Scream

The world is crumbling.  I see it.  I see the slow cracks in everything. I see the dust of rubble falling at my feet. I see the ruins before the fire is even ablaze.  The rumble under the earth before a quake.

Everything feels strange.  Off.  Not quite right.

Do you ever feel like this?    Like your world is falling apart, and falling too quickly to repair but at the same time in slow motion?   Everything in your life is changing so quickly it feels foreign and yet so slowly that everything looks the same.

In your mind, you see yourself standing a the center of a vortex while a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts, ideas, possibilities, swirl around you and build a cloud of anxiety and stress over your head.  But the changes are so slow and minute  on the outside, no one notices.  But you notice and stand there as if in an alternate dimension, feeling disconnected from everything and everyone.  You wave your hand at your past, trying to clutch at old memories and habits of comfort only to find your hand is that of a ghosts, moving right through them and unable to grasp.  You can smell the change in the air like a sweet rain rolling in; feel the prickle on your skin as you can sense your life on the brink of morphing into something else.

Maybe it will shatter for the better, revealing something shiny and new.  Maybe it will lead you to a life better led.  Maybe it is destiny or maybe it is a direct result of all you desire, even subconsciously.

But right now it feels like life is simultaneously moving too quickly toward change and yet so slowly you want to scream.  And so you do.  You scream until your cheeks are pink and your lungs bereft.  But no one can hear you.

In this life, you realize, you are entirely alone.

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Aug 27th

3 years.  It has officially been a little over 3 years since I started writing here.  3 roller coaster years of chronicling the  highs and lows of the the despair and simultaneous exhilarating freedom of my divorce and subsequent finding of myself (although I fear I am still not quite found, and perhaps I never will be).

Things are strange these days.  In so many ways, I feel lost and worrisome all too often.  Riddled with insomnia and anxiety over the looming changes in my life.  But all at the same time, many of these changes are for the better.  And I really do, firmly believe this. Just change is…hard. And scary.  Really, really scary.  And  it can be so easy to get wrapped up in this terror that, for me, is a package deal that comes neatly tied to any kind of change.

But then days like this happen.
…Days where I am signing for something and I realize that I now, finally, can sign my maiden name instead of my married name (since that process has taken me years longer than the actual divorce).
…Days where I am sitting at a concert, my hand lingering in my partners, and a song comes on that was an anthem to my initial separation, and it hits me how unexpectedly different life is today.  I even get a little misty as I remember how scared and hollow I was then, using this song (among others) to feel stronger than I really was.  It makes me realize I am happy and healthy I am now, and how incredible it is to have a partner who is actually willing to attend a concert with me, even if it’s not his favorite band, just so I have the opportunity to go.
…Days  where I get a notification that this blog has existed for three years.  And I start sifting through old posts from the start of my blogging days, and I don’t recognize the person who wrote those posts.   I am so detached from that person, it doesn’t even feel like it could possibly be myself.

In light of all this change, I have pondered some things that I really have learned over the last four years as my marriage evolved from existent to null.  In true cornball fashion (my last few posts have been a bit heavy, anyway,  no?) this is what I have come up with:

  • It’s totally OK to want to be taken care of by a man. It doesn’t mean you aren’t a strong, feminist woman.  Just don’t let any man take care of you financially.  It is harder to subsist on your own, but the comfort of knowing you can carry yourself is worth it.
  • It’s bullshit to say “love like you’ve never been hurt”.  Use that hurt to protect yourself, learn from it and do better in the next relationship.
  • Always keep an open mind.  About everything.  Literally, about everything and everyone.
  • Don’t be a martyr.  Your life is your own; you need to do you.   Know the difference between being selfish and self care.
  • You are too old (and responsible) to party more than once a week and/or on a weeknight anymore. Sorry.
  • No one- absolutely no one– knows what the fuck they’re doing when it comes to relationships.  Or most of anything else about life for that matter.
  • Summers are no longer about ‘livin’ easy’.  You’re an adult now.  They best thing that might happen to you all summer long is the fact that you don’t need to wear a coat.  Get over it.
  • Sometimes, it’s ok to not forgive.
  • It’s completely OK to hate being single.  It doesn’t make you any less of an independent person, or needy or anything else negative.  The majority of people pair off into relationships because it is empirically really nice to have a partner in this life.
  • Figuring out who you are and what you want to do with your life is hard work. Don’t expect it to just come to you naturally.
  • People aren’t always rotten just because they do rotten things.
  • People aren’t always good people because they do nice things.
  • Things are just things- no matter how sentimental.  Your life will go on without them and the memories surrounding them will stick with you even when the objects are gone.
  • Some people just aren’t worth the energy to engage with.  Maybe they’re right, maybe they’re wrong.  Maybe they are screwing you over.  It doesn’t always matter. If it’s sucking your energy dry, just walk away.
  • Talk to strangers.  You never know who you will meet and where it will lead.
  • You do not always need to be the life of the party.
  • You do not need to make apologies about needing alone time.
  • You do not need to make apologies for having a boyfriend and spending time with him, even if it sometimes comes at the expense of spending time with your friends.
  • You are not the expert or authority on anyone or anything. Ever.
  • Give love a chance.  Don’t just say you are.  Actually do it.
  • You cannot plan out your life.  Life unfolds in the most random, if not mysterious of ways.
  • Remember that there is no designated life timeline.  You are exactly where you are supposed to be.  

