When it rains it pours.

I’m typing this on my dad’s computer. My computer went kaput yesterday. I’m less than impressed about it. My computer has thousands of dollars worth of design and editing software on it, so it’s really not just as simple as wandering down to the store and purchasing a new laptop. Replacing this computer is going to cost an arm and a leg.

I’ve ordered a new battery for it, I am hoping that might help. The battery has to come from the United States though, so it might be a while. In the mean time, I’ll be trying to use my dad’s computer, or, my phone. I’m going to try to stay away from my phone though because when I used my phone my spelling goes from bad to absolutely horrendous.

I’m being dramatic. I know that. But… I use my computer for a lot. It’s a piece of me. And I really, really, don’t want to have to replace it. Thus, I’m pouting today.

Late night ramblings…

The more sad my mood, the more often I come to my blog. I’m not sure if that’s a commonplace thing, or perhaps it’s just me. But, when you find something that allows you to put your thoughts to paper (so to speak) it’s a lot better than keeping them floating around your head.

You know when someone says something that insults you, but you don’t want to let them know they’ve insulted yo because you’re worried you’ll come across as insecure, or soft, or lacking in strength? It’s like… you don’t want them to know you’re so easy to hurt or offend. And why? Perhaps if they knew they hurt or offended me, they’d think twice before they said it next time. More than likely not, though. At least that’s what I’m telling myself to try and make myself feel better.

I’m an overly sentimental person in general. I always have been. I carry this overwhelming love, compassion and desire to see people do well. People I know, people I don’t, completely strangers… those poor kids in Africa on the commercials for organizations like UNICEF, they make me cry. I wonder how I could have been born with so much and they be born with so little. I’ve always tried to use that sentiment to my advantage. After all, when you care about the world, that should make it easier for you to make an actual difference, right?

The downside to caring about everything is that it seems like people carry the ability to hurt me so much more than others. It’s hard. And I’m not saying this to try and play victim. I’m saying this because… I need to learn how to develop thicker skin.

I just want to do right by the world, whilst making myself happy in the process, whilst not being taken advantage of. It seems like a lofty goal, and I know that the making myself happy part is a tad selfish, but we all need to be a little selfish now and again.

I didn’t get the job.

In response up to: Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow – I didn’t get the job.

I’m not really sure what to say on the matter. It’s obviously not the outcome that I wanted. It’s obviously not the outcome that I thought was going to happen. I got my hopes up for this. I really thought this was it, this was my opportunity for growth, for a my next career move, to work for an organization that didn’t break the law and ask me to cover it up. There were so many bonuses to working in this office and I’m kicking myself right now because I don’t get any of them.

I can’t even be mad. I’m not mad. It’s an incredible company and I know they’ve got to do what they feel is right for them. I just can’t help but feel as though they made the wrong choice. And, in their making the wrong choice, I’ve lost out.

It sucks. It really does.

All of my worst fears seem to be coming to fruition. I’m too qualified to work in retail, not qualified to work at these jobs that I’ve been working towards for a decade. Job hunting sucks. It really does. I’m squandering all of my talents and there’s nothing I can do about that.

I don’t know what to do with myself.

Being honest with myself.

Sometimes I feel as though I don’t belong anywhere… like I was born to all of the leap days that never happened. This particular space and time in the universe just might not be the right place for me, and that’s okay, I’m sure that happens to more than just I.

Perhaps one day I’ll find my place in this world. But for now, I think I’m just stuck being a wallflower. Unlike the movie suggests, these days, in my life, it doesn’t seem as though there are too many perks to it.

Wow. Okay.

My mom’s been in a bit of a bad mood for the past few months. In general she’s always been more of a bubbly person in nature, but when she received her diagnosis late last year, it was almost as though a darkness came out in her.

It’s definitely been something that my family has been trying hard to deal with, and to understand. I mean, I’ve never battled cancer but I’d like to think that if I had to, people would allow me to feel exactly how I wanted. So, for that reason, we’ve kind of just… let her be.

I’ve noticed though, that the times in which she crosses the line seem to be happening more and more as of late. And I’m put in this horrible position of trying to put her in her place, or letting it go, knowing what she’s just said or done is completely not okay but she’s battling cancer and it’s taking it’s toll on her.

This morning my brother, Aaron, called to ask her if she and my dad would come to his baby shower. His girlfriend is expecting their first child and her due date is in late June. Instead of just saying ‘Aaron, I am unable to come’, her response was ‘I’m not going to a baby shower before the baby is born because I don’t even know if that baby is going to live or not’.

Harsh, right?

Little bit.

My brother is about to become a dad for the first time in his life, I think of all of the things that are running through his head at this point in time, the last thing he needs to be worrying about is miscarriage. Especially this late in the pregnancy.

And don’t get me wrong. I understand that miscarriages happen. I do. And I understand that they still happen late in pregnancy. I get that. I just don’t think it’s appropriate to put that thought in the mind of a first-time-father. He shouldn’t have to be worrying about whether or not his baby is going to survive. There’s enough for him to be worried about right now.

I just really wish she hadn’t said that. Aaron is someone that I know personally has suffered from anxiety in his life and I worry now that he’s going to anxiously worry about this for the rest of his girlfriend’s pregnancy. I worry that he’s going to keep that thought in the back of his mind as he patiently awaits the birth of his first child – something that really didn’t need to be there and really shouldn’t be there.

We all understand that miscarriages happen. That doesn’t mean that you need to fill that thought in first-time-parent’s heads as they get ready to have their baby.

The whole situation has completely dumbfounded me. Why would she do this? When I talked to her when she got off the phone, my mother’s response was ‘I had two miscarriages, so it’s time they wake up and smell the realities of life.’ I really don’t think she understands at all what she just said.

