"Friends"

I may be in the minority here, and I guess I'm okay with that. I know deep down that I'm a good person. Am I perfect? Far from it. I have my flaws. I can be an asshole at certain times, I can be standoffish at others, but if I consider you a friend of mine, there isn't much I wouldn't do for you. There's one issue that I have come to realize over time, and it's becoming more and more evident as I age:

I'm an afterthought in most people's minds. 

Now, I'm not looking for pity. Not in the least. Hell, by all accounts you probably won't even be able to tell who wrote this. However, if reading this gets you to take that "friend" who's an afterthought, reach out to them and go to a sporting event, movie, dinner or even make a good old phone conversation, then this is worth every second I spent writing it. 

It's not like I'm sitting at home waiting for someone to call me. I have a life that consumes much of my time. I am successful in my chosen career, I have a family with children that keep me busy, and other things that keep my attention. But with what very little free time that I may have, it seems like whenever I try to make plans, the excuse train comes barreling by.

Now granted, I understand that sometimes last minute plans cannot happen, but the law of averages would make you believe that if you called ten people to do something in a single night, at least ONE of them would say yes. You can guess how successful my stats were: 

One out of ten.

I conducted a little test for myself over the last week just to see if I was overthinking this whole thing. In the time I didn't reach out to anyone other than family or business matters and I don't recall one person reaching out. Not via phone, text, Facebook, Twitter. Nothing. Not. A. Soul. 

What am I supposed to think? Is this Karma for all the shitty things that I've done in the past? Some kind of retribution from a higher power? 

I don't really know. For all I know, I just have a really shitty core group of people in my life, yet they still talk to each other. Either way, it's a dejecting feeling knowing that the people you hold in close regard clearly don't care enough about you to make the slightest of efforts. One of few things can come of this. I accept the fact that I'm obviously not the person I thought I was: 

The kind, caring, funny person that everyone wants to be around.

I find new people to surround myself with who actually give a shit about me. I could do nothing, still be the guy reaches out to everyone, getting shot down every time I lay out an idea to do something, but I will always accept an offer when it's given to me.  Or could it all change? Who knows?

I'm sure some of you that read this would know me if I actually put my name in the submission and think:

"Oh Jesus, I had no idea so and so felt like this."

But then, I would always think that anytime someone DID call, it was out of pity and that's worse than not calling at all. 

At the end of the day, I know for a fact that I'll be okay. I've overcome a lot worse than this, believe me! This post may seem sad to some and a cry for help to others, but I just wanted to vent, say my piece and get everyone to think about how they act in their lives. 

I truly do love my life, I have a ton of things to be grateful for, so do not take this for anything more than me letting my thoughts and feelings flow into tangible words. My kids make me happy, my significant other makes me happy and I truly do enjoy spending every second that I am able to with them. 

They are my heart and my world! 

But it would be nice to go see that new action movie, comedy show or U.F.C. fight with a buddy once in a while. I'd say I'll hold my breath, but if the experiment I ran is any indication, I'd need CPR before that happened.

 Anonymous

Grieving 101: The Emotional Marathon

“I can't be running back and fourth forever between grief and high delight.” 

― J.D. Salinger 

But I do.

It's exhausting, really.  It's something along the lines of an emotional marathon.  One that I find myself running every few years, against my will and against my wishes. 

Now, I've never run a real marathon before, however, this emotional marathoning isn't for the weak of heart either, that's for sure!  Each miserable stride burns more than the next breath.  You wonder how the hell you're going to get through this.  All those miles ahead, one thumping foot in front of the other.  Then, something happens along the way and everything quiets down for a moment when you realize... everything has gone numb.  You can't feel a damn thing!  Your reaction:  Hallelujah!  This respite allows you to coast for a spell.  Who cares if you can't feel anything.  Feeling, especially at times like these, is over-fucking-rated. This is your Menthol Mile, baby, and you better enjoy it.  Because slowly and then all at once the burn breaks through again and you'll be leaving a trail of smoke behind you for all the wrong reasons. In time, you'll stop screaming "holy hellfire" and simply accept the flames.  They are, some say, what make you or break you.

I don't know.  Sometimes I think "What the fuck?".  Sometimes I simply can't believe it all and I stand there wonderstruck, in the least magical way possible.  Every so often a wave of peace washes over me and I realize it's all ok, all of it, even the parts that aren't ok, if that makes any sense.

My thoughts ride a wicked pendulum.  They whip from side to side, up and down, from here to there, now to then and back again a million times in the blink of an eye.  Sounds fun, right? Yeah, just about as fun as that clown in Stephen King's "It" (insert shivers here please).  

It turns out my circumstances have demanded that I get good and clear on what I believe in….and I mean what I TRULY believe in.  As in...what is all of this heartbreaking, beautiful, chaotic, exotic, full blown insanity worth in the midst - and in the end - of it all?

My belief system, I've learned, is made up of the following:  Love, the amazing, true kind of love that makes all this shit worth while.  Heaven.  Family.  Life, this one beautiful life.  Friendship.  Forgiveness, regardless of what a battle it is to achieve it.  Impact, the kind you make and the kind that's made on you.  Karma, what you give, you get.  Peace, the sacred hunt for it.   And honesty.

It's my 3rd Emotional Marathon in 8 years.  

Although you'd think I'd be a frontrunner with all this "experience" the truth is, right now, I'm just pacing myself to get to the finish line without shitting my pants.

Tara Mazzeo Jackson

Co-Founder of Storytellers:  The Collective, 

Curator for Bohemian Living, Owner/Artist of Bungalow Wilde 

and Blogger at Bits & Pieces.

Tara is a lover of yoga, bleeder of words and a bohemian city-kid who has a knack for rescuing stray animals.  

She has a mean case of wanderlust and you’d be hard pressed to find her without these things:

a journal in her bag, a camera in-hand and sun kissed shoulders.

Tara writes from experience, pain, truth, triumph and that place, 

deep down, where the words simmer in emotion.