Might runaway afterall

I decided the other day to take a break from all of social media, just deactivated facebook and instagram, and deleted everything off my phone. Some of it was to avoid the time suck that I just can't afford at the moment with everything going on with my twin, and work, and studying, but I know part of it was to stop the trigger of those god forsaken memories. My memories the last few weeks have been abundant with shit from two years ago where I was crushed after things ended when I honestly had no idea they were about to... I posted a lot, and apparently as my sister has pointed out to me, I do that when I'm not okay. Which makes sense, I think we all desire connection when we don't want to be here...we want something to make us remember why it's worth sticking out the lows.

I've spent this week battling with my twin about not backing out of his inpatient stay, and it's been stressful as fuck, especially since my dad was trying to book flights to make sure he was around for the family session. Luckily my sister was willing to look into one of the other programs I researched over the summer but they don't allow participants to start their out patient program without going through detox first. I somehow was able to convince him that even though he's scared, he deserves this, he deserves a week to only have to worry about his recovery and nothing else. I was able to go through the insurance verification process for him last night since I know all of his info, including his SSN... it will probably irk me until the day I die that he was assigned his number first even though I was born first, but it's definitely come in handy lately that I know it. I cried hard after I got off the phone with them, I don't think I've been fully aware how much of a burden all of this has been on my mental health. 

I'm glad it's Friday and hopefully my fun plans with my twin tonight and my sister tomorrow will keep me from wallowing and focusing too deeply on the fact that it's been a year now since I've touched the man I thought was the love of my life. Today marks a year since the last chance I had to hug him and didn't fucking do it... we had met up for lunch and he had to run off and I just sat there eating my food. I think about that more than I would like... I wish I had gotten up, but how could I have known that weekend would result in a conversation that would mean the end yet again.

I looked into the feasibility of buying that house I keep dreaming of this summer and my student loans are just a tad too fucking much so at the moment I'm debating about temporarily moving to Maryland. Work is in the midst of starting up an office down there, I work on the main project, I'm down there more and more lately, and I have an option to live for free in my dad's townhouse and pay down some of these loans and save more money. With my twin starting a real program, he should be more stable by the time my lease is up...It might be nice to get away from all the things that remind me of what was and what could have been.

The Fertile Earth

When the person you believed to be the one you've been searching and waiting for and wanted nothing more than to share your life with them refers to your time together as a "black cloud" it hurts in a way that's hard to explain. And when you respond with bitter sarcasm and they admonish you for taking things personally you feel even smaller than you did before.  As you stew in your hurt and embarassment at ever believing it had been something special, you marvel at the fact that somehow you're still holding on to the hope of reconciliation and you wonder how many more tears you will need to cry to smother this god forsaken torch you're still holding for someone who never had the balls to tell you they wanted a relationship, just not with you.

And now as of yesterday, seven months have passed since that interaction and you still cannot wrap your head around the fact that you still haven't fully let go. Perhaps the belief it'll ever come around again has mostly died, but still no luck in letting anyone new in.

I love this poet, and actually have a different poem of his tattooed on my right rib cage. So many metaphors have this similar underlying sentiment to this poem that I'm struggling to succinctly say but these sorts of sayings like how it's darkest before the dawn, or that when things feel heavy and dark that you've been planted, or that caterpillars turn to goo before transforming into butterflies, that the cracks let the light in. I guess just that there's a point to the destruction we endure and that there will be something good on the other side.

My best friend gave me an adorable Valentine's book before I headed home and it's filled with all these personal answers to very sweet questions but the last one is what gets me every time, her wish for me, that at some point all the love I've given out finds its way back to me. A few months ago a pregnant friend said it wasn't how she expected 30 to go, and I said well yea I guess you could be traveling to several countries alone but I'm not sure she took it the way I meant it. Yea for three weeks I was pumped to have my life, but the other 49 I'm pretty sure I'd prefer having a loving husband and a beautiful baby. I would have preferred to have not seen all those wonderful things on my own with no one to reminisce with.

I genuinely do love my life and have very few complaints even though I of course have things that stress me out from time to time, but I genuinely miss having someone to excitedly plan a future with. I'm just going to keep doing my best to make sure future me will be ready for that person when they finally enter my life.

Broken...for now

Lately I feel stuck in a weird ass loop. I shattered my phone while in St. Croix over the holidays but my screen protector kept all the glass in place and it still works, so I haven't bothered to fix it yet. Literally the only noticeable annoyance is that when I try to use the front facing camera the cracks across the lens create a weird reflection occasionally and depending on the lighting. The last time I had a cracked screen like this was in 2014 and I took a long time to fix it then too and honestly I think it had to do with the fact that it felt like an outward representation of how broken I felt inside. It feels so absurd that now 5.5 years later I'm still dealing with the same heartbreak I was then and perhaps my reluctance to fix my phone is again because a piece of me finds comfort in the tangible proof that I am broken.

Recently a random man I messaged on a dating app well over a year ago found his way to my instagram dms expressing that he has been reading my "travel blog" and regretted never replying to me. I laughed at him calling it a travel blog because it sure as shit hasn't been that since I got back from my trip. It is a little unnerving to truly realize a stranger could read these words of mine and learn an awful lot about me and my life and what I'm going through. At the same time it somehow makes me feel less alone. It also was a sincere boost in confidence when he said he enjoyed reading it. A few months ago after drinks with some old co-workers one of the women said after I had told a recent story about my life that she was still waiting for me to write that memoir. The idea of writing a memoir often feels so self-involved and narcissistic, but at the same time immensely therapeutic and possibly a little bit hopeful that it would offer comfort to even just one other person that there's so much more life on the other side of whatever it is you're currently dealing with.

I'm currently in Denver visiting my best friend that moved away this summer and her going away happy hour was the last time I saw the man whose voice I'm starting to forget. I've missed her so much and it has been so nice spending so much time with her but at the same time hard because she has been a part of my life only since this hurt began, and was really there for me when it got really hard after various other implosions. I can't help but associate her with those times in my life, but I know I am quite a mirror for her in that regard as well. At the end of the day though I'm immensely grateful for the friendship and wish she wasn't so far away. I found myself a month ago researching jobs in Denver... I was having the same pull I felt when things imploded the first time about wanting to run away and start over somewhere. I truly did attempt to move back to California on my own terms but in the end decided I couldn't do it just to get away, it had to be more in line with an overall life purpose reason. So instead of leaving I ended up going to grad school, and instead of living in one more city, I stayed right at home in Philly. I have zero regrets about that decision, I know the people I met through that program and the education I received was exactly what I needed and will continue to propel me towards the future I want for myself. I think the reason I even considered the idea of moving to Denver was because currently I'm desperate for relief from the way I've been feeling lately. While I think I would enjoy living out here, it's not home, home for me is where my family is, and that very much includes those I've chosen as my family.

I'm not particularly enjoying how pathetic and weak I've been feeling as of late and there's definitely parts of me that rebuke the sentiment of being broken, but I don't think it should be a shameful thing to admit to yourself or your world as you perceive it that you don't feel like yourself. I have no idea how long I will continue to feel just a little bit off, and how long these intense bouts of sadness and grief over someone who never actually let themselves truly be in my life will assault me with little warning...but I do know that just like everything in this life, what is now is not my forever. I know with conviction this too shall pass and I won't feel so broken and I will be able to love someone deeply again and I will find that elusive feeling of home.