Living in a song...sometimes, the song just keeps on skipping...

Does a song define who I am?


We are a society that is heavily influenced by music. We adapt to music in our own ways; either we live through the lyrics of a song, or we allow our souls to become engulfed with the beat. Songs create memories that are forever etched into our minds.

The one song that always brings me back to reality is "That's What Friends are For." We all have heard this song at least once in our lives. "For good times, and bad times, I'll be on your side forever more...that's what friends are for." These truly are lyrics to live by. But have I?

Friendship isn't an easy task. I try to be a good friend, but a majority of the time, I fail. I don't give good advice; I can be judgmental; I don't keep in contact; I always have the intention of getting together, but I never follow through. I don't do this to be mean; I honestly think that I am like this because I am afraid to open up to people or I am a afraid of rejection.

As I type this, I think to myself. Do I even have a best friend?

Many women my age have that one special person that they call when good news happens. Or they have that one dedicated friend that will drop everything to be there for their friend.  Or just even that one loving friend that calls their friend out of the blue just to see how they are doing. I used to have this. I just don't know what happened.

I think of the memories that I have as a young child. Almost every great memory has a best friend in the picture. My two childhood friends meant (and still do) the world to me. We did everything together. We would talk to each other on the phone for hours. When one of us would go on vacation, the other two of us would count down the days when the missing party would come back home. We would wait on our porches until we saw the car pull up. Our missing piece would be back in our lives and everything would feel as it should - perfect.

Over time, these the making of these "perfect moments" faded away. We went to high school and met new people. I never did admit it to them then, but none of the friends that I made in high school ever replaced them in my heart. I felt a void every time they would walk past me in the hallway at school and not tell me hello. But then I again, I was just as guilty. I didn't tell them hello, but I didn't say those words because I felt like I would be bothering them. So I kept my salutations to myself. Stupid, isn't it? If these people meant so much to them, why did I try not to include them into my life? I could never figure out why I did this, and to this day, I still don't know why.

The friends that I met in high school changed a bit year after year, but I made the most of my friendships. I still keep in contact with a majority of my friends from high school. After graduation, the distance put a damper on our friendships.  I went into the military and they went off to college. Two different dynamics. I wish to this day that I had created stronger bonds with my friends when I had the chance. As I think back at the memories that we made together, I have no regrets. They were wonderful memories. The friendships were genuine and to this day, I am trying my best to rekindle a few of them. 

I had four friends in particular who kept in contact with me when I went off in the military. They would send me pictures of their children, of their families and kept me posted on their lives. When I would come home from leave, we would get together. But for some reason, it didn't feel the same. I think I was resistant because I didn't want to get reattached to them and then leave one week later to back to base. I hated the feeling of leaving.

Many of my friends have gone through good times and bad times. When I think about the trials some of them have gone through, I wonder if I were a good enough friend to them. Were they afraid to talk to me about these situations because they didn't feel that I had anything to offer them? Did I not make myself available to them? I kick myself all the time for being so distant. Why am I like this?

My goal with my friendships is to stop hiding. Stop expecting everybody to make the first move.  Stop making the same mistakes.  Stop being a coward.

So to all my friends out there, I am sorry. I am sorry that I let go of our friendships. I am sorry that over the years, I have not been there for you. I am sorry for not answering the phone when you call or call you back if I missed your call. I am sorry that I allowed my insecurities come in between our friendships. I am sorry if I wasn't there for you during the good times and the bad times. But one thing is for sure. I am vowing to be "by your side for evermore, because that's what friends are for."

 I love you and thank you for loving me when I didn't deserve your love. You are amazing!

PS
And to those awesome ladies that I have known since before I shaved my legs, I miss you. Let's promise to do lunch in 2013. 

A little about me...

Who am I?

I suppose this is a question that I should answer. I like to think of myself as a person with a big heart. A person who strives to make others happy.  A person that someone appreciates.

I know that I am a complex person. Some people may see me as a cold, cruel person; others see me as an outgoing, bubble of joy. There are some that see me as the doormat that they will continually walk over. I will admit that I am naive and I trust too easily. I guess I just want to believe that people are good, even though they aren't. I really just have a poor judgment of character.

