Break-Up Rituals

I tried my best to find a clip of the girls actually burning all the items from their exes, but for once YouTube failed me and this is the best I could - them discussing it instead. It's a great episode - not only for this but because Chandler manages to get set up on a blind Valentine's Day date with none other than Janice. Just to be clear, I'm not actually condoning the burning of anything belonging to an ex. I've never done that, nor do I plan to. But seeing Rachel, Monica and Phoebe do it is pretty hilarious - especially when they nearly burn down the building.

I don't have a specific ritual of my own, and maybe it's time I do. I tried to remember what happened when Army Guy and I broke up, but neither BFF or I could really recall. I know there was music-listening of course, but really, I was simply almost never alone; I was always with BFF and/or Macadamia. It didn't help that Army Guy and I were very back and forth, so we'd be apart for a while, then kind of back and then off again. What a mess.

As for the break-up with The Supposed One, it was much of the same, I was never really alone; I hung out with BFF, but also with my former roommate Ball. (I should probably point out here that I met The Supposed One because of Ball; they were good friends from living in the dorms together. The Supposed One was always at our apartment and we started dating.) Anyway, I hung out with Ball and his new roommate General Tso - who I eventually was involved with but as always, that's another story altogether - and that's how I got over it, I was never alone. General Tso also made it easier, that's for sure.

But this time, it hasn't been like that. I've immersed myself in SVU marathons and writing, and haven't really seen my friends. I've talked to them, either texting, or on the phone, or on Facebook, but I haven't really hung out with anyone. I don't know why, really. Maybe because of the up and down of the months with Coach, that I feel like some might just think it's another bump and they shouldn't bother listening because we'll just get back together again. I think it is safe to say that's not going to happen, but on the other hand, I told BFF in April that there was no way I'd get back together with him after what happened, and look how that turned out. I could see why some people might not believe that this time is different. Trust me, it is.

But I digress. The idea of having some kind of ritual or routine to help get through the first couple weeks is pretty important; being right in the middle of it now, I see just how important it is. I've got tissues handy, and have basically been blogging, and watching SVU. I tend to stay away from anything too romantic, and SVU is about as un-romantic as you can get...though I am happy to report that naughty thoughts about Christopher Meloni (Detective Stabler) are ever-present. That's a good sign. Aside from that, I don't have any specific ritual. I just make sure I have someone to talk to (usually BFF, despite his insistence that he has to 'work' while he is at work). We don't talk about Coach, at least not always, but just to be talking to someone is a good distraction. I don't have any particularly comfort foods, I usually tend to lose my appetite, but one thing that always seems to intensify is my need to run. I always tried to run as often as possible, but in times like these, I make it a top priority; sometimes more than once a day. That way, I can feel like I'm running away without actually doing it. (Side note, I saw Coach again today. Maybe I need a new route. Bummer.)

Anyway, I want to also give credit where credit is due. Inspiration for this post comes from a comment Vickie made about her own personal break-up routine in a comment on a previous post I made:

"I have a break up ritual to start off the healing process (besides the 80's music of course) - it involves Chinese take-out and Ben and Jerry's ice cream and watching French Kiss. Doesn't cure me, but it's a start...Doesn't make me feel so alone all curled up with my fave foods and movie, makes me somehow feel loved even if it's by food and a movie. And in the beginning sometimes that's enough."

And really, sometimes it is.

What kind of ritual or routine do you follow to get over a break-up?

Well, Crap

Today was not a good day.

I don't even know why. Nothing remotely interesting happened today. I went tanning, ran, and hung out at home, watched SVU, washed dishes - mundane, normal stuff. But I cried during most of those activities.

And I have no idea why.

It could be because I saw him yesterday, maybe I'm not as okay with it as I thought. But how could that shred my whole day today? Maybe it's because yesterday was his birthday and the fact that I know he will be celebrating tomorrow night at the same bar where we met, where we danced for the first time, where he sang to me and we laughed and drank, and (usually) had fun. I can't help but think that he's probably going to be doing those things with someone else tomorrow night, and he will think nothing of his 'best friend' not even being there.

