"Breaking is easy, hoping is hard"

Most memorial day weekends I do my best to spend some time at the beach, it has always been my happy place but that was totally out of the question this year. So many normal indicators of summer are a little off this year. Yesterday it was really nice to be at my parents with my twin and older brother and his family. I even ended the night playing the piano at my mother's request and we played Heart and Soul together and as I sat next to her I could feel how important it was to reclaim that song for me and her. The move is quickly approaching and I'm feeling the stress increase but when Shiloh asked if I was nervous, I honestly could say that I really wasn't. I've moved and started over so many times and some times to places where I knew no one, so at this point doing it again, especially when I'm gonna be so close to one of my favorite people in the world, isn't really phasing me.  Chatting earlier with him certainly made me recognize that had I not been forced to drive alone across the country that first time right after getting married, I would be such a different person now. 

There is no doubt in my mind that having already shown myself I was capable of that was how I was able to pack up the dog and all that I could fit in my civic and drive back when I was so depressed and confused about my future. If I hadn't come home, and felt in full force all that I had given up to pursue a life with someone who didn't see me for me but instead what he wanted me to be, I would not have left my ex-husband when I did.  I know I would have stayed long enough to have children and then would have struggled so hard to knowingly allow children of mine to live through a childhood similar to mine. I definitely know I would do my best to never put them in the middle like my parents did with me and my siblings, and I would put aside my pride and give them as many memories as possible with their whole family and not make them wait until their late twenties to share a meal and conversation with their parents. But even the most amicable co-parenting relationships and blended families can never remove that feeling of always being pulled in multiple directions and never being able to please them all. The first time I felt a semblance of home was in college, and then it took until moving into my little studio two years ago to find it again. 

I finally finished reading "The Book of Separation" a memoir about a woman leaving her marriage and the orthodox Jewish community. The book opened with this poem by Mary Oliver that struck such a chord and I knew I needed to read it.

The book certainly triggered me in numerous ways, from relating to that feeling of your life feeling like a prison, to being attached to the story of your life you mapped out, to the main character's soon to be ex-husband sharing the same name of the man. I had to take numerous breaks which is not how I typically read lol. I'm glad that I read it though, at the end it kinda felt like it helped me continue to process my own journey and remember everything I have been through. To remember that I made the choice a long time ago that I would rather be alone than to settle for a life where I couldn't be me. I ended up finally reaching out to the man to express my condolences for his grandmother and to wish him and his family well throughout these crazy times. He saw my message but didn't respond and yet I know I don't regret it because it was starting to feel inauthentic that I hadn't checked in on someone that I care deeply about. With him never saying good bye I guess I had already internalized that I was no longer an important person to him, but I think now it is abundantly clear that I don't matter at all anymore. I hope that means that he's genuinely happy. I definitely know things feel more finished than they ever have and I know that's a good thing for me. I tried so hard for so many years on so many occasions to give myself the chance to see it through. While I definitely have wavered on my own about having children, I do know I tried the hardest to picture a future without children of my own because at one point it felt like that was the only obstacle to him choosing me back. However three years ago on Mother's day, he had been back in my life for not even two months, and I took this photo.

I'm sitting on my older brother's porch enjoying the view and imagining that someday I will sit again on this porch and across from me will be the man that I love holding our child as I celebrate my first mother's day with my family. I remember how much I wanted that, and I remember having a fleeting hope that the man would be the one to make me a mother. Last week I went to target to buy something, it was wild to be in there after not going into store other than the grocery store, pet store, and beer distributor for months. It felt weird for sure to be there, and I had forgotten the layout and ended up having to walk through the clothing sections. All a sudden I ended up in the baby stuff and it stopped me in my tracks. I just stood there for a bit looking at all the impossibly tiny clothes and shoes and I just started to cry because I could feel how badly I wanted to have a child but it feels impossibly far away. I have no idea how my life is going to unfold but I look at this photo as I type and I know I will recreate this photo someday in the future and in it will be my family, whatever that ends up looking like. 

Unburdening

I've needed to write for days but since I'm still a little behind on some work stuff I keep telling myself I'll do it later, but it's close to bed time and I'm clearly having focus issues and usually I have a sense of unburdening after I write so hopefully tomorrow can be a better day. I've definitely been struggling more the last two weeks, with the move and finding a place and hiring movers definitely adding stress for sure being a part of it, I think I'm also nearing my limit of this limited version of life much like everyone else. 