Growing up, I was your typical kid. Grew up in a middle class family. Was the fourth of five kids. Had a father who worked for the railroad and a mother who was a stay-at-home mom. We grew up in a religious home and went to church every Sunday. I even went to Catholic school. I grew up in a neighborhood filled with kids my age, which was good. We would all hang out during the summer playing "Hide-and-Go-Seek", "Kick the Can" and even "Swinging Statue". On those nights that were unbearably hot, we would just sit on the hill, and talk. We laughed and smiled until the lightning bugs called us home for the night. Life was grand.

I do believe that once I hit my preteens, my look on life changed. My life wasn't as care-free as it was when I was younger.  Once I hit puberty, my self-esteem plummeted. I wasn't the prettiest kid in the neighborhood. I had uncontrollable hair, thick eyebrows, big ears, and no sense of fashion. This just happened to be the same time that the boys in the neighborhood starting noticing us girls. Life wasn't so grand when this started to happen.

There were three of us girls in the neighborhood that were really close. We did everything together and honestly to this day, I still consider them my best friends. My closest friend at that time used to play this game, "Who is the Prettiest?". She would ask the guys in the neighborhood who they thought was prettier, me or her. Of course, they always chose her and then they would follow up with "Diana is kinda ugly, why would I choose her?"  They knew I heard their response, which made it hurt more. My friends did not care how they made me feel. But then again, maybe they were just being honest? Every time the question was asked and then answered,  I wanted to run home and cry because it hurt me so much. Every time the guys would choose her, I felt like I was sucker-punched in the gut. When I would go home for the evening, I would cry myself to sleep. The following morning, I would wake up, look at myself in the mirror and tell myself how ugly I was. I never saw anything beautiful about myself because all I heard was how ugly I was.

I can remember the different times growing up when even my own family would say things to make my esteem issues even worse.  My aunt gave me the name "Ugly" and how I believed her.  Every time she came into town, she would give me a hug and say "There's Ugly. How are you doing?" The happiness that I would feel seeing a family member would fade into a slight depression. I never understood why my aunt would always call me ugly. She had kids of her own. How would she not know how much these words would break a girl's heart? My dad wasn't much better. No matter what I did to make him happy, he would tell me something negative. Every Thanksgiving, he would kick me out of the kitchen and would tell me "Little children should be seen and not heard." To this day, I don't think he realizes how much those words hurt me. I always assumed that he wasn't proud of me as his daughter. I know now that wasn't the case, but back in the day, I thought otherwise. No matter how hard I tried to make him proud of me, every comment he made about me was negative. When I would look in the mirror before going to school, he would tell me my hair looked like a rat's nest. Even the night of my prom, the one night where I was confident in the way that I looked, he couldn't give me one compliment. He told me my dress was unflattering and that I looked fat. I was 5'8 and weighed 125. I was a size 6. I was no where near fat, but he made me feel fat. I didn't even enjoy my prom because I secretly thought that others at my prom thought I was fat. My date and I were only there for dinner and pictures. I couldn't wait to escape from the dress.

For some reason in my teen years, I always cared how others thought of me. I did feel like an outcast during high school. I had a small group of friends that I hung out with, but I was never brave enough to talk to people outside of my group unless absolutely necessary. For some reason, I always felt that I was unworthy to join a conversation.

Things did improve a bit once I joined the military. I am amazed how much the military made me grow as a person. I regained confidence in myself and in others. Instead of having a friend who would always compare me to her, I made friends who didn't try to compete with me. We were equals. Although I was able to trust my women friends, my male friends were quite different. Through many upsets, broken hearts, tears and failures, I learned that my heart, when given, wasn't appreciated. Because of this, it was hard for me to trust. And if I did trust someone, I would soon regret it. I learned my lessons the hard way, but honestly, I believe it made me stronger.

I look at my self in the mirror as I write this. I am confident. I am strong. I am honest with my words. However, one day I will look in the mirror and see my true beauty. I will also look in the mirror and see who I really am...