The Blog That Reeks Of Humanity

On several occasions, I’ve given a disclaimer at the beginning of a blog.  Some warn that what follows will be an overshare, or that there’s a chance of strong language, or that I know sense will no be made follows in what, or that the subject matter may be such a bummer that the reader be advised to remove all sharp objects or strong drugs from immediate reach, or the latest previous disclaimer that I know what I going to write be wrote bad.  Like woah.

Today, it’s a disclaimer that what follows is likely to be overly honest, overly personal, and probably not too uplifting.  That said…

I’ve held off on writing anything that means anything for a while because to be perfectly candid, life hasn’t been so great.  I realize that in the wake of the Haiti Earthquake, my problems really are quite pitiful compared to the gravity of their situation.  Still.  Being able to see that someone is struggling in ways that I can’t even comprehend doesn’t mean I don’t struggle.  Knowing that the hurt and devastation they are going through certainly far trumps my own, doesn’t make mine cease to be.  With few other outlets, this is the one I usually turn to when things go pear shaped.  I’ve avoided writing because things have been messed up under the surface, even when the surface has appeared happy.  I’ve avoided writing because I’m afraid of talking about being happy and having it taken away.  I’ve avoided writing because my pride exists and this need to appear put together and polished still exists too.  Today, I’m writing because regardless of the surface or whats underneath, or happiness, or pride, or needs, or whatever – I’ve always valued honesty above all things.  So, in all honesty, here it is. 

I’ve been in an odd limbo with the guy I’m currently with since we officially broke up back in September.  We were really only apart for a week, then were together occasionally, did REALLY badly during October and when I left for my trip to Minnesota that same month I sincerely thought I wouldn’t talk to him again.  He went on his own trip to South Carolina the day I returned from mine…and when he got back…things were different.  Things were awesome.  In truth, they’ve been awesome ever since.  There’s been moments of hurt and frustration, but for the most part – he’s been amazing.  All that said, we haven’t officially been back “together” since the original break.  We’ve been heading in that direction, but haven’t put a title on it for one reason or another…reasons on both my side and his. 

That’s a brief (and incredibly edited and abridged) overview of Us.  Now flash back a few years and we’re back to a younger, dumber me.  This topic is probably going to seem a bit from left field, but it’ll all come full circle and make sense shortly, so bear with me.  Back then when I met a guy and he was spoken for, I didn’t purposely persue him, but I didn’t do anything to prevent it either.  Yes, it bothered me to be in morally questionable and socially unacceptable (though, it breaks my heart to see how near-acceptable these things are becoming) circumstances, but it was usually the result of my over empathizing with some guy’s sob story that got me hooked and then stuck.  I found myself often listening to men talk about how unhappy they were in their relationships and how they weren’t appreciated, and were nagged, and didn’t love the girl they were with, and this and that and whatever, and each time I saw something redeeming in one of them, I automatically looked down on the supposedly at-fault-female and sided with the guy.  On two occasions, this sort of misguided affection led to relationships with men who I had no right to call my own.  One was married.  One was not.  I was clearly at fault along with them, and there are no words adequate enough to express my remorse and sorrow over the pain I know I caused all involved. 

At the time, once I woke up and saw the guy for the selfish douche he really was, I was out and done with contact.  When I heard that the women stayed with or went back to these guys, I looked down on them and often saw them as fools for staying with men who didn’t value them enough to stay faithful.  Like I said…one was married and had no excuse.  The other, he pursued me while in the relationship and then things reached their height when he and the girl were “on a break”.  Both, I left.  Both women I resented for their attitude towards me, feeling that their anger should have been aimed more at the asshats that put them through hell in the first place.  And both men I was bitter at for “getting away with it” and seeming to still win in the overall picture. 

Over two years ago for one, and a year and three months later for the other…and my feelings are rather different – because now I get to be one of those women. 

Ever since I walked away from that sort of stupidity, I’ve feared for any relationship I may enter in the future.  I’ve felt like karma (because “you reap what you sow” is more wordy, not because I actually believe in “karma”) was lying in wait to kick me in the ass.  Do I deserve it?  To some extent, probably.  Did I expect it?  Yep.  But did I think better of this guy and hope he wasn’t just like them…yeah.  I did.  As it turns out, I’m the girl who’s guy went gallivanting while we were technically broken up.  Of course, he had the right to do whatever he wanted – of that I’m not arguing.  That doesn’t change the fact that this feels shitty.  It also doesn’t change the fact that he lied about it…and that’s the big issue. 

