2019, allison ryder, cancer, change, darkness, dreams, experience, growth, heartbreak, identity, inspiration, life, light, looking back, loss, love, moments, motherhood, new mom, pain, personal, perspective, poetry, publishing, travel, truth, word, work, writing
I have intermittently blogged since an old friend opened me up to the world of WordPress back when I was working with Janson Media to publish my first book of poetry. This was a time where I did not care what anyone had to say; I was going to be a famous writer and I was going to work for a publishing company and publish great works and find even greater writers.
My life didn’t go exactly as planned. Maybe if I had more focus and I wasn’t so easily lost in unrequited loves and distracted by moments. Sure, there’s tons I would do differently. I definitely would’ve double majored; probably in Business, maybe in Teaching (though I never could picture myself in front of a classroom with all eyes on me). I did get a recommendation from a professor who did not hand them out easily to enter the Masters Program but I didn’t want to stay in school, I wanted to begin my life and journey. I was already late in doing so, as I had taken two years off after losing myself in college sorority life and in need of a huge change and in need to re-develop my identity. I would’ve gone into every publishing company I could, seven days a week if necessary, to be noticed. I wouldn’t have ended up discouraged after countless publishing companies rejected me, even at an Administrative level. I had seven years of experience at that point, having started Admin work at 18 years old. I was qualified but invisible.
However, I also collected a worthy amount of moments, both while traveling and homebound. I may not have had gained any publishing experience but I gained life experience. I basked in different cultures, I challenged myself to do things I was afraid of, I pursued photography and poetry. Eventually I gave up working for a publishing company and I just spread my own words on social media platforms. I ended up publishing a second collection of poetry the Winter of 2015.
Come the Spring, my world was turned upside down with the death of my father, who had battled two years of a very aggressive and late stage of esophageal cancer. Writing no longer came as easy as it did. The writer’s block was massive. My light had gone out and I buried the pen the day I buried my father. Since then, the posts have been few and far between.
In the past, times of heartbreak and obstacle would fuel my brain and trigger poems that would astound myself at times but after writing his eulogy and learning what true pain, heartbreak, and regret felt like – I’ve been a corked bottle.
The Fall of 2018 reignited that light when I had my first son. The only thing I wanted more than writing was love and a family. I got the latter. One out of three is phenomenal when I look into my baby’s eyes – I see everything I could ever want.
Having him has inspired me to write again. To contemplate writing a novel and perhaps even getting personal with it. Generally I mask personal in a vivid display of metaphors and make believe.
So this is my “I’m back” piece. Because one day he is going to have dreams and I don’t want anything to stop him from going after them. Because one day he is going to ask me if I went after mine and I want to tell him I did relentlessly. Because I have a son to raise and I want to do it with money made from something I love. Because he is the light of my life and that light gives me something to hold onto, as I uncork years of anger, pain, regret, resentment. He is my saving grace and I know diving into these depths may get dark but now, I’ll always have light in my corner.
table for one.
it’s not the loneliness that kills us.
it’s the lack of appreciation for a home cooked meal, the unmatched efforts, the unrequited love. it’s the ache in putting away that second dish after spending time and care to make room for two. it’s the putting yourself out there to end up at a table for one.
adventure, allison ryder, choices, comfort zone, communication, diary, difference, experience, family, friendship, growth, hate, identity, impact, judgment, life, love, moments, pain, people, personal, perspective, photography, poet, relationships, silence, social media, thoughts, trust, truth, words, writing
I think social media should be taken for exactly what it is; an outlet, a display of adventure and adoration, a tool of expression, to cultivate talents and passions and engage others into our work and ideas. they say everyone relationships, friendships, family did better before social media and certain technology advancements but that’s mostly a reflection on the downward spiral of people not the poison of social media. it’s only poison if you allow it to be; if you display every private nook of your life, if you take everything personal, if you make assumptions, if you disregard or disrespect the differences between us all, the differences in our beliefs and desires, if you use it as a tool to bully and hurt. it shouldn’t be a poisonous platform that disrupts amicable situations, breaks relationships, kills people, or defines friendships. what it becomes depends on people and how we allow it to define and disrupt our better judgment. we’re all guilty of taking something to heart and forgetting we’re all just people behind equipment claiming a voice, or writing our diary, or portraying how we see the world, or asking for help, or celebrating our struggles and happiness, or telling our story. like I write and I vent, generally mostly, and I photograph and I enjoy language and quotes, and it’s self reflecting and engaging during 3 Am feedings.
