Patterns Make Pictures

Over the years, I’ve noticed more and more how patterns seem to abound. Most of us know the common-knowledge “this applies to everyone” types of patterns, such as, people die in threes, etc. But then there are the individual patterns we all follow. Those are the ones that intrigue me most.

Like, I had a three year run where I wasn’t hit on by a single man my age, but I was being hit on by men 15 years (or more) my junior every time the wind changed course. I finally said, okay Universe, I’ll play along, and after a three or four month liaison with a guy 17 years younger than myself, the Universe moved onto the next pattern. HOWEVER! The next pattern was already becoming established with the seriously way-too-young-for-me-omgawds kid.

It was the pattern of J names that I am still slightly stuck in.

So I met a guy named Keith and thought YAY! I’m finally moving on in the alphabet. And I wasn’t setting out to meet anyone because, let’s face it, relationships of the romantical sort are definitely not my forte.

That’s when I discovered my next pattern in the completely effed up journey of my not-even-wanted love life. It’s the “Well, fuck, he’s still invested in his ex even if he doesn’t tell you he is” pattern.

First, let’s cue Mr. Yesterday. He’s the one that told me I was not someone he needed to check qualities off the list for…I WAS the list. He hadn’t felt that way for anyone in years. “I claim you for as long as you want me. Every moment makes me want you more” blah blah blah it’s all lies blah blah blah guy. Yup, the one who suddenly did a complete 180 overnight and *GASP* suddenly had feelings for his ex and was reconnecting to her again. It lasted three whole weeks when they DID get back together so obviously it wasn’t the amazing fantasy he had playing in his head, but the bottom line is that he told me on the first date that there was no one else. So, yes, that means he LIED. And I was automatically in competition with someone I knew nothing about, and had he let me know he wasn’t truly moved on, I would have known better than to catch feelings. His name starts with a J.

Then there’s the Vaping Viking. Also a J name. Also in love with his ex still. He at least owns it, though, so I’ve known to not get too close and to not let my heart open up to him and to not invest myself and to not fantasize about some future that is completely unrealistic. But then, he’s the guy acting like we are in a relationship and wants to spend as much time with me as possible and wants to hang with my kidlettes and introduced me to his parents when they were in town and is now buying our tickets to the Nutcracker so his mother can come back to Pennsylvania and see my daughter performing with us. Which, you know, if I’m not mistaken, these are all relationship goals. And I keep referring to him as my FRIEND, and yet, I’m seemingly in a relationship that isn’t really a relationship. As soon as I figured out that he’s viewing us as something different than we are, I quit sleeping with him. He took me to dinner last night, and he is incredibly upfront about reading my texts when they come in and commenting on them, and I swear that’s something only a boyfriend who wants to know what his girl is up to would do. But…again…I am not trying to be in a relationship, and this is a pretty skewered version of a relationship if we WERE in one.

Next on my list…Keith. And Keith came on strong. Keith invited me and the kids to come home with him to Pittsburgh for Thanksgiving and be his date amongst his family. And he said the words which are now becoming a pattern, too, “I’ve finally found my sexy nerd girl. There’s no way I’m letting you go.” And flattery galore and good morning texts and good night texts and a million texts in between every day and good gawds, he acts like I’m the next best thing since cocoa beans and sugar chilled and watched Netflix and made a baby together. But…you know I can’t break this pattern until I am immersed in it and recognize it and face it head on. So yeah….

And he said NOTHING back! The dude who couldn’t stop texting me and flattering me and acting so excited over me who ALSO was the dude who kept bringing up his exes every single freaking time I turned around and saying things like, “Yeah, that’s what Genelle did!” or “Kate was like that. She would do A, B, and C, blah blah blah” every single time we were on any topic whatsoever had absolutely nothing to say in regards to my outright confrontation of the fact I am already in competition with a couple ghosts.

