To My Grandma I Miss with My Whole Heart, You Really Were the Best

I’m terrified that the memories I have of you will one day become blurry. Mom has the video tapes from when I was little and thankfully you were on a few.

 

I remember what you looked like, but your voice, I hate to say I don’t remember it.

 

You were the best grandma I could have asked for.

 

I remember being excited to come see you and I loved spending the nights at your house. The junk food we would eat. The card games we used to play. The trips to the park right down the street we used to play at.

 

Having to be quiet while you watched The 700 Club, but as soon as it was over, your attention was focused on us. Playing downstairs in the basement.

 

Helping to do your housework, yet never willingly helping my mom at home.

 

I remember being really little and you’d sit on the floor and play with my horses for what felt like hours at the time.

I used to love having all my cousins over and running around your yard and hopping the chain link fence, having hula hoop competitions.

 

All the home made cakes you used to make for our birthdays.

 

I feel like I didn’t get to spend enough time with you.

 

I know it was your time to leave and at the time I was okay with that. I still am.

 

Just every now and again, especially lately, I realize how much you are missing out on.

 

I know you’d be here if you could, so I’ll just hope you look down and smile.

 

But honestly, I would rather have the ten years I did with you than to have never had those ten years at all.

Stop Trying To Get Me Back, Your Time In My Life Is Over

It took a long time to realize things with you weren’t going anywhere. The furthest place we’d go was to bed and back. 

Leaving you wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done, but it wasn’t the hardest.

Being reminded of you was hard. The constant texts that said you wanted me back were hard. Reminding myself why I shouldn’t go back was hard. 

The memories of the good times were hard.

The love I thought I had for you was strong. Surprisingly enough for you, my love and loyalty to my friends were stronger. 

By offending them, you offended me; whether you voiced your opinions to their face or not. Complaining about my parents’ rules and talking crap about them, didn’t win me over. 

Only I could complain about my family or friends. The minute you jumped in, game over, you didn’t know them like I do. You didn’t take the time to know them. Life was about you, not me and you.

Luckily for me, the wedge you drove between us, pushed me closer to the people who honestly did care about me. My friends and family. They helped me see I was worth more than you dished out. 

I didn’t have to worry about saying the right things, acting a certain way, my friends allowed me to be myself. Something I could never do around you.

I didn’t have to worry about my parents saying something that you might take offensively. I didn’t have to worry anymore that you might stand me up when I needed you most. 

I didn’t have to worry that I didn’t have anywhere to sleep because I was arguing with you at 4am.

Now, you’re the joke that I can tell over and over.

So when I see your name pop on my phone, I ignore you. Your words don’t mean anything because I’ve heard them before. This time, I won’t believe them.

But hey, if I ever want to hear someone tell me what an awful person I am, or that I’m a cheating, lying, b*tch, I’ll make sure to call you.

I don’t question what we could have been, what we should have been, or what we might still be. That time in my life is over. 

My lack of response should be enough, but if that isn’t enough for you, then continue texting me. 

Like my Facebook profile pictures, send me old messages from when I thought our love was real. 

If that helps you sleep at night, do what needs to be done, just don’t expect a reply from me. I learned to deal with the lack of closure.

I’m not the same person I was before I met you, nor am I the same person I was while dating you, but damn if I couldn’t be prouder of the person I became.

Should You Live with Your Best Friend?

It’s hard living with your best friend.

Hanging out every day is easy. It’s easy to see the similarities between the two of you. You might not be able to see a future without your best friend. You do everything together and have your lives planned out. Your best friend can be the greatest person to walk into your life.

Perhaps you’ve come to the conclusion that you want to move out and it seems obvious to move in with your best friend? It seems easy. You get along, you like the same music, like the same kind of food, whatever the similarities are.

I’m here to tell you it isn’t as easy as you think. Not to say you shouldn’t do it. Honestly it’s a great learning curve. Just don’t expect the relationship to stay the same. It’s going to grow and you’ll have to work at it. Your best friend may have only been a clean freak because it was expected growing up. In their own place, it might not stay that way. Before, if you had a disagreement, you were able to go home, get angry or cry it out, then seek out your best friend. Now, you’ll both be in the same house. Slamming doors and acting snarky or b*tchy won’t help the situation.

My advice?

Set ground rules. Decide if you’re eating together or separately most nights. Decide how to split bills and cleaning duties. Rotate the cleaning schedule if neither are partial to cleaning.

Understanding how to communicate with a roommate/best friend when things are working out right, or things seem to be going unfair is crucial to surviving together.

