Six years can feel like a lifetime

Six years ago today, something heartbreaking and life-changing happened to me (how do I remember the exact date? I harbor a few rain-man tendencies...). While I was back home having Thanksgiving with my family, my fiance at the time was celebrating his 21st birthday in Kearney (where he & I were living together) by sleeping with a stripper from Cozad. In our bed.

Bet you weren't expecting that.

So why am I airing out this particularly dirty piece of personal laundry on the internet (and probably making at least one person incredibly uncomfortable in the process)? Because, even though it was the most painful experience of my life thus far--there are not enough adjectives to describe that kind of deep-seated pain--it was quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to me.

It forced me to find myself for the first time, ever. Instead of being defined by a small-town high school, and then a long-distance boyfriend, suddenly I could only be defined by me, and I had to figure out what that meant on my own. With the never-ending guidance & support of my incredible family (whom I was finally able to have a solid relationship with again!) and more than my fair share of kindred souls along the way, of course. It also led me to some of the deepest connections I've ever had, friends and more than friends.

All in all, I would have to say that this night, six years ago, is really what made me who I am (trite, but true). After about eight months of self-pity, the quiet, insecure, mousey-Shelly who begged him not to leave her & who gained 20 lbs in less than two weeks after this revelation suddenly was forced to open her eyes, and realized that she did deserve more, and that there was a whole big world out there full of wondrous experiences and intriguing people, and in the end, more than enough to keep her happy outside of that relationship.

It really does seem like another lifetime. Sometimes it doesn't even feel real, or feel like it was actually me that it happened to.

It may have taken six years, but I am finally in a place where I can look back on that night without any residual hate or malcontent. I wish him well, and I almost feel like I should thank him. For giving us both a way out of a situation that neither of us were really prepared for, and that most likely would have ended much, much worse farther down the line; for not listening to me when I insisted that we stay together no matter what; for being strong enough to walk away (the first time) when I wasn't; and for being respectful enough to bow completely the second time, after I had finally found my independence. Maybe someday I will.

Single Bar-Scene Shelly vs...well...Me

I won't lie; sometimes I really miss my single bar-scene days. I sometimes miss the tidal wave of confidence that would wash over me when the guy I'd been catching eyes with all night from across the bar would come over and introduce himself, or when I would strut across the room right up to the guy I'd been batting my eyes at and flashing coy little smiles and offer to buy him a drink.

Getting really dressed up and doing shots at the bar with my girlfriends, then heading straight to the dance floor to dance and act as crazy as we wanted; looking out over the crowd and feeling like every person in the place was watching us, either wanting to be us or be with us.

That moment when you graze his hand, or brush up against each other, or catch and hold each others' eyes for the first time that night, and you forget how to breathe for a couple seconds.

The thrill of him asking for your number--or giving you his--after one or two more tingle-inducing touches.

That moment--that awe-inspiring moment--when you know you are about to kiss. Middle of the night, end of the night, it doesn't matter. You can see it coming from a mile away and it's all you can do not to bite your lip in anticipation. You lean into each other... your limbs go numb and your stomach hollows out and your heart is slamming against your chest and the entire world vanishes around you. All that exists are his lips, pressed urgently or gently or whatever the appropriate adjective may be against yours.

Being entirely unable to wipe the grin off your face for the next 24 hours at least, because you have that kiss--or kisses if you were really lucky!--on constant playback in your head.

Yeah, I sometimes miss those things...

Then, I stop and think about all the things I don't miss.

The cheesy pick-up lines involving my last name, for one. "Oh, you are a fox!" "Ooo, I'm gonna call you foxy!" Wow, never heard those before. I'm just glad I got away from the single bar-scene before that god-awful song came out. You probably don't want to hear what this fox says to that...

Needing to have a couple drinks at a party or on a date just to ensure I find the perfect balance between non-stop, rambling chatterbox and shy, tight-lipped wallflower.

Checking my phone every ten minutes--at least--to see if the guy who did ask for my number has sent me a text yet. Or if he's responded to my text yet. Or how long it's been since I did text him and analyzing just how "clingy" I might appear if I were to text him again... Yes, I was that girl. Pretty sure most of us were, are, or have been at some point. Right now, however, I'm sitting on the couch, in my sweats, on a Saturday night, and I'm not even 100% sure where my phone is! Kind of an awesome feeling :)

Worrying about coming on too strong. "Does he like me? Does he want to see me again? If I tell him that I like him, will that scare him away? Should I act like I don't like him?" Life is so much easier when you're with someone who consistently tells you how he feels about you every single day.