So I unfriended him on Facebook and am now analyzing why this is my pattern and hoping this pattern is now broken. I have faced it head on after recognizing it and have taken the healthy approach which keeps me from being a doormat and/or excusing behavior that leaves me as an option. I mean, if someone treats you like an option and can’t make up their mind, help them make their choice by removing yourself from the equation. It really IS that simple.

Aaaaaaaand now I’m giggling stupidly because the last two I mentioned weren’t even intended to be found or put into the place where I even give a flying rat’s ass. Yet, here I am. Because the Universe has absolutely no qualms with teaching you lessons that you really have no interest in learning.

And people wonder why I don’t want anything to do with relationships at this point.

A Week In My Life… The Cliff’s Notes Version.

Sick. So sick. Then better. Then significantly worse. Almost died. Possible exaggeration. Slightly.

Was supposed to catch up on missed homework, but he fed me burritos and watched Halloween movies with me instead.

Decided the next day we would do that homework I need to work on. Instead, we went to see Pan (Loved it so very much), then we got Chinese food, discussed zombies, watched Hocus Pocus, and discussed the laws of attraction.

I still have not caught up on my homework.

Worked the last wedding I will ever work. My company is closed. I suppose I now have time for my homework.

Read my horoscope. Didn’t like it. Checked twenty-three more horoscope sites until I found the one I could jive with.

I ate pie. Lots of pie. Then I felt guilty, so I did five sit-ups and said screw it before I got to six.

I painted my toenails pink then doused them in glitter.

Discovered glittery toes are incredibly uncomfortable in socks.

Removed nailpolish. Now have naked toes. Meh.

Got drunk on Moscato. Not my fault the stuff tastes like kool-aid.

Texted The Vaping Viking to arrange to see him tomorrow. So…you know.. THE TALK. I hate THE TALK, but I hate the thought of leading someone on even more. And, you know, being a gaping vagina who ghosts or acts like a chicken instead of a decent human that lets someone know they’re not on the same page emotionally is kind of a sucky thing, too, so I’ll avoid that.

I cuddled my kids. I washed some laundry. I did the Thriller Dance in the living room with the curtains open because I do what I want.

And I owned it. You know, the Awesomeness. I owned the shiznit out of it. Just because I can.

Might seem like boring nothingness, however, it’s that boring nothingness that makes us who we are and the life we are leading. It all passes so quickly…gotta do whatever it is that makes your heart happy before that heart stops beating forever…even if it’s nothing of great consequence. It’s all an adventure if you think of it that way, after all.

That Pooh Bear…smart little bugger…

I Wish You Hadn’t Been Make-Believe

I wish you had meant the words you spoke and the look in your eyes and the way that you touched me. Not just in the night when the heat washed over us and the breaths became hitched and low in our throats, but in the way you slid your hand into the arch of my lower back and guided me as we walked or the way I would catch you watching and smiling as I did something ridiculous and ordinary. I still forgive my own unique silliness because you once loved it so.

I wish that last night before sleeping by your side as I listened to your deep breaths, I really could have slipped inside your dreams to play with you there as I imagined. I was so sad that evening knowing what I must do when the morning came. I still wonder what you dreamt that night as your lip curled slightly and your lashes lay softly upon your cheeks.

I wish when you said forever, you had known what promises meant to me. I wish when I had told you what deceits I could never recover from, you would have paid heed and tried to keep the illusory bubble from popping…for just a little longer. Infinitely, maybe. I still crave that intensity and fragility coexisting together in a perfect dance in every partner I spin dizzily with.

I wish you had stayed that boy I loved, my own Peter Pan, never growing up into the man you became who wandered down the forked path in search of faery lights in the distance while I stumbled the other direction. I still look up and fervently rummage through my memory as I seek your face amongst those who shine for the briefest of moments.

I wish I had those sangria lips and hooded eyes for longer than the seconds of scattered crystallized moments etched so deeply into my psyche. Those rainy days and lazy afternoons while we read to each other from books we cherished and discussed the innermost workings of the universe we were so far from ever understanding. Those days made me fall in love with your mind and your ideas and your poetic words, and I’ve searched for signs of your brilliance in every single one to come since you.