A friend of mine told me about his actions, and as a result I felt it necessary to have a conversation about it and right the heck now.  That was Monday.  We talked about it.  We talked about us.  In the end, we finished the conversation as something we haven’t officially been since September – Us. 

Yes, I’m that girl that still stays with the guy.  Whether it’s misguided or foolish or not, it is what it is.  If the last few months of awesome hadn’t happened, there’s no way in hell I’d have stayed.  I hate that it took going through the same thing to understand her – but the girl I looked down on – I get it.  I understand not wanting to give someone up simply because they proved to be human.  I understand loving someone enough to forgive (even when the wrong really wasn’t directed at you) and move forward.  I understand the kind of love that looks at the good in someone and sees it as worth holding out for.  Girl I met once who understandably hated me – I get it. 

So here we are, full circle.  I’m in an odd place with this, really, and it shifts from hour to hour.  I know I’m quieter.  I know a large part of me is sad.  It’s another part of humanity that I hoped was less consistent across the spectrum of men and women.  The neat thing about this is something that I know few will understand…and that’s simply understanding.  Seeing another facet of life, going through something that grows and changes you as a person, and something that has completely lifted any lingering (of which there was little, really, but knowing what it was at the time…) animosity towards those people from my past…I’m almost glad.  I’m not glad for what he did, but I’m glad for the timing of finding out.  If I had known immediately, then I’m quite certain he would no longer be in my life.  If I had found out even a month or two ago…probably the same thing.  Now, in this time, with everything as it is – it’s different. 

Sometime it takes horrible things in life to understand the people around us – to understand life.  And sometimes it takes horrible things to realize another level of love – the kind that lets go of the past, and embraces the future.  I don’t know what tomorrow looks like, and a part of me is scared.  God is still God.  We’re still here.  And somehow, things won’t always feel this way.

The Blog With the Acorn

I’m starting this post without the slightest idea of how to start it, and even more encouraging, without the slightest idea of how to end it. 

Aren’t you EXCITED?!

Fact of the matter is, I’ve had this desperate need to write for the last 84 minutes or so.  Give or take 3-10 minutes, maybe.  This happens usually when I reach a point of epiphany or an emotional high so profound that it simply demands it be immortalized in the written word of the internets.  Then there’s those times when I’m convinced I’m losing it and the only way to prove myself wrong is to prove I can still write in a linear and nearly witty manner while presenting a valid and concise mini-thesis.  Today, it’s probably a flip side of all of the above. 

Remember that squirrel in Ice Age?  The one who spends the entire film in short snippets chasing after the acorn?  This morning I had this beautifully clear moment.  I can liken it to that scene in the 3rd Matrix movie where Neo and Trinity are flying through the electric storm clouds and it’s crazy and intense until all of a sudden they burst through and they’re above the clouds in clear blue skies and seeing the sun for the first time in their “real” lives.  That, obviously, has nothing to do with the Squirrel or the Acorn and could be just a bit more pretentious than I was going for, but the point is pretty accurate.  The Ice Age character is relevant because once I was in this moment, I felt very much like that Squirrel.  The Acorn was the moment, and I was the one who had been frantically searching and wrestling through the electric clouds to get to it. 

I get that Squirrel.  Oh, man, do I get it.

We all have our Acorns.  It’s that elusive thing that keeps our thoughts captive and our efforts enslaved in an endless persuit of it’s capture.  The Acorn of this particular blog is a state of being, rather than an item or any other sort of noun.  The thing I’ve wanted for weeks and have seldom been able to grasp is a moment lacking the electrical clouds of hellish torment cluttering up my ever-running, always overanalyzing, over-actively imagining, and driving me oh-so-effing-crazy mind.  Some Acorn, huh?

