Adult woman, mother, widow, writer, career driven, optimistic, human, navigating life, without a map, and sharing my journey with you.
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I’m a mess. I am aware that I am a mess. I’m sure many of you are aware that I’m a fucking disaster. I like to think I’m a beautiful disaster, but that’s just wishful thinking.
I am running like crazy, but not in the way I should be running. You know of? Physically running for health? Yeah. It’s been a while. I was dead set on getting started back up on Wednesday, and SURPRISE!!! It was ACTUALLY tattoo day. So, gotta wait a few days before I can start running again.
I’ve been questioning what I’m doing with my life. I have this deep yearning for something more, but idk what it is. Money? Love? Fun? Travel? Exercise? Friendships?
Is the yearning real, or is it subliminally placed by social media, kind of like the grass is always greener? Look what you COULD have! Because on social media, everyone is always about 50% better than they actually are in real life.
There absolutely IS an emptiness I feel. This feeling that something is missing. A hole somewhere in my soul.
I don’t feel lonely, by any means. I have my daughter and animals. I never even pee alone!
But something is most definitely missing.
Although I’d love to find out what my missing piece is, I’m enjoying the journey and trust that the universe will place the missing piece into my life, right when it’s meant to be there, and absolutely not a second sooner.
So, I’m writing to remind everyone to trust in the universe, the gods, the world. What’s meant to be, will be. Always.
Well, as you all are well aware by now, the holiday season is the worst for depression. Now, don’t worry about me. Of course I will have some sadness, coming from where I have been. I have a different reason for writing today. I have a little story to tell, but I have to get through to you, the overwhelming FEAR I woke up to. In a panic, at 3am, I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t do it.
I’m struggling with how to get this out. I want to word it correctly, but I am afraid it will come out a jumbled mess and I will sound like a babbling fool.
I have dreams that come true, a lot more than the average person. They aren’t like spot on, exact dreams of what is to come, but I had MANY dreams that Mitch died. Well, it was the same dream over and over, and I haven’t had it since he passed.
In the dream where Mitch died, we were driving down a stretch of empty, country highway (2 lanes, one each direction), the weather was nice, in the mid 70s. He was driving. Clouds developed, and black funnel dropped from the sky, and he made my mom, Meg and myself lay in a ditch, so he could pull the car over us, as a sort of “protection” from the elements. Then he ran off. We saw him get taken by the tornado. He died, in my dream, saving us. Now, this dream would waver a bit. Sometimes my mom was there, others she wasn’t. Before I got pregnant, there was a child sometimes, and others there was not. But, the outcome of the dream was always the same. I lost him.
I’ve had other, less serious dreams that predicted things, if you looked into it enough. I asked a coworker what she was naming her baby, if it were a boy, or a girl. She told me the names, and I said, “Well, it’s going to be a boy, because I had a dream about Owen Wilson last night.” The name she had picked, if it were a boy, was Owen. She had a boy.
But, anyway. When I have such powerful dreams, that wake me up crying, in a panic, excited, or completely overwhelmed, I act on it. Like, when I went to get my raise at my previous place of employment, I had that dream of Mitch dying again, and freaked out, because on the income I was making alone, I wouldn’t have been able to afford anything. I was in a panicked state, about how bad my credit had been, before Mitch passed. I kept dreaming that he left me, and I couldn’t get my own place, because I had such horrible credit. a MONTH after we discussed starting my repayment to my student loans, he passed. My student loans were what made my credit dip so bad. I deferred and deferred and then they wouldn’t let me defer anymore. I went a year, unable to make the outrageous payments, and my credit dipped so low, it was scary. Low 400s. (another system set up for failure, btw…) One year dropped me to low 400s from the 700s, and 4 years of on time payments, low credit usage to available credit…. you know what? That’s a topic for another discussion. I’m rambling, like I worried I would.
Back to last night’s dream. I don’t know. I don’t recall it at all. I just woke up worried about a friend. Insanely worried, actually. And maybe I assume it’s one friend over another, but idk. I hope it’s just my anxiety messing with me.
Another thing I want to stress, this holiday season. If you need a friend, I’m here. I am always happy to be there for people. Need a hug? I’m your gal. Need a couch to sleep on, so you don’t feel alone? Come over, I have animals. You’ll never be alone. They will even watch you go to the bathroom, if you leave the door cracked. HA!
All jokes aside, I’m always a text away, email, messenger, phone, etc. Don’t ever hesitate to ask me for help. I’m not financially rich, but I am a listener, and have an excellent shoulder. And I ALWAYS have coffee. 😉
I can’t shut my brain off, so I am just going to keep typing.
