This is a piece that I wrote in my Personal Essay class, and presented at a writing conference in 2010. Let me know you think.
I was in my room when I heard the first crash of glass. I felt something wrong before I heard the yelling. I went unnoticed…
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I don’t expect life to ever be easy. I’m not stupid or naive. But I do wonder daily when things will ever become bearable? When will I be able to enjoy my life and dread each day and the responsibilities that I can never catch up on? I can’t seem to enjoy a single second of my day because I am always thinking of who I need to call, who I need to pay, what I can’t do and what I should be doing instead of having fun. I am riddled with guilt each time I watch even a few minutes of TV or when I am eating even. Every task I do for myself, I feel guilty. I feel like I am losing myself, and my friends and even my family. I don’t recognize myself and I fear that I am losing this battle with adulthood. When will it end? What finish line am I striving for that I can’t even see? I’m sorry for the debbie downer mood, and I’m sorry to my friends that I have neglected. I’m sorry to my family that I have burdened with my bad moods and outbursts. I’m trying to make a better life for myself and I am trying to find the best path, but it’s a bit rougher than I ever anticipated. I hope that soon, I can begin to live a life that will allow for more balance.
I hate being late so that usually means I am early to everything. Right now I’m waiting for my doctor’s appointment with the rheumatologist. Today I find out how sick I really am and what we are going to do about it. I have another 15 mins until my appointment and I hate waiting. I hate waiting to see how the next few months of my life are going to be lived and possibly how the rest of my life will be spent. Will I be on pills the rest of my life that may or may not work? Will I be in pain everyday for the rest of my life no matter what? I won’t know for another 15 mins. And I’m just sitting in my car trying not to scream.
This is my “I got way more drunk than I ever planned last night, but I’m actually not hungover, so I’m cleaning today and feeling very productive for only waking up 3.5 hrs ago” face. Excuse the no makeup or shower look.
Some people are afraid of commitment, others afraid of letting anyone get too close, afraid of falling in love and losing themselves. I’m not afraid of any of that. So what is my hang up about dating? What is my issue that I bring to the table and have to deal with and work on in order to be happy?
Honestly, I have high standards, maybe even impossible standards. And when I meet men, I immediately sum them up and determine them to be underneath the qualifying line that says they are worth my time. I think my sister and I have this in common from seeing our parents so ridiculously in love for 25 years and counting. I have high standards and the guys of Mid-Michigan just aren’t gonna cut it.
But I feel like it’s not a bad thing to have high standards, however impossible they may seem. Because I fucking deserve the best. I deserve a gorgeous man who makes me laugh and think. A man who respects me and my dreams, values and beliefs. A man who will make me ridiculously happy for the rest of my life.
I fucking deserve that. Everyone does. Everyone deserves a partner who they just can’t get enough of, day in and day out for years and years. Everyone should have higher standards.
So when I tell someone that I have been single for five years, and they say that my standards are too high, I will take it as a compliment. A compliment that says I care more about myself and being happy than about the social definition of normal by being in back to back shitty relationships.
So yeah, I have high standards and that is never going to change.
I swear the cable company plotted against my productivity today after work. First For Love of the Game was on, one of my faves, and after the amazing Tigers win, how could I not watch it? Then as soon as that was over Chitty Chitty Bang Bang started. Also one of my favorites, plus I just freakin love Dick Van Dyke!
In summary, baseball movie plus super long musical with Dick Van Dyke dancing as a doll equals a very happy Meghan.
PS. The child catcher from Chitty still scares the living shit out of me. I think it’s the scary nose and creepy voice.
