Who taught you? Who told you?

Who taught you? Who told you? 
Where along the way did you learn to treat women like this? Where did you learn to avoid letting your guard down and withhold your deep parts only to replace it with flowers and flattery? Who taught you that it's acceptable to make relationships all about getting what you want? Who taught you that it's ok to call the person you're supposed to love hateful names? Who turned your safe place into a mine field? 

Who taught you? Who told you? 
Who showed you that avoidance and violence could be forgiven with platitudes? Who showed you that kindness is weakness? Who showed you that strength is arrogance and ego? Who showed you that you should only do nice things for others because of how it makes you feel? Who showed you that it is a woman's job was to feed your ego, and your job was to convince them not to expect anything in return?

Who taught you? Who told you? 
Who made you so afraid of real love? Who told you that you could love me without touching my heart? Who told you that I was only to be loved and admired from afar? Who told you that my pain and brokenness were separate from my beauty and mystery? 

Who taught you? Who told you? 
Who told you that love was about grinning and bearing your way through every moment, but it didn't require change and effort and submission to the force of becoming a better person? Who told you that I wasn't worth any of that?

Who taught you? Who told you? 
Who molded your heart to be so withholding and cold? Who taught you to cover it up? Who taught you that love was about distracting me from your own heart? Who taught you that love was cold and fights were to be avoided and relationships are about ego and fear? 

Who taught you? Who told you? Because I feel as sorry for them as I do for you.

Evolution

I can feel this place changing me.

A year ago I was brought to my knees with the loss of my relationship shortly after a cross-country move to the Washington DC metro area. Ever since it has been waves of awakening. It has been a fight to stay sane, let go of the anger, feel like I fit, to figure out what is next. 

One thing I haven't been fighting for is to stay me, the old me. It feels like the old me has been gradually falling away. At first I was violent in my attempt to hold on. I just wanted to run back to Colorado, to my family, my friends, and everything I knew.

It was after a weekend spent with the warmest people I have ever met at an artist retreat in the woods of North Carolina that I heard Gd talking, telling me to let the past me go. Let the anger and fear go. He assured me that if I would just let myself grow and change, that I would, and there would be abundant life here waiting for me.

The biggest lesson the past year has taught me is that you absolutely never know where life is going to take you. 

I recall my last camping trip in Colorado before I moved. I sat on a cliff overlooking the lake thinking back to all of the summers spent there in my 20's. It was the lake where my friends became my best friends. It was the lake we took my niece on her first boat ride. It was the lake I got drunk and vomited all over my friend's boat, learned to wakeboard, rode down the streets with my friends, with the country music blaring, the windows open, singing the lyrics at the tops of our lungs. It was the place that quenched a deep thirst in my soul for adventure and deep friendship. At that moment all I could think about was that I was now walking away from it, and I didn't know when I would be back. I can still see myself there in my mind's eye, lingering, while my friends all wondered where I was. 

But here I am, anew. With no lake. New friendships. New trips to be taken. New memories to be had. Not knowing when I will feel like I truly belong, sort of hoping I never do. But I feel the changing of me nonetheless.

I was a tax accountant for so long. It was my father's own profession, and I followed in his footsteps. I never saw myself doing anything but tax accounting. It really was all I had ever known or allowed myself to know. Since being here I have taken a major step towards a completely new profession in the IT field, considering pursuing a Computer Science degree. The washing away of my identity it seems. Identity doesn't wash off easy though.

Here is the most diverse place I have ever lived. I never realized how whitewashed the places I lived before were. Not to say there was anything wrong with those places, but just to say there was some major adjustments to be had when moving here. I now have friends, coworkers and boyfriends from India, Iraq, Lebanon, Philippines, Turkey, Ethiopia, Mexico, and Iran just to name a few. 

