I honestly can’t remember, without cheating and looking, when I last wrote something here that didn’t begin with the word “if.” I’ve written nothing of substance in months. And for that, an apology is due. But not to you. Because, and I don’t want this to sound rude, I’ve come to learn that I don’t owe anything to you. Over the past handful of months, I’ve come to learn that the person I need to be focusing on and taking care of is myself. I owe it to myself to let what I am feeling out, because the longer I hold on to it, the heavier it gets and the harder it is to move forward.
I was replying to an email tonight from a friend of mine who I haven’t seen in several months. We hadn’t really lost contact, but considering we used to work together and see each other almost daily, the current gap between our correspondence might as well be considered at that level.
His email to me read like a catch-all newsletter that people include in their Christmas cards, which was probably for the best since I hadn’t really seen or spoken to him since before the holidays and all of the information he told me was news to me.
Anyway, I was replying tonight (over a month after he emailed me originally, because I don’t tend to be the most punctual when it comes to emails of substance) and before I knew it, I had somehow unloaded my own Christmas card newsletter upon his inbox. It was when I started the final paragraph of the email with Anyway, enough of me using this email as a blog entry… that I realized that I had just told him so much of what I had been holding inside and not writing about here. And that’s the whole point of having a blog. To get your feelings out.
After wrestling around with the idea for a bit, I decided that there really was no reason why the things I had said to him couldn’t be a blog entry. It was easier to tell him what I was going through and feeling than it would have been to tell all of you faceless site hits, so I was more open and free with what I said. That’s always something I’ve had trouble with here. Writing as if you were a friend. I’ve edited and censored myself a lot since day one here, and hopefully by copying and pasting (with minor modifications to clarify things or omit things that would be potentially damaging to aspects of my life) this will be a much more open and honest entry than I’ve ever really posted before.
And if not, then I least I finally wrote something that didn’t start with the word “if.”
Just warning you, it’s a bit of a pity party. But we all need to throw ourselves one every now and then…
Oh look, it’s me. Being a complete failure and returning an email over a month late. Pay attention, kids. This is a lesson in punctuality.
Life is exactly the same as it has been for awhile now. A lot of crap. A little enjoyment from time to time. But overall, mostly just a lot of apathy and going through the paces just waiting for something to change. At this point, I’m not sure I even care what that change is, be it good or bad. While good would definitely be preferred, sometimes I think either would be welcomed.
Not sure how long it’s been since I’ve given you an update on my relationship status, but it hasn’t been as positive as yours. In February my relationship ended. The biggest problem we faced was that our schedules were completely opposite of each other. I worked days; him nights. We only actually saw each other about twelve hours a week, and without having time to share and be with each other, connections can fade, and ours had. I knew it wasn’t a perfect relationship and we had problems, but I was confident that we were on a path to going somewhere good and as long as we just muddled through and made it beyond the temporary rough patch, we would come out the other side better than we ever had been up to that point.
I guess his choosing to spend Valentine’s Day with some friend of his in Pittsburgh instead of with me should have been a clue that the end was near, but love is blind. I saw what I wanted to see and ignored the things I didn’t, so regardless of all the problems I knew we had, it still knocked the wind out of me when he told me he was ending the relationship.
It was a multitude of emotions, really, but the most prevalent was I was instantly overcome with embarrassment and a sense of stupidity. I felt like damn fool.
There was a period of time toward the end of the relationship where it looked as if he was about to get a dream job of his that would require him to relocate. And, I spent weeks wrestling with it in my soul and had decided that should he get that job, I would give up my life here in the city and the past ten years of roots that I had made and move with him. And that was the most terrifying decision I have made in my adult life. But I had made it, and made peace with it, because I loved him and I knew that it didn’t matter where I lived. As long as I was with him, it would be home.
And then I get blindsided with this breakup and find out that had he gotten that job, he was never going to even ask me to go with him. It was going to be an excuse for him to leave me without having to man up and say that he just simply wanted out anyway.
I felt so incredibly stupid. Humiliated.
Not only did his ending the relationship leave me emotionally bankrupt, but it’s also threatened to leave me financially bankrupt as well. As you know, we were living together, so when he left, my cost of living literally doubled. My rent doubled. My bills doubled. Everything doubled. And I was barely making ends meet while he was living here. And with the economy being the way it has been, I haven’t been making as much money as I once was. Then my Invisalign treatment got extended by a year. My teeth have made amazing (even I can’t believe it, and I’ve witnessed it happening) strides , but the procedure did need to be extended. And that added another thousand dollar dent in my wallet. And then last month my landlord informed me that he was raising my rent. So, things are tight right now, and unfortunately, I find myself blaming him for my extreme penny pinching and being near destitute. And I hate that I blame him for it, because I know in my heart that everybody needs to do what is best for them. And if leaving was what he honestly thought was best for him, then I can not fault him for that or hate him for that. And I don’t. It just sucks that it’s caused me such financial hardships in addition to the emotional ones, because every time I write a check now or pay a bill, I find I mutter a “Fuck you” in my head and hope that he can telepathically hear it.
I’m hopeful and confident that things will turn around and I’ll land on my feet. Hopefully soon. But, if not, I’ll muddle through as long as I can. I’m still waiting for that one bolt of creative lighting to strike me and I get that one idea that will change my life for the better. Perhaps I should start standing outside during thunderstorms to help expedite that process.
Just a few days ago I finally removed the framed pictures of him and me together and have replaced with them various other pictures. I feel like that was a nice symbolic step and marked the beginning of me finally starting to release whatever has been holding me back. I’m starting to allow myself to flirt with the idea of meeting people. I’d forgotten how much I hate the game of dating. I feel like I am trying to force romantic feelings and sparks when I meet someone because I’m so impatient and want to get back to that emotional level I was at, but obviously that’s not going to work. It has to come organically or it won’t ever be an honest and successful relationship. I’m just so damned impatient, and I always have been that way.
I hate the idea of having to learn someone’s favorite color again. Or learn what their childhood pet’s name was. Or what their sister does for a living. I already did all of this work. I don’t want to have to start at square one all over again. I know I have to, but it so hard to start. I know I can’t reach the finish line of a marathon until after I take that first stride, but when you’re standing at the starting line and you have 26.2 miles of uncertainty staring you in the face, it’s so hard to take that first step.
Anyway. Enough of me using this email as a blog entry. We should get some dinner or something sometime. Next time I promise to write back sooner. I’m using my old age as an excuse for forgetting to promptly reply this time. I can’t believe I’m 29 now. I still feel like a 12-year-old.
And there you have it. These are the anvils that have been weighing me down over the past seven months. I’m not entirely free of them yet, and it’s quite possible that there will always be trace remnants to be found. I guess it’s impossible to let someone that deeply into your life without also allowing them to leave a permanent mark. I’m reminded of some lyrics from Spring Awakening right now.
Oh, I’m gonna be wounded / Oh, I’m gonna be your wound / Oh, I’m gonna bruise you / Oh, you’re gonna be my bruise.