Just Like The Movies

You know how, in older mushy, romantic stories, there’s always that part where the girl realizes that the man who is way out of her league is not only in love with her but willing to do crazy things just to make her smile or something else that just seems silly because it never happens in real life?

Well, I have just been shocked out of my mind. Almost literally.

Actually, let me back up a bit. So, as you may or may not be aware, I just recently came back from a trip to California for my grandmother’s funeral. Adjusting’s been tough, but manageable. Well, last Saturday, I talked to my mom and she informed me that her mother, my other grandmother, was sick and they were scared it was serious. The thing was, I had to wait until Monday because that was when she was going to go to the doctor to get it looked at.

So, I waited. Monday came, no results because the tests that they had to run would take a few days. So, I had to wait some more and, by this time, I was quite worried. The illness they were saying she might have has no cure. In any case, I waited and waited and, today, during lunch at work, I called my mom to see what was going on, if the results had come back, and how they were doing.

What she told me was that the doctors are pretty sure that, yes, it is what they suspected and that they’d have to do a biopsy to confirm. The whole time she was talking, I don’t think it ever registered in my brain what it meant exactly. Like, all the little things that it would mean. I was going to try to get through the day without breaking, but I couldn’t. For the first time ever in my naval career, I was sent home because I could not work through my grief. I couldn’t just “suck it up” and keep going.

Well, this is where the story turns into something out of Hollywood. Almost literally, again.

My boyfriend, who’s almost finished becoming a doctor, himself, is having a friend from a very well-known hospital review my grandmother’s case. The man, according to him, is one of the hospital’s leading specialists. And, while this doesn’t necessarily speak well of the man I am so passionately in love with (yes, I will admit it), he isn’t doing this out of the kindness of his heart out of concern for my grandmother, though I do suspect some of it has to do with something I mentioned to him a while back.

He told me that he is going out of his way to help my grandmother because he can’t stand to see me upset like this. He said that what he gets out of this is seeing me happy again.

Oh, guys, I’m so mixed up about this. It makes me beyond happy not only that someone is looking at her case, but that it’s someone who specializes in cases like hers and is really going to be able to make a difference. Not only that, but it’s such an amazing feeling to know that someone you love cares so much about you that they’re willing to go to all that trouble over you. At the same time, though, it’s something that, with my self esteem issues and inability to accept or ask for help, I’m having trouble processing.

I mean, it’s literally unbelievable. That someone cares about me that much is just… mind-boggling. Add to that the fact that he’s actually able to do something to help and… I don’t know. I don’t know, guys. I think my words are broken.


What Really Helps

It’s not some motivational book sitting on the shelf at the grocery store, looking like the title alone has you figured out. It’s not a handful of inspiring quotes sitting around on your walls to remind you that you’re a wonderful person.

And it is most definitely not someone holding your hand and telling you everything will be all right.

What really helps you become a better you is time. Time and a genuine desire to be better. It’s how you react to the world around you. It’s knowing that your reactions aren’t good or bad, that there is no single action that is supremely evil or inherently good. But there are actions that are who you are and actions that are who you aren’t.

The problem with all these self-help books (and I’m not by any means bashing them – there are some really good tips in some of them) is that they generalize. They don’t know who you are. They can’t tell you exactly how to let go of your past and embrace who you are. Only you can tell yourself how to be yourself.

So, how do you do that when you’re feeling completely lost and confused? How can you get help from yourself when you don’t really even know who you are?

I don’t know. I really don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet. But, as Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Life is a journey, not a destination.”

Maybe the best way to help yourself be a better you is to just keep going. Make decisions, take risks, and put yourself first. Sacrifice for the greater good may be necessary sometimes, but it should never be the first thing you do.

Dreams vs. Reality

For me, this has always been a difficult subject. See, I’ve always had that little blur between possible and impossible in my head. Granted, I’d never act on it (would I be here if I did?), but it’s been there.

And, as crazy as I know it will label me as, I feel like it’s time to share with the world just why that is.

I have dreams. Dreams that eventually come true, as cliche as it sounds. The thing is that they’ve always been of fairly innocent, inconspicuous things. Dropping a grape on the ground, following someone up the stairs at work, things like that.

No, I’m not one of those, “I saw 9/11 before it happened in a dream” types. No, I don’t claim to know any more than the average person regarding major events in human history. I couldn’t be so fortunate.

