bullet-trainwreck

this story starts like most train wreck stories:

you see, there was this guy...

and since you already know the ending (spoiler alert: that's where the train wreck part comes in), i guess what's left is for me to fill in the middle part.

i can't pretend to be too mad at the universe. i knew i had a pretty hefty karmic debit in the relationship column. i knew it would bite me in the ass in a big way when it caught up with me, and boy did it.

so, i met a guy on a dating site. we talked, regular get to know you conversation, daily bullshit, all the real stuff. it never turned dirty (if you've ever been on a dating site you know 98% of the conversations start or turn dirty quickly). it was great. seemed like just a cool guy.

we planned to meet up on a saturday evening, but the wednesday before i was out for a drink and invited him to join me, which he did. not only was i NOT stood up for a date, he came out for an impromptu meet up BEFORE the time he was supposed to stand me up. WHAT IS THIS WITCHCRAFT?

and it went well. so well my regular bartender commented on it and the immediate chemistry.

well, fucksticks. NOW WHAT?

so we kept talking and kept the date for saturday which went INCREDIBLY well. as in he shared a lyft the next morning with me (him back to his car, me to the airport).

two dates? that pushed me into foreign territory and the freak out commenced. i spent a day in seattle with an amazing friend who let me gush and be a twit, all with him texting me all day. flew back monday morning, he came over and cooked me dinner monday night. WHAT IS HAPPENING??

panic is full swing. we keep texting and talking and he comes over tuesday night. and it's amazing. it's a connection i've never had with someone before. i'm being myself. my total, unfilted, fully crazy self. i tell him my fears about relationships, my hang ups, my disaster history. he does the same. i tell him when i'm panicking about how things are going. he does the same. i try to think of every weird freaky thing that's been a deal breaker in the past and this guy is holding steady. i finally break out the big guns and one evening we talk about empathic abilities. turns out not only is he not freaked out by my abilities, HE HAS THEM TOO. and we are able to literally pass energy back and forth. we're able to share emotions and memories and connect in a totally different way.

this is some next. level. shit.
 
and there's a few snags along the way- he's dealing with PTSD and TBI and gets a little overwhelmed by home life thursday, but then he works through it and comes over friday night...and stays til sunday afternoon.

and i THOUGHT it was going well. there were a few too many calls from the ex-wife and the ex-girlfriend for my comfort, but they were concerned about him and checking in. not unreasonable for someone dealing with veterans issues. i'm just glad he has a strong support network at this point.

but then shit goes sideways. he mentions the ex-girlfriend is going to meet a new guy and it's throwing him for a loop.

huh. ok. well, they were together for 4 years and just split in october. and he's still teaching her photography. so. maybe a bit of an open wound situation. then, after he left sunday, he calls a few hours later in the middle of a melt down because the ex called him on the way back from her overnight date and it sent him into a total tailspin.

and there's my line. if her going on a date throws him into a total tailspin, then he's not ready to be even considering anything new. and i don't want or deserve to be a stop gap or a distraction or whatever.

so i call him monday afternoon and we discuss it and agree that he's really not in as good of a place as he thought, he isn't ready to try something new, but you know, we can still talk.

cool. that ended well. sad. it seemed like it could be something really cool. but i'm not going to settle for second anymore.

LOOK AT ME BEING MATURE AND GROWN UP.

then shit went REALLY sideways. he goes dark after our phone call and, given his mental status over the weekend and everything i want to check and make sure he's ok, so i check his facebook page to see if there's any activity.

and then i see it. a simple post on his wall that says "143." that's it. "143" posted saturday night at 11:44.

wait.

what?

saturday night? when he was in bed with me?

what the fuck?

what's 143?

to the google: OH, 143 is "i love you."

well fuck. that's weird. he was in bed with me. who is he posting that for in the middle of the night?

OH, there's a comment on it. 

nice. the ex-gf posted "143" back.

well. that's fan-fucking-tastic.

and the pieces start to fall into place: he started seeing me, so she started seeing someone new. then she was going to go stay with that guy, so suddenly he's staying with me. OH, so i'm a pawn in a game of ex-relationship chicken.

THAT'S FUCKING SPECTACULAR.

holy. fucking. blindside.

and here i stupidly thought things were going well and he was actually into me.

commence total mind fuck.

BUT.

here's where things get interesting.

i call him on it. flat out call him on it. is this what you were doing? was any of this real? do you have any idea how totally shitty this is?

that's right: I STOOD UP FOR MYSELF.

good news: he wasn't using me. WHEW. that's a relief.

he was just trying to hurt her and i got caught in the crossfire.

oh wait...not so much of a relief.

