Newly single. Only about a week and a half, or so. Slowly starting to feel better, after a record-breaking (for me) 5 days of crying. Beginning to move on.
I heal fast.
The details of the break up up are muddled, and I'll go into that at another time. Let's just say for now that...he wasn't ready for the seriousness of our relationship, and to be in something that might potentially, inevitably lead to marriage. This is despite the fact that, allegedly, he still loves me.
What I really wanted to share was this quote from the last episode of Sex and the City, when Carrie breaks it off with her latest flame, Aleksandr Petrovsky, due to his inability to give her exactly what she needs in a relationship. She says:
"I am someone who is looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love. I'm not going to find it here in this expensive hotel suite, in Paris."
What she is looking for, in this episode...that it what I'm looking for. And despite the fact that I love my ex-boyfriend desperately, and probably will for a while, he can't give me what I need right now. I'm not going to find that love from him. In that instance, it's better that I be single, so that I can continue on my quest to find it. Maybe someday, after he's had his fun and is done gallivanting, that can be him, and he will be the one to give me what I need. Maybe not. But I know what it is that I'm looking for.
And I'm sure as hell not going to settle.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
The Character of Me
If I were a character in a movie, who would I be?
Am I the girl who cowers in the corner and screams at the first sign of danger, or am I the woman with a tight outfit, gun strapped to her leg and mischievous glint in her eye, ready to play the hero?
Am I the outwardly-perfect girlfriend who the protagonist can never truly love, or am I the exotic, adventurous newcomer who opens his eyes to the world and what true love means?
Am I the small-town hopeful who desperately wishes that her dreams would come and find her, or am I the strong-minded career woman who seeks out her ambitions and makes them into reality?
The average woman faded into the background, or the superhero with powers beyond comprehension?
The self-conscious complainer who puts herself down, or self-confident athlete who could care less what the world thinks of her?
The prey, or the predator?
I know what it is that I want to be, and what I hope someday to become. I want to be the woman that other girls can admire, look up to and strive to be. I want to be the lead.
I know what it is that I want.
But which am I?
Am I the girl who cowers in the corner and screams at the first sign of danger, or am I the woman with a tight outfit, gun strapped to her leg and mischievous glint in her eye, ready to play the hero?
Am I the outwardly-perfect girlfriend who the protagonist can never truly love, or am I the exotic, adventurous newcomer who opens his eyes to the world and what true love means?
Am I the small-town hopeful who desperately wishes that her dreams would come and find her, or am I the strong-minded career woman who seeks out her ambitions and makes them into reality?
The average woman faded into the background, or the superhero with powers beyond comprehension?
The self-conscious complainer who puts herself down, or self-confident athlete who could care less what the world thinks of her?
The prey, or the predator?
I know what it is that I want to be, and what I hope someday to become. I want to be the woman that other girls can admire, look up to and strive to be. I want to be the lead.
I know what it is that I want.
But which am I?
Monday, July 7, 2008
Hurt Ramblings
I have this ugly big gash on the joint of my right index finger...another, smaller, a little further up on the same knuckle. That came from punching a wall. Good idea when angry and a little tipsy - bad idea when you wake up the next morning and find yourself bandaging the injury.
Earlier today, I cried in the shower. After some heart-wrenching news, I let myself slide down the side of the stall, curl my arms around my legs, and sob...not for a long time, but these little sporadic bursts. I'd wash...allow my mind to drift to some dismaying thought...then let out a few seconds of tears. Rinse. Repeat.
I feel like I've been here before...maybe this is not nearly so bad as it used to be, but it all seems so familiar. Three summers ago and the subsequent year, through the entirety of my relationship with Zack, I was in an insane tornado of emotions, with most of them being bad. Then, my pain manifested in frequent, horrible crying, intense depression, and scars along my skin which, I believe, nobody notices except me. (One I am particularly fond of, as it faces me any time I drive...a spider-web thin mark on the inner flesh of my arm, untraceable to most but distinctly me.)
And maybe it even reminds me a little bit of the heartache I felt a mere year ago when things with Trent went from disappointing to awful. There was this intense, terrible sense of embarrassment and helplessness and...betrayal. Like, how could I put in so much effort into this relationship, and you put in nothing? Look at all I've given up for you...what have you even dared to give up for me? What have you done to make this work.
