But I’m still waking up with myself

For many years, I used to dream of how my life would change: that I would wake up one day, transformed to an attractive person who wasn’t fat and sad; I would be successful and popular, complete with a boyfriend who was gorgeous and loved me. I would be like everyone else, in my mind. Sadly, ever day, I would wake up and the dream wouldn’t happen. I would wake up, and be the same person: fat, sad, and alone. And every day, I would be a little more bitter, a little more depressed about what I felt I was entitled to have what everyone else did because of my personal sufferings.

Yet, here I am now healthy, happy, and in love. I woke up finally, and instead of being pathetic about what I hadn’t been given, I stood up and worked hard to receive what I wanted. I ate well and worked out; I made decisions about my life that were hard but fulfilling; and I finally threw away my trust issues and fell in love. None of which was deeded to me by the world or anybody else but me. What truly changed was that I saw these things as something I wasn’t entitled to but something I needed to be deserving of. Who could love someone who couldn’t love themselves? How could happiness and success come when what we did made us so depressed? Why would consider ourselves healthy when we were clearly not?

I see that sad person I used to be and do not recognize them. In fact, seeing that old person only makes me want to inspire and change other people’s lives. So many people have lives they feel they must live in, that they must accept the given circumstances and the required hardships; yet also, they have the same desire for the things in life they feel entitled to because of their situation. If I can change my perspective and place, so can anyone else. It’s never easy, nor is it simple. But it’s forever worth it.

See, living your life without expectation of entitlement gives you freedom to actually enjoy what you do have in life. I didn’t know how good I had things until I stopped expecting everything to change and become better. I just hope others could find that clarity.

It’s too bad that some people never move away from their pain. Life gets so much better when you give up all that anger, that pain, that jealousy, that lust, all that fear, and simply live. Breathing gets deeper, loving gets happier, and living grows fuller.

If only us crazy humans weren’t so set in our ways. And on that, I leave.

Much Love,

K.E.

Like a wall of stars we are ripe to fall

To put it plain and simple, growing up is the worst best thing in the world. Or the best worst thing in the world, I’m not sure which. We get to vote, we get to drink, we get to fall in love, get married, and start a family. Through all of this we get to pay bills, drink too much, work ourselves to the bone, fret over feeding our family, and watch the ones we love suffer. It’s all very grotesque, really. The thing we all want to do, yet never want to experience.

I feel like in the past two years I’ve grown up far more than I ever dreamed I could. In ways, I wish I hadn’t. I’m happy with my personal growth; I’m happy, healthy, and enjoying my life. I have a boyfriend I love and who loves me. My job, while not extravagant or high profile, is rewarding and fills me with pride.

But watching the ones I love grow up aroung me makes growing up so not worth it. I’ll never be able to be a person who can watch their friends drink themselves into oblivion, flunk out of school, or fight for their lives without feeling their pain in my own soul. Growing up and dealing with the effects of such terrible adult situations makes everything so awful, makes everything seem so worthless; why have a potentially happy anything when it all falls apart?

In the end, I’ve been ok with growing up not for the good or the bad, but because it’s inevitable. We can hold back, shelter ourselves, and ignore with every fiber of our being the lessons growing up teaches us, but in the end, it still happens. The only thing we can do is accept it, learn from it, and move on. No matter how much we hate it, or how much we wish it didn’t hurt.

I guess I have no real point to this blog post tonight. I can’t fully express all that I want to, seeing as the totality of it is so heavy; so real. The totality of what growing up really means, and what it means we have to deal with. Especially when you though you’d dealt with it all before.

All you can do, then, is when the bad parts of gorwing up do come, you have to remember what it is you have that is good. Hold on to your good, onto your happy, onto your solace; it makes the bad so much easier to handle.

Much Love,

K.E.

With every one, whisper I love you

The mirror in my bathroom is an interesting creature. Some days, I look into it, and see the normal me; usually it’s the pre-coffee, morning bed head, needs-to-brush-his-teeth me. Other days, I see a tired eyed man who is weary of working hard every day. And even other days, I look into the mirror and see a man in need of really hitting the gym to take care of that annoyingly undefined pectoral area.

