A Boy & His Na-Na

Something that slapped my perspective back into (some kind of) focus was when my nephew came into my bedroom early last Saturday morning.  I heard my door open and sensed him standing at the edge of my bed, where I was burrowed under a mountain of blankets.  I peeked at the clock and saw my alarm wasn't to go off for 45 more minutes.  Instead of getting out of bed, I motioned for him to climb in with me and I'll be damned, he did.
He tucked his little 4 year old self with me into the cave of pillows I had created and fell right back asleep.  His quiet little snores lulled me back to sleep as well, and when my alarm went off he didn't budge.  I got up but he kept on snoring so I let him be.

One of Nico's Christmas gifts to me this year.

How can you not be reminded that there is no secret to life or happiness, it just is, when you look down at the little one tucked safely under the covers next to you?  Everything else seems almost painfully insignificant when you look down at that little one who has latched onto your heart with a death grip, realizing he looks up to you as his Na-Na, his aunt that will always love him and protect him.  He is sleeping in your arms because he trusts you, he knows you will never hurt him, that, in essence, you will always be there.  

Whenever I dare to let myself think that I might not ever actually get the chance to have my own children, I quickly divert my thoughts to Nico, my crazy, energy-charged, blue-eyed "baby."  (I know, I know, he's not a baby anymore - he reminds me all the time.)  My love for this little boy transcends everything I thought I knew.  The other day I remarked to my mother, "I never knew I could love something as much I love that little stinker.  It blows my mind sometimes."

People might think it's strange, and if they do, I feel sorry for them and hope that one day they experience a relationship like the one I have with Nico.
"Wait, your nephew's separation anxiety is just as bad with you as it is with his own parents?"
Sometimes, yes, like when he needs "one more huggie" 60 times  when I'm about to leave for work or going out with friends.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Yet I Still Love Him...

How the fuck am I supposed to resign myself to a life filled with boring partners?  I mean, let's face it - chances are a lot higher now than they've ever been that I'm not going to find someone who I feel like I could spend forever with.  He left me, remember?
So now what?  Settle for men who strive to be complicated when really their only problem is that they choose to not open their mouths and speak their mind because they are afraid of what others may think?  Settle for normalcy and complacency in this Godforsaken PC world?  Fuck that.  Give me blood, guts and chocolate cake.  I'm not going to settle.  I'd rather resign myself to a life of solitude than settle for something that doesn't get my blood pumping faster through my veins.
So what do I have to look forward to?  Reverting back to an endless stream of lovers that do not stimulate my mind, much less my body?  Men who figuratively - and sometimes literally just - "lay there?"  Because no one knows what the fuck they want anymore.  We put so much emphasis on this fact that it destroys us and the ones who love us.
It doesn't have to be this fucking hard.
The thought of returning to the world of an interesting mind yet a boring lover, or a boring mind yet an interesting lover?  Makes me want to puke.  I had the best of both worlds, I had paradise in my hands and then watched him reduce it to nothing but ashes.

As of yesterday, he and I have plans to see each other on Monday.  I don't know what's going to come of it, but from what I can tell, he's planning on us going to a mutual friend's New Year's Eve party together.  I could also be wrong about that.  Whatever the case, I'm bracing myself for the worst.

Lyrical Mating Ritual

I took out a loan because happiness is a warm gun.
So much I wish I could...so much I wish I would...and I will.
I hold on because I'm a bombshell
I'm a piece of work and it's nobody's fault but mine
A sinister kid who's going to make sure you've seen the butcher

He stands by his woman, with her platinum blonde life
I'll get wasted and send all my loving to you
Then there's your best friend's arm and their St.  Louis blues
Meet me down at the Animal Bar
It's just a minor thing and we're all minor kings

I've severed that leash because there'll be no next time
We called them freaks, when I was an orphan
Your last child was rattled by the rush
There's no tomorrow in the frolic room
We'll be livin' and rockin' while standing in the sun
Caffeine and gasoline calms the spite
I saw Shadrach, Meshach & Abendego standing on the corner
All wearing kashmir

I'm going to marry the night, you're my starlight
You be somebody, I'll be the May Queen
Crackity Jones traveled 15 fathoms and is still counting
Please come back to Sorrento
Boogie on, my reggae woman,
I've got some homebrew right here

Your simple words tend to sound gutless
But I'll pay tribute anyway
Sure tonight we are young but
it's the end of the beginning
Welcome to the universe, let's live until we die
Playing with the family in the concrete schoolyard

Strip, rock and roll for me baby
But watch out because Janie's got her gun
I've got no control over this use of time
Let's go crazy because I'm down for you

