Adult woman, mother, widow, writer, career driven, optimistic, human, navigating life, without a map, and sharing my journey with you.
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Writing has helped me in many ways. It helps me process. It helps me understand myself.
Until recently. Recently, I’ve discovered that writing is still helpful, but I lean too heavily on this crutch. I’ve leaned on this since a week after my husband died.
I haven’t had to discuss uncomfortable emotional things, using my voice and words, in over 3 years.
This blog, while helping me, has also damaged me.
This realization woke me up at 2am.
There are things I want to say to someone and I can’t get the words to form in my mouth, and I can’t get my voice to project it outward. All the while, thoughts and words float around in my mind overwhelming me. I can type and write until I’m dead. But now is the time I learn to let the crutch go.
I’m emotionally exhausted and I am seriously hopeful to be able to step forward, now that I realize how I’ve depended so heavily on writing, that I’ve hidden behind it, rather than just using it as back up.
It’s so strange when you finally want to do something, and can’t. Why am I afraid?
Why do I project my fears?
Why can’t I take things at face value?
I’m looking deeper. I’m digging. I am learning. I am understanding what an emotional recluse I’ve become. I am emotional, but not in a healthy way. I hide it deep and don’t talk to people about what’s really going on in my head.
Instead, I talk about things that aren’t necessarily helpful, and only damage relationships I have.
When I try to talk about important things with people I hope to have a good future with (be they friend or a more intimate relationship), I clam up. I swear. I feel tears brim my lashes. Right now, just thinking about it, I’m about to cry. My chest will hurt, and sometimes I feel like I’ll collapse.
Sometimes, I’ll feel all of that at once.
One step at a time. I want to say things out loud and have it make sense. I want to be “emotionally stable”. I want to not be so afraid to say things out loud. I want to not be so afraid of running people off. I just want to BE. I want these things and I’m going to work on it.
Trigger dates. Some of us know what they are and some of us don’t.
I am very aware of tomorrow. It would have marked 17 years of marriage to Mitch.
I am so aware of this being a trigger date, that my insides are twisting. I’m aching to do something stupid, but I refuse to give into the desire of the moment, and ruin things as they are.
My trigger dates usually cause me to have sex with someone, and that usually ends up emotionally damaging for me. I don’t want to keep moving along the path I’m on. I want to be able to relax and take everything slow and steady.
I have a tendency to ruin friendships and sabotage what I have, when these trigger dates arrive.
The last trigger date was Mitch’s deathday, where I hooked up with my ex, a few days before he decided to get back with his ex girlfriend. Now he and I aren’t even friends. Not really an emotional downfall for me. I didn’t want the drama that his life held on a daily basis.
I just wanted something “right now!” to soothe my mind. Ease the pain. Something that felt nice, but didn’t mean anything. And I went for it. Everything that I predicted would happen, from it, happened.
So now, as my anniversary approaches rapidly, I am trying to find the best outlet for me to find something nice and something that feels good but that doesn’t involve sex or another person, really.
I’m diving into myself and I’m trying my damndest to figure me out. It’s not easy. I don’t know what I need or what I should do during the trigger dates, so I’m going to hide away at home and avoid being weird, pushy, needy, or whatever else is exteriorly displayed.
No alcohol. This weekend. No fried foods, this weekend. Nothing crazy. No sex or men.
I realized, recently, that it’s so much harder for me to keep things silent, about myself. It seems I have gotten so used to sharing every single detail of my life, and I don’t even blink when someone asks me a question that might seem invasive or none of their business. I have a tendency to overshare and it started when Mitch died. I don’t blame his death for my over-sharing, and I think the oversharing helped me in a lot of ways.
But now? Now I’d like to keep things to myself for the most part, but words literally tumble out of my mouth before I realize they’ve been said. Talk about one hell of a bad habit to break, right? So, my answer? Therapy. I can still share things and talk about things here, but of course it won’t be in detail or drop names or give anything away.
