I like to stalk. Find out information about people. We all call it "stalking" but is it really when all of the information is publicly displayed for all to see on forums like facebook and blogsites? Maybe not, but I do [whatever it is] pretty regularly. I'd call it a hobby. It's pretty harmless. I'll dig up information about pregnancies, marriages, job changes, the yooj. Usually I just blindly search, bouncing from page to page storing up useless knowledge to bust out the next time I have a real, face-to-face encounter with someone who will care when I start the conversation with "ooOooO did you see on facebook..." Every now and then I stalk with a purpose; to find out what the ex's are up to, or the hopelessly ignorant-to-life girl from my previous place of employment, or even the perfect girl from college, desperately hoping she's not perfect anymore, although there will always be the memory of her perfection, so even if she's fat and hunch-backed, I'll remember the perfection. And I find that the ex's are still there (moving on or holding on, it doesn't matter) Ms. Ignorance is still blissfully ignorant, and the perfection lives on despite years of drinking and partying post college (how.does.she.do.it?)
Sometimes though, when I'm not actively looking, I find something. Some nugget that is too good to be true. Something that I was desperately searching for on those purposeful escapades through cyberspace. Except this time, this moment when I'm happy and content and not crazed, (which is rare. Those moments are oh-so-rare) I don't want it. I don't want to keep reading, but it's a car accident. Gruesome, torturous, setting me up for a number of sleepless nights to come and yet, I can't turn away. I can't close the window and stop reading, because even if I did, it'd still be there. It's too late, I've already seen the flashing lights and heard the sirens, and the brake lights on the cars ahead are just an indication that I'll HAVE to look as I roll past. Slowly. Taking in every gory detail.
There were so many nights when all I wanted to do was find something, anything, to prove that I'd beaten the system. That I had the upper hand. That I was the smarter one, the more insightful one. And I'd search the same topics, on the same sites with no luck, all the better really, because what's that saying, "ignorance is bliss"? I think I get it now. I don't want to care. I don't want to know. I don't need to win. Because if this is what it feels like to win, then I'd rather go back to blindly searching, reaching in the dark. If I knew 5 minutes ago what I know now, I'd stop. But I'm my own worst enemy, in every regard. I need to know, need to be in the inner circle.
Maybe this time I'll have learned my lesson. But then again, like with the car accident, it's startling and unexpected. It comes out of nowhere and blind sides you. Would I feel like this on the nights that I was actively searching? Probably not. I would have seen the headlights and made sure that my seat belt was on, and I was wearing a helmet and was ready for the force of the airbags. All guards would have been up, instead of, well non-existent. So, instead, I'll try my best to take a step back and breathe. Just breathe. Slowly, in and out. I'll remind myself, in an almost repetitive exercise form, of everything that got me to the happy/content/not crazed moment that I just saw floating around here. The one I saw at 5:30 this morning when the alarm sounded through the early morning darkness and he rolled over to say "It's so early honey." and I reminded him that I had to iron before work to which he said "That's so silly. You look great. All of the time. That's so silly." And I kissed his forehead wishing him sweet dreams until he'd have to do the same dance of the alarm clock in a little while. The one I saw follow me all the way from central Jersey, down the turnpike, off exit 4 into South Jersey, then over the Ben Franklin into West Philadelphia. The one that marched up the front steps to the museum this morning, with the feeling of pride that I get to walk through those doors everyday. The one that happily renamed files so that I can have, at least, the appearance of being organized when my intern arrives in 2 weeks. The one that, at 12:00 on the dot, had me marching down to the cafeteria to purchase a lunch that'd be sooner landing in the bottom of the garbage, than my own stomach. I will find that moment. I need that moment. Those are the moments, the breaths that make the harder ones, the right now ones, bearable. I always come back to them. I do. But I want to get there this time, with less destruction than I have in the past. Progress. I'm making progress, and I think in the wake of the nausea and chills, the rapid heart beating, the cold and clammy hands, and the fighting back tears I'm learning; learning about the one thing that I always thought I knew, and am realizing I know nothing about. I'm learning about me.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
And this one's for you.
"Let me show you how great life could be!" I've pleaded over and over, with promises of a perfect life and the ideal relationship, me as the backbone to the beautiful fairytale. Visions of family dinners and soccer games danced through my head. Laughter and smiles, bedtime stories and kisses good night, nights of passionate love-making and nights of exhaustion; falling asleep hand in hand, ridding ourselves of the days' stresses. And so you let me. You said, yes. I want you to show me all of that. I want that, with you.
