I Give You Her Word

Love ridden, I have looked at you,
With the focus I gave to my birthday candles.
I've wished on the lidded blue flames
Under your brow
And baby, I wished for you.
Nobody sees when you are lying in your bed
And I wanna crawl in with you,
But I cry instead.
I want your warm, but it will only make
Me colder when its over.
So I cant tonight, baby.
No, not baby anymore - if I need you
Ill just use your simple name.
Only kisses on the cheek from now on,
And in a little while, we'll only have to wave.
My hand wont hold you down no more.
The path is clear to follow through.
I stood too long in the way of the door
And now Im giving up on you.
No, not baby anymore - if I need you
Ill just use your simple name.
Only kisses on the cheek from now on,
And in a little while, we'll only have to wave.
No, not baby anymore - if I need you
Ill just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on,
And in a little while, we'll only have to wave.

50th Post

And what a grand celebration it is. Only took me like 2 and half years to hit the half-century piece.

And I don't even really have anything good to say. I am mostly having just an insurmountably frustrating day with short bouts of self-torturing (though I must say this is an improvement.) I am exhausted all the time (turns out that emotional distress and extreme unhappiness--not to mention the drinking and cavorting that ensue from said issues--can be super tiring. Who would've thought?) and I am UBER employment-frustrated.

I won't get into the deets, it wouldn't be safe. I know that there are spies reading this.

However, it is not just bill-time here, spent-all-my-savings crunch and didn't-get-what-I-wanted-here, job that is stressing me out. I am worried and picking on myself and doing all the annoying, scared, chicken-shit high school crap and all I ever wanted was a snow globe.

Whattayagotta do to get a little comfortable in this place? Huh? I just want to feel happy and safe and needed/wanted/loved. Is this just a damned hard thing to get? Geezus.

If a gallon and a half of white russians, Big Lebowski, and a pretty definitive kickball victory--even when it was raining a bit!--can't shake off this dust, what on EARTH can?

I can only guess it will have to involve a Jeanie, a visit, and some galloping. I hope she really comes (she doesn't read this, though, so she may need encouragement otherwise.) And maybe a pool party this weekend at which I will NOT wear a bathing suit but rather a cute, somewhat bust-revealing sun dress that that old hat o' mine never even saw, and boy, would he wish he had. Nothing to soothe the "Is she cuter than me?" masochistic blues like some good old fashioned flattery and pandering from the opposite sex. And I have always had a knack for that, Lord please don't let me have lost that gift, too.

So if I can get checked out a little bit and some sun, I might, MIGHT, MIGHT feel even better. Plans for other self-improvement projects also in the works.

Follow-up later, Numba 51, here I come!

UNluck

A new conclusion (that is actualy quite old, but never verbalized, and once I had an arsenal of personal support to help me deal with it so it never really had to be verbalized):

I have horrid anxiety the day after some good drinking. Not EVERY day after, I suppose, but, where there is propensity for anxiety already, that damned downer drink nudges me into the nervous/guilty/anxiety-ridden/upset stomach hole that is, well, pretty unpleasant.

Maybe I should stop.

Nah.

It doesn't help that I can NOT figure my karma. Things have been going terribly wrong this whole month (including the last day of last month, really, as the commencement ceremony of shit...getting cheated on, and dumping my favorite person, that was really a great launch to the whole debacle that is June thus far), not all important things, of course, but really, WTF?

So there is the generally cruddy feeling of being broken up with someone you love, right? The weird tension that I now feel toward a whole darn neighborhood--one that happens to be my drive home from work, I might add--that really sets the tone. Avoidance of certain corners and bars and websites and shows and thoughts and buttons on my phone. Talk about anxiety, geez.

Then, speaking of my phone. I would say precisely 8.5 days after the "incident" with that guy I used to date, I left my phone on a table at The Snug--where we had a most chatty and friendly waiter--at approximately 10:15 on a Sunday, out of reach of wandering passer-by (maybe even mostly out of sight), very few customers in sight, and almost no crackheads about. One might think I a phone left in this situation, friendly waiter would be the one to find it and I might be able to retrieve it. But no. Gone. Every phone number, photo, text message I ever got, poof. This sucks ass, BTW.

