Full Frontal Honesty: Roommate

Well, I have to be honest here. With myself, with God and with the hope of what I want to get in the end. The honest truth: I want to tell my roommate off. What I hope to get: a sense of better values and kindness towards her, generally speaking.

Yep, I’m getting frustrated with her and the feeling of “I don’t matter” in our past, current and future conversations. I lie awake in bed often going over how irritated I am with myself and why I’m so cold towards her. As I beat myself up for not being nice, rude, short or disinterested a flood of reasons why comes crashing through my head.

I can’t decide if it would be usefull to type them out or not. Would it just infuriate me more or finally squelch the burning anger? Let’s hope for the latter.

First things first: Cleaning (she and I have gone over this, so really it’s a matter of me moving on and letting go):
It took her more than six weeks to finally vacuum the apartment. I can’t remember if I said anything that made her start, but I’m almost sure it didn’t happen on her own accord. At first I thought I would vaccume with no bother if she didn’t because it only took ten minutes and I was the one with the dogs, but then it came to her sitting on the couch, going in her room, etc. while I vacuumed the living room. One time, for HER Christmas party, I offered to help her clean. As I was vacuuming she was in her room doing something (cleaning I suppose) and because of the noise, SHUT THE DOOR. Here I was vacuuming the house for HER Christmas party and she is bothered by the sound of the vacuum. No so much of, “let me help with that” or “next time I’m vacuuming”…nothing.

Once I finally said something about her pulling her weight and she wanted to make a deal that she would vacuum half the living room every week. Half. I couldn’t argue because I knew it was a step forward, so I tried this her way for a while. My only stipulation was I did NOT want to be her mother and have to always remind/tell her to vacuum, take out the trash, unload the dishwasher.

We FINALLY went to each vacuums twice a month because it was the second time I had to play “mom” and ask if she had vacuumed. Is it just me or am I being overly anal about cleaning? I always thought that when you have a roommate (not to mention two dogs) you’re suppose to up the number of times you actually clean the apartment? I thought it was normal to expect two roommates to split the duties around the house as you do the utilities and rent? I have to know if asking her to vacuum twice a month is being unreasonable, because to me it just means less dirt, hair, fur, dust, crumbs and what not that two people and two dogs leave behind.

I think what hurt me so bad about this first occurrence, and why I can’t let it go, is because I felt like I was trying to be selfless and bending. For those that know me, I’m not very bendy so I thought this was GREAT improvement. It wasn’t until I felt like I was getting unintentionally walked on that I started to feel unappreciated. Which brings me to my second point.

Second things second: Selfishness
When I was looking for a roommate I wasn’t looking for a best friend. I was looking for someone that would split half the bills and be okay to live with. Our apartment is PERFECT for roommates in that the only areas we interact are the living room/kitchen spaces. So, if we were tired of each other, our rooms could be our resort away from home. With that in mind I was pleasantly surprised that we got along as good as we did. We have plenty in common, plenty of similar interest and goals. It was a smashing success, until I felt like it wasn’t about hanging out with me but being a sound board.

I’m not going to say I’m perfect and haven’t in-listed several good friends to be the same for me, but I hope this isn’t how it normally is. If so, please tell me(promise no feelings will get hurt) and I’ll correct the situation.

I started realizing she needed to be encouraged a lot, given the silver lining and wanted to do all lot of things together. Now these things are not bad at all, but her desire to be filled was sucking my desire to be around her. It wasn’t like I could say much without it feeling like a competition (like, “Yeah, I’ve had the same thing happen to me, but it was worse.”) or like I just shouldn’t say anything at all. Even in groups, the conversation would ALWAYS circle around to her and our need to stroke her life and tell her she was equal or better to where she felt she was standing. Normally, that’s not a problem because you truly want her to succeed and find herself, but when you feel like you’ve said the same thing seven thousand times with no avail, you just want to drop it and change the subject.

Example one of selfishness irritation is Jack. He was a guy she started seeing post new year and was really interested in. Despite encouraging words, equal happy squeals of joy and wanting to hear all the details, we never stopped hearing fears, worries and over analyzing. Again, not all of these things are bad, except when you hear them six thousand times over with no ability to encourage their disappearance or smooth down their power to take over her mind. Funny thing, she’s a great girl. See’s lovely, interacting once you get to know her and real, so this guy was lucky to have her, but by the end of the whole thing you were hoping he would just take her already. I kid, but seriously.

The second nail of the coffin to my anger hit when she choose to NOT go to Amy’s birthday party and got on a date with Jack. Jack, whom after three weeks or more eventually just stopped calling. Jack, whom occupide all our conversations, shared time and generally supportive energy. I was and am still angry about that. It made me feel that all those conversations and nights I stayed up to talk with her about him a complete waste. She choose to ditch her friends (albeit not closest friends; generally the people she will see at least several times a month) to hang out with a guy.  

That misstep towards our friendship placed this huge elephant in the room for me about anything she said that ever retorted back to herself. Any conversations she would change or walk into to bring back to herself infuriated me. I began to feel like she didn’t just like me for who I was but how I made her feel.

