Tag: love

Promises.

Daily writing prompt
What’s a promise you made to yourself that you’ve actually kept?
View all responses

I have probably made a million promises to myself that most I didn’t keep. But I’ll always have one that I kept because it’s something I needed for myself: be true to who I am && love myself.

Let’s start here for a moment: I went this past Saturday (the 18th) to the reunion of the high school class I attended school with. One comment stuck out to me the most. One of the guys I had no issues with growing up stopped, leaned against a chair && told me, “Barb. You really did come out of your shell since school.”

Came out of my shell.

That wasn’t easy for me. I let my personality, as I do believe I have stated, be defined by the people that has been in my life. Not so much just high school peers, but everyone. I have always been the “fat friend”, the “ugly friend”, the “friend that doesn’t care”. When you hit a certain age, you realize you can’t live your life like that.

I’m also not saying that I’m no longer the “fat, ugly, friend that doesn’t care”. What I’m saying is that I found myself along the way. I dropped friends, I moved on, and I had to come to terms with who I am && it’s all I can be. Sometimes, I wish more people could do that sooner in life. It wasn’t “soon” in my life, either && sometimes I’m sad about that. I lived a very long time believing what others said or thought.

It took an emotional breakdown.
Losing friends.
Having ex-boyfriends ask me why my friends didn’t like them.
Hearing statements like “if you were thinner, you’d be cute.”

The emotional breakdown – I was twenty. My brother had no idea what to do because when I broke – I broke. He ended up sending me to my grandfather’s house. For four months I lived in Amarillo, Texas and spent time with my grandfather *mom’s dad*, and my Aunt & Uncle *dad’s brother*. I ran to Amarillo a lot when I was younger. 15. 17. 20. I remember spending my 21st birthday with my grandfather (Papa Dad). I remember him buying me a birthday cake, it was yellow. Him && I spent the evening together watching television and having cake. That was probably one of my favorite birthday’s.

I walked away from many friends. Friends who weren’t doing anything for me mentally, emotionally, or helping my maturity level. It was hard and anyone that had to walk away from friendships understand, but for me to find me, love me, enjoy me – finally be the person I always wanted – I had to walk away.

Ex-boyfriends are exes for a reason. I can say that my last boyfriend was when I was 21 – after him, the two before, I realized that what I was searching for in a guy I wasn’t going to find. At least there, in that point in my life. So, I stopped. I just stopped. Of course, when someone asked, I always said what they expected, “guys don’t find me attractive and I’m happy just being the friend.” I had a guy tell me once, “it’s cute that you like me, but you’re not my type”. I wasn’t attracted to him – but for some reason, it never failed, if I was nice to a guy, they just assumed that I wanted them. I didn’t. && yes, I did have an ex-boyfriend ask me why my friends didn’t like him like that. I was single until I was twenty-six and I think it’s because the guy I wanted, that I felt a connection with, I had “met” when I was eighteen. I honestly think I secretly compared all the guys after that (which was all of my exes) to THAT guy.

He came back when I was twenty-six. We’re married now.

Just an FYI, moment. I have lost 150 pounds since November 2024 – I look exactly the same. So, if I were ugly then.. I’m still ugly.

But for me. I do agree that I came out of my shell. It’s because I found me. I found my personality. Do I still have days that are hard? Yes. I think I always will. However, my promise to myself to be a better me and be happy and love myself – I’ve kept that.

Even on the hardest of day.
Even on the days I start laughing so hard I end up crying.
Even the days where I’m alone, leaning on a wall watching people interact and looking straight through me.
Even the moments where I don’t understand what’s happening in my head.
Even the times where I lose my crap and scream at a co-worker and end up in trouble.
Even the hours where I just want to sit in bed in the dark listening to “I Love Lucy”.
Even the points in life where nothing makes me happy and I just exist.

In all of those moments – I will still always choose myself.