I value my friendships, old and new. I have my issues and I am coming to terms with them. I have anxiety like I have never experienced before, and it’s literally being festering for a few years now, getting worse and worse.
I try to share everything as a way to process, but now it’s like the sharing isn’t helping me process a damn thing. It’s just making me seem like an overhearer, which is fine, but I need to get something from my own writings, or it’s useless for me to share all of the intricate details of my life.
I recently let go of someone who really damaged my self esteem and my trust in humans. We weren’t dating. He was a friend but he so obviously didn’t value our friendship, and it hurt me horribly. I let it go on for months, and I allowed and made excuses for his behaviors.
It’s okay, though. I mean, relatively speaking. It’s not okay that I was mind-fucked. It’s not okay that my anxiety and self esteem took a hit. It IS okay, though that I am aware, even if it took me longer than necessary to figure out. I sought help, and will be starting therapy tomorrow afternoon.
I have never been one to “need” therapy, per say. I fought it, tooth and nail. I was doing great until I wasn’t anymore.
Meeting new people and feeling a false sense of safety when they wrap their arms around me is dangerous. I realize that. I realize that and now I am ready to figure out how to create boundaries that are right for me, when it comes to the dating world.
I love feeling safe. I love feeling protected. I love and miss being able to trust someone with my whole world.
I am trying to step back, mentally, and create a healthier mind-set for myself.
I want a man who wants me as much as I want him, sure. Don’t we all want a person like that? I had one once. It was phenomenal. Great things take time to grow. Period.
So, in the aspect of therapy. The things I want from it, and hope to achieve are the following.
The ability to withhold from sharing every single thing.
The ability to create healthy boundaries, as I haven’t had any boundaries for a few years. This has everything to do with my desire to go all-in, when I should take one step at a time.
I would like to be able to understand my thoughts more clearly.
I’d like to be able to spot the things that are triggered by certain dates (my anniversary, my late husband’s birthday, and my late husband’s deathday, before they are irreversible.
I’d like to be able to speak my feelings without stumbling over thoughts or oversharing, when it comes to dating and all other forms of relationships.
I would like to overcome my fear of abandonment.
I would like to overcome my need to please people.
I would like to learn to handle my attachment issues, and really be comfortable just letting go, when I should let go, rather than trying to salvage something that’s been shredded to tiny bits, separated and dispersed into space.
I would love to overcome my fear of failing. I’ve said it before. We all fail, and failing is a way to grow. It shouldn’t be feared the way I fear it. It should be welcomed and expected. I know this, and as I type it, I understand it. But, when it’s most important, I fear it. I allow my fear to disrupt my life.
And finally, I would love to accept the idea of happiness in my life. I would love to get over the fear of being happy. I want to step forward and away from this fear of the rug being pulled from beneath me again. There’s a laundry list of how I grew into happiness and BAM, I was back on my ass, again. I keep getting up, but I am growing weary and don’t want to fall anymore. It hurts, and each time I stand back up, I may be stronger, but I fall farther from the happiness I originally sought before each fall.
For a while, I have been in denial about the anxieties I have had. In denying the problem, the problem has grown, greatly.
For a while, running helped. For a while, working out helped. For a while, writing helped.
They still help.
They just don’t help ENOUGH anymore.
I should have recognized it long before I did, but denial is a monster bitch. I’ve spoken about my horrible decision making near certain dates and I continued doing them. Those questionable decisions were GIANT red flags, screaming at me to seek professional help. (nothing dangerous, but just stupid.)
So now, I am ready.
Now I leap.
Now, I grow.
Now I heal.
Now, I put One Foot In Front Of The Other, after stalling out for a while, mentally.
So, Here’s to silence. Here’s to privacy. Here’s to self awareness and self growth.
Recently, I’ve delved into the dating world with a deeper idea of what I want.
Recently, I’ve been dismissed from the men I find myself attracted to, the men I wish to be around, at least to give a relationship a shot with.
That shit is painful. I won’t get into detail about anything but recently, I’ve connected with someone who is not who I’d have expected.l to see myself with.
