Urgency.

I just read this post where a guy visually draws out a 90 year life. And I feel such an urgency to live right now. I want a family. Why is my life wasting away without me getting the things I want? What do I want? I'm kind of freaking out. 

Just to break me like a promise.

I've been in such a funk these past few days. I am patient and impatient all at the same time. I'm understanding but not. And these contradictions keep welling up inside me and these stormy seas are preventing me from smiling as of late. Maybe I need to have clearly defined lines instead of all this gray. 

  

It must have been the mistletoe, the lazy fire, the falling snow

The snow is softly falling. And the world seems so quiet and peaceful when it snows. I just finished writing my family's Christmas cards and I'm laying here, reflecting on how different today was than last year. And how different Christmas will be. 

We went to my Uncle's house for Christmas Eve dinner, and I spent the holiday with family I have never spent any holiday with. And it was refreshing, and perfectly perfect. There was laughter, and gratitude, and love. And when I came home, I chatted with my Grandma, who decided to stay with us for Christmas. I've never spent a Christmas with her in my entire life. And it makes me so grateful for my family...and to have them here. 

Tyler came over late tonight. It was snowing hard, but he drove to my house anyway. And it is so difficult for me to put into words how much joy I find in his mere presence. We laughed and laughed. And I've missed that with him. There's a comfort there, a knowingness, and a peace that comes from that. It started to snow harder and he left just a little after midnight. I wrapped gifts and then I've just been laying here since, thinking about my life and the difference a year can make. 

And I don't know if it's the snow...but I'm starting to feel the magic of Christmas creeping back into my heart. Sweet dreams, sugarplums.  

Peace.

It's been a crazy long time since I've posted. Mostly due to an unexpected hip injury. And I'm on meds right now so this post may make no sense. But I wanted to capture the feelings I have right now. 

I drove to his house to give him the cards I wrote him. And he was home and I was nervous. So nervous I was shaking. But I gave them to him. And the moment was beautiful. I won't forget the wonder in his eyes and the smile on his face. And it's selfish, but that's what I wanted most. I wanted to see him happy. I wanted him to have tangible proof that love exists, that people care for him. 

It was the scariest thing I've done in a long time, taking that risk. But I did it. And I feel the happiest peace. 

Diamonds.

I haven't had adequate words or comprehensive thoughts for the past few days. I'm unsure if I dare speak aloud my hopes in case they come crashing down. So I'm pretending to be robotic, stoic, nonchalant. But I've never been good at that, ever. I'm always rushing in, latching on, fantasizing about what could be. 

I've literally imagined my life as some ridiculous movie, like Twilight. Where the man I choose will come swooping back in after being gone for a year and tell me he loves me and wants to be together forever. I used to get mad at Bella for choosing Edward all over again. But that was before I understood that while love is a choice, sometimes it chooses you, and you just have to choose it back, even if it breaks you. 

Hope, despair.

I can't allow myself to hope, to think that perhaps it's true. I sat there and saw that same look in your eyes I had witnessed before and I knew I couldn't look at them again. I couldn't let myself feel hope where only despair has been. 

But even now I feel it creeping back. That hope. That glimmer. That thing that will probably kill me if I actually believe it. But I can't stop myself. It's like I'm the earth and he's the sun and no matter how much I want it not to be true, his pull is magnetic. 

What does this mean?

War.

Earl has been snugglier more so lately than he usually is. I'm pretty sure he can sense the feeling that's welled up inside me. The overarching pronunciation of tremendous loss that seems to punctuate each breath I take. Ah, sometimes life is such a treacherous choice. The hope you cling to is the anchor that drags you into the depths of despair. I've been so careful with my choices lately that I am surprised your memory snuck back in. It was gone for awhile, and it felt peaceful to forget you. 

It's silly how the mind plays such tricks on the heart. It makes anyone and anything crucial, like oxygen, to the pumping of blood through the vessels, until the heart is so reliant on those memories that it doesn't remember how to function without them. The mind pretends the heart feels and sees and hears and breathes and it pumps in every thought of you, cycling your very existence throughout every limb until you're entwined in every organ and cell and fiber of my being. And the heart foolishly goes along with the game until it doesn't recognize fact from fiction and believes it truly will stop beating if you no longer exist. And to the mind, you're just a whisper of an echo of a moment in time. But the heart, afraid of stopping, beats even more furiously for you. And so the mind, remorseful for its wicked game, gently reminds the heart that you are gone. And the heart, so used to feeling and seeing and hearing and breathing you, begs to just stop beating. Because it can't, it won't, it shouldn't go on. Except, unwillingly, it must. And soon the blood that rushes through, fills every organ and cell and fiber of my being with the beating echo of emptiness. That's when the mind, lost in despair, promises the heart it won't ever trick it into beating for someone else again. But they both know that that's what the heart lives for. And the mind? She was never one to keep her promises. 

Begin again.

I said a prayer this morning for the first time in awhile and inadvertently ended up realizing I'm a little angry at God. And I shouldn't be, and I recognize my anger is misplaced. So I asked for something to help me change. I went about my business as usual. And around 3:30 received a text from Dele telling me that we are going to the Christmas devotional. So we went. The messages tonight were simple and reminded me of the feelings I had while reading the New Testament - feelings I've lost over these past few months. It also reminded me of all the reasons I typically love Christmas so much: it gives hope, it reinforces love, it resonates charity. Somehow, I've been so focused on me and the direction my life has gone that I've lost touch a bit with those things. So tonight was a good reminder. 

It was also a great reminder of other things for me. I probably can't adequately put into words my thoughts on timing and people and why things happen the way they do. This entire year has really thrown me for a loop. And my life is so different now. I've spent enough time trying to determine the way it should be that I'm trying now to embrace the way it is. The truth is, though, that reconciliation between those two is blurry, at best. But for tonight, that's completely ok. 

Disposable.

Today was a beautiful day full of happiness and sadness and some anger. It was a myriad of emotions and I'm laying here in bed, comfortable and grateful that I can see that sometimes, despite the trials, an empty glass can still be beautiful. 

My mom and I discussed how sometimes, when people treat you badly enough for long enough and then move on quickly, you begin to feel disposable. People aren't disposable. They are important and they matter. And I don't want to ever be made to feel that way again. 

I went out with a new friend tonight. And I adore her to pieces. She is the kindest soul I've met here. And I'm truly grateful for our laughter. I think laughing is one of my favorite things in the entire world. It's like fuel for my heart. And I literally feel myself craving it. And because my day was filled with laughter, my empty glass doesn't seem so empty. I guess sometimes, when your heart breaks, you begin to think that nothing will ever be the same again. But tonight made me realize I don't have to keep mourning the past. And even if there won't ever be love again, if I've missed my chance, if my soulmate doesn't exist or doesn't choose me or soulmates aren't real, at least I can find laughter.  

Love is a verb.

This week went by quickly. And while today was a down day, tonight I feel much better. 

I don't want to talk about much right now. I'm pretty tired. But saw this quote online and just want to always remember it. 

Happy in the meantime.

I went out with Brynn tonight. Oh, I love her! I'm so grateful she and I live in the same state. My life is better with a best friend, for sure. We decided tonight that I'm a magnet for the same type of man: literally. His clone in every way contacted me today. And it was through her encouragement that I ended it before it began. It's strange how life does that. I'm glad my Brynners was there. And we laughed forever about it. I haven't laughed like that in so long. 

I said yes to a date tomorrow night. I decided it's ok. I woke up this morning and felt past it enough to not be rebounding like crazy. When I decide on things in a rational manner, I typically stick to that. My brain is much more logical than my heart. So I am listening to my brain.

I usually don't give myself the time to question whether or not the guy will like me before a date. I just analyze it afterwards. And I always wonder if I'm pretty enough or smart enough or funny enough. But this time, I realize that I am enough. And it is time I start analyzing whether or not he is handsome enough or smart enough or funny enough. No more reaching down. It's time for some equality. I deserve to get exactly what I want. 

(But in the meantime...what's the harm in making a little fun?)

If you walk away, I'll walk away. Just tell me which road I should take.

I haven't done my hair in 4 days. I think my coworkers were getting a bit concerned. I'm usually quaffed, painted, shining for all to see. But I've mostly stayed in bed as long as possible in the morning and haven't cared too much about my hair. Last week was dates galore. This week I've been saying no. So perhaps not caring about my hair is ok. Except most days I stay in my office with the door shut. I blame the cold, and gesture to the small space heater on my desk. Just keeping in the warmth, I lie. Just keeping out the world. The trouble with dating somebody and having other people know about it, is that they always ask about why it ended when it does. And the trouble with dating somebody like he was, is that I honestly just don't know. So I avoid their questions, concerned eyes, remarks on how I'm better off, advice on getting over it.  