I wish I could go back to the moment when you pulled me from within myself, vulnerable, yet so unafraid, because your bravery became my own. I still try to fly even though you clipped my wings as you walked out the door one last time. I remember the wind carrying me higher and higher and higher, and like Icarus, I need to touch the sun once more no matter what consequences I face for dreaming.

I wish I could awaken beside you just once without remembering the pain that came afterward and find myself in that moment…that Sunday morning when we were out of coffee and out of food and out of money and laughing at the radio that assured us love would keep us alive. We made love and ignored our growling stomachs and talked about how someday we would have it all. I still think of all that we endured and how strong our connection was to carry us through so much before the roaring flame died down to embers.

I think of nights parked behind the school and how we fell asleep curled into each other, your head on my shoulder, my head on your heart. I now know to search for that one that I can lull myself to sleep by listening to the rhythm of his lifeblood because you taught me that I can hear my own heart beating in the echoes of his own.

I wish you had existed for real and for all time and as one person. I wish you hadn’t grown immune to everything you had seemed to love within me and dropped me to the side in search of something better. I had wanted to be that one, and I still try to become her with every realization I have of what I am lacking.

I wish, I wish, I wish I hadn’t raised my standards in search of you within every new face I see, because who could possibly be you…the one who changed everything I was into everything that I am? The creator of what I crave. The instigator of everything I seek. The founder of every reason I cannot accept anything less than what I saw in you…even though you didn’t see that within yourself then and still can’t see it today.

I wish you hadn’t been temporary. I wish you hadn’t been make-believe.

Should I Stay, Or Should I go?

James, the cute boy who owns a vape lounge, invited me back over last night to his bachelor pad which he has already talked about being his own private sanctum that he doesn’t like invaded. By the way, he’s going to be known in this blog as the Vaping Viking from this point forward since his Nordic features are all I can really focus on.

He told me to wear my pajamas, so I did.

We watched the A-Team…

That’s the best picture I could get because by the time I took it, well…Ugh, I’m jumping ahead of myself. Let’s start from the beginning.

I came over. I parked in an unfamiliar area. I walked over to his house where he was waiting outside to meet me. We headed upstairs where he had A-Team queued up. I knew as we were snuggling up that it didn’t matter that I specifically put on my ugly panties reserved for the times I’m trying to ensure no one in the world will be getting my pants off…I had probably made a bad choice in coming to his house knowing full well it wasn’t just to watch tv. I haven’t had sex in nine months. I think he’s sexy as all get out with his Nordic features and flowing, long hair…like Fabio with a better nose.

So we were giggling and talking and his hand was suddenly on my leg. He was watching my reactions, and I was becoming more flustered because he was watching me so closely with an open intensity. We continued talking, he discovered I’m ticklish, I discovered he’s just as ticklish,and we were tickling and laughing and wrestling around quite a bit, and before I knew it, I was tucked so closely into him that I couldn’t really tell where he ended and I began.

Then he was kissing me. I must admit, that was one amazing kiss. And it was followed by another, and another, and another, and hands were all over the place and clothes were kinda being tossed wherever all willy nilly, and then I remembered that I couldn’t have sex yet, so I stopped him.

“Wait! We can’t have sex tonight!”

He pulled back and looked slightly disappointed but recovered quickly like a gentleman. He was okay with it and didn’t try to push me further!

“I mean, it isn’t you, and it isn’t me. It’s my vagina. You can’t put your penis inside it because it’s already full of tampon!”

Then he’s laughing, and I’m laughing, and then there’s kissing and touching and a reminder that you can do a whole lot of stuff without actual penetration. And so we did. A lot. Several times. For hours.

Then he asked me to spend the night. Just. Like. That. And I did.