I feel a sense of safety in this stranger’s arms, and I’m thinking it’s not real. I think it’s because I want to be wanted as badly as I want someone.
I’ve decided to sign up for therapy. I took my first step today and scheduled it for Wednesday. This person I’ve connected with may not be who I initially thought, or he could end up being an amazing ally. Since connecting, he makes me think deeper about who I am.
As I dive deeper into myself, and learn that I can’t say the things I type, out loud without crying, or the severe pit in my stomach, I learned that if I ever want something real with ANY man, it’ll only be after I have searched and healed myself from the mental issues I’m suffering from. When anxiety grows and doesn’t dissipate, it overwhelms my mind, and tells me I am unworthy and I can’t live like that forever. I can never manage a real intimate relationship, if I question every thing.
Now, I’ve thought about this, and I mean really thought about this stuff as deeply as I could, and this man may have been placed here, regardless of his intentions, to show me that I am ready for therapy. I am mentally prepared to talk to someone about the inner workings of my mind.
I won’t be able to take a step into a real relationship until I deal with my mind first.
So, I step away from being strong alone and am getting help.
I am not ashamed.
I am proud of this step.
I am still strong, but it’s time for me to lean on a professional, so that one day I will be able to be wholly with someone, again.
Without fear. With trust. Without questioning everything.
If I have said anything consistently for the last 3 years and 3 months it is this.
Everything Happens For a Reason.
I stand by that. I don’t want to gloat or brag or anything like that, so keep that in mind as I trace back through the years, that have led me exactly where I am today.
I work in health care, and I make very good money, with a pretty good security in my job, in all times of world happenings.
Why? How? Back when Megan was 3 years old, I went up to the worst school I could have possibly went to, and signed up for a $25,900 loan to get my associates in applied science. This was immediately after getting my GED, because I wanted to set a better example for my daughter.
Let me explain. I had such an urge to do this that I went through the entire process without consulting with my husband first. That’s not how we did things. He would have said “these loans are awful! We should look up another place to get a load through, before taking this huge step.” And me, I would have reacted as if he were telling me no, like it was a bad idea. I remember being at that school with the loan people, without his knowledge and the woman told me they were grants and that I wouldn’t have to pay grants back. I signed the 579,683 pages as she told me “what they said”, because I was in such a hurry to get started, so I would be ready!
I get my first job as a surgical tech and man! It was a $5/hour raise! It wasn’t what I expected it to be, but it was much more than what I was making prior. I went through absolute hell, with some of the WORST co-workers, but I held on. I trained and I stiffened my backbone, because I was SURE it was important. I would come home and cry to my husband about how awful my job was, and how awful the people were proving to be. I’d get written up for things that I never did, except maybe the times I rolled my eyes at coworkers. I always do that. Sue me. ha.
It was at that establishment where I learned not to trust anyone you work with. Sure, you can talk about your personal life, or listen to them talk about theirs, but never discuss anything about anyone you work with, no matter if it’s good or bad, unless you are praising them straight to their face, because even the kindest words could get twisted and turned and make you look like a bad human. I learned.
Most of you reading these posts know that I am a very talkative person, and that I am VERY opinionated. I learned to be different, because of that place. I went through hell, just to learn that I can’t trust anyone. I became the “watcher”. I got the urge, after 4 years in the same place, to move on. I wanted to do more than just the same surgery over and over. I knew I was good and I felt like I was being limited in my career.
So I vamped up my resume, and I shot it out to every hospital in the area.
First interview was a dud. I was devastated and scared that I would never be enough to move from the area I was at. All I wanted to do was scrub trauma surgeries. I wanted to be able to do anything that came through the doors.
Second interview. Flop.
Third interview, SCORE!
Trauma center, they were desperate, and offered me the job straight away! I took a pay cut, to do more and take more call. I was promised performance based raises. If I wasn’t promised that, I wouldn’t have taken the job. I am excellent at what I do, and I learn swiftly. I faked confidence in that interview, so hard, and it worked.
