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3.5 Years: It’s Over… September 18, 2016

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Let’s start from the end. It’s been three days since he told me it was over. My heart understands and accepts. My mind has been trying to make sense of it all. He asked me to meet him at the park, I don’t know why. I am not sure what he had hoped to accomplish. Did he want to see me cry? Was I supposed to break down and beg for forgiveness? I asked, “why didn’t you just send me a text?” I told him he made me waste my time coming over here for no reason. I tried to get in my car and he pushed my door closed and told me we were going to talk, because people talk about these things? HUH?!? They talk after a decision has already been made? I guess I might be confused about the process.

So I stood there and I let him talk. I brought up a few points and noted that his answer was the same as he had given for the past three and a half years. I realized that either he was clueless and didn’t understand how human beings should behave or he just didn’t care and never did. I stood there as he spoke waiting for my heart to feel something, to break, to burst, to explode, to disintegrate but nothing happened. I waited for the wobble in my voice that indicated I was about to cry and embarrass myself but it never came. I was simply annoyed that he didn’t just send me a text saying that it was over. A simple text or a phone call. I know it sounds impersonal but my heart didn’t love him anymore and it hadn’t loved him for a while. My journal and my conversations show exactly when I became aware that I had stopped loving him but there was part of me that had loved him for so long that it had become easy to say that I loved him. Even the email I wrote asking for my money back would lead one to believe that I still loved him but that is so far from the truth.

For three and a half years I only wanted to two things from him 1) be my friend and treat me right 2) help me to achieve this one goal that I can’t seem to figure out how to navigate and accomplish. He failed at both and for that whole time I was too afraid to walk away or stand up for myself, because my heart was convinced that I loved him and those few flickers when the “real” him showed up said that some part of him actually loved me.

That night I understood that:

  • he thought I was intelligent but yet too stupid to understand his point of view
  • he wanted me to be his lover and friend but yet invisible to the world
  • I don’t factor in his grand scheme of things and I never did
  • all he ever wanted to do was use me
  • he could throw me away as easily as he tossed his pet
  • no one matters to him but himself

AND most importantly

  • most of this was my fault because I let it happen over and over again. When a person is so hurt by another person that they start planning their suicide, it’s a huge red flag…

…stay tuned for the 3.5 years: the letter



The End… August 10, 2014

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I think about suicide a lot lately. I feel it’s an option to not having to spend the rest of my life alone. I think it would make others happy to not have to deal with me and my sadness anymore. Suicide would end my struggle to fit in, it would end my need to feel like I belong. I don’t want to be one of the crowd, NEVER THAT, but I want to know that there is some one, some group, some place I could go or be where I don’t feel like an outsider. A place or a person that welcomes me in my uniqueness. I don’t want to continue to feel like everyone is marching to a tune that I don’t hear.
Suicide feels like an option, because when I die I don’t have to worry about belonging or whether anyone cares. I hate when people talk about my laid back attitude or my beautiful soul and other sentiments like that, they simply mean you don’t fit, you don’t belong, I recognize you are different and that’s more than I want. I don’t care for your differences as long as they get me what I want. Your heart means nothing to me.
It’s not me, it’s you!
It’s not me, it’s you!
It’s not me, it’s you!
Every rejection smashes against my soul. I am obviously the problem. They talk about how special I am but yet force me to conform to what they want. It’s always: you do this, but I like this; I want; you don’t listen; I am not interested; you are beautiful but…
But what?!? What’s wrong with me?
I try to be strong and be me, but no one likes that. I try to change and fit their mold, I am uncomfortable, I hate every minute but that’s not enough. There is always something that I miss, something else I should be doing.
Suicide is an option because I am tired. I am tired of not being anyone’s choice.  I am tired of doing and doing and doing and giving and giving and giving. I am tired of opening up my heart and my soul and pouring it out and nothing fills it. The empty days and even emptier nights.
Suicide is an option. It seems like the only option now. My husband said, I never thought about reciprocating. All those things you did for me, I never thought about doing them for you. My non boyfriend says, all those things you do for me, I will NEVER do them for you. You mean very little to me, you are not even worthy of a tiny piece of my heart. The others think I am amusing, I am too sensitive, I am a nice person, I am depressed, I need medicating, I need to get over it, I need to be alone but no one thinks I need to be loved.
Suicide is an option simply because it makes things easier for everyone. No one had to remember to check on me, no one has to bring me a gift when they go out of town or send a text to say hi. No one has to respond to my text, not the really happy ones or the sad ones or the excited ones or the simple ones. No one has to ask me for help or get help. No one has to worry about whether I ate or showered or had a good day. No one has to worry about my mental or emotional health. Or my physical health. The truth is no one worries about those things anyway.
I have always said I don’t want to be anyone’s regret, and I mean that.
Suicide is an option because while I love myself, it’s exhausting to love others and get very little love in return.
Suicide is the only option because I am empty.