BFF will get upset with me and say that I can't assume anything, but I KNOW Coach, I know that's what he will be doing. And not being a part of his daily life is still taking a lot of getting used. I guess I'm not quite as far as I was hoping.

The Unholy Trinity

You always go back to the people who were there in the beginning - Andie (Dawson's Creek)

I know, right. But who didn't watch DC? Seriously.

It's reassuring when two good friends can go months without speaking, yet pick up right where they left off. And the no-speaking isn't for any reason in particular, there's not been any falling-out, but everyone knows how difficult it is to keep in touch on a regular basis when you're two states away, both in school and/or working full-time, etc.

I am very lucky to have Macadamia and BFF. Beyond lucky, even. I am lucky to have some very good, close friends, but today I want to talk about these two in particular.

Macadamia, BFF and I were pretty much inseparable through the majority of our undergraduate careers, an 'Unholy Trinity' of sorts (We don't use trinity to be offensive, but just to imply that there are three of us. Triangle just sounded weird.) Macadamia and I met the summer after our freshman year, when taking summer classes. We met BFF that fall when he was a freshman, though we were not yet friends with him. It wouldn't be until the following school year that we all lived together in another dorm that we made him our friend, and the rest is history. We had lots of fun, always going to basketball games, footballs games, and pretty much just hanging out all the time. When my family came to visit, it was always a given the Macadamia and BFF would go out to dinner with us, breakfast, everything. They're included because they might as well be family.

But eventually we all have to graduate, right? BFF went off to the West Coast and Macadamia, incidentally, went to my homeland in the Frozen North. It's easy to see how communication gets difficult sometimes, because we all have busy lives (except for me right now, since I'm in that whole 'wallowing' thing). While I did just see BFF when we went to Sin City in April, not to mention I've sobbed to him, yelled to him, laughed with him, and been given talkings-to from him several times in the last 25 days, we don't (under normal non-broken-heart circumstances) usually get to talk every day. But because I have needed him, he's been there.

With Macadamia, on the other hand, I have not since her since LAST April. We've left Facebook comments and such for each other, but there just haven't been conversations like we had in college. It happens, it's an unfortunate side effect of growing up, but some friendships can't be altered, regardless of time or distance. When I first started this blog last week I sent a Facebook message to several friends telling them about it and that I hoped they would read it and let me know what they thought. And thankfully, Macadamia has been reading. She sent me a message stating so and not long after that when I was on the phone with BFF, wallowing, Macadamia texted me saying to call her; she had an idea.

And that's what I love about the other 2/3rds of this trinity: no matter the amount of time or the distance between any of of the three of us, we're still good friends. Put us anywhere together, and it was just like college all over again, like we'd been together all along.

So I called her of course, and it felt exactly as if it did nine years ago when we first met while taking summer classes. People have always questioned how we've been able to even be friends: I'm the loud, out-going one, she's the quieter one. But make no mistake about it, we're much more alike than people realize at first glance; we talked and laughed and it did not feel as though over a year had gone by since we were last able to have a significant conversation. Within an hour we had new inside jokes, new catch-phrases, and a plan.

So despite the fact that yesterday was his birthday and tomorrow night I know he's going to go to the bar we always used to go to, get drunk and have a really good time not missing me, for the first time since we broke up I am looking forward to this weekend. Even if it is fleeting because I'm still on a roller coaster, it's nice to feel happy again.

Who do you lean on when you're dealing with something like this, or even when you're just having a rough day?

That Could Have Been Bad

I saw Coach today.

I know right. How could this have happened, I was doing so well, blah blah blah. It was completely unintentional and suddenly there he was. Problem is, his place of employment is within two blocks of my apartment. And is along the same route I have been running since I moved into said apartment over three years ago. But I am not going to change my route, change my routine, just because I might risk running into him. That would mean I was still giving him consideration in my life. He's not giving me consideration in his life, so I don't need to do the same thing for him. Not really giving thought to his schedule anymore (because as BFF tells me everyday, it no longer matters. What he think doesn't matter, what he does doesn't matter, this is all about me), I did my usual routine and ran the city blocks I've always run.