I was highly upset by this. Highly. I tried to rationalize and feel better, like the universe was saving me the trouble of having to (eventually but probably quite soon) fish through all the cute love messages I had recieved once upon a time from that "man." So, silver lining...sort of. Maybe this is NOT the beginning of a month of negative vibes.

Wrong again, bucko. In the week following this is what occurred: I spent ALL the money I have--err, scratch that, had, lost a very sentimental photo that made me SAD, I got a parking ticket, a flat tire, got in a fight with my friend Tony, I built a book shelf that is LARGE and put ALL my media on it, only to have it fall over entirely (a huge mess and a little scary) and lost my little pouch with my ID, my debit cards, my credit card AND my Panera gift card all in it.

I can't believe my TV hasn't fallen off my wall, I haven't smashed my car to bits, been robbed AND been fired. I mean, for cereal, who's a gal gotta screw around here for some better luck?

I guess what I should add to the above mentioned list of things that have happened to me that I did indeed FIND my oh-so important pouch, soaked through, on the front steps to my house the morning AFTER I had to have dropped it. No one took it. So, maybe my luck is turning after all.

I Me You Who

I don't recognize my life right now. I don't really recognize me right now. I feel like I have lived so many lives already, been so many people. So many friends and places and loves have made up the scenery, I hardly recall them all, and many don't exist anymore. Not to me.

I don't know what to believe anymore. I am drifting and stuck at the same time and don't know whether to plant my feet or shake the shit out of myself.

I was so sad and troubled once. Totally incapable of expressing what a mess I was and falling apart from the inside out. I had been through such cycles of confusing, insufficient friendships (no blame placed, of course) and complete collapse of my sense of self. I picked a guy who was, at the very least, stable. He loved me, he tolerated me, he took care of me. And shoot, I was a nightmare. I was a hot mess, then. Poor Dave. If he was anything, it was a good, solid guy. Not that he never erred, but I had never had anyone more true and devoted. I can see now that we were NOT overly in love. There was no magic. There was someone there for me, for the first time, really. And I appreciate all he did for me, which I think was more than I know.

Eventually, I had shaken the depression and mood swings and non-communication and Prozac. Felt like a new girl. I could be all the me I had been, without the hard fall after--all the zazz without the depletion after. I felt basically ok about who I am and what I had to offer. Paul was my partner for the most contented time of my life I have ever had. I was happy, active (For some of that relationship, at least, ha, ha. There was some really fat time when I was the last person who would've been a fan of me.), had reachable goals and a job/friends/boyfriend that gave me a strong sense of place. I knew who I was, who needed me, who I needed and that, basically, we all fit together. The only thing lacking with Paul was foresight.

Maybe not foresight, I don't think it was that I couldn't see that we would not want the same things in the long run. I think I really didn't want them yet. Paul taught me an enormous amount about myself, about compromise and communication and real life with love, about confidence in your person and comfort. I did love him. An f-ton to be truthful. And I still do. He was a fabulous, beautiful, caring person and he did me no wrong. I miss him.

But alas, then came the sneaking ambition to do more with my life. I realize I needed someone creative and sharp, who would challenge me and lead me to new things and have as much zeal for a busy, adventurous life as me. Someone who would take a risk sometimes. Set their goals high. And so I left. And this is where it gets confusing.

Basically always made good choices, knew when to quit and what went wrong, took some hits but hardly even any body damage. Self: solid. Me: still me. Blah blah blah, this guy, that guy, a smart, prickish, self-important politician, a tiny, bad-mannered photographer, a really beefy guy with good style on a longboard. (You remember him don't you? The one you saw me on a date with? You remember how that felt? Now multiply that icky feeling of feeling small and a tiny bit betrayed--slapped in the face?--by 100. Imagine you loved me like I do you, now. Imagine I did that to you now. You might understand how I feel about you, now, Mr. I Didn't Cheat. But I have other examples, relevant to your life even, if you need more clarification.) A PhD in English who taught lit at DU. A guy that made me laugh more than anyone has before or since and valued family and travel and life experiences (perfection!) and whom I fell for harder than I have for anyone before or since.