Disappointment. After 6 months of trying to show you what I promised, I sit here with disappointment being my biggest take away. But not disappointment in what you'd think. I spend a lot of time evaluating and complaining about people who act as if the world revolves around them. How could they not have consideration for anyone else? How is it that their first thought is themselves and not how their actions could potentially affect anyone else?? Then I hear myself. "This is how I feel." and "This is how I'm affected by this set of actions." and "These circumstance aren't ideal for me." And I realize I'M one of those people. But I'm actually the worst kind. The kind that doesn't realize it AND the kind that tries to hide behind words and phrases like "No I understand what you're saying, but [insert part about how I'm affected]." I'm a walking disclaimer so that I don't have to hold accountability for not thinking about anyone else.
My disappointment lies with me and only me. I'm disappointed that I've spent this long picking our relationship apart and subsequently poking holes in it. I'm disappointed that every time I've asked for something and been given it, somehow I've made it seem like it's not enough. I'm disappointed that despite the innumerable conversations had to put certain topics to rest, or maybe just to alleviate concerns about them, I continue to let them be points of contention. I feel like a goldfish (yes I know that they're actually smarter than given credit for and that they can remember the solutions to underwater mazes, just let me have this example) like conversations happen, issues are resolved, and the next time something triggers that same concern, it's as if the resolving conversation never occurred. I'm disappointed that most of the memories we share of the past 6 months are in-depth conversations about my feelings, passive aggressive commentary, buckets of tears shed and not goodnight kisses and bedtime stories. Sure the memories are sprinkled with catch in the backyard, a trip to the museum and plenty of sex, but they're tainted by the negative that I've created.
So this is my plea. As much as we'd like to, we can't erase the past. I can't take away the past 6 months of strife just as you can't really take away the year that we struggled through to get here. But don't give up on me, on us just yet. Trust is earned, and I've made it seem like you're the only one who has trust to earn, but I do too. I need to prove that an accident on the turnpike won't ruin a weekend just because I'm arriving an hour later than planned, or that a request to stay in jersey due to poor weather doesn't have to be tossed back and forth 75 times before being presented because it might cause me to spiral downward questioning our relationship.
I need to prove that when I say I know that it's not Xavier over me, I mean it, and you know that I mean it. Instead of always assuming that I haven't been considered in anything, I'm going to start assuming the complete opposite. I'm your person. Naturally I'm going to hear about your considerations for everyone else in your life, mainly your son. Hearing about everyone else doesn't have to mean that I'm considered any less. I've made it beyond clear where I'd like to see our relationship go, and we've discussed it only about a bojillion times. You've assured me each and every time that you want it too. I'm going to stop assuming that's changed because Steph stopped by your house, or because your credit score took another hit, or because Xavier's reached another milestone and you couldn't possibly be thinking about children with me when you have, what could only be described as, the most adorable little boy created already, or because I get overwhelmed with my personal finances thinking i'll never have enough money to help us get anywhere. All of those things are there. Every day. But that doesn't change the part where we want to build a life together.
All I'm asking is that you don't lose hope. Not yet. I'm going to start showing you all of the great things that I begged you to let me. You've waited so patiently. Thank you. It's going to get easier and we're going to get better and when you say "she's my person" it will mean just that. I'm your person. Thick or thin, hard or easy, fb photos on your doorstep or not, I'm your person.
"That’s all [time] is: a trick. There’s no such thing as the past: it exists only in the memory. There’s no such thing as the future: it exists only in our imagination. If our watches were truly accurate, the only thing they would ever say is 'Now'.”
I want to live in the now with you. Forever.
Disappointment. After 6 months of trying to show you what I promised, I sit here with disappointment being my biggest take away. But not disappointment in what you'd think. I spend a lot of time evaluating and complaining about people who act as if the world revolves around them. How could they not have consideration for anyone else? How is it that their first thought is themselves and not how their actions could potentially affect anyone else?? Then I hear myself. "This is how I feel." and "This is how I'm affected by this set of actions." and "These circumstance aren't ideal for me." And I realize I'M one of those people. But I'm actually the worst kind. The kind that doesn't realize it AND the kind that tries to hide behind words and phrases like "No I understand what you're saying, but [insert part about how I'm affected]." I'm a walking disclaimer so that I don't have to hold accountability for not thinking about anyone else.
