Musing Moments 106: A Letter to My Blacksmith

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I was supposed to see my blacksmith tonight.

That one sentence holds so much weight for me that I don’t even know how to being forming thoughts to express how I feel.

We haven’t seen each other since the beginning of December. He’s had to work double shifts due to a hiring freeze at his work. He’s been fighting through burn out. My schedule hasn’t helped matters. It’s a complex situation and so while we’ve wanted to spend time together we haven’t been able to.

Finally, though, tonight, we were supposed to.

And yet we didn’t.

I’ve been tapped out at the end of my days. They’re fun, long, intense. Training is going amazingly well. I’m doing outstanding. My brain is a puddle of goo by the time I get home. I haven’t been sleeping as much as I should, my body still adjusting to 4 am and 5 am mornings. I’m exhausted by 5 pm even though I rarely am able to sleep before 11 pm.

I feel like a slacker because I haven’t gone to the gym or dojo since Friday. Almost a week.

Add to that the therapy session I had this afternoon and all of the chores I still needed to get done before our evening together. The lack of time to decompress from any of it…

We decided to reschedule for another evening where I would be more able to fully enjoy our time together and even though I’m grateful for his understanding I hurt. I’m angry. At myself. Because after four months of waiting for everything to work out I cancel.

It’s confusing, the swirls of emotions. Different colors and sensations dancing around, never staying still.

I wish this didn’t feel like a failing on my part. I wish it wasn’t tainted with thoughts of, “If I was adulting better I wouldn’t be so overwhelmed.”

Those thoughts don’t change the fact that I am, though.

I’m overwhelmed. Mostly with worries.

I’m worried about my training. I’m worried about not sleeping enough and being too tired during the day. I’m worried about falling behind. I’m worried about falling short of the expectations I have for myself, of the expectations my trainers have for me. I’m worried about not living up to the image my classmates and friends have of me.

I’m worried about the building anxiety of returning to the dojo. I’m worried about not being able to afford my membership because of finances. I’m worried about having to sacrifice my goals because I let myself get into the same situation I seem to always find myself in.

I’m worried about mistaking giving up with self-preservation. I’m worried that I need to hold on just a bit longer, believe and have faith for just a few more weeks and then things will be better. I’m worried that my past makes me jaded and that I’m not being fair to Warren.

At the same time, I’m worried he’s taking advantage of me or that our friendship doesn’t mean enough for him to not break it. I’m worried about being able to afford rent in October.

I’m worried about my dynamic with Big Bad overshadowing my dynamic with my blacksmith because I do think that is a very real concern.

I’m worried about a lot of things and I know that worry would have spilled over into tonight if my blacksmith and I had met.

I feel all of these worries, all of these wounds, so intensely right now. I’m grateful for the space and understanding to let me deal with them. I’m angry that I needed it. Disappointed even though I’m trying so hard not to be.

Maybe it’s all because I am tired. Maybe sleep will help. Maybe another weekend, one of solitude, will help. Time. Space. Decompression.

I have plans to fix the dojo/gym issue. I have options to explore with the financial issues. All I need is more time in regards to my training to allow my nerves to ease and settle.

But none of that could have happened tonight. Tonight I’m still a stressed mess and I ache because of it.

I’m not failing. I’m not disappointing anyone other than myself and I know that. It’s a sharp, cold pain, though. Icey. Isolating. An ache in my chest, a thin sliver through my heart chakra.

I know I already apologized and expressed my gratitude but I need to pour all of it out on this page, bleed all of it into my keyboard the way I couldn’t do through our text messages.

I’m sorry.

I know you don’t want me to be. I know you said you didn’t mind, but I’m sorry. This wasn’t how I wanted the night to go. I don’t mean to keep us apart for longer. I’m sorry my training started when it did and that the effort of keeping everything together feels like a lot.

I’m sorry I still miss my mom and that I hurt due to my grief.

I’m sorry that normal days still feel heavy and that some mornings I still wake up and wonder what the point of all of it is. I’m sorry that sometimes I’m tired from surviving.

I know you love me and I know I’ll find you through every life and I know this moment in time is temporary. I know it’s not my place to feel ashamed, and yet, the only thing I can feel is sorrow for having in some way failed you.

I will work through these feelings. I will address the worries I have and resolve them. I won’t let them stand in the way of our time together again.

I promise.

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Daily Post 129: Reminiscing Colorado and Other Ramblings

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I have a few hours to myself, so I figured now would be a good time to write. Not the emotional purge of two days ago, but a recap of my time in Colorado before the events become too fuzzy to remember. The emotions will always be there, but the details fade, sort of like when you’re looking at the horizon. It’s all soft, blurry, the details of the scene faded until all that’s left the the general shapes and colors.

Colorado was awesome. I don’t think it’s ever a place I will want to live. It has a “big” feel to it. There aren’t many trees. The area I was at seemed to be mostly grass land. The rolling hills would break up the landscape, but there was a feeling of openness that I’ve never really felt anywhere before, and a feeling of oldness. Slowness. Maybe that has to do with it being autumn already. The seasons are turning away from my months. Away from spring and summer and closer to the slumber of winter. I can feel it in the coolness. I can see it in the way the blue of the sky is more white.

And maybe all of that is inside my head, but there you go. Crazy is just a side effect of awesome, right?

Either way, there’s something about that openness that I can appreciate but not truly be comfortable with. So while I enjoyed visiting, I can’t say that I would want to leave the warmth of Florida to live there. Even being here in Vegas, while I am more comfortable, it’s already chilly in the morning and hard to find motivation until later in the day. Even with a cup of coffee.

It was amazing seeing Chrys again. I enjoyed our trip into the mountains. The mountains there are so vastly different from the ones around Vegas, which is interesting to see since they are part of the same range. In Colorado the mountains have forests, trees, water, life. There’s a subtle, quiet energy. Like a sleeping giant.

The mountains in Vegas are like the bones of the Earth. I suppose that’s the difference between a forest and a desert. The desert calls to me. I feel it in my body. The forests of Colorado I enjoy, and I think I will have a fondness for them, but I don’t “feel” them. The south is in my blood. The desert is in my bones. I’m not sure where the forests of Colorado are in that regard. It feels like it’s on the outside of me, not part of me, and maybe that in a way sounds bad, but to me it isn’t.

It’s a fact. Not everything is meant for everyone. I have an appreciation and I feel that’s enough.

We went hiking for 12 miles last Thursday. According to fit bit we climbed something like 172 flights of stairs. The last three miles were brutal for me, but I regret nothing. I’m actually pretty proud of myself. I didn’t think I would be able to do five miles, much less 12. I haven’t been consistent with the gym lately. I have never walked for that long, so my endurance impressed me. Let’s throw in the fact that I only had roughly 24 hours to adjust from sea level to 8000+ feet of elevation. There were times I would be winded just from getting up out of the chair, much less climbing over rocks and boulders. I questioned if there was oxygen in the air sometimes.

