The Sock In My Hand.

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.

amazing.

Strong.

Super-dad.

Dedicated.

Smart.

Funny.

Great listener!

Encouraging.

Positive Thinker.

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.

Some Things Hurt Worse Than Others

I decided that since I really sat and thought over everything completely, about my friend who I love, that I was going to quit getting my hopes up for him.

I told him it wasn’t his fault, completely for me getting my hopes up, and that if I could just stop taking things he says so seriously. Sometimes we just say things that sound good in the moment, but never intend to follow through. You know what I mean? You’re out with friends and everyone is having a great time, and one of you suggest, “Oh hey! We should travel together, sometime!” Sounds good in the moment, but once a few days go by, you can laundry list all the reasons it would be a bad idea.

This was kind of the case, I think when it comes to the things my friend would tell me. I decided he thought it sounded good then, but changed his mind, after thinking it over. I get it. I do it too.

I shared what I planned to do, and told him the only way I’d take him seriously is if he grabs me by my shoulders, shakes the shit out of me, and tells me, “Tabbie, I want all of you. I want you for everything that you are.”

He took it all wrong, and said he was sorry. He told me he was going to remove himself from my life completely, and when I read that text, I literally broke. There was no stopping the steady flow of tears that flooded my face. My shirt was wet, my eyes swollen and red.

Some things hurt so much more than you would expect. Remember the letter in the last blog? The realization that my love for him is strongest in the friend department than anything else is what made me clear it up with him. I mean, I was sharing with him that I was putting boundaries around the way I talk to him. We are friends but we joked and talked a little sexually sometimes. Talk about the things we would do to each-other, and all of that. Every time we talked about that, I would get my hopes up as if maybe he finally got his shit together.

Each time I was wrong. Each time, I would allow my hopes to climb higher and higher.

I should have realized it was just talk. We know everything about each-other’s bedroom desires and dislikes. It’s funny, actually. What he likes to do, I like to have done and what I like to do, he likes to have done. This is ridiculous, actually.

So, with that bit of information, you can, hopefully, see where I allowed myself to be so confused about the reality of where our friendship/relationship was heading.

One day I asked if he thought I was crazy, and if so, where did he think I fell on a scale of 1-10. he said 9.5. We joke about it, actually. I felt like I was about to go full 10.0 on the crazy scale yesterday, when he said that to me.

I actually probably DID go full 10. The mere thought of not having him as my friend killed me inside. I sent him, probably 5 or 6 or 9 texts through the day, yesterday. Then, when I was at dinner I was mad. He wasn’t responding and I was pissed that he took what I said so far out of context and was so ready to disappear from my life, our friendship, everything.

I told him so.

Then, finally, FINALLY, he responded. He told me he would stay my friend if I wouldn’t mind. He didn’t want to be the cause of my pain and anguish. He totally misunderstood what I was telling him. It happens because sometimes I use too many words for something a simple 2 sentences would work for.

It’s why I blog. It’s why I journal. It’s why I write everything. It’s funny, because sometimes people will say to me, “short version” and it’s still an entire phone screen with additional scrolling, of text.

Words help me.

Words hurt me.

Words are what I use to understand myself.

Not enough an you risk sounding like a bitch. Too many? A crazy person. The ultimate goal is to use the perfect amount of words, for any situation.

Yesterday? I used too many.

Today, I used less.

Last night, I came home, went to bed and dreamed that he left his date to take her home, and returned to me, as a friend, then when we were going to head to our own separate homes, we hugged goodbye, and he awkwardly kissed me, goodbye.

In my dream, we were like teenagers. We were physically adults with our adult lives, kids, jobs and all, but the feelings were like that of a teenager. It was weird because in my dream, I could feel my feelings and his. I think that was the whole point of the dream, itself.

The awkward kiss, the nervous fear of trying something new. The feeling that we were giving in, or finally not avoiding.

