Daily Post 071: A “Fuck You” Post From Nebraska


For all of my joking with Ox about this not being hard, about how writing for work is easy and most likely the best place to start, simply sitting here in front of my computer is hard.

I moved to Nebraska.

I’m here. It’s cold. There was ice on the ground yesterday.

I love it.

I shadowed at the clinic in Beatrice this morning. It’s everything I was hoping for it to be.

I’m in the middle of doing my yearly review with my FA from Orlando so I should have my pay increase in before I become active at the clinics up here. I still have my voucher for my national certification test which is good until April. That leaves me all of March to find a test center and complete that for another dollar increase in my rate.

Everything is different and yet at the same time the same.

I’m still in front of the same computer with the same finicky keyboard. I’m still writing this post in Grammarly which constantly reminders me that I write more than 98% of users with a way higher vocabulary than normal which makes me wonder what everyone else is writing because I don’t think I write all that much.

I still talk to Jon on the phone about nothing important. I listen to him bitch about work and how his coworkers suck. How school is annoying and how his World Religion class is a joke full of busy work he doesn’t care about.

I still shower and brush my teeth. I still forget to take my contacts out until I’m about to crawl into bed which makes me groan as I unwillingly trudge back to the bathroom to take them out.

I still miss mom. I still wish she were here for me to tell her about all the of the changes I’ve experienced and made. I wish she where here to talk about my trip to the Great Unknown. I still have her urn with me even if I don’t have the chine hutch set up.

My computer is still in a closet but I’ve been allowed to paint it the way I want so it’s the Summer Dragonfly color that I painted the living room when I was in Orlando. The trim, shelving, and ceiling I painted white. Ox is going to help me put in more shelving on the sides so I have a place to put my notebooks and pens. It’s almost set up to how I want it and he’s been amazing about helping to make me feel welcomed and at home.

I’m living with him and his parents. I know by society standards that seems like a failure but I like it. In Asian cultures, it’s common for the extended family to live together. Grandparents, great grandparents… Everyone helps take care of everyone.

It feels good to joke with his mom. It feels good to cook dinner and clear the plates away. I don’t mind when she does the dishes. I think both her and I are so used to being the only people to do things as far as household upkeep goes that it’s weird allowing someone else to do things.

The voice in my head of “You are supposed to be doing that,” still makes my body tense. I’m staying here rent free. I should be doing everything. The laundry. The dishes. The cooking. The cleaning. If I don’t do it all then I’m a slacker. A mooch.

But… That’s the thing that’s different… I DON’T have to do it all. I don’t have to do it all right then, that second. There’s help. There’s Ox who takes out the trash. There’s his mom who doesn’t mind loading the dishwasher if she didn’t have to cook the meal. It doesn’t have to be all me all the time. There’s a give and take that I’m not used to anymore. I’m relearning that I don’t have to tense up or internally freak out and feel like a failure if someone else takes it upon themselves to do something that needs to be done.

It makes it easier to want to do things to help because it doesn’t feel like I’m being used or taken advantage of.

She bought me an ice scraper for my car windows yesterday and even though I know it wasn’t expensive, it’s important to me. She went out of her way to make sure I had something that I needed. It was kind and thoughtful.

There’s a feeling of home that I haven’t felt since sitting in the living room of mom’s house when I would go back to visit.

It hurts in a healing way.

I’m happy in a way I didn’t think would be possible again.

I’m so much less stressed. Even with my former roommates still being dicks about rent and paying me back, I can’t put into words how much better I feel about my future and how I’m looking forward to seeing how things play out for me.

I have a future I want to see, that I want to be here for. A future I so desperately wish I could tell my mom about because I know she would be happy for me.

She is happy for me and writing that hurts the most so far.

I shadowed today, which that’s been a bit of a rollercoaster in itself.

I was supposed to shadow on the 23rd which is Friday. That changed to Tuesday, but then it got super cold and there was ice on the roads so it was changed to Thursday. Since my FA needed me to fill out paperwork that I could only access through the intranet at work I had to go into town to get on one of the clinic’s computers. While I was there it was decided that I should show up to the Beatrice clinic at 5 am this morning; Wednesday.

Shadowing went well. The RN is super nice though her last day is going to be Friday. The tech was a girl I met while I was at the clinic on Tuesday. She answered all of my questions and gave me her opinion about things; which clinics she preferred and why, the shortcomings to each location, what the patient population was like…

It was a really nice morning. The Beatrice clinic only has eight stations. It’s a third of the size of what I’m used to. It’s roughly a 30-minute drive from where I’m staying and the drive itself is nice. Ox took me there this morning and picked me up once I was done.

