if, then

I had a conversation with someone at work the other day about girls who feel the need to check their man's text messages. My overall feeling is that if you need to check their texts, there is no trust, and the relationship is over. Done and done.

In high school, I checked texts. I moderated phone calls. I was that girl. 

And that relationship ended in a long, drawn out, overly public, powerfully painful way. My ignorance to the importance of trust led me into years of crying myself to sleep-- which led to some really excellent writing, but thats another discussion. 

With J, I did not check texts. I was suspicious once, and that passed. Trust prevailed.

And that relationship ended in one quick blow followed by 2 uncomfortable weeks of packing and uncertainty. We were a rock in the trust category, but it still ended up down the drain. (Interesting that our break up took place in a bathroom? I don't think I've ever fully thought about how funny that location choice really is.) 

Checking a text on C's phone is what ended our official relationship. It would have ended no matter what I found; the fact that I worried enough to check was reason enough to end it. But I found something I didn't want to. 

And that relationship officially ended in a splash of tears. Yes, we dragged out the together-not together saga for a year after, but the titles on the relationship dropped that night. If I don't trust you, there can't be any title that says I do.

So far we've learned that whether or not I check texts, the relationship ends. As a general rule, the relationship lasts longer when I do not check texts. Trust is a solid foundation. 

And now I'm in the beginning of a situation: Tonight, just for a minute, I wanted to check. I didn't, and I'm not going to; nothing is that important. But I worry that there is something there. I worry because I know for a fact that I sent him texts at one point that were a worry for someone else. And if my texts were reciprocated then, what's stopping him from answering someone else's similarly relationship-threatening texts now? 

If once, then always. 

Once, always. 

Done and done. 

L

worth it

I want to put out something new and amazing.
Yea.. but I've got nothing.

It has been one year and 5 days since the life-changing break-up that inspired this blog. I don't need to explain in too much detail what a trying year this has been in some ways, how amazing it's been in others, or how much I've changed- for better or for worse. I'm not as crazily ambitious as I was a year ago. I'm not as stable as I was a year ago. I'm not as careful as I was a year ago. I'm not as sad as I was a year ago, and not nearly as medicated.
I was happy with J, but now I'm happy with me. That took a while. I'm not as driven as I used to be- in love, in life, in anything. Instead of my PhD, all I want now is some cross between adventure and stability that I'm pretty sure doesn't actually exist yet. I'll find it. I haven't found something yet that I cannot do. This year I've learned more about me than in any year or years before. I'm more confident than I was a year ago. I'm writing more than I was a year ago. I'm singing more than I was a year ago. I'm more me than I was a year ago. If I had to give up that love to find me again, then it was well worth it. There's still plenty of love around here.

I've broken hearts, cried, smiled, chased butterflies, and had my heart broken. This has not been the best year of my life, no, but it has been an immensely important one. I'm learning all the lessons all over again. Yes, I whine about them, but they're worth it. The learning is the best part. The chasing, the falling, the shattering glass... it makes searching for that unattainable stability/adventure combination worth the ride.

So, while I may just be sending this out into the void, thanks J. You made a big decision for both of us, and I've come back to life because of it.
I'm not exactly new, but I feel pretty amazing.
L

facing it

Feels like it's been harder to get you out of my mind than it was to stop thinking of J.

At least J earned the months I spent trying to forget him. You didn't earn them, I gave them to you. I let you have me. Handed you my 'heart', as cliche and miserable as that sounds. Didn't even make you work for it. I wanted you to have it. I wanted you to have me. I wanted you.

You got me over J. I forget that part. I so easily forget anything before 'us'.

Do you even remember that? Back then? When I wanted you and you wanted me. When we wanted each other. Back then it was a crowded, overwhelming, amazing two way street that ran unmetered 24 hours a day. I remember. Maybe you don't. Maybe that's the the problem. Maybe that's the solution.

Now I need to find someone to get you off my mind. It's logical.

Every boy I meet takes you off my mind for a minute. Some keep my attention for an hour, some for most of the night. No one has kept it longer than that. Most of the night is the record. By the time I'm home, even in the car on the way home, I start to wonder where you are. I wonder, and there's nothing stopping me from calling you to find out. But I'm always calling. I am constantly calling. You never have to call me. I'm always there.

Time to decide. Do I wait for you or keep waiting for someone?

I don't really have a choice. I've been waiting for you since I was 16. I was waiting for you when I found J. I've been waiting for you since the first time I saw Sleepless In Seattle, the first time I sang karaoke to a Mariah Carey song, the first time I held a boy's hand. I have been waiting to love someone this uncontrollably my entire life- short as that may be so far. So I'll wait for someone to distract me. I will wait for someone, anyone, to replace you. And I'll wait for you.

I've been waiting this long. I've built such a tolerance. I've become so much smarter.

And, despite that, I still want you. Either there is something fundamentally wrong with me, or I'm naturally addicted to this insanity.

Love.

I'm addicted to love.

L

feeling, for better or for worse

It is completely out of my system now, and I'm feeling absolutely everything.

