I feel weird, and because I feel weird, I have been unable to blog. I have written nearly five entries in the last two weeks, but they’re either too honest for this blog, or too scatterbrained, so they just get saved as I move on. I haven’t even been writing in my journal, because my thoughts are just that random. The only problem is, I hate not writing, and it’s driving me mad…so I’m resorting to bullet points. Yup, bullet points of all my random thoughts;
I want to be a psychiatrist
I miss school because I hate working 9-5
I miss yoga and having free time
At least this busy-ness is practice for medical school
Sh*t, medical school
I’m going to be in school until I’m in my 30’s
What school do I want to go to for medicine? Wait, I haven’t even gone into my last two years of undergrad, calm down.
How will I have a life? I’m going to be a REALLY old mom.
Could I have a husband and children while doing my residency?
It’s a good thing Mr. Old and I broke up.
He could never be married to a medical student.
Have I eaten today?
No, I’m not in the mood for fish.
But yeah, the Lucy that loved Mr. Old would not be VP of scholarship, running for international VP, heading to Columbia, or even thinking about practicing psychiatry.
I ate way too much when we we’re together
Why don’t we have a Byron in America?
Dude, I should work out.
Lol, jk, I’m at work.
I have to go to that open call before school starts
You are pretty enough
Go eat some broccoli
I really love the Whole30
Mainly because it makes me feel good
I love how easy life is with Mr. New
He would rub my feet after a long day of school.
He inspires my greatness.
You should marry a guy like that, right?
What if medical school ruins my love life.
Oh well, I’ll hug my patients.
Let’s see how they did it on Grey’s Anatomy
Wait, I have a meeting to go to
I’m going to be late…to.my.own.meeting.
But first, I need that pink toothbrush.
It’ll take five minutes.
I’m the worst leader ever.
Just kidding, that plan is brilliant.
And so are my teeth.
They’re all excited to manage my campaign, score.
Let’s go see Mr. New, I need food.
I need to play Beyonce all the way to his place, because that meeting has me feeling like a “Diva.”
Imma, a diva.
He made dinner.
He could totally love me through medical school.
Oh wait, there is no kale. He’s trying to make me fat.
Could we spend our lives together? I mean, he forgot the kale…but not the potatoes?!
Doesn’t he know models and potatoes don’t mix?
I told him to add the potatoes in the recipe, my bad.
He just opened a can of “let’s talk about the future.”
I can’t commit to you. I’ve made plans to follow and be followed with someone before.
They stopped following and if we weren’t worth the struggle, no relationship is… don’t you get it?
Relationships should be easy. We are easy now.
What if we’re not easy when I’m pulling all nighters or in a different city?
Am I thinking out of fear?
Stop it, Lucy.
You two work, his plans match your plans; sure, he forgets the kale, but hey, what’s a lack of nutrients amongst love?
Oh, this foot rub doe.
Life may get hectic, but that’s the beauty of it.
So, there you have it, 61 random thoughts I had yesterday. Thank you for reading through my scatterbrained mess, as I couldn’t manage to turn that all into an inspirational tale of ex-boyfriend thoughts and hypothetical medical school meltdowns.
After my post yesterday, I realized that one of the reasons my “destiny” is often better than my plans, is because I very rarely give myself enough credit. Everything that is coming to me now was once a dream I discarded as unrealistic at some point in my life; the school, the guy, the place…all of it.
Columbia has been my dream since I was 13 years old, the guy has been my dream since I was 16 years old, and the place has been my dream since I was so young, I can’t even remember what age I was. Unfortunately, somewhere after my 17th birthday, I decided to settle for what I thought I deserved.
17 year old me had excuses for why I would never be good enough for my dreams.
“Columbia wouldn’t take a home-schooled kid, I am not the glistening picture of what an ivy league student looks like on paper, so I guess some local college will have to do. A guy like him doesn’t fall in love with a girl like me. I am a bit chubby, quite awkward, and far from the being equal to his modelesque appearance and dazzling life; I guess I’ll just settle for whoever will love me. I’ll never make it to New York or even London. I mean, how could I? Not smart enough to go to school there, not capable enough to get a job there, so I guess this little town is it.”