I will never forget my first happy hour with my coworkers. The three of them all happened to be Indian men. While grabbing drinks they invited all of their friends to meet us. After a couple of hours the other newbie had to leave, and there I sat with a table full of Indian men. I would have expected to feel quite uncomfortable in such a scenario, but because of their friendliness and inclusiveness I felt right at home. I took the opportunity to ask them about their personal lives and families. They all said that when the time came for them to marry, they would appreciate their parents setting them up with their spouse. They seemed so unburdened with the prospect of finding a mate because they knew they had their families to help them make the right decision. I admit I was somewhat envious of that cultural dynamic.

There are also plenty of frustrations about living here as well. Traffic to name one. Traffic to name the other, Oh, and did I mention the traffic? I assume that because it is such a diverse place, that has a direct impact on my driving experience locally. Yep, I'm driving alongside people who literally learned to drive in Bangladesh. 

No one knows how to use traffic circles. No one. And there's a phenomenon that I've come to call the "Virginia stop", which is essentially more of a courteous brake than coming to a complete stop. It seems there is nothing that can provoke someone to stop in Northern Virginia. Not a stop sign, not a cop car, not an ambulance, wildlife. Nothing.

I was driving on the Beltway when there appeared before me a high-speed chase of sorts happening between a car and several police vehicles. Most places, traffic would slow down or would move to the side of the road while the police took on the dangerous project of catching the perpetrator. However, everyone continued to drive like they were in the Daytona 500. It was one of the more bizarre moments from over the last year to be sure.

But, this traffic situation has pushed me in so many directions. I started my first job here with a 1.5 hour commute each way. I had to forfeit the gym, breakfast, showering regularly because there was never enough time. I actually started having major leg cramps because my 1.5 hour commute was not straight driving. It was sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for most of the commute. 

Needless to say, I burned with rage. The anger seeped from my veins, and I walked around everyday with my frustration sitting just under the surface waiting to take it out on someone. After shortening my commute, though, the anger still lingered. I couldn't shake it. I eventually had no choice but to realize that I had a bigger issue than traffic. I didn't want to live that way, being that angry person. I remember times coming home from a long drive that had been so aggressive and intense. I found myself driving at high speeds and bobbing in and out of traffic on the interstate in order to catch up to some jerk just so I could show them my middle finger. Admittedly, I can still find myself singing Christian worship songs in the car while intermittently yelling "motherfucker" at least 10 times on my way to work. 

The traffic here has certainly brought me to my knees in anger and frustration. I don't want to be that person, but I truly don't know how not to be. Deeper still, it has forced me to come face to face with my anger issues. I couldn't admit that they existed before, but when you let a traffic circle ruin your entire day, you are probably the problem, not the traffic circle.

The list of terrible things about this place could go on and on.....people aren't friendly, people are materialistic, people are too absorbed in their jobs, everything is so expensive, yada yada.

But I have felt Gd's provision through it all. I now look at friends as gifts because they are so rare here. The different communities I am apart of, my gym, my coworkers, roommates, they all feel like a little oasis in a huge desert. When I feel so thirsty for human connection, they never run short of encouragement or a listening ear.

The other night I was hanging out with a couple of coworkers discussing my dating life. They stopped me and proceeded to tell me that I could have any man I wanted because I was gorgeous and smart and witty and that most girls in the area could not compare. They reminded me that I deserve so much more than I have been pursuing (they don't know the angry-driver me). I could tell that they really meant it too. I don't know if I have ever felt all of those things about myself all at once, gorgeous, smart, and witty. I did in that moment, and that was enough. I certainly NEVER envisioned myself feeling that way in Washington DC.

I remember being intimidated about the idea of dating and working in the D.C. area. Everyone here is certainly more educated than I am. I assumed they were also prettier, skinnier, smarter, and richer than me too.

Now I find myself asking what other labels have I given myself. What other boxes have I stuck myself in? I feel this old identity falling away because there is no longer anyone to uphold it. My friends that know me best are no longer there to tell me that I'm too difficult for most men. My family is no longer there to judge whether I date red, yellow, black, or white men. My bosses I didn't get along with are no longer there to remind me of what a failure I was in the past. I no longer run into ex-boyfriends at the bar, or friends-turned-enemies, or old coworkers, or acquaintances, or even familiar faces.