My disappointment lies with me and only me. I'm disappointed that I've spent this long picking our relationship apart and subsequently poking holes in it. I'm disappointed that every time I've asked for something and been given it, somehow I've made it seem like it's not enough. I'm disappointed that despite the innumerable conversations had to put certain topics to rest, or maybe just to alleviate concerns about them, I continue to let them be points of contention. I feel like a goldfish (yes I know that they're actually smarter than given credit for and that they can remember the solutions to underwater mazes, just let me have this example) like conversations happen, issues are resolved, and the next time something triggers that same concern, it's as if the resolving conversation never occurred. I'm disappointed that most of the memories we share of the past 6 months are in-depth conversations about my feelings, passive aggressive commentary, buckets of tears shed and not goodnight kisses and bedtime stories. Sure the memories are sprinkled with catch in the backyard, a trip to the museum and plenty of sex, but they're tainted by the negative that I've created.
So this is my plea. As much as we'd like to, we can't erase the past. I can't take away the past 6 months of strife just as you can't really take away the year that we struggled through to get here. But don't give up on me, on us just yet. Trust is earned, and I've made it seem like you're the only one who has trust to earn, but I do too. I need to prove that an accident on the turnpike won't ruin a weekend just because I'm arriving an hour later than planned, or that a request to stay in jersey due to poor weather doesn't have to be tossed back and forth 75 times before being presented because it might cause me to spiral downward questioning our relationship.
I need to prove that when I say I know that it's not Xavier over me, I mean it, and you know that I mean it. Instead of always assuming that I haven't been considered in anything, I'm going to start assuming the complete opposite. I'm your person. Naturally I'm going to hear about your considerations for everyone else in your life, mainly your son. Hearing about everyone else doesn't have to mean that I'm considered any less. I've made it beyond clear where I'd like to see our relationship go, and we've discussed it only about a bojillion times. You've assured me each and every time that you want it too. I'm going to stop assuming that's changed because Steph stopped by your house, or because your credit score took another hit, or because Xavier's reached another milestone and you couldn't possibly be thinking about children with me when you have, what could only be described as, the most adorable little boy created already, or because I get overwhelmed with my personal finances thinking i'll never have enough money to help us get anywhere. All of those things are there. Every day. But that doesn't change the part where we want to build a life together.
All I'm asking is that you don't lose hope. Not yet. I'm going to start showing you all of the great things that I begged you to let me. You've waited so patiently. Thank you. It's going to get easier and we're going to get better and when you say "she's my person" it will mean just that. I'm your person. Thick or thin, hard or easy, fb photos on your doorstep or not, I'm your person.
"That’s all [time] is: a trick. There’s no such thing as the past: it exists only in the memory. There’s no such thing as the future: it exists only in our imagination. If our watches were truly accurate, the only thing they would ever say is 'Now'.”
I want to live in the now with you. Forever.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
One line or two?
A wave of nausea crashes over me in the middle of a dinner rush, while my back simultaneously starts to cramp up. These long days of working 2 jobs are killing my body, I think to myself. "I suddenly don't feel very well" I decide to announce while waiting at the bar, staring at my beer order [im]patiently lying in the printer. Almost willing it to jump into the hands of some new bartender, who's name I've failed to learn since I doubt she'll still be employed here by next Monday.
"Maybe you're pregnant" I hear one of the other servers deduce as he catches the end of my whining. Such the standard answer for a woman in her 20s. "I don't think soooo" I sing-song back to him, laughing to myself at the ridiculous notion. Finally my beer's up and I can get back to the endless loop of greetings, drink orders, dinner orders, drink reorders, dropping food, mising tables, clearing plates, "Did you save room for dessert??", dropping checks, running credit cards, searching for pens, clearing tables, resetting and starting all over again. The days are long, and the nights are always longer, except for the part where I'm allowed to sleep. Those hours pass like minutes.
After an eternity my shift ends and I can retire my multicolored notepad and black apron and get some fresh air, because the nausea hasn't exactly passed, it's just become a dull nagging. Lingering just far enough away that I could get through the night, but still surface enough that if I think about it too much I have visions of running away from tables, mouth covered tightly with both hands, hoping to make it out of eye shot before losing it. Ok maybe I didn't feel THAT bad, but my imagination tends to be a bit overactive at times. Needless to say, I made it home just fine and fell asleep completely unconcerned about my aches and pains, considering the abuse this body takes from my need to be as efficient as possible at all points in time. Probably just strain from being overworked.
