I have been filled with anxiety this week. I could list off all
contributing factors, but it would require multiple blogs and I fear
that if I don't occasionally reference my sex/dating life that you fine
people will all stop reading. So I will bypass that overwhelming list
and skip to something that has been weighing hard on me the past few
days. I am in a relationship now. It's going well. I am falling, in
that wonderful way you do when you start getting to know someone and let
them get to know you. I fall asleep with strong, warms arms around me
more often than not these days. I get to kiss someone on the regular.
Which is one of my favorite perks of all. There are meals together,
cuddling, and hours spent watching movies and television on the couch. I
have someone to talk to, someone to play with, and someone to get
irrationally mad at when I am having a bad day. It is a relationship,
and it is all the great things that come along with it.
The
problem is that my history with men, and self awareness, set off red
flags left and right that make me feel like I am going to make a bad
decision. Or fall too hard. Or run away. I don't trust the decisions I
make with men, because every one that I have made in the last 10 years
has been wrong. That's obviously an exaggeration. I have been in love
and have been loved. And to be able to say that, in and of itself, shows
that I did something right along the way. But the outcomes of these
relationships, or the people that the men I have been involved with have
turned out to be, were far from the best choices I can make for me.
And after learning these lessons through so many relationships, I feel I
have a responsibility to not let history repeat itself. The simple
fact that I don't want to fail again has me questioning my heart harder
than I am letting it fall in love.
I don't want to run screaming
at the first signs of trouble. But when things aren't great it's also
my responsibility to evaluate whether or not it's bad in a way that's
normal or bad in a way that will land me in the same place I have so many
times before. Part of me thinks it's great that I am being cautious.
That this shows growth that I am trying to determine the outcomes of
choices I am making before and as I am making them. And the other part
of me is terrified that me being terrified of being brokenhearted again
is going to prevent a relationship that is and can make me happy for a
very long time.
I just want to trust myself. I want to not worry
about whether I am thinking too much or too little. There are so many
qualities about myself that I believe in, and know to be true and good.
But anything related to my romantic or sexual relationships are not any
of them. A present moment evaluation of the relationship is to say
that it's good; that I am happy. That although I've been stressed for
the past few weeks for a variety of reasons, at the end of the day I am
happy that he is sitting on the couch in the other room playing video
games. My heart would be broken if he were anywhere else right now. I
get to sit in my room, listen to Del Amitri, and write this blog hashing
out feelings about dealing with my own feelings.
This is the
same shit I would be doing if I were alone, only I am not. I have
someone here that cares about me enough to be here when I needed him to
be, and is comfortable enough to leave me be when I need to write a blog
about my insecurities in our relationship and about life. So I am
going to trust myself for now. Or at least try really hard to.
9.19.2012
9.16.2012
The Woman I Love
I went to go see Jason Mraz tonight. Which was incredible. I saw him 9
years ago in Decatur, IL. My brother Sean even managed to pull off a
smoke break and photo-op with Jason himself. He was an up and coming
singer/songwriter that was playing college campus' and hoping to catch a
fan base along the way. Almost a decade later I walked into the First
Midwest Bank Amphitheater in Tinley Park today to a crowd of 10,000
people waiting in anticipation to see that same pimply-faced 20something
I shared a Marlboro mild with so long ago.
For his musicianship alone, it is a privilege to watch him perform. Considering the 9 other musicians he shared the stage with, including an incredibly hot female percussionist, the show - top to bottom - was perfection. Besides being an amazing show, Jason Mraz has always been incredibly quick and witty, and may have a bit of a political agenda (but as long as it's on par with my own opinions - I wholeheartedly endorse it). In between songs, specifically before he sang a song called "The Woman I Love" he made a few passing comments about females. He said that women were amazing, but the biggest mistake women always make is forgetting how amazing we are. And how, even though it may entail bitching, nagging, or irrational meltdowns; when we forget who we are, it's up to men to "man up" and remind us of the incredible women in us that they love.
Someone like me, who has had terrible relationships with men piled on top of deep-seeded self esteem issues, am very much an offender of what Mr. Mraz speaks of. I am a woman. And not in an annoying, feminist way; but that's pretty fucking incredible. But I feel, like a lot of other girls in this world, when I say that that is belittled on a far too regular basis. Such is life. Black people will always have it bad. As will gay people. As will Indians. As will Nascar fans. People will always discount you based off petty things that are not only not within your control, but things that have little or nothing to do with the actual character of a person. But I digress.
I am willing to look past being a woman, and look more closely at this "awesome" person Jason Mraz seems to think may exist in me. And I'm sure it doesn't hurt that I am in a relationship now, so I have had validation outside of Jason and me, and actually in the form of another human being that doesn't mind his name being attached to mine for all social intents and purposes. I'm Katie Mother Fucking Keller. I'm not 21 any more. I don't spend every night out doing outrageous things with no endgame and/or regard for the people around me. I'm a little boring. I like watching stand up comedy, listening to music, and reading books. But I'm still pretty fabulous.
