Small Steps.

The other day, I took a step.

It was one step.

One itty bitty teeny tiny baby step.

But it was a step, and that step was in the right direction.

To some, it may have looked like just a typical weekday conversation, but to me, it represented a whole lot more.

Because it wasn’t just a conversation: it was a small step forward in pursuing my passion, a baby step in this journey of mine.

This “journey” I speak of, is one currently fraught with discomfort, self-doubt, uncertainty, and a feeling of being completely and utterly lost. After having overcome obstacles as big as hiking the Grand Canyon at age ten, performing in front of hundreds of people reciting monologues and cackling as the green Wicked Witch, not to mention living in five different cities in the past six years, I should be used to stepping out of my comfort zone.

Yet here I am, living in the most cliche version of a comfort zone and I’ve never felt more uncomfortable.

I’ve been aware of how living in this comfort zone has caused me to develop feelings of low confidence and self-esteem for awhile now, but I’m trying to figure out how these feelings developed when I once used to thrive on stepping outside of the box, which successfully got me through periods of change.

And maybe that’s the kicker: there is no change. Living comfortably at home and in my familiar routine, I’ve had no momentum to move forward in pursuing my writing, which is one of the main reasons I moved back to this spectacular state. It’s like the longer I stay in this so called “comfort zone” (though it feels more like the “uncomfortable zone” ), the more uncertain I become because I become more stagnant in my personal growth.

Part of that is due to the fact that I’ve lost some belief in myself and my abilities, part of that is not knowing or having the courage about what step to take next to get out of my comfort zone, but the biggest part has to do with not appreciating the little steps I’ve been taking already.

Like writing to you. Whether I’m conscious of it or not, every time I sit down to write on my blog, or in my journal, I’m proving to myself that I am committed to my writing. That deep down, I’m trusting it will lead me somewhere, though I may not know where. After all these years, I continue to write week after week without awards, attention, and without knowing if anyone reads it or not. Because the thing that matters most with persistence and believing in myself and my writing is that the longer I stick with this passion, the more it grows and gets bigger. Each blog post, each sentence I write, and every baby step I take is propulsion onward. I have to be proud of the fact that I’m not marching in place, but forward, and in a direction that will eventually lead to success.

Having that conversation was a big personal stride for me because it wasn’t just a physical step in my journey forth, but it reminded me of my belief in myself, the belief I thought I had lost.

It’s about time that I look at all I’ve done and find gratitude and excitement in the little steps, no matter what size. A step is a step. And the more I find joy and peace in them, the more I learn to appreciate the rich life I already have.

For a tall gal, I always imagined that my steps forward in life would be as big as my stride. And they are, they’re just made up of a series of small steps, which all come together and make one big tall girl step..

Say Something.

It was a modern day rejection to an old fashioned declaration.

Without having said a word, and by bypassing the existence of my confession entirely, I was dismissed with pure and raw rejection.

Somehow, without saying anything, he managed to say everything.

There’s this guy I (used to) like, the very subject of many of my past posts, the subject to which I sent a book and perched between its pages, also a letter.

A letter that had originally been written through tear stained eyes. From its cried upon text, it went through multiple edits, one episode of being erased entirely, another drawn up from scratch, and then finally, I sent it off into the mail with good intention. This letter was personal, as it declared my feelings for him and after putting these little bits of paper holding precious sentiments out into the world, I sat and anxiously waited for word back.

I received it. And when I say I received “word”, it was literally just a few of them.

“Got your package, thank youuuuu.”

That’s it.

That. Was it.

Staring at this simple text, a text I had been willing to be languid and full of verbose sentences, my heart sank to the bottom of my chest and tears escaped themselves from my eyes.

It’s not like I was expecting a reciprocation of feelings, but to simply not acknowledge the letter just plain and simple broke my heart. 

The entire purpose of said document was for me to find clairity and/or closure on our relationship. We’re definitely not dating, but we’re also not “just friends.” So I’ve been confused about where we stand with each other and this was my final attempt to let him know how I felt, and to prompt response, whether he felt the same way I did or not.

I opened this door and he chose not to walk through. But he didn’t turn away, he lingered outside. Maybe poked his head in, contemplated whether or not to take the big step inside, then chose to settle on the swing outside on the porch.

I have been through this before, these countless cases in which I get rejected without communication. In my dating experience, very few men have had the cajones to tell me to my face they’re no longer interested in me (or they find I’m not an easy lay). So their method of “breaking up” with me ends up with me being ghosted. Instead of having the decency to talk to me face to face, they end up dipping, bouncing, and abandoning me alllllllll without saying a word.

So I’m left: crushed, heartbroken, confused, crying for days and naturally coming up with reasons as to why, which inevitably have to do with me.

What’s wrong with me? What did I do wrong to make him leave?

Despite friends, family, and pretty much the entire female race telling me that it’s the guys’ loss and boys are dumb, I can’t escape the idea I keep coming back to: that something is wrong with me.

Assuming I knew this guy well enough to bravely share my feelings with him, and sick of this pressure from society that deters me from acting on my emotions for fear of scaring him off and being the “crazy emotional woman”, I followed my gut and sent this letter in the hopes of either 1) hearing that my feelings were reciprocated (which was the unlikely case) or 2) getting closure on this long distance relationship. A relationship I had had doubts about from its origin due to poor communication on his part, which constantly left me wondering if the guy would ever text back. Emotionally taxing? I think yes.

And when I did eventually get word back, I got an answer, but it wasn’t verbal and it didn’t give me proper closure.

I don’t know what it is about this day and age that warrants this dismissive behavior between people, but I’m finding that the lack of response to formal matters to be extremely detrimental to one’s self-esteem. Not only that, but it’s disrespectful, hurtful, and there’s no accountability. There’s this mentality in some mens’ thoughts where avoidance is easier to deal with than a potentially uncomfortable encounter with the woman  and it ends up being extremely painful on someone sensitive like me who’s mostly known being the recipient of a ghosting.

If you don’t like me, tell me. If you do like me, tell me! If you want to ignore what I wrote and continue Snapchatting me like my letter doesn’t exist; do so, but I won’t be responding anymore. I’m tired of being strung along.

That letter came from a very personal part of my heart and ignoring that is ignoring me and my feelings, and I want nothing to do with him if that’s the case.

I’m emotionally exhausted from having to pick myself up after incidents like these in which men continue to take advantage of my kindness and just quietly disappear. I don’t know if they think that by avoiding the subject entirely, it’ll be easier on my feelings, but it’s not.

In the end, I didn’t get what I wanted out of sending the letter. But it did bring me some form of clairity on our relationship and I’m deciding to move forward on my path without him. I can’t make him like me, but I can choose to let go of him.

Because right now, I don’t know what he’s feeling for me, but I am sure as hell not sticking around in case he does decide he has feelings.  

I just ask that in the future, they say something, anything?