I went out with coworkers/friends this last weekend. I was having so much fun the whole time. We went to a speak-easy type bar, followed by a brewery, then went to a bar down the street that was doing karaoke. I was already tipsy, so, I bought the old guy who’s table we decided to share (with very little asking him if it was okay), a drink. We watched karaoke, we SANG, and were having a good time. All of a sudden, I heard the intro to “I Cross My Heart”. I got excited. Then, I felt my heart shatter, all over again. That pain. Jesus Christ. That pain came straight out of my eyes. I ruined my makeup, and I didn’t care who saw. As I type this, tears are streaming again, as I think about the funny story of how I came to know this song. I won’t retell it, because I have told it so many times, but I’ll say this. I was such a SUCKER! haha! I’m glad I was though, because it made the song that much more special.
As much as I love music, I am a lyrics gal. For me, the beauty is in the words, and the message the writer is trying to get across. Of course, maybe that’s because I am not musically inclined. I am a writer, rather. I’ve never REALLY tried to write music, either. something with the rhyming, and I would make terrible songs, I am sure. I write abnormal poetry, erotica, and feelings. Sometimes I can be comical, but most of the times, I am an emotional writer.
Speaking of writing! I’ve started reading again. making it a point to read every day. Not facebook, or instagram, but an actual book. Someone recommended it, and around page 70, I had wanted to text about things that had been going on, and decided I would start writing in the book, instead of sending a bajillion texts about the rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions I have gotten from this book. So. Many. Emotions!
Well, My morning alarm just went off, so I guess I should publish this and start getting ready for work.
I am right here. I am alive. I am healthy. I am living.
Last night, I had one of the worst breakdowns that I’ve had in a few years. Seriously. They say that we learn to live with the feelings, and it sneaks up out of the blue with nothing or something very minimal to trigger it.
I was scrolling through facebook, getting excited about my next videocast, and a picture showed in my feed.
This popped up and slapped me in the face, punched me in the gut, and I cried. I cried, uncontrollably for over an hour. All I wanted to do was read my book, and have a nice relaxing, good mood evening, and BAM!
It’s been a while.
It still hurts when I think about Mitch being gone. I have no false hopes of him coming home, and don’t compare people to him. I talk about him, a lot.
I was on a date and he used the word “duality” and damn if he didn’t pull that fucking word straight out of my brain.
Duality: the quality or state of having two different or opposite parts or elements.
Let’s break this down, shall we?
Duality for someone like me goes something like this:
I’m dating. I am having fun, I enjoy my company when I am out and nothing steps in the way of that. I also have that same deep seeded pain of loss that comes and stays with the loss of a spouse. The pain from that loss doesn’t interfere with the happiness of dating or meeting people.
So when someone sees it from the outside, and they see the happy person, enjoying life, radiating positivity into the world, they’re not seeing the pain that will always live inside of them. They sadness, the fears, the ache of loss.
Don’t read too deeply into this. I am happy. I am having fun, and not ready to “settle down” as they say. I was settled down, and happy as a clam for 17 years. With that said, I’m not going to pass up something if it comes crashing down and is abundantly clear that they’re “made for me”. Then, of course, if that happens, its never a “jump in” situation, when you’re this old with this much emotional baggage. ha!
It’s been nice to “slow down” and realize that I have been zooming through this life. It’s nice to enjoy every encounter. It’s nice to be able to form a bond, or a friendship with men I date, even though it’s nothing serious.
So many people look at me like I’m crazy, because I LOVE dating. LOVE IT! If it doesn’t go further than a first date, I am okay with that, and will always make the best of every situation.
Now, when I look back at who I was 5 years ago (this is just for purposes of explaining how I’ve grown, and changed), I was so negative about everything. I pointed out the raincloud instead of the sunbeam coming from behind it. I found the negative in every situation, and not only did I find it, I SPOKE ABOUT IT! I pointed it out to everyone who would listen!
Now, I imagine if that girl were single, and out dating like I am now, she would have been MISERABLE! Literally. I have met some amazing people, and I have met some SCARY folks. I have told the stories, but I have told them in a comedic way, because what else can you do but laugh?
I love my life now, and I love the life I had before stepping into this world-wind of being a widow in the dating world. I CAN love both of these lives, and that my friends, is duality to the core. Isn’t it beautiful?
I’ve not been able to write, lately. I have gotten to a point where I worry too much about hurting people and causing strife or whatever, with the family, and with close friends, or Gods forbid, a past lover.
Let’s start by reminding everyone, I am widowed. If you haven’t been following along, and are just now stumbling across this blog, I was widowed in late January, of 2017. It was the worst moment of my life, learning that my perfect human was gone from this world, for the remainder of my time here. He was my balance. He was my shelter. He was my hero, and my soulmate.
