Archive | March, 2016

Words I Understand

17 Mar

On my way home from work today, my best friend Shane called to just check in on me. He rocks 150%. I told him how I was feeling, and tried to explain it further but I just couldn’t. He finally stopped me (and thank God because even I was starting to get confused) and said that I needed to just listen for a second. He hasn’t really been wrong yet, so I listened.

Shane works in sales too, but for an NHL team. We met our freshman year at USC when I needed a big strong dude to help me move my fridge (damsel in distress ya heard). Turns out we were both super sarcastic northerners that were here to study business. We just clicked. So here we are almost four years later, still best friends. I can usually count on him when I need a proverbial slap in the face, because hes an aggresive northerner too. He’s seen me fall over drunk almost as many times as he’s seen me cry. That’s part of why he’s such a good friend, as he always is there to help no matter the circumstances. So of course when I told him everything that had happened and how I felt and how confused I was and basically the biggest word vomit ever, concerned friend mode went into full effect. He gets me, so I knew him of all people would be able to rationalize this for me somehow.

Like I said, we both work in sales. It’s a language all it’s own that we both are fluent in. So he told me a little story, which spiraled into some seriously thought provoking conversation. So, let’s start with that story.

“So I spend my days trying to snag some new season ticket holders. I call people. Sometimes it works on the first call, and that’s it. Some people have blocked my numbers. Whatever. But there was this one prospective client.. I called fifteen times. Most people would tell me that I was harassing him at that point. But until the guy told me “No”, there was no way in hell I was going to give up. So I kept calling. And honestly, even I questioned my sanity some of the times. I mean really.. fifteen times? It was pushing overboard, but again, anything other than a rejection is at least a maybe. The sixteenth call, I finally got the guy on the phone. This was my chance, and I wasn’t going to blow it. He knew the value of what I was trying to sell, but I had to reinforce it. The biggest sale of my career later, I have a new happy client, my hard work paid off, and the satisfaction was immense. So you can’t give up. What if that sixteenth call is the call that changes things?”

The dude isn’t wrong. Which I’ll admit sometimes get’s annoying like dang dude are you ever inaccurate? But this time, I was glad that he was spot on. So, what else did this fount of wisdom have to say?

We talked about how as a sales woman, I should be the queen of hustle. I convince people all day, every day, that they need something that I provide. Not just need it, but they cannot run their business about it. I promote the value, I learn the clients budget, location, the whole nine. I analyze businesses all damn day. But I cannot seem to analyze situations with guys well enough to yield any positive results.

“It stresses me out! I know you can do this. I know you speak sales, that you’re a shark. You wouldn’t be doing this if that wasn’t the case. The Abby I know, the freshman year four years ago happy go lucky Abby, wouldn’t settle to get hustled like this. You need to hustle these dudes before they hustle you. Put it this way. If a client came up to you and asked for a free product because they might be interested in purchasing it in the future, would you just give it to them? Absolutely not. You would (and don’t try to deny this) tell them to go to hell. You are selling products that aren’t even yours at a 20% markup. But when it comes to selling yourself, you are showing a low percieved value. Why don’t you think you’re worth more? You don’t know these dude’s willingness to pay. When someone buys something from you, they don’t get immediate gratification. It takes 6 weeks to build, and another 2 weeks to implement. Run yourself like a business. I don’t mean be a hooker. But know your worth. You know in sales that you have to hustle someone so you don’t get hustled. Apply that to your life. You’re better than what you’ve settled for in the last year.”

You’re not going to catch me being a player-ette (if that’s even a word but I know all of y’all are catching my drift with that), but it’s not going to be easy to get me in your life. I gotta look out for number one. Know yaself know ya worth, as Drake would say. People keep telling me to enjoy this time alone; that I’ll only be able to pee in peace for so long, that this is the time to find myself. I have a pretty good idea of who I am, but maybe not necessarily who I want.





The Worlds Worst Talent

16 Mar

I swear I have a knack for something. I always manage to find myself involved with the bad guys who won’t go away, and the good guys who can’t stay. I’m also very good at overthinking a situation until I’m blue in the face and red in the eyes. This week I’ve gotten good at functioning at work on zero sleep at all. The past few days have been a bear for the anxiety I deal with as it is, and I sincerely hope it ends soon.

So, the last time I wrote, I expressed absolute confusion for what the heck was going on in my own mind. Fighting a battle against yourself is probably the hardest one to ever fight. I actually just closed my computer because I really don’t know if I’m going to make it through everything I have to say, but a certain song came on, so I’m going to take that as a sign that I need to. I will however preface this by saying that anything that happened and was talked about with him this past weekend will not be something I discuss. It really isn’t anyone’s business, no matter how much you may care about me or how much you may thrive off of knowing every detail of everything. That all will stay between the two people it pertains to; Nathan and I. And yes, that means that some of you who were under the impression I was alone, I was not. Or if you did not know this happened, now you do. Any texts regarding this will 150% be ignored because I don’t really need to explain my decisions to anyone (upsidedown smiley face).

