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.

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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.

 

 

Loneliness

Isn’t it a funny word?

Just being alone doesn’t cause loneliness.

You can feel loneliness in a room of 100 friends.

Sometimes, all you want is to have attention from someone who REALLY cares.

Without that attention, you feel loneliness creep in.

It started for me, yesterday.

Loneliness.

2 friends canceled on me, another one is going through his own thing, and isn’t talking much, another friend too tired to hang out, another just wanted to go home, rather than go out with me.

Everyone has their legitimate reasons for not coming out, last night, but it was a night when I needed someone more than ever.

Why? I’m not sure.

I felt emptiness so vast, that all I wanted was a friend, and no one seemed to be available.

I ended up on a third date with the guy who took me out on my birthday.

On my birthday, my mental state was a bit weird, going through some stuff.

We were supposed to go out again, and I canceled, because I just didn’t feel ready to date.

But last night. We met for drinks and had a fantastic time.

We’re going out again, and I’m actually looking forward to it.

You know how I always make it a point to find the silver lining?

Well. Last night, he became my silver lining.

The one I had least expected to see, after I canceled our previous date.

I’m so glad I decided to meet him for drinks, and conversation. Yay, for new… whatever this may be.

Loneliness sucks. I want to use right now to extend my hand to anyone who may need a friend this season. This is “depression” season, and I want you to m ow I am here. I will lend an ear, or a shoulder to cry on. I will shout words of encouragement from the rooftops of it helps you keep going.

I.

Am.

Here.

From The Back Seat Of My Uber

I typed this up, then published it, while in the back seat of my uber, quite tipsy, Tuesday night. I woke up Wednesday morning, and immediately removed it from my published list.  I’m scared to death of sharing this. I don’t know why I am so terrified to share it. But, here I go.

11/12/19

I never believed, wholly, in love at first sight.

Until it happened.

I fell in love. It wasn’t here. It wasn’t tonight.

It’s odd, and only a select few know.

I figured, honestly, if I said it out loud to a few friends, that I’d understand how crazy it sounded. I think you all know what I mean. Things sound normal in your head, but as soon as you speak it out loud you think “What? NO. Nevermind. That is stupid.”

Every time I say it out loud, it becomes more real. More natural. Unlike when you come across some feeling that’s completely insane. I am completely, 100%, head over heels in love.

How?

WHY?

I don’t understand!

Someone, please.

I know exactly WHEN it happened. The moment. The place. The second. When my heart cried “it’s him!” And jumped around inside my chest, attempting escape. And I yelled back, “no! NO!”

I cried at the realization.

This isn’t fair.

This isn’t right.

This is far too complicated.

Ouch.

That pain is real.

My heart.

I have to keep it to myself, but I need to get it out.

Does he realize? Am I obvious about it?

Please don’t leave.

I love you.

I’ve been holding this close. I’ve been in denial. I don’t like it. I don’t think I am ready for this.

I just know that I will walk through hell to make sure this man is happy, and if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.

How do you even do love these days?

How does this work?!

This doesn’t make sense, to me.

We aren’t even dating. He’s not even my boyfriend. I don’t even think he’s INTERESTED!

We’ve never been intimate!

Ouch. OUCH!

For FUCK’S sake!

Why is/are the god, goddess, gods, universe, or fate like this with me! I know I was built strong, but damn.

I’m so tired.

Can I just have it easy for once in my LIFE?!

Just. Once.

One time.

This sucks.

He is literally amazing, and the fear of losing him as my friend is so terrifying I can’t tell him how I feel.

But the pain of keeping it inside is so deep. It’s so ragged and raw.

In order for me to feel okay, I have to hit publish. But when I hover over the “publish” key, I panic. Heart racing, and sweat begins to bead at my brow. What if he sees and knows? What if family reads and wonder? What if… What if… What if… The epitome of anxiety, all because I feel a very strong feeling for another human being. But I MUST share, in order to help me move forward.

I am in love so deep that I never saw it coming until I was drowning.