I know what I want out of life. && I’ll make a promise on top of my best promise – I promise that I will achieve what I want. Even if it takes me until I’m 96 – I will achieve my goals.

Memories

I didn’t graduate high school.

I should have been class of 2006 – I ended up being “class of 2024” after I did classes online through my local library. They paid for it as long as you finished; which I did. A lot of people, as they get older, try to figure out the one thing they regret would do over if they had the chance.

This was mine.

Sometimes I wish I would have been different in high school. I wish I would have cared more. I wish I would have had a personality. I wish I wouldn’t have let what people said or thought make me who I was. I feel my personality was shaped by other people and not myself. I wonder a lot if that’s why it took me so long to find >me<. If it was why I let people walk over me. Make decisions for me.

It has taken years to get over that hump. Sometimes, I fall back into that pattern && I hate myself for it.

What has me reminiscing about high school? 2026 should be my 20-year mark. People celebrate that. I was invited. I should be happy to know that people, who I should have graduated with, still remembers me. Still thinks of me as part of them – the whole circle. Do I think all of them will? Absolutely not. Am I going? Honestly, I don’t know. It’s on Saturday – tomorrow is Friday.

I made it to the second month of my junior year before I walked away. When asked I usually give the same answer – they wouldn’t let me have band. But I think there was so much more to it than that. When I enrolled for my junior year, I was late, so I ended up enrolling in the library with the school counselor and vice-principal. I had no issues there.

Two years prior, keep in mind, I had buried my mom – that took a toll. So, when I enrolled into my junior year, they said I would have to give up two electives, but it would keep me with my class && I’d be able to graduate with them. That’s all I wanted. I ended up having a sophomore and junior English class, and a sophomore and junior math class. No issues.

The only elective I wanted was high school marching band. I had been in band since I was in sixth grade, and it’s what I chose. This was the first push. The vice-principal said, “You can’t have high school band. You have to have been in band throughout school, you can’t just enter band.” That was a big moment for me – it’s the moment I realized I was insignificant. Our vice-principal was the type of person who knew all – everyone, and everything they were doing. She could pinpoint what people were going to choose before they chose it. But for me? She didn’t even realize I was in the band. Every Friday night football games, I was in the bleachers – she never noticed. No one ever noticed.

That was heartbreaking for a sixteen-year-old. Especially when you go to a small school (my graduating class had maybe thirty people) and no one noticed me. She went on to tell me if I just wanted a class with that teacher, he had another, music appreciation. That’s what I ended up with.

I didn’t want that.

The second push? I was in a class with a close friend. I always paid attention to the classes I took. Shockingly, I actually enjoyed school. But that day, it still replays in my mind, was the first time someone had told me, “Stop talking, I’m trying to pay attention.” It seems small. I was sixteen after all.

Number three. The last straw. The straw that made me not go back. I remember that morning very well in my mind. I got up in a good mood. I got dressed; I really tried to look nice. I wanted to turn over a new leaf. I wanted to be better. I got to school – no one noticed. I wasn’t noticed. I stood in front of my locker and just listened to everyone talk, and laugh, and hang out. No one had even said good morning to me.

I. Was. Insignificant. I wasn’t rememberable. No one saw me. Noticed me. I finished the day in silence. I went home. I never went back.

Sometimes I wish someone had cared enough to stop me. Tell me that they wanted me there. Wanted to see me. Wanted to help me finish school. Tell me that they’d do anything to make it happen. But I didn’t get that. I didn’t even have a moment where someone was mad, or sad, or annoyed – no one said “Hey! Why don’t you stick it out? We know today was a bad day but sticking it out would be good.” Because no one asked. No one saw. No one noticed.

I was personality-less.

I disappeared. We had moved out of town – no one saw me for years. I lived on the internet. I was trying to find someone, anywhere, to feel human. To know someone cared. I found it online with strangers. That trend lasted for many years. But that’s for a different day. Today is about teenager high school Barb.