He doesn’t bring girls home. He hasn’t had sex in two years out of pure choice because he had other focuses and girls in York County are…well…not really all they’re cracked up to be…and so I know he’s not this horn-dog that was simply trying to boink me and send me home. Because while we had fun, we didn’t boink. He brought me into his home and played and teased and joked and kissed me like he wanted to devour every ounce of my being. Then he wanted me beside him all night.

This morning, he made coffee, and I fell back asleep, and then I woke up as he was just about to leave for a meeting. I grabbed my shoes and threw them on real quick, and he walked me down the street to my car. I was half asleep and a little miffed that he didn’t wake me up in time to have more coffee and get my bearings. It didn’t dawn on me until my drive home that he hadn’t planned on me leaving yet. He had his meeting and was coming right back home where he had hoped I would still be. I verified through a text. I was the girl who runs out first thing in the morning. He’s the guy that wanted me to stay.

When we got to my car, he pulled this off the windshield:

I had to pretty much grab it out of his hand…he was insisting on paying it for me. And yes, those are Hello Kitty pajamas. Don’t judge me.

He opened my car door, hugged me close, handed me a vaping juice he had mixed just for me before leaving his shop yesterday. He closed the door behind me, and he watched me drive away. And we’ve been texting all morning since I got home.

I don’t spend the night. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent the night beside someone. I don’t know what I was thinking or why I wanted to sleep beside him and wake up more than once to find him also awake and covering me back up under the blankets that I kept kicking off. I don’t know why it was so nice or why I wasn’t scared. I’m always scared when it becomes that intimate. And let’s face it, there’s not much else that’s more intimate than sleeping in the arms of someone…fully trusting that while unconscious, they won’t murder you. Or worse…look at the messages and pictures in your phone…

I know it isn’t forever with the Vaping Viking. He’s selling his shop and leaving PA within the year. And I don’t have those “OMGAWDS” kind of feelings, either. I mostly just have the “I like him enough, and I like how I don’t feel pressured, and he’s pretty, and I forgot what it was like to sleep in the arms of another all night…to have someone make me coffee and walk me to my car and kiss me like he has waited his whole life to kiss someone like that” kind of feelings. I don’t know if that’s wrong, either…to be so intimate when it’s such an indefinite thing. Or is this really embracing the moment and one of those living for now come-what-may experiences that I sought after to begin with?

I asked myself if I should stay or go, and I stayed. And I’m pretty sure I’ll be doing it again…

Spread A Little Love

I love so many things. I love bubbles in my bath, pinot noir in my glass, pajamas on my ass, and a comfy bed. I love the smell of book stores and the excitement of nestling in with a new adventure on a rainy afternoon. I love my family, friends, and pets. I love coffee and vanilla Chai and hot cocoa with Bailey’s in it. I love silly videos and cheesy sci-fi shows and dreaming of impossible things.

But what I love most is the feeling of making others happy. I love offering smiles to strangers. I love telling those I care about how much they mean to me. I love giving of myself to ensure a little more ease for other people. I love giving gifts and seeing the joy when I’ve chosen the perfect present.

Even my current career goals have to do with bringing happiness to others. After many, many moons of working just to make ends meet, I finally decided to return to college to pursue my Master’s in Special Education while simultaneously pursuing my Bachelor’s in Business Management. Besides proving I’m obviously certifiably insane, I’m doing this all for one reason alone. I will eventually open play centers and respite care for special needs children and their families.

I am the mother of four children. Three are Autistic. I realized right away that my path in this world is to work with special needs kids. Mine were born to me for a reason. This is what I do best. This is what I am good at. This is (without sounding like an ass because I’ll clarify shortly) why I am a single mom.

In America, there is a fifty-fifty chance your marriage will end in divorce. Do you know what the statistics are when you have a special needs child? The divorce rate rises to the ninetieth percentile when that happens. You can’t possibly imagine the way life changes when you have children…you can’t possibly imagine how more difficult those challenges are when you add medical issues to the mix…until you are finally living it.