BUT, he swears our connection was real. he says that he did actually care for me and feel the same connection, he was just too caught up on her.

so. I'LL TAKE IT. i choose to believe it.

I. CHOOSE. TO. BELIEVE. IT.

it wasn't me this time. i threw everything at him. all of it. he didn't run away. i don't know if it's because he was determined to show her up, or too distracted to really be bothered, or if he really did just simply like me.

i'm going with the last one.

and that's a BIG shift for me.

silver lining.

i was myself. i cooked meals i would normally cook. i sat around in my pajamas. i even *gasp* wore my glasses and didn't wash my hair. WHAT????

i spoke up for myself. i opened up. with the help of some VERY patient friends i didn't panic and cut ties when i normally would. i stuck it out. i tried. i opened myself up.

I HAD FEELINGS Y'ALL.

ACTUAL. FEELINGS.

and i didn't die.

as fast as it flashed and burned out, as stupid as i felt for how intense it got in such a short time, I DID IT. i threw it ALL out there. i let him stay the night. i let him be around the teenager. i cooked him meals. i did dishes and laundry and REGULAR PEOPLE THINGS. 

it wasn't a magical bachelor island bubble where everything is perfect all the time and no one snores (spoiler alert: i snore. loudly).

and it was ok.

i mean, until it wasn't.

BUT IT WAS OK.

he didn't run. he didn't judge me. he didn't freak out.


I WAS MYSELF Y'ALL AND HE LIKED ME.

so. i can deal with the train wreck. i can deal with the hurt, and there was A LOT of hurt.

AND. because i'm trying REALLY hard to be in the moment and actually experience things as they happen instead of shoving them down to bite me years later: here's my take away:

it's going to get really sappy and self-help bullshit and very meditative/mantra-ish right now:

yes, this hippie shit is coming from me:

i appreciate the pain for letting me know i can still feel.

i appreciate the experience for letting me know i am capable of and open to a partnership.

i appreciate the betrayal for reminding me actions have consequences.

i appreciate the despair for reminding me i have people i can reach out to that will listen and care.

i appreciate the reminder that hope is still an option. and that i am capable of warmth and caring and understanding.

i appreciate the experience for showing me i CAN open up and be honest, ALL of me.

even though it all fell apart. even though there's a ton of ugly questions i could ask.

I CHOOSE HOPE. i choose to know me being me didn't chase him away. for the first time ever.

I CHOOSE TO BELIEVE HE LIKED ME AS I AM.

well fuck. that turned into a bridget jones moment. time to wrap this up.

SO. long story short: there was a guy. i liked him. HE LIKED ME. and it just didn't work out this time.

but i tried.

let the search begin!

so. if you follow my twitter or Facebook, I posted the other day about wanting a REAL date during the much anticipated mommy vacation. three weeks of "grown up" time all to myself deserves a real date.

then I thought. yes, thought usually follows AFTER most post.

I have several events coming up that it would be nice to not have to attend alone. there's a fundraising cruise in August, my birthday and the magazine launch party in September, and I know there's something else I'm forgetting...

so: I see my real date and I raises myself a boyfriend.

not sure how exactly this will happen short of a pretty woman arrangement, and since I'm poor ass broke that isn't even really an option...

so here's the details:

August-October. possible early release. just need it long enough to look legit. bonus: he gets out before the holiday season AND gets to attend some fucking amazing events.

must be able to be on a boat and handle his alcohol, dress up in a tux (owned or rented), and must lavish the appropriate amount of attention on the actual birthday (strict no gifts policy). must be able to blend with several different groups of people and have an appropriate sense of humor to cover up for my often not appropriate jokes.

the first three weeks will be kid free so plenty of time will be available. after that its a crap shoot with back to school, work, and everything leading up to the launch party.

skills of dancing, cooking are a bonus, appreciation of good coffee and wine requested.

basic life skills (job, transportation, hygiene) are non-negotiable. between 30-45 requested, exceptions considered but must bring something outstanding to the table.

in return he gets to spend time with me. so. I mean...what more does he need?

if this succeeds, it would be my third longest relationship EVER. he may get a trophy at the end.

SO. now accepting applications.