However, he must have been heading to lunch, because he was just getting to his car as I rounded the corner. Literally, his car was parked right on the street next to the sidewalk I was going to be running down within seconds.

Well, crap.

It's not like it was going to be some big confrontation, I wasn't going to stop, yell at him in the street and cry and tell him off. But I wasn't going to pretend nothing had happened and that I hadn't cried my eyes out over him for days. I made up my mind I was just going to keep my earbuds in, and keep running. And that's exactly what I did. But all kinds of thoughts went through my head - what if he thought I did this on purpose, what if he told everyone I was stalking him, what if, what if, what if. Again, BFF to the rescue when I relayed the story to him when I got home - it doesn't matter what he thinks anymore and he reminded me that I don't care. Even if I still kind of do on at least a very basic level - no one wants to be labeled a stalker when doing something normal and part of their daily routine.

Turns out, there really wasn't much reason to worry. He was getting into his car and closing the door by the time I was even passing him. I suppose he could have realized it was me but did it really matter? I made it to the corner and then he pulled up besides me, but I didn't look at him, don't know if he saw me then, and it doesn't matter. The important thing is, I didn't freak out, I didn't dissolve into a mess, I didn't cry.

I know it doesn't seem like a huge deal, and possibly you're thinking to yourself, "What is wrong with this girl, why is she writing about this? It's so insignificant." But for me, it WAS a big deal. I saw this person who I had seen or talked to almost every day for nearly a year, then nothing for two and a half weeks, and suddenly there he was. This happened before, the first time I saw him after the April Incident. We'd locked eyes and I ended up bursting into tears, nearly running over an old lady on a scooter in my effort to get away just so he wouldn't see me crying (more on this later).

But that didn't happen this time and I don't know what it means. Something good, I hope.

A Recommendation

So Victoria shared this in a comment and I wanted everyone to see it because it's a good 'healing' song, as she described it, plus who doesn't love 80s pop?!

Restless

I'd like to start first by saying today is Coach's birthday. It was very difficult for me to not tell him happy birthday. But I didn't, as BFF has me under a strict "no communication for any reason" order, and for good reason; when I talk to Coach he is sweet and charming and wonderful and I forget all the reasons why us being apart is good. Having some foresight at least, the day immediately following our break-up I returned his birthday gift (a hardcover copy of Those Guys Have All the Fun: Inside the World of ESPN - he would have loved it) and that was my very first baby-step toward getting over this mess.

Whenever I am stressed (and believe me, this break-up is BIG TIME STRESS, as you can see), I imagine all kinds of wonderful, exotic places I can visit. I scour tourism sites and make lists of all the historical sites I want to see. And when that bores me, I look at the hundreds of pictures I took in the places I've already been to and fallen in love with. I get restless with the stress, want to get out of town, away from all the reminders of Coach (the Vegas story with BFF is a prime example of this but, as always, it is for another time.) I don't want this confused with running away, I don't want to be gone forever, but I want to see something new, something not many get to.

I love history, I am addicted to learning all I can specifically about England, Ireland, and Scotland. Luckily, I have had the opportunity to go to all three places, and a few more - namely Vegas, Seattle, Amsterdam and island-hopping around Hawaii. I have been very lucky so far as to have seen the things I have: to have climbed the winding staircases in the remains of Blarney Castle, kissing the stone when I reached the top; I have stood in the very kitchen where Anne Frank and her sister Margot washed dishes as they and their family hid from the Nazis, stood in her bedroom, staring at the wall where she pasted pictures, seen her journal for myself and imagined what it would have been like to live in this cramped space with so many people but still feel so alone; I've stood at the top of Mauna Loa and watched it erupt; I've been swimming with sharks off the North Shore; stood on the memorial of the U.S.S. Arizona, seen all the places I'd only read about in history books about that fateful day in December; I have been on a cruise of Loch Ness, half-heartedly searching for Nessie while enjoying the beautiful landscape; I've stood in the courtyard of Kilmainham Gaol, where many of the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising were executed; I've stood at the gate of Stirling Castle and looked across the expanse before me to see where William Wallace's men were camped before the battle; I've seen the amazing High Crosses of Ireland, and the last place Titanic docked in Ireland - in Cobh; I've seen the mysteries that are Stonehenge and Newgrange; walked through the Red Light District; the list goes on.