I started my career in a trauma center OR, and it was amazing! Everyone was like family, straight away! I sat back, though, and I listened. I watched how everyone interacted with each-other, and how each person spoke when another left the room. For a week and a half, everyone made jabs at how quiet I was. I was very reserved. I asked appropriate questions and didn’t fuck around. I was there for work, not for friends.
When “raise” time came around, I was informed that there were no performance reviews and everyone got the same percent raise, no matter how they performed.
I got a 30 cent raise.
I was pissed. I applied across the board again, in 2016, and landed an interview at a surgery center that was about to start doing heavy total joint surgeries, and they wanted me to lead the ortho team.
I accepted the position, with $4/hour raise, and turned in my notice only to my nurse manager and director of the OR.
My nurse manager grabbed me, that day in late summer 2016, and asked me what it would take to keep me. I told him what the other facility offered and he talked me up, so high, to the people in charge and got me up an additional $4/hr. So I stayed. I loved (hell I still love most of those crazy bastards that held my hand and showed me how to do trauma) my work family so dearly that I couldn’t leave. I got this $8/hour raise and was so excited! I finally felt like my bosses really cared about me, as a person.
That winter, we started getting caught up with debt. I even urged Mitch to let me set up autopay for my student loans so we could start repairing my credit. In late December, after much ado, he finally agreed. We were finally on an upward climb and I made great money. He made great money. We were getting somewhere.
Then, in January, he died.
I had to call my work and tell them I wouldn’t be back for a while, because I didn’t know how long it would take me to feel up to it. Because of my amazing work family, I was able to take 3 weeks off, completely paid with co-workers’ paid time off donations. These people were why I didn’t want to leave. Those people really took care of me. They checked in on me, daily and made sure I was doing okay. On top of donating PTO, they started a collection of money, to help pay for everything that comes along with death. Let me just tell you, dying is expensive as fuck for everyone who is left alive. (no hard feelings, btw. It’s just a fact) Please, make sure you have a life insurance policy. We had just renewed our insurance that previous November and the option for Mitch to have life insurance was removed. Either he didn’t keep it, or it was no longer an option, but that’s the fact of the matter.
Because I stayed with that facility, and kept the work family relationships I had, I was able to keep my job with them.
In late 2017, my boss, the director of the OR decided to call me into her office to tell me I was not grieving the loss of my husband properly and that I needed to go to counseling, and blah blah blah.
I was very offended that she thought she had the right to discuss my grieving process, considering she was a nurse. She knows everyone grieves different. I, Kindly, told her, “I’ll agree to disagree with you, right now. I am going back to my OR to get ready for my next total joint.”
For the next year she wrote me up for everything she possibly could. Even made-up things. I went from absolutely loving my job to dreading it every day, because of that woman. But I did it. I did it because I was the sole living parent of a 13 year old child. A child who depends on my income to eat and have 4 walls and a roof. I held my tongue. I never screwed up. Then, a disagreement and I was fired.
I was devastated. I had never been fired before in my life, aside from the time I was fired 9 hours after I announced my pregnancy at the bar I managed.
So here I was, the day before my scheduled flight to California, with no reliable source of income. What did I do? I shot my resume to every single hospital and surgery center in the metro area. I applied with a travel agency, for possible local travel positions, and drank beer and cried the rest of that day.
I drunkenly packed my bag for California and prepared for our long weekend in a state we’ve never been.
Friday, Megan and I landed at LAX, met our long time internet friends, face to face, for the very first time, and it was amazing. We went to Rodeo Drive and walked into some of the most ridiculous stores. Meg was DYING to see the inside of the Gucci store, so we went there. My phone rang. I answered. It was a hospital wondering if I could come in to interview on monday morning.
I apologized and explained my whereabouts and asked if we could do Tuesday, instead. She agreed and I tried to enjoy the rest of my mini-vacation. I received an email from another hospital and they wanted to set up a phone interview, so I set that up for another day that week.
