If you didn't get engaged

If you were a part of the minority that did not get engaged to their significant other this holiday season, this is for you. If you're still waiting for someone to put a ring on it: STOP!
I'll be the first to admit it: I am a monster of my own making. I have seen all the movies and believed all the force fed white lies that tell me fairy tales exist. The monster I have become is a romantic. Paired with my inherited tendencies to feel both good and bad emotions to their full extremes, it makes me a hopeless romantic. A hopeless romantic with a crippling fear of rejection, making me one bottled up mess when it comes to matters of the heart. All this to say that as it stands right now I am very far away from ever having a ring on it. And you know? I'm ok with that. In a world that tells me I should not be, I'm LEARNING every day, to be ok with that. 
For as long as I can remember, I was allowing myself to live in a false reality where my happy ever after was GOING to happen. I knew with who and how. But here I am, living in a world after having to give up what I thought would be true and I don't know what to do, but I know I need to stop waiting for him. I need to stop waiting for that perfect guy to come and tell me he loves me and wants to give me the world. Stop waiting for him to feed me those lines I always hear in the movies. You know the lines I'm talking about, the ones he drops right before they kiss and the credits roll. The lines she has been waiting for her whole life and finally hears. The lines that FINALLY fulfill her life, so now the movie can end, right?  No one shares the story of the girl who watched it happen, wishing more than any thing it was her.

2015 has taught me so much. There's life after heartache. Spiders are Satans feces (jk...not really kind of but not really, nope, not really joking) There is a huge need in this world for unattached adults (childless, partnerless). Floridians can breathe water vapor for long periods of time (13 months of the year). There is more than what the romcoms tell us there is. But of all the lessons I've learned it all comes to this one thing: I cannot change reality by denying it. This year I have been accepting who I am. I have seen little glimpses who God has made me and I have even begun to love and accept that girl. Crazy I know!! 
Sure there are things that I don't want to accept about me, because there are things that I don't like about me, but no one except me can change it. No one else has to give me permission to change or not change and no one is going to tell me what to change. Those days ended right around the time I started paying for my own food and other various expenses. I think they call that adulthood but I'm not sure. 
So all you other ringless wonders out there, would you join me? Lets find out who we are, show the world, and kick butt!

Mom & Dad

I don't live with my parents. The last time I really lived with them I was 17. Then came college and then came their move across the world. Time and distance has been the best thing for my relationship with them because I see with objectivity all they have done for me and how they have shaped me. 
They chose to raise me in a conservative christian bubble. They put me in a Christian school, k-12. I chose a Christian university. Think whatever you will of this. 
I could blame my parents for a lot of things in my life. I could blame them for my general ignorance about how the world works. I could blame them for my being an idealist because of this.
But I won't BLAME them  - I'm CREDITING them with that because the best thing they ever did for me was root me in the foundational truths of the gospel. Outside influence and understanding of any thing outside the "christian bubble" is something I have to learn and interpret for myself any ways. 
Here's what I can NOT blame them for: dysfunctional relationships. Granted, my situation with the topic of "boys" is QUITE unique, but that chapter is over. The example set for me is truly a rarity. 
My mom drives me insane at times. 
My dad drives me insane at times. 
They both need to fix EVERY thing as soon as possible. 
Mom some times puts up a hard front but we all know that most of the time that wonderful woman is way too soft inside. 
Dad can't talk about ANYTHING remotely serious with out making a list of bullet points. Bless his beautiful administrative heart. 
And for the record, I see so much of both of them in myself all the time. Most of the time I love it but every so often it makes me cringe. OK back to mom and pop...
They are in love with each other and have been for the majority of their lives. I guess I could blame them for setting the standard so high. 
I personally don't know how they have put up with each other for so long because I don't think I could be married to either one of them. But I love them so much for that. 
The example of two imperfect people living an amazing life together. 
I think I just made myself cry. 
I also can NOT blame them for a lack of support. 
I was an extremely miserable 17 year old. Let me just say it: I was a bitch. But the worst kind. The kind that pretended to be a nice girl in front of every one but my family. 
My parents were telling me things 7 years ago that I am just now learning. I am still trying to forgive myself for all the time I wasted not listening to them, but from what I hear, it's quite common for teenagers to not listen to their parents? 
Thanks mom and dad, for not saying "I told you so" when I was sobbing to you over the phone and even in your spare room, in your arms, as the things you warned me about years ago were now breaking my heart. 
Thank you for loving me through it. 
I guess I just wrote this post because I'm their grown up daughter who was raised by the best two parents in the world. I wrote this because a new chapter in my life has started and I need their support and love in my life. I always have and I always will. 