16 again?

if you had the chance to be 16 again knowing what you know now, would you? it’s a question that’s been around forever. i’ve always said there’s no way in hell i would ever go back again, even knowing what i know now. i HATED my teen years, there was nothing good about high school or any of the things i went through back then.

who would want to go back to 16? even with adult knowledge and confidence? no thanks- i’m good.

well. things change.

last night i was 16 again. knowing what i know now. with confidence. i didn’t think of it that way at the time, but it really was just like being 16 again. and it was really great.

last night i had a chance to have a “re-do” with my first ever sexual partner. back in the day it wasn’t so great and actually left me with several of the insecurities that i’ve battled for years. long story short, he was my first lover and i didn’t have my first orgasm until i got married which was my 10th lover. so, you can tell i didn’t know my body at all back then or how to ask for what i wanted and he wasn’t exactly prepared to put in the time and effort to figure it out back then.

a LOT of things have changed since then. there was a spawn, marriages, marriages ending (mine divorce, his death). there’s personal growth and experiences and self discovery. there have been some EPIC fights, years of hating each other, years of tolerating each other, and here we are 14 years later and i would honestly count him among one of my closest friends. we’ve both been through so much and it’s been interesting to come together and help each other through those things and grow together and help raise our son together.

he came to town a few weeks ago and stayed a few days and we vaguely kicked around the idea of being together again but decided against it. last night he came back through town again and we both decided this time to see what happened.

like i said before, i wasn’t thinking of it at the time as going back to being 16. we did talk about how it had been 14 years since we had been down this road and both wondered how different things would be. details spared: MUCH different (and yes, worth it).

this morning i did get to thinking about it as going back and getting a do-over. i thought about how strong and confident i was last night and how it made everything so different. i thought about all the hang up’s i’ve been carrying with me for the last 14 years and how they really were just two inexperienced kids who really had no clue. it’s been odd today. it’s more thought than i expected. emotionally i’m good. mentally it’s been a trip. and in a GOOD way. i feel empowered. i feel sexy and sensual and confident as a woman. i feel like i don’t have to be so self conscious in bed anymore. all the things that were seared in my mind from those first few experiences don’t have to stick there any more. i can very confidently let them go.

so. for how much i argued against ever going back to 16, as much as i swore that i would never want to do that or experience that again, it was a very good thing. i’m really glad i did.

what would you do? would you go back to 16? i know not everyone would have the same good experience, but would the chance be worth it?

family legacy

my grandmother is 81 years old. it’s not the longest run in history, but it’s a damn good one. it’s interesting to think that she was born in 1929. that was the year of the wall street crash, the beginning of the great depression, the st valentines day massacre, the opening of the san fransisco bay bridge. in the same year martin luther king jr was born as well as audrey hepburn and anne frank. (read more here: 1929)

i found out last wednesday night that my grandmother has cancer. she will not be a cancer survivor. this will be the final chapter for her. by the time they found the cancer it was beyond any treatment options. the best they can do now is give her pain meds (which she doesn’t like to take because they make her too groggy) and wait for the end.

i’m angry at the universe about this. i get that 81 is a good run, but this is NOT a fair way for this amazing woman to go. there is NOTHING fair about this. here’s why:

my grandma is where i get my rebellious streak. there’s pictures of her in college holding hands with boys. i know- doesn’t sound so scandalous until you realize she went to a college with separate mens and womens dorms. not very unheard of at the time. but then you look in the background of the pictures and you see signs about men and women not being allowed to fraternize together. pictures of her holding hands with a boy with a sign about no fraternizing in the background. there’s also a picture of her and several girlfriends standing on a wall directly over a sign that says “no sitting or standing on this wall.” she had a strong wild streak to her. granted, i’m basing this off two pictures, but they do say a pictures worth a thousand words. she was also very in love with her first husband and there may or may not have been less than 9 months between their marriage and the birth of their first son. unfortunately at that time it was not at all something that people could deal with like they pretended to do when it happened to me (minus the marriage part). it caused a rift in her family and she was (i believe) disowned due to it. if not actually disowned it caused a large rift that caused great pains later on.

my mum was born in 1955 when my grandmother was 25 or 26 (forgive me, i don’t know her exact birthday- we’ll stick with 26). a few months before my mum was born my grandmother’s husband was killed in a plane accident. i can’t even imagine. 26, baby on the way, suddenly alone. in 1955. additionally, my mum has 3 older brothers. at 26 my grandmother was a sudden single parent of 3 small boys and a baby on the way. can you even imagine? i made the choice to become a single parent at 23 leaving my marriage. granted, not a choice i really wanted to make at the time, but still it wasn’t like having my whole life ripped from me. it was damn hard with two little guys. i can’t even begin to imagine three small boys and a baby on the way. she had to scrape together a few thousand dollars to have his body railed (yes, by train) back to his family AND pay for burial costs. you’d think at a time like this her family would step in and help. remember that whole great pains? they wouldn’t help. his family stepped in to help, but still. she was on her own. talk about a hard knock. she did it though.

