So I had this crazy idea the other day. I'm going to submit a blog post on Thought Catalog, my favorite blog of all time. I stumbled upon it after Levandis and I broke up, and there seemed to be a lot of good stories, tips, and ideas for the broken hearted. There are also a bunch of cooler stories on there that have absolutely nothing to do with douchey ex-boyfriends who never deserved you. It's a fabulous balance.
In SCI 210, we were told to write a 3-5 page paper on a belief that we have. It was key that this belief was one we held dear to our hearts and truly would fight for when given the chance. I wrote about the idea that love has a shelf life. I honestly believe that love has a shelf life. The kind of love you feel now expires and/or changes as time passes. It's natural and scary, but it's totally okay. I don't love my parents the way I used to. I used to love them for their unwavering kindness, their support, both financially and emotionally, and the effort they put in to raise a wonderful human being. Now I love them for their unwavering support in everything I do, their acceptance that their baby is no longer a legitimate baby, and their effort to make sure I continue on the right path. My love for some people has expired. The love I felt for Kris in the early stages of our relationship is long gone and has since been replaced by a feeling of indifference. It's unfortunate to think that I may have actually loved someone and that love is completely nonexistent now, but it's okay. I've accepted it, just like I've accepted the other loves that have since changed or gone away.
I decided to put these ideas into a blog post that I was going to post here, but once I finished, I realized that it should be good enough to post elsewhere too. These posts don't get seen by anyone. It's my version of an electronic diary that can only be seen by eyes other than mine if someone is actively searching for it. Let's be honest. No one on this planet cares enough about me to actively search out my thoughts and feelings, especially when there's so many other entertaining things to look for on the internet. Fat people falling down. 'Nuff said. After finishing this post and reading through it a few times, I thought it was good enough that other people should read it too, and what better place to post it than on one of my favorite blog sites?
So I made some final touches on the piece and submitted it to Thought Catalog on Monday morning. Here I am, Wednesday morning, sitting at my boring desk job checking my emails. The first thing I see is an email from a Thought Catalog publisher telling me my post is live on their blog! HOW. FREAKING. COOL. I feel like my entire Wednesday is made now. I don't even care that I have to stay here doing nothing until 2 pm. Well, maybe a little. It kind of sucks that I have to stay here. But it's totally fine because I'm a published blogger. That's not really as big of a deal as I'm making it out to be, but I'm proud of it. I've always loved to write, especially my feelings. It's the best way for me to get them out. Levandis used to hate me writing notes and letters to him, but they're the best way I can show how I truly feel about someone.
Lately I've felt exceptionally happy. I'm not sure if I'm finally growing into my own skin comfortably, or if I'm still relishing in the island bliss I enjoyed for a while. Either way, happy looks good on me. Really good. Since I've been back, I feel like I've gotten hotter, my patience is slightly more controlled, and I avoid drama and confrontation at all costs. Josh forgot to take me to the airport after weeks of planning and begging, didn't really apologize, didn't wake up for breakfast on Sunday, and is seeing Bella again, but guess who doesn't give a flying fuck? Me. This girl. Right here. That's new. Very new. I've always been the kind of person who needs a plan and who needs to have an idea of what's going on every day. But lately I've been taking everything day by day. The only set schedule I have is Taco Tuesday and work. The rest of the day has an open agenda. I have ideas of things I want to accomplish every day, but if they don't really get done, I don't mind. I hold out until the next day I have free time. If I want to come home and take a nap, I do. If I want to binge watch Grey's Anatomy all day, I do. If I want to stay out until 2 am knowing I have to be up at 6 for work, I do. This morning, I came to work wearing a pretty flowy pink blouse tucked in to a pair of khaki shorts with tan heeled sandals. Why? Because I fucking can. I'm normally so self conscious about what I wear. "Should I wear heels or will they look weird? Will people ask questions? I hate when people notice an upgrade in my style. I'm uncomfortable when I'm called out on looking decent." Today, I didn't care. I put flip flops in my backpack assuming I would change as soon as I got in the building, but it's 10:15 and my heels are still on. Who is this girl? This is NOT Chicago Cheyenne. This is Hawaii Cheyenne on a permanent vacation in the city. And I like it.
I no longer miss people besides Millie. Before I left, Levandis and I started sleeping together, and when I wouldn't hear from him for a day or two, I would get anxious, and honestly, I would get a little angry. Why do you text me only when you need something? You need money, weed, or sex, and then I'm your go-to. If none of those three things are involved, I just don't hear from you, or our conversation remains short. I don't want to be that girl. I don't want to be used. I let him use me for a year and a half with little to no payback, and while I used to be okay with not getting anything in return for my favors, I'm not okay with it anymore. It's annoying and mildly insulting. I'm not a doormat. I refuse to be treated as such. I felt empowered giving him only $6.00 the other day when he realistically needed $20-40. I felt like I was finally doing something good for myself by saying no. When I went to NIU with Mill and he wanted head when I came back, I told him I would let him know, but went home and went to bed instead. More empowerment. I am woman, hear me roar. Alright, maybe that's slightly overdramatic, but hey. I'm impressed with myself. Although I still think about old friends and exes on occasion, it is no longer in the way I thought about them before. I don't long for their presence in my life.
