the pure and simple truth

I've been reading the Between Boyfriends Book, which is a collection of essays by a woman who writes about dating. (By "been reading", I mean I started it yesterday while I got a pedicure, and thats as far as I've gotten. Just to be honest.) 

Regardless of my reading habits, the author made a really brilliant point on page 4- right up in the beginning of this book. She had me. Here's the revelation: 

Men (some) put off breakups and approach them in idiotic ways because 'they don't want to make you cry'. Thing is "we're not crying because of them, we're crying because now we have to get naked in front of someone else. It's enough already." 

Can I get an Amen? 

As a recent breakup survivor, I feel qualified to talk about the art of surviving post-breakup. (If you require more credentials, I'll send you my Vita.) At first, there are tears. You cry because the relationship has ended, because an important chapter of your life has screeched to a halt, because you are faced with a big hole in your previously blissfully whole world.

But right after that, literally right after- an almost seamless transition you may not even notice, you cry because you have to do it ALL OVER AGAIN. That reality is possibly more daunting than getting over 'him'. 

And so the post-breakup hustle begins. You go to the gym more often (which could mean once a month, but you're still going). You start master cleansing diets (lemon juice, cayenne pepper, and syrup, anyone? Slim quick? Detox tea?). You counteract all the ice cream and wine with nothing but water during the day.  You cover yourself in lotion after every shower and self tanner after every exfoliation. (Yes, you exfoliate now. On a bi-weekly basis.) You try to become your pre-relationship self because she could be naked and proud. She was hot. 

Reality check.

Unfortunately, you aren't her. And the person you are now STILL has to get naked in front of someone else someday. And that, my friends, is the truth. 

The ugly truth. 

L 

just bend the pieces till they fit

Maybe a new take on an old lyric is in order. This seems the right place to discuss it. 

Dashboard Confessional's 'Ghost of a Good Thing' 

The lyric is as follows: 

"Just bend the pieces till they fit 

Like they were made for it 

But they weren't meant for this."

Usually, I think this is horribly sad song about a love that just doesn't fit anymore, that just doesn't work the way it should. You cannot jam a puzzle piece into a hole it isn't made for. (You can, but your puzzle won't look right, and you'll have a hole somewhere else. Just a bad idea, really.) 

Now, lets look with new eyes. To do this, I need to ignore the entire rest of the song. (Doable, cos I'm a on a mission.) Is it possible that maybe these are 3 lines about making the upside seem right? Make believe that the missing piece of the puzzle is happiness. You have a piece, it isn't happiness, but if you smash it into the hole, you can have happiness, you can fill that hole**! Kind of a "fake it till you feel it" approach to the living on the sunny side.

While I can see that I'm being a tiny TINY bit irrational, and maybe also a tiny bit illogical, rewriting the meanings of sad songs to make happy songs seems like a completely acceptable practice. I challenge everyone in the world to make sad songs happy- at least one a day- for the rest of the week. If I can do it in my unstable mental state, you sure as hell can as well! 

Get to it, minions. 

L 

(**So much thats what she said. I apologize.) 

without you

It has been a few days, and life has gone on. I've made some silly choices, had some fun with friends, and done a little sleeping. All in all, it hasn't been a bad weekend, but I have begun to notice just how big a part J plays in my life. 

He was my boyfriend, my roommate, my love, but he was also my best friend. It may not have seemed like it toward the end, but when I get home from a long day what I want most is to tell J about it. I want to hold hands while he watches his show and I fall asleep. I want to know that even though I made some dumb decisions, he is still going to be there to walk me through the aftermath. I miss that safety. 

True, I need to be strong for myself. He has said that he feels like he is shielding me from the world, and in a way that's true, I suppose, but I never asked him to. All I want him to do is shield me for a couple minutes a day while recuperate from the last 12 hours. I need that. Or, maybe I don't need it, but I don't know how to operate without it. Where do I hide? Where can I go to be shielded? Where can I turn to protect myself from.. well.. myself? 

J was a voice of reason, a guiding light when I lost my way. I know this seems vague, but thats really what he was to me. He was an amazing other half. 

And tonight, I just miss being whole. 

