Missing: Me.

As of late, my life has been a whirlwind. I’ve been faced with some tough decisions and coerced by fate to make some semi-major moves. Aside from the occasional spontaneous happening, I am largely a creature of habit. I like routines. I like order. I like to plan things out to make sure everything in my chaotic world goes as smoothly as possible. However, my best-laid plans are usually the ones that go awry. No matter how many “to-do” lists I scrawl, budgets I make, or goals I set, things are always a little off-kilter. I guess that’s a little something I like to call “life.” It’s only recently that I’ve began to make a marked effort to leave the planning in the classroom and let the chips on all other fronts fall where they may.

While I don’t consider myself to be a control freak, I do like to be in control of my itty-bitty piece of the universe. Yes, staying grounded and playing it safe has given me many opportunities and saved me from a lot of grief over the last 24 years. But there’s this aching feeling that I’ve missed out a little — even when I wasn’t fully aware. To this day, I still carry the weight of chances and risks that would’ve been worth taking. I am a little unfulfilled. Not a lot, just a little. And no, I can’t go back in time and tell off that bitchy bully in high school who had it coming. I can’t go back and fight that fight on the elementary school playground. I can’t go back and get out of the toxic relationship sooner or tell a friend how I really felt before drama reared its ugly head. However, I can re-design the way I approach life. That way, by the time the future is my past I won’t have any regrets.

So, the game plan. Yeah, I know. I’m planning again. But let’s not think of it as a plan. Let’s just say these are things I am absolutely going to do if I am physically and mentally able. Period. No “maybes.” No second-guessing myself and being scared of what will happen if I do this or that. Apprehension is out the window. I’m not saying the idea of reincarnation isn’t chic, but as far as I know, I only have one life to live. I might as well live it my way, on my terms. Now, change doesn’t come over night. Change is a process. And no matter how much I change, I won’t let my quest for self-awareness turn me into a selfish being. Proving to myself once and for all that I am just as independent, self-reliant, strong and capable as I *usually* think I am doesn’t mean I am going to be cold, distant, unapproachable, reckless or careless. That’s just not my make-up. I pride myself on being  very loving, warm and forgiving, and somewhat easy-going, thoughtful and communal.

I’m educated. I have a career. To date, I’ve been able to pay all of my bills on time. I’ve done a lot of adventurous things that prompt a laugh or wide smile when I think about them. Most importantly, I have a great family and a fantastically fun group of friends. I have my health. I have God. Take all of that for what it’s worth. To me, it’s priceless. Just because I, and most of us for that matter, can drop a scroll that lists our personal blessings on the floor and watch it roll out the door and down the street doesn’t mean we don’t want more.

A characteristic of all living beings is *growth*. If we are not growing, we are dead (or might as well be). I am constantly seeking. I always want more. I want to be better than the me of yesterday and of tomorrow. I have never really been happy and for years I couldn’t figure out why. Then, a la Chrisette, came the epiphany. I have withheld my gut feelings and instincts too much. I haven’t been doing what I want to do as much as I should. Therefore, I’m not content. I’ve tried to find personal happiness in people close to me — what they think of me, how they perceive me, how they treat me, talk to me, talk about me, etc. has had too much influence over my state-of-being. How foolish!

“You are responsible for your own happiness.”  On occasion, I have had the NERVE to say this to other people who I thought were being too whiny, self-pitying or clingy. Never did I stop to practice what I preached. Right now, the only thing missing from my life is ME. The real me. Doing what I want to do, how I want to do it.

I have always loved to write. Poems. Plays. Hard news. Editorials. Journal entries. I like writing. And for almost two years now, I have wanted to start a blog. Nothing fancy. No special effects. No pictures of me in expensive ensembles or trashy lingerie lingering in the background. Just me, writing. I love to talk but in my opinion, what I’m thinking and feeling about the world around me always comes out better in print. So here I am, finally doing what I want to do. I vow to say EXACTLY how I feel even when it makes me uncomfortable and everyone else angry, befuddled, etc. I vow to not let *this* fall by the wayside because of any obligations — actual or assumed. I have the noble, yet non-progressive habit of letting the needs of others come before my own. I even get bogged down by my own needs and subsequently, forget my wants. You know, the *fun* stuff. The “just because” stuff. The “ah, what the hell!” stuff. The “well…f*ck it then” stuff. I have not been very attentive to myself. I think I’m over that.

Author: ContraVerseSee

ContraVerseSee is designed to engage and appeal to folks in their 20s and 30s who are tackling life and the common joys, gripes, interests and intricacies these wondrous decades bring. The site’s primary contributor is a current educator and former journalist who is writing her way through life, love, mommy-hood and the organized chaos also known as her mind.

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