Fast forward a week. Nothing exciting going on, except that I still feel...off. That's the only way that I could think to describe it and now that I think about it, it's not really all that exciting. Except that I keep hearing "maybe you're pregnant?" As previously stated, I have an overactive imagination, so this definitely wasn't the first time that I've had this concern. Let the games begin! And by games I'm referring to the constant "oh no what if I actually AM pregnant? How will I tell my parents? How will I afford to take time off of work? How will we do this living in 2 different states? Where will I find the time?" But then something happened that was completely new to my standard pessimistic reaction to this potential situation. It's as if the wheels that were spinning and grinding so quickly forward, generating all of the anxiety, stopped, and slowly started cranking in the other direction. "I am 26 not 17, in high school with no degree or life experience. I'm in a committed relationship. We have jobs. His son is almost 2 making the age difference almost ideal for a planned pregnancy, never mind an unplanned one." Would it really be the worst thing in the world? I really don't think so. Is it the most ideal circumstances? Certainly not. Would it complicate life? Absolutely, but for the first time I thought, "If I am, I am." Nothing can change that now, so why focus on the complications of it all?
I sat down with a calendar and tried to count the days since my last cycle. I researched symptoms that I thought I had. Whether real or psychosomatic, I searched anyway. Finding, as always, that the symptoms of early pregnancy and the start of a menstrual cycle are almost identical. There was really only one thing to do... wait. Any crazy woman having unprotected sex knows that the best time to take a test is first thing in the morning. So I did just that. I waited, despite the fact that the only thing on my mind was running to the bathroom and taking the test right then and there. Knowing for sure, one way or the other. But I also wanted the most accurate results possible and didn't want to jeopardize the final verdict with my impatience, so I painfully watched the clock tick. Minute by minute, passing the time until I could get into bed and justify going to sleep, without question.
There's the alarm. Typical gripes danced through my pseudo conscious mind, begging me not to leave my warm cocoon of sheets, blankets and pillows. Not quite ready to succumb to the cool bedroom air, dismissing the fanciful dreams of my subconscious, I reached for my alarm, gearing up for a battle of the wills. Who will win? My alarm clock, persistently ringing every 5 minutes like some kind of machine or my need for sleep? Alas there was a 3rd factor that would inevitably tip the scales. That little twinge reminding you that sleep doesn't stop your body from processing all of the fluids that you ingested the day before. And with that thought all battles were off, because this wasn't any ordinary morning. Today, this morning, my future would be laid out in front of me...at least the next 9+ months of it.
More waiting. "Wait 3 minutes before reading results." One line or two? One line means nothing's changed, even though all of this thinking means EVERYTHING's changed, regardless of the outcome. Two lines means everything will be changing. When and how soon, I'm not sure. How will I tell everyone? Will I send him a picture message with the news? Will I plan some kind of elaborate dinner or gesture to show him? Will he be as excited as I am? Will he think this is a horrible set of circumstances and wish it wasn't so? One line or two? I can see the liquid moving across the window, filling the field, reading the results and readying itself to offer up what could be some of the most life changing information I've ever received. One line or two? I can see something starting to form. How does this work? Does it generate both lines simultaneously or one at a time? Does it always generate the first line immediately, while reading the sample to decide the necessity of a second line? There always has to be at least one line, right? One or two? One or Two?? The window fills completely and one line appears. I wait. Has it been 3 minutes? Is this the final result? One line? I think i'll brush my teeth and wash my face. When that's over, it will definitely have been 3 minutes. Trying not to steal glances, I finish rinsing the toothbrush and dry my face. Alright. This is it. I pick up the test. One line. One lonely line. And even though there was never anything there to lose, it somehow feels like I just lost someone.
"Maybe you're pregnant" I hear one of the other servers deduce as he catches the end of my whining. Such the standard answer for a woman in her 20s. "I don't think soooo" I sing-song back to him, laughing to myself at the ridiculous notion. Finally my beer's up and I can get back to the endless loop of greetings, drink orders, dinner orders, drink reorders, dropping food, mising tables, clearing plates, "Did you save room for dessert??", dropping checks, running credit cards, searching for pens, clearing tables, resetting and starting all over again. The days are long, and the nights are always longer, except for the part where I'm allowed to sleep. Those hours pass like minutes.