L 

my rainbow

in 24 hours it will have been a month. 

i've been through a myriad of emotion. i've cried, i've laughed, i've screamed, i've stared, i've hyperventilated, i've gone without sleep, and i've lived. 

in the past month i have made closer connections with the people i work with than i have in the past year i've known them. i have become more dedicated to my goals. i have invested more time in my students. i have thought more about my life than i have since i graduated high school. 

i have also cried more than i have since high school, felt sicker to my stomach than i have since high school, and been more vulnerable to the sound of a man's voice than i have since high school. 

in all reality, high school sucked, but this past month hasn't been all that bad. 

i have people to call when i can't handle my feelings by myself. i have a place to call home at the end of the day. i have a plan for the next year of my life... and i feel good about all of this. i'm not the glowing, happy, shiny version of me, but i'm not quite as tarnished and wrecked as i was 4 weeks ago. 

so, although some of this may feel like high school (or like dealing with the emotions  brought on by a 17-year-old's relationship), this is much better than high school. there is a light at the end of this tunnel. there is some bright side. i will not be alone forever. someday, i am sure, i'll get to be in love again. i'm not destined to be singing 'desperado' forever. 

i made it one month. here's to one more. :) 

L

 

don't call it a comeback

there is a list of "B" words that can brighten my mood. usually, it includes baseball and beer. (and usually, thats all it needs to include.) 

however, i have found an addition: britney. 

Britney Spears came to Sacramento this past weekend, and being the loyal listener that I am, I showed up Saturday night with bells on. She gave a lackluster performance. It was obvious from any seat in the arena that she was tired after about 3 songs and stopped giving it her all. But, she showed up, which is more than I can say for the last time I had tickets to see her (Onyx Hotel Tour, anyone?). Quite a few songs were off the Blackout album, one I own but don't frequently listen to. 

But, don't get me wrong. The concert was wonderful. The song list flowed, not too many slow songs, good entertainment on costume changes. One reason Brit gets to make the "B"-word list is because the concert was pretty fabulous, and I had an awesome time. 

A second reason Britney makes the cut: her life sucks. Or does it? I'm pretty sure she doesn't know the answer to that either. And that is #2. 

Famous at 17, in rehab at 25, back in sequins at 27. This girl has done it ALL, and she's done it all with helicopters overhead trying to photograph her at her most vulnerable moments. She's been through phases where she couldn't admit she needed help, and she's come to realize that she needs it and she lets- well, as much as a court order can be considered voluntary- her Dad help her. And now, with a little help from the important people, the legendary Miss Britney Spears has proven that she can take back her title as pop princess. She can screw up a nationally televised performance, lose custody of her kids, shave her head, and make a comeback. She can still own a chart, and she can still pull a massive audience. 

The point here is that if Miss Brit can do it, I certainly can, too. (Perhaps all but the selling albums and filling an arena...) But, I am not quite as crazy as she was at her worst, I'm not as volatile, I don't have children to worry about, and I don't have paparazzi chasing me, most of the time. :) 

So here is to Britney. She may not have always been the best role model, but I'll be damned if she isn't some kind of an example of something. Every woman in Sacramento was in that arena this weekend. Britney must be doing something right. And without going insane first, I'll be filling my own metaphorical arenas soon. 

no need for a comeback, i'll be here for years. 

and the world is gonna love it. 

L

just like a 5 year old

It seems I got cocky. I thought I was getting stronger, I thought I was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. No way I could get to the other side of this tunnel that quickly! I cannot finish a thesis in a month, and I cannot let go of 4 years of love in 3 weeks. That is just how things go, and I was stupid to imagine otherwise. 

The pain is coming in waves. Sometimes the wave has to do with a song, sometimes a smell, sometimes silence, and sometimes he brings it. The e-mails make my heart skip a beat. I get nervous every time the phone plays "Sweet Pea". And for hours after I inevitably read that e-mail and answer that phone call, I have an ache in my stomach. An ache, a physical ache, threatening my ability to function aside from crying and contemplating what ifs, imaginary scenarios. (For the record, what ifs don't get any work done.) 

And just when I think I'm strong enough to get over the e-mails, the phone rings. And maybe I feel strong when the exchange is finished, but 5 minutes later the wave hits again and I get knocked back down. 