I no longer feel connected to the same world I was in before I left. I was an anxiety attack waiting to happen at any given moment. After a week of adventure and relaxation, I've calmed down in every way possible. I'm at peace with being alone. I have no sex life, I don't talk to any boys besides Levandis and an occasional Snapchat from Brian. I keep my clothes on in every selfie I take regardless of who it's going to. I'm growing. I no longer find joy in begging for people's attention and affection. I've started to put a heavy focus on my future. I already started a Hawaii fund for 2017. I plan on organizing my life during the remainder of the week so that once Fall hits, I'm prepped for school. I've already started updating my planner daily, even if there aren't many things to put in it yet. I'm getting on track. I spent my freshman year of college hanging on to a boy who was constantly letting me go. I spent my sophomore year of college stalking his social media, then using iPhone apps to find new love. And when I did find that new love, I spent too much time obsessing over him and his indecisive nature. I was dumb. I was a dumb college kid who cared more about a social life than my GPA, and in turn, my career took a minor blow.
Now it's time for me to grow up and get over being a teenager. I'll be 21 in a couple of months. I want to go out and get very very drunk with my friends. I want to sleep off a hangover for the next two days after that. Then I want to get up and go to work and start the adventure of NCC Welcome Week. And the following week, my life will truly take a different path. Organization, motivation, and perseverance. I'm not going to worry about who I'm dating, who I'm fucking, or who I'm wishing for. I'm going to worry about me, what grade I'm getting in physics, and what job I'm working over the weekend. I wasn't raised to a be a lowlife, and although I don't think I've sunk that low yet, I don't plan to even tip on the edge. I'm going to do me, and I'm going to be a better person because of it. The one thing Levandis was right about is that you have to be able to be happy with yourself by yourself in order to let someone else in and to let someone else make you happy. I think I'm finally starting to find that honest happiness, and nothing has ever felt better. I am striving to be a dynamic being that refuses to settle for stasis.
Wednesday, July 15, 2015
Monday, July 13, 2015
WAC Confessions
Well it's Monday again. During the summer, I truly believe that Monday's are the longest day of the week. During the school year, it's Wednesdays. Wednesday's are always my super long school days, and they feel like they never end. During the summer, it's Monday, and this Monday in particular is rougher than usual. It's been an eventful week, and I really don't think my body has caught up from the jet lag of last week yet. They say that the amount of time it takes to recover from jet lag is equal to the number of time zones you went through, but that's for the normal traveler. If you're me and you don't stop moving even after you get home, then it seems to take a little longer. Either that or I'm dying.
Mill and I did a lot last week. Although I slept the entire day on Sunday, I was consistently moving for the rest of last week. On Monday, I got up early for work, stayed an extra hour and a half, then spent the rest of the day at Millie's doing absolutely nothing but being lazy. I didn't sleep, but I did sit in the passenger seat with my feet up. Tuesday, I got up for work early again, stayed until 12:30, came home and relaxed, then went and saw Magic Mike XXL...bc $5 Tuesdays duh. Rightfully so, I watched a group of half naked men grind and dance on other women, then went and got some tacos...bc Taco Tuesday duh. Seriously, who would voluntarily miss out on Taco Tuesday? Wednesday, I got up early for work (more patterns), stayed until 12:30, then spent the entire day running errands with Millie. Again, no sleep. I didn't go to bed until almost 3 in the morning because of course we procrastinate life and decided to go to Wal-Mart at 10:30 pm to get pasta salad stuff, then stay up all night making it. I also got poison ivy and fifteen million mosquito bites from weeding with her family. If I don't have chronic jet lag, I probably have West Nile...awesome. Thursday, Mill and I spent the day at Six Flags...bc bring a friend free duh. I finally got to ride Goliath, which was awesome by the way. Definitely the best ride at the park. I totally recommend it to all of you who are not reading my blog because no one reads it. We also took an impromptu trip to Dekalb so Mill could show me NIU. It's a beautiful place with a beautiful campus, but it's definitely not for me. It's too big, first of all, and I personally think NCC is much prettier. There's trees, beautiful architecture, a river, and beautiful scenery overall. At NIU, there's a lot of buildings that look the same, huge gaps of nothing but corn fields, and a horrid smell if you're anywhere but campus. It's not for me. It's just not. Finally, we spent our Friday downtown at The Taste. This was probably the best thing we did all week. We stuffed our faces with delicious samples, opted for repeatedly going back to the Mountain Dew free samples instead of buying an actual pop, and we ran on full stomachs to catch a train we realistically could've walked to. I then played chauffeur (as always) and drove her to Posen to get her hair done, then stayed there with her until Tony came home. It was definitely an eventful week.
The weekend was just as fun and slightly more laid back. Saturday was a total lazy day. I slept until 11, didn't get out of my pajamas until almost 3, and then did three loads of laundry around 4. The entire day was spent watching Grey's and cuddling with my dog. I hope you didn't expect something else to leave my fingers. Millie was at NIU all weekend, so of course the only option I had was Grey's and dog. Josh texted me for the first time after the vaca incident too. That was weird. He apologized, admitted he was in the wrong, and asked me for breakfast the next morning. As expected, he didn't wake up for breakfast, but my hopes were already pretty low. He's always going to be flaky, and he's never going to measure up to the kind of person I want to be with. While that's one of the saddest things I could ever think to say, it's also one of the most satisfying. I've been chasing him since my junior year of high school, and he's done his fair share of dragging me through the mud, so to be able to say "I'm giving up on you," is a big big feat. I never thought I would come to that realization, but thank God I did. I can't stand being let down anymore, especially by the same person. Although I still want to talk to him and be his friend, I know I can't depend on him for anything, so removing his toxicity from my life will be nothing but beneficial. I'll take my time in getting rid of him, and I'll probably never remove him for good, but knowing that I'm capable of admitting he's not the one both surprises and elates me.
