Life experiences, opinions, snippets and glimpses into the mind of a twenty-something still trying to find her place in the world. If I actually had a point, I'd say it plain.
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.
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 partyI 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.
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.
Okay, so I tend to blow things out of proportion. We all do, don't we? I don't know why I'm struggling with insecurity issues when it comes to my relationship, or why I can't just let it be and accept the fact that someone outside of my family actually cares about me.
About 2 or 3 weeks ago my PMS had seemingly gotten out of control. As much as I hate to return to the cliche, I can't help but point out that when I'm down on myself, when I'm bitchy and snap and everyone, when I want to crawl into a hole and die just so happens to be when my uterus is doing it's monthly thing.
Wednesday of that particular week I had the day off and the weather was gorgeous. I spent all day outside, working on the pool & the yard, then laying by said pool even though it isn't swimmable yet. Then my brain decided to get the best of me. I started dwelling on why my boyfriend had abruptly cut off the texting the night before. I started dwelling on the fact that I am almost 30 and I still live at home. I started seriously wondering if I had made the right decision to leave my old job and start a new one in a completely different field. Dwelling on financial struggle. I was missing my dad, and my brother, who has been working down in Rehoboth for the past month or so and I don't get to see as much as I used to, (even though I know it's temporary.) Waves of emotion just kept crashing down on me and I couldn't control them.
When this happens I ask myself, "Why?" I have come so far in making positive changes to my life, so why do I still get incredibly down in the dumps? For a split second I considered asking my doctor about going back on antidepressants. But I don't want to travel down that road again. I'd rather exercise a positive mind set without the aid of prescription medicine. I'd rather stand up and say that I refuse to let depression get the best of me.
Why do I have so much trouble reminding myself to sit back and take serious inventory of all the good in my life and dwell on that instead of the negatives? I'm in constant search of the answer.
Every day I get more and more fed up. People and their bullshit antics are tiring me out. No one holds any amount of dependability, especially those I call my "friends." It's a very rude awakening to turn around and realize you are completely alone.
No, I'm not being a drama queen. My best friend of 16 years? Can't remember the last time we talked. Same goes for the girls in high school I stayed tight with up until about 2 years ago. Growing apart because of marriages and babies and careers is understandable. A friend you know you can call even if you haven't spoken in months and not skip a beat is a rare gem. I'm down to one of those kinds of friends. And she lives two and half hours away now.
When you get to the point where you would feel uncomfortable picking up the phone to call the person who used to be there for you through thick & thin and vice versa, then you know the friendship has just about gone down the shitter. If it is salvagable, it's going to take alot of work.
It's so much easier to walk away from a friend in need than to be there for them when their world has come crashing down I guess? Because that's what all of mine did. Sure, my girls were there for me when MomMom got sick, when I ripped my Ex's heart out of his chest and smashed it on the floor, and then when I had the same thing done to me. But when it all boils down, when the demons start waking up in my own head, I'm on my own.
I'm getting used to it. But it fucking sucks. I'm now deathly afraid to get close to anyone because I believe they will eventually desert me. (It is kind of strange - I'm not a needy girlfriend per se, but I am an incredibly needy friend.) Sure, A & T call me their "road dawg," but I'm terrified of having them abandon me. I had to explain this to T after he started lecturing me when I would wig out about A not calling me every day anymore because he's seeing someone now. You don't understand, you guys are all I've got. You take care of me, you look out for me, you help me to forget all that is fucked up and the crumpled mess my life is in when we're all together.
If you tell me I can depend on you, I am going to take you up on that so you better mean it. Because I will return the favor tenfold. Lately though, I can't say I'm much better. Why invest in relationships when everyone else around you takes the easy way out and walks away when the shit hits the fan?
It's turned me into a cold, cynical bitch that no one is allowed to get close to.
There's a half empty glass of Pinot Grigio sitting in front of me and a cigarette burning in the ashtray.
It is Friday fucking night.
I do not like sitting at home. Ever. I've done too much of it in the past to let any opportunity to get loud and rowdy pass me by. But sometimes the opportunities are just not there. See, most of my friends are all "settled down" and married and have kids and all that happy horseshit. Yeah that's not my cup of tea, thanks.
I guess what I don't get is that we're all fucking young so why shouldn't we be tearing it up as much as possible? I've got stories of nights with Andy and Tyler where we have had a blast and some of it we might remember, some of it we might not. (And I've only slept with one of them, never have and never will be in the middle of those two, thank you very much.) I've woken up mornings wondering whose clothes I was wearing and why there was a naked guy spooning me. There is a reason we're called the Shit-Show of Wilmington. We've tried to rehash the night before, wondering if we're still welcome in certain establishments.
It's all in good fun, you see. We work hard, so we party even harder.
Depression is a funny thing. It's extremely hard to cope with. Mine comes with ups and downs, usually in successive fashion. Today for instance, my mind was stuck in overdrive. Wanting things it could not have. Wishing it could change things it has no control over. A mind hopped up on caffeine and nicotine. I cleaned out my armour, throwing away broken, cheap, and tarnished jewelry, and setting aside pieces worth getting fixed. Like both watches and two bracelets the Ex gave to me, a bracelet from his brother, and the anklet my father gave to me. I hate that I get so bent out of shape over the absence of a male presence in my life. It should not have as firm a grasp as it does on me. Of course it is the reason I let myself be used and abused and disrespected over and over again. That I can at least change. But I'm very melancholy right now. Sitting in my room, smoking and listening to music that just provokes the sadness and feelings of desolation. And since misery loves company, I of course wish I was lying next to someone, so that we could wallow in our sorrow together, chain-smoking as the music plays on, with no need for any words to be spoken because the air would be thick enough with gloom and cigarette smoke. Just laying side by side, nothing but our arms making any kind of physical contact with each other, staring at the ceiling. A sort of temporary mindfuck suicide, if such a thing exists.
Sometimes I get down on myself when I think about how I can no longer give any kind of innocence to anyone. It's not really a feeling of regret...it's hard to explain. It's having been burned beyond recognition, desensitized, jaded by things mistaken for love. Having my boundaries crossed one too many times by someone, maybe even more than one, who was undeserving of that privilege. Or was he? I never really can tell sometimes. But the bottom line is that the walls are going up. Brick by brick I am building a fortress around myself, and it's not because of the actions of others towards me. It's because I let those outside forces penetrate me, and I can no longer let anyone in, for my own safety and for theirs. I've become the typical angel with a broken halo, another statistic, just another body taking up space in the crowd. And I wonder why I just want to pick up and take off for the West Coast, leaving everything behind me...
Photographer, aspiring writer, living the rock star life on a blue collar budget. I write about whatever moves me - my family, my love life, drinking and music. Seriously, I can't make this shit up.
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