Rainstorms and spooning

I hate the rain.

Ok wait, I shouldn't say that, it can actually be very nice and possibly even sexy....when you aren't alone and terrified.

When alone I resemble a mixture between a frightened toddler and a cat looking for a safe place under the bed to hide from the thunder. I don't like to be alone. Usually I am totally fine being by myself...ok, ok, don't get me wrong, I have reached a point where I would rather have someone else in bed with me at night, its comforting and nice, and I like to lay there and talk (with or without the words as Sugarland says), but I am ok being alone. Until it rains. The first crack of thunder and I reach for my phone and tell someone to come keep me company.

I asked for company. I tried to not be alone. I just wanted to be the little spoon for a few hours.

I spent the night sitting in the middle of my bed clutching my pillow and not sleeping because I was scared.

Sucks.

If Martina McBride can sing about it, then it must be ok

With a broken wing, she carries her dreams, man you oughtta see her fly.

Yes, wings may be broken, but I am actually doing alright. Things are good on the chase. I think I am finding a happy medium between flying to be caught and chasing my own match. It's all about balance.

Where is the love

Don't you love how you wake up somedays and there are those people in your life who although they may not intend to have a way of making you feel like every decision you have made and everything you have done has led up to you being one giant fat messy failure. I need a hug.

Being female basically sucks balls

AND, you are actually expected to suck balls! (Graphic, I know, sorry) But really, where is the fareness! For real!

I have decided that my life is a Taylor Swift song. Yes, I am almost 30 and I am relating to a teenager who can't sing. Anywho, she has this one catchy song about her friends all being jealous of this perfect boyfriend who does everything thing right and blah blah blah while all she can focus on is yelling and fighting in the rain with someone else.

So, ok, technically, I have neither one of these situations...technically; however, I COMPLETLY see her point. Perfect is fine, and maybe what I need, but I can't stop myself from going after the one who brings the drama.

This butterfly is currently flying with a broken wing.

Being the butterfly

I am a dreamer, a chaser, a girl who gets what she wants...or tries to anyway. I see something I like and I go after it. Life is to short to wait for it to come to me, why play games, why be subtle, if you want something, go get it.

This has been my philosophy. I see a pair of shoes I want, why wait for the sale when they might not have my size.....just get them now. Decide Iwant to run in a race.....don't stop training until I succeed. Find someone I am interested in, why play coy and wait for them to call me.....pick up the phone and ask them out. I have always been that girl, the one who just goes after it, what have I got to lose?

I have recently discovered that it may not be what I am losing, but what I am catching that is the problem. You see, I think I am catching bugs in my net. I am out there running after something beautiful and chasing the hope of finding love and happiness. At the end of the day I have caught lightening bugs. I am so busy not looking where I am going and being distracted by the bright lights these tricky lightening bugs emit, that I cannot help but to run after them. Only once I get close I realize they may be flashy, but their lights eventually run out and they leave me in the dark. Every now and then you catch a glimpse of that light again, and you get some hope that what you saw initially that attracted you is still there, but then the light goes out again and your net feels somehow emptier than before.

I wonder then, why do I keep chasing?

I am going to try something new, something very different for me. I am going to try and be the butterfly. You see, a butterfly starts out as a small caterpillar and spends time changing into what they are to become....takes its time to be ready to fly. Right now I am preparing, I am not quite ready to completly let go and spread my wings. I'm getting there.

It's a scary thing for me to imagine, but I am trying to let myself be the one who is caught. I know I am being chased. There are multiple nets out there playing in the wind trying to capture me. I have been so busy running around chasing lightening bugs that I haven't allowed anyone to have a chance to catch me. I have to learn that I don't have to always be doing the chasing. That maybe, for a change, I should let myself be caught. I am worth being chased. I have always gone after what I want because I can't imagine someone coming after me.......but if I ever stopped running for just a second I would see all the possibilities I have passed up because I have been running so fast, chasing all the wrong bugs.

This isn't easy. It's very hard actually.

But here is my shot......

I'm trying to be the butterfly.

Goal Set.....Goal Met!

Yesterday I ran my first race! I set out to finish the Cleveland Rite-Aid 10k in under 1 hour 15 minutes and my official chip time was 1:14:30! I am very proud of myself. I know I am slow, but to me, this is a huge accomplishment. I was able to keep my pace the whole way through and stay consistant, which as a beginning runner I struggled a lot with this and had trouble running any distance because I couldn't get a rythym. I didn't have to walk at all, I just told myself to keep moving. For me, it was about finishing, proving to myself that I could do it....that if I set my mind to something I was still strong enough to go out there and do it. I may not be the best, but I did the best for me and today I am feeling very good. Truth be told, the whole time I was running I kind of wanted to cry because a year ago this was never something I could have done. Hell, 6 months ago this was something I never could have done. But I have worked hard, and I have proved to myself that I am capable. It may be a small accomplishment, but to me, it is the start of knowing that I can do it.

Why do we do it?

Why when we know the stove it hot do we insist on touching it over and over again?