calling me crazy

Hello, my lovelies. How are you this January day? I'm sitting cozily, wishing it would snow and finally finding a time to write.

I've had this post brewing in my head for almost a week now. Several posts actually, but I've been a busy chiquita. In good ways mostly and new things are also brewing and frothing but which I can't talk about yet. I hate keeping secrets from the Internet, but what else is a girl to do?

Insert brilliant segue here. 

Before I get into the meat of this post, a little prologue:

I know I keep writing about my last relationship. First, this does not mean I spend all of my daily life obsessing about it. But it is something I'm analyzing and so the receptacle of that analysis is going to be my writing and therefor you have the luck of digesting that endless bile that is my love life. Sorry about that, but I promised myself that I'd be as honest as possible in my writing and so here we are.

Also, I'm feeling pretty good. I'm in the home stretch of this relationship recovery and I feel pretty damn happy most days. Any residual anger I have is no longer about the breakup itself (mostly. it still chaps my hide that I put up with all his shit and he had the nerve to dump me. but whatevs.), but now I have to work through some anger at losing six months of my life to that fucktard. I know you shouldn't regret any experience because it makes you who you are blah blah blah. But that doesn't erase this resentment I have toward him for the train wreck we were (which I'll get more into in a sec). It won't last forever, but for now I'm resentful. Just how it is. And I'm a big believer in allowing yourself to feel whatever you're feeling. So there.

How to the every loving ever, I feel at this point like I can begin to look at the relationship less emotionally and learn from it, which I think is important if I want to date seriously again.

Which brings me to this article I found on Stumble the other night. I was just stumbling around the Internet, which I'm wont to do, putting off slumber, and this hit me square in the face, slapped me with its truth my life. Go read it. I'll wait.

Now a little backstory:

When I was 25, I was in a relationship with a boy we'll call J. It was the most toxic relationship and he was the most manipulative male I'd ever and have ever known. Long story short, he found me at one of the lowest points in my life (loss of a career, loss of a best friend, then the death of a boyfriend), he moved into my life, and he took it over. And before I knew what had hit me, we were living together and engaged and felt like a trapped animal. He manipulated me, convinced me I was crazy and cruel and controlling (all things I now know he was) and it worked. I believed him for a long time.

I eventually found my wits and broke up with J. And I've always said since I wouldn't let that happen again. After lots of therapy and working through a whole carousel of baggage, I really thought I wouldn't.

Ahhhh if life were so easy. Cut to 6 years later.

HP was not the same as J. He was actually nicer (J once told me he hated me, for example) and not really controlling (though we did always do what he wanted to do). He never rushed me into an engagement or anything, though looking back, we were in a serious relationship awfully fast. And the first 2 months were pretty blissful. You could call it honeymoon period, blah blah blah, but it ended awfully abruptly (instead of a slow cooling off that usually happens in relationships) and I think I know a big reason why but I'm still too decent a person to expose why on here.

He was manipulative, especially when it came to arguing. Plus I think he was sensitive too. He couldn't hear any kind of discussion and not turn it into an argument. He had to win and I often wondered if he even cared about what he was arguing or if he just wanted to win. He could deflect any comment back on me and convince me he was right. He would call me crazy, illogical, overemotional. His way was always the right way and he'd talk to me like I was a stupid child. This last part hurt more than the crazy, I think, because I value my intelligence so highly. It's one area I always fought back on even if I never really won.

It got so frustrating to argue in circles, especially because I'm not a fighter. I prefer to walk away when I'm angry or upset, cool off, think about what I'm feeling, and then discuss it later. In the moment? I freeze up. I don't have quick responses or witty retorts. So if I felt backed into a corner, often my only response was just to cry, which was just visceral emotion. You know that feeling where your throat gets tight and you just can't say a word without crying it out? That. It's not like I wanted to. But the dude made me feel like a child and so I acted like a child.

It finally got to the point where I got so tired of this act that I'd just stop talking at all. Wouldn't share how I was feeling, wouldn't fight back, wouldn't discuss anything that might be taken wrong and thrown back at me. So I'd keep my mouth shut, shut down completely. But then he'd just accuse me of being passive aggressive. I honestly couldn't ever win. I was screwed just for existing.