Sunday was even more fun. Although I got up early and hungry, I still had a great day ahead of me. It was Reesie's big day, and I was super excited about it. The church part of the baptism felt like it took forever, and the deacon seemed to want to keep us there the whole day, but once the hard part was over, the party began. Jake and Mary built a beautiful home. The outside was absolutely gorgeous, and the inside was something out of a Home and Gardens magazine. They even made an effort to incorporate our small candle holder into their decor, which of course makes me happy as a clam. Yes, I totally just said happy as a clam. That's what happens when you're exhausted, bored out of your mind, and cannot think of anything clever to say to save your life. Anyways, Reesie is absolutely adorable, and I'm filled with joy the minute I see her. I never believed that there could be so much love in such a tiny human being, but you see it as soon as she looks at you, her tiny nose scrunches, and her bright blue eyes light up. She is the definition of love, perfection, and purity. I strive to set a good example for her, and I pray that she doesn't have to grow up in the environment she was born into. I constantly pray for change so that she doesn't have to fear being offensive when she wears a certain color, likes a certain type of person, or enjoys a certain thing. I hope that her parents also grow to be her friend. There's always a debate on whether or not parents should be parents versus parents being friends, and I strongly believe that people have the ability to do both. Here's why.
My Mom is my best friend. Growing up, I knew I was able to tell her anything, from getting a bad grade on a test to asking if I was pregnant because the condom came off in me. It was right around the time I started dating Levandis that I started lying to her. I never enjoyed it, but I did it so often that I eventually stopped feeling guilty altogether. I wouldn't have lied if she reacted better to his offer to take me to prom, but my Mom is not pro-interracial dating. Neither is my dad, but he just didn't say anything. I knew that it killed both of them to know I was falling for someone who wasn't white, but here's the thing. Love who you love, like who you like, and hate who you hate, because at the end of the day, it's you whose stuck with them and it's you whose stuck with that feeling. No one else. Just you. If you fall in love with the wrong person at the wrong time, you get over it and move on. But if you ignore those feelings for that person, then you'll miss out on many many opportunities, and who wants to have regrets? Not me. Since Levandis and I broke up, my Mom has become a little more relaxed on the idea that I partake in interracial relationships. When I first told her that Kris was black, she was unhappy, but eventually, she stopped telling me that she was disappointed. She will never be okay with the idea that I may marry a man outside of my race. She may not attend my wedding, she may want no part in my life after that, and she may miss out on a lot of opportunities to be a mother-in-law and a grandmother, but that's her choice. At the end of the day, I need to make me happy, not someone else.
With that being said, I think parents are capable of being friends too. It may not be the easiest, but its doable. I hope that my little Reesie Roo will be able to experience this. If she wants to date a black man, then I hope she can. If she wants to drop out of college and travel the world for a year, I hope she can. She'll always have my unwavering support with whatever she chooses to do (within reason), but I hope she gets that support from Jake and Mary too. I would've killed to have that kind of support from my already loving parents. I hope Reese is never limited by her parents preferences, or the preferences of her family in general. I hope she can be whoever she wants to be without fear of being rejected. She has such a big heart for such a tiny person, and as she grows, I would hate to see that go to waste.
That was my Sunday. Visiting my sleepy little girl, hanging out with my family, and enjoying some great food with great company. Who could want anything more? I can't wait to go back to Mary's this week and get some one-on-one Reesie time. So so stoked. I was hoping this post would take a little longer than it did, but here I am with a little over an hour and a half left with nothing to do. I guess I'll check Facebook again, decorate a Hawaii fund envelope, and maybe read some more of my book. This blogging thing is starting to grow on me, and maybe some day I'll publish it publicly. As for now, I'll leave it as a nice online diary that no one reads but me. Oh, and I fixed the fax machine. I just wanted it to be known that I am a hero.
Mill and I did a lot last week. Although I slept the entire day on Sunday, I was consistently moving for the rest of last week. On Monday, I got up early for work, stayed an extra hour and a half, then spent the rest of the day at Millie's doing absolutely nothing but being lazy. I didn't sleep, but I did sit in the passenger seat with my feet up. Tuesday, I got up for work early again, stayed until 12:30, came home and relaxed, then went and saw Magic Mike XXL...bc $5 Tuesdays duh. Rightfully so, I watched a group of half naked men grind and dance on other women, then went and got some tacos...bc Taco Tuesday duh. Seriously, who would voluntarily miss out on Taco Tuesday? Wednesday, I got up early for work (more patterns), stayed until 12:30, then spent the entire day running errands with Millie. Again, no sleep. I didn't go to bed until almost 3 in the morning because of course we procrastinate life and decided to go to Wal-Mart at 10:30 pm to get pasta salad stuff, then stay up all night making it. I also got poison ivy and fifteen million mosquito bites from weeding with her family. If I don't have chronic jet lag, I probably have West Nile...awesome. Thursday, Mill and I spent the day at Six Flags...bc bring a friend free duh. I finally got to ride Goliath, which was awesome by the way. Definitely the best ride at the park. I totally recommend it to all of you who are not reading my blog because no one reads it. We also took an impromptu trip to Dekalb so Mill could show me NIU. It's a beautiful place with a beautiful campus, but it's definitely not for me. It's too big, first of all, and I personally think NCC is much prettier. There's trees, beautiful architecture, a river, and beautiful scenery overall. At NIU, there's a lot of buildings that look the same, huge gaps of nothing but corn fields, and a horrid smell if you're anywhere but campus. It's not for me. It's just not. Finally, we spent our Friday downtown at The Taste. This was probably the best thing we did all week. We stuffed our faces with delicious samples, opted for repeatedly going back to the Mountain Dew free samples instead of buying an actual pop, and we ran on full stomachs to catch a train we realistically could've walked to. I then played chauffeur (as always) and drove her to Posen to get her hair done, then stayed there with her until Tony came home. It was definitely an eventful week.
