You'll remember that a few weeks ago I met up with Katie from Date Me, DC! While we lounged by the pool (that we sneaked into), she told me that she had an anonymous donor footing her match.com bill--and that the person found her blog through my blog. Sweet! And where the hell is my cash?
Then, I found out via Facebook that Katie got a date with a hot British man. And how did she get this date, you ask? Through my blog! The guy saw me on Twitter, read my blog, found her blog, and then tracked her down to ask her out. Of course she is way funnier than me and the topic of her blog is more entertaining and way less depressing than mine can be. But still, I'm fun, too! I swear! Especially when I'm not mopey. Which I'm working on like a champ.
So, I'm all "Go Katie!" and then I think, "Good things gotta be coming my way soon." So, dear blog world, if you'd like to send me cash, beautiful boys, or lavish other lovely things on me, I'm completely ready to accept them. And if you have suggestions about how to make my blog better for attracting such awesomeness, let me know.
Seeker of justice. Wife of MT. Mommy to Lucy the Shih Tzu. Dancer of the crazy variety.
The Second Time Around
When SCL broke up with me the second time, I think what really freaked me out the most was remembering what it had been like the first time--and truly believing there was no way in hell I could go through that again.
The truth is, this time things are different in some ways. I'm no longer living in our old apartment, surrounded by SCL's things and stuff that we'd bought together. I have few if any thoughts about SCL changing his mind and wanting me back. The times when I actually feel like seeing him or calling him are few and far between. And he's not sleeping in the same place a few nights a week. All of these circumstantial things make it all a lot different--and for the most part, better. I'm not pining, not clinging, not yearning for his company like I did then.
The first time around I thought I wanted to do the break-up thing differently, try to remain cordial and even talk to SCL sometimes. I realized that was more about me wanting to treat him well than it was about treating myself well. Because it tortured me. It reminded me of how things used to be and had my head spinning, trying to figure out why it couldn't be that way again. He seemed more present for me in the break-up than he had been in the relationship, and it confused me. It made me want him back. No wonder I didn't think twice when he said he wanted another chance.
The first time around I felt like I could change to make it work. The second time around I recognize that SCL refused to change--or he simply couldn't. I don't want anyone changing on my behalf anyway. He's got to first recognize where he falls short and want to change for himself. I know better this time around.
And yet, my feelings for him seem like they're the same. I know because on my way out to dinner last night, I thought I saw him coming toward me on the street. My stomach dropped. My pulse raced. I felt like I was going to vomit and burst into tears at the same time. It wasn't him, thank God, but it took me a good five minutes to calm myself down.
I know that even though things are different this time around, some things--like my broken heart--are exactly the same.
The truth is, this time things are different in some ways. I'm no longer living in our old apartment, surrounded by SCL's things and stuff that we'd bought together. I have few if any thoughts about SCL changing his mind and wanting me back. The times when I actually feel like seeing him or calling him are few and far between. And he's not sleeping in the same place a few nights a week. All of these circumstantial things make it all a lot different--and for the most part, better. I'm not pining, not clinging, not yearning for his company like I did then.
The first time around I thought I wanted to do the break-up thing differently, try to remain cordial and even talk to SCL sometimes. I realized that was more about me wanting to treat him well than it was about treating myself well. Because it tortured me. It reminded me of how things used to be and had my head spinning, trying to figure out why it couldn't be that way again. He seemed more present for me in the break-up than he had been in the relationship, and it confused me. It made me want him back. No wonder I didn't think twice when he said he wanted another chance.
The first time around I felt like I could change to make it work. The second time around I recognize that SCL refused to change--or he simply couldn't. I don't want anyone changing on my behalf anyway. He's got to first recognize where he falls short and want to change for himself. I know better this time around.
And yet, my feelings for him seem like they're the same. I know because on my way out to dinner last night, I thought I saw him coming toward me on the street. My stomach dropped. My pulse raced. I felt like I was going to vomit and burst into tears at the same time. It wasn't him, thank God, but it took me a good five minutes to calm myself down.
I know that even though things are different this time around, some things--like my broken heart--are exactly the same.
Am I Normal?
