Fire and Gasoline

“We’re like fire and gasoline, I’m no good for you, you’re no good for me…”     — Chris Young

I stumbled,  happily, upon what follows in, of all places, my Facebook Newsfeed, with thanks to I Am Somebody. Bestselling author Karen Salmonsohn shares her views of relationships, breakups and moving on. This resonated with me, having been through a tough breakup myself and having a dear friend currently going through one. 

This is further proof that the Universe speaks to those who are ready to listen.

He appeared to be my ideal match. Then again, matches have been known to burn people. And this man burned me—badly. Interesting, isn’t it, the dangerous language we use to describe the very people we love? We say they’re our “match” or a “flame.” We label them as “smoking hot.” We revel in the “fiery desire” they inspire and the “burning passion” they create.

A happy love relationship has even been called a “friendship caught on fire.”

Why do we have so many fire metaphors in relation to love?

Then there’s the ultimate fire/love commonality: both have the power to drastically, speedily destroy a once seemingly solid foundation. For example, a three-story house can be burned to a crisp in a few fiery hours as a result of an innocent waffle being placed in a bread-only toaster. I relate. Thanks to my ex, I was that house, and my heart was that waffle.

As a self-help book author, I’ve written about the importance of seeking meaning during times of crisis. I’ve raved about the emotional benefits of believing everything happens for a reason—then consciously choosing to locate that reason. I must confess, after the great pain my ex caused me, I was finding this hard to do.

I’m sharing this with you now to let you know that if you’ve recently undergone a difficult break up, I know how challenging it can feel. I know how at first you may become convinced that the best way to protect your breaking heart is to put the permanent brakes on. But I’m here to remind you: please do not wallow in negative emotions for too long.
I believe you can never fail in life or love. You just produce results. It’s up to you how you interpret those results. There are no failed relationships, because every person in your life has a lesson to teach.

When someone leaves you, it’s important to release him/her. And know it doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. It just means that their part in your story is over. Your story will go on.

Instead of stressing over the loss of this person, you must face forward, happy in the knowledge that the empty space they’re leaving behind is clearing up space for someone far more right for you—someone you’ll now be far wiser at recognizing that they’re far more right! In many ways, pain is your evolutionary buddy. Pain prompts you to wake up from your autopilot slumber and be more alert to which are the best circumstances and best people to aim yourself toward for ultimate joy. Often, the only way to experience major insightful breakthroughs is via break ups.

Peace and Love,
Mandixoxox

Woah…is me

In the thick of last minute Birthday Party plans, I have been on the verge of an anxiety attack for days, days that have felt like weeks. 
I’m laying in bed when it hits me like a swift kick in the chest:

I know why I’m REALLY upset!

It’s not the “bad birthday ju-ju” that has followed me throughout my elementary school days, into my teen years when parties were a bit passe, and even cast a shadow upon my early adult years, and is now threatening to rear its ugly head for the umpteenth consecutive year. 
It’s not because I have NO idea who’s coming.
It’s not because all I have heard all week are apologies about not being able to make it.
It’s not the expense and all the trouble I’ve gone to to plan it for myself.
It’s not even because I’m turning thirty. Being upset about getting another year older is like getting mad that you can’t physically see oxygen.

What’s really got me twisting in knots is that I am twenty-nine, on the cusp of turning thirty, in the doorway of real adulthood, staring at the shadow of middle age, and I am alone. Single. Unattached. And not just a little bit single. Utterly, completely, soul-crushingly, heart-shatteringly single. 

As girls, we grow up with an image in our heads of how our lives are supposed to turn out. A white picket fence and trips to the soccer field, or an urban loft and two working parents – we’ve got it all mapped out. What our wedding will be like, what our husband will look like, right down to how many kids we’re going to have and what we’ll eventually name the little tykes.

So, at what point do we give up on that image of life, that ideal picture?
When is it time to settle as opposed to settle down?
Why do we have to? 

While it is true that we are the creators of our own destinies and that in order to have a happy ending, we must willingly accept the circumstances we are faced with. What we are not prepared for is the day when we must let go of all the things we’ve spent our entire lives hoping for.

For years my mother has hounded me to “get a man,” as if by some chance it were as simple as stopping at Sobey’s for bread or milk. And for years, I have gone from one extreme to another, deluding myself into thinking I am better off alone – happier. Or that I am simply too intolerable to be loved by another human being. 

Neither being true, I have spent the last year of my life in search of “middle ground.”
I’m more content in my own silence than I have been in my twenty nine years. I have a wonderfully small and close knit group of girlfriends. I have a family whom I love, and who loves me.

So what’s missing?

None of my puzzle pieces fit the way I, as I was growing up, thought they would.

I thought by my mid-twenties I would have a wildly successful career, a wonderful and handsome husband, and a few kiddies to chase after in the backyard of my ridiculously gorgeous house. I have none of these.

Again, the question that seems to have no answer:

At what point am I supposed to give up on that image of life, that ideal picture?
When should I quit searching for Mr. Right and forget the picket fence, handsome hubby and beautiful babies?

When is it time to settle?

29/30 check-in

Just over two weeks until the big day. Outwardly, things seems to be falling into place: The party is arranged (more or less), the guest list is finalized (more or less)… 

Inwardly, I am still rather excited for the new chapter in my life to unfold. Thirty. No matter how many times I say it, it doesn’t seem real

I don’t feel 30! That said, what is 30 supposed to feel like?

I am more content in my life than ever.
Even as I write this, laying achingly on my couch above a heating pad with what appears to be a back injury,  thinking about my life: the things I have, the things I desire… I need for nothing. 

Yes, I am ready. Bring it on!

Peace and Love,
Mandixoxox 

Untitled *2*

Apologies,
Fraught with insults,
I’m sorry,
Twisted into tiny knots.
Anguish into anger,
Anger into tears.
Annoyance,
Radiating darkly,
Pushing downward.
Sticks and stones,
Breaking bones,
Words…
Power for the powerful,
Munition for the weak.
Anger into tears,
Tears into words,
Words back into apologies.