After an eternity my shift ends and I can retire my multicolored notepad and black apron and get some fresh air, because the nausea hasn't exactly passed, it's just become a dull nagging. Lingering just far enough away that I could get through the night, but still surface enough that if I think about it too much I have visions of running away from tables, mouth covered tightly with both hands, hoping to make it out of eye shot before losing it. Ok maybe I didn't feel THAT bad, but my imagination tends to be a bit overactive at times. Needless to say, I made it home just fine and fell asleep completely unconcerned about my aches and pains, considering the abuse this body takes from my need to be as efficient as possible at all points in time. Probably just strain from being overworked.
Fast forward a week. Nothing exciting going on, except that I still feel...off. That's the only way that I could think to describe it and now that I think about it, it's not really all that exciting. Except that I keep hearing "maybe you're pregnant?" As previously stated, I have an overactive imagination, so this definitely wasn't the first time that I've had this concern. Let the games begin! And by games I'm referring to the constant "oh no what if I actually AM pregnant? How will I tell my parents? How will I afford to take time off of work? How will we do this living in 2 different states? Where will I find the time?" But then something happened that was completely new to my standard pessimistic reaction to this potential situation. It's as if the wheels that were spinning and grinding so quickly forward, generating all of the anxiety, stopped, and slowly started cranking in the other direction. "I am 26 not 17, in high school with no degree or life experience. I'm in a committed relationship. We have jobs. His son is almost 2 making the age difference almost ideal for a planned pregnancy, never mind an unplanned one." Would it really be the worst thing in the world? I really don't think so. Is it the most ideal circumstances? Certainly not. Would it complicate life? Absolutely, but for the first time I thought, "If I am, I am." Nothing can change that now, so why focus on the complications of it all?
I sat down with a calendar and tried to count the days since my last cycle. I researched symptoms that I thought I had. Whether real or psychosomatic, I searched anyway. Finding, as always, that the symptoms of early pregnancy and the start of a menstrual cycle are almost identical. There was really only one thing to do... wait. Any crazy woman having unprotected sex knows that the best time to take a test is first thing in the morning. So I did just that. I waited, despite the fact that the only thing on my mind was running to the bathroom and taking the test right then and there. Knowing for sure, one way or the other. But I also wanted the most accurate results possible and didn't want to jeopardize the final verdict with my impatience, so I painfully watched the clock tick. Minute by minute, passing the time until I could get into bed and justify going to sleep, without question.
There's the alarm. Typical gripes danced through my pseudo conscious mind, begging me not to leave my warm cocoon of sheets, blankets and pillows. Not quite ready to succumb to the cool bedroom air, dismissing the fanciful dreams of my subconscious, I reached for my alarm, gearing up for a battle of the wills. Who will win? My alarm clock, persistently ringing every 5 minutes like some kind of machine or my need for sleep? Alas there was a 3rd factor that would inevitably tip the scales. That little twinge reminding you that sleep doesn't stop your body from processing all of the fluids that you ingested the day before. And with that thought all battles were off, because this wasn't any ordinary morning. Today, this morning, my future would be laid out in front of me...at least the next 9+ months of it.
More waiting. "Wait 3 minutes before reading results." One line or two? One line means nothing's changed, even though all of this thinking means EVERYTHING's changed, regardless of the outcome. Two lines means everything will be changing. When and how soon, I'm not sure. How will I tell everyone? Will I send him a picture message with the news? Will I plan some kind of elaborate dinner or gesture to show him? Will he be as excited as I am? Will he think this is a horrible set of circumstances and wish it wasn't so? One line or two? I can see the liquid moving across the window, filling the field, reading the results and readying itself to offer up what could be some of the most life changing information I've ever received. One line or two? I can see something starting to form. How does this work? Does it generate both lines simultaneously or one at a time? Does it always generate the first line immediately, while reading the sample to decide the necessity of a second line? There always has to be at least one line, right? One or two? One or Two?? The window fills completely and one line appears. I wait. Has it been 3 minutes? Is this the final result? One line? I think i'll brush my teeth and wash my face. When that's over, it will definitely have been 3 minutes. Trying not to steal glances, I finish rinsing the toothbrush and dry my face. Alright. This is it. I pick up the test. One line. One lonely line. And even though there was never anything there to lose, it somehow feels like I just lost someone.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Relationships are like cleaning the bathroom. Sometimes.
