In the words of Hannah Horvath, “I’m not what you’d call a chill girl.” I never have been and probably never will be. I obsess over seemingly insignificant things (especially things I cannot change). I worry incessantly. The ‘what if’ questions are set to repeat on the playlist in my head (No wonder I do not allow my students to ask ‘what if’ questions; I have enough of my own.) I have a color-coded day planner with my days, weeks, months planned down to the minute.
Should I (or you) want to know what I did for exercise on, say, March 18, 2014, I can tell you because I have records. Not kidding.
I do nothing halfway. I do it full-on or I simply don’t do it at all.
Is this a perfect way to be? No. Is this an ideal way to be? Hell no. Will I ever change, though? Double hell no. It’s who I am. It’s in my blood. It’s my DNA.
This sometime-not-so-great quality of mine comes in handy when I am doing things like training for a marathon or lesson planning for school, but with dating and relationships…not so much.
I recently read a piece on Thought Catalog (most of you know, it’s one of my favorite online magazines) titled “When You’re Never The Girl That They Choose To Love.” As I read each word, I became mesmerized. It was as if this very piece was written to me; for me.
The premise is simple… there are girls, like myself, who are constantly flooded by thoughts such as:
“Will I ever be good enough for someone?” “Why is love so easy for some but not for me?” “What’s wrong with me? Am I heinous? Weird? Intimidating? What is it?”
And then, attempting to cope, you convince yourself it’s okay. You will find your “one” someday, just not today. Everything will work out. You don’t need anyone. You are fine alone. You don’t want to be like those ditzy, nitwits who rely on a man (or woman) for happiness.
But the harsh reality of it all is… it’s all a facade. You’re disappointed. You’re pissed off. You’re confused. Nothing makes sense.
Relationships are complicated. I’ve yet to maintain one myself for longer than six months.
Maybe it’s because I am attracted to all the wrong kinds of love (something to do with my attachment style…still working on that with my therapist…it takes a village, y’all; no judgement).
Maybe it’s because even the thought of having an air plant sends me into panic mode; I simply cannot care for another living thing, okay?!
Maybe it’s because I windex my glass top tables multiple times a day (finger prints…I can’t).
Maybe it’s because when I say I’m going to the “grocery,” I really mean the liquor store.
Or maybe, as I’ve been told, it’s because I am “too much.” I worry too much. I obsess too much. I care too much.
So, what is the Hannah Horvath, non-chill, care-too-much type of girl to do?
You just keep moving forward. You tell yourself whatever it takes to make sense of the chaos around you. You convince yourself that someone is out there and he/she will be worth the wait; that the right person will actually embrace your “too much-ness;” that, in the end, you will be stronger for this journey; that patience is a virtue.
Some days, you’ll succeed.