All Stories End. Including this one.

Growth begins when anger stops. That’s all that I know now. I spent a lot of time being angry, and in some ways, I still am. It doesn’t heal overnight, and a lot of people would argue that it doesn’t heal when another party is involved, but all I know is something happened the night I met him, and I haven’t been the same since. I’ve been a better version of myself, not hiding and feeling ashamed of who I was and who I could never be.

It shouldn’t take another person to allow you to be yourself, but it doesn’t hurt. He hasn’t judged me for my flaws, he’s only embraced them. Of course, he won’t see all of them until there’s a ring…kidding…mostly. Anyway, when one door closes, really another one does open, and it doesn’t matter if you’re ready for it or not, when it happens, you have to take the risk. I could have missed so much if I had said no.

I love him with all my heart, and I’ve never known what it is to physically crave the love of a single person every single second of every single day. Which is why that story had to end. I simply couldn’t write it anymore. Even with someone new someone made for me, I’m still healing and learning something about embracing him every day. This story may be over, but my new story has just begun, and I’m SO excited.

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Chapter: I’ve been busy

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Needless to say, I’ve been ignoring my blog for the past several months…I have mostly good reasons, but then some that are just more so superstitious, because apparently, that’s what I am. Over the last four months, I have started my school year, started a full-time graduate program (online), but no less difficult, gone through a family tragedy, and maintained a relationship with the love of my life, and also had time to practice not being irritated at the happiness of my ex. Not because I miss him, but because in my head, he doesn’t deserve it yet. Welcome to the ass end of 2017.

Sometimes it’s difficult to write because I literally have too many things to discuss that I can’t pick the appropriate amount of words to describe what’s going on to an audience. The audience, albeit small in number, is the reason I write. I’m grateful for the readers I have!

Anyway, I digress, mostly because I don’t know where to start, so I’ll just pick a point.

It’s a day to be thankful, and I can tell you that I am, above all things, just that. If you had asked me six months ago if this is where I thought I would be, I would have said no. Not a fat chance would I have imagined loving another person and being loved the way that I am. Nor would I have imagined that I would feel supported, cared for, and appreciated the way I do because truthfully, in the last three years, I haven’t known what that felt like.

I was constantly being criticized for the way I am, and being molded into a different version of myself to meet Wes’s standard. There were countless fights, mostly me defending myself, this constant fight to hold on to who I was and not let it change, but also the constant defeat when it did. The never feeling good enough because I didn’t paint my nails, or do my hair differently, or wear clothes that he liked, I didn’t “show off my figure”. When I did wear something that he liked–and in my mind, I was always dressing to impress him. I never wore anything comfortable–it was always, “why don’t you dress like this more often?” or “You should paint your nails more often”, or anything I did simply was not to his standard no matter how hard I tried to fight for his affection, which I never received, but always gave, and believe me, I tried so much that I could have killed myself to do it, never eating a full meal around him out of fear I’d get fat or look like a pig, back straight, mouth poised, seductive look. All the time. Never comfortable.

I remember that night actually. It was the worst of our fights. You see, in all two years of our being together, I never received one genuine compliment of my appearance or the things I did for him. I never heard the word “beautiful” to describe my appearance, or for that matter even an “I love you”. He never said it to me. And at that point, I was sick of being criticized. I was so done. I’m stronger than that, and I am more than he made me to be.

He used to buy me the things he liked for me, rather than the things I liked for myself. I remember the year his parents bought me leather boots and he had told me that he wanted me to have something nice….”I shouldn’t be walking around on plastic boots”. Actually, I believe it was his mother who asked in disdain, “Why does she wear those plastic things?” At first I was grateful for the gift, until the gift became more of a symbol of charity and pity from his parents. I had never complained about the things I owned. They may not have been 400.00 leather boots, but I worked for the things I owned, and they never looked old, worn, or dirty. They looked great to me. He was prepping me for a world I didn’t want to be in, or fit in to.

Despite the fact that these things happened, and there’s far more. I could write a book, but that would just make people pity me. While I never called it emotionally abusive and controlling, the words of my diary are filled with evidence on the contrary. But six months ago, I had no idea that I would be here, reflecting on things I didn’t see while I was in a relationship with him, that everything I was fighting against was something I shouldn’t have had to fight for. Ever.

Despite the fact that for the last three years, I’ve been fighting for affection that I would never get, I’m in a place now that I never thought I would see. I met Tyson during our “break”, just expecting a fun date or two, and that was all it took to realize that he was everything I have been looking for. He’s kind, he’s gentle and strong, thoughtful, and funny…AND LAWD…is he handsome. I’ve never really known what it means to be loved for who I am, and not feel the need to change.