I've survived much worse, I want to tell them. This is merely a blip compared to a divorce. Or an eating disorder. Or sexual assault. It's the tiniest of problems in comparison to last year's special concoction of horror. Knowing somebody for 2 months and then never speaking again is much less intense than knowing somebody your whole life and then waking up one day and you don't know them anymore. Perspective lends it's wisdom in situations like this. But I smile and nod and pretend to appreciate their words of wisdom, when really I already know: yes, of course I am just fine. 

But there are those moments when I'd like to text you. I'd like to think you're thinking of me, but I know you aren't. I hear a song and it reminds me of you. Or I stumble across something that I know you would laugh at. And I miss laughing with you. We laughed a lot. Does she make you laugh as much? I hope she does. Your laughter is like sunshine. And oh, my skies are grey. 

A poem for no words:

When loving is choosing, 

I always chose you. 

Yes, Love was a choice -

Something you couldn't do. 

Love, when it breaks, starts a small crack.

The gap only widens when he can't love you back. 

And the larger the crevice, the deeper the pain.

Oh, Love is dangerous when it's untamed!

Love is a ghost: unseen, thus unreal. 

Love's a kind host when hurt is the meal. 

Love isn't a lie, until you're alone. 

Love is a war, every battle unwon. 

Love is a book, cover torn into shreds. 

Love is the words of the chapters, unread. 

Love is the ink as it bleeds from the page. 

Love is the story, fading with age. 

Love is the flower, brown in her cup. 

Love is the petals as death curls them up. 

Love is a bird, shot from the sky. 

Love is the ground as it feels the bird die. 

Love is a race where the end is the start. 

Love is a girl, hewn at her heart. 

Love is a choice. 

A choice I'll deny. 

Because Love can't be hello 

when Love is always goodbye. 

Tomorrow.

I have spent a great deal of time trying to convince myself that my emotions are inconsequential and I shouldn't feel the way I do. I suspect so many people do that - they live as apologetically as I have. I've found myself not saying things or tweeting things or writing things in case it makes somebody else feel badly about themselves, or feel badly for me, or judge me in some way. But I don't want to apologize for how I feel. Because I feel it. And pretending I don't doesn't change that. 

Today was ok. I got up, I went to work, I did my job, I came home, I ate leftover Indian food from Saturday's date, and then sat on the couch and snuggled Earl. I didn't cry, I didn't text the ex, I didn't make poor choices with men that don't mean anything to me. I stayed home and felt my feelings without covering them up or pretending they don't exist. And feeling them today was much less painful than feeling them was yesterday. And that may seem small to someone else, but that's a big step in the right direction for me. 

The allure of tomorrow is that it will be better than today. Some days it isn't. Some days it's worse. Some days it's the same. But that tiny ray of hope that it can be better is what propels me forward. I typically don't live for tomorrows. I try my hardest to live in the moment and experience today. But when today is more than I can take, I simply wait for that tomorrow. When I was in high school and severely depressed, I'd focus on the tragedy of today and wish there was no tomorrow, because I was convinced tomorrow could only be worse. Sitting here, I can appreciate the change in perspective now that I'm older, wiser, whatever. 

It's after midnight and so technically, it is already tomorrow. I merely need to go to sleep and then I can experience the miracle that tomorrow is: a fresh day, a new start, a day closer to mending. So, until tomorrow. 

She's got all these reasons in her head.

I went to a singles ward today. I haven't been to one in over 5 years. I should have thought more about that before I just hastily embarked. I was sitting in Sunday school and on the verge of tears for really no reason other than my life felt like, in that moment, that it was falling apart. So I texted my Clonie. I should have texted her 300 years ago. And I should know by now that if I can't share every aspect of my life with her, then something is wrong in my life and I need to fix it. She told me to tell her everything. 

I called her and we talked. I told her the entire story: how he would pick me and then change his mind a few days later. How I saw love in his eyes but then he broke up with me again. And how for literally a month the breakup had dragged on. She listened patiently. And the more I told her the story, the more I questioned why I let this story continue. I wondered why I hadn't stopped it. Why I continued to pursue it. So Clonie gave me some tough love. And in true best friend fashion, she said everything I needed to hear in a way that wasn't damaging. Why are you being so considerate towards him? What are your motives in keeping communication open? Why can't you just let him go? 

All valid questions. All answers I don't necessarily have. Honestly, I need to just let him go. So I will. I will deal with him not picking me. And I will recognize that although we were compatible and things seemed perfect between us, they truly weren't. Mer said love is just a word until actions are behind it. I think my actions were genuine portrayals of love. And I excused his actions as representations of what he was willing to give. But after the first few weeks, they weren't enough. And I knew that. And he knew that. And that's where I can't understand why I made the allowance. Because if it truly were love, I wouldn't have to make allowances or exceptions. I wouldn't have to wonder. Mer said that when it came down to it, she has never had to doubt Brent's love for her. I've never been able to say the same...in any relationship I've had in my life. 

And I have been thinking about that for the last few hours. Why I'm willing to sacrifice my happiness in order to remain "loyal" or just to stick it out...even through the crappiest relationships I've had, I keep trying to fix it and make it better. And sitting here, I realize it probably is because my parents got divorced. And ever since that happened, my idea of love is that it surmounts all. But what I've come to realize is that love is only one thing in a myriad of things that make a relationship work. Mer hit this point home today when she told me that a "perfect connection" can't make you blind to everything else in the relationship, and doesn't make up for being treated poorly. 

I need to figure out what is the driving internal force that causes me to end up where I am right now. I don't know what deep flaw I have that keeps leading me to this point. Or why I am so weak that I am incapable of ending things when they aren't exactly what I want. And then changing the things I want to further align with that. Maybe I don't think people, relationships, my life will live up to my expectations. So I lower them and then latch on like hell. Mostly, though, I think I'm afraid of being left behind. And that self-fulfilling prophecy keeps coming full-circle. I keep reaching down to find love, thinking that those people will be so enchanted that they'll know they can never do better and subsequently need me and never leave me. Except they do. Every time. Everybody leaves. And maybe it's better that I love the wrong people and they leave, rather than actually loving the right person and having him leave, too. 

I think that's the saddest thing I've ever written. And the worst realization I've come to. Damn.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

I was sitting at the lake tonight. It was cold. I had Maria Taylor playing on repeat. Tears were streaming down my face. And I felt the wall I always resurrect start to thicken and rebuild. When I got home I came downstairs and penned the PS of my last blog post. My sister texted me and I eventually surfaced to face my family. I didn't wipe the smears of mascara and eyeliner off. I didn't stop the tears. I also didn't say very much, at first. I just sat there silent in my pain. 

I don't let people in. I rarely try, because I get hurt and the wall that I build subconsciously becomes thicker and harder. Most people see my exterior as confident. It's a mask I've fashioned well to hide my very fragile, pieced-together heart. Not even my family is privy to that side of me. Pain is experienced solitarily. Details complicate things, so it's better to suffer alone than burden anybody else or show my weakness. 

But tonight, the loneliness wasn't a familiar old friend. It was stabbing and piercing and rolling down my cheeks in mascara-blackened beads. I somehow croaked out my desperation at never being chosen by the ones I choose. A small crack began in my wall and threatened to start another. Before I knew it, I was talking to my mom and sister about my feelings. About my fear of never being picked and ending up alone. About my broken heart. 

And my mom told me she thinks the timing is off. That a divorce hurts and I haven't healed. That I don't let myself be vulnerable, ever. And that maybe I wasn't ready to be in a relationship in the first place. So me sitting on the couch, crying and letting my wall crack a little was probably a good thing. 

And as I lay here in bed, I agree. I don't let myself feel vulnerable. Because I am so afraid of rejection and pain. So I cut it off at the first sign. And I shut myself down. And I felt that happening tonight. I can become robotic and void of feeling. I've been there. I use people and I discard them after they've served their purpose for me. I don't let myself experience emotions. I try to fool myself into thinking I don't care. Deep down I just care too much. But it's only when I'm alone, that I ever let that part of me show. 

So I think I'll take a break from finding somebody new. I don't think a new relationship can heal the pain from the last one. I don't think getting older is a good excuse for making exceptions to the list of things I want in my partner. Or for accepting less than what I deserve. And I don't think shutting down and turning off is going to help me achieve my goal of being whole. 

