La Vie Est Un Cadeau @adeeeblogs - Tumblr Blog

I can’t only write when I feel sad. But I need to write somewhere.

I started my tumblr senior year of college... or right after graduation. I forget exactly. However, I always feel like nothing has changed since but realize that it has changed and it should change.

The past few months have been so strange. At the start of October life felt like an out of body experience. There I was, packing up my life in San Francisco. The packing that seemed all too familiar and I had expected to happen much sooner than it actually did. San Francisco was my dream for so long. When I got there, I was promoted very quickly and suddenly earning more than double of what I made in Chicago. I had all these grandiose plans of saving to move out of the apartment I had moved into, living this amazing San Francisco life. But time kept going and nothing was changing.

I started my job knowing of all the places it could lead me. I envisioned all the different connections I could build and all the different places where life could take me. Not only did the love of my life live in New York but eh aspirations I had always had work wise resided there. And every month I felt drained. Every month petty challenge after petty challenge came.... and nothing changed.

Fast forward 3 years into this job and nothing was changing and nothing felt like growth. I dove myself into book after book about leadership and management. I read every article I stumbled upon. I followed new twitter accounts. I became invested in becoming this better version of myself as a boss and leader. But I would walk into work and get pushed into a closet (literally, my office was in a closet sort of space). The ideas were shut down. And as I saw this organization quickly fail, I would offer an idea and get shut down. Intimidating, aggressive were amongst the common words my boss used to describe me. Yet, when I sat at tables, I felt the fire I had just die more and more every single month. Every single week even.....

Crying in the bathroom became frequent. I blamed it on this stupid relationship.... in retrospect.... the place where I was going into every day... the job where I spent over 120hrs bi weekly on a regular basis was the place that made me feel inferior. The place that left me yearning for validation... and maybe the relationship insecurity also stemmed from that.

And then I just couldn’t. I no longer cared much about the mission. I cared about coming home to my bed. My panic attacks kept me on a high alert and 75% of the time I thought about my breathing and how to control that. I spent my days telling myself that I was stressed and I didn’t need to go to the emergency room (I still went a few times). Things at home also kept getting worse with the roommate from hell situation.... I was paying so much money in medical bills after a year of figuring out what was wrong with all the stomach aches I kept getting... surgery... etc.

Then I quit.

I packed up my life in San Francisco feeling destroyed but so relieved that when I finally couldn’t do it anymore, my parents welcomed me with open arms and helped me in every way possible. They sat there watching me cry it out and let me know life would go on and life would be okay. I went to New York, then LA spent time with friends and then 2-3 weeks crying in my bed at any given notice.

Then I got up one day. I applied for a job to get me out of the house and out of my bed. I went for a hike. I did a phone application work out. And a few days ago, I realized that I hadn’t cried in two weeks. I have felt frustrated but let it stand for a minute and let it go. I have felt sad but able to refocus on whatever I am doing. Today I started saving and starting job applications for things I would want to do. And I am here writing about it. About how this life.... it doesn’t feel like it is mine. But I am starting to make it mine.

The people (specifically one person) I met at the end of my life in San Francisco.... shortly before my first ER visit.... (our first date was the day of the visit actually)…. I feel that he has not gotten to know ME and yet knows the hidden things that I wouldn’t regularly tell anyone. He knows the spontaneity I can have when things don’t feel right and the fear and anxiety that can overwhelm me. He knows me at the moment when I feel a little homeless and a little displaced. He knows this side of me that takes breaks a time to myself and isn’t checking an inbox every few minutes.... He knows this person I hardly recognize myself.

And there are the friends that left during this time. The one that told me she didn’t know how to handle my stress when it hadn’t even begun …. the one that left because she said I couldn’t fully support her as a friend. And there are the ones that stayed and I am afraid will leave one day. There is my family that I feel so grateful for. The family that has kept me grounded and feeling safe.

And there is writing. Incoherent thoughts. Ones that I don’t care if they have grammar errors. The ones that just flow from my head. unedited. Not revised. The ones that I just don’t think anyone reads and I really don’t care.

Maybe I’ll start using this again.... but life is good. I am not sure what will work out but I know something will....

i need the sadness to go away.

Sometimes my biggest fear is that I’ll never love anyone again. What a sad empty feeling that is.

books-n-quotes

Sometimes, you do things and you do them not because you’re thinking but because you’re feeling. Because you’re feeling too much. And you can’t always control the things you do when you’re feeling too much.

Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (via books-n-quotes)

quotemadness

We don’t realize what a privilege it is to grow old with someone.

Cecelia Ahern (via thatkindofwoman)

I really miss gurinder today.

I wish things didn’t end like this every time.

