thinking out loud.

So I've been going through a break-up for umm... almost two months now. I finally got through the hardest days... feeling like I wanted to die, not eating, obsessively thinking about what went wrong or what he's doing.

He found his own way of moving on. And I've tried finding mine. I tried exercising, singing, writing, therapy, studying. At least at first. To get over the utter despair. And none of that shit worked... or maybe all of it worked. I'm not sure because I just needed a minute, to let the angst pass. I can see his name or picture without chest pain now... and I can finally stop looking at both just in case I can't.

I tried rushing to date other people.... so I could disrupt the urges I had to call or to combat the loneliness. But what worked for him, moving on to the next thing of interest, didn't work for me. I don't want a relationship based in anything less than a deep emotional connection. If I can't find that, or if I'm not ready... I don't want anything. So while I was worried staying single would send the message that I was waiting for him, or too hurt to move on... I know I will date when I'm ready, and now, I'm just not. I'm not only still not over my past relationship, but in retrospect, I probably wasn't ready to be in one in the first place.

People always say love will find you once you find yourself. Maybe I thought I got lucky cause I found love while I was still tryna figure the self part out. But that's not the case. And I don't care what he thinks. I'm not over what we had because it was that special to me. And it meant something because in the end, I finally figured out that I need to finish building my house before I look for a roommate.

It's not easy. For one, because I'm downright lonely. For two, because I'm terribly busy studying for the bar. For three because it's hard finding yourself when you're not sure where to look.

I miss our conversations. I miss watching you work. I miss falling asleep on the phone. Talking through sunrise. Holding hands in the village. I miss feeling safe. I miss feeling loved... even though I doubted it. I miss feeling understood. and I just... I just knew it was my turn this time...

And it wasn't. I just need to be ok. To work through these feelings of inadequacy. I want to say it's ok that I've never had a boyfriend, and never brought a guy home to meet my parents... or had a guy interested in doing so. But it isn't. It affects me deeply and until I accept it and become truly happy with myself... I'll never attract the love I want. I just don't understand why it's so damn hard to do. Only thing I could think of that's more difficult than that... is getting over him.

FREE.

Free just may be my favorite word. I found the following on my desk when I was cleaning up. and at the top it read: FREE. All caps. Period. And it is at the root of everything I write. Your freedom and mine. Tell me what you think.

It is said that definitions belong to the definers
but when no one involved knows who they are in the first place,
all the words end up muddled
into a sea of oxymoronic phrases
and the only thing you can't confuse,
is the truth

that to be touched, is to be emotionally affected

that my greatest moment of weakness
and my most profound moment of strength
would collide at full speed
and though my vehicle is damaged
I would appear to emerge unscathed
that another being could rob me of agency
I never knew I had
that an act so motivated by the power of another of another
could empower me
that I will always remember the moment
I paid someone else to help me forget

to be touched, is to have come into contact with

to lay a hand upon.
and who would think,
that bare hands
could reach a heart, a home, a soul, so deeply
and that something so dirty
could be purely- physical
that the only evidence it left behind
is etched in the front of my cerebral cortex
and something I swore would never happen again,
has attached itself to every facet of my life
and what always seemed so black and white
was only grey matter
what seemed so consequential
I had the power to make Not. Matter.
But no matter what I did
I couldn't make it better
because when it couldn't get any worse,
it encouraged my best.

to be touched, is to be moved

I was taken from a place of sanity
diagnosed with a condition
and the cause of my current state,
my conditioner if you will,
was by definition-
supposed to improve the quality of some other material
for everything he broke,
I gained the power to fix
and where he left me bare, I had access
to reach inward to repair...
all without leaving another scar
It appears God only works in the strangest of ways.
for a moment that stopped so much of my life...
it did just that.
stopped.so.much.of.my.life.
but the truth that sets this free
is that for all that it stopped,
it allowed me to go on
just never in the same way
and when things don't remain the same,
but the change is good
we call it progress
we can change the way we battle
but we can't control the test
and how crazy is it that
the most dehumanizing of all tragedies
has strengthened in me,
the most human of all emotions:
LOVE.
and I've never found discomfort in insanity,
because genius, requires it
it is said that definitions belong to the definers
perhaps only until they are taken by the defined
and the only thing left upon which to rely...

is the truth.