To the one I love (How I failed as a woman)… May 23, 2014

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My heart completely made this decision.
I wasn’t pretending to not look, yet secretly hoping that I would find someone. I marshaled up some courage and walked in that day. I just wanted some answers, an inkling of hope, an arrow.
Instead I got him.
People told me I was in love. I denied it. Of course, I wasn’t. The last time I was in love none of these emotions occurred, love songs didn’t make sense, I knew for sure movies and books about love were hogwash. There was no question about it, I loved this guy and so I married him and I hoped that what I felt was what a girl in love was supposed to feel. That didn’t work.
I don’t listen to peoples’ love stories, I don’t want to hear about how God loves you and I definitely don’t want to listen to the story of you and your honey.
I know what all the love songs mean now. They should be banished!!! As far as I am concerned ALL movies would be awesome without a love connection.
The moment I discovered love, I uncovered femininity and my life’s direction changed.
They told me I was in love and I denied it. They said its in the way you talk, your smile, your eyes, your walk (oh, they went on and on). I refused to accept it, but the feelings grew.
Love has forced me to face my failures as a woman.
I have PCOS and the way things are shaping up I will never have my own biological children. Guys want kids and even the ones who “don’t want” them want to know its a viable option just in case.
A symptom of PCOS is hirsutism. I get to have that. I don’t like people especially guys to get in my personal space. Why would I want you to see my facial hair? And please don’t touch my face I know you can feel the stubble from my not so good attempt at hair removal.
Insurance companies won’t pay for hair removal because that’s cosmetic. What does it matter that I am a woman and I would like to know what it feels like to be a hair-free woman?
There is a guy who says he loves me, he wants to marry me and be the father of my children. He has been saying this for years. When it comes to women, his turn off: facial and chest hairs on women. Funny, right?
Women with PCOS can be over weight. I am overweight, in fact, based on calculations I am VERY OBESE. I hate clothes shopping because nothing fits right. If I could I wouldn’t leave my house ever, I would wrap up in a robe and never look in the mirror and stop eating.
Everyone has advice on weight loss but no one holds your hand when you have done everything and a month later you’ve only lost a pound or your weight has gone up. How do you tell the skinny ladies at the gym to go home because they make you feel like a loser? Can I ask my friends to stop announcing and celebrating their healthy lifestyle successes and their weight loss? Will people stop patting me on the back and telling me I need to be more consistent and I will get there one day? WHEN IS MY ONE DAY?!?
PCOS comes with many other issues including depression and anxiety. The doctors’ solution: meds. If I gave in and took meds for every issue I suffered with there would be no point in living. I would be the perfect guinea pig for the pharmaceutical industry.
I never really got into the “being a girl” thing, so womanhood is enemy territory . I can’t say I would make a good guy either because I know even less about that side of the fence. Girl talk makes me uncomfortable. I know basic clothes and colors and hair. Girls talk about dating, I sit there and I can’t contribute. What would I say? We went to dinner and I paid? I had to go pick him up from his house? Or by the way that was my cousin. He doesn’t want to be seen with me in public, so we only ever meet at my home for sex. Yes, he is my emergency contact but no he doesn’t trust me enough to tell me where he lives.
Just writing these things, and thinking about the many more I can add reminds me of how much I suck as a woman.
I am not even sure I should mention sex here.
Ha!!! SEX!!!
I need to write it again.
For fourteen years I have been sexually active off and on. Thirteen of those years, I hated sex. It was boring and painful and unimaginative and uncomfortable (I am not too comfortable with people in my personal space or with people touching me). I have fallen asleep during foreplay, many times and imagined myself with another guy so I could appear to be genuinely enjoying the experience. I have gotten compliments on how great I am and been begged for repeat performances (I should win an Oscar). Eventually pretending became learned behavior. I had concluded that something was wrong with me.
I believe I can do anything but the thing that should be most natural to me I have failed.
It’s a good thing, that’s what I hear. I witness it in others and one day I hope to feel it reciprocated.