I’ve been divorced twice now. I won’t go into the gory details, but suffice it to say, parenting special needs kids and having multiple disagreements in how that should be faced is pretty much the basis of why I am no longer married. My second husband was insane (literally…he has the papers to prove it) so it wasn’t just that. However, I figured out how insane he was simply by witnessing his idea of how to parent my children.

So as I was going through blogs today, I was leaving comments. Some to y’all in my readership, some to those who are just discovered in a search engine. I like to leave something to make people smile. I like to think that when they open wordpress, they’ll see my comments and smile. I know how I feel when I receive comments, so I try to do the same for others. How wonderful does it feel when you click on kind words from someone who has read the outpouring of words you decided to share with the world? It’s such a lovely feeling.

That got me to thinking about what I can do today to make someone smile…to give someone a warm and fuzzy feeling. Today is all about going out of my way to give as many people as I can a feeling of happiness or something to chuckle over.

So tell me…what would you do to spread a little happiness around you today? What would you be willing to do to see a smile on the face of a stranger? Would you like to do a group blog project for thirty days with me where we go out of our way and really, truly focus on spreading some smiles around? I’m really thinking it could be a great project for no other reason than to do it. Who’s in?

The Angry TMI Blog

Here it is. The blog where I lose some readers. That really sucks because I am almost to sixty now. I know that isn’t a lot in the world of blogging, but I love it.

I’m angry. I’ve been angry for three weeks. And it finally clicked why. Let me share the back story why, so maybe you’ll get it.

Back when Mr. Yesterday and I were seeing each other romantically and not simply as friends, we were legitimately working on our foundation. That’s a word we both used on a daily basis in our conversations. Everything we did was supposedly to build each other up and to connect and to do things the right way because this was it. It was real. It was the most real thing ever in the history of all real things. And part of that was our Pants Clause. We weren’t rushing into sex even though we really, really, reeeeeeaaaally wanted to. But! We could totally do anything we wanted so long as our pants remained on. It built up tensions and kept the energy sizzling.

Before we would break the Pants Clause, we A)Set the date that we had pushed ourselves far enough to prove we were into each other beyond just sexually, and B)We were never to have any barriers between us because that was legitimately the most amazing part of us. No secrets, no barriers, no boundaries, no falsities. I had just been through my yearly checkup which included being tested for any STD’s, and he went through it for me once we decided we wanted complete openness. I went in and got the depo shot so pregnancy wouldn’t be on the table. I hate birth control because it comes with heftier risks than it should. But for him and what we were building, I went that route.

And two days before we were to break the Pants Clause, it ended. I had it in my Google calendar. I got an alert in the form of an email, an alarm, and a text. Because yes, I totally love torturing myself and shoving a knife into my heart, thanks Google!!!

He went onto his ex. He got laid. He probably had amazing sex. And me? Well, I didn’t, obviously. I put myself into a refreshed celibate period. I’d almost broken it for him, but, you know, exes.

Now HERE’S why I’m so fucking angry. Depo has fucked my body up. I have spent three weeks in varying stages of my period. It shows up, I bleed for a couple days, it goes away for a couple days, it comes back like how it normally is on the last day of a period, then it goes away, then I wake up with it full force again the following day, etc. And just like regular periods that don’t go on indefinitely, I am feeling allllllll the emotions. I am craving junk food, I am breaking out in pimples, I am cramping like a mother effer. Why??? Because I believed someone wanted me forever, so I made a concession that I don’t normally make so we could have something we both supposedly wanted more than anything. And he moved on, and I moved into the land of all things uterus.

I couldn’t have sex right now if I wanted to simply because of what depo has done to my body. I took a medication that altered my physical state for no fucking reason in the end. I am affected long term because of this choice. I am reminded that I had fallen deeply enough to do something that would lead to this catastrophe while another girl got to have the reward I was so close to having. No, scratch that, the reward was supposed to be the ability to be one hundred percent open without the slightest barrier between us ever in every single aspect of our lives, and she didn’t get that either. But she DID get to have an orgasm. And she DID get to have his full attention and his intimacy and to curl beside him afterward while they whispered all those oh so lovely words of amour to each other. I had spent that time directly prior to her resurgence building up the need inside him, and someone else reaped the benefits of that even if only for a short while. It’s irrelevant. Everything he and I were supposed to be was given over fully to another. She borrowed from my experience while I was over here trying to piece myself back together before my uterus decided to declare war on me.