We became parents early, and I was so happy to be a young mother. We, together, decided to have a baby, so we started trying, and were quickly rewarded for our efforts. We had a girl.
I was so scared of the teen years. I remember how I was as a teenager, and I remember hearing the stories of my mom as a teenager. I remember my girlfriends and their relationships with their mothers during their teen years. I. Was. Terrified!
But I was also ecstatic because I had Mitch. I had him by my side, and I told him “you’ve got the teen years and I will take the rest!” (Jokingly, of course) He said “OK!!” And we had a plan. When he passed, Meg was 12. 12. We hadn’t even gotten to the teen years yet. The most terrifying time for me, as a woman, mother, daughter and sister. I think the dislike/pushback from daughter to mother is almost like a right of passage for the mother. Every mom/daughter combo experiences it at some point or another.
I didn’t want to. I am now a widowed mom, and Meg and I are surviving these years. She’s good, quiet and does what I ask, usually. We don’t fight. We don’t bicker. Luckily, there is none of the expected teen girl pushback and disrespect as I would have expected.
I work. I work full time and I have a little side hustle that’s booming. I make jewelry and am having a ton of fun with it. I am diving into, and really getting acquainted with the witch in me. I know that my words are a form of art, and I will begin creating spells along with my spell jars I make for people. (only good spells like protection, anxiety relief, self love, or luck and abundance), but I want to take this form of art I hold, and make it more useful. Take this blog for instance. I had the overwhelming urge to write, mere days after Mitch died. I wasn’t sure what to write, but I just took pen to paper and started. Then I opened this blog site, and can’t seem to let it go. I will go months without writing. I will write about things that don’t have anything to do with pain, fear, or longing for my lost soulmate. But, I started this blog to share with others. I felt alone, and I never wanted anyone else to feel as if they’re alone through their grief. I never claim to know what anyone is going through, but I wanted to put the way I felt out there, in case anyone was out there feeling the same way, yet feeling alone, know that there are more of us. We aren’t alone in our thoughts, or our feelings, or actions.
Which brings me to dating as a widow. J E S U S! H! C H R I S T!
I’ll tell you what the number one thing was, that I heard from guys I talked to from tinder or bumble, or gods forbid fucking Match or the other stupid one. I’ve shared this before, but I will again, because there have been a multitude of other things said since.
“Oh, you’re a widow, so you must be horny AF!”
You know what? I am always horny. It’s part of who I am. Fuck, you can ask my mom. I started practicing the “french kiss” with the girl down the street when I was like 5! Eeek. I can’t believe I am admitting that. lol! But, yeah.
But, just because I like sex doesn’t mean I just fuck anyone out there. That was the confusion with these guys from these sites. I have standards. I mean, for real. Even if all we are going to be is sexy time friends, I still need to be able to stand you. I need to be able to talk to you, be attracted to you, and be able to have a conversation with you. I’m not like most women. (I know. I know. I am not saying that as an insult to most women! I am not! We are all different in our own ways, and that’s the beauty in the world).
When it comes to where I am in my life, currently, I am doing so much. I LOVE dating! absolutely love it. And if I hit it off with someone, I am excited. That does not mean I want to be a girlfriend, or a wife. Maybe one day I will, again, but right now, no.
So, when I say I am not like most women, I’ll lay it out like this. I have a keen ability to separate myself, emotionally, from a man, and still adore him, enjoy him and his company (wink wink) and be his friend without further expectations.
I’m a different breed. I won’t blame being widowed as the reason, because I was the same way before getting married. I could be in a sexual relationship with guys and not be with them as a girlfriend. My freedom, their freedom, our freedom.
But, when I am actually with someone, I am loyal. Sex doesn’t equal relationship. Sex equals pleasure. I’ll repeat
If you can have great sex, why not have great sex? I can tell you, though, I wouldn’t survive in a relationship without great sex. Again, very sexually driven human… Which leads me to say, most men I’ve dated don’t understand this part of me. They don’t understand that my being friendly is a part of my nature. If the sex is bad, I won’t be any different than if the sex was earth shattering, when it comes to the friendship level of us. But guys always assume I am pushing for “more”. Whatever this “more” is?
So, for me, dating at 39 has been fun, but fun like a rollercoaster where there are lots of turns, and drops, and loopty-loops. Fun, but sometimes makes me want to puke.
Which makes me question… Why do men assume that a woman is too emotionally invested if she wants to have sex 3 times a week? I mean, honestly, if you can’t keep up, you can just say that. But men have the audacity to accuse a woman of being too emotional. It’s so weird to me. I think it’s only because of me being a woman.