At first it was hard. I grieved that deep deep loss. Because I also don't see the friendly faces, and the babies being born, and the lake adventures, and camping trips, and brunches either.
Now, that the grieving is done, though, the new self can evolve. I can still appreciate the old person I left back in Colorado. I don't know when I'll be back, but the love and memories remain. I'll cherish them forever. Without being that girl, I couldn't get to this woman I am now.

(Also, I secretly feel so posh when I take the Metro into the city. I have never felt posh before.)

Bitter. Thirsty. Desperate. Jaded. Single.

Bitter. Thirsty. Desperate. Jaded. Single. 

You could justifiably describe me with all of those words.

How is it that I have friends who have been engaged, married, and had kids multiple times over before I have ever even been proposed to? I'm not THAT old, am I? I guess I'm not really that young either. 

But, my optimism and humor about love you've heard from me in the past has now waned. Love doesn't conquer all. Love doesn't heal. Love doesn't.....anything. It certainly doesn't last. Not for me. 

I'm so confused by it. Love makes me hate myself because I have none of it, but it seems to be all around me almost taunting me. How f**ked up is that? 

I've believed in love, hoped for love, wished for love. I've asked for love. I've prayed for love. I've looked for love. I've chased after love. I've waited for love. I've fought for love. 

I have to let go of all of that. I have to put it down and walk away. I have to shut down all of my desire for love. Because it's made me all of those things: Bitter. Thirsty. Desperate. Jaded. And worst of all, Single.

I've become the person I never thought I would be. 

I find myself unable to hold back tears when I get the news that a friend or coworker is newly engaged or married or pregnant. I never thought that I would be the kind of person who let someone else's happiness shine a light on my own unhappiness. I never thought I would see someone's fulfillment as my personal measurement. I never thought I would find myself on the unhappiness side of the equation. But as embarrassing as it is, that is me. 

And I don't know how to let go of that. So I carry it with me on dates, with friends, wherever. My identity is so tied up in in wondering why no one loves me. I can't stop asking myself where I went wrong.

I'm still genuinely happy for my friends who have good things in their lives. They genuinely deserve every good thing that goes their way, probably more so than myself. Those of you who know me personally, know that I have done my fair share of breaking hearts. You probably think that I am getting what I deserve. 

That might be so. 

But what most people don't know is that I don't think I fully understood relationships for most of my life. I still don't. I didn't have good relationships modeled for me. I always saw narcissistic one-sided relationships that pushed people away when they didn't meet expectations.

This sounds pretty crazy, but recently I was watching the television show "Married At First Sight" where trained professionals choose candidates based on a multitude of compatibility factors and ultimately get married at first sight. Then the couple proceeds to move in together and figure out how to live their lives together. After 8 weeks, they decide if they want to stay married.

I watched these couples who were deemed "perfect" for one another as they learned to communicate and compromise and make decisions considering the other person's feelings and desires. I can't pinpoint the exact moment it sank in, but I remember feeling dumbfounded.

Ooooooohhh. You have to work at relationships. You have to listen to the other person and consider them. Huh.....

I don't think I fully had a clear picture of what that meant, and what that looked liked until that point.

When I was coming up, we called people like that "pussy-whipped" or controlling. I came from a family who used phrases like "It's my way or the highway" or "Just get over it" or "If you don't like it then leave". Over the years, I definitely incorporated many variations of these phrases into my own relationships. All of my relationships took the highway over my way.

So I'm the broken component here. I get it. 

I'm not sure if that makes things better or worse. It's all my fault, which can normally mean that I can also be the one to change it. But my terrible personality, my intensity, or curt communication and needy nature doesn't change easily. Trust me, I've tried. I have been reading up on neurosculpting to include several books about changing one's personality to be more optimistic or relaxed. The science is still nothing to hang my hat on. Most of the information out there is lots and lots of science and studies without much of a solid game plan to help unbearable humans like myself. 

So in the meantime, I will show up to the weddings and baby showers with a big smile on my face and "Congratulations" on my lips. I will leave the tears for my own time, and continue to observe love as though I were standing on the outside of a shop looking through the window at it. 

