Posts
Well, I accept it. I need medication for my anxiety.
Because hopefully, anxiety is what makes me see myself as wholly unloved and unlovable. I'm not convinced when any of my "friends" tell me they love me, because it just sounds hollow, like they're including me in their events and gatherings out of obligation or gracious kindness. But it doesn't feel terribly kind.
I've been essentially abandoned by the people who did claim to love me, the ones I genuinely believed loved me; they're gone without explanation.
I'm surrounded by coworkers who avoid conversation with me. My students are resisting nearly every task I ask them to do.
And I notice, this is how I feel about this time every year. I know already that I desperately hate my job, that I'm more than over the nature of the industry and the shoddy way our administration "manages" things. The subtly corrupt things, the glaring sexism, the ridiculous accountability I'm forced to assume, I want out so badly.
Knowing myself better, taking a long hard look at myself, as I'm obliged to do from time to time, has offered me some insight. I live in the moment. I am transparent. I am passionate and sensitive. I have anxiety and it makes so many things difficult. Anxiety turns into depression frequently, and though I realize it's a sickness of habituated thinking, it is a sickness nonetheless. I want very badly to do the right thing and be a good person and perform well at my job. I want to impress the love for learning and for the system of life into my students.
I don't want to battle them every fucking day just to accomplish this. I don't want them to lie to me, to criticize me, to attempt to sneak things in a way that insults my intelligence and demonstrates what little respect they have for me.
It's impossible to be breezy and take everything in stride when there are so many of these kids and they so plainly couldn't care less about anyone but themselves. They are so desperately emotionally immature. Not a surprise, of course, because my students are this age every year. But I'm weary of this battle. This age is tedious and feckless. They are ungrateful. They are sarcastic and ignorant. They value nothing beyond social status and immediate pleasures.
I hate who I am around them, battling them. I am not winning. I am imploding. I am rotting. I am ugly. My passion for my subject is obscured behind my frustration and confrontational attitude. I am the worst possible version of me and I hate myself for it. All I want is to get away from this horribly toxic environment, and yet, I'm supposed to stay here and perform perfectly for the next seven months.
The only thing, I've discovered, that makes me feel as though the yolk of teaching is off my shoulders, is medication. In half an hour, I hope to have a prescription for something that might just salvage my sense of self and my job performance.
Does self love come in a pill?
10.30.2016
11.19.2015
reacquainting
Something very profound just happened to me today.
The backstory: I am learning a lot about myself lately; my strengths and limitations, my effort level and my habits, and where I have allowed guilt and shame to destroy my self-worth and motivation. So, while I am truly investing myself at work, and in my friendships, I have abandoned myself.
Luckily, my cats have not.
I have focused heavily on pouring good things into the beings around me, and that includes my students, my dear friend in town, my dearest friends out of town, and my coworker friends whom I respect and the animals who rely on me.
And yet, that sense of having a good thing going was dashed by finding out last week that one of my teacher's aides has essentially been falsifying assignment grades for some of his friends, and his own mom tipped me off. I agreed to pursue it, because I had honestly hoped it wasn't true, but when the reality of the situation became clear, I felt betrayed and vulnerable. And furthermore, the students who benefited from augmented grades and didn't confess, I just felt such disappointment with their lack of integrity, at my expense. So, ultimately, the kid got dropped as my TA, and did come and confess and apologize, and it is a situation I feel terrible about because I really did believe in his potential to be better than that. Oh well.
And after a string of apathetic responses to the delightful side of biochemistry, especially the complaining about "having" to make a cheat-sheet for tomorrow's quiz, I have been considerably grumpier and sensitive. Today, a complicated lab I tried to administer outside (for the 5th year), seemed like a risky venture since the glass beakers lined the low brick wall along the sidewalk outside my room. I guarded the damn setup with my life all day, between passing periods, and even brought my lunch outside to stand there and eat while watching it. And literally before my eyes, this (particularly petulant) sophomore boy in my 2nd period, the one who PLACED the beakers on the wall, steps directly over one beaker and shatters it on the rocks below. Then he stoops to pick up the broken shards! I overreacted--yes! I rushed over to stop him from touching them and insisted that he STOP, which offended him, and he bellowed, "Sorry for trying to help!" and stormed off. I retorted, "Yeah, you were helping!" and kicked the rocks. It was unprofessional, and the worst thing is: along came my new principal, having possibly witnessed that scene.
He helped me pick up the broken beaker, and assured me that as a former chemistry teacher this was a familiar occasion. He brought the pieces into the glass waste, and then tidied up after the rest of the setup. It was exceptionally kind, but I was so embarrassed. And I was hurt and angry at that fucking kid! One of my dear young ladies sat with me and ate her lunch while I watched the surviving glassware.
The kid came and talked to me after school to apologize, though he did throw in a dig about the rock-kicking, but I appreciate that he made the effort otherwise. This guy is a pain in my ass, and I have bent over backwards for him and he's constantly off task, talking, or just arguing with me over something. He is bright and curious, but he fucks off too much and I'm sick of his shit. Plus, he's in a class that fucks off too much, so they're the only group that just got slapped with a seating chart. It's the worst real punishment I've enacted on a whole class so far this year. I'm frustrated. That kid frustrates me.
And after drinking a little rum, and wallowing in it for a few hours, I toked a little, bought gas, worked out and danced. On the way to the gym, a young guy on a motorcycle pulled up next to me and yelled my name. It was a kid I had 3 years ago, one of those tremendously troubled kids who had a shitty home life but money and freedom and a job with the family business, so he didn't apply himself at school and eventually stopped coming to school altogether. And yet somehow...he graduated? That was the shady bullshit that went down last year, but maybe finally getting out of high school was what this kid needed. He had a big grin on his face, and when we stopped again at the next red light, he told me he was working a lot and starting community college in the spring.
That is such wonderful news. And such a spooky way for the Universe to reach me. This kid had been such a horrible blight on my experience 3 years ago. His desperate situation inspired my deepest sympathies and my attempts to reach out and help, and he lashed out at me so many times. The following two years, he was so warm and friendly to me, genuinely interacting with me -- he even changed the oil in my car! And here he was, 19 years old, riding a badass bike, covered in all the safe riding gear, looking like he finally had landed on a path.
The Universe spoke to me, and I had an undeniably clear moment of fate. This kid represents the worst problems I had with so many kids, and here he was demonstrating that I in fact had influenced him in a meaningful way, despite all the unprofessional ways I had handled myself as his teacher.
Thanks, Universe. I needed that.
The backstory: I am learning a lot about myself lately; my strengths and limitations, my effort level and my habits, and where I have allowed guilt and shame to destroy my self-worth and motivation. So, while I am truly investing myself at work, and in my friendships, I have abandoned myself.
Luckily, my cats have not.
I have focused heavily on pouring good things into the beings around me, and that includes my students, my dear friend in town, my dearest friends out of town, and my coworker friends whom I respect and the animals who rely on me.
And yet, that sense of having a good thing going was dashed by finding out last week that one of my teacher's aides has essentially been falsifying assignment grades for some of his friends, and his own mom tipped me off. I agreed to pursue it, because I had honestly hoped it wasn't true, but when the reality of the situation became clear, I felt betrayed and vulnerable. And furthermore, the students who benefited from augmented grades and didn't confess, I just felt such disappointment with their lack of integrity, at my expense. So, ultimately, the kid got dropped as my TA, and did come and confess and apologize, and it is a situation I feel terrible about because I really did believe in his potential to be better than that. Oh well.
And after a string of apathetic responses to the delightful side of biochemistry, especially the complaining about "having" to make a cheat-sheet for tomorrow's quiz, I have been considerably grumpier and sensitive. Today, a complicated lab I tried to administer outside (for the 5th year), seemed like a risky venture since the glass beakers lined the low brick wall along the sidewalk outside my room. I guarded the damn setup with my life all day, between passing periods, and even brought my lunch outside to stand there and eat while watching it. And literally before my eyes, this (particularly petulant) sophomore boy in my 2nd period, the one who PLACED the beakers on the wall, steps directly over one beaker and shatters it on the rocks below. Then he stoops to pick up the broken shards! I overreacted--yes! I rushed over to stop him from touching them and insisted that he STOP, which offended him, and he bellowed, "Sorry for trying to help!" and stormed off. I retorted, "Yeah, you were helping!" and kicked the rocks. It was unprofessional, and the worst thing is: along came my new principal, having possibly witnessed that scene.
He helped me pick up the broken beaker, and assured me that as a former chemistry teacher this was a familiar occasion. He brought the pieces into the glass waste, and then tidied up after the rest of the setup. It was exceptionally kind, but I was so embarrassed. And I was hurt and angry at that fucking kid! One of my dear young ladies sat with me and ate her lunch while I watched the surviving glassware.
The kid came and talked to me after school to apologize, though he did throw in a dig about the rock-kicking, but I appreciate that he made the effort otherwise. This guy is a pain in my ass, and I have bent over backwards for him and he's constantly off task, talking, or just arguing with me over something. He is bright and curious, but he fucks off too much and I'm sick of his shit. Plus, he's in a class that fucks off too much, so they're the only group that just got slapped with a seating chart. It's the worst real punishment I've enacted on a whole class so far this year. I'm frustrated. That kid frustrates me.
And after drinking a little rum, and wallowing in it for a few hours, I toked a little, bought gas, worked out and danced. On the way to the gym, a young guy on a motorcycle pulled up next to me and yelled my name. It was a kid I had 3 years ago, one of those tremendously troubled kids who had a shitty home life but money and freedom and a job with the family business, so he didn't apply himself at school and eventually stopped coming to school altogether. And yet somehow...he graduated? That was the shady bullshit that went down last year, but maybe finally getting out of high school was what this kid needed. He had a big grin on his face, and when we stopped again at the next red light, he told me he was working a lot and starting community college in the spring.
That is such wonderful news. And such a spooky way for the Universe to reach me. This kid had been such a horrible blight on my experience 3 years ago. His desperate situation inspired my deepest sympathies and my attempts to reach out and help, and he lashed out at me so many times. The following two years, he was so warm and friendly to me, genuinely interacting with me -- he even changed the oil in my car! And here he was, 19 years old, riding a badass bike, covered in all the safe riding gear, looking like he finally had landed on a path.
The Universe spoke to me, and I had an undeniably clear moment of fate. This kid represents the worst problems I had with so many kids, and here he was demonstrating that I in fact had influenced him in a meaningful way, despite all the unprofessional ways I had handled myself as his teacher.
Thanks, Universe. I needed that.
6.29.2015
my demon has a first name
It's Guilt.
After six months of trudging, through the darkest year I have been through in years, I realized what has been weighing on me like lead. I have been plagued with guilt.
I felt so foolish for loving a man who didn't love me back, who supposedly toed some line in the sand and then danced all over it, and then suddenly jumped back behind it when things got real. I couldn't believe I fell for someone so hard, invested so much, just to be humiliated and alone again. I felt desperately unlovable.
After spending so much time with this man I loved, whose recreational activities included more beer consumption and large meals than I was used to, I eventually acclimated to that lifestyle. On top of that, I nursed a painful shoulder injury from my martial arts class, and ultimately stopped going--so my exercise routine took a dive from four times a week to about three times a month. Obviously, I gained weight.
And spending all summer in crippling depression meant that I wasn't enthusiastically prepared for the school year to begin, so when a student of mine committed suicide a few weeks into the school year, I was consumed with grief. That same week, my grandmother broke her hip badly and needed surgery, followed by months of rehabilitation. I didn't feel up to the task of coping with my large class sizes, my online certification classes, my bills, my grief, and my lesson planning and lab preparation.
Cue the frequent "Hey how are you"s and "Just thinking of you"s that Noah texted me every few weeks. I didn't know how to process it, where to put it among the fragments of my broken heart, in a way that made any sense. Inevitably, I was desperate to see him again, and every time we met for drinks we slept together. I always tried to rationalize it because it felt so good to be with him again, but it just delayed the aching for a few more days.
I spent all this time thinking I was starting my last year of teaching, that I just had to get out, and thought I could just will it to be with a few applications...mostly because I was so anxious about timing and being qualified that it paralyzed me. Despite knowing that this was a numbers game, and my success depending heavily on putting five times the number of applications out there, I was a confounding mix of perpetually exhausted, extremely busy, and freaked out about rejection; I only managed to squeeze out 7 or 8 applications.
Of course, the 'harmless' Noah encounters became more frequent, longer, and predictable. Every two weeks, at most. But I let him do the pursuing, somehow explaining to myself that at least I wasn't chasing him. Except then I allowed it to be a beck-and-call situation, so whenever he contacted me I was available to drop everything and come over. And there I was, back among his friends, who politely reincorporated me into their socializing; some acting a bit perplexed, some boldly pursuing the "so what's up with you two?" probe, others just musing knowingly. There I was, being his booty call, and I had allowed it to come to that. The next morning he was always hung over and coldly distant, so I generally tried to leave once he fell asleep.
And that's how I got pregnant. And made a difficult choice and struggled through two months of perpetual nausea, fatigue, and despair until my abortion and subsequent healing time. Which seems to be ongoing.
And along with the procedure, I asked to have an IUD put in, and it turned out to be askew somehow, which is the most serious pain I could ever imagine associated with my uterus. Though it had been my assumption right away, the gynecologist performed an ultrasound that pointed at ovarian cysts being the probable culprit. So then I assumed I had approximately 6 more weeks of pain until they receded. The pain did not go away, it was crippling, stabbing, bleeding pain, every single day. I was eating ibuprofen by the handful. I could barely stand, let alone try to exercise or be active at all, and after months of torture I sought a second opinion from a different gynecologist, who confirmed my original suspicions about the IUD. Another three weeks went by before I could get an appointment to have it removed, totaling more than 4 months with this daily pain and bleeding. In late April I finally had it taken out--a process that took seconds but felt like all the pain I'd felt each day summarized in one yank of the IUD cord (after dilation, of course, because the string had slipped inside my damn cervix). I felt like an idiot for putting up with it for so long, but I had been under the impression that this was cyst pain and that it would eventually go away.
Oh, and then there was work. I hated work. I hated getting up early after spending long nights agonizing with painkillers and heating pads, trying to get any sleep at all, after working late on homework assignments or freelance editing. I hated being prepared for the next day, having healthy food for lunch, clean clothes, clean hair, ready lesson materials and lab supplies. I hated leaving for work on time, getting there for office hours, talking to anyone about anything positive, staying after to get anything accomplished. I was in so much pain, I was so exhausted, I had such a broken heart.
I wanted to die. I simply wanted to evaporate and disappear. I mean, what a waste of a fucking year. I got fat, I got pregnant, I got my heart broken, I got nowhere professionally, I got into a bad routine, and then I got fucking reprimanded by my shitty boss. This was not a very social time for me, since I seemed to prefer hiding under a rock.
I felt like everything had gone to shit, like nothing was worth doing and that it was just going to keep getting worse.
I knew it was all my fault. I had so much guilt, and I just felt so fucking miserable.
Spring break made a slight difference, though, and I changed gym memberships to something more affordable, closer, and with hours I could work into my schedule. I didn't change my diet much, so the processed food and sugar addiction led to some serious weight gain (and psychological back-tracking). My friends threw a few life lines out there for me, which really meant a lot, but I was convinced that I was such horrible company that it was better for me to stay tucked away.
I finally graduated from my certification program in May, even though those bastards didn't tell me when I was done or send any kind of notification. A month and a half later I'm still waiting for my diploma. At least I saw it through to the end, because that was a mountain of work and a huge strain on my finances.
One of my students has a mom who is a supervisor at the local zoo, so I got in contact with her and asked to be a volunteer; she genuinely pursued it for me and got me in as a volunteer for two keepers in animal care. I've been scooping poop painfully early in the morning twice a week, but I actually love it! The work I do is tangible, and when I'm finished I truly feel accomplished, even if it's the same thing every day. I get to interact with exotic zoo animals (grizzly bears, giraffes, lions, lemurs, reptiles, birds, gibbons, giant tortoises) and I'm proud to see the care and attention they get. Enrichment is fascinating. It's really the most fun I've had in a long time, and I have felt incapable of joy forever, so it's also a relief.
