Ignorance is Bliss

I have been saying, “I need a break,” for weeks now. I needed a break from the day to day, from school, from the busy life I lead. I needed a break from the expectations that I have given to others of me and I needed a break from me.

I spend so much time alone I have self diagnosed myself with everything imaginable. The truth is I am constantly surrounded by other people but I am also mentally checked out at every opportunity thinking about the 2,001 things I have to do. I worry about everything, I think about everything just as much so it is no wonder why there is no escaping me. I am constantly on alert ready to attack anything thrown my way but sometimes I would love to be just ignorant to. . .well. . .everything.

I haven’t slept well for months and physically I have been a little less active than usual. Everywhere I go I see faces, hear conversations and I react and act to them. . .if not externally, definitely internally. I claim to not judge but I also have been guilty of the oh so dramatic eye roll when I hear a conversation that I have judged to be stupid. I am guilty of laughing at good gossip or engaging, I am guilty of letting my mind run free when it needs to focus. I love love love people watching, I cannot express how much I enjoy connecting with others but it is exhausting. I have no on/off switch because I don’t like to be rude and just like Dale Carnegie suggested and believed, taking a sincere interest in others is very important. I cannot agree more, but, and I say this with complete trepidation, that too can be exhausting.

The voices (self-assertions) in my head are seemingly on a treadmill of emotion, adrenaline and ambition but they never shut the hell up. This afternoon I found something that I have not had in a very long time. . .silence.

Today I decided to throw out the books and have a me day. I went to the spa to get pampered, certainly that is relaxing on it’s own but the most soothing of the whole day was my complete abandon of worry and wonder. Midway through my manicure I realized I was staring off into space. There were no thoughts of school or deadlines. . .no worry about my book and when it will be published. . . no self-depreciating thoughts about my weight. . .there was nothing but complete peace and tranquility. The ladies working around me were speaking a different language, I had no clue what they were saying. I couldn’t laugh at a joke they may have said because I didn’t speak the language, I couldn’t take not of something interesting they said-for a book idea, I couldn’t judge them. . .which would then stir up a whole series of thoughts that would cloud my ADD brain. I couldn’t do anything but sit there and enjoy the clarity that silence was giving my brain.

I found that sometimes we cloud our own judgment and worry ourselves with things that will never happen. We wonder and absolutely must know why things work the way they work. We worry about why people do the things they do. . .we make everything about something and maybe something is about nothing.

Today was about me, because. . .I don’t know. . .and that’s okay.


Truth is

When your dream is to write, how do you get around to writing about things that aren’t related to writing? Sometimes I feel like I am not writing enough and lately my frustration and emotions have gotten the best of me.

Blogging has always been one of my favorite things to do and the amount of time I dedicate to it has dwindled down to nothing. I don’t write to be heard, I write to feel through every emotion, thought and frustration that lingers in my body. I no longer can tolerate keeping things in. Writing is a release and for some time now I have been confined to myself. I find that my writing and my life goes best when I am the most honest.

There is a common misconception about honesty, and that is that it has to hurt. I disagree, I believe the dishonesty packs a harder and more painful punch than the truth. . .with that being said, here goes.

2013 wasn’t a bad year, it just wasn’t the year I really set out for myself. For the first time in a long time I allowed myself to be lazy. However, lazy isn’t something I do well. I didn’t invest as much time in my health as I could. . .all because I invested my time in less than ideal things. I fed into people and their negativity. I found reasons to be lazy, I found reasons to be negative, I made exceptions and I met excuses with acceptance and dressed them up as reasons.

2014 is a huge year for me. I will be 30, which in all honesty is just a few candles on a cake, the aging doesn’t mean much to me. The milestone that will accompany my birthday month is what makes it all worth it. This is the year I become a first generation college graduate and it is an incredible and overwhelming feeling. 2013 was a stepping stone toward progress in this goal but the completion of it is going to feel like such a sweet victory for just and average “Jo,” from Tampa Florida.

Going to school and taking care of my son has never been more important to me. Every day that goes by I realize that my son grows an inch taller and years further away from the little boy born 12 years ago. I look at him and it amazes me how incredible he is. When I look at my son at times I wonder, “Did I do that?” We are by nature our own worse critics and even when things are marvelous the negatives burden us with the magnitude of their weight. Why is happiness so dense and sadness like the weight of the world? When things do not go as well as I would like, I question how well I have truly done.