Over the last couple of days, I have began to realize that my compromises (the boy, the school, the place) have completely fallen apart.
He has moved on and found his equal, I am bored to tears with the ease of my current college situation, and I feel totally out of place here. As I look back at my blog and old journal entries, I realize that in the process of clinging to my compromises, I stumbled across my dreams, and I can honestly say it was all an accident. I achieved all of these things to prove to the boy, the school, and the place which I settled for, that I was good enough for them.
The life I settled for was easy. Everyone wants to be loved and accepted, and venturing outside of that is scary. However, my compromises were not all bad; I did fall in to what I thought was love, I did make some friends, I proved to myself that I am capable, and I did find some happiness. What I didn’t do was realize that even the things I settled for could go wrong, and settling isn’t actually safe or easy. Just because he and it weren’t everything I dreamed of, didn’t mean he and it would always be there and make me happy.
All of that to say, Columbia is staring me in the face, that man’s life is falling perfectly into mine, with no effort, and that place made me feel alive again, as I could taste the reality of calling it home. It is all becoming real so quickly; it’s a bit scary.
I have finally realized that mediocre is just as scary as extraordinary. I am better than I gave myself credit for and given the choice, I choose the wonderful accidents in my life over the compromises made thinking I didn’t deserve them.
Dismissing Warwick is yet another form of closure. When we were together, I dreamed of being in the same place, like a normal couple. After we split, I held on to the idea that we were soul mates damned by distance. At some point after that, I began to realize the latter was not so, and it was irrational to ever think that was the truth. There are many reasons we didn’t work out. At first, that was something I was bitter about, but now it gives me the motivation to decline what was once my dream.
I know there is no love there, we’ve both moved on, and I think he’ll probably be relieved/indifferent to know I’m going to decline; but none of that actually makes it easier to finally walk away from something I loved and worked for over the last couple of years.
I’ve told myself a million times that I would NEVER take him back, and rationally, I am completely sure of that. Yet, declining makes me reallycome to grips with the fact that this will not have some fairy tale ending. We won’t have that magical love story where two high school sweethearts fall in love, are tragically torn apart by distance, date other people and accept that it’s over, then magically run into each other’s arms at Heathrow (I’ve watched Love Actually an unhealthy amount of times) and carry on to their happily ever after. It’s all very conflicting.
Declining this offer makes reality set in. It makes me realize that everything I thought about us was wrong. For the longest time I thought we were this once and a lifetime kind of love and that was worth fighting for. Turns out, we were just another set of foolish teenagers. There was no magic or soul mate type love, just two young people looking for a temporary high.
That is not to say that it wasn’t enjoyable, and I guess at this point, that’s all that matters; but declining that offer makes it clear that nearly three years of thinking I was in love with someone in an extraordinary way, will end in a semi-fond memory that will eventually fade, nothing life changing.
In reality, I know where I belong, what I should be doing, and who I belong with. Everything I’ve been thinking as I prepare for this are things I accepted and dealt with ages ago.
But there is something about officially declining, that makes it all real, a sort of contract with reality. It’s one thing to acknowledge it in my head, it’s another thing to see a dream I had for so long, attached to a person I wanted standing next to me when it came true, and deciding to just completely cut it off and not think twice about it.
I don’t feel heartache, I’m not angry or even emotional, and in a way I am ready to move beyond this glimmer of irrational thought; but something still makes this difficult, and I’m not sure if it’s my hatred for changing plans or a real disappointment I need to deal with (or both).
What do you guys think? Does this even make sense?
Lucy Loves Life…and eventually studying in the UK xx
Last Monday, I left New York. Last Monday I got in the taxi to head to the airport with butterflies in my stomach. I had fallen madly in love on so many levels, but on every level, there were my dreams.