The weekend was just as fun and slightly more laid back. Saturday was a total lazy day. I slept until 11, didn't get out of my pajamas until almost 3, and then did three loads of laundry around 4. The entire day was spent watching Grey's and cuddling with my dog. I hope you didn't expect something else to leave my fingers. Millie was at NIU all weekend, so of course the only option I had was Grey's and dog. Josh texted me for the first time after the vaca incident too. That was weird. He apologized, admitted he was in the wrong, and asked me for breakfast the next morning. As expected, he didn't wake up for breakfast, but my hopes were already pretty low. He's always going to be flaky, and he's never going to measure up to the kind of person I want to be with. While that's one of the saddest things I could ever think to say, it's also one of the most satisfying. I've been chasing him since my junior year of high school, and he's done his fair share of dragging me through the mud, so to be able to say "I'm giving up on you," is a big big feat. I never thought I would come to that realization, but thank God I did. I can't stand being let down anymore, especially by the same person. Although I still want to talk to him and be his friend, I know I can't depend on him for anything, so removing his toxicity from my life will be nothing but beneficial. I'll take my time in getting rid of him, and I'll probably never remove him for good, but knowing that I'm capable of admitting he's not the one both surprises and elates me.
Sunday was even more fun. Although I got up early and hungry, I still had a great day ahead of me. It was Reesie's big day, and I was super excited about it. The church part of the baptism felt like it took forever, and the deacon seemed to want to keep us there the whole day, but once the hard part was over, the party began. Jake and Mary built a beautiful home. The outside was absolutely gorgeous, and the inside was something out of a Home and Gardens magazine. They even made an effort to incorporate our small candle holder into their decor, which of course makes me happy as a clam. Yes, I totally just said happy as a clam. That's what happens when you're exhausted, bored out of your mind, and cannot think of anything clever to say to save your life. Anyways, Reesie is absolutely adorable, and I'm filled with joy the minute I see her. I never believed that there could be so much love in such a tiny human being, but you see it as soon as she looks at you, her tiny nose scrunches, and her bright blue eyes light up. She is the definition of love, perfection, and purity. I strive to set a good example for her, and I pray that she doesn't have to grow up in the environment she was born into. I constantly pray for change so that she doesn't have to fear being offensive when she wears a certain color, likes a certain type of person, or enjoys a certain thing. I hope that her parents also grow to be her friend. There's always a debate on whether or not parents should be parents versus parents being friends, and I strongly believe that people have the ability to do both. Here's why.
My Mom is my best friend. Growing up, I knew I was able to tell her anything, from getting a bad grade on a test to asking if I was pregnant because the condom came off in me. It was right around the time I started dating Levandis that I started lying to her. I never enjoyed it, but I did it so often that I eventually stopped feeling guilty altogether. I wouldn't have lied if she reacted better to his offer to take me to prom, but my Mom is not pro-interracial dating. Neither is my dad, but he just didn't say anything. I knew that it killed both of them to know I was falling for someone who wasn't white, but here's the thing. Love who you love, like who you like, and hate who you hate, because at the end of the day, it's you whose stuck with them and it's you whose stuck with that feeling. No one else. Just you. If you fall in love with the wrong person at the wrong time, you get over it and move on. But if you ignore those feelings for that person, then you'll miss out on many many opportunities, and who wants to have regrets? Not me. Since Levandis and I broke up, my Mom has become a little more relaxed on the idea that I partake in interracial relationships. When I first told her that Kris was black, she was unhappy, but eventually, she stopped telling me that she was disappointed. She will never be okay with the idea that I may marry a man outside of my race. She may not attend my wedding, she may want no part in my life after that, and she may miss out on a lot of opportunities to be a mother-in-law and a grandmother, but that's her choice. At the end of the day, I need to make me happy, not someone else.
With that being said, I think parents are capable of being friends too. It may not be the easiest, but its doable. I hope that my little Reesie Roo will be able to experience this. If she wants to date a black man, then I hope she can. If she wants to drop out of college and travel the world for a year, I hope she can. She'll always have my unwavering support with whatever she chooses to do (within reason), but I hope she gets that support from Jake and Mary too. I would've killed to have that kind of support from my already loving parents. I hope Reese is never limited by her parents preferences, or the preferences of her family in general. I hope she can be whoever she wants to be without fear of being rejected. She has such a big heart for such a tiny person, and as she grows, I would hate to see that go to waste.
That was my Sunday. Visiting my sleepy little girl, hanging out with my family, and enjoying some great food with great company. Who could want anything more? I can't wait to go back to Mary's this week and get some one-on-one Reesie time. So so stoked. I was hoping this post would take a little longer than it did, but here I am with a little over an hour and a half left with nothing to do. I guess I'll check Facebook again, decorate a Hawaii fund envelope, and maybe read some more of my book. This blogging thing is starting to grow on me, and maybe some day I'll publish it publicly. As for now, I'll leave it as a nice online diary that no one reads but me. Oh, and I fixed the fax machine. I just wanted it to be known that I am a hero.
Love Always Wins...Except When It Doesn't.