QUICKLY NOW

HURRY grab the keyboard - AND SOME CHOCOLATE and GET TO WRITING - I tell myself because I am having a moment of fresh perspective so I'm writing it out before I forget.

I'm three months behind in listening to Tori Kelly's new album "Unbreakable Smile". I've loved that lady from her YouTube days, collabs with my personal fav Jeremy Passion. Any way. She has a song on it called "The Art of Letting You Go". I thought that her hit "Should've been us" was my jam but I was wrong. This letting go song is my jam. Like honestly part of me hates her for writing the perfect song for me, from the very first VERSE to the last word. Curses, Tori, curses and kisses. I'M REALLY EXCITED BECAUSE I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE THAT HAS GONE WHAT I WENT THROUGH!! Well, what I am still going through.

Because YES letting go of what you thought would be and should be everything is indeed an art form because it's as hard as hell to do. BUT GUESS WHAT? Tori Kelly wrote a song about it and it's not the end of her world and it's certainly not the end of mine.

I'm guessing that Tori and I are not the only two people in the world that have had to accept 'no' as the answer and suffer with the heartbreak that comes with the letting go process. If we were the only two, I don't think she would write a song about it because she, like me, would be so ashamed of the way she was feeling that even if she penned a ballad about it she wouldn't put it on her break-out album.

All this to say that I'm not as much of an anomaly as I once thought, and that's encouraging to me.

At this point you are thinking I'm so silly. "Mariah" you say "of course you're not the only one to have had this experience, don't you know?" Hardly any one is EVER alone in any feelings they may be experiencing, no matter how it feels, you are NOT alone, trust me. Human experiences tend to be rather similar. That's the beauty of it all. Of course I'm not the only one to have been on the losing end of unrequited love. Of course I'm not the only one to have held on to something for much too long. If Miss Kelly struggles with it, then I don't feel like such a loser for having the same feelings.

So here is where I exhale. The relief that perspective brings is sweet and long awaited, even if it's for a fleeting moment. Battling my feelings of regret and embarrassment is going to be a continual process. But, thanks to distance and time, these battles are just that - battles- and battles come in waves. Distance and time have been been good to me. The tunnel I've been in has a light at the end and I've caught glimpses. I am prepared for good days and bad days. And I cannot do it on my own. I have to be kept accountable so I can continue to heal and move on.

And whereas this song brought much needed validation, I musn't linger. [this just in - 'mustn't' must be a British thing, because spell check isn't liking it, thanks mom (also, for my FL buddies if you ever hear me saying something that doesn't sound quite right just assume it's a British phrase because I use certain language on occasion that I don't even realize is un-American just because I have used it my whole life. The struggle is real)] I need to continue to move on and look forward. This perspective that I am not alone in my experience comes OVER A YEAR after leaving the place and people I called home, so as far as I have come I know it's an incredibly slow process and it is far from over. I know I have a quite a ways to go and I know I'm going to need encouragement to not dwell on it. I know I need to forgive and forget, even if that means maybe doing things that are not comfortable for me and maybe even one day going to places I never thought I'd have to go again.

Praise the Lord for His grace in all of this.
 

California Love

Travel does the soul good. This is a known fact. It brings perspective on where you are in your life, both geographically and emotionally. This is exactly what happened to me on my last excursion. 

It's been over a year since I decided to leave California. I bought my one-way ticket out of California a year ago on August 27, 2014. On August 27, 2015, I was back in my home state, helping one of my dearest friends get ready for her wedding day. The irony of me being back on the west coast a year after 'leaving it behind' is almost too much to bare. Hilarious? Maybe a little.