And if I DO decide I want sex, I can’t have it. I simply can’t. That’s totally the wrong kind of wetness. Let’s not forget how I would rather stab myself in the eye with a spork than have the “No, you can’t put your penis inside my vagina because it’s already full of tampon” conversation.

Let’s also not mention how freaked out I’ve been over this turn of events and how many informative sites and message boards I’ve visited to figure out how normal this is. Causing three weeks of non-stop ovulating and purging can NOT be a healthy thing. I allowed myself to be fucked up mentally, emotionally, and obviously physically for someone who could walk away and give all the pretty words to someone else along with all the dicking. I did everything I was supposed to and everything I said I would do only to get shafted in the least fun way possible in the end.

So I’m pissed. And I want chocolate. And I want to smack a bitch. And I want to scream.

But mostly, I want to not acknowledge that there’s not a single part of me that wasn’t altered from that relationship. Not a Single. Fucking. Thing. And I didn’t have nearly the same effect on him, so it’s really rather a big ol’ steaming pile of bullshit which just makes me aggressively angry every time I go to pee. Which is a lot. I drink half my weight in water daily.

But I do have to acknowledge it, and I suppose a physical reminder helps me not forget the pitfalls of falling too soon or in believing and trusting too quickly. Perhaps that’s exactly why the universe is doing this to me…

The Feels on the Bus Go Round and Round

Self exploration. Self growth. Honesty in all things. New approaches. New goals. New ways of dealing with things. These are all good commodities that keep us from stagnation which I happen to view as the true death. Stagnation is the death of the soul.

So I have to make sure I avoid it all costs, and today, I encountered something that I have to face head on. Why? Because I like to compartmentalize and avoid those feelings because I know they eventually go away and give way to more comfortable emotions which leave me feeling in control. And this latest adventure I’m on specifically deals with everything in that first paragraph. Besides, I said I wouldn’t candy coat a single thing.

So let’s talk about emotions and how it’s okay for us to explore the good ones and let them wash over us, but they’re so feared when they bring out negatives in us. I think in hindsight, we discover the lessons learned during the darker moments are the most pertinent and long lasting. Which means, we shouldn’t really hide from anything. We should step into the darkness and allow it to wash over us until our eyes adjust and we begin to see clearly.

I suppose what brought this on was a conversation with Mr. Yesterday (formerly known as Mr. Droid. THE guy). No, no candy coating anything. I don’t suppose a damn thing, I know very well that our conversation forced me to explore something new. Further proof he’s part of my soul group, a soul mate, because he’s forced me to grow so damn much in such a short time, it’s as if he lit a fucking fuse and shot me off into space.

By the way, ‘Soul mate’ is such a misconstrued word. We have several, and they come in many forms. Parents, friends, romantical interests, our offspring, and so on. They’re here to make us confront that which is inside us needing a push. They make us better people. And that’s not always easy. And it’s not always painless. And it sure as fuck isn’t all rainbows and unicorns. If it were, what would be the point? You’d never be challenged to become more than you are. You’d remain stagnant.

But I digress…

Mr. Yesterday. I went over briefly in previous blogs how he was the one that was standing there when my walls were suddenly gone. All the growth from before him culminated in my full openness and vulnerability with him…specifically him. The first since the very first, you know, back before I knew to be guarded. It was beautiful and special in a way that I still can’t accurately describe it. And I really did think he felt the same as I did because he flat out said he did. But the ex came back, and it was as if everything he said I was meant absolutely nothing. Poof !!! Deep feelings and striving for a foundation on which to build our future together one day then nothing the next. Absolutely nothing. A black hole where every beautiful part of us was sucked away in a nanosecond. That’s the part that really hurt. You see, every aspect was gone. The few times we talked in the past five or six weeks were so sterile. None of the banter. None of the playfulness. None of that deep friendship that was the most amazing aspect of us to begin with.