a lot of people took a slightly general status I made to heart and assumed and questioned when regardless of my Facebook rants, much like this one, I’m an entirely direct person with anyone I have an issue with, life’s far too short not to be, but nevertheless this prompted the writer in me and the way things like this make me ponder about life and people and all the mechanisms that make us work prompted me to think about this, to self reflect on my own assumptions, and to define my own use of these ever addicting apps. just because we have somewhere to share our opinions, and our religious and political views, and our admiration and distaste, and our adventures and love, and our feelings – we shouldn’t forget that the real feelings and adventures and disputes and conversations are happening off these pages. or at least they should be. these apps are just blank scrapbooks and diary pages to fill and monitor with life – away from disrespect or difference or opinion or personal attacks. life shouldn’t be happening on social media so don’t let it ruin yours, don’t allow its distinct differences and raw emotions make you forget human interaction and communication is always where you’ll find the truth. you knew your friends had different views before they posted that meme and you know sometimes people vent and it has nothing to do with a specific entity and you know you wouldn’t like it if women spoke to him the way men speak to you, and you knew who she was long before she posted those pics, and you knew they would be hurt that you went to that special place without them, without an invite and yet, I watch friendships crumble and relationships burn, and families cry because of these words and pictures. I’ve watched myself become undone, as someone who takes everything way too personally because of social media. but after being on the reciprocating side, I declare that it’s just an adult playground or junkyard of ideas and notions and emotions we have nowhere else to place. it’s a comfort zone for identities and for the unpopular beliefs or shy voices. but it could all disappear tomorrow and we’d be left with the most important parts; the people, the memories, the tangible photos and souvenirs of a life well lived.
my new motto for everyone I know is you get what you give because my son deserves all of me so I cannot go around giving to people who do not deserve an ounce from me; not my attention, energy, or arguments. -AR
I distinctly remember you putting on a show in the car and me gazing at you with a stupid smile on my face. you would notice my focus of attention and ask what I was staring at. But you knew and I knew, and yet, a million verses of poetry would spin through my mind but you paralyzed me. Falling for you was like bungee jumping and remaining suspended in air. You were only interested in the kind of bungee jumping you could run away from, not stay free falling with. You were interested in crumpling bedsheets under moonlight and being home by sunlight. You weren’t interested in my cups of coffee over warm conversation, much less my heart. And yet, falling for you was as easy as breathing, even though I knew all of these things. Because despite these things, you captured me in a way I didn’t intend to be caught.
No one ever told me there would be people who would scar me in ways that would make me want to feel pain because that’s what I believe I’m worth. No one told me that there were words that would provoke me to have lunch over the toilet bowl to make it more tolerable. No one ever told me how easy it was to hold it in and that the most dangerous addictions and methods were always easy. No one ever told me to love myself before loving someone else or else that toxic, cheating, manipulative partner would depict the definition of love with a mirrored self-reflection that was ugly and worthless. No one taught me about inner strength and self-righteousness in all their talk of Hamlet and the Pythagorean Theorem. They say those kinds of personal issues aren’t meant to be learned through textbooks but are meant to be instilled in the home. But I’m just a thirteen year old foster kid, bounced around in a broken system full of parents looking for a pay day while I’m looking for a parent. I take the beatings; the bloody nose and broken ribs because I’m too clumsy to make it a week without falling up or down the stairs, whichever excuse the hospital believes this time. Turning a blind eye is what makes the broken system turn. So what do I know about love and self-respect and what a family should teach you? I walk these halls obediently with my nose in textbooks to learn about how the United States came to be and the importance of language but no one wants to educate me on friendship and identity. Our bright minds are supposed to pave the future, not end up splattered on the train tracks because we didn’t know there was another option. Because we didn’t know there were other ways. Because we didn’t know anything more than how to grammatically write our suicide letters and mathematically compute the probability of our dangerous methods working out exactly how we imagined. I’m just a thirteen year old foster kid getting kicked around a broken system, how was I supposed to know anything outside of these walls?
allison ryder, allison ryder quotes, beautiful, broken, change, emotion, fear, feelings, growth, heart, heartache, heartbreak, hurt, identity, insecurity, life, love, mind, pain, perception, perspective, poetry, quotes, relationship, relationships, thoughts, truth, words, writer, writing
To every woman who was ever told she was “too much…”
I hear this so often. She was just too much. ‘What was too much? In what ways?’ She was intense. She loved immensely. She asked too many questions. She cared too much. Past lovers told her she was too much so something is wrong with her.’
