can’t read my, can’t read my, no he can’t read my poker face

May 31, 2010 officially marks the end of a month full of good memories, friends, families, weddings, and lots of travel.  I’m beyond exhausted, but as I mentioned in one of my last posts I am merely running on pure adrenaline, love for my friends, and Starbucks. 

Shout out to my lovely baristas for that extra shot of espresso every now and then when they knew that it was the only remedy that could cure my tired body and the dark circles underneath my eyes.  

I just got back to Chi-town after a weekend with the MacPhersons.  Again, I have to thank them publicly for their never-ending hospitality, love, and support.  I’m part of their family somehow, I just know it.  I’m not sure if I mentioned it before but I see them as the New York-version of my own parents.  Mr. Mac and my dad are both hard workers; good-hearted men; dedicated husbands; devoted fathers; and connoisseurs of wine and beer.  As for my women of the families, my mom and Mrs. Mac are almost clones, minus the NY accent.  Both women are prime examples of the perfect wife and mother.  They are the definition of a giver; wonderful hostess; and beautiful soul.

My hope is that one day these four can finally meet and be friends for life.

As I said in the beginning of this post, the month of May is finally over…but not forgotten.  I consciously cannot even remember where I’ve been and when.  I actually feel like April and May were blended together because now I’m recalling how busy April was with Easter Weekend with A, PDoug, and the Littletons (Cinci), Kristin’s Bridal Shower and Bachelorette Party (Columbus), Julie’s Bachelorette Party with Laura and Morgan (Chicago)…is that it or was there more in April?

So May, bear with me: Jen & Matt Morel’s visit, Kristin’s Wedding (Columbus), DC (Work) Trip with Laura, Julie’s Wedding (Cleveland/Akron), Lakehouse with the Macs (Lake Michigan).  A trip to Pittsburgh to visit with my parents was thrown in there something else, and honestly I think I’m missing some other trips/excursions but thinking of all this back-and-forth is enough for me to process right now.

Can I be honest about something because I cannot figure out who I really want to say this to?  I have a fantastic network of friends, family, and confidantes but this is just something that I don’t want to waste anyone’s time with…anyone except my blog readers.  So I think you deserve a huge THANK YOU for dealing with, well, me being a girl.

 I really didn’t want to go back to Chicago today.  I never want to go back after having an amazing weeknd wherever I am- even when I’m in Pittsburgh or Cleveland.  It’s not that I wanted to stay at the lakehouse forever, but I wanted to stay in the state of serenity and happiness that I was feeling this weekend.  I hate that it never seems to stay whenever I get back in Chicagoland, and even worse, by the time I’m trekking to Skokie the next morning I have completely lost my entire blissful state of mind.   Actually, I feel like my blissfulness melted away as soon as I boarded the train this afternoon.

Maybe I am just tired.  I mean that very well could be the case.  However, I keep coming back to this same feeling.  It never seems to change.  All I’ve wanted to do all day is cry, scream, curl up in a blanket, work out, and maybe even run away and start something new.  I want to do anything except be back in Chicago and wake up tomorrow morning, put on my optimistic face and attitude, and go to Skokie.

I was on the phone with my mom earlier and I really just wanted to hash everything out to her.  Instead, I remained quiet on the other end – listening to her talk about Hampton (my hometown)- and let her end the conversation.  After I said by goodbye I wanted to cry.  The tears were welding up, but I did what I always do in trying my best to hold them back.  Be strong.  You’ve been through my more difficult things than this, is what I told myself as I looked down at the Purple Heart tattoo on my wrist.  My badge of courage and reminder of how strong I am.

 Is there such a thing as trying to be too strong?  Should I let myself cry?  Will that really help anything?

Libby used to tell me in college how strong I am.  I never believed her. But today I found myself sitting on the train thinking about all of my struggles and maybe she was right.  I mean I’ve battled (bitchy girl) bullying, eating disorders, anxiety, loneliness, and longtime heartbreak, not to mention moving to a new city own my own and dealing with the stress of a anxiety-ridden work environment and financial struggles.

…and through all of this I have never said “woe is me” nor will I ever.  I’ll never go on-and-on about being single and not having a boyfriend/fiancée/husband, although it crosses my mind at least once a day.  And my heart has been broken for 6-7 years and the only time I’ll ever is want anyone’s attention/sympathy is when I’m on tequila (now called t(h)e- killa)- which is why I make the No Tequila Pact with my friends.

I’ve been lost in this world for awhile now and heartbroken for more years than I’d like to admit, but I’ll continue to wear my poker face and remain optimistic that one day I’ll figure it all out- acknowledging that each and every struggle really was worth it.

But tonight, after stress-reducing workout , I will curl up with my OU sweatshirt blanket and watch The Bachelorette to officially close out May 2010.  Thanks for the memories, and the anxiety.

Note: I did let myself cry, and then I couldn’t stop.  So yes, I was that girl wearing sunglasses on the train today.  So lesson learned: Always carry sunglasses.  Sometimes those ‘cloudy/rainy days’ need them just as much as the sunny ones- if not more.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s