I stopped taking my anti-anxiety medication about a month ago. I went through a couple weeks of withdrawls, which- I'm not gonna lie- were kind of an exciting experience. There were no tantrums or night sweats, no throwing up, no unbearable cramping headaches. Instead, I experienced little brain tremors. At first they feel like little 5-second dizzy spells- almost similar to a symptom of dehydration. After a couple days the spells started lasting 10-30 seconds a piece, and I felt them in my fingertips, toes, lips, and head. I peaked at around 1 tremor every 2 minutes. That lasted for 4-5 days. (The tremors weren't so exciting then as they were annoying and frustrating.) But then they went away. They tapered off and went away.

I was lucky that nothing worse happened. I stopped taking the medication because I ran out and didn't realize it until I was already experiencing the withdrawls, at which point I decided to just wait them out. Life seemed good, so why be drugged up? Right? ..right?

But it's been a couple weeks now and I'm becoming increasingly aware of all that the drugs were blocking out. They weren't just making my relationships easier to handle or helping me worry less about locked doors and alarm systems. They were making me easier to handle. Helping me worry less about myself. I haven't slept well for a week because I am tossing and turning thinking about all the things I cannot do/fix/control/negate/right/understand.

I've been in a mood all day that I cannot describe. Lies, I can describe it: anxiety-ridden. Imagine going about your day with a brick sitting on your brain and a metronome ticking an off-beat in your ear. I cannot concentrate on getting any one thing done because my mind is pressed upon by these other things I cannot control anyway. I have trouble ignoring the brick because of the ticking reminding me that I have more to think about than I can possibly fit into that moment. Before I know it time has passed and absolutely nothing has been accomplished. I feel completely overwhelmed and completely useless. I haven't felt any of this in years, and it's not been missed. Not one bit.

I think I was happier when I couldn't feel my feelings. Or, what I felt and labeled as happiness, at least, that wasn't bad at all.

It was nice, the calm. I took it for granted.

L

no new nothing

This is cliche, but it must happen. Brace yourself for the review of 2009.

January: I don't remember anything super special.

February: Here either.

March: J and I broke up. R and I went to spring training.

April: Lots of crying.

May: More crying, also drinking.

June: Lived at home for 2 weeks. Started dating.

July: C and I became a couple.

August: C and I aren't a couple anymore.

September: I want to rock and roll all night, and part of everyday.

October: I don't remember anything super special.

November: Here either.

December: Same as the last 4 months.

Little heartbreak, little happiness, stir together with a shot of tequila, and we'll call it 2009.

I'm not staying up until midnight to say hello to 2010. I'm not staying up to say goodbye to 2009. I'm staying up because I do it every night, and the only difference in tonight is that tomorrow I need to put up new calendars.

No resolutions. No promises to get healthier, save money, work harder, treat myself better, be a better someone. In 22 minutes nothing is going to change! I won't be a different person, and neither will anyone else. The magic of 'new years' isn't enchanting me this year. This is the first year this decade that I have no one to kiss at midnight. Seems a fitting end.

Yea, I guess I'm a little bitter tonight. What better way to sum up the year?

I don't need an excuse like tonight to drink champagne. I'll save it for a night when I'm happy to celebrate tomorrow. A new beginning happens when I say it does, not when I change the calendars.

Cheers.

L

damaged

A few weeks ago I burnt my leg. I gave myself a really good second degree burn. It was pretty disgusting. At first it felt like fire. I held iced towels against it and took tons of ibuprofen. When the pain died down, it started trying to heal itself. It wasn't pretty, but you could tell that my immune system was sending valuable nutrients to the surface area to help heal the skin. It kept being not pretty. Now it isn't as disgusting to look at. In fact, it's healing really well. But it is still there. I know I shouldn't swim because it's still vulnerable to infection. I still need to put neosporin on it everyday. It is still painfully visible, and it will scar. There will always be a big scar on my leg to remind me of the time I got clumsy.

There's no physical scar to remind me of the times I've been clumsy with my feelings, with my heart. Sometimes I forget that I am not completely healed. There is no visual reminder that I need to take care of my emotional safety. I feel healed, I feel fine, and then I feel the infection setting in. I've done things to aggravate the wound left by J and since I can't see the bleeding, I don't know how to stop it. It tries to heal itself, but I can't protect it. I can't fix it myself.

So I've been flying blind for the past 7 months. I thought I was fine, healed, progressing beautifully, but I'd just been doing a good job at bandaging the injury. And now, for some reason, I'm out of gauze. It's exposed and it's catching everything that flies toward it. It stings again. It hurts, it aches, it keeps me awake, and it forces me to sleep. I can't face the pain so I have no choice but to sleep all day. I'm safer if I stay inside. It can't get worse if I never face the elements. It has to heal eventually, and I have to shelter it until then.

I thought I'd sheltered it enough in June. I thought so in July. I was fine in August. September. But October has been like pouring rubbing alcohol into cut skin. Weeks of constant, burning, unbearable pain from which I can find no escape but sleep. Maybe friends can help? Only a few. Some even exacerbate the pain. Some pour more alcohol into the cut. It's safer to stay inside. The worse the wound gets, the longer the wound stays open, the darker the scar will be. So I'm going to shelter it. Shelter myself. Hide away from the elements, the world, everything out there that makes life worth living. I'm safer inside.

So thats where I'll be.

L