My dear friend has also been gently coaching me to learn how to swim laps for exercise. It's really challenging, but I am getting better and tanner and stronger. It's helping motivate me to be more active and confident in my skin.
I've applied for a couple jobs and am getting job postings forwarded to me from friends.
I've also been reconciling with the possibility that I will have to teach again next school year, if I don't find a job within the next few weeks. I will continue to look for alternative employment, something that really resonates with my passions and experience, but deciding now that the prospect of going back does not equal a death sentence is pretty important. Everyone knows I don't want to go back, but I'm not going to harp on about it if the summer job hunt is not a success. It will be okay, because I am not trapped there. I may have a contract, but if I can find a better job I'm going to take it. At least I would be making a little more than the last year, and I've shaved down my monthly bills a tiny bit, so financially I might not struggle so much.
I also think I wouldn't be miserable living in my apartment another year, though I do need to clean and de-clutter a LOT. It's not the worst place, I have a lot of closet space and I have a little yard, and I wouldn't want to give that up for a crappy little balcony or something, and I don't think I can afford anything better or further away.
I felt so fucking guilty that the life I wanted was waiting for me to pull my shit together, when I absolutely couldn't do what I thought I needed to by my self-imposed deadlines, and it occurred to me just the other day. Guilt has been weighing me down for a year, solidly.
And I need therapy something fierce, but at least I can start processing and get a little work down.
And seriously, recognizing the dark shadow, the dead weight on my shoulders, somehow lifted the burden significantly. I remembered that things haven't always been this way, and things won't stay this way. I've had a complex experience and I am not plateauing--things are going to change and it will be okay.
I even applied for another really great job opportunity today.
After six months of trudging, through the darkest year I have been through in years, I realized what has been weighing on me like lead. I have been plagued with guilt.
I felt so foolish for loving a man who didn't love me back, who supposedly toed some line in the sand and then danced all over it, and then suddenly jumped back behind it when things got real. I couldn't believe I fell for someone so hard, invested so much, just to be humiliated and alone again. I felt desperately unlovable.
After spending so much time with this man I loved, whose recreational activities included more beer consumption and large meals than I was used to, I eventually acclimated to that lifestyle. On top of that, I nursed a painful shoulder injury from my martial arts class, and ultimately stopped going--so my exercise routine took a dive from four times a week to about three times a month. Obviously, I gained weight.
And spending all summer in crippling depression meant that I wasn't enthusiastically prepared for the school year to begin, so when a student of mine committed suicide a few weeks into the school year, I was consumed with grief. That same week, my grandmother broke her hip badly and needed surgery, followed by months of rehabilitation. I didn't feel up to the task of coping with my large class sizes, my online certification classes, my bills, my grief, and my lesson planning and lab preparation.
Cue the frequent "Hey how are you"s and "Just thinking of you"s that Noah texted me every few weeks. I didn't know how to process it, where to put it among the fragments of my broken heart, in a way that made any sense. Inevitably, I was desperate to see him again, and every time we met for drinks we slept together. I always tried to rationalize it because it felt so good to be with him again, but it just delayed the aching for a few more days.
I spent all this time thinking I was starting my last year of teaching, that I just had to get out, and thought I could just will it to be with a few applications...mostly because I was so anxious about timing and being qualified that it paralyzed me. Despite knowing that this was a numbers game, and my success depending heavily on putting five times the number of applications out there, I was a confounding mix of perpetually exhausted, extremely busy, and freaked out about rejection; I only managed to squeeze out 7 or 8 applications.
Of course, the 'harmless' Noah encounters became more frequent, longer, and predictable. Every two weeks, at most. But I let him do the pursuing, somehow explaining to myself that at least I wasn't chasing him. Except then I allowed it to be a beck-and-call situation, so whenever he contacted me I was available to drop everything and come over. And there I was, back among his friends, who politely reincorporated me into their socializing; some acting a bit perplexed, some boldly pursuing the "so what's up with you two?" probe, others just musing knowingly. There I was, being his booty call, and I had allowed it to come to that. The next morning he was always hung over and coldly distant, so I generally tried to leave once he fell asleep.
And that's how I got pregnant. And made a difficult choice and struggled through two months of perpetual nausea, fatigue, and despair until my abortion and subsequent healing time. Which seems to be ongoing.
And along with the procedure, I asked to have an IUD put in, and it turned out to be askew somehow, which is the most serious pain I could ever imagine associated with my uterus. Though it had been my assumption right away, the gynecologist performed an ultrasound that pointed at ovarian cysts being the probable culprit. So then I assumed I had approximately 6 more weeks of pain until they receded. The pain did not go away, it was crippling, stabbing, bleeding pain, every single day. I was eating ibuprofen by the handful. I could barely stand, let alone try to exercise or be active at all, and after months of torture I sought a second opinion from a different gynecologist, who confirmed my original suspicions about the IUD. Another three weeks went by before I could get an appointment to have it removed, totaling more than 4 months with this daily pain and bleeding. In late April I finally had it taken out--a process that took seconds but felt like all the pain I'd felt each day summarized in one yank of the IUD cord (after dilation, of course, because the string had slipped inside my damn cervix). I felt like an idiot for putting up with it for so long, but I had been under the impression that this was cyst pain and that it would eventually go away.
Oh, and then there was work. I hated work. I hated getting up early after spending long nights agonizing with painkillers and heating pads, trying to get any sleep at all, after working late on homework assignments or freelance editing. I hated being prepared for the next day, having healthy food for lunch, clean clothes, clean hair, ready lesson materials and lab supplies. I hated leaving for work on time, getting there for office hours, talking to anyone about anything positive, staying after to get anything accomplished. I was in so much pain, I was so exhausted, I had such a broken heart.
I wanted to die. I simply wanted to evaporate and disappear. I mean, what a waste of a fucking year. I got fat, I got pregnant, I got my heart broken, I got nowhere professionally, I got into a bad routine, and then I got fucking reprimanded by my shitty boss. This was not a very social time for me, since I seemed to prefer hiding under a rock.
I felt like everything had gone to shit, like nothing was worth doing and that it was just going to keep getting worse.
I knew it was all my fault. I had so much guilt, and I just felt so fucking miserable.
Spring break made a slight difference, though, and I changed gym memberships to something more affordable, closer, and with hours I could work into my schedule. I didn't change my diet much, so the processed food and sugar addiction led to some serious weight gain (and psychological back-tracking). My friends threw a few life lines out there for me, which really meant a lot, but I was convinced that I was such horrible company that it was better for me to stay tucked away.
I finally graduated from my certification program in May, even though those bastards didn't tell me when I was done or send any kind of notification. A month and a half later I'm still waiting for my diploma. At least I saw it through to the end, because that was a mountain of work and a huge strain on my finances.
One of my students has a mom who is a supervisor at the local zoo, so I got in contact with her and asked to be a volunteer; she genuinely pursued it for me and got me in as a volunteer for two keepers in animal care. I've been scooping poop painfully early in the morning twice a week, but I actually love it! The work I do is tangible, and when I'm finished I truly feel accomplished, even if it's the same thing every day. I get to interact with exotic zoo animals (grizzly bears, giraffes, lions, lemurs, reptiles, birds, gibbons, giant tortoises) and I'm proud to see the care and attention they get. Enrichment is fascinating. It's really the most fun I've had in a long time, and I have felt incapable of joy forever, so it's also a relief.
My dear friend has also been gently coaching me to learn how to swim laps for exercise. It's really challenging, but I am getting better and tanner and stronger. It's helping motivate me to be more active and confident in my skin.
I've applied for a couple jobs and am getting job postings forwarded to me from friends.
I've also been reconciling with the possibility that I will have to teach again next school year, if I don't find a job within the next few weeks. I will continue to look for alternative employment, something that really resonates with my passions and experience, but deciding now that the prospect of going back does not equal a death sentence is pretty important. Everyone knows I don't want to go back, but I'm not going to harp on about it if the summer job hunt is not a success. It will be okay, because I am not trapped there. I may have a contract, but if I can find a better job I'm going to take it. At least I would be making a little more than the last year, and I've shaved down my monthly bills a tiny bit, so financially I might not struggle so much.
I also think I wouldn't be miserable living in my apartment another year, though I do need to clean and de-clutter a LOT. It's not the worst place, I have a lot of closet space and I have a little yard, and I wouldn't want to give that up for a crappy little balcony or something, and I don't think I can afford anything better or further away.
I felt so fucking guilty that the life I wanted was waiting for me to pull my shit together, when I absolutely couldn't do what I thought I needed to by my self-imposed deadlines, and it occurred to me just the other day. Guilt has been weighing me down for a year, solidly.
And I need therapy something fierce, but at least I can start processing and get a little work down.
And seriously, recognizing the dark shadow, the dead weight on my shoulders, somehow lifted the burden significantly. I remembered that things haven't always been this way, and things won't stay this way. I've had a complex experience and I am not plateauing--things are going to change and it will be okay.
I even applied for another really great job opportunity today.
5.06.2015
Still truckin'
The aftermath has been pretty brutal, I'll admit.
These last four and a half months, they've been a lot of things, but mostly they've been the darkest depression I've seen in years. All the mean things I could possibly say to myself, I said. All the worst things I could think, I thought. I cried, all the damn time, and I stewed and lost sleep and ate my feelings and stopped working out.
I kept messing around with Noah, though, until February. Not that I had changed my mind about wanting him the hell out of my life, but I didn't know how to execute that strategy, and I felt that since he had never done anything overtly unkind (more oblivious and selfish), I couldn't put my foot down that firmly and walk away.
He finally fucked up though, in a way that couldn't be denied, when he ignored me for three weeks and texted me with a straight-up booty call late one Friday night. I didn't respond, and stayed silent even after he "apologized" for his inappropriateness the next day. The following week he decided to tell me he was thinking of me, but again it was in the middle of the night on Saturday. So I let him have it the next day, and pointed out his pattern of only thinking of me late on weekend nights when he's drunk, and that he clearly sees me as a booty call and worth nothing more. He told me that I knew there was "more to it than that," and I set it straight in one message, citing his mixed signals and the obvious heartbreak and healing I've had these past few months. I told him I wasn't asking him to commit to me, but that he couldn't ask me to be a convenient piece of ass either.
And that was it, and it's been two full months since that conversation, and I'm actually starting to piece myself back together. Gradually.
I'm feeling more cheerful, I'm nicer to myself, and I am feeling the motivation to get healthy again and maybe be social again. It's so slow, because I truly think I was shattered. I was rock bottom, I was close to the edge and close to the end, contemplating why the hell I even bothered trying anymore and what the major consequences of ending it would be. Obviously nobody benefits from that sort of pit, but I was stuck in it, and it was awful, and somehow I still managed to function at work and pay my bills.
And I think I might have had a turning point in early April during our spring break, when I took myself on a short solo camping trip in northern Arizona. It was beautiful, I spent time by myself with nature, and just processed how I felt. I didn't exactly reach any conclusions, but I started thinking different, new thoughts, rather than letting the old awful ones tumble around in there. I got some new ideas in my head, and new fodder for my heart, and I think honestly I started healing.
So it's been about a month of healing, I'd say. A month. That's after a break-up that happened at the beginning of JULY. After an abortion the second day of JANUARY. And here I am in May, having dragged myself through another school year while just barely holding on to my work load and my last shred of self-confidence.
I'm grateful for Lisa, who has propped me up and believed in me through this whole process. I'm very grateful for a handful of genuinely strong friends who spotted me in the water and did their best to keep me afloat. I'm also pretty lucky to have spent this year with some pretty awesome kids; they're such nice people and I hope we have a mutual affection for one another, since I'm afraid I'm too much of a hothead for my kids to really love me. But who knows.
Anyway, my new gym membership is on its fifth day, and I've had my 3rd workout already. It's three blocks away, and I can run/bike/drive there easily, and I can work out basically whenever I want and whenever I have free time. I can already feel the winds changing...
These last four and a half months, they've been a lot of things, but mostly they've been the darkest depression I've seen in years. All the mean things I could possibly say to myself, I said. All the worst things I could think, I thought. I cried, all the damn time, and I stewed and lost sleep and ate my feelings and stopped working out.
I kept messing around with Noah, though, until February. Not that I had changed my mind about wanting him the hell out of my life, but I didn't know how to execute that strategy, and I felt that since he had never done anything overtly unkind (more oblivious and selfish), I couldn't put my foot down that firmly and walk away.
He finally fucked up though, in a way that couldn't be denied, when he ignored me for three weeks and texted me with a straight-up booty call late one Friday night. I didn't respond, and stayed silent even after he "apologized" for his inappropriateness the next day. The following week he decided to tell me he was thinking of me, but again it was in the middle of the night on Saturday. So I let him have it the next day, and pointed out his pattern of only thinking of me late on weekend nights when he's drunk, and that he clearly sees me as a booty call and worth nothing more. He told me that I knew there was "more to it than that," and I set it straight in one message, citing his mixed signals and the obvious heartbreak and healing I've had these past few months. I told him I wasn't asking him to commit to me, but that he couldn't ask me to be a convenient piece of ass either.
And that was it, and it's been two full months since that conversation, and I'm actually starting to piece myself back together. Gradually.
I'm feeling more cheerful, I'm nicer to myself, and I am feeling the motivation to get healthy again and maybe be social again. It's so slow, because I truly think I was shattered. I was rock bottom, I was close to the edge and close to the end, contemplating why the hell I even bothered trying anymore and what the major consequences of ending it would be. Obviously nobody benefits from that sort of pit, but I was stuck in it, and it was awful, and somehow I still managed to function at work and pay my bills.
And I think I might have had a turning point in early April during our spring break, when I took myself on a short solo camping trip in northern Arizona. It was beautiful, I spent time by myself with nature, and just processed how I felt. I didn't exactly reach any conclusions, but I started thinking different, new thoughts, rather than letting the old awful ones tumble around in there. I got some new ideas in my head, and new fodder for my heart, and I think honestly I started healing.
So it's been about a month of healing, I'd say. A month. That's after a break-up that happened at the beginning of JULY. After an abortion the second day of JANUARY. And here I am in May, having dragged myself through another school year while just barely holding on to my work load and my last shred of self-confidence.
I'm grateful for Lisa, who has propped me up and believed in me through this whole process. I'm very grateful for a handful of genuinely strong friends who spotted me in the water and did their best to keep me afloat. I'm also pretty lucky to have spent this year with some pretty awesome kids; they're such nice people and I hope we have a mutual affection for one another, since I'm afraid I'm too much of a hothead for my kids to really love me. But who knows.
Anyway, my new gym membership is on its fifth day, and I've had my 3rd workout already. It's three blocks away, and I can run/bike/drive there easily, and I can work out basically whenever I want and whenever I have free time. I can already feel the winds changing...
1.07.2015
aftermath
Four days later. I'm making my way, getting by, recovering. Coping.
Sure, I've had all the emotions. I've run through all the thoughts, all the ups and downs, the what ifs and possibilities, the fantasies, the annoyance, and the healing process. I've pictured what my child could have looked like. I've imagined myself in my impoverished circumstance trying feebly to provide for a child. And then considering that there would be another income to help pay for child care, the idea of raising my rejection baby with someone who had already "made it clear" that this was an arrangement solely based on the welfare of our progeny...the thought of that humiliation and endless sense of hurt and rejection, with the added responsibility and the sacrifice of my dreams...
Not worth it. I'm still glad I did it.
Noah came by this weekend for a few hours, to take me to dinner and presumably to spend time with me while I recovered. He said he'd "be in touch very soon," and I truly hope he does not try to connect with me again. I hope he stays away. Spending any kind of time with him makes my heart literally yearn for him, all I feel with my entire being is how much I love that man, and it aches so deeply that he does not share that sense of affection for me, regardless of what his true feelings are. I can't keep recovering after seeing him. He just represents hurt. He just keeps pulling me down, keeping me from healing.
I don't need that.
I'm also tired of changing these super-absorbent maxi pads. They are fart-trappers. They are bulky and uncomfortable. I realize it's a minor issue and I'm willing to deal with it, but I wonder if Noah realizes I'm still dealing with this whole experience while he is officially off the hook. I want him to leave me alone, even though I know he is a good man who is simply trying to do what seems like the right thing. I can't ask him to be willing to confront himself and find his freedom to be vulnerable and see that I would be a perfect partner for him. I would never ask someone to discover how to love me. But dear lord it hurts to love someone so deeply who is behind a wall.
