Sunday, February 12, 2012

Not Okay

I'm going to be REAL here for a minute.

I'm always real, but sometimes I try to really put my best foot forward on my blogs. I want to be inspirational. I want people to say "yeaaaah.... yeah, I feel better now! I'm gonna go conquer the fuckin world!" after they read my posts.

OK, that's a little much.
But I really don't want people to walk away going "what a fucking drag."

Well, too bad, tonight. Cause I'm going to be a drag.

The fact is, we live in such a fucking unrealistic world that it's.. fucking unrealistic.

I've learned in my 27 years on earth that people don't like you unless you are perpetually happy.
OK, let me rephrase. Unless you ACT perpetually happy. Your mom just died? Cry a little, but tell me a funny joke and say it's all okay because *I* can't handle the fact that you might not be okay.
Everyone has to be okay all the time.
Nobody knows how to handle "not okay".

"Not okay" is for Prozac, therapists, and psych wards.
Not for friends or boyfriends.

Not for family, even. It's not okay to be not okay.

And THAT, my friends, is NOT O-FUCKING-KAY.

Grow the fuck up. 
Be real.

Nobody is okay all the time.
If you are, you got yours comin to you, trust me.
And when it does, after you've laughed at all of us who weren't okay at some point.. when youv'e pushed us away because the ugliness of "not okay" was too much for you.. when we were honest about our feelings and you thought it meant we were self-centered and just wanted pity?

Well... here's the thing.
We'll probably still be there for you. Because those of us who've been "not okay" a lot... we know that we can't abandon those who aren't okay. Even those who are new to it. Even those who by every right, don't deserve even a fucking pat on the back or a hug after the way they treated "not okay" people at some point.
But if we aren't....
and if at some point you find yourself alone with nowhere to turn.. with people saying horrible things about you, simply because you are sad...
if at some point, you feel you just can't keep going, because you're so NOT okay?

Just remember this....
If we'd all just been real with each other to begin with, we'd all be a lot more okay right now.
I'm not going to put on a fucking fake happy face for you...
I hope you won't do that for me either, because that's not what I need in my life. I need real. I need tragic. I need happy when you'r ehappy, I need sad when you're sad. I need girlfriends that I can hold in bed while we both cry about how shitty life is. I need someone to understand when I say I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE and to just hope I'm still doing it tomorrow. Because usually when I say that... I know.. I still have to do it. I just need you to love me, and to understand.

Is there anywhere in this world that I can be real and be loved?
If not, i'd like to check out, now.
If so, please lead the way.......

Friday, February 3, 2012

The Traveling Red Dress experience.

To be honest, there's a part of me that balks at all of this.
I've done a lot of frivolous, over-the-top, senseless things in my life. To feel pretty. To feel loved. To feel fun. To fill some hole in me that can't really... ever... be filled. Not by a dress.

And my beautiful, amazing sister decided that I needed a traveling red dress.

i must admit I've been less-than-psyched about the whole thing. Finding a formal dress for me that looks awesome and makes me feel like a princess and not a whore is ...

I felt pretty at said sister's wedding to husband #2... and that feels weird even saying,because at this point I think of him as the only man she's ever had in her life.

But seriously. I think she needs the red dress more for herself than anyone.

My sister. She takes care of 4 little messy crazy sweet and adorable boys. And 1 big messy crazy sweet funny and sometimes adorable 30-something yr old boy.
She takes care of me.
she takes care of her employees.

She works her job like a bossssss..... she is everything to everyone that anyone needs.

She deserves the red dress. Not me.
Not me.

And yet as I looked at myself in the mirror trying on my two prospects for this... I felt a combination of elation and desperation.

You know what I wanted my red dress to be? Getting past the first round of American Idol or the voice.

Making money at modeling.

Becoming a midwife.

moving 7 hours away to try to make things work with a man whose MO is to not try to make things work.

and... getting married. Going to the prom. Getting married.. getting fucking MARRIED. Not being the bridesmaid or maid-of-honor or wedding pianist or wedding singer... GETTING MARRIED.
I don't even know if I want to be married but I want the dress. I want the ring. I want the magic. I want to loook into a man's eyes whom I love and know that he loves me enough to make a commitment.

I want to go to a formal dance. I'm 27 and frankly i've ever been to ANY Formal event.

This is presenting more of a dilemma than I thought.

This year, I want to be taken out for valentine's day. I want the full treatment.
I want to be pampered, kissed. I want my hand held. I want flowers and a dinner in formal-wear. I want ... SOMETHING.
And for the past 9 years, there has been nothing.

I ignore the day as best I can, but what can you really do? Pretend it doesn't exist? Mope around in your house with sappy movies and cry? that's nothing more than not only do you not HATE V-day, but you love it, and you just want to be loved on Valentine's Day.

I just want that. I want I want I want.

I want to ask for it, but I'm too scared.

I shouldn't have to fucking ask.

I can't imagine anything more amazing than my loved one showing up at my door on Feb 14th, by surprise... just because he wanted to make it special. Just because he boycotts holidays and birthdays, but Iw as important enough.

I want to be important enough.

No dress will do that... except......

it made me realize I'm important enough to someone. Someone who gave me the dresses. Someone who wanted me to feel beautiful. To do something totally illogical and fun and to go in a beautiful ball gown...
No matter if I have to take MYSELF out.

Ok, it matters.
But what I'm saying is..
thanks, sis. And if you have any ideas on making the rest happen, work your fucking magic.