I thought being wanted and messaged by all these guys online would make up for my ex-husband not wanting me. I thought being told I'm beautiful by strangers would make up for the years of being horribly overweight and feeling ugly about myself. I thought dating would somehow validate me to the world; prove that I am not the messed-up, hideous person I often perceive myself to be. 

But a thousand people telling me I'm beautiful doesn't matter if I don't believe it and feel it myself. A thousand first dates won't prove anything to anybody about who I am or am not. And men wanting me cannot erase the hurt and rejection that comes from a rocky marriage ending on a terrible note. Those are tough truths to digest. I think the toughest truth is this: I've never felt at home with people because I've never been my true self with them. You can't find a home hidden within a fortress of protective layers that are impenetrable. I don't feel like I belong because I don't let anybody know me. 

Letting Tyler know me was a good step, but that has also come to an end, which has catalyzed this self-reflection. And so my fear that I'll never find that feeling of "home" again cropped up when I felt those walls rebuilding tonight. But somebody else can't break down those walls. I have to do it myself. We accept the love we think we deserve. So for now, I work on me. 

I finally made it, I made a clean getaway.

I've written this letter a million times a day in my head over the past few days but haven't put pen to paper. I guess I haven't been true to my promise that I'll be open and honest about my feelings. I keep thinking I have something to lose. But really, I don't. So if I appear wreckless, foolish, stupid, or desperate then so be it. It doesn't really matter anymore...

I miss you. I know things are weird between us right now. And that's probably my fault. I have all these insecurities I try to cover up. It's ridiculous how I expected you to be honest about yours when I can't even show you mine. So I've pretended I'm fine. But I'm not. 

When I was in high school I had a boyfriend who was my first love. At some point in the relationship, as we neared the last half of senior year, he asked for a bit of space to sort things out in his head. I was broken - I thought that if he wasn't 100% sure, he obviously had never been sure and didn't want to be with me. So I ran full-fledged at the next guy that would take me so I wouldn't have to process the perceived rejection. A week later, my first love came to discuss things with me, and I blew him off, telling him I had moved on. Awhile later I stumbled across his blog, in which he had written a post where he couldn't understand how I could move on so quickly if I truly loved him. It hurt like hell to read those words, to think that's what he thought. That stayed with me for a long time, but somehow faded the more I repeated the action of "moving on" instead of allowing for time to heal. And I thought I had changed, and you and I even discussed that. So I haven't thought about this situation in years...until I woke up this morning at 5:30am and couldn't shake the horrible feeling that I've given you this same impression. 

I wish I could just make you a mixtape of every song lyric that I've been listening to for the last few days. Songs are so much more poetic and beautiful than what I have to say. But here goes...

I've taken so personally the times you've needed space and can't figure out what you need. I thought that if you couldn't see 100% that it was me, you never could, never did, and never would. I realize now that logic is skewed. But I felt ridiculous needing you when you didn't seem to also acknowledge that same need. And somehow we kept falling back together. To me, it's because from the moment I met you, it felt like home. And no matter what happens, you can always go home. Maybe that's ridiculous, but it's how I feel. 

The thought of you finding somebody else or losing your feelings for me made me panic in the craziest of ways. I felt the goodbye Saturday night when I was driving home. And I imagined all these scenarios in my head this week...and I went into defense mode. I shut off and decided to not process your unspoken rejection and throw myself full-fledged into dating. Monday I met a guy off Tinder. On paper he seemed to be everything I thought I wanted. But even driving to meet him, I didn't want to. I wished you would text me and tell me to come over instead, so we could laugh and I could believe that you actually liked me. But you didn't text. And so I went. And from the moment I met him I just spent the evening wishing he was you. The conversation was polite. The food was adequate. But the magic wasn't there, and I found myself comparing the two of you all evening. When the date ended, he kissed me goodbye at my car. I thought I was going to throw up. I got in my car and sobbed. And called you. You didn't answer. And I cried harder. That night I couldn't sleep because my heart hurt so much. 

Tuesday I went out with an old acquanitence from college. When he asked about past relationships, I couldn't even bring myself to speak about you in that way. You weren't a past relationship, you were my present state of mind. And when I got asked why it ended, it hurt to much to even bring myself to process the truth: that you couldn't feel that way about me. And the date was a pleasant distraction from my heartbreak, except the fear that you were on a date, laughing, flirting, comparing her to me wouldn't stop nagging at me. When I got home after the date it was 2am. And I wanted desperately to text you. But I couldn't let you know how much I needed you. So I layed in bed looking at the ceiling. I couldn't cry, I was too sad. So I deleted your number. I deleted your pictures. But I couldn't delete your memories. So I numbed my mind and watched the clock tick by the minutes until I finally fell asleep.  

In the morning, I wanted to text you, but I didn't know your number. So I checked Twitter, the only place we still had contact. When you weren't my friend on there, my heart literally plummeted. I searched for your account and my fears were confirmed. He's found somebody else. He isn't interested anymore. I should have broken clean. I should have stuck to my guns. I should have stopped. But instead, I found your number on the texts on my iPad. And I texted you. I have never hated a conversation with you more. I knew I was hurting you. I knew you were hurting me. I knew I should just let you go. So I legitimately tried. I went on a date that night. He and I had exchanged some witty texts. But in person, I wanted to just walk away immediately. It wasn't right. I left shortly after meeting him and felt so hollow. Nobody felt like home the way you did. 

I wanted to drive to your house. To tell you how much I miss you. How I tried to replace you so that I wouldn't have to deal with you rejecting me. How the thought of you kissing somebody else kills me, and how me kissing somebody else made me physically sick. How afraid I am of losing you.

But instead I came home. I went to bed. And I woke up this morning,Thanksgiving morning. And all I can think of now is how grateful I am for you. For everything you've shown me. And for the person I became while knowing you. For allowing me to see love in your eyes, even if it was only for that brief moment. And for introducing me to what home feels like. I'd been searching for that my entire life.

I texted you Happy Thanksigivng. When I really wanted to say I miss you.

P.s. I know we are through. I think it took a lot of bravery for you to tell me that. I know you can't force something that's not there, even if you wanted it to be. I am trying really hard to not close myself off, even though my pride and heart both desperately want me to. 

So tonight, I drove to the lake, and I sat there and cried for awhile. I'm confused and find it difficult to comprehend how I let myself feel so deeply for you when I know you didn't feel the same. Except deep down, I thought you would realize that you did.  But that is a me problem, not a you one. And I promise not to speak about feelings or heartbreak with you anymore. I just wanted you to read this so you could know the whole truth. That even though I know you didn't treat me how you should have, even though I knew you didn't feel how I felt in the end, and even though I wanted to delete you, I can't. Because you were put in my life for a reason. And it doesn't make sense that I uncahracteristically let you in, only to shut you out because we don't work as a couple. We are best friends. You know me completely. I know you. And I don't want to stop knowing you just because I have to stop loving you. So, before I stop showing my emotions and switch off into friend mode, I want to say:

I sincerely hope you find who and what you are looking for. I hope you can eventually reach a point in your life where you feel worthy and deserving of the love that you crave. Because you do deserve it. More than anybody I've ever met. And while it will sting when you do find her, I hope our friendship lasts long enough for me to be able to see that guy, the one who loves himself enough to be able to love somebody else. 

If it's the same for you, I'll just hang.

So much to say. So many thoughts. I wish I could just stop thinking in song lyrics. I wish I could just be brave enough to say what I'm thinking. But right now I'm just here in a parking lot, wishing instead I could have turned left instead of right. And that I could go back instead of forward. I keep trying and somehow always fall back. Guess I'll have to finish this some other time. Back to work. 

Ode to the Past

Feelings, what are those? 

I openly admit that I am in the middle of the craziest ride of my life. He ended things on Thursday, and Friday morning was backpedaling into my life. The thing is, I keep letting it happen because I keep wanting it to happen. Because I can't give up, let go, move on. Should I? At this point, should isn't even a question. Can I move on? No. 

I feel like I need to call Jared. He always gives me needed perspective. 

Well...I took my own advice and I called Jared. He gave me great perspective. No surprise. There's something intensely satisfying about having a friend that knows you so well. I talk to Jared more often than any other friend. And it used to be that our friendship was thrown about in the craziest of circumstances. However, even despite all that, it's easy to talk to him about everything. I have a hard time connecting to others on a level beyond superficiality. And it's not because I don't want to know them. It's because I can't let them get to know me. But with Jared, he already knows me. So it's not difficult to spill my guts. The wall I keep up with most everybody else was already hewn down almost a decade ago with Jared. 