Gold dust woman slides down the pipeline
You better all hail me and my chelsea smile
Everyone's a sucker for a sequel
because there's always room at the top
Soap star Joe stirs it up
While me and my shadow wallow in my head
My bionic eyes will leave you black and blue

Just Love Yourself, Dammit - If I Can Do It, So Can You

So of course I take part in social media like everyone else on the planet.  My personal favorite is Twitter, but of course I have Facebook and Tumblr accounts as well.
Since my breakup I've backed off from cruising my various timelines, mostly Facebook, for a couple of reasons.  One is I don't feel like seeing random people's happiness splayed all over the internet - unless it's a dear, dear friend or family member.
The other reason I've backed off is that I have become painfully aware all of these memes and quotes and blog posts, etc, that either pertain to my situation or make me think of him - they cross my line of sight, I read them, and it hurts.  It really, really hurts.  It takes all the willpower I've got to not forward them along to him.
One thing that is getting under my skin lately is all of the "I-may-be-difficult-but-I'm-worth-it" type quotes that are plastered everywhere.  Why?  Because it shouldn't have to be like that, and most of the time, it isn't.  I used to think that of myself, but then I learned it simply isn't true.  I am not a difficult person.  My friends and everyone else that I love, the ex included, are not difficult people.  But it doesn't make them worth my time any less.  Yes, I love them all in spite of their idiosyncrasies and whatnot, but those things do not make them "difficult" or "weird" or "crazy."  It disheartens me to think that we've become the "I-deserve-to-be-loved-even-though" generation.  It should not be that way.  We all deserved to be loved, plain and simple.
Maybe the mindset should be changed to "I-deserve-to-be-loved-BECAUSE-I-am-difficult."  Or better yet, "I-am-NOT-difficult-and-am-STILL-worth-it."
Another thought that saddens me is that the people who truly feel this way, who feel that they are not easy to get along with or have so many internal issues that it makes them hard to accept being loved, have obviously had someone in their past, or even present, that caused them to feel this way.  Why do we do this to each other?

It's heartbreaking to know people think this way.

What if we were to all walk around with healthy amounts of self esteem?  What if we all believed we are worth someone's time and someone's love?  Wouldn't things be a lot different?  I know that I wouldn't want to be with a person who felt so awful about themselves.  The best I could give them would be the love and support of a good friend.  

I have all the reason in the world to think I don't deserve to be loved.  I have all the reason in the world right now to believe that I am difficult, I am strange, I am neurotic and downright unlovable.  But you know what?  I don't believe those things.  Because I believe something that trumps all of those things - 

I am an amazing person.

I am beautiful, inside and out.

I am lovable.

I am downright fantastic and fuck you if you can't see that.

Christmas Blues

I will probably bitch and complain about the holidays a lot this year.  It doesn't mean I'm a total Scrooge, nor have I always been this way.  There's a big reason why I'm just not feeling it.
I had planned on spending the holidays going to parties, driving around looking at Christmas lights, snuggling up in front of a fire watching Christmas movies, attending church services, going to Longwood Gardens, and exchanging gifts (some of which are sitting in the back bedroom until I figure out what to do with them) with the man I love.  But all of those plans have gone down the shitter since he came to the realization that he can't love me back at this point and time in his life.  So being newly single during the time of year everyone is posting pictures of themselves with their significant other doing wonderful Christmas-y things really fucking sucks.
I'm lonely and down in the dumps, along with probably more than half of the population I'm sure, but I'm not friends with or related to half of the population.  I'm friends with and related to people who are not alone, people who have that someone to cuddle up to while watching Christmas Vacation.
I know, I know - wah wah wah.  Whatever.  I had it all and it slipped right through my fingers.  The first Christmas party I attended this year was fun, I met some really nice people and didn't pay for one drink.  The second party I attended, immediately following the first, was fun as well.  I participated by making my delicious beer cheese soup and providing a homemade bottle of Limoncello that was given to me at the first party.  (You could say it was a hit, because it was gone in less than an hour.)  I remember announcing my arrival - "Ladies and gentleman, Snooki is here and she is trashed!"
By the time 2 am approached, I was sober and while driving home, regardless of the fun I had, the tears came on hard.
I don't want it to be this way.  I didn't want to decorate the trees with a shitty attitude, but it has consumed me.  I don't want to finish my Christmas shopping because I had to cross him off of my list.  I don't want to bake because I just don't care, and it shows - about half of my cookies ended up burnt and now I'm even less enthusiastic about tackling the pizzelles.
I know it could be worse.  I know there are people losing their loved ones this time of year; they can join my club.  I don't have my father anymore, or my MomMom & PopPop.  But don't think for one minute that I am not thankful for those I do have in my life, the ones helping me through the mess of my life this year.  They are always there for me.
But still, I just want to crawl into bed and wait until it's all over.  It hurts to see everyone so excited and happy and having a grand ole time while I'm on the sidelines, dead inside.  At least I can put on a facade that still works on the untrained eye.

