Sometimes I Just Need to Write

Sometimes I like to write just for the sake of writing.  Sometimes I just need to say things, or to get things off my chest, or just talk things out.  It often helps me to put stuff in writing.  It helps me get some perspective.  There's not really anything in particular I'm trying to work out at the moment, but I guess I have kind of felt like I've been changing as a person.  I was just taking advantage of the new Facebook timeline and going through all of my old posts since my very first day on Facebook.  To say I'm a little dramatic would be an understatement.  I certainly hope that's not exactly still true.  I do know that in the later years of high school, I was nine kinds of crazy.  I'm still amazed to this day that my husband actually stuck with me through all of that (my boyfriend at the time, obviously).  The tiniest little things would set me off and make me crazy.  For no reason, other than I didn't like it.  That part seems to have changed, though most of those things still bother me; I'm just better at dealing with it now than I was back then.  

The year that stuck out the most to me in my timeline was 2008.  I usually tell people that fourteen and twenty-two were the hardest years of my life.  I think fourteen was miserable for most people, for many different reasons and I won't go into mine, but twenty-two was difficult for me, because it's sort of a transition age.  I was out of college and legally an adult, but still almost 100% dependent on my parents.  I was still living at home, working part-time (with my mom, no less) and looking for full-time job.  It took me just over a year to find a permanent job and I lost two other jobs in the process (one was a temp, the other I was basically fired from, since I had no intention of working there full-time).  It's the most miserable I remember being in recent history.  My relationship with my mother was in serious trouble and I had to get out.  But, I couldn't find a job to get me out!  I never felt more trapped.  Then, I finally found a job (where I'm still working) and Ryan and I immediately set to work looking for a house (which, now that I think about it was incredibly stupid, since I'd lost a job only months before after four months).  It took us about two months to find one and we were moved in by my twenty-fourth birthday.  My Facebook timeline leading up to that was one long sob story of how miserable I was and how desperate I was and how everyone had what I wanted.  I felt like I was standing still while everyone else was moving forward.  It was frustrating and scary and more than a little discouraging. 
I wish I could say that had been enough for me at the time.  All I had wanted was to move out of my parents' house.  I thought if he wasn't going to propose to me, then that was the second best thing and I'd be happy with it.  It wasn't enough, though and my timeline went from feeling trapped to just being sad and a little angry.  I wanted him to propose so badly.  I wanted to finally have that commitment after what was six or seven years at the time.  Twenty-four is still pretty young to be married, I suppose, but I felt ready.  We had been through so much together, we owned a house together; we were making a life together.  What was the hold up on getting married?  It was an obsession and a constant sore spot for both of us.  I brought it up constantly to him and on Facebook and reading back over it now, it was more than a little annoying.  I don't think either one of us will ever understand what it felt like to be the other person in that situation.  I don't think he'll ever understand how neglected I felt.  How pushed-aside and ignored.  And I know I'll never understand why he was ready to buy a house with me, but not to marry me.  Buying a house together is no small thing and probably harder to get out of than a marriage.  The time finally came, though, just over a year after moving in together.  Planning the wedding was dramatic, much to my dismay and I can honestly say there were moments when I'd never cried harder in my life.  There were times when I thought that getting engaged was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.  Certain aspects of the wedding brought some family members closer together, but the biggest parts brought the most important people farther apart.  And I was trapped in the middle, where I didn't want to be.  I hadn't quite gotten to that part of my timeline before I decided to write this, but I remember making myself a promise that I wasn't going to be that girl that posted about her wedding constantly.  I'm afraid I was "that girl," though.  It was equal parts excitement and frustration. 
I never considered myself to be someone that needs other people's approval, but from reading back over the last few years, maybe that's true.  Maybe I am someone that thrives on what other people have to say.  I know I enjoy getting into a good debate.  I know I like sharing and hearing opinions.  I know I like to talk.  But, I also like to know that I'm not alone.  I do feel like sometimes I need to know that my feelings are normal and justified.  And I guess Facebook is where I turned to get that.  I'll admit that most of my posts stemmed from boredom.  I remember that I hardly ever used Facebook before I had this job.  I didn't have anything to say and I didn't care that much what other people said.  But, as Facebook became its own world, I opened up to it more.  I didn't want to be the person that posted what they had for dinner, or aired all their dirty laundry on the internet, but I kind of was.  I never seemed to go into much detail about what exactly was bothering me, which is probably worse.  I enjoyed leaving cryptic messages, often implying that my relationship with Ryan was in trouble.  I made him look like the bad guy.  Which I still do...but more in person than online.  I'm not sure why I do it.  It's a defense mechanism, I guess.  It makes me feel less self-conscious if I know the heat is on him instead.  And I know it's not right, and every time I feel it happening, I tell myself not to do it, but people laugh and I feel vindicated.  I like to make people laugh.  It makes me feel like I'm doing something right.  It makes me feel like I'm fitting in.  Which is something that hasn't always been easy for me.  I've spent my entire life trying to fit in somewhere.  My old friends and I seemed to outgrow each other somewhere in high school; I didn't party enough in college to make any new ones; I didn't drink or play enough video games to make friends with Ryan's friends; and I didn't socialize enough to make any friends at work.  My life had a steady flow of part-time acquaintances who stuck around long enough to hear and share some life stories and then they were gone.  And it's taken me until now to really realize that it's okay that I don't really fit in anywhere.  I pretty much prefer to be alone.  I prefer to read a book, where someone elses fantasy can become my reality.  I prefer to write, where the only other people that exist besides myself are people that I created; and they can be anyone I want them to be. 