When you don’t see someone, or interact, or even really think about them for over a year, you kind of forget some things. I forgot a lot. I forgot that this was someone I had once shared my biggest secrets with, cried to, cried about, laughed about stupid Vines with, looked in the eyes and expressed my love to. In the moment everything is kind of a whirlwind. It was the first date feeling without the awkwardness. Once you have a second to step back and actually process what the hell just happened, it can take you a lot of places. Those places aren’t always the warm and fuzzy ones like when people tell you not to cry because it’s over, but rather smile because it happened. Not to say that I didn’t smile to myself on the drive back to my apartment, because I did. The old familiar was welcomed. But walking back into that apartment and being alone, ouch. It was like having my heart broken all over again. That was not a feeling I had anticipated at all. Had that been the case, I wouldn’t have agreed to see him. I’m not interested in inflicting more pain on myself than has already been done in my 21 years.

So naturally I call some friends (and they have all been so amazing the past few days so thank you all for existing). And of course roughly four hours after the fact, I sat down and said that this was the biggest dumbest mistake I had made so far in 2016. I was truly beating myself over it, which is when Lindsey brough to my attention important fact number 1: This was the best thing I could have done. I don’t have to be angry anymore, and neither does he. And that in itself is an outcome worth whatever I may be feeling. I’m really glad that we could at least bypass the bullshit from the past. Admitting it is the first step, and getting past it is the second. So lets wipe our hands clean from that one.

“So remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast I felt like I was drunk.
City lights lay out before us,
And your arm felt nice wrapped ’round my shoulder.
And I had a feeling that I belonged,
I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone…”

Although, I still wasn’t convinced that this was an entirely good idea. I mean seriously, there I was/here I am sobbing big fat ugly sobs into my bed and feeling conflicted in so many ways. My big had noted that it seemed like my apology was stemming from me still caring about him and what he thinks about me. Um, well, that would be true. Which is kind of hard to say. I mean NO girl want’s to openly admit to caring about her ex when things ended badly (even if you wish they didn’t). So I kind of had to sit and think about that. Why would I care what he thinks about me? Why would I care about him? I had just gone over a year without seeing or speaking to this guy. Clearly I was fine. I will say that in that time I had come a LONG way from the blubbering mess I was for the week following the break up, annnnnd the week following me going to Boone on a whim one weekend. And I needed to pat myself on the back for that. It was finally time to focus on me, and look out for number one. I’ve lost almost 20 pounds in the last month, I’m no longer a Diet Coke crackhead, my apartment is finally put together, and I’m doing just fine. So instead of realizing all the awesome progress I made, I beat myself down because I had still messed up in some capacity a year ago. Yeah sure my body is looking better but I’m still alone as hell. Yeah I have a job but do I have anyone to come home to and tell about my day (besides my cat)? Who. Even. Cares. I shouldn’t. But I can’t bullshit the world and pretend that I don’t. This doesn’t mean Nathan specifically, but making the transition from loving boyfriend to big empty bed is kind of hard. The plan is shot to hell and you just have to roll with it. I didn’t think I was rolling so well with the punches, but after some reflection, I found that I was what was turning the tides, and not the other way around. Hell yes to that.

“He is not good enough for you. You are TOO good of a person. You’re funny, a great little and beautiful and you deserve more.”

We are always our own worst critic. Maybe it’s a combination of my modesty (which doesn’t exist by the way), or my complete inability to see my great qualities. I am eternally selling myself short. I know when I kick ass at something. Or if I make a ton of sales at work. Or if I can hold my power legs in Pure Barre the entire time. I have no problem celebrating those wins. However, I will never just ackowledge that I am beautiful. I will say that I’m funny by comparing myself to an Amy Schumer that you can bring home to your parents. I don’t think I’m a great person, because I have been known to screw up sometimes. And sometimes I screw up really big. I didn’t realize by selling myself short, I was practically drilling into my own mind that I would never be good enough on my own. Now I know that to be absolute bullshit. I’ve been on my own for a while, and I’m not like Leonardo DiCaprio successful, but it’s nothing to just brush off. I don’t think it would kill me to work on loving myself more. Not just being aware of my highs, but appreciating them, and appreciating myself for making them happen.

“It’s hard to say what it is I see in you”

So, what exactly do I feel? I don’t know. I mean, I feel like I do, just based on history, which we all know repeats itself. So I don’t know how absolutely necessary it is for me to put everything out in the open. 9.9 times out of 10, I just get more hurt than I was to begin with, and I cannot handle another fucking sleepless night. I wish I knew why he had/has/whatever such a hold on me. I truly do, because then I might be able to rationalize whatever is running through my mind. It’s not like he was my first love. Or was he? I’ll never really know what the deal was with that first relationship… if you wanna talk about dysfunctional, talk to me about that. Actually ya know what? Screw it. He was my first of a lot of things. The first guy I dated long distance. The first guy I believed when he said he cared about me. The first guy who actually tested me. The first guy blah blah blah blah blah. I wish I could tell you that he would be the last guy to ever make me feel this way, but the truth is that there are a lot of fish left in the sea and I’d be willing to bet half of them have mercury poisoning. I don’t know what the future holds, for me or anyone else. I know what I would like it to hold, but as with most things, you can’t always get what you want. Contrary to what I’d like to think, the belief in a thing does not make it happen. So with that, I say yes, I do care for Nathan. I’m unsure of the capacity, but I can’t just not give a shit about someone who was once such a big part of my life. And if anyone expects me to, they can stick it where the sun don’t shine.