I’m drowning in it.

Drowning!! No life boat. No floatation devices. No hand pulling me out. Drowning.

For now, I will put my pajamas on, crawl into bed, and put on Disney+, and go to sleep.

I won’t focus on this. This will not be the whole of my life. I will keep moving.

One.foot.in.front.of.the.other.

Just keep moving.

Just keep writing.

Mental Freedom.

Thank you for reading.

Good night world.

My Next…

I feel like I have been hyper-active on social media lately. I feel like I get like that when I have something that I want to say, but just don’t know how to say it.

Instead, I say everything except the one thing I wish to say.

I write privately, now, to try to understand myself a little more. It’s not quite the same as writing and sharing with everyone who cares to read it.

I enjoy sharing my mind, my feeling, my everything with people. I am still in the mindset that maybe, just maybe someone out there needs to understand that they are NOT alone.

Did you know that I do want love again?

I can’t remember if I’ve shared that in a private journal, or on this blog, but it’s true.

I know I will never have the same kind of love I had with Mitch, but, I know that I have so much more to give. It bubbles and glops over at times.

I love life. I love everything that comes with living.

I don’t want to have sex with people, just for the sake of having sex.

I want to be with someone who looks at me in a way that says he’s not able to get enough of me. Soak me in, and miss me when I am gone.

My next husband will be kind, yet assertive. Hell, we all know I’m pretty indecisive about things, like where to go for dinner, or what movie to see first. (PICK the scary one, and tacos… oh! or burgers!)

My next will have his shit in order. He will love me for everything I am, and everything I am not.

He will take me by the hand and lead me into a better version of me. He will encourage me to succeed. He will invite me out with his friends. He won’t want to hide me.

My next will almost surely have kids, because I am a sucker for an amazing father.

He will know that I am always here. I won’t leave in the bad times. And he won’t leave me in my bad times, either.

I know it won’t be the same as it was with Mitch, because I know that in the wake of his death, I have learned that you cannot take for granted the things that people do for you. The things that usually go unnoticed or aren’t hyped up, anymore.

Opening doors, and paying for dinner.

Driving us to our dates, rather than meeting places.

To be 37, and widowed, is not for the faint of heart.

This.

Shit.

Sucks.

But I have learned so much. I have learned about me. I have learned about men. I have learned about dating. I have learned that dating sites are the fucking devil.

And most of all, I have learned my worth. Of course, when you’re with someone for half of your life, you just kind of know your worth with that person.

When you are, essentially, abandoned, you’re left questioning your self-worth. You’re left wondering if you’ll ever be good enough for another man, again.

You’re left in this mindset that you’re broken, and no one is going to want to walk into that. I’ve seen the faces of the men I’ve gone on dates with, when I mention that my husband died. It always comes up, because they’ll say something like, “What’s such a great woman, like you, still doing single?” And I am 100% honest, even if I really like a guy. ESPECIALLY if I really like a guy. “Well, sir, my husband died.”

Side-eye.

Deep breath.

Release of air.

“Wow. How? Is it okay if I ask?”

Every. Single. Time.

Then, I never see them again. I’m okay with that. It’s better than them pretending to be okay with me, and then breaking things off down the road.  I am a seriously complicated woman. It’s going to take a hell of a man to understand and accept me.

My next will understand that I’m an absolute wreck 3 days every year. 1/25, 5/24, and 8/18. 4 days if you count the day I put the Christmas tree up. I may want to lay in bed all day and cry. I may want to run 20 miles and then come home and cook enough food for an army. My next will understand.

One day, and I believe this, whole-heartedly, Mitch will shove him in my direction.

My next will have a lot in common with me, but still have his own thing.

My next will love sports, but not be too crazy about them.

My next will love his career, so he doesn’t come home super cranky all the time.

My next will be vulnerable around me, open with his feelings, and let me comb his hair with my fingers as he lays with his head in my lap, to tell me about his shift.

