i am tired.
i am tired of trying.
i am tired of being tired.
i need a break. a vacation.
really, i need a fresh start. a do over.
but it's a little late in life for that, i think...
perhaps the hardest thing about documenting everything is that i am able now, to go back in time, and to pinpoint exact moments, with dates, and know when i made a decision that changed my life.
there were a few big ones. i've put the journals away again for the time being. so i don't have them now. but it is the most awful feeling. to say 'on november 2nd of 2001, i made a huge mistake'. and to see more than one, well, that is torture.
see, i used to be this really happy girl. about half the time. i mean, i had a lot of fun, i had a lot of friends. i was never home. a social butterfly. i walked into a room of mostly familiar faces, adn would sit with people i didn't know and make more friends.
then something changed. a trip to a darker side. that slowly pulled me out of that life. in such a slow, easy way that i didn't even realize it. until many many years later.
i have always been what is probably textbook manic. well, bipolar. it runs in the family, so it really shouldn't be much of a surprise. boys ALWAYS defined my happiness. if the boy i liked wasn't all about me, i wanted to crawl in a hole and die. until like two days later, when i had already fallen for the next one, and then wanted to die again and again. my whole life. alright, from about 16 on.
and in thinking on this subject, there are a lot of things i see about myself now that i never saw when i was living this past life of mine. the biggest thing was that i really truly hated being alone. i was not comfortable, i was not happy, i didn't want to be if i wasn't being with someone else. i would go to some pretty crazy lengths to not be alone.
and the next thing was something that a friend once told me. i dated him briefly (we were MUCH better at being friends). but when i ended our dating phase, and jumped quickly into my next crush, he called me out on it. he said, 'you don't have a recovery period. there is no transition. you just jump. boy.boy.boy.'
and at the time, i 1. hated him for saying it, 'that's not true!', and 2. didn't realize the significance and weight of what he was saying.
because he was, of course, right. how could i learn from a break up, if i didn't relish that time between? how could i clearly reflect on why it didn't work, and learn to adjust my criteria? i could not. i did not.
and maybe this is the place to say, i sucked at 'dating'. couldn't do it. couldn't kiss two boys at the same time. ever in my life. because it always felt like cheating to me. i went from long term relationship to long term relationship. maybe in hindsight, committed relationship is the better phrase. because 9 months, or one year, or 3 months isn't long term.
also, i never boyfriended anyone i didn't consider marriage material. and the relationships would often fall apart when i would mention this. seriously, i opened my mouth, and boys would go running. because my heart was too big and untamed and unashamed to edit the words coming out of my mouth. i lived by my heart.
and then a funny thing happened. i met a boy. and he was trouble from the get go. i dated a few like that. didn't realize until way too deep into the relationship that it was a bad bad bad idea.
these were the boys who needed 'fixing'. like jack on lost. always wanting to fix broken people. one was suicidal. one week in. that lasted a year and a half. alienated EVERYONE. and came out of it. and 'holy WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING? how did i end up like this? how did this asshole rip me from my life? and i didn't even NOTICE?'
i was miserable. but the love in my heart kept me from realizing it.
and that was at the ripe old age of 18. my first year of college i came flying out of that relationship, and into a whole new world. no longer under the constraints of the southern baptist church. no longer completely under my parents' watchful eyes. i didn't really care what they thought about me, or my decisions, anymore. and i started to think for myself, and realize that the tiny bubble i'd been brought up in (see 'RELIGIOUS RIGHT') was entirely too exclusive to be either.
so i love with all of my heart. and it acts as a pair of blinders. and even though i had friends in both of these circumstances telling me 'hey, wake up. you're NOT HAPPY. you're changing. this isn't you. this isn't you being happy. you need to get out of this', i didn't take the advice. instead, i left a trail of dead friendships in my wake.
[to be continued...]
