Two Reactions, One Day

On the morning I wrote my last post "Four Months", I wrote about processing the idea of not getting closure. About how all I can get from him, is what I already got. How I wanted to be able to talk calmly with him about our shared situation, but have begun to realize he may never do that. And for a while that day, I believed this was okay.

Later that night, I found myself reduced to a sobbing, albeit hysterical, mess as my best friend pleaded with me not to email him and threatened to call my mother to knock down my door and stop me. How did that happen?

The night before, I was told by someone that he’s been sleeping on various couches, one of which belongs to a "random girl." I was shocked and saddened, but I didn’t react. Actually I wasn't entirely shocked, oddly enough. I wrote "Four Months" the next morning. It wasn't until that night that something began slowly creeping over me... and then proceeded to swallow me. I started picturing him with this girl, thinking of how he’s forgotten me. How maybe he’s so much happier without me.

All of a sudden I began to feel hurt and used. Like the life I had led for years was a lie. I also felt this overwhelming feeling of worthlessness. This was so bizarre, so foreign. I'd never felt this before. I felt so easily replaceable. Disposable. And, well, worthless. This feeling took over me and every rational thought I was having... just vanished.

I think it's important to explain that while you can sit and process and analyze, talk and commiserate, plan for the future, and make declarations and observations -- that all of a sudden and out of nowhere you can be thrown into a place you never thought you were capable of getting to. A place that can grip you so tight that you can’t see yourself for who you really are.

I have to believe, and hold onto the fact, that he does not hold my sense of worth. That his love, didn’t make me a whole person, and his lack of love doesn’t in turn make me worthless.

Four Months

The time seems to be passing quickly, it doesn’t feel like 4 months, but at the same time what I went through 4 months ago doesn’t always feel real.

At this point, he's completely vanished from my life. We've chosen to have absolutely no contact and as each day passes I wonder if we ever will be able to talk again. My memories of him are becoming vague, blurry images; sometimes I have trouble remembering his voice, and can't easily conquer up his mannerisms, his laugh, or smile.

It's strange because I really felt like leaving him was like standing on a cliff. I had no idea what was going to happen to me and in a way I thought the world would just stop. But it didn’t stop. Everything kept going. My job, my family, my friends (well the most important ones)... are all still here. But as some things keep going… unchanged, other things are definitely changing, becoming clearer. Focused.

Many people vanished from my life along with him. The people I had grown up with over the last 9 years -- gone to college with, attended parties with, birthdays, holidays, shows and most recently their weddings – all vanished with him. As if they didn’t exist either. Most of them, after the break-up, never checked to see if I was okay, never contacted me, and I will most likely never hear from, or see, any of them again. At first, this upset me… a bit too much in fact.

People with whom I had shared major life events with all of a sudden were gone from my life. I always knew they weren’t really my closest friends but it’s shocking once you realize that the people surrounding you viewed you as disposable and if that’s the case, would never be there for you when shit got real. Because let’s face it, shit did get real and only a very few stepped up. Instead of a group of people supporting and genuinely caring for one another, you have something else entirely. This isn’t what I wanted. That’s not the kind of person I am or the kinds of people I want in my life. I want a genuine support system around me. This is something that has become startlingly clear. When my life is in upheaval and I need someone, I need them to be there for me, no questions asked, it’s that simple.

And of all the people you would expect to be there for me, my partner of nine years, no longer exists.

In my mind I have these visions of two grown-ups coming together to discuss, with clarity and civility, what went wrong, why they hurt each other, and how they’ve processed the end of their relationship. I want my voice to be heard, to say what I really think of what we did to each other, I want us both to apologize, to be clear and concise and open to say anything. I want closure and an end. But I have no indication that this is possible.

I get advice from all over the place. It ranges from: “Never contact him ever again”, to “Get together for dinner with him” (which right now seems impossible since I've just learned some pretty disturbing shit about his recent actions and can’t imagine sitting in front of him and not jabbing a fork in his face), to “Go to him and verbally vomit all the things you feel and then walk away.”

I guess I have to move on with the knowledge that all I’m going to get from him, I already got. Maybe I’ll get the closure I envisioned someday, and maybe I won’t. But I’ll continue to work on myself and try to process what happened to us and why I made the choices I did. And most importantly, to not make the same mistakes.

To never again ignore myself. To undoubtedly listen to myself with a focus and intent so sharp it’s as if my life depends on it. Because it does.

12/365

1. The lighting in the Banana Repulic dressing rooms... it's perfect.



2. The wall color of said dressing rooms, which is the best shade of grey.

Pretty soon, I'll go there and will proceed to chip off a small piece of the wall, take that piece to the hardware store and have them match it. It is the absolute perfect shade of grey and really should be the color of my living room.

Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.