I wish I had been different. I know I say that a lot. But it’s true. I did try a couple times to be/do different. I tried out for cheerleading – I had always wanted to be a cheerleader. I tried out for flag corp. It wasn’t cheerleading, but it was something. Both times I was told no – for the same reason. At least I’m consistent. They both said, “you don’t have enough school spirit.” I wish I had been happier.

I wonder if I had been happier, would high school have been different?
If I had not buried my mom was a freshman, would high school have been different?
If I had smiled more, or tried more, would high school have been different?
If high school had been different, would I have graduated?

When I started my junior year, I was excited. I was looking forward to the last two years of school. I wanted to go to prom, hang out with friends, have a skip day, go to homecoming. I wanted to stand in the hallway on the last day of high school and sign yearbooks and be sad that I was leaving. I wanted the moment where I had realized that I was now an adult and nothing would be the same. I wanted the days and months where I struggled to figure out what college I wanted to attend. I wanted to stress about leaving friends and schoolmates. I wanted to tell them all, “we will stay in touch” – even tho we all knew we wouldn’t.

But I didn’t get that. I took that away from myself. I let it slip away in a blink of an eye.

The question remains. Do I go on Saturday or flake on the couple I told that I would go?

I stopped…

I stopped writing.

Not because I didn’t want to. But because I can’t.

When I sit down to write my brain stops. Empties itself and everything is gone. Think of the episode of Spongebob when Squidward tells him to forget everything except fine dining and the inner-Spongebob’s throw everything away leaving only that. Spongebob forgets his name, his family, his everything – except for fine dining.

That’s what I have felt like lately when I attempt to write. Except, of course, I know nothing about fine dining.

Writing, even reading, has been a way to get my thoughts out and make life a little more bearable. I broke down at work yesterday. Last week I yelled at co-workers, not in a supervisory-yell-at-someome, but a full blown yell-when-I-know-better-but-I-did-and-upset-other-people.

I told the husband today maybe I need to go back to writing. Stop trying to “fix” myself when I know what helps. My manager asked me to go talk to a ‘therapist’. My job has a program that we can utilize for free where you can just go talk to someone. She wants me to really think about going to them – they are on property at work – I’d just have to walk up the stairs and into their office. I will think about it – which is what I told her – but I think first I will get back to writing.

This is me attempting that.
This is me coming back to the written word.
This is me trying to overcome the hurdle I keep tripping over.

I used to keep a blog on blogger.com where I would just sit and type. I would just talk. Think about a fourteen-year-old girl with her very first diary, which is hidden under the mattress of her canopy bed, hiding but in plain sight. No one would think to look there, right? She’d open it nightly and just scribble about her thoughts, her crushes, her dreams, her desires. That was me on blogger. When I switched to WordPress, because I liked the site more, I still did that but tended to move in other directions. I have been using it more for “what do I want out of life”. I know that answer deep inside, I don’t know why I keep asking it.

I need to get back to that.
I need to sit down once a day or possibly twice a day & just write.
Write out feelings.
Thoughts.
Crushes.
Dreams.
Desires.

It’s not even me being worried that I will be embarrassed by what I could possibly write or say. I won’t say no one, but not very many people read this. && if they do, honestly, in person – no one says anything to me about it.

I do have a great post to write soon! Remember how I went to see Jet Tila in Broken Bow, Oklahoma? Remember when I said next, we were going to see Maneet Chauhan? We did! I’ll have to upload pictures soon!

Gods Library

Walking through Wal-Mart parking lot. I see a bumper sticker that said, “Don’t worry about tomorrow, God’s already there”.

Which got me to thinking.

I tell people a lot that He already has a book written of your life – so He knows what’s happening tomorrow. Then started thinking about what His library would look like. 📖

Photo Credit goes to Nemanja Sekulic.

He said he used photoshop to do this with a picture of his dad in the middle.

Parents.

What were your parents doing at your age?

I am 36 years old right now.