And most importantly. The most important thing about my next. He will not be threatened by my love for my husband, for I have plenty more love to give. He will understand that without my husband, I wouldn’t be the person I am, today. He will not replace my husband, nor will he want to,  but he will pick up where Mitch left off, and that’s okay.

I see him, in my mind’s eye. Not a physical him, but a spiritual him. A beautiful soul. Someone who is the other half of my very soul.

 

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I Am Broken

Writing is my therapy. I have been writing the same thing over and over, trying to process what’s going on in my mind.

It’s a fucking mess up there.

I’ve almost gotten to a point where I think I should see an actual psychologist for this matter. Like, legitimately. My brain is swirling and swirling like a mass of word tornados.

I type.

I delete.

Why? I can’t share it. It doesn’t make sense to me, so how can I expect it to make sense to anyone else?

Writing is tricky for me. I write what I feel. I have never had any desire to hide what I feel or what I want to say.

Until now.

For the last few weeks, my heart, my mind, my very SOUL are all aching. I’m not sad. I am not angry. I feel the missing piece. I am entirely too emotional.

I even agreed to, then canceled a date, for tomorrow. I just don’t think it would be fair to the guy, because he’s so nice, and super cool. Maybe if I’d have met him at a different time.

I want the piece to my puzzle, and I can’t make any piece fit. It has to be the right one. Hell, just writing this is making me emotional. Maybe I need to quit listening to the old school slow jams, and get out of my feels.

Or maybe I need to get deeper into my feels, and examine. Is that REALLY what I am feeling? Or maybe I’m just overthinking everything? What is this, I feel? Is it Lust, Love, Infatuation, Hate, Curiosity, Fear, Excitement, Happiness, Confusion?

I mentioned this before, and I feel like it fits into this particular entry. I went on a date with an architect and he thought dating would be the last thing on my agenda, because of my “history”. Meaning my widowhood. I ALMOST took offense, but he doesn’t know me. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was about to say was 100% truth.

I’m young.

I am good alone, and I am enhanced in a relationship.

I am a giver. It’s in my nature. I like balance. It’s part of who I am. My 2 favorite genres of movies are horror movies and Christmas movies, if that helps explain my need for balance. HA

I told him, “I’m still young. I still function. And I don’t want to die old and alone. I don’t think my husband would want that for me, as it’s a sad life, for someone who doesn’t want it.”

So, with the thing I just keep typing and deleting, I hope I can figure it out. I just need to process. I’ll type it until it makes sense. I may get out an old school notebook and pen, and try to put words on paper, and figure out my mind. Have you ever tried to figure out a woman’s brain? Good Lord, me either. Only my own and usually it’s pretty easy. This… This is some major woman brain shit. I’m baffled and I can’t imagine being a man or a lesbian. Or anyone who dates women.

If most women are like I am in this moment, I apologize on behalf of my species of human. I have never not been able to process. We might be crazy. Every last one of us. (I feel like one of “those” girls. Even though that’s a bunch of bullshit some men say when a woman has opinions or feelings about ANYTHING.)

 

I WILL figure myself out. I am determined. I need a time-out.

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One of “Those” Girls

Is There a God? If So, He Has A Terrible Sense of Humor.

So, there are a lot of stories about this and that on the internet. Everyone loses someone, so what makes my loss any more interesting or something that anyone wants to read.

“It’s so painful to read. I just can’t do it.”

“It’s too personal. Not in my wheelhouse.”

That’s cool. My feelings aren’t hurt. I TOTALLY understand.

So, my idea of God and his sense of humor.

I’ve gone my entire life, only really knowing one good man, before I met Mitch. (My brother was still young and going through some things. He wasn’t “great man” status just yet. Great brother? absolutely!)

And get this. The greatest man I knew was ALSO named Mitch. He is my uncle. When My uncle Mitch met my (at the time) boyfriend, Mitch, my uncle was the one who gave him the father speech. “My niece is worthy of someone great. Do not hurt her. You will regret it.” type of speech. When my Mitch told me that, I cried. I had never thought myself worthy of anything more than temporary commitment.