The first time my life was uprooted and relocated in such dramatic fashion I was 5 years old and I had no say in the matter, and I was too young to realize the effect it would have on my life. The second time is when I went to college. College, a bubble specially designed for friendships and community, and oh yeah - structure and learning. This last uprooting, though was of my own doing, and I had no training wheels. 

Beginning again has been a lot like college, except there are no coordinated social friendship building events. This time around I was 23 years old and I descended into the lives of people (family) that were already living theirs, I was just starting mine. Even the people I have found here that I really like (friends) have their own lives, and I'm just trying to convince them that they need me in it. 

So why am I still talking about my new life here in florida, 8 months later? Because I have come to realize that 8 months  (four months in Morocco does not count, in case you caught the timeline disparity) is NOT a long time and it is still all very new to me. The last place I lived I was there for almost 20 years so to compare what I had in California to what I have here right now is grossly unfair.  

My visits to California, being with the family and friends that were all so familiar to me, granted me perspective. Yes, I had a life over there. And when there are people there who I allowed to hurt me badly there were countless others that loved me and wanted to best for me. And I was not finding the best for me there, so I left. So here is a reminder to myself that life here is just beginning and I need to take my west coast experience and not get depressed on how far I HAVE NOT got with my life on the east coast but look at how far I HAVE come. I have the start of something great here. I still do not know what's best for me but I'm beginning to see that it's all a choice. It was my choice, ultimately, to come here and it is within my choosing to stay or go. But I believe happiness is a choice and I have as great a chance finding it here as I do anywhere, and the day I think that's not the case I'll be gone. I get to choose who I spend my time with. I get to choose HOW I spend my time. By God's grace I have a great job and some great people in my life. By His grace I can continue to foster those friendships I have already established. By His grace I can lay my insecurities aside, begin new friendships and seek new opportunities that I have offered to me being young, single, and [dirt poor but] debt free. 

well, ttfn ta ta for now. 

Silence is destroying me

Actions speak louder than words. 
My greatest fear in my recent days is that my silence has been screaming. That my silence is telling everyone everything that I have needed to say for so long, but wouldn't. There are words which I could never bring myself to say out loud and that has been my greatest mistake. I waited until it was too late. I never said anything. No words were spoken, and they should have been. 
Actions speak louder than words. 
I am still at this very moment reckoning with myself. Are there words that I still need to speak? Have I left the last few words of the last chapter unwritten, rendering my attempts to begin a new chapter futile? But then I think, what the hell could I possibly need to hear that has not already been made crystal clear to me? Actions speak louder than words. 
One thing I know: something in my heart is still not at peace. My spirit is still unsettled. I long to move on. I long for this ache to be gone. I long for the fog to be lifted. I want to charge ahead towards a bright future, but I can't right now. Something in my gut is stopping me. I need to be free. I can't take back the words I never said (lupe fiasco) and now I'm choking on them.
I need my confidence back. I'm done with this scared little girl. I hate this inescapable feeling of vulnerability. I'm done fearing rejection. God made me to be amazing. He made me to be strong. Am I right now? 
I am the opposite. But I know, change is coming.

It's time for me to root out what is holding me back from being all He has made me to be. I was laughing the other day with some one who really understands my humor, and vice verse. I really laughed. And not like a laugh that's just for the sake of laughing, but a laugh that just kind of erupts from whatever it is inside you that makes you you. I realized that those kinds of laughs have been far and few for me. I am feeling a sobering, dark damper on my soul again and I need it to stop. God made me to be funny. God made to bring joy to others. He made me to laugh, love, and be loved. 

snake bite. baby hands :) 

Female

This might come as a shock to some of you, so brace yourselves: 

I AM A WOMAN. 

Yes, I know it's shocking, but try to keep your composure. 
Allow me for a second to take you back to that lovely time in life called junior high. Remember being 13 or 14 years old and realizing you were ATTRACTED to boys/girls? I remember being 13 or 14 years old and hating boys, but secretly loving them. This secrecy is something I CLUNG to for a decade. 
I have recently relocated and the STRANGEST thing happened. The men in this location seem to identify me as female.
 Just so I'm clear, these MEN see me as a WOMAN and GUESS WHAT? some of them even LIKE ME. And you know what else? I'm ALLOWED to feel the same way towards them and SHOW IT. 
This changes everything. 
This revelation has done more for my self esteem than I thought I even needed! I'm not subjected to suffer in the brozone for the rest of my mortal life. I AM NOT androgynous. 
Don't think I'm now some stuck up blonde that has fooled herself into thinking every man she encounters is falling for her, indeed I am not so far deceived. 