Of course, it was just a dream. It wasn’t to be taken to heart, but maybe there was something in it, maybe where we were or the clothes we had on, maybe the cars we were driving. Who knows? Maybe. Just maybe the dream was nothing buy a wishful dream, since I finally got my mind straight and decided to let him go in hopes of a relationship/boyfriend/future husband idea, and be his friend. Only a friend. I have to watch my mouth and not share my dreams with him. I have to stop sharing every little bit of information my brain sends me. I have to tamp down the urge to be with him.

I have to not. I have to retrain my brain to make it think differently. Right? That’s what I need to do.

I’ll be fine. I will figure it out, because I am strong enough.

The pain associated with the fear of losing him, completely, really taught me that. Losing the hope of something more than friendship is far less painful than the fear of losing his friendship. Period. Feeling that few hours of loss made me realize how NOT painful it really is, to have lost the hope.

In order to keep him forever, only one of 2 things can happen. One makes me laugh and the other makes complete sense.

We can stay friends; loyal, loving, and caring friends. Or, we could get married.

You decide which one is which. Just kidding. I will tell you so there’s no speculation. Marriage is hilarious to me between the two options.

I know I keep writing about him, but, man. Ladies and gentlemen, I wish you could all know who he is, and then you could take lesson. Women, if you’re single, you need to find you a man like this friend of mine. And guys, be the kind of guy he is. It’s hard to tell you these things because y’all don’t even know.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I was not singing his praises, yesterday. I called him an idiot at least 4 times, to my cousin, and once I even texted that he needed to not be an idiot. See, he apologized for breaking my heart and letting me down and all these things I never said to him. I was crying because he actually helped heal my heart, so I told him so.

He is the reason I now know that I can still love someone who isn’t my family, and love them wholly. I don’t mean everyone. I just mean, I have my people who I love that are friends from before Mitch died. Although I’ve known this guy since middle school, I never talked to him until 2017. From 2017-mid 2019 we talked a little bit. We checked in on each-other and made sure we were doing okay. We talked about our dating lives and stuff. Then, one day I texted him in a very “booty call” fashion, but I was so awkward, and I was drunk and I must have worded it funny, because nothing came of it except we started talking more regularly. Not every day, like we do now, but 2 or 3 times a week. Then he texted me one day, and told me he really wanted an orgasm. (pretty sure he was drunk.) I told him, “Sorry, bruh. I can’t help you there.”

He just recently told me that he will never forget that. I had forgotten it.

In high school, I rudely declined an offer to dance, from…

Wait for it….

Mitch Wood.

He remembered that day, forever. After we got married, he told me all about it. In my defense, I thought the “messenger” was pointing at another boy, so I was way more rude about the decline than necessary. But, during that year, in that school, and my bad attitude, I would have declined Mitch as well, but look how we turned out. =P Not saying that my friend and I will ever be anything more than friends. I just thought it was funny how I turned Mitch down, then fell in love with him. I turned my friend down, and then kinda fell for him, too, only without the returned feels.

I am getting more and more tired so I feel like I am being redundant.

This is, hopefully, my last entry about this particular friend. We will see.

This is where this entry ends.

Goodnight World.

A Love So Complex.

You,              2/14/2020

I have been up and I have been down over you. I have come upon some self discoveries that I have shared with you. I decided to tell you when I realize things about myself, because you seem to be onboard with my emotional awareness, but we call it being 9.5. 

I do love you, and it’s something fierce. Some kind of love I’ve not experienced, before. Not in a crazy “no one can love you like I love you” kind of way, though. It’s much more complex, and deep, than that kind of “love”.

I am not IN LOVE with you, as I first thought. I have an intuition and I know you are meant to be in my life, and I in yours. I am sure of it. However, I am not 100% sure WHY, but I know it’s long term. 

This weird love I have for you is a grand mixture of the ways a woman can love another human. 

I haven’t told you this yet, because I am not trying to freak you out. I blogged about it, a bit before, but you’re not a subscriber, as far as I know. And I touched on this, lightly, and needed to really think about it, and clarify what I wrote the first time, in my mind. It didn’t feel right when I wrote it the first time. There wasn’t enough information for me. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t share it with you, the first time I wrote about this.