[continued. two elevenish on eleven fourteen.]
because, guess what? people can only watch you self destruct for so long. and then they stop trying to tell you.
but the thing of it is, a friend who has been a friend for years knows you better than the destructor. and being outside the hearted situation, it's easy to see that something is amiss.
so i had this friend. and she put our friendship on the line for this exact reason. and despite knowing and loving her for so many years before meeting said destructor, i didn't listen to her. i was convinced that she was jealous and missing me. so i didn't listen.
and let's just say that all these years later, i have written a letter to her. that i am almost in a position to send. but that i wrote without the intention of ever actually sending. it goes something like this:
for brownies. some day.
i am so sorry. i am sorry that i let boys come between us. the three thing was retarded. i don't know what i was thinking.
i am sorry i didn't listen to you. you tried to help me and protect me. and i got so frustrated. with you. because i didn't want to hear any of it.
and i tried to save and protect you, too. and then we just couldn't take it anymore, i guess.
thinking back, you were right. i wasn't happy then, and i'm sorry that i didn't see it, or love you for showing me.
thing was, i knew he could change. and he did. but not forever, only for enough years to kid me into thinking he succeeded in changing. and i lost you in the process. you were my best friend. and now i can never have that back. and it hardly seems worth the trade i made.
i wish i could talk to you. i was so disappointed when i wrote you and you didn't write me back. i was hoping to put a mistake to rest. here's to unfinished business.
in any case, i'm sorry. i loved you. i've missed you.
and now, all these years later, you are right. again. and that makes me even more sorry.
back to the situation at hand. so this is another place where there were blinders. only this time, there was no breakup to so clearly show that there were blinders after the fact.
this time, i feel a bit like someone in that horrifyingly scary-looking movie (don't like scary movies, would never in a million years watch this one). the one where the people are awake during surgery but can't speak or move, and can feel every incision. every needle. every thing. or like one of any of the movies about being buried alive. or even more simply, about laying in the bed you make for yourself.
it is so clear now. and i feel entirely helpless to change my situation. i am awake now. and unable to say 'stop cutting. please. stop poking. i am awake. please stop removing pieces of me. please. just knock me back out before you go on.'
because the table has been set. why so figurative? for some little sense of protection, i suppose. there are so many sayings that fit this scenario.
and, yes. i am young. and, yes. there are many ways to undo what i have done. but because of everyone who is now a part of my life due to the situation (except for myself, of course), i am not willing, at present time, to undo any of it. i just want to go back to how i was before realizing that there were blinders. before seeing what i saw when they were removed. because it felt a lot better. a lot better than THIS.
and i wish i'd kept writing the night i started this. because the train of thought i was on was really helping me to get somewhere with myself. the root of the problem. and now i feel like i got off the train at the wrong stop and couldn't get back on before the doors shut in my face, and it sped off.
but so it goes. i needed sleep, and chose that over self discovery.
if i wait here long enough, the train will make it to the end of the line. come back past me on the other side of the tracks to the other end of the line and loop back again. to where i stand waiting. to pick me up where i left off. only the destination is still unknown.
what would i say? what would i do
if i was falling asleep next to you?
i mean, really. what would it be?
anything?
left alone long enough, surely you wonder.
i want to be your mistake.
your one regret.
the one that got away.
what does that make me?
i just want the satisfaction of knowing
that all those years you got the best of me,
that now i'd get the best of you.
if i was falling asleep next to you?
i mean, really. what would it be?
anything?
left alone long enough, surely you wonder.
i want to be your mistake.
your one regret.
the one that got away.
what does that make me?
i just want the satisfaction of knowing
that all those years you got the best of me,
that now i'd get the best of you.
permanent. forever.
my left hand defines me.
what do you assume by it?
happy. settled. family?
little house. white picket fence.
suburbs? not really.
like my life is easier somehow.
half as easy? not necessarily
i mean, really.
you have NO idea.
permanent. forever.
but what about its absence?
a place tanned around.
for a very long time.
what only feels like forever.
what do you assume by it?
happy. settled. family?
little house. white picket fence.
suburbs? not really.
like my life is easier somehow.
half as easy? not necessarily
i mean, really.
you have NO idea.
permanent. forever.
but what about its absence?
a place tanned around.
for a very long time.
what only feels like forever.
most of a letter to my nina. october 18th.
i still cannot believe i turned into this person. at the gym, i now position myself to watch baseball games. and sometimes football. everything real needs sound, so it doesn't work. i also usually watch infomercials, especially on sundays.
i want p90x. and the insanity workout. i want the ninja, but i'd settle for the magic bullet. when we finally have cash to paint this place, i want that kickass painting thing that looks like a spade. and that nuwave oven blows my MIND...
but back to today, i'm getting a couple things for myself today. because i deserve them. i'm going to look for a new 'self-help' book. to add to my collection. pretty much every book i buy is one of three things: self help, astronomy, or psychology. i want a workbook like the artists way, but for working through my issues.
then i'm going to ac moore to buy a big huge canvas (big huge to me is like 24 x 36) to paint on. i know kinda what i want to put on it. but i have to set up a still life, and buy the things that are in it (red velvety fabric, tall chianti bottle).
