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Yes sir, I know the feeling...

the 'breakover'

One week. To the day. Broken up.

I’ve been in Milwaukee the last couple days keeping a friend company while she’s on business so I don’t know if it’s just being in a new place that has made the tears slow down and real thinking occur, but either way, I’m not going to argue.

Tears suck! (Don’t they?) Even if they do feel better. (and they do)

I still talk to him. Every day. Maybe that makes it harder for us, I have no idea. The truth is, I’m not fully ready to let him go. He’s been in my life 24 hours a day straight for almost a year pretty much. It’s hard. Just because a relationship isn’t working, doesn’t mean you stop caring and even loving that person.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I care deeply about what happens to him. That’s not ever going to change. That’s all there is to it. But I’m also bracing myself for the day when one of us decides enough is enough and needs to cut the ties. Ugh. Secretly, I kind of hope it’s me first but I have a feeling that I’ll be hanging on harder than him in that case. We will tackle that day when it comes. Um. Ok. I’LL tackle that day when it comes. (Yikes. Old habits die hard).

But I also see it all for what it is, and he and I have seemed to come to an agreement: even though we love eachother, space and time and genuine work on ourselves is the best option. And I’m ready now.

You know, I’m a believer in fate. I think things happen for a reason. And I know in my heart that we met to change eachother’s lives, to awaken eachother to the pieces that were broken and illuminate change. I can’t really speak for him, but I know he did that for me.

He taught me about self worth. What I deserve. How I envision my life being for the next 80 years. Communication. Honesty. You know, all that good stuff. And he taught me that I take the easy way out. And he was right. He is right. And I’m going to do my darndest to stop that pattern.

On the plane I started the book “It’s called a break-up because it’s broken.” It’s written by the guy who wrote “he’s just not that into you,” and it’s an amazing book! It was exactly what I needed to read.

The point is that instead of thinking of this shitty situation (and it is a very shitty situation) as a break-up, think of it as a Break-Over, an opportunity for transformation. Get off your butt. Make yourself the shining star you could be and could’ve been before you spent all your time and energy trying to fix a dying relationship.

And that’s what I intend to do. Easier said than done maybe but I don’t know, it’s time. It’s time to do the work. Get my finances in order. Maybe go back to school. Drop that 40 pounds I keep saying is going to come off. Write. Get the dust off my bike and maybe join an outdoor club. See more movies. Talk to strangers. Maybe kick a little ass at my job for a change.

Who knows?

Possibilities are endless.

And that’s a cool feeling.

It really is.

It’s not a break-up. It’s a break-over.
Yeah. I like the sound of that!

notes on "I love you"

Here is an article I found that seemed to maybe ‘find me’ today. I don’t know. Kind of made me feel better and a little hopeful at the same time.

Enjoy…
The Cosmopolitan: 'I love you' isn't enough
Leah Charpentier
9/19/06 - For some people, "I love you" is the divine signifier of a relationship proper, the endpoint of the "please say it" and the moment of truth. But as any seasoned romantic knows, "I love you" does not constitute permanency, it does not dignify the weird moments of silence, nor does it ensure a safe return. No, "I love you" is simply not enough.

A veteran of dating worth her salt will explain by telling you that to be "in" love is a far more desirable thing than to merely love. To be "in" love is what we need, what we require, what keeps us going, our meat and potatoes (or tofu and miso). To be "in" love requires a state of vulnerability so complex and unending, we must rediscover who we are in order to even have access to the place that allows us to feel so profoundly for another human being. When the reality and welfare of another becomes of such concern that it is a priority to be part of that person's happiness, you can say you are in love.

Regardless of some kitschy-framed sayings at Grandma's house, this state in being "in" is often selfish. It is as though one's person's love, joy and delight become of such a warmth and comfort to us that we find ourselves in the forest, where the cold and darkness prevent us from reaching our place of real love. Then there is a fire built before us, a warm and bright campfire, breathing heat into us and lighting our way.

This is no revelation. No, this is the real deal. In truth, you will do just about anything to even momentarily bask in that glow. We want this for three reasons. One, it makes us feel like a needed, contributing and helpful person. Two, people like to have a partner. (Think how boring the world would be without inside jokes, tables for two, or the thrill of genuine love-making.) Finally, and most important of all, the rush of crack, or adrenaline, or goosebumps, pure electricity, or magic or SOMETHING that pumps our heart and steeps our veins in brandy.

That seductive, sadistic, sucker-punch feeling of euphoria every time he wears that suit, makes that face or finishes your fries. Each and every occurrence where he calls as you are dialing, holds your hand during the sad parts of the movie and lets you eat all the broccoli.