I did have this stint where I thought I wanted to have a relationship. I will always use the term “I’m worth more than just sex.” Because, motherfuckers, I am. You can talk to me, give me shit, talk shit, politics, religion, psychology, astrology, tarot, witch shit, etc. I will talk about hunting, or bow and arrows or cars or lake life. I will be a friend. I can friend harder than so many people out there. So, to avoid that friendship and to only see the hole is offensive to me. I may be only wanting sex and conversation, or a night out or whatever, but I will never belittle a man, to a walking cock. There’s something brilliant in the minds of friends.
To be able to sit around, and talk about anything before or after sex, opens the sexual act to a more pleasurable encounter.
With everything that’s been going on in my life, LIVING has been my number 1 priority. Not like I’m trying not to die, but I am trying to live a life worth something. I am trying to make my mark. I am trying to leave a positive footprint everywhere I go. But I am living. I am having fun. I am going to enjoy each step of life. I am even getting back to healthy eating, even thought I haven’t been working out lately. Oooopsie.
As I finish this up, I want to thank my friend for reminding me that sometimes we get writer’s block, and that we need to sit down and just write to write. We need to let the artistic nature flow through our fingers as we tap away at the keys of the keyboard or write with our favorite pens in our journals, but we can’t stop when we are blocked.
So, here’s to you, friend. =D I finally wrote something I feel happy sharing.
Let me start by saying this. I have gone through the stages of dating since my husband died.
hookups only, FWB, long distance, 10 years younger, 10 years older. I attempted 1 time, to have a true to form relationship, and realized I’m rusty, confused, and don’t know how to do it.
I have to admit, dating now is absolutely nothing like the time I dated before getting married. There seems to be this very common theme of avoidance when it comes to having feelings.
“Don’t catch feelings…” Is a phrase I’ve heard people say, too many times to count.
As a woman who caught and reveled in all the feelings for so many years, I can’t imagine why someone wouldn’t want to feel the fluttery stomach of something new. The swell of excitement when someone messages or calls. That amazing, terrifying feeling of falling, hopelessly, in love with someone.
I understand that fear of being hurt. I understand that fear of falling in love with someone who doesn’t return the love. I understand the fear of falling in love with “the wrong person.” And I definitely understand falling in love and losing that person, forever.
I didn’t think I would ever fall in love or want to fall in love again. I’m definitely not in love right now, but currently dating. I am not afraid to feel, though, and I think that scares men these days.
I have had some phenomenal dates, like the guy who made me lobster spaghetti, (everything made from scratch), and bought me my favorite wine, and treated me to such an amazing evening. Then I have had some duds of all dud dates, like the guy who kept asking if I wanted a “bump” all night. I let him out at quick trip, and left him there. (for anyone who is unaware of what a “bump” is, it’s a cocaine reference, and he kept offering me cocaine. I can’t even count how many times I told him to fuck off with that shit.)
I started seeing this guy, and he might literally be the guy that people say “she’s dating her father”. He is a youth minister, and I’m drawn to him in a good way. He is sweet, and hasn’t been inappropriate. Hell, he hasn’t even kissed me aside from kissing me on the cheek after our last 2 dates. We’ve done things like gone to the movies, lunch, a picnic at Nelson Atkin’s on the lawn, and this weekend we will be hitting up some batting cages and then going to dinner.
Things are going seemingly well, but with the way guys are these days, I am not sure he’s that interested in me. I could be spot on, or my anxiety could be coming into play, like always, making me question the most innocent of situations.
Dating is odd. It’s seriously a spiral of phrases that you need to decipher because men don’t speak directly anymore. They try to tell you what they think you want to hear, rather than what their truths are. Even when I was in my “hookup” phase of dating, men were never honest about their intentions.
When I started to transition from “friends with benefits” into looking for someone of substance, I met a guy who was gorgeous, physically fit, and had the absolute best voice ever. I wanted him to be honest with me, and I don’t think he was. I even asked him if all he wanted was “one thing” and he couldn’t just answer me with a simple yes or no. It was bothersome at best. My unmedicated anxiety took hold and made me lose my shit. I was glad to have hit that speed bump when I did. I was worried because we knew mutual people, but my greatest strength has always been admitting when I am wrong and just living with the knowledge of it, but working to make sure I don’t repeat the mistakes again.
Anyway, I am hoping that I will eventually find the man who isn’t afraid to feel and express himself, in the same way I am not afraid to feel and express myself.
There is something to be said for someone who can express themselves openly and freely.
I have never been a fan of beating around the bush, or talking in circles. It’s silly to me, to make people guess how you feel about them, so I don’t get involved with anyone who isn’t willing to be open with me.
But, I am also not having attachment issues, or deep anxiety anymore.