Feeling like I should or had be out mingling and trying to "meet someone" because I'm in my 20s and that's what single women in their 20s are supposed to do! Even if I'd rather just spend a night in alone, that's one night of potentially finding a mate or having wild, single-girl fun that I may never get back!

Taking off the makeup at the end of the night. UGGHHHH! Otherwise it's all over your pillowcase in the morning, not to mention smeared across your face, and somehow your neck... So you take the extra 5-10 minutes after stumbling in (whether from alcohol consumption or exhaustion, it was usually a stumble for me) to scrub away at your face in case you have to open the door or something before you've had a morning shower.

The hangovers/morning-afters. I've never been a morning person any way; throw all that in the mix... It's not a pretty picture.

So yeah, I do kinda miss those days sometimes. I'm really glad I got the chance to go out and be able to strut around and flirt and act like I was the hottest thing to walk in the door. I wouldn't trade or change any of it.

I'm also kind of glad it's over (or vastly slowed down, I should say). For tonight, anyway.

Dear boy

Dear boy,

Don't let her change you,
dear boy

The boy I knew would not have gone so easily
into the quiet
into the seclusion
into the submission

The boy I knew
Saw
Wanted
Took

No excuses
No apologies
No misconceptions

No bargaining
No pleading

Only pride,
dear boy,
only pride

Can you tell me why,
dear boy?
Tell me why
you always and only
want what is not to be had

Always wanting
always wandering
always searching

Are you the tin man,
dear boy?
Are you searching for a heart?

Or perhaps a fire
to thaw the icy wall around yours

I'll see you when you return,
dear boy,
if you do

Aren't we friends,
dear boy?
Are we friends?

Things
complicate things
and people
complicate things
and some things
are just passing


Dear boy,

Don't let her change you,
dear boy

for Torture

I think we long for torture

For the pain
and the passion
and the grief of it all

For the searing burn
and the piercing cold
that will strike you straight to your soul
so that once and for all
you will know beyond knowing
this world that we live in is Real
it is Here
in the darkest place of ourselves
that we find
that Thing that craves the pain
that pushes away
and makes us ache
for the loss of it all

it is Here
that we long for the torture


for only the torture


releases the soul







(The words were flowing. I am simply the vessel.)

You are more beautiful than you think

As someone who has of late been bordering on the plus-size side of life, I just wanted to send out a great big "THANK YOU!" & an even bigger "HELL YEAH!" to Oklahoma City Thunder cheerleader, Kelsey Williams.

Normally, this is the point where I would say "those of you who know me, know how much I've struggled with my weight over the years," but to be honest, I'm not really sure how many people I actually shared this with (it could be a lot more than I realize; my memory isn't always the most reliable).

I was always "the chunky kid" growing up. I wasn't severely overweight or anything, I was just always bigger than the majority of my friends. They wore bikinis to the pool all summer, I wore a t-shirt over my one-piece. I stopped--or rather, should have stopped--wearing my older sister's hand-me-downs by the time I was 12. The summer after my Sophomore year of high school, I forced myself to workout as hard as I possibly could for several hours each day, and ate only baby carrots or celery with ice water for almost a month (someone told me that you burn more calories drinking ice water because your body has to work harder to retain its temperature, and that celery was harder to digest so your body was forced to burn more calories in the process as well... I realize now how ridiculous that was :P).

The first half of my freshman year in college, I weighed myself twice a day every day, and even tried to see how many days I could go without eating anything more than a piece of jerky. Eventually, I started getting so light-headed I could barely stand up, and ended up going to student health several times before I got my priorities straight.

Luckily, those were my only forays into dangerous diets habits (unless you count being too lazy to cook when I was like 21, 22 and just not eating more than once a day a few times a week, but that was just me being lazy rather than trying to slim down :P).

Aaaaaaaanyway, to get back on topic...