Being home, it is so easy to forget what I am working so hard to accomplish; so much so, that the idea of settling down and just accepting the state of comfort I live my life in now, didn’t seem so bad.
It had been so long since I had last felt butterflies, that I was beginning to forget just how wonderful and worth the risk they really are. New York taught me that the tingling in your stomach and that smile on your face don’t just come from falling in love with a guy, because there is more to that.
Yes, the guy part is great, but I fell in love with Columbia University, I fell in love with the city, I fell in love with what could happen if I just put all of my efforts into making my dreams a reality.
The most important; I fell in love with never settling. Those butterflies? I need them. They drive me to be better, to accomplish things I wouldn’t normally think possible, and they make life worth living.
It took a weekend trip to find my butterflies, but I did.
I wake up every day working back to that place; with him, with them, with that school, with that city, with the place that I feel fulfilled in a way that will never let me fall into ‘just comfortable’ ever again.
My next post I will bombard you all with pictures and random descriptions with my adventures; but for now, I am enjoying the rejuvenation that came with my weekend away.
I am at the place where I feel like I know everything and nothing.
I have figured out my past relationship… Mistakes made, our personalities, many lessons of what I want and don’t want (but mainly don’t want), and it all makes sense now. In a way, I am at peace; yet I have found myself uneasy in a new relationship… I dont know what to expect. I don’t know how to feel, I don’t know which differences are good and which are bad, and I really have no idea what I am doing or what to expect.
No one mentioned the aftermath of healing from a heartbreak where you no longer act while comparing to the past relationship.
It’s literally as if I am entering my very first relationship, again.
Does this make sense? Or do I sound as confused as I actually am?
Lucy Loves Life…and sappy songs that make sense of life xx
So, if you have been following my blog for the last couple of days and you like many of my followers are thinking, ‘Man, Lucy must be having a rough week…” I’m here to tell you that you’re right. I don’t remember the last time I felt as low as I do right now. My self esteem is in the toilet, and that seems to be tainting everything else.
I have lost myself.I have lost the dressed-to-the-nines, stiletto wearing, wild haired woman that I once was. I was known for the “swag” in my walk, my need to be slightly over dressed, and my class with a splash of sass. Men with sculpted figures and stunning English accents fawned over me and thought I was the best thing since sliced bread, and some how I have lost that. Somehow I don’t feel beautiful anymore, not even to myself.
Anyway, this is not a sad post, but one of change and positive adjustments. My life is at a bit of a stand still, but I plan on taking whatever steps I can to find myself again. I may hate my current circumstances, but I can’t let my hate become who I am. With that being said, join me in my small effort towards a positive change, starting with the three things I am going to change right now.
1. I am going to appreciate what I have in the present
In reality, life is actually pretty upside down at the moment. However, I’ve decided that it is time to see the things in my life that are going extremely well. “Things” being my huge, massive, unbelievably scary dream of going to university overseas. In the last couple of weeks it has become a thousand times less scary, as counselors and peers have walked into my life, and given me the confidence to tackle this overwhelming process, head first. It is all coming together so beautifully, and for that, I am grateful.
2. I am going to find my give-a-damn
It sounds dramatic, but changing the way I dress, changed me…for the worse. I traded in my pencil skirts and well fitted (but never tight) dresses for floor length maxi skirts, baggy blouses, and apparently my sense of give-a-damn. I lost my fight to eat well, exercise, and all other forms of caring for myself. There used to be a time when I carried myself like a boss (for lack of a better word), and I need to get that back. Extreme modesty (especially considering I’ve always been pretty modest) has sucked the life out of me and it time to find a balance. I need to care about what I look like, I need to care about what other people see when they look at me, and I need my sparkle back.
So guy, I am on a mission to get my give-a- damn back. I need my confidence, I need my self esteem, and I need to get rid of the gray cloud hanging over my life, otherwise known as insecurity.