I have been in a relationship for the past year. Initially I thought I would gain a Snapchat friend- chat a few times, send a few flirty texts and everyone would go on living their life. At some point I realized that my days were not the same when we didn’t talk. I found myself sharing my life stories, my thoughts, hopes, insecurities, etc. I would think of him during the day and I was suddenly faced with a new found confidence. I felt so safe, secure and loved. We live on complete opposite sides of the country (me: SF him: NYC) but we saw each other. And being together was like being with someone you’ve known your whole life. Life felt right. The “honeymoon” phase faded, but there was this overwhelming sense of trust and commitment, willingness to work on problems and when I thought it would end ..... it got stronger. We learned how we each cope with problems differently and swallowed our pride to gain patience with each other and understand each other when things were/are tough. There were career highs and lows, family problems, things that didn’t go as planned, unexpected moves to different countries (him: India) - but day in and day out I know he is there. Sometimes I know he’s annoyed with me. And other times I send crazy annoying texts. But a response will always come - sometimes not immediately and sometimes not what I want. But the distance is making it harder and harder. I would move to New York in a heartbeat (even without him there really) but moves aren’t so easy. And the greatest distance is one I realized this weekend. I was watching his wrestling match. In the middle of a festival for a small Indian village in Punjab his family is from. And this sudden realization of how different our lives are come to me. The women and the men were all separated, the style of dress completely foreign to me, a language I don’t understand, gestures and mannerisms I find a little outdated and silly. It has always been clear that many of our problems stem from family and cultural differences. “But we are both American!” Is the thought I always go back to. But this weekend..... as I watched him take first place in a wrestling match in Punjab - I was overflowed with pride and joy for him - I wanted to hug him and tell him how amazing he did .... and I realized that even if I was there that gesture would not be allowed. And my heart is sinking. Sinking realizing that this relationship which I have worked for ..... this man that I love ..... this may not be a future for me. I want to believe that love really does overcome all.

I belong in New York City. Very few places feel like “coming home” the way this place does

Every break up sucks. But things always get better. Someone better always comes along. I'm trying to tell myself this over and over. I tell myself that people survive after breaking long marriages. People survive after having been with someone for years. I survived these things before. But everything hurts and everything feels numb. You try to figure out how you can make things better. You try to figure out what you could do to make things work. You want to turn back time and not have that initial first fight that made things go down hill. You remind yourself that you are whole and you are more than just this. You remind yourself of all your achievements just throughout this year. You remind yourself of your worth and value. It still doesn't make the heart heal quickly enough. But I know it will. It always does.

sitting in bed at 7:40pm on a Saturday night i realize that my biggest heartbreak this year was realizing my best friend of 14 years is now an acquaintance. there is nothing that can make me feel lonelier than that fact alone.

style diary, why does a crisp white top make everything feel better?

it's 5AM. I woke up, panicked for no reason. felt alone even though it's how I have been consistently waking up for years. I read back at my almost engagement post. I remember being so pensive about it. so pensive I asked my parents for their two cents. But the answer was clear, no. there shouldn't be so many doubts. the kindest man I am yet to meet will not only love the perfection, but the imperfection and the lonely and the anxiety and the ugly. shortly after I wrote that post, the negative effects of moving started settling in. the doubt if it was the right decision, the loneliness in a new city, the feeling of loss of self, stress trying to figure out life in the most expensive city in the country, the weight gain that comes from stress and not knowing how to adapt to a new life. and through all of this, this person I believed to be the kindest was the least supportive. the one that ignored me. the one that made me feel like I was being a drama queen. the one that pointed out when I stress broke out. but never pointed out that I was living out my dreams.

I'm not entirely sure how to not set myself up for disappointment.

it's the same old song with a different tune. everything felt so safe. everything felt so real. then, at a moment that you can't pinpoint it stops. now, hearts are racing waiting for an inevitable end. everything hurts because everything is broken. or maybe everything is healing. the point is that it happens over and over. it's happened before but the pain doesn't seem to lessen because of that. once again, was this broken or did it break with carelessness? who is to blame for an end that was probably always in sight?

I always wondered how someone would propose to me one day. Except, I couldn't imagine it actually happening. Then, one day I'm telling my boyfriend I need some coffee in the morning after a red eye flight and he asks ... "where would you want me to propose, by the river? by the trump?" So I laugh, dismiss it as a joke. And as time goes on he tells me he is ready to ask. Ready to be married. Ready to make a lifetime commitment. And me.... I am ready to run. To run as fast as possible. As far away as possible. But instead I'm frozen. Not ready to share my whole life with someone, not ready to show them my weaknesses, my failures and the things I am ashamed of. But not ready to say goodbye to the kindest man I have ever met. Not ready to say goodbye to the person that gives me all of his attention as often as he can. Not ready to say goodbye to the person that makes me feel safe and loved.

After 4 years, California is "home" once again. Hello Berkeley!

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