There are 4 ways that I love you. 

  1. I love you like a mother loves her child. It’s pure. It’s innocent. It’s fiercely protective, and I never want to see you hurt, sad, angry or broken. I love to watch you grow and succeed. I find joy in your joy, and sadness in your sadness. I don’t want to fix you, but watching you find and fix little things about yourself makes me proud.
  2. I love you like a sister loves her brother. I want to slaughter any woman who hurts you, lies to you, or leads you on. I want to slap a woman who won’t even give you a chance, because I know you are one in a million. But you also annoy the shit out of me, sometimes, and make me want to smack you. I love you like a sister, in the way that I am going to annoy you, and mess with you, and tease you, for fun, just like you tease me. 
  3. I love you like a woman loves her best girlfriend. I love when you spill your guts to me. Not because I like that you have problems or anything like that. I like that you are comfortable enough to allow yourself the freedom to unload (That’s what she said *wink*) on me, at any given time, and know that I am not going to judge you or care less for you. I won’t tell your secrets to anyone, and everything is between you and me.  I get so excited for you when you lock in a date with a woman you like… But…
  4.  I also love you like a woman loves her man. Jealousy flares when you tell me about going on dates. I dream of you, more and more often, and revel in it. I’ve even written a few blogs and even created a blog solely dedicated to the sex dreams I have, most of which are about you. I have that jealousy, and I have the sexual desire for you, but the best friend love overpowers it, more often than not. My desire to see you happy is so much more powerful than my selfish desire to be the one who makes you happy. Hell, I don’t even KNOW if I could make you happy, in this way.

I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance to find out, either, and oddly, I might be okay with that.  

What I am sure of, is this. I will be here. I’m not leaving. If you need a cheerleader, you can always look in my direction, because, no matter what you’re achieving or going after in this life, I’ll be right here in the stands, with my pompoms and high pony-tail, cheering for you. 

XOXO

ME

Happy Valentine’s Day, Friend.

Dreaming In Full Color

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’ll keep putting

One Foot In Front Of The Other.

Happy Monday.

Divine.

3 Years. A Confession Tsunami.

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.

Empty.

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.

I Got Issues. You Got’em Too.

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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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Is The Worst Month Of The Year.

I don’t base everything off of astrology, but this month has been pretty fucking spot-on, so far.

“You will be more open about your love interest.” Check! Especially since I have the best Pseudo name for him. 

“You will be very popular amongst people mid-month, as your charm draws people in.” Check! 

“Do not make any decisions based on emotion, until later in the month.” Check!

 

This month is a rough month for me. It was a rough month financially, before Mitch passed, and it’s been mentally rough since he has passed.

His 3 year Deathiversary is in 12 days.

I feel the days drawing near.

I feel the tears well in my eyes, and I know that no matter what I do, no matter who I get involved with, no matter what happens, this month will kick my ass emotionally.

Astrologically speaking, I should have an amazing month as long as I don’t make any big decisions.

I am not making any decisions this month, because this month would be the worst month to do that.

Small things have been weighing on my mind, and right now, they seem huge.

Small things are killing me, and I am standing here, shoving them away, one at a time.

I cannot allow January to break me, every year.

It’s a thought I have, but as each day speeds by, my heart aches a little deeper. The pain becomes a little sharper. The memories flood me. The party at my co-worker’s house, with a bunch of my favorite people that Mitch was able to attend. He couldn’t sleep that night. He held my hair when I puked. He told me everything was going to be okay. He drove home the next day. He pulled over so I could puke on our way home. He laughed and blamed the funny tasting water I had with breakfast, and not the 2 bottles of wine I had for dinner the night before. The dinner during Restaurant week with friends that Mitch refused to go to, because he just didn’t feel well. Me dancing my way out the door, singing “all cried out” by allure and 112, on my way to that dinner. Mitch calling for dinner from Eat. Fit. Go. Tuesday night, because he was craving their Turkey chili.