My parents – at 36:

My mom was 36 in 1998 – a mother of two and married to my father. Four years before she passed away. My brother was 12 && I was 11. She worked at… I want to say a restaurant called “Baldwins” – she was a cook.

My dad was 36 in 1983 – a father of four (three boys && one girl) and married to his second wife – who he was in the process of divorcing. He was a drunk – this was a year before he met my mother – three years before they’d be married. If memories are correct, he’d go to jail at night && sleep there, during the day they’d let him out to go to work. He worked at a… junk yard? named Dulaney’s in Amarillo, Texas.

I never really notice an age difference until I start doing things like this. My mom was 36 in 1998 when my dad was 51 – my dad was 36 in 1983 when my mom was 21. In 1983, my dad had four children, ages 16, 14, 7, & 4. They both lived in Amarillo, Texas though.

They eventually met in 1984. Got married in 1986 on their lunch break at work and went bowling that night.

They are both gone now. Mom died in 2003 at 40. Dad died in 2011 at 63.

Cat Babies.

Bloganuary writing prompt
If you could make your pet understand one thing, what would it be?
View all responses

If I had to pick one thing, && only one thing – I would want them to understand how much I love them.

We have accumulated a lot of cats through the years – not on purpose – some are strays, some are babies of a stray that we thought was a boy who turned out to be a girl cat && now we call her Mommy Bean. Some of them irritate the snot out of me – because you know, they are cats. But at the same time, I love them so much.

I think I’ve mentioned how before I would actually chuckle at people who told me their pets were like children to them. Because who could feel like that? && up until Dotty was born, &&& I fell in love with her, I didn’t think it was possible. But I did. I fell for that Siamese cat like it was something I do all the time.

I’ve had pets before Dotty. I had a cat when I was 15, Kitty Kittie (it’s all she’d answer to), but when I lost her it didn’t hit me like it did Dotty’s death. It’s been almost a year and I still miss her so much. Still cry. Still miss her trying to smother my head. 

When I lost her I didn’t want the other cats anymore. Because it hurt my heart to look at them. Horrible, yes, I know. But Lucci, Dotty’s Uncle – he knew I was hurting and sad because he was trying to do what Dotty used to do. Lucci, I love that cat && I hope he knows just how much I love him. I hope Dotty knew how much I loved her. Because I did. I loved her way too much. 

My brother && I have always said that we were going to get a really big piece of land && put houses on it together. I told him I was still down for it. But I can’t now. I buried her in this yard && I refuse to leave her again. I guess if I win the lottery I’ll just have to buy out this road.

Soulmates.

Soulmate: noun.  A person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.

People are given two soulmates in their lifetime.

A lover.
The one person who opens your heart to a whole new world and wonder no one can give you.  A single touch electrifies you.  Intensity.  Love.  Honesty.  Affection.  Spiritually.

A best friend.
Someone to spend life with that doesn’t hate you, scar you, && is always there to help && protect you.  Love.  Honesty.  Spiritually.

You can love many people in a single lifetime.  Some stay, but most leave.  Boyfriends.  Girlfriend.  Friends.  Co-workers.  Life hands you hundred’s of people in your life but the ones who matter never leave.  You may not talk daily, or see each other often – but you know, deep inside, they are there forever.

Growing up I always said, and believed, that a person can only have one soulmate until I realized that’s not exactly true and funnily enough, I realized this while watching One Tree Hill.  I will always believe you can only be “in love” with one person in your lifetime.  I don’t believe you can feel something THAT strong for multiple people.  (You can love as many as you want.  Big difference between loving someone && being in love with someone.)

But sometimes I forget about best friends.  That one person you meet and you simply think to yourself this person, I like this person, they will be mine forever.  &&& it’s true, you may not see them on a daily basis, or even monthly basis.  But you know, &&& they know, &&& everyone knows – they are your person.

Your.  Person.
Your bestfriend.
Your companion.