I cannot keep falling over. I want to stand strong. I want to be a vision of power. I want to talk to him and feel good about myself afterward. I want to make decisions without looking ahead to the consequences. I want to be me again. 

But it is just not going to happen if I can't remember the basics. Eat your veggies, brush your teeth before bed, drink lots of water, take your vitamins, don't run with scissors, look both ways before you cross the street, wear sunscreen,  tell the truth, don't be a tattle tale, respect your elders, don't talk to strangers, and, probably the most important: 

never turn your back on the ocean. 

L

fairy tales

Those who are unlucky in love have told me that fairy tales don't come true. In fact, those who seem to have enjoyed love at one point and have become more cynical have told me that fairy tales don't come true. I've been told to stop believing in a happy ending. No love story. 

No fun. 

Oddly enough, though my heart is still shattered into a million pieces, one song that is pulling me through the difficult mornings is (don't laugh...) Taylor Swift's 'Love Song'. [The song is about a girl and a boy and their rather fairy tale romance, including a love conquers all theme with a happy ending.] 

I completely understand why I've been told to give up on the fairy tale. It is imaginary. No prince is going to ride his white horse up to my office and carry me away as soon as I finish grading these quizzes. No talking squirrels or mice are going to help me out if I'm in a bad position. But who's to say that there will be no happy ending? 

Most love songs right now make sick. Literally sick. But this song is not nauseating, it is a reminder that I don't have to give in to this disenchantment! Why keep going if there is no chance at a happily ever after? Why bother ever trying again? What would be the point of anything? 

So today I am shouting from the rooftops- or out my 2nd floor office window- Do Not Give Up On Fairy Tales. They may not really come right in the nick of time, they may not be Disney-caliber, and they may never live up to your expectations, but does anything? Don't take out your cynicism on stories about happier people. They are imaginary people, and they are truly sorry if they've bummed you out. But let them be happy, and do your darnedest to share in their joy- not because you feel it too, but because you know that the other option is to be miserable. (And I've been miserable, so trust me on this. Believing in mice who can sew is a much better option.) 

If you still don't want to believe, then keep it to yourself. Let me be delusional. Let me pretend there is a happier place out there. 

I'll believe enough for the both of us. 

L

suddenly, sun!

"That's the true harbinger of spring, not crocuses or swallows returning to Capistrano, but the sound of a bat on a ball."

- Bill Veeck

Happy Opening Day 2009! 

Today is one of the best days of 2009 thus far. Not because I woke up on the right side of the bed, not because I made it to class on time, and not because the weather man was wrong about the rain. Today is an amazing day because today is opening day. 

To celebrate, I purchased my ticket for a game in the Giants home opening series. This will be the first year that I haven't gone with R, but she will be going to the Dodgers opening series without me, so we will both be getting our annual opening day fix. We are going to the stadiums of each of our rival teams, when they are not playing a team we favor, for the love of the game. 

There are so few things that I love so unconditionally. Even when my team is losing, I still want to watch the game. Granted, I am less interested if I have no team preference, but the crack of the bat as it swings and hits that ball, that heavenly sound, doesn't change based on the team hitting it. It always sounds like sunshine, like freedom, like the best day of your life. Every time. 

Ah... 

So, no matter how bad your day is going, it should pick up right now. Baseball has begun! And we will all be happy until the fall. 

Go LA! 

L 

an unexpected gift

"if you wanna leave 

i won't beg you to stay 

and if you gotta go darling 

maybe it's better that way 

i'm gonna be strong 

i'm gonna be fine 

don't worry about this heart of mine"

(don't turn around. ace of base.) 

those words may be all that 1993 can offer me at the moment, and i am completely satisfied with the contribution. 

"and if you ever think about me, 

just know that i'll be alright" 

L 

3 am relapse

It is 3:30, and I am about to reach for my phone to call J and ask what he is doing. 

Thing is, I know what he is doing. I knew exactly where he is. He is at an event for a friend of ours. I turned the event down, because I wanted him to have the night to himself to have fun and get his time without me staring at him.

Still. I want to call and ask what he is doing. I want to ask if he is busy, if he wants to talk, if he is doing alright. I want to ruin his night with thoughts of me. I want to float into his head and ruin whatever he was contemplating before. 

Instead, I'm typing. 