I attribute each of these faces as being something the mirror creates for me: stock photographs that appear whenever I stand in front of it, somehow knowing exactly my frame of mind at that particular moment. I wonder if the photographer knows me that well to capture such a wide range of me; at least, I joke in wondering.

What makes my mirror such a peculiar creature, though, is when it surprises me. Usually the surprise is nothing more then showing off a new hair cut or the sexy stubble that accumulates a day after shaving. It’s best surprise yet, though, was the day I walked into my bathroom, looked into my mirror, and knew that I was happy. There was nothing other than a pure smile, with happy wreathing each individual facial sinew. Only my mirror could surprise me with such a display of happiness.

I feel like the surprise the mirror gave me was a surprise not because I didn’t know that I was happy; it was a surprise because I had been happy for so long, and I was surprised it took the mirror that long to catch up with the rest of the world. I am happy, and so glad to be happy.

The main reason I’m happy is because I am loved. And that will make anyone happy. But what makes me happy? Being loved…and loving someone else as well. It brings such a gorgeous happiness. Not euphoric happy, mind you, but the happy that lasts all day. The happy that comes from loving and being loved.

So I’m happy.

Much Love,

K.E.

That you Lord, Are present in our human events

Talking about God and faith is oftentimes not easy, I’ve discovered. Not that I really like to bring it up as a normal topic of discussion, honestly. Personal faith is such a difficult subject for so many, and often times leads to people becoming offended over the different things we believe, or telling someone out right that what they believe is wrong or incorrect. Most often, if I can, I simply avoid the subject. It simply saves so much trouble, it seems.

What I find funny though is I shouldn’t feel the need to avoid such conversations. I am a person who understands, has questioned, and searched for his faith in God, and knows exactly why and what it is that he believes. Nor do I wish to ever convert or convince another person my personal faith is better or more correct than theirs, regardless of what I believe regarding their faith (I cannot deny, though, I do believe that some beliefs have been fundamentally perverted…but this is not about those at all). Yet, I shy away from the whole discussion at times.

For some reason I just find that all interesting. I feel like it’s been brought to my thoughts while watching Battle Star Galactica lately. The show, while a sci fi drama, is heavily laced with the discussion of religion, God, and the ideas of how God interacts with human beings. The most intriguing concept is the difference between how the Cylons view every action in the universe to have been preordained by God and is destined to have happened, while humans view God as having a role in comforting and bringing grace to the universe, but ultimately all our actions are made of our own free will.

This division is so interesting to see play out because it is an argument that is still relevant today. I personally am on the side of free will; we as humans make choices, and through those choices we commit sin, give love, save our souls, and live our lives. The idea that every moment of life is pre-ordained makes no sense to me: God having mapped out a whole life, complete with what your sins are, would negate the need for us to be sentient beings living on earth. Why live when it’s all set out for us? Don’t get me wrong, I think God has an idea of what he wants for us all. But that is achieved by us being in tune with Him and making the right decisions based off of our personal council with Him. If we blindly believe life will take us to our destiny…well then where’s the living in it all?

Wow…I’m impressed that I was able to write a post about faith all because of a science fiction television show. Crazy, no? The power of good television, I guess. That, and I’ve been home sick the past two days going out of my mind with boredom. Clearly a post was the cure for that…or something.

Well, I’m gonna go to sleep so I can be rested for work tomorrow. Yay for fighting and beating the flu/cold in two days. Or something like that. I’m telling myself I’m cured. Whatever.

Much Love,

K.E.

I spent my time just thinkin about you

So, where to begin on a post about…nothing, really. I haven’t posted in a bit, and that is partially due to Ben having returned to Eugene. Having him back has been more than just fantastic: it’s been comforting. As much I hate to admit it, I had put on an extremely tough outer shell. I dived head first into working and going to the gym; anything to ensure that I could keep my mind focused on something besides missing him. Doing that, by the way, is extremely difficult to keep up after a while. Forced focus only lasts for so long, let’s be honest. Along with it, you don’t always succeed at doing your best when you’re that focused on just focusing. I know because I went to the gym plenty…and it felt futile.