I think the one of the most valuable perspectives derived from my relationship with him is that I had pretty intense romantic feelings for Jared at some point early on in our friendship. So Jared knows exactly what I am talking about when I discuss my feelings for guys. And he can help me see why things aren't working or how I'm acting that perhaps is hindering my relationships...because he was on the receiving end of my shenanigans at one point. I think because we went through that and are on the other side of it (without ever having actually dated), we have the ability to tell each other our exact opinions without worry. And I appreciate that so much. And I think everybody needs that in their lives. 

Tonight, having an actual person to sieve my emotions through helped me realize that it doesn't matter how I got here, but that I am here. In this place. Right now. And I can't change the past. I can't control the future. And I can't control other people just because of things that I want. 

I also realized I am terrified of making the wrong choice, of giving up on the right person, or of holding onto the wrong person and eventually missing out on the right one. I think a lot of this fear has to come from the fact that I am now 29. I realized last year what I want, which catalyzed my life evolution to this point. And I don't want it to be too late to have a family. Which, I suppose, leaves me feeling a little desperate at times. 

But as Thanksgiving approaches, I just want to feel gratitude for what I do have, instead of staying inside my head and focusing on the deficits. And what I'm super grateful for tonight is a friend who picked up the phone, listened to my craziness, and who was bold enough to offer opinions and advice. Jared, I know you're reading this because I basically forced you to, thanks man. I love you! 

Always one foot on the ground.

If hope is a thing with feathers, my bird is perched precariously on the edge. Why do we keep ending back together? The draw is magnetic, undeniable. 

It was over my head, I know nothing at all.

If I could choose my moment to die, that would have been it. The words were like a hammer to my heart. And until that precise second, it was like my ears had been plugged. And they popped once those words were uttered. Like I finally could hear what had been said over and over for hours. And maybe I could hear them, but I just refused to believe him. Until I was still standing there and he plainly asked me why. 

I rarely experience the events in my life as an actual person, but rather as a bystander. I was standing there and yet I was watching myself stand there. I could see my eyes silently begging a boy to let me in after he had already coldly shut me out. 

If my life were a movie, the moment he uttered that phrase, a bullet would have zoomed from behind and pierced me right there, dead on the spot. And my lifeless body would have crumpled onto the concrete and the camera would have panned out. And he would have walked inside and the door would have closed. And the credits would roll to some horribly sad song. 

But instead, in real life, I just watched myself turn and slowly walk out. And as each foot thudded on the pavement, I could vaguely hear the garage door close behind me. I kept my eyes straightforward, unwilling to let a single tear escape the bottom brim. And I could hear myself breathe in and out, so I knew I was alive. But mostly I could just hear my own heart breaking and the blood rushing to my head. 

I sat in my car for awhile. I couldn't even put the key in the ignition. When I looked down and realized I was still holding it in my hand and the door was half open and I was covered in goosebumps from the chill, I stuck it clumsily into the ignition. Secretly I hoped it wouldn't start. Because then the inevitable moment of me driving away and not looking back couldn't exist. But the engine roared to life. And I had no choice. I drove away. 

That's the funny thing about love. We look for it. Find it. And when it leaves, it leaves us with a gaping wound. And yet, we heal. And eventually look for it again. It's a merry-go-round we don't ever really stop. 

Then there's me. And maybe it's because I can't tell where I am on the ride. But, as of this moment, I am uninterested in healing. Because most of me is wondering if the splatter pattern I left on the garage floor will be the only reminder he has that I was there. Except I know it's invisible, and he'll never see it. 

And so maybe it wasn't love. Maybe it was only my fear of being forgotten. So maybe I carved my heart out myself. 

Jibber-jabber.

It's been an interesting past few days. My brain has been in a fog or haze or...stupor? Sometimes I think I get so overwhelmed by emotions that I tend to shift into autopilot so that I don't go insane. I don't mean to, it just happens. And then I perseverate on the things I want to think about until I literally can't remember how I've gotten from point A to point B. 

There are moments in my life that I can recall instantly. Some of them were even moments that, at the time, seemed completely insignificant, but for whatever the reason, have become huge milestones for me. Then there have been moments that have happened where I knew immediately I would never forget it. Those are much rarer for me. But this morning there was a moment where I just knew, without a doubt, that I'd never forget that look or that feeling. 

And when I truly think back on my life, I realize there is so much to forget. And I spend so much time trying to forget that I tend to forget the importance of remembering. So it makes me appreciate just that much more those striking, lightning-bolt moments that will forever imprint in my mind. 

I spend a lot of time living for other people. And just in a single week, choosing to truly live for myself and feel everything I am feeling without hiding behind it has been such an intense and eye-opening experience. I sincerely hope I am brave enough to continue with it. But I think each day is filled with a thousand different choices, and as long as I keep choosing, I'll progress even when I fail. 

At this point I'm so exhausted I'm uncertain if my thoughts are honestly making any sense. So, goodnight. 

Roller coaster, favorite ride.

I can rarely remember a time when I am just at a loss for words. But tonight was such a time.

I was honest and truthful. And vulnerable as hell. I laid everything on the line. Because I had nothing left to lose. I have a million thoughts I want to share but for some reason only 3 words keep replaying over and over:

He picked me. 

He picked me. 

He picked me. 

He picked me. 

I must belong somewhere.

I found out this morning that my dad was 1.5 miles away from the terrorist attacks in Paris. He is safe. But he could have easily died. And that is chilling. And has caused a lot of inner turmoil for me. I am upset and grateful, and truly overwhelmed. I spent the day with my sister and we both just seemed shocked for the rest of the day. 

I think it made me wonder who is important in my life. And who I care about the most. This morning, before finding out, I went online to set up my dating profile. I went to add a profile picture and literally every picture from the past few months is of him. So that put a damper on things. And I realized I don't even want to be online, or looking for somebody to date. And even considering online dating seems so ridiculous now, in light of everything else. Like profile views or likes somehow add fulfillment to my life. 

But I do this. I don't like feeling, especially feeling vulnerable. So I think I don't really heal. I hate feeling so I just jump into something new as a distraction. But at the end of the day, I don't want to be distracted. So I'll just be brave and somehow allow myself to feel what I feel for the time being. And I think that must be ok. Because we are always looking to attain some sort of happiness. And maybe happiness means accepting all our other feelings, too. It's not a state we achieve, but an emotion in the spectrum of emotions that we feel. And we can't recognize it unless we also acknowledge every other emotion on that spectrum and allow ourselves to feel those as well. Which I don't really do. So I guess it's time to start. 

There's a song I love by Bright Eyes, about belonging somewhere. And I've decided home isn't a place, but a feeling. And today, in realizing how close I could be to losing the people closest to me, I realized I just want to be home, wherever and with whomever that may be. And while I don't know how or who or why, I do know I must belong somewhere. And so that's why I just want to act without regrets. I want to be genuine to how I feel, and not apologize for it or feel guilty about it. That's really hard for me, because it means I can get hurt. I am hurt. But I want to feel at home. So maybe that starts by first finding home in myself. 

So, Saturday.

I don't feel like analyzing my feelings today. But I made a promise to myself that I'd blog everyday. So here I am. It's been an entire week. And not much has really changed. Except everything has. So there's that. 

Within the belly of a big blue beast.

Sometimes I listen to a song on repeat so much that I forget I'm even listening to music: it just becomes emotion inhaled and exhaled. There was a time, within the last few years, that I was too busy to enjoy music. Which is ridiculous because my life, since I can remember, was always lived to music. My musical taste has changed, but not drastically. When I was a teenager I couldn't ever understand how "old people" would just listen to the music from their youth and not evolve with the musical times. But I get it now. No music is as poignant as those songs that played during the pivotal and tumultuous times of growing up. However long that process was...

I guess I still feel like I'm growing up. I think I got caught up in this mentality that I'm already supposed to be established, a grown-up, settled. My "life" is supposed to have already started. The funny thing is, I recognize now that my life is happening, whether or not it's the life I thought I'd be living. It's interesting to me how a single year can change me so much. When I was married, I thought we had to be a certain way. Trying to fulfill that impossible expectation left us both defeated. 