Yeah. I’m the biggest baddest bad-ass out there. /flex

I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the times Chrys and I walked together. I enjoyed the times we talked. I enjoyed the times of solitude where she walked ahead of me.

There was a moment where I was alone and a breeze blew through the trees making the leaves and branches rustle like rushing water. I stopped and let it wash over me, arms extended. There was the quiet strength that I associate with those mountains and I let it flow inside and through me. I felt mom in that breeze and by the time it ended I had tears in my eyes.

I’ve felt mom several times during this trip. It’s been hard, but good at the same time. I guess that’s why yesterday was such a slow and lazy day. Even though I haven’t really done much I feel like emotionally I’ve done a lot of leg work.

We went to a local restaurant for dinner after our hike where I had one of the best steak dinners ever. Part of that may have to do with hiking 12 miles and needing to eat… but I’m pretty sure it was still an amazing steak. The water in Colorado is also pretty amazing, unlike the water in Orlando. A lot of that has to do with the type of aquifer in the area, but I will say, that’s definitely a plus that Colorado has over other areas I’ve lived.

Chrys and I went to a concert the day before I left for Vegas. High Elevation in Denver. I got to see some really awesome bands, including Chevelle which is one of my favorites. They sang two of my favorite songs and I unashamedly sang with them. I got to see Volbeat which is a band I didn’t know about before buying tickets for the concert. I got to see Avenge Sevenfold as well. Lola Black was a good band, and In the Whale is a local band from Denver which everyone should check out because they’re worth it. Being the sacrificial offering band opening for everyone, especially a headline like Avenge Sevenfold, is hard but they did an amazing job and I would totally see them again the next time I’m out that way.

I guess I made an impression on EJ, Chrys’ son. He keeps asking about me and wanting to see me. Chrys and I have joked about it a bit through text messages, how I didn’t do anything special to deserve his infatuation. Really… all I did was breathe, but I guess that was enough. He’s another three year old who mildly intimidates me because they’re a growing human and all of the interactions they have with the world around them is shaping them. Am I being a positive influence or am I creating insecurities, fears, doubts within them? Am I in some way scaring them for the rest of forever?

It makes the idea of being a parent seem like the heavy weight which it is. I’ve been asked a few times since starting my trip if I have plans for children in the future. My response is always that I aught to find a good spouse first before thinking about having kids, which is sad but true. I don’t have an amazing record in that department. And with all of the processing I’m doing with mom’s death I really don’t feel like delving further into hashing out my emotions in regards to relationships.

I’m happy for the people who have them. I’m happy other people have happiness. Right now I’m ok with being “alone” because I’m actually pretty content with the arrangements I have. I know they’re not “’til death do us part” relationships, but my partners care about me and support me through the hard days just as much as the good days and I think right now that’s really what I need. Support and understanding, which in itself is a type of love. Compassion. Empathy.

It was nice being in a house again. A home. I don’t know if I can put into words what it felt like to sit on the couch with Chrys, me cross stitching, her playing on her iPad (at least I think it was an iPad), Star Wars playing on the TV, neither of us talking, but neither of us feeling the pressure or need to fill the space between us. It was comfortable. It was welcoming. It felt like home. I belonged. I was welcomed. I didn’t have to be anything other than me, because being me was enough.

It’s like that here in Vegas, too. At least mostly. I think Lio feels a bit of pressure to make sure I’m entertained, but there’s no pressure from Jason. Jace is up early in the morning and so my days start around 7. Really… 6:20 and I fight it, staying in bed until I realize it’s futile and actually get up. I’ve been going to sleep around 8, so you would think with all of that sleep I would be rested, but I’m still sluggish and tired most days. Curse you emotional processing, curse you.

Today is the first day where I feel antsy and like I should do something. Go to the gym maybe… Since I am going hiking tomorrow though I think it would be a bad idea to strive for something today. Maybe I’ll walk with Jace after his nap. He used to walk with mom during Christmas to look at the lights on the houses. That’s another thing which will hurt the first time we do it. It’s the pain of change. In some ways it’s like trying to make a river flow in a new direction.

Yesterday I went back a reread all of the posts I made from mom’s hospitalization up to her death. I’m glad I did. I think I want to print out those pages. I want to have a physical thing to hold. I feel, at the moment, this is the most life altering experience I have had. All of the heartache and grief of past relationships seems so trivial, so petty, when compared to this. My letters to mom… I want to have a book, a physical journal for those thoughts. So I think that’s what I’m going to do when I get back to Orlando. My book of survival.

I don’t have much else to write about right now. Jace has a belt test for karate tonight that I’ll be going to. I’m not sure how hard that will be. I know I wish mom could be sitting with me. She would be so excited. I think both Jason and Lio will be there. I don’t know if that will make it better or worse.

Jason and I haven’t talked about mom at all. Not the emotional side of things. We’ve talked about the estate and the legal nonsense we’re still having to work through, but neither of us said anything as we drove past the hospital the other night. Really, we had a moment of silence I guess. Both of us knowing that there aren’t words. There will never be words. There is no language to express the depth of what we feel, the spectrum of emotions. No colors able to paint a picture. In that way we’re very similar and because of that shared silence was enough.

I suppose I should stop rambling for now and actually work on doing the computer chores I need to do while I have the house to myself. Yay paying bills and other adult responsibilities. I guess I’m still doing alright in that regard. I had worried that with being on vacation and being unemployed still that I would be giving myself more shit for being a slacker, but you know what? I’m still on top of things, so fuck it. I’m doing good enough, and right now, that’s enough for me.

Letters to Mom 007: A Much Needed Talk

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I wrote this last night but was unable to post due to laptops being lame and emotional exhaustion.

At least I’m posting now, right? That whole better late than never thing, mayhaps? ^^;


 

Hey mom.

I need to write to you right now, and that sort of sucks because the only thing I have to type on is a micro Dell laptop that I guess Jon got when he first got out of basic training. I had mentioned to Jason that I was in the market for a laptop since I had to give mine back to work and he got this thing out for me to play around on. This is the first time I’m poking at it, and I can already tell that I won’t like it, but for right now, it’s the only thing I have to spill the words out on, so I suppose it’s serving its purpose.