Whatever. Some serious changes in my world view have taken place, I feel far less consumed by despair, and I can finally EAT FOOD without gagging!!!
My quality of life has improved dramatically in those two ways.
Sure, I've had all the emotions. I've run through all the thoughts, all the ups and downs, the what ifs and possibilities, the fantasies, the annoyance, and the healing process. I've pictured what my child could have looked like. I've imagined myself in my impoverished circumstance trying feebly to provide for a child. And then considering that there would be another income to help pay for child care, the idea of raising my rejection baby with someone who had already "made it clear" that this was an arrangement solely based on the welfare of our progeny...the thought of that humiliation and endless sense of hurt and rejection, with the added responsibility and the sacrifice of my dreams...
Not worth it. I'm still glad I did it.
Noah came by this weekend for a few hours, to take me to dinner and presumably to spend time with me while I recovered. He said he'd "be in touch very soon," and I truly hope he does not try to connect with me again. I hope he stays away. Spending any kind of time with him makes my heart literally yearn for him, all I feel with my entire being is how much I love that man, and it aches so deeply that he does not share that sense of affection for me, regardless of what his true feelings are. I can't keep recovering after seeing him. He just represents hurt. He just keeps pulling me down, keeping me from healing.
I don't need that.
I'm also tired of changing these super-absorbent maxi pads. They are fart-trappers. They are bulky and uncomfortable. I realize it's a minor issue and I'm willing to deal with it, but I wonder if Noah realizes I'm still dealing with this whole experience while he is officially off the hook. I want him to leave me alone, even though I know he is a good man who is simply trying to do what seems like the right thing. I can't ask him to be willing to confront himself and find his freedom to be vulnerable and see that I would be a perfect partner for him. I would never ask someone to discover how to love me. But dear lord it hurts to love someone so deeply who is behind a wall.
Whatever. Some serious changes in my world view have taken place, I feel far less consumed by despair, and I can finally EAT FOOD without gagging!!!
My quality of life has improved dramatically in those two ways.
1.02.2015
A New Start
In seven hours or so, I'll finally be heading in for the procedure to terminate this pregnancy. I have waited for nearly six weeks to take care of this unfortunate circumstance, which is ridiculous considering the amount of trauma and strife and weight gain and hormonal spiking going on during that time. But state regulations insist that an ultrasound be done at 5 weeks, and then the clinic can only perform procedures on Fridays, and it also just happens to be the holiday season, so... here we are at almost 9 weeks when I discovered my pregnancy three weeks in.
I've experienced so many degrees of low these past six weeks. Loss of self-respect. Despair. Anger. Bitterness. Mild hopefulness. Blame. Guilt and shame. A deep sense of failure. Isolation.
I'm also unhappy to report that I've just tossed my careful, disciplined diet and motivated workout regimen out the window, and it has rapidly resulted in unattractive weight gain. It won't stay this way, and I know it, but in the meantime I need to wear clothing and nothing fits. Improving this specific issue won't be as rapid the problem progressed, of course, but I expect that being on my feet and on the go more often will be more energy-demanding than sitting on my couch all day every day.
The friends I've communicated most closely with during this time have reminded me that this isn't the end of the world, that I'm not a worthless failure for making a choice to preserve my stability in a scenario with no perfect options, and that stewing in my bitterness over being used by Noah and self-contempt for allowing it for so long is simply a massive waste of my energy. Nothing can be done to undo those moments. And furthermore, there is no perfect behavior Noah can assume to atone for or repair anything. He's making himself available to remedy the situation in the manner I have chosen, he's agreeing to pay for it, and he's trying his best to be supportive when I'm sure he really has no idea what to do about it.
I have every right not to welcome him back into my life, or to entertain even casual, polite contact. He has no place in my life because his assertion that we could definitely be friends, and that he never wants to do anything to hurt me, have always been trumped by his selfish (and drunken) desires to get laid. And who better to exploit than someone who's willing to drive over in the middle of the night, cheerfully?
Even if I didn't give my power to him, if I wasn't boiling with fury that this "break up" from early July has come to this point six months later, I am still deeply resentful that his cavalier attitude and my feelings have managed to introduce a tiny gamete into my body that has changed my internal chemistry so dramatically. I've had all-day nausea and sick feelings almost every day of the past four weeks. My boobs are too big for my bras and they hurt and I bump them into everything. I have a fucking 9 week old fetus that has ribs and fingertips and that does NOT make me feel guilty about aborting its future. What kind of life could I possibly provide this child? I'm already morbidly depressed, broke, and single. Should I add the stigma of a single mother on welfare to my already near-suicidal state of mind?
I'm sorry to admit, if abortion wasn't an available option, there's always suicide. Because I feel as if I've lost every inch of progress I've made since 2008. The sense that there's nothing to live for is basically all I experience day in and day out. The grim notion that if I simply willed my future into a positive one, that I would undoubtedly be a force to reckon with, is already so defeating. If I could align myself with a positive perspective, if all it took was trying, I think it would be possible. But last time I dug myself out the suicidal mentality, I had a fantastic therapist to guide me, and this past time I had a mediocre one with an intimidating receptionist. Last time I had very little money to spend on sessions, and dove in the deep end to tackle my issues, and had tremendous epiphanies that parted the clouds in the skies and I saw light and happiness for the first time in years.
And in this past year, I saw the skies close over once more, and no daylight has reached me for so long and the hope of finding myself living my dreams with a light heart seems so lost.
My dear friends who have been so supportive don't realize that this is one of the many details weighing on my depression. So it's not just as easy as meditating more often, or working out at least a couple times a week. I need to catch a break with my career goals, because it has been an incredibly unyielding battle since 2008. I am meant for grad school, I am my very best doing field and lab research, and I would be fulfilling my life's purpose in conservation work. That's literally who I am, not a teacher, not a customer service rep, not a server or writer or insurance broker or anything else. I am a scientist, more specifically a field ecologist, and the world doesn't make sense unless I am living my passion. When I was a little girl, being outside was the only thing that made sense. Working with animals, behaviors, interactions, that makes life matter to me. It makes it profound, spiritual, connected.
And for seven years, I had hoped I wasn't taking too broad a side-step into the world of teaching (science) to make it possible to qualify for a decent grad program working in a lab where I would flourish. I just need that break, finally. It's the only thing that feels right, that feels worth it at all.
That's why I'm doing this tomorrow, so I can actually, legitimately try to live my own dreams. It's the only thing I want from 2015, to get into a graduate program for conservation or ecological restoration or something near there, and I'm literally open to anywhere that could be a good match. I know that future is out there and I'm ready to make it happen; to not let anything stop me.
My resolution is to stay resolved, and not resigned.
I've experienced so many degrees of low these past six weeks. Loss of self-respect. Despair. Anger. Bitterness. Mild hopefulness. Blame. Guilt and shame. A deep sense of failure. Isolation.
I'm also unhappy to report that I've just tossed my careful, disciplined diet and motivated workout regimen out the window, and it has rapidly resulted in unattractive weight gain. It won't stay this way, and I know it, but in the meantime I need to wear clothing and nothing fits. Improving this specific issue won't be as rapid the problem progressed, of course, but I expect that being on my feet and on the go more often will be more energy-demanding than sitting on my couch all day every day.
The friends I've communicated most closely with during this time have reminded me that this isn't the end of the world, that I'm not a worthless failure for making a choice to preserve my stability in a scenario with no perfect options, and that stewing in my bitterness over being used by Noah and self-contempt for allowing it for so long is simply a massive waste of my energy. Nothing can be done to undo those moments. And furthermore, there is no perfect behavior Noah can assume to atone for or repair anything. He's making himself available to remedy the situation in the manner I have chosen, he's agreeing to pay for it, and he's trying his best to be supportive when I'm sure he really has no idea what to do about it.
I have every right not to welcome him back into my life, or to entertain even casual, polite contact. He has no place in my life because his assertion that we could definitely be friends, and that he never wants to do anything to hurt me, have always been trumped by his selfish (and drunken) desires to get laid. And who better to exploit than someone who's willing to drive over in the middle of the night, cheerfully?
Even if I didn't give my power to him, if I wasn't boiling with fury that this "break up" from early July has come to this point six months later, I am still deeply resentful that his cavalier attitude and my feelings have managed to introduce a tiny gamete into my body that has changed my internal chemistry so dramatically. I've had all-day nausea and sick feelings almost every day of the past four weeks. My boobs are too big for my bras and they hurt and I bump them into everything. I have a fucking 9 week old fetus that has ribs and fingertips and that does NOT make me feel guilty about aborting its future. What kind of life could I possibly provide this child? I'm already morbidly depressed, broke, and single. Should I add the stigma of a single mother on welfare to my already near-suicidal state of mind?
I'm sorry to admit, if abortion wasn't an available option, there's always suicide. Because I feel as if I've lost every inch of progress I've made since 2008. The sense that there's nothing to live for is basically all I experience day in and day out. The grim notion that if I simply willed my future into a positive one, that I would undoubtedly be a force to reckon with, is already so defeating. If I could align myself with a positive perspective, if all it took was trying, I think it would be possible. But last time I dug myself out the suicidal mentality, I had a fantastic therapist to guide me, and this past time I had a mediocre one with an intimidating receptionist. Last time I had very little money to spend on sessions, and dove in the deep end to tackle my issues, and had tremendous epiphanies that parted the clouds in the skies and I saw light and happiness for the first time in years.
And in this past year, I saw the skies close over once more, and no daylight has reached me for so long and the hope of finding myself living my dreams with a light heart seems so lost.
My dear friends who have been so supportive don't realize that this is one of the many details weighing on my depression. So it's not just as easy as meditating more often, or working out at least a couple times a week. I need to catch a break with my career goals, because it has been an incredibly unyielding battle since 2008. I am meant for grad school, I am my very best doing field and lab research, and I would be fulfilling my life's purpose in conservation work. That's literally who I am, not a teacher, not a customer service rep, not a server or writer or insurance broker or anything else. I am a scientist, more specifically a field ecologist, and the world doesn't make sense unless I am living my passion. When I was a little girl, being outside was the only thing that made sense. Working with animals, behaviors, interactions, that makes life matter to me. It makes it profound, spiritual, connected.
And for seven years, I had hoped I wasn't taking too broad a side-step into the world of teaching (science) to make it possible to qualify for a decent grad program working in a lab where I would flourish. I just need that break, finally. It's the only thing that feels right, that feels worth it at all.
That's why I'm doing this tomorrow, so I can actually, legitimately try to live my own dreams. It's the only thing I want from 2015, to get into a graduate program for conservation or ecological restoration or something near there, and I'm literally open to anywhere that could be a good match. I know that future is out there and I'm ready to make it happen; to not let anything stop me.
My resolution is to stay resolved, and not resigned.
12.18.2014
rewind
I'm so tense today I can't stand it. It's the last day of final exams and I'm sitting with a group of kids I currently feel no affection for, because they pulled back a few weeks ago during the goddamned bullshit drama with the student council teacher and her active defaming of my reputation.
I've had no refuge from my strife, I've had no glimmer of hope, I've worked at home alone every evening, I've returned to work no more rested or restored than the day before, and I've come to face a group of people who simple take without giving.
I have absolutely nothing left to give. I'm so fucking furious about being pregnant and having to wait to resolve this situation, three weeks, two weeks, one week, one day, a few hours. Today is my consultation and ultrasound, but I can't schedule a termination appointment any sooner than 24 hours later, and of course they're closed tomorrow through Sunday. That means Monday, maybe. And next week is goddamned Christmas and I have to be available for family activities and drive my miserable ass up to Phoenix and keep my horrible secret all to myself.
I'm furious with Noah and I've had all kinds of angry conversations in my head with him. I've vowed that this will be the last chapter in this goddamned Noah saga. It's over. I'm absolutely fucking fed up with being a crumb taker, being used and hurt carelessly time and time again. I'm supposed to see him today for this appointment, and I anticipate that he'll pay for anything my insurance won't cover, which I imagine is next to nothing. And then he'll have to be there for the procedure with payment in-hand, and then I want that selfish motherfucker OUT OF MY LIFE. Permanently. I don't want to hear from him, or see him, or pretend he ever cared about me. I hate his fucking guts and I'm sick to death that I wasted an entire year hoping he'd change his mind.
I'm such a fucking fool.
This has been absolutely the worst, most demanding year I've had in a long time.
Another heartbreak. A student suicide. An obvious dead-end in a thankless job with unrealistic expectations and a pitiful salary. An injury that prevented my regular exercise and eventually defeated my momentum in working out. An unfortunate amount of weight gain.
And now morning sickness with a pregnancy that couldn't be worse timing with someone I want to avoid for the rest of my life.
Goddamned morning sickness. It's literally all day long. It's worse at night when I'm just trying to relax, and every little taste in my mouth makes my whole gut churn. Luckily I've only vomited a little bit once when I was brushing my teeth, but I basically always feel miserable.
If nothing else, the morning sickness is what's driving me insane and making me desperate for this all to be over. The sicker I feel, the more I hate Noah.
The more I feel like this is the bottom and I'm doomed.
The more I feel like I'm used up and this is the end of the road.
My consultation is today, immediately after the second final exam, and I want to throw away every moment between now and then to just get it over with.
This year, 2014, is going to end a lot of things.
I've had no refuge from my strife, I've had no glimmer of hope, I've worked at home alone every evening, I've returned to work no more rested or restored than the day before, and I've come to face a group of people who simple take without giving.
I have absolutely nothing left to give. I'm so fucking furious about being pregnant and having to wait to resolve this situation, three weeks, two weeks, one week, one day, a few hours. Today is my consultation and ultrasound, but I can't schedule a termination appointment any sooner than 24 hours later, and of course they're closed tomorrow through Sunday. That means Monday, maybe. And next week is goddamned Christmas and I have to be available for family activities and drive my miserable ass up to Phoenix and keep my horrible secret all to myself.
I'm furious with Noah and I've had all kinds of angry conversations in my head with him. I've vowed that this will be the last chapter in this goddamned Noah saga. It's over. I'm absolutely fucking fed up with being a crumb taker, being used and hurt carelessly time and time again. I'm supposed to see him today for this appointment, and I anticipate that he'll pay for anything my insurance won't cover, which I imagine is next to nothing. And then he'll have to be there for the procedure with payment in-hand, and then I want that selfish motherfucker OUT OF MY LIFE. Permanently. I don't want to hear from him, or see him, or pretend he ever cared about me. I hate his fucking guts and I'm sick to death that I wasted an entire year hoping he'd change his mind.
I'm such a fucking fool.
This has been absolutely the worst, most demanding year I've had in a long time.
Another heartbreak. A student suicide. An obvious dead-end in a thankless job with unrealistic expectations and a pitiful salary. An injury that prevented my regular exercise and eventually defeated my momentum in working out. An unfortunate amount of weight gain.
And now morning sickness with a pregnancy that couldn't be worse timing with someone I want to avoid for the rest of my life.
Goddamned morning sickness. It's literally all day long. It's worse at night when I'm just trying to relax, and every little taste in my mouth makes my whole gut churn. Luckily I've only vomited a little bit once when I was brushing my teeth, but I basically always feel miserable.
If nothing else, the morning sickness is what's driving me insane and making me desperate for this all to be over. The sicker I feel, the more I hate Noah.
The more I feel like this is the bottom and I'm doomed.
The more I feel like I'm used up and this is the end of the road.
My consultation is today, immediately after the second final exam, and I want to throw away every moment between now and then to just get it over with.
This year, 2014, is going to end a lot of things.
11.29.2014
big girl pants
Dear Diary,
I just turned 32, and found out I'm pregnant.
Though I feel remarkably at peace (rather than panicky) about the whole situation, it is an unexpected and unwanted pregnancy, and I am in no situation to welcome a baby into my world.
Yes, it's Noah's baby. Since our encounters are limited, I know exactly when this happened--November 8th, on his birthday, when I shrugged and agreed to a booty call text after midnight. He was so intoxicated he couldn't stand up, and didn't recall the extent of the evening that involved eagerly undressing me and finishing passionately before I could convince him to suit up with a condom. That makes me three weeks along, and at least I have some options.