I think I've spent my entire life like Meredith Grey in that episode where she begs Derek: pick me, choose me, love me. And when presented with the options: they either do. Or they don't. And it still messes with my head sometimes that the one person I vowed to love forever couldn't. He couldn't hear my plea. He couldn't pick me the way I wanted him to. He couldn't choose me. And waking up on the other side of that has perhaps been the hardest part of everything. But here I am.

Maybe that's why I don't have expectations like that anymore. I've become more accepting of reality. And for awhile there, I convinced myself that my reality was better without the complications of feelings and emotions. But everything is always going to be messy. Even when it's perfect, it's messy. And I wonder a lot just how can somebody can go through that and still want to believe in love. Am I a fool for wanting to?

No we are not swans. We fit into each other, we are Russian dolls. Where somewhere in the center sits a beating heart. Now do you feel we'd gone too far? Or do you feel we reached the top? Or do you feel like letting go? Now cmon. Hold on. We are not swans. Nor are we as ugly as we think we are. 

Disasterpiece.

I read an article that says the first 15 minutes after you wake up are your brain's most creative and thoughtful. I'm uncertain if I believe that. Because usually the first 15 minutes of my day are spent watching my dog poop and then cleaning it up. If that's as creative as it gets, I'm pretty screwed. 

So this morning, to test this theory, I decided to blog first. Here goes:

Last night I had this dream. My mom told me my sister never came home. And I was in the middle of doing something with somebody and had to pry the news out of her because she didn't want to tell me. It was a terrible dream, but thank goodness I woke up and realized it was just that. But I've spent the last few minutes trying to figure out all the components of the dream and why suddenly my dreams are about losing the people I love. Because this is just one of a barrage of terrible dreams I've had lately. 

I'm pretty sure it's because I am terrified of losing the people I love. Duh! Woo, way to really have to dig deep there, haha. But in some ways, I feel like I have already lost the people I love. I guess that's why it is easier for me to be alone than let myself feel anything for anybody else. The entire component of loss is easily avoided that way. And wow I just realized the first 15 minutes of my day are sounding pretty depressing right now. 

I'm not depressed. I think I'm just in this weird numb state where I don't want to care about anybody or anything. It's eerie how easily I can shut off my emotions to just feel numb so I can pretend I don't care. And it's usually around this time I begin wreckless behavior. To solidly convince myself that I don't care. 

But I am not being wreckless. Which kinda annoys me. Because it means I do care. And I'm thinking that I keep trying to convince myself I don't care because I'm afraid that's how other people feel. Gross. I can't believe I actually said that out loud. Hahaha. 

Remind me to sleep in tomorrow. This morning feeling thing doesn't bode well for me. The end. Resume numb status. Begin wreckless behavior. Or...don't. And be ok with feeling. Mehhhhhhhhh. 

Age 29 is confusing me. Maybe I'm becoming mature. Or maybe I'm becoming even more of a disaster. But maybe that's ok. 

Gaping Holes.

There are literally 15 thoughts fighting themselves in my brain. And I haven't written in awhile. But I somehow figured out how to log back into this blog and import every other blog I've written in and combine them all into 1.

I normally don't make my blogs public. Mostly, because I never share my true feelings with anybody. I don't like looking weak. It is physically impossible for me to break myself wide open for somebody else. It's a slow and cracking process that takes a lot of persistence and patience. So blogging is kind-of the anti-me.

But I figure, since I am now 29, it's time to be more genuine. And vulnerable. And so I posted all my feelings for everybody/nobody in the world to read. That's a pretty scary thought. 

So, here it goes. It just got real, son. 

Dating is the WORST

My sister and I were talking this morning on our way home from dropping off my mom's car at the mechanic's. I think it is important to note here that we had visited Starbucks and I had consumed my first drops of coffee in 3 years. My mind was literally going haywire. And I was yelling a lot in the car, much to my sister's dismay. But...I digress. We were conversing about dating, a topic we continue to exhaust, as we have been having miniature therapy sessions about it for the past few weeks. Most of these sessions have involved donuts or French fries or frozen custard. (We apparently have our deepest thoughts when our stomachs are bursting from unhealthy food.)

But anyways. Dating is basically the worst. I was only married for a few years. And I dated my now-ex husband for approximately a year before we got married. So I haven't been out of the dating scene for that long...or so I had convinced myself. However, it may as well be a million years. Dating is so different now! In NJ, when I went on a date with a guy, he basically was my boyfriend. That's probably because I only dated guys I had known for awhile. But I didn't have to guess if I liked him or he liked me. There wasn't game playing or awkward moments. I didn't feel guarded or needy. And perhaps I am just romanticizing or misremembering things. But dating just didn't really seem that complicated. 

Now, fast forward a few years, dating seems ridiculous. You don't necessarily meet people in person anymore to get to know them. You swipe their picture and read a profile. You stalk them on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. You text endlessly about a million different things. And then after days, weeks, etc. of this, you finally meet up to see if that online chemistry is actually sustainable in person. And if the date goes well, great. You continue the weird social dynamic of talking through a screen until you meet up in person again. And you continue swiping left and right to roam for more potential matches. And you know they do, as well. 

And this pattern seriously screws with my head. If I like somebody, I don't want to text them. I don't want to wait for them to text me or message me on Tinder or Facebook or wherever. I don't want to wonder if they like me because they haven't responded to a text. Or if I am being needy because I texted them two days in a row first. I don't want to check to see if they are on their online profile and wonder if they've found a match more stimulating than I am. This has gotten out of hand!! 

What happened to old-fashioned dating?  Why, in an attempt to streamline and make the process easier, have we over-complicated it? 

My sister doesn't waste time dating guys she can't see herself marrying. I find this an incredibly brave choice. Because I realize that dating either ends happily or in heartbreak. And if you can't see yourself marrying the guy, heartbreak is inevitable. So dating only guys that are marriage material seems wise. And I used to feel this exact way. I remember telling my ex that if he didn't see himself marrying me within the year, I wasn't going to waste my time. And I think it has a lot to do with where you are in your life and what experiences have led you to feel that way. Right now, marriage is not something I am really looking for at this point. I've been there. Marriage was not the best. And I definitely know it's not that way for everybody. But currently, I want to enjoy dating without all the pressure to have it get somewhere. 

Except, I'm old now. And the guys I'm dating are older than I am. So there is this unspoken expiration. And I've only recently begun dating again, but the urgency is overwhelming. And thanks to social media, I've spent an incredible amount of time getting to superficially know men and form bonds with them, only to realize that we may not click in person. Which seems like an even bigger waste of time! 

Chemistry seems to be the determining factor in all this. And I have found that I can find somebody physically appealing, but lacking stimulation mentally and emotionally . And we either click from the beginning or not at all. And this is a new concept to me. Because I've always been a long-haul type of girl, who gives the guys the benefit of the doubt and sticks it out until we click. And social media and online dating has turned me into a now-or-never girl. 

So there are a lot of Catch-22s happening in my life right now. Hence the coffee and the haywire brain and my seriously overwhelming thoughts. Maybe if I just get out of my head and off my phone...My sister and I were talking this morning on our way home from dropping off my mom's car at the mechanic's. I think it is important to note here that we had visited Starbucks and I had consumed my first drops of coffee in 3 years. My mind was literally going haywire. And I was yelling a lot in the car, much to my sister's dismay. But...I digress. We were conversing about dating, a topic we continue to exhaust, as we have been having miniature therapy sessions about it for the past few weeks. Most of these sessions have involved donuts or French fries or frozen custard. (We apparently have our deepest thoughts when our stomachs are bursting from unhealthy food.)

But anyways. Dating is basically the worst. I was only married for a few years. And I dated my now-ex husband for approximately a year before we got married. So I haven't been out of the dating scene for that long...or so I had convinced myself. However, it may as well be a million years. Dating is so different now! In NJ, when I went on a date with a guy, he basically was my boyfriend. That's probably because I only dated guys I had known for awhile. But I didn't have to guess if I liked him or he liked me. There wasn't game playing or awkward moments. I didn't feel guarded or needy. And perhaps I am just romanticizing or misremembering things. But dating just didn't really seem that complicated. 

Now, fast forward a few years, dating seems ridiculous. You don't necessarily meet people in person anymore to get to know them. You swipe their picture and read a profile. You stalk them on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. You text endlessly about a million different things. And then after days, weeks, etc. of this, you finally meet up to see if that online chemistry is actually sustainable in person. And if the date goes well, great. You continue the weird social dynamic of talking through a screen until you meet up in person again. And you continue swiping left and right to roam for more potential matches. And you know they do, as well. 