Asshole

I was laying in bed with my ex. We had recently broken up, and was doing the whole back-and-forth limbo, knew-it-was-over-but-kept-going-back-for-more-hurt routine. I kept hoping he would get this epiphany that he wanted to be a better person, listen to me, care about what I had to say, and communicate back. I knew I needed to work on those things as well so I decided to listen closely for a change. Here is what I heard:

I can't remember what topic we were discussing when he brought up a story about a girl he had a sexual fling with before we met. He and a date had gotten very drunk and began getting very kinky. They started playing with each other's butts. Annnnndddd he licked her asshole. The way he described it, he made out with it. It was a whole encounter that his mouth had with her ass....a woman he barely knew. I'm sure he went on to defend himself from my heckling over the encounter, but once I zeroed in on that fact, I didn't hear much else. 

Some weeks later, after being in so much misery over the break up I called him up and asked him if he was interested in working things out. I believed we still had chemistry, and all we needed was some counseling in order to be better. 

He said he would think about it while he was away on a business trip.

During those few days, I waited on pins and needles. I couldn't eat. Couldn't sleep. I sat by the phone all day waiting for a call, a text, some sign as to what his answer would be. I genuinely had hope for us. I counted down the minutes until he would be home. I considered surprising him at the airport with a sign the way I had done when we first met. 

Somewhere in the middle of my anxiety I started looking at his social media accounts. I needed a sign. I wanted to see if he had had any activity to prove he had in fact been around his phone and he was just choosing not to contact me. No activity that I could see. So I looked to see who he was following.

Since I had previously snuck a peak at his phone I knew the names of a couple of women he had been talking to on Tinder. Sure enough, I found their names among the list. In addition, I found close to 20 other pages with names like "Country Babes" and "Combat Honeys" and "Girls with Assets". They were filled with half naked photo-shopped women looking to score some attention and likes. 

This had not been the man I knew previously. When we first met, he acted like he was a wannabe family man. His siblings were married and had kids so he felt like he was looking for someone to join him to complete the family. He portrayed himself as a Bible-thumping, "Jesus is my homie" type of guy. We went to church, small groups with other Christians, prayed before dinner, made Christmas about Christ, and did the whole wholesome charade hoping it would parlay into a whole married with kids thing.

Now here I was hoping we could just put the pieces back together. We just needed Jesus. We just needed counseling. We just needed to forgive and forget.

But as I stared at the social media account, the truth was right in front of me. Some men are at the stage of their life that they become more focused on becoming someone and giving their energy towards relationships that will be around awhile, and others are satisfied getting drunk and licking assholes. 

I was in one group. He was in the other. And there is no amount of Jesus and counseling and praying and begging or cajoling that was going to fix that. I just had to listen and hear that inside.

I could see now that he thought he wanted to be the family man when we first met. But as I got to know him, the truth of who he was came to light. He also realized that he was indeed not the family man he imitated. He was the drunk asshole.........................licker.

Losing my way

I can't sleep. My mind has been racing all night. I'm pretty sure all the endorphins from my run earlier are buzzing around giving me a lot to think about. Luckily, they are good things for once.

I know I haven't written in awhile. In my world, that normally means a lot of drama is going on. And it definitely has been. I'm pretty sure Jerry Springer could do a full show just about my drama. I hate that, but it's the truth. The subject matter has been too fresh to put pen to paper until now.

One day, many moons ago, I got up, took a walk and got lost, figuratively speaking. The pressure of my busy season at work, buying a house, buying a car, fostering and subsequently losing a needy dog, all the while having my boyfriend being away on a long transcontinental business trip got to be too much. I became angry and resentful. I felt like I had all the baggage of the relationship and none of the reward. I felt completely helpless. Here I had (finally) come to rely on a relationship and someone being in my life to depend on, only to have him pull the rug from underneath me. "Fuck this," was the one thought that consumed me.