Maybe that's why I became so obsessive with Facebook.  I'd stopped writing for such a long time.  I used to write religiously; at least once a day, sometimes more.  Whether it was a journal entry, a poem, a short story, a song; you name it, I wrote it.  And then, around the time I got together with Ryan I kind of stopped.  I wrote poems occasionally, completely stopped writing in my journals and never attempted another story.  Until recently.  I still can't really get back into the poetry.  I'm just not at the same place I was, emotionally when I was writing them before.  My old poems are dark and depressing and it seems like a different person that wrote them.  It disappoints me on one hand to know that I reached my poetic peak at fifteen, but on the other hand I'm glad that I've never been in that dark place again.  The pain is there for all to see and it's real and it's raw and it's a little bit scary. 
So, I don't know.  Maybe having that lack of an outlet led me to Facebook.  All I know is that I don't want to be the girl I saw on that timeline.  I don't want to be the girl that tells everyone every single day that I'm tired or that I'm cold or that I'm glad it's Friday.  How redundant and how unbelievably obnoxious.  I don't think I'm necessarily that girl anymore.  I know I post far less than I used to and I try to keep my posts either funny or informative; sometimes I still need to vent.  I've tried really hard to steer clear of controversy lately (though sometimes I can't resist posting something I strongly believe in) and I've even been trying to keep my posts positive.  I was in such a bad place in my life for so long and at this stage in my life, it's unclear why.  Maybe it's because I finally have everything I ever wanted.  I got the house, I got the ring and although I sometimes forget it, I got a hell of a great guy.  There are days when I still feel like I need something else, though and I guess that's what led me back to school to get my master's degree.  The next few years will consist of school, a bigger house and hopefully some children and I know for a fact that this is the part of my life that I've always been waiting for.  As far back as I can remember, I wanted to have my own children.  I always felt like I was trapped in a younger body.  I always felt ready for responsibility and stunted by my age.  Maybe that's what made me so crazy about getting married.  It was the next step in my life plan and it was frustrating that someone else wasn't on board with that.  When I was fifteen years old I said I wanted to get married by twenty-five to a guy I dated for at least ten years.  Which is so funny and so silly to me now, since by the time I was twenty-five, we were together for nine years and I was crazed out of my mind with anger that we weren't engaged yet.  But, I reached that goal of being married at twenty-five; barely.  I've always been a goal-setter and I've somehow always managed to reach those goals and I guess I felt threatened that things wouldn't happen the way I wanted them to.  I have to learn that that's okay.  That's why going back to school was such a hard decision to make.  Ryan and I had discussed having kids before we turned thirty.  This masters program will now have me graduating at twenty-nine, pushing our self-proclaimed deadline back a little further (since he'll be thirty by then). 
Intellectually, I know that life shouldn't be a race.  It shouldn't be a contest.  But, I guess that's the kind of person I am.  Lately, there's been a competitive streak in me that I didn't know existed.  But, I guess that's what all that rage was about when ever someone got engaged before us; I was losing.  I finally feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be, though.  I finally feel like this is what's supposed to happen and it doesn't matter if someone else starts a family before us.  It doesn't matter if someone has a nicer house than we do.  It doesn't matter if someone gets their dream job before I get a chance to.  I'm finally at a place in my life where I'm able to feel happy for people that have more than me.  I'm finally able to sincerely congratulate them, because I finally feel like things are in my control, not someone elses.  I got to choose to go back to school.  I get to choose when I have children.  I get to choose when we buy a bigger house.  There's no more waiting on my end.  There's no more relying on someone else to get what I want.  I don't need to wait for someone to offer me a job to have my own financial independence.  There's no more waiting for someone else to decide when I get married.  I get to call my own shots from now on, more or less.  So, I guess that makes me a control freak.  At least I finally know what my problem is.