Worrywart

I am 100% certified and certifiably a worrywart. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I get it honestly; the apple conveniently dropped directly underneath the tree. I worry about everything, from the smallest of concerns to the biggest of heartaches. It all boils down to those stupid feelings I've spoken about previously. Feelings make me uneasy and anxious, a less desirable version of myself, albeit perhaps a more accurate one.

I once heard that most of which we worry about never comes to fruition, but in the game of love, my history tells an altogether different story...one with a typically unfavorable outcome. So, yes, I worry. Does he still like me? Does he still want to be with me? Does he care? Does he like someone else? Does he...on and on and on.

The best part is always the beginning, but it's also the worst. Always.

And then there's my Caribbean boyfriend. A connection that shall never fade, despite any time or distance. An understanding, an appreciation for each other that is nothing short of miraculous. A hope for each of us to be happy, to be loved and passionately so, when we are unable to be and do together. Any lover of mine will simply love me for having something so beautiful and special in my life.

A song that once outlined every hope and wish I had in the world: This Year's Love by David Gray.

Enough

When is it enough? What exactly constitutes enough? Is a look enough? A gesture? A touch?

Love Actually is another favorite movie of mine, and one of my favorite scenes is touching in a way unlike the other story lines. In this particular love story, the protagonist doesn't actually "get the girl," but rather he's content and satisfied with enough. He's enough with the moments in between, the looks, the gestures, the touch. He's enough, and isn't that all any of us are really looking for? Enough. I want to be enough.

Love in Any Language/Lost in Translation

Love. It's the same...in any language. It crosses borders, boundaries, and beyond. It is infinite, irreplaceable, and irrefutable.

And, yes, I am officially dating and officially a gf. And, yes, he is an actual real-life man (no grandiose figment of my immense imagination). And, yes, we are a plethora of culturally-diverse circumstances, conversations, and sometimes confusion. But, it's the connection, the intense and consuming connection, that drives our quest for more...more affection, more excitement, more rapture, more everything! Even despite all of the phrases, colloquialisms, and literary nuances that manage to get the true and intended meaning wildly lost in translation.

Language can be a barrier, but is it a barrier to love? Does it not look the same, feel the same, regardless of the language and culture? Maybe, but maybe not. In this particular relationship, it has indeed intensified and solidified the sentiment, as my bf fondly refers to it. It is a piece of the spark, the emotion, the fireworks. It's the filling in of gaps in lives, experiences, cultures that had been missing previously.

What of non-romantic love? Is it still the same in any language? Is it ever lost in translation? I read a brilliant article today of a woman who recently passed. It was a beautifully-written expose on her life and the love that she exuded in and around her life. "Her daily life was a kiss of love."

Regardless of the culture, of the language, would we not all agree that her life was one of great worth because she had indeed "found her calling - loving people fiercely and with abandon"? Would we not all gravely benefit from loving as ferociously and zealously as she? "Her life reveals that it doesn't take much to make a difference every day - just deep, full love - and that can be sewn with many different kinds of stitches." Ah, to love with reckless abandon...in any language.

Update: Possible Reconciliation?

One of my very first entries on this blog was in regard to a very close friendship that had recently resulted in a "break up." It was a very difficult decision for me, but I knew it was the right one.

There is another blog that I follow quite often, and the author is a single woman like me. Today, she posted a blog about a friendship break-up in her own life. Her words sounded so much like my own, but the feelings behind her words even more so.

I've never regretted my decision to end the friendship. Yet, last week, I did decide to accept her offer for drinks. And, perhaps surprisingly, it was refreshingly exciting to catch up with her and what's been going on in her life. Furthermore, I realized afterward that I had still been harboring some anger and resentment toward the fatal conclusion, and meeting with her lightened the load just a bit.

Now, in no way am I saying we are ever going to be as close as we once were, but I am now more appreciative of the times we shared and hopeful to at least keep up with the important moments in our lives going forward.

The single woman's post also made me reflect upon the differences between a platonic relationship and an intimate one. So many times, people, especially women, stay in a relationship with another who is, at minimum, treating them poorly. I have several friends who are in what I would label as abusive (whether physically or emotionally) relationships, and they are not only condoning the behavior, but even adding fuel to the fire. Regardless of the extent, why would we excuse behavior from someone we love but not from someone else? Should we not expect more, rather than less?