I hate to admit that I put on a front because it was so clearly obvious to people around me that I had on a front. One of my coworkers, Kristi, actually brought it up several times, pointing out that I was always working, but never that perky or happy like I normally am. I brushed it off as always being busy and tired. I should have just said the pure truth: that I had been deeply missing my boyfriend, and figure out nothing better to do with my time but attempt to be sullen but productive. Fortunately for me, Ben is back, and I don’t miss him being 1,200 miles away. Not when he’s only 2. something miles away. Or in my bed lying next to me as we sleep. I know: cute…but vomit.

Exciting news, though! I’m going to Boulder in late February to see Ben’s piece that he choreographed for the Boulder Ballet! Along with that fun, I get to meet his parents and sister, as well get to spend time with Helen!!! And Keith Kroesen! I’m totally excited, I have to say. Of course meeting the parents will be exciting/terrifying…slash exciting. Yet, I’m not worried about it. I’m more excited to see Ben’s piece and to see Helen and Keith. I haven’t seen Helen since we graduated, and I miss her a whole lot. And having Keithup there as well will be just like old times in Stockton! Yay! Can’t tell I’m excited, can you?

Oh, so today I downloaded from iTunes the new Kanye album, and I have to admit…it’s pretty amazing. I think what makes it such a great album to me is the juxtaposition of his lyrics -which are intensely personal and painful for most of the songs- with his exclusive use of AutoTune and the 808. With the AutoTune removing a fair amount of vocal emotion from his voice, the lyrics shine through so clearly, aching with the pain in each one. Supporting that with the simple beats and sounds of the 808, each song has a simple craft that evokes a very interesting emotion from me. It’s hard to describe, but I really am into it. In fact, I’m seriously into it. Seriously.

I think that’s all for now. I’ll be following Katie’s advice and delve into some stuff from an earlier post. Just not now; that deserves a post all to itself.

Much Love Y’all,

K.E.

Let the walls have their say

As I type, part of the carpet in my bedroom is being lifted so someone can vacuum and clean the area of carpet that got soaked in water last night. Why was it soaked in water, you ask? Good question! Well, a leak sprang in a pipe on the 6th floor of my building inside one of the walls…resulting in water running down to my floor. Resulting, of course, in water seeping into a part of my bedroom under the carpet…soaking a floor towel sized area.

It was such an odd moment when, at 2:15 AM, I heard what sounded like a coffee maker in my wall. The water falling made such an interesting sound…almost soothing…but also terrifying. Water in the walls is NOT a good thing. Ever. At first I wasn’t sure to call maintenance or not. I mean…it was 2:15. But, I called about it when I saw that there was water starting to pool along the baseboard in my bathroom. I’m glad I did, too. The maintenance guy came to my door a little after 3 to let me know what had happened. So, my phone call I guess saved the building from a dangerous amount of water damage. Fortunately, I must say.

Ok, back to Friday. Which means…I don’t know. I think the current plan is to work out and then go over to Kim and Shawn’s for Trashy TV Friday. Maybe I’ll do some laundry…but maybe not. I’m planning on Sunday night and Tuesday to do major cleaning in preparation of Ben returning on Wednesday. To which, I must admit…I’m so happy and excited about:-)

And I don’t want to get into it yet, but I must say that Meredith’s life this week on Grey’s kinda mirrored mine…just not the crazed serial killer part. And that’s that for now.

Much Love,

K.E.

Lucky to be coming home someday

I am a lucky person. For so many reasons, I am lucky. Before today, I knew some of the general reasons I was lucky: I had well educated and hard working parents who took good care in raising their children, I grew up in a safe town in a major mteropolitan area, and I was able to attend undergrad without a single loan taken out. Add to that the luck of breathing and living every day, I am a truly lucky person. Some people in the world don’t have those things, but I do.

Tonight, though, I discovered another way I have been a very lucky person. I am lucky to have been born and lived in an era where society has found it acceptable to be openly gay. I am lucky to be able to hold my boyfriend’s hand in a theater and not worry that I’ll be thrown out for lewd behavior. I am lucky that I am able to live as who I am, and not hide that from the world around me.