I don't mean to sound braggy, that is not my intention. But I have gone out into the world and lived. I want to keep doing that. But when Coach broke up with me a few weeks ago, I could not remember who that woman was who wanted to see the world. All I wanted to do was sit and wallow and cry. Don't get me wrong, I did plenty of it that, as my friends can attest to. And while it's less now, sometimes I still do those things. But I know it is a good sign that I am getting restless, that I want to go to these places, or discover new ones. How amazing would it be to see the Terra Cotta Warriors, to walk along the Great Wall of China, to see the remains of the Berlin Wall, Auschwitz, King Tut's Tomb and the pyramids, see the ruins of Masada, see how Pompeii is forever locked into that one moment when life as they knew ended without warning. This list too, goes on and on. In fact, all these things are on my bucket list - and incidentally Coach and I created his bucket list together one night, I added things to mine, we talked and laughed til late about the things on our lists that we would do together. But the point is, I am restless and that is good. It means I am on my way. There will be set-backs, I will relapse and cry and question everything, but I will never be at that point again, where I was the day, the week we broke up. For that I (and I'm sure all my friends), are very thankful.

Time for Something More Empowering

Despite his complete lack of real emotional connection to music (yet one more way BFF and I are total opposites), he sure knows how to find the right ones that I need to hear, when I need to hear them.

Beyonce - Best Thing I Never Had

Revenge is a Dish Best Not Served at All

The idea of revenge is a marvel. It's human nature to want to get even with someone who has wronged you. Especially when you feel betrayed and hurt and humiliated by your own idiocy. And I think that's where the basis of my own thirst for revenge comes from - because despite the best efforts of BFF, his boyfriend, and a myriad of others in my life trying to convince me otherwise, I feel like the idiot for trusting Coach for so long. BFF's BF even told me I was thinking about this all wrong, that it wasn't my fault for trusting someone because that' what you're supposed to do. BFF confirmed this earlier, reminding me over and over that this is not my fault. He tells me over and over that it doesn't matter, we're all idiots at one point or another, but eventually you have to be able to laugh at it so you can finally move on. But it just infuriates me when someone thinks they've outsmarted me, that they've gotten away with something. It's a flaw, I know, that I am prideful, but who isn't prideful about one thing or another? Revenge is a natural next step.

But it shouldn't be.

At least, not actual revenge. Go ahead and plan all you want, plot the silliest, most ridiculous, outlandish forms of revenge you can think of with your friends. But at the end of the day, it's not worth going through with it, and I know from experience.

So Army Guy and I were a roller coaster. Things were good for a few months, then I found out about some things that happened over New Year's while I was at home in the Frozen North, and I was devastated. But I was crazy about him, and 20-21 at the time. Basically, I was an idiot. We were never official after that, but together and not, and then he'd flirt with other girls, he cheated again and again, and then we'd get back together. One night I was at his apartment (my former best friend was dating his roommate) and he was gone with a friend, no doubt looking for some random skank to hook-up with. In my drunken state, I decided I was fed up. So I tore all the bedsheets off, made myself a toga from the linens, and proceeded to yank everything in his closet of every single hangar, leaving piles everywhere. My goal had been to throw everything off the balcony, but I got tired and fell asleep in the middle of the sheet-less bed. Army Guy came home within a couple hours, alone, curled up with me, and went to sleep. As far as revenge goes it was pretty tame, I know, but at the time it felt good to just make a mess. Truth be told, his room was already a mess anyway, so he hardly noticed until the morning when he saw everything on the floor in the closet. When I told him my brilliant plan, and how pissed I had been at him, he shrugged it off and went on this way for another few months until I finally ended it once and for all.

