The Visitor - A Tale for Valentines

I've often likened myself to an island.  I love people, and I love music.  Those two things quite suffice.

However, one of dearest friends in Liverpool said something that got me thinking way back when.  She said, "Sarah, you know, it's strange - I'd consider you one of my best friends, but I know very little about you."

She was right.  I know so many people and could chat the day away, but as excruciatingly social as I am, I am also intensely guarded.  I've always figured that I had a certain amount of transparency and that people could just inherently "know" me.  Well, they may, but I'm not the greatest at getting very close with people.

I'm even worse at using the word boyfriend.

I am a lover of humans.  I thrive on human interaction, and am happy to galavant about and join in whatever people just might get up to.  It is as though the entire world is my boyfriend.  

I had an odd thought lately, but I'm going to share it with you anyway.  You should expect this by now.  

When I'd started dating someone a bit back in the day in Liverpool, a friend of mine said, "Sarah - it's just strange.  And this isn't meant to sound horrible, but it's almost like you're asexual.  I just can't imagine anyone being attached to you."

I thought that was hilarious, and actually quite accurate!  As I said, it is as though the world is my boyfriend.  It's almost as though I have this silly sense of duty to the world to love everyone and be everything I can be for them, so to have someone, one person, who I call my boyfriend or even, maybe, you know, fall in LOVE with, would just be ludicrous and a huge disservice to all of the lovely humans.

I did tell you it was an odd thought.

But, here's the thing.

This island had a visitor.

The visit was far more brief than I'd have cared for it to be, but it happened.  Someone got to this island.  It was good.  It was fun.  He was lovely.  I wasn't expecting it, and I got more out of it than I could have possibly anticipated.  Even when it ended, it ended with a three hour, wonderful conversation that literally ended a phase of chaos and helped me learn a great deal about myself.  

I'm not an island, I suppose.  And letting someone get to me, while possibly a disservice to all the other humans in the world (oh gee, laugh out loud, etc.), turned out to be wonderful.  

A few things that I got from this:  

I know even more lovely humans.
I learned that it turns out, I'm a pretty good girlfriend.

I learned that I don't have to worry about being able to handle work, working out, dieting, a social life, plus having a companion along for the ride.  I can do it.

I was reminded how wonderfully we all deserve to be treated and can't wait for it to happen again someday.

I also got Mister Breakfast.  It just happened, and we had to elaborate...  See below.

I'm spending Valentines Day running around town in a red polka dot shirt my Mom got for me handing out silly Lego Star Wars & holographic kitten and puppy valentines with candy hearts in them to all of my favorite humans, and probably a few I don't even know.  And then I'm going to have dinner with one of my favorite ladies in the world.  And then I'm going to smile for a moment and look forward to when I have another island visitor to share it with someday.

I do have copious amounts of love for you all.  Have the happiest Valentines Day.

Y'all best appreciate.

Admit it.  You do it, too.

Sometimes we get so focused on the things that we need to work on that we forget to stop and appreciate the things we've already done and what we've got.

Me?

I've got a bum.  Yup.  I've not been the biggest fan of this bum and, in fact, started to focus on trying to trim that little lady down.  But, the street I work on and walk up and down multiple times a day lends itself to forgetting anyone else is on the other side of those windows and checking yourself out in the reflection.  (Seriously - ask my friends who work inside a media hub on the corner, and they'll have a few goodies to share about things people do in those windows' reflections, including me doing the running man while they're in meetings.)

Today, while strutting past those windows, I noticed my bum.  And I also noticed that it's not too bad of a bum.

I'm doin' alright.  You're doin' alright.  And if you aren't doing' alright, then do a little something about it. Take .3 seconds and remind yourself about the things you DO like about you.  There's a lot more good than we take the time to remember. Y'all best appreciate.

Love & do. And don't stop.

I wanted to remember something, so I grabbed my little cork notebook that I carry with me at all times. I suppose it's a journal, but for some reason I have an aversion to the word "journal." It's full of thoughts; sometimes a word, sometimes a few pages.

I opened it up and came across this. I really needed to remember this today, and thought I'd share with you.

You are great. You are unique. You are special. And the same applies to you.

Jack of Hearts

I’ve always thought of myself as a bit of a “jack of all trades.”  I’m one of those people who’s pretty good at a lot of things, but I’ve never just hunkered down and become great at any one thing in particular.  Over the last few months, I’ve added a few more things to my repertoire. 

Joyful face.