I’m in Vegas right now. I’m with Jason, Lio, and Jace. I’ve only been here a few days, and I’ll only be here a few days more. There have already been some really hard moments for me and I need to tell you about them. I’m already crying which is frustrating because it’s hard enough to type on this tiny keyboard without the added complication of not being able to see what I’m typing; in Word Pad no less since this thing apparently doesn’t have the Office suite…

Anyway… Take off from Denver wasn’t so bad. I still had tears and the conflicting feelings of my brain begging you to be alive when I landed, just like the first flight out to Vegas five months ago, and the despair of knowing how futile feeling those emotions are because you’ll never be there. Not this time. Not next time. Not any time I fly. It’s like those emotions are ingrained into the experience of take off. The experience of not being connected to my phone for four hours and not knowing what was happening. Not knowing what I would be walking into when I got off the plane and wishing, bartering, begging with everything that I had for you to hold on long enough for me to say goodbye. To say I love you. Four hours of “Please be alive. Please be there.”

But you won’t be there anymore. And I know that. Yet I still feel everything so intensely when the plane starts down the runway, and it doesn’t matter that I know you won’t be there now. My brain still says those words and I still have to hide my face from the people sitting next to me so they don’t see the tears I can’t stop.

I know the feelings will be there now. I understand what it feels like and I’m better able to cope with them; the thoughts, the feelings. I’m sure I’ll still feel those feelings when I fly to Texas on Saturday. And I’m sure it will still hurt and I’m sure I’ll make it through the trip just like I’ve made it through all of the flights so far. It still sucks though, and I don’t know why but I want to tell you that it sucks. I want you to know that it hurts and that I miss you every time.

It sucks and I make it through it.

I read Jace his first bedtime story. I think that would have made you smile, but that was really hard too. I wasn’t prepared for it. I wasn’t prepared to walk into his room and to see your picture there on his dresser. I had to hold it together while he rummaged through his bookcase and picked out the story he wanted me to read to him.

Mom I wanted you to be there. I wanted you to be the one reading to him. It should have been you. You should have been there to smile at me and tell me how I am becoming a good aunt and that I’m so good with him. You should have been there to encourage me and to tell me that I’m not fucking things up with my not knowing what to do with a three year old.

We had dinner that night. Lio’s parents came over and that sucked because I was sad from reading the story to Jace and had to keep that sadness from consuming me. Jason, Lio, Jace and I sat at the kitchen table like a family and ate dinner together and I didn’t want to eat. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream because it hurt so much. I knew it would it would hurt. The whole time I was in the kitchen making my plate the only thought I had was how I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to sit down. I didn’t want to do it because that would make things real.  But I knew it was something I was going to have to do. To face.

You’ll never sit with us again. Not that night. Not the next night. Not on Thanksgiving. Not ever.

It’s all of these stupid, trivial things that shouldn’t hurt but they do, mom. They hurt so much and I wish you were here so you could hug me because you always made everything feel better. You always made me feel like no matter what, no matter how much things sucked, or how much they hurt, that they would be ok. You always had a way of making me believe that I would be ok. And now that you’re not here I’m having to tell myself those words. I’m having to believe myself and sometimes that seems like the most impossible thing to do. Sometimes it still feels like a lie that I’m trying to make myself believe.

I don’t know how to handle the holidays this year. You won’t be here for Thanksgiving and if a normal family dinner hurt that much I can only imagine what that day will be like. Or my birthday. The first one without you calling me to wish me a happy day. Or Christmas just a few days after that. Not even a week. I guess that week is really going to hit me hard with so much so close together.

The first New Years without you…

Mom, how am I suppose to survive all of that?

Jason and I went out tonight. We went to different stores trying to find sandals for me to replace the ones I’ve had for four years. We went to a craft store because I told Jason about some art books I had seen and he was interested in them. We went to Barns and Noble and spent a while looking at books. I think that would have made you smile. You always loved that the three of us liked to read so much.

We went to dinner where they had paper on the table with crayons and I got to color and draw and I guess that impressed Jason. I don’t think he’s ever seen me draw. Not since going to school. We played a game of tic-tac-toe where neither of us won. We went to the movie theater and watched Star Trek. I think you would have liked the movies. I think you would have actually gone to the theater and watched it with us if you were still here. One of the few movies you might have been interested in.

I think the last time Jason and I had any time alone was seven years ago, when we still lived in South Carolina. I think the concerts he took me to where the only times we ever spent time alone. We were always with Jon, or Lio, or it was all of use together. I don’t mean for that to sound bad, because in my mind it isn’t. It’s just a fact that I realized. It was a really nice night. It was an amazing night where we both laughed and talked about games, and books, and movies, and got to remember just how similar we are even though there’s twelve years between us.

We had to drive past the hospital you stayed at. The one where you died. Part of me wants to go back there. Part of me wants to see the room. I don’t remember the room number even though at the time I thought I would never forget it. I would still be able to walk to it. I remember the elevator ride up. I remember walking down the sterile halls to your room. I remember Jon placing your ring into my hand.

I don’t know what it would do for me. Nothing… Everything… Would it hurt? Would it help? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a sick way for my brain to jab at this wound with a rotting stick. Who knows?

I know I won’t go there this trip. Maybe on another one though. Maybe one day it will happen.

I talked to Lio about the holidays. She wants all of use to come out. She thinks it will be good for Jon and I to be together. She thinks it would let us hash things out in a safe environment. I don’t want to be alone on those days, so I guess I’ll be here even if Jon is. I think Jason would put a stop to things if he started being vicious towards me.

I miss you, mom. I wish you could see the changes Lio has made to the house. You would be impressed with how crafty she is. You always were. I wish you could hear how much Jace is talking. I wish you could hear him count to 10. I wish you could see him dance to Turn It Down for What. You would think it’s the cutest thing in the world even though you would most likely despise the song.

I wish so many things, and it all comes back to wishing you were here.

I know you’re with me. Jace has already asked about the pendent I wear. The little urn I got so you would always be with me. He knows it’s something special. The way he looks at it. The way he reached for it while I was buckling him into the car seat when we went grocery shopping. It’s not the same as his fascination with other things. He loves you mom, and I so wish you could still be a part of his life.

I wish you could still be a part of mine. Physically.

I knew this would be the hardest part of my month of traveling. The days are getting easier the more I’m here. Dinner the second night didn’t hurt as much as the first. Reading the second bedtime story didn’t make me want to break down into tears. I made it through those firsts and survived. I’ll keep surviving my year of firsts.

And I guess that’s as good a point as any to end my one-sided conversation on. I’ll keep surviving, mom. I love you. I miss you. I know you’re still with me. I’m sorry it still hurts and I still cry.

I love you. Forever and for always, and I’ll keep surviving.

Daily Post 128: Recaping While On the Road

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September 4th. Another forth passed. Another month added to the handful I’ve had without mom. Five months so far. Next month will be the six month mark. I don’t know why 1/2 or something is significant. But it is. Each month is still significant for me. Still aches.