Why did I let it happen? Fuck if I know. Maybe it's because that's how my mom always talked to me. Maybe it's because I have a need to be liked and will be a goddamn doormat. Maybe it's because I'm susceptible to manipulation. Maybe because it's fucking confusing to be told you're loved and you're beautiful, etc, while being told you're crazy and passive aggressive and talked down to constantly.

Sigh.

It's no wonder I got so depressed. It's no wonder I lost so much of who I am. No wonder I stopped writing, stopped making art, stopped finding time to love myself.

How the fuck does that happen? More importantly, how do I not let it happen again?

I'm confident I can do this. I am a quality person and I won't let someone take that from me again. I just need to find the right tools.

drunken Christmas eve blogging

I'm writing from gorgeous rarely, but it was today, sunny Seattle. Though it's not sunny right now. Right now it's nighttime and I just got back to my hotel after eating my body's weight in sushi and green tea ice cream and wine.

I'm in my happy place finally. Also: a little sloshed. Which was the point of this trip.

Why am I in Seattle? Well why the fuck not? All my friends and fam are in California and I had no absolutely no place to go because I have all of one friend in Portland anymore (more on that in a bit) and what else was I going to do? Sit at home and feel shitty? Nope. So I jumped in the car and drive the three hours to Seattle.

And, as it turns out, the drive was important. I cried almost the whole way. Not in a pathetic way, really, more of a I really needed to fucking cry kind of way. I've cried since the breakup, for sure, but not in a just letting go purging and crying it all out. I've been crying in furtive spurts, trying to keep it in so as not to scare my friends or make them feel uncomfortable. Crying like I did, all alone in the car, freely and without reserve, felt fucking great. I needed a good cry.

Then I was feeling much better for a while.

Buuuut then the holidays crept up and I got homesick and I realized that all but one of HP's friends had dumped me too and, god love her, but she of course has her own life and I understand that she's going to spend time with the group before me. And that leaves the one of my two besties, the one who lives in Portland. She's been so damned supportive and I so really appreciate that I get to be in the same city with her because what the hell would I do without her? She's my only friend here (well, there, in Portland). But more than that, there's a reason she's my best friend, because she's just so awesome.

But, like I said, she's really my only friend right now. Not that I need hoards of friends necessarily, and I do get that I have tons of friends down in California and I miss them all so immensely much right now. But it's the holidays, a time of year which does its damn best to make the alone feel more alone. And I am making some cool, new friends lately, but they're new and I feel pathetic insinuating myself into their lives just yet.

Can't you just see it?

"After a most tumultuous relationship, my tool of a boyfriend dumped my ass and took all his friends with him. Please be my friend and love me!"

Ugg.

When I graduated college, all my friends moved away. They went to grad school or went to their hometowns or got jobs and internships elsewhere. But for a while, because I stayed and worked, I found myself completely friendless. Of course, I made new friends in time, but it was odd to suddenly be left behind. That's sort of how I feel right now. Only it's slightly more depressing to have to start all over because one guy decided he didn't want me.

Not that I would change things or want him back, because I really really really don't. It's just awfully bad timing.

So I just needed an adventure, to choose aloneness for a bit, to explore and discover and think. Sometimes a girl just needs to get away.

So here I am, in Seattle, in a cushy hotel room (have I mentioned how much I love hotel rooms?) after having a great first day of vacation. I plan to stay up watching movies and drinking wine and tomorrow I can't wait to explore the city. While everyone is home eating and exchanging presents and arguing and stressing, I'll be tromping around the city and taking photos. Doesn't that sound lovely? Yeah, I think so too.

Epiphanies and Dreams

Random Self-Portrait

Cozy sweater? Check.

Favorite sweat pants? Check.

Too much wine, per usual? Check.

Let the blogging commence.

Not to belabor the whole break up thing, I mean it HAS been like a month and a half or something. Right? How long has it been? I'm told you get half the time that you were in the relationship to get over it. So I'm right on track, methinks.

