"Did he bend your reflection? Did he make you forget your own name? Did he convince you he was a god? Did you get on your knees daily? Do his eyes close like doors? Are you a slave to the back of his head?" -Beyonce, "Accountability"

I think I may have lost my shit yesterday.

I went to my meeting in the Big O.  I needed it.  I needed to see those people.  I needed to see their faces when they saw me.  I needed someone to be happy to see me.  I needed their hugs most of all.  I needed to be hugged.  Me.  I needed a goddamn hug.  And I needed to hear everybody's words.  I needed to see the guy who was in tears because he had 2 days sober after a previous 57.  Goddamn, did I ever need to see that.  I have over 5 years.  That's 1,825 days I've racked up sober.  Would I want to lose 1,825 days and start over at day 1 because I'm grieving the loss of the love of a man who wasn't really a man?

oh hell no.

OH HELL NO.

However.....

I did go to his house after my meeting.  I needed to see him.  If you don't know, this is where I lost my shit.  Who the fuck am I?  I don't do shit like this.  I joke about being a stalker, but honestly, I would never.  Never, ever, ever.  I would not reduce myself to that.  Not ever.

And yet, I did....

He ignored me.  He didn't answer either phone.  He didn't answer his door.  I sat outside like a crazy fucking psychotic ex-girlfriend for about 5 minutes and then I drove away.

It was hard to drive away.

If he had reached out to me at all over the next 4 hours, I would have run back to him like a fucking idiot.  It's a good thing he didn't.  For my sake; not his, because fuck him.

I was in a weird place.  Like, "Let's just not look too closely at what you just did because we both know that shit is crazy and you should be ashamed and embarrassed as hell....so let's just pretend it didn't happen and go about our day like we're the most sane person in the whole wide world."

And that's what I did.

And I haven't cried since Thursday night.

Improvement.

This may be the best quote of all time. 

Just remember, a first date is also your first opportunity to mess up a relationship forever."

I have a date tonight.  He should be here shortly.  Do I look okay?

What's up with my hair? 

His name's Garrett from Omaha.  He's 36.  6'2". Athletic. I don't think he smokes so I've refrained for the afternoon from smoking in my house.

Speaking of which, I'd better go suck one down before he gets here....Wish me luck...that this is the one to make me forget....

"So what are you gonna say at my funeral, now that you've killed me? Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head." - Beyonce, "Apathy"

This past Thursday was the hardest day of them all.  I had gotten home Wednesday night, fell on my bed and sobbed.  I fucking miss him.  I MISS HIM.  Fuck.

I woke up Thursday morning with crazy thoughts in my head.  I should call him.  I wonder if he'd answer.  I wonder what he'd say.  I wonder what I'd say.  I love you.  I miss you.  I fucking hate you.  What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Did you ever love me or was it all a fantasy for you?  Why did you treat me like I was expendable? Why are you afraid of love?

He bathes me until I forget their names and faces. I ask him to look me in the eye when I come home. Why do you deny yourself heaven? Why do you consider yourself undeserving? Why are you afraid of love? You think it's not possible for someone like you. But you are the love of my life. You are the love of my life. You are the love of my life.

I called him.  I did.  I was sad.  So goddamn sad.  I wondered if he would be there for me in my grief.  If something incredibly traumatic happened in my life, I would want him to be the one holding me.  Would he?

He didn't answer.  Of course he didn't.  He's a coward.  He's an asshole.  He's a terrible, horrible person....and what am I?  An idiot.

No, no I'm not.  I am a person grieving the loss of something I never even allowed myself to dream about.  When it came into my life like a goddamn nuclear bomb, I opened my arms wide to accept it....with eyes wide open.  I saw the red flags.  I knew he was flawed.  I loved him anyway.  I thought I could love him through it all.  I thought he would gladly accept my love and grow because of it.

But he wanted a fantasy.  He wanted a fairy tale and real life is far from a fairy tale.  He made me into two things I am not - a perfect woman and a whore.  And that is how flawed he is.  He couldn't even see me for me, let alone accept me for me or love me for me.

So I cried Thursday.  A lot.  I cried so damn much.  And I am still fucking sad.

Didn't he leave another phone number to reach him at the last month we were together?  Did I throw that away because I thought, "no fucking way, this is shady as fuck, I'm not some mistress..." or did I stash it somewhere?

I did stash it.  I have not used it.  I might....someday.  If I'm still feeling this goddamn miserable another month from now, then yes, probably.  But I am hopeful.  I am hopeful that I will move on and he will just become a memory, a lesson.

"Congratulations for getting engaged for a reason other than an unwanted pregnancy."

Sooooo, you probably saw on Facebook - my little brother proposed to his girlfriend last night & she said yes!  I went ring shopping with him Friday and I suppose since she said yes, we did a good job.  I loved being a hand model.  I think that should become my full-time job.

On our way!

Waiting for the stores to open!

Ignore the extra band. This is it!

Engagement/Wedding Ring- Right choice!

And so, now you know.  Happy, happy, happy for Ben.  A tiny bit sad otherwise.

Apparently Garfield thinks the house is cold.  

 This is how I woke up from my afternoon nap.  Garfield cuddled next to me, under the blankets, with just her head poking out, laying on a pillow.  How did she become so human-like?  And is she trying to fill the manless void in my bed?  Good god, I hope not.

She felt like she was on fire.  I don't know how anything can sleep when they're that hot.  

We're ready for the ice storm that cometh.  Flashlights are ready.  I have leftover pizza to eat.  I have books to read.  I have music to listen to.  So this will ensure that nothing will happen and I'll be at work tomorrow, in the rain.  Not that I want it to be crippling....just bad enough that there's no chance in hell I can make it to work.  It's MLK day anyway!  What are we all? A bunch of racists?