A couple of months ago I faced some challenges. I allowed my personal life to affect my parenting all because I wanted to save face. I didn’t listen to my son and things turned out sour. That experience is behind us and even though I feel as though I lost a nice pair of friends, I believe it was ultimately for the best. I learned from that experience and I realized that I have to advocate more for my son. He does not have to toughen up, he does not have to be a man. I know I will not be around forever but while I am, I am going to make sure I am front and center when my son needs me.

In the past year my son has been bullied and treated terribly by not only peers, but by some members of his family. On occasion I have attempted to address the issues but I was met with resistance. I have no intentions of exploring the option of mediating among other parents and children. I cannot change people, but I can do my best to show my son what really matters; his perception of his self. I used to try to talk things through but I realized that sharing your child’s weaknesses sometimes harnesses the opportunities for people to use them to build a case against them. If a child lies once, some people stick to that and run with it. My son comes home sometimes crying because he has been called a faggot by someone who is supposed to be family. When asked if they are my son’s cousins, they reply with an eye roll. My son is noones puppet for popularity. Children lately use more profanity and vulgar language than I ever knew possible at their age. I hear children calling one another bitches and hoes, and faggots. I can’t believe the types of things coming out of their mouths. Children like this are the reason why my son cries on a weekly basis and I will not allow it. Perhaps this is my own vendetta because I didn’t feel heard as a child, but I will not allow my son to go on any further without a voice. Children need to learn that good grades mean nothing when you have a rotten spirit. You have to teach your kids to be good people as well as smart people. My son is my life, and I will no longer allow my life to be messed with.

Do what you love. . .

So it has been about seven months since I returned to work. The work that pays the bills temporarily while I finish my masterpiece of a first book (yeah I think it is brilliant, judge me, I can’t hear ya!). I feel as though “work,” is cramping my style. I told myself I would never be one of those people working for the weekend, but here I am thanking god for every Friday and catching a case of the Mondays by Sunday morning.

Work sucks for those of us who have to do it. For me this is certainly temporary but I still cannot help but to wait for the moment in which I am no longer doing a job just to do a job. Writing is freeing, this moment I am taking to talk about it, is freeing. Writing is everything that “work,” isn’t.

I am not much of a complainer but I have nothing to gain in the 9-5 job I have now, well 7-3:30. Sure, I have a decent schedule but by time they are done with me for the day, I am completely done with myself for the day. I kick myself in the ass everyday for not being done sooner with my goal and not realizing my writing dream sooner but just as I am about to give in to my little pity party I remind myself, it is all happening for a reason.

There are some experiences that I have lived that I otherwise would not have experienced had I started my life at the “right,” time. So with that in mind, I am glad to be where I am mentally. Though my physical surroundings do not suit me entirely, I know I will not be crunching numbers for another person much longer. This job has an expiration date and I am sorry, I am not sorry. . . .not really. I am not sorry at all!


It’s okay

It has been a long time since I wrote anything for the sake of blogging. I have this whole Author driven goal in mind and I suppose I forget sometimes that my heart lies in free writing, or creative writing as most would say. There have been many things going on in my life in the past year, all great. Not entirely, but truthfully everything I have endured up until this point has had some bitter sweet end. The life lessons of loss and heart ache make me every bit the Johanna I am today.

A small pang of heart ache threw off my equilibrium and admittedly it took me a minute to catch my bearings. I am afraid that I have been quite fraudulent in my expression. With the aforementioned in mind, heartache does not do much to help my creative mind. I don’t write songs but I do write poems on occasion, this past year my poetry sky rocketed. The best of my poems is not past me, but the sulking sorrow of a broken heart has excaped my writing and I am starting to feel just like my old self again and even better yet, my writing is starting to feel like me again.

The people I surround myself with have provided me with a much needed personal inventory.