 

I suppose I should start with a mild recap since I haven’t written in I don’t remember when. I got an apartment on my own. With mom’s help really. I wouldn’t have been able to do it alone without the inheritance money. In a way I’m glad that I can look at the situation as her helping me. I move in November 8th, which is still a ways away. I’m very much looking forward to it though.

 

I finished my final test for the CNA course I was taking. That led to a lot of unsettled emotions since I didn’t have mom to call. I know she would have been proud of me. It still would have been amazing to hear her voice, or to get a hug in person. The following Monday I had to go back to the school to sign up for my board certification. They’re supposed to send me a date for my exam in about a month and a half. And that too hurt. More than I thought it did.

 

That night, Monday night, I was lost and alone and I didn’t know how to breath through the pain that wouldn’t go away. Warren #1 talked to me. Actually, it was more like he let me talk. He let me say all of the things that I wanted to say even though I knew they wouldn’t fix anything. Saying that I miss her, that I want her to come back, that I’m lost without her… it doesn’t make me miss her less, it doesn’t change the fact that she’ll never walk this earth again, it doesn’t make me any less lost… but it makes the pain ease. The feeling of black claws piercing my chest to crush my heart lessens. The claws retract slowly, and eventually I’m ok enough to hang up and go back inside where I sleep for hours because I’m exhausted.

 

Since I have so long to wait for the exam I’m on walkabout right now. I flew to Colorado yesterday to spend a week with a friend I haven’t seen in seven years. Chrys. I’ve talked about her here and there. But yeah. Currently sitting on her husband’s laptop typing away while we wait a bit longer before driving out to the mountains. We’re going to spend a few nights in a cabin, do some hiking, do some drinking and reminiscing and catching up on seven years… Should be fun. We also have plans to go to a concert the night before I leave.

 

Once I’m done kicking it in Colorado I head to Vegas to spend a week with Jason. I didn’t get to see him much when I was out packing up mom’s apartment. I’m hoping to get more family time in, even if it’s just lazing around the house not doing a lot. With all of the BS going on with Jon I really wouldn’t mind having a hug from one of my brothers where I don’t feel like an awful person.

 

After Vegas it’s off to Texas to spend the last bit of time with a friend from high school, another person I haven’t seen in years. Allison. I’m supposed to be her maid of honor so we have plans to go dress shopping while I’m there, but aside from that it’s really just spending time together.

 

I’m looking forward to everything, but I’m also looking forward to being back in Orlando.

 

For the last few weeks I’ve had Scarlet with me at the extended stay. I snuck her in because it sucked so badly being apart from her. I needed cat cuddles in my life and I honestly feel like we were both better off for it. Currently she is camping out with Randy and Emily. I hope she’s doing ok without me. I know the past five months have been just as hard for her as for me.

 

I’m still on the apartment with Zane, but the apartment in Vegas is completely 100% taken care of. Woohoo for something getting done. There was a guy Zane was trying to get onto the lease, but he was denied. Since he was denied I can’t be removed and Mr. New Guy isn’t allowed to stay. When I was as the office inquiring about the lease I asked if there was a way to make sure Mr. New Guy moved out, since I don’t want to be responsible for an unauthorized occupant. The receptionist sort of danced around it saying if maintenance saw something they would do something about it, but basically the office isn’t going to enforce anything.

 

I asked since I was a listed occupant if they could check for me. If Mr. New Guy is still there the office will have to issue a notice to cure. If the problem isn’t fixed in a certain amount of time then we all get evicted. I said I was ok with that. That I have given Zane more than enough time to figure this out. I wanted to know if Mr. New Guy was still there and if he was I wanted a notice to cure to be sent out. So we’ll see where that goes.

 

As far as the phone. I had to pay $400 last month because Zane hadn’t paid the previous month and wasn’t going to pay the current month. He wasn’t going to tell me about it either. I only noticed because I happened to check before going over to sign the roommate release form. Five days into this billing cycle and we’re already at 90% of the data used. In previous months it was my fault we went over the data. Having to use my phone for GPS navigation while out in Vegas or staying in touch with people through Facebook ate through it. I paid the overage charges so the bill remained unaffected.

 

Zane isn’t going to pay for his overages. Since he won’t take care of the phone I suspended the line. He hasn’t contacted me about it. I haven’t figured out what I want to do about the $400 still owed on his phone for the $600 owed on mine, which was supposed to be a gift. And right now, while I’m in Colorado, or where ever I end up being, and not in Orlando, I’m not going to worry about it. It’s still going to be there in a month. I’ll take care of it later because fire and brimstone aren’t going to fall from the sky if I let this one thing wait. The bill will remain the same. Nothing bad “should” happen.

 

Jon and I had what I feel is another falling out. Not like we could fall much further in my opinion. Saying that he thought I was a failure pretty much killed any sort of secure bond we could have had.

 

After he figured out his living situation we got the Uboxes sent to his place to be unloaded. He said he would hold onto the china hutch and hope chest for me, both fairly large pieces of furniture that I couldn’t fit into my tiny Mazda 2 at the time.

 

I got a message from him last week asking when I was going to get my stuff because he wanted to finish setting up his apartment. Right now so I don’t have you holding it over my head, thanks… So I figured that out. He was going to hold onto the china hutch until I moved into my apartment, but that changed when I got to his place. He said if I left it he was going to incorporate the china hutch into his décor. I said that was fine as long as I could have it back when I moved. He said yeah, that’s fine. He was going to get it fixed up while he had it as well. I was ok with that since there are a few spots that need some tender love and care. I said if it was in a shop or something when I moved that I understood I wouldn’t be able to get it right away. That’s when he said he was going to fix it himself…

 

First off, my brother has never done anything with carpentry since making a tool box for the boy scouts. Second, the china hutch and china are the only things I inherited from my mom. I don’t care if he was the best carpenter ever. It’s mine. I have the right to say who and who can’t work on it. It’s not a play thing to learn on. It’s an irreplaceable item that was left specifically for me.

 

So… since I couldn’t leave the china hutch with Jon without him fucking with it, my friend and I packed the china hutch into the Uhaul van. It almost didn’t fit which was a bout of anxiety in addition to everything else. Then there was the risk that it wouldn’t fit on the elevator at the storage place. It did though, and we got it into my unit fine. So all of that is done.

 

Silly me let Jon borrow my car while I’m out of town for the month, so I’m going to have to see him again. I don’t want to. It’s really the only reason I don’t want to go back to Orlando, which is sad. We shouldn’t be like this after mom died. At least I feel like we shouldn’t. We should value each other as really the only family we have left. Instead every time I see him, or think about him I think about his email and how he thinks I’m an awful person. And yet he called and wanted to do dinner the other night… I don’t understand.