in 1958 she married again and had two more kids. six total. that alone deserves sainthood.

now. our family has pretty tight lips when it comes to history but over the years i’ve heard a few things consistently enough to know that there’s a strong truth to them. still, please understand that this is a generation removed and a that no one is willing to talk about what went on.

my grandmother’s second husband is a pretty horrible person in my opinion. he is the type of person that never had qualms about using brute force to get his way. my mum talked only a few times about growing up with him and it was never good. one thing she remembered was my grandmother in the bathroom giving birth while he was in the kitchen demanding dinner. she talks about how when they got in trouble as kids (which was a continual thing due to the type of person he was) he would grab whatever was handy to beat them- a hairbrush, a belt, a metal rod. my grandmother and the kids went through this- no one escaped. in addition to that demeanor, he was also very politically defiant. he has strong ties to branches of the aryan nations and different supremacy groups. it was not 6 degrees of separation to our family when things like ruby ridge happened. it was maybe 1 or 2. hell, the wingnut even started his own “church” and considers himself a minister. hand in hand with all that goes a distrust of modern medicine, resistance to “government tracking” (drivers licenses and birth certificates), stockpiling weapons and food for the end of the world- the batshit crazy just goes on and on. did you know that if you eat mushrooms and ham you’ll catch aids? and that if you snort enough cyan pepper you can cure cancer? (one snort and i would NEVER complain about another medical problem as long as i lived. kind of like the egyptian answer to headaches). he is, to the core, in every way possible, a terrible person. even now, as my grandma is immobilized by cancer he’s demanding that she just needs to get up and walk more and she’ll be better. he gets angry with her for struggling through the pain and being confused or groggy. he talked yesterday about the “good old days” and how when they would argue she would simply say “you’re the head of the household” and that would be the end of the discussion. does anyone else catch the undertone to a discussion like that?

my mum did her best to keep my brother and i away from that whole mess growing up, one thing i am extremely grateful to her for. we rarely visited my grandmothers ranch and we NEVER spent time alone there.

53 years. my grandmother has endured 53 years of abuse after losing the love of her life, having her family shun her and being left on her own in 1955 with three kids and one on the way. she stuck with it because it’s what her generation does. you stay. there is no other option.

and she still maintained the beautiful person that she is. hidden in there peeking out when the coast is clear is that rebel. the amazing woman that gave me my love of vintage books. the first person in our family to go to college. the young lady in the picture standing on the forbidden wall. the woman that i look up to for what she went through and continues to go through. she raised six kids. SIX. she ran the ranch for over 20 years with “small” gardens that would put most gardens to shame (ACRES of gardens). she provided food for countless families that passed through and stayed on the land at different times. she made (and hand tied) quilts for all 9 of us grandkids. every year since my kids started school she helped make sure all their supplies were provided. visiting her over the last week i’ve still seen an amazing sense of humor, beautiful intelligence, unimaginable strength and patience. it breaks my heart to think of how much i missed out on growing up because of what she was stuck enduring.

and i’m angry at the universe because she never got a break. a few years ago her husband was very sick and it didn’t look like he was going to last very long. i was so excited for her thinking that finally she would be away from his tyranny. she would be able to get a nice little place in town and live a few years of her life in peace. a few years away from the constant abuse. a few years with her kids who had all distanced themselves as adults. a few years with grandkids, great grandkids that had been kept at a distance. instead he’s pulled through and is in fine health (aside from dementia) and she’s in the worst possible pain, completely overtaken with cancer and no chance of pulling through. no chance of peace. no chance to have the life she deserved. no chance to be the beautiful independent, free spirited woman she once was. i’m so angry. i’m so filled with hate and rage to see the scales once again not balance out. i don’t understand how the universe works. i don’t understand why things like this happen.

i’m also terrified.

my grandmother has lived with 53 years of abuse. my mother grew up in that household. i have to acknowledge that experience and how it shaped her adult life and approach to relationships. i have no question that her marriage to my dad was unhealthy. i love my father with everything i am, but i am not blind to his faults. i know that he had affairs. i know that he was young and didn’t treat my mother the best he could have. i know they were both young and both came from hard upbringings and didn’t have the healthiest examples of how to be a young married couple. i honestly believe that my mother would have stuck with him forever if he hadn’t come home and announced he was in marriage counseling. with the other woman. if he hadn’t left, my mother never would have. she would have stuck in an unhealthy relationship because it’s what you do. how do i know this? because she’s doing it now. she’s married again to a horrible man. a man that has lied to her, mistreated her, hidden things from her, abused her kids. she is in an abusive relationship now and she is sticking with it because that’s what you do. my grandmother married a second time because she needed help raising four young children. my mother married a second time because she needed help raising two young children. both stuck out abusive marriages because it’s what you do.