We had driven by the clinic shortly after our trip home from Orlando, and I’m glad that I can call this place home rather than “the place where I fall asleep at night.”

This IS my home and I like it here.

Before I left the clinic this morning one of the FAs I interviewed with showed up and we talked more about the logistical side of things. She added me to the time clocks for all three of the clinics I’ll be working at. We set up a time for me to come in tomorrow to do some Nebraska specific policy and procedure training after which we will be contacting my FA in Orlando to make my transition official, so while I still haven’t signed anything as of yet, I am set to begin working here in the next few weeks.

It’s a good feeling. Much less nebulous than what it was though I still don’t know what my rate will be. I’m assuming if they need to take me through training that my rate will be decreased slightly for that duration; a week, maybe two. After the initial training period to make sure I understand, and am comfortable, with the newer equipment I’ll be essentially on my own again, only this time it will legitimately be on my own. The clinics are so small that I would be the only tech with one RN.

I’m confident in my ability to hold my own. I’m confident that I can do this and that’s a good feeling. I’m not scared of my work future. I’m looking forward to it. And for the time being it is very likely that the Beatrice clinic will be my home clinic. The dedicated tech they had for that location recently resigned and so there’s a spot there and I’m the closest tech to that location.

I like it. It’s new. All of the machines are new. It’s spacious and quiet. There are 20 minutes between patients. I would most likely be working 12-hour shifts on MWF, but TTS is still only one shift so I would be out around noon on those days.

At no point at any clinic would I be working a 16 hour day.

I haven’t shadowed at any of the other locations, but the Captial City location reminds me of what Orlando was like. I think I would like that one the least simply because it’s so similar to what I’m trying to get away from.

It was sort of weird putting on scrubs again. I forgot my notebook this morning so Ox had to turn around so we could get it. I’m not used to wearing layers, thermals under my scrubs, and so there’s an odd feeling accompanying all of the familiar. It felt good, though; waking up, making breakfast. Hopefully, as I become more situated at work, with an actual schedule and routine, things will become a little less hectic in that regard. At least I remembered my wallet and cell phone. Two out of three things isn’t bad for a first day back after essentially a month off.

I have a membership to the YMCA again. The facilities here are super nice. Better than the ones I went to in Florida, which you would think it would be the opposite. I’m in the middle of nowhere and yet the Y offers classes in Karate, Tae Kwon Do, Women’s Self-Defense, and Hapkido. There are yoga and Zumba classes and all of the other things I’m interested in. Personal training is still pretty expensive, but it’s an option for later down the road.

I haven’t looked into dojos all that much. I know they’re around. I know eventually I’ll get back into jiujitsu and the MMA stuff because that’s something I want in my life, but for now, I’m ok with simply finding my routine again and getting back to the point I was. I’m ok with taking things slow for right now since everything has changed so much.

Ox and I have plans to go to the gym later today to soak in the hot tube. Relax. Decompress. Become a little more comfortable in yet another new environment.

So much new…

I’m getting more familiar with the roads here. Parts of my mental map are still cloudy, fuzzy, but I’m getting better at remembering where things are in relation to each other. The clinic is here, so that means the stitch shop is north. This is the grocery store so the gym is in a “that way” direction. I know it will still be a little bit before I’m uber confident but I’m content with the progress I’m making.

I haven’t looked into starting classes anywhere. I most likely won’t until the fall semester at the earliest. I might table that until next year. I know when I’m ready to explore those options that there’s a ton in the area to support whatever direction I choose to go with.

Ox’s mom said the house needs a breath of fresh air, which I think I’m providing. Things are getting cleaned and organized. Things are getting donated or thrown out. Projects will get completed as other things fall into place. The addition to the house, an extra three bedrooms, which were started years ago, has the very real potential to get done now.

I want to see the addition completed. I want to help complete it. I want Ox’s kids to have their own rooms when they come to visit. I want Ox to get custody of his children.

His daughter, the cutest seven-year old I have ever met, has already told me that her dad has married me and that I’m a mom, to which I responded, “Am I, now?” because yeah… that’s news to me.