I am a person in process.  We all are.  Life experiences mold us and shape us and give us different colored filters by which we see the world around us.  My filters are slightly fucked up.  (There goes the G rating)  I talk about the past people in my life a lot, and I also talk about not talking about the past a lot.  Indeed, for the most part, that previously mentioned page turning is still a state I try to live in.  The problem is, as a being in process, perfecting the art of living in the present and putting asside the fuck-colored filters is something I’m admittedly still working on.  Currently, I have filters “N”, “Z”, and “P” workin’ and they’re making my current B colored world look so damn different than I know reality actually is that I feel like my reality is wearing beer goggles.  (for the folk not following the metaphor, “N”, “Z”, and “P” are initials of men in my past who did horrible things and should go kick really big rocks  live wonderful peachy lives filled with meals of shattered glass love and fluffy puppies.)  My B colored world is a world I rather love.  If I had my way, I’d toss the filters off a damn cliff and have them die a sudden and permanent death on the figuratively speaking sharp and jagged rocks below. 

Last night, the night before, the week and month and however long before, I was the Squirrel.  This morning, the Squirrel got the Acorn.  For the first time in ages, everything righted itself, and I was happy.  Am happy. 

OH MY GOSH THAT’S EXCITING!!!

See, my fuck-colored filters seriously sucked.  Filter Z made the slightest off thing said by my significant other a gigantic ninja star in my head that slowly dug deeper and deeper even though there was ZERO intention of it doing anything of the sort from the originator.  Filter N determined any moment that wasn’t spent right the heck next to me was obviously the moment he was spending with someone else and that someone else would surely be calling me in the near future to tell me exactly how many times they managed to sleep together behind my back.  Filter P made him untrustworthy and probably two faced and made his phone the source of all evidence to the fact of him not being who he seemed to be.  None of these filters I ever acted on.  I never said how much the stupid nothing sentences (or lack thereof) hurt or bothered me.  I never demanded of his time when it wasn’t given ALL THE TIME because lets face it, co-dependency is not hot (and completely out of character, anyway).  I seldom (because, as he knows, I can’t say never) ever checked his phone or voiced suspicious observations because at the end of the day…

I know better.  I know that I know better.  The battle is learning how to put the past experiences behind and live.  It sucks to have to admit to this way of fucktastic thinking, but calling it what it is helps.  To call each thing by it’s right name, stare it in the face and say “You have no power over me”.  If I’m honest, it’s an answer to prayer and a feverent desire to stop looking at the things that don’t matter (and sometimes aren’t even real) and to put my focus back where it belongs.  God.  Family.  Friends.  (The letter B, included).

The Blog About Last Night

Last night I went to a Post Holiday Party with B at TAPS in Brea.  A trivial fact of the restaurant industry is that Holiday Parties are seldom during the holidays…it’s the busiest time of the year and hardly a good idea to take an evening out from making money to hang out at the restaurants (further) expense.  I got to play the part of the hot date, something I rather enjoy, and over all it was a pretty fun night.  Dinner, dancing, drinks, and mingling with people from his work.  I used to work at the sister restaurant to TAPS (The Catch, formerly located in Anaheim across from Angel Stadium) so there were a few familiar faces for me also.  Somewhere near the end of the evening is when things took a turn.  Not necessarily for the worse, but certainly a turn.

One thing about our relationship is that it is made one only by actions, and not by distinguished title.  That may sound odd and/or confusing.  We’ve never had the DTR, or Define The Relationship, discussion.  If you’ve read my previous posts, I think I mentioned that we met years and years ago, and things have gradually progressed to what they are now.  Since things are as such, we haven’t ever declared each other to be significant others – though, in reality, we are likely more significant that either has admitted up until now.  I’m not sure how the conversation started and especially how it got to the point it did, but we ended up having a Cut The Bull Shit conversation which was far more honest and meaningful than the majority of ours prior.

I must have been aprehensive about saying something or other, and he said to me “…Yeah, lets cut the bull shit.  What do you want?”.  This was a direct and very well aimed shot right to the heart of the issue.  My reply: “I don’t want to fall for something I can’t have, but I think I already have”.

“Well, then we’re in the same boat.”