It was looking very promising.
I get back to KC, and come straight home, and lay out my interview clothes for the next day. Nervous and excited and optimistic as always, I went to bed, alarm set and planned on nailing that interview.
I was doing amazing, until the HR lady asked me “why did you decide to change hospitals?” and I couldn’t answer. I am a TERRIBLE liar, and hadn’t ever had a problem with this question. “I was fired.” I managed to squeak out. She asked why and I didn’t know how to answer that. I just confirmed that it wasn’t a patient care issue.
She asked me to sit outside of her office and wait for the director of surgery and the charge nurse/nurse manager to come get me for the second part of the interview. 45 minutes passed by and no one came. The HR lady came out with the “I am so sorry, but they got super busy upstairs and aren’t able to come down and get you for the second part of the interview. They’ll call you when they have availability.”
I knew they weren’t going to call me.
Then, that weekend my best friend/coworker of many years called and asked if I knew this ortho rep, and I said no. She told me he asked about me in a surgery and the surgeon and her stopped working and proceeded to tell him how amazing I was. See, a director asked him if he had ever heard of me. He hadn’t, but he happened to be standing in an OR, with my best friend, and a surgeon who I loved working with, who enjoyed having me in the OR with her.
Everything happens for a reason!
I had the phone interview and that went so badly, I wasn’t sure I would ever get a job. I still hadn’t heard anything from the place I had the sit down interview, and I began to get scared. I saw unemployment, and my late husband’s social security and me having to change fields of work, because I couldn’t get hired anywhere, because no one wanted someone who had been fired.
Then, I got a phone call. “We heard about you, from this ortho rep, and he had a lot of fantastic things to say about you.” (thanks, buddy. Your words saved me!) I cried. I had never heard that man’s name before, and I had never gotten the pleasure of working with him at my previous job, but between my old co-workers and this man as the link between the two, I was offered the opportunity to come interview on the surgery unit, and damn near offered the position on the spot. I wasn’t officially offered it, because they had more interviews to do, but they said, multiple times, “we wouldn’t have called you like we did, if we weren’t highly interested in you. We were basically told we would be crazy not to hire you.”
When I first started I was scared. I was timid around the new coworkers. I didn’t say much. When they asked what made me change jobs, I just told them. “I was fired.” They were shocked. They all went to the director and nurse manager and asked if they knew I had been fired. They were reassured that I wasn’t a danger to patients or anyone for that matter, and that it was a disagreement between my old boss and myself that had nothing to do with workplace behavior.
One door was slammed and when the wind blew me through the open window, I landed on a cloud.
I will say it over and over again. Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens for a reason. EVERYTHING!
I hope you understand that now, I make double what Mitch and I made when we first started dating, and triple what I made before I graduated college.
I am working hard at being a single mother. I never, in my life, imagined I would be in this situation.
A single mother?
It could never happen!
I was wrong, and everything has prepared me for where I am at, in this exact time in the world we are living in. If I can tell anyone anything, its to listen to that voice that tells you to quit being afraid, and to ACT. Don’t be afraid to get that new career, try new things, enroll into college for a career that will make you happier.
Have you ever found yourself holding something, and you don’t realize you’ve got a death-grip on it? Have you ever clung to rightly to an IDEA, that you couldn’t let it go? Let me tell you a little something that I learned recently.
The other night, I took my socks off and must have fallen asleep with a sock in my hand, because when I woke up the next morning, I was still clutching that sock in the same hand, so tightly that my knuckles were white, and my hand was sore! When I let go, there was a uncontrollable sigh of relief that escaped my lungs.
There’s a major significance between that sock and my life.
I have a tendency to not let things/ideas/people go, when I should. When I woke up, and I had that sock in my hand, I felt like I was coming upon some revelation about who I am.
I know I don’t let PEOPLE go, easily. I have discussed this before. When I have my mind set on something, it takes a while for me to change that way of thinking.