I stayed at a hotel last weekend because Ox’s kids were at the house. It’s their home.They hadn’t met me yet. I didn’t want to stay there without meeting them first. Coming from a divorced family, I know what it’s like to feel threatened or replaced by a parental figure finding another person. My stepmom was a bitch while Jon and I were growing up and sadly she really hasn’t changed all that much. It’s more that Jon and I are no longer insecure preteens she can pick on. We’re adults and we’ll stand up for ourselves as such.

If his kids didn’t like me I didn’t want them to feel stuck or trapped with me being at the house. I want them to feel secure and thought of. Their opinion matters. They ARE important.

His son I think is a bit more reserved when it comes to me than his daughter. To be fair, he’s older, and he’s only ever had poor examples for mother figures. His biological mom, the parent he stays with the most, I don’t think does a good job. I mean… when the child openly says, “I don’t trust my mom,” and he’s only thirteen… I think there are deeper issues that need to be addressed.

We seem to be doing ok, though. We went to a hobby shop and spent a few hours digging through magic cards on Friday night. Saturday I came over to the house and played magic with him and Ox. I think it went well. He didn’t want to hug me goodbye when I left and I completely respected and understood that.

Ox’s daughter totally handed my ass to me in Minecraft. XD

We had more success with Little Big Planet. I got her to read to me Sunday night before I left. She says she’s “bad” at a lot of things.

“I’m bad a reading.” “I’m bad at that game.” “I’m bad… I’m bad…”

I want to know who tells this amazing child that she’s bad at anything. She’s not bad at all. She reads amazingly well. And even if she’s “bad” at something… she’s seven. It’s not “bad”, it’s something she can get better at if she’s given encouragement and support. Who the fuck gave this seven-year-old self-esteem issues?

I want to show both of Ox’s children that not all females are mean, or weak, or selfish, or whatever it was that the previous women in their lives have been. There are females out there who are stable, secure, confident, and who have their shit together.

I don’t think of myself as their mom, but I do want to be an example for them. I want them to be ok with me being with their dad and I don’t really know what else to write about that because I’ve only interacted with them for such a brief time.

I don’t know how to be a mom, but being cuddled up in bed with Ox’s daughter as we took turns reading pages to each other felt so right that I don’t know how I haven’t been doing it my whole life. It reminded me of when mom and I would read to each other. It reminded me of all of the stories and adventures we went on while sitting together in the easy chair passing books back and forth.

His kids are getting to the age where they could go before a judge and say they would rather live with their dad. That’s why getting the addition completed would be so… beneficial? I’m not sure what word to use to describe it. Everyone wants his kids here rather than with their mother, myself included.

And I pause here in my writing because I’m at the end of one thought and am scared to wander into others. Everything else would be from “The Before” as Ox and I call it. Before the move.

I guess that’s something to address.

Ox and I aren’t playing games. We’re seeing if we can coexist together as life partners. We’re both interested in each other. We both seem to want the same things. We both have similar enough interests to be compatible with enough differences to keep each other intriguing. There’s open enough communication that when more sensitive subjects need to be discussed there’s the trust to openly talk about the topic.

We both want to see where it goes, so we are. I’m not going to sit here and justify my actions or try to make it more ok to disapproving eyes. I’m making the choices I feel are right and all I can do, all anyone can do in their life, is see if the choices made pan out the way we hope or intend for them to.

So far the choices I have made have led me to feeling more secure, more stable, more at peace, more happy, then I have in the almost two years I’ve lived without mom.

In the process, I have lost Mother Earth, again. And there is what I am starting to recognize as the matriarch part of my self which stands stoically at this realization.

Everyone else I mentioned moving to wished me the best, encouraged me to make the choices which were best for me. She was the only person who sent a message reading as a farewell. The only person who made my moving seem as if it were a leaving that I could never come back from, where we could never visit, never call, never message.

This marks the fourth time where I have felt wounded by her and so I said my own goodbye and have left it as such. The money given to help her and Josh will most likely never be returned to me. I don’t think our relationship will be mended this lifetime. I think I’m tired enough of being told to “never message me again” to the point that trying again isn’t worth it. My soul is too tired to try.

I still have to live without mom. Every day. After two years it’s still not easier and though I’m happy in ways I thought were gone from me forever, there’s still that heaviness everytime I breathe. That fact will never change. I don’t have it in me to carry that fact along with fighting to prove to someone I care who seems so set on believing that I don’t.

I didn’t get to see my blacksmith before I left, but he did take the time to call me the Saturday before my trip.

