Velma, Robert, Norine, and Willy

I finally finished all of my unpacking today. I hung up the last few pictures on my wall, my grandparents. It's been a few years since I lost my last grandparent, and it was bittersweet to see their faces smiling up at me. I have to sit and wonder what they would think of how my life has been and where I am now. Would they be proud? Would they laugh with me? Would my past make their heart ache the way mine does sometimes?

I see so much of their influence on the person that I've become. I find myself listening to swing and jazz, dancing and humming a tune as I open my mail, just as one grandma used to. Every winter I take up knitting and crocheting as it reminds me of her. I think of my other grandma every time I bake. She's the one who taught me all of the family recipes. My grandpa's laugh lives in every corny joke I tell, and my other grandpa's tongue in all of my smart-ass sarcasm.

My grandparents helped to raise me. I don't mean that in the sense that my parents weren't around, quite the contrary. We happened to be able to expand on a house when I was around four years old to make it big enough to fit all four of us kids and one set of grandparents. I loved growing up with my grandparents. I thank them every day that I am the old soul that I am. I thank them for the values and common sense that they taught me. I thank them for helping me to appreciate all of the goodness and life around me. They were always the most grateful people, and that rubs off more than anything.

It's sad that they aren't around to sit and have pinochle games like we used to. I have so much that I'd like to talk about with them now, so many things I wish I had known to say when they'd left. I always remember them when the holidays draw near because of how much bigger those four people made my family feel. Their lives were by no means easy, but they made them beautiful, wonderful things by the end. It makes my heart happy that they can be part of my home again now.

Not What You Expected

Dear 17 year old me,

     I know that right now you have your entire life ahead of you. You have just graduated high school, have your license, and see nothing but freedom and opportunity ahead of you. You plan on marrying your high school sweetheart, having three to four kids, and working in corporate America.
     I am writing to tell you that these things will not happen.
     Your life will not be the picture perfect cookie-cutter life you think you will have. It will be difficult, it will be challenging, and it will test you until you think you are about to burst. It will not be the life you imagined. It will be so much more.
     Your life will be filled with adventure. You will travel over half of the mainland United States and Canada, obtaining a thirst for travel and a plan that encompasses visiting Europe and beyond. You will grow to be stronger than you ever imagined, having a backbone and the belief that it should be used and that you deserve to be heard. You will find a multitude of ways to be self-sufficient, and even start your own business.
     You will have days when you don't believe in yourself, your strength, or your experiences, but you will learn to work through them. On these days most of all, you will see and understand the beautiful people that you have surrounded yourself with, and appreciate every cell that goes into their being. You have these friends to thank for helping you along the way when you falter. Hug them. Love them. Laugh with them. These are some of the people that make everything worth it and help you find your way when it seems lost forever.
     Right now, you are finishing a cross-country road trip with a couple of these aforementioned beautiful people. It is one of the most perfect experiences you could have, and the places you fall in love with will surprise you. You experience ups and downs, but you are happy. Legitimately happy.

- Me

Roadtrip Therapy

     The pull and release of emotion is all too familiar. I suppose I've had a good go of it, it's been a few weeks after all. Eventually the insomnia associated with my bipolar highs catches up with me and the world begins to dim. Colors less vibrant, edges less crisp, happiness more subdued and anger and depression more easily accessible. My low is coming.
     I never know just how long they will last. I can attempt a guess based on the last cycle, but there's no true tell. I do know my triggers, and avoid them for now. My divorce is one. You'd be surprised at both how much and how little that comes up. It comes up and matters less than you think it will when it's fresh, yet comes up more often than you'd think once it's been a while and you think you're over it. I'm basically over it, I'm just sad when I see young twenty-somethings in healthy marriages, celebrating their 5th year of marriage with their high school sweetheart. I wanted that to be me.
     As odd as it might sound, a road trip is the best time for me to hit a low. As much anxiety as I can sometimes get just preparing myself to go to the grocery store, somehow, road trips make me just as equally calm and happy. Driving along the highway gives me so much peace, exploring new places, taking in the scenery, falling in love with places I never would have imagined to be half as entrancing as they are. For me, it is Missouri.
     Missouri is the state I least expected to fall in love with, but as love stories go, it was head-over-heels love at first sight. The rolling hills and mountains with their hidden caverns and cliffs, covered in trees and bushes and appearing in a time all their own. It's breathtaking. I'm glad I'm hitting my low now, if you can ever be glad to hit a low, because of just how much tranquility and joy well up in my heart and, no matter how difficult it may seem, begin to curl a smile across my lips.
     I am in love.

The Love We Deserve

A friend recently went through a slightly tumultuous break up with an incredibly toxic and manipulative person. It brought me back to one of my favorite lines from a book, "We accept the love we think we deserve." The Perks of Being a Wallflower - Stephen Chbosky.
     You always wonder why the sweet girl ends up with the full-of-himself, aloof jerk. Or why the good guy ends up with the bitchy, bossy, over-the-top girlfriend. Neither the sweet girl or good guy are happy, and they deserve so much better, yet here they sit. Why?

I am living proof of Chbosky's statement. I know why. 

     Having my family torn apart at age 18 and still removing shrapnel from the explosion today, being married at 21 and divorced at 22, and receiving a diagnosis of bipolar disorder at 24, I am broken. I feel like damaged goods. Like recycled trash that will never find anyone broken and battered enough to see it as something still useable. I am wrong. In my highs, I know I am wrong. It's in the back of my head, but I can push it away. In my lows, I feel it is the truest statement I have ever breathed.
     When you go through trauma, of any sort, you feel like pieces of you are broken and missing. You begin to feel ashamed that whatever happened, happened, and you feel less than desirable because of it. So when someone throws their attentions your way you think to yourself, 'Can this be? Do they actually want me? Am I good enough for them?' and your heart begins to swell. And the more broken they are, the safer you feel that your own failings will not be a downfall in this relationship. Together you can pretend to be whole.
     This is why we accept that love. This is why we can't truly love until we learn to love ourselves. Being content in your skin and loving yourself can be the hardest thing you've ever had to try and do.

But that is the love that you actually do deserve. 

"I just want you to know that you're very special...and the only reason I'm telling you this is that I don't know if anyone else ever has." The Perks of Being a Wallflower