Tears: The Mind's Natural Cleanser

          Crying has always been taboo, and for many reasons. By 'taboo' I mean we as a society have been taught that tears show weakness and it's not acceptable to do in front of others. There are many things that can make a person cry including pain, grief, emotional hurt, anger, etc. Most people wait until they are alone to let them flow and hate letting other people see them cry, I am one of those people. I m also one of those people who cry for many different reasons.

          I think it started when I was younger. When I was at school if a teacher yelled at me for doing something wrong I'd tear-up, then of course try to hold it back so my peers wouldn't see. I'd cry when I got really mad at my brother to the point of just wanting to fight him, and I'd always cry every time my mother told me I wasn't allowed to go to something. Maybe a birthday party, sleepover, anything that involved leaving the house I wasn't allowed to do. So I'm not sure why it came as a surprise to me every time she said no. I guess it just left me mad.

          Now days I cry less, but usually because of some bigger reason than my childhood tears fell for. I've cried when I've lost loved ones, or had someone close to me lose someone they love. I've cried when I've been hurt, or when I accidentally hurt someone else. I've cried when I have been frustrated to the point of blind confusion. I even find myself crying when someone close to me is crying. That last one can actually get annoying at times.

             But here is the thing about tears; it is a great things when you let them fall. It is similar to throwing up when you're sick to your stomach. It sucks to have to do it but you feel so much better afterwards. It is a gross analogy to have to make but that's the only way I know how to relate it. It is a chemical reaction and a completely natural part of human life. Crying allows for you and your body to release the stressors that have been affecting you so that you don't react to them in a more impactful or dangerous way.

            I like to be alone to cry. To just lie down on my bed and ball because no one is watching me or can hear me do it and I can be as sad as I want. This is good for me though because I'm sure I'm a rather ugly baller. I have one of those patterned balls where I sob out three times and breath in twice. Yea, sad that I know that but that's me.

           I guess the inspiration for this blog comes from the puffiness of my eyes left over from my small cry last night. My feelings got hurt and as soon as I was out of sight from the person doing the hurting I started my silent cry. It always starts small, but you can feel that you could cry hard and fora good long while. That is how it was last night. And with the tears comes the questions that you ask yourself. What's the worth? Why do you tolerate it? What are you getting out of it? The usual. And I realized that it wasn't a big deal, the thing that had happened and what had been said, but while I sat on the back steps crying and trying to explain my tears to my roommates, I just had to confess that it had just hurt me more than anything. Which is the truth.

           I think the saddest part of having a tear fest, is that sometimes you don't get the answer you need from it. Once the tears stop and you nose clears up and allows for you to breath again, things will still be the same. You will still have to face the same situations and make decisions just like you needed to right before you cried. But now it is usually with a clearer head. As for my hurt, I am still having to face it. I'm not sure what my decision will be, in order to stop being hurt and to stop the crying. But I know I'll have to make them.