I'm visiting my family this weekend, including my friends who are family, and I am curious to know if the hurt has truly dissipated or if I've indeed changed beyond their love.

Snapshots in Time

"A life is made up of small moments, snapshots in time." A lifetime is a collective of these mementos, and if we're extremely lucky, somewhere deep in the recesses of our minds, we are able to recall some of the most vivid ones from our past.

One of my new mantras is to try to experience the good moments of my life as future mementos in time, realizing and appreciating their significance in my life - perhaps a further extension of simply not taking good things for granted. The end result hopefully being that the happy times not only outweigh and outnumber the unhappy ones, but also help outshine them.

Take a moment from your day where you're smiling and reflect upon it, not later, but in the moment that it's happening. What has occurred to make you smile? How does it make you feel? What do you most appreciate about it? How has it brightened your day? Then when you're not having such a good moment later in your day, take a minute to breathe and think back upon your memento, your personal snapshot in time, and appreciate that your life has moments like this in order for you to appreciate the ones like that...

Update: Ready, Willing, and Able for Fireworks

Just a few weeks ago, I posted about the importance of availability in a relationship - available physically, mentally, and emotionally. In other words, being ready, willing, and able to have an intimate connection with another, for lightning to strike, for fireworks to ensue. It is rare that my level of passion and fervor are matched by a man, and even more rare to find a man who exudes more sensuality than I; however, I think I may have met my match, and perhaps even my superior.

My Caribbean friend was a raging sea of intensity and grandeur, and our intimacy was a precise external replication of our feelings for one another. The incredible distance is the lone reason for our being apart. But in a rare stroke of luck (or fate, as I would like to believe in my heart), I have met a man in my own town who can make me feel the same way physically, emotionally, and I hope mentally, too. (That is more difficult to determine.) His emotion for me is thrilling, stimulating, and intoxicating. I want nothing less than to bottle up the way I feel when I'm with him and be able to open it any time I want. Love - or only the illusion thereof? Only time can tell such important things.

Adventure #18: Social Dance Lessons

The basis of the Southern Comfort Zone blog is about being alone but not missing out on anything because of it. There are few things that remind me more that I am single than social dance. My first point of context is that I really, really enjoy dancing, but at the same time, I really, really dislike dancing with other people. Probably has something to do with having someone else, in particular a man, lead me (or drag me, in my opinion) around the dance floor. A male friend of mine jokes that I only let him lead when I'm drunk, and I am resigned to the fact that he's right.

My second point of context is that learning to dance socially is high on my adventure list. I'm not sure why when I seem to hate it so much. I suppose I have this romantic notion that if I find the right partner, I'll no longer dislike it so.

Well, I did the unthinkable, and I went to dance lessons with my friend. And though it wasn't the best 90 minutes of my life, I didn't die. Score!

But, wait, I then decided I was truly a glutton for punishment, and I did it again! This time, I went to learn latin dance. Now, this turned out to be an unbelievably amazing experience...because I met a fabulous dance partner. He was patient, kind, caring, and only wanted to help me be a better dancer and partner. Perhaps he also had ulterior motives (keep reading), but ultimately, he just wanted me to have a good time. And THAT, I most certainly did!

Plus...I got a date out of it!! Now isn't that the best reward of them all?!

To Be The Best

No matter what I'm doing, I have an innate need to be the best. The fact of the matter is that I have always wanted to be the best - the best in school, the best at work, the best dancer, the best girlfriend, the best everything. Ok, now I do not have such a Napoleon complex to actually believe that I'm the best at everything, nor that I could ever truly be the best at everything, but there's something deep down that just makes me frustrated when I'm not...the best, that is.

The Break Up

The break up is always hard. Always difficult. No matter how it comes, when it comes, or what comes before it. Hearing "I think we need a break" never gets easier, even if it's the right thing to do, the best thing to do, or the only thing to do.

When will I be enough? Just me, just like this? When will there no longer be a need to "break up"?