Wow, did my Mitch prove me wrong! Then, if God is real, he took him from me. Really fucking funny, God. I’m not laughing, and neither are any of the people who met him.

I’ve talked about the bar Mitch set when it came to how a man should treat a woman.

Slowly, over time, I have lowered that bar.

It had gotten pretty fucking low, actually. I seriously have dated some pretty fucked up dudes, and at the time, I didn’t think anything of it.

Then, I received an insanely rude, quite disgusting text from an ex, and I just lost it. I was SO pissed off, that I texted a couple of my girlfriends and my recently acquired guy friend.

My guy friend called me and proceeded to tell me that I am worth so much more than those kinds of texts. He was so nice, and I just bawled. I was, literally, snotting everywhere. I wasn’t hurt by the text. The text pissed. me. off. It made me wonder what the hell I was doing.

I was talking about my birthday with my guy friend and he said he wanted to take me out for my birthday. I had a date the night of my bday, so I threw out some other days that I could be available. I didn’t say the day before my birthday, because that was “tomorrow”, in my mind and not enough notice.

He suggested we go out that morning. Not on a date. Just a friend taking a friend out for her birthday.

For it not being a date, he treated me like a queen. He opened every door. He paid. During the movie, he left to use the restroom and grab something caffeinated and asked if I wanted anything from the concession stands.

I know. It does not sound like much at all, when its typed out. But to me, it was everything.

Absolutely Everything.

I didn’t even REALIZE how low I put my bar of standards and expectations.

It was unacceptably low.

Thank goodness I became friends with a man who has been the only one to meet my initial expectations, when it comes to dating. Who knows how long I would have left that bar so low? Who knows how much lower it would have gone?

What the FUCK was I teaching my DAUGHTER?

Thanks, friend, for grabbing my lowered bar, and placing it back on the top, where it should have always stayed. Thank you. I appreciate you, even though you won’t read this. And if you do, I’ll be surprised.

God’s sense of humor, here? I’ve mentioned how amazing my friend is. I knew he was pretty amazing before experiencing him in person, for the first time since our teen years.  I was never physically attracted to him. I even told my work-wife (Love you Lisa!) that I wish I was physically attracted to him. I asked, silently as well, “Why can’t I be attracted to HIM?”  Some may call it a prayer. I called out to everyone and no one, and when I saw him, that morning, all I could see was how handsome and kind and amazing he was.

Oh, for FUCK’S SAKE!

Really?

REALLY, GOD?

You choose NOW to “answer my prayers?”

WHY?

You dangle perfection in front of my face, knowing damn well that it’s a fucking triangle of doom??

Ugh!

It’s okay. It is. I am a mature adult, and I just thought, “Well damn. Maybe he does exist? Maybe he just thinks he’s fucking hilarious? Maybe, my life is a sitcom, and he’s laughing as he pulls these strings and watches me stumble about.”

It’s okay.

I’m gonna laugh right back and keep him as my damn friend, and that’s that!

Maybe The whole purpose of this friend coming into my life, when he did was to help me with my expectations. Hell, I had been helping him ask a girl out that he has been crushing on for a while. (hence the triangle comment above)

And today, TODAY, God people came to my door with booklets. I don’t do well with any people coming door to door, for any reason. It bothers me.

Then, as I sat at the dining room table, after cleaning up a bit, I realized I had just done something the Bible says will put me in hell!!

FUCK! FUCK! DOUBLE FUCK!

I turned a person away, that was trying to share the word of god with me.

If I go to hell for that, I will be in hell with a lot of people I know. My husband included. You know, since he didn’t believe in the Bible or organized religion.

God, if you’re out there, I don’t think this is funny. I don’t know if you’re real, and that’s got to be because this would be the first prayer that was answered, that I didn’t realize was a prayer in the first place.

*forehead slap*

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My Face, not laughing at God’s sense of humor.