i had a pretty big talk with him last night. after a day spent talking to kit. it was funny, we went to lunch (a new saturday tradition) and she said 'i'm not letting you go home yet'. so i went to her house and watched cable tv. i wrote and watched tv while she worked on her work. and then had a big conversation about deadlines and goals i need to set for myself, and what i have to talk to him about.
so that was good. came home. talked to him for a while. poor dude was totally sideswiped. didn't see it coming. and was stoooooned. but we agreed to finish the conversation today. the first part was productive.
he's going to pay the bills for the next three weeks, so he can see how expensive our life is. by the end of the year, i want him to be prepared to pay half of the bills/expenses, as if he was my roommate. he's going to take at least a 15 minute break in his day to clean up around the house, most likely doing dishes. he's going to clean up after his friends. he's going to wash and dry the laundry. he's going to take better care of the dog. and one night a week, he's going to cook dinner for me.
and that's just the beginning.
i told him that i feel like his mom. he tried to deny, at which point i said, 'what did your mom do? she woke up, went to work, came home, cooked dinner, did dishes, cleaned the house, cleaned up after you, went to bed, did it again. and if you had friends over, she cleaned up after them, too. how am i NOT your mom? you are a grown man, it's time to start taking care of yourself.'
over dinner, i asked him what his perfect wife would be. to which he replied, 'you.' i told him we aren't going to get anywhere if he isn't honest, and that being lazy right now isn't the best idea, bc i'm trying to work this out with him. so he said, 'she'd be less stubborn, would have sex more often, and would answer my calls'.
he called me on my 'girl date' yesterday and i didn't answer, intentionally. because i should be able to leave the house for part of a day and just talk to him when i get home.
so i told him that my perfect husband bathes every day, changes his clothes every day. helps me clean the house, cooks dinner for me, and lets me have my dream. works and makes enough money that i could have my own cafe and not worry about making ends meet. and who sleeps in the bed.
there was more than that, but that's what i remember.
he asked why it was so important to me that he bathe and change his clothes. i said 'you're not a squatter punk. you're not a homeless man. you're not a touring musician. you should know how to take care of yourself by now. it's not ok to be dirty. it's not ok to smell bad.'
i'm laughing now at seeing it all in writing. thankfully.
otherwise, i think i'd be crying.
it was good for me. but he was completely overwhelmed. something funny happened. when i said clean the house, he said 'i was going to clean the office today'. (but then smoked weed instead? most likely...). i said 'in what way, like pick things up?' he started explaining how he was going to organize the shelves in here.
i said, 'no. i mean CLEANING. you know, vacuum, dust, mop. clean.' and he actually said 'the house is clean, what are you talking about?'
i haven't cleaned the floors/vacuumed in like 3 weeks, at least. maybe 4. it is DIRTY. the whole house is. i get too overwhelmed at the size of the task to actually do it. at about this point, i get so disgusted, i finally cave and work through it. alone. he'll tell me he's going to help me. but never does.
our friend brings his puppy over and he and our puppy have a peeing/pooping contest (his actually pooped down the stairs one day! lol) in every room of the house. and it's been raining for like a week now, so the first floor is nasty. i haven't cleaned the bathrooms in 3 weeks. just think about a bunch of boys using two bathrooms. for 3 weeks. it's GROSS.
anyways, i had to explain to him that i don't want to get sick. and that it's just gross to be dirty. it's not our apartment anymore. this is our HOUSE. and we have to take care of it.
am i crazy? should i HAVE to be telling him these things? SERIOUSLY? he's three years older than me. he should have that much more motivation to be something that resembles an adult.
i'm not my mom. she cleaned our house top to bottom every week growing up, and made us help. i'm not like that. there's no need to be THAT clean.
but i can't live like this either. i'm too much a germaphobe now, and it's flu season, and our house is a hub. a hub of dirty dirty boys who don't bathe or wash their hands.
i also said, 'i feel like you're trying to be 'cool' in front of the dudes, by bragging about how long you can go without bathing and changing clothes.'
how did this become my life?
like ani said, 'it's like a running joke, it's really not funny.'
i want p90x. and the insanity workout. i want the ninja, but i'd settle for the magic bullet. when we finally have cash to paint this place, i want that kickass painting thing that looks like a spade. and that nuwave oven blows my MIND...