(Wrote this sometime in 2009)

who do you want to receive your love?

I got asked an interesting question. What do I want in a guy? not just a guy... the guy. Or some variation of that. And to be honest, I have a habit of picking victims who lack emotional maturity... they are never in a place that they are ready to love me. Not until I let them go. I'm tired of that. I know I do not want that.

But what do I want? After so much pain and so many failed relationships... the most recent being like ummm yesterday just about... I think I only know what I don't. First and foremost I don't want to live in fear. And I say that because right now i shudder at the thought of doing this all over again. i did before him, i cried on his shoulder and told him how scared i was of going through exactly what i'm going through now. if you tell a robber, please don't steal from me... i've been robbed 3 times this year... he's still going to want your diamond necklace. and at the end of the day, there's little i can do about it.

but i digress. what I want in a partner is chemistry, honesty, and respect. i want him to have a job that pays well, can have long hours but also has short ones. I love children, would never eliminate a man with them... but I don't want him to have kids. i want us to dream together. about the birth of our first child. i want him to love me. really love me. love every part of me. and understand me. i want him to be intelligent...but not so much that he can't enjoy the banal.

i want him to say sweet things... but not rehearsed or forced... just a genuine interest in me. i'd like him to be open with me and be able to maintain mystery. i want him to think about others... be concerned with a cause enough to actively work toward correcting it. Not necessarily as a career, but financially or through service.

i want him to respect women... treasure them. and I want him to have a past that he has learned from and a future he's excited about. i want him to be spiritual, maybe even religious... understanding that I'm not, and convicted enough that he believes i will. i'd like us to pray together. to surround ourselves with friends and family. for once to clearly define the boundaries of a relationship and do so without hesitation.

I want him to be tall, dark, handsome... charming, affectionate... and passionate. Passionate about life. He also better love my dog. Not necessarily all dogs... but mine. And mostly... for him to be proud to have me... and offer me security. No more excuses. No missed dates. Maybe some hand holding too... oh yea, no more long distance!

like drowning.

My therapist asked me what this felt like. at the time, I couldn't verbalize it, all I could say was... bad. it hurt. i felt dumb. used. frustrated. confused. more used. scared. tired. when relationships end, you work to convince yourself one way or the other, that you actually hated the other person and it's best, or that you loved the other person and it was just time. well i felt both those things because to date i'm not sure what exactly it was.

a large part of me believes i was used. that's his modus operendi. to use until there is none left. and he doesn't love me. he can't because love doesn't remain silent for a month while I lost weight, cried daily, stopped eating, slept all day, and vomited when it was all too much. love doesn't refuse you closure. and he has.

but what i fear the most... is that i fell in love with a monster. a liar and a cheat. and man who lacks compassion. like the woman who discovers her husband of several years was a serial killer. you can say all you want, he was just a bad person.. but what does it say about you that of all the people in the world who needed it, you chose to give yours to the most undeserving of them all.

my mind thought this. my mind understands these feelings. they are logical feelings. but my heart.... my heart can't think about these feelings... it just feels like.... drowning.

like everyday i'm drowning... fighting like hell to stay above water but some days i sink to the bottom and stay there. until i regain the will to push myself back up again. the days i go out and have a good time... is like the split second my head pops out of the water to catch my breath. Then it hits me that it's not only over, but when it happened it was rooted in deception and i sink back down again. the days i give in i relax my muscles, sink back down to the bottom and slowly float up. i use astrology, prayer, therapy, writing as buoys my savior throws at me. I grasp at them in desperate attempts to keep from drowning to death. it's fucking exhausting. and what keeps me afloat... is sheer will. just the will to come out of the water after all is said and done.

what I can say is, the thing about almost drowning is... i'm not like the women he burned, or shot, or beat. I don't have permanent scars. we don't have children, or accounts, or a home together. so when i do come out of this water... the sun will dry any remnants i have of what we shared.... letters, photos, jewelry perfume. and i won't have the kinds of scars that last forever.

eventually i'll realize what feels like an ocean is only a pool... and if I manage to stand... I'll be ok after all.