But thankfully, there are always mothers to help soften the blow...and songs to lessen the sting: Wait it Out by Imogen Heap

Feelings Unrequited

We all know Romeo and Juliet...their love was consequentially marred and inevitably unsustainable, but they knew their love was not unrequited. It was real and significant. But what of feelings that are not or no longer reciprocated, why not just say so? What exactly are you continuing to hang on to...the hope? The chance that they'll reappear? The inability to hurt another's heart, another's soul?

When did fairy tales become just that...fairy tales? When I turned 30? When I was forced, or perhaps even chose, to be alone rather than in a relationship where I no longer held the same expectations as him? All of the above?

"I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not f---, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane." -John Green, Looking for Alaska

Addiction

Addiction. How do you define addiction? Why do some people become addicted to things, actions, and even in some cases, people? Crazy, I know, but if you've seen the thousands of hoarders or the girl who drinks gasoline on television, then you know it's possible...possible to be crazy, I mean. And in some cases, crazy about a person to the point that it becomes an addiction. Addicted to the hurt and the pain? Addicted to the insecurity? What exactly makes someone so addicted to another?

I have several friends in my life who are currently going through divorces. For months, I have heard about their emotional instability and despondent dispositions. In times like these, friends act more as shoulders to cry on than anything else. No words, no amount of care and sympathy, can remedy the pain. But, at some point, you've got to pick yourself up off the floor and MOVE ON with your life. No one can do that for you. You've got to find it in yourself to walk away from the hurt and the pain and want better for yourself. I thank my mom constantly for raising her children to be independent, strong-minded women who know how to take care of themselves physically and emotionally without a man. Who wouldn't want that for themselves before getting into a committed relationship?

My addiction is a little less complex, but nonetheless still something I can not go a day without. I love the way it makes me feel. I love the way it brightens my day. I love the way it feels in my bloodstream, flowing through my veins. Literally.

My addiction: Diet Coke.

Adventure #17: Rodeo

Yee Haw! Nothing like a good rodeo to get your boots kickin' and your spurs flyin'. Cattle roping, bareback riding, barrel racing, and of course bullriding are all featured in the line-up, but what makes the adventure truly note-worthy is the time well-spent with good people. Lots of laughs and lots of fun!!

Living Alone

Another article in my beloved Time magazine talks about the rise of solitary living in recent years. Though I've not outright said it, you've probably guessed by now that I live alone. And I would NOT have it any other way. Yes, I'm lonely sometimes. Yes, I would like to occasionally have someone to come home to, to talk to. But I LOVE living alone. "Living alone allows us to do what we want, when we want, on our own terms." This ability trumps any notions otherwise.

I've previously discussed how being alone and being lonely can be exclusive of one another; it's possible to be one or the other or none or both. "What matters is not whether we live alone but whether we feel alone."

There are many times that I desire and seek out social situations, and I have the ability to do so, while still being able to return to my home, alone, at the end of the night. "People who live alone compensate by becoming more socially active than those who live with others." Hence why when your friends get married, they also disappear. It's sheer fact that single people tend to lead more social lives than their married counterparts.

Social escapades always result, though, in a need for me to recharge, to reboot, which is directly related to my tendency toward introversion. "Living alone can offer...the time and space for restorative solitude."

It also provides for moments of peace and contentment. "Living alone can help us discover who we are as well as what gives us meaning and purpose." And there is no greater reward than living a purposeful life and a life of purpose.

Ultimately, "living alone helps us pursue sacred modern values - individual freedom, personal control and self-realization." Values that I continuously challenge myself to improve upon.

Update: Quiet Brilliance

As a quick update to a blog I posted a few weeks ago regarding introversion, I read another great article today on the subject. You should check it out! While you are doing that, I'm going to hibernate for a bit and relish in my introversion.

Availability

I'm surprised I haven't discussed this topic before, because it's one that I think of fairly often. In the messy abyss of dating and intimate relationships, the key is finding someone who is available. Seems simple enough, right? Well, I don't necessarily mean physically, though it could be a factor, I mean emotionally, mentally, and every other way imaginable.