When I was 24, I hit what I consider to be a milestone: I bought a bikini. AND, I even went out in public in said-bikini for the first time! Ever! And you know what? Even though I was at the heaviest weight I had ever been, I felt hot! Now, you need to understand something; I know how judgmental people--ok, girls--can be about anyone with a little bit of pudginess walking around in a bikini, because I used to be just as judgmental as anyone else about it. I always thought, if a girl wasn't perfectly slim, she had no business parading all that around in front of people.

Unfairly hypocritical, I know. So even though I liked how I looked--surprisingly-- I was still so nervous about being judged by everyone else and viewed as "the fat girl in the bikini" that I was constantly asking my friends and my boyfriend if it looked ok, or if they saw me and didn't know me, would they think I had no business wearing something like that?

Obviously, I am not the only person who faces these judgments (no surprise there). When I read this article--written by ANOTHER WOMAN--about Kelsey Williams, I had to put in my two cents (aka, this blog).

In the same spirit, I think everyone should watch the video below. I would love to start this as a nationwide--or even worldwide movement. Everyone deserves to know that they are more beautiful than they think.

Faith Restored, Path Plowed

I just want to send out an enormous THANK YOU to Kelly, the man who lives across the street from me for his help this morning.

Let me set the scene for you: we received at least six inches (I say more like 10, but I've never been good at guesstimation) of snow in the last couple days. I parked my car on the street (because our apartment's lot is always a horrible, un-scooped mess), thinking it would be easier to dig myself out from there. When the city cleared the streets, however, they barricaded my car with drifts reaching high enough that I was unable to open my car door. I knew this was going to happen, so this morning I bundled up, grabbed my scoop shovel, and was fully prepared to spend at least 20 minutes digging out my car. After 10 minutes of scooping (and not making as much progress as I had hoped for), I called into work, warning them I would be late, and dutifully returned to my shoveling.

As I was toiling away with my over-sized plastic snow shovel, I noticed the garage door on the house across from me raise. I expected to see a clean car come rolling into my peripheral vision shortly thereafter, but instead, a man appeared with a metal shovel & offered to help me in my efforts. I adamantly accepted, thanked him, we exchanged introductions (Kelly & Shelly, always a good sign! haha :)), and started shoveling. After a moment of surveying the light and fluffy snow, Kelly decided to fetch his snow-blower. In no time at all, he cleared a perfect path for my car to glide onto the street (after a little pushing, also done out of the goodness of his heart!).

Seriously, this guy was the definition of a Good Samaritan! He could have walked away at any moment, said he was sorry but he was going to be late for work, or done a little scooping & wished me good luck, but instead he stood by, shoveled, used up the last bit of gas in his snow blower, pushed my car out, and refused to accept any kind of payment! I thanked him over and over and over again, and I still wish I could have done more (at least paid him to refill the gas tank on his snow blower!). If I were having any doubts about the neighborliness of people these days, this one act aptly put an end to it. It is very refreshing to know that there are still people out there who will take time out of their own schedule to help a stranger.

So, once again, thank you, Kelly-from-across-the-street! I hope I can return the favor someday :)

You be the anchor that keeps my feet on the ground, I'll be the wings that keep your heart in the clouds

I wish I could take credit for that title, but it's actually the title of a song by one of my favorite bands: Mayday Parade.

There have been times--especially in the last couple of weeks--where I feel like I'm...bottoming out. All I want to do is sleep; the thought of going anywhere or doing anything is almost too much; I'll break down and cry for no reason other than, at that moment, I feel lost & hopeless. But, no matter how low I seem to get, there is always something that evens me out: Greg. He is the only thing/person who can instantly cheer me up. Being around him, being close to him, especially being outside with him (in this beautiful weather we've been having!) is the best cure I've found to a down-and-out mood.

And for some reason, he stays tried & true throughout all of these moods I cycle through. We've been together for over two years, and I still smile when I think about him. I still get butterflies when he shows up unexpectedly. I still catch myself staring at him from time to time. And when he smiles that huge smile he only gets when something catches him off-guard, or when he's so happy he can't hide it...-sigh-

"Let me think of how to word it...is it too soon to say 'perfect'?" (courtesy of the same song by Mayday Parade, by the way)

So, basically what I'm saying is: if you'll be the anchor that keeps my feet on the ground, I'll be the wings that keep your heart in the clouds.