I wish I had something brilliant to say about being in the middle of this, but today I got nothing. I'm drained. This morning I had a bunch of issues with my bike and tried to fix them myself, which I thought I'd done successfully until I was having to exert abnormal amounts of energy to get from A to B. On my way back, as I rode on the side of the busy street, I was going so slowly and my legs were burning so much that I started bawling. I almost biked over to SCL's for him to help me, but somehow I managed to pass his street and get home, tears streaming down my face all the way.
I cried, "What's happened to me?" Since when did a tight bike chain cause me not just to get frustrated, but to start crying and hyperventilating? I am a mess. A big fucking mess with unpredictable emotions and these outbursts that verge on psychotic. I feel like something's wrong with me.
I can't tell if something is actually wrong with me or if I'm just feeling bad and therefore want to diagnose myself. I know from my Buddhist reading and podcasts that thinking something is wrong with me is common for most people and is part of our unhappiness and wanting things to be different. Blah blah blah. So not helpful to me in this moment.
But sometimes things really are wrong with us. How do we know the difference?
I cried, "What's happened to me?" Since when did a tight bike chain cause me not just to get frustrated, but to start crying and hyperventilating? I am a mess. A big fucking mess with unpredictable emotions and these outbursts that verge on psychotic. I feel like something's wrong with me.
I can't tell if something is actually wrong with me or if I'm just feeling bad and therefore want to diagnose myself. I know from my Buddhist reading and podcasts that thinking something is wrong with me is common for most people and is part of our unhappiness and wanting things to be different. Blah blah blah. So not helpful to me in this moment.
But sometimes things really are wrong with us. How do we know the difference?
I Saw Him Smiling.
Last week was the wedding of some mutual friends of SCL and me. I had decided months before that I couldn't go (a wedding in Denver on a Thursday? I think not), but SCL would since he was better friends with them. I didn't think too much of it until I saw the pictures of the wedding.
And he was smiling. Laughing, dancing, enjoying himself. And it killed me.
I saw pictures of myself from two weeks ago, and I could see it in my eyes that I felt deep sadness. I couldn't even bring myself to go to my friend's wedding at home last weekend, and there he was, laughing and enjoying himself and looking happy, even giving a playful lap dance to the bride. He was happy. At a wedding. Without me.
Is it sick that I want to see evidence that he's hurting? I know it really wouldn't make me feel better or make me feel less sad, but it feels like such a slap in the face to see him smiling like that. I'm envious and hurt and frustrated. And I wonder why I can't smile like that. Why does it seem so easy for him?
I know pictures do not tell the whole story--and the ones I saw probably aren't telling the story I have in my mind--that he's overjoyed and thankful to have cut me out of his life. But maybe he is. Maybe he said 'I'm done" and never looked back. I'll never know the answer.
It's just so hard not to care, not to put myself in situations like this because the part of me that's curious about him is larger than the part of me that wants to protect myself from situations like this. Because I want to hang on to something. I want to know that he did care for me, that he is feeling a loss. I want to feel less alone in this loneliness.
I'm crying. He's laughing. Is it ever the other way around? I feel so pathetic.
And he was smiling. Laughing, dancing, enjoying himself. And it killed me.
I saw pictures of myself from two weeks ago, and I could see it in my eyes that I felt deep sadness. I couldn't even bring myself to go to my friend's wedding at home last weekend, and there he was, laughing and enjoying himself and looking happy, even giving a playful lap dance to the bride. He was happy. At a wedding. Without me.
Is it sick that I want to see evidence that he's hurting? I know it really wouldn't make me feel better or make me feel less sad, but it feels like such a slap in the face to see him smiling like that. I'm envious and hurt and frustrated. And I wonder why I can't smile like that. Why does it seem so easy for him?
I know pictures do not tell the whole story--and the ones I saw probably aren't telling the story I have in my mind--that he's overjoyed and thankful to have cut me out of his life. But maybe he is. Maybe he said 'I'm done" and never looked back. I'll never know the answer.
It's just so hard not to care, not to put myself in situations like this because the part of me that's curious about him is larger than the part of me that wants to protect myself from situations like this. Because I want to hang on to something. I want to know that he did care for me, that he is feeling a loss. I want to feel less alone in this loneliness.
