I am the umpire

I called it: They're engaged.

My friends all called me to make sure that I knew before I came blindly into work; I'm grateful for my friends.

I feel badly for her. I can't fathom surviving in a marriage such as theirs. But I don't have to, because I won't have one such as theirs.

I'll have my own someday. The thought of that makes me smile.

For now, I'm driving to Carlisle to talk about my Phoenix tattoo.

I'm grateful for every single thing that has happened in my life.

Still

I haven't thought about him for awhile. He began dating another -- a friend, and that hurt for a long time. But now, I'm at a place where I 1) don't think of him/them often 2) if I do think of him I may long for him for a moment but then I remember his addiction and how it eats at him and the longing and sorrow pass 3) I think of him for who he is and what we stood for and I'm glad we're not a "we" anymore.

I've begun "dating" again. Although good men are such a commodity that they seem to have an upper hand in this itty bitty town (perhaps state) I call home. I also struggle being here. But I struggle leaving. My life was determined by so much movement for awhile it's been nice to sit and be still. But, then I don't want to be stagnant. I've found a home base which is eerily similar to my safety net from the past, and I'm okay for awhile. I'd like to beef up my savings, and be teetering on the positive end of the financial balance beam before I make a move. I think that's what God wants me to do. Get my savings, credit, and general self together and then walk in the way I should go.

Make believe

I had a great day today. I didn’t do things as a reaction to him. I didn’t long for him and what we had, could’ve had, or should’ve had. I didn’t hate him for what he never gave me. When I talked about him --if I talked about him -- I discussed him as an entity separate from myself. I spoke, I think, objectively, not void of emotion, but without emotional affect. I spoke of him in the past without possibility or hope for a future. He was something that happened to me, no longer something that defined me. Last night and today I had conversations with people who fed the intellectual cravings I’d desired for so long. I got to share my philosophy impart my ideologies, and feel the way I felt without fear of judgment or abuse. I hadn’t had that for quite some time.

Today was growth. I sat in my favorite chair journaling with my dog at my side recalling a conversation that had just occurred and feeling my growth but incapable of acknowledging its need for a name. I felt more satisfied than I had before because satisfaction was born from a moment and not a search. Over the past few months I’ve been searching for happiness, for satisfaction, for peace, for me. But those things are lost in the seeking. They lie quietly in the moments of serenity. They are the spawn of acceptance -- not complacency -- acceptance in the purest form: “the fact of being accepted: approval” I approved of myself today. I stamped a red rubber stamp, sans the bureaucracy, on my flesh. To say that I loved myself would be doing an injustice to what transgressed. I have always “loved myself.” Yet did not approve, at least, as I should have. To approve of oneself, one’s history, reality and response to the preceding is the greatest peace. That was gift to myself.

Thinking of the joy that I hear in Emily’s voice when she speaks of her wife is ecstasy. To think that someone who went through so much has found what they have desired is exhilarating. Not because I hope to find that someday, but because someone already has. I hear in her voice the love that I dreamt existed before I met him,  felt as I loved him, and began to forget and as he ignored his love for me. Hearing that truth, that clarity in her voice was a soothing relief to a heart that lay singed and wizened from pain. I’m glad that she has found what she has, because now I know that what I craved as a little girl doesn’t only exist in the land of make believe.

a difference

I'm at a different place right now. Although the same is true literally, that is not the context in which I speak.

We, he and I, had a conversation last night that scared me. Thinking about it now makes me nervous and fear-filled trembles take refuge in my body. He screamed at me. He was upset at something I said and he screamed until his voice cracked.

Last night, as I lay my head down on my pillow, the last thoughts were those of him -- us. I woke 4 hours after the original positioning to find myself full of fear. Riddled with terror I looked back to times when he would hit things, and slam his head against walls. I awoke very frightened. So frightened I wanted to cry.

He shouldn't treat me this way. I won't let him talk to me like that anymore. It's not fair and it's not nice.

And... she's off

I feel like I'm suffocating right now.

This town, despite it's open fields and cow manure smell, is strangling me; so I'm taking a road trip. I'm leaving sometime today and going to Pittsburgh, Cleveland, and ending in Chicago. I need my friends.