As I'm sitting here at this boring desk job, scrolling through my typically boring Facebook newsfeed, I've come across an abundance of posts praising the legalization of gay marriage in all 50 states, most of which come equipped with the hashtag, #lovealwayswins. As I sit here reading the endless #lovealwayswins posts, I'm forced to wonder, does love actually win every time?
The answer? No. Love doesn't always win. If love always won, I wouldn't have been swiping through Tinder a week ago looking for love or a hookup or whatever I think I want to find on an app. The truth is, love doesn't always win. The overwhelming happiness you get when you see him, the way your eyes light up when you catch even a corner of his presence across a crowded room, and the fullness in your heart when you just hear or see his name will never be enough to keep him. Love loses. A lot. Happily ever after is never as happy as you wanted it to be. "Love isn't like a Disney movie." Sometimes love wins, but does it always win? Psh. Some of us are lucky if it wins just once.
I've had three serious boyfriends in the past eight years. My first relationship started in eighth grade, and I truly thought I was a rebel for getting into it since my mom told me no. Who asks there parents for permission to date anyways? Me, that's who. I thought I was in love, and even today, I think I could've been. Was it a lasting type of love? No. It was never supposed to be. Sometimes you see those chain letters that say "Most people have met the person they're going to marry in 7-12th grade. Share this or you'll never find love." I truly believed I met the boy I was going to marry in Jr. High, Ms. Caudill's English class. The first time he cheated on me, I was devastated. Why me? Why wasn't I good enough to be the only one? What was wrong with me? When he left for good my junior year of high school, I thought it was the end of the world. I loved him. I loved him with everything I had. I sacrificed things for him, I bought him the world, I did everything I could, so why didn't he stay? Well 16-year old Cheyenne, love wasn't enough. Material things weren't enough. Love didn't win, and it wasn't supposed to.
After the first one, there came a second. Levandis. I met him my freshman year of high school in Ms. Barker's second period biology class. He told me my hair was nappy every morning, and his best friend Marcus laughed and hit him and told him to leave me alone. We didn't speak besides those short, insulting encounters. I never saw myself dating a boy like Levandis, mostly because he was African American, and I knew my parents wouldn't approve. Interracial dating wasn't a thing in my family, and the only time I ever really saw it was when my friends and I walked down the street, past the Section Eight housing by St. Chris. I know that makes me sound racist and harsh, but it's true. There's no point in sugar coating the truth. My best friend in high school, Dominique, had started seeing Levandis's best friend Torian. Torian was a cocky, arrogant asshole who had little to no respect for anyone, including Dominique. One night, Dominique texted me and told me Levandis has had a crush on me since freshman year, and the rest is history. We dated for an emotional year and a half. I was constantly feeling a mix of emotions. Happiness, sadness, overwhelming love, underestimated rage. It was a constant roller coaster that I never thought I would want to get off. We broke up at least once every six weeks, I was constantly catching him talking to other girls, and I never really felt like I was his. In the end, it was better that we went our separate ways. Less than a month after he broke up with me one last time, he started dating a new girl that worked at the Home Depot in his neighborhood. He swears that he didn't know her when he and I were dating, but between a timeline of events and common sense, I know he's lying.
With the loss of a second, a third came around. I thought he would be the one. Well, maybe not the one, but I thought he would last longer than he did. However, let me make this clear, I MET HIM ON TINDER. While that sounds alarming right now, it actually has some justification, so hang in there. Initially, I met Kris on Tinder. We swiped right, he messaged me asking for a date (a date on Tinder..wut...), I said yes, then I blew him off. I didn't intentionally blow him off. Okay, maybe I did. I don't really know how it happened. It just kind of did. It turns out that he and Steve work together, so he knew Stacie too, so the whole Tinder thing freaked me out less. They warned me not to date him which should have freaked me out, yet I did it anyways. It worked out really well for a while. We lasted for a solid three months before he changed. It wasn't my fault, even though I convinced myself it was. I noticed changes in him that I had seen in relationships past, and rightfully, I asked questions. Before I knew it, he was feeding me the infamous, "we need to talk," line, and I was running for the hills. We were apart for a week before he realized he made a mistake. Then we were together for three days before he started second guessing his realization. It was another month on that roller coaster before he finally jumped off for good. Three days later he had a new girlfriend. That's a relationship I didn't mind getting out of. I didn't even cry when it really ended. I knew. He wasn't it for me. I thought I loved him for a while, but I just loved the person he was for a temporary moment. Even the idea of love didn't win here. So when does love win?
For me, love wins when I least expect it to. It wins when I see my best friend after a week long vacation. It wins when my puppy hops up on my lap and cuddles with me while I watch Grey's Anatomy. It wins when I hold my little Reesie Roo and she smiles with her big eyes and even bigger heart. It wins when my parents and my family tell me they're proud of me. Love wins in a lot of ways, it's just not in the way everyone wants it to be.
I've accepted that I may never find love. I've accepted that it may take me a long time to find it. I've accepted that it may come next week when I'm waiting in line at the grocery store. I don't know when that kind of love is going to win, but I know that I'll be okay when it does or doesn't happen. After Kris and I broke up, I started speaking to Levandis again. I don't really know why. Maybe it's because I wanted there to be hope, maybe I just needed a shoulder. Shortly after we started speaking again, we started hanging out, and everything escalated from there. We now sleep together on a semi-regular basis, and therefore, I am the other woman. He's not going to leave his girlfriend for me, and even though part of me hopes he does someday, a bigger part of me knows it just won't happen. I've accepted that too.
