A Crazy Ride

You know that thing we sometimes do, when something really great is staring us in the face and your girl brain turns you into a fucking crazy person and it feels like you're dangerously close to sabotaging that great thing, watching yourself outside of your body, trying to figure out how to stop it?

Yeah, that.

It's not just me, right? I mean, I know there are some girls who just always have all of their emotions under control and a random Facebook post won't ever ruffle a single hair on their head, but those women might as well be superheroes as far as I'm concerned.

I'd love to have that composure, but I just don't. As I've said before, it's almost a certainty that something will come out of my mouth at some point that will perplex, frustrate or even enrage you ... and all I can do later is apologize. I have no poker face ... you always know what I'm thinking or feeling. My sleeves are overcrowded with my emotions. It may be both my best and worst trait.

I will say this. In my twenties, I was like that about everything. I let it all get under my skin and my feelings were always hurt. It was exhausting. The best part of my thirties so far is that I have learned to filter that. My feelings still get hurt, of course, but only the really important things -- or people -- get under my skin now. So I guess there's that -- if I do perplex you with something I say out of emotion, at least you know it means I care about you.

At the same time, I still think I need to chill the fuck out. Looking back on some of my blunders and worrying that I've made myself look fifty shades of crazy ... that feeling is certainly worse than whatever insecurity I was likely feeling that led to it.

Not everything is about me? What?

I'm rambling a little here. But what I want to say is this: I met someone I really like and seem to be simultaneously trying to just be myself, trying to hide that part of me that overreacts or gets a little too dramatic, trying to get in touch with my emotions over the screaming insecurities of my brain and worrying about looking too emotional.

I really just need to breathe and be myself.

And also, in a strange moment of clarity and showing me where I've been and where I am now, The Dude said this to me today: "Tiffany, maybe you just need to open up to this guy and tell him how much I fucked you up."

Deep breaths.

This thing we call life is a crazy ride, y'all. But I think I kinda like it that way.