First, I have to tell him in person. I hope he doesn't pull that, "Is it mine?" line that men are notorious for...I've let nobody else touch me in a year. I also hope he is as understanding about this and as willing to help as he has been about everything between us so far; certainly this is more of a burden on my shoulders to cope with, but I know it isn't what he wanted either.
Second, I've got to contact some health care providers--because I'm choosing not to have this baby, I'm going to pursue the most responsible option (read: least shitty of all the shitty options) available to me, which will likely be medication abortion. From what I've read about what to expect, this is not inexpensive, will include some serious cramping and bleeding from the induced miscarriage, and involves a lot of doctors visits. Making time for that is going to be a pain in the ass, but absolutely necessary. My job and all my accrued sick time are just going to have to work in m favor for a change.
The Universe is absolutely not fucking around with this one. On an uncanny note, Lisa called at the very second that I peed on the pregnancy test, and as I answered I was watching the double lines develop--she is the perfect support and she was right there when I needed her. Almost spooky.
The bright sides are that Noah is honestly the only man I've ever respected and loved enough to truly want a child with, so I'm not disgusted with myself that he's the one who knocked me up, and it's nice to know that I'm actually capable of conceiving a child, if and when I'm ready to carry to full term. Also, Noah will very likely be a man and step up financially to help get me out of this mess, I have a two-week break at the end of December so I can probably avoid taking any time off work, and I have the support of three very close friends who will absolutely be there for me throughout this process. I've got a responsibility to demonstrate success for them so that it doesn't freak them out, so they have a front-row seat to someone handling the whole thing maturely, and so they might be equipped to support others (or be supported themselves) in the future.
Besides, Lisa is aiming for med school with a focus in OB/GYN, so this first-hand story would most benefit her. Also, I'm relying on her level-headedness to keep me steady, because Jesus Christ, hormones. And my boobs are like massive, perky, swollen bruises.
Considering how miserably hopeless and depressed I felt up until this afternoon (moments before peeing on that felt stick), I find myself remarkably calm and seeing things in their appropriate perspectives. I'm VERY GRATEFUL to be in an era where I have a Choice to pursue my own goals and independence.
So maybe 32 is going to be the year that I don't fuck up that opportunity with fear and doubt. If I'm going to abort a baby in the name of my future, I should probably MAKE A FUCKING FUTURE for myself, right?
I just turned 32, and found out I'm pregnant.
Though I feel remarkably at peace (rather than panicky) about the whole situation, it is an unexpected and unwanted pregnancy, and I am in no situation to welcome a baby into my world.
Yes, it's Noah's baby. Since our encounters are limited, I know exactly when this happened--November 8th, on his birthday, when I shrugged and agreed to a booty call text after midnight. He was so intoxicated he couldn't stand up, and didn't recall the extent of the evening that involved eagerly undressing me and finishing passionately before I could convince him to suit up with a condom. That makes me three weeks along, and at least I have some options.
First, I have to tell him in person. I hope he doesn't pull that, "Is it mine?" line that men are notorious for...I've let nobody else touch me in a year. I also hope he is as understanding about this and as willing to help as he has been about everything between us so far; certainly this is more of a burden on my shoulders to cope with, but I know it isn't what he wanted either.
Second, I've got to contact some health care providers--because I'm choosing not to have this baby, I'm going to pursue the most responsible option (read: least shitty of all the shitty options) available to me, which will likely be medication abortion. From what I've read about what to expect, this is not inexpensive, will include some serious cramping and bleeding from the induced miscarriage, and involves a lot of doctors visits. Making time for that is going to be a pain in the ass, but absolutely necessary. My job and all my accrued sick time are just going to have to work in m favor for a change.
The Universe is absolutely not fucking around with this one. On an uncanny note, Lisa called at the very second that I peed on the pregnancy test, and as I answered I was watching the double lines develop--she is the perfect support and she was right there when I needed her. Almost spooky.
The bright sides are that Noah is honestly the only man I've ever respected and loved enough to truly want a child with, so I'm not disgusted with myself that he's the one who knocked me up, and it's nice to know that I'm actually capable of conceiving a child, if and when I'm ready to carry to full term. Also, Noah will very likely be a man and step up financially to help get me out of this mess, I have a two-week break at the end of December so I can probably avoid taking any time off work, and I have the support of three very close friends who will absolutely be there for me throughout this process. I've got a responsibility to demonstrate success for them so that it doesn't freak them out, so they have a front-row seat to someone handling the whole thing maturely, and so they might be equipped to support others (or be supported themselves) in the future.
Besides, Lisa is aiming for med school with a focus in OB/GYN, so this first-hand story would most benefit her. Also, I'm relying on her level-headedness to keep me steady, because Jesus Christ, hormones. And my boobs are like massive, perky, swollen bruises.
Considering how miserably hopeless and depressed I felt up until this afternoon (moments before peeing on that felt stick), I find myself remarkably calm and seeing things in their appropriate perspectives. I'm VERY GRATEFUL to be in an era where I have a Choice to pursue my own goals and independence.
So maybe 32 is going to be the year that I don't fuck up that opportunity with fear and doubt. If I'm going to abort a baby in the name of my future, I should probably MAKE A FUCKING FUTURE for myself, right?
10.15.2014
reconciliation
I am sad. It doesn't control every activity I engage in, every expression on my face, or every interaction I have with people, but I am carrying a deep and penetrating sadness around with me every day.
I'm making peace with the fact that the situation with Noah was unsustainable, fundamentally unhealthy, and expressly laid out from the beginning. There were points where he seemed like he was changing his mind about refusing to consider a long-term, serious relationship; maybe those were times he was actually on the fence. He ultimately settled back on his original pronouncement that he was not looking for a girlfriend and that this was not serious. I'm a mixture of disappointment and annoyance that I accepted the challenge of waiting it out.
I eventually became, for lack of a better description, addicted to Noah. Spending time with him was calming, pleasant, and predictable. There was never any sort of drama or conflict (between the two of us), which I was wholly drawn to, and I enjoyed participating in his many tales and adventures, whether he was relating them to me from his past or reiterating events I had been involved in. The oral tradition was fun, and it gave me a role among the others in his life.
I'm making peace with the fact that the situation with Noah was unsustainable, fundamentally unhealthy, and expressly laid out from the beginning. There were points where he seemed like he was changing his mind about refusing to consider a long-term, serious relationship; maybe those were times he was actually on the fence. He ultimately settled back on his original pronouncement that he was not looking for a girlfriend and that this was not serious. I'm a mixture of disappointment and annoyance that I accepted the challenge of waiting it out.
I eventually became, for lack of a better description, addicted to Noah. Spending time with him was calming, pleasant, and predictable. There was never any sort of drama or conflict (between the two of us), which I was wholly drawn to, and I enjoyed participating in his many tales and adventures, whether he was relating them to me from his past or reiterating events I had been involved in. The oral tradition was fun, and it gave me a role among the others in his life.
relations
Three and a half months later, the dust hasn't settled, there are no complete solutions, and this man that I am in love with is still actively contacting me. I've told him--looked into his eyes and told him--that I love him and I probably won't stop. I had hoped that this would convince him to either avoid me for a long enough time to start getting over him or recognize that he loves me too and doesn't want to play this halfway game anymore.
Either way, I need this saga to end. I need finality. My heart can't handle having a few days, a week, to scab over, only to have him reappear, jovial and interested, to tear out the stitches and rub the new scabs away. I am so raw and vulnerable, and my heart is simultaneously full and broken when he reaches out to me again, when I see him, when we spend another night together.
I'm so tired of trying to guess his meaning. He may require his "freedom" and want things on his fickle terms, but it is devastating me emotionally.
Here's where the challenge lies with me: how and where do I draw boundaries to begin preventing this man from accessing my heart? What a horrifying thought--to actively bar my object of LOVE from my life! But I can make no progress with his weekly re-emerging. What will I choose for my own safety, for my own healing, and for my own peace of mind?
Admittedly, it is slightly comforting to know that this man is unwilling and possibly unable to walk away from what we have had together. He's doing it to himself, without realizing that he's doing it to me too, but I don't think he can help it. Of course, it's a bittersweet condolence to know that he can't avoid his feelings for me. It's his internal conflict that I can't quite understand.
It's really not complicated--either you love me or you don't. You want to be with me, or you don't. There is no middle ground, it is not sustainable, and I don't want something grey and amorphous.
I want someone who is not at odds with himself over loving me, seeing a future with me, committing to me. I want someone whose heart swells and grows warm when he tells me he loves me.
I really shouldn't be so conflicted either--I could decide that this man who can't bring himself to openly love me or commit to me is NOT for me and continue on my way. I could stop the self-destructive pattern of being cheerfully available when he comes around every week.
The thing is, whether he admits it to me or to himself, Noah obviously loves me. He obviously wants to be around me, respects, adores, and values me.
My boundaries need to start growing in healthy places. Commence...
Either way, I need this saga to end. I need finality. My heart can't handle having a few days, a week, to scab over, only to have him reappear, jovial and interested, to tear out the stitches and rub the new scabs away. I am so raw and vulnerable, and my heart is simultaneously full and broken when he reaches out to me again, when I see him, when we spend another night together.
I'm so tired of trying to guess his meaning. He may require his "freedom" and want things on his fickle terms, but it is devastating me emotionally.
Here's where the challenge lies with me: how and where do I draw boundaries to begin preventing this man from accessing my heart? What a horrifying thought--to actively bar my object of LOVE from my life! But I can make no progress with his weekly re-emerging. What will I choose for my own safety, for my own healing, and for my own peace of mind?
Admittedly, it is slightly comforting to know that this man is unwilling and possibly unable to walk away from what we have had together. He's doing it to himself, without realizing that he's doing it to me too, but I don't think he can help it. Of course, it's a bittersweet condolence to know that he can't avoid his feelings for me. It's his internal conflict that I can't quite understand.
It's really not complicated--either you love me or you don't. You want to be with me, or you don't. There is no middle ground, it is not sustainable, and I don't want something grey and amorphous.
I want someone who is not at odds with himself over loving me, seeing a future with me, committing to me. I want someone whose heart swells and grows warm when he tells me he loves me.
I really shouldn't be so conflicted either--I could decide that this man who can't bring himself to openly love me or commit to me is NOT for me and continue on my way. I could stop the self-destructive pattern of being cheerfully available when he comes around every week.
The thing is, whether he admits it to me or to himself, Noah obviously loves me. He obviously wants to be around me, respects, adores, and values me.
My boundaries need to start growing in healthy places. Commence...
9.28.2014
get that ball rolling
there was never any question where my passion lay. it has always come as an uncomplicated gravitation to the intricacies of living creatures, of their roles and interactions, and i've always paid close attention. in fact it consumed my attention.
it consumed my compassion. i have been a vegetarian (or at least mostly so) since i was a teenager. protecting the environment, even in the small way i could contribute, even one animal or plant at a time, became my role. i have felt a deep sense of responsibility to preserve the health of this fragile, deeply beautiful, and universally precious mosaic of life.
my entire education has been focused around learning these ecological relationships. as a teacher, even as a substitute, my emphasis has been on recognition and reverence of nature. as a biology teacher, i have had an exceptional opportunity to introduce and inspire many hundreds of young minds to how life works, while pitching my conservation philosophy. i've always believed education is a cornerstone of conservation, and as these kids become familiar with molecular, biochemical, intra- and inter-species interactions, they appreciate and value nature.
i believe that the comprehensive approach to ecological conservation of habitat restoration and preservation, setting aside wilderness areas, encouraging community activism and involvement, and reducing/offsetting the fragmentation of habitats in urban settings by incorporating native landscaping, installing nature corridors, and emphasis on sustainability in planning infrastructures.
the present state of ecological conservation is based on complicated policies that are at odds with economic growth. in order to participate and contribute effectively, i believe i must be familiar with these challenges and understand how to navigate through these policies. i've had my eye on a conservation biology masters program for seven years, and in the time that i've considered and pursued many other programs, this path has only become more compatible with my goals and experiences.
i'm the only scientist in my family. though my parents strongly emphasized the importance of education, they did not pursue post-graduate degrees, and so i will be the first in my family to earn a masters and then hopefully a doctoral degree.
my achievements have always been hard-won, because i set high standards for myself and believe in honoring what i believe in by pursuing my goals with integrity. i worked full time and attended school full time, and am concurrently teaching high school biology and ap bio while finishing the last few courses necessary to earn a secondary teaching certification. my experiences have humbled me and inspired me; even one person can influence a movement. i believe this masters program can help me reach the potential of my strengths and to help me apply my experiences to a career in applied conservation/habitat restoration.
i am strongest in a dynamic environment with challenges that require creative, compassionate, and resourceful problem-solving. i feel my strengths are very compatible with the pursuits of this program.
it consumed my compassion. i have been a vegetarian (or at least mostly so) since i was a teenager. protecting the environment, even in the small way i could contribute, even one animal or plant at a time, became my role. i have felt a deep sense of responsibility to preserve the health of this fragile, deeply beautiful, and universally precious mosaic of life.
my entire education has been focused around learning these ecological relationships. as a teacher, even as a substitute, my emphasis has been on recognition and reverence of nature. as a biology teacher, i have had an exceptional opportunity to introduce and inspire many hundreds of young minds to how life works, while pitching my conservation philosophy. i've always believed education is a cornerstone of conservation, and as these kids become familiar with molecular, biochemical, intra- and inter-species interactions, they appreciate and value nature.
i believe that the comprehensive approach to ecological conservation of habitat restoration and preservation, setting aside wilderness areas, encouraging community activism and involvement, and reducing/offsetting the fragmentation of habitats in urban settings by incorporating native landscaping, installing nature corridors, and emphasis on sustainability in planning infrastructures.
the present state of ecological conservation is based on complicated policies that are at odds with economic growth. in order to participate and contribute effectively, i believe i must be familiar with these challenges and understand how to navigate through these policies. i've had my eye on a conservation biology masters program for seven years, and in the time that i've considered and pursued many other programs, this path has only become more compatible with my goals and experiences.
i'm the only scientist in my family. though my parents strongly emphasized the importance of education, they did not pursue post-graduate degrees, and so i will be the first in my family to earn a masters and then hopefully a doctoral degree.
my achievements have always been hard-won, because i set high standards for myself and believe in honoring what i believe in by pursuing my goals with integrity. i worked full time and attended school full time, and am concurrently teaching high school biology and ap bio while finishing the last few courses necessary to earn a secondary teaching certification. my experiences have humbled me and inspired me; even one person can influence a movement. i believe this masters program can help me reach the potential of my strengths and to help me apply my experiences to a career in applied conservation/habitat restoration.
i am strongest in a dynamic environment with challenges that require creative, compassionate, and resourceful problem-solving. i feel my strengths are very compatible with the pursuits of this program.
8.30.2014
reconvening
I don't know. The only comfort is that nobody knows what the hell they're doing. Nobody's got the answers, or can give the perfect advice, or can fix anything for anyone else. I'm definitely not pretending to be graceful or appropriate.
My heart feels this way. It feels this way and sometimes I act on things without stopping myself, with little foresight (because I have none), and I can't hide my feelings from anyone.
So Noah texted me earlier this week, to say hi basically, but also because he was clearly thinking about me. I welcomed his conversation and told him I was happy to hear from him, and that of course I've been thinking about him. We chatted a few minutes, and that was it. In my head, nothing has changed, it's still a hopeless situation with no future between us, and I'm centered and collected.
But that's not really how I feel. I feel like my heart is exploding for him, I'm angry that he obviously cares for me and misses me, but that he's scared of a relationship, and I crave his tenderness and attention.
That craving overcame me, and I felt like really I could meet him for drinks to catch up and that it would be platonic with little trouble, because I really just missed his company and wanted to know about how he's been. I text him after work a few days ago, and invited him to meet me the next night, and didn't hear from him. I grimaced as I told a friend that I hoped he didn't reply, so it wouldn't end up being the obvious temptation that I might not be able to withstand. I continued not hearing from him that night, and imagined that I might have lucked out.
Well the next day he did accept my invitation. And he seemed to be genuinely looking forward to it.
