A Rambling Mess Of All The Thoughts

One of the things I have known about myself for a while but have recently been understanding more fully is that I sidebar my feelings if I think it will make someone else's life easier.

I care too much way too quickly, and I force myself to scale it back to accommodate their comfort level. I don't use phrases like "I love you" in relationships. I say that I care, or that I worry about them, or I hope they find happiness. I genuinely mean those things. I have often been the one who cares more, who says less. I know that the person who cares less has more power in the way a relationship goes. That's why you see so many stories about frantic pleading and begging that the woman you love would give you one more chance. It's why there are so many movies about not being able to let go of a man, simply because you hope he may still care. But I cannot beg. I will not plead. I want to find the kind of love with someone where you don't have to worry or doubt or second guess yourself, because you're secure with them no matter what comes your way. You've decided that you'll see it through. Side by side. Hand in hand. Or, even thousands of miles apart, if you make that choice.

However, it's painful to be the one who cares more and is acutely aware that even though you temper your language and use softer, less formidable, scarcely permanent phrases, that the other person still doesn't match you. It's incredibly lonely to be someone like me, who feels everything so deeply, and pretends to be okay because the expanse of my heart would swallow them whole if they only knew the truth. And the truth is, I'm not lying. I may use gentler words and craft my thoughts in so particular a way as to not betray my very carefully guarded heart... but I still mean every word. I don't say "I love you" even when I want to. I have nearly pierced my own tongue a dozen times to keep from saying too much too soon. I'll tell him I have a lot of love for him. And that he's important to me. And I will apologize over and over and over again for feeling what I do. I will tell him that I'll kill him if he repeats his mistakes again, because the last time he put himself in danger nearly gave me a heart attack. I'll advise him to go back to someone he once loved to see it through because I'd rather take the chance that he be happy with someone else than worry that he'd always resent me if he hadn't. I'll tell him I'm okay just being friends, because I'd rather have him in my life a little than not at all. I'll send him paragraphs and paragraphs telling him I hope he finds the beautiful life he's missing, knowing I will never see a reply because I'm not a part of it.

I don't have a broad enough vocabulary to express the ache in my chest when I see that you've had a bad day and my arms are not long enough to reach across the billions of acres between us. I want to hold you to my chest and kiss your head until you can manage to take a breath deep enough to fill your lungs for the first time in hours. I don't know how to say that my body craves to be next to you and just sit in silence as we let the seconds wash over us like a warm bath. Comfortable. Safe. I want my presence to feel like home someday. I want to know that you, the person I adore, wants nothing more than to put your head in my lap as you recount your day as I sip my wine and trace my hand across your back in quiet, lazy circles. I want to make pasta at 2:30 a.m. with you as our cat circles around our feet. Even when we should go to bed, I want to pour us another whiskey and coke and laugh a little too loud at nothing incredibly funny. I want to put my makeup on for a night out while you play the piano. I want to walk home with you and curl up under your arm as we watch movies until the city streets outside get quiet. I want to feel your heartbeat against my cheek and know that in that moment we couldn't hope to be anywhere more perfect. I want to wake up with my feet tangled in yours and the blanket tucked around our waists. I want to roll over and count the freckles on your shoulder by the sunlight streaming through the blinds. I want you.

I want the person I want to want me too. Every day. Even when we fight or disagree or aren't on the same page. I want to know that despite the stress we pick each other to come home to and find solace and peace.

Most of the time I find myself tempted to be more open as I feel the spark is dying. It's like I've developed a sixth sense for failing relationships. I've gotten very good at knowing when the end of something is about to begin. I've been through many endings. I've caused several, and been the victim of a few as well. I've anticipated the silence months before it came to pass. I can hear the shift in someone's tone through the words they type. It's a skill I learned years ago. I'm attentive. I notice things. I have known some people so well that they could write the same exact sentence on three different occasions, and I can tell their mood and state of mind is the same on the first two, and drastically different on the third.

I know him well enough to tell when he's feeling distant. I know him well enough to know when he's hiding something. I know him well enough to know when he's annoyed at me. I know him well enough to know that I hurt his feelings.

