Here is the point where my blog becomes difficult. It has become increasingly hard to write in this blog, now that it is connected to people I know and admire. This is the point in time where I have to resist writing fictional stories to impress the people of the interwebs who are so much more experienced than myself, in writing and in relationships.
This is the point in time where I want to write about my sexual prowess, and about how my relationships have gone so well and it turns out that my small town is full of lovely gay women whom I respect and admire.
But I would be lying. And it is so hard not to lie, but I will refrain from doing so because I want one aspect of my life to be pure, upright, and honest. I want one place where I can be me, and look back on it and see me, the real me, through the years. I want to strengthen the relationship I have with myself, and lying is a sure way to break up any relationship.
I have not been dating anyone new. My heart seems to leap beyond my reach, crossing states and countries, clinging to those in relationships, or those who identify as heterosexual. I haven't been having sex because I've never done it before, and I want to be with someone that I have a spark with; someone who will be open with me about what she likes and what she wants. I want to be with someone who isn't afraid of being clear about what she likes, and who is gentle enough to teach me without breaking me.
I have, however, been shaping up. Taking classes, seriously thinking about where I want to go to uni, and how to propel my career from that point on. Journalism, a fleeting dream, is now coming into realization. Not that I won't have a long way to go, but I feel like I am finally taking responsibility for where my life path is going.
My psychology class has been giving me a lot to think about, one being that maybe the reason that I haven't taken responsibility for anything in my life is that I honestly didn't think I would make it this far. When I was about six years old, I was sure that I couldn't live without my mother, and vice versa, so we made a pact. I told her that we would die together in a car accident, so neither of us would have to grow old alone. It seems stupid to think that this would come true, but I believed it for so long. I was sure I would never live past my high school years. Now, into my 20s, I realize that it might take me a long time to die. It could be 5, 10, 20, 30, 50 years. I have not been prepared for the option to live that long.
Now, I'm trying to adjust myself to having a longer life path. This includes a steady career, budgeting, saving up for future occasions, all things that I've never had to plan for before.
But I'm trying. As a direct quote from a psychology peer: "She says that she has always been independent and gives credit to her mother for bringing her up this way. However, [Tabitha] also says she is unable to focus on a clear path for life due to the lack of guidance she got in her upbringing. She says that now she feels lost and passionless and this really doesn’t sound like independence at all."
Well, I meant independence in more than a career fashion. As in, I emotionally lean on myself, take care of myself, all matters that have to do with me are dealt with by me. However, she does have a point. What good is being independent when I don't take up the responsibility to become a functioning adult in society?
So that's what I'm trying to become. And that's the truth.
P.S. Women's curling is on again today. America vs. my favorite girl Eve Muirhead, captain of the Great Britain team.