No rest.

It's really important to me to live at peace with other people, and that might make me what some people call a pacifist. Of course, I hate labels. The frugal part of me appreciates substance over all else. Anyhow, living at peace with other people is difficult, because peace isn't about the absence of conflict. Peace is about what's on the other side of that conflict.

When I have a relationship that isn't quite right, I suffer: I lose sleep; I have trouble eating. I just generally feel like ass. And what I wish I could do is just throw the whole thing away. It's not worth all the pain incurred. Being alone is preferable. Except it's not. It's not preferable to be alone. It's not good to be alone. People need to be with other people. We're pack animals.

But people are flawed. I am flawed. So when I get together with another person, we will have a flawed relationship. And that's where I get stuck, romantically speaking. I can have flawed friendships - sure. But flawed romance? That feels wrong and sinful, like God has some perfect person for me, and I'm going to miss out on that person by being in the flawed relationship I'm in.

Meandering thoughts late at night.

Cheers.

Goooood morning!

Art Nouveau Cast Iron Frame - Daydreaming Woman

It's 10:45am, and I'm just starting to feel awake. All my life, I have forced myself to be an early-riser, and now as an adult, I'm finding that that may not actually be who I am. I've just started watching this eBay shop for what they're selling, and have been enjoying looking over the art that they sell. I need to get a bunch of things together to ship this morning, and then I'm going to do some thrifting, see my Salvation Army pals.

I left pancake batter out for a couple days after I didn't use it all. After one day, it made good pancakes. After two days (i.e. just now, this morning), it was disgusting. Lesson learned. I may eat a lot of pancakes for a normal person who does not live in a diner. I'm okay with that. I decided a long time ago that if I want to eat pancakes, I will make them whole wheat/buckwheat, and I won't feel guilty. I will feel awesome for taking care of myself so well.

Someone confronted me about reselling over the weekend, and I responded without ire (very proud of myself for this). "Is that even legitimate?" "Yup", I responded, "without question". This is, at its essence, what all wholesalers do. Office Depot does not make all of its products. Junk warehouses make money from people digging through their wares. This is part of the economy. If you pay attention, it's happening all around you. Farmers sell their produce through stores. I'm all about buying direct, giving business to the little guy, and I'd like to remain in that role. I'd like to be the little guy who collects cool stuff to offer to people who happen to be looking for it, but don't have the time and energy to thrift constantly. I'd like to offer a service to people who love the hunt, but want to hunt on a larger scale (not everyone has thrift stores on every corner). Anyhoo, I was reinvigorated for my task at hand, and will enjoy the hunt that much more today (when I get off my butt and get down to it, of course).

I attend an amazing church that talks about refugees, and yesterday we talked about the Old Testament, the book of Jeremiah, and the realities of war refugees then and now. Please take a moment to read the most recent news about Syria, and consider making a donation to MCC, currently providing direct aid to Syrian refugees.

Regroup, keep movin'...*

Vintage I. Magnin Pottery - Pretty neat, huh?

I am currently sitting in a whole house, looking onto a rain-spattered patio, two needy poodles by my side, French Toast and coffee in my belly, and listening to talk radio, ensuring that my extreme liberalism is mediated a bit by the other side.

What is it about me and the fall that makes me such a mess? What is it about me that makes me such a mess? At this time last year, I was working through my final year of grad school, and it felt like agony. It felt neverending, like every day was scheduled to the minute, and I had no room to move. This is different. This is emotional exhaustion, and I'm going to sit in this chair until I figure out what to do about it.

How did this happen? Well, it was a confluence of events, really: I haven't been doing so well on reaching my goal of no more freak-outs and no more chasing men (I know - I'm sorry), and I'm dirt poor and constantly worrying about money and blaming myself for my own choice to work in a field that will never help me leave the garage, and I'm in a weird spot where my support system has changed pretty drastically and I'm still trying to restructure and rebuild.

And then there is the reality of being a grown-up, that relationships are difficult, work is everyday, and sometimes low blood sugar becomes life threatening. Sometimes I want to scream at my friends who don't see that the answers are right in front of them, but right now I'm on the other side, unsure that there are any answers or solutions to what are really pretty small problems that I have allowed to overwhelm me.

I don't believe in "God's lessons" or that somehow I'm in a complicated play where in the end, I will be wiser because everything has worked out perfectly for the best. I believe in choice, and human nature, and this morning I am really, really stuck.

I'm taking some time off from life, gonna regroup, try to make sense of it all. Peace out :)

*The title is part of a lyric from a math album I sang on in elementary school. The full lyric goes, Regroup, keep movin', don't let the numbers get you down. Classic.

Perhaps all is not lost.

Vintage, handwoven, Scotland, mohair, hot pink!

...And one more thing: Don't think that the great love which was once granted to you, when you were a boy, has been lost; how can you know whether vast and generous wishes didn't ripen in you at that time, and purposes by which you are still living today? I believe that that love remains so strong and intense in your memory because it was your first deep aloneness and the first inner work that you did on your life...

Rainer Maria Rilke (Letters to a Young Poet - #7)

Drunk teenagers

Vintage Peanuts bed-sheet - Charlie Brown & Snoopy :)

Yesterday, I hung out with drunk teenagers. It was 5 o'clock in the evening, and they wanted to start roaming the neighborhood, so I accompanied them. We went to the park, swung on the swings, and generally had a nice time. They were overly affectionate and making friends with people they referred to as "hobos", as in, "Hobos sure are cool, Megan." Eventually, I decided I'd had enough and turned for home. Once we were inside an enclosed space, I immediately wanted them to leave. I wanted to sit with adults and eat dinner, and not have teenagers screaming in my ear.

