The grass is always greener

The grass is always greener

I’ve been in Vegas for less than a week. I don’t feel all entirely happy or jazzed or excited or fulfilled…

My sadness is extended and feeling exactly the same. I am still lonely. I am still sad. I am still scared.

I don’t feel like I belong in Florida, but I don’t feel like I belong in Vegas. I do feel lonely. Even here among my friends.

My heart just feels so broken. I feel so broken. I am trying to make sense of the million pieces in my life before I attempt to assemble them and create meaning with the mess.

I just need clarity. I just want to be happy.

Right now, being back feels like a huge mistake. It could be the overwhelming-ness of it all.

I am fighting for my life, what direction it is headed in is unclear, I just want answers. So desperately.


Leaving Certainty

I’ve had 3 months in Melbourne, Florida. I’ve battled depression and acceptance here. I’ve done a lot of good and I’ve done some bad. 

Leaving my Dad is near the top of my list of things I hate doing. I love my father. He has been a steady rock that I can always lean on in good times and bad. My Dad and I have virtually nothing in common. We see the world differently. No matter how different our views are, his opinions and convictions have never wavered. I respect that. I will miss feeling secure in my basic necessities and this opportunity that I feel I may be abandoning prematurely. 

Right now, my sister needs me. We need each other. I feel we are both at crossroads in our life and need understanding and support. My sister is in an uphill trajectory and I need that momentum to help pick me up… the pieces of my messy life. Seeing others succeed and do well uplifts me and inspires me to do better, be better. I don’t have all the answers, time will reveal them.

I do know that it is heartbreaking to leave Florida. My dad, his wonderful wife (Diane), and their precious puppy. I will miss sitting on the couch and talking about everything and anything. I will miss the weird faces Diane and I give each other when my dad says something so crazy or nonsensical that he doesn’t pick up on – and the fit of laughter that ensues after. I will miss the hugs from my Dad. His jerky comments followed by his sarcastic smirk. I will miss the compassion, empathy, and understanding that his wife gives me. 

Right now, my heart is broken, but it is filled with hope. Hope that tomorrow will be better, that in time my heart will mend; I know it will. 

If anything, Melbourne has taught me a lot. 

1. My family loves me. (My family is my Father, Diane, and sister, Barbara)

2. Be appreciative of all things.

3. There’s more to life than location.

4. Getting away and sitting in silence, facing your demons is petrifying and crippling. It will make things clear and give you direction.

5. Party life is great, but not needed all the time.

6. Friends are important, family is more important.

7. Being an adult is rough.

8. There’s beauty in the breakdown.

I am eternally grateful for the sacrifices made for me. I have a mountain of debt. The debt I owe those in my life is far greater. Emotionally and financially. I am releasing myself of this messy life. My doubts. My fears. That has gotten me to this point in life. “It’s not what you are that holds you back, it’s what you think you are not.” – Denis Waitley

It’s time to jump into the abyss… leave certainty behind, be fed to wolves of the world and come out on top and be better than I ever dared to dream.

Talking to Walls

I hate being so far away.

I text/call a friend and then I hear nothing back. Even calling/texting again. Crickets.

I am already insecure, paranoid, and isolated. Being ignored increases this times 10. I already feel like I’ve lost everything and now it seems my friends are fading away.

A “Fuck you, I am mad at you for…” would add peace of mind, but I am blatantly being ignored. My heart is broken.The tears won’t stop. I can’t figure out how to snap back. I miss being me.

I miss the smiles, the carelessness, the fun, the crazy. I really don’t know who I am anymore. I also don’t like who I am now. I just don’t care anymore. It’s getting harder to find the strength to go on. I feel so trapped and lost. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe I am having a nervous breakdown. I just want to be numb cause all I feel is pain and hurt and sadness. Who am I and what have I become? I’m apathetic, jaded, and cynical. I’m discontent and angry and incredibly lonely.

If I wanted to be ignored, I’d talk to walls.

Take your passion… and make it happen!

I thought for a long time, I didn’t know what my passion was/is. I’ve just always really enjoyed people, in fact, I downright love them. We are all a part of this species that varies greatly so greatly (race, religion, class, creed, sexual orientation, etc.). We are different people when we are alone. We do weird shit that we would never do in front of anyone else. (For example, how you eat when your in a restaurant vs. eating at home, alone, by yourself; go ahead and lick that bowl, fatty!) Then we’re the people we are when we are around different people. I used to think that I was such a phony being around different people, I just realized, different people draw and effect different aspects of my personality. Why am I going to discuss politics with my party friends, that’s not what our relationship is based on, they sure as hell don’t talk to me about anything child-baby related. I don’t have any merit in the child rearing arena and it would be of no subsequent value. I’m not phony, I just have a multitude of interest and sometimes, you just really like people. They inspire you, the educate you in things, they expand your mind, they just make you happy, and best yet, they just get you. That’s why I have SOOOOO many friends. I am a crazy person. Guaranteed, if you asked any of my friends, “What’s Jessica like?” I promise you, CRAZY will be one of, if not, the most popular words to describe me. I am a bit odd. I’m just out there. I’m a full on spectacle. I command a room. I’ve been told I have this magnetism in me and am super easy to talk to. I think that why I am told this continuously is because I am real. I’m blunt. I’m honest, but I am hugely compassionate and empathetic.

I’m 31 and have gone through some serious shit in my life. Having gone through life with severe pains and also experiencing the utmost luxurious status, I feel I have a pretty accurate balance of the good, they bad, the ugly, and the absolute most insane. I have a pretty great world view.

