Getting too personal or finally getting somewhere.
Who cries on a stationary bike at the gym? Really though, who does that?!?
Some of you probably are not surprised that this very occurrence just took place. There I was, riding on level 8, my iPod on shuffle giving me all the right tunes to tackle this gargantuous hill. I had just finished lipping the words to "Low" by Flo Rida when a slow song came out of nowhere, blind siding me and leaving me with tears streaming down my face and what I am sure looked like an awful pout.
As much as I cry at anything, from the Geico Caveman commercials to starving children in Africa, I really hate crying. However, I deem it acceptable when a break through stems from the water works. This, my friends, was a break through.
Now it was Jack Johnson's "Same Girl" that left me weeping like a willow. I remembered the song from when I was in love. From when my life was messier.
I am over the fact that not every love works out and I am the happiest single girl you will meet but maybe that is the problem. That I am single. On purpose.
We tend to compare pasts and presents. We look back at a time in our life and we think of how we have improved since that very moment. For the past year or so I have looked back at the time when I was first in love and how messy and disorganized and crazy it was and I have felt happy to have made my life cleaner and more predictable and ultimately controllable.
Am I the only one who feels the urge to be a massive control freak even if it means missing out on all the fun? Things are just so much prettier and nicer when we know they are coming. Right? Life is easier and manageable when we insist on disproving fate. Correct? If we try really, really, really hard than we can see to it that we never get hurt, that life never gets tough, that we never are thrown a curve ball. Yes?
Well there it is. Fact #1: We cannot control what life will hand us. Like a roller coaster, even if we don't want the upside down loops or twisty turns, sometimes we will just be forced to take them. And Deal With It.
But then WHY am I refusing to step outside of this little safety zone that I have constructed for myself and just take a leap of faith and date? And my definition of "date" would be actually putting myself into a position where I could possibly fall for someone or find myself missing that person when they aren't there or smiling when I catch their scent on my pillow.
Well it seems that I have bared my soul, told more than I have ever wanted to reveal in this blog. I Am Absolutely Petrified Of Someone Loving Me. Loving me beyond what I can hand to them in a resume. Loving me for the little things, for the fact that I have the world's most hideous laugh or that they know they will always be second in my heart to Lil' Wayne. I am afraid to be loved for a fact other than that I am good asset to a team or a great leader, but for the fact that I am Hannah Katy Brencher and someone finds that to be enough.More than enough.
Well I can assure you that I will not make this blog all about me, but it feels good to just admit that. It feels good to see why I am standing outside of the pool and only dipping my toe in. When we realize what we are afraid of then, and only then, we can begin to face that fear head on.
So maybe I needed a good cry at the gym (I cannot hold tight to my "tough guy with muscles of steel" reputation forever). Maybe I needed to see that I actually missed the feeling of having a messy life. Sure it is great to be orderly or to be prepared for anything that comes our way, but life is going to be messy regardless so we might as well welcome the chaos and learn to love it.
I need to let go of the reins. Stop holding my love life by the neck and gradually switch to a friendly hand hold. I need to stop letting other people fall for me while I watch safely from the side lines and then move on. I need to stop wishing that I would not be stuck up on a pedestal and just step off the damn pedestal. Baby steps, my friends, baby steps.
Well there is my heart sitting nicely on the internet. Please don't judge.