This luck I have was found while watching Gus van Sant’s Milk. Its chronicle of the beginning of the gay rights movement, including the development of the Castro and the desperate fight to preserve the human right to hold a job put into perspective just how lucky I am. People like Harvey Milk fought, protested, and demanded not just visibility for their cause but fought and demanded to retain the inalienable human rights given to them by our Declaration of Independence; and by proxy, they fought for the same rights and freedom of visibility I enjoy this very second. Milk even died simply because he did not compromise himself or his beliefs. To imagine that in 1978, California nearly made it illegal for anyone who was gay or who supported gays a to teach in a California public school, and to know that people then mobilized to protect a simple human right…makes me realize how lucky I am.

Along with that, Milk demonstrated to me just how much we need to fight for now, and how much the next generation should feel lucky. Namely, my generation needs to fight, protest, and stand up protect the rights we do own in California, Connecticut, and Massachusetts (even though Prop 8 passed, I truly believe the California Supreme Court will overturn the proposition for it’s completely unconstitutional basis). Along with that, we need to fight and demand the rights we deserve across the nation, not just in these three states. If I learned anything, it is that when there is something worth fighting for, defeat does not mean giving up. Nor does it mean compromising ourselves our beliefs. We must fight to ensure our human rights, because if we as an electorate can revoke one right, we can now by example and precedent revoke any right we want to. As an electorate.

So I thank all those who before me for standing tall and giving me an example to follow. I thank them for being able to kiss Ben in public. I thank them for ensuring it is illegal for police to harass me for having a drink. And I thank them for allowing me to feel so lucky about being me.

Much Love,

K.E.

But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize

As downright sad as it is, and no matter how many times we tell the world, we are not always fine. At least, not all the time. There’s this delicate balance of what it means to be fine, I’ve concluded. The majority of our lives are spent walking that delicate line, doing our best to keep from falling to one side of fine, neither complacent nor realizing we aren’t fine at all.

Personally, I had been doing well of balancing. That is, until this week, when I discovered that in certain areas of my life, I’m not fine. To my disappointment, I am not fine when it comes to body image. To boil all of it down, through all of my weight loss, work outs, and diet changes, I never honestly talked about what was going on within me with someone else. Even though my journey was documented here, I never openly and honestly talked with people I was close with about the sheer social anguish I was going through, or the deep insecurities I was masking by obsessively punishing my body five days a week. Or that I still look in the mirror most days and see every fault on my body. In other words, not fully fine with my silence, and my choice to stay silent about it all.

What’s difficult about it all is that I’m not unhappy, nor am I wanting sympathy. I’m just not fine with how it happened. Maybe I would be fine had I from the start allowed myself to be more open with my close friends about the pure difficulty of it all, or the anguish I felt when suddenly people see you as a different person. Even more so, that I just couldn’t talk about it.

The truly sad part about it all is that, earlier this week, I actually had a competitive moment regarding me having more insecurity regarding my body. Which, honestly, is what made me realize…I had to accept that I’m not really fine with the whole situation, and that I needed to change. Being open about this isn’t going to be easy, clearly. Were it easy, I’d have been open from the beginning.

Fortunately, this is only me being slightly off the Fine line (ha! I finally fit in that pun without it being too awful). This is me with one foot on the line, the other slightly into the empty void next to the line. Even more, I also know what’s going to make this particular issue become fine for me. I mean, I’m at least fine with the rest of life. This one issue is nothing compared to other issues I couldn’t be fine with. So, I’ll be ok. In fact…I’ll be fine.

On a happy note, yesterday was two official months for Ben and I. Which makes me smile with a great joy. I can’t wait till he’s back in Eugene from Boulder.

Much Love,

K.E.

I can still feel ya here

As is often with me, I got blindsided tonight with a sad little moment: on January 1st was the 5 year anniversary of my Aunt Jane’s death.

This realization didn’t hit me until I lay taking a bath this evening, relaxing, letting my body unwind from the physical regimen I’ve been putting it through as of late; it came quick, that wave of memories surrounding that day, the details you never knew existed until you replay the moments years down the line; the magnitude of it all. I lay there, awash with it all, and took pause. Pause for the chance to breathe in the grief, and then exhale the pain.

It may seem odd that it took four days for the memory of that day to come back to me, people might think. Surprisingly, that is fairly common for my brain. It will cover all memory of a powerful event from manifesting on the actual day in order to allow me to function as well as possible. Per usual, my brain than releases that pent up memory block when it feels I can handle it: generally while I’m showering or at the gym (followers of the blog have read my posts discussing these epiphany places.) And besides the moment where I took my pauses, I handled it all. Thankfully.

