Thoughts on friendship

This has been a subject that I've spent many an hour (and probably even days and weeks) pondering, mostly as a result of the last several years of my life. I had a definition for what I considered a friend, and that definition held fast for many years. And after a while in my friend comfort zone, I became complacent in maintaining my friendships because they were always maintained for me. I realize the error in this path, only now that I have become seemingly incapable of creating and fostering new friendships. I am most definitely a lazy friend, expecting everyone else to do the work for me. I don't do it intentionally, I was just "spoiled" I guess. And then there's the problem of my personality. I know that I can be difficult and confusing, an enigma. There are so many aspects of my personality that I don't understand myself, and I believe that this is part of the problem. When I'm comfortable (or more appropriately, "uninhibited"), I'm cynical, sarcastic, an occasional gossip, foul-mouthed, a social drinker, most likely ADHD and/or OCD, and I feel like the list could go on and on (and most certainly NOT to my benefit). However, I do feel that I have some strengths (compassion, empathy, loyalty). I should put my best foot forward, but still want to remain true to myself. I've spent enough years pretending to be someone that I'm not, I cannot waste any more time doing the exact same thing. So it seems that I just don't really know how to connect to people beyond simple small-talk. I'm afraid that I'm too abrasive to just be myself and then I turn to overcompensation (which probably comes across as desperate). Seems I'm in a vicious downward cycle that I don't know how to pull myself out of.

All I know is that I miss having cool people to hang out with, have fun times with, and to be there for each other; people that you truly connect with, kindred spirits. Are there any out there for me?

6 months!

We've made it six months, Cadence is half a year old today! I know I've said it before, as have plenty of other moms that precede me, and I'm sure that it won't be the last time that I say it, but I do NOT know where that time has gone. I mean, technically I know where it's gone because I remember everything in between January 19th and July 19th. On one hand it DOES feel like six months because I have six months of memories, and on the other hand it DOESN'T feel like six months because the time has just flown! And here we are... getting SO close to sitting up and crawling, rolling over at will, reaching for things, babbling a lot and sometimes mimicking sounds, giggling and playing with toys and people, starting to sit in a high chair and eat solid foods. When I think about how much he's changed and grown in this short six months, it still amazes me. What an incredible journey this has been, and it's only the beginning! We're starting to see his true personality coming through, and it's like a slowly opening present that I can only watch and wonder at. Each day with him is a blessing (even when we have vomiting and exploding diapers and grouchiness) and my life is all the better for it.

Happy 6 month birthday, Little Bear. Momma loves you more than anything in this entire world.

Blah. That is all.

I woke this morning feeling sad and depressed after recalling them dreams I was just having. A dear friend posted on Facebook yesterday that her dog passed away yesterday and I'm assuming that is what spurred on the bad dreams. They opened the still healing wound of losing Schwartz, which is nearing its year anniversary. I don't know that the pain will ever go away, but thankfully it doesn't hit me every day anymore. I miss him and his friendship so much, I wonder if that isn't what I feel that I've been "waiting" for. His absence has left such a huge hole in my life, maybe my subconcious mind and my heart are waiting for some kind of return. Obviously I know that is impossible.

Just missing my dear old friend badly today.

Disappearing Reappearance

Wow, I'm just really bad at this whole blogging thing. I start a blog, full of excitement and ideas and motivation and then WHAMMO! Those things are gone and it takes it's place among so many other unfinished projects. Makes me wonder, am I even capable of finishing things that I begin? I know I can finish tasks at work, otherwise I don't believe that I would still be employed otherwise. But when it comes to only being accountable to myself for the completion of these tasks, it's a rare thing that something I start out doing gets finished. Even now, as I type this, I can't even remember why I started writing this post in the first place. I'm now thinking that maybe I'm making it too hard, trying to make it into something it doesn't have to be. I can simply get on here and just type whatever craziness my brain is overloading me with at the moment.

So, there it is. I want to start blogging again. I am aware that this is something that I've said and done in the past only to find myself digging it back up again after an extended silence.

I think I remember now what I kinda wanted to discuss in today's blog, but got distracted and derailed myself. I dug out some old pictures last night looking for a particular set and was immediately overwhelmed by the memories and pain that this box of pictures conjured up. Will I ever get over it all? I don't regret the things that I've done and am very happy with my life right now. I've taken responsibility for and made my peace with the mistakes that I've made. And I am eternally sorry for any hurt that I have caused anyone. All I ever wanted for anyone was peace and happiness and all the best in life. I have all these pictures, all these memories, all these years... just... gone and worthless now. Part of me says to just get rid of them all, but part of me would like to hope that maybe someday I can look at them and appreciate that they're just part of the story.

OK, I guess I've rambled long enough for now. I plan to make this my dumping ground, soapbox, whatever you call it.

This is my house and I make the rules.