I met him at the Shelter, picked right up where we left off, talked cheerfully and easily as old friends, and at some point he mentioned his dismay that a friend of his had given up on a relationship. He emphasized how much he believed in relationships, and I stopped him. "This...coming from Noah?" He said he believed in them, he just didn't know what to do with a relationship. I left it alone.
After a few hours it was obviously time for us to call it a night. He walked me to my car, and I gave him a hug, which I neglected to pull away from. So we stood there, for at least ten minutes, embracing. We exchanged "I've really missed you"s and tightened our arms around one another. He kneaded his hands into my back, and I worked my fingers into his tight neck muscles. I said I was sorry for still holding on to him, and he said he wasn't about to stop me. He sighed, and then said, "I'm half-tempted to suggest that we finish this backrub the right way at my house." For a minute, I didn't say anything, but then I said, "If I say yes, will you say yes?"
"If you say yes, I'll definitely say yes. It might be a huge mistake, but I would say yes." He told me. So we pulled apart and agreed to meet at his place.
Noah has always fallen over himself to do kind and generous things for me. He insisted that I get a massage first, because he "owed" me. It was so appreciated, because I really did need the work on my muscles, and because I could feel his heart pouring onto me. And at the end of it, I just happened to be shirtless. And then it was his turn, and I got to touch him again, and care for him and tend to him.
Being intimate with Noah has always been better when we were more sober. I felt very present, because I wanted to experience every detail. I needed it, his touch, his embrace, his passion for me. I needed to have him wrapped around me as he fell asleep.
I don't pretend that this means anything for us, as if we might get back together. He's still obviously in a bromance with his friends, and they serve as easy insulation in a pinch (read: when the fear of getting too close kicks in). But I'm sorting it out again, from a much more complicated angle, because that whole night it was very obvious that this man loves me. He mentioned in many ways how he likes people like me for a host of flattering reasons. He said we definitely need to hang out more often. He kept my self-portrait that I sneakily took on his phone a day or so after he got it. He mentioned how he was telling his family about my brother's woes with a recall part for his hybrid, and how they had a big discussion about it. He paid very close attention to my subtle stretching out my aching back, and insisted I explain why it hurt so much. He told me how I ought to meet his mom, because she and I could relate to one another about our passion for art history. He knows me well, he gets me, and he takes care of me.
And dammit I'm so angry that he's afraid of a serious relationship with me. How can my feelings for him change? I told him that night, "Noah, it's you. It's you. You don't like me saying this, but you're special." And I mean that. And of course he balked at it, but it's true.
Maybe I've fucked myself over by not being strong. I don't know how I'm going to replace a man like him. I don't know how I'd ever hope to trump the incredibly high standards he has set for men I date. Hopefully this isn't going to leave me on the brink of tears for another two months. At least the communication between us is a little more forthcoming, at least in the areas where it wasn't before.
I'm angry that the situation isn't any different. Well, maybe it's different in some ways, like I drew my line in the sand, and I got things off my chest I should have done ages earlier. But also, maybe he has gotten to see what his life is like without me in it, and how I was a good thing for him.
Anyway, the energy I poured unabashedly into him and his life and his social circle I am now reserving more for myself, my friends, my garden, and my students. I'm dating a little and I've already seen how other men still can't compare to him. I am trying to honor my center and my need to be centered. I'm not going to obsess over this heartache forever, and I'm going to let myself heal, dammit.
But I think I can already see that I'll be in love with this man all my life. Whether that means anything for our paths down the line, who's to say? I'm nobody and I've got no answers. I just want to love and I'm trying to survive my pursuit of it.
My heart feels this way. It feels this way and sometimes I act on things without stopping myself, with little foresight (because I have none), and I can't hide my feelings from anyone.
So Noah texted me earlier this week, to say hi basically, but also because he was clearly thinking about me. I welcomed his conversation and told him I was happy to hear from him, and that of course I've been thinking about him. We chatted a few minutes, and that was it. In my head, nothing has changed, it's still a hopeless situation with no future between us, and I'm centered and collected.
But that's not really how I feel. I feel like my heart is exploding for him, I'm angry that he obviously cares for me and misses me, but that he's scared of a relationship, and I crave his tenderness and attention.
That craving overcame me, and I felt like really I could meet him for drinks to catch up and that it would be platonic with little trouble, because I really just missed his company and wanted to know about how he's been. I text him after work a few days ago, and invited him to meet me the next night, and didn't hear from him. I grimaced as I told a friend that I hoped he didn't reply, so it wouldn't end up being the obvious temptation that I might not be able to withstand. I continued not hearing from him that night, and imagined that I might have lucked out.
Well the next day he did accept my invitation. And he seemed to be genuinely looking forward to it.
I met him at the Shelter, picked right up where we left off, talked cheerfully and easily as old friends, and at some point he mentioned his dismay that a friend of his had given up on a relationship. He emphasized how much he believed in relationships, and I stopped him. "This...coming from Noah?" He said he believed in them, he just didn't know what to do with a relationship. I left it alone.
After a few hours it was obviously time for us to call it a night. He walked me to my car, and I gave him a hug, which I neglected to pull away from. So we stood there, for at least ten minutes, embracing. We exchanged "I've really missed you"s and tightened our arms around one another. He kneaded his hands into my back, and I worked my fingers into his tight neck muscles. I said I was sorry for still holding on to him, and he said he wasn't about to stop me. He sighed, and then said, "I'm half-tempted to suggest that we finish this backrub the right way at my house." For a minute, I didn't say anything, but then I said, "If I say yes, will you say yes?"
"If you say yes, I'll definitely say yes. It might be a huge mistake, but I would say yes." He told me. So we pulled apart and agreed to meet at his place.
Noah has always fallen over himself to do kind and generous things for me. He insisted that I get a massage first, because he "owed" me. It was so appreciated, because I really did need the work on my muscles, and because I could feel his heart pouring onto me. And at the end of it, I just happened to be shirtless. And then it was his turn, and I got to touch him again, and care for him and tend to him.
Being intimate with Noah has always been better when we were more sober. I felt very present, because I wanted to experience every detail. I needed it, his touch, his embrace, his passion for me. I needed to have him wrapped around me as he fell asleep.
I don't pretend that this means anything for us, as if we might get back together. He's still obviously in a bromance with his friends, and they serve as easy insulation in a pinch (read: when the fear of getting too close kicks in). But I'm sorting it out again, from a much more complicated angle, because that whole night it was very obvious that this man loves me. He mentioned in many ways how he likes people like me for a host of flattering reasons. He said we definitely need to hang out more often. He kept my self-portrait that I sneakily took on his phone a day or so after he got it. He mentioned how he was telling his family about my brother's woes with a recall part for his hybrid, and how they had a big discussion about it. He paid very close attention to my subtle stretching out my aching back, and insisted I explain why it hurt so much. He told me how I ought to meet his mom, because she and I could relate to one another about our passion for art history. He knows me well, he gets me, and he takes care of me.
And dammit I'm so angry that he's afraid of a serious relationship with me. How can my feelings for him change? I told him that night, "Noah, it's you. It's you. You don't like me saying this, but you're special." And I mean that. And of course he balked at it, but it's true.
Maybe I've fucked myself over by not being strong. I don't know how I'm going to replace a man like him. I don't know how I'd ever hope to trump the incredibly high standards he has set for men I date. Hopefully this isn't going to leave me on the brink of tears for another two months. At least the communication between us is a little more forthcoming, at least in the areas where it wasn't before.
I'm angry that the situation isn't any different. Well, maybe it's different in some ways, like I drew my line in the sand, and I got things off my chest I should have done ages earlier. But also, maybe he has gotten to see what his life is like without me in it, and how I was a good thing for him.
Anyway, the energy I poured unabashedly into him and his life and his social circle I am now reserving more for myself, my friends, my garden, and my students. I'm dating a little and I've already seen how other men still can't compare to him. I am trying to honor my center and my need to be centered. I'm not going to obsess over this heartache forever, and I'm going to let myself heal, dammit.
But I think I can already see that I'll be in love with this man all my life. Whether that means anything for our paths down the line, who's to say? I'm nobody and I've got no answers. I just want to love and I'm trying to survive my pursuit of it.
8.18.2014
reemergence
Sadness has a particular weight, a palpable flavor, and a noticeable drag on one's momentum. If one is fortunate enough to have supportive, compassionate friends who forgive the momentary lapse in bubbliness and positive outlook, who encourage one to embrace the sadness for its lessons and transformative properties, one might emerge from sadness a better, stronger person.
A long time ago...well, let's say it was just a year ago, actually, I went to the plant nursery and bought a large milkweed in a pot. It had a thriving ant colony in the soil, it had blooms, and mature, ripe pods with fluffy seeds poking out. I was so excited to start attracting native pollinators, in this case queen and monarch butterflies, to my back yard, which at the time was still at an undecided level of productivity.
I collected the seeds from the pod once I got home, put them in a baggie, and waited eagerly for signs of caterpillar consumption. One day I found one! A lovely little white-, black-, and yellow-striped creature clinging to a long, narrow stem. I imagined this was just the beginning of a prolific butterfly raising farm in my tiny patch of earth.
The next time I checked, the caterpillar was gone, with no evidence of its transformation or clues to its whereabouts. In fact, what I found was much worse--some of my plant was actually gone! It was clipped at the base of the stem, a few inches from the soil. Each day that I checked, more was gone, until I finally discovered that a wood rat had been destroying half of my back yard. After a number of months, I was able to trap her and relocate her to the desert to make a life for herself that was less pesky to humans. But my garden had taken a serious hit while she foraged daily; cactuses, pepper plants, okra sprouts, agave, and various other things were either severely damaged or completely demolished. The milkweed was gone.
I had given up on my yard for a while; I wouldn't go out there and some other sad events made sitting in my own little space rather unappealing. Grim. My recycling overflow was basically the only purpose my back patio served for months.
Then spring came around. The temperatures warmed up a little bit, some sunlight started making it over the building, and shining directly onto the soil. I got inspired to start sowing seeds, watering, and cleaning it up a bit. Feeling impatient for a result, I increased my efforts and planted more seeds, in a greater variety, and watered longer. I planted the old milkweed seeds in the original pot with its compatible soil. I put all manner of vegetable seeds in pots and in the amended soil I made, and I started composting my fruit and veggie scraps in the least productive section of my yard. I kept watering. I tidied up a bit.
I saw a few sprouts right away, actually. The morning glories came first; they're so reliable and they volunteer themselves every summer. My squash and green beans burst out of the ground. My succulents flourished. I spent more and more time barefoot and tending to these little green organisms who rewarded my attention with sturdy stems, broad, lovely leaves, and rapid growth. My compost heap erupted cantaloupe sprouts, and the vines quickly and vigorously spread everywhere. I was inspired to plant more seeds, including watermelon, okra, peppers, tomatoes, and succulent clones. My yard was taking off!
It wasn't without hope, it wasn't just resting, recovering. Taking the necessary time to deal with difficult conditions. It was always going to rebound, in due time, with the right investment of love, attention, and resources.
I've been planting new seeds in my love life, too. There was a little lag time, which made me worry that I wasn't putting the right vibes out there, that I wasn't being a positive magnet for my own experiences, but really I guess the seeds just needed time to germinate. Time and the right combination of love.
My garden suffered when I stopped cultivating it; I could very possibly have grown winter vegetables, herbs, and fruits, if I had tried anything at all. Instead, all I could focus on was what was lost and grieve over that loss. But when I finally poured my loving energy into it, it flourished and shined love at me in return.
My heart has also suffered these past couple of months that I have been grieving. My worries and doubts took over like weeds in my untended plot of land. I neglected fighting them off, moving them out of my healthy space. I took time to let my plot rest during the difficult conditions, and when it was time I began removing those weeds of doubt and fear. I started showering my heart with love again. I planted seeds of hope and gratitude, and trusted that they would survive. I watered and they returned. And now my heart is a healthy, lush, green garden of love and optimism again. My garden is an extension of my heart. Those peaceful vines and herbs and shrubs and tiny beasts occupying that tiny space are inseparable from my heart.
That love energy flows through and throughout. The energy pools and sometimes is impeded but only needs some tending to flow freely again.
A long time ago...well, let's say it was just a year ago, actually, I went to the plant nursery and bought a large milkweed in a pot. It had a thriving ant colony in the soil, it had blooms, and mature, ripe pods with fluffy seeds poking out. I was so excited to start attracting native pollinators, in this case queen and monarch butterflies, to my back yard, which at the time was still at an undecided level of productivity.
I collected the seeds from the pod once I got home, put them in a baggie, and waited eagerly for signs of caterpillar consumption. One day I found one! A lovely little white-, black-, and yellow-striped creature clinging to a long, narrow stem. I imagined this was just the beginning of a prolific butterfly raising farm in my tiny patch of earth.
The next time I checked, the caterpillar was gone, with no evidence of its transformation or clues to its whereabouts. In fact, what I found was much worse--some of my plant was actually gone! It was clipped at the base of the stem, a few inches from the soil. Each day that I checked, more was gone, until I finally discovered that a wood rat had been destroying half of my back yard. After a number of months, I was able to trap her and relocate her to the desert to make a life for herself that was less pesky to humans. But my garden had taken a serious hit while she foraged daily; cactuses, pepper plants, okra sprouts, agave, and various other things were either severely damaged or completely demolished. The milkweed was gone.
I had given up on my yard for a while; I wouldn't go out there and some other sad events made sitting in my own little space rather unappealing. Grim. My recycling overflow was basically the only purpose my back patio served for months.
Then spring came around. The temperatures warmed up a little bit, some sunlight started making it over the building, and shining directly onto the soil. I got inspired to start sowing seeds, watering, and cleaning it up a bit. Feeling impatient for a result, I increased my efforts and planted more seeds, in a greater variety, and watered longer. I planted the old milkweed seeds in the original pot with its compatible soil. I put all manner of vegetable seeds in pots and in the amended soil I made, and I started composting my fruit and veggie scraps in the least productive section of my yard. I kept watering. I tidied up a bit.
I saw a few sprouts right away, actually. The morning glories came first; they're so reliable and they volunteer themselves every summer. My squash and green beans burst out of the ground. My succulents flourished. I spent more and more time barefoot and tending to these little green organisms who rewarded my attention with sturdy stems, broad, lovely leaves, and rapid growth. My compost heap erupted cantaloupe sprouts, and the vines quickly and vigorously spread everywhere. I was inspired to plant more seeds, including watermelon, okra, peppers, tomatoes, and succulent clones. My yard was taking off!
It wasn't without hope, it wasn't just resting, recovering. Taking the necessary time to deal with difficult conditions. It was always going to rebound, in due time, with the right investment of love, attention, and resources.
I've been planting new seeds in my love life, too. There was a little lag time, which made me worry that I wasn't putting the right vibes out there, that I wasn't being a positive magnet for my own experiences, but really I guess the seeds just needed time to germinate. Time and the right combination of love.
My garden suffered when I stopped cultivating it; I could very possibly have grown winter vegetables, herbs, and fruits, if I had tried anything at all. Instead, all I could focus on was what was lost and grieve over that loss. But when I finally poured my loving energy into it, it flourished and shined love at me in return.
My heart has also suffered these past couple of months that I have been grieving. My worries and doubts took over like weeds in my untended plot of land. I neglected fighting them off, moving them out of my healthy space. I took time to let my plot rest during the difficult conditions, and when it was time I began removing those weeds of doubt and fear. I started showering my heart with love again. I planted seeds of hope and gratitude, and trusted that they would survive. I watered and they returned. And now my heart is a healthy, lush, green garden of love and optimism again. My garden is an extension of my heart. Those peaceful vines and herbs and shrubs and tiny beasts occupying that tiny space are inseparable from my heart.
That love energy flows through and throughout. The energy pools and sometimes is impeded but only needs some tending to flow freely again.
