downright hilarious.
Fact: nothing lasts forever. Right?
I recently watched a movie that talked about impermanence, which is essentially the fact that the only thing constant is change. This is something that everyone more or less knows to be true. It’s something we have always known our entire lives… things will always change. So how does one find happiness through the change?
Happy New Year, everyone! I hope that everyone had a safe and happy New Year’s Eve, and that 2017 is treating you well so far.
Mercury is in retrograde, so I’ve been staying in hermit mode for the past few days. I’m going to keep it low key this week too. I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking over the past week or so, which was triggered by the whole “New Year, New Me” bullshit that everyone pedals during the holiday season.
I am finally fed up with all the fuckboys out there, and maybe it won’t be a new year, new me phenomena, but I am completely done settling for their bullshit, giving them second chances, and exposing myself to people who are not worth my time.
I know I mostly seem to only write about my mediocre love life, but I actually have been wanting to start up a new category for a while. I figure, we have a new year upon us, so why not now?
This new category is called Lyrically Speaking. Aside from spending my time trying to figure out my fucked up life, I really love music. I am not musically inclined, but I grew up dancing (ballet, not exotic, for any pervs out there) and music has always spoken to me.
I find that there is no situation in life that can’t be expressed through music. Anytime I feel down or out, or high and happy, there is always music to back up the mood.
I can also sometimes get a read on a mood before I even really accept it based solely on the type of music I listen to. I’m a huge 311 fanatic, and I notice that when I’m getting into a funk, I’m more likely to listen to 311. Their lyrics are positive, uplifting, and have gotten me through many a bluesy day.
I also have a pretty strong emo kid hiding inside me. I still listen to Fall Out Boy, Dashboard Confessional, Panic! at the Disco.. etc..etc… etc.
Anyway, now that you know the background on this shiny new category, welcome to Lyrically Speaking! I hope you enjoy!
Warning: This post says fuck a lot.
Have you guys heard of this whole “cuffing season” thing? Some strange phenomenon where, during the winter months, these dumb ass boys decide they want to be in a “relationship” because you know…it’s cold, lonely, and generally depressing to be alone on the holidays? Apparently this is a thing. Seriously. Look it up. I’ll wait.
Oh, December. The end of the year. The time when people start thinking about new beginnings, making resolutions that they won’t keep, putting on pounds that they won’t shed, and thinking of all the wonderful things to come…that probably won’t.
And, time to reflect on the year that has passed. 2016. Fuck You, 2016.
I’ve had a few rough years lately. I hope that 2017 will be better, but with my luck lately… meh. I got divorced in 2012. I lost my mom in 2013. 2014 was a blur of trying to figure things out. I almost died in 2015.
And in 2016, I went through a lot of shit with people and relocated my entire existence to a new place where I knew very few people and had little to no support system. So, don’t fault me when I say I don’t have high hopes for the new year.
I will say, though, out of all the shit I’ve dealt with in 2016, the one good thing that has come of it is that I’ve really started to learn who I am, and who my true friends are. It’s been very tough to go through this process… harder than you can probably imagine, but, I hope the payoff will be worth it one day. I found my self worth and stopped letting people take advantage of me or lead me on. I stopped saying yes to appease other people and started calling people out when they were being complete dicks. And I’m slowly starting to learn to embrace being alone, since that seems like a thing for me now.
But really, did 2016 suck for anyone else? I feel like my entire Instagram feed is full of posts about drinking to forget everything, how hard it is to adult, and general self loathing? Or are these just the things I’ve subconsciously sought out?
Sorry for the negative post folks…just feeling a bit bitter these days. Woosahhh.
xoxo, Tempest.
The hardest thing sometimes in fledgling relationships is seeing red flags. And even harder than seeing the red flags are listening to them, and walking away from them when it’s smart to do so.
Historically, I have had a terrible time with part two of the above statement. I can see red flags all day, sometimes from a mile away, but I am a master at justification. This problem usually rears its ugly head with the emotionally unavailable… those signs are ALWAYS there, yet, do I listen? Nope. Neeewwwp.
On the flip side, are red flags always deal breakers? Do they have to be? Or are they things that one should simply be wary of and use as a warning to proceed with caution? After all, no one is perfect, and when you’re dating in your late 20s – early 30s, it’s really hard to find someone without SOME baggage, amirite?
Here’s the other tough part with red flags, and I know this isn’t something that only I have trouble with (lookin at you, B) – how do we filter out the REALLY bad red flags, the ones we should listen to and/or run away from, before we are emotionally invested in someone? Since these traits don’t always pop up in the first week or two of dating, how do we shield ourselves, while still being open enough to get to know someone? This shit is damn near impossible, people. Or maybe I’m bad at humaning, whatever. But that’s really the ultimate question… how do I know someone’s red flag is a deal breaker, and how do I abort mission before my own feelings are involved?
I don’t have the answers to this, obviously, but one thing I have learned is that people will generally tell you who they are, sometimes it’s just up to us to listen. When a guy says “I don’t have a girlfriend because I’m an asshole,” there’s a really good chance that said guy is, in fact, an asshole. Girls are just notoriously bad for hearing what we want to hear, or making excuses to make a square peg fit in a round hole. Oh well. C’est la vie.
Until next time,
xoxo, Tempest.
So hey, I’m moving in like.. 3 days. When do I get to FULLY freak out? Now? Is now okay?
