Daily Post 069: Lazy Sunday


It’s Sunday.

I woke up to sunlight streaming through my curtains. I was nice and warm for once. It was a picture-perfect moment of the start to a lazy day. One where you cuddle with your significant other for longer than you should. One where you eventually make your way into the kitchen and make a special breakfast and plan a leisurely day of doing nothing in particular. Maybe a few chores, maybe a random trip out to someplace you’ve talked about going to but never actually seem to have the time to go do…

It feels like that type of morning.

I’m not tired, but there really isn’t drive or motivation to be overly productive. It’s a nice day. I don’t want to crush it under the weight over everything that “needs” to get done because very few of my tasks are actually needs.

Friday morning my FA sent me a text message saying the Nebraska FA had contacted him and I might be receiving a phone call. Nothing about if the email was good or bad. Nothing to prepare me for anything. Just, “Hey, I got an email. You might get a call.”

I replied back saying thank you and went about my day. I had lunch with a friend who I recently reconnected with. She was before Sir. Before Mother Earth. Before Jarrett. I went to a BDSM convention with her in St. Louis one year; her and another person.

I know why we lost contact. It was because of me. It was because I became scared that things were going too far too fast and instead of communicating I went ghost instead. I stopped replying to messages. I deleted accounts. I’ve thought of her fairly often since our last time together. I’ve wondered how she has been, what trials Life gave her to overcome. I’ve wondered if she’s still in Orlando or if she moved away like she talked about.

She sent me a friend request on Facebook early last week. I accepted. We’ve talked a bit. We agreed to have lunch on Friday since we both had that day off. It was a good outing. It was nice hearing about her experiences and being able to share mine. It was nice being able to say, “I might be moving soon and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.”

I got to explain what happened between us and to say I feel I would handle the situation differently now. I’ve grown since then. I’ve had three or four years worth of experiences. It’s one of those moments where I don’t know how to describe it. I’m still me. I’m still the same person I have always been, but, at the same time, I’m different. I’ve learned things about myself and about Life. I’ve learned things about other people and how words and mean different things; can have different intentions.

My fear of commitment and being trapped in relationships is something I understand better and can talk through now. I’ve learned that even though a fair amount of the relationships I have been in were negative, that not ALL relationships are like that, and not every “us” said to me is a chain obligating me to stay or change something about myself.

I still plan to move if everything works out. Meeting with this person doesn’t alter anything. It gives me a chance to have closure for something in my past that I didn’t know how to handle and possibly to nurture a friendship that didn’t deserve to be punished or die simply because of other past hurts.

It stayed a simple lunch even though we both still felt a connection. We may meet again before I leave. It may or may not progress past the point of a simple meeting. She has her own relationships now and I have mine. If anything did happen we both agree that it would be more of a “One last good memory” type of encounter. Our paths are different then what they were and that’s ok. Different doesn’t mean bad.

While I was at lunch with her I received an email which I almost wrote off as a spam message. It was saying that I had an unclaimed check and that I needed to reach out to them to figure out how it should be handled.

Upon looking further into it, it was an email from Full Sail regarding my last check from them. I never cashed the check and since it’s tax season, they’re trying to reconcile their accounts. They wanted to know what I wanted to be done with the money.

Um… there’s 1k sitting around with my name on it?

Yes, please. Like… not just yes, please, but like… holy shit, you have no idea how much that could help me right now, yes, please.

I have a form I need to print out, fill out, scan, and email back to the business office, but in roughly two weeks I’ll be receiving what should have been my last paycheck from the school. I feel like I don’t deserve all of the positive things happening in my life at the moment. I’m so used to things being hard. I’m so used to struggling and fighting for everything, and now, suddenly, pieces are falling into place. When it looks like something won’t work out some random event happens which solves the problem before it even has a chance to present itself.

Sort of like the situation with the apartment. If Ms. Side Chick moves in, she would take over the accounts. I would close mine, she would transfer hers. Poof. Done. Warren would pay his rent money to me as a way of paying back what he owes. I would annihilate my credit card which would leave me able to focus on the car and then the last bit of student loans I have.

It’s not just a pipe dream. Life could actually not suck soon.

All of this is dependant on the people in Nebraska actually wanting me. It’s the last bit of puzzle piece I’m waiting for official confirmation on. I’m hoping that happens next week. At the very least I plan to talk to my FA and ask about the email. I mean, come on, at least tell me if it was good or not. Jeez… >.<;

Saturday I worked. It was a pretty smooth day. I was able to get to sleep extremely early. Around 7 pm. I woke up feeling able to get through my shift. It’s surprising how much a full night of sleep can change your perspective of the day.

I came home and thought about playing WoW. I did get online and putts around a bit but I turned in early again. Ox doesn’t have internet at the moment because his modem needs to be replaced and a tech can’t get out to his house until Monday. Even if he had been online I don’t think I would have stayed up very long. There wasn’t interest or motivation for higher level thinking. Instead, I went to bed, curling up with my blankets and pillows, falling asleep with the light on and my contacts in until 3:30 am when my alarm unceremoniously woke me up.