Long Distance Love; My Experienced Opinion

     Most of us experience it at least once in our lives. We find someone that we really want to be with who doesn't live any where close to "within dating range" from us. Whether we follow through with that attempt to date is our choice to make, but speaking from personal experiences and witness to those that haven't been my own relationships... it never works. It doesn't really matter whether you are moving away from your significant other, or meeting them for the first time and trying to make it work because it is a physically, emotionally, and financially exhausting task that proves to be more difficult than enjoyable.
     Firstly, I was one of those who dating long distance in high school. Senior year I started dating a guy from my old high school which was an hour away. That proved difficult because my dad had just let me start dating, but he would have never let me see this particular boy I assumed, so I had to sneak down to see him and rush back home so I could make it by curfew. It definitely made some good memories for that summer of '09. Then it got worse, I moved off to college. Three hours away from that same boyfriend of mine. But we both took the reality mind-set about it and new we would try it until it wouldn't work. But somehow we did make it for another year. After that year he made it to college with me, but that December we broke-up, not because of distance, but because the sad truth hit us that we were just two different people. But that's a story all on it's own. 
     The year I spent trying to make it work I spent $680 in gas driving back and forth from college to his house. Spent an "un-calculatable" amount on food when I stayed with him, and the money to fund our activities we did while I visited. I tried so hard to make that relationship work, about 6 months out of that year I went and sold my plasma for gas money to go see him. I was selling twice a week and spending the rest of those days afterwards sicker than hell. Passing out in elevators and having to lay in the floor in the middle of class. Freshman year was interesting to say the least. While 3 hours isn't the worst long distance relationship it is still stereotypically the same. You'll fight about what each other is doing, or who you are spending too much time with. You'll fight about not talking enough, and fight about wanting to talk too much. It's an inevitability. No matter how much you like the person your environment will change you, if new. You will lack proper physical and emotional intimacy that is a necessity in a serious relationship. No matter how hard you try texting and skyping can't fill that void.
     Which brings me to my other long term relationship. I use italics with other because I like that it reminds me of the graphic used in cartoons for something that smells bad. Which fits that relationship perfectly, it was horrible and a complete waste. This person I met during an academic affair in another state. We met, talked, enjoyed each others company and continued to keep in touch even after the event was over.  But it turned out he lived 647 miles away from me. We agreed to date via video chat. We would text every now and then, he wasn't much of a chatter, but mostly we would skype every other night from 10pm until about 2am. He wanted to become an official item, and I agreed. Neither one of us could afford to see each other, so we never did, needless to say after about a month we stopped dating. There was cuteness and attraction, no doubt about that, but you can't have a relationship with someone that you never get to see. A relationship causes a person to open up and allow the other person to join them in their life, but we were living completely separate lives.
     Now skip ahead to present day. I have had my fill of teenaged fun and got the partying out of my system, for the most part. But the urge to date will always be there. There is a guy that I like, who lives and goes to school 460 miles away. We've partied together, and admitted to a mutual interested in one another. But the even the thought of starting a relationship long distance isn't something I even want to pretend to entertain. This guy is sweet, and kind, and our conversations could last forever, but without him near, it wouldn't be a relationship. He would be a romantic pin-pal and that wouldn't be fair to either one of us. As I see it there is a very definite pro/con list to long-distance relationships. This list may only apply to me but I feel like other's could relate:

Pros:
1) You will always have someone to talk to (considering texting and calling is the only form of your relationship).
2) Talking so much with the same person you really get to know them before you begin a closer intimate relationship (maybe).
3) Long distance relationships keep you out of any physically romantic consequences that could happen.
4) You get to focus on school and less on making plans with/for your significant other.
5) When you do finally get to see them, it makes those moments so much more special.

Cons:
1)You will always wonder what the other person is doing, and if they are really doing what they said they were doing ... aka.... trust issues.
2)When you need someone there for you, in a proud moment, or a terribly sad moment they won't be there to hold you, to tell you they are proud. If anything you'll get to read those words.
3) Traveling to see them will break both of your wallets, depending on how far they live of course.
4) You will rarely ever get to see them on significant holidays, or special events that should be spend together which usually causes frustrations
5) and lastly, you will get to watch all of your other friends relationships grow and progress and yours won't until you spend the time actually together.

That keeps the list pretty even, although there are many more tiny details I could list. But I don't think it's really that important. And by no means am I encouraging all those who want the long distance relationship no to try it. In some cases it has, can, and have worked out. Some people can manage the distance, make it work and keep the relationship strong and sparky, if you will. But if you're struggling, you should know your not alone. I am still struggling, to find the right guy, to start my life with someone else. But it will happen when it is suppose, and who knows, it may cause me to relocate, but I'll make sure I get to know them real well first.

The Rational Fear of an Idea

He ain't blinking...