I can make people laugh in their saddest moments. I can compliment and notice that thing about you, that isn't that new or special, but you are dying for someone to acknowledge. I can look you in the eye, and without being able to promise that everything will be okay, will be able to promise you that I will be there. And that no matter how bad it gets I will be in your corner. I can sing you song lyrics for days. I can dance and sing terribly when drunk enough at karaoke bar, and it will make you feel good. I can take my own sadness, and genuinely try to turn that into happiness for someone else. Jason Mraz was right, I am pretty fucking awesome, and my biggest mistake is not remembering it.
Maybe having someone who is sharing so much of my time with me will be a good mirror into some of my better qualities. A reminder of the reasons that people, a specific person, wants to share their moments with me more than anyone else. I am far from perfect. And I pick apart every last emotional flaw I have, in this blog specifically. But in the spirit of the good vibes, and free love that J Mraz was preaching at his show tonight, I'm going to go on record in saying that 2 years of blogs, 10 years of relationships, and 25 years of waking up everyday - Katie Keller is, in fact, awesome.
For his musicianship alone, it is a privilege to watch him perform. Considering the 9 other musicians he shared the stage with, including an incredibly hot female percussionist, the show - top to bottom - was perfection. Besides being an amazing show, Jason Mraz has always been incredibly quick and witty, and may have a bit of a political agenda (but as long as it's on par with my own opinions - I wholeheartedly endorse it). In between songs, specifically before he sang a song called "The Woman I Love" he made a few passing comments about females. He said that women were amazing, but the biggest mistake women always make is forgetting how amazing we are. And how, even though it may entail bitching, nagging, or irrational meltdowns; when we forget who we are, it's up to men to "man up" and remind us of the incredible women in us that they love.
Someone like me, who has had terrible relationships with men piled on top of deep-seeded self esteem issues, am very much an offender of what Mr. Mraz speaks of. I am a woman. And not in an annoying, feminist way; but that's pretty fucking incredible. But I feel, like a lot of other girls in this world, when I say that that is belittled on a far too regular basis. Such is life. Black people will always have it bad. As will gay people. As will Indians. As will Nascar fans. People will always discount you based off petty things that are not only not within your control, but things that have little or nothing to do with the actual character of a person. But I digress.
I am willing to look past being a woman, and look more closely at this "awesome" person Jason Mraz seems to think may exist in me. And I'm sure it doesn't hurt that I am in a relationship now, so I have had validation outside of Jason and me, and actually in the form of another human being that doesn't mind his name being attached to mine for all social intents and purposes. I'm Katie Mother Fucking Keller. I'm not 21 any more. I don't spend every night out doing outrageous things with no endgame and/or regard for the people around me. I'm a little boring. I like watching stand up comedy, listening to music, and reading books. But I'm still pretty fabulous.
I can make people laugh in their saddest moments. I can compliment and notice that thing about you, that isn't that new or special, but you are dying for someone to acknowledge. I can look you in the eye, and without being able to promise that everything will be okay, will be able to promise you that I will be there. And that no matter how bad it gets I will be in your corner. I can sing you song lyrics for days. I can dance and sing terribly when drunk enough at karaoke bar, and it will make you feel good. I can take my own sadness, and genuinely try to turn that into happiness for someone else. Jason Mraz was right, I am pretty fucking awesome, and my biggest mistake is not remembering it.
Maybe having someone who is sharing so much of my time with me will be a good mirror into some of my better qualities. A reminder of the reasons that people, a specific person, wants to share their moments with me more than anyone else. I am far from perfect. And I pick apart every last emotional flaw I have, in this blog specifically. But in the spirit of the good vibes, and free love that J Mraz was preaching at his show tonight, I'm going to go on record in saying that 2 years of blogs, 10 years of relationships, and 25 years of waking up everyday - Katie Keller is, in fact, awesome.
9.05.2012
2 or More's a Crowd.
I have always prided myself on being a very independent person. I moved
out of my parents house for the first time when I was 18 years old.
And though 6 months of that was spent in college - the other 7.5 years
of my life since has been a rather gypsy-like tour of the western
suburbs by myself and my cat, Charlie. We lived in crappy apartments,
beautiful apartments I couldn't afford, a house with a bunch of 21 year
old boys, a boyfriend's basement, a house with a husband and wife and
two beautiful daughters, another house with some very straight-edged
female nursing students, and now, a small 2 bedroom house that I
actually call home. Of all of those places previously mentioned, I
don't consider any really a home to me. They were places I lived, but
never home.
When I first moved into this house, it was definitely not a home. I shared the house with a wonderful roommate, and our collective 2 cats, and though the circumstances were far improved from my previous living arrangements, I was not comfortable in my own skin, let alone the roof over my head. I went through the motions and packed up my bags when it was time to leave here, ready and willing to move on to the next gray place I can survive in until something more stable happened. But a series of stressful, yet retrospectively wonderful, events occurred in which I couldn't leave this house. And though I was terrified of what and when my next move would be (physically and emotionally), I felt like I finally had a second to catch my breath.