If a man (or woman) has uncertainty, or insecurity, or instability, he/she is not going to be available for an intimate relationship. So, what do you do? Do you try anyway? Do you say it's worth a go? Or do you back away? Leave the hurt for another day. Because isn't it inevitable? I mean, really, knights on white horses and pretty women being rescued from fire escapes are only found in novels and movies, right? Blech, stupid fairy tales. They've set us all up for failure.

When the odds are insurmountable and the wind is at your face, what DO you do? Do you choose your heart or your head?

Life of Regret

I was recently talking with a friend about past relationships, and he asked, as do many, if I regret having spent so many years with my ex. You know, since we didn't get married and all. After giving a resounding absolutely not, I was very sad to learn that he regrets having spent so much time with his ex-girlfriend, especially moving to a new city with her. His comments made me feel overwhelming pity for him, not pity for his situation, but rather pity for his decisions - the decision to stay with her and live with her, the decision to focus on the negative in the relationship rather than all of the wonderful times I know they shared. But selfishly, it also made me vastly appreciative of my own decisions - the decision to follow my heart, the decision to choose love.

I am still in awe that people view relationships that don't "end" in marriage as failed relationships. I think our relationship was a huge success on so many levels. My only regret would be if he regretted having spent so much time with me...

Another relationship that often gets questionable looks by those closest to me is the one with my Caribbean boyfriend. After almost nine months, we are still as close as we ever were, regardless of the many miles between us. This week was a big one in our story, and though I will spare you the details, I will say that no matter where our paths lead, he has a piece of my heart that no one else will ever have. Yes, I hope we will see each other again, but regardless, as we joke, he will ALWAYS be my Caribbean boyfriend. My life is infinitely changed and infinitely better for having made the decision to travel alone, the decision to keep him in my life. 

A life of regret. That's just not in the cards for me.

Kiss and Tell

After reading the title, you couldn't wait to read this blog, could you? FAIL. You were so excited to find out who I've been kissing recently, I know, but that's not what this blog is about. Sorry, charlie. However, this blog isn't for the hard-hearted souls in the room, as you will soon discover.

A kiss. Seems simple enough, huh? Well, perhaps. It could be a light graze on the cheek or a quick peck on the lips, but it could also be a gold mine of bliss and rapture. I love the way I feel when someone kisses me, but especially when there's intense emotion and passion behind it. I love it when a man holds my face in his hands, looks into my eyes, and takes my lips in his. But what I love the MOST is cafune. That's right - cafune. I would tell you to look it up, but I'll spare you the difficulty, especially since there is no literal English translation. Cafune (with an accent on the e) is Brazilian Portuguese and is the act of running one's fingers through someone's hair (of an intimate nature). Now, that is truly unadulterated pleasure. And sometimes I wish, more than anything, that I could go home and have just that.

Stand Up

One of the things I love and hate the most about myself is that I say what I think and how I feel, almost regardless...regardless of the situation, regardless of the company, even regardless of the repercussions. Now, to be fair, this has developed much more intensely over time and with age. It's the direct result of a combination of having more self-confidence and less concern for always pleasing others.

Let me give you an example. I absolutely abhor cigarette smoke, and I think it is completely disrespectful and inconsiderate to smoke in an enclosed space with other non-smokers (ie. where it's prohibited). In this stated conundrum, Sunshine enters and doesn't ignore the issue, rather she takes the bull by the horns and confronts said offender and typically in a less-than-agreeable manner. And, yes, I'm aware I'm talking in third person.

Truthfully, handling the situation in such a way doesn't make me feel better or right about the situation. It's rather simply that I am appalled by people's behavior sometimes. There are rules in place for a reason. There are legitimate reasons why the laws state that you can't smoke on buses, on school grounds, and thankfully, in bars and clubs where I live. Beyond it being gross, which it is, it infringes upon my right to a clean and safe environment.

The unwanted consequence of these "tirades" are the innocent bystanders and friends. A friend of a friend mentioned recently that she hopes she doesn't become like me, always speaking my mind. Though I genuinely regret that I make people, especially those I care about, uncomfortable, I don't want to change who I am, even if I felt I could. Someone has to stand up for the unjust, the undeserved, the unethical, and we all must pick our causes to champion. Smoking just happens to be one of mine. I'm sure that I will discuss others in blogs to come.