But I didn't want any of them. They didn't want me, either, some of them, but the feeling was mutual. Good times, nothing more.

But then there was you. Least likely to. Never swept me off my feet or impressed me or made me feel giddy. Not back then. You were nice. Pleasant. I had a good time with you. Never WOW but always happy when we parted. It was just good. So we went on. How did I get into this so far? Did it start way back then?

Little by little, I shined less and less. I could tell certain things: I didn't laugh as much or make others laugh as much. I was a little boring. I was less sassy, less confident, less me.

More uncertain and scared. More and more vulnerable and less and less comforted. I became a difficult person I don't even know. I felt sad as often as I did happy. Worried and confused and full of doubt in you and me. This all made me more and more difficult. I just wanted you to be there for me, to think of me, to love me as well as I loved you. Which I am sure got harder as that circle went on. I was less the me who you might have loved.

Now I am so full of doubt in myself. I feel so set back. Regressed. How could I have been so foolish? I let myself sink with an albatross of mismatched loving. Style? Ability. In so many ways, you are just a boy. You don't have the equipment just yet, I guess. Because I believe we did have the love, I saw it first thing in the morning when you woke up and felt it when you pulled me to you while you slept and when you kissed my hand in the car. But not when I needed something a little harder, broader, bigger.

I guess I was blinded. Out of nowhere I loved you. Everything that had seemed regular before. Pleasant. Unspecial. Now it was wonderful and interesting and had potential. I loved you in a way I hadn't those others. Something deeper, and more willing to adjust, and more intense. And more hurtful and self-destructive and painful.

So unlike me. I feel my foundation is shaken like it hadn't been before. Between how much I want to be around you (and can't) and miss you, and how much self-esteem I have lost in this whole relationship (let alone by the ending), and how much you DID do me wrong, and how jealous and stupid I feel, I don't know how to deal with my emotions. They all lead, one into the other.

They're fading, and hopefully will continue to. But it is a slow road. I don't have the verve I had before. It isn't so easy to get up. I am more dim, more down, tarnished. I pray it is only for some period of grieving, because, as much as I love you, for all the good and great qualities you have, you are NOT worth all the good qualities I had.

Have.

Will have again.

Not one of the good days.

I just can't help it. What's left is just regular remembering things I wish I wouldn't, feeling sad, and missing so many things. And, really, feeling like you're the only person I would've wanted to talk to about how bad I feel.

But you made me feel this way.

You were my person.

But you weren't, really, I guess. I don't feel like anyone who really cared for me would do things that make you wonder what I have to wonder. You have made me look back at all that I was and you were and we were with new, skeptical vision. Was she just prettier than me? More fun than me? Smarter than me? What? What was it that blocked me out so easily?

It is silly and self-destructive and wretchedly painful to think these things but they creep in, first thing in the morning, when I wake up alone, in so many ways, again and again. Then they sit there on top of my heart all day. Sometimes I can ignore them, but other times it makes me remember how you told me you missed me when I wasn't around, and that you missed my face, and then wonder...why didn't you then?

Right when you meet people, it is all such a fantasy--all flirting and fun and no issues. You felt that way about me, once. I guess I let you down.

She won't always been fun, either, you know. You weren't all fun anymore. It was work for me, too. I met (and already knew) guys that were "cuter" or "more fun" or "better on paper" and who showed interest in me--and a lot who were none of the above, lol.

But you know, it just never mattered because, in the end (and through all the trouble and work and hardships--and all the laughter and support and love) I just wanted you.

It is so hard to know that you just wanted someone else.

It's like all that love was a lie.

What's wrong with me?

Wreck

I miss you something fierce. But I'd be too afraid to tell you that.

So you don't have to see me. Or I you.