So, in this place I got colder. I started not asking about things I knew I wasn’t wanting to have to stroke any ill feelings or worries. I started becoming increasingly distant because I didn’t want the energy I barely had after work to be sucked into a negative, complaining world. No matter what we did, she complained, but never took steps towards fixing the problem. Again, there I am as a sounding board trying really hard to not get bitten by the complaining bug. I know I’m an independent person and generally don’t enjoy hanging out with someone for several days straight, but my distance became larger than just “needing my own space”.

Third of the thirds: Ditched for a Boy Again
This time I shouldn’t have been surprised but I was. It was a Saturday afternoon, you know those times you covet for yourself because it’s the most treasured part of your weekend, and she wanted to sit by the pool drinking sangria. First, I was like, “no, no ,no…every time I sit by the pool, regardless of how much sunscreen I put on, I burn and skin cancer runs in my family and am tired of burning.” But, she wanted to hang out and I was ready to please. I made myself drink sangria, burn in the sun and talk only about her current relationship with a mutual friend. Fortunately, Amy got to hear more of it, because at that point I was annoyed with having to stroke the same things over and over again to know it really didn’t matter what I said.

As the evening was winding down, we invited said mutual friend over to hang out with us, since, hell, we talked about him ALL FREAKING DAY. The moment he gets there, they leave to go to the pool. She looked at us and said, “you aren’t coming to swim?” Knowing full well we talked about hanging out up stairs and that Amy and I were fully clothed and freshly showered. So, not only did we spend all of OUR precious afternoon doing things her way, we get ditched for another guy. Done. I was done.

I was waiting on her to just say one thing about the following morning so I could just say how uncool the behavior was, but it never happened and I was too chickened to saying anything first. Funny how you can have some of the best lines in your head for telling a person off but when given the opportunity you can’t find the words and end up complementing them on their choice in wine or something random.

Truth is I do want to be her friend, not best friend, but I want us to share a close, roommate friendliness that we’ll appreciate, but frankly I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to be fake, lie about how I feel or pretend I’m okay with the way she unknowingly treats me. I want to say something, but it never seems like the right opportunity and in the times I have said something it always comes back to me being the problem and mean. I know I’m not perfect and have plenty to work on in our paths together, but that’s just it, I’m trying to work on them and she doesn’t. She’s always summing up her situations with blaming someone/something else or that’s just the way it is.

I don’t have the words to say to her right now without getting so angry and irritated. I guess I expected more from her and that’s my problem. I’m constantly being reminded I can’t keep this mentally “if you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours” but I also don’t want to be a door mat.

The hardest part I deal with now, is that I’ve already written her off as being someone I’ll share a close friendship with. I feel like I’m a sorority friend versus a good friend to her, maybe this is how she is with good friends, but this is NOT how I am with good friends. Lately, I’ve been irritatingly cold towards her when she tries to come towards me. I’m not happy with myself, but I don’t want to open up and let her in. I don’t want to be walked on and pulled into that place where it’s all about her.

Sometimes I think because I’m very sure of what I’m willing to do and not it comes across as me not being nice. What I’ve come to accept is, though we like similar things, our true interest, what we spend money on and things we like doing are very different. That’s okay with me, but for some reason I always feel like she wants me to be on the same boat as her, which brings me to my final issue.

Forth of the forth: Differences
She likes to spend money differently than I do and because I tend to be more broke than her (I have no idea how she is able to shop so much) I don’t want to spend my last $20 of the week on the movies or eating some where I really don’t like to go. Maybe that’s selfish on my part, but it comes right back to issue two and three. I don’t want to spend money or time I’m not truly interested in if she’s just going to either ditch me or occupy all the time on her. Conversation is always awkward and competitive for some reason.

Last night, we met for bookclub and then ran an errand to get the “True Blood” season one disc (her new favorite). Amy and her really wanted to watch it, but I told them I couldn’t. I know, I know, I should have taken this opportunity to pull the group together and not be the rouge hair, but this show really freaks me out. I watched five minutes of one with her one time and I had ten minutes of child-like fear laying in bed that night. I’m horribly afraid of horror movies, dark bloody movies and certain “Law and Orders”. Weak or not, that’s the truth and I don’t enjoy being in bed afraid of the dark or things that go bump in the night. I saw the “Blair Witch” project in 1998 and still check my corners at night. The short story is I know what I can and cannot do for true, honest reasons. No matter what I said or how I explained it she wouldn’t have it. Constantly prodding me to watch it and even turning it on as soon as we got home. I have no problems with her or Amy watching it, I just knew I would be in my room while they did. It was no big deal to me that that would be the arrangement, but it was to them. So, instead of taking my concern into consideration and finding another option, she drew the line and I was in my room.