I'm crying. He's laughing. Is it ever the other way around? I feel so pathetic.
On Being Alone
Many thanks to Bry-Guy for sharing this awesome video with me. It's inspired me to go to a movie by myself. Happy Saturday, everyone.
A Time to Mourn, A Time to Dance
I've let myself wallow for a full two weeks. Every day I have let myself cry, not shower, and generally feel the misery and pain as much as I could. It has been a good thing. But I feel like I am getting tired of it--the isolation, the wishing things to be different than they are. Reality is sinking in, and this is my life, like it or not.
My heart is still broken, but I am beginning to see things differently. I've been listening to a lot of Tara Brach
podcasts lately, and even though I thought her words of wisdom weren't sinking into my SCL-obsessed thought life, I think they really are. When I got back to my house yesterday, I said aloud to myself, "I did everything I could. I was more than enough, though I was not everything. And the failure of this relationship is not my doing." I said before that this pain feels so uniquely personal--but the truth is that much of this is about SCL, and I just happened to be the one who got caught up in the middle of it. Relationship collateral damage.
It has hurt me so much to think that SCL didn't love me--because I have been thinking it was my fault that he didn't. But really, it was about him. Damn, it's difficult not to take someone's lack of love as a personal affront, isn't it? It kills me to remember him saying how much he wanted to change, how dedicated he was to changing--and then deciding that he just couldn't do it. I never thought about him as weak, but I'm beginning to. I hope he'll eventually get to the place he wants to be. Otherwise I think he'll end up just like his parents--miserable, isolated, and negative.
So, now it's time to shift to focusing on me rather than what was lost. I won't lie--part of me just doesn't want to give SCL the satisfaction that I still care so much. That'll change over time, I think. But I do want to live my life again. These two weeks of moping have been necessary--and I know there will be dark times ahead--but I feel my attitude changing at times.
The process will still have its ups and downs, and there will be more days of moping and crying--but I do have a vision of a new life for myself and I won't let anything stand in the way of going for it.
My heart is still broken, but I am beginning to see things differently. I've been listening to a lot of Tara Brach
It has hurt me so much to think that SCL didn't love me--because I have been thinking it was my fault that he didn't. But really, it was about him. Damn, it's difficult not to take someone's lack of love as a personal affront, isn't it? It kills me to remember him saying how much he wanted to change, how dedicated he was to changing--and then deciding that he just couldn't do it. I never thought about him as weak, but I'm beginning to. I hope he'll eventually get to the place he wants to be. Otherwise I think he'll end up just like his parents--miserable, isolated, and negative.
So, now it's time to shift to focusing on me rather than what was lost. I won't lie--part of me just doesn't want to give SCL the satisfaction that I still care so much. That'll change over time, I think. But I do want to live my life again. These two weeks of moping have been necessary--and I know there will be dark times ahead--but I feel my attitude changing at times.
The process will still have its ups and downs, and there will be more days of moping and crying--but I do have a vision of a new life for myself and I won't let anything stand in the way of going for it.
Bawling at the Airport
Let me just say that even though my family drives me incredibly insane, including my mother, I miss them like hell when I leave. I hate hate HATE leaving them, especially when I'm returning to a situation I'm just fucking sick of. It's only been two weeks since the break-up, and I don't feel even slightly less raw or vulnerable.
I don't dare to say that I've been lucky in never really going through a break-up like this (except for that other time with SCL--bastard), as I've dealt with plenty of other shit I'd never wish on anyone. But it does mean that I'm awfully inexperienced with this kind of hurt and pain.
Basically, I'm feeling just like this--the way I did on April 27th when I was returning back to DC after visiting family. Only this time SCL won't be waiting for me, asking me to come back. For that I am both thankful and absolutely devastated.
I don't dare to say that I've been lucky in never really going through a break-up like this (except for that other time with SCL--bastard), as I've dealt with plenty of other shit I'd never wish on anyone. But it does mean that I'm awfully inexperienced with this kind of hurt and pain.
Basically, I'm feeling just like this--the way I did on April 27th when I was returning back to DC after visiting family. Only this time SCL won't be waiting for me, asking me to come back. For that I am both thankful and absolutely devastated.
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