Like the guy (I know, I said the last blog was the last one about him, but bare with me… this part will be short), from the previous blogs. The guy I love, with such intensity that I am unaware of how to deal. It took me months to realize that I wasn’t IN LOVE with him, but only have a love for him, so much so, I would rather be his friend for life, and never lose him, rather than risking it all for sex. MONTHS of clinging to this idea that we would be together someday.
So yesterday, I fully let go of every thought of a possibility of being with him. There was this feeling of relief.
Thanks to that sock, I feel okay with this. Just days ago, it hurt to think of giving up that hope. Now though? It’s like a weight I never knew existed was lifted from my shoulders.
Thanks to that sock, that I was gripping so tightly, like I was afraid to lose it, I am going to be better at letting things go, that aren’t meant for me. Like ideas I dream up, or holding so tightly to people who just keep taking a step farther from me, with each passing day.
I am unaware of what this chapter is, in my life. I am also not too worried about it. What is meant to be WILL be, and I have to have faith that when it’s my time to shine, I’ll shine for the correct person. Myself.
I keep looking for the deeper meaning to everything and I have forgotten to live in the moment. I have forgotten to have fun NOW! Life is fleeting. I could be gone tomorrow. You could be gone tomorrow. Everyone could be gone tomorrow.
So, why was I so stuck on the “possibility” of something, rather than the reality of what is?
Me, of all people should know better than that. All I am doing, when I hold onto a possibility is hurting myself. If I continue to hurt myself, I will lose my friend, because he cannot stand to be the reason I am in pain. I am okay with letting go of those possibilities now. He never caused me pain. It was me all along.
I’ll never NOT regret turning him down, last year.
I will never forget, again, that I did that, but it was important in that moment. We had barely just started talking to each other on a regular basis. We’d always talk about how we are worth more than just sex, and I was serious. We would drink and text each-other all the time. We were never both drinking at the same time, or things would have gotten out of hand, quite quickly.
But, I’ll let go, now. For real, this time.
I am happy with letting go.
But let me be clear. Just because I am letting go doesn’t mean I’ve lost my sisterly/friend love for him. He’s a freaking superhuman, super-dad, and has been one of my best friends through all of this dating crap, and I’ll never forget that, nor will I downplay it. I wish I could tell everyone who he is, because most of you will be like “what?! Holy shit!” But I won’t share, for his privacy. I respect people, much more than most would think, when it comes to THEIR privacy. I share all of my feelings and my experiences, but I won’t ever reveal someone unless they ask me to.
But I wish I could share so everyone could see him through my eyes, and have my version of him embedded in their minds.
Good looking 😉
And a complete gentleman.
I’ll cut it off here, because I could laundry list all of the positives about him, for days. Women would be BEGGING for his name and number. Haha!
So… the sock in my hand was a lesson to myself.
Sometimes, you just have to have faith and let go.
This isn’t one of my creative writing blogs. This is a legitimate dream of my late husband, with no sex happenings.
I think it had a bit to do with a guy I saw, recently, across the street from Freddy’s on Shawnee Mission Parkway. He looked just like Mitch. My heart skipped a beat, even.
It may have something to do with my cousin reading cards for me. It was the night of Imbolc (which I really know nothing about, but it’s a “witchy holiday” is how I refer to it, since I don’t know. Lol)
My cousin read cards for 3 men who have entered my life recently, without knowing which she was reading about each time. Anyway. I’m a “weirdo”, and I have this fantastic pull when it comes to certain people, and there’s a telltale sign in my bones when someone is meant to be in my life long-term. When you just come out and say “you’re not going anywhere until we figure this out!” It gives off weirdo vibes to the max.
So, with each man she read the cards. With each one, The cards matched my initial gut reaction I experienced upon meeting or reconnection.
Now, onto my dream.
I fell asleep after my cousin left here. Mitch was there. He was across the street at a gas station looking like he’d never been gone, but also quite confused. No car, no wallet, nothing.
I went to him. He gasped and hugged me hard. He told me he missed me.