 

I understand that it hurts, and that I want to avoid it. So when I get back, somehow I’ll get my car back and then I won’t have a reason to see him for a very long time. Ever really. I don’t want to see him for holidays and if he ends up going to Jason’s and Lio’s I might actually stay away and visit during a time he’s not there. I haven’t figured out what to do for holidays yet. I haven’t gotten that far.

 

Overall I’ve had some really low times recently. It hasn’t been as low the past two weeks, but the weeks before that sucked hardcore. I’m hoping this vacation helps. With what I don’t know. Reminding me that good things still happen. That it’s ok to smile and laugh. I’m hoping it gives me a chance to stop and actually figure out some of the emotions because I really haven’t processed all that much.

 

Sammie, Josh and I tried to do a triad. Not sure if I mentioned that at all. It didn’t work. It left a rift between Sammie and I that I don’t think will ever heal. It’s sort of like Jon. If I see her, when I think of her, I think about her text messages saying to never talk to her again. And that’s a long story that I don’t know if I’ll ever want to write out.

 

It’s funny in a sad way. The people closest to me are usually the ones with the lowest opinion of my character. I don’t understand how it happens. But it sucks, and it makes me not want to let anyone else in.

 

I was able to see the blacksmith before I left. We’ve been able to spend a bit of time together over the months. It’s been nice. Sunday evening there was a lot of emotional talk. It left me feeling stronger.

 

There’s another person that I’ve recently met. He’s an INTJ. I’m cautious about him because I enjoy spending time with him. I’ve actually hung out with him fairly often. He’s shown me jujitsu moves and combat maneuvers since he was a paratrooper. We wrestle. He wins and tickles me. Our sense of humor seems to be the same. We cuddle and I like that most of all. Being silent and being held while he runs his fingers over my hair.

 

I feel like he can tell when the pain wells up in my chest. He hugs me tighter when it does. He makes me feel not alone, and right now I like that. Maybe need that? I don’t know. Neither of us wants to be tied down in a relationship. He knows about the blacksmith. I know about his other partner, who I guess is jealous of me… I seriously don’t understand why, but then I know myself. All I want is for everyone to feel secure and happy and cared for.

 

I don’t know. It just seems like the Universe has been doing an awesome job at having things work out to where I’m ok and taken care of. I needed an iron bond to reality and I found that in my blacksmith. I needed a soft warm blanket to wrap around me and I have that with Big Bad. I needed a stable, secure home and in two months I’ll have that, too. I needed to see friends and family and so I’m taking the time to do it.

 

I still don’t know where I’ll end up, but I’m not as worried about it anymore. I’ll end up where I’m supposed to.

Daily Post 122: Another Truth

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Today my day is the remnants of yesterday. Today my day is better. Today my day is apprehension about tomorrow. Today my day is a day.

 

The night before last was hard. I slept curled around mom’s urn again as I cried myself to sleep. I slept deeply once I was able to, but I didn’t sleep enough. I had to wake up early for a dentist appointment which left half my face numb for the whole day. After my appointment I should have called in and said I wouldn’t be at work. I knew it wouldn’t end well for me if I continued on with everything I had scheduled.

 

Instead I drove to Sir’s apartment and did laundry. I got to watch Game of Thrones, which was worth it, but by the time laundry was done I had 30 minutes to get to school. Not enough time to go home, or shower, or change clothes. It didn’t help that there was traffic on the interstate, so I was late. Later than I would have been originally because since I was already late I stopped and got food.

 

I sat through lab. I saw Clavan towards the end. He hugged me and thanked me for his gift. It was hard not to cry. It was already a hard day without the prodding of a looming farewell in my future. I had the beginnings of a headache, one that I knew was going to turn into a migraine. I was talking to a friend and explaining how I was sad, to which he kept suggesting things to try to cheer me up. I didn’t want to be cheered up, though. There’s no “cheering up” when I miss mom because unless mom can magically come back the only thing I can do is breathe through the pain and loneliness. Distractions don’t work for me. Understanding does. I know he meant well but I wanted someone to listen rather than to give me suggestions.

 

My younger brother gave me that. I told him I was sad and that yesterday was hard.  He said that he understood and was sorry. He gave me a virtual hug and I cried silent tears as I told him I felt alone even though I was in a room full of people. He responded with he understood how that felt, too. We shared in our loss. We shared in our grief, and that small sentence of, “I understand how you feel,” did more to help me feel connected than the paragraphs of text my other friend was sending me.

 

I needed to be heard. I needed to say, “I’m sad,” and for it to not be a bad thing that needed to be fixed. This isn’t something that is ever going to be fixed. I have sad days and I want to be able to share that with people and for it to not need correcting. I want it to be ok to be sad, because if it’s as ok as everyone keeps telling me it is, then it should be ok rather than lip service.

 

I think yesterday was so much harder than it needed to be because I didn’t drink enough water. I didn’t drink to replenish what I had cried away the night before. I didn’t eat until too late into the day, and even then I didn’t eat enough. I had an appointment and should have been kind to myself and taken the rest of the day off. I should have gone back home and slept more. I should have done everything differently. I can’t barrel through my days the way I used to. I’m not emotionally or physically in a place where I can do that. If I wear myself down too much physically the depression will creep back in. The sadness. The loneliness. They’re so much harder to contend with when I have nothing in my body to defend against them.

 

And so yesterday, after spending the day disregarding my body’s gentle reminders to take care of myself I ended up with a migraine which kept me in bed for the rest of the  night. No gym. No writing. No preplanning for today. Just silence and darkness and hoping that sleep would eventually come and give me peace.

 

I slept most of the night. I only woke up a few times to eat and drink water. I woke up at 9 this morning thinking that would be enough time to have a good breakfast before therapy, only to realize my appointment was at 10 rather than 11.

 

I didn’t eat breakfast, but I’m ok with that. I made up for it later. I barely made it to therapy on time.  I don’t feel like I made any progress or revelations today. Right now the four year old inside myself is scared and I need to tend to her. That’s basically what today amounted to.

 

I’m scared of leaving Orlando because it feels like I’m losing everyone here. It feels like I’ll lose them like I lost mom. That they’ll just stop existing. That they’ll be dead and I don’t want that. I’m so… I don’t know… worried, terrified, hurt, sad at the thought of not seeing the people I care about ever again. I don’t want to lose more people in my life because I just lost mom. I’ve already lost such a huge part of my life. I don’t want to lose any more. And it feels like I’m going to when I leave.

 

We talked about how that yes, there will be a loss when I move, but it’s not the same as how I lost mom. That’s what I have to make my inner child understand. It’s hard though. It’s hard to change a mentality.

 

Logically I understand it’s different.