I guess what it comes down to is this: you killed our relationship. If I had killed it, if you had known about my little indiscretion (and what a gift to you it was to tell you, so that now you can retroactively justify your actions, "See, YOU did something wrong too." Like that makes it ok that when you transgressed you did it upon my full, faithful, loving heart. You stabbed me in a trusting, believing heart. I only threw in my little bit to hurt you. And I am sorry I did. I am sorry because it has made you feel better about your actions, it has given you something to hold over me, distracts from what really happened here, what ENDED us (because it wasn't what I did). But even more so I am sorry because I still feel, even as I did then, like I would never ever ever want to hurt you. It pains me to think of you in pain and shames me to have caused it. So for that, truly, I am sorry. I was weak. I let a hole that you had torn in me the week before (that was closing. Slowly, but closing) let in a temptation that, for one brief moment, made me feel loved in a way I hadn't for so long. And that is weak and pathetic and selfish. I am sorry. I cannot say it enough. I was wrong.

But back to the point. (And I am sorry, I have to make this point, because I want you to have some idea of why I was so mad mad upset...and again, I am sorry for the scene and the slap). If I had killed it, it would have been manslaughter (pardon the awful metaphor, it is both grotesque and stupid, but clear). You murdered it. The difference? Intent. You say oh, all I did was text her. A lot. Hide it. Badly. Act guilty and treat you differently, distantly, treat you LIKE I was cheating on you. But, I wasn't. (Or so you think.) But, what was the point of all that chatter? You don't pick up new friends at a bar, get their phone number and hide their existence and your new "friendship." Did she even know you had a girlfriend? Not that it matters, she doesn't know me. She has no guilt about screwing me over. But you.

What were you thinking? I know you are not so naive to misunderstand what all that banter is. That is where things start. That is where we started. You would be lying to yourself if you believed that is all it would be. What would it have been next? Hanging out when you tell me you are going to hang with friends? Work? Why become these new texting "friends" if you werent going to see one another. And then what? You would be a bigger fool than I believe you to be if you thought that would stay "innocent." You are lucky I found out when I did, so that you could still make some case against being the bad guy. Before all your delusions ran out. Before all the sudden even YOU noticed how not ok "just talking" to "just a girl" really is. It is poison. What I do when I am drunk at a bar? Call you. You never did, I would have always assumed that was just your style, you were never one to ACTIVELY miss me, really. But don't you see, I would never have believed that again. How could I have been ok, when you were shopping for my replacement while I sat at home, dreaming about seeing you the next morning/night? How is that fair?

I don't know if this was just a rookie mistake or if you really were just too cowardly to get out of this relationship in a more noble way or if you were just scared, and freaked out by the idea that there was this path (one where you would have to pay attention to your actions and think about me and make effort all the time) and that it might really work, so you set our relationship on fire out of fear. All I know is that I do believe, against all the odds, that you loved me. If you doubt it now (and I hope you don't, because I don't have much heart left to break), one day you will not. And you should know, that I valued you, and still value you incredibly highly. And you may have moved on to Jill already, but I won't be going anywhere so soon. I have nothing to give anyone else. All my best parts are missing. They are still all wrapped up in you, and in how much I believed in you, and in us. How much I just fucking loved every bit about you.

And please, do not think I am calling you a bad person. You aren't. You are a good person. A slightly you-centric person, one not quite ready to give enough to a relationship and a person who loves you, but that does not make you anything like a bad person. I am very sorry if previous words (spoken or written) have hurt you, I was angry. I AM angry. And, whether you see it or not right now, I have every right to be.

I know it had been rough at times. I am sorry. You weren't great at being with someone and I wasn't great at being with someone who wasn't great at it. I know I said this to you before, but from the very beginning, I had some shadow following me into this. I would say that it felt like I was unimportant, that I was unloved by you. You would cite carefully tracked instances of when you had been thoughtful, loving, put me first.

And you were right. You are right.

I guess I wish I could have figured it out that it was something less tangible. Some basic hesitancy, some core holding-back that eroded my confidence in myself and how you felt about me. I constantly thought it was something I needed to work on, make adjustments for, ease up. And I did. Because the more I felt insecure, the more sensitive and prone to starting a fight I became. I let my feelings morph into one issue (like smoking) that I would NOT bend on, like it was some mission to get you to show me, for real, that you gave a shit about me. And I am sorry for that, it was hard on us both. But there was something faulty in the foundation.

It takes two to make a relationship difficult. I know that. So PLEASE do not think that I do not understand that you might have been trying to fill some void, too. I am not innocent.