    When you ask someone, "What are you afraid of?" you typically expect it to be an object or a creature. You expect the response to be the usual; spiders, snakes, darkness, small spaces, clowns, or water. And there are some instances where you get something weird like; balloons, feet, pickles, fish.... O.K. I'll admit that last one is mine. They are just slimy and have these wide eyes that NEVER blink, and I'm sorry but I don't trust a damn thing that don't blink. But aside from all of these things that humanity would could still considered quite normal to be scared of, there are still a few other things that some people would considered weird, and if not weird, explanatory.
       Let's think of those people that we know with those strong personalities. Those people who are determined to be the best at everything, the people who have so many friends you don't think it's possible to know all of their names, the person who you would consider a class clown even if he/she was more annoying than funny. Now erase that person. Try to picture those moments in your life without them. Picture that class, that competition without that specific person there in your memory. How different is it? How unimportant does that memory almost seem without that person being the main purpose. Did you know that that in itself, is a fear for a lot of people?
     It is the fear of being forgotten, the fear of not being needed, or noticed, or remembered for anything. It is the fear that you don't have a purpose in your life and that you actually don't make a difference. Average people have these exact fears cross their mind everyday. It shapes our behaviors and what decisions we make on a routine basis. How many times can you recall yourself or a friend doing something awkward and funny then stating at least they gave someone something to talk about. Or that they would remember them from now on? It's not that they strive to do it, but we accept it, we turn every minute into a moment that we find possible.
     I'm referring to these fears in a possessive plural sense because I have them too. I worry that no one will come and ask me a question or for my opinion because it doesn't matter. I worry that no matter how many times I get gas at the same store no employee will remember my name because I am only average and routine. Or worse, no one will care enough to ask what it is. I don't think I will physically disappear, I don't believe my life won't prove meaningful if I'm not remembered when I'm gone from this world. My fear is that without these things my enjoyment of life will be gone. I need to be needed by someone, I need to be asked a question, I need to make people laugh and want to never stop hugging me when I see them for the first time in a long time. I need that feeling, because that feeling in itself, for me at least, is accomplishment.

Bonding with a Pet & My Incapability to Do So...

     I am in no way a cat person. Never really cared for the creatures. I find them to be an annoyance to furniture, horrible for company, constantly shedding, always trying to mate, and always under your feet at the worst moments. However, if they aren't any of these things then they are fat, sleepy, lazy animals who at that point serve no purpose other than as a financial burden.
     Apart from these specific feelings of distaste, most other animals I can get along with rather well. Rats scare me, fish are simplistic, and big dogs are complicated but fun. This story is focused on the pets I have owned, the ones I have managed to love but somehow lost. My desire to be accompanied in life by a smaller creature and share a companionship with.
    When I was 2 years old, my parents divorced and I moved with my older brother, mom, and newly found step-dad to an even smaller country town on the most west side of Kentucky. We took with us our tiny Pomeranian puppy who, I believe, we called Missy.

Missy

This is one of the only picture I ever found of her. She was sweet, full of cuddly love and energy and I liked to play with her everyday. We kept her outside because my parents just never allowed her in doors. I don't remember how long we had her, but I know at the age of 2 I loved her. Unfortunately, one morning in December, my mother came in to tell me she had died. I don't remember the details of how, whether it was by old age, illness, or injury. All I knew was that she was gone.

ButterScotch

      Fast forward 13 years, I was 15 when I felt true companionship again with another animal. Her name was Butterscotch, she was a pup, a mutt, but most importantly she was mine. Every time we would go outside to feed her you would have to run because she would jump on you before you made it to the right spot. She was 1 of 5 born to her mother Brandy, all of the others had been given away, except her. Which was fine with me considering she had always been my favorite. She was born in a poorly built dog house on a very cold January afternoon. My brother, and by this time sister, and I had just gotten off the school bus at home when my mother had us taking turns keeping the puppies warm so we could make sure they were alive. We stood out there for as long as the cold would let us before we too had to go inside to warm ourselves. My brother and I talked all night about the pups, hoping that they would make it through the night.

Homemade Dog House; not very sufficient

     The next morning however, they all seemed fine. And over the next several months we managed to get rid of them all except for Butterscotch. For a full year I played with her and turned her into my own dog. I wanted to let her know while we couldn't provide her much as her owners, she was still important, at least to me.
     That following summer, my older brother and I moved in with my dad. I had to leave my mother and thus, Butterscotch behind. I spent several months away before I was able to go back to visit my mother. It was late September, school had already started back but the weather was still warm. I had been at my mom's for a couple hours before stepping outside to play with my two younger siblings. I ended up asking my sister where Butterscotch was because she didn't run to me like she usually did. Then my sister got to explain to me the heart breaking truth... Apparently in my absence, Butterscotch just became a nuisance to the remainder of the family. Even though the dogs were fed with a little bit of cheap dog food along with whatever food scraps we had accumulated for the day. As a result, my step-father shot my dog and her mother and disposed of her in the woods. 