That feeling, too, is very familiar.
And I hate being the girlfriend that gets upset...the one that is hurt every other night by something you've done. And for the past couple of weeks, I've blamed myself and told myself that it was my fault...I was being irrational and over-emotional and I just needed to deal with it and not care and things would be fine.
And then maybe, in a strange sense, this is the last straw.
I dealt with it okay when he stopped sending sweet text messages telling me that he loved and missed me, because when ever I came to visit, they would start up again after I left...for a little while. I was alright when the calls became less frequent and shorter. When the summer first started, we were on the phone ALL the time, for hours and hours on end, often playing a video game together. After the video game lost it's novelty and the day-time minutes began to rack up, the time that we spent in contact got a lot shorter, and I attributed it mostly to those other more reasonable factors...nothing to do with our relationship. I tried to let it go.
And then there was the night about a week ago, when I was told that I was "high maintenance" when it came to phone calls and how I shouldn't be upset if he didn't call one night and "just forgot." I cried...hard. I tried to argue my case that a phone call shows effort...it shows that you care...that you are thinking about the other person. And when he told me that he wasn't trying to insinuate anything or set me up for a bigger fall and that everything was fine with us...I tried really hard to believe him, and let it go.
Maybe it was around this time that I began to notice all the really happy couples, that we once were. The ones who leave away messages that say "Love you" to their significant other on their away message, or are constantly texting them with sweet messages, or SO excited to see them. I wondered where that had gone.
And here I am, now. Having rearranged my schedule and switched my work load around so that I could go and see him for a few days...sleep next to the man who says he loves me. And when I asked "Do you want me to come and see you tonight or tomorrow", I got the reply (2 hours later)..."Tomorrow sounds good."
Not a big deal, right?
Somehow, it just stung...so much.
"Why not tonight?" I ask. Curious.
"I'm with my friends tonight. Band stuff."
With friends he had seen the past 4 nights in a row. Who lived a whopping 5 minutes down the street. He can see them any time. Where as I...I live 3 and a half hours away. I was willing to take 4 hours and spend $70 in gas just so that I could be with him. And who does he choose? Not me.
And I miss those days when he used to get ecstatic to see me and beg me to come down a little bit earlier...just so I could see him. I am so pained at the loss of the nights when he would text me to tell me how excited he was to see me. Now when I ask if he's still up for having me come visit I get : "Yuppers."
Oh, fantastic.
I think I deserve better than this, and I think that my patience is wearing thin.
Earlier today, I cried in the shower. After some heart-wrenching news, I let myself slide down the side of the stall, curl my arms around my legs, and sob...not for a long time, but these little sporadic bursts. I'd wash...allow my mind to drift to some dismaying thought...then let out a few seconds of tears. Rinse. Repeat.
I feel like I've been here before...maybe this is not nearly so bad as it used to be, but it all seems so familiar. Three summers ago and the subsequent year, through the entirety of my relationship with Zack, I was in an insane tornado of emotions, with most of them being bad. Then, my pain manifested in frequent, horrible crying, intense depression, and scars along my skin which, I believe, nobody notices except me. (One I am particularly fond of, as it faces me any time I drive...a spider-web thin mark on the inner flesh of my arm, untraceable to most but distinctly me.)
And maybe it even reminds me a little bit of the heartache I felt a mere year ago when things with Trent went from disappointing to awful. There was this intense, terrible sense of embarrassment and helplessness and...betrayal. Like, how could I put in so much effort into this relationship, and you put in nothing? Look at all I've given up for you...what have you even dared to give up for me? What have you done to make this work.
That feeling, too, is very familiar.
And I hate being the girlfriend that gets upset...the one that is hurt every other night by something you've done. And for the past couple of weeks, I've blamed myself and told myself that it was my fault...I was being irrational and over-emotional and I just needed to deal with it and not care and things would be fine.
And then maybe, in a strange sense, this is the last straw.
I dealt with it okay when he stopped sending sweet text messages telling me that he loved and missed me, because when ever I came to visit, they would start up again after I left...for a little while. I was alright when the calls became less frequent and shorter. When the summer first started, we were on the phone ALL the time, for hours and hours on end, often playing a video game together. After the video game lost it's novelty and the day-time minutes began to rack up, the time that we spent in contact got a lot shorter, and I attributed it mostly to those other more reasonable factors...nothing to do with our relationship. I tried to let it go.