 

Emotionally my brain gives zero fucks about logic. Emotionally I know this change is painful and pain is bad and bad things should be avoided so I should avoid change. Moving is causing pain so there’s an aversion to it now. Now that it’s real, that the emotions are real, it’s something my inner, injured self wants to pull  away from.

 

I know this is part of the process. I know this is how I grow and change and move forward. Anything worth having is outside of my comfort zone. Trust me I know all of these great, inspirational, spiritual quotes about change and being strong and moving forward…  I get it. I do.

 

Right now I feel like throwing my hands up and screaming in frustration. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m hoping it works out. I’m hoping it’s worth it. I’m hoping it’s right. Hope is a lot like blind faith. Why is it that I was hard core set on this decision, but now that it’s go time I’m second guessing myself and worrying and freaking out over nothing? Why do emotions have to be illogical? Why can’t they just behave and go back into their designated boxes? Why can’t something just be emotionally easy for a little bit? Why do I get frustrated with myself for feeling? Why can’t I allow myself to feel without giving myself shit for it? I’m pretty sure that was something I was supposed to be working on…

 

It’s not goodbye. This, me leaving, isn’t goodbye. I’m going to visit Orlando and see most everyone again. Why am I making such a big deal out of moving when I’ve wanted to move for so long now?

 

I’m not going to back out of it. I’m going to move. Everything is set into motion already. It’s too late to back out of it even if I wanted to.

 

I talked to John, the property manage for the apartment. I stopped by the office after my therapy session. I told him about the fight Zane and I had, how I wasn’t signed off the lease and how I don’t think I would be able to be signed off even if Zane had filled out the paperwork. I asked what would happen when I moved and wasn’t around to sign the documents. John was understanding and looked into the situation for me and we have a solution now. When / if Zane brings someone in to sign the lease they will sign everything on their end, a copy will be scanned and emailed to me, I will sign things on my end, have it notarized, and then sent back with a copy of my ID. This will include the roommate release paperwork so everything gets done in one go.

 

I’m happy with that. So at least I can leave Orlando knowing that there’s still an out. And I’m still not financially contributing to the apartment. It’s been three months since all of this started. Three months for Zane to figure something out. I’m not going to feel sorry or guilty. If he wanted me to keep paying rent he shouldn’t have taken my room away from me. I’m still angry. I know one day in my near-ish future I will move past this point. I will no longer feel anger or injustice when I think of him, but right now I still give power to that part of my past, and I’m not at a point where I want to meditate on it. I’m ok with anger at the moment because at least I’m not directing it inwards towards myself.

 

After settling the apartment stuff I went to my sports bar for lunch. I didn’t have my laptop with me so it was a quick stop. Just eating. No working which was actually a nice change of pace.

 

I went back home afterwards. I showered, changed, went to work. I took my external hard drive with me so I could begin cleaning up my laptop. I have to turn it in tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow is my last day of work. Tomorrow there will be no fanfare. Tomorrow I will go in, work, then leave as if nothing special or important were happening. Nothing significant. It will be like any other day. I don’t know how I feel about that fact. I want to mark it somehow. Some way. Maybe a picture as lame as that is. Maybe I’ll write sitting on the curb in front of my building. The building I walked in and out of for six years of my life. Almost a third of my life… It’s sort of crazy to think of it like that.

 

Tomorrow begins my week of farewells. A week of gaming really. I’m going to have so much time on my hands I’m not going to know what to do with myself. I’m going to sleep and wake up when I want to. I’m going to go to the gym when I want to. I’m going to message people and see if they want to hang out one last time. I’m going to figure out my travel plans. I’m going to organize my things and pack my storage unit. I’m going to play laser tag with the people who care enough to be there. And then on the 11th I’m going to begin a two week trip.  A two week trip that will end at home. True home. Real home.

 

My home.

 

I want that so much. Thinking about the farewells hurts, but when I think of what is past those, past the hurt, I smile. I feel happy. I look forward to it. My herb garden. My dojang. My kitchen with my pots and knife set and dish rack. My walk in shower.

 

I want to be there. I want to go through the exit interview. I want to go through the farewells. I want to go through the traveling.

 

I want to go home.

 

And so I guess the biggest part of today is reminding myself that it’s worth it. This pain. It’s worth it. There are things past it. I lose sight of that sometimes. I get caught up in the now. I get caught up in focusing on only the hurt that I forget that there’s a tomorrow. I forget that I’ll be able to hug Jason again. I forget that I’ll see Master Sue again. I forget that there’s all of this positive stuff waiting for me because the only thing I can think of, the only thing I can focus on, is that I’m having to let go.

 

It’s that moment of jumping from one platform to another. There’s that moment when you’re in the air, caught inbetween, and you wonder if you’ve jumped hard enough, far enough, to make it to the other side. You wonder, question, if you made the right choice.

 

I know I have. I know I’ll land. I know I’ll stand up afterwards and wonder why I was so scared. But I haven’t landed yet. I’m still in the air, wishing I had solid earth under my feet. I’m still worried that it wasn’t enough. I know where I’m at, and I know where I’ll be.

 

I just have to breathe and let it happen. I have to trust myself. I have to love myself. I have to hug my inner four year old self and tell her it really will be ok, because it really will be ok. I have to accept that as one of my truths.

 

My name is Jennifer Conley and I really will be ok.

 

Daily Post 118: Finding Myself

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I’m at work early because I’m supposed to do grading but I have the urge to write so I’m going to do that first.

 

It’s nice to feel like this. To have the urge to actually type things out and to process through things. It’s nice to not feel a pain inside my chest at the thought of figuring things out. I think a lot of that has to do with my therapy session yesterday. I think a lot of it has to do with recent events and how I’m starting to find things to look forward to. It’s not just a day to day existence anymore.

 

I may not have life goals yet. I haven’t gotten that far in my recovery, but I find myself genuinely smiling at the thought of the future. Things seem to be going well, and even though mom isn’t here to enjoy the forward progress with me, I know that she would be happy for me. She would smile with me and be glad.

 

Tomorrow I’m supposed to be signed off the lease for the apartment. That will be the last massive, ginormous step I have to take as far as the personal side of my life goes. It’s the last step that really requires other people. Past that it will be making sure Zane’s cool with me switching the phone plan over into his name so I can ditch Verizon for MetroPCS again.

 

I’m nervous about it. I don’t think he’s going to be a jerk tomorrow. I think he’s going to be overly sweet and try to get me to hang out. He’s going to try for the “friends” thing, and while I normally do try to maintain a friendship with my exs, this is one instance where I would rather move on. I’m not going to want to hang out. I’m not going to want to chitchat and let him know what’s been going on in my life. I didn’t invite him to my super awesome laser tag going away party for a reason. I want to finalize what I need to and be done with it.