“Know troubles they may come and go,
But good times they’re the gold.”

No matter the messes that have happened for the last threeish years, I cannot harp on that. I remember the good times fondly, but it’s time to let go of the bad times. I don’t wish to remember those, nor do I deserve to be taunted by them. The more I sit here and wonder what the hell I’m going to write next, the more I wonder why I’m writing it all here. Shouldn’t I just say exactly what I’m thinking to the person it pertains to? What good is it doing to let it out into the unkown?


The unknown can’t hurt me.


PS – as I’m re-reading this I realize how incredibly risky this was

Old Habits Die Hard

13 Mar

I am not exactly the best person in the world at making sound decisions. I’m impulsive, passionate, and emotional, which does not usually yield good choices. Sort of like, act now, think later, and deal with the consequences way longer than expected. I’m only human with my cross to bear.

It all started when my sister, trying to look out for me in the event I headed uptown on Saturday afternoon, told me that my ex was there, and to be careful. I really had no intentions of going uptown anyway, however that little nugget of information incited something within me. A few hours later, I reached out to apologize to him for being a psycho the past year and someodd months. Because let’s be honest… I was. I can admit when I was wrong, and there were a lot of things that I had said (both in this blog and in conversations) that were out of line and uncalled for. Much to my surprise, I received a counter-apology. And it sounded genuine. Which made it that much better. Harboring hate in your heart is such a damn pain, so clearing the air was just what the doctor ordered. Mindless conversation ensued, and so did an invite to grab a beer later that night.

The wave of panic that fell over me was like a ton of bricks coming from left field. Of course I wanted to grab a drink. But damn if the idea didn’t make my nerves shake… But I figured that I’m an adult and it would probably be a nice idea to grab a truce beer. A combination of my blindness and shaking hands made that drive over to Temple seem like an eternity. After parking, I called my big. I knew she was going to have some comments about my decision, but I at least needed a pep talk at this point, and boy did she deliver. After kind of collecting myself, I stepped out of the car to hear that goober singing to himself. Unsure if he was actually singing to himself, or was singing to make his presence known. But that’s not really important to this story.

The beer was cold, the seat wasn’t the most comfortable, but the company was everything I had hoped for. The conversation flowed the same as it did years ago. He reminded me that my facial expressions had not changed. I don’t really know if I reminded him of anything. But we sat, talked about the past and the present, wondered about the future, and laughed. I think the last part is the most important, since it shows you can go from wanting to punch someone in the arm for 485 days, to letting out the most hearty laugh because of them. It’s funny the way things change.

Speaking of change, my eyesight has completely turned to crap since he was a part of my life. And since he’s blind too, he just haaaaad to see me in my glasses. We left the bar, partially because our beers were done, and partially because of the overly social people beside us. Walking to the car, he was complimentary. Like wow he actually noticed that I put effort into my appearance. I mean, I kind of had to. Not seeing someone in that long calls for such things. Conversation continued, and he asked what I was doing the rest of the night. Since it was a Saturday and I was out grabbing a beer with him, it was pretty clear that my plans were none.  I had picked up a bottle from the ABC store, so we headed back to my apartment to work on that, and continue the good talks.

The rest of the night was important and great, but isn’t really the point of this post so we’re going to move into the important stuff. We woke up slow (like reeeeeeally slow), and I brought him back to his car so he could get back to Boone. I figured he deserved more than an Uber. A few jokes, a hug, and a see ya later, and I was back in my car heading home. And before I knew it, a familiar feeling kind of swept over me. A kind that I had felt so many times before, and I don’t mean when you realize you left your license at home. That was a hard goodbye. Not in the same sense that it once was, but I feel that it was especially hard because for all I know it really was a goodbye. I have no idea if I’ll see him again, or when. And that kind of rubbed me the wrong way. I’ll be totally honest, it’s not like yesterday was the first time he had crossed my mind in the last year and some change.

So I did what any girl does when she needs to analyze her feelings: turned to friends (and coffee). I tried everyone. Melissa, Cassidy, Majel, Shane….. everyone. It’s now 5 hours later and I’m sitting on the edge of my bed on the phone with Shane trying like hell not to cry.

Yeah yeah I cried. No ragrets. I’ve been in this situation before, same person too. And the outcome last time has me terrified for this time. At least now I have a better handle on what it is I’m thinking, though it’s really hard to articulate into words. Maybe I’ll have that figured out the next time I feel like writing.