I am blessed (I think) and equally challenged, because I have finally met the guy who makes love songs and country songs make sense.
The problem is that while I love him. He doesn’t love me. I don’t know if he understands my struggle as a woman or if he even cares. He doesn’t trust me and quite often I feel like he doesn’t want to be seen with me in public. He tells me he will always be there (I am not sure what that means and I am afraid to ask). There are days where I see a different side of him, I feel safe and comfortable. I have no personal space when he is nearby. I want him to hold me and touch me and never let me go. He makes me want to fight the limitations of my womanhood, but what’s the point, because he also helps to remind me that I am less than a woman.
I know that no matter how much I accomplish. No matter the successes that I gain in the other areas of my life. Everything will be overshadowed by the feeling that I have failed as a woman.

I never asked for easy… May 2, 2014

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My body hurts. My feet, my ankles, my hips, etc. and I love it, because I played basketball with my six graders. I scored (the only person who did) making it a win for the girls… I need my kids to know that someone truly cares. I want them to understand that no matter how hard I am on them, I still love them and I will challenge them to be awesome. I don’t want them to aspire towards an “easy” life.

None of my prayers involve me asking God for an easy life. I don’t want one. An easy life has no work. It shows no struggle. There is no honest laughter. No attempts to escape from reality into fantasy. No almost. No reason to be thankful. No success. An easy life is a mere existence.
I don’t want to just exist.
Seriously who would ever want an easy life?!?
August 2014 would be 13 years since I took a leap of faith and moved to the US. A journey that began with being an undergrad. Some would say I had it easy because I had a scholarship but scholarships come with rules and requirements for maintenance. And I think college professors plan their syllabus with the intention of making the students work for that money.
My fondest memories of college have nothing to do with easy.
I remember going to class all day, working on a group project all evening, spending eight hours (night into the next morning) with my injured boyfriend in an emergency room and then going to class to make a presentation in the same clothes I had worn the day before.
I busted my toe on an escalator on my way to work at Hopkins, didn’t realise until I was in the elevator to my office and felt my big toe swimming in a pool of blood. I had to go look for a doctor to take care of my toe.
The school of education suggested no more than 18 credits per semester, and every semester I had to go running around to get permission to do 22 or 23.
And what about that coach who gave me an incomplete that turned into an F in P.E. and I was the best swimmer in his class.
People say the struggle is real. I revel in it.
I never ask God for easy.
There is no such thing as easy when you teach. I think human beings are hilarious.
My favorite joke: OMG!!! I had to talk to people all day. People kept asking me questions. The store was so busy, I didn’t get my break the customers kept coming. My feet hurt. I haven’t gone to the bathroom all day. People just won’t leave me alone. I WAS SO BUSY (that I didn’t have time to be a decent human being and send you a text or give you a call to see how you were doing)!!!
I am laughing as I write this, but I am also extremely sad because people tell me this all the time and it’s either they want sympathy or they want me to accept their excuse for neglecting a friendship.
The truth is I can’t sympathize. I think that is a poor and pathetic excuse. When people say these things to me I want to be rude an interrupt.
I want to say:
“I don’t believe in comparing jobs. I don’t believe that one job is hard than another. I believe that every job has its own set of challenges for the person working that job. I agree that jobs get super busy and things get crazy. BUT I am a teacher, so when your excuse for being selfish is that your life was busy, before you look to me for sympathy ASK YOURSELF
Could I have interrupted that person who was talking and gone to the bathroom? That last post on fb could I have better used that time responding to work emails or texts? Could I have eaten in that fifteen minutes I spent gossiping?
…because I AM A TEACHER
I have 22 little bodies for 90 minutes, complete with their own personalities and neediness and I can’t leave them alone and go to the bathroom. I can’t answer emails and or texts while they pretend to work quietly. Sometimes I spend that fifteen minutes walking in the halls while eating my lunch while having a conference with a kid or a conversation with an adult. I have been known to sit on the floor in the hallway, because today I just needed to sit.
And guess what?!?