The dream flashed to a doctor’s office. I told him he had a heart condition and needed to keep it monitored so he didn’t disappear again.
The dream flashed to me being in a car, seeing Mitch through a window of our apartment, and he grabbed his chest. He grimaced. I stopped the car, ran inside and began cpr while screaming for someone to come help.
The dream shifted again. I saved his life this time. I was there and I saved him. I was scared he was going to leave me because of all the things I’ve done since he died.
I laid with my head in his lap crying as he stroked my hair. I told him I love him and I’d never stop loving him, but that I believed our journey together on earth was over. He told me “Your journey is just beginning. Keep following the path you’re on. What is meant to be, will be.”
I woke up with such a sense of closure, and such a sense of love and acceptance and a new sense of excitement to explore this part of my life.
He spoke words that I speak regularly, but it was as if someone was finally speaking them to me. Someone was finally reminding me that everything happens for a reason.
Every single meeting is meant to take place in each and every person’s life. Nothing is coincidence. Everything is purposeful. Don’t get angry when things don’t go your way. LEARN, then put your knew knowledge into action to create the life you’re meant to live.
That dream, my husband telling me to continue my path. Just wow. I, honestly, don’t even know what path I’m on. Am I on a path to be with my next “person”? Am I on a journey of further self-discovery, a deeper knowledge of myself, spiritually?
I guess, when it comes to this path I’m on, I’ll treat it like every other one,
I wasn’t going to write, today. I wasn’t going to dive into everything that I have done recently.
I was definitely not going to admit to everyone that around this time of year, I do things I really shouldn’t do.
I wasn’t going to admit to the fact that I got off of work early, yesterday, drove to my ex’s house, and had sex. Hello, 23 years older and we still behave like teenagers with raging hormones. yeesh.
I wasn’t going to admit that I sat in his bed and responded to the guy friend of mine that I fell in love with, when he texted me. read receipts give me anxiety and I keep mine on for the most part.
I wasn’t going to confess that they LIVE A FEW HOUSES FROM EACH-OTHER! I learned that today, actually. I couldn’t believe it. The friend could have literally watched me walk into the ex’s house. Wow… Just WOW.
Not going to mention the fact that I lied and fulfilled a desire I had. I’m not ashamed of the act of sexual pleasures. I am ashamed that I lied. I mean, I really am a terrible liar anyway, so I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew I was lying anyway. But, I also don’t see the need in saying “hey child of mine, I am going to “insert name here”‘s house to have sex. See you soon! Nope. That is ridiculous!
I don’t even know why I lied. I can’t keep it a lie, because I have a big ass mouth and I have this blog and this blog is where I confess all of my shit. Especially when I am hungry, and I am waiting to go get food and I have a brain that’s lacking in nutrients. I don’t have the ability to lie.
I wasn’t going to admit that I knew all along that I was just another “hoe” when it came to the ex. HA! Sure. Or just a woman who knows what she wants and where to get it. I’d be more surprised if he wanted to continue to see me, than I would be if he never texted, called, or facetimed again. I’m not sure I even care, honestly. I am not mad, or even sad. I just feel blank. Maybe it’s because today is what it is, or maybe its because it’s real. I won’t know until later on. But that’s what I feel right now.
My heart is getting harder and harder, I guess. I can’t lie about that, or pretend otherwise.
Last Saturday, when I was sitting in my car, sobbing like a baby, because the man I fell in love with who could never find time to hang out with me, even as a friend, told me he asked a woman on a date, is the time when I decided I was going to follow through, and quit holing out for him. I knew the ex wasn’t small, I knew he had been around the block and could hold his own in the bedroom. Why the hell not? Right? (No offense, babe. It’s just how my fucked up head works these days. And I was right. you were great. Thanks. 😉 )
Happy Fucking Deathiversary!
I’m going to eat, now, before I confess to the candy I stole when I was a kid.
Many times, lately, I find myself throwing myself into situations I should most definitely avoid. These situations are mainly men.
Men who aren’t right for me.