It shouldn’t take hell to make me grateful, but I am grateful for the struggle because without it, I wouldn’t know what it feels like to appreciate the love I have been given and hope to never stop getting. It feels good to have someone believe in you as much as you believe in them. Someone who wants to make you know how much you are loved and how beautiful you are. I only hope that I am able to give him the same love.

(I also feel that writing about my love is a jinx, so I keep it to a minimum haha)

PEACE, LOVE, and HAPPY TURKEY DAY!

 

Chapter 103-104

Sometimes things happen unexpectedly; you set yourself up on a date just to see if you are capable at having a conversation, ease your nerves on meeting new people, and get whacked in the face when the unexpected happens.

I was never expecting to meet someone. If anything, I was expecting to go on a few fun dates, let them fade, and start my life as a single woman. Either way, I knew one thing: that it was over. Regardless of what happened after, everything before told me that it wasn’t enough. I was foolish and I let my head justify something that my heart knew was true.

While he wasn’t a bad man, he didn’t hurt me intentionally, although several times I had been hurt because of him. His fatal flaw was that he was selfish. Several times I had put him first instead of the things I cared about like God, my family, my friends, and most importantly, myself. But this process only proved to be damaging in the end. Instead of listening to what I felt, I justified my actions by saying, He’ll care someday, or, He’s just stressed. I deserved better the whole time.

Little did I know that one date would change everything I thought I knew. I met someone when I wasn’t expecting to, he blew me out of the water, and I can’t even explain the magnetism in which he uses to pull me to him. We talk, we connect, and we express how we feel without remorse.

It’s hard not to compare this to my last, but it’s a constant reminder of what I have been searching for, even after I had stopped really searching.

Chapter 102

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Despite the date that wasn’t a date, I decided to put myself out there, and then it felt wrong. So I waited a few weeks and decided I need to explore this new idea of self. Hence, the blog. Some of this will be narrative I suppose, and others will just be the exploration of the chapter that starts in the middle of my life and the middle of something that could end or grow.

It’s been just over two weeks at this point. I’ve been through the emotional ups and downs, the spurts of damn, I’m awesome, to holy s***, this sucks. It’s sometimes difficult to tell what kind of mood I’ll be in, how late I’ll sleep, or what horrible things I might say in the heat of the moment.

I go through these given mentalities that I deserve better and I should never have to ask someone to love me. That sounds desperate, but it does happen. I think it happens more than any of us really want to admit. I’ve spent three years trying to get someone to love me for exactly who I am, all the way down to my weird quirky habits to my fluctuating weight and insecurities.

I’m not saying I need someone to make those go away–the only person who can actually make your insecurities disappear is you and you alone–but it would be nice to know that someone loves you despite those insecurities. I shouldn’t be afraid to say I deserve what I want either. Arguably, that fear has kept me from actually going and getting what I want, which is stupid…but we all have to learn sometime, I suppose.

I’m learning many things as this “break” from each other progresses. First thing, I didn’t know nearly all I thought I did. I truly thought that love was supposed to be hard work, and it is, don’t get me wrong, but it shouldn’t be so hard that you constantly have to question whether or not someone actually loves you. Writing that and knowing that I’ve been doing that for the last couple years sounds almost pathetic and a little desperate.

I’m not an expert on love by any means, and if I was, I would call myself …The Guru of Hearts and Hard Work and start the hashtag, #makeloveyourbitch…but I’m not, and this is the truth.

The next thing I have learned is that I have no idea what I’m doing, nor what I should be doing. Yesterday I literally sat in my room all day, watched Netflix (Supernatural new season btw), and played The Sims…yeah, it happens…so what? That shit’s awesome. And just in case y’all are wondering if I have a job, I do. I’m a teacher, and I have summers off…what of it? (I also have two other jobs that follow me into summer).

I’m not sure if I should be dating others and actually seeking others, it just doesn’t feel right, like I feel like I’m cheating on him. But I also know that he told me he wonders what it would be like to go out on dates with other people…funny, considering we never really went on dates. Did I also mention that I got crazy for a moment and told him if I see anything on social media, we’re just done? Yeah, that happened. Like George Carlin (RIP) once said, “men are dumb, and women are crazy. Women are crazy because men are dumb”…obviously women and men can be both dumb and crazy, but I digress.

Snap, back to reality, woop, there goes gravity…I’m sitting in this cool coffee shop called Cape’s here in Des Moines, being awesome and writing an exceedingly long blog post on my relationship reflections. While there is much more to learn, much to discuss, and more happening, it’s cathartic to just get it all out in the open…Stay tuned for chapter 104.