I have high hopes that I'll find real love someday, and I definitely have a lot of chances left. I still have two full years of my undergrad career left, two years to get my RN license, and another few years for nurse practitioner. In between, I have plenty of jobs, trips to the mall, and vacations to find my soulmate. As for right now, I'll stick to my beer, Grey's Anatomy, and my dog. They seem to be everlasting anyways.
I've had three serious boyfriends in the past eight years. My first relationship started in eighth grade, and I truly thought I was a rebel for getting into it since my mom told me no. Who asks there parents for permission to date anyways? Me, that's who. I thought I was in love, and even today, I think I could've been. Was it a lasting type of love? No. It was never supposed to be. Sometimes you see those chain letters that say "Most people have met the person they're going to marry in 7-12th grade. Share this or you'll never find love." I truly believed I met the boy I was going to marry in Jr. High, Ms. Caudill's English class. The first time he cheated on me, I was devastated. Why me? Why wasn't I good enough to be the only one? What was wrong with me? When he left for good my junior year of high school, I thought it was the end of the world. I loved him. I loved him with everything I had. I sacrificed things for him, I bought him the world, I did everything I could, so why didn't he stay? Well 16-year old Cheyenne, love wasn't enough. Material things weren't enough. Love didn't win, and it wasn't supposed to.
After the first one, there came a second. Levandis. I met him my freshman year of high school in Ms. Barker's second period biology class. He told me my hair was nappy every morning, and his best friend Marcus laughed and hit him and told him to leave me alone. We didn't speak besides those short, insulting encounters. I never saw myself dating a boy like Levandis, mostly because he was African American, and I knew my parents wouldn't approve. Interracial dating wasn't a thing in my family, and the only time I ever really saw it was when my friends and I walked down the street, past the Section Eight housing by St. Chris. I know that makes me sound racist and harsh, but it's true. There's no point in sugar coating the truth. My best friend in high school, Dominique, had started seeing Levandis's best friend Torian. Torian was a cocky, arrogant asshole who had little to no respect for anyone, including Dominique. One night, Dominique texted me and told me Levandis has had a crush on me since freshman year, and the rest is history. We dated for an emotional year and a half. I was constantly feeling a mix of emotions. Happiness, sadness, overwhelming love, underestimated rage. It was a constant roller coaster that I never thought I would want to get off. We broke up at least once every six weeks, I was constantly catching him talking to other girls, and I never really felt like I was his. In the end, it was better that we went our separate ways. Less than a month after he broke up with me one last time, he started dating a new girl that worked at the Home Depot in his neighborhood. He swears that he didn't know her when he and I were dating, but between a timeline of events and common sense, I know he's lying.
With the loss of a second, a third came around. I thought he would be the one. Well, maybe not the one, but I thought he would last longer than he did. However, let me make this clear, I MET HIM ON TINDER. While that sounds alarming right now, it actually has some justification, so hang in there. Initially, I met Kris on Tinder. We swiped right, he messaged me asking for a date (a date on Tinder..wut...), I said yes, then I blew him off. I didn't intentionally blow him off. Okay, maybe I did. I don't really know how it happened. It just kind of did. It turns out that he and Steve work together, so he knew Stacie too, so the whole Tinder thing freaked me out less. They warned me not to date him which should have freaked me out, yet I did it anyways. It worked out really well for a while. We lasted for a solid three months before he changed. It wasn't my fault, even though I convinced myself it was. I noticed changes in him that I had seen in relationships past, and rightfully, I asked questions. Before I knew it, he was feeding me the infamous, "we need to talk," line, and I was running for the hills. We were apart for a week before he realized he made a mistake. Then we were together for three days before he started second guessing his realization. It was another month on that roller coaster before he finally jumped off for good. Three days later he had a new girlfriend. That's a relationship I didn't mind getting out of. I didn't even cry when it really ended. I knew. He wasn't it for me. I thought I loved him for a while, but I just loved the person he was for a temporary moment. Even the idea of love didn't win here. So when does love win?
For me, love wins when I least expect it to. It wins when I see my best friend after a week long vacation. It wins when my puppy hops up on my lap and cuddles with me while I watch Grey's Anatomy. It wins when I hold my little Reesie Roo and she smiles with her big eyes and even bigger heart. It wins when my parents and my family tell me they're proud of me. Love wins in a lot of ways, it's just not in the way everyone wants it to be.
I've accepted that I may never find love. I've accepted that it may take me a long time to find it. I've accepted that it may come next week when I'm waiting in line at the grocery store. I don't know when that kind of love is going to win, but I know that I'll be okay when it does or doesn't happen. After Kris and I broke up, I started speaking to Levandis again. I don't really know why. Maybe it's because I wanted there to be hope, maybe I just needed a shoulder. Shortly after we started speaking again, we started hanging out, and everything escalated from there. We now sleep together on a semi-regular basis, and therefore, I am the other woman. He's not going to leave his girlfriend for me, and even though part of me hopes he does someday, a bigger part of me knows it just won't happen. I've accepted that too.
I have high hopes that I'll find real love someday, and I definitely have a lot of chances left. I still have two full years of my undergrad career left, two years to get my RN license, and another few years for nurse practitioner. In between, I have plenty of jobs, trips to the mall, and vacations to find my soulmate. As for right now, I'll stick to my beer, Grey's Anatomy, and my dog. They seem to be everlasting anyways.
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Just Another Crappy Day in Paradise.