Cleaning. When I'm in the right mood, I love to do it. I get a sick satisfaction out of tackling the bathroom armed with bleach, a scrub brush, Clorox wipes, paper towels, Windex, whatever else you can imagine and making what is presumably the most disgusting room in the house sparkle from floor to ceiling. I know that I'm not alone in this. You don't have to admit it, but just know that I know. For me, the most gratifying part of the entire escapade is the shower after the fact. This my friends, as you all know, is no ordinary shower. No, no. This is one of those soul cleansing showers. Cleaning the bathroom is one of those tasks that you only take on when you absolutely NEED to accomplish something. Work is stressful, your mom is driving you nuts, you're having writers block, whatever the case may be you NEED to feel as if you can still accomplish something. So this shower isn't only ridding you of the grime that you can feel under your finger nails and in your hair but of whatever inner turmoil you've been struggling with. And no matter how daunting the project seemed when you began the cleansing ritual, you step out of that shower with your head high with the feeling of satisfaction.
How could this possibly relate to anyone's relationship? It's kind of like that phrase "sometimes you have to have a breakdown to have a breakthrough." Sometimes you have to really get in there and scrub the dirt out of all the nooks and crannies before you can make any progress. You've got to get out all of the insecurities, concerns, feelings, thoughts, assumptions, everything and just lay it out on the table. I recently had some experience with that, hence the post, and it was both one of the worst and one of the best days that our relationship has seen.
It was supposed to be a night of celebration. New jobs, new beginnings, the closing of chapters, the opening of new ones, etc. But somewhere between 2 beers and a tequila shot and 4 beers and 2 tequila shots something went awry. Like any relationship, we aren't immune to having issues. The problem for us is that we've got a lot of additional outside factors that we hold no control over but are affected by: an ex that will be there forever, a baby, some legal proceedings, general childishness and immaturity that when all put together can be a stressful combination. Not to mention we're both highly sensitive. I guess after 5 months of dancing around feelings, and thoughts, and "what does this mean" and "why would he say that" it all came to a head. I wish that I could remember more of the nuts and bolts of the conversation but thanks to the Belgian beer and jose cuervo everything is a little blurry. Bit of a catch 22 though, because w/out the alcohol the conversation may have never taken place. The thing about all of this that's particularly interesting is that it wasn't some big blowout that happened in the middle of the living room at 2am (trust me we've had those too) but it was a civil, public conversation that took place at a bar where we both just let go and put everything out there on the table. Feelings, questions, concerns, misunderstandings, insecurities, everything and hashed it out. Was it pretty? No. Were hurtful things said? Yes, but not in a way to try and BE hurtful but in an open and honest, "we need to work on this and it's because of you," kind of way. It's really hard to not just listen to someone tell you your character flaws, but to actually hear them and come to grips with the fact that some things are in fact, your fault. Kinda sucks.
We came to some kind of resolution and decided to head home. Both physically and mentally exhausted we got home and passed out...letting sleep wash over us and letting our subconscious sort through hours of discussions. Sleep was the equivalent to the post bathroom cleansing shower. I woke up the next morning happy, uplifted, genuinely positive about our relationship. I felt good. And so did he. We needed, more than either of us a knew, time to just spout out everything that's been on our minds for so long. We needed to clean out all of the nooks and crannies of our relationship. Life is hard and it's grimey and it piles up on us like dirty socks, used q-tips that have missed the trashcan and soap scum. It's important to recognize that it wasn't always like that. That it started clean and fresh and new, and that if you work hard enough at it, you can get back there, no matter how dirty and grimy it gets. It's worth it.
How could this possibly relate to anyone's relationship? It's kind of like that phrase "sometimes you have to have a breakdown to have a breakthrough." Sometimes you have to really get in there and scrub the dirt out of all the nooks and crannies before you can make any progress. You've got to get out all of the insecurities, concerns, feelings, thoughts, assumptions, everything and just lay it out on the table. I recently had some experience with that, hence the post, and it was both one of the worst and one of the best days that our relationship has seen.
