The power of saying no

Remember that time you should have just said no and walked away? You know which time I'm referring to, don't you? We all have at least one. We are all haunted by it. Those times when you said yes when you should have said no will leave you with a bad taste in your mouth and a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach that never quite goes away. That's a little thing the masses like to call regret. It's a tangible emotional nuisance that's impossible to ignore.

Regret is an unfamiliar notion to me. I can list on one hand the things that I truly regret. Most of the things on that list have been the result of something I have done in the last year. And in each of those situations, a great deal of regret and unsettling sensations in the pit of my stomach could have been avoided if I had just said "no."

In hindsight, I know that I should have said no. I should have turned around. I should have walked away. But instead, I walked right into a brick wall held together by bad decisions and poor judgment calls. I said yes when my gut feeling told me to do the opposite. I let my choices be guided by all the wrong motivators and I paid the price.

More often than not, I was completely conscious of the fact that I did not, in fact, want to be in these situations. On the contrary, many times it was absolutely the last place I wanted to be. But I stupidly, albeit unintentionally, said to myself "I'm here and it's already gone this far, so there's no turning back now." But I knew, then and now, that this was absolutely, positively not true. It would have only taken one second, one word, and a tiny bit of courage and self-respect to say "Actually, no. This isn't what I want. I have to go." I could have changed everything if I would have just refused to give in to the coward within me and instead embraced the woman with dignity and unshakeable self-respect that I know myself to be.

Sure, I was going through some tough times during most of these moments and maybe the things I was doing brought me comfort or some sort of twisted self-validation, but that's nowhere near a valid excuse for behaving the way that I did.

In short, I screwed up. But I'm still here. I'm still standing. And I can still say that I can count my regrets on one hand. Because despite all the poor decisions I've made, I have somehow been able to drag myself out of them, sometimes kicking and screaming, sometimes gasping for air, and sometimes feeling completely disoriented.

But I have overcome, nonetheless. And from these mistakes and horrible choices, I've learned and I've grown. I have learned that, yes, you can kiss a few frogs now and then (as my mother likes to encourage me to do), but don't settle for them and certainly don't cry over them when they're gone. I have learned not to accept anything less than extraordinary, whether it's a job, your education, your relationships, an apology, you name it. If it's not exactly what you want and if it doesn't make you happy, leave it behind and keep looking. I have learned to ask for what I want and clarify what I don't. And I've learned to do this with unyielding decisiveness.

Finally, and most importantly, I adapted the ability to say no and embrace the power of that ability. That one seemingly tiny word has the strength to move even the most intimidating of mountains.

Now that I've learned my lessons, I find myself saying no more than ever before. It may just be the best thing I have ever done for myself.

Girls just wanna have fun. I'm no exception.

I like my coffee black, my whiskey neat, and my hands and heart free. So sue me.

I'm not a girl that likes being tied down. I don't like limits, or boundaries, or chains. I don't like being told that I can't. I don't like being restricted. But I think that's natural.

I'm a free spirit in most ways. I can be a little reserved given the right circumstances, but I'm innately the kind of girl who goes wherever the wind blows her. I take whatever life gives me and I run with it. As fast as I possibly can.

I have no fear of falling, unless it's in love. That may be the one thing that truly shakes me to my core. Just the thought of being thrown into that whirlwind of emotions gives me the sensation that I'm slowly and gradually being suffocated.

I'm just not a relationship girl. Honestly, I never really have been. The idea of commitment has always made me flee immediately.

Of course, I've had my fair share of relationships. But they either were short lived or long distance, which kept the men I dated always at arms length, just as I liked them. They were never close enough for long enough to ever become the "real deal."

And, yes, I've been in love, too. Once. It happened at a point in my life when I needed that kind of closeness, stability, and support. And then that time was over. And so was that relationship. It was a time of desperation and utter weakness. It was what I needed at the moment, not forever.

I'm the kind of girl who, really, just wants to have fun. I'm too consumed with my own dreams and aspirations and goals to get caught up in romance. My work has always been my biggest commitment. I become married to it. I'm career minded. It's just who I am. And a man just doesn't quite work into that equation.

Yes, I love men. Of course, I do. But I love them for a moment or from afar. Where they can't touch me or distract me or control me.

Maybe one day I'll walk down an aisle sprinkled with rose petals in a white dress. Maybe, but not any time in the near future. I'm too young for that. I could change my mind. I know that. However, for right now, my mind is made up. This girl just wants to run free. Is that so wrong?

Bent, broken, and burned

I like people who are damaged; people who have been broken down and torn apart. I like people who don't have it all together. Maybe it's because I like knowing that I'm not the only one who needs fixing. And maybe it's also because I like to be the one doing the fixing.

Perfect people bore me and annoy me and mostly make me want to scratch my eyes out. And, of course, I know that there is really no such thing as a perfect person. I simply just can't relate to those who have had the world handed to them on a platinum platter. And honestly, I see that as a good thing.

Granted, I know that my life is not necessarily one that would be deemed underprivileged by any reasonable standards. However, I've worked for everything that I have. Because I've had to. Because I don't want to be anyone's charity case. Because I can't stand those people who expect the world and everything brilliant in it to be delivered to them in a Tiffany's box. And because I never want to be one of them.

Anyone who has known me long enough to coax me to open up even slightly is aware of how broken a person I am at my core. I'm not going to try to hide that. I'm not one to pretend that everything is rainbows and butterflies when it isn't.

Yes, I'm probably one of the most bubbly and resilient people, maybe ever, but that's because I've been punched in the gut by defeat and disappointment and dejection. So I know when to appreciate the good times when they roll through.

But, my dark side, especially lately, has been making its presence known. And I'm smart enough and old enough to know that suppressing that part of myself is unhealthy. So here it is. Here I am.

I'm broken and beaten down. And that's okay. Because broken people are my favorite people. We're bonded by our hardships. We're kindred spirits. And we're blissful in our brokenness together.