8.04.2014
rehearsal
Please forgive me for this impersonal delivery--I ought to just talk to you like I always should have, but I'm scared of talking feelings and clamming up or stumbling over my words. I've got no guts. I'm an emotional person and I'm terrified that I'll cry my eyes out if I pour my heart out. This has been a month of painful heartache for me, since I'm just enamored with you but it seemed one-sided and I felt foolish for giving you my heart when you didn't want it. I adore your friendship, and had anticipated taking some time and space to pull myself together so that I could be a good friend to you, but seeing you everywhere and hearing from you has confused my heart, and I worry that I'm misunderstanding and misinterpreting your attention. I love being in your presence, and I'm so sorry that I do not have the courage to simply express something this important. I miss you like crazy, but I thought you made it clear that you had priorities that did not involve having a girlfriend. I wasn't expecting to change your mind on my behalf, but I realized that that's what I really wanted from you--your heart. I owe you so much more than this awful text message, but I am in limbo and cannot make sense of this in my head.
7.02.2014
recognition
My mom has been prompting me to write this for over a week, an entry about the positives and the good times so that I can etch into my mind that there was a bright side to this deep sense of loss that I'm feeling.
Noah is a wonderful man. He is a good and intuitive friend, he is an exceptionally hard working employee, he gets his affairs taken care of and he shows an obvious sense of allegiance to his family. He is talented in countless areas--musically, with mechanics and electronics, scientifically, and in all manner of recreational sports and activities--profoundly so. He can fix anything, or will cheerfully attempt to. He is generous and friendly and kind to friends and strangers. He notices details and is a brilliant problem solver.
Noah has incorporated me into his entire social world without abandon, sharing fishing and camping trips, social parties and get-togethers, sports events, relaxing at home and doing chores or various repair projects around the house. He has involved me in his many excursions and tales afterwards. I've been a part of the regular events in his life, and he in mine, increasingly for the last six months.
I have gotten to do a lot of amazing things I wouldn't have otherwise had the opportunity to do, like re-learn how to fish, see and camp in some beautiful areas in Arizona, and learn how to confidently shoot pistols, rifles, and shotguns. I got to work on his old Suburban with him and never felt underestimated or incapable of offering any sort of help.
Noah stood up for me when I felt like his friend was just unnecessarily antagonistic with me. He's been honest with me about his family, his past, his job, and his relationship preferences. He gets my sense of humor, and respects my confidence and independence. He has set a wonderful example of a light-hearted disposition with a high tolerance for stress and a very accepting attitude of the individuality of people...he is entirely non-judgmental.
So the unfortunate side of it is that I found this man whom I really think the world of, and he's made his mind up long before I ever found him that having a girlfriend just isn't his thing. He told me this back in November and then again sometime in January or February, and then again in March or April, that he just doesn't want a relationship. I really thought that I was okay with leaving it at that, and that my feelings for him could just stay where they were. But I became much more attached and he didn't. When I asked him a couple weeks ago what his feelings for me were, he repeated that he wasn't in this relationship on a serious level and didn't see himself really wanting a long-term girlfriend. I tried to wrap up the conversation with my continued interest in dating him casually, but trying to re-calibrate my feelings for him to something less has been an impossible struggle and he didn't attempt to reassure me with any behavior. In fact, I read his body language as becoming more distant and platonic. He definitely reassures me that he things I'm so cool, which is why he bent his own rules and invited me into his life for this time.
But being an exception to someone's personal rule is not for me. He's not enthusiastic about my company any longer, and often seems like he's avoiding my company in favor of his guy friends', and I am simply not interested in being a crumb-taker.
Naturally, I'm hurting, and trying to sort out what feels like grief and loss and what feels like anger over being dismissed. It's a damn shame, because I think he's the very best guy I've ever dated, and other than his habit of smoking and drinking beer far more than he should, I can't seem to find fault with him. He's my kind of man, and I'm so deeply disappointed to lose him...even though I can picture a possibly platonic friendship sometime in the future.
But here's the handful of important lessons I've learned (or am starting to learn) from this experience:
1. I finally had a healthy relationship with an emotionally healthy (and mostly baggage-free) man who treated me well
2. I attracted agood great man
3. Throughout much of this relationship, I enjoyed an unbridled sense of contentment with and respect for this man
4. I'm convinced that I did not make any mistakes, and that my feelings of love were real and well-founded. I treated him the way I should have and I maintained my own personal and social life that did not depend on him. I do not think that I misinterpreted his affections, either, because for a long time he embraced me passionately and--I believe--sincerely
5. As part of my own personal growth, I am more able to recognize when a relationship is not providing the things I need from it, and am able to say that I can have healthier expectations from relationships and maintain healthier boundaries
6. *This one I am still trying to internalize* There are good men out there, with whom I will have incredible compatibility and chemistry, and I will absolutely find one who falls in love with me while I am also falling in love with him....
I think this last one is a vital lesson for me to learn, because for a long time I have feared that my past experiences permanently warped my ability to be loved by someone else. I can look at my experience with Noah as a practice round, where I got pretty good at maneuvering a relationship. The universe is right on schedule, remember? This is a key event in my timeline.
It was not a mistake that I loved him. He is a good man to love. Maybe some day his perspective of being attached and having responsibility to a partner will change, and he'll genuinely want a relationship to last. It will likely not be me, but I hope he's learned a lot by being with me these last many months. This is the longest romance I've had in years, the healthiest I've had in my life.
I can only see this experience as a gift, and for that I am grateful.
Noah is a wonderful man. He is a good and intuitive friend, he is an exceptionally hard working employee, he gets his affairs taken care of and he shows an obvious sense of allegiance to his family. He is talented in countless areas--musically, with mechanics and electronics, scientifically, and in all manner of recreational sports and activities--profoundly so. He can fix anything, or will cheerfully attempt to. He is generous and friendly and kind to friends and strangers. He notices details and is a brilliant problem solver.
Noah has incorporated me into his entire social world without abandon, sharing fishing and camping trips, social parties and get-togethers, sports events, relaxing at home and doing chores or various repair projects around the house. He has involved me in his many excursions and tales afterwards. I've been a part of the regular events in his life, and he in mine, increasingly for the last six months.
I have gotten to do a lot of amazing things I wouldn't have otherwise had the opportunity to do, like re-learn how to fish, see and camp in some beautiful areas in Arizona, and learn how to confidently shoot pistols, rifles, and shotguns. I got to work on his old Suburban with him and never felt underestimated or incapable of offering any sort of help.
Noah stood up for me when I felt like his friend was just unnecessarily antagonistic with me. He's been honest with me about his family, his past, his job, and his relationship preferences. He gets my sense of humor, and respects my confidence and independence. He has set a wonderful example of a light-hearted disposition with a high tolerance for stress and a very accepting attitude of the individuality of people...he is entirely non-judgmental.
So the unfortunate side of it is that I found this man whom I really think the world of, and he's made his mind up long before I ever found him that having a girlfriend just isn't his thing. He told me this back in November and then again sometime in January or February, and then again in March or April, that he just doesn't want a relationship. I really thought that I was okay with leaving it at that, and that my feelings for him could just stay where they were. But I became much more attached and he didn't. When I asked him a couple weeks ago what his feelings for me were, he repeated that he wasn't in this relationship on a serious level and didn't see himself really wanting a long-term girlfriend. I tried to wrap up the conversation with my continued interest in dating him casually, but trying to re-calibrate my feelings for him to something less has been an impossible struggle and he didn't attempt to reassure me with any behavior. In fact, I read his body language as becoming more distant and platonic. He definitely reassures me that he things I'm so cool, which is why he bent his own rules and invited me into his life for this time.
But being an exception to someone's personal rule is not for me. He's not enthusiastic about my company any longer, and often seems like he's avoiding my company in favor of his guy friends', and I am simply not interested in being a crumb-taker.
Naturally, I'm hurting, and trying to sort out what feels like grief and loss and what feels like anger over being dismissed. It's a damn shame, because I think he's the very best guy I've ever dated, and other than his habit of smoking and drinking beer far more than he should, I can't seem to find fault with him. He's my kind of man, and I'm so deeply disappointed to lose him...even though I can picture a possibly platonic friendship sometime in the future.
But here's the handful of important lessons I've learned (or am starting to learn) from this experience:
1. I finally had a healthy relationship with an emotionally healthy (and mostly baggage-free) man who treated me well
2. I attracted a
3. Throughout much of this relationship, I enjoyed an unbridled sense of contentment with and respect for this man
4. I'm convinced that I did not make any mistakes, and that my feelings of love were real and well-founded. I treated him the way I should have and I maintained my own personal and social life that did not depend on him. I do not think that I misinterpreted his affections, either, because for a long time he embraced me passionately and--I believe--sincerely
5. As part of my own personal growth, I am more able to recognize when a relationship is not providing the things I need from it, and am able to say that I can have healthier expectations from relationships and maintain healthier boundaries
6. *This one I am still trying to internalize* There are good men out there, with whom I will have incredible compatibility and chemistry, and I will absolutely find one who falls in love with me while I am also falling in love with him....
I think this last one is a vital lesson for me to learn, because for a long time I have feared that my past experiences permanently warped my ability to be loved by someone else. I can look at my experience with Noah as a practice round, where I got pretty good at maneuvering a relationship. The universe is right on schedule, remember? This is a key event in my timeline.
It was not a mistake that I loved him. He is a good man to love. Maybe some day his perspective of being attached and having responsibility to a partner will change, and he'll genuinely want a relationship to last. It will likely not be me, but I hope he's learned a lot by being with me these last many months. This is the longest romance I've had in years, the healthiest I've had in my life.
I can only see this experience as a gift, and for that I am grateful.
5.30.2014
passion or dedication?
My very best and dearest friend Lisa tends to offer me the clearest perspectives and much-needed advice, especially when I find myself poised on the edge of another emotional cliff, terrified and desperate.
She reminds me, most often, that I tend to rerun those piercing doubts when I'm being flooded with fertility hormones (progesterone? estrogen? concentrated female panic?), and that this is a storm that is pouring directly onto my head, blinding me to its temporary nature and its imminent cyclical return. It's still impossible to keep from getting wet, in the midst of such downpours, but I'm grateful for the suggestions to pull out an umbrella and wait...because she's always right. She hears the same misgivings and fears, she knows my ups and downs, and she's well-aware of my prior romantic failings.
My best friend Lisa is moving to Texas in two days, and I'm driving there with her to get her situated (and to keep her company on this major transitional journey). I've so far been quite at peace with the prospect of another extremely close friend relocating, because in the age of cell phones and email and Facebook, I've hardly lost touch with anyone despite our geographical shortcomings. Certainly the closeness changes, but we're each on our paths, and I am absolutely convinced that Lisa and I needed each other these last three years. We've carried each other through some incredibly difficult times, held each other sobbing, kept an eye out for one another when we were hurting or struggling, laughed ourselves to tears, and learned as much as possible about ourselves and each other. We've become sisters; this is someone who shares my spirit and my love and who does not judge me, even when I'm fully expecting judgment.
And today she told me not to forget this, and I need to write it down here so that in a couple weeks when I am drowning in hormones and panic, I can revisit these words and remember that the Universe is right on schedule:
This past holiday weekend, I spent nearly every hour of four consecutive days with Noah. He invited me over, hosted a huge party/fish fry, cooked food, included me in/let me help with his projects, mentioned in passing that he brags about me to his coworkers, never once acted like he wanted to be alone or free of me, and had long conversations with me about anything that came up.
He and I went to his friend's house on Sunday, where we drank and watched HBO and chatted about life. He and I did chores around his house on Monday, looking for projects to work on, and then drove out of town to rescue his friend (read: bring new radiator hose and coolant) who had broken down on the way to a family vacation in Pine Top, and then we got pulled over on the way back and yucked it up afterwards on the way home that it went so smoothly and that he was treated so kindly by the highway patrol.
And on Tuesday, I invited several friends out to a favorite bar and asked if Noah would like to meet up with us. He was so enthusiastic that he invited several of his own friends to join us, and we all had a romping good time that night!
Here's the major point that Lisa made: at this point, I should be done fretting about What This Means, because this man, who moves at his own pace and speaks his own love languages, is gradually but deliberately incorporating me into his life; mentioning me to his family and coworkers, including me in his major (and minor) activities, and not only eagerly meeting my friends but also meshing our social circles...men who don't want women around don't start implanting them into so many facets of their lives.
And so it is this point where I should start focusing more specifically on being a wonderful half of a wonderful relationship, that is official and legitimate and happy and possesses some sustaining potential. I should focus on being centered, fulfilled, generous, cheerful, positive, and patient.
She mentioned a recent encounter with an OKCupid question inquiring, "What's more important for a relationship, passion or dedication?" I've had plenty of passionate relationships, and I've always been left with my heart spent and my head spinning. She compared it to logs on a fire; the little branches certainly ignite quickly and burn brightly, but they are short-lived and gone in minutes, while the logs take a while to catch and then a promising smolder develops, followed by increased warmth and light.
While I'm waiting for that language that I recognize, with words in sentences that I understand, the ways this man shares himself even more deeply, more earnestly, are more rooted in his actions and his time. In dedication. And it's almost like I don't know what loving dedication feels like, so I'll need to learn this language.
***
As a P.S., I asked Noah if he could burn me a NIN cd that I don't have, and he hustled right into his room and onto his computer to find it, but several minutes later had not accomplished it...so instead he simply unplugged his hard drive, in fact TWO of his hard drives, and handed them right over. He said there were years of photographs on there, and who knows what else, and he just places them in my hands without a thought. If I didn't feel like I'd be dancing out to the end of the most vulnerable twig of a branch possible, I would gush all day TO HIM about how madly in love with him I am, because it wells up in my chest and trickles out my tear ducts and stuffs up my nose... but he knows it, he knows I'm in love with him, and he hasn't pushed me away and he hasn't eased me out, he's given me an ever-more involved role in his world and I know he does exactly what he wants deliberately.
I'm almost embarrassed to plug his hard drive into my computer, and I certainly don't feel comfortable snooping through his photo albums. But in essence, the man did give me carte blanche, so I hope I don't disappoint him!
She reminds me, most often, that I tend to rerun those piercing doubts when I'm being flooded with fertility hormones (progesterone? estrogen? concentrated female panic?), and that this is a storm that is pouring directly onto my head, blinding me to its temporary nature and its imminent cyclical return. It's still impossible to keep from getting wet, in the midst of such downpours, but I'm grateful for the suggestions to pull out an umbrella and wait...because she's always right. She hears the same misgivings and fears, she knows my ups and downs, and she's well-aware of my prior romantic failings.
My best friend Lisa is moving to Texas in two days, and I'm driving there with her to get her situated (and to keep her company on this major transitional journey). I've so far been quite at peace with the prospect of another extremely close friend relocating, because in the age of cell phones and email and Facebook, I've hardly lost touch with anyone despite our geographical shortcomings. Certainly the closeness changes, but we're each on our paths, and I am absolutely convinced that Lisa and I needed each other these last three years. We've carried each other through some incredibly difficult times, held each other sobbing, kept an eye out for one another when we were hurting or struggling, laughed ourselves to tears, and learned as much as possible about ourselves and each other. We've become sisters; this is someone who shares my spirit and my love and who does not judge me, even when I'm fully expecting judgment.
And today she told me not to forget this, and I need to write it down here so that in a couple weeks when I am drowning in hormones and panic, I can revisit these words and remember that the Universe is right on schedule:
This past holiday weekend, I spent nearly every hour of four consecutive days with Noah. He invited me over, hosted a huge party/fish fry, cooked food, included me in/let me help with his projects, mentioned in passing that he brags about me to his coworkers, never once acted like he wanted to be alone or free of me, and had long conversations with me about anything that came up.
He and I went to his friend's house on Sunday, where we drank and watched HBO and chatted about life. He and I did chores around his house on Monday, looking for projects to work on, and then drove out of town to rescue his friend (read: bring new radiator hose and coolant) who had broken down on the way to a family vacation in Pine Top, and then we got pulled over on the way back and yucked it up afterwards on the way home that it went so smoothly and that he was treated so kindly by the highway patrol.
And on Tuesday, I invited several friends out to a favorite bar and asked if Noah would like to meet up with us. He was so enthusiastic that he invited several of his own friends to join us, and we all had a romping good time that night!
Here's the major point that Lisa made: at this point, I should be done fretting about What This Means, because this man, who moves at his own pace and speaks his own love languages, is gradually but deliberately incorporating me into his life; mentioning me to his family and coworkers, including me in his major (and minor) activities, and not only eagerly meeting my friends but also meshing our social circles...men who don't want women around don't start implanting them into so many facets of their lives.