but back to today, i'm getting a couple things for myself today. because i deserve them. i'm going to look for a new 'self-help' book. to add to my collection. pretty much every book i buy is one of three things: self help, astronomy, or psychology. i want a workbook like the artists way, but for working through my issues.
then i'm going to ac moore to buy a big huge canvas (big huge to me is like 24 x 36) to paint on. i know kinda what i want to put on it. but i have to set up a still life, and buy the things that are in it (red velvety fabric, tall chianti bottle).
i had a pretty big talk with him last night. after a day spent talking to kit. it was funny, we went to lunch (a new saturday tradition) and she said 'i'm not letting you go home yet'. so i went to her house and watched cable tv. i wrote and watched tv while she worked on her work. and then had a big conversation about deadlines and goals i need to set for myself, and what i have to talk to him about.
so that was good. came home. talked to him for a while. poor dude was totally sideswiped. didn't see it coming. and was stoooooned. but we agreed to finish the conversation today. the first part was productive.
he's going to pay the bills for the next three weeks, so he can see how expensive our life is. by the end of the year, i want him to be prepared to pay half of the bills/expenses, as if he was my roommate. he's going to take at least a 15 minute break in his day to clean up around the house, most likely doing dishes. he's going to clean up after his friends. he's going to wash and dry the laundry. he's going to take better care of the dog. and one night a week, he's going to cook dinner for me.
and that's just the beginning.
i told him that i feel like his mom. he tried to deny, at which point i said, 'what did your mom do? she woke up, went to work, came home, cooked dinner, did dishes, cleaned the house, cleaned up after you, went to bed, did it again. and if you had friends over, she cleaned up after them, too. how am i NOT your mom? you are a grown man, it's time to start taking care of yourself.'
over dinner, i asked him what his perfect wife would be. to which he replied, 'you.' i told him we aren't going to get anywhere if he isn't honest, and that being lazy right now isn't the best idea, bc i'm trying to work this out with him. so he said, 'she'd be less stubborn, would have sex more often, and would answer my calls'.
he called me on my 'girl date' yesterday and i didn't answer, intentionally. because i should be able to leave the house for part of a day and just talk to him when i get home.
so i told him that my perfect husband bathes every day, changes his clothes every day. helps me clean the house, cooks dinner for me, and lets me have my dream. works and makes enough money that i could have my own cafe and not worry about making ends meet. and who sleeps in the bed.
there was more than that, but that's what i remember.
he asked why it was so important to me that he bathe and change his clothes. i said 'you're not a squatter punk. you're not a homeless man. you're not a touring musician. you should know how to take care of yourself by now. it's not ok to be dirty. it's not ok to smell bad.'
i'm laughing now at seeing it all in writing. thankfully.
otherwise, i think i'd be crying.
it was good for me. but he was completely overwhelmed. something funny happened. when i said clean the house, he said 'i was going to clean the office today'. (but then smoked weed instead? most likely...). i said 'in what way, like pick things up?' he started explaining how he was going to organize the shelves in here.
i said, 'no. i mean CLEANING. you know, vacuum, dust, mop. clean.' and he actually said 'the house is clean, what are you talking about?'
i haven't cleaned the floors/vacuumed in like 3 weeks, at least. maybe 4. it is DIRTY. the whole house is. i get too overwhelmed at the size of the task to actually do it. at about this point, i get so disgusted, i finally cave and work through it. alone. he'll tell me he's going to help me. but never does.
our friend brings his puppy over and he and our puppy have a peeing/pooping contest (his actually pooped down the stairs one day! lol) in every room of the house. and it's been raining for like a week now, so the first floor is nasty. i haven't cleaned the bathrooms in 3 weeks. just think about a bunch of boys using two bathrooms. for 3 weeks. it's GROSS.
anyways, i had to explain to him that i don't want to get sick. and that it's just gross to be dirty. it's not our apartment anymore. this is our HOUSE. and we have to take care of it.
am i crazy? should i HAVE to be telling him these things? SERIOUSLY? he's three years older than me. he should have that much more motivation to be something that resembles an adult.
i'm not my mom. she cleaned our house top to bottom every week growing up, and made us help. i'm not like that. there's no need to be THAT clean.
but i can't live like this either. i'm too much a germaphobe now, and it's flu season, and our house is a hub. a hub of dirty dirty boys who don't bathe or wash their hands.
i also said, 'i feel like you're trying to be 'cool' in front of the dudes, by bragging about how long you can go without bathing and changing clothes.'
how did this become my life?
like ani said, 'it's like a running joke, it's really not funny.'
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