The first verbal admission of affection more than fleeting.  One thing about him, and a recent facet of me, is that we don’t really talk about emotions.  We don’t talk about how we feel about each other or the relationship.  We plan for the future in terms of “What are we doing this weekend”, not, “What will we name our kids?”.  It’s probably the most healthy relationship I can remember being in since I was 19.  I’m used to overly emotional, overshare-friendly, and fall-too-quickly relationships that skip past the reality of knowing someone and right into the fantasy of a life that doesn’t exist.  He’s someone I had on a pedestal at 14, who I had the biggest crush on EVER at 18, and who I first kissed at 22.  Quite a build up to where we are, really.  Three months-ish down the line (nope.  We don’t really have a date to reference for whatever we are) ours could potentially be a neat “Story”.  Could.  As in, also could NOT.  The snag in this little tryst?

We don’t have the same faith, and neither of us is willing to part with our belief system.  Whereas his belief system (which is based on the idea that all religion is the same thing) does not dictate who he should and should not ultimately be with, mine does.  I’ve been raised in a Christian household with the term “unequally yolked” hung over my potential suitors as a final judge and jury.  Obviously, I was aware of this difference at the start.  All I can put this lapse in consideration down to is my own lack of expectations when it came to how he would ultimately feel about me.  When you have someone on a pedestal, and whatever single or taken status the two of you have which prevents anything from materializing finally aligns and you’re both single and interested…the reality of being with that person who you idealized for so long is like dating a celebrity whose movies you’ve seen and who’s iconic persona is one you never would have dreamed would be one to call your own.  A really long sentence to say…the reality of being with him wasn’t something I expected.  It caught me off guard, and now months down the line, I find myself conflicted.  Apparently my struggle wasn’t so hidden from him.  He said something to me which echoed someone from the past and though it may not be so meaningful to anyone else, to me it was a moment which made me catch my breath.

“You’re eyes say so much, even when you don’t say a word”

This exact sentence was said to me when I was 16 by a man who knew me better than just about anyone.  He was someone so very precious and who had a huge role in my life back then.  To hear it out of this one did something to me which I know can’t make sense to anyone else.  It’s not even that profound of a statement, I know.  It was, however, a blatant admission that I wasn’t just some random chick to him.  I wasn’t just someone he sat with during movies, or whose hand he held in public.  I was someone, to him.  I AM someone to him.

What’s interesting about last night was that he attacked a reality which I didn’t expect to be called out on.  I’ve behaved in several fashions in various relationships – everywhere from completely open and available, to walled up and callous.  Both of us are guilty of being guarded in this relationship.  Him, because he knows where I stand on Religion (I HATE that word) and what that ultimately will mean for he an I.  Me, because I don’t trust so easily and am terrified of a repeat of segments of the last 5 years of my life.  The conversation didn’t have a conclusion.  He walked me to my car and we sat there talking for a while.  He doesn’t express his thoughts in a “don’t leave me, I can’t lose you” sort of way, which is something I appreciate.  I can’t respect someone who begs to be held onto when the other isn’t willing.  Why would you persist being with someone who doesn’t want to be with you?  That makes no sense.  Thing is…that’s not the case here.  When it comes to guys that I would want to be with, he’s there.  I can’t fault him in any way except the Faith thing.  Coming from a background where “Christian” guys have been the sole source for everything (discounting nothing) heinous that has been done to me – and the list is ridiculous – I find it hard to discount someone who is amazing simply because of his lack of Faith.  This is where his argument lies.  He can’t understand why I would let someone who genuinely cares about me and who is a honest to God good guy go, in exchange for someone who is less of a good guy, but who claims God.

Part of me doesn’t get it either.

I don’t have an answer as of this moment.  Well, on some levels I do.  In addition, I have parents who like him but don’t approve of a relationship.  I have friends who love him, but who can’t support it either.  And then I have me.  Me, who doesn’t quite know what to think, though I’m told I have no option anyway.

Just as the conversation went, I don’t have a neat conclusion for this either.

The Blog About Friends Who Aren't

I’ll be the first to admit that in the past I have been a pretty craptacular friend. I’ve let friendships slide when I got too distracted by life. I’ve pushed people away in hopes of “protecting” them from whatever it is I’ve got myself into. I’ve hurt them by falling short of what they “know I’m capable of”, or by hurting myself in one way or another. However it is that I’ve messed up friendships, the poison has never been malicious or intentional. It’s happened by being a dumbass, most of the time. Whenever I’ve been hurt by something someone does, there is a multitude of vengeful and angry options that pop into my head which could be used for revenge. I always hold back. However tempting it is to plot out some way to make them feel just as crappy as I do, the plan never even gets entertained.