You're probably thinking, wow, Mariah, your words drip with sarcasm and it sounds a little bitter. 
Damn straight. 
Forgive me for not leaping with excitement at having been the only lady-bro left firmly planted in the brozone. 

So here we go, with this newly acquired knowledge that I am indeed a woman who does in fact attract some members of the male species, there's greatly increased potential for complications with any type of relationship with eligible males. Complications and all, it's still quite the breathe of fresh air from perpetually feeling unwantable. 
It's new to me that there are guys out there of suitable age that articulate their feelings. 
It's empowering that I can feel no remorse if I do not reciprocate their feelings and no guilt when admitting either out loud, or to myself that yes, maybe I actually SHARE their feelings.
I'm not saying I'm a smooth heart breaker now (far from it, I'm still a ghastly blumberbum when it comes to fancying someone) all I'm saying is that I'm finally accepting that I'm likable, and I am LOVING IT. 
Anyway, this is all garbage that most people had figured out a while ago but I grew up stifling my feelings for too long. Maturation is now a possibility and it's exciting! Now that I am learning to let go, I can turn the page to the new chapter of my book of love. 
I can't believe I just said "book of love", if I ever write a book about love and stuff and my feelings about boys do me a favor and don't read it and maybe see if you can get me some help. 
Peace out muthafluffas

Music and Memory

Maybe it's just me, but music is a huge part of my life. Music seems to hold all of my memories. I have realized through some recent interactions that music is not a big part of quite of large percentage of the population. So if you're like me then let's not fist bump but totally say we did. 
Now I am not scientist. I don't really care what it says about what kind of brain I have that I link music so close with emotion and memories. The fact is that I do. 
I have come to realize these last few days that if I am to better control my thoughts I must monitor more closely the music that I allow myself to listen to. Why, because if I listen to too much TI I am going to go tint my windows and get black rims on my Camry? No. Well, actually the jury is still out on that one because that now rather old school remix of TOP BACK is just TOO GOOD. But ugg there I go this is exactly what I'm talking about. I would love to say that I wouldn't spend my meager funds on such a trivial thing but I have actually put a substantial amount of thought into how I could make this happen financially, maybe or maybe not just so I could play that song as I cruise around town. 
February marks some kind of 'anniversary' month for me. It is where I marked the start of the toughest year of my life, emotionally. So now, a year later, I am blessed that I can say the hardest year of my life to this point is OVER. yay! For me this means a lot. 
It means that there is an entire year of music that reminds me of said year. Taylor Swift dropped an album, full of passion and heartbreak, and many other fanciful ideas. I love Taylor Swift, and I have never been ashamed of that. She is my spirit animal. Sam Smith, he also dropped an album. Mr. Smith seems to be the king of unrequited love, which is funny because I'm the queen. Or maybe he's the queen and I'm the king? Well, I'll let you decide that one. 
80's hits remind of me of my pops, so I love 80's music. REO, Phil Collins, Earth Wind and Fire, Elton, you name it I got it. PS Dire Straights is my favorite. 
Mama loves her country. She is indeed the most patriotic, English American citizenized lady you will ever meet in your whole life guarenteed. So yes, I like country. Namely 90's country. Ya know, the stuff mama raised me on. Collin Raye, Shania, JMM, Brookes and Dunn, Alan Jackson, Toby Keith. She also loved Celine Dion and Abba. I am the dancing queen. 

