On moving out, and hopefully up.

I signed a lease yesterday for my very own, one bedroom apartment in St. Paul.  I couldn't be happier about it.  It is a gorgeous space with a comfortable at-home kind of feel about it.  I'm very excited to have this opportunity to bask in the independence that will be my life (hopefully).  The hardest part about it all is moving out of my home/life that I have now.  Things are easy.  And that's the thing.  I don't want easy.  I don't want to be stuck in something because its the easiest option, or because change scares me.

When I evaluate my life (which I've been doing on the daily) I always think back to one specific time in my life.  I was 20 years old when my boyfriend at the time dumped me (like two days after my birthday, bastard!).  I was beyond heartbroken.  I didn't eat for weeks, I didn't shower for months, I listened to bad music on repeat in my bedroom of my parent's basement.  I was a wreck.  And then I realized that I needed to start making decisions for myself, and not because I was hoping that something would happen in my love life to make up for not getting what I truly wanted.

I am guilty of making decisions for LOVE all too often.  And don't get me wrong here, sometimes making a decision based on the hope of love is a really important step to take in your relationship.  But sometimes, it's just plain stupid.  And when I make those decisions, it tends to be of the stupid kind.  I chose to put myself in unhealthy situations, put up with shit, and test my heart to the breaking point, all to see if that person will return the favor.  And in my few experiences, they usually don't.  If they aren't looking out for you, and you aren't looking out for you, then damn it, who is? 

I for one am starting with my independence.  Who says you can't be in a great relationship without losing your sense of self?  We is nice, but come on, the I is powerful!  I accomplished this...I made it on my own...I am successful (and beautiful!).  I am convinced that while my past may be riddled with the decisions of love past, I can make healthier choices for myself, while still considering love.  And lets face it, you can't truly love another until you love yourself first!  So here's the moment of truth... I'm taking the leap of faith and just knowing that this is the best decision for me, makes it so much less scarier that staying "easy."

The blues, and why I'm happy about it

I've known few people who haven't, at some point in their lifetime, felt depressed.  I know that for me, feeling depressed has been a part of my life for close to 10 years now.  I was first introduced to SAD (seasonal affect disorder) by my school psychologist.  He told me that the symptoms of my depression were likely caused by the changing seasons and that some simple steps could help me combat these feelings.  He was right.  I started tanning to get vitamin D, doing more things I enjoyed, surrounding myself with friends and family when I knew depression was kicking in. 

I thought I had really kicked depression out of my life and into the history books forever.  I was happy.  I was doing things to help myself.  I recognized when I was feeling depressed and started making conscious choices to not allow myself to feel that way.  I could beat depression, you nasty little bug, you! 

Up until about a month ago I thought that depression was seriously something of my past.  But it isn't.  It will be a part of me forever.  And I have to learn to deal with in on a daily, consistent basis.  I have to make habit out of dealing with unfavorable thoughts and suicidal feelings.  Yes, I think about suicide.  And I'm not afraid to admit it!  The second I become ashamed of my feelings, I will become a prisoner to depression once again.  The best thing I can do for myself is be real, honest, open, and sincere about who I am and how I feel. 

I know that re-learning some of my coping strategies is not going to be easy.  I know that I will still have some difficult days, months, maybe even years.  But at the end of it all, I wouldn't have it any other way.  It has taught me to be self-aware, and self-responsible.  If I'm having a bad day, it is up to me to find a way out.  Yes, I could sit on the couch, eat cookies all night, watch all 6 1/2 seasons of SATC, and self loathe.  But I won't.  And I won't allow myself to become Kim-the girl with depression.  I am Kim.  Plain and simple.  My depression has helped me define myself in my own terms, but it will never define me solely. 

Losing a Mother

S lost his Mom this past Monday.  Needless to say, it's been a rough week.  Lots of time has been spent with family and friends, which is nice, but I do wish it was under different circumstances.  Most of S's family I hadn't even met yet until this week.  They are all very wonderful people and I'm glad to have gotten the chance to meet them all.  But sometimes all the family in the world won't help when the one person you need most is gone...

What it feels like to have never been asked to prom.

I have never been asked to a dance.  Ever.  The only dances I did go to in high school were attended with either girl friends or a boy that I asked to go with me.  And I'm 24 now so it's really not a big deal.  Yes, it bothered me some when I was younger, especially my senior year, but I'm pretty much over it now...I think.