No, what I’ve seen is far more intimate and mentally destabilizing. I’ve indirectly seen a close friend’s death months before it happened. I’ve seen classrooms I’ve never been in turn out to be my freshman homeroom. I’ve seen someone I love dearly walking ahead of me after we got together…. before I ever knew we’d be this close.

Needless to say, this has been a very trying topic for me for a long time. I’d always thought it was a neat little thing that I might want to pick apart in my adult years, but, after I lost LyKhel, I really wanted it to just go away. Who should ever have to know when their friends are going to die? That kind of thing shouldn’t belong to any human being and I envy the world for not having that burden.

That’s part of the reason I’ve loved Doctor Who so much. Aside from lovable characters and a brilliant plot, I drew something of a sense of hope from the way the Doctor could see what was and wasn’t supposed to happen and still managed to keep going, to stop bad things from happening at all costs.

I wanted to be him. I wanted to know what would happen and that I could still change it. So long as it wasn’t something that absolutely had to happen, what they called in the show a “fixed point.”

Yes, I know I’m blurring fiction and reality. But when my reality is so close to fiction, where else should I look?

I don’t want to turn to some quack or a self-professed psychic for help. I don’t like telling others about this because I know it sounds like I’m delusional. I know how it seems to most people.

I just wish I knew how to switch it off because it could really kill the relationship I’m in now. It’s making me think about things that just don’t need to be thought about. It’s making me wish I could go back and change things for the “better.”

But I don’t think I’d be much better off in that situation, you know?

Keeping It Short

It’s already late here, so I’m going to just go over some of the major things that happened.

Nothing. Today was blissfully boring.

I can only hope tomorrow’s just as pleasant. It’d be a great end to a great week. I mean, I got my work done by Tuesday, managed to get by without any massive fights with the DCPO Work Center Supervisor, survived ATG’s attack on my gear, and even managed to fix some stuff.

There was one major thing to happen, though. I’ve been talking with the chaplain that’s been coming every week, just to get stuff off my chest and everything and, well, he started pushing the whole religious side. The thing is, the way he explained how he saw it, it made sense to me. But there’s still a massive fear of being involved in a church, setting aside time to read the Bible, making that sort of thing a habit, and, most importantly, trusting God to take care of me.

I don’t trust anyone to take care of me; I take care of myself. I mean, you can see what a bang-up job I’ve been doing lately, but I really do feel like I can’t trust anyone. The world is filled with selfish people who will screw you over just to get a slight advantage over a handful of other people. I’ve had that happen to me so many times, I don’t even want to give someone the chance. And, yes, that’s one of the main reasons I’m still scared by my “date” on Sunday. I don’t want to open up to this guy and have my heart shattered again. I couldn’t do it.

But, back to the matter at hand.

I know that God is above human pettiness and doesn’t stand to gain a thing by making me miserable, but I just can’t bring myself to let go of everything that brings me down. Sometimes, it feels like that’s all I have to hold onto, you know? Even if it’s the anchor that’s dragging me down to the bottom of the ocean, if I can’t swim, that anchor is the only thing I have to hold onto.

Wow. So much for keeping it short.

Anyway, yeah, I’ve just been thinking about it. Maybe. But, I don’t see it being something that’ll be happening anytime soon.

Letting go and taking help from someone I can’t see and whose presence I can barely feel isn’t, well, very feasible for me right now.

Not Funny

It’s funny how you can want to help and say something to make everything better but, when you stop to think about it, you realize that everything you could say to that person could potentially make things worse.

Now that I think about it, that’s really not funny at all.

I don’t know, I’m just tired of the world throwing it in my face that everyone I love, everyone that has a future planned for themselves, are getting hurt, while I have so little to worry about. I’m in great health (minus the migraines, of course), decent shape, reasonably attractive, and I’m not a complete moron. The only thing is, I feel like I have nowhere to go with myself sometimes. And it makes me so unbearably guilty. Here I am with absolutely no excuse, no reason why I shouldn’t be doing something amazing with my life, and I’m just stuck, sitting here on a laptop, doodling and writing like that’s going to change the world. I should be out there, helping people, doing something with myself, but I make up all these excuses and the world is just passing me by…

I know it’s wrong and I know that, because I recognize this, I should be getting up right now and doing something to change it all. I should be out finding the cure for cancer or something, you know? Ending the war. Feeding the world. Instead, I’m sitting here, with my cup of tea, lamenting my “inability” to do anything.

Some days, I just feel like a special brand of pathetic, the kind that none should aspire to be.