I have asked for a unicorn, a jump rope and a human.
Unicorns, they remind me that there is beauty and magic in everything. In every argument, set back, stressor. Sometimes in my struggle I stop and I cry and then I laugh because I understand that this is real. I am reminded that I asked for this and I know the reward will be AWESOME. Even if the reward is seeing my favorite person or a random stranger smile.
A jump rope, so versatile. It reminds me to be flexible. To bend and turn as needed. I can be a tool advocating good health. I can be supportive. I can hold things together if they seem to be coming apart at the seams. I can be entertaining.
A human, yes, I asked for a guy. A companion. I have had my two longest relationships while living in the US. One ended in divorce and I couldn’t begin to explain what has happened or is happening in the other one. None of my present future goals involve dating, having a bf/gf relationship or marriage. I just want a dependable male friend. Out of everything I have done in my life, I am at the point where I am ready to ask God for easy. I have said God, this is what I am looking for in that person, ALL of my journals (even the teenage ones where I planned my future) have the same criteria.
Then God said, here he is you can have him, but you can’t have him. God made sure my heart fell in love before my head got involved.
I never asked for easy, all I wanted was someone who would be my support, help me stay sane, fight with me, talk to me, trust me and I in turn could be the same and more for them. I asked for a friend. Instead, I got a person who doesn’t trust me, doesn’t want to be in my life, is almost always TOO BUSY for me, says I am worth it but treats me like nothing (maybe I am worth nothing in his eyes), he has this trick – if I complain about something he is not doing, his response is “you know earlier I was thinking about doing that today”, then he still doesn’t do it. I don’t know why God put him in my life and truthfully he has probably moved on with his life and not said anything to me.
Everyday I cry.
Everyday I hurt.
Everyday I say to God, ‘Lord, I didn’t ask for easy and I probably never will but is this friendship even possible?’

My Reality Check… April 23, 2014

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‘Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.’ – Albert Einstein

I think this applies to everyone adult and child. It has helped me to be much less critical as a teacher and it has taught me to provide more ways for my kids to be successful in completing a lesson. This is NOT about my job though.

People who don’t know me, think I have low self- esteem and I need to see a therapist.

The few people who know me, think I am too hard on myself. They are right! Sometimes I am forced to sit myself down and remind myself that I am only human. Yes, there are super human feats that occur in my life but I am human. Maybe that’s why the Christina Perri song resonates so deeply within my heart. It is a constant reminder that with all I do and don’t do the reality is that I am only human.

I am a smart girl. 

I know what I want, I know the consequences of my every action.

I am a smart girl.

I know what I want, I know the consequences of my every action.

I am a smart girl.

I know what I want, I know the consequences of my every action.

But like the fish, there comes a point when my human interactions become so overwhelmingly depressing that I do ask myself,

Is there something wrong with me? Why am I never enough? Am I stupid? Why can’t I do what everybody else seems to do so easily?

