Who I like and why I like them.

I like my friends. They don’t have to physically be there for me every second of every day, but I know they are always a phone call away. I know they love me, despite the distance and time between us. I know I have not been forgotten and I know I will never forget them, because they put so much sunshine into my life. Throughout the years and all of our fears, mistakes, and disagreements, we stick together because we know that every second is a blessing, a learning experience, a test of our strength. When reunited, it feels like the stars are all lined up, the world is full of rainbows and butterflies, and life appears bigger and full of endless possibilities. This is perhaps the most corny thing I have ever written, but it’s true. It’s how I feel. It’s how I hope they feel. Everything just feels right, even if everything is totally wrong and chaos surrounds us.

I liked them because they do not seek to be the center of attention. They are not selfish I like them because they listen, laugh, and love more than they talk, complain, and hate. We always have the most fun, even when doing nothing. I like them because we have similar values. We make it a point to be bluntly honest with each other, because we know the value of truth and correction. They usually use their common sense, they know their self-worth, their lives do not revolve around other’s opinions of them.

I like my friends. We don’t put labels on our friendships, we just let them be. We know they are special, and although we do not have time in our every day life to communicate, we value them all the same. 

I love my best friends. Why? Because their friendship is unconditional.

 

 

Mr. Meets-My-Criteria is not always Mr. Right

Note: This is a personal story, and sharing it makes me feel even more awful for breaking a heart. I hope I can forgive myself one day, just like he forgave me.  I apologize for the cheesiness in this story beforehand, but this was one of the many lessons in my life that has taught me to seek pure happiness- the kind that comes from within, rather than  the “happiness” that is defined for us by society, by our friends, and by our own insecurities.

~ 

There once was a boy.
He was wonderful, witty, funny, and charming.
He was from a well to-do family.
He was tall, handsome, and very sweet.
He spoke my language, he understood my culture, he knew my family.

I was visiting family in a small, small town where everybody knew everybody else.
I met him randomly, he was on his motorcycle.
I was awkward, skinny, and jet lagged.

He was good friends with my girl friends, and he shook my hand and said, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I smiled and laughed, and said I needed to go, but that I’d probably see him around.

Later that day, I was surprised by him visiting my friend’s house [where I was at].
He showed up with a bouquet full of hand-picked field daisies – my absolute favorite.

He smiled and gave them to me, and said, “I saw these and I thought of how I met you earlier this day, and wanted to give them to you as a welcoming gift. Hope you enjoy your time here.”
And with that, he drove away.
My friends giggled, and said that he’s just a gentleman.

We became friends, he would call, we would hang out with our mutual friends.
We were just friends, just friends, just friends.
But he liked me, and everyone knew, but there were complications.

He had a girlfriend. Her name was Victoria.
She was bossy, and mean, and she didn’t treat him well.
But she was his girlfriend, and I didn’t want to interfere.

He left her. He said she didn’t appreciate all that he did for her.
He was tired and he knew she wasn’t the kind of girl he wanted to be with.

He was so nice to me, so very nice.
He would get me flowers randomly, he would bring me ice cream from my favorite place, even though they closed before 2 in the morning.

He was sweet, and he liked me, and he gave me more attention than I’ve ever even wanted.
And I liked it, not him, but the attention.

He liked my curly hair, and asked me not to straighten it, or “whatever you do to it.”
He liked my awkwardness, my laugh, my random singing.
He didn’t think I was too skinny.
He didn’t mind my pickiness with food, my indecisiveness, my fears.
He was always, always there when I needed him to be.
And he liked all the things I myself hated about myself.
He made me feel like the most important person in the world.
He was a keeper – that’s what they all said.

But I didn’t like him.
I liked that he fit the criteria I had for a future boyfriend.
He fit it so well.
I liked the attention he gave me, how he was proud of me in front of his friends.
I liked that he was a nice guy.
I liked everything about him, but I didn’t like him.

So I pretended to like him.
I thought maybe one day I would actually like him.
He told me he loved me,
I smiled and hugged him and didn’t say it back.

A few weeks later, he asked me if I felt that way about him,
Since I never said “I love you” back.
So I didn’t know what to do, and I had never loved a boy before,
And thought – maybe this is love and that’s all there is to it..
So, I let the lie come out of my mouth – I love you.

He was happy, and I was happy that he was happy.
And maybe this was forever, but I was confused.

I didn’t love him, I knew that, but what if I never found anybody better than him to love me.
And I really knew that he truly loved me.

But after a few months, and some distance – we fell apart.
Or, rather, my pretending fell apart.
He would call every day, he was sweet and hopeful and everything I could have ever asked for.
But I told him that we couldn’t do this anymore.
He asked me if there was somebody else, and there really wasn’t anybody else.

