little brothers

My brother and I have a good relationship now, but it wasn't always that way. In fact, when we were younger, we pretty much hated each other. I'm not sure exactly when the mutual feeling of animosity began, but I can think of several incidents and generalizations that, at least from my point of view, made me dislike the little guy.

First of all, I am the big sister. I had been the only child until he came along a mere 11 days after my 3rd birthday. It is true that I don't remember much of my childhood, so I can't say for sure that I was treated differently before and after he arrived. I also don't know if I was excited to have a little brother or not. But I'm sure in some way the dynamic changed. It always does.

Then he had to go and get sick. I'm talking really sick - like in a hospital nearly dying sick. Jeff had Kawasaki disease, and it was scary. It also meant all the attention was on him and I think it was the first time I realized that I would have to act out to get noticed. As an adult, this seems ridiculous and I don't know what I would have done without him (as he is now my source of sanity when we are both home) but as a child I'm sure this didn't even occur to me.

We were both sheltered kids. We couldn't cross the street without an adult. We weren't allowed to watch MTV or ever stay home alone. While my friends were watching 90210 and shaving their legs (and my now ex-boyfriend started having sex, so weird to think about) I was still watching Nickelodeon and playing with my American Girl dolls. OMG we were so sheltered. But after my brother recovered, he was definitely even more overprotected. He didn't have to do anything around the house, and pretty much got any toy he ever asked for. So while I had multiple chores, and thanks to Catholic schooling, a ridiculous sense of duty, he rarely had to lift a finger and developed a strong sense of entitlement.

On top of that, my brother is cleverer than I am, so when he did actually get put in charge of a single chore - taking out the garbage - he negotiated an allowance. Years went by before I even knew this. He had been PAID. I never was.

In addition to being cleverer, my brother is also way smarter, at least in the intellectual sense. I do pride myself on having more street smarts and more worldly experiences, humph. Sure he did homework and studied, but not like I did. I had to work really hard to get my A's. They came naturally to him. Yes I learned the value of hard work, blah blah blah, but I'm old enough now to know that it's not just hard work that gets you places - it's luck and connections.

As we got older, my parents started loosening up on the reins a bit. At least with him. Maybe it was because I came first and they were still learning. Maybe it was because I am a girl. But the things he was allowed to do in high school never would have been considered acceptable for me. He never had a curfew and could stay out late, sometimes not coming home and crashing with friends. I also never had a curfew, but it was because one wasn't needed. I was so guilt-ridden that I actually couldn't do "wrong." Total goody-goody, I know. When I turned 21, my mom still told her friends "my daughter doesn't drink." To which one replied, "Lin, she's been in college for 4 years, of course she drinks." Now compare this to the fact my mom was the mom buying my brother beer in high school. See the difference?

The final major point of contention was that Jeff never had a job during the school year. He did work (very hard, I'll add) as a short order cook at the beach during the summer. But I started working in eighth grade teaching dance lessons, a job I continued through high school. I maintained a job all through college, working in catering at my school and then eventually in retail off campus. I even held down 3 different jobs simultaneously in grad school while completing an intensive doctoral program. He never worked in college.

I think all this contributed to a build up of resentment. We had the same parents, the same genetics, but were raised completely differently. For a long time I held this against my brother. But what I've come to realize is that it wasn't his fault. Sure, he should take responsibility for his actions and behavior now, like when he only calls when he needs something. Or the fact that he can be really selfish and self-centered at times.

But he's my brother. He's the only family I will have when my parents are gone. I've seen both of my parents have strained relationships with their siblings. I don't want that with mine. As I mentioned earlier, he is often my only source of sanity at home, and I know he feels the same about me. He comes to me for advice now, and I'm happy to report I also greatly value his opinions. I'm hopeful that despite our differences we can remain close as we continue to navigate through life.

I'm glad I have a little brother.

the fight to end all fights

Oh, today was a doozy. I seriously lost my sh*t, and I'm realizing more and more what my new years resolution for next year should be. It was actually part of my new years resolution two years ago, but I guess I didn't quite accomplish everything I wanted to.

2012 was the year I was turning 30. Unlike most of my friends, I was actually excited to turn the big 3-0 because I felt like I was finally in a place where I was comfortable in my own skin. I knew what I wanted out of life, knew where I was going, or at least the direction. And I saw 30 as a milestone to mark this. It's kind of like making new years resolutions.. why do we have to wait for the 1st of January? Why can't we just start today? Well, I think (at least for me) it's kind of related to my previous post about dates. They are just really meaningful to me. It's definitely psychological, but I actually sometimes feel different on those dates of significance.

Anyway, my 30th was a big old disaster, and looking back I wonder if this is where I began my initially slow downward spiral without fully realizing it. It was on that date that I started to lose the independent, confidant woman I had become and started turning into a lost puppy, looking everywhere else for guidance. I started questioning everything I knew as truth and rather than entering my third decade with my head held high, I entered it defeated: drunk off 2.5 cocktails and balling my eyes out. I think this mentality permeated my 30th year, and I think that it was partly why I continued to allow my ex treat me the way he did.

Anyway, back to the fight to end all fights. I had been in NYC visiting friends and when I returned mom was in rare form. She had been texting me snarky remarks while I was on the train home and was once again deviating from our already established plans. The reason I came home at the time I did was because we were supposed to do dinner that night with her friend (note that, her friend.) Well she didn't tell me until I was nearly home that it was cancelled. Had she told me earlier I would have stayed in NYC a few extra hours to catch up with another one of my friends that was getting back into town that evening. Then she sprung on me the family dinner scheduled for Sunday was going to be moved to Monday. Which means my plans to drive to Boston on Monday were now void. I more than suspected all of these changes were deliberate attempts to prevent me from spending any extra time with my dad. But that's another story.

Since I've known I was coming home for the holidays, I've changed my plans at least 4 or 5 times to accommodate my mom. This includes the main reason I was even coming home: to spend xmas eve in NYC with a very close friend of mine who is going through an equally difficult time and like me didn't want to have to pretend to be happy when she's clearly not. Or have to face a bunch of relatives asking about her ex. And yet my mom (who, don't get me wrong, is a very good person at heart) clearly believes the world revolves around her, so rather than acknowledging the fact I completely altered my plans to please her, she continued to be pissy when things didn't go exactly her way.

That night a line was drawn in the sand.

I will spare you the details here as to what this fight entailed, but it was ugly. I said some pretty awful things and was so full of rage it's actually painful to describe. Something just snapped in me and I knew I was done. Enough really is enough.

For as long as I can remember, my family has tip-toed around the truth - we are not perfect. Now, no one is, I get that. But when there is a real pressure on you to pretend everything is perfect, emotions get suppressed. Appearance meant everything in my house, and the facade was so far from reality that I'm pretty sure my concept of normalcy is warped. What this "fight to end all fights" has taught me is that I can't do this alone. I've always encouraged friends and family members to seek out professional help. Counselors can be objective in ways that even our closest friends can't. But ironically I've always felt that I should be strong enough to do it on my own. Like, if I couldn't work through these issues with sheer willpower, then it was a failure on my part.