This shouldn’t be a problem but that no matter what I do it comes across as I’m a bitch that doesn’t want to play. Same goes with watching TV in general. It’s a general, unspoken rule in our house that the one who turns the TV on first is the one who controls the channel. Unless, you’ve been sitting there all day, hogging the TV, you get the power to determine what we watch, which is totally fine. I can’t express to you enough how much I don’t mind this rule, but for whatever reason, if I’m not interested in watching what she’s watching and go to my room to watch something online it appears to bother her. We don’t like the same shows so naturally we’re not going to always watch TV together. So, why, oh why, do I feel like the big, bad bitch for knowing what I want to do and not want to do?

Ugh…I’m so tired of feeling like the jerk. I know I’m pulling away, but we’re roommates, not BFFs. We don’t have to share everything or even do everything together. In fact, I enjoy it more when she does her thing and I do mine. Makes me feel like we’re adults not necessary in college.

So, it comes down to this: what do I do? Do I bring it up only to sound like the big, bad bitch again or do I learn to let it go, because after all we’re all different and I need to learn how to deal with it in a kind manner? I want to be Christ like and let so much of it go, but damn that’s hard. I want to not care if I do more of the responsibilities than she does because I’m not doing them for her. In the beginning I did because I thought how nice it would be for her to not have to work around my dirty dishes or my end of the responsibilities. But, after her not ever doing that for me, I start to feel completely unappreciated and like a fool for going out of my way to make it easier for her.

Truth is, she’s not going to change and I can’t change her, but what can I do about myself? I’m the only one that can make things happen, but how? If I have to confront her, how do I do it without it sounding like I’m a bitch? It sucks that I didn’t say anything before about her ditching me for boys because now it just seems like I have tons of issues with her, when they’ve just been building up due to actual events.

Suck.

Cinco de Mayo 2

This is the second, consecutive (because if it’s your second why wouldn’t it be right after the first) year we’ve celebrated Cinco de Mayo. It started with me getting Molly (my Mexican sweet-faced dog) and has now turned into a reason to drink, like most Americans with no Mexican roots. 

Last night, we ate delicious Mexican food, had several drinks and met up with old friends. What was most interesting about the night was the conversations. Between discussing newly purchases (secretly jealous) homes, boyfriends in LA, awkward conversations about sex and ladies from Amy, talking it up about Catholic priests and books with neighboring drinking old men, and finally rock operas we had a great time. Some more than others, but then again it was a Tuesday.

“Seven Things”…It’s Like a Disease but Better

So, there’s this “Seven Things” thing going around and I couldn’t help but play along. Reader Note: I stole this from The Slack Daily.

Here are the rules:

• Link to your original tagger(s) and list these rules in your post.
• Share seven facts about yourself in the post.
• Tag seven people at the end of your post by leaving their names and the links to their blogs.
• Let them know they’ve been tagged.
   

1. I haven’t been able to taste milk properly lately. Once, some time during the work day, I bought milk and left it in the car. Because the temperature was below freezing, I thought it would be okay. I get it home, take a big drink and it tastes bad. So I pour the whole carton out. I buy another, to-date milk carton, take it home and take a big gulp. With this taste, I thought the milk was spoiled, too. I had Amy taste it and she said it tasted fine. So, I’ve been drinking milk for the past couple of weeks while it tastes spoiled to me and fine to everyone else. What’s up with that?
    
2. I’m pre-partying at my house tomorrow before friends birthday party at Whirly Ball Land. I’m horribly broke but am deserving of a good time, so I’m going to drink the rest of my gin before the Whirly Ball adventure. The only skill will be getting the right amount of gin to where I don’t get sick whirling around. I don’t really like to pre-party with out the party. I’ve never been one to drink alone or with the casual meal. Drinking is second to eating cake (or anything sweet) for me. Some times I would rather ingest my calories in sugary foods rather than alcohol. I guess that makes me not a very typical 25-year old. 
    
3. Since I’ve been working out and eating better my weight has dropped big time. About a little over a year ago I was able to wear (very comfortably) my size four pants. It was great, but then I stopped working out and ate cake every day. On Monday I was wearing my size four pants. Today, though I kind of can’t breath, I’m wearing my little black jumper that I haven’t been able to wear ever. Very nice. 
    
4. I’m addicted to Whole Foods. Maybe that’s not new to anyone who reads my blog, but it’s new to me. I seriously can’t go to the regular grocery store anymore. It’s not that I’m too good for Velveeta or Blue Bell, but that I want to ingest better ingredients. Fructose, take a hike. Things made from gell (like Miracle Whip) are no longer welcomed in my kitchen. I’m so dedicated to this that it’s making me a snob. Not in the sense that “I have more money than you” because really it cost about the same, but in the sense that “I know I just ran out of mayonnaise and you’re offering me your Hellman’s, but it’s not organic and contains something called “gell” and I would just rather not.” I think my roommate wants to kill me. 
    