So when I began to receive attention from someone else, I ran towards it and away from my relationship. I managed to get lost while running. I became confused about everything. The path that was so recently clear became foggy. I began to question everything I knew. I wasn't sure I wanted to keep working at my job. I wasn't sure I wanted a relationship. I wasn't sure who my friends were. Mostly, I wasn't really sure I had ever even been in love with my boyfriend. It certainly never felt as good as this new thing.

In the meantime our phone calls via Skype became difficult because of the distance. Our conversations felt lifeless. Most of the time we couldn't even make the phone calls connect. My life seemed to keep going forward while his was at a standstill in Europe.

I moved into our new house. His family showed up to help me move, and once I got all of my stuff to the house something felt off. Like it wasn't my home. I had no motivation to unpack except to have all of my necessities. I felt like I had cinder blocks on my feet whenever I tried to complete any kind of task around the house. The plants I had bought in anticipation of a garden sat just as lifeless as I did. Shortly after, I moved out of the house my boyfriend and I had picked and purchased together.

This was partly due to the party lifestyle I had adopted. I was going out on week nights, trips to Vegas along with other glamorous excursions. I was so knee-deep in a life that was crazy that the mundane parts of life lacked luster and shine. I had made the attention my drug, and the more I used, the more I needed more. And the more I thought I needed, the more lost and confused I became.

This manifested in many ways in my life. And just when I thought I could find my way back, I was bought an all-expense-paid trip to Vegas. It was complete with first class service, a stay in one of the finest suites, dinners at the most expensive places, and all of the alcohol and drugs I could handle. I was skeptical at first. I had just gotten home from a crazy trip the week before. But how does someone say 'no' to free?

On the last day of the trip, we decide to go to a day club at a pool. It was supposed to be the best pool party on the strip. I was excited as we were scheduled to continue our first class treatment inside. We walked past the line full of the desperate fools who didn't make the cut. In spite of circumventing the line, we couldn't escape security.

As I walked up to be searched. my heart started pounding. The security seemed awefully tight for a club. I assured myself nothing would be an issue because I was a girl, and I was protected by my VIP status and people who cared about me. They wouldn't lead me astray.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need you take what is in your back pocket out for me," said a heavy-set woman in a neon shirt. Instantly my face became flushed. I felt the saliva drain from my throat. I didn't know what to do. I felt shaky and lifeless. There was nothing I could do. I had to empty my pocket. I reach behind and pull out a vile.

"What is this?" the lady asked. What can you say? I felt like I was suddenly transported to the principal's office. And in that moment all of my pretense fell away. There was no VIP, no friends, no hot girl, no vacation. I was now a criminal.

"Cocaine," was the only thing to say. The truth.

I was taken through an alleyway into a room with multiple police officers. When asked, I told them that it didn't belong to me. It was the truth. It did not belong to me. It belonged to the company I kept. He managed to tag along with me, but made no attempt to help other than to regale us with a bogus story about partying with drug-addicted hookers. I was mortified.

Next thing I knew, I was standing in a bikini and daisy duke's being handcuffed in front of the same line I had skipped only an hour before. Who was the fool now?
 
Eventually, I was taken to jail. Yes, jail. In Vegas. In a bikini. I sat there for 18 hours. I could write an entire book about that experience alone! I saw all types of people there, prostitutes, drug addicts, the mentally insane, fighters, criers, me. And everyone was innocent...except the prostitutes. They owned up easily. It was just another weekend for most of them.

Long about hour 12, I started to crack. I hadn't eaten all day. (I needed to look as skinny as possible in my bikini!) I hadn't pooped since the toilet was strategically located in the middle of a room with 40 women in it. I was dehydrated and still in that damn bikini. I began to wonder how long I would be there. I wondered if I had been forgotten. I wondered if anyone would bother to miss their flight for me. I had no idea what to do, not that there was much I could do. No one told me anything. No one told me if I needed to be bailed out. No one told me how to work the phone. No one told me why it was taking so long.

I was getting antsy and most of the prostitutes had finished telling stories amongst themselves. The prostitutes had cast disapproving looks to the other girls as they cried on the phone to their loved ones. I agreed with their disapproval because the conditions weren't tear-worthy, unless maybe they had to poop. But at about hour 17 I began to crossover to the other side. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes as I began to seriously consider the possibility that I could be there for a long time.

