Two Types Of People

I believe that there are two types of people in this world.

Person #1	Person #2
Career focused Foresees wealth, big houses, and expensive cars in their future Family is a possibility for them later down the line, if at all.	Family focused Foresees a spouse and children of their own Knows they need enough finances to do so, but doesn't value all the riches in the world over building their own family

Real quick, here's a very vague scenario to get my point across. There are two men named Brad and John, both twenty-one, both just recently starting new relationships, and both working at the same job in New York (let's call it a successful company with equal opportunity for growth). Brad gets a phone call at work- there is a job opening in LA with a higher paying salary and they are interested in meeting with him. Without a thought, Brad accepts the offer and will be on a plane to catch an interview that weekend. As John is getting ready to leave the office, he too gets a similar phone call but asks if he can get back to them. He's hesitant because he just started seeing someone and feels it has potential to go somewhere. He's content with the amount of money he earns and he could support a family of his own if needed. He talks to his girlfriend, calls back the company, and declines the offer. In case you hadn't come to the conclusion yourself, Brad falls under the explanation of Person # 1 and John under the explanation of Person #2.

The scenario may be very black and white, but the bluntness completely supports the concept. You are either a person who looks at your future and first sees a career, or first sees a family. Not saying you can't want both a family and success, because you can (I do), but it is simply not attainable simultaneously. Brad will move to LA if he gets the job and that will be the end of his relationship with his girlfriend. Meanwhile John, decides to stay with his girlfriend and thus further opens the possibility of building a life with her. He values the potential of his relationship over the higher paying job. Brad does not see it this way.

With all that, this jibber jabber leads me to a more pressing and personalized subject. In an attempt to decipher why I can more easily envision myself bearing children as opposed to being the CEO of a large company, I came up with this two types of people theory (although I'm sure I'm not the first to think, write, or share the idea). I am well aware of the complexity and individuality of every person, but I don't think it's unrealistic to say that we can all place ourselves under one of these two simple categories.

I'm a 19 year old young woman, understandably still searching for a profession, still trying to earn self sufficiency, and still unsure of what my future holds for me. When I try to envision my life five years from now, it opens the floodgates to so many fears and unknowns. Yet in the midst of all the chaos there is a resolute vision of all the things I am certain I do want. All in relation to a spouse and children; a family.

I want to stumble into someone absolutely unexpectedly and I want to fall madly in love with them in a way I am most pleasantly surprised. I want a feeling so strong that every heartache, tear shed, and moment of loneliness was all worth the journey that brought me to the man by my side. I want to finally understand, as opposed to anticipate, why it never worked out with anyone else. I want to find someone that exceeds every expectation and makes me laugh in disbelief that I had ever been with anyone else. I want to be so in love that I wake up every morning unable to fathom how I got so lucky as to call this man, "mine". I want to exchange vows and boldly dare the universe to try to separating us, with not a single fear that it actually could because we were invincible together. I want us to single handedly be responsible for the creation of new life and I will be so honored to protect and carry that life until our baby is ready to meet the world. I want to do this not just once, but multiple times. I want to build a sturdy empire. I want to raise our children in a manner that I can present them to the world in confidence that their presence will make it a better place. I do not want them unfamiliar of unconditional love, for I want them to be born into arms that will never make them question their belonging. When I'm a mother, I will be a great one. I say that with unwavering faith because I know every hardship I have ever overcome holds more purpose than for my own self-growth. I will carry these experiences with grace, to and past the day that motherhood is blessed upon me. I will turn to my past times for strength and knowledge, an advantageously use them to be the best mother I can possibly be. Excitement washes over me just thinking about it all. I know it's a lot to want but I also know that no matter what happens, I will make always make due and that the best is yet to come.

How is it however, that at such a young age, I feel that I have the right to even ponder these things, let alone be so eager for this undetermined future? I've been finding myself drooling over babies and daydreaming about a man that says, "Honey I'm home", when he walks in the door. I snap out of these thoughts concerned because I have hardly even started my life yet. Just like when I was a little girl and people used to ask me what I want to be when I grew up- the answer always changes because I'm so interested in so many things! I don't want to work in retail my whole life and I certainly don't plan on finding a man to rely on because I most definitely don't want to be dependent.. So knowing all this, why am I even wasting time thinking about a husband and kids when they are light years away?

Why am I watering these thoughts when there is currently no room for the roots to grow?

The answer is simple. It's because I fall under the category of Person #2. It took me all this rambling to realize that it's simply in my nature and that these thoughts are inevitable. As long as I'm not running around trying to get knocked up, these thoughts are exactly just that- thoughts. No need to worry and no need to go off on a tangent that I'm abnormal for having them. I may not know what career to chose or where I will be five years from now, but there is nothing wrong in knowing where I want to be.

I'm not saying that my only goal in life is to be a wife and a mother, but if I find myself with a baby in my arms and a ring on my finger five years from now, I can't see a single reason why I wouldn't be a happy woman.