5. Once, before I realized I was bi enough to mean it, I told two straight girls that “I just wanted to introduce myself in case we ever had intercourse.” Yeah, that was embarrassing. I’m sure I’ve posted about it some where on here because it’s my best embarrassing story, but I don’t know where enough to link it back. I was in high school at band camp (don’t think “American Pie”). We shared a dorm with two other girls and I said it before I could take it back in my mind. Had it been 1920 I might have gotten away with it, but being that it was 1998 I was caught telling two straight girls I DID NOT know “I thought you should know my name before we have sex…you know…as to be at least SOME WHAT familiar before we bumped uglies.” Thankfully, I never heard that story get back to me so I think I was safe or maybe just the whole color guard thought I was gay. Who knows. 
    
6. In sixth grade I belonged to a club called “The Beatlettes”. There were five of us, like the group, and we were each “married” to one of the Beatles (don’t tell Yoko). I was lucky enough to get Ringo. Yeah, I think I was so absorbed in the idea of surrounding myself with Beatles stuff that I didn’t care I got the only one thrown down the ugly tree. He was a drummer so I never really complained. About sixth grade the Anthology came out and I was obsessed. I had shirts, albums (that are now some where else because I wasn’t smart enough to save them), a framed poster (still have that one), CDs and a million other little things with them on it. I watched the movies and listened to the music. I even wrote in my sixth grade diary “Dear Ringo”. Man, I was crazy. I was also a hippie.

   I would draw peace signs to dot my “i”, which took forever. I went around saying “stay sugar free” because let’s face it, to be a hippie means drugs, sex and rock and roll. I had none of those down except rock and roll. 

   I remember one time we had a séance to bring John Lennon back from the grave (again, don’t tell Yoko). Being raised in a very strong Christian household I was the one who damaged the group’s results because, off the bat, I didn’t believe. So, to make up for my short coming, I pretending to see his ghost. Maybe I was trying out my acting skills, maybe I was just wanting the attention, but I pulled it off really well. It was good enough that my friends stopped the whole thing as soon as I said, “there he is…in the corner.” Very quickly the candle were blown out and lights turned back on.
    

7. I’ve always wanted to go to a nude beach. Preferably one that is in Italy or France because then I wouldn’t know if people were talking about my naked ugliness and I would probably look alright next to some people that would frequent the beach. I don’t know if I would go full naked, but rather just topless. Sure, that’s more dangerous in the sun, but I don’t think I’m up for bush exposure. I’ve never been skinny-dipping or streaked across anything. It was talked about, as a senior right, to streak across the football field, but I chickened out. I don’t really like changing in front of people at the gym, so why I would have no problem exposing my naked side in front of hundreds of people is weird to me. I think the feeling of the warm sun would be nice and after a while, once you’ve seen theirs and they’ve seen yours you don’t even care anymore.

 

 

Okay, that’s my “Seven Things” you didn’t know about me. I’m going to aimlessly tag people down here whose blogs I read. I’m also not going to tell them because that’s extra work. If you are tagged and come back to this blog, know that I read your blog regularly and really like it. 

The Other Mother 

Sarcomical

The Everyday Adventures of Me in the City

Not Always Right

The Satorialist

Ads of the World

And because I just started reading this blog I add: The Slack Daily

Oatmeal Tuesdays

I’m finally back at work where there is Internet, wireless radio and my new G1. Yes, all is right when I’m at the office in terms of today. Well, minus that cup of oatmeal that over flowed in the microwave, me being late to work and everything else that went wrong. 

To give a quick recap on Thanksgiving and my move they were all good but with minor problems. The move was successful and I’m well underway at finding my home with my new roommate. The dogs love the apartment just as much as we do and we have fabulous neighbors. 

Thanksgiving was a lesson learned in that I will NEVER stay the night for Thanksgiving again unless my brother or other family are staying, too. Upon arrival to my parents house my oldest dog (Molly) attached my parents 14-year old, no claws cat. No blood except for mine as I attempted to pick the cat up and step on my dog. Zoe (the cat) decides I’m not worth trying to help by BITING the hell out of my hand. Seriously, she made me drip blood she bit me so hard. Those damn little sharp teeth only did damage to me. As I’m trying to get the cat’s thigh out of Molly’s mouth I’m getting blood on Molly, my pants, the ground and my shoes. Good times. Then, because my dad has absolutely no social skills I hear him yelling and cusing at my mom around 10 about it. Instead of telling me, “Hey, I would rather you not bring the dogs in the house if you’re going to bring them out here,” he decides it would be better to yell at my mom. Yeah, not ever doing that again. 

So as I heal both emotionally and hand-physically I find myself here on a Tuesday morning eating boiled over organic oatmeal not wanting to work. I haven’t had Internet in forever and feel like I haven’t been on this site equally as long. I haven’t used Twitter in ages too, but now I finally got my G1 so now it’s back on, bitches. Okay, you’re not a bitch, but I just like saying that. 

I can’t wait until I can get this site figured out. I had it and then I quit. So not sure what happened. I think I’ll call it laziness. Yes, that’s its name.

Ya’ll, Don’t Fight

My therapist told me to start recording my dreams because he believes my subconscious is telling how to fix my problems and focusing on things that are really bothering me. (I told him about the dream concerning my dad a couple days ago and this is where he said, “start writing them down. Because (I know you don’t start a sentence with “because any more, but whatever) I’m interested I am going to.)