Additionally though, I'm definitely bumming about things with Shiloh and processing feelings of shame which I'm starting to believe like to clump together. As in every time you feel shameful about something it triggers all the other times too, and in the end shame is often a  result of feeling like you aren't what you should be, and at the root, not enough. The shame spiral started when it became clear that whatever we were doing meant more to me, just like it feels clear that all the years of scattered moments with the man meant more to me. Why does the lack of mutuality hurt so much? 

Lately I've been mulling over this thought that love does not need to mean commitment to mean something. That you can give love to people in your life through thoughtful actions, active listening, and sometimes just a hug but by no means do they come with the promise that you'll always be around to give those things, and yet that doesn't diminish the original giving of them. I often find myself in a thought loop that because the man didn't choose me, he must not have ever actually loved me. That if he loved me like I love him, he would be with me. More and more I can see that's quite a black and white way to look at it, especially because you really can't ignore the circumstances. I definitely had these expectations of him choosing me back the way I chose him never fully understanding that it was impossible. Never across our entire history was he ever truly available to do that, whereas from the moment we started I had already gone through the grueling process of reclaiming my heart. In the end he never made the choice to put that work in, but that doesn't mean all the moments we shared weren't real or that they didn't mean anything or that he's nothing but a liar. Last summer I wrote that part of me knew that he could love us both, and probably for different reasons, but that he had made real commitments to her. I think it took until recently to understand that him choosing to honor them should not be interpreted as a slight against me. 

I knew from the beginning that Shiloh wasn't emotionally available, and I knew I was moving, and I thought it was just fun and whatever. I didn't expect to feel all that I did and I definitely started to wonder that maybe it could be something. That even though timing was off, maybe it was also perfect, that me leaving would slow things down and remove pressure and provide him with a lot of time outside of a relationship to work through things from his past but when I came to town we could still spend time together.  We're chatting more regularly recently but definitely in the friends realm which is overall good. I really couldn't stand losing another friend that knows me so well. It's still painful no longer knowing the man.  

Someone near the end of April read the crap out of my life, like this one, the one I started when I left my old job, the one from grad school, even the one meant just for the man. When I first noticed I almost threw up, cuz no one has read that one in well over a year, but I know it's not the man. But it made me read back through some of my old stuff out of curiosity, this idea of wondering what would someone think reading through all this. While a lot of it is sad, there's so much reflection and growth captured across the years. While ruminating on the past is definitely not healthy, I think revisiting the past to remind yourself what you've already been through that now feels like a different lifetime can be inspiring. I've decided that for now I'm gonna get through this move, refocus on studying for my licensing exam, and then once I take it I can think about dating again. While part of me looks forward to when this part of my life feels like a lifetime ago, I know there's plenty about now that's worth looking forward to.

And the latest photos of quarantine...

Made some apple pie fridge oats with raisins, actually super delicious and filling and good for me since I'm awful at eating breakfast.

Wine, blueberries, and mango. Ended up throwing the blueberries in the wine and then making some guacamole to go with my polenta.

I woke up that morning with her sitting like that next to the bed.

So this past Saturday I decided to make my grandmother's meatloaf for the first time. However, ended up video chatting my sister longer than I meant to and then a longer shower, and then forgot I'd never opened my blender.... Soooo I basically finished putting together a little before ten pm and it takes about two hours to bake... So yea I ate meatloaf at midnight but it was delicious and surprisingly easy to make.

I attempted the pin curls again, was a tad more successful.

I hadn't seen her in a while and walked over the bed and she was partially snuggled in the blanket so I wrapped around and I don't think she was pleased haha

I think we're both going to miss this view.

Ready

I should already be sleeping, I actually have some work stuff I need to do tomorrow but I'm lost in my thoughts and over analyzing. While my assumption that things with Shiloh would not persist beyond this bizarre bubble of COVID-19 and my impending move to Maryland, it definitely still was not what I wanted. A lot of this past week was the realization it was over yet me still hoping he'd magically decide he wanted me enough to try.