An Evergrowing Abyss of Unanswered Questions

It's 3:07 A.M. Here I sit in a dark room with a glowing laptop upon my thighs; typing my thoughts in an attempt to organize them.

After all these years and all the long hours of pondering, self reflection, self contradiction, and an ever growing list of questions with no answers, I wonder if I will ever find what I'm looking for. Maybe I never will and all I'll have left are a bunch of useless questions, burnt bridges, and untied loose ends. I actually think I'm going to drive myself mad on this monotonous journey to find a self that I've never even known.

I ask myself the same questions over and over again. I stay up all damn night till the wee hours of the morning, interrogating and grinding my brain for answers, so much so, that I think it's become mush. Every minute I'm alone I'm left to face my vault of a mind; a vault in which I'm embarrassed to say I've yet to crack. Whether it's a two minute bathroom break or hours of solitude behind closed doors, I find myself frantically searching for reasons why I am the way I am. Reasons why I am so welcoming to people who don't care but so determined to push away the people that do. Reasons as to why I'm so comfortable with confining all my problems into a compact metaphorical box to be tucked away there's no room for it. I suppose it's not so much reason but rather explanation I seek.

Most importantly an explanation as to why I am so distant from my family. I suppose I found myself seeing it as it was their obligation to love me. An obligation out of blood that I inherited and blood that we shared. Without it, there was no tie and there was no love. But seeing as there is no way of severing such bond, they are my family and no distance will change that. A family that I know loves me and a family that I once had a place in- a place I pretended to belong in hopes of truly feeling I did, but I never quite ended up believing it. I ask myself all the time why that is; why that was. Why I've never felt like I've had a home and why I feel like I'm still searching for my place in the world. I don't, nor will I accept my mother to be an excuse I can fall back on, for it cannot be as simple as that. I know my father would disagree; I know he'd say that using my mother as excuse for my mistakes is the bane of my existence; he'd also include some jargon about how I still use the tools from the tool box she once gave me. I know he thinks very little of me, and I don't blame him, because he doesn't know me. He doesn't know the truth of everything I've gone through and everything I fought tooth and nail to keep away from him and anyone who rifled questions my way.

He only knows a frustratingly stubborn little girl; the epitome of a nightmare; the true reason for hair turning grey. The little girl who couldn't see two feet in front of her and open her arms to his unconditional love. He wouldn't know how she tears up thinking about him or how badly she wishes she could find the answers within herself to give him the peace of knowing that he didn't fail her. He wouldn't know that she included him in her prayers every night and thanked the Lord every morning for his saving grace. He wouldn't know any of these things and so much more, and if he were reading this right now, he probably wouldn't believe a word of it because he only knows the girl who was a liar, a con artist, and a chameleon to her surroundings.

An old psychologist/ therapist/ whichever the title, once told me the reason I feel so distant from my family is because the establishment and the structure was all new to me. He told me that because I spent a childhood being shunned, moved around constantly, and without any structure, that it was normal for me to feel the way I was feeling. Normal. 

It still makes me chuckle. Before you think I'm a sick bastard, laughing at the fact that I've got no relationship with a family that has done me no wrongs, bear with me. Normal isn't exactly my forte. Not only do I not believe in the term anyway (who is to say what is normal and what isn't), but in reference to normal in the eyes of society and the way things are supposed to be per-say, I'm far from it. So I chuckle at the words of someone who spent at least eight years of his life getting a degree to listen to my problems then tell me what's normal, what's not, and to finally trick me into thinking he helped me solve my issues. That's what psychologists do. They trick you into thinking that you need their help, they get your money, and all they really do is give you tissues for the tears and guide you to finding the answers within yourself by yourself, essentially making them a useless third party in the whole process if you ask me. 

Of course I found no answers then because I wasn't open to looking for them, but now that I am, it burdens me a great deal that I still can't find them. I've had to have spent hundreds of hours searching every fold of my brain to decipher my shameful actions and emotions, yet despite how many times I look, I continually come up empty handed. Not literally empty handed, as I've come up with a handful of hypothesis' and theories, but I don't accept them. They aren't right to me. Here are a few examples and my thought processes behind them:

1. The reason I am the way I am is because of my mother. Aside from the physical and verbal abuse, the constant yearn for her to love me, and the nomadic ways of life with no structure or settlement, this must surely be why I am *ahem* fucked up.

This seems to be the most sensible answer but I hate the very idea of giving my mother even the credit of this responsibility. Not only do my cheeks tingle with disdain at the thought of her, but the thought of her destruction having a big enough fallout to still have a say in my life makes me shake my head no. I cannot fall back on this excuse anymore. I refuse to. I owe it to my father and myself, to discover what's misfiring in my brain that makes the contradictions in myself and my feelings viable. At this rate and speed, I ought to just admit myself to an anomalisitc psychology research unit to let the experts figure it out themselves.