And this pattern seriously screws with my head. If I like somebody, I don't want to text them. I don't want to wait for them to text me or message me on Tinder or Facebook or wherever. I don't want to wonder if they like me because they haven't responded to a text. Or if I am being needy because I texted them two days in a row first. I don't want to check to see if they are on their online profile and wonder if they've found a match more stimulating than I am. This has gotten out of hand!! 

What happened to old-fashioned dating?  Why, in an attempt to streamline and make the process easier, have we over-complicated it? 

My sister doesn't waste time dating guys she can't see herself marrying. I find this an incredibly brave choice. Because I realize that dating either ends happily or in heartbreak. And if you can't see yourself marrying the guy, heartbreak is inevitable. So dating only guys that are marriage material seems wise. And I used to feel this exact way. I remember telling my ex that if he didn't see himself marrying me within the year, I wasn't going to waste my time. And I think it has a lot to do with where you are in your life and what experiences have led you to feel that way. Right now, marriage is not something I am really looking for at this point. I've been there. Marriage was not the best. And I definitely know it's not that way for everybody. But currently, I want to enjoy dating without all the pressure to have it get somewhere. 

Except, I'm old now. And the guys I'm dating are older than I am. So there is this unspoken expiration. And I've only recently begun dating again, but the urgency is overwhelming. And thanks to social media, I've spent an incredible amount of time getting to superficially know men and form bonds with them, only to realize that we may not click in person. Which seems like an even bigger waste of time! 

Chemistry seems to be the determining factor in all this. And I have found that I can find somebody physically appealing, but lacking stimulation mentally and emotionally . And we either click from the beginning or not at all. And this is a new concept to me. Because I've always been a long-haul type of girl, who gives the guys the benefit of the doubt and sticks it out until we click. And social media and online dating has turned me into a now-or-never girl. 

So there are a lot of Catch-22s happening in my life right now. Hence the coffee and the haywire brain and my seriously overwhelming thoughts. Maybe if I just get out of my head and off my phone...

The Calm

I forgot how much I appreciate Fridays until I went back to work. Teaching preschool is hard, especially when I'm not used to loud, wiggly, small bodies. But I like being back to work and feeling productive, it's such a good feeling to be doing something. 

Unfriend.

I don't get on Facebook often anymore. It started when I got my concussion because it literally was just painful to look at computer screens. Now that I'm feeling better, I recognize that I can live my life without it. I do like to log in occasionally to look at pictures and check on friends now and again. 

A few weeks before I told Scotty I was filing for divorce, he unfriended me on Facebook. I thought that was pretty ridiculous, seeing as we were married, but have since just let it go. This morning, though, I went to click on his mom, Amy's page and look through some of her pictures to just remember her. And it said we weren't friends. I sat there a little surprised. I didn't expect Scotty to go that far. 

I recognize when people are hurt that instead of owning their actions, it is easier to lie or place blame on other people. That explains the things I was told last night about what he has been saying. But no matter how angry or upset he is with me right now, he cannot erase the relationship I had with his mom. Unfriending me from her facebook account isn't going to change that. Facebook is not real life. And Amy is gone. You can't erase the the past. 

When I first asked for the divorce he told me to give him everything Amy ever gave me. All of it. Because I was no longer family. I was dead to him. Nonexistent. I made my choice and I was no longer a part of their family. I knew the words were coming before he ever said them to me, because he warned me before we got married that would hapen if we were to ever get divorced. And when I hung up the phone after he said that to me I was so angry and hurt and I didn't want to give him any of it back. He eventually told me to keep them, but at this point it doesn't matter. Because I realized I have something that Scotty does not have right now. Eternal perspective. 

I never thought whether one person had an eternal perspective and one did not mattered in a marriage. But it does, and I didn't see it until the day I asked for divorce. Scotty, who doesn't believe in God, thinks this life is it. Death is the end. So her things are important to him because that is all he has left of her. He only has memories and nothing to look forward to. I know there is a God and I know I will see Amy again.

Eternal perspective also gives us conscience and guidance. I know there are eternal consequences for my actions and a purpose for my life. I have direction and a goal. I didn't realize how hopeless life can be without that. My entire life I have worked hard to improve and better myself. Because I want to be the best person I be. It all boils down to eternal perspective. 

So I've decided to not be upset about being unfriended. Because you can't unfriend memories. And I can't care if my name is dragged through the mud in a town I no longer live in by people I won't ever see again. I know the truth. God knows the truth. And at this point, it just doesn't matter. 

Just Breathe.

I made it through week 1 back. It's not a surprise to me that what I thought would be a week of observation turned into just one day and myself and the other teacher were made to switch mid-week and I began teaching the class Wednesday when I thought I would be observing through Friday. It's funny to me the non-communication that happens. Needless to say I felt extremely stressed Wednesday through today. And my headaches returned full-force, and I tried really hard to not let it show at work. I didn't want to have to go home and make things harder on anybody than it already was. Next week will be better. A job is just a job, I keep reminding myself.

The good thing is my new class is adorable and the kids are so small and tiny. The curriculum content is basically the same, so I don't feel like I have to adjust much. I realize though, that it's not the tiny people that are stressful. It's the adults. I wonder why growing up distorts people so much and turns us all into horrible messes.

Speaking of which...
In the midst of the work and the health issues, I've tried really hard to not notice that I am getting divorced. I don't know if that is a mentally healthy way to look at it or not. But it doesn't hurt coming home to any empty house anymore. Or cooking for 1. Or going to bed by myself. I'm not dating or trying to fill that void. I'm not divorced so I am still married. And until I am divorced that is how I will remain. So in general it's not hurtful, just lonely.

It does hurt, though, when I hear through the grapevine that hurtful things are being said about me. Through this process I have tried to not say negative things about Scotty. I have tried to defend him to my parents and friends when negative things are said. I don't want people to have a poor opinion of him just because I've filed for divorce. So it hurt me a lot tonight when I heard that he was saying negative and cruel things about me to people we knew. And I realize that I shouldn't expect anything different. And that divorces are not nice things. But I think I had hoped for better, especially after everything I have done and had done for us over the past 3 years.

It's really made me sit here tonight for several hours and just wonder what it is I am doing. I don't know why I care so much what he has said. I guess probably because it is a blatant lie. But I think maybe it's because I have been trying so hard to not speak ill of him. People have asked me what happened when they find out. I don't laundry list or detail - I just say it didn't work. Because when it has gotten to this point, that's the truth. It just isn't working. And I respect his father, the memory of his mother, and both he and myself too much to run us into the ground. If he wants to, that is his choice. But I won't.

So I just need to let it go. Just breathe. Just breathe. Because ultimately, it just doesn't matter. I know I worked hard in my marriage and provided for our family by going to work each day and enrolling in graduate school to make sure my family was cared for and bills were paid. I know I had flaws and made mistakes. And I don't know what I was hoping for from Scotty during this process - maybe just some civility, maturity, respect. But whatever it was, I am never going to get it. And I have to accept that and move on.

Day 1

Today was my first day back at work.

I am overwhelmed by the support and love that was shown at my return and embarrassed that I even doubted that people cared about me. I think that was easily an effect from the concussion mixed with the embarrassment I felt from getting injured.

Observing another classroom and having to see my students walk past was extremely hard for me. All of them stopped at the door to my new classroom and turned to come in and one even gave me a hug. It really pulled on my heart and even now my eyes are tearing up because I truly love the kids I taught. I didn't love the aggression that I dealt with. I recognize that there was a level of danger that I cannot face going back in and self-preservation that I had lost being in that classroom, which is why I am placed elsewhere. But knowing that doesn't make being somewhere else any less difficult.

And it surprised me because I didn't expect the transition elsewhere to be so hard. I thought I would be relieved. But seeing the confusion on the kids' faces when I told them to go to "their" classroom and knowing that classroom wasn't one with me in it was difficult. And so I just don't think about it and can't think about it. Because if I do, I honestly get a migraine.

I had a therapy appointment in Leesburg this evening. So I picked up Earl and we drove to my mom's where I dropped him off and I made my way to my appointment. Sitting there we talked about my first day back and discussed some of the harder parts of my day. And then my therapist very frankly told me I had a mild disability right now. It was a knife to my heart. I have known this. I just haven't used the word disability with it. I keep turning that over in my mind, trying to process it. I went from perfectly healthy to living with a disability overnight. And I've been struggling with thoughts of just wanting so much to have a do-over. I sit here crying even writing this, because it is so foreign to me to think how different my life is now.