 

Chapter 101

A couple days had passed, and a few tears that followed. I woke up and went about my day like a normal person, except I had a mission that I wasn’t going to sit around and feel sorry for myself, beside the fact that it just felt weird. Because even though he lives in another state, I felt a new sense of loneliness I hadn’t felt before.

I may have grown a little bitter, vindictive, and resentful because in my mind, sitting around meant that he won. But I also know that it’s not a competition, or a true breakup, despite the fact that it truly feels like one.

Lucky for me, I had plans with my best friend to go out on the town and enjoy some of the new local places that just opened. My version of not feeling sorry for myself was to make myself look irresistible, fun, and full of life. I put on my shortest dress (with class, of course), and strapped on my favorite heals, curled my hair and wore a bright shade of pink on my lips; I was ready to go.

Walking into the bar, I spotted almost no one, which was weird for happy hour on a Saturday night. Shelby was still on her way, so I sat at the bar and struck up a conversation with some of the handsome bartenders. *Side note: If he was lonely and wanted to go out on dates, then all be damned if I wasn’t.

Shelby strode in, but I was having pleasant conversations with the gentleman serving me, so having her there was a delightful bonus. Soon, though, the conversation shifted from the four of us to just us two. I broke the news that we had decided to take a break, and despite the fact that I know she doesn’t like him, she was rather sympathetic.

The night passed, and the drinks flowed. Apparently they flowed enough for me to feel that idle confidence that hadn’t been seen in a while, and I left my name and number on the coaster for him.

I had hoped he would text, but I didn’t. In reality, I wasn’t ready for him to, but knowing that I had, albeit a few days later, the balls to do something I hadn’t done in over three years.

He called, and we went out. Nothing to it. We didn’t touch, hug, or even kiss. It was nice to talk to someone, have them listen, and show a genuine interest in my life, but it wasn’t what I really wanted at that time.

We said we would do it again, but I think we both knew that we wouldn’t. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t right.

Chapter 1…or 100. I don’t actually know

Just like any other day, I felt like things weren’t working out. I also thought that maybe it was my fault that it wasn’t working out. To combat this ugly feeling, I got on my phone and sent the text that would change things for me. Maybe for the better, maybe not. Who knows.

Because I’m generally a supportive person who can sometimes just be a little selfish, I wanted to offer my heart, my patience, and of course my support to him on his new journey. Little did I know, or maybe I did, that it would spark the conversation of “this isn’t working”, “I’m lonely, and I know you are too, and it isn’t fair to you for me to be feeling this way without you knowing”, and “I think we need to take a break”. Oof. Three years, several moves (none of which were actually together), and a lot of me fighting for a relationship, seeing a future, and being so excited for it, all led to this moment.

It also led to me sitting on the floor of the gym in an area where no one goes besides a few stragglers, crying and trying to understand what went wrong, or how this whole thing happened.

Anger and sadness crept in simultaneously, per usual, as I can imagine that it should, given a situation like this.

Our conversation went back and forth between me telling him he was foolish, how I truly have felt, and asking a question that I honestly thought I already knew the answer to: “are you in love with me?” Maybe I shouldn’t have asked, who knows. The sad part is…he said, “yes…I think so?” like he was questioning himself.

Damn. That stung. Like a slap in the face you couldn’t see, it actually happened. Something I think I’ve known for a while, but have never really been able to admit to myself. I’m not sure which is worse. If I think about it, it’s almost pathetic. No one likes to admit that someone isn’t in love with them. Even when that’s all they wanted. Especially when that’s all they wanted.

Not giving an answer, I kept arguing, told him not to talk to me, and ended the phone call–after an hour sitting on the floor, which I didn’t have to do. That was dumb– I walked to my car, got in, and per usual, cried. I told him I didn’t want to talk, spent the rest of the night not sleeping, and went to my friend’s the next day.

It wasn’t until later that day that I finally just got pissed off enough to tell him to take his goddamn break, but I didn’t want to talk to him all weekend. Too many emotions were in the way for me to have a conversation.

Rainy Sundays

 

This rainy Sunday has me not giving a sip about anything, especially since I somehow have developed a cold overnight.

I’m having one of those days where I know I have work to do, but actually doing the work seems tedious, unnecessary, and not really worthwhile. What I really want is to just write. But I don’t even really want to write this blog. I want to be writing a story, but of what? I have a ton of ideas that I can’t really seem to sort out.

Each little character has their own life, has their own plot line, and their own conflicts, but somedays I feel that I think of too many stories that I can’t narrow down to the one I want to write, so I just don’t. Probably not the best idea, but the only one I have at the moment.

From a former student: Some things are just too accurate on a rainy day