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My Secret Boyfriend

Lately, I have been really into dating bad boys.  Well, not bad boys, per say but one in particular.  I suppose they say everyone goes through a bad boy stage.  But mine is different because we have been dating on and off for quite a while. Years actually.

It seems that whenever I thought I was over him, he comes right back, and our relationship is more powerful than ever.  He is quintessential bad boy material in his tough exterior and unrelenting nature; impossibly obnoxious and rude and honestly, all together annoying.  And yet, I just can’t kick the habit of this bad boy relationship.

I don’t like to talk about my bad boy boyfriend,  whom I shall only call “I”.  After we spend the night together, I saunter into work like it’s just another day, hoping no one notices the bags under my eyes and slowed responses after another long night tossing among the the sheets.

It’s not so much that I’m embarrassed about “I” it’s just that there isn’t much to talk about.  He doesn’t have much substance under those impossibly annoying bad boy traits and I feel like ours is a relationship that only we can understand in the moments of twilight spent together.  In the daytime I become much more logical, charting plans and strategies for avoiding Mr. I and ending our volatile relationship. Every morning, I swear to myself with unwavering conviction that this was the last night spent together.

And it’s funny because my personal bad boy- Mr. I- is, with all certainty, the worst man I have ever shared my bed with, leaving me always on the brink of orgasm but pulling away just before that blissful peace that you crave.  Leaving that tantalizing itch unscratched until it is the one and only thing in this world that you feel that you want and need.  Yes, the satisfaction he withholds creates a kind of mental madness in which you feel certain you would do absolutely anything on this planet in order to reach that pinnacle of of relief.

OK.  I know.  Now I’ve got your attention.  I suppose, I’ll tell you who he is.  I’ll give you a name since we’re such good friends and all.  And the interwebs have a way of making one feel an-albeit false- sense of security.

His name is….

Insomnia.

That’s right.  Insomnia is my badass mother fucker of a boyfriend these days.  If anyone has met this kind of boyfriend, you know they are funny little guys; so  strange with their random arrivals and inconvenient departures; showing up unannounced on your doorstep one night and inviting themselves into bed with you, leaving you no room for protest.  Such an ego maniac, this Insomnia!  So much so, that he can’t leave you alone for too long, lest you -God forbid- find someone else.  Someone like Peacefulness or Sleep or Rest.  No, he is far too jealous for that.

And he is such a sneaky son of a bitch.  Why is it that I can be so weary staring at the pages of a book, that my eyes are drooping, but once I put that book down and try to sleep, my mind is awake and running?  It is almost as if the light switch is not really connected to my bedside lamp, but rather, my mind and entirely controlled by Mr I.

The worst part is, he never lets me feel awake enough to actually do anything.  Instead I lay here thinking “Oh, you’re so close; you’re so tired that you *must* be close to sleep.  Just a few more minutes and you will be asleep.  Don’t get up and read.  Don’t turn on the TV or draw a bath.  You’re too close to sleep”.  But no.  I never do fall asleep this way.  Leaving me with the slumbered version of blue balls.  What a tease, that Insomnia.

So far there has been no outsmarting him. This bad boyfriend with the mind tricks and bad bedroom manners.  No yoga poses, lavender oils, hot showers before bed and chamomile tea can change his ways or romance him into a more tender pattern.  I can’t even roofie him.  Instead, pills leave me even more on edge than it’s worth and my internal dialogue becomes even more neurotic and deluded.  “Ok I took one.  How long before I feel something.   Am I breathing evenly?  I don’t want to be the next Whitney Houston, dying on a bad combo of Xanax and wine.  I did have that one glass of wine at happy hour….it was 6 hours ago but still… ” 

So if any of you have ever had a bad boy relationship with Mr I.- and let’s be honest, I hear that his kind gets around a lot- and have found a way to kick him to the curb where he belongs, I’m all ears.  Lord knows you know where to find me. Here in my bed.  Alone and awake.  Staring into the ceiling as if it were the sky itself and praying for the sweet abyss of sleep. Day dreaming about dreaming.  Nostalgic over my ceased love affair with Sleep, the biggest stud I ever did date.

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