I have blankets, my two hiking packs, hiking boots, a synced iPod with great music, a broken heart, warm clothing, cluttered mind, food, a little -- very little money, sleeping bags, a cell phone, a credit card, and my dog. I need to do something for me. I've spent so much time doing for him that I can't take it anymore. I have to breathe.
I have a habit of running from things. I know this, if you know me you know this, but I don't see why not. I don't have a family. My friends are all over the place so, when I need to, I run to them. Other people run or call home to receive soothing words and calming advice. I don't have that.

So, I'm taking this trip for me. I don't want to celebrate Christmas (the Jehovah's Witnesses' got something right) I just want to celebrate life. There should be a word between depressed and suicide. Because I was there. That happy little nook where you feel like your life is over, you know you have something to live for but you're not quite sure what, and feel like tomorrow will never come and the tears will never dry. I've been there. I was looking at properties so I could buy a lot and stay awhile. But, I didn't. I called friends, reached out and people reached back. I thank God for that.

My lack of familial ties can be depressing at times. When I sit and think about how if I died tomorrow my family wouldn't find out until it was in the papers and in most cases not even then; I get a little sad. As a result, I have really high expectations for people I let into my life. That can be a bit much for them, and I'm sorry about that. But thanks for sticking around anyway.
So, here I go. I'm driving hundreds of miles in a car whose radiator flipped shit and left me on the side of the road 7 days ago and whose check engine light was just turned off by a mechanic yesterday. It's a dangerous (and probably stupid) trip but I don't care. I'm ready for the adventure. I'm ready for the journey and, if something really bad happens and I die, I'm ready for that too.

I'll be back though. Something tells me I'm going to experience something wonderful and warm and it will send me back to this little corn-filled town with too few people.
until then....

Fictional characters

I went on a hike with my dog this morning. After my hike I decided I was going to grab breakfast. I pull in and who's there? *Bruno. I see his car so it prepares me. I walk in he's sitting right by the door. He doesn't notice me. I order my food put down my things, he still doesn't notice me. I have to walk by him to pick up my things so (he's furiously writing in his journal) I put my hand on his arm. He looks up (and looks terrified as if he's been caught) and says HEY! almost too excited. I smile, say hi, and walk away. I didn't want us to sit in a restaurant that we both frequented without even saying hi.

I get my things. Sit down and begin to read my mail. He walks over with his jacket on. He says "I have to go meet Poppa Smurf" (an HR guy). I respond with "Uh, okay" why does he feel the need to tell me where he's going? He makes some stupid comment about how my Pumpkin muffin top (the pastry not the disgusting blemish peeking over my jeans) looks like a bagel with a filled in middle (What?! Who says that)? Then repeats "I have to go meet with Poppa Smurf something about my Master's degree." I respond with "Ok..." He's like okay, see ya. By that time I'm not even looking at him. I just want him to go away. Because he's being the Bruno that he was at the River. The awkward Bruno who wants to be intimate but can't be and as a result gets all goofy and ridiculous.

It made me sad.

On my walk with my dog I thought about how this isn't the right time for either of us. I'm not ready to be in a relaionship with him either. I have some shit I need to workout. However, I feel like it needs to be worked out in a relationship -- if that makes any sense. When I'm single I do all the things I need to in order to keep myself healthy. But, when I'm in a relationship I need to find a way to do what I need and get what I need without depending on the person I'm in a relationship with.

I thought about *Mary on my walk too. Well, I thought about her in regards to Bruno. That whole situation makes me sad. The fact that it crippled him is disheartening. I wish he was stronger. It's disheartening in on a global level not just in regards to Bruno and I. I wasn't in the relationship so I don't know her thoughts, but she didn't have the decency to wait. He was hospitalized and alone and she left him. He became an emotional paraplegic instead of rising above. People face harsher events and yet they overcome. He faced this event and dug a tunnel under himself and sought solace.

I don't want someone who's stronger. I want him to be stronger. Is that wrong?

He turns into this person who is the furthest thing from who he is. It's a necessary mask for him to don; I just wish he didn't have to.

