It's been a long time...

This year I...

a) got married.

b) moved across the world.

c) lived without regular internet access for 4 months.

d) live in a house that is clearly WAY too big for my Husb, my two cats and me, though I love its every nook and cranny.

e) all of the above.

Yes, folks, it's "e." It's been a very busy 9 months for me, and continues to be in my day-to-day life. (I mean, who knew a house required so much upkeep?) And in this flood of this, that and the million other things that need/want to be done in a day I have lost touch with my beloved blog.

So here it is, a nice little promise that I will indeed be starting back up with enthusiasm and longing, if for no other reason but that it may help my sanity (and my Husb's...man, I love that guy).

It's a strange thing getting married, combining lives, moving across the world, taking in cats to love, furnishing a house and then maintaining it, keeping in contact with family and friends, making new contacts, doing laundry and whatever else I manage to, sometimes very sloppily, fit into a day. And while I love it with every freckle kissed across my skin, it certainly does take a little something out of somebody...more specifically me. And my absence from my preferred mode of "brain drain" has had its consequences, and I feel like there is no time like the present to combat it.

I look forward to typing so much that my fingers feel drunk.

Type to you soon...

My rock and hard place.

Despite all the amazing gifts I've been given over the last few months, there lingers around me such a sense of loss and confusion that the amount of internal pep-talks have reached an all-time high. I find that I am constantly reminding myself of all the gifts that I have already received and all the ones I have to look forward to; there are so many of them, I am not ignorant of that. It's just that while I have so much to look forward to and be grateful for and to be the trembling sort of excited about, my heart is still breaking.

It's a part of my heart that I never dreamed would break. It's the part of my heart that belongs to my family; blood relation and those who are so much a part of my soul that DNA is no factor. This part of my heart has always been bursting, filled to an always increasing "max" with love and laughter and beauty. But now it also breaks. Not because it's finally reached a max that can't give anymore, but because someday soon, almost too soon, I will have to tell them "good-bye" (which even though is temporary still stings with pain) so that I can say "hello" to a man that I was in love with long before I was even aware of it.

I can't decide whether I am that lucky, or that unlucky. To have a heart so big and so bursting; it almost seems too painful to feel lucky, though I know that is exactly what I am.

And grateful. And inspired. And so in love with everything that it becomes hard to breathe.

And it is hard. I've had to talk myself through the, "You're not trading one thing for another," conversation so many times that I could write a book on it. And I'm slowly understanding that having both loves requires not a choice but rearranging and compromising. A shift and change of lifestyle that I never considered because, well, I never thought I would be this lucky. I never thought I would be so lucky that a choice of the "lesser of two evils" wouldn't even apply. Both of my choices are so mind-blowingly amazing that this choice is far harder.

But I have to remember: I'm not picking one over the other.

I'm choosing both. But it still calls for great change and great compromise.

And it's great. It all is. It will take adjustment, and there will be more tears, and more heartbreak but in the end things will be even better than they are now (I didn't even know that was possible). I will have created a life with both of my loves at the top of my pyramid and the tears will be replaced with laughter and smiles, and the heartbreak will again make my heart stronger and bigger and even more excited for life.

I will be okay, better than okay. And my loves will be okay, too, better than.

They already are.

On Certainty, part 3.

I keep trying to think of a catchy way to start this; a hook, or some sort of opening line that sums up, or at least gives some sort of direction for the following precipitation of words. But I really can't find one, so I figure, why force one?

The past few months of my life have been a bit of a...whirlwind? evolution? experiment gone cuckoo? hasty rush of rebellion? I couldn't sum it up if I tried, and trust me I have tried. But no matter your phrasing, it's all relative anyway. What it is for sure though is...

I am living.

Not just the normal, everyday, sustain your body, autonomic function living. But the out of the ordinary, once in a lifetime, sustain your SOUL and your mind living. I get a little quick of breath just thinking about it.

I waited a long time to live. Too long. And the past two months I haven't been able to think myself out of life, which has always been my issue, and boy let me tell you it has made such a difference. I've never been one not to think things through. In fact, I don't do much without over-thinking. I would argue that I think too much, as if anyone thought that were possible. And it only occurred to me fairly recently that thinking has stopped me from acting, and that has resulted in a life less lived. Not really the sort of thing a 20-something year old dreamer likes to come to realize. Truly. But then there came a moment when, thank goodness, my head silenced itself to listen to my heart and without any useless thinking I acted.

And did I act.

I don't expect anyone to applaud my decisions let alone agree with them. And I really don't expect anyone to understand them. There were my decisions. And isn't that one of the many beauties of life, that I can live my life and you can live yours, and they can look completely different with both of us equally glowing with excitement?

Yes.

I found a love in someone that I didn't know existed for me. A love that even when I thought it was ending I never lost wonder for, excitement for, gratitude for or hope for. I held onto what I could and didn't give up because for all the over-thinking I had done in my life, I had at least come to one life changing conclusion: this is it.

