Nice to see you again. Follow me, @SydneyOwen. Thanks for being here!
I’ve said since I started writing that every trip I take changes me. Every single one teaches me something about myself, helps me see something more clearly, or just in general, allows me to grow into the person I’m destined to become. In the past, my vacations have been centered around times that require some heavy decision-making. This trip, since there is nothing urgent that needs deciding, I fear that I won’t have that experience.
I’ve made a lot of important life decisions sitting in this chair by the pool at the house in Florida. Today, however, there is no pressing decision to be made. Today – I can reflect.
You can thank my mom for the topic. Last night after I opened the envelope from USF that had my degree in it, we were in the living room just chatting about how much has changed in the last year. I mentioned that my old roommate and her boyfriend were celebrating their one year anniversary last week. My mom didn’t say anything at the time. She later reminded me of where I was a year ago. What I was writing about.
A year ago, I was writing about “the soldier”. My roommate’s boyfriend’s younger brother. He was complicated, and at the time, I was still into the guys that are projects. The ones that have some kind of issue that my maternal instinct convinces me isn’t a deal breaker, but is in fact an endearing quality that I can mend. Or alter a bit. Or completely change. (I’ve since decided that I don’t date projects, and that I don’t try to change men.)
The Soldier was an alcoholic, and he traced back his drinking problems to his two tours in Iraq. Having never been in the desert, the military, never fired a gun or killed anybody, I couldn’t really relate, so I let it slide. He drank an entire bottle of Jack (or Early Times) when we would hang out. This slipped when I was telling my mom about him and I actually defended him saying “well, it’s like the 375 ML, not a whole 750″. Really Sydney? That’s ridiculous. We dated for maybe two months. Maybe.
But the Soldier was the closest thing I had to actual emotion since the last guy I dated. It was nice to know I could still feel after having the rug ripped out from underneath me and my heart thrown in a blender with the guy before him. I think that’s why I stayed with him for as long as I did (yeah, I know two months is NOTHING but for me it was SOMETHING, ANYTHING). I was hooked on the roller coaster ride I was going through, wondering if he was interested, confirming his interest, wondering why he drank so much, having him open up to me about the war, etc. I had shut off emotion completely after the last guy I dated so this was like a rebirth. Kinda.
In the end, he thought I was falling too hard, too fast. Maybe I was. I thought it was a problem so I turned it off again. I’ve since realized that you can’t turn that off. If you fall, you fall. If you scare away some people in the process, then so be it. It’s going to happen. We’ve all been interested in someone and not had the feelings reciprocated. It sucks. It’s embarrassing. I blush like crazy when I think about those moments, but you know what? It happens.
But I think the right person, the person who is worth it, is going to love that I love so hard. That I put my entire heart and soul into it. The right person won’t think it’s scary, but will instead be relieved because maybe he’s the same way. Maybe he’s had to rein it in before, water it down, filter it a bit so he doesn’t scare her off.
So here’s to being Unfiltered. To no reins. To not watering it down when it happens. And to the moments that teach me about myself one way or another. I live for those moments.
Is it possible to fall “too hard” or is it simply a matter of finding someone who isn’t terrified of how hard you fall?