I have to say, dating as a widow gives me a vantage point. I am wise enough, and lucky enough to have known real love, and commitment. I am lucky enough to be able to express myself without fear or rejection, now. I was once too afraid to be rejected, and now I am comfortable knowing that if a man rejects me, we just weren’t meant to be with each other.
Dating sucks as a normal single adult in their late thirties and it sucks something special for a widow in their late thirties.
One day, I’ll find my match, if I haven’t met him yet. The right one will make it known, without hesitation. I know that much is true. The only thing I have is my patience. ❤
Good night world. Sweet dreams and wonderful wishes of happiness and joy for your futures. ❤
I have sat down 21 times before today, and attempted to write a blog.
I know I have words to say, but I can’t seem to get them into written form this time around. No, there’s nothing serious going on in my life. I haven’t fallen in love, gotten pregnant, lost a limb or anymore family members.
But for some reason, I can’t figure out what it is that I actually want to talk about. So, I decided to start by telling you that I am lost when it comes to writing.
I will treat this like a journal entry, so bare with me while I figure out what I want to say.
This year has been one ride of insanity after another. I swear, if Mitch were alive, he’d be like me about masks. Wear them when required and don’t when they’re not. This year is the year of literal crazy! There are some bad cops killing some good and not so good people, but all of the police are being lumped into one major group as if they’re all bad. It’s so annoying because people either don’t see or refuse to see that doing this is exactly what a lot of people are fighting AGAINST! It isn’t ALL police, it’s the few bad apples that need handled.
This year has sparked (finally) a cry for equality. Black Lives Matter has become loud and heard. It has sparked controversy when it should just open eyes. Not all cops are bad, just like Not all Black people are bad. Not all Mexicans work for the cartel, and not all Italians are a part of the mob. All Caucasians aren’t meth heads. Girls who wear short skirts aren’t all whores and Just because you were born with a penis or vagina doesn’t make you a boy or a girl.
There is so much going on in the world of social media that it’s caused a huge rift between so many people. Like, really people? Of course I can’t support a racist, because that is just ridiculous. I can’t support someone trying to tase a cop and I can’t support “boys will be boys” when it comes to rape.
My goal in life is to bring joy to people, and I have gotten away from that as I have fallen into the trap of social divide. I want to support my friends. I want to support my family. I want to be there when I am needed most. I want to be the mom fo the year, while also laying down the law and teaching my child to do good, and leave no negativity behind as she walks through this life.
Is there a God? Are there multiple Gods? Goddesses? Mother Nature or any of that stuff? Are we literally just a bunch of beings floating around on this ball we call “earth”, living for nothing more than dying? Science says yes. We are living to die. We are killing our planet and no one cares because they don’t care about future generations, because they’ll be dead before then.
Our world has changed.
We went from being caring, helpful individuals who took pride in helping each-other. Of course things like racism and sexism make the things of the past not great. Can we create a world where we care and help each-other without sharing on social media. Without looking for something in return. Without needing a pat on the back. Is that possible? Or is our human race too worried about the amount of likes we get on social media?
Can we unplug and look around us? Everyone believes everything they read on the internet without even clicking and reading anything further on the subject. (I have been guilty of this as well.) I wonder if it’s too late for us.
I wonder if people even fall in love anymore. I wonder if it’s just about the social media presence, or if it’s real. I’ve dated. I have fallen for a guy. I have had my heart broken, all since my husband passed away. To say it made me harsh is an understatement. I am literally on anxiety meds because of it. I dated a guy right after the guy that fucked my head up and lord knows that guy (probably still) thinks I am a crazy bitch. It’s okay, though. I am glad that I gave it a go, and realized that I was batshit crazy at that time, because otherwise, what if I met the man of my dreams and was bat shit with him?? That would have been unfortunate.
I have touched on this before. I believe we all have multiple soulmates. I believe we are all put into each-other’s paths to help each-other along with the certain things we are going through at the time. Some soulmates are part time, and some are forever. The hardest part is knowing when to let some go, and when to hold on and fight for others.
I believe the guy I fell for is a soulmate. A Forever soulmate, but not the kind that you marry and have a life with like that. Maybe more of a “I’m always here for you” kind of soulmate.
I think the guy I dated that thinks I’m crazy was another soulmate. A partime soulmate. Someone who came to show me that I wasn’t ready for what I thought I was ready for, but without damaging any other relationships or life in the process.
I know that every time I say this, widows, widowers, children who have lost parents, and parents who have lost children all cringe and want to slap me. I know the thoughts happen. But, I WHOLEHEARTEDLY believe that EVERY SINGLE THING happens for a reason. Every encounter is fate. Bad and good. I believe if we are laden with a life full of painful events, we will eventually pull out stronger than many other people.