I’ve been doing some work for family friends of ours, and I’ve found it incredibly rewarding.  Need your deck sanded and stained?  I’m on it.  Weedwhacking?  Done.  I’ve painted walls, puttied holes – all kinds of things.  And it’s been great.  While I’m usually dirty, sweaty and busy getting things done, I’m also having some really valuable alone time, listening to full albums of bands I like, and remaining active all day long.  

So today, while sprucing up a bathroom I painted to sounds courtesy of Simon & Garfunkel, I fixed a drawer that couldn't stay in its cabinet. I was really impressed with myself, and very thankful my parents had me help with things like that around the house. 

Then, I thought about how awesome it will be to have my own home eventually, because I’ll be capable of doing so much myself.

And then, I thought about how, at this rate, it’ll be a million years before I even have my own home.

And then, I wondered why I hadn’t ever just decided to work really hard at one thing so I’d have been more successful by now.

And THEN I wondered what on earth it is I’m meant to do…

Should I go back to school?  Should I have been a music teacher? Should I have been a professional musician?  Am I supposed to keep working in music venues?  Should I?  Could I?  Etc., blah blah blah?!?!!? 

Insert mental spiral of 3.9 billion thoughts and questions about my place in this world and what I am meant to dooooo… HERE.

Suddenly, in mid tub-scrub, this thought stopped the frantic spiral abruptly:

You were created to love people, be joyful, and make people happy. 

Christmas Present!

After that, I thought about how I had unknowingly allowed my weight to rob me of my joy and my ability to exude love for others.  I'd had moments of it, but I was too trapped in a mess of discontent and self-loathing to be able to let that side of me flourish.  Once again, I found myself dumbfounded and thankful for another unexpected, wonderful change.

I don’t know which of all trades I will be the biggest jack at.  What I do know, in hindsight, is that I adore humans and I love working with people and ensuring smiles are on faces when I’m done with them.  I sincerely hope that I will always be fortunate enough to have music be an integral part of whatever I do, but at least I know what it is I’m meant to do:  love.

The "D" Word.

Yeah.  The “D” word.  Go ahead – guess which one it is.

Dresses?  Dorky?  Does she mean a swear word?  No, dumby…  Oh -that’s a D-word, too…

Dating.  I hate that word.  When I think of dating, I think of some awkward, lame thing you do for an evening with some person you’ve barely just met, and a bunch of annoying, stupid things and whatnot.  Do I sound like a bratty little teenager?  WELL – you don’t  date anyone properly for, like, 7 years and we’ll see how far you regress.  I haven’t been interested in anyone in a very, very, verylong time.  It’s partly because I just haven’t, but I’m also pretty sure it’s because I’ve been pulling an ostrich, too. 

The idea of "dating" makes me about as comfortable as this video's business-man-by-day-wild-man-by-night, Maurice, and scrawny-wouldn't-have-made-it-as-a-viking Fred.  For lots of reasons.

Before you lose weight, it’s very easy to think, “Gee, golly – when I lose weight, I’ll be one pretty desirable hepcat!  It’ll be so much easier then!  Everything will just magically work out because I’m thinner – HOORAY!”

Well, I very well may be one desirable hepcat.  But this is another side of me I've kept safely hidden behind my steadily deteriorating wall of flubber.  Like many other things I've talked with you guys about, getting back in touch with it causes more of that annoying but liberating self-realization/growth nonsense.  I really am a pro at keeping things away that might hurt my heart.

I’ve never been one of those girls who embraced their size.  There are plenty of beautiful, strong, fantastic women who have.  I have never been comfortable with my physical body.  I’ve always known how to dress well – hide the funny bits and flatter the good ones…  I’ve never been shy, and I’ve always liked the things that are intrinsically me.  At times, I've thought that my personality and "coolness" were great enough to help people overlook my physical shortcomings, but I don't think I've ever really felt that it's possible for me to find love without fixing my exterior. 

Actually, what I really thought was that there was no way I would be able to meet someone great. I would either have to be single, or put up with someone gross enough to settle for me.  So, I’d rather be alone. 

Do I feel this way about people other people?  No.  Do we all say horrible, awful things to ourselves that we would never say to another person?  Abso-freaking-lutely.  The thought of someone saying things like that to a person I care about gives me the instant urge to cause them physical pain.  A couple of times.  But, somehow, it is always perfectly acceptable when trying to fairly, realistically analyze myself. 

So, I suppose I was right.  My exterior did have to change, but not for the destructive reasons I'd convinced myself of, and not to make me worthy of love.  Things at my core had to be shaken, rearranged, and sorted out so that I could be capable of accepting love should it happen to come my way.

So, when will it happen for me?  When will I finally meet someone again?

Who knows?  I look forward to it, but I don't care when.  For now, I am happy learning to love myself little by little.