And so it is this point where I should start focusing more specifically on being a wonderful half of a wonderful relationship, that is official and legitimate and happy and possesses some sustaining potential. I should focus on being centered, fulfilled, generous, cheerful, positive, and patient.
She mentioned a recent encounter with an OKCupid question inquiring, "What's more important for a relationship, passion or dedication?" I've had plenty of passionate relationships, and I've always been left with my heart spent and my head spinning. She compared it to logs on a fire; the little branches certainly ignite quickly and burn brightly, but they are short-lived and gone in minutes, while the logs take a while to catch and then a promising smolder develops, followed by increased warmth and light.
While I'm waiting for that language that I recognize, with words in sentences that I understand, the ways this man shares himself even more deeply, more earnestly, are more rooted in his actions and his time. In dedication. And it's almost like I don't know what loving dedication feels like, so I'll need to learn this language.
***
As a P.S., I asked Noah if he could burn me a NIN cd that I don't have, and he hustled right into his room and onto his computer to find it, but several minutes later had not accomplished it...so instead he simply unplugged his hard drive, in fact TWO of his hard drives, and handed them right over. He said there were years of photographs on there, and who knows what else, and he just places them in my hands without a thought. If I didn't feel like I'd be dancing out to the end of the most vulnerable twig of a branch possible, I would gush all day TO HIM about how madly in love with him I am, because it wells up in my chest and trickles out my tear ducts and stuffs up my nose... but he knows it, he knows I'm in love with him, and he hasn't pushed me away and he hasn't eased me out, he's given me an ever-more involved role in his world and I know he does exactly what he wants deliberately.
I'm almost embarrassed to plug his hard drive into my computer, and I certainly don't feel comfortable snooping through his photo albums. But in essence, the man did give me carte blanche, so I hope I don't disappoint him!
5.10.2014
being patient
I just read these words, "When we are impatient, we are in a hurry for things to be diffferent," and it hit me like a mass of air.
A month ago, I wrote in here that I wasn't going to "bop around and declare my love" for Noah, but since then I have mustered to courage to tell him directly, when I was sober (and terrified), that I really loved him. He has not returned the declaration, but he hasn't been any less loving to me. He's been more so, in fact.
My worries are that expressing that I am really in love with him will make him feel uncomfortable and he is being pressured to say it back to me. He's really not the kind of person who gushes all over, but he is straightforward and articulate when he means to be. He treats me with respect, does things I ask him to, makes time for me almost every time I request his company (which is surprising because I'm not used to that at all!), is affectionate in public, tries to make me feel better if I'm really down (and it works!), and gives me massages when I'm stressed even if he's nearly comatose. He (and his friends) talk about plans for this summer and he refers to me as "the Crew" from whom he needs to discuss suggestions. His roommate (who is moving out next week) talks to me as though I am now a permanent fixture in the "gang," and all his friends seem very comfortable including me in any of their group activities.
He and his roommate were discussing life the other night, and I was tired and laying across Noah's lap and listening. Noah described his progress into adulthood and the new-found motivation to "grow up" and start living like an adult. Six months ago, he mentioned frequently how he worked as hard as he did so that he could take it really easy in his personal life. Now, his attitude seemed to shift toward pulling his shit together some more and having something to show for his hard work. I'm not sure if that was because I was sitting there and he was telling me indirectly that his priorities had started to shift, but he said it, and I heard it.
A couple weekends ago, I went to watch Game of Thrones at Noah's friend's house, because I was uncertain how I'd catch up on the episodes I'd missed and the friends I usually watched it with were unresponsive to texts. Noah and his friend went to the store for supplies beforehand, and Noah went off for another social engagement. When I got to his friend's house, there was a bottle of wine Noah had picked out for me, because I don't drink much beer and he was looking out for me. I know this man wants me to be happy and to have a good time.
I could cite a hundred examples of how he loves me, so it isn't a question of if he does, but when he will say it. Maybe even if he ever will. What if he's never told a girl he loves her? I'm not nosy and haven't pried into his past love life at all, besides politely engaging him in conversation about things he's already brought up. I know it's none of my business unless he wants to share, and that's how I feel about my own love life. He doesn't know most of my dating history, and won't, because it's not what I want to discuss. If he asked me pointed questions, there's a greater likelihood that I would divulge, but it's very important to me to avoid sharing details on prior relationships because I'm biased against most of them (now that they've ended, of course).
Because I'm not prompting him to share, I also don't think it's my place to ask if he's ever been in love or said it to someone before. His roommate's wife told me that in the several years she's known him, he hasn't been with anyone significant, and in the six months he's been with me, he has changed quite a bit. Apparently they all discuss the changes in him. People in my life talk about how I've changed, too. I'm calmer and more positive overall.
I've noticed that my own qualms and hangups include looking directly into his eyes. I just can't seem to do it, even though I used to be able to do that. Lately I've been making progress, and actually trying to look him in the eyes for a little longer than a glance just before I kiss him. I had relied mostly on the visceral wave of sensation when we get intimate, which for me is a strong indication of connection, but is probably the result of my relying on physical connection to validate myself most of my life. Cuddling has been easy; he never shrugs me off.
It's just that in words, I am so much more comfortable. I crave hearing those things I would happily say, on repeat, because in words I can relate. I want him to tell me how much he loves me, how beautiful he thinks I am (which he does say sometimes), he happy he is with me, and that he's grateful for me. I realize that all these things are basically a commitment, because in words things are so much more tangible, so much more concrete. He openly resisted the idea of even being in a relationship, and has since started agreeing with his friends that I am in fact his girlfriend.
So why am I impatient? I don't want things to be different. I love this man and I want him to keep treating me like a friend and a lover. I'm not sure why I so deeply crave for him to express himself in ways he doesn't seem eager to do.
A month ago, I wrote in here that I wasn't going to "bop around and declare my love" for Noah, but since then I have mustered to courage to tell him directly, when I was sober (and terrified), that I really loved him. He has not returned the declaration, but he hasn't been any less loving to me. He's been more so, in fact.
My worries are that expressing that I am really in love with him will make him feel uncomfortable and he is being pressured to say it back to me. He's really not the kind of person who gushes all over, but he is straightforward and articulate when he means to be. He treats me with respect, does things I ask him to, makes time for me almost every time I request his company (which is surprising because I'm not used to that at all!), is affectionate in public, tries to make me feel better if I'm really down (and it works!), and gives me massages when I'm stressed even if he's nearly comatose. He (and his friends) talk about plans for this summer and he refers to me as "the Crew" from whom he needs to discuss suggestions. His roommate (who is moving out next week) talks to me as though I am now a permanent fixture in the "gang," and all his friends seem very comfortable including me in any of their group activities.
He and his roommate were discussing life the other night, and I was tired and laying across Noah's lap and listening. Noah described his progress into adulthood and the new-found motivation to "grow up" and start living like an adult. Six months ago, he mentioned frequently how he worked as hard as he did so that he could take it really easy in his personal life. Now, his attitude seemed to shift toward pulling his shit together some more and having something to show for his hard work. I'm not sure if that was because I was sitting there and he was telling me indirectly that his priorities had started to shift, but he said it, and I heard it.
A couple weekends ago, I went to watch Game of Thrones at Noah's friend's house, because I was uncertain how I'd catch up on the episodes I'd missed and the friends I usually watched it with were unresponsive to texts. Noah and his friend went to the store for supplies beforehand, and Noah went off for another social engagement. When I got to his friend's house, there was a bottle of wine Noah had picked out for me, because I don't drink much beer and he was looking out for me. I know this man wants me to be happy and to have a good time.
I could cite a hundred examples of how he loves me, so it isn't a question of if he does, but when he will say it. Maybe even if he ever will. What if he's never told a girl he loves her? I'm not nosy and haven't pried into his past love life at all, besides politely engaging him in conversation about things he's already brought up. I know it's none of my business unless he wants to share, and that's how I feel about my own love life. He doesn't know most of my dating history, and won't, because it's not what I want to discuss. If he asked me pointed questions, there's a greater likelihood that I would divulge, but it's very important to me to avoid sharing details on prior relationships because I'm biased against most of them (now that they've ended, of course).
Because I'm not prompting him to share, I also don't think it's my place to ask if he's ever been in love or said it to someone before. His roommate's wife told me that in the several years she's known him, he hasn't been with anyone significant, and in the six months he's been with me, he has changed quite a bit. Apparently they all discuss the changes in him. People in my life talk about how I've changed, too. I'm calmer and more positive overall.
I've noticed that my own qualms and hangups include looking directly into his eyes. I just can't seem to do it, even though I used to be able to do that. Lately I've been making progress, and actually trying to look him in the eyes for a little longer than a glance just before I kiss him. I had relied mostly on the visceral wave of sensation when we get intimate, which for me is a strong indication of connection, but is probably the result of my relying on physical connection to validate myself most of my life. Cuddling has been easy; he never shrugs me off.
It's just that in words, I am so much more comfortable. I crave hearing those things I would happily say, on repeat, because in words I can relate. I want him to tell me how much he loves me, how beautiful he thinks I am (which he does say sometimes), he happy he is with me, and that he's grateful for me. I realize that all these things are basically a commitment, because in words things are so much more tangible, so much more concrete. He openly resisted the idea of even being in a relationship, and has since started agreeing with his friends that I am in fact his girlfriend.
So why am I impatient? I don't want things to be different. I love this man and I want him to keep treating me like a friend and a lover. I'm not sure why I so deeply crave for him to express himself in ways he doesn't seem eager to do.
4.14.2014
blessings and perspective
After reflecting on the events of my thirtieth year, I had concluded, just before my 31st birthday, that that had so far been the best year of my life. The most transformative, and the healthiest.
I'm always working out how to be healthy. It's really not a permanent fix, I've realized. Therapy has done its part in many ways, but obviously it needs to have a permanent, semi-regular place in my life.
I certainly don't pretend to remember all the lessons I've learned as I've grown. There are the subtle ones that dawn on me for a moment or two, or those that impart their wisdom to me through repeated trial and error (and error and error and error). And the ones I fought hard to learn, even...those ones I don't always put into practice, sadly.
But I've learned a few valuable lessons that I don't think I'll ever forget:
* Be grateful.
* Be authentic with your words--don't say things you don't mean (but I'm working on not verbally abusing myself when I feel down). Speak with love.
*Help others when you can, and do so enthusiastically.
* Love fearlessly. Love your friends. Love your family. Love your pets. Love your environment. Love your work, and the purpose it serves.
And here's where my life lessons have led me, at least at this present moment.
For the sake of seeing this beautiful thing through with Noah, I am practicing patience, perspective, and reservation of judgment. For example, I know that sometimes my mood will swing, typically when I'm not in his company, and I will be riddled with doubt about myself, our situation, how he feels, how I look, etc. I have to remind myself that the world is not waiting for me to make a decision, that circumstances will inevitably shift to something better or different or worse or whatever, but they will change nonetheless.
This helps me wait it out, my funky mood. That way, I'm fresh-faced and delighted to see Noah every time, rather than an attention-craving ball validation-seeking anxiety.
Also, it has helped me to pull back quite a bit and focus on spending time doing things with other people, checking important things off my to-do list, and getting my work accomplished. Noah gets his shit done, and sets a very good example, but when I hang out with him, he has generally already completed many tasks, whereas I have many yet to tend to. And then we just relax in each other's company, while my tasks wait un-tended.
Some time ago, I sat down with my dear friend and we sketched out our ideal partners. I knew I wanted someone who I could respect, who could keep up with me, who challenged me, who appreciated me, who was affectionate, honest, open, and reliable. I wanted a man I was attracted to, who had a healthy sexual appetite, and with whom I had excellent chemistry. I wanted a man who didn't just think about himself, but who was generous and kind to others, including his friends, his lover, his family, and everyone else. I wanted a man who took care of himself and his affairs, with a cheerful and sharp wit, who appreciated and "got" my sense of humor and respected my opinions and passions. I wanted a man who was proud to have me around, and to introduce me to other important people in his life. AND I wanted a man who actively made the time to be with me.
This last part was especially important, because it was so blatantly where I was neglected by Toby for so many years. In fact, the entire time, come to think of it.
And it's amazing how accurately this list describes Noah. He is the most amazing man. Not perfect, of course, and I would never argue that, but he is a good man. He is humble and courteous, he is peaceful and approachable. He appreciates variety and the plethora of talents and aspirations and loves that other people embrace, even if he does not embrace those things.
And damnit, this man spends time with me. I am not demanding, I am not high-maintenance, and I never feel like a burden because when I request Noah's time, he fucking finds some way to give it to me. He does not try to dodge me or give vague predictions about his future schedule. He wraps his beautiful arms around me tight, all night, and treats me like he wants to be with me.
I can't even begin to describe how much that means to me. Much less tell him. But I think he knows. I think we both know, we're taking care of each other. We're in this to be good to the other, to lift the other up, to be our best selves, and to enjoy the experience.
I was hoping, really deeply aching, for the past month or two, to know where we stood on the "official" standpoint... was I his girlfriend? He'd mentioned before not wanting a relationship but feeling conflicted because he was that into me...and then we just kept spending time together. I was laying in bed next to him last weekend, turning the script over in my head, rephrasing something along the lines of, "Hey, how d'you feel about calling me your girlfriend?" or something equally casual. I had mulled it over so many times I'm sure I was sending some serious transmissions directly to him, since we were wrapped around each other in the sleepy hours of the morning. I never mustered the courage to ask him directly.
That evening, over text message, we discussed plans for watching the college basketball championship game, and he asked me to remind him to pick up "food for girlfriend" completely un-prompted. It was such a relief! At least I know now that he's feeling steady with me. I've gotten burned so many times in the last two years, it's an incredible compliment to have someone I think so highly of finally decide I was worth investing some time into.
He openly respects me, my work, my opinions, and my judgment of character. He affectionately sits near me, touches me with his leg, or shoulder, or wraps his arm around me, or sits near me, or holds me so tight when we hug goodbye.
And today we went to the hardware store, and as we were leaving spotted an older man tying four long pieces of wood to the back of his motorcycle. Noah considered asking him if we could carry that wood home for the man while he followed us with his bike...and we made it to the driveway when Noah turned around and decided to ask him if he could use the help. The man declined graciously, but the gesture was worth it.
I'm so damn proud to be this man's significant other. I have such profound respect for him, and I feel so good to be with him. I'm not going to bop around declaring my love for him (even though secretly, in my head, I do it all the time), but I am truly honored and humbled to blessed with his companionship. It's certainly worth practicing all my previous life lessons and all the wisdom I've ever acquired just to ensure that this relationship is the healthiest it is capable of being.
So I'm trying to dust off all those lessons I probably learned when I was heartbroken and hopeless the last six years of my life. I'd like to really appreciate the journey that brought me to this amazing man. Even if this isn't the end of the road in love, I am very happy to be right where I am.
I'm always working out how to be healthy. It's really not a permanent fix, I've realized. Therapy has done its part in many ways, but obviously it needs to have a permanent, semi-regular place in my life.
I certainly don't pretend to remember all the lessons I've learned as I've grown. There are the subtle ones that dawn on me for a moment or two, or those that impart their wisdom to me through repeated trial and error (and error and error and error). And the ones I fought hard to learn, even...those ones I don't always put into practice, sadly.
But I've learned a few valuable lessons that I don't think I'll ever forget:
* Be grateful.
* Be authentic with your words--don't say things you don't mean (but I'm working on not verbally abusing myself when I feel down). Speak with love.
*Help others when you can, and do so enthusiastically.
* Love fearlessly. Love your friends. Love your family. Love your pets. Love your environment. Love your work, and the purpose it serves.
And here's where my life lessons have led me, at least at this present moment.
For the sake of seeing this beautiful thing through with Noah, I am practicing patience, perspective, and reservation of judgment. For example, I know that sometimes my mood will swing, typically when I'm not in his company, and I will be riddled with doubt about myself, our situation, how he feels, how I look, etc. I have to remind myself that the world is not waiting for me to make a decision, that circumstances will inevitably shift to something better or different or worse or whatever, but they will change nonetheless.