Throughout this entire ordeal I've been desperately trying to find the reason. I have moved past blame to forgiveness to peace. And now I want purpose. In searching for this, I've been reading scriptures, conference talks, articles, etc and praying to know why. I don't know if I will ever truly know the answer. But I know that I am drawing closer to Christ. And in that I found a great message given by David A. Bednar entitled "Bear Up Their Burdens With Ease" in which he says "The Savior has not suffered just for our sins and iniquities - but also for our physical pains and anguish, our weaknesses and shortcomings, our fears and frustrations, our disappointments and discouragements, our regrets and remorse, our despair and desperation, the injustices and inequities we experience, and the emotional distresses that beset us."

As I think about that I know for certain that His Atonement covers it all. And days when my faith is wavering I need to remember that "The unique burdens in our lives help us rely upon the merits, mercy, and grace of the Holy Messiah." If I've learned nothing else from this all, I have learned that.

The Rabbit Hole

Rereading this week'a blog posts in comparison to the posts from the last month show how different and detrimental one medication can truly have on the psyche. I definitely fell down the rabbit hole this week and went spiraling into the abyss that I haven't touched in a few months. In a few ways I am grateful that I was able to get in touch with some of the emotions that I was feeling during the months that I was losing it all right after the incident occurred, but I am looking forward to this darkness lifting and lighter, brighter days returning. My anxiety and PTSD is more manageable when I don't have depression piggybacking for the week. 

Today I opened up to my mom for the first time about what it truly felt like to have some of the feelings I was having regarding PTSD. I think there is a lot of shame regarding mental health. I know I feel so embarrassed and apologetic that there is something mentally not right with me right now. I also know that what's happening is not my fault, but it doesn't stop me from apologizing, or feeling like it is my fault. As I sat on the couch trying desperately to tell her what I was feeling, it was like I stepped out of my body and watched a muffled movie of myself in slow-motion. My heart was racing and tears freely flowed, my head filled up with fluid and seemed to just float away, and the all too familiar iron fist clamped over my heart as I explained to my mom what it was like to be perfectly fine one minute then accosted with a flashback the next. I felt like I was talking in circles and jumbles and nothing made sense, so I stopped watching me and my out-of-body self instead shifted focus to my mom, who looked confused and concerned and sad. It was becoming too much and ended abruptly when Earl needed to go outside. Once outside, the cold air shook me to my core and burned my lungs, but stopped the inner shaking. I am fine, I thought. At least you told her some of it. And I considered just showing her this blog. But I knew I wasn't that brave yet. Baby steps. Baby steps. 

It frustrates me to no end some days that I'm fine and some days I'm a jumbled mess. Some days I have the faith of Moses and some days I'm Jonah in the Whale. Some days I can't count and others I'm multiplying. Where's the happy medium? 

It's late. I need to be brave and strong. And sleep. 

Shouldering the Burden

It is the last day of the bridge therapy (hallelujah!) and the second day without a headache! I am so grateful for some clarity without a thundering, pounding in my head. The depression that has crept in, though has not been an even trade. If they cut me open, perfectly dissected on an exam table, I imagine they would find my insides overrun by thick and sticky, oozing black darkness. It has definitely corroded my heart and invaded my lungs. "What's this?!" the doctors would shriek, as they clamored away from the pools of black now escaping my organs, oozing onto the table and dripping to the floor. It sizzles as it hits the tile and then evaporates, puffing up into dark clouds, taking over the room and consuming all in its hatred and virility.   

I hate the darkness. I am not made of it. I am a being of light. 

More so, than Not.

Today I woke up and ate breakfast, but soon fell back asleep on the couch because I've been so exhausted from this medication. And I started having some pretty intense dreams. Most of them involved me getting beat up. A lot were me being jumped in back alleys by gangs. They were looping on repeat. One dream would end and automatically begin again, but morph slightly into a different dream. By the end of my 4 hour nap, I had multiple dreams and had been punched over 20 different times. The last dream woke me up. My heart was racing and I didn't know where I was. I am grateful for some of the techniques I am learning in trauma counseling, because I was able to lay there for a minute and get to a place where I felt safe before opening my eyes. 

Ever since I was little I have been terrified of the dark. Not just a little scared, but fearfully frozen of it. That fear never went away. It has been a constant in my life. But it doesn't even touch the terror I have felt recently. I know I am not dying, but somehow am unable to convince myself of that when the flashbacks are happening. 

I keep trying to be zen and squash down the anxiety that is clawing its way up my throat. When we were little kids, my siblings and I used to pretend there were people in our stomachs who set up towns with everything we put in our mouths, and the broccoli were trees and the water was oceans, and milk drowned them all. It was an exciting way to consume meals, to say the very least. But right now it's like those little people are climbing their way out with jagged, ragged claws. And each time I swallow, a new wave of them rises in protest, swelling in my chest. It is painful and forceful, and aching. And it feels like my heart is pumping lead, and my lungs are constricting with each breath. And the rebellions  are getting stronger. 

And the rational side of me knows that there are, of course, no such things as little soldiers marching my slow death inside me. And the soft whispers of my mom talking to herself as she completes various chores and the melodies of piano linger in my ear through headphones reassuring me that I am still here. But somehow, today, I am wishing I wasn't. Everything just seems too much. I keep trying to push past all the things weighing me down and more keep piling up and crushing in. I don't know how much more I can take. And as I typed that, the song Be still my soul came on my iTunes Radio. I just sat and listened to the words. It brings me so much peace. It reminds me God hears me. Even now. 

I wish I remembered that every time I feel this way. But I don't. It sometimes is too much and I sit frozen for hours. I don't know if I'm fighting an uphill battle with this. I don't know if it's a battle I'll ever win or if it's something that anybody ever wins. I haven't shared any of this blog with friends or family because I'm so ashamed and embarrassed about the literal fight I feel like I'm waging every day.

Be still my soul. That's all I can write for now. 

Optional (I always am)

I am that shoulder that you’ve leaned on.
The heart you break constantly.
The love that you refuse to feel.

And I gave you CPR.
So that you could breathe,
even though you had given up, entirely.

So I broke my toe, my leg, my arm,
my wrist, my neck.

My heart.

Because I wanted to feel you,
and you took my lungs.

But I needed to find me,
so I gave you my heart.

Just gather up these broken bones.
And pawn them for those dollar bills -
please go buy yourself a blanket.

You’re shivering and cold.
And you’ve only ever used me to keep you warm.

One

It’s always in the dark that I hear
The heart-stopping noise of your absence
It sometimes sounds like a creak in the stair
Or a pop in the wall, expanding with the burden of summer’s heat

 

It is never you appearing in surprise
Your footsteps long ago retreated
And here I am left with two pillows
When all I ever needed was just one

It’s in the morning quiet that I miss
The familiar rattle of your sleeping snores
And the lurch of the bed as you roll in your sleep
The silence echoes in the sheets 

Now only stillness lays in my well-made bed

It is never expected, the ending to love
It clenches and strangles and severs the heart
And here I’m left with two pieces

When I only ever wanted just one.

re:can't

I sympathize with suicide and hearts ceasing to beat

I empathize with lovers lost and orphaned in the street

I hunger with the starving heart whose faith is faded gray

I etch your picture on my skin, willing you to stay.

I understand the chosen words that hurt and burn the tongue

I speak them freely, no remose, like bullets from a gun

I paint the sadness from my eyes with lines of black deceit

I lick my wounds with salted lips, vaunt in my defeat

I mourn our life in funeral, wearing the blackest black

I reminisce day's love professed, but moments take it back

I harness every raging wit and quickly scrawl in prose

What's done is done I cannot recant the choices that I chose

It's horrible, this sadness.

It’s horrible, this sadness. 
Aching and gnawing.
And bleeding and tiring. 
But sometimes it’s alright. 

Boxes here and clothes there,
Bits and pieces. Packages and promises. 
Ruined, shattered, spoiled, scattered, 
Wreckage on a sea of terror. 

Keys in palms and not in doors.
You don’t live here anymore. 
Heart in hands, not in chest. 
Gaping hole, bleeding breast. 

You were just a fleeting figment. 

I made you up and married you. 
It broke me in between. You 
broke me in between my heart and soul. 

Most days you stay pitted in my stomach. 
And I want for it to be gone. 
But it doesn’t loosen with the evenings,

It only tightens with the stars. 

Oh, this week.

