tranquilasunset:

Love her.

(Source: turtlesanddragons, via thegrandfinatalie)

View high resolution

(Source: karlrothenberger, via betweenheavenandmisery)

"Maybe…you’ll fall in love with me all over again.”
“Hell,” I said, “I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?”
“Yes. I want to ruin you.”
“Good,” I said. “That’s what I want too."

Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

We are now free to be anything we want, but have no reason in particular to be anything in particular. 

We Need To Start Making Better Decisions

I have decided to take an indefinite moratorium from dating — because I noticed that I was increasingly getting caught in a romantic cycle of bad behaviors, and the only way to stop was to cut myself off. I could spend all the time I wanted blaming the people I was dating or blaming the accuracy of OKCupid’s compatibility algorithm, but I was the one enabling my own romantic destruction.

A friend of mine, Adam, started a column a while ago where he talks about being a Serial Dater, someone who goes from relationship to relationship just to be with someone. But although his column helped to point out the cyclical nature of my bad romantic decisions (for which I will forever be in debt), I don’t know if that’s my problem. More than a Serial Dater, I’m a Serial Self-Sabotager.

What is an SSS? An SSS preemptively strikes down most of the relationships in their life, even potential friend relationships, because they don’t think they are worthy of being liked or loved. For an SSS, even the idea of someone being so close to them and seeing their flaws projected in HD is utterly terrifying. They ask themselves, “What if they don’t understand me? Or see that I have the worst dandruff ever? Or notice that I hold my stomach in on dates — so much so that I’m out of breath by the end? Or figure out that I’m not funny, I’m not as clever as I think I am, I’m an awkward hugger, I’m terrible in bed, I have a huge nose, I have an irritating voice, I hate shaving, and I really like just wearing what I wore the previous day because it’s easier?”

We all say that we want to be happy, we want the perfect partner, we want the job, we want the life, we want to have it all, but how emotionally ready for it are we really? What usually happens is that we don’t get it or we keep ourselves from it — because we are nervous, scared, not ready, etc. — and we drive ourselves bonkers obsessing over it and stalk other peoples’ lives on Facebook instead. We ask, “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I have what other people have?” We learn to believe we don’t deserve to be happy. We deserve the pain. We deserve to be a mess.

I think we train ourselves to care so much about being fulfilled and happy now that we psych ourselves out of it; we make it impossible for ourselves to get happy. We forget to enjoy the simple pleasures along the way, all that stuff that stock photographs and Joseph Campbell tell us to do. We forget to go out and have positive, non-self-destructive fun, even if that’s playing putt-putt with your little sister, staying in with Xena: Warrior Princess or getting some (empowerment) and having that Stride of Pride with a side of Beyonce. And, most importantly, we forget that priority number-one should be taking care of ourselves.

Because it’s not just about dating; it’s about the decisions we make, and the emotions we choose to let ourselves feel. There’s something to be said for occasionally being a “Hot Mess” and making mistakes, because what else is your freshman year of college for? However, we also need to learn and grow from our bad decisions for them to be meaningful, or we will just keep repeating our mistakes forever. If you get caught in an endless cycle of bad hookups, bad dates and bad relationships, you’ll never find time to reflect and take something away from those experiences. You’ll think that’s all there is, like someone who looks at a stereogram and just sees a bunch of dots. You forget to look for the magic inside.

You can find that. It’s there, waiting for you, waiting for you to be ready to see it. The only way to do that is to start making good decisions now, creating positive relationships in your life and holding yourself accountable for that. So much of our learned self-hatred is internalized and embedded deep within us — as we live in a culture that doesn’t always promote self-care, sex positivity, emotional wellness or being open about our struggles — but it’s up to us to shake that out and cultivate our own empowerment.

The late Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “No can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I think it’s a complex issue — because we aren’t emotional suits of armor and minimizing those struggles helps no one — but I agree that we all have a role in how we deal with our pain. Someone can hurt you, no one can make you get wasted and cry yourself to sleep without your consent. No one can make you stay in bed for days or eat your hair in the corner without your consent. No one can make you feel worthless without your consent. Instead, you can choose to get up and feel loved. You can choose to deserve happiness. You choose to start acting like it.

Things I No Longer Need To Know

I no longer need to know how to get to your house. And thank god because it was in the middle of nowhere and I’d always get lost. I spent a year of my life with you in what felt like Siberia. I learned the layout of the home, had my favorite room and played in your backyard. Now it all means nothing, now it’s just a spec on a deserted landscape. Next exit, please.

I no longer need to know math. I always knew I would never need to know it but I was forced to in high school. The teachers were liars. They said that we would always need to know about isosceles triangles and Pi, but we didn’t! Never once have I been like, “Thank god I know about Pi! It’s going to get me out of this pickle I’m currently in!” No. Screw Pi. Screw math. Screw useless information.

I no longer need to know how to unlock the deadbolt for the apartment in Barcelona. I never could quite figure how to do it and my neighbor would always start yelling at me in Spanish through her door for making so much noise. As someone with only a rudimentary grasp on the language, all I could make out was, “LA PUERTA! LA PUERTA!”

I no longer need to know if I can survive our break up and lead a normal life again. I no longer need to know if a day can go by without something triggering a memory of the two of us. I can! A day does go by without thinking of you! It’s a pathetic milestone for sure but you can’t laugh at progress.  It’s funny how, after every relationship ends, you suffer from amnesia and wonder, “How will I get through this? How will I get over it?” But you always get over it.  You have to. You get over it just like you got over the last breakup. After a certain amount of time passes, there’s only so much you can still mourn. The memories that once crackled and popped, and gave you something to hold on to are now faded and microscopic. You would miss them if you knew what there was to miss. Your body has willed them out of you.

I no longer need to know if it’s weird to eat an entire jar of Nutella while watching Friday Night Lights. I no longer need to know how many drinks I can have before I start Exorcist vomiting (six mixed drinks, a bottle and a half of wine.) I no longer need to know if we’ll remain friends after college (maybe let’s get a coffee?) or if I’ll find a job and make my parents proud of me. I no longer need to know if it’s a good idea to have a hot therapist (I prefer to stick with overweight 60-year-old lesbians. It keeps me honest.) I no longer need to know you because you’re not someone worth knowing.

Do some spring cleaning with your brain and get rid of the knowledge you’ll never need again. You may not be aware of it but it’s actually weighing you down, and once you get it out you’ll feel ten pounds lighter. Promise. I may not know much but I do know that.