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Just a Boy & His Subaru

On a Journey to Find Themselves

Tag Archives: memoirs

I’ve been in this situation before; the one where someone has to choose my friendship over another relationship, typically a romantic one. It’s not a great place to be, and there’s nothing enjoyable about it, but I’ve been here before.

That’s the easy part: I know it gets better and eventually the pain becomes less immediate. It’s still there, it’s just resting in the back of my mind and allowing me the necessity of getting back to everyday life.

There’s that silver lining you’ll always find if you look for it.

You have to be careful with people, you can never be absolutely sure of who someone is. (Read: people can never be absolutely sure of who they are.) The real problem with that clause is knowing that there will be instances where you never fully understand what’s happening, why or how–and neither does the other person.

People, even the most important people in your life, change unexpectedly. They throw a wrench in life and chuck deuces to the wind. Personally, I’ve been the person throwing the wrench, so I know how rewarding it can feel, but that doesn’t mean I’ve overlooked any toes I might have been stepping on or hearts I might have been breaking. I was fully aware of the damage I was doing.

When that happens, when you’re on the receiving end of someone’s wrench, you have to be ready to catch that shit and use it to your advantage. And let’s be honest: you’re going to need the wrench for some major emotional repairs a little later down the road.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that more often than not the person never really meant to hurt someone with the wrench, they just thought it was the best possible choice at the time. At no point did that person stop to think about how you might feel and how this might change your life, not because they don’t care about you in some capacity`, but because their focus has shifted so intensely to something that holds a higher emotional value to them.

By the way, there’s a touch of blanketing in this post as I’m speaking directly from experience and not from sustained research (although honestly you might say that my experiences equate to a sort-of ongoing experiment).

Again with the silver lining though, this is the ultimate chance to grow as an individual and make the other relationships in your life stronger. Like grieving a death, there’s never a great time to do it, so when someone pushes you away, work to harness that energy into growth.

Sometimes you’ve gotta work and you’ve gotta grow and it’s gotta hurt.

Losing a close relationship, romantic or platonic, is never easy. It makes you question so much about who you are as a person and how you’re valued as a friend. Your mind is stuck in this rut wondering why it had to play out the way that it did, and if it will ever feel as real as it seems. Don’t fall victim to this pitiful mindset. Remember that it’s always going to be their loss (this can only be used as a means to remove yourself from the rut if you have, in fact, tried to be a good half of a relationship).

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on.

People will knock you down when you get in their way, and sometimes stepping out of their path to let them pass is easier than tending to the wounds of a nasty fall.

Let go, and let flow. Cheesy, but amazingly efficient.

Some people just don’t want you in their life any more. If you’re like me, you’ll begin to understand that your booming personality and unmistakable drive for success intimidates people. Don’t ever lose those qualities for a relationship, romantic or platonic. The pain of losing yourself far outweighs the pain of letting go and moving on. Trust me on this one.

The world is full of snakes that think they look smashing in jealousy.. and they should be smashed. Shine your light as bright as you can. I’ll never suggest avoiding the process of dealing with your emotions and processing situations, but I will suggest speeding it up as quickly as possible so you can continue to do you the best way you know how.

Remember your self-worth and all of the things you deserve in life: happiness, sunshine, love and laughter (and good sex).

And that silver lining..I’ve been meaning to get back to writing and life is only facilitating that process.

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Over the years many of my peers, and even some of my professors and mentors, have suggested I write a book about my life.

Doesn’t that sound incredibly pretentious? The majority of people who sit down to write a book about their life are entirely too into themselves. (They have too much money.) So the book is really about how they had a decent childhood, lived a full high school and college-existence playing varsity sports and landed their dream career as someone who is allowed to be out of touch with reality. I’m not sure who buys these books, but I can tell you right now I’m not the only person who feels this way; I can’t be.

But then I thought, what if that’s the point? What if what everyone was trying to tell me was that I should write about my life because it’s actually quite fucked up?

You can’t honestly realize how entertaining your life is to someone else unless you’re a story teller. It just so happens that I love a good story, especially if I’m involved. (Make me the main character and I’ll pour your drink myself just to get your ear). A large part of it is my love of talking. The other, larger part, is making people laugh while I revisit my favorite memories. If I don’t revisit them, I’ll forget them, so the more I tell them, the better!

“Stories matter. Stories have been used to dispossess and to malign, but stories can also be used to empower and to humanize. Stories can break the dignity of a people, but stories can also repair that broken dignity.”

I’m in a very good place in my life right now. It hasn’t been without a few difficult months, some unexpected twists and turns, but that’s life.

As I’ve been settling into Colorado, the main question is, “What brought you here?” There’s a short answer to this that sometimes sticks and sometimes doesn’t: “I was unhappy with my life back east, so I decided to move west and start over.” Every once in awhile, naturally, people want to ask, “What was making you so unhappy out east?”

Now at first, I loathed these people. Obviously if I was unhappy, there are details I wish to skip over by generalizing my life. The problem with going into details, was that one linked to another and it wasn’t a simple singular reason. It required me to go all the way back to July when I was hit by that drunk driver (for the second time in a year and half), then my job loss, then my relationship ending.

Think about those words coming out of your mouth as you’re talking to someone you’ve just met.

“Well, I was hit by a drunk driver doing 50 mph, then I was laid off from my job, and then my partner of three years and I split up, so I just figured now was as good a time as any to pack up the car I bought right before I lost my job and start over somewhere fresh.”

Wait for the look. It always comes. They think, “Is he fucking with me right now? That kind of shit only happens in Lifetime movies.”

It’s the truth. My life is a Lifetime movie without the estrogen. (There’s some, lets be honest, just not enough to actually get picked up.)

The most common response? “Oh.. Wow. Welcome to Colorado!” That’s why I like it here.

Sometimes I get an attempt at consolation, which I do not need and have not needed since my life started to become humorous. My consolation comes from finding the laughter in my life; it comes from thinking as each twisted event as a well-written story developing right in front of me. Why not? Do you know how broken I’d be if I didn’t laugh at the stuff in my life that I’ve had no control over?

There’s no possible way someone would buy a chronological publishing of my life. What if, I said to myself in my best Jessica Fletcher voice, I wrote short little essays about events in my life that I found the most obscurely entertaining?

Yes, I admit that this is bordering on Girls material, but the sexuality of it would be a subset. And plus that bitch isn’t original. All artists steal. (Just like I stole those last two sentences.)

I don’t plan on attempting to have my stories published. I’m no English major, and really the only thing that qualifies me is my inherent ability to lead a life of twisted, dark humor.

I do, however, plan on making a little collection for myself. It will likely be put on here, so if you’re following me you’ll get a good taste of my life as I see it. In the last week, as I’ve been glued to the couch awaiting the arrival of my root canal, popping Percocet, I’ve made a short list of starting stories.

It’s not like I don’t have the time.

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