3. I’m going to stop mourning my old life, and work on incorporating it into my current life.
The truth of the matter is, I can’t have my old life back. I was well dressed and confident because I was traveling, I was surrounded by people very similar to myself, and constantly being pulled together and presentable was the rule not the exception. Now…I am a student in a sleepy town and my social circles no longer consist of those types of people (but they are just as wonderful).
Sooo life will never be as it was (and sometimes that’s a good thing)… but I can get my spark back, I can dress the way I did, gain the confidence I had back, and get my swagger back. I can have that and still enjoy the good things I have now, that I didn’t have then.
Hopefully this un-poop-ifys my life, because, dude…I’m over this. I know life is going to brighten up, it always does…but sometimes a girl needs a little game plan to get back to happy land, and hopefully this is mine. Thank you guys for sticking through this little rough patch of a week I’ve had. I will be back to spewing rainbows and flavored water recipes in no time.
We have all seen the movies with the pretty girl that has it all. She is beautiful, sexy, well dressed, popular, in a relationship with some hunky dude, she pays people to do her dirty work (homework, test, job assignments, etc) because she is too stupid to do it, she always gets her way, and she never eats. If I had to name a movie off the top of my head, I would say Mean Girls is a pretty appropriate example of what I mean when I described the stereotypical pretty girl.
I am extremely over the misconceptions made about the “pretty girls.” I am guilty of assuming these things when I see girl I consider to be “too pretty,” but one day I woke up and realized I was that pretty girl. Before you carry on reading this thinking that I am full of myself…hear me out…
As a young girl, preteen/young teenager age, I didn’t have a whole lot going for me. I was always just a little bit too fat, my teeth were crazy, I had no idea what I was doing with my makeup, my sense of fashion was a train wreck, I wasn’t doing all that well in school, boys bullied me relentlessly (middle school jerktards), and my overall self confidence was garbage.
I used to watch the naturally skinny girls with clear skinned smiles who had the boys drooling over them as if they were the lepers. Immediately I attached the stereotypical, Mean Girls, pretty girl label on them, because it almost made me feel better to have a reason to hate myself, and them. I envied them, I wanted nothing more than to be the pretty girl, and then one day….
I lost loads of weight, got my braces off, watched endless makeup tutorials until I got it all right, learned to dress my figure, earned my perfect GPA, shut all those boys up, and learned to love myself. Oh. M. Gee. I became the pretty girl. I became the girl everyone loves to hate…and you know what…it sucks! It sucks, SO hard!
Why? Well, let’s examine the pretty girl stereotypes and destroy each one to fully discover why it is that I wish I had braces again….
1. Pretty girls get all the attractive guys.
WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. I remember feeling a bit irritated by an innocent comment made by one of the few pre-teens I have as a Facebook friend.
I posted this photo and she commented with “You’re so pretty Lucy. Tons of guys are probably head over heels for you!” I laughed…and then got angry as more and more people began to like her comment.
Why? Because part of me thought she should be right. Part of me thought “I look freakin’ hot today, and everybody who has ever seen Mean Girls knows I should be adored by every male that lays his eyes on me?!” But there I was, and the other part of me was thinking, adore me? Dude, I’ll take like me, or even speak to me.
My break up with Simon was fresh, and her comment poured salt in the massive wound that was my heart, because regardless of how pretty she thought I was, it wasn’t enough to make him love me. I felt pretty, and beautifully empty. My beauty didn’t buy me love, it really didn’t even buy me happiness. I busted the myth that pretty girls always get the guy, because in reality, at the height of my attractiveness, I was more alone than chubby/ugly/frumpy Lucy ever was.
I’ll go a step further and say that Simon fell in love with chubby/ugly/frumpy Lucy, and broke up with the pretty girl version.
2. Pretty girls have loads of friends
They say that every group of friends needs the ugly girl to make them all look better…well, I was the ugly friend. I was the ugly duckling in a pond full of swans. I thought I had loads of friends because I have a cool personality, but as I became the pretty girl, I realized that was not the case. I stopped being their charity case, and became the girl their boyfriends wanted to hang out with. My friends turned into “haters,” and I wasn’t quite sure what I had done.
