Miss me

Miss me with your expectations. Yep. I probably won’t meet them.

You’ll find me quite a handful (and you’d need big hands for this), you’ll find me hard to understand at times and I’ll step on your toes oft enough. 

I took after my dad’s stubbornness. I like having my way. I talk a lot just as he does. I became more introverted like my mum when I grew up. I have moments where I want to be alone and don’t appreciate human interaction. I am a dreamer like my brother but not the best at implementation of those ideas. 

I am a weird combination of a perfectionist and a messy sanguine. So you’ll find neatly organised rooms one moment and the next, they will look like the aftermath of hurricane me. I love cooking for people but I don’t feel like it often. By now you’ve noticed discipline isn’t my forte.

Yes I grew up being daddy’s girl but somehow that didn’t insulate me from the daddy issues you’ll find still healing. If I got half the heart my dad has for people and the kind of love he’s shown me; then you’ll proud of me. My mum’s amazing intelligence wasn’t the only thing that was passed down; I learnt kindness, generosity and unbelievable patience. Not that I’m good at them but I’m learning. My brother’s ability to go after what he wants and his people skills also rub off on me. That young man inspires me in ways I can’t explain.

So yes, I’m work in progress. I don’t mind learning and accept growth. I joked the other day about how God forgot moderation when creating me. Everything about me is extreme; both the good and ugly. But rest in this: God’s got me. I’ve watched the way He’s moulding me and it’s encouraging. Oh you should know how in love I am with Him. He lavishes me with His own love!

Most of all, I acknowledge this: miss me with your expectations is a two-edged sword. This isn’t just for you but me as well. You’re who you are and perfect as you are. So when you come, I’ll lay my expectations on the altar and take you for who you are.

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Brush Strokes of Reality

I am a dreamer, that I am. It is my gift, it sure is my undoing as well. I build things where none exist. I paint pictures that eyes don’t see. I find beauty where it can’t be spotted. I add glamour to the most ordinary things. Sounds enviable, right? Not really.

See my problem is that all this sips into my perception of people. I view potential; not reality. It’s a good thing you’d argue, well so would I. I get a sneak preview of their lives and proceed to create a whole movie directed by yours truly. I already piece up their character and decide on who they are. The ones who relish the benefits of this are the ones whose lives I romanticised.

I get excited about the picture I painted and enjoy interacting with them based on my own notions. I interpret their words and actions through the lenses I’d selected. This I hadn’t realised its magnitude up till yesterevening when I (against all common sense), called my ex.

I don’t know what I expected. Perhaps curt conversations or an unanswered call. The exact opposite met me. Cheery tones, questions on where I’d been and queries on whether my visa expired since the only reason I ignored his last text should have been because I was out of the country for long. Plenty of catch up, jokes here and there plus having to explain why I was refusing to go pick his car from wherever he left it because I was taking risks with the motorbike rides I do (I love those ones too much to quit).

The car issue lingered on my mind long after the phone call. Not because of the excitement of enjoying the convenience, but because of how I’d interpreted that offer. It’s not the first time he’s said that. First one was while we were dating and he was out at war arguing with me over my love for night walks or meetings that had me out after darkness set in. I still refused. But it had me feeling very cared for and protected.

Then a different thought struck me. What if it wasn’t care and concern but a bait guys throw to get girls hooked? Cognitive dissonance. Hmm, he can’t be like that, can he? I knew a different person. But wait again, we never made it past the honeymoon stage of relationships. We broke up before the period for masks falling arrived. How sure was I that everything hadn’t been staged managed perfectly? Cognitive dissonance again. Fantasy crumbles.

I suddenly got on this train of thoughts that led me right to the root issue: I get clouded by potential while seeing people. I began reflecting on my interaction with various people and saw how I’d clothed them with strokes from my brush as I painted the picture of who I thought they were, vis-a-vis who they really are.

Reality sucks I must say. But reality becomes the necessary foundation before we can build anything. Friendships strain under crazy expectations. Relationships disintegrate slowly as lenses fantasy lenses weaken and the picture gets clearer. So here’s to throwing away all the brushes, lenses and movie scripts. Director no more.

My Goodbye (again)

Staring at the phone and part of me wants to enjoy the conversation but the other part of me knows I’ve been here one too many times. It’s not like it will end any better. I’ll be excited for some time; of course conversations with you are worth having, but at what price will I keep doing this? I’m done.

I know I said that last time. Said it yesterday¬†when I was telling myself I’m done for good. Said it every time I deleted your number. Goodness, I even lost count of the number of times I deleted that number of yours! Erased too many messages; wiped off any evidence of conversations with you. Even call logs so that I wouldn’t retrieve your number when I got tempted to call.

Then all it would take is one phone call or a single message. Excitement would flood in at the thought of meaningful conversation. I’d tell myself that I’d actually missed talking to you. Well, of course conversation has always been my Achilles’ heel. Words somehow get to me easily. I should have known better. Come to think of it; hasn’t that been the genesis of every situationship I can remember?

But this time round, I’m determined to walk away. My heart won’t like it but I know what’s best for it and this isn’t. I can’t keep setting myself up for disappointment. Can’t allow my heart to take any more punches. It doesn’t matter what this is; my emotions are done with the roller-coaster rides. I can’t keep enjoying the thrill of taking my heart out on the cliff hoping to fly only to crash into the valley. I can’t deal with anticipointment one more time.

Don’t worry, this isn’t your fault; well maybe like 25%. This was me staring at a fire and being overly confident thinking the flames wouldn’t touch me. This was me on one one of those thrill seeking adventures and venturing further than I ought to. This was me having seen warning signs but trying to see how far I’d go before getting caught. I saw you taking measures to stop me from harming myself. I saw you sober and avoiding anything that would encourage me. I saw your wisdom in trying to not do or say things that would give me wrong impressions; false hopes. I saw all that but I think I was addicted to pain and had missed that high.

We all grow up at some point. We all have our breaking points. We all know when enough is enough. This is where I am. Ready to give up instant gratification and cheap thrills. Ready to move to places where I’ll be appreciated and loved. Ready to trade my brokenness for wholeness no matter how much pain that will inflict initially. Ready to surrender expectations and dreams for reality.

This is me saying goodbye again; and hopefully never to return.