The frequency of communicating is waning as I know it should and also need it to so I can adjust back to the being single mindset, but I'm still finding myself waiting to hear from him and overthinking that I haven't. I ended up getting legit hammered last night on very strong homemade margs while on a three hour video chat with an old work friend who has also moved on to a new firm. We've been on a few group HH together, but it was really nice to get the one on one. I ended up texting Shiloh after I got off with her and that quickly turned into us sending each other illicit images and videos... I'm sure that's part of why I'm feeling extra sensitive I haven't heard from him at all today...

It's not like I regret engaging in that way, I actually really enjoy that kind of interaction and I'm sure it has lots to do with the fact that I enjoy feeling desired, but now that it's clear things were not more than sex it doesn't help me with dismantling the negative thought loops. The physical aspects of a relationship are super important to me and I know I move quicker than most in that regard, but if we don't have that kind of chemistry, I'm really not interested in getting to know you...I have enough family and friends in my life as it is. Yet it's clear this mentality isn't really helping me actually find a relationship...but this idea of playing coy and waiting just sounds like I wouldn't feel like I was being myself and if you're trying to find someone that's going to accept all of you, what is the point in hiding your true desires? I'm an overtly sexual person, I have been since I became sexually active at 17, and that's not changing and if that makes someone uncomfortable well then they're not a good fit.

While dealing with the disappoinment of all that...my dad started acting up and wasn't sending me the money for my twin's insurance lamenting that he's spending all this money for him to not even be getting help... So I ended up covering his payment. This was after my dad renigged on me staying in the family house for free... I don't use this word lightly, but his cunt of a girlfriend fought with him to the point they didn't speak for a week while fucking quarantined together. The rent they wanted to charge me is honestly peanuts, still a great fucking deal, but I never got the ok to bring Lady and the idea of not being with her... Fuck that. So now I'm scrambling to find my own place that I have to move in to before the month is over. I sit here and wonder why I find myself interacting with men who give me nothing but empty words and the reason is because it's all I've fucking known. There are countless times across my life where my father promised the world and never followed through. To be fair, in some cases, and maybe more than I know, the women of his life complicated things... Like my mother suing him for back child support and him not being able to afford that and the portion of my undergraduate degree he had said he'd cover and instead became loans... Or when I went to live with him in New Orleans in 2010 and I was under the impression that I was going to get to share a roof with my father, the parent who always understood me the most and had left when I was 16, for the first time in four years. Instead I was sharing a roof with him and his gf and she didn't like it, she couldn't share him, and I ended up spending more than half of that summer living alone in a hotel. A few years ago he talked me out of buying a house so that I could save more for a down payment and he would help me by covering half of my rent and then would match me. He covered half my rent for two months and then said he couldn't afford it and when I asked later about matching me, it was like the conversation had never occurred. When I told him I wanted to do a big trip abroad for my 30th he said he wanted to finance it and join me for part of it, but when I asked him last winter again it was like the conversation never happened. He instead planned a trip with his gf. It's probably dumb of me that I ever believe him when he says he will help. He eventually sent me the money for my twin, but stated he had a month to get his act together before he's stopping the support so who the fuck knows what that means.

I had a phone therapy session on Thursday and I'm glad I scheduled it even though I felt so ridiculous having to admit I'd allowed myself to yet again be someone's rebound. She ended up telling me I suffer from broken baby bird syndrome. That I come across these seemingly helpless broken men that I think I can save, that I see all their potential, all what they could be and that I think if I can just nurture them enough they'll flourish and then love me for it. It was an apt analogy... But what she said was no matter how much love and understanding and acceptance you pour into someone, that just like only the baby bird can then fly, the inner healing we all have to do, can only be done from within.  Just like only my twin can truly help himself, and only the man could have decided to move forward with his life, only Shiloh can muddle through rebuilding his life after it's swift swift dismantling.

I think perhaps I was clinging hard to the hope of it working out because it really does feel like a big deal I could actually see a future. But maybe that doesn't have a whole lot to do with Shiloh, maybe I've just finally let go of the man enough to be and to see past that one particular life path I so dearly wanted for a very long time. I don't know what this next adventure in Maryland holds for me but while I'm stressed about the logistics, I'm excited for the change. Being divorced for five years happened quicker than I thought but I know I've accomplished so much across that time and have put so much work into healing myself and becoming a better version of me. I just hope that soon I meet someone who is on the other side of that process too, someone who is ready to choose me too.