A few years later, there was PeteWentz (not the real Pete Wentz from Fall Out Boy, but they look a lot alike). Again, nothing official, but it lasted about six months. I don't mean to be tacky or classless, but sometimes this far more resembled a hate-fuck than anything else. It wasn't like that all the time, didn't start that way for sure, but we worked together at the Big Box Chain Store and neither of us wanted anyone else at work to know something was going on. So we were really not so nice to one another at work, to the point that in itself probably made it obvious. Nobody fights like that with someone they don't care about or feel something for, and sometimes we were vicious. But it ended, of course, under circumstances that is another story for another time, and this time I did not seek revenge, but there were plans. Late nights Kelly and I would sit up dreaming up all kinds of ideas. He quit Big Box Chain Store and worked in the kitchen at a pub for a while. Our final plan was to find out what night he was working and then to saran wrap his car, preferably after egging it. A little more malicious then pulling bedsheets and clothes apart, but mine and PeteWentz's relationship was that ridiculous. We never went through with it, just the ideas of what we could do were enough. I was maturing I guess, growing up and realizing it wasn't worth it. PeteWentz wasn't worth it. And thank goodness I realized that soon enough. But he was young, three years younger than I, so at the end of it all, the relationship I mean and not the revenge scenarios, can't really fault him entirely for how it all went down.

Here's the thing BFF said about revenge: it's for me, not for Coach. Coach doesn't matter because from now on, I have to think about me. Revenge only matters because of how it effects me. Even BFF's BF added that the best revenge is something to the effect of having a rockin' bod and being married in three years. I protested that I want him to know those things though, that I want Coach to know that I look amazing and that I'm so blissfully happy without him, it's almost sickening. But BFF countered with, it doesn't matter if he knows or not, this isn't about him, none of this is about him. It's always about me now. That's the message I get quite a bit from BFF and something I need constant reminders on, but sometimes that's hard; I spent almost a year focusing on Coach and making sure he was happy, re-focusing back on myself is taking some getting used to.

I have entertained all kinds of thoughts of revenge, some involving videos or photos or text messages. I want him to feel as bad as I have felt since this has all happened. I want him to know what it's like. When he cheated in April and I was naturally crushed, I remember how he looked when we finally talked; he looked miserable, stressed, upset. And that's what I want, as vengeful as it sounds. I was him to feel bad about it and for making me cry. But at the end of the day it wouldn't change anything. I'd be sinking to a level that I don't want to be at, because that's not where I belong. Besides, revenge can be all-consuming, and there's not room in my life for that. If I waste my time, thoughts, and energy on that, especially when he's not thinking about me anymore, he wins once and for all, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let that happen.

What can I say, pride is a tricky thing.

Signs

You can ask the universe for signs all you want, but ultimately we only see what we want to see, when we're ready to see it - Ted (How I Met Your Mother)

I am a firm believer in signs, that things don't just happen by chance, that not everything is just coincidence. This drives some of my friends crazy, but it happens. Little things, like a certain song coming on the radio at a certain time - a song that maybe I haven't heard on the radio in years, but has meaning now because of something. Or something as random as having the same favorite episode of Saved by the Bell. Who even remembers the episodes, let alone, has a favorite? FYI: It;s the murder mystery episode. But Coach and I discovered we had the same favorite one and I took that as at least meaning SOMETHING. Stupid, right? But the whole time was filled with things like that, some signs big, some small, but all of them said the same thing: this is good, this is where you're supposed to be.

