True

Is a friend that lies to you really your friend? I guess we all have told a white lie here or there to save someone’s feelings. But what if the lies are to direct questions? What if they are about the relationship? Or if they effect your emotional well-being or your reputation?

A friend is someone that you trust. The depth of the relationship correlates with the level of trust that you have between you. Repeated fibs and consequential dishonesties ruin the trust and can irreparably damage the friendship.

I know this is not that profound of a revelation. But I tend to want to believe the best about people and end up holding on to relationships way beyond their expiration date. I have to learn to just let go and walk away. Really, what’s the use? It’s just setting myself up to be hurt more.

I have (should I say had?) a friend that I’ve known a number of years. We have many commonalities and many differences. She doesn’t see the differences. In her mind, I need to party and meet men. I disagree. When a situation happened to me when I was at her house (and she wasn’t),  I told her about it and she thought it was great. She continued to talk about it and exaggerate the details even to me. After again explaining what did and did not happen and telling her what little that did happen was not my choosing, she still didn’t seem to get it. I was very traumatized by the whole thing and she didn’t seem to care. Then I caught her lying to me. And from some things that she let slip, I’m quite sure she told some lies about me to others. When I confronted her about the discrepancies, she flat out denied everything. Later she claimed “language barrier,” which still did not explain everything.

As much as it hurts to lose a friend that at least understood some of what I was going through with my husband, I’ve had to walk away. I can’t trust what she says. I can’t feel safe around her. I gave her every opportunity and excuse to tell me the truth, but she stuck to her fabrications. There is no room for a friendship there anymore.

Then there’s the other (former?) friend. We were, I thought, pretty good friends. Until she decided to believe the worst about me. After a time, we tried to make amends. Things have still been uncomfortable, but I thought we were getting better. Then she started acting strange around me again. Cold. Almost irritated when I was around. I have no idea what I could have done to offend her. So I asked if I had. She said there was no problem. She was nice to me for a day. Then, this weekend, I saw her in a public setting with mutual friends around. She completely ignored me. I was in her immediate proximity, talking to some of the same people that she was, and she never even acknowledged my presence. I tried to smile when I approached, but she wouldn’t even look at me. Yeah, sure there’s no problem. And that’s not the first lie she’s told me. (Though the other ones I’d let go because they were small and I knew she told them to save face). But the pattern is undeniable. I can’t trust her.

So, I’ve decided to quit trying. If she wants to hate me, I have to just let her. I can’t do a thing about it if she can’t be honest with me. So why try?

It hurts to lose friends. But I won’t let it change me. I will continue to be friendly. It’s who I am. I’m not mean, even to my worst enemy. I like that about me. It’s not being dishonest because it’s authentically me. I am almost never rude or nasty to anyone. (Sarcastic, maybe…) I’m always the one trying to keep the peace, make amends. But I think that I have now learned that it’s okay to just drop a matter, drop a friendship if need be. It doesn’t mean I’ve failed or that I’m not nice or that I’m somehow a bad person.

Again, maybe that’s not a profound revelation to some. But to me, it is. I’m still working on accepting it.

~Color Me getting a lot off my chest tonight.

I’m in Love!

My old love was falling apart. We’d traveled many miles together, but it was just time to move on.

I met the new object of my desire online. I’d been searching for months. I knew exactly what I wanted. I had every characteristic carefully chosen. The profile picture certainly caught my attention.

But it was the price that sealed the deal.

I got myself a new, used car! (Well, small SUV). All by myself. I’d started researching in January. I started saving for a down payment and shopping for a price that I could afford to finance. Last weekend I found it. I got everything I wanted, down to the color! And I payed much less than I was willing to! I got a fabulous deal. I even got a little more for my 1995 Ford mini-van trade-in than I expected.

Certainly, you didn’t think I fell in love with a man? HA! I didn’t even need one of those to buy this car.

Internet 'Profile' Picture

Color Me; Drive! and In Silver

You’re So Vain

I bet you think this post is about you.

Don’t you? Don’t you?!

Well, if you think it’s about you, then you are probably right.

Yes…YOU!

I know you’re there. My stats tell me that you’ve dropped by. I know what pages you’ve clicked on. I may not know who you are, but I can usually tell where you came from. Twitter. Someone else’s blog. A search engine. (I hope you, who were searching for a “yorkie sniper,” weren’t too disappointed that I don’t have one).