I know the people I love very well. But I can't tell them I love them because then I lose control of the situation. If I stay just distant enough, I can manage to hold on to the reins of the relationship. I can love so much and say so little, because that way when the ones I love leave me, I don't have to regret that they have heard me say things I wish I had never felt for them. I try not to regret the people I have fallen for. Some I've succeeded. But... with a small number of others I still find traces of remorse that things never turned out the way we had once dreamed they would.

When I hear their name and remember I was once brave enough to put it into a sentence preceding the words "I love you." I get this pit in my stomach. I am not that girl anymore. My boldness has faded into a quiet bravery that sits in the shadow, leashed, waiting to be set free again. It's not weak, merely biding its time. But part of the problem is that my boldness does not know which direction it should take. My heart has felt a little like a revolving door as of late. There are moments I am certain, only to be completely lost hours later. My ability to commit is stunted and fragile. Why, I can't quite explain.

I was brave once. I had so much faith before. Now, all I want to do is feel confident that if I tell you how I feel, I won't want to take it back 2, 5, 10 months from now when you choose to leave me alone with all these words I didn't have to guts to share with you. My heart can't tell who is going to stick around, and who is merely using my heart as a waiting room until someone better comes along.

I don't have enough words to express my heart. Or, maybe I do and it's so simple it scares me.

I love you....

....I love you.

Draft #1

I have a bunch of drafts sitting around that I've never finished, or never felt brave enough to publish. This one is a combination of old feelings and new thoughts. Part of growing up is facing your fears, isn't it? Well, one of my biggest fears is that people will judge me for my honesty. I've come to realize that they don't have to like the truth, but they do not get to tell me I can't tell it just because it makes them uncomfortable.

***

Sometimes I let myself wonder why we didn't work out. The real reason, not the noncommittal and evasive reason you gave me so abruptly. I have to wonder because you never told me. Was it that your parents disapproved? Or was it that you'd already decided who the next girl you were going to charm would be? It doesn't really matter, but I'd still like to know. Breakups make little sense if as you're going through one he tells you he still likes you. Go figure.

If I think about you in the middle of my day, it makes me smile. Sometimes. But if I think about you when I'm alone at night it makes me sad. There is a part of me that argues this happens because I was in love with you, and then another part of me shouts back defensively I never was. I think they're both right. I wasn't in love with you at first. You knew that. You said everything so fast that it scared me. But eventually I saw us having kids, and our daughter had your blue eyes and our son had your crooked smirk and ability to nap anywhere. How you went from leaving surprise flowers on my porch and driving 12 hours to bring me to your parents house, to coldly dropping me off at my car after breaking my heart I'll never know.

I wonder what would happen if we ever saw each other again. Would we act like we didn't and walk past each other with our heads down, or would we exchange casual pleasantries? Maybe have an actual conversation, and say we should grab a coffee and catch up? What if you hugged me like that time... you know the one. One that lingers a few moments longer than a hello and feels like coming home. Of course, we know that would never happen. No... you'd betray your previously stated indifference. What if you said hi and this time I left you hanging? That would be a change. Every now and again I see someone with features like yours across a room. But the last time I saw you in a crowd, you didn't even come my way to say hello. You became such a jerk over the last couple of weeks our lives intersected. Nobody saw that but me. It broke my heart several times over when I saw friends picking you in our imaginary custody battle. There were no sides but somehow you managed to get everyone to treat me like I had died. Nobody came to pay their respects.

I was in town a few months ago and it gave me a sense of sweet justice to see one of the places we used to go all the time had been torn down. 

I was walking down the street a few weeks ago when I heard your old text tone coming from a strangers phone. Suddenly I was years younger and hopeful and trusting again and out of ancient habit looked at my own screen. Then I remember I deleted your number. Not that having caller-ID would ever have been necessary.

You never once called to give me the chance to hit ignore.

I Will Slay My Own Dragons

It makes me immensely uncomfortable to feel like someone has me up on a pedestal,

for I cannot stay still and will definitely fall off.

