, with “It’s that time of the day again!” We would grumble, high-tail to the kitchen, eat cereal with our eyes glued to the back of the cereal box, and then get ready for school. My dad would walk us to the bus stop and be there when it returned to walk us back home. I always had a group of friends at school, never the popular girls but girls who totally understood me, even if it was only for the second grade. The next year, I’d have a brand-new set of friends. We had family dinners, Little Debbies snacks for dessert, and those joyous occasions of going out to eat. (My favorite being Pizza Hut.) My brother was into Power Rangers and action figures. I was into Barbies and baby dolls.
But things weren’t perfect. We had a secret. It was a secret that was tearing apart my parents’ marriage and causing my brother and me to always have that feeling of fear in the pit of our bellies. The secret started with my dad and Derby Lane. My dad was a gambler. (And not a very good one.) He would use his entire paycheck to go to the dog track, waste all his money, and end up with maybe ten bucks to his name. Once he had blown all his money, he would go to my mom and force her to give her money. I was all of six when I saw him pull a knife to her throat. I was maybe seven when I came home from church with my mom and brother to see my dad had punched a hole in the wall in anger. I cannot even tell you how many nights I sat in the farthest corner of my room, or sometimes under my bed, with a pillow over my ears to drown out the sounds of my parents fighting. The sounds of my dad threatening my mom. The sounds of him hitting her. The sounds of her fighting back. I was scared to death for my mom because my dad not only had a gambling addiction, but he also had an anger problem. He wasted no time turning his anger on me or my brother. I will say that he never lifted a hand to us, but the emotional beatings we received sometimes felt worse when you’re eight years old. We were evicted from apartments when my dad failed to pay the rent. We struggled financially, even though that should never have been the case because we were surviving on my mom’s piddly daycare teacher’s pay.
When I was eleven years old, my mom sat me down one night and told me that she was leaving my father and we were going to move in with my grandparents for the time being. The elation and exuberance I felt from this announcement were unmatched. I was never one who thought my parents should stay together or stick it out. She tried. Man, did she try. She wasted thirteen years with him before enough was enough. We moved into my grandma’s house. We lived in their office and it was cramped surroundings before my mom found a condo a few weeks before I started sixth grade.
From then on, it was hard. It was just as hard when my parents were together. My brother still thought my dad was the best thing since sliced bread and didn’t enjoy rooming with two females. He had a bit of an attitude problem, taunted my mother with curse-filled rock and rap music, and fought with me more than ever. My mom slipped into depression as she envisioned life as a single parent to two teenagers and tried to support us on barely anything. I suffered from horrible insomnia in sixth grade, the same year my mom was suffering from depression, which meant I didn’t have her to lean on. It pains me to say that because she has been a rock star mama for most of my life but that was one year where she just wasn’t there for me.
My first three months of eighth grade, my dad was sent to jail for stealing money from his mom. To gamble. It wasn’t the first time he’s done that, but it was the first time his mom finally pressed charges. My last two years of high school, my dad was sent to prison for grand theft auto, attempted battery, and stealing money from his brother. I didn’t speak to him for the first of those two years until he sent me a letter, which seemed to make everything better.
My life wasn’t perfect. I’m probably the poster child for daddy issues. But yet, somehow, I’ve managed to come out of it all on top. Sure, I have some major trust issues and I think it’s going to take a very special man to break through the walls of my heart, but things could be a lot worse. There are two people I know of who are dealing with some tough times and are doing things that I could totally have imagined myself doing to make the pain feel better.