This time last Monday, it was 7 am on Maui, and I was just getting up to go for breakfast before an adventure-filled day in Lahaina. This time right now, I'm sitting at this crappy desk job, doing nothing at all. I've scrolled through my Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter countless times. I've checked for new Snapchat stories at least three times, and I've scowled at opened Snapchats with no reply. The view out of my "office" window includes a few trees, some cars, a house, and a stop sign rather than mountains, the ocean, or a palm tree. I'd give anything for another crappy day in paradise.
In less than a week, I went on some of the most exciting adventures I could ever imagine going on at 20 years old. On Monday, I went 130 feet down in the Pacific Ocean in a Submarine, playing the Mission Impossible theme song of course. I saw tons of cool fish, a sunken boat, and Spongebob. Yes, I definitely said Spongebob. I also got to go shopping in Old Lahaina Town, which is something I did just about every night. On Tuesday, I biked down an active volcano. ACTIVE. VOLCANO. Is that registering? Don't worry, it will. We took a van to the Haleakala Summit at 10,023 feet. The sights were like something out of a movie or a photo catalog. I've never seen something as beautiful as the Haleakala Crater and the Haleakala Summit overlooking the island. Biking down was just as beautiful, as well as exciting. Every hairpin turn and long stretch of road lead to another wonder of the island. We road through the small town of Paia, also known as the Hippie Town because it housed most of the hippies of Hawaii back in the day. We went through "Cowboy Town" and saw ranches, horses, and a few cows (even an island has country life!). I got to learn a bunch of Hawaii facts while getting an adrenaline rush at the same time; what a day!
Wednesday was a pretty relaxed day. Lots of ocean. I went to the Maui Nui Luau in Kaanapali, and it was one of the most exhilarating parties I've ever been to. I got lei'd, tried a ton of Hawaiian food, and saw a great performance while learning some super cool history. If you haven't noticed the pattern, I learned a lot of Hawaiian history while having the time of my life in a beautiful place. I truly couldn't ask for a better combination. Anyways, the luau was awesome and a must-accomplish activity on every Hawaiian vacation. Thursday was an early day. My day started at 5:30 am and didn't end until almost 9 pm, minimal sitting time available. It started with an hour boat ride to the little island of Molokini. Molokini is an uninhabited bird sanctuary, but it's shore also serves as a great snorkeling spot. I saw tons of cool fish, coral, and sea plants. Even Nemo came up and bumped my mask. It was literally like swimming in an aquarium. From there, we headed to Turtle Town where I was face to face with a sea turtle. The cast of Finding Nemo was in front of, behind, and next to me no matter where I turned. It was the coolest thing ever, and I rarely ever think things are cool. However, that was amazeballs. Let's be honest. We then got a scenic tour back to the Harbor with some cookies and trivia as a sendoff. The rest of my Thursday was spent in Lahaina, as usual.
Friday was another exciting adventure-ziplining in Haleakala. That. Was. Awesome. I think the activities I did got progressively more awesome as the week went on, but I could just be biased. Regardless, going 40 mph on a pendulum style zipline with nothing but rocks and sharp, pointy, "I could kill you if you fell on me" forest objects was the adrenaline rush of a lifetime. At this point, I've run out of things to say, because every word that will leave my mouth from here on out will be "awesome," "amazing," or "holy shit." Again, I ended my day with a trip to Lahaina. Saturday was sad. Saturday, I left. I spent 12 hours traveling back to this hell I call home.
This piece isn't meant to bash Illinois or Chicago by any means. I do love my city, even if it's crime-ridden, smelly, and a scary place to be sometimes. All I'm saying is that there's more out there beyond these state lines. There's some definite perks about living in a small town just south of a big city. The thunderstorms are pretty awesome, I rarely see tornadoes, monsoons, or hurricanes, I have a solid relationship with my neighbors and friends from high school, I can go through a variety of environments in one day, and I like the small town-homey feel. However, I'm not defined by my town, my relationships, or my upbringing. I'm defined by my experiences, my desire to see what the world has to offer, and my utmost respect for God's creations. That's what I believe I am defined by. I've been to lots of places with different climates and types of people, but Hawaii was by far the greatest adventure yet, and I truly believe I've found my forever home. As a matter of fact, most of my morning consisted of searching for affordable flights and looking at RN programs there. The quicker I get there, the happier I will be. I'll have to leave behind my family, my friends, potential relationships, and my home. I'm still ready. I used to cry three days in to a 4-day vacation to Disney because I missed my Mom, but before leaving Hawaii, I contemplated how I could manage to stay an extra couple of days. Could I change my flight? Could I extend my stay at the hotel? In the end, I had to leave anyways, but I left knowing it'll only be a couple years until I come back.
Even if I don't make it out there for school, I will make it for my career. I will accomplish my goals and my dreams of living in Hawaii. I'll make new friends and maybe even bring some old ones with me. I'll establish new relationships and maybe even find my soulmate. I'll accomplish my goals, fall flat on my face, and cry tears of sadness and joy. I'll have a life. I won't just live, but I'll have a life. That is more than I could ever ask for. That's the only thing I want. If I never get married, if I lose close friends, if I run into some struggles, it'll be okay. As long as I have a life, I can be happy, despite the other troubles that come my way. My week in paradise was a blessing in disguise because it made me reevaluate my future and reshape it to something I actually wanted, not something I was willing to settle for. In two years, I'll be back on Maui, hopefully with a group of friends, enjoying the wonders the island has to offer, whether I've seen/done them already or not. I'll drive through neighborhoods looking for houses and seek out potential employers. If 2017 is my last year in Illinois, that'll be fine. If I spend a few more here, then at least I got a head start on my search. Regardless, the island will be my home, its people my family, and my heart filled with endless happiness. For now, I guess I'll continue working my crappy job in this crappy place, consistently wishing for another crappy day in paradise.