Excessive attention makes me feel suffocated.

I do not want to be the center of your world.

I do not care for being checked-in on every hour.

I am not to be chased down, I am to be walked alongside. 

Slowly. Patiently.

If I am rushed, I will guiltlessly turn and walk the other way.

Do not look to me if you want to be fawned over.

I am not capable of inflating a fragile ego.

I will not bat my eyes and cling to your arm.

Why?

I am an equal. I am a partner.

I am not a challenge. I am not a trophy.

You cannot win me, for I am not material to be possessed.

My ability to hold my own is not a threat to you.

Your pride should not feel bruised.

I can stand on my own and not waver when the storms come.

Do not view this as a deal breaker. 

It merely reiterates that I can handle so much.

If while walking beside me you find that I have slipped my hand into yours, 

do not mistake it for a victory. 

The battle continues. The war has not ended.

But I have chosen to fight with you through it.

I am not looking for someone to dote on me as if I cannot brandish my own sword and shield.

I am looking for someone to help me conquer the demons that try to take up space within us.

I am not looking to live a safe life up in a tower away from my past.

I am looking to blaze trails and establish kingdoms.

I am not looking for someone to settle down with in one place.

I am looking for someone who makes a gypsy heart feel at home on the run.

I will wait for someone who makes me feel being with them is better than being alone.

It will take a considerable individual for that to happen.

If they do show up...

I will defend them until I can no longer breathe.

I will support their dreams. 

I will have their back. 

I will show up even when they think they do not need me to.

I will celebrate each victory and share in their grief.

But I will not wait until this person arrives to live my life now.

So until then, I will continue slaying my own dragons.

Anxiety Like Mine

Warning: possibly uncomfortable-to-read personal truths ahead. I either go full blunt honesty in my blog posts or I don't post at all. Here goes.

It's a strange combination of relief and terror to read a list like this and realize you see yourself in each one. On one hand, it's nice to know I'm not alone, but on the other hand I can't remember the last time I didn't have at least a couple of these show up in my daily life.

• I sometimes suddenly feel suffocated at social events.
• I pick at my cuticles and don't even notice until I'm bleeding.
• I react strongly to certain noises and get irritated much faster than may seem appropriate.
• I have panic attacks when my brain gets too busy and I can't rationalize quick enough to calm myself down.
• I put my own needs on the back-burner if it'll be an inconvenience to someone else.
• I sometimes talk myself out of having feelings for someone if I sense they won't be able to handle anxiety like mine. Or, I intentionally sabotage the possibility and push them away because it's easier to blame myself upfront than wait for them to come to that conclusion on their own.

Without knowing it was happening, anxiety (and depression, but that's another story.) has changed and rearranged much of my life to the point I can hardly remember older versions of myself. But since I appear "fine" to the rest of the world, when these behaviors start to manifest in public settings the anxiety ramps up because if anyone asks, there's no obvious explanation as to why.

The most prominent thought in my mind on a daily basis is the need to DO something. I have an undercurrent of thrill-seeking I don't often get to indulge and it makes me a little stir-crazy on occasion. I get restless and fidgety. I feel like I need to go for a run, or hop on the next flight away from here, or sing at the top of my lungs just to try and release the pent-up something that weighs on my chest. 

When someone says something that makes me feel like I'm losing control of a situation or makes me feel boxed-in, it goes into hyper drive.

Adding fuel to fire is the fact I hate being a burden to people. Even if I'm told I'm not, and that they really want to know how I am, I will never be completely sure they mean it. I rarely open up to anybody about myself and my life. If I do, it sure as hell took a lot out of me to share. I'm a picky person when it comes to who I choose to trust with personal information. Even once I do decide to trust someone, there's a part of me that is fearful they will use what I share with them in confidence against me in the future when they finally tire of hearing about what is on my mind and heart.

There is an ongoing war in my head between what I know and what I feel. I know some people care, but I feel judged when I turn my back. I know I'm capable, but I feel helpless and incompetent and aimless. I know I may not always feel this way, but I feel like there's no end in sight.

I know I'm loved, but I feel merely tolerated.