And then, as quickly as it disappeared, we had a second chance to rekindle the friendship. I don’t think he actually expected it, either, because he only allotted me an hour to talk when we met up, and that turned into three hours standing in a parking lot talking about everything imaginable and laughing and feeling the flow like it used to be. We went longer than we meant to just like we always did. How many people have you been on a date with that lasted eight hours simply because you didn’t want to stop being near each other? That was what we referred to as Thursday Nights.

And, omgawds, I missed that terribly. I had my friend back just like that. And before you can question the girlfriend situation, that lasted a whole three weeks before it ended poorly. I’m not doing anything inappropriate.

I have found myself thrilled to have my friend back. The silly conversations. The emojis. The inside jokes. The teasing, and banter, and open way we communicate. The way he’ll tell me what he really thinks.

And then we had the conversation about my serial dating where he encouraged me to be open and not run away from what could develop. Basically, I was encouraged to explore my options with other people because the one could be right around the corner if I’m open to it. It isn’t as if I was sitting here thinking he and I are back on track right where we left off or as if I’m cheating on him by seeing other men. But it stung. It really, truly stung. The first guy to capture me fully just went beyond giving me permission to move on, he pretty much told me that’s what I need to be doing. Why the hell does that sting so much? Because I know I have to finish dealing with the residual emotions of our breakup. I have to continue processing that I went from being adored and wanted to being just another girl. I went from having him as an active partner talking about and working towards the goal of building our foundation and having no barriers between us ever to a complete shut down of that and me having absolutely no importance in that way to him in the blink of an eye. It’s a difficult thing to accept that you’ve been rejected even when you know it wasn’t done maliciously. How do you go from being everything someone wants to being everything in their past?

So, yeah, I still have to process. And I still need to heal. And I really am working on all of that, scout’s honor.

But in order to do so, I have to face the darkness. I have to step inside and be present. So I am. You want the renowned LeeAnnimal truth telling? Here goes.

I’m selfish. I want him to miss that part of us, too. I want him to feel something over the demise of what we were building once upon a time. I want him to have to process losing me even though he didn’t lose me, he left me to the side as he continued moving forward with someone else. I want him to have to be on a journey of Self and feel irrevocably changed because I entered his life the way I feel as if everything is different since he walked into mine. I want him to view me as something cataclysmic even though I’m his past. I don’t like feeling forgotten and as if everything that was so damned special to me was a mirage because I’m the only one who seems to be effected by it.

You can’t force someone to view you the same way as you view them, can you? I wouldn’t want to, either. Not forced. Not flowing organically. Not present all on its own. I live for authenticity. Anything less is a shell of what truly could be.

I suppose the bottom line is that I need to come to terms with being less than what I thought I was. I was so easily replaced by someone who couldn’t even last a full month. If that was better, what the hell does that make me? To him, I mean.

And the beautiful irony is that the way I have treated others I’ve exited relationships from is the exact way I’ve been treated. He flipped a switch, and I disappeared. The lights went off, and I’m hidden in the shadows of the past. The specialness is an afterthought. Even after a very quick sojourn with the ex, he was so adept at getting past me that I was relegated to what I am now in a heartbeat. It took absolutely no effort to fall right back out of the adoration he once held for me.

Ouch, right? I’m perfectly normal for feeling the ouch?

But before you offer sympathy, just know there’s a silver lining around this cloud because the friendship part remains. And no matter what you think of that, it’s obvious that he is still forcing me to grow which in essence is exactly what all of our connections of principle do for us. He is worthy of being in my life in whatever capacity because he is making me a better person even if he doesn’t realize that’s what he’s doing.

And for that, I’ll appreciate all these feels even when it seems as if I’m drowning in them.