I feel like I'm being tested. Like my faith was renewed and now that's being tested again. And at this point, I feel like it is much too new and fragile to be tested. And part of me thinks God should probably know that. And the other part of me feels really horrible for thinking "shame on you" towards God. So I'm in a quandary. And mostly I'm just frustrated. And trying really hard to be faithful, but I am wavering. It's becoming increasingly more difficult to pray for my enemies when my enemies are loading their guns and each one seems to be pointed and firing straight at me. 

I did yoga tonight to try and calm down the anxiety that has now rooted itself in me so deeply that it is literally gnawing in the caverns of my heart. I told my mom that worse case scenario, I lose everything and I owe hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills. I think I seemed relatively calm when I said that. I only care about getting better. This was never about money. I just want to stop the headaches and the other symptoms. Don't they get that? 

I just sat here frozen, thousands of thoughts scrolling through my head. It's been 20 minutes since writing that question mark. Clearly tonight is not the night for me to relieve my burdened heart. Earl is whimpering beside me, unsure of what to do to calm my nerves. His soft sighs are so aggravating right now. I wish this bridge medication cycle was done. This stuff is making me feel so crazy inside. And I never get mad at Earl. And I'm feeling so mad at him for sighing next to me. And maybe I'm just mad at everything right now. 

I just want to be better. I want my life to go back to how it was. I want to be normal again. That's all. 

I just don't understand. Maybe this week is not a good week for my faith. I don't know. I'm reading scriptures, praying, and reading my morning devotional talks. I'm doing everything I was doing. I'm following my trauma therapist's directions to do daily mindfulness excesses, and practice meditation. And I am still not connecting. Why is there a barrier? What have I done? Is it me? Where did I go wrong? Why is it all going wrong? Why am I alone again? I hate dark days. I need the light. 

5 honest things:

I am still mad that I got hurt. And I'm more mad that I've spent 5 months examining ways that it was my fault that it happened or ways I could have prevented it. And I am tired of replaying the scenario over and over in my head. And having it flashback when I don't want it to. When I least expect it. When I can't stop it. It haunts me. And hurts me. And it terrifies me.

It is hard to know who I am anymore. 

I genuinely feel like I have wasted the last 5 years of my life now that I can't teach here after June.  

I really miss Amy. And most days refuse to really process that she is really gone. I tend to avoid thinking about it or I become upset. I loved her so much. 

I wish things were different with pretty much everything. All the time. 

Silence is Screaming

Sometimes I get so frustrated I just want to scream. It is really hard being a displaced person. I am sleeping on my moms couch, living out of bags placed in the corner of a room. I don't have any space to call my own. I am paying thousands of dollars to rent a house I am currently not living in. I don't have any income right now because something got messed up with workers comp. And I haven't been paid in months. The lawyer I hired hasn't done anything. And I'm trying not to stress. But it is exhausting to just deal with all of this. 

And my family means well. But sometimes I just want a minute to just be. And it seems like the moments I feel like that, everybody starts to come at me. Right now I am so overwhelmed. And I sit here trying so hard to blink back tears. My mom just muttered how everybody is in such a bad mood. And I know I was snappy, so I apologized and tried to explain myself to her. But I don't want people to play the victim here. Or apologize to me. I just need an ounce of understanding. In explaining myself I'm not excusing my behavior. I know I'm not behaving appropriately. I am being unreasonable. I am snapping. I am not treating people nicely. 

Today I don't feel nice inside. Today I feel awful and dark and burning inside. The new medicine the doctors put me on left me with a blinding headache most of the day. And I was so angry about that. But I did the responsible thing and emailed all the appropriate people to give them a medical update before I fell asleep for hours. I am just tired of being responsible. And taking accountability. And having all this guilt when I don't follow through. I just want to be care free for once and stop worrying about everything for everybody else all the freaking time. Because nobody really seems to be worrying all that much about me if we are being honest. 

As I sat in therapy this morning, my therapist asked me why I thought I have such adverse reactions when I return to my house. She asked if I had any friends that could look in on me. And I thought about all the people I've pushed away. And I've been so sad about how distant I've kept everybody. I don't let people in. And I have pretended I'm mostly fine with people who have inquired about my well-being. And I don't like people to know I have problems. We are friends until I start to have problems and then BAM, we are done. I cut them off. And I shut them down. And I just...I'm so exhausted pretending I am fine all the time. I'm such a mess. I am tired of being alone. I am tired of not having a good life. I am trying so hard to have faith. But today is a dark day. I don't know what tomorrow will bring. But I need something more than this. 

A Few Thoughts Later

It's been a few days since I've updated. I keep laying here in a constant state of discomfort, not quite tired enough to fall asleep and not awake enough to be engaged in anything productive. It is hot. And the dishwasher is too loud for me to enjoy any peace. After my evening prayer before trying to sleep, I somehow found myself spiraling into thoughts of this whole medical mess. I finally just shouted STOP in my head, so here I lay. Grumpy, discontent, and craving some peace. 

I tend to shy away from writing or publishing the bad with the good. I write the bad and delete it and only keep the good because I don't like being judged or don't like going back and reading the bad later on. Sometimes the truth is really painful. 

Last night I was in Pinterest for a little bit looking around and my little sister, who I thought was sleeping, ended up startling me by asking me a question. It was dark, I didn't hear her come up behind me, and I froze in place while my heart beat a thousand miles a minute. She ended up leaving the room because I wasn't really replying to her, and about 20 minutes later when I had recovered, I sent her a text and all was well. 

Today on the way home from church she brought up what a weirdo I was and how strangely I had responded. I know she and my mom were joking and good-humored about the entire thing and honestly meant no ill-will at all. I just wish somebody understood how intensely frustrating it is right now to go from having a no-fear response or fight response to one of complete shut-down. My whole body literally just stops working. 

In sacrament a few missionaries gave talks today about fear, and 1 spoke about how he had anxiety over everything for most of his life and what a huge hurdle he had to overcome in order to go on a mission. It was actually a really great talk. And it really made me think about my own life and the fears and anxieties I've had, especially with my job. 

In my job, I remember having a lot of fear when I first started intervening in aggressive behaviors. I had never been physically abused, I didn't even get in physical altercations with my siblings. So physical violence was a very difficult concept for me to handle. Children who do not know their own strength, cannot physically control their emotions and actions the way you or I may be able to, and are incapable of setting a limit or threshold for their outburst, can be extremely dangerous. I used to think my boss was crazy for never having any fear when she stepped in to assist us during the outbursts and when students overpowered us. She was calm and collected and almost robotic in her response. 

When I got my own classroom and started training my paras, I saw the fear in their eyes when the students started having aggressive behaviors. I intervened because I had the training that they did not. Soon I had no fear. My actions became robotic. It got to the point where physical altercation on a daily basis stopped affecting me. And I would be calm and collected on the outside. And even if I was scared on the inside I couldn't show it because I had staff and a classroom full of little kids looking at me. So I became this weird numb person when I would get my hair pulled. I would just sit and let the child pull my hair until either a clump was pulled out or the child stopped. I would then go about my business. I came to work after getting bit and scratched and hit and head butted and kicked. I came with black eyes and bruises and I acted like it was no big deal until it became no big deal.

 

And now it's frustrating to me. Because I don't understand why I used to not have fear. And why I now have all this fear after just 1 incident. Even the thought of seeing a particular one of my students makes my heart race. The thought of intervening in a behavior seems impossible. When I am scared, I shut down. 

Is it ok to be angry about that? Because I am trying not to be angry about the other things. I'm trying not to be angry about not getting paid. Or withdrawing from grad school. And losing my classroom. And losing my job. And my health. And all that. But now I am weak? I am scared or stressed and my body just stops working? I have overcome so much in my life. I know I can overcome this too. I just wish that sometimes the person I chose to understand, did. But he's not here and we don't talk. 

Should I be more angry that I'm even angry that I am upset about being afraid of being hurt by my students? Do all teachers go to work thinking they are going to get beat up by their elementary school children and just presume it is fine and act accordingly? Why am I acting like that is normal? That is not normal! There should be fear there. I shouldn't have to worry about that. Why do they keep hurting me when I want to help them? Why doesn't anybody understand how much I put into that classroom? How much I tried? I literally dedicated entire years and I have nothing to show for it. I don't understand. 

So I guess that's why I need to have more faith. And trust God more. Because when I feel like nobody understands, He does. 

I'm exhausted. And cold. I need to pray again. My heart hurts so much tonight.