How is it possible that my brother is in a loving, committed relationship with his girlfriend of almost 8 years? How is it possible that he’s never touched a cigarette or a drug? How is it possible that the first drink he had was on his 21st birthday, and he’s had maybe 2 or 3 since then? How is it possible that he is an amazing, amazing father to his son? How is it possible that he’s held down a job since he was 15? How is it possible that he’s so responsible with his money that he has a brand-new truck and has never missed a payment? He was 16 when he started buying his own clothes and paying for cable for our house. He bought his own TV with his own money. He bought his own car with his own money. He didn’t have any sort of father figure in his life to teach him the right way to do things. He’s been shown the wrong way. By all intents and purposes, he should be a gambler, beating on Jenny, and a distant father. But he’s not. He’s so far from those things that it makes me laugh. He’s the biggest male role model in my life and I always think to myself, if only I could find a man who is half as good as him, I’ll be happy.
Then there’s me. At 22, I’m still a virgin and looking to remain so until my wedding night. It shouldn’t be this way. Shouldn’t I be looking for other guys to satisfy this craving for a father figure? That’s the way it works, right? At 22, I’ve never been drunk one night in my life. Not that there’s necessarily anything wrong with that, as long as you do it responsibly, but there were many chances in high school to wind up on the wrong side of the tracks. At 22, I’ve never had a cigarette touch my lips or a drug touch my fingers. I’ve been asked and propositioned, but in the end, it’s always a big, fat no. At 22, I’m still in college and will keep fighting until I graduate. And I’m going to make something of my life. Something big. Something amazing. Something wonderful.
I’m living proof that you can come from pretty awful circumstances and make something better of your life. You can’t control circumstances and bad things happening sometimes, but you can always control your reaction to them. You can always stand up for what’s right. My brother and I have come a long way. Our past is something we’ll never forget but it’s the present and future that our eyes are fully aware of. It helps that we have a mother who loves us with every fiber of her being. Who would give up anything to make us happy. Who has supported us every step of the way.
We’ve turned into two people who take responsibility for their actions. We’ve never even thought to use our past or lack of a father figure to make excuses to do bad things. My past is a huge part of me. Would I have enjoyed an easier life, with two parents who loved each other and me? A father who held down a full-time job, went to all my sporting events, and supported me the way a father should? Heck yes! I’m not going to sit here and say that I don’t long for that kind of past. But that’s not the past I was given. The past I was given has given me trust issues and heartbreak. It has given me strength, passion, and purpose. It has formed me into the woman I am today. A woman who knows what she believes in and stands up for what’s right. A woman who can’t wear her heart on her sleeve for fear of what people will think. A woman who has risen above her circumstances and is ready to make something amazing of her life.
A Plan
Yesterday’s blog post was about something I just had to get off my chest. I’ve been a little blue for a while now and I sat down on Tuesday night and just wrote and wrote and wrote. It was basically a stream-of-consciousness post, with no apparent theme in mind. I just wanted to figure out what was getting me down. And now I know.
I was up in the air about allowing comments or not. It was a very personal post and I didn’t want to come off as a “Woe is me, leave me ‘Stephany, you are so awesome comments, please.” But, in the end, I did allow comments and received some great advice from some great friends. (And some awesome e-mails!) If I could have, I would have given you a great big hug. Just know I consider you gals some very special people in my life and I think about you daily.
With that said, I need a plan. Now that I know what’s bugging me, I need to begin taking steps to fix it. I need to be more aggressive in my approach to life. There have been special moments in my life where I have faced my fears and seen amazing success. But it wasn’t easy, it was an uphill battle, and most times I just felt like quitting. But there was something in me that kept me going, a fire in my belly.
It’s there, it’s burning. Now I just have to do my best to keep it burning and growing. Here’s how I’m going to do that:
Say no to naps!
I mentioned yesterday about taking naps and lots of them. In this past month, I’ve probably taken close to 4-5 naps a week. While I have nothing against naps and I think they are an awesome addition to any life, there comes a point in time when you stop living life. I mean, is that all my life has become? Just one big, giant ball of sleep? I’m happier on the days when I know I’m coming home and taking a nap, and that’s a little sad. My goal is to save my naps for the weekend. I need to at least try to be more productive with my time Mondays-Thursdays and make these naps more special to me.
Get to bed at 9:30 PM every night.