Anyway, I had another love life epiphany last week, all thanks to Parks and Recreation. Now, if you watch the show, you'll enjoy this bit I am sure. If you don't, muddle through or skip over. I'll have plenty more for you, I promise. BUT, if you don't, you should. It's really brilliant. AND if you're planning on starting to watch, you should def skip over the next couple of paragraphs, because there will be a spoiler or two. Je promet.

So, I'm watching last week and Andy does another retardo move and Ann looks at him with just such a pitying look like, mmm no, dear. And I think, Why the hell was she ever with him? And it hit me! I'm Ann! Pretty damn smart, sweet, kind of a doormat, unlucky in love. And HP (the newest ex. keep up.) is Andy, the overgrown man-boy who does dumb-ass shit and lived in a pit.

It all makes sense. What the hell was I ever doing with him?

I was telling this to a friend the next day and she was like, "UM YEAH! We all thought that."

Sigh. Yeah. I guess I'm just kind of clueless.

Until recently, I'd been clinging to this idea that he was such an idiot for tossing me aside (which he is) and I just wanted him to know what he lost. I wanted him to realize what a mistake he made. But I know now that he won't. He won't ever know that or believe that and I have to accept that. I have to be okay with that. I know what he gave up and that has to be enough. 

Not that I regret my time with him necessarily. We had some good times, though I can't think about those too much yet because then it gets too easy to romanticize it all and forget what sucked and then I get sad. I'm done being sad. It's time to let the sad go. And I have to concede that he was the first man to ever tell me he loved me. However he felt at the end, which I admittedly don't know, I do believe he loved me once. And that's a gift. He loved me and I can't regret that.

But when I think back to how unhappy I was the last month or so, I have to be grateful it's over. I want to thank him for that, I think. I was so unhappy! I was unhappy and I just didn't want to see it and I clearly wasn't brave enough to walk away. So whatever his reasons for leaving, at least he did me that favor. I see that now. I don't forgive him for breaking my heart, not yet, but I do thank him for doing what I couldn't.

I've been dating a bit. Just putting my foot out there. It's probably too soon and I know my heart's not in it. I'm sure he's having some torrid affair with some chick with big boobs and I should do the same. Well, except big boobs aren't really my thing. I prefer boyish girls. I just mean, I know some hot sex would help distract me. But I haven't really felt the desire yet.

Still, Goldie has been getting quite the workout. Speaking of which, I need new batteries.

But I think I know why I haven't been into the dating scene. I've been waiting for my true, future husband: Sir Richard Branson.

Yeah, slightly creepy

He's handsome, if slightly creepy. He wants to save the world. He's all athletic and shit. Plus he's fucking rich as all hell so he could just put me up in a chateau in France where I could just be an artist and travel and eat yummy food.

I know he's married, but I don't even need to marry the guy. Domestic partnership would be fine. And I know his wife would love me. Because, well, obviously, I'm adorable.

Plus, people, he has a space shuttle. A space shuttle! Not only have I wanted to go to space since I was like 6, but I'm positive that the only way to survive the zombie apocalypse is in space. I should know. I had a dream about it.

And we wouldn't be one of those couples with pet names (though I do like the pet names). I mean, he'd have one for me. But Sir Richard Branson is much too cool for pet names. I'd call him by his full title at all times.

Sir Richard Branson, dinner is ready.

Sir Richard Branson, so nice of you to buy me that baby giraffe!

Sir Richard Branson, you were great in bed last night. Rawr.

It's meant to be. Obviously.

Still, if I can't have Sir Richard Branson, I have been having dreams that I'm at a museum and meet a guy who looks just like Zachary Levi, but when he's scruffy of course, and it turns out he's an architect and he thinks I'm just delightful, naturally, and we fall madly in love. The end.

Yummers

Hey, it could happen.

Game Changer

I barely know where to begin.

This week was big. Do you ever have one day that changes your whole perspective? Yeah, that. That.

I had a scare last week. I doubt I have to come right out and say it. You know the scare. The holy-mother-fucking shit-what-the-hell kind of scare. There's this moment, when you're moaning and complaining about how you feel and all of a sudden it dawn on you that OH SHIT! and then your friends encourage it and pretty soon you believe it. And then you hate your damn body for being a damn petri dish that's absolutely beyond your control.