No one can get ahold of Mitch on Wednesday. Have I seen him?

The drive to the FedEx Hub.

The blur that encompassed me as the officer pulled me into Julie’s office.

The ripping pain that started the moment I saw the police cars, finishing me, as she spoke the words I knew I would hear.

The blur of that day. The Drive to John and Tracey’s.  The drive to Michael Dale’s house. “Enough!” Brady said and took me back to his house.

The blur of people coming and going.

Midwest transplant calling once and being rejected to talk to me, because of timing.

Midwest transplant calling again, as I sat with a semi circle of seated family members, mourning the loss of a human so amazing.

Laughing while on the phone with midwest transplant, about the meaning of someone’s name, and the immediate shame I felt as all eyes were on me.

This.

Month.

Will….

break me.

Every single year.

 

So.

No big decisions.

No relationships.

No throwing in the towel.

No big purchases.

No job changes.

No changes.

Everything stays the same.

I break in peace.

 

Curveballs and New Year’s Celebration!

Do you ever feel like you’re being tested?

Like, you feel, believe, think, etc 100% one way then all of a sudden, something is thrown at you, and you’re like, “whoa… wait. What in the actual Fuck?”

Curve balls.

Tests.

Do you really feel, believe etc the way you thought?

In my case, yes. Every time I am thrown a curve ball, I swing. I swing hard and I hit or I miss.

If I miss, I swing again, and hit the second one every time.

You can’t be afraid to fail. Failing is what makes you better. Failing is what makes you the person you wish to be!

LEARN from those curveballs of life that you swung hard for, and missed. You have GOT this! Every single failure is a chance to learn something new! Don’t get discouraged by any type of failure.

New Year’s celebration

This year, 2020, was my first time going out for new year’s eve. I decided to buy my ticket and risk being alone. Turns out, I had a friend there, solo as well. So, we partied hard all night, and had a blast.

Things I learned about myself, while out, drinking whiskey all night, celebrating the new year with a friend who has always been more of an acquaintance.

I can dance for a very long time… In flats.

My red lipstick WILL transfer onto white clothes even though it claims it won’t. (I was shoved from behind while dancing and my face went SMOOSH into his chest. I STILL feel awful)

I can hold whiskey and keep a clear mind like a MF Champ! (very odd considering I am a lightweight!)

I am much older than most that were out that night. I could tell because my “mom mode” kicked in when the girl dancing next to me had her butt, crotch, and boob all hanging out of her dress, and impulse had me pulling her top up to cover her boob, like “oh honey! let me HELP you!” UGH! Her friend was standing next to me, and started laughing. She bent down and yelled into my ear, over the music, “She does not care!” And laughed so hard.

I shrugged and turned back to my friend and we danced a little more before we decided to get food.

That was my first time out on New Year’s and probably my last time, as well. At least until Meg turns 21, anyway.

Did you learn anything about yourself, recently?

Happy New Year!!

 

 

Megan Wrote A Paper

Meg had an assignment at school, to write about the most memorable day. Sometime that she could recall as many details as possible from the day.

Her day?

1/25/2017

Here is what she wrote:

“It was a cold winter morning. The date being Wednesday, January 25th 2017. The only thing different about today is that I woke up a little earlier than usual, for what reason? I have no clue.

“See you later, I love you!” My dad would yell every morning as he was walking out of the front door to go to work. “Love you too!” I yelled back. I got ready for school, and walked to my friend Piper’s house to go to the bus. Just another day of sixth grade, right?

When we arrived at school, we did the usual. Put our backpacks into our cubbies, and did random school things. It was towards the end of the day, the last hour I would say, I was in Mrs. Tapko’s class for a lesson about bullying. Me and Willy were sticking the “kindness matters” pins into our shoes. It was when I was showing him how stick the pin into his thumb without it hurting when Mayelli exclaimed, “guys, Mary Tyler Moore is dead!’ and the room went silent. I don’t know what happened after that moment because I zoned into my own world and stopped paying attention to everything around me. At the time, I didn’t know why it hit me that hard about some random celebrity dying.