Well, I'm here to finally admit that it's not a matter of strength or weakness. I know for certain that I don't want to go the rest of my 30s feeling this way. I don't want to turn 40 and be in the same emotionally stagnant state. The fact that I cried (hard) on both my 30th and 31st birthdays does not bode well, and I'm finally ready to do something about it. I'm finally ready to accept help.

dates and details

Do you ever wonder why we have a propensity for remembering certain details that on any other occasion would be entirely forgettable? I wonder about that all the time, and I wonder if it's just me or if others also experience this. Not that I'm special, but is it because I tend to be more detailed oriented by nature? Or is it truly because I've come to associate a certain detail with a specific memory or emotion and it has come to have meaning for me, therefore making it easier to recall?

For example, I have a knack for remembering dates. I can tell you all of my relatives' and closest friends' (and past lovers') birthdays. Today is one of them; I will always know that Mike's birthday is the 28th of December (happy 36th!) But it isn't even just birthdays. I will always remember that 11/11/08 was the day my first ever adult boyfriend broke up with me. Over text. Ha. Or it was a year later on 11/11/09 that I accidentally elbowed some guy in a bar which led to a conversation that eventually led to a date that eventually led to a relationship. Or that 12/20/12 was the first time my now-ex told me "You are amazing. We are amazing together. That's what I think." December 20 also happens to be the birthday of my ex prior to my current ex, oddly enough.

And it's not even just dates. I can remember outfits I was wearing for certain events - and I'm not talking weddings or other occasions with photographic documentation. I'm talking about the fact I can remember wearing my orange v-neck sleeveless shirt from Banana Republic, jeans and a cardigan on the day that I met the love of my life. Which happened to be May 22, 2009.

Is this just me? I have a hard time believing so. And I don't think I believe it's a women-only phenomenon. I've heard stories about how guys can remember what their future wife was wearing on their first encounter, and I'm pretty sure it's not just the men who are fashion conscious. What is it about our brains that make us remember these specific details and forget what we ate yesterday? I think it speaks strongly to the very real connection between heart and mind. Or for the scientists out there, the fact is that both memory and emotions are processed right next to each other in our limbic system, found deep in the center of our brains.

This is not new information, but just something that fascinates me. Because, when we first meet the love of our life, or when we accidentally elbow some random guy in a bar, we don't know then that those details will have any significance. It's not like we say, "Hey brain, remember this moment because I have a hunch that in a few months it will mean something." But in a few months, our brains actually are able to recall those details that were filed away just in case they were important, after all.

And that is truly amazing.

temporary friends

Spent today meeting up with friends in NYC. Slightly bad timing because my friends that live in the city were away for the holidays; the folks I met up with are actually some of my closest friends from SF that like me happened to be in the area visiting their families. Regardless it was good to see them and experience some holiday magic, since (at least according to my mom) I seem to be lacking in that area this year.

We spent the day elbowing our way through Times Square, which is basically the worst place to be any time of year. We walked through Bryant Park and discovered an ice rink I had no idea was built annually. We finally made it to Rockefeller Center to see the tree. It truly is a beautiful sight and always makes me feel a wee bit nostalgic for that holiday spirit. That said, a few minutes here was enough because I can only feel claustrophobic for so long. We cut across the avenues towards Lexington and jumped on the subway to Union Square. The college students were on break and it would be one part of the city that wasn't completely overrun by tourists.

Settling into a cozy nook complete with fireplace at Shoolbred's in the East Village, I got to thinking about the friends we choose to keep in touch with and those that we let go of. Since I move all around the country, I've had the opportunity to meet a lot of people, most of which have been pretty cool. But I'm at the age now where I know some of these people are only meant to be in my life temporarily, and others will be lifelong friends.

How do we decide who stays and who goes? I think there is probably a combination of factors that go into the equation. Gut feelings play a large role for me; there are some people I just know I will always be in touch with, no matter what time or distance comes between us. That said, a few of my gut feelings have been wrong in the past. One of my closest friends in Seattle was someone I felt I had known all my life and someone I thought would be a forever friend. But as soon as I moved, he dropped off the face of the earth. I had to accept the fact that it was out of sight, out of mind.

This brings me to the second factor, mutual contact. When I was in my early 20s, I used to take it very personally when people didn't try as hard as I did to keep in touch. I put a lot of effort into maintaining friendships that were obviously becoming one-sided, and it hurt my feelings. Eventually, and this probably came with maturity and a shift in priorities, I made the decision that if someone wasn't going to meet me part way and all of the work to maintain contact fell on me, then it probably wasn't worthwhile. And so those people gradually faded out of my life. It's not that I didn't care about them or that I don't care to know what is going on in their lives, but when we came to the fork in the road of our relationship, we chose different paths. And that's okay. What I learned is that by letting go of those people, I made room for others, a few of which have become some of my closest friends to date.

I've also come to realize that it has been way easier to let go of these temporary friends than it has been to let go of past loves. While I'm friends with one of my ex-boyfriends, and I still feel in my gut that I will again cross paths with another, I know the others are out of my life forever. Maybe it's due to the physical nature of a partnership (let's face it, I don't sleep with my friends), but it's hard to just walk away, even when logically I know it is the reality. Accepting that someone you spent so much time with and gave so much of your energy to is relegated to your past is difficult. But why should we hold onto the past, especially when it can cause us to miss out on our future?

The concept I learned with my temporary friendships, that by letting them go I've opened myself up to meeting others, is one that I strive to learn with my exs. Sometimes people come into our lives for a moment, sometimes longer. Either way, we should cherish these people for having an impact on us and for enriching our life experiences by their presence. It's certainly not always rainbows and butterflies, but they've helped mold us into the people we are today. For better or for worse.

letting go of expectations

Expectations, or the concept of them, are interesting.

On one hand, lowered expectations lead to fewer let downs. I had high expectations for Seattle, as it was my ideal city on paper, however after I moved there I was left largely disappointed. The climate was more depressing than I imagined. I found out S.A.D. actually does exist. The people, while polite on the surface, are so hard to get to know that there's actually a phenomenon named after it called the "Seattle Freeze." It took me over a year to really make some good friends, and during that struggle it was hard to not think there was something inherently wrong with me. So while I do enjoy going back for visits, I know it is not the city I will ever end up calling home.

When I found out I would be moving to San Francisco, I made a point not to have any expectations other than I knew it would be expensive. This method did not disappoint. In fact it exceeded any expectations I could have had. I ended up meeting some of my closest friends within the first few months there. I found an apartment in a neighborhood I loved. The job I was hired for was a bait and switch. At first I was upset, but the location I ended up working at turned out to be a far better deal than the original. And, who can forget (since I'm apparently beating a dead horse on here), on March 11, 2012 I randomly crossed paths with a man who would eventually become my boyfriend. This was only one month after moving there on February 8. I've never had a transition go so smoothly.