Prom season is a shame regardless of my history with it.  If you have never not been asked (did you follow that double negative?) then let me give you a little idea of what it feels like:

One day you wake up and a commercial on MTV is all about a new movie coming out; titled Prom.  You go to school and your friend is ecstatic that she just got asked to prom...my the star football player...and your happy for her...sorta.  You wake up a week later and five more of your friends have dates, everyone has started making plans to share a limo, and the restaurant has been decided on.  A week later, you wake up and find out the guy you were hoping was going to ask you, just asked someone else. 

Suddenly you wake up and its the day of Prom.  You don't have a date.  You go to school where everyone is talking about how much fun the night will be, all the after parties that could happen, and who is going to be with who.  You realize that holding out hope that someone (ANYONE) will ask you is just stupid.  You go home.  You sit at home.  You cry.  You realize that not one single boy in the entire school wanted to spend the night with you.  You are not disappointed, or sad, or mad, or even angry.  You feel ugly.

Monday morning comes and you hear all about the drama of the night.  You pretend to be interested but secretly you could care less.

Every year that goes by you think back to that night, when you sat at home, alone, watching MTV and eating popcorn.  You wonder if it will ever be easier to think about Prom and not feel ugly...but so far it isn't.

I haven't given up hope that I'll someday be 'over' Prom completely.  Until then, I stand firmly in my accusation that it is a huge waste of time, money, and young girls' hearts.

The itch I can't scratch...

Working more than one job is hard.  Even your days off aren't quite as relaxing because you are trying to fit so many things into that little time you have.  Also, I tend to get confused about where I'm at and have been known to answer the phone at one job by giving the name of my other job!

Actually, except for 3 short months, I have always had two jobs, since I was 17.  So working doesn't bother me and I will unwillingly confess that sometimes on my weekends off I get bored and think to myself, "I might as well be making money!"

I told my part-time employer that I would be finished by the end of the summer as I will be starting Grad School this fall and will continue to work full-time at my other job.  Now I want out as fast as humanely possible.  The thought of 10 more weekend shifts seems like a lifetime and I'm struggling to care.  I am sad to admit this.  I have always loved my second job.  It has been a great opportunity for me to grow and learn from hands-on experience working with families.

But now I feel more than ever that I want to enjoy my last summer before Grad School, spend as much time as possible with friends and family, and savor these last moments of youthful bliss.  Am I being selfish?  I feel like I do owe it to the program to stick it out until the end of summer, when I indicated I would be leaving.  I feel I owe it to my coworkers to stick around and not create the need to train a new staff member at a time of rapid change in our program. 

I'm itching to be outta here....and I can't quite scratch it yet.

What's worse?  My director offered me an out.  He called me up a few weeks ago and said, "Hey, I know you weren't planning on leaving until  the end of fall, but do you want to be done sooner?"  And I said NO!  I said no because I wanted the extra income through summer and at that time I was still in work-mode. 

Just writing it makes it so much more clear to me that I need to start THINKING before SAYING.  I've put it on my to-do list.

Facebook stalking and other slightly illegal activities...

The other day I was facebooking (yes, it is a verb in my vocabulary) and I realized that I know a lot more about people than I ought to.  If you are a breathing living animal and have a facebook account, I have probably seen it.  Okay, okay, I am exaggerating...but only a little!  Seriously, I know way more about some people from their facebook account than I have ever learned from them telling it to me.  I started to wonder...am I a stalker?

Let's be serious though, it's not my fault that people chose to post information on there that NO ONE has any business knowing about.  Why on earth do I (or anyone else for that matter) need to know whether you say pop or soda?  Why do I care that you just checked in at the bar?  Are we becoming our own worst enemies?  It used to be that people were so careful about the information they gave out and just who had access to it.  It seems now days, more and more people are willing to disclose their home address, their daily schedules, and intimate details of their personal lives.  I feel as though I am committing a crime just by knowing these things.

Which leads me to wonder, what else am I doing that on a larger scale would be considered illegal?  In today's world where information can be found at the touch of a mouse, it seems that the rules and regulations governing our society become thinner and harder to break than ever before.  I "stalk" people every day, yet a judge would never grant a harassment order against me.  Yet, real criminals do use facebook, along with countless other social media sites to track and follow individuals.  Are these people more likely to escape law and order because of my use?  I have just as much opportunity to find out where someone is as a criminal does- all because we CHOSE to share our information.

I'm not sure where the line should be drawn here...but one thing I do know is that I always want to be on the slightly more legal side of illegal activity.

Making a difference

The concept of 'making a difference' in the world has been on my mind a lot lately.  I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I am preparing to start grad school this fall and all I can think about is: what's next?