2. Maybe I am just a shitty person with no morals, no heart, and no sympathy for my actions and how they affect others.

Debunked: This cannot be because I have a very big heart and abundance of sympathy. I feel terrible for removing myself from a body of people who care about me, want the best for me, and loved me without fail. I search for answers more so for them than I even do for myself anymore.

3. Maybe I'm depressed.

Maybe. Not sure if I believe in that to be a valid diagnosis though. Kinda stuck between believing it's an actual medical condition and that everyone experiences the symptoms and feelings that would describe the sickness at some point in their lives (losing interest in things, sleeping too much, not sleeping enough, losing one's appetite, etc), but others cope differently (obviously, that's what makes us individuals).

4. I spend too much time thinking and not enough time doing

Although this is very true, it doesn't change the fact that any actions I could force myself to perform would not be authentic, but would rather be exactly that- forced. So this theory as to why I am the way I am, just arises another question in itself and that is: Why would I need to force myself to make an effort to patch relations with my own family members? My own father? Shouldn't that just be a given? If I'm so afraid of being alone, why am I so content with separating myself from those who care about me? You see that? Questions upon questions. I could keep going, but you get the point.

Within every theory, every thought, every question, arises new questions. More questions and contradicting emotions that leave me still with no answers and a continually expanding abyss of no answers.

So at the now 4:06 A.M, I confirm that the only progress I've made in this per usual quest for answers, is that I've finally accepted I'm simply just f**ked up. 

Ok. That's a lie. I've known this for a long time. I've accepted the fact of the matter, and denied it, then accepted it again, only to then later again deny it. The process is redundant and the literal definition of insanity. 

On the plus side I did just think of a new theory to add to my list: Maybe I am actually the product of a multiverse, created when a different version of myself made the decision to be a complete and utter dumb ass who stomps through life causing destruction on my selfish journey to make sense of things, and if that's the case, then that would mean there is another me in another multiverse who is the antithesis of that. Which in that case would mean she is not destroying things, but doing good things, making good decisions, and has a strong unshaken relationship with all of her family. Without carrying on this pity party any further, one can admit how pathetically unrealistic and a gigantic waste of a time that series of thoughts just was. But hey, that's why they're just thoughts right.

On a real legitimate positive note, I am thankful for my health and a functioning brain that allows me to pick it for that in which I seek everyday. May today be the day I find what I'm looking for. If not today, then tomorrow. If not tomorrow, then may the next day lead me to the promised land. 

Patience in Isolation

I want to believe that true love exists but it's hard to fathom the idea of something existing when your constantly proven and given substantial evidence that it doesn't. I'm actually beginning to feel stupid, getting my hopes up all over again for someone I hardly know. For thinking I should follow my heart despite all the excruciation it's led me to. I thought to myself, that this time was different than any other time I had begun talking to someone. Sure, I was hit with different emotions and a connection like I had never experienced, but this time was no different than the last because this time, I was bound to get hurt again.

So that's why I'm putting an end to whatever this thing with this boy is before it even has the chance to start. I am young and I am lost. Too lost to get involved with someone again. Too lost to let someone in again because the last time I let someone in completely, it nearly destroyed me. I'm content with keeping to myself and managing the pain on my own. I don't want to be alone or feel this intensifying lonesomeness, but on the contrary, it's a price I'm willing to pay in exchange for my tethered heart not to come undone at the seams.

Loneliness is a second nature to me. I can be comfortable in the lull I used to know so well. I can be self sufficient and hold myself together without help from another. I will not be dependent upon anyone but myself and I will continue on this path of existence until I can find it in my heart to love again. I will keep my head up, my heart inside my chest, use my logic to protect me, and my faith to guide me wherever my purpose lies. In the meantime, patience is the most suitable form of action to move forward with in this voluntary isolation I remain.

Write A Book and Get It Published

#36 On my bucket list. Write a book and get it published.

When I was fifteen I started writing a book, not in mind that one day I'd publish it, but in an attempt to cope with and figure out the things I had experienced in my life. Just a few weeks ago however, I found more writings on my laptop that I had completely forgotten about, probably because I was severely depressed a couple months ago not long after I had written them. These writings, are painful, but yet beautiful. They're about my relationship with a special someone before shit hit the fan, and also after shit hit the fan.

It's crazy how these words can bring me back to exactly how I felt when I wrote them. So that's when I decided that I was going to put them in my book. A book about my life. Whether it's a hit or not, I really don't care, but I know I want to publish it one day. It's getting pretty lengthly, and in all honesty it's helped me figure out a great deal of things. Being able to put my thoughts and feelings down, not only captures the moment to be remembered forever, but organizes them in a way that I can move on with my life satisfied.

I hope that one day I can use my story to help others. To inspire others that their life is what they make it and they are not defined by what's happened to them or what they've done. That no matter how dark things might get, there is always a light to be found and there is always a reason to move forward.