Last night’s dream is titled “Ya’ll, Don’t Fight”. It went a little like this:

There were two groups of people: teenagers and cops/adults. I was first at a camp working with these teenagers so I had earned their friendship. The leader of the group was a guy named Brandon (funny enough my co-worker’s boyfriend Brandon whom I’ve never met). They were a rough group of teenagers and were always looked down upon by the cops/adults. I understood them and knew that they just needed attention and a listening ear. At one point it became a little “West Side Story” with the teenagers being the Jets and the cops/adults being the Sharks. They all wanted to brawl, but I stepped in and talked to the groups first. I said that the teenagers were just wanting to be heard and understood while the adults just wanted to be respected. Once each group realized the others need the fighting stopped and they went on with their lives. The last part of my dream was I became a nanny for a family with a little boy. It’s like after I saved the day, I went to their house really early in the morning to start taking care this family. 

Dreams are so weird. I wish I could remember what my dream was about the night before, but it seems to be happening more often. I dream EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, which means I don’t sleep well. Suck.

Come Along Way

It just it hit me how far I’ve come since this time two years ago.

Two years ago I emerged from the most deeply wounding relationship of my life. It was my first girlfriend, Anna, who I dated secretly because of personal fear and in going to a Christian college. I’ve mentioned this relationship before, but what I think I have never hit was how it took the breath right out me. How for at least a year after our dissolve I fought songs, thoughts and issues. Hell, I still fight old habits brought out by her and the festering relationship we lived in.

What made me start thinking about it was watching “The Holiday”. A favorite of mine that I just happened to see in theatres right after I said my final “goodbye” to her. If you haven’t seen the movie, the whole point is two women (faced with similar love stories) escape to different locations in an effort to shed those hard shells. In doing so they find love and everything renewing. I remember watching this movie at least 3 times in the theatre because it struck home with me so much. There’s one part (just paused the movie from) where Kate Winslet’s character says some truly amazing words.

Iris “I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn’t know you had inside you. And it doesn’t matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends… you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he’ll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you’ll go somewhere new. And you’ll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.”

I clung to these words in hope for change and the aching to start going away. I can honestly say I had never experienced that kind of aching until then.

I would love to rant and rave about the horrible times that constructed the worthless walls of that relationship. How her over ugly, corpulous ex continuously played a part in breaking apart my being. About the time I sat in the rain, bent on my knees in a muddy puddle with tears streaming like the rain upon my head because I just realized her first affair. Would love to go over the many times her ex would try to blackmail me in my school, sorority and family because I wouldn’t stop being with Anna. I would love to share the many times there after where I foolishly took her back because I had developed this fear to be alone and couldn’t stand to loose, to be chosen over for someone inwardly as ugly as out.

Vain? Sure.
Desperately lost? Completely.

I’ve been depressed before and I can safely say I didn’t hit depression as I had with the boyfriend before that (so, could have sworn I was going to marry him), but honestly I can not think of a time where pain existed so strongly, so feverishly against my soul. I lived in fear that I would never be rid of her. Fear that I would never get her memory out of my head. I was constantly worried that she would show up at my work, call me numerous times and demand I speak with her. Her ability to communicate was worthless and she was completely incapable in realizing once it’s over, it’s over. I guess partly because I took her back twice out of the THREE times she cheated (physically, emotionally, verbally, relationally) on me. I held on every promising word of this paragraph in the movie with hope that I would soon be past it.

As I’m watching this movie, I felt the immediate need to write my progress. I think about the disgusting behavior I had in dating her, in thinking she was what I needed and how I couldn’t be further from her. Songs we had together stopped bothering me long ago (I mean it has been two years) and memories are all starting to blur together. I think the one part I choose to keep (and perhaps it’s for reasons I don’t know yet) is when I first met her. How I had no idea why I wanted to kiss her, why I wanted to be in her world.

I can remember how I wanted to do everything with her. It was like she swallowed me up into her will. I wanted to see her smile, to feel her around me, to make her look my way. It’s amazing how I didn’t see it coming. I honestly can not remember thinking about how weird it was I all of the sudden wanted to kiss a girl or blur the lines. I remember sitting there, after we crossed the lines and voyaged never to be the same again, in a cloud of shame, desire, fear, disbelief and emotional funnel suck.

I know what that last descriptor (if you will) read like, but if you’ve ever been in an emotional relationship you know what I mean by saying “emotional funnel suck”. When you’re in the middle the wind is really only going 5 mph, but in looking out over your life or in your current circumstances it’s going at least 85 mph in a circle around you with no control.

Don’t get me wrong, she still pops in my head occasionally but not in the same way as she did years ago. Actually, last year I saw her in a wedding and realized somethings (meaning her) never change. I can honestly say I loved her in the beginning. I was wrapped in the allure of her mystery and rebel/foolish carelessness. I found myself in a place I liked. I found myself letting my guard drop so fast, so hard for her to fuck up everything.