OK let's just move on and make this more relatable to my general audience shall we? 
I just think it is fascinating and amazing that memories can be made so vivid through music. I hope I am not the only one out there who experiences this. I'll be listening to my music library or driving in the car and all of a sudden a song comes on and I go back. I can remember EXACTLY where I was, what time of day, who I was or was not with, and how I was feeling. It doesn't matter if I am 10,000 miles or 3,000 miles or 1,  I'm still RIGHT there where I was NO MATTER how long ago it was that the memory was created. 
I mean, for heavens sake I remember dancing the Macarena with the neighbor boy from across the street when I was four. He was handsome. And also I'm pretty sure much older than me, probably not actually in love with me and just humoring the poor neighbor girl with the unusually large head. 
I remember what I said and how I felt at my eighth grade and high school graduations when those respective 'songs' were playing. Ok so maybe I remember the high school one because it was particularly embarrassing. I'm talking like extremely painful completely out of control but we are SO not getting into that in this post.
Whether or not I am quick to skip a track or turn it up depends on who likes or dislikes a song. If a person I do not like loves a song, I am sure to skip it because by golly I don't like that person why on earth would I listen to one of their favorite songs? I acknowledge that I let it have too much control over my music choices. 
Music- it's a powerful thing, and I for one need to be careful about what I allow it to do to my mind. 

Not about love.

Paris. Oui oui oui I was blessed enough to have visited Paris, France. What a fantastic way to wrap up what was literally the worst year of my life. Praise to God that I have slowly been able to begin crawling out the hole of depression I fell into. Paris was amazing (I picked up a serious illness in Paris that I think is now out my system finally, but we're not gonna talk about that today) and I loved to experience that with just my immediate family. I won't go into the details of Paris, for fear of sounding like another spoiled rich white kid (ok maybe I am a bit), but I do want to talk about a realization I had out there.

So here we go. 

Whilst we were in that city, the girls wanted to go shopping. Because, well, Paris...I guess, right? Some of my readers may know that I do not enjoy shopping. I'd much rather sit in a warm coffee shop having a deep conversation with the person sitting across from me. In fact, I'd rather do that then most any thing in life if I'm being completely honest. Needless to say, I tried to stick with the men during these sprees. As one of the shopping runs was coming to a close, my dad makes a comment about how some guy is gonna think he hit the jackpot with me, a girl that would rather NOT shop. 

It all started in junior high. My group of friends seemed to think that an afternoon at the mall was fun. Hmm, ok I thought, this is new, but if this is what girls do, I guess I can go a long with them and have fun. I don't remember too much from my junior high days, just because I have tried too hard to forget it. So let's fast forward to high school....

My best friend in high school LOVED to shop. And she STILL does, bless her heart. I'm convinced she thinks that my particular body type is WASTED on me because I hate to play that fashion game and shopping and dressing up. I remember one time I let it slip that I needed a fancy skirt for interviews coming up and that opened some kind of can of worms. Except these worms were pencil skirts. Really tight and inevitably short pencil skirts. She almost died of happiness as I awkwardly tried the first few on. My confidence slowly grew in the days after she bought me one. The first time I wore that skirt I'm pretty sure I saw some jaws literally drop. Silly boys. Thanks girl. 

Shopping isn't limited to girls, however. I remember one shopping trip I took with my guy friends seemed to last way too long for my liking, even if it was toys-r-us. But I got to wield some foam weapons and beat on them so I guess it might have been worth it. 

I know I'm not the only one of my kind, please let me know if you too are a female non-shopper.  My friends know that I have a time limit to how long I'm going to last before I start acting like a hungry tired  five year old. I'm the girl that sits on the bench outside the dressing rooms with the boyfriends. I hold the purses, or the accessories that need not be brought into the changing room. I am always the designated "boyfriend" in the shopping relationship and I'm ok with that, I have accepted my role and I thrive in it. But I'd like to think there's some one else out there like me.  

But do not think that I do not have my moments. When there is an article of clothing that I need or dare say - DESIRE - I will go shopping.. For example, last weekend. I couldn't take it any longer. I have the shorts, I have the visors, I needed the fanny pack. So I bought three. Yes, I went shopping, of my own will.  I know, try not to yelp. 

The endless aisles and racks of clothes bore me. Trudging around the shops grabbing everything that may look decent on me drains me of all my energy. Watching YOU do the same is just as bad. If I want to be with you, I will go shopping with you, if that is what it takes to be with you. But please, replenish some of that energy by talking with me over a cup of coffee or lunch. Stay up until 1 with me talking about, just....life I guess. I realized the people left in my life are good at that - and for that I am forever grateful. Dearest friends, thank you for loving me and my little quirks. Dearest of friends, I love you.

Happy Valentines Day.