 

I booked a room at an extended stay for the next 28 days. I check in at 3pm today. There’s a mini kitchen and a full sized fridge. I haven’t been there but the pictures look nice. There’s a bed. I seriously cannot put into words how much I am looking forward to having a bed to sleep on. I’m hoping the window lets in a nice amount of light. I’m thinking about taking my computer out of storage and setting it up in the room, space permitting. I’ve already chatted with a few friends. They’re going to let me borrow some of their extra kitchen stuff so I don’t have to go out and buy much of anything. That will be nice. I plan to return it before I leave for Vegas.

 

I want to make stuffed tomatoes for dinner tomorrow. With everything going on today I doubt I’ll be up for cooking or doing much by the time I’m actually able to spend any amount of time at the room.

 

I want to go to the gym after checking in. I need to run by Best Buy first though. The other day I bought a pair of Bluetooth headphones. With all of the kickboxing things I’ve been doing, having wired headphones gets annoying. The wire gets flung into my face or fucks with the motion of my punches. It’s distracting and throws off my groove. So I thought I would give Bluetooth a try.

 

The ones I have are alright… They stay on fine… But they feel sort of weird, and they’re not noise canceling so the sound is different. More airy. And that in itself is distracting. My brain keeps focusing on how it “doesn’t sound right,” even though it’s fine.

 

$100 is a lot to spend to only be “aright” with something. I want to see if any of the other styles / brands work better for me. So yeah, if I get to the gym today Best Buy will most likely happen first.

 

I need to go grocery shopping since I don’t have any coffee creamer. I used the last of it this morning. I’m looking forward to having my morning routine back. Cooking eggs and sitting with my coffee at the table pondering over my day and how to map things out so I’m most efficient. It’s going to be the weekend, so I’m thinking I’ll go to the storage unit and pull out things like my water filter, the computer, maybe go through my clothes again and pull out a few of my nicer tops since V and I want to meet again.

 

I think my date, because that’s what I’m going to call it, went really well the other night. I enjoyed myself. I laughed. I cried. I felt nervous. I felt acceptance. I was asked about the last time I had sex and was able to tell someone that story and begin letting go of those emotions.

 

I explained how I had felt really alone one of the mornings I had to take Zane to work. How we had cuddled in bed for a little bit. Things turned sexual and it was fine until the end.

 

I don’t know what it’s like for other people, but sometimes, when it’s over, I feel empty. Like… my partner has taken something from me, some energy, but hasn’t replaced it with anything else. Nothing has been given back. There wasn’t an exchange or a connection. It leaves me feeling cold, and… well… empty. Something is missing. I don’t feel connected and blissful, and warm, even if I am able to orgasm. There’s something about the interaction that is unfulfilling on an extremely deep and emotional level and it usually leaves me feeling alienated and alone.

 

That’s what it was like after Zane and I had sex the last time. The loneliness I had already been feeling intensified and it took a lot to hold it together. He knew that I wasn’t ok and asked what was wrong. I answered saying that it had felt good, but that I didn’t feel connected to him, I felt used, and I didn’t understand why and that I was sorry for feeling the way I did. Maybe it was just my grief messing up the experiences.

 

His reply was that he had been horny and “basically just needed a cumrag.” He said he knew I had wanted attention and that he took advantage of that.

 

I had been willing to try for friendship even with all of the shit that went down while mom was in the hospital and after her death. I was willing to let go of the betrayal of having another girl in what was supposed to be “our” bed, and accepting the fact that the sheets most likely weren’t washed when we tried cuddling the Saturday night that I got back to Orlando.

 

I was willing to let go of a lot of things because he “wanted to be friends”.

 

My friends don’t treat me like that. That wasn’t friendship. Taking advantage of my need for human interaction and closeness isn’t loving or caring. It’s manipulative. It’s fucked up, and I’m done with it. Point blank, end of story, I’m done.

 

I got to tell V about that experience and how it had made me feel. He didn’t say much about it. He let me cry. He hugged me while I did. He didn’t try to make it better because it’s not like anyone can go back and undo the past.

 

I’m still moving to Vegas. I’m still going to focus on myself. None of my plans have changed, but I’m grateful to V for making me feel like a human. For making me feel like I’m worth respect.

 

So there’s that. It was good to work through those emotions. It makes me feel like Zane doesn’t have power over me. The only way he can make me feel bad is if I let him. He isn’t going to change and I’m tired of being hurt. So it’s done. And as soon as the lease is taken care of I know I’ll feel that much freer from him, with the final cut being the phone plan.

 

Therapy was a lot of about my younger brother. He’s trying to come to Full Sail. Since I’m an alumnus and a staff member (for the moment at least) I can nominate him for a scholarship worth up to $40k. I’m looking into that. Currently waiting on an email from his admissions representative so we can see what needs to happen since Jon is currently over in Germany.

 

I feel stronger today than I have in a while. Still sort of tired and low energy. But strong. Stable. Solid.

 

In therapy the conversation turned to how I am doing so much better than when I first started my sessions. I said that it feels like I’m finding myself again, and for some reason that statement hurt and I started crying. Not sobbing or anything, but there were tears running down my face and I didn’t know why. The statement hurt, but finding myself should be a good thing, right? So why was I crying?

 

I said that moving forward moves me further away from mom’s physical form. To me, the more “ok” I am, the further away from the moment of her death I become. The knee-jerk jump in my thoughts is, the further away I am from that moment, the further away I am from her.

 

I know that’s not true. The further away from that moment I become, the closer to her spiritual presence I become. Our relationship isn’t over, it’s just different. But there is some part of me, some section of my brain that cries out in anguish whenever I think about moving forward. I think about every new accomplishment I want to achieve. Belt testing for taekwondo. Becoming a CNA. Running another Warrior Dash.

 

I think of all of these things and what it would be like to accomplish them and part of me screams in pain because those thoughts are almost instantly followed with the thought of “Mom won’t be there.”

 

That thought feels like having something punched through my chest. It’s not a cut. It’s not a sharp pain. It’s a gaping hole of agony and normally the only thing I can do is vocalize that pain. I scream as loud as I can in my car. I cry. I grip the steering wheel so hard my hands hurt because there’s nothing for me to tear apart or punch or thrash. I scream over and over and over until the pain is finally bearable and my voice is so raw I can’t talk. I scream until it’s finally something I can simply cry over, and then I cry and whimper and sound like a beaten animal because that’s what I feel like. And then… eventually… I’m quiet and exhausted and spent and there’s a stillness inside me. A peace. An acceptance. And normally I go home and sleep. I have nothing left in me to give to anything else after those moments.