The other week I went to bowling with a couple of friends. I invited my co-worker to join us. I felt like he’d benefit from a night out with a few 20 somethings. By the end of the night, it was I who was benefiting from the outing. I had been having a hard week because I came to a realization that I was not entirely happy with. He and I were talking about all sorts of things (in between his hiccups). He then said something that he probably thought meant nothing, but it truthfully put everything into perspective for me.

I am very good about controlling my feelings. No one makes me angry, no one makes me sad. I choose whether or not things affect me negatively or positively. When it comes to relationships, I am mostly the same but when you are invested in something/someone you shift your priorities a bit. This is what the conversation with my co-worker (I rather call him friend because he is a person that I consider more than a 9-5 person) was about. I was telling him about how things ended in a past relationship and how hard I took it, and how I had just encountered what seemed to be the hardest part of a break up (if you can call it that), that moment you know the other person has moved on. I went on to tell him that I imagined it would be harder for the other person but apparently it had not because I was somewhat stagnant and he was moving along perfectly. Then simple brilliance ensued. He said, “The way you perceive things is just your reality, it is not always the other persons reality.” I always imagined things to be perfect, pristine and wonderful but the truth is, that was my clouded reality of the situation. So in brief, what I thought was perfect, was only perfect in my eyes . . . so if in my eyes it was perfect, it could also be over and done with whenever I wanted.

I sat in the car with him for maybe three hours just chatting and getting to know each other better. It reminded me of the nights I spent talking the night away with my best friend Jay. It was nice to just talk, though I kept saying I talked a lot but he did most of the talking. However, I feel that often the best things I have to say are in silence. The very next morning I felt a million times better. I very much needed that decompression because my broken heart had been a distraction.

To no surprise, a great part of me is distracted, at all times. There isn’t much I don’t think about, plan and/or worry about, so I am taking a hint from my own words, “resist resisting to exist.” Which is probably the best unintentional line I ever came up with. For the people with the cheap seats in the back, “resist resisting to exist,” means to stop keeping yourself from living life by fearing it. On the positive flip side, constantly wishing and dreaming has kept me from enjoying all that the ground has to offer, so I aim high but try to remain grounded as much as possible.

I don’t know what I have accomplished in writing this tonight, but I know that I am often controlled and encased in my own self proclamation, so it feels good to be honest with myself and whoever is reading.

It is okay to be broken, when you are on the way to healing and almost complete.

Next. . .

I believe in supporting anything that benefits anyone and does not inflict harm or endanger the betterment of others. There is very little I get angry about but the deliberate negativity toward people I love, know, and respect is intolerable on my part. As a person I realize that I have hypocritical tendencies…I teach my son not to use profanity but I do, does it make me a bad person, I hardly doubt it…but I am not alone in these habits.

Gay marriage, is not traditional according to some I understand it and I greatly appreciate the people who have a, “to each their own,” mentality, but I won’t stay quiet because I have a choice and I choose to voice my opinion.

Lets take a walk down memory lane…

Think about all you who are female, you wouldn’t have a voice or a choice in the matter if it were not for your bra burning predecessors. So consider yourself the old gay!

My non-white friends, do you realize that the minority race was considered anyone that was non-white. Today the minority definition is still the same however dominates in the population regardless of being a, “minority.” So with that said, gay, is the new minority, no matter the color!

We support rights, we quote the constitution but there is no clear definition of marriage in the constitution! Perhaps biblically, but we are not a country united by one religion, we are a colorful county with an abundance of different beliefs.

If we were to streamline everything, what religion wins? Christianity…why, because it is the majority?

Well, if we must instill the rules of the bible to govern our country, lets not forget the other commandments that have not been applied.

Yes laws punish murderers and crooks, that is of course is there isn’t any reasonable doubt that deems it admissible.

But adultery, fornication…

I had my son before I was married, in fact I was never married. I’m not alone.

So will I be the next gay? Will some unconstitutional rule, dictate how I parent or if I parent at all? Because certainly I’d have to have the child because according to the rights that people are trying to take from me now, I won’t have another choice.

I adore my son and would never have an abortion, could extenuating circumstances have changed that, certainly.

So while people are out there supporting, “traditional,” marriage, think about how traditional you really are.

I support gay marriage, I’m not sorry if you don’t.

(I figured I would post this on my blog in lieu of recent events, this was a FB post a few weeks ago).