One of the things I’m seeking in therapy is letting go of past baggage. I think one thing about she and I that fucked me up more than ever was how angry I became. I taught myself behaviors that were not healthy. I smoked cigarettes all the time, I spied on people’s blogs, looked at her phone bills to check her lies words. I would call her over and over again until she answered the phone just to make sure she was alone. I became the most pathetic person I could ever be. I hated myself, but couldn’t stop. I didn’t trust her and used my anger to fuel my bad behavior.

I can safely say I don’t smoke anymore and am doing so good to erase all bad relationship behavior created with her. I watch this movie and can’t help but think I’ve come along way. I’ve waited out time and have only a few wounds to heal. That’s rather good considering what the emotional blunder the relationship truly was.

Don’t Feel With Your Heart, Tell Me How It Is.

I have just returned from an adventure I’ve never dreamed I would have faced. Is it over? Not yet. I would say my status is in the waiting, but let me tell you the story first.

Yesterday, upon the advice of my career councilor, I unloaded the train of truth to my mother. I came out to her. Although, she always knew but never wanted to acknowledge it, it was still a shock. Her first reaction was mixed and supportive, but her second reaction (a day later) was a heavy blow. To save the details I’m not quite ready to divulge just yet, she crippled me with her withdrawal of support and acceptance. No amount of medicine could thwart the level of nausea, headache and general heart ache I felt at the time. It completely surrendered me to my home, leaving work at lunch and deep, deep depression.

As, I sat on the phone with close friend, I thought “what did I do?” My brain shuffled around the many ways I could run away, pretend it didn’t matter what she thought or how in a matter of a few words I was able to revert back to the unsure place of my faith, person and what-not. What was important fell upon the floor with my whole being: what next? What could possibly happen next that would make this moment any better. I felt the deep core of my being disappear leaving yet a small, scared child in her seat waiting for direction.

What do I do now? kept playing over and over in my mind. There were no words of comfort nor any amount of shopping that could settle the endless rattle of my mind.

I called my office, completely choking back tears making plans to take the day off and come in on Saturday. There was no way I could have gone back. I would have been such a lump of frustration, tears and anger that work was the LAST thing I would have been able to have done. I knew within my body I had to talk with my mom one more time. Something had to be understood and I had no idea how I would grab her attention enough to tell her.

I call, leave a quick, non-polite voice mail for her to return my call immediately. She calls and I swear it was a God moment. My weak, crumbling exterior shifted to something stronger, more capable then I had been my whole life. I was able to stand for the first time as an adult to my mother. For once, in forever, we were actually able to be adults together. I didn’t revert to scared child and she didn’t go toward lecturing/preaching parent.

I’m leaving several details of our conversation out, but I figure it’s not time. I’m not quite ready to go there. Not yet.

The reason I told her in the first time was to stop hindering myself from becoming this secretly hidden person. I had to start making steps toward a better, stronger, more clearer me. I wanted peace with saying, “Mom, I’m bi. It’s not changing any time soon, but here I am.” Now that I’ve said it, we’ve beat it to death, cried about it and took a sick day because of it I think I’m ready to start healing.

You see when you carry something secret for a long time it follows you and sort of eats at you. It starts morphing your truth and actual truth into whatever is easy to handle. Burdens become stronger and wills less stronger. After a secret sits long enough and you decide to tell it, you still have to go through the healing process. As much as it should comfort you and give you peace/rest it doesn’t. Well, at least not in the long run. Things don’t change automatically and you don’t see silver linings right away either. It doesn’t get easier, but the burden feels lighter. I can already see myself making decisions removed from “what if they find out” or “who do I have to pretend to be so they don’t learn my secret”.

Next plan of action? Join a book club. A mixed book club. Full of men, women, gay and straight. I’m ready.

San Diego: Friday (MY LAST DAY)

Friday night was my last time to really see San Diego one more time. I had worked all week and barely got enough time to sleep let a lone see more of San Diego. On Friday night there was nothing stopping me from going out. I had a few ideas in mind: Ocean Beach or Downtown or San Diego’s PRIDE.

Earlier that morning, I had been getting my coffee from this guy for the past week. He mentioned to me this place called Winstons in OB that was a comedy club his friends worked at. He gave me some directions and his number if I wanted to meet them up. Now, up until that point I had been blessed with some very reliable/trustworthy people and this guy seemed alright. So, I put the idea in my pocket and went to work.

Later I spoke with Bridgida and she mentioned OB, too. At that point I was sold. At least I would have known someone and got to experience another place in San Diego. She told me about South Beach Bar and Grill and how they have the best fish tacos in all of San Diego. So, I got a cab and for the first time in my whole life at alone at the bar. It was a weird feeling. I know people do it, and when you’re traveling there’s not much choice, but I would perfer to at least have someone to talk to. Hell, when I was there I would have loved for these older guys talking next to me just to include me in their conversation a little. One of them asked me to watch their drink and I got all excited thinking I could someone how segway into a conversation with them, but no such luck. Any luck, the tacos were amazing. The fish was so good, I could have eaten just that.