I think I know why I haven’t been able to publish any blogs recently. I can’t seem to finish them.
I talked, in my last entry about how I started meds and they take a few weeks to kick in. Well,, they’ve kicked in and I feel great. The racing thoughts aren’t there anymore. I don’t feel like I need to be attached to someone to feel validated. I don’t need or care for the approval of others.
I am a little peeved right now with someone who is sticking their nose in places and stirring the shit pot, but then again, I don’t really care, anymore. My statement was valid, and that’s that. In short, I dodged one hell of a bullet and I am thankful that someone else witnessed behavior that I thought I was crazy for seeing.
I’ve talked about so much stuff over the years of widowhood. I’ve talked about dating and not dating and narcissistic or toxic people. I have talked about my feelings as a widow, and how different things pull different emotions from me, than they would pull from someone else.
One thing about me will never change. I am one of the kindest, most thoughtful people out there. There are times when I say insensitive things and don’t realize I am saying something insensitive. There are times when I seem mean because I am defending someone or myself. There are perceptions of my personality that can and will always be skewed to whoever is judging.
At some point, I went from being the person who does everything out of the kindness of my heart, always trying to do the right thing and not worrying about what other people thought, because I was doing what I thought was right, and turned into the person who had so much anxiety about what one person thought of me. Even though, everything I ever did was because I cared about a misunderstood version of myself.
For about 3-4 weeks, I was in a state of perpetual anxiety. When I woke up in the morning, I had thoughts of unworthiness. When I was scrubbed in for surgery, I had thoughts of not being good enough. When I came home, after all day of running thoughts of unworthiness, I was exhausted. But my mind kept playing the tune, even as I fell asleep every single night. Some nights I would wake up in the middle of the night, and not be able to go back to sleep for a few hours because of my running commentary. I was very quiet at work for a few weeks. I only talked to a couple of people and I cried more than I have ever cried over those weeks. I wasn’t crying over anyone, just my own inability to control the thoughts in my mind. I was never secretive about my anxiety, either. I was very up front and honest about what I was going through, as I was trying to handle it.
I have never experienced anxiety like that before, and I hope I never do again. I am the picture of confidence when you see me in person, but in my mind, over those weeks, it was rough. I thought I liked someone, but I didn’t know, and the fear of even trying to be anything more than friends was rooted so deep into my core. I knew I wanted to find someone and have a relationship and THOUGHT I was ready, but the anxiety of fucking it up was too much for me to handle.
Yes, I understand. A lot of people have a fear of ruining a relationship. Sure. Everyone has a bit of anxiety when it comes to trying to date. But, the moment it invades your mind, and takes over your actions is the moment the line is crossed.
I’ve talked about my side of the “crazy” in me. So many people don’t know the whole story, because I haven’t told more than a few people about what was said to me, over the weeks I was in a funk. And I won’t. Not really.
And, honestly, my funk wasn’t the fault of the person who endured my anxiety. Not at first. It stemmed from someone before him and slowly trickled from little things that were said to me at the most random times.
Here are a few statements from a couple different people.
“I want a something more from you, than just friendship,” followed immediately by silence for weeks to a month at a time.
“You’re gorgeous, and strong and confident, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend,” followed shortly by “can’t we just have sex with no emotional attachment, and stay friends?”
“Haven’t you ever regretted kissing someone?” Seconds after kissing me.
“I can’t say if I like you or not. We just met.” After kissing me and hugging me and holding me like we had known each-other for years.
All while knowing I had anxiety and was experiencing a bout of it at that time. Little things that added up over time. I am not typing this stuff to bash anyone at all. I am sharing experiences I’ve had, that I hope to never go through again. I am sharing in hopes of raising awareness to others who may have been in a similar situation. And, I am not sharing to be a victim. I am not a “victim”, just a naive lover of people, who misses or ignores the “bad” stuff sometimes. I always try to see the best in people.
I’m over what happened and now that I know why I was in such a state of panic and fear, I can continue to work on it with therapy, blogging, private journaling and meds. My doctor, her nurse, and my therapist all agreed that what happened to me over a 6 month period would do to anyone what it did to me. It was helpful to know that experts agree on that.
I will be 100% honest, about myself, too. I had a few weeks where I was most definitely not myself. I had a few weeks where I didn’t like myself. I had a few weeks where I would text someone and say things that I regretted immediately after hitting send. Then I would apologize for the novel-long texts and came off as a completely crazy person.
I am aware. it’s why I sought help and medication. I stepped back and thought, “holy shit! I have become the crazy chick!” And, really, I am not that person! I can’t convince people who refuse to get to know me when I am myself, and that’s okay. I can’t control what others think of me. No one can. Some will love you (friends family, lovers, etc), and some won’t.