Parking Lots and The Heaps

Photo by Traveler76

During the month of January (and a little bit of February) I had to try and wrap my mind around leaving him. How would I do it? Where would I go? What would I take with me? What the hell was his and what was mine? Needless to say, it was horribly overwhelming and I did it all alone. We would talk about breaking-up, but the actual packing and sorting all came down to me… of course. So I would sit in our apartment, under the shadow of my giant white Christmas tree, and try to figure out how to get out with the greatest amount of my sanity.

Somehow I decided that the first thing I had to do was go through my things and decide what I still wanted. Truthfully, I wanted none of it, but I had to sort it all out. To me, it was the first step.

So I would unload drawers and closets, sit on the floor with all my belongings laid out in front of me, deciding what was coming with me and what was staying. Moving from room to room holding piles of clothes, art supplies and papers; sorting and analyzing, I created various heaps throughout the house. I would do this endlessly, not eating, barely sleeping -- reading through old papers, letters, old greeting cards, photos. In the end, I was left with an assortment of many various heaps. This prompted a somewhat nightly ritual of driving to the hardware store and searching for a way to store all of it, and little by little I amassed a collection of bins.

Somewhere between either calling my mom, my best friend, or him, I’d tearfully drive to the store, sometimes pulling over to the side of the road to cry and then pull myself together (usually with the help of my best friend on the phone), then get back on the road and eventually pull into the hardware store parking lot. I’d sit, parked, and wait, clutching onto a snot soaked napkin or tissue or sleeve, looking out at the snow under the street lights, until I could compose myself into some respectable way before walking into the store. Buying these bins gave me a feeling like I was accomplishing something; I was one step closer to… something.

I ended up in that same parking lot the other day, it was a beautiful June afternoon and I had been in a great mood for no discernible reason. As I got out of the car, I was reminded of those horrible January days of tearful driving, bin buying, frantic sorting and endless packing.

I can see now, that my love for processes and analysis drifted into my break-up. I created a step-by-step process that I adhered to religiously. It kept me together and it kept me focused.

I'm so thankful that's over... I'm not walking around with wadded up tissues in my pockets anymore or dealing with any various heaps.

11/365

1. Tearing into a box of Trader Joe's peppermint oreos in the middle of Ralphs with my BFF 
   
2. Going back for a second box the very next day.... 

Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.

Grace in Small Things: 10/365

Photo by SMercury98


1. Ruby red grapefruit
2. Avocados
3. Humidity 
4. Wind

Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.

Grace in Small Things: 9 of 365

Photo by Carissa GoodNCrazy

1. The sound my new iPod makes when it shuffles 
2. Peanut butter cups
3. Unwrapping new beauty products (a.k.a "New Beauty Products Day")

Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.

Creature Feature

Like some mystical creature studied for centuries -- every aspect of it examined in detail. Experts research its every move, every characteristic... recount each intricate mannerism, movement, hair, muscle. The creature exists only in the researchers mind. 

And yet, once the experts actually see this creature in real life, it surpasses every expectation. What was once only known in books becomes real and this reality is completely fascinating. But why? All the details were known, everything had been studied, but now somehow, seeing it in real life, seeing it move, it seems completely unlike what was expected but at the same time totally familiar. So much so its shocking.

This is what it feels like now to see video of him. 

I decided to find out once and for all if he was indeed back in the country. I had a vauge idea of when he would be back, but I never wanted to find out the actual date. I just didnt want to know, I enjoyed knowing he was not in the country (not just out of the city.... but the whole country). But one night I looked it up, and in that search I came across a video of him. And like a masochist, I played it for about 1 minute. When I saw him, my eyes widened and I felt a wave of shock and disbelief. Proof that he exists outside of my memory.

He seems so unreal now, like a creature I had studied but never believed really existed.

Photo by Patrick Ng

Grace in Small Things: 8 of 365

Photo by t j a s a

1. A warm, sunny morning
2. A window filled with green trees
3. A hot cup of tea

Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.

Options?

Options... I seem to have so many at the moment and it's making me feel a little nomadic.

I feel no real tie to Chicago anymore. Once my parents move out of the city (and the midwest altogether), that's going to be it for me. The rest of my family is in New York, my closest friends no longer live here, and my job isn't enough of a reason to stay. My job has been good to me. I've been with it for 5 years and in that time I've had the flexibility to go to school and get a BFA in Interior Design. Without the flexibility its offered (working off hours and the chance to work in the evenings if needed) my degree would have taken much longer. Now that I have the degree, I'm ready to move on.

And on top of that, this city is wearing me down.... to a small nub. It's loud, dirty, crumbling, crowded, and pockets of it truly smell like garbage (no joke, drive down to Ashland and Clybourn, its narsty). I feel like I've been to every bar, driven on every street, eaten at every restaurant, shopped at every store... you get the picture. My tolerance is all but dried up. I used to love it here, but I could only see the good parts. In the few warm months we have, its quite pretty. We have a lovely lake. We have lush, green boulevards and plenty of public parks. But what the fuck Chicago? Is that all you've got?