At that moment, my name was finally called. My bail had been posted, and I was free. I walked out in the early morning light onto a sidewalk far away from the Strip but still wearing a bikini.

Needless to say this was one of the worst experiences of my life. Aside from an 18-hour glimpse into hell, I now had a court date, a record, legal bills in addition to the humiliation. My sister was a drug addict for over 10 years. She became addicted when we were teenagers. It tore our family apart an led her down a very dark path. I always attributed that experience as the reason I never experimented with anything aside from alcohol and marijuana. Now this fervent woman who had been so clean cut had a possession charge.

I was never so grateful to be done with a vacation in my life. The following days felt like being outside after an intense thunderstorm. Everything was soaking wet with shame and emotion. I was the cloud that had been wrung out. All of my energy and emotion had been wrung out.

My previous boyfriend returned not long after the incident.  I felt like my life had significantly changed in so many ways in the few short months he was gone, and I didn't know if things would feel the same between the two of us. I had done so much bad. My ugliness was undeniable.

When we finally met with one another and I filled him in, he became grim. I thought for sure he was going to call me every derogatory name imaginable. He had every right to. Instead he told me loved me. He told me that more than anything he was concerned for my well-being. In that moment, his unconditional love drew me in. It didn't happen over night, but I began to see his strength of character. I saw once more his kind heart, his steady constant love and vision for a life together.

In this short story which is really an extremely rough overview of the past several months, it cannot possibly grasp all of the twists and turns and hard terrible and amazing moments, mostly because when it was all happening I had no idea that I was getting lost. I just kept taking more and more steps down a dark path away from the goodness and light I had found in myself and the people in my life. I kept telling myself that I had just taken a few steps out of my front yard, and I could at any point find my way back. But after so many dark steps off the path it became almost impossible to even see the light anymore. Confusion sets in and the finger-pointing starts. I began playing a game of "uncle" with the darkness in myself.

That moment that I was finally released from jail and stepped into the early morning light onto a quiet street miles from the Vegas strip, I had to cry 'uncle'. I could no longer ignore the fact that I was lost.

I know I am making it sound so simple. It kind of was and kind of wasn't. It was, in the sense that I realized all I had to do was follow the love, it would lead me back. It also wasn't simple because I had broken hearts, including my own. At times it seemed like climbing Mt. Everest trying to repair broken relationships, figure out what my next move was, and deal with my own broken hurting heart.

Over time and a lot of hard decisions, a lot of forgiveness, and a lot of love, I was able to see light in my life again. I was able to not only see it but feel it's warmth, use it to grow my garden and harness it to the rhythm of a beautiful life full of more honest unconditional love than I have ever known. It might not be the most exciting life, but it will always be the most exclusive club in town.

Tell my brain to tell my heart

Thinking back on my life, I am feeling like there is this part of me, part of my past, when I was a young girl, before all of the inhibition, and all of the hurts, and loves and everything, that I have forgotten about.

My friends tell me that I am way too nostalgic, but I believe that sometimes if we go back in time to the seasons of our life that were precious, unadulterated, and simply worth remembering, we can unlock special pieces of our heart and hang onto those pieces of ourselves that are worth hanging onto.

As I peer back in time- as it pertains to my dating life, I remember a girl that was rebellious, passionate, resilient and wild. I don't necessarily think about the particular boys I loved, but I remember who I was in the middle of my pursuit. I remember sneaking out of my bedroom window to slide into the inconspicuous car waiting on the side of my house. I remember the beach, or the church parking lot, or porch that I made my hidden make out spots. I remember that I would have done anything to be with the one I wanted. I was willing to take some pretty big risks in spite of being terrified of my parents.

Now I feel like, as much as I try to stuff down the rebellious wild heart inside of me, it just comes rolling out of me so uncontrollably. I can't figure out where the wild teenager ends and the responsible adult begins. It causes me to second-guess relationships when they get too comfortable. The thrill of a new connection is so intoxicating that I don't know how to embrace a long-term relationship. I get scared that by committing to something long-term, I'm saying goodbye to that wild, free-spirited, fun-loving, passionate girl of my youth.

