Someday, Someday, Someday…

As the night drags on, the TV tends to get worse. If it’s not talk shows or infomercials, reality TV flashes on the limited channels into the night. I find myself sucked into the drama of last week’s episodes, glasses crashing onto the table as women raise their voices in a crowded room. As the voices get louder, you can see the people around these women turning to stare: a spectacle of human existence. Tragic.

I can’t help but judge. I like to believe that I would never be them, that I keep my tone calm in front of strangers. I like to believe that these women lead completely different lives than me. They have more money, husbands, children, they drive fancy cars and eat in restaurants I couldn’t dream of affording. However, as I watch these shows more, and more, I find myself drawing parallels to my life.

They complain about their relationships, feeling left behind by their confident and successful significant others. They talk about their insecurities, the way they hate their arm fat or their nose. These women talk about not feeling comfortable in their social circles, they worry about being left behind by those that surround them. The characters on the screen, these women, mimic my deepest and darkest insecurities.

Forget the thrown glasses and million dollar mansions, they have the same aspirations as I do- that someday life will be ‘perfect’.

But what is perfect?

It varies from person to person. They may think perfection is having billions of dollars, rich husbands, and expensive clothes; I may believe perfection is a comfortable quiet home or the bustle of an office. Perfection is different for everyone, but we all strive towards it.

‘Someday, someday, someday’ we all hope to get there, don’t we? We all hope that perfection will come knocking at our doorstep as we eat our breakfast. But perfection is hard, and just like the women in the late night TV world, we struggle to deal with our ‘imperfect’ lives. All of our insecurities hold us back from achieving our perceived perfection.

I haven’t met one person in the world that says they are perfect. They may have insecurities about superficial things, like their hair or clothes, but insecurities can lay deeper in a person’s psyche. Most believe they can never be perfect, and that ‘someday’ is a far off fantasy, unable to be achieved.

My late night thoughts on perfection and imperfection cannot be solved as easily as I want to believe. You can never get rid of all of your insecurities, but you can learn to live with them. Perfection is a societal construct, something that is so ingrained in us from birth, that we can’t let it go. But to be happy, to get our ‘someday’, we need to.

I can’t be a hypocrite and say you all should learn to live with your insecurities, it’s hard. Learning to live with those bad thoughts is the hardest thing a person can do. Accepting that you are not ‘perfect’ is a hurdle that no weak man can take on. I do believe, however, that you can do it in time.

Accept your stretch marks and big thighs, accept your long nose and small eyes, accept your sometimes difficult hair and short arms; they are beautiful and so are you. If you don’t learn to accept yourself then you will never end up happy, you will always be striving to achieve something that may be impossible.

Look at yourself in the mirror and know that your ‘someday’ is achievable, that someday you will be happy with what you see.

If you don’t start doing that, then you may end up throwing a glass of wine on a ‘frenemy’ when you’re 50 years old, and nobody wants that.



The Two Sides of Lonely

We all have two sides to our loneliness.

A fake facade that we put on like a second skin. We pretend that our loneliness is comfortable, warm, inviting. We pretend that our loneliness is welcoming, that we are not scared of being alone. We pretend that our loneliness is like a home.

But our loneliness haunts us.

When we are alone we scroll through our feeds, watching, wondering why we haven’t been invited. Our loneliness gnaws at our insides, pulling on our brains like children, begging us to answer the question: Why am I alone?

Why am I alone?

Is it my hair? My eyebrows? My clothes? Do I smell bad? Do I laugh too loud? Do I talk about myself too often? Are my clothes too frumpy? Are my fingers too cold? Is my conversation too boring? Am I not exciting enough? Am I not happy enough? Am I not nice enough? Am I? Am I? Am I?

Are you what?

You are fine.

You are smart, and fun, and exciting. You are intelligent, and beautiful, and intriguing, and inspiring. You are a gift. I don’t know from whom, but you light up the world.

Loneliness is supposed to be uncomfortable. To be truly alone is to feel the weight of only yourself, and that weight is allowed to feel like too much. That is why we have people.

People who love us, and care about us, and want us to be with them. People are our reasons.

Reasons to live, and breath, and laugh, and cry, and fight, and learn, and unlearn, and be.

So allow the loneliness to creep in, to make you feel uncomfortable. Because loneliness tests us. It shows us who we are. Because what better way to find who you are than to

just      be      alone.



There’s Something in the Water

I feel restless lately, like my life is passing by and I am too far away to hold on and keep it in my memories. This restlessness has manifested itself into the need to talk. I need to talk about things I have always been too fearful of talking about. My past relationships, my worries about the future, my feelings towards the people around me- the list goes on and on. I decided to write this blog to get these feelings out. Even if no one reads this, and it gets lost in the banks of the internet, at least my words will be out there, unfiltered and honest.

I have decided to write this blog to get these feelings out. Even if no one reads this, and it gets lost in the banks of the internet, at least my words will be out there, unfiltered and honest.

There’s something in the water around me, a change is shifting the people in my life. They are growing and moving in ways I feel I cannot keep up with. I worry I will lose them amongst the pages of my past.

How do I hold on? I’ve never been still, life has never stopped for me. Moving and shifting, there has never been a pause in my days to appreciate what surrounds me.

But I want one.

I hope to pause through these pages, reflect on my life and feel what I have missed. I want to relive moments that I may otherwise forget to acknowledge. Life is so full, overflowing with pieces and parts that influence our every thought and experience. It’s time I start picking up the pieces and understanding their existence.

My name is Eve, and I want to breathe life back into myself.