All he wanted to do was invite her to a baby shower.

Perhaps I’m wrong, perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything to her. Perhaps I just should ignore the entire situation completely. I’m just of the belief that there are some things that, especially for an anxious mind, do you know good to be thinking about until they happen, if they even happen at all. Miscarriages are a very real reality for pregnant women, I get that, but I also think there’s a certain amount of decorum one should show with respect to the subject.

I tried calling Aaron after I spoke to my mom. I think he’s just pissed off and stewing right now. All he said was ‘It’s fine. She just needs to focus on getting better, I guess’. Clearly he’s taken the route of just ignoring that it happened. Or trying to ignore that it happened, at least.

What is home?

Have you ever felt as though you just don’t seem to belong anywhere? My whole life I’ve always carried around this feeling that I just don’t fit, that something isn’t right, that I don’t belong.

I have this great-big family, filled with all sorts of different characters and personalities. When I say ‘great-big’, I really mean it. I have four siblings, my parents each have 6 and 7 siblings, I’ve got something like 45 cousins at this point. There’s family everywhere. And amongst all of the different personalities and characters that exist within my family, I’ve never really fit.

I’ve tried. Don’t get me wrong, I have really, genuinely, completely made an effort. I just don’t think they understand me. I don’t think they want to understand me.

When I graduated from University, I made myself a promise that I was going to do things for myself for a change. Instead of putting my family first, I was going to put myself first. And I did that. For many years. I liked it. And though I never really felt like I found home during that time, I was content with the understanding that I was living life for me.

Lately I’ve been coming to the realization that home is where the heart is. Whether it be a dingy, overpacked hotel room, a dusty old apartment, or the basement bedroom someone else’s home, if that is where your heart is, that is where your home is.

I can say for certain that my heart is definitely not in this room right now. Nor do I think it will ever be.

I got in a disagreement with my mother today. Which makes sense. We’ve been around each other for 24 hours, so it was bound to happen eventually. I just… as much as I know she has the best of intentions, she’s never really taken the time to get to know me. So we butt heads quite frequently. I’m trying to be sensitive to what she’s going through, but, it’s hard. It’s so hard. And that almost makes me feel worse. I just feel as though I can’t win. She has this expectation that I’m going to be the doting daughter, and I’m not that. I’m not that at all and I never have been. The more I continue to fail at being that, the more I’ll disappoint her and myself in the process.

My heart isn’t here. My heart doesn’t want to be here.

And, as I begin this total reinvention of ones’ self, I can’t help but think that I’m doing this all wrong. Why am I here? I left my heart in a million pieces along the way and I’m scrambling to figure out where to go next or what to do.

I love my mom dearly. She’s an incredible woman and a warrior. I love my whole family dearly. I do. But I don’t belong here. And I know the longer that I stay here the more that it’s going to eat away at my soul. I want to go home. And that’s so sad because I don’t even know what home is anymore.

On starting over at 30

12:03 p.m.

I feel sick.

2:18 p.m.

I still can’t do it.

5:00 p.m.

Text message from my mom: “Just remember you’re worth. Don’t you ever forget that.”

8:57 p.m.

Wow.

Okay.

Where do I start? Words are escaping me at the moment. Everything is escaping me at the moment. The life that I thought I knew, the plans that I thought I had, they fell through my fingertips faster than granules of sand on the California Coast.

I can’t do this right now. I’ll take this up later.

12:57 a.m.

It’s crazy to me, the fact that the people you love most in this world have the capability to hurt you the most.

Perhaps I’m just too trusting. Perhaps I put my faith where I shouldn’t have.

3:29 a.m.

Holy fucking hell. (Please excuse my language. Nothing else seems a worthy description of the present state of my brain)

4:45 a.m.

Still awake.

6:30 a.m.

That alarm came a lot earlier than I wanted it to.

7:30 a.m.

Okay, I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to spit this out.

3:38 p.m.

A song came on radio just now and I burst out into tears.

“They say “Love is more precious than gold”
Can’t be bought and it can’t be sold
I got love enough to spare
That makes me a millionaire”

Chris Stapleton

10:30 p.m.

The past 48 hours of my life have been exceptionally trying. This whole year, through everything that has happened, I’ve not once thought of myself as a loser, until today. I had an awakening today. I am a loser. I am. And I think it’s time that I start facing the very real reality that has become my life in 2019. I don’t say this in a self-deprecating way, or in a way that wants pity. I’m just trying to be real with myself.

I’m hurt. I’m sad. I’m questioning everything that I’ve ever done, especially that in the past two days. I had plans. I had a future. I had everything I ever wanted and it slipped through my fingers in the blink of an eye.

I don’t want to be here… in this place. Both literally and metaphorically. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what happened. I love you. I will always love you. I hope that you’re able to find some peace.

How did I get to this place? I did everything right. Every fucking thing. I got the degree. I chased the career. I was a nice person. I tried to be a good person. We all have flaws, but somehow, I don’t know, perhaps I was a serial killer in my past life.

So where am I at?

The reality with my life right now is that I have no plan, no job, no home. I am 30 years old and I am a loser. Two weeks ago I was the one in the cab telling a complete stranger that it’s never too late to start over, and now I’m realizing that perhaps I should have been telling myself that all along.

I need to start over. I know that. I need a Plan B. Actually, I think at this point I’m probably running on Plan F? Motivation, Vee. You’re responsible for motivating yourself from now on.It’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start getting your shit together.

I never thought I’d be in this place in my life, but I’m sure that’s what everyone says right before they start over. So, I’m going to revert back to a quote I shared with a cab driver two weeks ago:

“For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”

Here’s to starting over. I’m 30 years old and I need to make a new life. I’m scared.