*sigh*

I'm going to go get a workout in because I've become fat and lazy and I'm starting to disgust myself.  :(

"If it's what you truly want ... I can wear her skin over mine. Her hair over mine. Her hands as gloves. Her teeth as confetti. Her scalp, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane. We can pose for a photograph, all three of us. Immortalized ... you and your perfect girl." - Beyonce, "Anger"

I think my libido may have broken.  Or I just disgusted myself so much that I don't feel anything anymore.  I chatted with a 27 year old the other night and I felt.....creepy.  I've never felt creepy before.  It isn't a good feeling.  And I don't want to feel creepy again.

I had therapy Thursday over my lunch hour.  I cried.  A lot.  I went back to work and attempted not to cry anymore.  I succeeded, but it was a damn hard afternoon.

Do you know how much I must fucking hate myself? Think so little of myself? To treat myself this way?

Jesus, do not type "Quotes about hating myself" into Google because that shit is depressing as hell!

My therapist asked me how I can validate myself for the good person that I am instead of seeking validation from other people.

I have no fucking clue.

Depression isn't something that hits fast, WHAM BAM.  It's a slow progression until one day you stop doing the things that you know take care of you, you can't remember being happy, you cry all the time.  I am scared shitless that this is the path I am on.  I can see it happening and I am doing every goddamn thing I can to change this direction.

Except all of the things that I know work.  Exercise.  Eating right.  Accomplishing small goals daily. Reading.  Sleeping.  Laughing.  Being with people.  Focusing on me.

That's not entirely true.  I do sleep.  I do laugh.  I have been with people.  I have accomplished goals.  I have read.  I exercise once a week.  Does that count?  I sort of eat right.  None of it feels like enough.

I did something with Ben yesterday that made my heart happy....and sad at the same time.  You'll find out soon enough what that something was.  I wish I could simply be happy and not feel all of these damn emotions at the same time.

I want to be done feeling this way - thinking about Chris, missing Chris, wanting Chris, loving Chris...feeling like I've lost my one true love.....

When in reality, he was a shit.  A user.  An abuser.  A very troubled individual who was looking for someone to fix him.  And guess what?  I was not, nor would I ever be, that someone.

Google "Quotes about fuck this shit".  It will make you feel like a thug who should not be fucked with and you will start to believe it.

"I tried to change. Closed my mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less awake. Fasted for 60 days, wore white, abstained from mirrors, abstained from sex, slowly did not speak another word." - Beyonce "Denial"

I am in a weird fucking place, stuck between love, libido and loss.

How did I love him?  How did I exist before loving him?  How do I exist now?

I want what I had.  Only without the psychosis.

Is that possible?  I don't think it is.  I am finding that it is not.  Or that it is not....fast enough.

I think my raging libido might drive me into the craziness I wrote about the other day.  I don't know how 18 year old boys do it.  Or, I do.  They're just constantly stupid and awkward and clumsy.

That's the new me.


I wrote this Saturday morning at around 1:30a.m.  I couldn't go back to sleep.  I drank coffee.  I listened to music.  All bad ideas.  Very, very bad.

A person like me needs sleep.  Consistent sleep.  And less coffee.  And definitely no more sad music.  I need to exercise, eat healthy, read, laugh....find myself again.

Instead, I did things I shouldn't have, sobbed some more and finally slept.....all. damn. day.  Saturday was a wasted day.  Gone. Poof.

But I got the sleep I needed.  I did accomplish everything I wanted to this weekend (and then some).  I feel incredibly needy because I'm beat down and feel worthless and I'm looking for that boost of confidence from outside sources.  It's like a drug.  The boost lasts very very briefly and then I'm looking for my next fix.

Who have I become?  I don't like this person.  Not at all.

It's time to get my shit together.

"I tried to make a home out of you, but doors lead to trap doors, a stairway leads to nothing. Unknown women wander the hallways at night. Where do you go when you go quiet?" - Beyonce "Intuition"

I cannot express how grateful I am that Jay-Z cheated on Beyonce.  Her album and visual album would not have been created without that and I wouldn't have such poetic music and words and visuals to suck me in, pull me through, lift me up out of my misery.

This is nothing. It'll get worse. 

I grieved today for the loss of what I thought was love.  I had not allowed myself to for 3 weeks.  I had not allowed myself to truly sit in the pool of my misery.  I couldn't.  There wasn't time.  Time to look the way I look after sobbing it all out.

It drains me so.  I'm exhausted and useless and pitiful.  My body hurts.  My muscles are sore and tensed up.  My stomach is shaking.  My tears burn my face.

I made myself suffer as much as I could.  I looked at his picture for the first time in 3 weeks.  I wore his shirt.  I cried into his towel. I read my last message to him.  I read yesterday's blog post and cried more.  For me.  I cried for me.

It's a process.  The last 3 weeks were denial.  Today was grief.  I don't know how long grief will last, but it'll last as long as it needs to and then I will wake up apathetic.  Or angry.  Or accepting.


I met someone last night.  On New Year's Eve.  In Omaha.  I drove to Omaha.  For a man. At night. I had such hope and maybe if I had never met Chris, maybe if I weren't still in love with him, maybe this guy could have been great.  Maybe he is great and I just can't see it.  But he's too similar to Chris and our conversations and our hope together for what could be.  I'm pretty sure I called him "Chris" at one point.  This man is already smitten with me.  I'm too fucked up for him and it isn't fair to him.  It's going to be awhile before I ever get smitten with anyone ever again.

So my search continues for someone who isn't Chris and who can help me to forget him.