    

Needles to say my heart sank. I went from confused to sad, from sad to heart broken, and from pity to complete anger. How could he even think to inhumanely dispose of my dog without asking? It was quite clear who was fond over that dog and for my opinion to not have been asked before taking her life? Bringing the situation up to my parents would have proven worthless. Just an upsetting conversation that would all lead back to it being my fault for leaving, and if I had loved her so much why didn't I take her with me.

The next four years there were no animals, no fish, no dogs, not even an ant to keep me company. My dad didn't fancy any animals nor did he allow them inside. My next pet would be interesting the say the least. Not that it is recommended, but my next pet was considered a mutual pet for me and my boyfriend at the time. It was an angel Beta Fish. He wanted to name it Damion, but when I left for college he had to keep him with his rather religious grandmother so we called him DD. This terrorizing purple and blue fish would just swim, all day, around and around the little tank we kept him in. That fish ended up seeing a lot during his life.A great relationship, a family get evicted, he moved into the dorms with me, moved back into my dad's for winter break, witnessed the end of that relationship, and then moved into my first apartment with me and my roommate. But one afternoon I returned from school and there he was, belly-side up in his tank in my kitchen window. It was a sad site to say the least, it was kinda weird him being alive for so long. It was a year and a half that I had him? Quite a while for a little beta fish. But of all the times I forgot to feed him or clean his tank, he passed away on the day that i managed to do both of those things.

Next came Khloe. My female, long haired Mexican Chihuahua. I found her off Craigslist from a couple who just couldn't keep her because their other dogs were so much bigger than her. Her name was Joey, but it gender confused me too much so I changed it to something that sounded similar. She adjusted fine, took about a month for her to stop hiding behind the couch. She liked both me and my roommate, but me more, and her fur began growing back so pretty. I was able to keep her for about four months. Had her potty trained to go outside, she never barked or was mean to the cats or anything. Almost the ideal dog, however, my busy schedule proved to be difficult. When my very first tournament in Texas rolled around I had my old boss from Swifty Gas watch her for me. It was only four days, just over a weekend. Mike took her to his girlfriend's house on the other side of the mall, and one night she walked in and left the front door open and she bolted. She had become accustomed to me and my house, but not so much other people and theirs. She was so scared when Layton dropped her off. She was just terrified. She ran on a Friday, they waited to tell me until Monday when I was returning home. Which was probably for the best. Mike had his entire neighborhood out looking for her for about 4 hours in the rain that night. He felt so bad it was hard for him to talk to be for several weeks when i returned. I made sure he knew I wasn't blaming him.

Last but not least there was my last dog. Who I just took to the Humane Society this past Saturday. His name was Lance A-Lot. He was a 6 year old white and blonde Pomeranian and he was beautiful. He like me and only me and loved to cuddle and be cute. He, however was not potty trained and was very sick to begin with. He had heart worms but that didn't affect his personality. He took a little longer to warm up then Khloe, but when he did he went crazy. He started barking at everything, and growling when people got text's messages. It was really weird. Fortunately, my landlord never discovered that I had a dog. So I got to keep him for quite a while. His heart worms got real bad though, and him not being potty trained and me traveling all the time just really became a problem. The apartment just became messier, and him harder to control. So I took him to the Humane Society so he could be adopted by a family that had time for him, and he could receive the treatment he needed that I couldn't afford.

I haven't shed a tear yet, but I do miss the little guy. I think ever since Butterscotch it has been easy for me to emotionally detach from any animal that comes into my life. it is just a part of having a pet that I accept, they enter your life and you enjoy them for a short amount of time, typically, before they get old, or too sick, run away, or worse, hit by a car. Maybe someday I will find an animal that will stay in my life for a while, maybe a cute puppy that I can mold to be just like me. Who knows, only time will tell.