We are all different. I don't know how you can help.

All of the encouragement isn't enough. It actually makes me feel worse. It's the limits of their communication and reasoning. People try to help others with what they think would make themselves feel better. They think that their encouragement should make the difference. I wish it did. I feel worse because I know someone is trying to help, and I feel guilty that it isn't working. I feel bad that they fail. I don't know exactly how I handle my emotions, I just know that I do handle them. I have never been able to describe my problems in a way that it is understood by someone. I can only skirt the subject by writing about the fact that it exists. I don't mind failing as much as some people, but there are always kind people trying to encourage me. I don't know what it would feel like if they weren't there. Perhaps then I would understand the difference it made. Some people really push the idea that every person is uniquely different. Why do so many people take care of and treat other people's problems like we are all the same? 

Changed the label

In one week, I went from a 20-something bachelor to a 30-something engaged man. I don't know how I got to this state, but my decision to be here and make that change happen is a choice I made. It is a choice that I made with more conviction and confidence than any other that I have made in my life. 

Two things:

I believe that love is a choice. 
I do not believe that there is a "one" for anyone. 

I know that many cannot agree with either of these, and wonder then, how someone like me can be so assured of me making my move to ask a girl to marry me. That's okay. I'm not too concerned with what others think. I know what I know. I know that I could have resented this young woman years ago. I know what love is for me. I also know that there are other young women that I have met that had the potential to be wonderful, loving wives...and in return I would have given them all of me. But I didn't chose any of them. I chose the one that I did, and I am convinced that she is the best person for me. 

This young woman encompasses something divine for me. And I cannot resist something I believe to be a calling from a higher-power. Are there others who could have presented themselves to me in such a way? Perhaps. But that doesn't matter. Our paths have led us together and my heart, mind, and soul confirm that she is more than worth my life. 

My grandpa told me after I called him with the news that "Now the hard part begins."

Letting Things Go

I think that as everyone gets older, it becomes easier for us to let negative things go. We do not stress as much about what people think of us, we aren't as hard on ourselves on mistakes, it takes less time to forgive or forget slights, and we may even begin to shrug at some misfortunes.

I know that I feel this way now, and I can say that it is quite a relief to let go. Many negative things in life are only as powerful as we let them be. We create monsters out of those negative things, and give them their power. We do this a lot when we are children, and we continue to do this the rest of our lives. What we don't have to do, is make so many monsters. 

It's simple, but it's not easy. I think that every individual's path to understanding how to let things go is different. Mine for example, was purged in my youth. Other kids at school were very hard on me, and I was harder on myself still. I was very self-conscious, and though I was strong academically, I spent more of my time worrying about trying to get other kids to like me at school than anything else. I found something to fear in many aspects of my day-to-day existence: That I wasn't good enough at a sport, that I looked like a dork, that someone would push me around in the hallways, that my family was poor, that my artwork would get too much praise from the teacher, that someone would call me names, that I would sound too smart in class, that people would make fun of where I lived and the cars my parents drove, that I didn't wear the coolest clothes, that my handwriting was bad, that I was Catholic, that I had Jewish heritage, that... All of the things that were me, that identified who I was, I tried to hide and pretend weren't there. I couldn't let go of caring about all of those things, and it made a lot of my childhood miserable. 

Now I'm not complaining about my youth, I loved much of it, and was blessed with more than I ever could deserve. What I didn't have was the ability to let go. It was unfortunate that I went to a small town school; I didn't have friends that supported me and I wasn't comfortable letting myself open to identifying with anyone for fear of being made fun of. I taught myself well to hide. I pulled all of those monsters around with me on a tight chain, and hid them. Perhaps in a way I built fake monsters by not being myself: I tried to wear the clothes the other kid did, I kept quiet when I knew answers, I made excuses to avoid playing sports, I hid during recess and open class periods, I made my parents pick me up late or from distant locations to avoid being seen, I tried and failed to make fun of other kids...

Instead of letting go, I defied the world and myself! When I look back at that time now, I am floored with how stressed I was as a kid. I'd like to go back to that little boy now and tell him that it will all be okay. That none of "this" matters as much as he thinks it does. That he is only creating and building up monsters. But maybe that visit to the past would be a mistake. I am very proud of myself with how I handle stress now by letting things go, and maybe it took all of that practice as a child fighting monsters to get here.