What does that mean for my relationships? I thought it meant that I needed a love that felt 'against the odds', and dangerous and crazy..like my boyfriend and I had to be constantly battling the relational elements. He had to be carrying a sword in hand and be swashbuckling his way through our relationship, which in my adolescence meant people that were against our relationship, and disapproving parents, and personal fears and everything you might expect from a Romeo and Juliet scenario. 

Then it kind of dawned on me, both Romeo and Juliet died. Not only did they die, but they died before they had to and over some stupid hearsay. I remember thinking the story was wildly romantic as a teenager. Now, I just find it kind of stupid. All of the drama, for nothing. The whole book was lamented over only for these two idiots to die. Oh yeah, I have developed a very practical side to my heart as well.   

So where do these two ideas reconcile within me? I still feel like I want love to challenge me, and make me crazy, and spurn me to passion and infatuation. I want to know that I am taking a risk and truly putting my heart on the line. I still need the butterflies.

The truth that I know in my head is this: any long-term relationship is swashbuckling through life. Life is hard and has a way of tearing relationships apart. People have to be vigilant and protective of what they have. Bitterness, everyday stress, growing apart, trauma, and a long list of other negative things tear long-term relationships apart everyday. So you have to be quite the swashbuckler to navigate the relational elements and make something work. Unfortunately, none of that is quite as glamorous and romantic as Romeo and Juliet, Noah and Allie, or any of the other love stories that have entertained us for centuries. I just have to figure out how to get my brain to tell my heart what I know to be true.

Resentment

Ok. Shit is about to get real, like real real. I felt like I really needed someone to talk to tonight and I was trying to think of who I could unload on completely and would understand me. There were people I could think of, but in the end I didn't feel like it was fair to subject them to my ridiculousness. 

So here I am. Can't hold it in anymore. I'm spilling the beans.

The boyfriend is far away, like on another continent. His job sent him there after already being gone for 3 weeks for "training". We are also in the middle of buying a house. It's the busy season for my job, and until recently I had 3 very needy dogs in my house. Needless to say I have been exhausted. I have been trying to get back into the gym and eat right, but can't seem to find the time in between working 6-7 day work weeks. When I come home from work I don't even get to sit down and relax because I have to clean an entire house after the dogs have completely wrecked it. Then in between that, I am having to manage all of the inter-workings of buying this house to include multiple inspections and fix-it jobs. Additionally, it's my responsibility to move our entire household with absolutely no help from my "partner".

So here's the thing, I know in my head that he doesn't want to be far away during this time. I know he is struggling with it, but in my heart I'm angry. I resent him so much for not being here. He can tell me how sorry he is, but it almost makes me even more angry. It's so easy to say you're sorry when I'm the one dealing with a dog that had multiple seizures a day and all of the vet appointments related to his condition. There is nothing that his words and phone calls can offer me when I have to take a dog to the emergency room at midnight and have him put down. There is nothing his words can fix when I have to move 3 sofas and 2 mattresses and find a washer and dryer and install it on my own. 

I'm pissed because I'm alone and I don't even get the privilege of dating anyone! And this resentment, I can feel it sitting just below the surface, and it makes me ignore his phone calls, and talk callously to him. It makes me want to break up with him. I don't know how to let it go. I can try, but then there's a moment that I need him and he's not there. I'm so angry and it makes me feel so ugly, but I just don't know how to not be. 

This is what always made me nervous about depending on anyone in the first place. I knew it was fake. It's annoying when I think the many previous relationships that I was criticized for not letting myself depend on someone, and I finally do and get handed this bullshit. Maybe single life is where it's at. I was alone, but at least I was accustomed to it. At least, there was never a rug ripped out from under me when it was just me. 

So I've been operating in 'fuck this shit' mode. But I don't know hw much longer I can drag it out. The anger is suffocating me and making me drive very recklessly. So if I end up on the news or something you'll know the real story.