Years later I realized that it had nothing to do with me. My personality didn’t change… I was still the overly weird girl, who wasn’t afraid to release my man laugh if the joke was good enough. I just became a threat, and they began to tear me down and make me feel as if I was the problem.It was then I realized that I needed friends that were secure in themselves. I needed friends that would encourage me to blossom and reach my full potential.
I needed friends that would compliment my outfit, tell me I looked pretty, and be genuinely happy for me instead of spitting it through gritted teeth. It was and still is very hard for me to ever think anyone could be jealous of me (because I am still half Oompa Loompa in my mind) but after a few major hits to my self esteem, I began to realize that being pretty does not win you friendship, it brings jealously from most, and genuinely wonderful friendships from the rest.
As the pretty girl, I have less friends than I ever have, and I am happy with that. The friends I have now want to see me succeed,they want to see me happy, they build me up, and one by one, I add another genuinely wonderful and loving friend to my group, cautiously.
3. Pretty girls are stupid.
A few weeks ago, I met with the honors program coordinator at my college. I was bubbling with excitement, as I waited for my meeting with her to finalize my induction into the honor society. I dressed in my usual Lucy fashion (I tend to err on the slightly overdressed but professional side of things), did my hair in a pretty, but modest style, and kept my make up as subdued as possible. I walked into her office, handed her my transcripts and my portfolio, and shook on the inside as she reviewed all of my information.
“You’re too pretty to be in this honors program,” she said in a joking manner with a slight chuckle under her breath. At first I smiled with her as I took it to be a compliment, but a few hours later, it actually really insulted me. I was really hoping she would’ve commented on something important, like, ooooh my GPA, the exam results I stayed up until three in the morning studying for, or even my community service with domestic violence victims. But instead she felt the need to tell me I was too pretty to have the sort of accomplishments that I had.
I would love to say that it is just her, but to be honest, there is something about a woman that knows how to apply a bit of make up, pop on a pair of spanks and hold an intelligent conversation that really freaks people out. I am very ambitious, I have very well formed opinions, and there are very few things in this world that make me happier (or more heated) than a conversation with a person who challenges those opinions and forces me to think. So for her to just whittle me down to pretty face and assume that I couldn’t possibly be as smart as the transcripts in front of her described, was infuriating, insulting, and above the rest, disappointing.
4. Pretty girls have the perfect life.
No. No. No. There are some days I wish I could just be the version of myself I was too busy hating. Sometimes I wish I could go back and enjoy that time in my life. I wish I could go back and tell fourteen/fifteen year old Lucy that her idea of perfection wasn’t going to win her the handsome boyfriend, a million friends, and loads of respect. I wish I could tell her that there is more to life than that. I wish I could tell her that sometimes being the pretty girl makes life harder than it needs to be. I wish she knew that the clear skinned girls she hated in high school were not nearly as fortunate as she gave them credit for. Most importantly, I wish she knew that happiness, true love, genuine friendship, and respect, are more important than straight teeth, clear skin, and a number on the scale.
You will always find that girl who seems to have the perfect life, but as I’ve just told you, things are not always as they seem. Being the pretty girl doesn’t make life better, as a matter of fact, sometimes it gets worse. Be encouraged that you are worth more than what you look like, because pretty girls have awful days, sometimes awful lives, and no amount of physical beauty can fix that. By the same token, there are pretty girls that really do have it all going for them, but just in case you haven’t picked up on this yet, it wasn’t their face that brought them that life.
Work on yourself, so that when you finally achieve your perfect life, you will be beautiful from the inside, out, instead of just on the outside like a Mean Girls character. Work on yourself, become who you want to become, and I guarantee that the right guy, the right friends, and that picture perfect life you dream about, will find it’s way to you, sans burn book.
P.S. #5 Pretty Girls Don’t Eat
I love ice cream, and burgers make me giddier than a school girl.
If you feel the need to live on a diet, I feel bad for you son, I got 99 problems, but being hungry ain’t one.