What seems so incomprehensible is that it has only been five years since her passing. In terms of years, that is fairly short. Yet, in terms of my life and who I am five years down the road from that moment, five years is a life time. My Aunt’s passing was a catalyst for a turn of for the worse in certain aspects of my life, reigniting my festering depression at the time, and reinforced certain painful truths about my family. That all encompassing moment, coupled with many long standing issues, took nearly five years to cope with. To look back and see the dark personal war I survived, and see the person I am now because of it, five years seems so much longer than I can imagine. Making a five year anniversary seem so pivotal and final in some way.

This isn’t a morbid or sad post; or at least, it’s not intended to be one. Tonight, when I remembered all of that darkness, I remembered one of the most beautiful memories I have of my Aunt. My brother and I were visiting her in LA, and we would always go to Redondo Beach to bask in the glorious Southern California sun. The sun was hot that day, yet the water was refreshing and desperately cooling. My Aunt and I were both wearing homemade tie-dye t-shirts we had made a few previous, me with neon pink swim trunks (it was the late 80’s, I make no apologies). To beat the heat, my Aunt taught me how to boogie board that day, even though I was too young in my parent’s eyes to boogie board. I was so scared, at first. But she stayed out in the water with me, not far out of course, and let me know it would be alright, even if I didn’t ride the wave. I finally caught a wave, rode it in…and smashed spectacularly into the beach, upending myself. Sand all over me, I got up and she gave me a hug for trying, even if I did crash in the end. I didn’t boogie board the rest of the day, but I remember that awesome feeling of love she had for me. It isn’t life altering nor profound or even particularly picture perfect happy. Yet, it’s one of my favorite memories of her.

Fortunately, I have these good memories of her still with me. And though I haven’t done so in a long time, I did end up being a fan of boogie boarding. Thanks to her.

So, to Mildred Jane Waychus: may your loving soul continue to shine unto eternity, as it always has, even though you have departed this world many years ago. I love you and miss you always. God bless you my dear Aunt.

So, with that bittersweet and melancholy post, I’m to sleep. Goodnight, y’all.

Much Love,

K.E>

in time of all sweet things beyond

Well…I guess nearly two months after my last post…I should write a new post. Especially seeing as how there actually is plenty to post about. So many good things, too. Great things, to be honest.

Anyone close to me knows this already, but since my last post I have started and am in a relationship one fantastic Ben Goodman. To put it frankly, being with Ben is amazing. He’s an intelligent, funny, talented, and above all caring boyfriend. He’s a professional ballet dancer with the Eugene Ballet Company, and in our nearly two months of being together we’ve already had to do some long distance work and survived. Ben went on tour with the Ballet for the majority of December around the Pacific Northwest, so for three and a half weeks we were only able to call each other and text. Currently he’s in Colorado visiting his family, and comes back January 21st. Which clearly I have marked, circled, and prepped to be a day I can tackle him with kisses.

In all honesty, he and I getting together was one of the most amazing things. In particular because, for the first time ever, I actually was able to date someone before we became any sort of a thing or definition. We went on several dates, ranging from coffee to dinner and a movie to a concert and home cooked meal. After having all recent memories of meeting people not involving any sort of date, or having a date be beyond awkward and ridiculous, this relationship and everything about it has made me overwhelmingly happy. In case anyone had been wondering…yes. I’m happy.

Work through the holidays was- you guessed it- ridiculous. Crazy. Exhausting. Painful. Amazing. I say amazing because I survived it, mainly. Also amazing because through it all, I gave further demonstration to my bosses that I am a hard worker and a worker worth investing in. Not only did my area have major sales gains, but I helped lead our store to being the number one Macy’s in Levi’s sales for the state of Oregon. With that also came word that I would be a test store for new high end men’s jeans from Lucky, Ben Sherman, and Buffalo. Work is amazing because I achieve things that many didn’t think we could achieve, and am getting recognized for it. Now it just depends on how much I can further show why I should be considered to move up in the world of Macy’s.

Ok…that’s the extent of this update. I’m gonna try and be better with updating. Hopefully? Maybe? Or something.

Much Love,

K.E.