i’m TERRIFIED. i’m TERRIFIED to be a third generation of this. and i KNOW i’ve already broken the mold. i was in an abusive marriage and I GOT OUT. but the fact remains that i was in an abusive marriage. i followed their steps. i did it. i married an abuser. a third generation. i did get out, but i’m TERRIFIED that i don’t know any better. i don’t know what a healthy relationship is. i don’t know how people are supposed to work together. i don’t know what the good things are to look for and it’s damn hard shopping when you’re only going off the avoid list.

on the other end i’m terrified of avoiding relationships and not trying to find someone to try to give my kids a healthy example to look up to. no example is just as damaging as a bad example. they need something good and healthy and strong to learn from and aspire to. but i don’t know how to give that to them. i only know that i want to protect them from an unhealthy one. i don’t want to fuck up a fourth generation. i don’t want my kids to look back 15 years from now and be in the same boat facing the same fears and the same bad experiences. how do you fix things like this? how do you unlearn what you grew up with? how do you change the family legacy? i don’t want to be the third generation single mother who marries for help and stays no matter what.

and so what do you do? you’re terrified to get stuck in a bad one and terrified to not have one at all. i want to break the cycle. i want to be the generation that does it right. i want to be the generation that is healthy and happy and successful in a partnership. i just have no fucking clue where to start.

have patience...

ok kids. this is going to be a moment of truth: i’m in the process of learning about myself. it’s going to be confusing, it’s going to be awkward, and, as per usual, you get to come along for the ride. funny thing is that i don’t even know where to start on this one. there’s an old saying: if you hear something once, you can dismiss it. if you hear it twice you should consider it. if you hear it a third time, it must be true. well, i’m one step away from an ugly truth.

i’m not sure what i’m being told is the truth, but i know that the core issue behind it is a truth. let’s start at the beginning shall we?

the new boy and i had a fight a few weeks ago. yes, already. it got ugly. hell, it got fucking nasty. we were both angry and mean. at times i was flat out vicious. he accused me of not understanding that he had responsibilities and i was angry at him for accusing me of not understanding responsibility. how could someone say that _I_ don’t understand responsibility? are you fucking kidding me? that’s all my life has been for the last 13 year. it’s why i went to college. it’s why i stayed at the same job for 10 years. it’s why i rarely go out and never get drunk with friends or date just any random guy. i have a responsibility to provide a safe, stable home for my kids. DON’T FUCKING TELL ME I DON’T UNDERSTAND RESPONSIBILITY. yes, NOW, the last MONTH, ONE MONTH, i have less responsibility: i don’t have a 9-5. i don’t have to answer to anyone right now. but i’m still responsible. i still get up and take the spawns to school every morning (and go back and get them when i realize it’s a weekend). i still pick them up every evening and make sure they have everything the need (and more than a few things that are just wants). i’m still doing what’s best for them. i’m still making sure they’re provided for and taken care of. i’m taking great care to plan things out, make sure i’m making the best decisions for us. I AM STILL RESPONSIBLE..

then, again today, a second person told me i don’t get responsibilities. that i have to remember that when you have responsibilities it affects your schedule. to be fair, this wasn’t a separate incident. i was discussing the argument above to a friend and basically he was agreeing with the new guy. so. that’s two. TWO people telling me i don’t get responsibility.

obviously my knee jerk reaction is anger...you may have picked up on a bit of that. i want to scream out “IT’S NOT TRUE” and i want to prove everyone wrong.

BUT.

it is true.

well, it is and it isn’t. i get responsibility. i am a responsible person and parent. THAT part is wrong. the core issue behind it isn’t though. when you trace these statements back and figure out where they started they have a common theme: patience.

i am not a patient person. i’ve known this my whole life. it has never been one of my virtues. ask anyone that knows me if i’m a patient person and they’ll just laugh. now i’m not TERRIBLE. i’m not one to storm the receptionist desk if the doctor is running behind. i’m not one to leave people at home or when we’re out or anywhere because they’re not ready when i am. i’m not the person drumming my fingers during a card game because the other turns are taking too long. i’m not a toe tapper of a huffer or a pacer. i can entertain myself to pass time. i can wait patiently in traffic (most days) without yelling at the other drivers. i understand that things happen, schedules change, and 95% of the time i’m able to roll with the punches and not be concerned at all.