I got up and at least took my contacts out before shutting off the light and falling back asleep until roughly 8 this morning.

I’ve talked to Ox, and not just text messages either. I’ve used my phone more in the past month than I have in the entire time I’ve had it. We… talk. And even though I’m introverted… it’s nice. It’s nice to hear his voice. I enjoy starting my day with an actual good morning. I enjoy talking about what I might get done, or how work is going. I enjoy hearing about his day.

I enjoy talking about… everything with him. Which is weird. We both talk about things we haven’t talked to others about, and those we usually preface it with, “I feel awkward/vulnerable saying this…” we still say it and then we discuss why we feel that way before we actually address whatever it is we’ve admitted to.

All of my connections with people are unique. Everyone is different in their own way and everyone has their own flaws and shortcomings. Until Sir, Warren #1 had been my healthiest relationship communication wise. Since then there has been Big Bad. And now Ox.

I don’t know. It’s interesting to see the evolution of my relationships.

I know part of it may be new relationship energy, but I also am aware how that too is different. In a way, it’s similar to how it felt when I first started seeing Big Bad. It’s not fireworks and explosions and fiery passion. It’s more of a content, “this is safe” sort of feeling.

With Big Bad it was most definitely “safe”, with Ox it’s more “home”. A feeling of belonging.

I knew I would most likely never meet Big Bad’s family. With our age difference, his divorce, his kids… there’s a lot that I don’t think works in our favor to ever have a happily ever after. We love each other, but we both started the relationship saying we weren’t looking for anything. We didn’t want commitment. We wanted a companion and to not be alone. We wanted to be accepted for ourselves.

I guess in that regard I’m the one who’s changed. I’m the one who wants a home and to feel like I have a family again. I’m the one who wants to come home to a hug and a kiss on the forehead. I’m the one who wants to fold the laundry and snuggle on the couch before going to sleep.

I’m the one who wants more.

And maybe that’s unfair of me. Maybe Big Bad wants more, too. I don’t see that “more” happening, though. I don’t know what else to say about it. Maybe this is another moment where I should have communicated more and didn’t and because of that something has been potentially lost. Or maybe this is how this universe is supposed to play out and in another one, I did talk to him. Maybe in a different universe, a different life, I stay and we live together and I have a happily ever after with him.

It’s a pretty thought. Thinking that I could have potentially been happy in all of my relationships. That we worked through our differences and found peace and harmony together.

Right now, I feel more content that I have. I’m content with the thought of leaving and continuing to find myself. I’m content with the thought of moving on from my past. I’m content with living in what people consider the middle of nowhere.

I guess that’s as good a way as any to sum those emotions up. I’m content. With my choices. With my possibilities. With my repercussions.

I am making MY choices rather than letting others make them for me and that gives me a feeling of stability and ownership over myself that’s… comforting, reassuring.

I do plan to be a bit productive today. I need to print out the form for my check. I want to go to the gym since I haven’t in almost a month. I want to donate plasma since any extra money I can get will help make this transition smoother. I want to grocery shop for the coming week so I can meal prep on Tuesday.

I want to actually make a to-do list today and do it.

That’s where I’m at this morning. It feels like I’m ready for Life again. I’m ready to take steps forward.

It’s a good feeling.


Musing Moment 110: Trust Issues


I had thought to make flashcards today to study for my certification, but sitting here at my sports bar with most of everything else already done I feel the need to write instead.

I had therapy today and during it, I realized something I guess I’ve always known.

I have trust issues.

Only… it’s more than that.

I don’t trust my friends to be there for me when I need them. I don’t trust my brothers to help me when I fall down. I don’t trust anyone to be there the way mom was and because of that, I feel alone.

I knew I felt alone because mom died and I knew that I don’t think anyone else in my life is reliable. I guess finally realizing the real reason behind being lonely is what’s so sobering.

Out of everyone in my life, all the people who care about me, there isn’t anyone that I would want to do a trust fall with.

Everyone in my life has either let me down or proven themselves to be unreliable.

In a way this realization makes me feel more solid, more stable. At least I know the reason behind my feelings now. At least I know the logic behind not believing anyone when they say something to me. At least I know why I go through these seizing moments of isolating loneliness when things get hard and I feel like I can’t find a solution. At least I know why I don’t reach out to others when things get overwhelming.

No one else is handling their own shit, so what would make me think they can help me with mine?

I can’t talk to my older brother about my emotions. I can’t not clash with my younger brother. I can’t depend on Warren to pay rent. I can’t count on work not to fuck me over.

I trust my blacksmith, but our lives do not cross the way normal relationships do so he cannot be the type of safety net mom was. He can be there in as much capacity as he is able to be, but that’s all. I trust Big Bad as well but pride would prevent me from asking for help if I ever needed it.