When you are in love you are aware, dear reader, and this old sucker still believes that there is a way that things should be for happiness to make its way through. I won't tell you any garbage like "hope floats," but I can say that real love exists and sometimes "I love you" merely skims the surface.

JOURNALING

“Are you in control of your feelings or are they in control of you?”

I fell in love.

And it hurt.

Love is complicated. It’s really hard. And (as that saying goes) sometimes it just isn’t enough.

I’m in the process of grieving right now. Grieving lost dreams. Grieving time spent with someone I not only loved but admired sometimes, someone who challenged me and made me laugh and took my hand and tried to be there each and every day. For me.

I know he loves me. I know that he wanted this as much as I said I did. But what I’ve learned and am learning that even the best of intentions really don’t make two people right for eachother. Or even good for eachother.

What is it about two people choosing to couple up that makes it so hard to break that bond? It’s been hard losing him. Really hard. In fact, it’s been difficult to stop crying in the hours since I left his house that we shared.

Last night I did some really good thinking; the dig down deep kind. I thought about the good things. The simple gifts we gave eachother with a smile, a touch, a laugh. And I thought about the bad things. Trust. It’s killed us. (well, the lack of it has). It’s confusing as hell to love someone and not trust them. I’ve fought long and hard to get there. But a gut feeling is a gut feeling and maybe the truth of all of it, is that we just push the wrong buttons in eachother. Oil and Water. Good intentions or none.

I want him to be happy. Even more than I want me to be happy. Which is how I know what I feel is genuine. I wish things could’ve been different. I wish we could stay friends. I wish he could be in my life for the rest of my life, some way, some how but without the worry and wonder and the hurt. Wishful thinking. And not entirely possible in reality.

I know that.

It’s too hard. And right now, I think distance is the right thing for both of us. To move forward. To remember what life was like before the other person became a part of the future plan.

Starting over.

But different.

I’m different.

Just like any real, meaningful, life changing experience, being with him changed me. The things he brought up for me. The things he told me that I didn’t want to see about myself. The things I realized I wanted and deserved to have by being hurt by the cracks in our relationship. He said things that were true about me. And I heard them. And that is a gift. I will try to find my way one day at a time. One step at time.

I think all of us or a lot of us have that one guy or girl in their lives that slipped through the cracks. The one that should’ve been different, should’ve been better. The one that if the timing and situation was just a little more perfect, you would rule the world together.

He is that one guy for me.

And he always will be.

I miss you.

And I love you.

You woke me up

And forever I will be grateful.

Be happy.

And…

Thank you.

For everything, my love. Everything.

This reading came up for me today:

THE TOWER

The Tower is the great awakener. It tears away the veils which, until now, have prevented clear sight. This can be painful, because sometimes it is easier to hold on to illusions than face a difficult truth. The Tower indicates a time of transformation at a very deep level, often brought about through external circumstances, in order to create the space in your life for a new form of energy and experience.

This card advises that it is time to let go, to allow things to take their course, to resist the urge to fight or deny the experience. The right action is to wait for the storm to blow over - and it will. You may feel that you have been washed up on a foreign shore with no map, but this is actually a time when you can experience yourself as a strong, empowered being, programmed for survival.

The Tower can also signify a sudden flash of insight, a realisation that can bring forth a state of ecstasy and which can change your life in an instant - the inexplicable feeling of 'Eureka!' that has given rise to some of the most important scientific discoveries. But in this case, the discovery is about yourself, about who and what you are. The gifts of the Tower, though they may seem harsh, open the way to a powerful, true sense of self.

Question to ponder: Are you now ready to let go of the masks which hide the true self?

SPARKS

Was listening to NPR this morning. Like I do every day lately. NPR just totally relaxes me. I’ve never figured out why but I’m certainly not going to stop now.

Anyway, there was a Matt Nathanson podcast I can’t get enough of that I’ve been listening to on repeat this week - his performance on the mountain stage from December 3, 2008. My mind was heavy this morning. Thick with thoughts. Which isn’t new for me. But after the events of the last week or so, it’s gotten worse. I think to be free. I think to find the truth. I think and think and think.

Whew.

During the show, Matt says to the audience who has been oh-so-tentatively singing the lyrics with him at his request:

“It’s a togetherness thing. Don’t be afraid.”

I paused.

Blinked.

Hmm.

Yeah, Matt. You got it. Right there. Hand over heart. I get you.

Sitting there, shadowed behind the fraying gray walls of my cubicle, something inside me lit up. Something I’d been chewing on for a while.

Where is the passion in my life?

That spark?

And why the hell is it so hard to come by nowadays????