Was it because I had lowered my expectations? Or was it because I was more open to the experience? I'm not sure, to be honest. After trying so hard in Seattle to make things work the way I expected them to, SF was a cake walk.

But lowered expectations can also be a negative, and the most glaring example of this was my SF relationship. I had lowered my standards so much that I didn't expect anything from my ex. This led to downplaying all the disappointing times and blowing the happier moments way out of proportion. My scale for "healthy and happy" was out of whack, and in the end this caused me some major heartache.

So what is the right answer? Set expectations knowing you can be disappointed, or don't set them and end up being pleasantly surprised? I think I somewhat prefer the latter, but I certainly don't want to make the same mistakes again.

The reason I bring this up is that I was offered a job in Denver. For those that don't know, my top three cities to move to were Austin, San Diego, and Denver, all three nearly impossible markets to find a job in. My recruiter was actually like, "you're killing me" because I of course have a penchant for picking the most difficult route on earth. But I applied for my TX license (obviously already had CA) because I figured that, while I might not end up in Austin, I could likely find a job in Houston, or Dallas, or even San Antonio, and since it would only be 13 weeks, it would at least get me out of SF and close enough to visit my friends in Austin on weekends. I didn't even bother applying for my CO license because the only jobs that ever come up there are in Pueblo. And for those that don't know, it's not the most desirable place to live for a newly single 30-something gal.

My expectations were that I was going to TX. Somewhere. Anywhere. Warm. Cowboy boots. Cowboy hats. Cowboys. Not SF.

So when I got the call about the Denver opportunity, I was shocked for one (again, I've tried for 7 years to get there) but, and I hate to even say it, I was actually slightly disappointed. I had one idea in my mind, and when that idea did not pan out, I was a little sad.

I have to think that things happen for reasons we can't explain. I ended up moving to Boise because I just felt something was pushing me there. And as much as I had my heart set on Austin, I have to think that it's no coincidence that a job would open in Denver at the exact moment I need one.

Here goes. I'm letting go of my expectations and keeping myself open to whatever possibilities await.

blue christmas

So the other day my mom cornered me (this was prior to meltdown # who knows what) and said, "Don't you like Christmas? It was always such a magical time for me and I've always tried to make it magical for you. Why can't you just enjoy this time of year?" It really hurt my feelings. It's not that I don't like christmastime in particular, it's just that the holidays become a drag when you're feeling down. Everyone else around you is all merry and it's in your face all the time. There really is no escaping it. It also doesn't help that my ex's name is actually found within the word Christmas. I know, I know, it's a common name. But still. All the happy is just a constant reminder that I'm alone and he's with his new girlfriend. I'm sure they will wake up together this morning, will exchange gifts, and will drive up to their hometown (yup, they went to high school together) to see their families later today. And it kills me that only a year ago we were telling each other "all I want for Christmas is you."

Speaking of which.. UGH. These holiday songs. They make me want to barf. I know that in another year I probably won't feel the sting so strongly. But the pain of rejection is just so palpable during the holidays that I can't pretend to be happy when I'm not. And for my mom to not recognize that is pretty lame.

Anyway, I came across this article today while perusing my news headlines, and I thought it was spot on. Though I don't attend church or believe in Jesus as the lord my savior, it makes a good point that sometimes for some people the holidays aren't happy times. There is a growing movement within the church to recognize this and congregations are beginning to make accommodations by holding "Blue Christmas" or "Longest Night" services.

"Part of it is a recognition that both the culture and even the church, at this time of year, can tend to completely overlook suffering," Burton-Edwards said. "Everybody is supposed to be cheery and happy and all of that, and yet that isn't the case for some people."

It's not to say people need to be gloomy for the sake of not offending others. It's just that there should be an awareness that jingle bells aren't for everyone.

So happy christmas to those who celebrate and are in a festive mood. To those who don't celebrate or are in a not-so-festive mood.. I feel ya. It'll be over soon.

twas the night before xmas

How is it already December 24? I swear, time really does fly as we age. It's odd to think that only a year ago I was singing along with Bruce when he said "Merry Christmas baby." And now I'm tempted to go into hibernation and not emerge until March when all of the holidays are over. On the bright side, in one more week 4/6 of the special occasions you want to share with a significant other will be over. Then I'll only have two more left on the calendar (his birthday and Valentine's day) to get through. Sigh.

In the mean time, I came across this a while back and for some reason it popped into my head today. I truly have been feeling more physical pain lately, and I think it's due to the fact that I'm finally realizing I never meant more to him than a warm body to pass the time with. He really never saw me as girlfriend material. Though I think I knew this deep down, to hear the words.. it just hurts so badly. I keep playing them over and over in my mind. You can't help but question - why wasn't I good enough? What was wrong with me? Logically I know I'm a great person and will make a most excellent partner one day. But when the one you choose to love tells you not only did he not love you, but that he never saw any long term potential with you, and in fact seeing you makes him physically uncomfortable.. it's pretty much the most awful feeling in the world.

All I want for Christmas is for it to stop hurting.

hippy dippy mumbo jumbo

I'm all for alternative medicine. I practice yoga and meditation. I believe in karma and powers of the universe. But is there ever a time when all this hippy dippy mumbo jumbo is just too much?

The last time I experienced a bad breakup I actually went on a 4 day retreat at Kripalu, which is one of the most amazing places in the world as far as I'm concerned. They were featuring a program on grief, loss and healing, and I felt it was too serendipitous to miss. I took multiple yoga classes daily, ate wonderfully nutritious vegan foods, and participated in seminars on everything from journaling to the 5 Tibetans. I laughed and cried in sharing circles and I got my anger out in drum circles. I even conquered a long harbored fear of kayaking. I reluctantly returned to the real world, however the person who emerged was different than the one who first set foot in the Berkshires. She was stronger, more resilient and kinder to herself.

Then that person logged onto facebook and discovered her newly ex-boyfriend was already in a relationship with someone else.

Heart. Break.

It took a long time to bounce back again, and there are times I still think about it and what I could have done differently. But I always had faith that things happen for reasons we can't always understand or explain. And I've never wished to change the past because it is what brings us to where we are today.

But does everything always have to be rainbows and butterflies? Can't the world just suck sometimes? This is what I'm struggling with now. Things suck. Period. I've tried to "be friends with my grief" and "go through the emotions, not around them" and "give kindness to my ex." Lord knows I've probably done too much of this last one. But what if I'm just tired of the pain? What if I really just want to be done with it already?

Maybe I'm not as strong mentally as I want to be. Maybe there is more in store for me that I can't understand or appreciate at the moment. Or maybe I have to do another retreat. But maybe I just need a little dose of rough and tumble, a kick in the ass, or some harsh reality for a change. Hippy dippy is okay and usually what I turn to during these times, but I think right now it's just too much.

the numbers game / settling for average

I spoke tonight with my dear friend who is going through an eerily similar situation and one I've referenced in earlier blog posts. I wanted to catch her up on my revelations in Seattle, the fact that I did end up meeting my ex and the outcome of that encounter, and finally that overall I was in a better place emotionally than the last time we had spoken. Granted, the thoughts seem to be all consuming again, which wasn't the case before I met him, but I'm no longer crying daily, just really really sad.