Sometimes it’s hard to separate all the emotions that come with living with your best friend. You’ll get angry with each other. You’ll say things you don’t mean. You’ll wonder how you were ever friends to begin with. More than likely though, there is a reason. Talking through the emotions is how you’ll keep the bridge connected.

With all the hard times you’ll likely face, it’s pretty great knowing you live with someone who has your back. Bad day at work? Pop open the wine or beer bottle and hash it out with your best friend. Ranting about the guy that made you angry? Guess who is there when you get home; your best friend. Secrets will be next to non-existent. It’s the best part of best friend roommates.

You’ll already know how each other ticks. You’ll know the movies they hate; the ones they love. You know how to cheer them up or keep their ego in check.

Best friend living situations are difficult, but it's all about how you make the best of your differences.

(Im)patiently Waiting for Mr. Forever

I'm getting to the point I don't want to talk to guys (anyone really, but to keep a point, guys).

What's the point? I don't know what to say other than the usual small talk conversations. "Hey." "What's up?""Nothing. You?"

I don't have patience for that. I don't want to literally know what's happening at that exact moment in time. It's more than likely nothing exciting or you wouldn't be taking the time to message me. You'd be off doing whatever exciting thing it happened to be.

Let's assume for continuation of this piece, that the conversation moves further between me and this nameless man. Then what? Where is the conversation supposed to go? I don't want to talk about me. My life isn't that interesting. Unless the new man wants to discuss the pros and cons of buying a iPhone or a Samsung. Most likely not though.

Now, there have been a few guys I've gone on dates with. They were decent dates, but not too many had second dates. Whether it was because of me or them, it varied. Maybe I'm a little socially awkward, but small talk has never been my thing. Either go hard or go home. Have real conversation, or sit in awkward silences. My date life is usually the latter.

It's been so long I've had a boyfriend, I don't remember what I'm supposed to do with one. Am I supposed to walk it? Does it eat out of a bowl like my dog? Do I compliment consistently?

That might be a little extreme, but I don't have the desire to make time for someone other than my friends. I don't want to let someone know where I'm going or when I'll be back. I don't want to plan date nights or buy birthday/Christmas presents for an extra person. Gift giving is hard enough already.

I agree the above sounds selfish. Hypocritical as well if I'm being completely honest. Consider I  want the white picket fence, the husband, two kids (maybe more), the dogs, that busy, stay-at-home mom/wife life. I want to pick out a house and fix it with a newly wedded husband. I want to do fun things together and get excited when we have our first baby. Painting nurseries and later "big kid" rooms. I want to watch my kids play sports or go to dance recitals.

But first, I need a guy I'm willing to spend some time with.

A man I'm willing to hold their hand. Someone I can laugh with.Someone who makes me want to cuddle on the couch. Someone I want to encourage and support through all of life's tough battles.

I know that one day, this will all happen. Probably. I'm okay with waiting for that moment. I'm okay with waiting and going on with my life. I just hope he's doing the same for me. Hoping I'm out in this huge world somewhere too.

Mom, You Aren't So Bad After All

“I’m not going to be like you when I grow up!”

I can’t count the number of times I said that throughout my childhood. My mom drove me absolutely insane.

“Don’t go to bed late.” “Clean your room.” “I’m not going to tell you again….” “Why are you dating him?” “I’m not your maid, do your own dishes.” “Save your money!” “Stop eating out!”

I’m willing to bet it’s something every mom says to their children. The same phrases were passed down through generations of women to aggravate their kids.

She was constantly picking up after the family. Cleaning. Cooking. Running errands. Never really taking time for herself because everyone else needed her more.

I thought I had a plan. I thought I was going to be different than my mother.

Apparently NOT!

After I moved out, I realized just how much my mom and I were alike. I come by it honestly and now, years after claiming to never want to be like, there is nothing I want more.

I started planning my days out.

I made to-do lists. To-do lists. Are you kidding? I used to make fun of her for all the lists she would make. Now what do I do? Make lists. Grocery lists. Shopping lists. Cleaning lists. I make all of them and then some!

When friends come to me with issues, I know what responses they are looking for, yet somehow I end up repeating my mom’s lectures, almost verbatim.

I’ve rifled through her closet because she apparently has great taste in shirts. Who knew? Definitely not me in my teen years.

She taught patience and kindness. When to give in and when to fight.

I don’t know if I could have been given a better role model. She’s been teaching and preparing me for adulthood. Even now, when I call her at least twice a day, she’s still helping me adult. Because adulting is hard.

I used to say, “I don’t want to be like you when I’m an adult.”

Now there is nothing more that I want more.

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