BUT. when it comes to things like buying furniture, I WANT IT TODAY. i don’t want to have to wait for it to be ordered and shipped from white plains, wisconsin. i want to put it in my car and take it home. NOW. when it comes to ordering things online i want it TOMORROW. i’m the person checking the fed ex “track your package” three times a day like it will make things move along faster. if i see a problem or know of someone having trouble i want to fix it NOW. part of this comes from my dad. he was the type to just solve things. whatever it took, it needed to be better NOW. throw money at it, do something, make it happen. NOW. solve it. make it go away. i suppose you could describe me as impulsive or impetuous. i always take time to think things through but when the decision is made IT’S GO TIME. once i’ve set my mind to something the response needs to be immediate.

SOME TIMES this is a good thing. i’m willing to jump right in and get my hands dirty. i’m willing to come up with a solution. i’m want to DO SOMETHING instead of just sitting around with my thumb up my ass.

sometimes, this is NOT a good thing. take for example the problem at hand: understanding responsibility or not. it actually tracks back to my problem with patience. in this situation, the boy and i were arguing about how long it had been since we were able to see each other. between work, kiddo, family, life, it’s hard for him to fit in time to get together. he is a dedicated father which is a GREAT THING. when he has his son, nothing gets in the way of that. it is something i greatly admire about him. however, it limits his time to be able to go out. i get it. i’ve done 13 years of this. i know that when it was me, i tried really hard to make time for things that were important to me. BUT there have been PLENTY of times over the years though that plans got cancelled or changed. it happens. here’s another one of my flaws: when it’s me i expect everyone to just go along with it. when it’s someone else, i tend to be...well...impatient and less forgiving. i want to think they should just *poof* make time. they should just make it happen. not be tired, not have obligations. i forget how hard it can be and how sometimes you just can’t. it’s the nature of it all.

if you’ve ever watched the movie “always” with richard dryfus and john goodman there’s one of my favorite quotes to describe relationships:

pete: “love. ain’t what it used to be.”

al: “theres only ever been two kinds. there’s flash fires that are all flame and burn out quickly leaving nothing. then there’s the long burn. that’s nature’s burn. even when you think it’s out the forest floor is still warm to the touch.”

i’ve always been a flash burn girl. hot, intense, burns out quickly and there really is nothing left. no friendships, no continued contact, NOTHING. it goes fast- talking constantly, texting, “hooking up” (yes, i just used that phrase), and then just as quick: BAM. done.

that lack of patience thing right there...

i want to see the new guy any time i can. i want to hear from him. i want to be around him. i want it NOW. i don’t want to wait a week to see him again. and i get frustrated when i don’t get my way. and it comes out in me picking a fight. pushing for more time. “not understanding responsibility.” no, i understand it, it just doesn’t fit into my little time table and it needs to be MY way. yes, i realize what a selfish, immature bitch i sound like in this moment.

well, it seems that the whole flash burn thing isn’t exactly the best way to have a lasting relationship. who knew? and here i am suddenly, with a long burn guy. he’s taking time, not in a hurry, willing to put up with me and my lack of patience and my temper tantrums (so far) and take some time with this thing. how do you go from being a flash burn girl to a long burn girl? i honestly don’t know. i try to think about it and get an instant migraine. i panic. i freak the fuck out. a few days go by and i think he’s lost interest and moved on. he cancels a evening and i think it’s because he’s found someone else. i’m REALLY terrible at this. flash burns i can handle. i know how to do short term. i know how to break things and push people away so that i know what went wrong and why it ended when the timer dings so i’m not left with a bag of questions. yes, i just admitted that. sabotage is MUCH preferred over the mysterious unknown.

so. here i am. faced with the reality of what i need to become if i want a successful relationship but no idea how to get there.

I AM NOT PATIENT. i know that. what i don’t know is how to change it. i do know that, like all things, change takes time. well, how do you think that sits with someone who wants things better NOW? vicious circle. ugh. i have a migraine and i don’t know where i’m going with this.

where do i go with this? how do i start to fix it? how do you switch from a flash burn to a long burn? any suggestions? does anyone know if there’s going to be a blue light special on patience any time soon? turns out i could use a little stocking up on that...

what's thursday without a little crazy?

i . am. annoyed.

no, that’s not quite right. i’m flat out fucking pissed off.

this whole breaking up thing…i thought once you did it you were DONE with it. turns out: not so much.

jaysus fucking chryst on toast. i mean REALLY? do i have to keep arguing and battling even after i pulled the plug?

saturday was the break up talk. sunday he decided he needed to stop by my house (DRUNK) to drop off the portable dvd cord that he had for some unknown reason (i can’t break up with him becky, like, all my cd’s are in his truck…dane cook anyone?).

so. sunday. thought he got the point. DONE. over. out. moving on.

last night i got a text asking how the kids and i were and if he could stop by because he found a receipt and he didn’t know what it was for.

