Dating As A Widow

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. ❤

22 Time’s a Charm?

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.

Until next time.

My Meds Have Kicked In, And I Am Finally Feeling More Like Myself.

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!

***Warning!*** Pictures are risqué! nothing shows, but they’re mostly boudoir.

My Reality Is What It Is. Now, I Fix What I Can, and Let Rest, That Which Cannot Be Fixed.

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.

I have:

been in therapy

read books.

listened to books.

started sleep meditation and hypnosis (nightly for different things including anxiety.)

exercise regularly.


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.

Happy Monday, ladies and gentlemen.

Order. Thoughts. Feelings. Anxiety. Fear. Friendship. Dating. Therapy.

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 in no rush.

From the book “Unfu*k Yourself” by Gary John Bishop.



My name is Tabbie.

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.

I will take each step as they come.

I will beat this.

Writing Became My Emotional Crutch.

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.

Here’s to revelations of one’s self.


Trigger Dates

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.

Just me. Megan and me.

Order in.

Watch movies.

Go for walks.

Enjoy ourselves.

I’m not even going to wash my hair today.


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.

  1. The ability to withhold from sharing every single thing.
  2. 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.
  3. I would like to be able to understand my thoughts more clearly.
  4. 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.
  5. 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.
  6. I would like to overcome my fear of abandonment.
  7. I would like to overcome my need to please people.
  8. 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.
  9. 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.
  10. 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.

When You’re Tired Of Being Strong All Of The Time.

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.


Let go.


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.

I am still healing.