Here's the thing I have realized in the last couple weeks though since Coach and I broke up - something he actually had the nerve to tell me he didn't see it as, even after ten months - I was such an idiot. I was so busy focusing on the things that meant the relationship was good and right, that I ignored plenty of signs, or red flags, all throughout the relationship that told me I needed to get out, that I would never get what I really wanted. And I ignored them because they were bad and they were things that would have made me end it if I had taken the time to look at them all objectively, which I did not want to do because he had me convinced that I was happy. I was miserable for ten months, I see it now, but I thought I was happy at the time because whenever we were together, it just felt right. And we were together a lot. I ignored the fact that as time went on, when we weren't together I became more and more insecure about what he might be doing when I wasn't around. But we talked every day, all the time, about everything. And regardless of how it ended, I do believe him at least when he said that I had become one of his best friends. You can't manufacture that kind of closeness, that comfortableness you have in sharing all kinds of information about every aspect of your life. Or almost every aspect, as I discovered later.

In the end, the best advice I can give is trust your instincts. No matter how sickeningly happy you think you are, if there is a little voice in the back of your head telling you that something is truly, legitimately wrong, end it. It will hurt for a while, but far less if you end it early on than wasting a year of your life on someone who never really cared enough about you to tell you the truth in the first place.

Sometimes You Just Have to Cry

It happens, I can't help it. BFF and TacoJohn hate that phrase, hate when I say I can't help something, but sometimes it really is true. And sometimes crying just makes me feel better. It works for a lot of people, but my gays just don't like it - the crying I mean. At worst it makes them uncomfortable and at best they simply tolerate it if we are already on the phone when the waterworks start.

This song, for some reason, always gets me. It really seems to sum up my relationship with Coach, for the most part. I spent so long and worked so hard to get in, and it got me no where. And it hurts. And sometimes when you hurt, crying eases it a little. Enjoy.

Ally Burnett "We Would Have Broken Up Once You Heard This Song Anyway"

Swagger

A long time ago I had swagger and I didn't even know it. I was just being me. When I was growing up, most of my friends were boys, so I was always comfortable around them and didn't feel like I had to be someone I was not, or act a certain way, etc. I had girlfriends of course, but those i was closest to were similar to me: tomboy-ish. It worked for me and I never really gave much thought to it, I didn't date in high school and that was fine, it never seemed like a big deal to me. And I'm serious: I never went on a single date. I didn't even go to my high school Prom. I would have liked to, but it just didn't happen and I was okay with that.

Fast forward to freshman year of college at Woolly Mammoth University. I actually started making more close girlfriends than guy friends. In fact, I don't think I met a single guy my freshman year that I still see or talk to, or even remember their names. Again, I didn't date, but I was okay with that. I was at college, growing up, having fun far enough away from home that I didn't feel inclined to have to go home every weekend, but close enough that a trip was feasible whenever I wanted.

Now, the summer between freshman and sophomore year us where it gets tricky. I was living on campus for the summer and met a couple girls (one of whom, Wink, is still one of my best friends to this day) and in turn, met a lot of the guys they knew, who were also living in the dorms for the summer and taking classes. They took me into their group and we were together all the time, watching movies, studying, going to the store, we became good friends. It was not, until about halfway through the summer, that Wink informs me that all the boys have crushes on me. I honestly had no idea. She told me they all thought I wad flirting with them and I felt bad. I really did not know that this is what I was projecting. I just thought I was hanging out with my new friends.

I tried my best to not flirt anymore and was somewhat successful, except with Married Guy (also a part of this group kind of by default, he was an RA. And no, he was not married at the time, but he is married now and this will be important later). But it didn't go away completely. I was just enjoying my summer with new friends, being carefree and sometimes-flirty and having fun. I never led any of them on, never made out with or hooked up with any of them (again, except with Married Guy; we are a match made in Heaven in some other universe, but that is also a story for another time). The attention was nice though, because it was something I never had in high school, something I didn't even know I wanted. For once I was not just 'one of the boys' so to speak, I was a girl and they saw that I was and appreciated it, even if from afar.