-sigh-

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? a receipt? and you can’t read it? are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?

whatever. i found a few more of his things in my room that needed returned anyway, so might as well get it over with.

so. after 8 (when little spawn goes to bed) he texts me to TELL me he’s on his way over. not to ask, not to see if it’s ok. to TELL me he’s on his way. FUCKING FUCK. THIS IS MY FUCKING HOUSE, MY RULES. YOU FUCKING CHECK FIRST.

so he comes over. and i let him into the kitchen and hand him his stuff. and he’s all…you didn’t hug me. and i’m all…didn’t know i was supposed to.

oh…can we talk for a minute? you know…as friends?

-sigh-

where’s my inner bitch when i need her?

FINE. a few minutes.

and then i hear about all the big changes he’s making in his life and how much has changed and how much he’s improved and pulled things together. he has an offer for more work hours, he’s working out, bought a bike and rides every day, bought a dog…on and on. ummm…it’s been THREE FUCKING DAYS since i last saw him. and he was smashing drunk then. so…you know…when did all these fucking amazing changes happen exactly? and this is supposed to make me come rushing back to him? let’s see…where does that one fall…i think that falls into the FUCK NO category.

and he wants to hear about what i’m doing and what changes i’m making and where i’m going in life. umm…again…THREE FUCKING DAYS. work and kids. and grocery shopping. that’s all that’s happened. so. quit fucking pushing me and expecting all the same shit that i ended things over. i’m not going to fucking magically heal over night. i’m not going to suddenly just be better. there’s no fucking magic switch to flip and have life be right again. and i’m just pissed off and tired of the bullshit and the expectations and crap. then he wants to talk in private in the kitchen (oldest spawn was still up and in the living room).

umm…what big private thing do we need to talk about? insert here the whole drama of how we’re not really broken up. all couples have arguments and just need a little cooling off time.

THIS ISN’T FUCKING COOLING OFF TIME. it’s over. done. STICK A GOD DAMN FORK IN IT. but i just need to keep him around, in a back corner, just a little space, he can stay at his house and we’ll just text. he’ll just stay quiet. he’ll just…

WHAT DON’T YOU FUCKING GET? no. i will not keep you in a back corner or in a little space. this isn’t some fucking waiting game. this isn’t some little bump. THIS IS ME BEING DONE. you know that whole thing when i called it quits about you not listening to me? THIS IS WHAT I MEANT. i’m fucking DONE. i’m tired of arguing, discussing, having to defend my every decision.

and around and around it went. i finally just told him to leave. which turned into a 5 minute process of him saying goodbye and reminding me he’ll still be there and he still loves me and JUST FUCKING LEAVE ALREADY. and he finally gets out the door, i take a deep breath, and *knock knock* oh…by the way, here’s the receipt….it’s for the fucking lamp that YOU BOUGHT. it says right on it. LAMP. from the store he bought it at. are you fucking kidding me? this was the whole point of coming over? GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE. so he leaves. deep breath *knock knock* just wanted to tell me he loves me. GET. THE. FUCK. OUT. at which point i closed and locked the door in his face.

WHAT PART OF _OVER_ IS SO FUCKING HARD TO UNDERSTAND.

then the texts start:

“do u know u gave me a hope to keep going in my life because my life is u? i love you.”

“and i will waiting u until last day in my live.”

“and i bromise u i will naver cheating u until u come back to me. and i will naver looking to any gairil. i love you.”

and still today:

“do u think today its butafull…i think every day it will be like that when u smail. i love you”

(spellings left the way they came in because i’m a cold hearted bitch)

and i know…awwww…he loves me and he’s willing to wait for me and he’s so dedicated. NO. he fucking refuses to listen to what i want/need and thinks he knows better. IT’S FUCKING OVER. i’m done. i’m out. i’m not going back. i can’t keep doing the arguing and the defending every single thing i feel and say. i can’t keep feeling bad for FEELING. i can’t keep sitting under the pressure and expectation to just be better. i can’t keep doing this whole circle. i want to rip my fucking hair out thinking about it. instant migraine thinking of the around and around arguments. sheer stress thinking of the pressure to be better for someone else and feeling bad for falling apart different days and for taking my own sweet damn time to go through this whole process. just even typing about it is lighting me up…just want to punch a raccoon (they already have black eyes, you’ll never be able to tell).