My alarm goes off at 4:30 AM on weekdays and I’m definitely not getting enough sleep. While my mom can survive perfectly fine on 5 hours of sleep, I need at least 6 to be able to make it through the day, 7-8 if you want me to be happy. As has been the habit for many, many months, I haven’t even started preparing for bed until 10:30 PM, and not turning off my light until after 11. Combine that with my 3-hour daily naps and I’m not getting very good sleep. On Tuesday, I made myself stay up, worked out earlier in the day, and finished eating by 8:30 PM. I went to bed at 9:30, not waking up once until my alarm went off at 4:30. A full, good night’s sleep. It was marvelous. Imagine how much more energetic and alive I would feel if I did that every night?! My goal is to stop eating by 8:00 and start preparing for bed around 9. I think it’ll do wonders for my sleep habits.
Make a list.
A few months ago, Kathleen wrote a post about how she stays productive on her days off, and one of her tips especially stuck out to me: making a list. I get off work anywhere from 10:30 AM – 1 PM, which gives me a whole lot of time to be productive. Yet I waste it napping, being lazy, and spending too many hours reading blogs. I want to begin making a list of what I want to accomplish during that particular day, so as to be more productive. I think it’ll help me out a lot to be more structured with my time.
Start back interning.
I took quite a long vacation from my internship, due to destressing from school and my summer semester. Next week, I hope to begin working for a few hours a day, two days a week. I love my internship. I love how challenged I am, how busy it is, and the atmosphere. It really makes me crave a desk job! (Trust me – spend a day working at a preschool and you’ll long for your desk job back!) I’m excited to get back in there, get some new projects, and feel challenged again.
Get involved.
A rather vague goal, I guess. But I want to get out more! Sometimes, it seems like I am so attached to my mom, it’s just unhealthy. I want to go places without her, take on challenges that interest me but not her, and just get out! The only way to find friends is to be social, right? There are spinning and yoga classes offered at local rec centers. On Wednesdays, I attend a Zumba class with girls from my work. (Although, last night was only my second time going. I’m hoping to make it more of a weekly thing!) I also found Spanish classes that are offered at these centers. Maybe I won’t find my next group of great girlfriends, but at least I’ll be making more out of my life. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even get brave and attend a meet-up!
I’m not a fan of whining and complaining. I don’t enjoy writing posts like I wrote yesterday, but sometimes, you have to figure out what’s got you down in the dumps and how to remedy the situation. This is my plan. It’s done wonders for my emotions over the past two days, knowing I’m doing something about my life.
A Jumble of Thoughts
I’ve never been one of those bloggers who’s been afraid to write about how I really feel, in fear I’ll lose followers or not receive comments. I’m not someone who likes to sugarcoat the truth, even when it means other people will have tons to say about it. I like reading blogs where people really get personal about their feelings and let it all hang loose. Life is not one big, giant pile of happiness. It’s messy, tough, and hard. This is a post that I’m writing more for me than anyone else. Because, quite honestly, I feel like my life is in shambles right now.
I don’t know when I started to realize that I’m not living my life to its fullest potential. Maybe it happened a few months ago, maybe it happened during last semester but I was too busy keeping my head above water to notice, maybe it’s been an ongoing process for years. The truth is, it fills me with deep regret and bitterness. I want so much out of life, but I feel like I’m so unwilling to do what I need to do to reach it.
My relationship with God is basically non-existent. I go to church on Sundays and I cannot help but feel completely at home there. I could listen to praise and worship music for hours. I love the atmosphere, the preaching, and the people. I leave there determined to get serious about my faith, even if it means leaving behind life as I know it. Yet I come home and fall back into the same old patterns of laziness. I haven’t had a consistent quiet time period since I spent a year on campus in 2006-2007. Back then, I felt so lost and alone. It was the first time I realized that I needed Jesus and I clung to Him. It was such a horrible time in my life, but such an awesome time in my faith. Since then, I’ve been a lazy believer.