Are you following? I thought I was knocked up. The timing was right. And yet so so wrong. And for about a day I was scared shitless. My first thought was, If it's true, what the fuck would I tell him? Yeah. Never mind that singlemomhood would suck balls and where the hell would I put a baby and I can barely afford myself and it's not like I have any family here to help or whatever so it would be ALL ME. Never mind all that because it would be all wrong.

So so wrong.

This is coming from a woman who wants a baby so badly she'd consider stealing one and stuffing it in her uterus. Yeah. I want a baby. But not like this. Not like this.

And then the haunting prevailing thought was that if it were true, if I was preggers, I'd be tied to that man for life...and I felt deep down in my core that, no, I don't want to be tied to him for life. No way.

Which I needed to feel. I knew that of course, consciously, I knew he was wrong for me. I knew that. But I hadn't truly FELT it. I needed to really feel that, to be punched in the gut by it. I needed to feel that certainty in my whole body. Sometimes a scary ass situation can be the best thing for you.

Needless to say, I'm not pregnant. I took a test, for peace of mind mostly, and I wish I could frame the damn thing it made me so happy.

And it's not like I don't still care for him or have love for him. Of course I do. With the exception of a couple uber douches, I still have love for several exes. I care about them. Of course I do. Maybe I shouldn't, but that's just not in my nature.  It's not like I want to be with them again; it's more that once I give someone love, I don't take it all back. I spread the love around, people. Maybe one of my issues is that I have too much heart, but that's just too damn bad. Because I yam what I yam.

In fact, I probably have better relationships with these guys as friends than when we were in relationships. But that's a whole 'nother issue entire.

Anywayyy, back to my point. Ever since that insane day, I've felt free, happy. I also realized a few things.

We all know how unhappy I'd been the last few months. I think I'd been losing myself (well, I know I had), but also, I think I was unhappy in the relationship and unwilling to see that. I'm nothing if not tenacious but blind tenacity isn't always healthy.

So yeah, I'd been unhappy and not my usual self and once I started to find myself again, the fun, funny me started coming back. I missed her as I know everyone else did too. We all get caught down from time to time and I'm giving myself patience to get back again. While I don't regret this breakup anymore (and regret isn't the right word since it implies culpability of some kind, but I lack a better word.), I do wish he could have been more patient, at least realized that's what I was going through. I could have used the support. Of course, that's one more reason this was for the best.

More than that, despite the misery of going through a breakup, feeling unloved and rejected and wounded while I grieve this relationship I'd put all of myself into (and lost so much of myself into), I've been happier than I'd been in months.

Go figure.

I'll stop there before this becomes a dissertation. I have much to share still, like changing my hair (!) and all the great stuff I'm doing for myself. I'll hopefully find a minute to write again soon.

Also, The Blogger Body Calendar is up for sale now (wee!). Go and buy yo. PS? I'm July. Eeek!

one week later and I'm alright

On the upside, if there's anything I'm pro at, it's breaking up. I've done this A LOT. A lot a lot a lot. There are rarely any surprises anymore when it comes to how I'll deal. I know just how to get through. I've got my playlist, my books, my breakup buddies. I know just what happens at each stage (though duration varies, naturally).

Unlike my last hard breakup, where I didn't eat much for two weeks and threw up most of what I did (which was scary because I didn't really have the weight to lose), I only did the starvy-barfy thing for like 2 days this time. But add to that,  as I was leaving to go see a friend Monday night, I slammed my thumb in the car door and decided to get cozy with an ice pack for two days (I think the ice pack and I are now legally married in at least 3 states.). The horrid pain and fear of losing my thumb nail was both sufficiently distracting and sort of a when-it-rains-it-fucking-pours deal.

Yet by Wednesday, at a record breaking pace, I was already leaving behind the shocked, rejected, pathetically sad phase and entering the oh so delicious angry phase. This is my favorite phase because it's where you can first start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Getting that what the holy mother fuck feeling is the first taste of perspective. And what the fuck indeed.