This is the thing worth getting battered and bruised for.
The thing that will give me the strength to stand up and try as many times as possible.
The thing that was reason enough to look logic and all the people who doubt me in the face and just say, "And...?"

I found it. I didn't have to settle. I didn't have to find out what I wanted by dating men who showed me what I didn't want. I didn't have to sell myself short. I didn't have to compromise myself.

I didn't have to do anything but be me and follow my heart. So simple.

And I know that not all understand, and that just as many, if not more, doubt what I am doing. But I just want to tell them, "I'm sorry. And it's okay."

I'm sorry because you don't understand. But I'm even more sorry for the reason you can't understand: because you haven't found it. I'm sorry that you think you know me so well, but clearly you don't. I have a near blemish free past, mostly due to my insistence on thinking instead of acting, but nevertheless, I don't often make bad decisions. And when I do, it's nothing this grand. I'm sorry that this is what causes your true colors to be seen. I may be most sorry for that because there is so much I wanted you to be a part of but it seems you forfeited your right to be a part of it.

And it's okay because I'm happy. And while it hurts me to know that you can't be happy for me because of your insecurities and selfishness, I'm still happy. More than happy. I am the type of happy and excited and blissful that manifests itself as pure, calm confidence. I breathe easier, think clearer, walk bolder and feel deeper.

And for that I say, "Thank you."

Thank you because, even though I don't need another reason to know this is it, the fact that your doubt helps me realize how doubtless I am about this whole thing and feeds my confidence instead of feeds on it makes me grateful.

I don't delude myself into thinking my incredible journey is anywhere near anyone's standards of normal, ideal or even acceptable...

So good thing I'm not living by your standards.

I can see how happy I wouldn't be.

On Blinking.

The last month of my life has been made up of a series of moments that have left me speechless, excited and completely in love with life. And it all started with a blink.

One moment I was living my usual life of safety nets and habits. I had a carefully choreographed life that, while it wasn't a sad life in the least, it certainly wasn't anything near the standards I had set for myself as a child. And if you ask me, those are some of the most genuine standards one will ever have; you developed them before you knew how to be insecure and scared. And despite my living in routines and habits, one spontaneous moment took hold and that was it. In one world shaking blink everything changed, and I couldn't possibly imagine ever being happier.

I blinked and he said the words I had been waiting to hear.

I blinked and he was standing there in front of me.

I blinked and his life was a part of mine, and mine was a part of his.

I couldn't have predicted the beautiful stream of events that took place, nor would I have believed you if you had told me it would happen. This is my life. I'm still having a hard time believing it, but I'm incredibly grateful for it all the same.

Sometimes all it takes to turn your world around can happen in the time it takes to blink.

Man, I love blinking.

On Certainty, part 2.

How do you explain a feeling that leaves you speechless? That nearly leaves you unable to formulate words and sentences?

I don't know. But I'm attempting it anyway.

I fell in love with a person long before any of my conscious senses were even aware of its possibility. One moment we were strangers separated by three quarters of the United States and the next moment I was dizzy from the flips my stomach did at the mere thought of him. He quickly became one of the most important people in my life and from the very moment I met him I knew that I never wanted to live without him in my life. I knew my life would be beautifully intertwined with his and I looked forward to every new second spent with him.

We hit the requisite bumps in the road; we tripped, skinned our knees and in some instances, face planted on what felt like gravel. And even when some of my closest and most trusted companions thought I was crazy for holding on, I continued to hold on. Even stronger. I wouldn't let go. I couldn't. Because I knew...

I knew that despite how painful it was, how heart broken I was, how skeptical everyone was, that this was something you don't let go of. Something that you fight for in the face of opposition and doubt. It wasn't something fleeting or a fire easily put out. It was the thing that I had always dreamed of and never gave up on searching for, so why would I give up now?

I knew that even though I felt battered and bruised and crazy for holding on that it would be worth it. The pain wouldn't just make me stronger, it would make the love stronger. It would create a love that wasn't just fresh and new, but tested and found to be more durable and more resilient and more unconditional than before; an undying love. The kind I had started to think only existed in dreams.

But most importantly I knew that it would work out. I was certain. There was a constant feeling of knowing that even though it was hard and others didn't understand (sometimes I didn't even understand), that the love would win. And it did.

The certainty that I had always felt wasn't just a naive hope; it was the courage to keep holding on, the strength to not give up. It was the feeling in my gut that knew despite all odds, all doubt, all opposition that if I didn't give up, neither would the love.

A whole new world of life is opening up to me and I am grateful for every new sight, sound, smell, taste and touch. I would go back and relive every painful scrape and fall a million times because it only adds another spectacular layer to my story; lessons and feelings that can't ever be duplicated, that are mine to cherish and mine to grow from.

I have yet to find words that could do this feeling justice. I don't think I ever will...

It is that amazing.

Here's to certainty.