I can’t stand the thought of hurting the ones I care about, and most of the time this is true regardless of what they have done to me. There have been some pretty awful interactions and dealings in my past, and most of the time, I end up forgetting and forgiving whatever happened. I put them in that order because I honestly tend to forget why I should be upset or angry with someone. I usually see past it to the person behind the action, and then lose sight of their transgression. This is why “lets just forget it and move on” is used so frequently – I already have forgotten, and I honestly would rather just move on instead of trying to remember. Obviously there are exceptions to this, but for the most part I’d rather save the friendship than hurt someone by holding them accountable. Weird, now that I think about it.

I’m sitting in the latest of my addresses, well aware that I’ll soon be leaving and finding another place to call “home”. I hate this. I hate feeling unstable. I hate feeling unwelcome in what is supposed to be home. I’m in the process of finding something new, and that brings up the relevance of the above two paragraphs and this. I felt guilty for looking without telling the two I live with, while part of me didn’t feel bad in the slightest if I was to leave with short notice. The vengeful side of me wanted to hit back at the hurt I felt already. Then…I felt guilty and started the conversation with one of them this evening…

Only to find out that they’d discussed telling me when I needed to leave within the last day or two. Excellent. Obviously there’s the baby on the way. If that’s their only motivation, then it’s completely understandable. I can’t help but suspect it’s more than that and any concern there may be for my feelings in the matter are of little to no consequence. In hearing about their talks, I was hurt…and then realized that I’d done what I usually end up doing. Instead of taking care of me, I was attempting to take care of them and their feelings and in a sense, I waited for them to make a move so that it was me who would take the hit rather than them. I set myself up to get hurt, just so that I don’t hurt someone else.

The reason why I liked living as an island was because island life didn’t contain these sorts of concerns. A part of me is pissed that I let myself believe there would be a lasting friendship with this one. Instead all that has happened is I’ve been used to get through a tough time in her life – and pushed aside now that she’s “better” (not really. It’s a band-aid for an amputation. It’s not over yet.) for her former life and friends. The sad part is not just the loss of friendship, although that does indeed suck. The worst part is the observation that any changes I had seen in her for the good are now gone. She’s the same person I met, minus the swearing. She’s back behind her walls and false securities and closed off to those she clung to while she fell apart. The woman she was turning into has vanished, and with her our friendship it seems.

I hope things don’t stay this way, but I have a feeling they might…at least for a while. I’d say “oh well”, but that implies a level of irrelevance and that is simply not accurate. With that in mind, I don’t know what to say.

The Blog About Him, and Him, and…

It’s a very odd feeling to be completely tired but fully awake. The body craves the rest it requires and is often denied, but the mind is alive, well, and running in circles. Feels like a hornets nest resides in my being and it’s as easy to sort through it all as it would be to reach inside the nest and pull out a single hornet without the others stinging you. A decent analogy, I think.

The fact of the matter is, I am indeed tired. I’ve been up since before 5 this morning, have worked about 12 hours, been on the clock for 8, and skipped out on soccer because the residual pain from the weekend added to the side effects of my medication cocktail made my feeling of wellbeing take a nose dive. Since I know there’s no thread to tie all this together, I may as well just write about the various topics as they come to mind.

One is the health issue. I mentioned before the incident over the weekend. That was friday and saturday night. Sunday came around a changed a lot of that. I was well aware of the fact that the events and the nonsense I’m dealing with right now were by no means coincidental. They brought to the surface some issues which need to be looked at and addressed. Sunday didn’t do either of these things, but it did bring in a glimmer of what I thought was impossible – hope. I’m one who, in the past, has refused to hope for anything. My theory is that if I live life with no expectations, whether they be of myself, others, or circumstances, then I will have few disappointments. If you can’t look forward to something, you can’t be disappointed when it doesn’t happen. Make sense? Anyway, as much of a self-preservation tactic as this is, it’s also one that leads to a pretty dreary life. Still, it is the fear of being let down AGAIN which makes me refuse this thing called hope. This past weekend gave me a glimmer what it is I shy away from like a vegan to steak, and so it came to no surprise (really) that the week started out rough and continued from there. All this ties into the health thing because of not only the physical damage, but the psychological nonsense coupled with my re-currant weight issue. It’s all pushing me down and bringing it to the point where self appraisal is routine and unyieldingly harsh.