Once that starts, my appetite returns and thus begins the shopping, the getting done of the nails, the joining of the gym, the considering of the cutting of the bangs (should I?), and the feeling sparkly and attractive again. Not that I wasn't sparkly and attractive pre-break-up, but there's something about a little pampering to remember that.

By Thursday, all my friends and coworkers were conspiring to hook me up with as many guys as can make up a pro football team and by Friday, I was feeling alright.

I have to say, I'm okay. The hardest part has been missing his damn presence in my life. Little things, like a text or talking. And then Saturday morning, I was half awake and went to curl up to someone who just wasn't in my bed. That was hard.

We spent 6 months in a relationship and how does a friendship not come out of that? Fact is..he was a friend, one of my best friends, and I've never been one to understand why I should lose a friendship because a relationship dies. Some of my great friends are exes and they have perspectives about me no one else does and I like that.

So we'll see.

I saw him for the first time last night at our bar (which neither of us will give up. which is just fine.) and it was okay. Weird and slightly sad, but okay.

My friends have been incredible and I couldn't ask for more support and love. It can be exhausting, growing older in relationship after relationship. And when you find yourself at the end of yet another, it's invaluable to have an army of people reminding you of your value and worth.

I am still a little sad. I am. I'll be okay. I am okay. But like any wound, it will take some time for the bruising to subside. My heart is bruised, but it will recover.

Same old song

And then I got dumped.

Yet again.

How did I even find myself here?

How is it that all of my friends love and appreciate me but no romantic partner ever has?

I suspect it's for the best. But right now I just feel unappreciated. And stupid.

breaking up is not hard to do, evidently

So you may as well know that it's over with the Fella. Don't feel badly at all though. I think we've both realized that it was time to move for over a week now.

In fact, it was such an easy breakup that now I'm wondering if we broke up at all. If I imagined that, I'm sorry, Fella! Tell me that's what happened.

Anyway, we were a pretty bad match. Our personalities just did not mesh and thinking back, I'm hard pressed to find anything we have in common. Not that you need everything in common in a relationship, but shouldn't you have something?

Well, we both felt that and I think we're both relieved, because it kind of felt forced there for a bit.

But I have to wonder, at what point does one start settling for someone totally wrong for them just because he's a nice guy or is a good potential mate on paper? 10 years ago, I never would have even gotten this far, but the older I get, the more I want to give someone a chance. Is that desperation? Or just a sign that the pool of good guys is dwindling?

Is it too much to want someone who suits me completely? Or what qualities will I begin to compromise on the older I get?

The thing is...I like being alone though. I'm independant as hell and I like me and enjoy the pleasure of my own company. I've never been one to settle for the sake of being in a relationship because why waste my time? Not to say that I haven't slept with people that weren't relationship material. THAT'S something else entirely. But I won't dedicate my time to a relationship that's not going to suit me. Why should I?

It's not 1850. I don't have to get married. Instead, I want a relationship because I want love and intimacy and connection with someone special. And as my friend Lori helped me figure out,  I want to look up to a man,  admire him, feel safe, but not weak and needy.

But I also recognize that I want to be a mother one day (like yesterday) and that is unlikely to happen alone (why helloooo, Turkey Baster) and parenthood is damn hard alone (as you single moms tell me). So I wonder if there will come a point that I lower my expectations just for the sake of becoming a mother.

Not that I will. Or won't. I don't know what the future holds and I don't know that I have the answer as to what one should or shouldn't do. I just wonder. Maybe you smartipants readers have some thoughts?

Anywayyyyy, that brings me to a command decision. In the meantime, while I'm waiting to find someone great for me, I'm starting a harem.

I'll be taking applications starting now. Qualifications:

• Must be witty and intelligent. Nothing is sexier than someone who can teach me something and make me laugh.
• No limits on build and age, except: you must be taller than 5'7" and/or big enough so that if I sit on you, you don't break. 
• Must have plenty of sexual experience. I don't have the time to teach you anything other than my personal preferences and how I sound when I'm really, really, really happy. 

Now let the applications come pouring in.