I see a pattern here. "I could only see the good parts." Sounds a little like my relationship, no? This is why it's also difficult to be here. I've lived in Illinois for 14 years, 10 years of which have been in Chicago and 9 years of which have been with him. All of my experiences here include him. I don't really want these reminders anymore. I want to start fresh in a new town and not be faced with the memories, good or bad. I'd like to make some lovely new memories and perhaps make some exciting new mistakes.

So where do I go? Spin the globe and pick a city? It seems as arbitrary as that. It can be just about anywhere. Two on the list so far: Anywheresville, California or Charleston, South Carolina. Why Charleston? I dunno!

To add insult to injury (and I am not exaggerating) there seems to be a college party across the street blasting Animal Collective while a chorus of drunk men are screaming out lyrics right outside my bedroom window. I might have heard a motorcycle too, which makes it feel like a lamer version of Road House... but without the Swayze. 

Oh, Chicago.... I'm so over you.

Grace in Small Things: 7 of 365

Photo by darkviper

Sometimes it's not easy to find 5 separate things to find grace in every day. So in the interest of documentation, I've decided to break the rules. I think that's allowed. So here is just one instead of five.

1. Floating.

Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.

3 Months Later

My 3 month anniversary of the break-up was May 16th. Three months is a little less jolly than 1 month. At 1 month I was optimistic, proud, buying flowers, delving into insights, celebrating milestones, completing tasks, and seeing the whole world stretched out before me. 3 months feels different.

I think now it seems much more final that 1 month did. It's setting in.... it's over. And although I knew that before, the reality of it is becoming more clear. There's a different kind of sadness and I think the difference now is that I am, at times, angrier at myself than I am at him. This is a big shift and one that I did not see coming. I never felt like I was to blame before. I didn't want to beat myself up, I was kinda too fragile... I didn't deserve to be beaten up. But now I feel my part in what happened.

So much of his behavior was awful. So much of the selfcenteredness and the apathy was not okay. And yet, I acted as though it was okay. I acted as though all of it was normal and I adapted to his behavior in order to make it fit. Well that's not fair. I was not treated the way I should have been and deep down I knew it. I knew he wasn't the kind of partner that I needed, and yet I glossed over it. The warning signs. The miscommunications. I brushed it all away.

When I look back on 3 months ago I see a good deal of change. So much so that I can hardly recognize who I was or the choices I was making. Was I just blinded by love? By commitment? I can't really say. All I know is that I neglected the dull aches of anger and hurt that were telling me something was not right in the pit of my stomach.

And so I feel angry at myself for letting it all happen. I feel like I let myself down. To voice all of it. To be heard.

But I know that's not true. On one cold January night, my voice came burrowing out of me. My body shook as I blurted out the words. That I needed more. That I deserved so much more. And then I left.

So, I didn't buy flowers this time, it wasn't a flowers kinda day....but if I had, I would have bought some lovely white mums. Because, you know, I'm quite lovely.

My life is approaching fast.

Right now I'm searching for an apartment. While I love the idea of starting out on my own, getting to decorate my own home, living in my own space, starting new traditions and living my own life -- I'm also kinda scared. I haven't been alone in so long. Will I be okay?

So I search, and I search... seeing a variety of dingy, dark, small, old, crumbling apartments all over Chicagoland. I explore new neighborhoods since the thought of living in my old neighborhood makes me feel...well...ick. No thanks. And in my search, I stumbled upon a forgotten land called Logan Square. Trees, grass, boulevards, manicured lawns, old churches, historic landmarks. It's really lovely. I had forgotten that. I have happy memories from Logan Square, as that was the place my best friend and I lived about 5 years ago... and we had so much fun.

I think that's where I'll land, but wherever it is, it will be by myself. At times its a frightening thought and at times its liberating. I have to say, it's nice to think that I won't have to put up with anyone else's bullshit. For so long I cared for someone else, and for the most part did everything in our home by myself and for us. The thought of doing everything just for myself is pretty exciting. But the thought of being alone is, of course, tough. While I feel like for a long time I felt alone in my relationship, I wasnt really alone. He was there. And now he's not.

But guess what, I'm alone now and that's my reality. I'm not wishing for something to change in my relationship, I'm not giving up any part of myself, I'm not agonizing over someone else's feelings or needs, and I'm not compromising myself at all. That kinda rules.

And while I feel all inspirational and shit about my new life, I'm also pretty freaked out.

Original calligraphy by Andreza Keiko Mori

9 Niles

Nine Niles by Michael Cina

Number 9

I found this on Lolita. I think it's lovely and am now considering a tattoo of a nine. 

Just considering...

Image by Lolita.