Realistically, I have had about 1.5 solid panic attacks this week. One real good one, the other I was able to catch and kill before it really took hold. Now, as I sit here and wait for Salvation Army to come pick up a ton of shit, I am finally starting to feel a little tiny bit okay with everything. It is definitely going to be really hard the next few days, but I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And with that, I decided maybe it was a good time to jot down a few reasons to be excited! Read More
201, 910, 908, 434, 804, 757, 404, 678, 706, 319, 252, 770, 912, 501, 713, 423, 862, 276, 773,203, 864…
These are all the zip codes of all the people I’ve dated since I was… of dating age. For the record, those are all based on a minimum of one date, so don’t go thinking I’ve REALLY gotten around.. although I think I’ve covered maybe most of the Eastern seaboard at this point.
As a disclaimer, most of these dates happened in my own town and were people who just originated from other places, but a decent amount happened with people I met during travel. I’ve also met people through my career that are based in different cities, and even had a few romantic counters in that arena as well. This may seem strange to some, like what’s the point in dating when you’re traveling, but I think for me it boils down to… curiosity. I love hearing people’s stories and finding out about different ways of life, discovering local places to eat, drink, and hangout, and generally broadening my horizons when meeting new people. Essentially, although I knew the date would likely not end in some great romance, the experience of learning about someone’s upbringing and way of life is intriguing to me.
Okay, bear with me, I know the title references “hoes in different area codes,” but that was just a gimmick to get you to read this. Obviously I don’t consider most of the people I’ve dated hoes. In fact, I try to steer away from them, because I know myself very well and know I can get attached, so pursuing someone that is looking for something purely casual is a good way to get myself hurt fast.
My point here is simply that, I’ve made it a point to date around and to experience new and different people whenever I could. Through this, I’ve quickly determined something about men… they’re all the same, no matter where you go or where you come from. You will always have assholes, and clingers, and yeah maybe a good guy here or there too. It took me a little bit to start putting this all together. I had this crazy idea in my head that I was not as hot in my home city, Atlanta, because guys there tend to go to the fun blonde sorority girls, and that I could date ANYONE I WANTED in another city. This isn’t true, by the way.
My family has always told me they think I should just find a good ole southern boy. I don’t know if that will necessarily happen. There are times when I’ve thought that I should settle down with a guy like that but… I’ve lived that life. I’ve been a southern girl, in a small town, and in a big city. For now, I’ll continue enjoying the exploration that comes my way.
Till next time, Tempest.
Sorry for the gap in posting!! I just got back from a much needed vacation before starting a longgggg few weeks of work.
My vacation was pretty awesome. I got to hang out with good friends, drink a lot of booze, and revisit my happy place… Cozumel. I always hear people talk about how overrated Cozumel and many cities in Mexico are, but I absolutely love this place. Not the super touristy parts of course, but the pure and natural beauty of the island. Crystal clear turquoise waters, shimmering sands, and perfect blue skies.
Going to places like this really make you stop, think, and appreciate what you have. Appreciate the fact that you’re alive to visit this place, that you have the means to get there, that you can feel the sand under your toes and the breeze on your face. Smell the salty ocean air. I am very hard on myself 99% of the time, and going to “my happy place” reminds me that it’s okay to let go of cares and worries, at least for a little while.
Once upon a time, I decided I would try to be outdoorsy. Okay, bear with me, I realize this post has “hospital” in the title and I promise we will get there, but let me first set the scene.
I love the beauty of nature. I love.. to LOOK at it. I don’t necessarily enjoy being in it, but in 2015, I decided I would challenge myself to do things I hadn’t done before, and that involved being one with the earth or some bullshit. I started spending a lot more time outdoors, hiking, and even.. camping. I will admit it was definitely more like glamping, but you get the picture.
My first camping trip in probably… I don’t know, maybe 15 years? was a definite success. We made s’mores, we hiked the Appalachian Approach trail, I had about 23482482 steps on my fitness tracker, the weather was chilly but nice, the scenery was beautiful.
Fast forward 10 days later, and I don’t even know my name.
So, for those of you who aren’t aware, ticks and other pesky creatures are apparently active year round in southern states, like the one I live in. I had apparently been bitten by one of these critters and won the grand prize of Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. Haven’t heard of it? Google… but here are the basics. I had brain swelling, a very high fever, and a pretty nasty rash that landed me in the hospital for 10 days. The doctors probably would have kept me longer if I hadn’t actually tried to Uber out of there.
Luckily, after about 3 months of building my strength back up, I was left relatively unscathed, other than a nasty case of what I really consider PTSD, and a big increase in anxiety. The troublesome part is, as someone who has always struggled with anxiety (and diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder), this added stress did not help. I began having panic attacks, and bordered on being a hypochondriac… any little thing that felt “off” would send me into a full blown conundrum about how I was probably dying. This may sound crazy to many of you, but when you’re a pretty healthy person who almost dies unexpectedly from something so random, it’s hard for your brain not to go there. Especially when you’re already battling the Anxiety Monster on the reg.
The moral of this story: live your life. Do what you want, because you really never know what may happen. I still struggle every day with anxiety, but I am working on ways to embrace who I am and live for me. I’m trying to keep the people who were there for me when no one else was close, and appreciate what I have, because not everyone is lucky enough to have those things. Also, wear bug spray people!!
xoxo, Tempest
my therapist says im funny... 