I like OB. From what I understand OB is the last remaining spot of true San Diego. A hippi town built on small businesses and a lot of weed. It was great.

After South Beach B&G, I wondered down to Winstons to meet up with Andrew (the guy at my hotel). He was so high it wasn’t even funny, but he was a lot of fun. The comedy was okay, but it was cool to see some of these guys brave it all on small topics like drinking, guys stuff and girls. Plus, I didn’t really have to pay for anything. After some really good tequila and an offer to smoke out (which I turned down), Bridgida showed up. I love this girl-so much fun and plenty to talk about with. As we’re talking and I’m really enjoying my tequila buzz the club is slowly morphing into a reggae club. The group that was to go on stage was called “Vegitation“. They were all decked out in dreadlocks, beards and one in a hand made skirt. They’re skit featured set design with plants…lots of plants. We didn’t stay for their show, but did get to hear their opening act. I don’t remember his name, but he was a cross between Ben Harper and Ray LaMontagne only with dreads. He was really good.

After he was done, we called it a night. Bridgida showed me around Hillcrest (their gayborhood). They had so much going on because of PRIDE that weekend. Part of me was sad I didn’t get to experience any PRIDE with San Diego. It would have been awesome to see couples who were legally wed and what not. The PRIDE of it all would have been at an all time high. But, it worked out because it appeared to be predominately a boys town and they didn’t have much going on Friday.

I have to say going to OB and hanging out with Bridgida was an excellent way to say “goodbye” to San Diego. I love that city and need to plan a vacation soon! Next time I’m there, I hope it’s for holiday, NOT for business.

San Diego: Adventure Sunday

Alright, now time to write about my trip. I’ve been working slaving through the week getting less than six hours away from the office. It is beautiful here, though.

Sunday:

1. First, I’m must tell you about my plane ride. Typically I get vertigo easily on planes and will just want to look out the window, listen to music and not do anything else. However, that’s not what God had in store for me that day.I get to the airport (after circling the damn place several times trying to snag a good parking space that wouldn’t cost me $40 a day) late and am rushing to my gate. As soon as I sit down, they inform us the electricity was out on our bridge to the plane. We were told to line up according to group number and walk to the plane Hollywood style. I start realizing, with the additions of people carrying on more luggage, I could be screwed a spot to put my suitcase. So, I decided to cheat. Yes, I played the part of “that bitch” that cut in line. I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better I was nervous about it the whole time.As I walked up to the counter, where I witnessed her turn someone in the wrong group away, she smiled and I quickly got her talking. “How’s your day?”…”Oh, yeah? I totally understand that…”. She took my ticket and let me through. God, many blessings on her, please.After I walked to the plane, climbed through the back stairs (didn’t know that’s where stairs were kept: in the plane’s ass) and found my seat, I realized I didn’t have window like I was told I did. Now, this shouldn’t be a big deal, but for someone as motion sick as I am it’s a big deal. That window is my complete source of comfort, brain stability and vision-headache free. BUT, the person that did have the window seat was not there, so I sat down hoping they wouldn’t care or notice. As I became comfortable (suitcase perfectly above my seat versus in the front of the plane), she showed up. “Excuse me? Do you have the window seat?”she said. Dammit. I muddled a line of “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” as I stood up and moved out from the three-seat row. “Would you rather the window?”she said. I could have hugged her right then and there.As the plane was getting ready for take off, I had my XM Radio (by the way I kept that service) out waiting for the “go”. I forget now how it started, but we started talking. I kept thinking it would be a few minutes of conversation then she would pull out a magazine or something and I would carry on with my “brain protection plan”. Yeah…some how I couldn’t pull away. The words, “would you mind if I listened to my music for a while – I have bad vertigo and it helps.” were on my tongue, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say them. She had no magazine or THING to pull out of her bag and was completely engaged in conversation with me.As I kept practicing those words over and over in my head, I remembered something about how God brings you certain people into your life for reasons and often they can be found on airplanes. No, I didn’t read that any where and please don’t quote me on it, but I decided to go with it. I gave up the notion of headphones/music/brain rest and choose to remain engaged. Turns out, she was an AMAZING person to talk to.

   She was in her sixties, from Finland, a traveling nurse and going to San Diego to pet sit for her brother. We talked about books (she suggested the book Anatomy of the Spirit by Carolyn Myss that I will be reading later), pets, careers, my vertigo problem and life in general. One thing she said (among the many good things I wish I would have written down) as resonated with me since then. She said, “When you find yourself wanting to run away you have to turn around and face it. Once you face it, that part of fear/worry/doubt/whatever won’t travel with you. When you run away you take that weakness with you and it stays with you until you deal with it.”I paraphrased a little there, but I that idea/theory hadn’t stuck with me until her. I started thinking about all the things I’ve ran away from and how if I had turned and faced them I may not be working through those issues still. (Side Note: I had a defining moment while I was on this trip and it was the reason I am running away from my relationship with Amy was because I’m in love with her. This is a topic for another blog, but talk about a new discovery.)