JUST FUCKING LISTEN TO ME:

OVER. no more. done. don’t stop by with some lame excuse. don’t call. don’t text. don’t keep trying to pressure or guilt me into something i don’t want and isn’t healthy for me. BACK. THE. FUCK. OFF. i feel like i’m being backed into a fucking corner and it isn’t going to be pretty when i have to fight my way out.

so. that’s the vent for today. back to your regularly scheduled thursday now…

a non-descript, vague, generalized blog

ok kids. so i had this whole long three page update (and still not finished) all ready for you. i’ve been working on it all day through interruptions, a lunch break, losing my train of thought, not being able to track my ideas. i was getting really frustrated that i couldn’t finish it and get it up when suddenly i realized i was writing the WRONG posting.

whatchutalkinboutwillis?

see. someone here stopped at my desk and told me that they were talking about me and the boy and discussing it all and how they knew what was best for me.

now. if this were friends, concerned about my welfare, it would be uncomfortable but understandable. i know i’m in a tricky situation. i’m doing my best to work through it and learn from it and really put in some effort instead of just running away.

this was a coworker and someone i barely know in passing. discussing my personal life. and discussing it incorrectly. FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN TO HAVE SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT. it is my HUGE pet peeve to have people talking about me. talking about my relationships. it happened when i was married. EVERYONE else in the town knew what was going on…even before i did. i HATE HATE HATE the idea of people talking about me. especially when they’re getting the information wrong. and like i said- if they had my best interest at heart, it would be one thing. but to talk just to talk…i know. pot-kettle-black much? here i am on this blog throwing it all out there…but then when people talk about it i’m bothered.

i guess it’s the difference between information i’ve shared, and information people have decided to share for me.

confused much? sum it up by saying: i’m a freak. i can’t explain my exact freak factor or what triggers it, but you will KNOW when it’s been tripped.

and it’s been tripped.

so. here i am. i have so much i want to say. so much about what i have learned, what i am learning, how challenging and rewarding and frustrating and hurtful and healing this whole trip has been. but i can’t. i feel like my hands have been tied. i want to say it. i want to show you all how different i’m becoming. i’ve been growing and i want to show you. but i don’t want people talking about it. that is i don’t want RANDOM people talking about it. it's an invasion of my privacy. and it’s an invasion of HIS privacy throwing this all up there. when people talk about me and this whole thing they’re talking about him too. and it’s DIFFERENT. it’s more than all the douche from the past that i didn’t particularly care if it bothered them. it’s not fish guys that i've barely met (or never met) and will never see again. even if i pull the rip cord on this one i don’t want the whole process to be out there.

so. what now?

i guess…it’s almost like i’ve run out of words.

*mental shift*

i’ll talk about me for just a second…JUST ME.

here’s what i’ve learned- in vague, non-detailed, cloudy, generalized points. i don't like this feeling. ugh:

#1: i feel like i’ve been bit in the butt and reminded AGAIN why it’s an incredibly bad idea to be friends with coworkers. work is work. home is home. they shouldn’t cross. i need to learn to bite my tongue more so my butt gets a bit of a reprieve.

#2: i’m not perfect. my ideas of respect and relationships is warped. i have sharp edges that need softened, and i have hard edges that should never give. i’m learning about myself so i can tell the difference between the two and not get lost in the process.

#3: there has to be a balance to thing and i’m learning what my balance will need to be. last time i had a guy that didn’t give a flying fuck about me but we fit together and everything else worked. this time i have a guy that really cares about me but the fitting together and making everything work part is much harder. so. somewhere out there is a balance between the two and THAT is what i need to work on finding.

#4: an old cougar can learn new tricks. i’ve learned to TALK about things. i’ve learned to look at things from both sides of the coin. i’ve had my eyes opened to a while different parallel life. i’ve learned where my breaking points are. i’ve learned that some of the surface things i thought were so important can be outweighed by the true core of a person. i’ve learned that my way, while it works great for me, isn’t the ONLY way to get things done. i’ve learned to listen. i’ve learned to share. i’ve learned to trust.

#5: i’ve learned that old scars that i haven’t thought about in years can still flare up and hurt like the day you first got the wound and scars you were worried would hurt the most were the strongest in the batch.

#6: I. AM. STRONG. i’ve learned to speak my mind and my opinion in a +positive+ way. i can stand up for myself and say what is ok and what isn’t ok and STICK TO IT.

SO. that’s what i’ll stick to for now. this hurts kids. this really hurts. so much more i want to say. so many things i’m proud of and confused about and looking for help on…but i can’t let it out. so. there you go. i was able to finish this one without any interruptions. so…you know…i guess it’s what i was meant to share today.