Well guys, I’ve made it through my first month in blog land. I’ve decided that after every month I will recap what the last month taught me, and my new goals for the month to come. We will call this Where Is She Now: Lucy Edition. Like that Oprah show, but a thousand times cornier, and without, ya know, Oprah.
Because I have a million different things going, let’s break this into segments:
Diet & Fitness:
Wow oh wow. Quite a bit has changed in the last month, in a way that looks nothing like I thought it would a month ago. I made this trip with the intentions of completing the Whole 30, being a little cardio bunny, and looking super awesome when I left, see here for more detail.
Long story short, that didn’t happen. For the first week, I was eating really well, keeping the Whole 30 detox plan perfectly…and then my love of ice cream hit. It became pretty obvious that this extreme dieting wasn’t going to work out, as realized here. So I kind of just stuffed my face and started scrambling for something different. After watching Fat Head, I decided to give the 100 grams of carbs or less a day thing a chance. OH. MY. GOODNESS.
Where has this been all my life?!
Life was splendid. I knew how much I was eating, I could plan for a cheat (that wouldn’t actually screw me up), and life became simple/freakin awesome.
As for fitness, if you hadn’t guessed…I didn’t become a cardio bunny. On the contrary, I lift, like… properly. My workouts mainly consist of weight training, with two cardio days a week. The result?
I ACTUALLY HAVE A BUTT!!!!
I would post a photo but that’s just rude.
Granted, I’ve always had a booty, but in a month’s time, it has lifted and firmed up in ways I didn’t think possible in such a short amount of time. If that weren’t enough, I’ve also really come to love having a different form of progress. When being fit goes beyond the scale, and into a measurable change in my own strength, I feel empowered instead of just thinner… That is priceless! I didn’t expect a booty out of this whole thing…I just wanted to be skinnier. The scale has only moved two pounds, but how can I argue with this booty thing?
At the beginning of this month, I sat in the airport, holding back tears while examining the state of my life at that point in time. I was disappointed as I saw my family change and experience amazing things, while I just wallowed in the fact that my life had disintegrated in a year. Last month I sat in the airport as a girl still crushed by her break up, still mourning the summer before, terrified of what the next year had to bring, and still grieving everything my life no longer was without my boy… I won’t go into full detail, but here is a little glimpse into why I was having said meltdown. I am a professional pity party thrower, and that is exactly what I did.
A month later, and the only thing I have learned was how much I have learned! It was when I found myself all alone that I realized I needed to learn to love and grow myself, by myself for my sake, and for the sake of those around me. This month, I have done just that. Being away from my family/friends, having no distractions, and being so single it’s crazy, I had time to really find out who I am, and as it turns out…I really like myself.
When I wrote “Are You A Psychotic Girlfriend?” it made me realize just how much I have grown and blossomed on my own. As a result of all this new found confidence and stability, I am a better daughter, partner, friend, and person. The relationships I have with those I love are currently the best they have ever been. It wasn’t until this month that I realized that I was impossible to love, because I thought I was unlovable, not because I actually sucked at life. I crippled my own self esteem, and made everyone that came into my life, fix it. So once I changed that, life got brighter, the birds sung louder, and I cant think of anything to say more clique than that, so you’re welcome.
I owe all of these changes to my beliefs, the change in my family life, maturity, and my independent need for constant change and growth. So to keep that change and growth going, I’m going to go ahead an outline my goals for the coming month. Because my ultimate goal here is to build the very best version of myself before leaving to study in the United Kingdom (well, England), so naturally all of my goals are centered around those two things.
In the next month, I will be getting all my school stuff squared away, finalizing the papers for my induction to the honors program, studying for the SIX exams I have to take in November, writing an amazing personal statement, spending as much time with my friends and family as possible, and maintaining all of the awesome things I have achieved the previous month (especially the booty building thing). All while enjoying my summer and new found lessons.
A huge thanks to all of you that have commented,subscribed, shared, and helped to make this blog more successful than I could have ever imagined in such a short time.