After I shared all of my updates, she was able to fill me in on the status of her situation. The biggest news was that she has not seen her ex for over 2 weeks. This is HUGE because they were still hanging out on a very regular basis while she tried to do the "friend" thing. In addition, she has firmly drawn a line in the sand and set boundaries for the first time. For example, he texted her asking for a ride to the airport. She deliberated over this for some time because she has always done whatever he has asked. But she said no. I couldn't be more proud of her.

One insight she had is what I wanted to blog about today because I think it's brilliant. She decided to write down every memory she could think of that involved her ex, eventually stopping when she hit 300 as that seemed like a nice, healthy number. Then she went back and rated each of the memories on a scale of 1 to 5, with 1 being complete agony and 5 representing total bliss. The reason I think this was so ingenious is because it is an easy way to quantify something that is qualitative. It makes the subjective, objective.

Lo and behold, when she totaled all the numbers and divided the answer by 300, she came up with 2.78, which is below average. It wasn't even a 3. And it hit her like a ton of bricks because for so long she was not only settling for average, but she was actually seemingly okay with below average.

We are all guilty of skewing things in our minds. We would much rather remember the pleasant times than the unpleasant ones. But what if there were more unpleasant times and our brains, as a way of coping, simply made us forget? Or perhaps more accurately, what if our brains naturally placed more weight upon the good times than the bad? My friend fully admitted to this. She said for years she has blown the positive out of proportion and poo poo'd the negative. But having a number written in black and white was eye opening because she could no longer pretend her relationship was so great. Because it was below average.

While thinking of this, I came across an article that speaks about this topic and wanted to share.

Let's stop settling for average.

grave thoughts

Took advantage of a rare warm weather day to help my mom and mommom lay grave blankets down on the final resting places of my poppop, a great uncle I really don't remember, my great grandma who I do vaguely remember, and a great grandfather that I never met. It's a strange concept, isn't it? Laying grave blankets? I mean, the scientific part of me is like - these people are dead. They can't be cold. Their bodies are decaying in really fancy wooden boxes. I don't believe in an afterlife, so even the point of burials is a bit beyond me. If anyone asks, please have me cremated.

But I guess that's not the point. It's not for their bodies to be warmed, it's for the comfort of the living to grieve and remember and continue to show love. My mommom stood at my poppop's grave for a few extra minutes. She said, "Hi Bob," and proceeded to have a short conversation with him. It struck me that it's a bit what I've been doing with the ending of my relationship. In a way, it's very much like a death. The person is no longer physically in my life, but he lives on in my mind and heart. I've buried (or at least, put away in a box in my storage unit) the tokens of our time together, never to be dug up again. I've had conversations with him, both out loud and in my head, as if he were still there and could hear me.

So I decided to lay down my own grave blanket. I ordered prints of the two photos we have together, our reflection in the aquarium glass and the shot he allowed the last time I saw him. They are waiting for me at Rite Aid. And once I pick them up, I will mail them to him in the Christmas card I had found a while back. He will probably roll his eyes at it and likely won't read the accompanying note or keep the small ornament I also purchased. But it will be our grave blanket. It won't be for him, it will be a way for me to grieve and remember and continue to show my love. And it will be enough.

meltdown numero i'm losing count

Oh how I thought I was over it. Oh how my mother knows exactly how to push me just enough to make me reach my breaking point. I've only been home one day and already am threatening to leave. Not a good sign of what is to come.

Regardless, I had never told her the actual circumstances of my breakup because I didn't want her to hate my ex. Why I felt the need to protect him from her wrath is beyond me. I mean, I told my friends and while they believe he is not worth any more tears or time, they have been supportive enough to understand love is blind and haven't chastised me for my wayward thinking. But hearing "I knew it, I knew he was no good" from your mother doesn't help. It doesn't help to hear "there are other fish in the sea" or "someday a nice man will make you happy." I know she means well, but I don't need a man to make me happy. Maybe it's a generational thing, because though I want to be in a loving relationship with a nice man, I know it's not the only thing in life worth striving for.

The point is that after pushing me and pushing me and pushing me over the course of a day and a half as to why I wasn't able to snap out of it, because, "after all Sweetie, you left him, remember? You went to Idaho" I finally (in a mild fit of rage) yelled "IDAHO WAS A MUTUAL DECISION! I WENT BECAUSE I WAS BURNT OUT FROM MY JOB AND IT WAS HIS BUSY SUMMER SEASON! IT WAS ONLY FOR 3 MONTHS! I KEPT MY APARTMENT AND GOT MY OLD JOB BACK! AND I CAME BACK TO VISIT AT THE HALFWAY POINT! AND I'M BROKEN HEARTED BECAUSE THE MAN I LOVED AND TRUSTED MORE THAN ANYONE HAD BEEN F*CKING ANOTHER WOMAN! AND IT STARTED BEFORE I LEFT FOR IDAHO! IT STARTED BEFORE HE EVEN MET YOU!" 

And this finally shut her up. Problem is it also set off an unrelenting display of waterworks that I hadn't experienced since mimosa day. And I hadn't even been drinking.

I wish that I wouldn't take my anger at my ex out on my mother, but I guess that emotion needed to surface one way or another. She was the unfortunate victim. On the positive side, she finally understood why I was so utterly hurt. It wasn't just that he had met someone else while I was away but that he had been cheating on me for months, and this sense of betrayal is something I've never felt before. While I laid on my bed sobbing, she sat silently beside me and rubbed my back until eventually I calmed enough to take more normal sized breaths. I may be 31, but in moments like that it's nice to have a mom, even when she drives you nuts.

hurtful truths

I may have opened another can of worms. Yes, I have stopped crying and yes, I have begun to move on and accept what happened. But I had stopped thinking about it 24/7, and since I saw him yesterday I haven't been able to shake the feeling that there is still unfinished business. I mean, there isn't, really. But I am kind of hating the fact that he didn't offer an explanation for his words and actions that fateful September day. He placed the blame on me, saying that he tried several times to tell me he wasn't looking for anything serious and that I simply refused to hear it. And this I admit is true, to a point. But that doesn't excuse the fact that if he really didn't want to be with me, he shouldn't have said the beautiful things he said to me that day. He should have let me go. He was the one sending mixed signals, not me. I was very clear what I wanted - I didn't want marriage or any long term commitment, but I did expect a monogamous relationship and for him to be my boyfriend. And he was so cold. I've never seen him act like that before, which only goes to show that he really is completely over this whole ordeal and is probably very grateful that I am now out of his life and he never has to deal with me again.

It's just sad. I'm sad when I know I shouldn't be. I should also be grateful he is out of mine, because it's true - he never saw me as anything other than a friend with benefits, and that's putting it graciously. The truth really does hurt sometimes.

the end

Well, I did it. I met him, said what I needed to say, and then said goodbye.

