Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Mayday, Mayday

Ernest Hemingway famously said, “Write drunk, edit sober.” Luckily, I have the option to do the latter because I didn’t have the wherewithal to hit the “post” button last night. I, admittedly, left the editing to minor details so I apologize in advance for the heaviness.  I promise I'll be funny again one day.

Dinner tonight was a red velvet cupcake, PB&J sandwich (no sugar added jelly and Ezekiel bread because balance, y’all) and 3 glasses of Southern Comfort. Ya’ know…typical Tuesday. Tonight’s good decisions are fueled by yet another broken heart (maybe only half broken this time). I let him back in and I questioned it every day. Looking back, I should have ignored his texts but I got sucked in by him again and his lies of how he’d changed. So I sit here, Oliver in my lap, overwhelmed by sadness and anger. I keep telling myself that it’s him…he’s the one with more issues than Vogue. I did nothing wrong. I gave him my whole heart, I did cute things for him, I supported him, I lost sleep, I did the 40 minute commute to his house to see him. My love, my affection, my attention wasn’t enough for him. Me, amazing/bright/happy/cute me, wasn’t enough. I’ve spent my WHOLE life never feeling like enough and here I am again. And I let him make me feel this way TWICE!

I know good men exist but, good Lord, why can’t I find one? He jaded me and I’m starting to think that they’re all the same. To the man sitting next to me at the airport yesterday, I doubt you’re sending red hearts to your wife who is in the bathroom. Yeah, I’m reading over your shoulder and you should be fucking ashamed of yourself. I’m judging the shit out of you and how you delete text messages and Facebook messages to whoever Elin is.

Everything happens for a reason—I TRULY believe that. I have no regrets on letting him back into my world because I always would have wondered if we could have made it. I don’t blame him because I knew good and well who he is but I’m done. I want off the emotional roller coaster that was dating him. I can’t do this again. I feel broken, defeated and I’m exhausted. I have spent too much of my life feeling sub-par and I cannot live like this anymore. I am terrified of being alone forever but being alone is better than being in a relationship that doesn’t make you feel like your best self.

For now, I fight the urge to glitter bomb his house, spray paint his secrets on his front lawn or leave notes on the cars found in his driveway warning girls about what they’re getting themselves into with him. I’m better than that. Okay, maybe not the glitter one because THAT I really want to do. I think I knew all along that we wouldn’t work. I was and am incredibly confused how someone can make you so happy and so sad at the same time. I think that’s a pretty big sign of a toxic relationship. I don’t need sympathy, I would actually love to not talk about it. That’s what I pay a therapist for.

Why am I putting all this out to all of you? Why expose this part of my life? Because I promised to be honest with you, dear readers. That means telling you about the rainstorms and the rainbows of life. Also, to those of you who have ever been made to feel like you’re not enough—I understand. It sucks and it’s so hard to tell yourself otherwise but you are so much more than enough for someone. It’s so easy for others to see this in us and it only takes one person to make us feel like less. THAT person is wrong, and an asshole. To quote my very wise friend, “You have a charmed life, ma’am. Think of all your blessings. So he is not going to be a thing. His loss. You have a million other things going for you and you’re all he had. You’re smart, pretty, have family and friends that love you. A solid job, a nice place to live. Cute puppy. You are healthy. Life is good, Stewart, get out there and live it.”

I am going to get out there and live it and spend some quality time with Sarah. I’m very confident that everything I’ve wanted and needed is right in front of me but I just need to find the guts to take it.

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