It was supposed to be a night of celebration. New jobs, new beginnings, the closing of chapters, the opening of new ones, etc. But somewhere between 2 beers and a tequila shot and 4 beers and 2 tequila shots something went awry. Like any relationship, we aren't immune to having issues. The problem for us is that we've got a lot of additional outside factors that we hold no control over but are affected by: an ex that will be there forever, a baby, some legal proceedings, general childishness and immaturity that when all put together can be a stressful combination. Not to mention we're both highly sensitive. I guess after 5 months of dancing around feelings, and thoughts, and "what does this mean" and "why would he say that" it all came to a head. I wish that I could remember more of the nuts and bolts of the conversation but thanks to the Belgian beer and jose cuervo everything is a little blurry. Bit of a catch 22 though, because w/out the alcohol the conversation may have never taken place. The thing about all of this that's particularly interesting is that it wasn't some big blowout that happened in the middle of the living room at 2am (trust me we've had those too) but it was a civil, public conversation that took place at a bar where we both just let go and put everything out there on the table. Feelings, questions, concerns, misunderstandings, insecurities, everything and hashed it out. Was it pretty? No. Were hurtful things said? Yes, but not in a way to try and BE hurtful but in an open and honest, "we need to work on this and it's because of you," kind of way. It's really hard to not just listen to someone tell you your character flaws, but to actually hear them and come to grips with the fact that some things are in fact, your fault. Kinda sucks.
We came to some kind of resolution and decided to head home. Both physically and mentally exhausted we got home and passed out...letting sleep wash over us and letting our subconscious sort through hours of discussions. Sleep was the equivalent to the post bathroom cleansing shower. I woke up the next morning happy, uplifted, genuinely positive about our relationship. I felt good. And so did he. We needed, more than either of us a knew, time to just spout out everything that's been on our minds for so long. We needed to clean out all of the nooks and crannies of our relationship. Life is hard and it's grimey and it piles up on us like dirty socks, used q-tips that have missed the trashcan and soap scum. It's important to recognize that it wasn't always like that. That it started clean and fresh and new, and that if you work hard enough at it, you can get back there, no matter how dirty and grimy it gets. It's worth it.
Friday, February 25, 2011
A non promise
I never promised to be unemotional, easy-going, better, uplifting, worth it, easy to deal with, perfect, strong, bold, unwavering. I have faults and flaws like everyone else. I bleed when you cut me and I cry when you hurt me. I analyze everything and try to be considerate of everyone, even though I'm not always given the same respect in return and it often times puts me last. I am my own worst enemy and my biggest critic. I will never be good enough and I will always feel like a burden. I will question why my friends want to be my friends and why each of my siblings has more to offer to our family that I do. I will always play the "what-if" game and poke holes in everything because I've learned that surprise disappointment is worse than seeing it coming. I am fatalistic to a fault. But I never promised not to be.
I'm just a girl. Just one person in this whole big world trying to find my way, whatever that may be. I stumble a lot, yet I'll always tell you that I can do it myself. Actually admitting I needed help would put me back in the burdensome category. But sometimes, I do. I am loud, obnoxious and catty for a reason. I am not self-assured in any way, shape or form. I fake it well, but I'm not. I want to be like everyone else yet I want to feel important, special, loved unconditionally. Feel like my existence matters. I want to not feel like my time takes away from time better spent doing other things or with other people. I want to feel like a part of something, rather than a distraction from the more important. I want to matter. I want to be worth inviting along on a regular basis, and not an obligation from time to time just to appease me.
I never promised not to be any of the things that I am, although I never asked to be any of them either. I'm trying. Trying to work through the faults and flaws, but more often than not they win out. We've all got them. But in all fairness to me, I never promised not to have them.
I'm just a girl. Just one person in this whole big world trying to find my way, whatever that may be. I stumble a lot, yet I'll always tell you that I can do it myself. Actually admitting I needed help would put me back in the burdensome category. But sometimes, I do. I am loud, obnoxious and catty for a reason. I am not self-assured in any way, shape or form. I fake it well, but I'm not. I want to be like everyone else yet I want to feel important, special, loved unconditionally. Feel like my existence matters. I want to not feel like my time takes away from time better spent doing other things or with other people. I want to feel like a part of something, rather than a distraction from the more important. I want to matter. I want to be worth inviting along on a regular basis, and not an obligation from time to time just to appease me.
I never promised not to be any of the things that I am, although I never asked to be any of them either. I'm trying. Trying to work through the faults and flaws, but more often than not they win out. We've all got them. But in all fairness to me, I never promised not to have them.
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