After we spoke on the phone yesterday I became nervous about what would happen when I actually saw him for the first time since September. However, despite the anticipation, I managed to sleep quite well, and waking up this morning I was no longer nervous. I knew that it was just something I needed to do. It was more factual than emotional, and I knew I would be okay after all was said and done.

We made plans via text to meet at Duboce Park Cafe and go from there. Once again I was going towards him, and it didn't surprise me when he was over 10 minutes late. I think that was the only time I was a little anxious, wondering if he just wouldn't show. But soon enough, I recognized his gait from a mile away and watched as he slowly made his way towards me. He stood on the corner across the street from me, which I took as my cue to walk towards him. Seeing him standing there looking incredibly uncomfortable made me realize I was over him. And also that this might be harder on him than me, not because of an emotional attachment (he was never that into me), but because he had no idea how I was going to act. He had no clue if I would yell and scream or cause drama. He actually was incognito, probably afraid someone would recognize him while he was getting bitched out by a girl.

But, perhaps to his surprise, I didn't behave that way, though part of me was hopeful he knew me well enough to know that I don't typically cause scenes, except apparently while drinking bottomless mimosas.. I said hello, smiled, then opened my arms wide for a hug, after which he proceeded to give me a most awkward embrace. Regardless, it was my way of saying, essentially, no hard feelings.

We walked for a little while to find a bench that was a bit more secluded. He barely said 10 words the entire time we were together, but he let me talk, which is all I wanted. Whether he was listening or just zoning out, I'll never know. He only made eye contact a few times, one of which was after I told him to take off his ridiculous sunglasses. The few times he did talk, he said directly he was never looking for a life partner. He said he alluded to this several times during our relationship, and that I just didn't want to hear it. I told him this was true and that I take full responsibility for my role. He never did explain his behavior in September, when he wrapped his legs around my waist, held my hands and looked me in the eyes while he poured his feelings out to me for 20 minutes. He never apologized for his behavior or for the mixed signals he sent, only saying he was sorry that I felt the way I did. He said at one point that he did care, but that I overanalyze everything and jump to inaccurate conclusions as a way of rationalizing things.

And while all this is partially true, it doesn't change the fact that he too played a role. A role that he's not willing to own up to yet, as indicated by his statements that placed more of the blame on me. I fully admit my faults and I already know that I have grown so much from this situation. My only hope is that someday he will also look back on this as a learning lesson, and that he too will grow. Hearing him talk the way he did was further evidence that he is not someone I want in my life, and it made me even more convinced that I am over him.

So goodbye, Chris. I hate what you did to me, but despite the pain you caused me, part of me will always love you, even if it's a version of you I created in my head. Thank you for meeting with me and allowing me the opportunity to say goodbye and end things on my terms. And thank you for granting me one photo, since I refused to allow my longest relationship to have no proof of existence, other than our reflection in an aquarium glass.

Take care. And be well.

the voice

We were supposed to meet up today and had been exchanging texts most of the AM trying to figure out when and where. Just as I was about to head out the door, he sent one more text which said "Wait." Low and behold, he forgot about a boot camp holiday party, one in which he couldn't miss. As I was texting back that of course he needed to go to that, and that I hope he would know me well enough to know I would never request he miss it on my behalf, my phone rang. It he was calling. I hesitated answering, because I wasn't mentally prepared to hear his voice. But ultimately I knew that I had to talk to him as sending a crazy amount of texts back and forth was pointless.

And then a funny thing happened. When I answered, I was no longer nervous. My voice didn't crack. I didn't behave in anyway other that how I know to be. It not only surprised me, but I think it surprised him that I wasn't cold or bitchy or otherwise unpleasant. And it gave me the confidence I needed to face him, even if that time would end up being tomorrow rather than today. I was still anxious to a point, and hadn't slept last night, but I know now that this is not something I will regret. In fact, I think I would regret not meeting him.

the waiting is the hardest part

My ex never responded timely to any texts or messages during our relationship. It's just something that came with the territory of dating him, and something that I had to accept if I wanted to be with him. However, waiting over 24hrs for him to respond to my text requesting we meet up was just plain miserable. When no reply came, I wrote him this morning saying simply that I feel I had given him enough time to respond and that I was checking in again to see when he may be able to meet up. He then promptly replied that he was busy and would try to work something out.

Really? I gave you a year and a half of my life, and you act put out by trying to find one hour of your day to meet with me?

Well, flash forward several hours later. I landed in SFO and turned on my phone to find a message from him saying he was trying to figure out when would be the best time and we would touch base in the AM. Great. So now I know our meeting will be tomorrow, but I don't know when. I wrote back okay, but requested he give me some ballpark timeframe. No reply. This was at 830pm and I'm sure that he has seen that message but has chosen not to reply. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. But I wonder, why did I put up with this behavior when I was with him? Why did I feel I had to accept it? The number of life lessons that have come from this relationship continues to boggle my mind.

ugly losses

Sometimes I wonder if I am psychic, or just really intuitive. Now, I fully admit there are times when I chose to ignore said intuition (I know this all too well, and I'm sure by now, so do you), but I knew the Patriots would lose today. I just did. To the Dolphins, a team we should have beat easily. Ugh.

In other news, I sent a text this morning to my ex requesting we meet up. I'm still awaiting a response and getting more anxious by the minute that he'll blatantly ignore me. I'm sure he is surprised to have gotten my message because it's been quite some time since I originally made the request at the beginning of November. But my intuition is telling me it's something I must do, and I'm trying to be more mindful of following that inner voice.

sushi reservations and emotional revelations

While at dinner with a friend at a favorite restaurant in Seattle (you really should check out Mashiko if ever in the area), I happened to glance at the sushi bar and a small sticker caught my attention. In that instant I knew it was time to finally say "enough" and move on. This was the sticker:

It reminded me of my ex, because on our 2nd date at what became "our restaurant," he joked about flipping the table over and making some dramatic exit. Not because the food was bad, or service unfriendly. Just because, well, wouldn't it would be funny? I knew he wasn't serious, which is why it was funny. It then became a running joke between us, and one that still makes me smile. And somehow seeing this sticker made me realize that I was emotionally ready to face him and finally say a proper goodbye. I can only hope that he will still allow me that opportunity.

criminal minds

I came across a couple of quotes, courtesy of the "Criminal Minds" program, while hanging out at my friend's apartment mindlessly watching TV. The first is as follows:

The single biggest problem with communication is the illusion that it’s taken place. - George Bernard Shaw

It reminded me of - surprise, surprise - my last relationship. I tried to be an effective communicator though I'm sure there are times I should have been more direct. Perhaps he can say the same. But it got me thinking about so many instances where I would read more into things, or assume he would understand what I was implying by my actions. The communication wasn't crystal clear, and I suffered the consequences as a result.