I cannot even tell you the number of times I doubt my faith. It’s really scary because I know the truth. I know what I believe in. Yet the world is throwing all these different ideas and morals my way and it causes me to wonder what’s right and what’s wrong. I know what’s right, but I want to do what’s wrong, even when all it does is fill me with guilt.
I thought that once I was done with my semester, I would be happier. My stress levels would be so much lower, I would have more time for work and exercise. I would be more well-rested. And I would have more time for myself. That has been the case. I have had so much me time, it’s insane. But I find myself going to work, going through the motions of the day, coming home, and napping for three hours. I’ll wake up so disorientated I won’t even know what day it is, or even if it’s daytime or nighttime. I’ll lay around for about an hour, then hit the gym. Throw in a few hours to read blogs and watch TV, then crawl back into bed at 11 PM, only to do it all over the next day. It’s such a boring way to live. There’s no excitement, no challenges. Life is seemingly passing me by and I’m just watching it with wistfulness in my gaze.
When I get home from work, I have hours with which to do amazing things. I can write more, connect with the online community, take a class at a local rec center, volunteer, take my dog on long walks, help out more around the house, cook complicated recipes, and learn more about the area in which I live. Yet I choose to take a nap. I choose to be lazy and non-committal. I choose a mundane life.
I feel like my family unit is falling apart. Things are great between my mother and my brother and me. My nephew is a delight. But then there are other issues looming between other family members that just tear at my soul. I’m not going to dive into them because it’s not fair to them for me to do that but suffice it to say that we are entering a time where we need to pull together even more, and it seems like we’re all dividing. Am I to blame for some of the dividing? You bet! I’ll be the first to admit. But it eats at me that everything has come to this. I want to do something to change it, but I’m scared to take the first step. I’m so damn scared to hold out my hand and offer to help because all I think I’ll get is a dirty look.
I’ve never been one who has wanted to live the life of a normal twentysomething. On most days, I’m happy with the fact that I live a fairly homebody lifestyle where my mom is my best friend. Yet there are times when I wish I were different. I wish I had a close-knit of girlfriends with whom to spend weekend nights, have hilarious jokes with, and go on crazy adventures with. I don’t have that. I’ve never had that. I barely know anybody personally that’s my age (and doesn’t want to spend weekend nights at the bars). Yet again, I’m scared to take the first step. I’m scared to ask someone to hang with me, even if we’re not the best of friends. How does a fairly shy and quiet 22-year-old go about making a brand-new circle of friends? Is that even possible?!
And let’s not forget about my dad. Let’s not forget about the fact that the one man who is supposed to love and support me, unconditionally, does not. Throughout my entire life, I’ve lived in fear of him. I’ve never been able to tell him how I feel, truly feel. He has a terrible temper on him and it’s scary when it’s unleashed on you. When I was five, he yelled at me and reduced me to tears because I couldn’t tie my shoes. When I was ten, he yelled at me when I was sick with the flu and he had to clean up my mess. It’s been so hard for me to truly believe people could like me for me. I haven’t even been able to have a successful relationship with a guy because fear has taken hold of my heart. If my own father couldn’t love me, what makes me think some random guy could? has been a constant thought circulating throughout my head. It took me 22 years to be able to finally tell him how I feel. And I had to tell him this through e-mail. I’m still not sure I could tell him this to his face. His return e-mail was mean and nasty, full of hatred. I didn’t read it, although my mom and brother did. I need a clean break from him. I need to move on. I need to learn how to forgive him. Right now, I’m so caught up in bitterness and hatred that it’s hard to see past that. And it’s been doing a number on my emotions, as of late.
I need a plan. Writing this blog post has helped me see areas in my life that I want to work on. And now I need to figure out how to change my life to reflect the person I want to become.
—
On a completely unrelated note, I’m guest-posting over at Krysten’s blog today with her “Where I Live Wednesdays” feature. Check it out!
- « Previous Page
- 1
- …
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- …
- 59
- Next Page »