Men who I’m not right for.
When does it end?
When does “real” happen again?
When do I stop? Have I gotten myself into situations so often that it’s becoming natural for me?
I don’t NEED drama in my life. I don’t. Consciously, I don’t want it either, but, I seem to draw that shit in, each one filled more so than the last.
Meet a guy at a party. Start seeing him as a friend with benefits, but when I wanted more, it wasn’t an interest.
Have an AMAZING hookup, see the guy 2 more times, then nothing. Wrong guy for me. (You’ll read about him in my book)
Fall in love with this guy, because he’s perfection in a man, one of my best guy friends. Wrong man for me. God Damnit!
Date a guy from school, who turned out to be absolutely horrible for me.
An ex came back into my life, and I am not sure this will work. Simply stated: I don’t trust him. I’m not sure if it’s his fault or if it’s my fault or if it’s a combination of both our faults, and our histories. Whatever the case, I don’t trust him, so I am paranoid, and my overthinking mind goes ballistic of it’s own accord. Thoughts and images of him with another woman raging through my mind. WHY? But, usually, my intuition is right, when it comes to this, so I am fucking terrified. The first night out with the ex, we damn near went to town in the bathroom at a bar. Thank god the glass fell off the sink and broke. That isn’t me. Is it? Seems to be me, when I’m with him, oddly enough. Even when we were kids, making out, hot and heavy at the drive in theatre, with his dad in the front seat of the car. Always hot and heavy. Can’t keep our hands to ourselves. Never could. Like there’s no “simmer”. Gotta find that knob, or this won’t work either.
I don’t want to change anyone. I know that’s something a lot of women do. I don’t. I stand strong in the statement “Only you can fix you.”
One of the most commonly occurring statements to me, seems to be, “I’d love to have sex with you, but you are just my friend.
Why am I good enough for sex, good enough as a friend, but not good enough to be a partner? Why is the first thing every man wants, when it comes to me, sex? Seriously.
So, instead of keeping my standards high, I lower and lower until the bar is just stepped over, like nothing matters.
When will this end?
I know my worth. I quit talking about my worth out loud, because I don’t want to sound like a conceited, stuck-up bitch. You know? I’m not trying to scare potential male suitors away. ha. Or maybe that’s what I SHOULD do. Maybe Survival of the Fittest is how I should treat it.
I’m a LOT. I am sure I’ve said it before, somewhere in all of these writings. I was way up then wayyyyyy down, yesterday.
I left the bar, to go get pepto for Meg, and come home. I sat in the parking lot of CVS, snot crying because my head is so twisted, and knotted over so many thoughts, and I can’t get it straight. I can’t untie the knots, and smooth the strings. Am I in love with my friend? I mean, the whole world shifted and I haven’t been able to NOT think about him all of the time. Anytime I kissed a guy, I felt like I was cheating. I felt like I was cheating on a chance to be with him. And maybe, MAYBE I created a version of him that isn’t who he is, but who I see and want him to be. Maybe I fell in love with an illusion. I don’t know.
I just want the tangles in my brain to stop.
I want it to unwind, but every time I pull a string, it makes the knots more and tighter.
I want easy, for fuck’s sake!
I mean, I am not naive enough to believe that having a relationship will be simple, but I want the trust to come naturally. Why is it SO hard for me, now? I had zero issues trusting Mitch. But he sat down with me, before our second date, and told me, “I don’t trust you.” Zero intro to the statement, and just a touch of explanation after. Then, I proved myself to him.
Maybe… Maybe I’ll just take a dating hiatus again.
When I don’t fight for attention.
When I feel wanted for more than my body.
When I feel like a partner.
When I get a say in when we see each-other, rather than the guy always calling the shots.
When he makes me feel beautiful at my worst.
When I am so obviously the only one he thinks about and wants to be with.
When I never have to question if he’s lying.
When he proves he’s worthy of my company.
Then… THEN I’ll step into something.
Until then… Respect my mess, because it is a part of this package.