The second quote was this:

Nothing is so strong as gentleness, and nothing is so gentle as real strength. - Ralph Sockman

And this one also got me thinking, but not about what I did wrong, or what he did wrong, but about my response and how to handle the situation. Despite feeling like I should be mad at him or I should want to kick him in the balls, I don't have the heart to do that. This is my personality, take it or leave it. I don't know how to be mean to him. I don't know how to stop loving him unconditionally, even with all his faults. And maybe that is where I will find my strength to move on.

closing doors

Why is our need for closure so great? I keep asking myself this as I debate seeing my ex once more, only to convince myself it won't help. I mean - how much more closure do I need than seeing his new girlfriend (the one he cheated on me with for 3 months) as his cover photo? And yes, just her. Not the two of them together. Just her. Boom.

Still there's this yearning and I think it has to do with letting go of love. I can say that I finally accept we are done. Why would I want someone who not only doesn't want me, but who would treat me so incredibly poorly? It's not healthy and I know it. And perfect on paper doesn't mean perfect in real life. But part of me is just petrified that I either won't find my dream guy again (because he was my dream guy on paper), or that I will unfairly judge future suitors against him. I mean, my ex was the single most attractive guy I've EVER met. Am I that superficial? I don't think so. While that was definitely a factor, I loved him for his other qualities: college educated, a successful entrepreneur, leads an active lifestyle and is a lover of the outdoors, great sense of humor, guitar player, enjoys museums, not too manly to drink girly drinks, talented photographer, up on world events. Truly a jack of all trades. I mean - where did this guy come from?

But I have to remind myself, though I will probably never meet someone quite like him, all of those amazing qualities cannot replace the fact that he used me, lied to me, cheated on me. And I know that does not make for a good partner in life. I don't want that. I don't want him. And I guess the final part of seeking closure comes from the fact that I want him to know I no longer want him. I want him to see that I've moved on.

Actions speak louder than words, and taking the action of not seeing him will get the point across more clearly than me telling him why I no longer need or want him. But.. it's just.. that sense of satisfaction.

God temptation is hard.

venus and mars

Yesterday when I was writing about the blame game, it got me thinking about general differences between men and women. We're all familiar with "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus." But then I stumbled across this article and it basically seems to refute the notion that we are wired differently and that neurosexism is actually something we created as a way to explain traits and behaviors to justify stereotypes.

I think I disagree. To a point.

Now, are there men out there who are more "feminine" in the sense that they are more sensitive, more intuitive, more gentle than the average man? Yes. And are there women out there who display more traditionally "masculine" traits like aggression, subdued emotions, or a love of sports? Yes. Neither of these is a bad thing, and I hate that men can be seen as weak when they cry and women labeled bitches if they are ambitious. I also fully support the research that proves reminding people of gender stereotypes can result in self-fulfilling prophecy. For example, when a group of girls is told "boys are better at math" before a math test, they will perform more poorly than a group that wasn't told the same.

However, I DO believe we are wired differently, and that's what makes us unique. Females can be emotional, but why is this seen as a negative? It is our ability to love so deeply and be nurturing and show compassion that makes us who we are. Why can't this be celebrated?

Enough male musicians write love songs that I know they too can feel what I just described. It can't all be stories and fables. But as females we are far more likely to self criticize. We have different views of sex - men are more likely to view it as just a physical act, and women are more likely to see it as an emotional connection. We love differently. We are more likely to make excuses for inexcusable behavior, and we have a seemingly boundless capacity for forgiveness.

Is this because we are TOLD we are that way, and it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, too? I don't know if I can fully buy into that.

The Penn study, which is the target of the article's fury, does seem rather stereotypical in it's conclusion that "women can't read maps and men can't multitask." I mean, I don't have a smart phone and I've lived all over the country and traveled all over the world. I am a great map reader and can navigate my way around almost anywhere because I have a well developed sense of direction. I know several males, including my brother and one of my best guy friends, that really struggle in this area. So yes, they are stereotypes.

But are stereotypes enough to completely write off that we are wired differently? What is with our society's current obsession with gender neutralizing everything to the point where being feminine or masculine is considered bad?

Go ahead, give the girl legos to play with. I would have loved Goldie Blox as a kid. Let her run around outside and climb trees and get dirty. This was me growing up. Encourage her to excel at math and science. Those were some of my strongest subjects and what pushed me into my career path. Give her the needed structure for stability with the freedom to follow her own path.

Just don't put her down for wanting to wear a dress while doing it.

the blame game

Yesterday I was speaking with a friend of mine who is going through an a situation very similar to my own, to the point where the resemblance is actually uncanny. I truly believe she was brought into my life to act as a mirror so that I could more clearly see my situation from an outsider's perspective, and ultimately to help me process through layers of self reflection. I know she feels the same, and I know in her I have a life long friend.

As we were speaking, it was obvious that she was going through what I had just gone through - she was playing the blame game. It's amazing how good we are as females at rationalizing things. Classic over thinkers, we analyze endlessly until somewhere we find that small glimmer of positivity that makes everything okay, or at least justifiable. I know I did this countless times in my relationship. "Oh, X can't make it to the dinner party, he has to prep for his work trip." Or, "X cancelled our date because he was sick." Or, "X missed my birthday because he fell asleep early" (yes, these are all statements I told myself and friends, even the birthday one.)

Excuses, excuses.

But when it comes to our own behavior, we don't really make excuses. We chastise ourselves. I didn't do this right. I should have done this better. Maybe if I did this, then that wouldn't have happened. Why is it so easy to make excuses for the other person but only blame ourselves?

This is something I have been struggling with. I can't hate my ex, though I've tried. In fact I still love him and likely always will on some level because that's how my heart works. But for so long I was only blaming myself for the dissolution of our relationship. And what I've come to realize is that this was 50/50. He was part of the problem, and so was I. I acknowledge his faults in this; he did so many things wrong that it is almost embarrassing to admit, including lying, cheating and just generally leading me on. He hurt me worse than anyone I have ever met in my life. But that is on him. That is something he will have to live with.

That said, I also have to take responsibility for my actions, and not by blaming myself. I allowed this behavior to happen and accepted it for too long. I bent over backwards to try to make things work with a partner that wasn't willing to meet me halfway. I taught him to treat me like a doormat. And that is on me. That is something I will have to live with.

I cautioned my friend to try to avoid the blame game. Yes, take responsibility for your part, but also give your ex his share of the responsibility, too. This is not one sided. You both got into this relationship, and you both got out of it. Placing all the blame on yourself (or even all on him) is neither a healthy nor accurate view of the situation.

This same friend sent me an article back in early November (about a week after "the day my world collapsed"), and while it had countless a-ha moments in it, one that struck me most was this:

If you look back on your life, you'll realize the most painful times have also been the ones that taught you the most. There are some lessons we don't want to learn, some we'd do anything to give back. But we don't get to choose. Our power lies in our response to what it is that we're given.

Responding by playing the blame game is not powerful. What is powerful is acknowledging your part and learning the lesson. Power is putting forth the effort to not repeat the pattern. Power is moving forward.