For me, I don’t know, I’m bubbling over with passion. It’s hard to see sometimes. I’m so protected and protective of myself and my heart. But it’s there. I need it and want it. For most of my life, I’ve been either afraid of it or have been apologizing for it.

The last week?

I decided I was tired of doing both of those things.

Is it wrong to want to live passionately? To desire to have that be a part of your relationships? I want it dripping from my fingers. Under the surface. Only a precious few, my lovers, my closest friends truly know what is lurking. Like it could spill over at anytime. Where and when? Who knows? I mean, doesn’t that feel good just thinking about it?

As adults we are taught (for some obvious reasons, I think) to keep passion under wraps. As kids we run until sweat soaks our Sunday best without thinking twice. We paint with our fingers. We laugh and laugh until our bellies hurt. We dive into ice creams bowls with unbridled abandon. No sense of consequence. No sense of “should I be doing this?”

It’s delicious.

It’s happiness.

It’s total freedom.

Say it all together now…. Ahhhhhhh.

Grown-ups are molded to repress that feeling. And on some level, obviously, I get that. We have responsibilities. We have functions. Most of us even have little people that rely on us to eat and be safe and be well-formed human beings in the world. It’s a big job but someone’s got to do it.

So where does passion fit in?

I struggle with that all the time.

When I’m in a writing mode, it’s a fever. I don’t stop. I think about the characters all the time. I picture them in every situation imaginable. I laugh for them and cry for them. And like those children who can’t stop their feet from running, I simply go, go, go.

It feels good in that zone. But it’s fleeting.

Reality sets in. Life encroaches. And that demon TIME rushes in like a vacuum and takes that vibe right with it. Bills. Hurt. Work. Health. Love. Pain. Loss. Worry. Anxiety. One giant buzzkill. Sometimes anyway.

I’m okay with responsibility. I know all of life isn’t one big circus sideshow, with lights, colors, elephants in tutus, and a daily starlit flight over crowds of wondrous children with mouths agape while on a gilded trapeze covered in long, decorative scarves trailing behind me.

Life is hard sometimes.

But I never wanted it to beat me. And I certainly never wanted to fight for passion in the places it should just normally be.

Passion in love.

Passion in work maybe.

Passion for myself.

Recently, I feel like I’ve been fighting for it and its draining me like some energy vampire, sucking the life right out the few veins that are fighting to fill me up.

I decided today that I will never again apologize for wanting passion in my life. I won’t apologize for needing it in my relationships either. It’s who I am. It’s what I deserve. Hell…it’s what we all deserve. When I love, in any way, shape, or form, I need to express it. I need to shout it from the mountain tops, a hug and a hand, between the sheets, or maybe that day with only a pen.

It’s okay to want to be wanted. To be excited. To have the gears grinding.

It’s okay to stick your face in that bowl of ice cream every once in a while, and sweat, and chase fireflies at dusk just because the feel of the grass on your bare toes and the sound of wind whipping through tall grass makes you come alive, if only for just a moment.

(Come on! You know you want to…)

To all the energy vampires in my life…I’m sorry but I just decided you might have to go.

I’ve got an empty jar waiting to be filled with light.

Over and over and over again.

DELICIOUS life.

I love you.

(By the way.

My horoscope for this week.

Seemed appropriate.

Thought I’d share.

Enjoy.)

"There are two things to aim at in life," wrote essayist Logan Pearsall Smith. "First to get what you want, and after that to enjoy it. Only the wisest of mankind achieve the second." You are currently in a position, however, to accomplish that magical second aim, Capricorn. More than ever before, you have the power to want what you actually have . . . to enjoy the fruits of your labors . . . to take your attention off the struggle so that you may fully love the experiences your struggle has earned you.

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.

Henry David Thoreau

Let me ask you one thing?

When is it ok to take time and clear your headspace?
Like…for real?
When is it ok to say, ‘no. This is what I want right now. And I don’t have to give you any reason. It just is.’

Thoreau did it. He ran off to Walden for two years and lived in a cabin. People think of him as one of the great thinkers, right? I can kind of relate to that idea sometimes.

I’m on the cusp of a risk and I feel like I’ve been here before over and over again. I feel like I’ve written this blog before. Life keeps repeating. And I know that they say that if the same thing keeps happening over and over, you should probably do something different otherwise you could be considered legally insane. (Or at least my paraphrased version of it).

The truth is I don’t trust myself a lot of the time. I don’t trust that I can make things happen. I say that I do on my good days but when it comes down to it…I really don’t think that I do at all. If I did, my life would probably look a whole lot different.

Ugh.
Some days I really think I just need a really really, snot running down my face, taking large gulping breaths kind of cry.