In less than a week, I went on some of the most exciting adventures I could ever imagine going on at 20 years old. On Monday, I went 130 feet down in the Pacific Ocean in a Submarine, playing the Mission Impossible theme song of course. I saw tons of cool fish, a sunken boat, and Spongebob. Yes, I definitely said Spongebob. I also got to go shopping in Old Lahaina Town, which is something I did just about every night. On Tuesday, I biked down an active volcano. ACTIVE. VOLCANO. Is that registering? Don't worry, it will. We took a van to the Haleakala Summit at 10,023 feet. The sights were like something out of a movie or a photo catalog. I've never seen something as beautiful as the Haleakala Crater and the Haleakala Summit overlooking the island. Biking down was just as beautiful, as well as exciting. Every hairpin turn and long stretch of road lead to another wonder of the island. We road through the small town of Paia, also known as the Hippie Town because it housed most of the hippies of Hawaii back in the day. We went through "Cowboy Town" and saw ranches, horses, and a few cows (even an island has country life!). I got to learn a bunch of Hawaii facts while getting an adrenaline rush at the same time; what a day!
Wednesday was a pretty relaxed day. Lots of ocean. I went to the Maui Nui Luau in Kaanapali, and it was one of the most exhilarating parties I've ever been to. I got lei'd, tried a ton of Hawaiian food, and saw a great performance while learning some super cool history. If you haven't noticed the pattern, I learned a lot of Hawaiian history while having the time of my life in a beautiful place. I truly couldn't ask for a better combination. Anyways, the luau was awesome and a must-accomplish activity on every Hawaiian vacation. Thursday was an early day. My day started at 5:30 am and didn't end until almost 9 pm, minimal sitting time available. It started with an hour boat ride to the little island of Molokini. Molokini is an uninhabited bird sanctuary, but it's shore also serves as a great snorkeling spot. I saw tons of cool fish, coral, and sea plants. Even Nemo came up and bumped my mask. It was literally like swimming in an aquarium. From there, we headed to Turtle Town where I was face to face with a sea turtle. The cast of Finding Nemo was in front of, behind, and next to me no matter where I turned. It was the coolest thing ever, and I rarely ever think things are cool. However, that was amazeballs. Let's be honest. We then got a scenic tour back to the Harbor with some cookies and trivia as a sendoff. The rest of my Thursday was spent in Lahaina, as usual.
Friday was another exciting adventure-ziplining in Haleakala. That. Was. Awesome. I think the activities I did got progressively more awesome as the week went on, but I could just be biased. Regardless, going 40 mph on a pendulum style zipline with nothing but rocks and sharp, pointy, "I could kill you if you fell on me" forest objects was the adrenaline rush of a lifetime. At this point, I've run out of things to say, because every word that will leave my mouth from here on out will be "awesome," "amazing," or "holy shit." Again, I ended my day with a trip to Lahaina. Saturday was sad. Saturday, I left. I spent 12 hours traveling back to this hell I call home.
This piece isn't meant to bash Illinois or Chicago by any means. I do love my city, even if it's crime-ridden, smelly, and a scary place to be sometimes. All I'm saying is that there's more out there beyond these state lines. There's some definite perks about living in a small town just south of a big city. The thunderstorms are pretty awesome, I rarely see tornadoes, monsoons, or hurricanes, I have a solid relationship with my neighbors and friends from high school, I can go through a variety of environments in one day, and I like the small town-homey feel. However, I'm not defined by my town, my relationships, or my upbringing. I'm defined by my experiences, my desire to see what the world has to offer, and my utmost respect for God's creations. That's what I believe I am defined by. I've been to lots of places with different climates and types of people, but Hawaii was by far the greatest adventure yet, and I truly believe I've found my forever home. As a matter of fact, most of my morning consisted of searching for affordable flights and looking at RN programs there. The quicker I get there, the happier I will be. I'll have to leave behind my family, my friends, potential relationships, and my home. I'm still ready. I used to cry three days in to a 4-day vacation to Disney because I missed my Mom, but before leaving Hawaii, I contemplated how I could manage to stay an extra couple of days. Could I change my flight? Could I extend my stay at the hotel? In the end, I had to leave anyways, but I left knowing it'll only be a couple years until I come back.
Even if I don't make it out there for school, I will make it for my career. I will accomplish my goals and my dreams of living in Hawaii. I'll make new friends and maybe even bring some old ones with me. I'll establish new relationships and maybe even find my soulmate. I'll accomplish my goals, fall flat on my face, and cry tears of sadness and joy. I'll have a life. I won't just live, but I'll have a life. That is more than I could ever ask for. That's the only thing I want. If I never get married, if I lose close friends, if I run into some struggles, it'll be okay. As long as I have a life, I can be happy, despite the other troubles that come my way. My week in paradise was a blessing in disguise because it made me reevaluate my future and reshape it to something I actually wanted, not something I was willing to settle for. In two years, I'll be back on Maui, hopefully with a group of friends, enjoying the wonders the island has to offer, whether I've seen/done them already or not. I'll drive through neighborhoods looking for houses and seek out potential employers. If 2017 is my last year in Illinois, that'll be fine. If I spend a few more here, then at least I got a head start on my search. Regardless, the island will be my home, its people my family, and my heart filled with endless happiness. For now, I guess I'll continue working my crappy job in this crappy place, consistently wishing for another crappy day in paradise.
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