Yeah, you leave a trail. I see you’ve been here. You’ve visited before, haven’t you? Quite a few times. You didn’t leave a comment. Maybe you thought I wouldn’t discover you’re presence. In Bloggy Land, we refer to you as a Lurker. Anywhere else, you  are quite plainly, a Stalker.

Really, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I wouldn’t post if I didn’t want someone, somewhere to read my ramblings. Keep coming by.

But just remember…I know you’re there!

~Color Me Watching.

Oh, Whoa is Me

I’m dealing with something that I wish would just go away. It’s been a month now, but sometimes an image pops into my head and I suddenly want to vomit. I didn’t ask for it, I didn’t want it, I even stopped it. But I get to deal with it all the same. Along with all the memories from my past that it has conjured up. I didn’t ask for those things either. They weren’t my fault, I was a child. And yet I still carry guilt. Logically, I know that the fault belongs 100 per cent to the other parties involved. But the warped thinking that those scenarios produce make it difficult to not carry the shame.

Now something very similar has happened to me as an adult. It’s got me pretty tangled up inside. It’s affecting areas of my life that it has no business messing with. As if there isn’t enough for me to deal with right now.

I know it’s not good to ask all the “why’s” associated with the dark past. Didn’t I already deal with those things and move on? I thought so. But apparently something about me is still the same. Now the questions from the past haunt my present. Why do I trust people I shouldn’t? Why do I think that I’m safe, when I’m not? Why me? Haven’t I been through enough? How can I be so stupid?

Why is it all so complicated? I just want to live my life. I want to be a good mom and give my kids a better chance than I had.  I want to be a good friend. I want to trust those around me. I try so hard to do things right, to make things better. But it seems that every good decision is followed by an event that inflicts more pain.

I don’t even know who to trust anymore. I have to run situations by my best friend now because I don’t trust my own judgment. I’m not sure I can tell if someone is safe or if they could be waiting to take advantage of me in some way. Apparently I’m really good at believing lies.

I want to believe the best about people. I usually give the benefit of the doubt. I don’t understand why people are hurtful. I try not to hurt others. Does this make me naive? Does this make me a target for the ill-intentioned?

Could I be any more nauseating with my poor-me disposition right now?

~Color Me pathetic.

When I Grow Up

I’m trying to figure out what to be when I grow up. Technically, I am grown up, I know. I’ve lived roughly half my life expectancy. I’ve had kids and done a few cool things. But now what?

I was Valedictorian of my High School class…20 years ago. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, or where I should go to school to learn to do it. I had scholarship offers and all the potential in the world. But I was pretty much on my own to figure things out. I took a year off, then went to the Community College for 3 semesters. I was living on my own, working full-time, going to school and partying…a lot. Something had to give, so I “took a semester off.”

I didn’t take another class for 4 years. Then I took two more about 13 years after that. That was a couple of years ago.

So, here I am; 39, no degree, on my own, three kids, and exactly where I was 20 years ago. I don’t know what I want to do or what steps I need to take to do it.

Except for my kids, I feel like it’s all been such a waste. I did it all wrong. And now that I’m figuring out who I am and learning how to live in color, I’m finding it’s just too late for some things. A lot of the potential is lost. Many of the opportunities have long since past. And I’m tired. So very tired.

I just don’t know what to do.

~Color Me lost.

Don’t Know What This Post is Going to Be About

I want to write. I need to write. I don’t know what to write.

There’s so much whirrrring around in my head. Something is bound to spill out if I just put my fingers on the keyboard and go.

Okay. Go.

Um…yeah.
Alrighty then.

Nice theory.

Didn’t work.

Color Me not making much ado about something.

Quoteable

SparkPeople Translation
Do you ever feel scared about taking the first step on a new path? At some point, we all do. Starting a new career, ending a comfortable relationship, moving on after a death…all of these can be frightening things to deal with. In life, you must be willing to take risks. Although that first step can be the most frightening, most of the time it is the most rewarding. It is the step that can launch you into success. So, risk it…and take that step you’ve been scared of.

Color Me having nothing to add to that.

Did I Write That?

I do not consider myself a poet, but sometimes, I just have the urge to express myself in verse. When I later go back to read one of these poems, I’m a bit surprised. I usually feel like I’m reading something that someone else wrote, but I can relate to how they were feeling. Does anyone else read their own writing in the third person?

Here’s a couple of my poems that I’d deleted from my blog awhile back. They are now restored to their original posting dates.

Out There

Pain Fall

Color Me a Poet that Didn’t Know It