I know I'm broken. I know this isn't the way things are supposed to be. But since this anxiety has become a part of who I am, I have to figure out how to live with it.

I am somewhere between closed-off and an open book. I don't have a problem sharing, but it winds up being indirectly with relative vagueness. I want to explain who I am. I want people to understand me. But there's only so much of that I can expect from others if I don't even entirely know myself. So, this is an attempt to clear away some of the brush I've let grow around me in recent years. Please be patient with me. Be patient with each other. In ways we cannot always see or fathom, all of us are in the midst of some kind of battle.

Sometimes that battle is with ourselves.

I used to write all the time. Even if I didn't share it, I wrote. Not so much anymore. Part of that is due to the fears and inadequacies I've felt take root in my mind, heart, and soul.

I am an imperfect perfectionist.

I'm my own worst critic. I'm just enough type A with a hint of OCD and ambivalence that I often wind up doing nothing to avoid failure because my heart can't take it. But I am tired of not doing anything.

So, I sat down and forced myself to write.

It has been a while...

Turns out I haven't posted on this thing in a really long time. So much has happened I can't even do a recap. But.. here's what's been on my heart recently. Brace yourself: This is NOT all rainbows and butterflies and happy smiley faces.

Truth time? Truth time.

This year, and especially the past few months, have been full of having to let go of expectations. I have been learning sometimes people who hurt you may not even know they did. Or if they do know and acknowledge the situation, they may place the blame on you, making the pain worse because now you bear guilt that is not yours to shoulder. I've also had to learn in some cases, an apology will never come. Because the person who hurt you genuinely does not care that they did.

Moving past a bad experience is tough. It's a wee bit worse when it involves being steamrolled and emotionally abused to the point you don't even recognize yourself anymore.

As a result of the recent bologna on my plate, I've had panic attacks (which are new and terrifying to me), bouts of anxiety (not so new, but much worse than before), depression (old news by now), and a near complete disinterest in socializing with even my closest friends (but I'm also pretty introverted, so who knows why exactly).

I don't share this information for sympathy or pity or to solicit prayers. I'm sharing because I am so tired of people pretending they are fine just because some people around us don't like to know life isn't all peaches and cream. Guess what? Life literally sucks for a lot of people. And it isn't because they didn't do this, or they did do that. Sometimes it JUST SUCKS. And that's actually really normal considering this world is so screwed up and imperfect and flawed. It's lonely to struggle with an issue that is so personal and hidden. But at the same time you also feel like someone should notice and ask you how you are. We need each other to help keep us upright when we can't do it for ourselves anymore.

Some people call Christianity a crutch for the weak. They're right. That was the whole point of Jesus coming to earth. He came to heal the sick. To save the lost. Be strong for the weak. I'm beyond grateful for that. If He didn't, I'd have given up a long time ago. Just because someone isn't physically or visibly hurt doesn't mean they aren't nursing some seriously painful wounds. And those wounds may be in their own heart and mind which makes them that much more difficult to heal.

Late last year, someone told me I was "so different from who you were back in high school". And they're right. I have changed. In a lot of ways for the better. I can stand up for myself now in ways I couldn't before. I like to think my worldview has expanded and matured. But in some other ways, I've not really gotten better. I'm bitter and cynical and often way too impatient and selfish. I've also noticed that thanks to some painful experiences, I'm also very closed off and scared of letting someone close enough to possibly break down the walls I've meticulously built up. I can't stand small talk, and spending time with groups of people makes me feel suffocated. It's so very rare I ever feel comfortable around people anymore, while in high school I was probably exactly the opposite.While I used to thrive off of attention, when I get it now I feel this intense need to deflect it away from me. Usually that is done with a vaguely inappropriate sarcastic comment, or by putting myself down in a comical way to try and change the subject.