My inner voice is keeps screaming…


but my inner voice has been getting softer and softer, more unsure…

maybe there is something wrong with you. you are enough for you and God but not worth much to anyone else. it’s obvious you are not so smart because you are letting this all bother you. you will never fit with your differences, yes you are unique but that only makes you an outlier and outsider. don’t expect to ever belong, to fit in.

I am a girl, a lady, a woman. I am simple and uncomplicated. Often I communicate my feelings before my mind is aware of them, before my mouth knows the words to utter. 

Today, I cried. 

Yeah, I have been crying a lot, so this is not news but when I cry almost uncontrollably in front of my class, that is a completely different story. 

Have you ever wanted to be loved? Loved for you, whole-heartedly unconditionally loved?

I know, I know God loves me. I have heard it. I believed it. He loved Adam too, he walked in the garden with Adam but yet he decided that Adam needed a partner and sent Eve. Am I less worthy to be loved? I am not just talking about love from the opposite sex.

When does a parent let their child know that no matter how they look, that they are loved or beautiful? Am I supposed to stop wanting that affirmation because I am an adult? Is it wrong to hope that one day I would hear the words I love you uttered from my father’s lips?

When will God explain why he made me a girl but I can’t do any of the natural girly things without the aide of medication etc.?

Why did my husband need me to where 6 inch heels everyday, tight pants, get a tramp stamp, put my cleavage on show and always have my hair braided before he thought he loved me? Why did he leave when I decided I needed to be my own person?

Why do other guys think that I am “stuck up” because my idea of a first date doesn’t involve spending the night at their house or vice versa?

Why do I have a beautiful soul, am good enough for sex, but I am a secret to the world? Why is it so easy to cheat on me? Why will I never be enough, never be good enough, never be right? 

Why won’t you let me enjoy the few moments moments of happiness I have with you? Why keep reminding me that it will end one day? Do you want me to be the same as you, bitter, jaded, self-deluded? Often I wonder why God put you in my life because you so obviously don’t want to be here. I do listen to your words as you repeatedly stab me in the heart.

I am not a very touchy person but today I needed a human touch. Unfortunately, I live on a slow-sinking island and the only people who have ever cared enough to accept me in all my uniqueness live hours, cities, states, countries away.

People say, ‘girl you need to learn to live alone’, but when you’ve lived alone so long that your favorite conversations are with the pet snake you are babysitting, how do you know when you’ve learned to live alone?



I am done… April 15, 2014

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Tonight is one of my good nights. I have had a lot of those since he came into my life.
I have learned to laugh again. Loud and long, unhampered by insecurities, my laugh is free and my smile genuine. I know because people respond to my smile. I giggle like a proper drunk…hiccup… God, I am so happy.
That devil, that damned devil, sticks his fork into my cheeks. He knows if I laugh too loudly or smile to widely I will forget, forget that tiny kernel of doubt. That minute, insignificant seed of doubt. The one that wants me to believe that this is all my imagination and soon I will have to face the chasm of reality.
That seed is the easiest growing plant in my garden. A weed, a parasitic vine, a massive tree that grows roots and invades the spaces until nothing is left. My fear, my disbelief, my inaction is fertilizer.
My fear, my doubt, my inaction is nutrient-draining.
In a reality that only exists because of shadows.
Which only exist when I block the sun.
I laugh.

I don’t sit and worry about when its going to be over, anymore. I don’t want it to end. I know this is the last “relationship” that I will ever have. This is not a challenge for God. I don’t want to restart with another person. I don’t want to try this again and again until I get it right.
It is done.
He is the last one.

Tonight I really miss him.

Journal Entry 1 April 3, 2014

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I feel like a constant failure. I have accomplished nothing in my life. All my dreams, my goals are nothing. They are less than particles of dust in the wind. So much I want to do and say but no motivation.

I had a thought today…

– why do doctors/ paramedics try to save the lives of people who attempt suicide? Why not let me die? I think I would be more depressed if I woke up alive after building up my courage to kill myself. It would probably feel like another thing I failed at.