Then there’s the issue of the future as far as school and whatnot is concerned. I’m torn between going back to school at CSUF and looking elsewhere. Likely the focus will be on Behavioral Psychology, but I still can’t get past the reality that I don’t really WANT to go back to school. It’s not something I enjoy. It may be necessary, but it’s till draining to think about. And daunting too.

My mind won’t shut up about a few specific characters.

The one which has barely become a blip on the radar needs to stay as just that – nothing more than a blip. I made a deal with my counselor that there would be no dating for six months…that means October 21, according to when we made the agreement. The thing is at this moment, I haven’t much desire to date anyway. I lack any real drive for relationship. I recognize that there is enough within myself to deal with and work through without adding another human being into the mix. My therapist said something to me when I mentioned losing respect for someone in the distant past. She said “You didn’t respect him in the first place. In order to respect someone you have to respect yourself and you don’t”. Same as the idea of lacking the ability to love another until you are at peace with yourself. She is quite true. I am more than my worst critic. I am judge, jury, and executioner. I agree with her, though. Without respect, there can’t be love. Neither of these can happen until they are recognized within ones self. The blip. The blip is awesome. Quite a cool person, and one I’d love to keep around and get to know.

There’s of course the one from the recent past. It’s odd trying to explain it to people without going into details and somehow trying to make things make sense. I had to do this last week when a sizable arrangement of flowers were delivered to my work. My reaction last time was less than stellar, but that was mostly due to the shit day I had that day. The time before that was just painful timing, but something neither of us had predicted. Then the most recent was unexpected. People at my work know that there’s something atypical about this situation. Their reactions are mixed. I did have to explain to the women in the office about who this guy was. I told them the truth. I always feel the need to give both sides of the situation and mention a few things about him. I add in there that there’s zero malice or resentment aimed his way. The reason we are no longer what we were has nothing to do with how I felt about him and everything to do with right and wrong. Even now, I harbor no ill will, anger, pain, resentment…whatever else you can think of that doesn’t fall under the positives column, it’s just not there. I wish him and his well. Yes, at times there’s still that ache, but it’s not as it was. The cut has been made. It’s now a matter of learning a new way to be human. Learning that it’s ok to risk again and be vulnerable and open with people. It’s hard, but I’m finding out more and more that people get far more upset when I don’t talk than when I do. That’s something completely new to me.

Another character is the one from Monday through Friday. The Boss Man. “Master”, as the kids refer to him as. The one who I enjoy but who frustrates the hell out of me. One who I can’t decide if I like or not. On any level, really. It’s a status that changes day to day, moment to moment. None of the shift is my doing, however. If it is, then it is by some unknown power which I wield. From my point of view it is a matter of an assumed power struggle – on his side. I tend to take the “submissive” role with most males in my life, and as this one is the one I report to on a daily basis, so the posture comes automatically. What confuses me is why he feels the need to point out my supposed inferiority. It’s more than just work basis, though. It takes on an assault on the personal level. On my part, I think he’s awesome in many ways. From his side, I feel as though I’m completely under appreciated and mildly looked down upon. Don’t get me wrong…I don’t need the constant affirmation or validation from this guy, but it makes zero sense to me that someone you spend on average 30 hours a week with should be no more familiar than the person you order your coffee from. We’re supposed to be a team, and for a long time we were. I would have almost considered him to be a friend, but for the last couple weeks it’s been nothing but put downs and coldness. The one exception being this last Friday. I hate that this guy matters in the slightest. I care. That’s my gift and my downfall. I give a shit how he is and what’s going on. Can’t help it. I just don’t want to be looked down upon for being a female who chooses to take a more personal stance than that of a wall. On a logical level, there’s plenty of reasons to not like this guy and call him a dick and be done with it. The problem is that there’s something utterly likable about him. And it pisses me off.

Anyway. There’s plenty to add, probably some that could be deleted, but for now – that’s all she wrote.