Everyone needs that person too.  You need the one person in your life who isn’t going to tear you down, or make you feel inferior to everyone else.  Someone who doesn’t crumple your spirit, or squeeze you like an orange if you want to believe in rainbows and unicorns.  Someone who will not get mad when you trip them into the mud, or lock them out of the car on a rainy night.

Reading that you started thinking about your wife or husband.  Boyfriend or girlfriend.  But do you think of your best friend.  The person you met in elementary school or junior high.  Possibly high school or college.  Or if you lacked social skills and didn’t develop much until adulthood, maybe you’re thinking about a person at work.  A girl or a guy that makes your life a little less stressful and enjoyable.  Life is hard enough trying to maneuver your way around it – it’s even harder when you’re alone – that’s why God gave you people.  Two people.  The two people that will get you through life without too much struggle, or too much pain, heartbreak, or sorrow.

Those two people.
Your lover.
Your best friend.
Your soul mates.

 

The Red String of Fate:

Found on RebelCircus and wanted to share:

Legend has it there’s an intangible string of fate that binds two people that are destined to be together.  Those connected are bound regardless of time, place or circumstance. Nothing can break the invisible thread between two people who are meant to be together.

The color red is strongly tied to the attraction and desire.  It is also the color of the string of fate that binds two soul mates.  The red string of fate is derived form an ancient East Asian belief.  According to this myth, the Gods tie a red string around the ankles of those that are destined to meet each other or help each other in a certain way.

The concept is similar to the Western concept of a “soulmate” or a “twin flame.”  What is different is that this proverb focuses more on the concept of being “bound” to someone rather than finding your other half.

Like many old legends, the story behind the red string is somewhat problematic.  It is said that walking home one night, a little boy saw an old man reading a book.  He asked him what he was reading.  The old man said it was a book of marriages, and told the young boy he was destined to marry one girl.  When he showed the little boy the girl he was to marry, though, the boy didn’t like the idea because he didn’t want to get married.  He threw a rock at her and ran away as fast as he could.  Years later, a marriage was arranged between the boy and one of the most beautiful girls in the village.  But, when he unveiled her he noticed his wife-to-be had a small scar over her eyebrow.  When he asked her about it, she told him that a boy had thrown a rock at her as a child.  Thus proving their fateful union…

At the crux of this proverb is submitting to a higher power.  Destiny will take its course and in time all will fall into place.  It is important not to fight the red thread.  Even if you find the person on the other end of the fateful red string, that doesn’t mean staying together will be easy.  The proverb is meant to instill loyalty, devotion, and compassion.  The string is also there to make sure lovers remain faithful to one another.

No matter how near or far you are from the person, the thread remains.  There will be times when mentally or physically, you feel distant from the person, but that doesn’t affect the thread that binds you two together.

“The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind I was.  Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.  They’re in each other all along.” –Rumi

According to Chinese legend, the deity in charge of the “Red String of Fate” is believed to be Yuè Xià Lâo, the old lunar matchmaker god.  Yuè Xià Lâo is also in charge of marriages.

In Japanese culture, it is said the red string is tied around the pinky finger.  Hence the phrase “pinky swear.”  Originally, it indicated that the person who broke their promise had to cut off their pinky finger.

Caroline Highland of Thought Catalog writes, “The red threads don’t wind their way around our ankles as we walk, don’t catch on us as we brush past things – the Chinese believe that they emanate from us from birth, from the moment we enter the world.  As we age, with each passing year, the threads grow tighter, bringing us close to the people whose lives are destined to intertwine with ours in some way.”

The same writer interprets the red thread as liberating.  “How much easier it feels to fling ourselves out into the unknown, into a new place or stage of our lives, knowing those red threads are there, winding out into the future as they always have been, holding onto souls that will be waiting to catch us, teach us, touch us, and change us.”

According to Wikipedia, “The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances.  This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.”

Do you believe in romantic destiny?