*names and faces have been changed because they're unimportant

Eight "I's" and one "When"

I wish I wasn't crazy. I wish I didn't sit here and think about all the ways this could've gone right. Last night, after a conversation about us, out of nowhere he said "Who did you tell? Who from work did you tell?" I can't help but think he wanted to try it again... I know him. I know he did. He wanted to have another go at the same relationship with the same problems. He wanted to prove to me that it wouldn't work. He's right. It won't work because he keeps doing the same things. You can't fake intimacy. That's what he would try and do. He would say "See, we tried -- again -- and it didn't work. No, we didn't try. You pretended to try. Not until you release your fears of hurt will any relationship stand a chance.

When I told him that the next time we broke up it would be forever, I meant it. ... I think. I hope. I know that right now it would be bad. In all honesty, I think it would be bad regardless of when it happened. But I can't help but romanticize our ending. It will happen like Definitely Maybe. We both move on but the move isn't permanent, more like a rental agreement or a sublet. We find each other in the end. Music plays, fade out on passionate embrace.

I know he's not right for me. I remember sitting in his therapist's chair and asking him "So you want me to be more vulnerable? What happens when I become more vulnerable to you? Will you lose respect and cast me aside as you have others?" His therapist said it was a good question. I don't remember his answer -- if he answered. There's not a doubt in my mind that that is what he did -- subconsciously. He's not an evil person and wouldn't have done it on purpose but he still did it and it still hurt.

I think he viewed my vulnerability to him and his actions as weakness. The action of being vulnerable isn't weakness, it's a strength. The act of closing yourself off to intimacy and humanity is the bosom in which weakness lay. I read an article that says when I a guy is ready to marry he is ready. It's not the with whom but the when. He asked me to wait, to be patient and wait. I was more than happy to wait and be patient, but I wasn't willing to do it and receive nothing in return. I wasn't willing to sit in relationship hiatus whilst he figured himself out.

I have to stop using him as a vessel toward my healing. If we keep having these conversations about us and our past it will kill me. Instead of asking myself "Why." I will just ask myself "Why not," and "Why didn't we?" I need to turn to my journal and reflect there rather than with him. But it still hurts so much. I'm haunted by our possibilities. I have to reflect on the relationship using the light of reason against the mirror of self rather than irrational hope against unrealistic expectations.

I don't want him back. I don't want to deal with his neediness, his illness, his depression, his therapy sessions, his hurtful words, his past, his family issues. I don't want that back. I can't stress that enough. What I wanted was his desire to commit to me the way I committed to him. I'm angry that when he was "ready" he was "ready" with the wrong person. I can't help but wonder what we would be like if he was "ready" with me. However, he said he was ready before and he wasn't that marriage died seven months after its birth.

I may regret this; I believe we could have had a very successful and long-lasting relationship. The forever kind. But there's one big snafu. Him. Yes, I know it's a more like a glaring cancer but it's true: He was in the way of us. When he allowed himself to let go of the crap ..the baggage, we were wonderful together. It was when he sat back and over-thought and took inventory of how his love for me was growing that we plummeted rapidly into failure. He is more comfortable living in fear than in happiness as many are, I hate that I fell in love with one of them. He was afraid of leaving the baggage at the check-in desk, boarding the plane and taking hold of the wonders of love. The flight may have been turbulent at times but glorious nonetheless. It is fear that keeps him stranded in the airport on an emotional layover. It is fear that prevents him from forgiving those that hurt him. It is fear to which he is wed and will never divorce. "Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure." He's afraid of letting go and being successful because success isn't safe, its worthwhile.

I don't want that. I want someone who is afraid of love but wants it anyway. Someone who recognizes their circumstances and doesn't succumb to them. Someone who is as resilient as me. I don't want to date my twin -- that would be an atrocious failure; two people who lose their keys, forget their phones, and over pack. I want someone who is equally passionate about something, anything. Someone who wants to experience the world with me, not just talk about it. Someone who isn't afraid fighting for what they believe in, fighting for me, fighting for us. I want someone who sees the good and the bad even when the latter outweighs the former and proceeds (with or without caution) anyway. I want someone who knows fear and doubt but isn't crippled by them.

I don't know if that person exists. But, just because my previous "one" wasn't my final "one" doesn't mean I'm going to love at a lesser volume. I'm not going to go looking for love. I'm not going to go looking for me. I've already found both of those things. I'm not interested in looking for anything. I'm interested in the experience.