People say think about all the people whose lives you will negatively impact but where were those people/ those lives when I cried out for help constantly. Those people who said, ‘you should see a therapist, you need to take anti-depression drugs, you could…, you should…, you have to learn to be alone, etc. Those people who are ready with their “words of wisdom”, when all you ever wanted was a person to…

-write a note/letter, bring a trinket back from their trip, send a text saying they missed you today or they thought about you, go to a movie, walk on the beach, (just a small moment of time from their super busy schedule).

So many lives to be touched by my leaving but very few that showed they appreciated my presence. So many lives that will take some time off to attend my funeral, who will stop and gossip with friends and family about my life. A life they can only comment on because they read the broadcast on facebook.

I will never be the girl who has a fan club, or a huge following, maybe not even a best friend or a soulmate. I dont want to be in the spotlight, have to give my autograph or be showered with gifts. I dont want my home to be a revolving door of visitors (I only have one chair). I dont want to be praised for my kindness and I dont want to have to announce those moments to the world either.

I am alone.

The world is teaching us that we are too busy to build new friendships. We are too busy to invest time in our present friendships.

We have learned that if we stop texting, stop posting, stop surfing the world will stop and we will cease to exist. We have learned to be too busy to be social.

I find it disturbing that when I say hi/ hello to people, they respond with ‘fine, what’s up?’ and they keep walking. I am so confused as to what should be my response in that moment.

I go out to eat, or I hang with others and they are constantly on their phones and I want to laugh the laugh of a raving lunatic because I feel like I am the insane one. Eventually I copy them. I keep checking my phone and I check facebook and I check emails and I check and I check because I dont want to compete with the thing that has that other person’s attention. I dont want to keep stopping in the conversation to wonder if the person is listening or if they heard me or to repeat my question.
I check, but unlike them I have told my very few friends that I am busy, that I am out with other people and so for as long as I need they give me clear airwaves (they know that they will get the juicy details later). The friends who are a little too pushy, they get ignored.

One day maybe I will join the many and get trapped in the matrix. I will forget that I am alone. I will not need medication for depression and I too can become a technology zombie.

For now though, I am alone and I wish that those people who would be affected by my loss, realize that…

Loving Myself… January 11, 2014

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Today someone said, ‘you are awesome’. My mind instantly followed with, ‘No, I’m not.’

That quick exchange clarified a conflict in my mind that stemmed from a conversation earlier in the week.

When did I stop believing I was awesome? When did I forget my self worth?

I have been haunted since the day I taught my students a lesson on ‘body acceptance’. The lesson we learned that day could be summarized in one sentence, ‘The best way to show that you love something is to take care of it’. I knew the lesson was true but I was haunted because I wasnt living by example. I wasnt taking care of me, the conclusion being that I didnt love me.

But how could that be? Don’t I practice good hygiene? I have clothes. I go to my job. I maintain a nice clean apartment. I… I… I… Apparently, I am doing the bare minimum required to stay alive and to “fit” into society. Is that enough to say I am loving myself?

How is it that the girl who celebrates birthdays as if they are national holidays, if left alone would let hers pass in silence? I have planned other people’s parties that I wasnt invited to, sent singing telegrams, did gift giving count downs etc. except July 4th where I sit and wonder if anyone would invite me to their family bbq and the once or twice when I did get invited, I declined the invitation. Its obvious I love celebrating, except celebrating me never seems to be on my agenda. I get friends presents for Thanksgiving and Halloween and Christmas and just because its Wednesday and I thought about you, but nothing for myself. I would say I am trying to get them to like me, but they already like me so that can’t be my motivation, can it?