So, where is this rant leading me? It’s leading me to my passion. My passion is people. I love making people smile. I love the connection. I love offering my perspective, giving my two cents. I also love knowing that I helped someone. I’ve made a difference. Someone’s life is a little brighter, a little better, because of me. I got my bachelor’s degree in psychology, I wanted to go and super-glue and band-aid all the broken parts of people and heal them. Going into academia, I was never the brightest, but I surely wasn’t dim, I lacked the displine and focus it takes to really dedicate myself to my full potential, because let’s face it, having a serious relationship with anyone freaks me out, but being in a committed relationship with a library and little to no social life in my early 20s was just not something I was considering, that and I am not competitive. I’m just not. So, I graduated and was stagnant, still really wanting to be a psychologist of sorts.

Now, that I am older and have worked in various fields, I am constantly being hit with Social Workers. I never knew that getting an MSW wouldn’t take long and that I would be able to complete my dream of being a therapist. I am looking into programs now and hopefully, by fall, I will be starting course work. This excites and scares me, but I ultimately will be doing my dream. I’d get to make my own hours. Do my own thing. Create my own space. This is the right thing for me and will allow me to be the best and truest version of myself. I need inspiration. I need a challenge. I need to do something that matters. I want a career, not just a job.

So back into academia, I go. It was 2009 when I finished up my MBA and that has created a whole lot of nothing. It’s time for me to do something that will set me up for great success. I am really looking forward to the challenge, the personal growth, and to really have a focus and goal again. It’s time to do me. 

Fear and Loathing in Melboure

It’s Wednesday. Mid-week. Usually, this would excite me. Currently, it’s another day in my life of nothingness. I’m thankful I have my shit job, but it doesn’t excite me. Nothing really does. The fact that I get to rage my face off at the end of the month for the first time in Miami does, kinda, but it’s so far away and it will be temporary relief. Everything is blur. One day. One moment. One week. Seamlessly blending. Same old, same old. It’s only been a handful of weeks and I am in contempt. I am losing my fucking mind.

I can’t shake this trapped/stuck situation. I’m so terribly lonely. Was I ever lonely in Vegas, of course; I’m a tragically single female, but I had friends and an army of gays that filled that void. Here, I am alone. My father and step-mother are here, but it’s not the same. Friends make life worth living, they share your adventures, they enjoy your highs and lows. Even talking to my co-workers, there’s dissonance. I am definitely not a small town girl, even though, that’s where my roots were planted. How did I get so far removed from where I started?

When I was a little girl, I was so happy living in Florida. Of course, there were my dark years, my entire life has been spotted with darken periods. By dark periods, I don’t just mean, I’m sad and all I do is eat Baskin Robbins and watch The Notebook. I’m talking about what goes on beyond that, the darkness that scares you, that you can’t even talk to other people about because they get freaked out, hell, it freaks me out… but it’s a part of me. I feel too much. I over analyze and then analyze some more. I’m restless.

I feel that when I am happy, joyous Jessica I radiate so much light and awesomeness, there’s its counterpart, which I deeply internalize, and it’s dark and morbid and twisted. I am the light and I am the darkness.

2900 Hours of Sunshine

I’ve failed at being an adult. I failed hard.

I do have achievements and whatnot under my belt, but I really failed where it matters the most. Financially, romantically, career-wise. I failed to thrive so bad in this arena, that I had to pack up my apartment and cats (note: crazy cat lady alert) and move from my home in the Neon Sandbox – Vegas, bitches – to the extreme RIGHT coast, Melbourne, Florida – which feels like a very bad episode of Jerry Springer. I am now living in a room at my dad’s house and working a shit job that is so far beneath me.

Needless to say, under these circumstances I have fallen into a deep, dark slum. I miss my crazy, beautiful life. The glitter, the eyeliner, the drugs, the sex, the complimentary cocktails, my friends, and getting home well after the sun has come up. I miss the buzz of being in a casino, the smells, the sounds, the electricity of it all. Going from a life of constant distraction to a humble place, I have nothing, but time to think about my life, the past, the present, and the future.

This morning, I had a full on hissy fit. Tears, frantic calls, and luckily, two friends, who talked sense into my irrational, un-coiffed head. (There will be a rant on humidity, just wait.) I am panicking and freaking out that I am trapped in Florida and that I will be stuck here forever and that my current shit job is forever. It’s not, I just can’t see past my last month. It hurts how much I miss my former life. I am miserable here. I am friendless. There isn’t anything familiar or awesome happening to me. I’m scared. I am sure I am not alone in this.

I’ve always wanted to write and I’ve been told I am a pretty decent writer. So with all of this time and all of this “loneliness,” I’ve decided to put my fingers to the keyboard and gather some sort of accomplishment and write.

So, what’s with 2900 hours of Sunshine? Wikipedia states, “Melbourne averages 2900 hours of sunshine annually.” My life may seem like Eeyore came and took a big, fat shit on it, but even that depressed sack sees the sun every now and then. I need to channel my frustrations, my hopes, my fears, the highs and the lows, into something, and well, here I am. (In case you were wondering, Vegas gets “an average of about 300 sunny days per year with more than 3,800 hours of sunshine.”) I’m letting y’all inside this pretty little head.

Welcome to my messy life through my messy words. Now, the adventure has shifted from “fun” to “functional.” I am scared shitless. Everything in front of me is a giant QUESTION MARK. I have no choice, but to stay strong, admire my collection of cocktail dresses, and glue the piece of of my fractured life together; I can use glitter glue, yes?