Ah. I understand. So you prefer mediocrity, someone who doesn’t care to check up on you, or build you up, or help you achieve your goals. You want someone who loves you less, who doesn’t ask questions to make sure you’re alright, to start a conversation, to take an interest in the things that interest you. Have I gotten that right? Oh, and then to top it off, you took something she told you in confidence, revealing weakness, insecurity, and vulnerability, and you used it against her to validate all the reasons she wasn’t good enough for you. The truth is, her “too much” is a rarity – it’s genuine, unconditional love and support. She’s someone who will go out of her way to ensure you’re taken care of and attempt to help you achieve every dream and goal. the truth is, she asks questions because she gives a damn, not because she wants to control you or the situation, but because she wants to be included. she wants to feel important. and you failed so terribly at that. you made her feel inadequate and not worthy of the one persons love, she was killing herself to have. you made her feel like she was trapped inside of herself, you made her hate herself. you made her question why she wasn’t worth it when you chose to pursue what she wanted with you, with other women. she’s not too much, you’re just too small minded. she wants a great, no regrets, beautifully imperfect love. that woman who’s “too much,” she is the top of the pedestal that you can only wish to climb one day. so to all you women, who have ever been told you’re “too much,” i know how much you wanted their love, how hard you worked, how much you tried but don’t ever feel undeserving or insignificant because you’re the reason great love exists.
and I can promise you, one day they’ll realize they lost everything because they were too weak to leave their comfort zones and have “too much.” instead they’ll be stuck with not enough.
one day they’re going to choose someone else and it’s gonna hurt a lot less because you’ll realize there’s nothing wrong with you. they were just too afraid to love and let themselves be loved by someone who was the real thing.
allison ryder, cancer, death, difficuly, doubt, fear, fight, friendship, fuck cancer, hurt, identity, judgment, life, loss, love, pain, people, poetry, questions, relationships, remorse, silence, time, truth, wordporn, writing
Love was hard with cancer. It was a poison you had to carry around as it weighed heavy on your heart. But you’d rather fight the battle in solace and silence than have someone look at you in that pitiful way. Life threatening ailments have the tendency to cause people to act out of character. They do things because they feel bad for you. They look at you in that “I pity you” type of way, mostly because no one would ever admit to pitying a cancer patient.
But back to love. Love is always hard, relationships are difficult because people are complex. It could all be so simple but as humans we tend to color every circumstance complicated. How can you trust someone is in something for the long-hall? You never can truly know that. You have to trust at face value and hope it works out forever. It’s scary, terrifying even. Now you want to add cancer to the mix. People run away at their own feelings, let alone the thought of caring about someone with a terminal illness.
And yet all some of us want is to live out our days to the fullest extent that we can, we want to love today and be hopeful of tomorrow. We want things to go smoothly with little stress but it rarely works out that way. Life happens. It messes up your perfect vision and challenges your desires. It breaks you and often times, it hurts. So we’re left adjusting to the turmoil and just rolling with the punches. But for us, ͏life is a timetable- how long will the good last, when will I relapse, can I trust remission. Again, there’s no definitive answer here. There’s zero trust. You just live and hope the people in your life could find comfort and security in the simplicity as well.
As for love, I have no idea. I can’t imagine lying about your body demolishing itself is the way to begin a healthy relationship but at the same point, why is it any of their business? I’m sure they didn’t push every secret and aspect of their life to the front at the start. But really it’s not about lying, it’s about wanting someone to look at you and truly see you, not look at you and see cancer. The worst thing in the world you can do is fall in love with someone and watch them change their i love you face to an i feel bad for you face. The second worst thing is when they stick with you because you’re a ticking time bomb instead of because they actually want to build with you. It’s difficult to separate the cancer from your own reflection, let alone your identity through someone else’s eyes.
that’s the thing about her sense of wanderlust; it’s not simply the desire to see new things- it’s the desperation to embrace new cultures, to take risks of love and to explore wondrous places, it’s the adrenaline and excitement of unexpected adventures and doing things that scare her. it’s about leaving pieces of her in all the places she’s been and filling those voids with where she’s been. it’s the most beautiful aspect of living. she cultivated her curiosities, encouraging self growth. her wanderlust is a requirement for her to live and love so freely.