30 is not the new 20

A dear friend of mine sent this to me today, and I think it needs to be shared. Now solidly in my 30s, I can only hope that 20 somethings today will not continue to fall into the patterns described in this TED talk. In some respects I can relate to a lot of what was said, especially regarding relationships. Did I hang onto partners longer than I should have? Yes. Did I put up with behavior that should have been unacceptable? Yes. I do not think that I wasted my 20s as I truly strived to follow a path I believe was right for me, but I do feel at times I could have been moving forward when I was indeed stagnant.

hangovers and hang ups

"I'm never drinking again."

Probably some of the most famous last words ever uttered. And a phrase I've uttered three times in a matter of months. The first was on September 29, after getting smashed the night before when my boyfriend of a year and a half texted me he was breaking up with me (after essentially professing his love less than 3 weeks prior.) A text. Seriously. So of course the only solution was to drink, drink more, and keep drinking - because that way I could pretend it never happened. Until reality hit the next morning. The only thing worse than feeling heartbroken is feeling heartbroken with a really awful headache.

So I quit drinking. Not that I was a big drinker to begin with. While I have been drunk a handful of times, I don't like feeling out of control. And since I actually enjoy a nice glass of wine or a smooth whiskey, I'd rather sip and savor the flavors. But this time I had sunk to an all time low. So I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and moved on with my head held high. No more alcohol.

That was until one month later, when in a moment of weakness on my birthday I googled his name and ultimately discovered he had been cheating the entire time. Our relationship - the longest I've ever been in and one I gave my entire heart and soul to - was nothing more than a heap of lies. Cue the popping of corks, and low number two.

Fine fine fine. I have to get my act together, I told myself. I knew I couldn't keep this up. And so, once again, and *for real* this time, no more alcohol.

Flash forward to yesterday, 5 weeks and 6 days since my world came crashing down. I had been feeling okay since the Golden Girls epiphany and was out to brunch with some girls at a fine dining establishment in SF. I knew bottomless mimosas would be tempting, but I was determined to stick with my tea. But... what's the harm of one? Unfortunately it was bottomless or nothing. So I figured I'd sip, be careful, and just relax for a bit. I was tired of not enjoying my life and I wanted to have a little fun.

The funny thing about bottomless mimosas is they are indeed bottomless. My glass was never empty. It was magic. Alas, I quickly lost track of how much I had had. I don't remember exactly what happened next, but here's the quick synopsis, or so I'm told:

We had moved from our table to the bar, and I discovered my jacket was missing. Someone stole my jacket. Yes it's just a jacket. And yes it can be replaced. But it was MY JACKET. And SOMEONE STOLE IT. It was just enough to push me over the edge I had been teetering on. Here I was in a city I used to love, now hated, hated being there, had to go out of my way to avoid his neighborhood and my neighborhood and the streets we used to walk down together and the places we used to frequent, I was anxious all the time, I was homeless, I was jobless, he was with someone else, I was going to be alone for all the holidays that never had meaning until him, and someone stole my jacket. I lost my sh*t.

I started sobbing uncontrollably. The girls I was with only knew me as an acquaintance, they weren't close friends. I had never broken down in front of anyone before, let alone a room full of strangers. I was that girl. And the entire restaurant saw it.

Moral of the story: I needed to hit that low. I thought I had hit rock bottom before, but this was a different place altogether. I loved this man (real or imagined) with all my heart. Truly loved him. And it's okay to grieve. Yes the Golden Girls taught me I have a lot going for me. And yes I had decided I couldn't let a man continue to have such control over my emotions, especially one that never really cared about me the way I wanted him to. But this is a journey, albeit a difficult one, that I must take.

I'll never see 95% of those people ever again. And whoever took my jacket actually returned it, as it was later handed to me from the opposite end of the bar. Maybe they felt bad. Or maybe it was an accident. Either way, there's only one way to go from here - UP.

emotional vampires

So by now it should be obvious that I'm going through some difficult times. Dealing with a breakup, yes. Dealing with all those stupid jewelry commercials that never bothered me before but now make me want to vomit. Dealing with the most annoying holiday songs like "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." It can all go to hell.

I clearly have some emotional vampires in my life. I'm getting better at cutting them out when it comes to friends (or supposed friends), but when it comes to romantic partners, I suck. This is something I take full responsibility for, and something that in future relationships I will really try to recognize earlier on so I don't repeat the mistakes of this one. But what do you do when it's someone you can't so easily cut out - like a family member?

I love my mom to pieces, and I would never trade her for the world, but the truth is that there are some things we just clash on. I've tried to be more patient with her, she's made efforts to address the issues I've had with her - such as constantly complaining to me about my father. But we just seem to always hit a wall. It breaks her heart that we aren't closer, and I don't want to be the cause of my mother's pain. But how do you help someone learn that they need to live their own life? I feel my mom doesn't have an identity outside of being a mother to her children, and though I don't have children of my own, I can't imagine this is healthy. I know that no one can make me happy except myself. How to you teach that to someone else? And in the mean time, how do you cut out the emotional vampire when it's someone you love?

living in the moment

I read an article today that had to do with feeling happy and satisfied with your job, and the dangers of "the grass is always greener" mentality. And though it focused on career choices, I think much of it can be extrapolated to other areas of life, particularly relationships.

The whole article was an interesting read, but it was point #2 that struck a chord. It was speaking of how a common misconception is that more vacation days will make you happier at work, and intuitively this seems to make sense. Better work/life balance. The downtime will refresh you, make you more productive when you return. More is always better, right?

Well, maybe. But maybe not. It turns out that while most European countries have mandatory paid vacation time (an average of 20 days a year, to our ZERO), this does not necessarily translate to greater work satisfaction or happiness in life. It's not the time that matters, but how you spend it. To quote the article:

What’s more: Experts say it’s how you spend your time, not how much time off you have, that really makes us happier. The secret, according to a 2010 study by researchers at Harvard, is being engaged in whatever you’re doing in that moment. In fact, they found that at any given moment, 46.9% of us are thinking about the past or the future, instead of where we are in the present. So the next time you get a week, or a mere afternoon off, the trick to greater bliss is to devote your whole self to the time you have, whether it’s spent climbing a mountain, booking a yoga class or just sipping a frothy latte at your favorite cafe.

And that's something to think about.

lightbulb moments

Ever have one of those days where you cry your eyes out? I have had a few of those lately, but today was one of the worst. I was in the middle of a conversation with my mom when something she said triggered a memory and *whoosh* buckets poured out of me.

I've been having tearful moments daily (this is no exaggeration, and incredibly embarrassing to admit) for 3 months. The reasons for my tears ranged from a sense of rejection (he choose the other woman over me), a sense of unworthiness (he told me "I hope you find someone more down to earth," which made me feel like he was better than me, or I wasn't good enough for him), a sense of betrayal (he lied to my face and cheated on me), to a sense of disbelief (how could I have been such a poor judge of character, as I truly believed he had a good heart), a sense of disappointment (in myself, for lacking self respect; I taught him he could do no wrong by always forgiving him, and he took advantage of this and walked all over me), and finally a sense of anger (not at him, but again at myself for blatantly ignoring the red flags and getting myself into this situation.)