Pepperoni Purgatory

We're not even halfway through December and I'm already breaking out the Tylenol.  Although this year I might need something a little stronger.  (Horse tranquilizer maybe?)

My brother and I baked a dozen loaves of pepperoni bread last night, keeping the tradition our father started with us going.  I had insisted we do it this past Sunday but, God forbid, the Eagles were playing at 1:00.  Instead my brother and my 4-year-old nephew came over last night, a school/work night.  Big mistake, because guess who got stuck with having to finish baking, cooling and slicing half of the truckload we made?  This girl.  The one who had to get up at 4:30 this morning.  And guess who was rushing around just trying to get it done instead of enjoying our time spent together and baking this stuff with the love and care that we used to when our Pop was alive, because Nico was wired as hell and doing his 4-year-old thing while our mother is down for the count with an upper respiratory infection?  Yup, my brother.

Four burnt loaves of pepperoni bread and one small grease fire later, the chaos finally ceased and the seasonal treat our friends and family love so much was finished baking.

To keep in mind for next year,
- Buy the dough at least a day in advance.  An hour to thaw?  Bullshit.
- We need 4 pounds of sliced pepperoni - 3 doesn't cut it - and not from just any deli counter.  I believe that to be the cause of the grease fire.
- We also need to have about six pounds of mozzarella cheese on hand.  I did not appreciate having to make another grocery store run in the middle of the baking proceedings.
- It's smarter to start during Nico's nap time because then he's less apt to be a maniac while we're fighting grease fires and ending up covered in shredded mozzarella and flour.
- Ma's baking pans are shit.  Guess what she's getting for Christmas this year?

Now to brave the snow and go get chocolate chips so I can bake even more.  Because, you know, I forgot all about them the two separate times I was in the grocery store yesterday.

When Paradise Becomes Dark

Yesterday morning I did two things I shouldn't have.  I sat and listened to Lana Del Rey and then went through a big bag of my things that had come from my now former boyfriend's apartment.  I had been avoiding both of those things specifically because Lana Del Rey's music was our thing - no one would understand and we don't care - and the bag contained items meant for no one but him, aside from a random assortment of clothes and toiletries I kept there.
I sobbed my eyes out on my bedroom floor for the millionth time as Lana's voice floated from the speakers, setting my guts on fire because my boyfriend, the man I loved, has ripped out my heart, torn it apart, and dropped it at my feet.  It's still lying there and it's starting to rot.  I'm tired of looking at it but I don't have the energy to pick it up and put it back where it belongs.  No one wants it anyway, not even me.
I need answers.
Like how I could start to believe that our relationship was it, how it was the last one I ever wanted to be in when he wasn't feeling the same way.
Like how someone can shut their emotions down and wall up their heart, and even after two years of building trust and a bond with me that no one on the outside could have broken, still not let me in.  How he told me I was perfect, I was the most amazing girlfriend, I was beautiful and just enough crazy for him, that I've done nothing wrong at all, and in the same breath tell me that right he can't give me what I need right now, so he had to let me go.
I don't fucking understand.
I'm 30 years old.  I've grown exponentially over the last five years or so.  I can confidently say that at this point I know what I want out of a relationship and I know what I need.  Someone can tell me what they think I need, but they don't know.  What I need is something I have lost, and it is him.  What I need is everything he gave me - happiness and laughter, silly inside jokes, safety and comfort, mind-blowing, name-forgetting orgasms, a sense of peace, loads of self-confidence.  I need it back, because without all of that, without him, I am empty.  Completely empty.
He says not being able to love me right now is killing him.  Well it fucking better, because I am already dead.  Our relationship had been nothing but a natural progression, so I wasn't worried about him taking his time.  I was happy to give it to him.  But he realized he was being unfair to me and....and it just sucks.  I have no control over this.
He says time and space is what he needs and I am giving that to him, as much as it is killing me.  It's killing me to wonder where he is and what he's doing, to wonder if he has found solace in someone else's arms, not knowing what's going to happen to us.  Every day is a struggle.
Before I left his house the night he ended our relationship, as I stood at the top of the stairs with tears running down my cheeks, I said the three little words that carry the weight of the world, because I knew if I didn't, I'd regret it.
"Whether you want to hear this or not, whether you can accept it or not, I love you.  I never dreamed I'd be saying it under these circumstances, but I have to, and you have to hear it.  I love you."
And then his tears started.

I thought I knew what heartbreak was.  I thought I knew how bad it hurt.  I had no fucking idea.