At lunch today a coworker of mine was telling us about a woman who used to work here but now works in St. Paul and has developed and implemented some outstanding victim programs.  My coworker spoke so highly of this woman (who she guesstimated to only be 34 years old) and it made me long to be referenced in this way.  I want to do something great.  And I want people to talk about me with pride and respect.

It would be awesome to design a new program or implement changes into one of the many broken systems I work with on a daily basis.  But do I have the skills?  The knowledge?  The ability? 

In several ways I know that I absolutely do have everything it takes to be an amazing victim advocate, and eventually a social worker.  But I think it's only human to expect more of yourself.  The question is: Will I ever accept myself as great in my own eyes, or will I continue to expect more?

Letting it go

What happens when someone is mean to you?  Do you get angry, defensive, quiet or shy?  Maybe you don't even care. 
Well I care.  And I think I care mostly because I expect people to treat me like I treat others.  I am constantly trying to be fair, reasonable, empathetic, etc etc.  But then yesterday, right out of left field, someone blamed me for their shortcomings and I immediately started to nervously shake and sweat.  I felt attacked and unfairly made a scape-goat.  It was horrible!

The reason I am naming this blog 'letting it go' is because I am attempting to do just that...let it go.  I know that I can't always expect others to treat me the way I want to be treated...just as I am sure I have treated others unfairly and rudely.  But instead of dwelling on this issue I am LETTING IT GO.

An average size regret

I don't know about anyone else, but I regret a lot of things in my past.  I know, I know, I wouldn't be where I was today had those things not happened, blah blah blah.  But that really doesn't make me feel any better about all those stupid things I've done.

This past weekend I had a great conversation with S about past regrets.  We talked about how I have a hard time letting go of things and dwell on them until I feel worse than when the event actually happened and how he is able to forget those little things.  It seems like such a foreign concept: to let go of all those times I know I made a giant ass of myself.

I do know one thing though...I have learned a lot from all those times I wished I was invisible.  For instance, I will never ever attempt to be friends with someone I once dated.  Acquaintances, yes.  Friends, no.  It just doesn't work for me.  And while some people see this as an obvious way-of-life, I did not.

I also think that the word embarrassment should be thrown in here somewhere.  I certainly regret plenty of past experiences, but embarrassment is something I feel on a daily basis.  And not just for things that happen on that day.  I feel embarrassment and my face gets red for things that happened years ago.

I envy those who are able to move beyond the past and not dwell.  And I know that it will take a lot of practice and patience to someday not hold my feet to the fire every time I make a bad decision.  But I do have hope that I'll be there someday.  That someday just won't be today.

The first blog hump

Apparently it's a little bit difficult to start writing your first blog.  I know this because so far, I have started writing this blog three different times and have erased it all to start over.  So this is my final go at it.

Last night I met up with five of my girlfriends from high school for dinner in our hometown.  It was great to see them and catch up on everything new .  For the most part we all have jobs in our fields of interest or plans to attend Grad School this fall.  It made me feel so lucky that even though I haven't kept in close contact with all 14 'girl posse' members (self-titled, mind you), we can still meet up and enjoy each other's company. 

While we ate and shared stories of the places we'd been and the people we've met, I spotted several people that I recognized as fellow graduates of Rosemount, '05.  Some I made eye contact with and smiled to while others I prented not to see.  One girl in particular was working as a server at the bar, and the feeling I got after seeing her was that she had hurt me in the past.  I don't recall if she ever bullied me, or even picked on me specifically, but I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling I got after seeing her. 

The night went on and shortly before we finished our meal, the server I recognized came walking towards our table with her hands full of dirty dishes and platters after clearing a table.  Just as she reached our table, she lost her balance and everything started to fall.  Dishes hit the floor, pizza platters skidded across the carpet,  and the bar made a unanimous "ooohh" sound.  I froze.  I suddenly wasn't sure what to do.  Should I help her?  Should I keep pretending I don't know her and stare at her along with everyone else in the bar? 

I sat there, continued to eat and chatter away with my girlfriends.  I didn't bend down and help her pick up the platter that had fallen next to my chair.  And honestly, I feel like I owe her an apology.  I SHOULD have helped her.  I SHOULD have bent down, told her it was no big deal, and that everyone drops things- don't even sweat it!

I assume that since I didn't see her again that night she avoided our side of the bar like the plague.  I would have too.  But I still have this feeling of regret for not helping her out.  I can't imagine the embarassement I would feel having dropped dirty dishes in front of old classmates.

I hope the world is kind to her today.  I hope karma doesn't come back to bit me too hard in the ass...