Everyone else has a giant wall between me and them. Some I allow closer than others, but no one is on the inside anymore and it was interesting realizing that.

I don’t even know if it’s right for me to say I love people anymore because realizing that I don’t truly trust anyone makes me question how “true” the love I feel is. I feel if you don’t have trust you can’t have anything. Trust is the foundation for everything. So if I don’t trust the people in my life how can I say I love them?

Maybe there are different types, different degrees, of love? I do believe that to be true. I love my patients differently than I love my brothers. So maybe it’s more realizing that the love I feel only goes so far. It only covers so much. Most likely not as much as other people love me.

While people may trust me to be there and to come through, I do not trust others to do the same for me because history shows me they won’t.

I have stopped believing words. People can say anything they want to me. I will hear them and I will make a mental note of what was said, but I won’t truly believe what they say until I see actions which support it.

I’m evaluating my relationships again. I’m realizing how many of them are with people who are content to merely exist rather than to truly live. It’s easier to not do things. It’s easier to not come through. After all, we’re friends so I’ll understand right? It’s not personal. Things just “didn’t work out”.

I think I’m done with those mentalities. I think I’m done bleeding pain and energy into things that aren’t going to change. I think I’m ok with having the trust issues I do because those people have earned my lack of trust.

Maybe this is where quality over quantity comes into play.

I never thought of myself as having many friends. I thought the ones had were of quality, but if I don’t trust them then how healthy are those relationships? Is it worth continuing to maintain them when it feels one-sided and parasitic? Would I be better of being slightly more alone, have slightly fewer friends, but know the ones I do have are trust-worthy and really will be there when I need them?

Wouldn’t it be better to know the numbers in my phone are ones I can call and, no matter what, receive help?

Looking at it that way I wouldn’t have more than 10 numbers.

It’s something I need to meditate on further.

The past two weeks have been hard. I’ve worked 56 hours each week. I’ve had to give up the dojo because I can’t afford both it and rent. I’ve been looking into donating plasma to keep making ends meet. I’ve decided to go back to school for Nursing. I’ve talked to two advisors who want me to pursue becoming a professor and who have helped me map out how to get to that point in life.

I spent Saturday evening with my blacksmith. Monday evening I spent with Big Bad. Mother Earth and I have made plans to go to Daytona Saturday night to watch the sunrise Sunday morning.

There are certain facets of life that suck. I’ll never see Mr. W again. We had to call EMS for him. If he’s alive he’ll be going to a different clinic now, one closer to his facility. I never got to say goodbye to him. I never got to hold his hand and say, “I’m glad I met you.”

Those moments are so fleeting. I’ll never be able to say those words to him and there’s a part of me who so desperately wishes I could. I let that moment go and I will never be able to get it back.

Every class I miss at the dojo is a moment that cannot be redone. Every time I work past when I’m supposed to and I give up something I wanted, it’s gone for forever. Every time I don’t say words I’m risking the chance to never say them again.

I told my blacksmith about losing my patient. He said the first step is realizing it’s not my fault.

I know it’s not my fault. I know mom’s death wasn’t my fault.

I don’t feel guilt.

I feel helpless. I feel like I do all these things and yet they still die.

He said the next step was to realize that as healers, at best, we are speed bumps in life. We cannot stop death. The best we can hope to do is prolong life for a fraction of a second more and to accept that we did our best and healed as fully as we could.

Maybe that’s where I’m at. I feel helpless because there is nothing I can do to stop death. I am powerless, weak, small, and mortal in the face of Death and I always will be. We all will be. We are but humans.

All I can do is live my life to the fullest I can in the moments I have.

I think I’m done with the relationships where I don’t feel there is trust.

I think this is another phase, another transformation in the journey of my grief. I know people will be hurt but I also know I deserve better than hollow promises and empty words.

I owe self-respect to myself.

I’m figuring things out. I’m taking steps forward. Some of those steps are going to take me away from people. I think that’s part of life, though. Part of the journey.

I know I’ll figure it out.

Those aren’t hollow words. That phrase is a fact.

Mom always had a way of convincing me to hold on even though I wanted to give up.

I’m holding on for you, mom. Some things super suck right now but I’m not going to let Life win. I’m going to figure it out and I’m not worried about all of the blood, sweat, and tears it’s going to take. Part of me wants it to be hard. I want to get to the end and have the ability to throw up my middle fingers and to scream in anguish, frustration, pride, and triumph until my lungs give out and my throat is raw.

Fuck you, Life. Fuck all of your complications. Go on and make it hard. I’ll still crush it because I refuse to accept defeat. I’m going to make this, all of this, work, and there’s nothing you can throw at me that will stop me. Not money problems. Not trust issues. Not fear or worry. Not sleepless nights or 16 hour days.

I will do more than exist. I will live my life and you can’t stop me.