But today was a culmination of all of the above. Waterworks would be the best way to describe it. I sulked for the rest of the day, periodically slipping into smaller bouts of misery, finally showering around 4pm as I was meeting a friend for dinner and a show. I pouted while getting ready, frowned while riding MUNI and BART (I even went completely out of my way so I didn't have to walk down the streets he and I used to stroll arm in arm), and I'm sure looked incredibly sullen while eating dinner.

Eventually it was show time, so we made our way over to the historic Victoria Theatre to see the opening night performance of "Golden Girls: The Christmas Episodes," a drag show we stumbled upon last year and vowed to return to. Now, if you know me at all, you know I am a major GG fan and honestly believe it was one of the greatest shows ever created. I was looking forward to a pick-me-up and a little distraction. As soon as the opening "Thank you for being a friend" tune began, it was like a weight was lifted. I can't really explain it. But I found myself swaying to the music, singing along (softly, as I can't sing to save my life), clapping, and gradually I felt a smile forming. I even managed several LOLs. It was like magic.

But it was during the episode "Rose the Prude" that I had my lightbulb moment. The premise is that Blanche has arranged a double date and ropes Rose into tagging along. Well, Blanche has a snagged a dud, while Rose and her date hit it off. The main story goes on to focus on Rose, but it was a scene with Blanche that really hit me. Blanche is upset that her man was not into her, and she feels old and unattractive and states she'll never date again (this is partly comic relief, as we all know Blanche dates more men than humanly possible). It is Dorothy, always the voice of reason, that points out everything that Blanche has going for her. She has her looks (eh hem, her health), her job and her financial security, and most importantly friends and family who love her.

*Lightbulb*

Even though this was something I knew about myself - I am a great catch, I do have a lot going for me - seeing it acted out in front of my eyes was another matter all together, and apparently just what I needed. It was then and there that I decided I can't waste any more energy beating myself up over a man who does not deserve my time. I am only hurting myself in the process. I can't promise I won't shed any more tears, or that I won't have moments of weakness and doubt, but I know that I need to move forward.

Leave it to the Golden Girls to set me straight.

baby bald

So, what is one of the most common things a girl does when going through a rough transition? She cuts her hair! Nothing can make a girl feel more confident than a great new haircut. Cutting off the dead ends is cathartic. The bounce and lightness of a new hairstyle translates to a bounce in her step and a lightness in her heart, things she probably hasn't felt in some time. It's just a great symbolic way of showing "out with the old, in with the new."

Except when that great new haircut leaves you with a baby bald.

This is a description I was introduced to today by one of my greatest friends, whom I will refer to here as casshole. I could not emotionally handle going to my old stylist - she is a mere 2 blocks away from my ex's apartment - and so I turned to Yelp and found one with good reviews. Overall I was pleased with the amount of time she spent on my hair; it looks 100% healthier and has that bounce I had been lacking. However my description of "I'd like my bangs to fall right above my eyebrows" translated into them being cut a FULL INCH above my eyebrows.

Now I fully realize that short bangs can be fashionable, but I'm not a trendy kinda gal and don't really rock the retro look. So rather than looking glamorous and feeling like I can conquer the world with my new 'do, a la Katy Perry (hear me roar):

I feel like a baby bald eagle (chirp):

Alas, hair grows. Thank god.

better late than never

I was talking tonight with a close girlfriend of mine, and she mentioned how she had this urge today to contact past relationships and apologize for basically effing things up. Now these are people she has stayed in touch with over the years, so they weren't true blast-from-the-past phone calls. She had come across a concert ticket from the early 90s and the resulting memories caused her to think about how time can really change your perspective. Back then, her 15 year old self was devastated by her first love breaking up with her. Now, literally half a lifetime later, she almost wished she could tell her younger self that despite that pain and anguish and feeling like you are going to die - you will get through it. It will be okay. And despite effing things up, it brings us to where we are today.

Both of the men she spoke with are in other relationships: one is married and expecting a second child; the other has just proposed to his longtime girlfriend. Most important is the fact that both hold no grudges or ill will towards my friend. They also accept responsibility for their actions that led to the demise of their relationships, as it is never the fault of one person. And both actually thanked my friend for helping them get to where they are today.

This caused me to consider my current situation.. dealing with a breakup is never easy. In fact it can be downright devastating. But flash forward 15 years from now. I can only hope that I will look back on this time and realize - you got through it. And I hope I too can thank my ex for helping me get to where I will eventually be.

white blank page

Mumford & Sons is one of my favorite bands, and I'm sad they are on an indefinite hiatus. Regardless, in listening to my ipod on shuffle today, their song "White Blank Page" hit me in a way it hadn't previously. It was never my favorite song on that first album, but one that clearly had emotional undertones and one that I thought was beautiful. But today I realized with complete clarity that it is the theme song of my last relationship. I wanted to post the lyrics to remember it by.

Can you lie next to her, and give her your heart, your heart.
As well as your body?
And can you lie next to her, and confess your love, your love.
As well as your folly?
And can you kneel before the king, and say I'm clean, I'm clean?

But tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart.
Oh tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart.

A white blank page and a swelling rage, rage.
You did not think when you sent me to the brink, the brink.
You desired my attention but denied my affections, my affections.

But tell me now where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart.
Oh tell me now where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart.

Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life.
Oh, lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life.

To love lost, and hopefully gained again..

not all those who wander are lost

For years, that quote has served as a guide. A reminder that just because I chose to wander through life does not mean that I am lost, or aimless, or less driven than those who choose to lead a more traditional lifestyle. Society places undue pressure on those who do not conform to its norms. How can a woman in her 30s not be married/have kids/be settled down already? Gasp. Something clearly must be wrong with her.

Well, I am here to tell you there is nothing wrong with her. I was so excited to turn 30 last year. Finally, I remember thinking, I know who I am. I know what I want. I am comfortable in my own skin, and I am more than okay with the life I have chosen. I wouldn't want it any other way. Flash forward to turning 31, and I'm again reminded that it can still be a struggle at times. Life continues to provide the most amazing, wonderful surprises. And then it turns around and kicks you in the ass. Our power, however, lies within our response. Do we surrender, or do we have the resilience to get back up?

2013 has been a trying year to say the least. It was full of moments of complete bliss and moments of utter heartbreak, and I would be lying to you if I didn't say I've really been struggling lately. But in choosing not to surrender, I choose to move forward. My goal for this blog is to have an outlet and actively work on self healing. I do this best through writing. To celebrate this decision, I took a step I have been contemplating for some time, just never quite had the courage to take. I am pleased with the results:

So for all who actively choose to swim upstream, who choose to break the rules a little bit, and who don't want to settle for mediocre - cheers to you. May you find happiness wherever your path leads.