As always he built me up the most, bringing me to tears while we talked. He said he’s proud of me. That’s he’s proud to have watched me grow from who I was when we first met into the person I am now and that he’s looking forward to watching me continue to grow in the person I’m meant to be.

He pointed out that last year I would have never thought of moving away, much less actually doing it. I went through a complete career change and have become stronger for it. I’ve opened up after the hurt of Zane and allowed myself to have healthy and stable relationships. I’ve learned to trust again.

I’ve done a lot of amazing things, all of which are mostly intangible. I’ve worked through so many faults, and flaws, and insecurities, and the whole time, every time, it seemed too hard or too overwhelming or too impossible to do the phrase “Go fuck yourself,” screamed in my head as I refused to let Life beat me down.

I can remember the times I wrote about being tired of fighting, of trying but how I didn’t know how to give up, I only knew how to keep going even though I would give anything to stop.

Well, fuck you, Life. Even if it doesn’t last, this is the peace I’ve earned. This is my reward for overcoming every single thing you’ve thrown at me.

Fuck you for Saturday night, the night I was alone at the hotel after driving back there by myself, ridden with anxiety as the thought of, “this is it,” ricochet around in my head like a bullet.

This is where I die. This is where there’s some freak car accident where I get a life-threatening wound I have have to choose between letting myself die and being with my mom or fighting to finally live the life I’ve wanted to have. This is where everything gets snatched away from me like a cruel joke. This is where I get so close to the finish line, where I can see that checkered pattern that I’ve been striving so hard to cross only to fall and trip and to lose my race.

This is where it all ends. The final taste of happiness that I’ve been trying so hard to find again.

But I didn’t die on the way back to the hotel. I made it back there fine, in one piece, without incident. I don’t want to live my life in fear like that, but for right now it’s hard not to. Everything is so frail and new and precious to me and there’s a part of me who’s terrified that it’s going to be stolen away from me and I’ll never have it again.

I realized, curled up in the hotel bed that I might have forgotten something. My mom and I are still together. No matter what, I will always be her daughter, and no matter what, she will always be my mother. No matter where I go. No matter who I end up with. No matter what career I do or do not work. No matter if we’re alive or dead, I will always be her daughter and she will always be my mother.

Life cannot change that. Death cannot change that. Not even the Universe can change that fact.

So you know what? Fuck everyone who disapproves or thinks less of me, or berates me, or faults me, or who says anything about me behind my back or who doesn’t agree with how I’m living my life.


No one on this planet will ever be my mom so fuck what they think.

Yes. In two months I met a guy online and packed up my shitty excuse of a life, transferred my job and moved to a completely new state to be near him; to start over with him.

I didn’t need or want anyone’s permission to do it. My life was so broken where I was and for once it feels like I’m doing things right, so fuck you, Life, if you think I’m going to give this up without fighting you. I won’t let you take this back from me. I’ve earned everything fucking minute of my happiness for everything that you’ve ever taken away from me.

You took my dad away from me with I was eight. You took away my mom from me when I was twenty-seven. Fuck you. Fuck you for every struggle I’ve ever had to go through to become who I am sitting here today.

I’m angry that I had to go through all of it. And maybe that’s something I’m going to have to work through now that I have the time and space and peace to actually start dealing with everything.


I didn’t mean for this writing to go that direction, though to be fair I didn’t know how to begin writing or what I would write about when I finally sat down, but anger never, ever, made it to the list in all of my imaginings, but there you go. I’m angry.

And admitting that I’m angry makes it less powerful than what it was. I’m hurt and still injured and recovering, but I’m so much better than what I was two years ago, and I know I’ll only improve from this point forward.

So yeah… Fuck you, Life. I’ll get through this part of it, too. The anger and injustice and the fear and insecurity of gaining it all just to lose it in the end. Fuck you if you think I’m going to break now. My work isn’t over, but I’m hanging up my armor for now because I’m done fighting you.

It’s winter. This is when I get to go sit in hot tubes and do yoga and be reflective and clean and organize so in the spring, when new things start and the earth begins to grow again there’s the space and opportunity for it to all begin. This is a quiet time and I’m going to enjoy it, revel in it, bask in the nothingness of not struggling.

This is a  new start, a new chapter, a new first post. This is my “Fuck you” to Life from my new home in Nebraska and I’m glad I took the time to write it.



Musing Moments 106: A Letter to My Blacksmith


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.

Daily Post 129: Reminiscing Colorado and Other Ramblings


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


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


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


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


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.