This helps me wait it out, my funky mood. That way, I'm fresh-faced and delighted to see Noah every time, rather than an attention-craving ball validation-seeking anxiety.
Also, it has helped me to pull back quite a bit and focus on spending time doing things with other people, checking important things off my to-do list, and getting my work accomplished. Noah gets his shit done, and sets a very good example, but when I hang out with him, he has generally already completed many tasks, whereas I have many yet to tend to. And then we just relax in each other's company, while my tasks wait un-tended.
Some time ago, I sat down with my dear friend and we sketched out our ideal partners. I knew I wanted someone who I could respect, who could keep up with me, who challenged me, who appreciated me, who was affectionate, honest, open, and reliable. I wanted a man I was attracted to, who had a healthy sexual appetite, and with whom I had excellent chemistry. I wanted a man who didn't just think about himself, but who was generous and kind to others, including his friends, his lover, his family, and everyone else. I wanted a man who took care of himself and his affairs, with a cheerful and sharp wit, who appreciated and "got" my sense of humor and respected my opinions and passions. I wanted a man who was proud to have me around, and to introduce me to other important people in his life. AND I wanted a man who actively made the time to be with me.
This last part was especially important, because it was so blatantly where I was neglected by Toby for so many years. In fact, the entire time, come to think of it.
And it's amazing how accurately this list describes Noah. He is the most amazing man. Not perfect, of course, and I would never argue that, but he is a good man. He is humble and courteous, he is peaceful and approachable. He appreciates variety and the plethora of talents and aspirations and loves that other people embrace, even if he does not embrace those things.
And damnit, this man spends time with me. I am not demanding, I am not high-maintenance, and I never feel like a burden because when I request Noah's time, he fucking finds some way to give it to me. He does not try to dodge me or give vague predictions about his future schedule. He wraps his beautiful arms around me tight, all night, and treats me like he wants to be with me.
I can't even begin to describe how much that means to me. Much less tell him. But I think he knows. I think we both know, we're taking care of each other. We're in this to be good to the other, to lift the other up, to be our best selves, and to enjoy the experience.
I was hoping, really deeply aching, for the past month or two, to know where we stood on the "official" standpoint... was I his girlfriend? He'd mentioned before not wanting a relationship but feeling conflicted because he was that into me...and then we just kept spending time together. I was laying in bed next to him last weekend, turning the script over in my head, rephrasing something along the lines of, "Hey, how d'you feel about calling me your girlfriend?" or something equally casual. I had mulled it over so many times I'm sure I was sending some serious transmissions directly to him, since we were wrapped around each other in the sleepy hours of the morning. I never mustered the courage to ask him directly.
That evening, over text message, we discussed plans for watching the college basketball championship game, and he asked me to remind him to pick up "food for girlfriend" completely un-prompted. It was such a relief! At least I know now that he's feeling steady with me. I've gotten burned so many times in the last two years, it's an incredible compliment to have someone I think so highly of finally decide I was worth investing some time into.
He openly respects me, my work, my opinions, and my judgment of character. He affectionately sits near me, touches me with his leg, or shoulder, or wraps his arm around me, or sits near me, or holds me so tight when we hug goodbye.
And today we went to the hardware store, and as we were leaving spotted an older man tying four long pieces of wood to the back of his motorcycle. Noah considered asking him if we could carry that wood home for the man while he followed us with his bike...and we made it to the driveway when Noah turned around and decided to ask him if he could use the help. The man declined graciously, but the gesture was worth it.
I'm so damn proud to be this man's significant other. I have such profound respect for him, and I feel so good to be with him. I'm not going to bop around declaring my love for him (even though secretly, in my head, I do it all the time), but I am truly honored and humbled to blessed with his companionship. It's certainly worth practicing all my previous life lessons and all the wisdom I've ever acquired just to ensure that this relationship is the healthiest it is capable of being.
So I'm trying to dust off all those lessons I probably learned when I was heartbroken and hopeless the last six years of my life. I'd like to really appreciate the journey that brought me to this amazing man. Even if this isn't the end of the road in love, I am very happy to be right where I am.
3.20.2014
belonging
I won't lie...I've been in a foul mood lately.
Sure, a lot of it I could blame on hormones and a gradually increasing sense of irritability. I'm uncomfortable in my body, feeling bloated and gassy, and my clothes are mostly too tight.
There's been a great deal of work stress, very little thanks, and limited feelings of accomplishment. Honestly, though, even the lovely disposition of so many of my students hasn't been enough to brighten my mood much or for very long.
That sense of elation and gratitude that I often have has been absent, and noticeably so. And knowing that I'm barreling through the universe without a pervasive sense of awe and wonder makes me feel even worse. I don't want to be so preoccupied by my own menial troubles that I forget how grand life is.
But you know something, I did not realize just how much I thrive in Noah's company, and he's been gone for two weeks. We've spent a great deal of time together, and now going a stretch of time without him really makes a difference. He just got back to town last night, and I finally got to see him again. I felt myself smiling effortlessly, and laughing with gusto, and it was easy.
And he called me his girl, out loud, more in casual reference than anything, but it was practically a fucking declaration, one I thought I'd never hear. I'm His Girl! His friends have referred to me as his girlfriend several times, and he's never corrected them (at least not in front of me), but I don't want to do anything to try and augment the situation. If he wants me to be his girlfriend, well I'm good and goddamned ready to be! If not, well I've got other prospects and I'm sure I'll bounce back, even after much heartbreak and resentment has transpired.
But the idea that I am someone's girlfriend is kind of exciting! Not just any someone, too. This man has such a good and caring energy, and he makes me feel so safe and important. I think he's proud of me, and proud to have me. I think so, anyway.
And then there's his roommate, who I find to often be needlessly contentious and specifically mean to me. But this man is very important to Noah, and I brought up privately a couple weeks ago that I felt targeted, after feeling frustrated and belittled. I just felt compelled to say something, but still didn't feel good after revealing it. Noah responded kindly but I still freaked out internally that I had somehow put a wedge in between them by mentioning that I felt picked on. Last night he brought it up to me, asking if things were okay and if I felt uncomfortable still...and actually I do now. I had felt a lot of anger but as these past few days have gone by, I've sorted it out for myself. Thank goodness, because we're all going on a weekend trip to the lake tomorrow, and I just want to feel at ease (as I'm quite sure Noah does, too). Drama is boring and exhausting.
And nothing soothes me more than having that man's arms wrapped around me all night. Truly, it blesses everything else. I'm so much nicer today than I've felt like being this entire week. I'm certainly still hormonal, because my boobs are so sore (!!), but there is finally hope. He really does make me so happy :)
Sure, a lot of it I could blame on hormones and a gradually increasing sense of irritability. I'm uncomfortable in my body, feeling bloated and gassy, and my clothes are mostly too tight.
There's been a great deal of work stress, very little thanks, and limited feelings of accomplishment. Honestly, though, even the lovely disposition of so many of my students hasn't been enough to brighten my mood much or for very long.
That sense of elation and gratitude that I often have has been absent, and noticeably so. And knowing that I'm barreling through the universe without a pervasive sense of awe and wonder makes me feel even worse. I don't want to be so preoccupied by my own menial troubles that I forget how grand life is.
But you know something, I did not realize just how much I thrive in Noah's company, and he's been gone for two weeks. We've spent a great deal of time together, and now going a stretch of time without him really makes a difference. He just got back to town last night, and I finally got to see him again. I felt myself smiling effortlessly, and laughing with gusto, and it was easy.
And he called me his girl, out loud, more in casual reference than anything, but it was practically a fucking declaration, one I thought I'd never hear. I'm His Girl! His friends have referred to me as his girlfriend several times, and he's never corrected them (at least not in front of me), but I don't want to do anything to try and augment the situation. If he wants me to be his girlfriend, well I'm good and goddamned ready to be! If not, well I've got other prospects and I'm sure I'll bounce back, even after much heartbreak and resentment has transpired.
But the idea that I am someone's girlfriend is kind of exciting! Not just any someone, too. This man has such a good and caring energy, and he makes me feel so safe and important. I think he's proud of me, and proud to have me. I think so, anyway.
And then there's his roommate, who I find to often be needlessly contentious and specifically mean to me. But this man is very important to Noah, and I brought up privately a couple weeks ago that I felt targeted, after feeling frustrated and belittled. I just felt compelled to say something, but still didn't feel good after revealing it. Noah responded kindly but I still freaked out internally that I had somehow put a wedge in between them by mentioning that I felt picked on. Last night he brought it up to me, asking if things were okay and if I felt uncomfortable still...and actually I do now. I had felt a lot of anger but as these past few days have gone by, I've sorted it out for myself. Thank goodness, because we're all going on a weekend trip to the lake tomorrow, and I just want to feel at ease (as I'm quite sure Noah does, too). Drama is boring and exhausting.
And nothing soothes me more than having that man's arms wrapped around me all night. Truly, it blesses everything else. I'm so much nicer today than I've felt like being this entire week. I'm certainly still hormonal, because my boobs are so sore (!!), but there is finally hope. He really does make me so happy :)
3.16.2014
the Journey continues
I'm not happy that I've gained several pounds in the last six months. At first I wasn't concerned because I expected my injured shoulder to heal and I didn't think I'd have bronchitis for three horrible months. I'd gotten a little soft around the middle but my clothes still fit.
Now they are uncomfortably tight. I'm disappointed in myself for slacking on cardiovascular exercise and eating fattening foods. It's going to have to stop.
But hey, there's some nice things to look forward to, if I can make them happen. Maybe I can organize a school trip to Costa Rica next summer. We haven't had an international trip in a couple years, and the kids are obviously missing it.
That being said, I get to be one of the all-expenses-paid chaperones for the senior class trip to Disneyland this May. I haven't been to Disneyland since I was in junior high, I think. In any case, I was chosen based on popular vote by the seniors arranging the trip, so I'm beyond flattered about it and I get to cash in on my popularity!
My dear friend Lisa is moving to Texas. I'm okay with the idea of her moving on to something bigger and better. I know this is the most important thing she could be doing for herself, and I'm beyond proud of her. I'm also sad about it, somewhere internally, but because it's not about me at all, I'm afraid I've kind of shut down a little and gotten distant somehow. We're obviously going to be close forever, but change this big means big changes in relationships. She's very important to me. It's hard to be 100% supportive when I'm coping with the thought of losing her company.
Lately, when I've experienced fear about what's actually happening with Noah, my inner monologue has miraculously developed into a dialogue. It's not just the voice that tells me how horrible and unworthy I am, in fact, that voice far less audible anymore. Usually now I have that argument between the part of me that is convinced that things have run their course and that I should start bracing for impact and the part of me that is willing to wait and see, the part of me that believes in the kind of person that Noah regularly proves himself to be. God it's so scary to face my own demons and fear of being abandoned, of being insufficient, of being temporary and expendable. I'm not the only one with baggage, and I'm sure Noah has his share of fears about repeated experiences from his past, but he truly does not seem to be taking those fears out on me, or projecting his past relationships on me.
It's nice to remember to just enjoy things the way they are. They're currently very peaceful, fun, and affectionate. We've got our responsibilities, we've got our social lives, we've got our senses of humor, the things we choose to eat, wear, smoke, say to others, do for others, and accept from others. I'm getting better at not harboring judgment of other people as a symptom of feeling incredibly inadequate. I'm getting better at not taking things personally and getting offended by thoughtlessness and offhanded comments (from anyone). I'm grateful that he sets a really good example of being impervious to others' drama.
Lisa and I were discussing the many languages of Love, and the five major ways people express their love and affection: words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch. It's helpful to me to remember that the way I am channeling my Love for Noah is a different combination of these languages than the way he does for me. I'm very physically affectionate, I use words of affirmation profusely, and I value quality time. If I can, I also like to do acts of service or give gifts, sometimes in the same gesture.
It's a helpful reminder that Noah demonstrates his love in his own unique combination of ways. He relies less on words, but is exceptionally generous and physically affectionate. He performs acts of service and, above all else, loves people with his quality time. I am very fortunate to be counted among the people he spends his time with. When I shower him with loving words, he reaffirms that he spends so much time with me because he thinks just as highly of me. I may not hear it with my ears, but he's definitely saying it.
I do love him. I'm very blessed to have encountered him on my journey. This could be that stretch of time in my life that I reflect on where I blissfully recall what a wonderful man I got to date for however long we lasted, or it could be something that persists more long term. I'm certainly blessed with every experience I've had with every man I've dated, butfew none of them can claim to have not sent up any red flags...I mean honestly, I'm grateful for the opportunities for growth but beyond that I can't say that I was handled with care. Noah is quite caring and careful with me, even if he does purport to value his singledom above the idea of a relationship. I don't see myself asking him for any clarity in our "status" for the time being; it's nice just exactly where it is, and wherever it might be next week, or next month. His friends call me his girlfriend, and I haven't heard him correct them.
Fear makes me lose so much sleep, and I do so love sleep. Fear robs me of my most precious experiences. I can't let fear rob me of being blissfully in love.
Now they are uncomfortably tight. I'm disappointed in myself for slacking on cardiovascular exercise and eating fattening foods. It's going to have to stop.
But hey, there's some nice things to look forward to, if I can make them happen. Maybe I can organize a school trip to Costa Rica next summer. We haven't had an international trip in a couple years, and the kids are obviously missing it.
That being said, I get to be one of the all-expenses-paid chaperones for the senior class trip to Disneyland this May. I haven't been to Disneyland since I was in junior high, I think. In any case, I was chosen based on popular vote by the seniors arranging the trip, so I'm beyond flattered about it and I get to cash in on my popularity!
My dear friend Lisa is moving to Texas. I'm okay with the idea of her moving on to something bigger and better. I know this is the most important thing she could be doing for herself, and I'm beyond proud of her. I'm also sad about it, somewhere internally, but because it's not about me at all, I'm afraid I've kind of shut down a little and gotten distant somehow. We're obviously going to be close forever, but change this big means big changes in relationships. She's very important to me. It's hard to be 100% supportive when I'm coping with the thought of losing her company.
Lately, when I've experienced fear about what's actually happening with Noah, my inner monologue has miraculously developed into a dialogue. It's not just the voice that tells me how horrible and unworthy I am, in fact, that voice far less audible anymore. Usually now I have that argument between the part of me that is convinced that things have run their course and that I should start bracing for impact and the part of me that is willing to wait and see, the part of me that believes in the kind of person that Noah regularly proves himself to be. God it's so scary to face my own demons and fear of being abandoned, of being insufficient, of being temporary and expendable. I'm not the only one with baggage, and I'm sure Noah has his share of fears about repeated experiences from his past, but he truly does not seem to be taking those fears out on me, or projecting his past relationships on me.
It's nice to remember to just enjoy things the way they are. They're currently very peaceful, fun, and affectionate. We've got our responsibilities, we've got our social lives, we've got our senses of humor, the things we choose to eat, wear, smoke, say to others, do for others, and accept from others. I'm getting better at not harboring judgment of other people as a symptom of feeling incredibly inadequate. I'm getting better at not taking things personally and getting offended by thoughtlessness and offhanded comments (from anyone). I'm grateful that he sets a really good example of being impervious to others' drama.
Lisa and I were discussing the many languages of Love, and the five major ways people express their love and affection: words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch. It's helpful to me to remember that the way I am channeling my Love for Noah is a different combination of these languages than the way he does for me. I'm very physically affectionate, I use words of affirmation profusely, and I value quality time. If I can, I also like to do acts of service or give gifts, sometimes in the same gesture.
It's a helpful reminder that Noah demonstrates his love in his own unique combination of ways. He relies less on words, but is exceptionally generous and physically affectionate. He performs acts of service and, above all else, loves people with his quality time. I am very fortunate to be counted among the people he spends his time with. When I shower him with loving words, he reaffirms that he spends so much time with me because he thinks just as highly of me. I may not hear it with my ears, but he's definitely saying it.
I do love him. I'm very blessed to have encountered him on my journey. This could be that stretch of time in my life that I reflect on where I blissfully recall what a wonderful man I got to date for however long we lasted, or it could be something that persists more long term. I'm certainly blessed with every experience I've had with every man I've dated, but
Fear makes me lose so much sleep, and I do so love sleep. Fear robs me of my most precious experiences. I can't let fear rob me of being blissfully in love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)