We aren’t meant to be loved by all, and that’s okay. I’m slowly getting back to who I really am, and leaving that scared, unsure person, who I had become for a short time, behind me.
I will never take kindly to people being rude to me, for no reason. I won’t allow anyone to walk all over me. I refuse to be viewed as a victim, and I refuse to victimize anyone else.
One thing that I believe wholly is that we should never leave a negative impact on someone, if you can help it. The hardest part of that is sitting back and allowing someone to dislike you and have a negative opinion of you.
if you made it this far, please, hop on over to the contest I am in to be on the cover of Maxim Magazine! Shoot a free vote my way and share the link with your friends!
Holy crow! That’s a long title! hehe. Okay, so, after my last couple of sessions in therapy my therapist suggested I talk to my doctor about getting me on a low dose of antianxiety meds, to help take the edge off, when it comes to my anxiety.
You know, when you repeatedly tell yourself over and over that the thoughts you are having are insanely far stretched, and nothing you do makes those thoughts go away, you most likely sabotage (In my case.) I have been reading and listening to so many things on anxiety, that I will be a freaking expert by the time my meds kick in. I can say, though, that right now, I am reading Gary John Bishop’s “Stop Doing that Shit” and I am LOVING it. There are so many things that he says that makes me do a double take at my decisions and how I think about why I am the way I am. HIGHLY recommend along with the first book “UnFu*k Yourself”! He’s a really smart Scottish man. (now you can read the book like me, in an accent. It’s a lot of fun that way) I am also about to devour a couple books by Dr. Brené Brown, because she is amazing, as well! You can check her out on Netflix, too, or youtube.
We (my doctor and I) decided to get me started on a low dose, daily pill, rather than Xanax or anything PRN, for my issues. Non-addictive, and considered temporary. Just something to help me get through the fear of talking when it comes to men I am interested in.
Yeah. I know. I talked in a couple other blogs about it. I think. Sorry if this is a repeat, but when it comes to telling a guy that I want to take things to the next level, or that I am interested in them, or that I enjoy this or that about them, I clam up, and my stomach hurts, and I get the pukey feeling. It gets worse and worse, the longer I hang out with them, and eventually, everything ends. Cool. Greeeeaaaaat. (that’s sarcasm). So, I got tired of it. I noticed the first signs of this anxiety within days of meeting the last guy I talked to, and I was a literal mess for the whole time we were hanging out (“taking things slowly”…. like snails… no kissing, no sex. nothing. just friends working out together, eating each-other’s food and hanging out almost every other day), and I managed to fucking blow it, because someone said something about it being “all about sex” and I couldn’t shut my brain down, from that point forward. It wasn’t about that for me. It didn’t seem like that from him either. So, I knew better, but my brain was on a hard core “fuck you” route, and I couldn’t get the car to flip a bitch. So I drove full speed into the wall.
I am not talking about this to talk about him, because that’s long dead and over. I am talking about it because it was with him that I realized my issues and really decided to get ahold of this before it got too far out of hand.
This is not like some “oh he quit talking to her and now she’s sad”. It is a hardcore, brain overloaded while we were “together” type thing. I’m not even sad. I was more pissed off, because I didn’t get a second chance, but now I am over that, too.
Who’s to say it won’t happen again if I don’t start an anti-anxiety regimen? Who’s to say this anxiety won’t topple over onto another part of my life, if I don’t take care of it now. If I quit dating, so I don’t freak out, will my mind look for some other way to be freaked out? I don’t know.
Tomorrow is the beginning of the meds.
been in therapy
listened to books.
started sleep meditation and hypnosis (nightly for different things including anxiety.)
talk to friends.
Sometimes, all the other things don’t work, completely. Sometimes, you need more. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and I refuse to feel shame for falling on another method that works.
I am not sharing for sympathy or acceptance.
I am simply sharing to let you know (yeah you, that nodded your head while reading this), that you aren’t alone.
You know, when I started this journey as a widow, I looked at how well I managed everything, mentally. I thought I was doing great. No kidding. I felt like writing was helping me, so much, and that I was keeping myself away from a depressive state by working out on a regular basis.
In many ways, I was helping myself, as well as hindering myself.
I wrote about how writing became an emotional crutch. I am great at putting my feelings and thoughts on paper. Here’s why. What you don’t see? All of the OTHER stuff, that’s irrelevant to the topic at hand, that I ALWAYS add in, because that’s what pops into my mind, and my fingers click click click it out. You don’t see the disorganization of my thought process, because I clean it up before posting. You don’t see me cry because the things I type are so insanely deep, and painful.
You can’t see the mess. You see what I present to you.
That is basically where I have trapped myself.