I schedule my “me” time at the beginning of the week, sometimes the beginning of the month and at the end I review my calendar and its filled with many undone activities because I gave up that time to hang with a friend, to take care of my students’ needs, to get something a friend needed (they may not have asked for it but I knew based on our conversations that it would make life easier for them). And in the moments when I get to relax, I spend time thinking about all the people I have wronged for that day or that week and I agonize over how to apologize and how awful my actions or words were towards them and then I try to atone for the sins they have longed since forgotten and in many cases never even took offense to.

I dont even believe in myself. I work out, wanting to see changes but with no real expectations that there will be any improvements. It makes it easy to give up. A continuous cycle of starting and giving up and starting again, hoping that the next time and the time after that I will really stick with my plans and gain success. People tell me how much weight I have lost and congratulate me on my work. My first reaction is always, I dont know what you are talking about. I dont see any change and my personal trainer doesnt see any change, so there is obviously no change. Except I am consciously trying not to make people upset with my negative statements so I pretend I know what they are talking about and thank them for their compliments.

People from my past have been telling me how ‘i always looked out for them’, and ‘they appreciated everything I did’, etc. etc. and I am surprised because I dont remember.

If I had to describe my life up to now I would say it was unremarkable, unfulfilling, and wasted but from eye-witness accounts and after a jarring question posed to me this week, it would appear that I possess a very jaded view of my life.

I am not looking for sympathy and I dont want another person to talk about my alleged awesomeness (there I go again throwing myself under the proverbial bus -thank God it’s only proverbial) and try to make me feel better. I guess I have written all this to say, I am beginning to recognize that I have to pay more REAL attention to myself. I could probably say I started that by buying myself an actual winter jacket, but when I think of that memory its surrounded by so much unhappiness, especially since the original goal had nothing to do with buying a winter jacket.

I am not sure how I am going to do this concentrated love of self thing, but I must start, even if it means taking myself out for cake and ice cream to celebrate the fact that I am still alive.

My Pillow January 6, 2014

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2014 January 5, 2014

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It’s only Day 5 and so much has happened.
First of all I didn’t make any resolutions.
1. I didn’t want the guilt trip that ensues when I don’t follow them.
2. I never make it past February.
3. Who needs them anyway? I rather evaluate my year before and make a goal that builds upon what I have been doing. No random promises for me!!!

Second, I got divorced.
1. At first I was worried about how I looked. I made a goal to lose weight and buy a cute outfit. Didn’t happen! My weight loss is not very well supported by scale measurements. It took me almost six weeks out of the eight week holiday program I signed up for at the gym, before I realized i was doing my psyche more damage. I am a big girl and while I could see evidence of weight loss in the fit of my clothes and eye-witness accounts etc. The scale didn’t budge to show weight loss but in fact it kept moving up suggesting weight gain.
When it feels like your ‘trainer’ is laughing at you, and you can’t see the progress you feel, sometimes you choose to give up.
As it came closer to the time. I began to understand that I didn’t care about my soon to be ex’s opinion. Nothing he said could break me, I had gotten this far and survived. Divorce hearing successful, waiting for the signed papers in the mail.

Third, rekindled a friendship with an old flame. The BEST I can say is that things are happy so far.

Fourth, the near death of a friendship.
I spent a lot of time blaming myself for the destruction of my marriage and I had to do a lot of evaluating. I am very responsible for my share of crazy and I will accept all of that responsibility but no relationship (friendship or otherwise) can last if one person is too self-involved to recognize their part in the success or failure.
I am not accepting any more blame but I am going to step away and protect myself. Let’s see OUR friendship survive following his idea of a friendship.
People say, love hurts. I disagree but now I understand why they say it. My friend, who I love dearly hurt me to my core today. The worst part is that if he knew, he didn’t care. This love is not lust or infatuation, I know the difference, I have done those many times before. This is once in a lifetime, the kind you know will never happen again but still pray can be duplicated in case the one you love now doesn’t love you back.

I am a little frightened of facing day 5, because the past four days have only filled me with trepidation. Certain parts of my life are going to be great because I am the only human involved but I worry greatly about the other parts because there is more than one human involved and my hand is definitely not on the control lever.