When the school day ended, I went to a mathletics party in the cafeteria. My mom texted me that my friend’s mom was picking me up after the party. But, as soon as she sent that message, Nichi arrived in the cafeteria to pick me up.

“The party just started!” I told her. “Yeah, but your mom told me to pick you up now,” She responded. Something seemed off about her. She couldn’t maintain eye contact the whole time, well, she could barely look at me at all. She drove me to my uncle Brady’s house, which made me caused even more confusion. “Why are we here?” I asked her. She didn’t answer my question, instead she just walked towards the house, me walking behind her. When we got to the door, I was the one that knocked. My aunt Katy opened the door, “I’m missing a mathletics party right now,” but I silenced myself when I saw Katy’s face. The whole vibe of the room felt different. I turned to my right to see the couches. There was my mom, and my dad’s brother Michael sitting there. See, that was another weird part. Michael at Brady’s house had never happened before, I thought they didn’t even know each other. Brady sat on the chair that was next to the couch. All of them look like they just cried. My mom motioned for me to come sit on the couch next to he. She pointed to the “kindness matters” pin on my shirt and said to me, “always remember that,”

I was sitting there, more confused than anything. Everyone in the room was giving me looks of pity and sadness. “What?” I asked them, getting quite irritated at the fact they were sitting there, not telling me anything. My uncle leaned across the table, “Megan,” he whispered. “Your dad..” I teared up at that exact moment. I knew something was off when Mayelli said something about Mary Tyler Moore dying. He didn’t even have to finish the sentence, I knew. My whole body went numb, I felt paralized. My ears started ringing, and my vision completely blurred. I got dizzy, and in that moment, I could not move. My dad had died.

A few hours passed by. Family came to the house to check in on us, and bring us food. Monday came by, and I didn’t go to school. My friend Triniti stayed home from school to stay with me that day.

On Friday, my cousin Jordan and I went to the mall to buy clothes for the life celebration. We were there for a few hours and tried to enjoy ourselves as much as possible.

The next weekend, we had the life celebration. One thing my dad never wanted, was a funeral. He hated them, and he didn’t want a group of people crying in a room together, he wanted them to remember the times they had together and to be happy about the memories, rather than crying about them. The event was okay, around 500 people showed up I think. I stayed on the upper level of the building the whole time. So many people were trying to hug me and start up conversations. After the death, my anxiety had spiked so everyone around me was making me dizzy, and I felt like I was going to pass out.

The next week, I went back to school. It was rough, but the teachers had allowed me to walk out of the room if I ever needed it. But just my luck, guess what we were doing the day I came back? A family tree. Or something like that, it was family related because Jordyn said something about her dad and I cried.

Then, when I was in Mrs. Tapko’s room for social studies, I got into an argument with a kid Rafael, I don’t know what it was about. But, I remember him saying “at least I have two parents,” Imagine, going back to school about two weeks after your father had just died, to hear that shit. Just put that into your head. After hearing that, I walked out of class.

To this day, I still have my moments, my “breakdowns” ya know? Sometimes I forget it even happened and I’m waiting for him to come home from work. Then I remember that, “oh he won’t.” It still hurts just as much as it did when it happened. I hide the pain with jokes. I will make jokes about parents dying. Is that messed up? Probably. Is it a coping mechanism for me? Probably. I don’t make jokes because I’m insensitive, because I’m not. I make them to make the situation feel not as bad. As I said, I still have my moments. Every year on January 25th, I relive those moments and think about them all over again. But it has gotten slightly better. That’s all.”

Anxiety

Let’s talk real talk.

Anxiety. I rarely experienced the feeling of being anxious before, but each year, I feel like it builds and builds and the feeling that everyone is going to abandon me gets stronger and stronger.