I told him he was perfect, that he couldn’t have loved me better.
I told him that it wasn’t his fault, it was honestly me.
And this was the most truthful I had every been with him.

But I don’t think he believed me – He thought there was someone else, he thought it was his fault, he thought all of my kind breaking-this-up words were just attempts to make him feel better.
But I was truthful, and I honestly knew he deserved someone who could return his love and kindness.
I wanted to at least LIKE him, and I tried really hard to, but I just didn’t.
And I don’t know why, but I guess that sometimes Mr. Meets-My-Criteria is not always Mr. Right.

We parted ways, he was still a sweetheart.
He’d call on my birthday, on Christmas, and sometimes randomly a few times a month.
We would talk about life, we would laugh about good memories, we were just friends.
But in his good-byes I knew it wasn’t okay.
He wasn’t okay, and I really, really needed him to be okay.

I broke his heart. He told me that.
I saw him a year later, and he hugged me, told me I looked better than ever.
He asked if I would have tea and dessert with him that day.
I figured that that was the least I could do for him.

I apologized. I said I needed to do it in person, rather than on the phone.
He asked me to stop, he said he forgave me a long time ago.
He said he wished that things didn’t end the way they did,
He said he wished things just didn’t end at all.
I said that I was surprised he didn’t hate me,
He said, “Honey, I could never hate you.”
I almost cried. He was too nice to me.

We dropped the topic of “us” and talked about other stuff.
He said he’d dated a few girls, and that they couldn’t compare with me.
I laughed, and told him that that was ridiculous.
He laughed, and thanked me for changing his standards.

It was a nice evening, with an old friend whose heart I broke.

He took me home, and I asked him to please forget about me.
He looked sad, really sad. He said he wouldn’t forget, but that he was learning to let go.
He wished me luck and happiness in my current relationship, and he was sincere.

He finally let go. He has found happiness. We’re both happy.
But I have yet to forgive myself for breaking a heart that was so kind to me.

And from this I learned a lesson:
I learned to trust my instincts.
I learned that you can’t force yourself to love someone.
I learned that just because someone is amazing, they may not be for me to keep.
I learned that being truthful is important, always.

 

12202011

Being Thankful for the Good, the Bad, and Everything in Between.

I am thankful.

My life thus far has not been perfect, but it has been beautiful.

I have been hurt by those dearest to me, I have been lied to by those whom I trusted with my life, I have been betrayed by those who swore to be there for me even if the world came crashing down.
I have been hurt.

I lost my hero to cancer, I lost a cousin to bad choices,
I lost a piece of my heart when they left this earth.
I have lost.

I believed that my best was not good enough, I have felt like an absolute failure, I have failed, I broke a heart, I made choices I later regretted.
I have cried.

But through the hurt, the loss, the tears I was given strength, wisdom, and a second chance (sometimes a third, a fourth, and so on…)
I learned that the fabric of trust is something that can be stitched together- and sometimes, the stitching  holds it together better than before it was torn.
But stitching it up – that’s work, patience, forgiveness, and humility.
I learned to value and love people when they are present, because people’s presence is more temporary than we want to believe.
I have learned to believe in myself, because God believes in me. He made me the way I am for a purpose, and my constant self-criticism was actually dishonoring Him.
I learned to be honest with myself and others – I learned to acknowledge my flaws, and battle them with prayer, support, and a positive attitude.

I am thankful – that God teaches me valuable life lessons through difficult situations.
He opens my eyes to the world as it is, rather than to the world I perceive it to be in my sheltered, every day life.
I am thankful, because I have been blessed beyond measure – with everything I could possibly need and so much more.
I have been blessed with a beautiful family and friends, who support me always – financially, spiritually, and mentally, whether I need the support or not.
I am grateful to a God who gives me wisdom when I ask for it and even when I don’t, who guides me in times of struggle, who offers me comfort in times of despair, who loves me – always.

By no means am I suggesting that I am always this grateful. I sometimes scream into my pillow out of frustration. I go on long runs when I am confused. I yell when I am angry. I say hurtful things to those who love me so very much when I am disappointed.
But all of this wears out my body and my soul – it makes me lose sleep, my appetite, and my enthusiasm to live every day as if it were a gift from Heaven.
At the end of all of my reactions to my struggles, I am exhausted and helpless.
And through all of this, God keeps saying “I’m here, I’m always here, I promise you I’m taking care of it.”
I believe Him, but I want solutions now.
But the solutions I seek, I soon find out, don’t involve my problems.
They involve my attitude about my problems.

I am not beautiful inside and out. But I want to be.
I want to be the kind of person who can face life and all of its chaos with love, courage, and wisdom.
I want to be grateful every single second of every single day – for the good, the bad, and everything in between
Because I am blessed beyond measure – I am the daughter of the King.