 

My mom won’t be there, physically, for any of the achievements in my life. She won’t be there to wrap her arms around me. She won’t be there to do the “I told you so” dance when I do fantastic. She won’t be there to wink at me, or smile, or for her eyes to dance and glitter with happiness for me.

 

Mom will never physically be here ever again.

 

But she’s not gone and I have so many instances to prove that. The one that comes to mind the strongest is the night I slept curled around her urn. I know she was there. I know she was holding me, and even now I can feel her presence behind me like a slight weight on my shoulders.

 

I know that my knee jerk thought of “Mom isn’t here,” isn’t the thought I truly believe. It’s a reactive thought. And for me, it’s an unhealthy thought.

 

So yeah… that’s where I’m at today. I’m finding myself again. In the landscape of my mind I’ve started for find pieces of myself and I’ve started to put them back where they belong. I’m looking at things and questioning if I want to keep them or not. Change them, maybe?

 

What do I want?

 

I still don’t know, but I’m figuring it out and that gives me some sort of resolve I guess. I’ve started doing it, so I know it can be done. It makes me feel like it’s just a matter of time before I’m on my feet again, and knowing that I’m making progress, that my journey isn’t over, makes me feel secure in myself.

 

I’ll make it through this and I’m finally starting to believe those words.

Musing Moments 091: The Lost Writing

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I wrote this back while I was in Las Vegas, shortly after mom had died. Shortly after a phone conversation with Zane. This writing ended up getting neglected on my desktop as events unfolded. It was never forgotten but the writing was interrupted and by the time I got back to it the moment had past and so it was no longer appropriate to write more. I wasn’t in “that moment” any longer, and with the need to survive and manage everything with mom being the only thoughts most of the time, posting this writing never hit very high on the to-do list.

I want to post it though. I post all of my writings, and that includes the angry ramblings of a time past but not forgotten.

I am not broken. This past month proves that. To my self. To the world. To everyone who knows anything about what I have been through. I am strong, and while I may be injured and recovering I will never be broken.

 

I’m glad I have this writing to look back on. I’m glad I remember the feelings of lostness and fear and confusion. I’m glad I can remember this time because it shows how far I have come and how much more solid I am even if I still doubt it sometimes.

 


 

I am not broken.

 

I refuse to allow myself to believe that I am. Broken to me implies that I cannot be fixed, or that I’ve lost, given up. It means that something else was better, and I refuse, REFUSE, to allow that to be a truth that I accept about myself.

 

I am NOT broken.

 

Injured, yes. I fully admit that I am not ok. That I am deeply hurt, in a way that will never “heal” properly. I will always have this whatever it is with me. This hole, this scar, this ache. It will never go away. It will never magically change and not exist anymore.

 

I am injured, which means I can recover. Not broken, which implies I’m a lost cause.

 

Figuring out that statement makes me feel better about taking my year of mourning. That’s what I’m referring to it as. My Year. It helps me feel like it’s not be being selfish or weak or running away from my problems.

 

I need time to recover. Maybe more than most people but I feel more than most people, which I’m sure “most people” are going to read that and think that I’m arrogant or something, but it’s the truth. I’m extremely sensitive to all emotions. Joy, happiness, anger, guilt, and I guess now grief.

 

I still don’t understand it, this collection of emotions I have in my chest. There was more anger last night, and since I was on the phone with Zane it got mildly directed at him. He says I need to stop lashing out at people. In my mind I only lash out when I’m retaliating against something that hurts me more.

 

I am going to be giving him the car. He’s going to take over the loan payments and everything will be switched to his name. This is because we’re going to be able to keep mom’s car and it’s easier for me to use her car than to drive mine cross country.

 

There’s the added issue of “my car” not feeling like mine if I got it back from Zane in a year. He would have used it to go on dates and whatever else he wanted to do. It  wouldn’t smell like me, it wouldn’t feel like me. I wouldn’t want it back so I would have made payments for a year for something that wasn’t mine, that I never got to use. Not really interested in that.

 

So currently we’re going to look into doing that when I go back to Orlando, which we got mom’s ashs back yesterday, so I leave to go to South Carolina tomorrow…. All of the things… All at once… >.<;

 

Anyway, Zane called me yesterday and said that when I got into Orlando he wanted to get a written agreement drafted between us saying that I was going to transfer the car to him because through this whole situation he doesn’t trust me to not screw him over.

 

Pardon me while I sit here not giving a fuck because I have a marble urn full of my mom’s ashes sitting on my kitchen table.

 

That ended up being an hour long conversation with ups and downs. He’s the one who said I was broken. That I have been for a long time.

 

Every time he said it I got angry and replied with, “I’m not broken.”

 

“Ok,” a single word which held so much, “I don’t believe you but I’ll say ok so we don’t fight,” that it only made me angrier.

 

Broken people don’t make to-do lists and figure shit out, and go talk to lawyers about how to handle the estate and make budgets for the year to see what is possible and what isn’t. Broken people don’t switch over accounts so the apartment can be kept, and make rent arrangements. Broken people don’t research into car loans to see if they can be transferred to another person.

 

Broken people don’t spend days searching for a new sensei to continue with spiritual growth and healing. Broken people don’t spend days looking for tattoo reference material and additional days going to tattoo parlors looking for the “right” artist. They don’t go to the recruitment office for the military branches and talk about future plans and what needs to happen now, and what types of training / conditioning groups there are.

 

I’m NOT broken because I’ve done all of those things and more. I’m functioning. I’m not ok. And I know I’m not ok. I haven’t been ok for a while and I told you the whole time that I wasn’t. So don’t make it seem like it’s a shocker or news, because it’s not. But just because I’m not ok doesn’t give you the right to make me seem less than, or that it’s my fault that I’m the way I am.

 

I’m injured because of the events in my life, and I’ve been coping with the relationship side of it for longer than I should have. And now my mom is dead and I have that to contend with as well, not just our dysfunctional relationship.

 

It makes me realize how much I didn’t know myself. I thought I did, but if I truly did I don’t think I would feel so lost right now, so floaty and ungrounded.

 

Several people have written me amazing comments. I am strong, I am beautiful, smart, resourceful, independent. They have written adjectives about me, rather than nouns.

 

Being a teacher or a student or a companion does not define who I am. I was reminded of that fact the other day and it is something I have been chewing over inside of my head.

 

I may at one point have been those things, but those things are not me. I am still smart even if I’m not a teacher. I am still resourceful even if I am not a student. I am myself even if my life is going to be drastically different, and just because I am going in a different direction does not mean I am running away.

 

I feel confident in my choices regardless of what other people say about them. One, single person cannot take away my resolve or make me question myself. At least not for very long.

 

I don’t think of it as selfish. Selfish implies that I do not care about the emotions of those around me or those I affect. But I do. And it makes my choices that much harder when I know I am hurting someone else.