But I guess that, when the going got rough, and we made a real plan, came up with a real solution, I reinvested all I had in you. I had a new lease on you. I felt like I loved you even more. I felt like, "hey now, I have admitted MY problem with this, and he has his, and thats the first step, right?"

I guess that is why it hurt even more. That you sold me to a girl on a barstool at Don's for a flirtation. I was high on us. I was high on believing in you. I was down with taking less than I have ever been offered as far as time and attention, because at least I got you. And I wanted you so bad. I still do. I love you so much. It's misery.

I hope that if you read this (and read it all the way through) that you don't just react in anger. I tried to be fair (thought I am sure you would say I haven't been. And fair enough, obviously, I am biased.) I hope that some of what I have said makes sense to you, and I DO hope you feel bad about what you have done. I don't want you to feel like shit, or hate yourself, or say you're an asshole. I just want you to know that you did one big, shitty thing, at least. I have acknowledged what I did wrong too, and feel badly--so badly I almost blamed MY actions for this (And kind of do, I have kicked myself so hard and so long that I can barely stand, I have blamed myself and hated on myself and regretted my actions endlessly) but you pulled that last Jenga block, baby (I tired of the 'straw camel back' saying, ha ha).

I just want you to remember me fondly as, I do you now, in between bouts of rage and crushed sobbing, and as I will--always--eventually. I want you to look back and know that, if even the actual relationship was tough sometimes, that the love was good and true, no matter how it ended.

There will always be a sore spot in my heart for Silver Strike and fire balls and movie theater diet cokes and The Wire and the NBA and podcasts and the best cuddling I ever got. I don't know when or if I will ever really get over you. No time soon, for sure.

In/Out

I spent the first night in my new place. I had great guys who were more than happy to help me move about 1/2 my stuff for the low low price of pizza and beers. And really, I would've bought the pizza and beer just to get them to hang out with me.

I haven't been doing so well alone.

I just never know when it is going to hit me. I will make it almost the whole day...not one tear! I felt giddy with the new things going on and possibilities and new starts! I got a purple chenille couch big enough for two.

I DO know that it hits me when I come home to a all-but-empty apartment that IS mine, but doesn't feel like mine. I had so many plans and thoughts about this new place, and I was excited to LIVE alone, but I didn't really expect to always BE alone. And boy am I. I guess that's really it. It has been a long time since I felt so alone, so lost, so unmoored. I feel like a stranger to myself. And I ruined my day-long record of not weeping. It was short but hard, the break in composure in the dark in my new room with no over head lights and no television even to distract me and no one left to call. I don't have my person anymore. Other people are tired of hearing about this shit from me and, frankly, I am tired of feeling it. It has been so long, way longer than just since things stopped going on, and possibilities were exhausted and things ended.

I used to be really happy. Well, not all the time, but a generally upbeat person. And I don't know her anymore. The sadness has gotten into my foundations. I know it will get better. I just wish so badly I could close my eyes and click my heels and wake up a month from now, feeling sturdy again. But lately I have been having trouble sleeping.

I know that sometime I won't feel sick when I think about you with her. About how you look in the morning and how you squeezed extra tight when you hugged me when you thought I was being cute. I'll forget all the lovely things we had, they'll seem cute but irrelevant. Pleasant, but dead and gone. I hope, anyway.

But for now, it is like I have a temporary case of manic depression, one day bouncing and hauty, all bluster about how much better I can do (which I hardly mean even at the SECOND I say it), and the next, I can't help but cry the whole drive back to work from lunch, devastated that I don't get to have you anymore, and I throw my whole sandwich in my mouth in what seems like one foul bite, glad to feel some physical sickness that sort of matches my wretched mood.

The good news? 50/50 chance that tomorrow will be one of the good days.

Words of Wisdom from B.G.

So, yesterday, this man said to me, "Glad to meet you, I can already tell you are one in a million."

I looked this dude in the eye and said, "You know? That is SO true."

He remarks, "But you know, that means there are thousands of you in China."

Undeterred, "Good luck finding them, buddy." Needle in a haystack, when pure gold is right in front of you. Just don't fuck it up. Don't go and sabotage it later, right?