I feel like, maybe, this pushes people away from me. I don’t do it intentionally, but I really feel like it’s something that I could make better.

I just returned back to work after having a week off. I deactivated facebook halfway through my vacation, so I could focus and be more productive on my vacation.

Only 4 people asked me about where I’ve gone.

Anxiety tells me it’s because no one cares.

Anxiety tells me people probably did’t follow my facebook page and don’t even notice I am gone.

Anxiety tells me…

Anxiety tells me…

Anxiety tells me…

Do you know what I tell anxiety?

I press it down and try to ignore it. I tell myself, every time that what Anxiety says is irrational. Just like when I climb to the top of the 12 foot walls at the races I do, “It’s okay! THAT’S not actually happening.”

When I don’t hear from a friend, or they don’t respond to a text message, anxiety tells me they don’t want me around. I know, though, that that isn’t what is being thought. It’s not the case. I know that friends have kids, and friends have careers and friends have lives outside of texting me.

I KNOW THESE THINGS. However, anxiety fucks with my head so deeply, sometimes that it’s hard to convince myself otherwise.

I’ve still only had one anxiety attack, to date, aside from racing anxiety attacks (surprisingly always at the 12 foot wall). But recently, it’s been building.

I caught myself, getting super deep into my feels, and borderline making things up in my mind. Not of my own accord, but anxiety. Maybe a touch of seasonal depression. Who knows? Probably a therapist. Probably someone licensed to understand the things that lay deep inside the brain.

When my friend texted me, that I didn’t hear from all weekend, I literally cried. Anxiety told me that he didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.

I have a fear of abandonment. I believe it stems from my childhood, and it’s rearing its ugly face now.

I was in foster care for a while during my childhood. I was moved around quite often. The reasoning they gave me for my constant moves; “We don’t want the foster parents to get too attached, so we have to keep you moving around.”

Do they have any idea what that did to my mind? I was a good child, being punished because my parents couldn’t be civil with each-other.

So, when I started to like the foster family, I was ripped from the home and dropped into a home of yet another family, who I had to be introduced to and get to know, and establish trust, only to have that all ripped away, to start over again.

I was 7.

I had NO IDEA.

A 7 year old cannot comprehend the severity of the situation. At 7, it didn’t make sense. Mom and dad didn’t like each other, so they couldn’t settle their disagreement without the state’s help.

Once I was back with my mother and the courts settled on visitation and custody, it was a never-ending cycle of bouncing from school to school, house to house, and mom’s boyfriends.

“Don’t get attached! They’re going to leave,” my brain tells me.

They’d leave even if I didn’t get attached. It just hurt more when you’d get attached.

I’ve noticed that now, since I lost my husband, I get attached to good people, pretty quick. I question my worth when it comes to them. I question how long they’ll stick around. I question everything.

But…

Is that honestly me questioning, or is it the anxiety I have when it comes to people?

It could be a bit of both.

“They’re going to leave you,” Anxiety always taunts.

It’s an oddity when the people you expect to leave you, don’t. They stay close-ish. They text when you least expect it, but when you need it the most. It’s an oddity when that causes you so much relief that it draws tears from you. Like a lightening of the heart. Like a weight off the shoulders.

That’s not normal. At least, in my mind, I don’t that that’s normal feelings when it comes to having friends.

I can see how it may cause people to withdraw.

“Clingy.” Not necessarily the word I would use, but some might. It’s more the fear. I don’t want to let go of good people because I have had to do so, so often through my entire life.

“Just let them go.”

“Don’t get attached.”

“They’re going to leave.”

“You’ll be removed.”

“You overthink too much.”

I came across a piece of artwork that screamed at me, this morning. I feel this piece with every ounce of my being.

I’m just above.

IMG_7885

I left the name there. I came across this on instagram. Sometimes, this is the exact depiction of how I’m feeling.

You’d never notice looking from the outside, because I am greatly experienced in keeping it from being a bother to others.