I've been in this house for 2 years. I've been alone in it for just over 1. And I can honestly say of the person I have become and of the things I have accomplished in that amount of time, the thing I am most proud of is this house. It is the place I can run away to every night and turn off the world. Nothing makes me happier than having the ability to come home after work, pour a glass of wine, and shamelessly dance around my living room singing into a remote controller. I can literally disappear for days and not have to talk to a single person or deal with a single problem. I also have a place friends can get away to. The ones that have parents, or roommates, or significant others - this is there place to hide. And if I extend that feeling of relaxation and comfort I absolutely will, to everyone I can, every time.
My social-sphere has shifted over the last year, vastly. I have a new best friend and we spend a shit ton of time together. And I wouldn't change it for the world. The best moments of the last 7 months have been with her. She spends a lot of time at my place, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Then there is the other best friend who has been the only person I have consistently spent time with for close to 5 years now. And we are used to seeing each other a good amount of time during the week. It's my unwinding time. We can sit on the couch and watch tv the same way I would if I wasn't drinking and dancing. We talk sometimes, laugh a lot, and I wouldn't give up not one minute of those moments we spend together during the week. Throw in a spattering of social events with the other close friends here and there, and the countless hours lost with HSF, and my place to hide is no longer.
So I have been evaluating what the appropriate balance is. When do I say stop and take back the place I could draw the blinds and pretend things weren't hard and stressful and avoid dealing with reality? Reality is sleeping in the guest room, or on the couch, or most recently in bed next to me. I don't want to sacrifice the relationships I have created, and the memories I have been able to have by making this house my home. And on the other end of that I don't want to stop having a fail-safe mode in which this home is the only place I can give my head and heart a break from everything.
I don't want to hide anymore. I do want to continue to feel independent, and that this house that I have worked so hard to make my home remains as such. But I know a lot of my frustration and overall overwhelmed feeling comes from that fear of being with people, being with someone, and not having countless hours to blame myself, hate myself or choose to feel nothing. Being with people isn't bad. Having a circle of family and friends that love you and want to spent time with you is nothing to be complaining about. But I do need to schedule in a bit more "me time" for the sake of my sanity and for the only cardio I'm really getting from all that dancing around the living room (maybe with Jason Mraz, in my head, just a little). I'm just having a little trouble finding my footing in feeling independent and not having that mean alone.
When I first moved into this house, it was definitely not a home. I shared the house with a wonderful roommate, and our collective 2 cats, and though the circumstances were far improved from my previous living arrangements, I was not comfortable in my own skin, let alone the roof over my head. I went through the motions and packed up my bags when it was time to leave here, ready and willing to move on to the next gray place I can survive in until something more stable happened. But a series of stressful, yet retrospectively wonderful, events occurred in which I couldn't leave this house. And though I was terrified of what and when my next move would be (physically and emotionally), I felt like I finally had a second to catch my breath.
I've been in this house for 2 years. I've been alone in it for just over 1. And I can honestly say of the person I have become and of the things I have accomplished in that amount of time, the thing I am most proud of is this house. It is the place I can run away to every night and turn off the world. Nothing makes me happier than having the ability to come home after work, pour a glass of wine, and shamelessly dance around my living room singing into a remote controller. I can literally disappear for days and not have to talk to a single person or deal with a single problem. I also have a place friends can get away to. The ones that have parents, or roommates, or significant others - this is there place to hide. And if I extend that feeling of relaxation and comfort I absolutely will, to everyone I can, every time.
My social-sphere has shifted over the last year, vastly. I have a new best friend and we spend a shit ton of time together. And I wouldn't change it for the world. The best moments of the last 7 months have been with her. She spends a lot of time at my place, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Then there is the other best friend who has been the only person I have consistently spent time with for close to 5 years now. And we are used to seeing each other a good amount of time during the week. It's my unwinding time. We can sit on the couch and watch tv the same way I would if I wasn't drinking and dancing. We talk sometimes, laugh a lot, and I wouldn't give up not one minute of those moments we spend together during the week. Throw in a spattering of social events with the other close friends here and there, and the countless hours lost with HSF, and my place to hide is no longer.
So I have been evaluating what the appropriate balance is. When do I say stop and take back the place I could draw the blinds and pretend things weren't hard and stressful and avoid dealing with reality? Reality is sleeping in the guest room, or on the couch, or most recently in bed next to me. I don't want to sacrifice the relationships I have created, and the memories I have been able to have by making this house my home. And on the other end of that I don't want to stop having a fail-safe mode in which this home is the only place I can give my head and heart a break from everything.
I don't want to hide anymore. I do want to continue to feel independent, and that this house that I have worked so hard to make my home remains as such. But I know a lot of my frustration and overall overwhelmed feeling comes from that fear of being with people, being with someone, and not having countless hours to blame myself, hate myself or choose to feel nothing. Being with people isn't bad. Having a circle of family and friends that love you and want to spent time with you is nothing to be complaining about. But I do need to schedule in a bit more "me time" for the sake of my sanity and for the only cardio I'm really getting from all that dancing around the living room (maybe with Jason Mraz, in my head, just a little). I'm just having a little trouble finding my footing in feeling independent and not having that mean alone.
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