That's why on the rare occasion I do like someone or enjoy their company, I get attached quickly. And maybe I get too excited to have someone in my life who doesn't immediately irritate me, and maybe I overshare too soon and trust too much. Whatever the reason, I tend to burn out the friendship too fast. So, because I'm aware of the fact I tend to do this, I stop myself before I can start. I self-sabotage my relationships because I just know that they will get sick of me and disappear just as I think they would never bail. And that's also really lonely. It perpetuates the known cycle I'm in, and yet I haven't been able to break out of it. Also working on that... but it'll be a longer process, I'm sure.

I'm a bit broken. I'm a lot bruised. I still get nauseous when I see a new email show up in my inbox. I have a bit of PTSD from seeing certain names show up on my Facebook news feed. I have to steady myself every time I go out in public. I feel like I'm on the run, but not going anywhere.

However, I'm trying. I keep working at being okay. I'm thankful for the family and friends who have been patient with me. I'm alive. I'm hanging in there. And I'm going to keep trying to hang in there. As long as it takes.

**If you made it this far, I apologize for the weird-as-heck spacing. I tried, but it wouldn't let me fix it. :(

A Month

It honestly doesn't seem possible that a whole month could go by so quickly, but apparently it can.

France and I have been becoming acquainted over the past 31 days. And, like building any relationship, it takes time. 

I'm able to go to the grocery store and find the right ingredients for dinner on my own. Driving I can do without a problem, whether it's picking the youngest up from school, or driving 30 minutes through the gorgeous misted countryside to drop-off a handful of teens for a retreat.
But then somebody will try to talk to me as I'm wandering down a cobblestone street in Chantilly by the Chateau and suddenly I feel lost. I do my best to be polite and apologetic as I botch an accent and the pronunciation of "Je ne parle pas Français," but I walk away feeling entirely awful and like I'm going to be the reason France bars any future Americans from coming into their country. It's a bummer.

Sometimes it's hard to fight back tears when I'm reminded how inadequate I am for this mission. It can be really discouraging to feel like I'm not able to be fully present during my time here. Not that anyone has ever said anything to make that seem at all true, so I guess we really are our own harshest critic.

One of the best parts of my day is when I get to pick up kids from school. It's really nice to be greeted with big hugs and big smiles. Although they've only known me for a month, they like me. I love them. It makes feeling stupid go away, as I'm reminded that these children don't care that I can't speak French fluently. They don't care that I ask a million questions about what certain phrases and words mean. They don't care when I ask them to quiet down while we're driving through waterfalls of rain on tiny streets during rush hour. They care about if I like the picture they drew, or if I like the skit they made up. They care that I laugh with them, and that I will hug them and kiss a boo-boo. They want me to jump on the trampoline and tickle them. 

Yesterday was a big win. As I pulled into the parking lot to pick up the youngest from his school, I got really nervous. Will he be okay with me getting him, or will he cry asking for his mom? Will the teachers start questioning me and be wary when I can't answer? What if he cries and because of that they won't let me take him home? As my mind panicked through every worst-case scenario, I knocked on the door, and managed to explain who I was there to pick up. When the little guy saw me, his eyes lit up as he excitedly ran over and hugged my legs. Also, he called me Evie(Usually he calls me by his last nanny's name, but they sound similar so we work with it. :P ) unprompted for the first time. That was worth every bit of insecurity I've had up until that point.

As we worked together to get his shoes and coat on, he kept saying "Evie! Home!" and touching my cheek with his hand. Now, he and I usually get along just fine. But this was the first time where it really was clear he was cool with me, and that he recognized me as someone he could trust.

And that was pretty awesome. :)

Une semaine en France

Bonjour!

I was hoping to get a post up much sooner than this, but it has been so busy here in France!

On Tuesday, August 26th, I left for JFK with my mom, a friend of mine, and his mother. Up until that day, I had been excited, but a bit anxious to get to France. Turns out that during the drive downstate I nearly couldn't breathe because I was getting so nervous.
I had never done anything like this before. Although I had gone to Nicaragua when I was 15 with my mom and church, that was an easy experience all things considered. I wasn't alone, we had people who could translate for us pretty much whenever we needed it, and it was only one time zone away from home.
This new adventure was scaring me more than I thought it would. I had never flown internationally, much less by myself, to live with people who were practically strangers in a country where I don't speak the language. Instead of having a full-on meltdown, I managed to keep calm with some grapefruit juice and awful cappuccino flavored potato chips. It was rough.