And then there was the night about a week ago, when I was told that I was "high maintenance" when it came to phone calls and how I shouldn't be upset if he didn't call one night and "just forgot." I cried...hard. I tried to argue my case that a phone call shows effort...it shows that you care...that you are thinking about the other person. And when he told me that he wasn't trying to insinuate anything or set me up for a bigger fall and that everything was fine with us...I tried really hard to believe him, and let it go.
Maybe it was around this time that I began to notice all the really happy couples, that we once were. The ones who leave away messages that say "Love you" to their significant other on their away message, or are constantly texting them with sweet messages, or SO excited to see them. I wondered where that had gone.
And here I am, now. Having rearranged my schedule and switched my work load around so that I could go and see him for a few days...sleep next to the man who says he loves me. And when I asked "Do you want me to come and see you tonight or tomorrow", I got the reply (2 hours later)..."Tomorrow sounds good."
Not a big deal, right?
Somehow, it just stung...so much.
"Why not tonight?" I ask. Curious.
"I'm with my friends tonight. Band stuff."
With friends he had seen the past 4 nights in a row. Who lived a whopping 5 minutes down the street. He can see them any time. Where as I...I live 3 and a half hours away. I was willing to take 4 hours and spend $70 in gas just so that I could be with him. And who does he choose? Not me.
And I miss those days when he used to get ecstatic to see me and beg me to come down a little bit earlier...just so I could see him. I am so pained at the loss of the nights when he would text me to tell me how excited he was to see me. Now when I ask if he's still up for having me come visit I get : "Yuppers."
Oh, fantastic.
I think I deserve better than this, and I think that my patience is wearing thin.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Name Your Fears
I am, inherently, a very emotional person.I am primarily driven by my feelings, in all that I say and do and choose, for better or for worse.
It is for this reason that my friend Steve affectionately dubbed me as the "emotional fireball", and refers to solving any emotional crisis of mine as "defusing the time-bomb". He is fully aware that, left to my own devices, I will rethink and reanalyze something until it eats away at me and I eventually (metaphorically) explode...often with unfortunate consequences. My feelings need to be kept in check.
In some ways, my extremely emotional nature has been a positive force in my life. I am capable of loving, caring for, and enjoying things more deeply than most people...my feelings on such matters run deep and impenetrably. Yet, it can also manifest in very negative ways. I am prone to extreme fits of sadness, anxiety, fear, helplessness and anger. Most of the time, I'm very good at hiding these bouts -- sometimes, not so much, and it ends up negatively impacting my relationships with people.
I've been needing to find a way to control these emotions, and have a better handle on them. At 23 years of age, and with a full span of life ahead of me, I don't want to be owned and kept down by my own negativity. I want to live happily and positively, no matter what the situation. I want to be confident in myself, without needing the approval of others. This can be accomplished by becoming the master of my own feelings.
One way of doing this, as I was recently reading in Self magazine (July 2008), is to give those negative feelings a separate identity from yourself...even up to donning on them a name or an image...so that rather than accepting those emotions as an inevitable part of who you are, you can deal with them and confront them...do something about them. You can tell that mean little voice in your head to be quiet, and silence it. You can choose to talk back to every insult, every put-down, until you begin to believe in the positive reassurance yourself. Until eventually those negative, irrational feelings begin to back down, and you can replace them with positive, logical thoughts.
Apparently this is something practiced by Buddhists, known as vipassana or apostrophizing.
In scientific studies, it apparently changes the activity location in the brain to label an emotion rather than to simply allow yourself to be engulfed in it.
I've been practicing it today. Every time that a self-deprecating thought floats through my mind, I try to challenge it and negate it...strip the thought of its power, and thus divert the emotion. So far, it seems to be helping, if only a little bit. But I imagine that with a great deal of practice, it can really help to silence that awkward, self-conscious voice that everybody has in their mind. I'm hoping especially that it can help me to get over my relationship anxieties, so that rather that succumb to worries about my boyfriend, I can merely identify my fears and say, "Those thoughts are unlikely. He loves me, so just relax." And hopefully, I can listen to that voice instead.
I'll try to update a little bit more about how this works out for me in the future.
But hey, I'm trying.
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