Recently I was seeing a guy, and let me tell you, he probably thinks I am certifiable. On day two of hanging out, I realized a couple of my issues, and I SPOKE THEM OUT LOUD to him! I was literally just thinking out loud. Now, let me tell you, though, he had told me, many times, “I want to know all of you. The good. The bad. The beautiful and the Ugly. Will you show me?”
I thought, “Wowwww! That’s amazing!” I thought it was a big score. I mean, no man that I’ve met since my late husband has ever seen that many parts of me, nor has one REQUESTED it.
This guy, though… We met in the midst of one of my biggest self discovery phases. Considering how scary it has been for me, over those weeks, I can’t even imagine what went through that poor man’s mind.
It’s okay though. I am not going to talk crap, but it was very clear that we weren’t going anywhere beyond friends.
Over the last few days of us talking, all he did was respond to texts (never initiated) and when we talked on the phone he always sounded annoyed. When I would try to talk to him about stuff, via text, he would be cold and say “say it to my face.” Finally, I tried. I worked up the courage and fought the anxiety to go see him and talk to him about the things I couldn’t say, just days prior, and he refused to see me. He refused to even talk to me.
So, It’s clear we aren’t anything, and that’s okay. I have no hard feelings. I probably would have ran away from me a lot quicker than he did, to tell the truth. I called him when he told me “try saying it out loud. I don’t want a texting relationship.” He didn’t answer. So I texted him that I don’t think I even want him as a friend, because I don’t want another “friend” who ignores me. I put up with it for 6 months and refuse to do that shit again.”
The next morning, though… I felt awful and knew I ruined what could have been a fantastic workout partner, friendship. I texted him an apology (on Sunday) and left it alone. No word. I tried ONE last time, ordering edible arrangements and offering an apology and telling him where I would be if he wanted to give the friendship part a second chance (This got a biggest head shake and deep sigh from my girlfriends. I even deep sighed myself and kind of knew what would come of it.) No response.
I am complicated.
I am open.
I don’t lie.
I try my HARDEST when it comes to being a good person.
Do I hurt feelings sometimes? Sure. Not for fun, that’s for sure. I HATE hurting feelings, but shit happens sometimes and there’s no way around it.
I need someone who can hang with my ups and downs as I journey through my self discovery, but also tells me if I am being crazy. I need someone who won’t run at the first sign of a panic attack or if it takes me a day or two to organize and gather my thoughts and feelings, to speak them out loud. I need someone who can assure me that they only have eyes for me, and that they do every day, not just when I am with them.
Do I need that now? hell no.
Do I need that soon? Again. No.
But, when the time comes, and a man steps into my life, and thinks he actually wants to stay, he has to be strong enough to withstand my internal storms, and know that it’s not about him.
I workout for therapeutic release of negative energy. I journal privately as a form of therapy. I write, sharing my journey, as part of my therapy. I have an ACTUAL therapist, as a form of therapy, and I have stumbled into sleep hypnosis for anxiety, panic attacks, healthy habits, positive thinking and so on. I read everything I can get my hands on when it comes to overcoming anxiety and overthinking, and negative self talk. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was going to be working on myself. I am also not so naive to believe change will happen overnight.
I am okay with it. I am okay with steady improvements. I am okay with really taking the time I’ll need to find myself, and be comfortable with myself again.
And one day, I’ll meet a man who is okay with my process as well.
I am an over thinker. I have some pretty serious relationship anxiety. I tend to project my fears onto the men that I date, making it impossible to be with me. I tend to sabotage perfectly good relationships, because I am terrified of being hurt. My anxiety makes it hard to speak the words I want to say, to the people I wish to tell the most. The things I hear inside my head are not the things you would expect of me, because of my outer appearance or behavior.
“You’re too much.”
“They just aren’t that into you.”
“They’re still looking for a better woman.”
“You’re only good for sex.”
“No one wants to deal with your mess.”
And it goes on and on and on.
These thoughts override sensibility. These thoughts break me down and make me crazy. These thoughts cause me to run off some great humans.
When I talk to someone, I hear annoyance in their voice when they talk back. I hear impatience. I hear aggravation.
This could all be manifested in my mind, in the beginning, but eventually, people tire of my mind. It’s exhausting for me, so I can only imagine how exhausting it is for someone else.
I am working on it.
I am uncovering the things that are making me feel and act the way I do, and I am WORKING ON IT.
I don’t want to be a “head case” forever. I refuse to be like this. I hate myself like this. Okay, I don’t “hate” myself, but I hate the way I think, sometimes.
I should not talk down to myself or let negative self talk in. I may not be able to do certain things right now, but damnit, I am a god damn survivor and I WILL make it through this atrocious infection of the mind.