But not me.
I’m way too controlled.
I’ve come to realize that control is the root of all evil for me.

The things that go through my head, the things I think, the things I feel… there is a lot going on in there. It’s all bubbling under the surface. And I’m constantly feeling like if I could just crack that veneer even a little, the tiniest bit, the walls would come crashing down and I could be who I really am inside. I would say what I really mean. I would fight harder for myself. I would care less what people thought. I would love with all my heart. I would work tirelessly at things I really believe in and stop wasting time half-assing situations and jobs and relationships that I’ve only got a toe in.

I would jump in.
With both feet.
Maybe even head first.
And feel what it’s like to fly.

That’s what I feel inside. That’s what’s swirling around in there. But somewhere along the way, with all the heartbreaks and the disappointments, some bad advice I took far too seriously, and that hard lesson I learned FAR too young that people disappoint and life can be really hard, I blocked that part of myself off. Not even just a little. I cemented that sucker in!

What happens if I can’t let that girl out?
What if I did too good of a job keeping her quiet?

One of my closest friends in the world (Hi Lauren) who I’ve known since my sophomore year in college told me once that she was watching the movie Garden State and when it got to that scene towards the end where Zach Braff’s character leaves the couple who live in the boat (if you’ve seen the movie, you’ll know what I mean) and it’s pouring rain out and he decides to climb to the top of an abandoned machine that has been seated and rusting for some time and his girlfriend and best friend join him (played by Natalie Portman and Peter Saarsgard) and he opens up his mouth and lets out a big, giant scream with the other two doing the same - my friend said that she thought of me during that scene.

That it was something I needed to do.
Maybe something I should do.

Just
Let
It
All
Out.

And now, to this day, I can’t watch that scene without getting a tear in my eye because I get it. Because I know she’s right. And because I haven’t done it yet.

Life is pushing me right now.
I guess it has been for a while.

But it’s really pushing.
In some ways, I feel better equipped to do the work this time than I ever have and in other ways, I feel like I’m on the cusp but I’m unsure I can get there. Like I’m lost a little bit. All the time.

In order to do it I have to learn to trust. Not only other people but myself. Trust is hard for me. Much harder than I ever thought. And it’s frustrating.

I recently read an article on children of abuse and (without going into too much personal detail about my own situation) it stated that one of the main characteristics of adult children of abuse is not just people pleasing but lack of assertion over their own life. They learned a long time ago that to speak up would cause risk. Maybe even danger. A threat. Sometimes to your life or (even worse) the lives of the people in you love, the people in your family.

So, they learn how to read people. How to assess situations and give people what they want. To smooth things over. To turn off any emotion that might get in the way of that goal. And put themselves last. Over and over and over again.

It was an eye opener for me because it’s my greatest challenge in life. It’s affected my career. It’s affected my relationships with men. It’s affected my ability to fall in love (or should I say my gross inability).

I’ve been talking about abuse my whole life. Over and over. I’ve been talking about it since I was a brave little girl in 2nd grade who knew it was the right thing to do. To tell the truth. I was in a position at the time that I felt safe enough. That I figured this person wouldn’t be able to hurt my mom the way he said he would.

I called his bluff.

And a lot of healing came out of that. And therapy. And depression sometimes. But mostly healing.

The thing is…

sometimes talking isn’t enough. Habits get picked up; survival mechanisms that we use to keep our hearts safe from anything like that happening to us again. I didn’t realize I was doing it. But now, here I am. Fighting those demons all over again. Sometimes I wonder if it’ll ever end.

I really feel all alone sometimes. And I’ve done it to myself. It’s all a part of that survival mechanism.

I have a boyfriend now that I know would go to the ends of the earth for me. He tries to understand but I only let him in just enough but not enough to really let the relationship do what it should be doing. The direction I want it to go. I’m self-aware enough to know when it happens now. I can feel it. Every time. That wall that goes up when he says something that he didn’t realize hurt me. Or when my fears start to run rampant. Or when he disappoints me. Or when I feel rejected. Or when I want to hold onto him for no reason other than I just really need to feel safe for 10 minutes and I don’t let myself. It’s hard. It’s like I’m standing at a fence looking through to what could be, gripping hard at those chain links, this close but I can’t break through.

I’ve kept myself in the background of my life. I’ve done it with work too. What would happen if I tried to grab that spotlight, huh? What would happen to me? Would that light hit me and I’d turn to dust and blow away? Or would it be exactly what I needed to grow from a struggling weed to a beautiful flower?

I want it so bad that I feel like I can taste it sometimes.
But I’m terrified.

That’s when I think that scream would come in handy.
Honestly.

Just
Get
It
Out,
Girl!