At one point in my life, I too was a stupid drunk teenager. I drank a lot in high school, and by the time I graduated, was pretty much done with the scene. I got to college, and it seemed so strange to me. Where was the fun? Where did I fit in if I didn't drink? How could I be social and well-liked, but not have to go to worship night and sing hymns? It never seemed like there were other options, so I played the part. A close friend regales me with stories of me at parties, drunk and topless, which I have no memory of.

I drank for the same reason most people do. I drank to get away from feeling lost and alone. I drank to fit in. I drank to pretend that everything in my life was okay, and that I wasn't miserable all the time. It worked. But it also brought out my selfishness, and my tendency to be unkind. I was too honest, unfiltered, and passed out quickly. I was like a tornado, spinning quickly through the room, spreading loads of damage, then disappearing into the night.

I don't miss those days. I don't miss feeling so awful, hating myself so incredibly much. I like myself today, and I strive to spend my time in a way that encourages self-love and discourages self-loathing. Oftentimes, I am too hard on myself, and I expect more of myself than I do of anyone else. But sometimes I get it right, and then on a rare occasion think, "Gosh I'm glad to be alive". But that's not today. I'll try again tomorrow.

Peace out :)

Postscript (10/21/12): I in no way contributed to the teenagers being drunk, just in case you worrywarts are having anxiety.

Love them anyway :)

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered.
Love them anyway.

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives.
Do good anyway.

If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.

Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable.
Be honest and frank anyway.

The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds.
Think big anyway.

People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs.
Fight for a few underdogs anyway.

What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight.
Build anyway.

People really need help but may attack you if you do help them.
Help people anyway.

Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth.
Give the world the best you have anyway.

 ~ Kent M. Keith 

When I was in high school, and going through a pretty difficult time in my life (parent in the hospital), my school found it prudent to send me to a sports psychologist. Whatever. That was the last thing I needed at the time. They might as well have sent me to an accountant. I was sixteen, and my life was falling apart. I did not need to talk about swimming.

But he was a wonderful man, who really wanted to help me, but who, because of his credentials, could only do so under the auspices of sports psychology. Now that I'm older, I know that he could have done it differently and still have been ethical, but I guess he did the best he could with the information he was given. I admit that I was a particularly difficult teenager, who probably said that nothing was wrong, so I really can't blame the guy for trying.

My heroes were Ralph Waldo Emerson and David Thoreau. I was a romantic, a dreamer, at my core. So when he gave me this poem, it became incredibly formational in my approach to life. The ideas spoke to me in my I-refuse-to-be-cynical view of the world. They told me that there was power in my choices. It gave me hope to think that there were other people in the world who fought as hard as I did.

That thought still gives me hope :)

Hope for better.

Vintage Christian Dior Eyeglasses - yeah buddy :)

There's a Lori McKenna song that I listened to on repeat last fall. I couldn't get enough of it. It made me feel like someone was speaking from my heart; someone understood how it felt to always be the most honest and vulnerable person in the room.

It seemed like I'd always been in a relationship with someone who cared enough to sleep with me, but not enough to be seen with me. And over and over I felt alone in my feelings, judged by my friends for staying with men who treated me badly, and judged by the significant (?) other for always being too much.

I suppose those experiences taught me to be less expectant, less dependent upon other people for supporting my emotional well-bring. And that's a good thing, no matter what. Today, I'm pretty glad I had a tough time after my first big heartbreak. It's been thirteen years, and I've learned so much about life and love and other people. It's difficult to be bitter when so much good has come out of so much pain. But I'd never tell that seventeen-year-old that her heartache was a good thing. I'd tell her that it was going to hurt more than she ever expected, but that many many years later, things would get better.

A challenging task

 

I am not feeling so great about myself right now. I feel like people are judging me for having a masters degree and not having a solid plan for my life. And these aren't imaginary people - these are people I love! So I'm sitting here trying to convince myself that somehow it's more important to be myself than it is to be who other people expect me to be, even when those people are the people I love most in the world. That's a challenging task.

In school, I had a teacher who scared me, and no matter how much time I spent with this person, I never felt truly accepted. I felt small, and insignificant; not enough. As time went by, I realized that even though I respected this person more than I respected myself, I had to let go of the need to be accepted by them. In order to maintain my own sanity, I had to throw away the idea that my identity somehow hinged on their perception of me, even though that perception was super important to how I saw myself as a person and professional.

So now to be faced with that same dilemma in any form is only a stiff reminder of how important it is to love myself first. I will crumble if I allow an imagined perception of someone else's judgement to determine who I am, even though my faith tells me that other people are more important than me.

Feelings of lost-ness

Handmade Hmong quilted wall hanging

There is a deep melancholy that comes with graduating. My bachelors degree came and went, and I don't quite recall what I did afterwards. I kept my three jobs, and enjoyed quality book time and wandering the aisles at the public library. I think I mostly just lost myself in a terrible relationship that all started with a black string bikini and a Winnebago. I started training for an Ironman triathlon, and got diagnosed with diabetes and epilepsy.

Graduating didn't make my life fall apart, but it gave me less structure to cope when life did fall apart. I think I've created a significant structure now that will help to alleviate some of that lost-ness that I experienced eight years ago. Mostly I need to ride out the weirdness. Maybe I'll also go to the beach a couple times.

My heart is in the jungle.

 

For a moment today, I had an intense rush of longing for the jungle. I longed for simplicity, and candles, and the river. I saw my own bare feet, and the emptiness of the day. I saw myself alone, and it was lovely. To think of it makes my heart ache. To think more makes me want to cry. I left my heart in the jungle, but I really don't know why.