When we finally got to the airport, we parked, found my terminal, and suddenly I realized that this was actually happening. Aaaaand I may have broke down crying for a few minutes before I hugged my mom goodbye and went through security. As much as I had been looking forward to going, it suddenly hit me that this wasn't something in safe comfort zone planning stages anymore. This was a big grown-up moment and it was terrifying.

I probably scared some people as I was waiting in line for the security checkpoint. I kept crying for a bit. Then I forgot to cry when I realized my bag was being put through the scanner multiple times. The TSA people were eyeing me cautiously and I regretted having cut my bangs the day before because it must have made me look shady. Turns out I forgot I had a water bottle in my purse and they airport gods don't believe in affordable hydration...

Then came the endless walk to get to my gate, which quite literally had me thoroughly out of breath by the time I got there. By that point I was starving. Unfortunately, even the tiniest granola bar will cost you three weeks pay. Plus, the water bottles past security are somehow better than the free water I had before security... must be that it's filtered by magical unicorn tears...

Anyway. I made it onto the plane, got my window seat taken from me to be given to two guys who slept through the whole flight, and I had the whole back middle row to myself. Which would have been more awesome if it wasn't really awkward to try and lay down on it. But I finally saw the second new Spiderman movie. Then slept for maybe 10 minutes. Though, I did play a few mean rounds of Bejeweled 2 before we had to land. OH. The landing was probably the most gentle landing I have ever experienced on a flight before. It was like wading into a pool of chocolate mousse. But on pavement and without the delicious factor.

Anywho, after pathetically weaving my way through the Charles de Gaulle airport to find customs, and then the circus that is the baggage claim, I managed to find Mrs. Cross. We drove back to the house and I got to meet all the kids. They are entirely precious and so sweet and I really am so glad I have the opportunity to help while I'm here. It has been quite a crazy week between summer ending and school starting. Bath time and bedtime seem to be the biggest challenges between me and the kids. While it's so nice to have clean and happy babies, they do not always like to become clean and it makes them very unhappy. And bedtime means you have to stop playing with your dolls and your cars for the evening and that's just the worst possible thing ever...

But overall, it has been a great experience so far. I am definitely out of my comfort zone, and have been subject to constant make-believe personality changes at the hands of the colorfully active imagination of a princess-loving four-year old.

Serious side, I am a little out of my element. Usually I can take pride in the fact I adapt pretty well to new situations and circumstances, but this has me off balance. I already knew not knowing the language would be difficult, but it has hit me much harder now that I'm here how I really am missing out on a large component of the relationship building potential I would have had.

Also, although the kids are sweet and adorable and I have so much fun playing with them, I find at the end of the day I really miss full-fledged conversations with adults. I miss my family, and my friends, and having debates about important issues and chats about the mundane details.

So, if you all could be praying that I would manage to keep positive in spite of the language barrier. That I would be able to occasionally have conversations with people closer to my own age, and that I wouldn't be discouraged by feeling kind of like a lone wolf here. Thank you, so so much <3


OH! And thank you again to everyone who has helped support me financially! I would not have had this opportunity without you, and I am truly grateful.

I do still need to raise more support though to cover my expenses while I'm here. I need about $700 more in order to not worry about making my payments on bills at home, and to cover the random expenses that come up while I'm here. (You know, silly things like conditioner, because my hair decided turning to straw would be a neat stunt to pull on me.)

The address to send donations to is below.

Mission Nanny's
P.O. Box 61805
Santa Barbara, CA
93160-1805

Name: _____________________________________________
Address:  ___________________________________________

Enclosed is my contribution for Evelyn: ____________________
I pledge to send monthly for Evelyn's trip: __________________
I will be praying for Evelyn regularly: _______________________

Please send all contributions to Missions Nanny's at the above address, and a tax-deductible receipt will be sent to you.


THANK YOU SO MUCH! 

Please be praying. :) <3

God Bless,

Evelyn