I type because it is harmless. No one can get mad at me for typing. No one can tell me I am selfish for typing my feelings. No one can be upset because I am typing. No one. 

(And if you are mad, really, close the window. I don't know you. You should not be so upset.) 

- By the way, coherent sentences? Not happening in this post. If you require them, skip this. -

So, I want to ruin his night. Part of me wants to completely rain on his night by reminding him that I exist. However, part of me wants to be bigger than that. And that second part of me is the one that will win. Here is why: 

1. He is strong. I am strong. Therefore, if he doesn't need to talk to me at 3 am, I can make it just the same. 

2. So.. thats all I have. Just the one. 

But.. one was enough. The part of me that is big enough and strong enough will prevail. I am stubborn, have been since I was born, and tonight that stubborn part of me is going to keep my strength stronger than my will to reach for the phone. 

Oh 3am. What are you doing to me. 

L

Week two.

Two weeks and four days. (Feels like it has been months.) 

I have taken up a temporary residence with a friend. The couches are cozy and the backyard is perfect for absorbing all the Vitamin D the sun has to offer. Unfortunately, that is really all the house can do for me. The pain in my heart has spread to my head, an unrelenting headache that has kept me awake for 24 hours. 

The upside? (Always an upside!) The past few nights I've had very unpleasant dreams. Anxiety-filled dreams, I wake up throughout the night crying. Nothing scary is happening, and nothing realistic, but I am filled with anxiety and panic throughout the dream. Everything is out of my control and I am shaking with ...well... anxiety. I've never had dreams like these. So, if the headache wants to keep me awake, perhaps it is in an effort to get rid of the dreams. Bye bye dreams. (ah.. the irony...) 

I am trying to bury myself in work. If I stay concentrated on working, distracted by writing, I can get through the toughest part of this separation unscathed. I'm finding, though, that if I distract myself with writing I am not skipping this stage of the process, just prolonging. I am supressing it, dealing with it in the shower where tears blend in better, but not letting myself face it completely. This is going to last a long time if I continue telling myself how strong I am. It may be time to let people help me. To start leaning on the people who have offered to be a friend. To let go and stop trying to be amazing. Maybe I can't do this all on my own. 

(I'm no superman. Who'd have thought that Scrubs would be the answer?) 

A progress report: 

- about 5 days since i last cried. (not counting 10 minutes ago, of course.) 

- i have written 3 songs in the past 4 days, 2 of which have music written as well. 

- i have only gone without sleep 1 night. 

- i lost 7 lbs, and this week i gained back 1. 

- i broke the cork in a wine bottle last night and did NOT burst into tears. that is a big huge step forward, in my book. 

- i emailed J a few times today, and he's emailed back. we are having as close to a civilized conversation as possible. 

so far, so good. but it has only been two weeks. 

 

J mentioned today that after May we will probably never see each other again. I suppose this is right, as once May hits I plan to move two hours away, and I doubt this city will ever be my home again. Even so, that hit me like a ton of bricks. (Although, maybe like one or two bricks, as a ton would probably leave me without the ability to be typing this 30 minutes later.) Never see each other again. Wow. That is just a strong strong reality. One that I am not sure I can process! At the moment I feel attacked, on all fronts. Every time I turn, a new reality hits me in the face. I am suddenly unsure of who my friends are. I don't know what I can and cannot do. I am becoming the 'ex', the one I always laughed at, the one I was so much better than. Every day some new realization sneaks up behind me, attacks me, assaults me, leaves me crying and gasping for air, and I'm expected (I expect myself) to shrug it off, be strong, and keep living as planned. 

The first two weeks were about external factors: seeing him, seeing our things, talking about our choices, thinking of him with another woman- or another woman in my house, wondering what he says to his friends, sleeping alone. The next part, if I can guess, will be completely emotional. Little words and seemingly insignificant sentences will get to me. Fear of dreaming will keep me awake. Phantom pains will haunt me. Uncertainty and insecurity will plague my ability to function as I normally would.  Concentration won't be an option. Distraction won't come as easily, because I cannot distract myself from myself. I will go from being too strong for my own good to a mess of a girl in a heap on the floor clinging to her teddy bear and what's left of her self-worth. 

Like I said, it has only been two weeks. 

L