So sophomore year started. I didn't not date, if that makes sense, but I was able to not care. I was able to not get emotionally invested in the guys I met, because I still had that carefree thing going on. I just wanted to have fun. Do not confuse this with random hook-ups - I should clarify here that up til halfway through my sophomore year of college, I was still a virgin. And that was certainly not random, but is also another story for another time. But I had fun, went out, and everything was good. Again, there weren't a lot of feelings, not that I was emotionally closed off from people or didn't let them in or any of that garbage, I was just very good at not investing emotionally in guys because I, again, either wasn't ready or didn't know what I was missing.

Enter Army Guy, fall of my junior year. Man, did that guy turn my entire life upside down. Suddenly I had feelings. Suddenly I wanted a relationship and everything that went with it. And we had it, sort of, but then it was up and down and eventually he cheated, I cried, and then it started all over again. This happened for an entire year and set a precedent for each defined relationship I would have after him, because somehow, I manage to pick the exact same guy over and over. Sure, they have different names, different occupations, look completely different from one another, but all three cheated and I ended up crying.

The last one that just ended a few weeks ago was especially bad. Perhaps it is so awful because I am almost 30 and know what I want from my relationships now. Or maybe it's so awful because he is also almost 30, I wasn't really expecting this kind of malarkey to happen, since by now you would think we are adults and can communicate as adults and express what we want in an adult way without cheating and then rationalizing it in some completely childish way. But as I have been working on getting myself better, and finding me again, I have found I really miss that girl who just didn't care, that girl who didn't take anything too seriously and was carefree and fun. I'd like to be her again. She didn't get hurt, she didn't get emotionally invested and end up crushed.

Seeing another year of my life go by, and it all being for nothing, really takes a toll. But I am working on finding her again. Or, at least, I will work on it. When I'm ready, because I know she is waiting for me.

Dating Sucks

Dating should be easy. Any episode of Friends will tell you that. Meet a random stranger at a coffee house/movie theater/work/etc, go on a few dates, see where it goes. But it's not that easy and that really just sucks.

Maybe I am making it harder than it should be, or maybe I expect too much. But I don't want to go on a bunch of pointless dates. And likely, that's what is holding me back, the fact that I hate to waste my time. I do not mean that I hate laying on the couch on a Saturday afternoon (if I'm not in a stadium screaming my head off in a Sea of Red) watching football. I enjoy doing that, so I don't consider it a waste of time. What I mean is, I hate putting time and effort and emotions and energy into something that is not going anywhere. The fallout is stressful on everyone involved, except the one who did the heart-breaking part of the break-up.

I realize my initial post was kind of vague and only referenced some kind of emotional turmoil, and the story will come out later; I'm just not ready yet, it is still too new. And I am not anywhere near ready to date someone new yet. But the idea of dating, of going on date after date with most who you know will not warrant a second date...that idea depresses me too. It can't all just be blind luck, can it, that you magically end up finding someone you truly connect with after 36 miserable failures?

I used to believe in The One. I was blissfully content then - or so I thought. I was almost done with college, talking wedding plans with The Supposed One though we weren't actually engaged, and ready to move on to the next step in our lives which involved wedding and babies and happily ever after. It didn't happen, thank goodness, but that is another story for another time.

I no longer believe in The One. Not because of that experience alone, but because of life experience. I was a kid still, in my early 20s - and sometimes still am, as my best friend will tell you. But I grew up. I cared about people, loved some even. And I have lost. Not just lost relationships in that they ended, but lost people literally, to whatever comes after this life. Now, I believe in The Ones - there are some people in this world better suited for me than others. And somehow, I will find him. When it's time.

Starting Over

I have had a blog for many years and fully intended to begin blogging there again. But after thinking about, I decided maybe starting over with a new one would be better, because this blog has one specific goal in mind:

to be myself again.

One might ask how a blog could accomplish this. My bliss, my love, is writing. And I have always found especially that after emotional turmoil, writing is a very cathartic experience for me. It helps me get out of my head and see my thoughts, to organize them, learn from them, and move on from those that would hold me back.

So here it is, my new beginning that will, in time, hopefully leave me blissfully content - even if I am not sure yet just how to get there.