   Another thing she said was, “You have to be truly honest with yourself. If you can be honest with yourself and exist in that honesty, you’ll begin to notice your body responding.” Her opinion was because the body and mind are not absent of each other, one reacts to the other. I’m sure there’s more I could go into on that one, but for now I like that quote of being honest with yourself. I’ve started to be 100% honest with myself and stop NOT facing things. Nice, huh?

   What was more amazing was that I didn’t have vertigo at any time on the plane. Though I was next to the window, by back basically faced it the whole time. I was sort of riding limo style with my head. It did hurt a little, but no vertigo! Good times #1.

2. After we landed, she and I parted our ways and I began to find myself in a whole new place. I haven’t traveled on my own in FOREVER and the last time I did anything for business someone was picking me up from the airport. As I reached the pick-up/drop-off deck, I started looking for this “shuttle” that the hotel’s website had mentioned. I call to confirm such shuttle and am told they do not have one. So, after waiting for cab in the wrong spot for about five minutes I found my way to the Taxi/Bus zone. I’m directed toward a cab ready to go and this guy drives me through the hills of San Diego. We do a little conversation exchange and he drops me off at my hotel.Since my flight was so early I couldn’t check in to my hotel until later that day. Good. I was needing to have a San Diego adventure and not being able to check in was pushing me out there to find it.After careful instruction from the hotel “local” shuttle guys on how to take the trolley to Gaslamp, then get to the ferry to Coronado for a beach day, I was off. The shuttle dropped me off at Old Town Station, I tumbled my way through the trolley system, paid for a ticket and jumped on the closest trolley. This was my first mistake. If you’ve ever ridden on the MTS Trolley System in San Diego, you would know there are four parts to the trolley: orange, red, blue and green. Red covers Old Town through Glaslamp (near downtown). Orange takes you from the Northeast side of the city to around downtown. Green takes you from Old Town north of where Orange starts. Blue will take you to downtown and Mexico. I knew I didn’t want to get on the blue.Turns out I jumped on the Red trolley heading the wrong way. Gasglamp was southwest and I jumped on it going Northeast. After I realized my mishap I decided to ride it out seeing how I had no real plans. It was kind of cool, actually, because I was able to see a lot of San Diego because of it. When the trolley system was about to head back I jumped off and jumped on the Orange trolley line to see some new scenery. What I didn’t realized until it was too late, was that the orange trolley line drove you through the ghetto. Seriously. There I sat, by my self, holding my Blackberry hoping no one would really notice me.After I we passed my Petco Park I arrived at Gaslamp. I jumped off into what seemed to be an Obama rally. Yes, there were t-shirt vedeors, button sellers, protesting for Obama and Pro-Life, and that Obama song played by a guy in a electric wheel chair. It was a site to see.I realized I didn’t know which way the peer was and I had to ask around. I only asked cops because A.) I felt safe with them and B.) they would know. I get a hold of this one guy who told me the peer was at least five miles away. Because I’m doing the whole 60 miles in one weekend thing, I took those five miles on. Through the Obama rally I started and after passing much of downtown I found the peer. A few blocks off I located the ferry booth selling rides over to Coronado Island. Did I tell you that while I’m walking I’m approached my a red-faced (sun burn) homeless guy with the story, “I just moved here from Flordia and I have nothing.” I didn’t have cash, so I told him to go toward the Obama rally and there were TONS of people.

   While I’m waiting in line for the ferry, I get sandwiched between to bicycle groups. They start talking about Electra bikes (which, I’ve researched them and want a cruiser), so I chime up. “Did you say you worked for Electra?” We exchanged a few words and I thought that was it. Little did I know these would soon become my beach day friends.

3. While riding the ferry over I sit next to this couple from the Electra bike story: Bridgida and Tim. We start talking, they give me a few pointers on what to do once at Coronado and then they ask if I wanted to ride one of their bikes with them over toward the beach. What?! At first, that really shy part of me thought, “no thanks, I would really hate to ruin your planned day together. Thanks for having pity on me,” but what I actually said was, “I don’t know; it would be an adventure.” Next thing I know I’m following Tim through the streets of Coronado while Bridgida rode the spokes of his bike.It was such a serial moment for me. First, I didn’t know where I was or where I was going and second I didn’t know these people. I was blindly following them into unknown waters in California. I kept telling myself, “please don’t fall off the bike. I know you haven’t ridden a bike in over 12 years, but please don’t fall off and have one of these cars run you over. That would be most unfortunate for them to deal with after being so nice to you.”We biked up to this little pizza joint and stopped to have lunch. If you EVER go to Coronado Island, please rent a bike and ride around. I could have done that every day. The weather is, of course, gorgeous and the area is just too cool. I would love to live there.After we ate lunch, got to know each other better, I realized these were some awesome people. Not only were they being generous with their bike and time, but they actually asked me to hang out with them. God, double bless them, please.

   We biked up to the Corinado hotel, had a few drinks, then lounged on the nicest sand I’ve experienced in the US. Mexico was better, but HELLO…it’s Mexico. Once we packed it up, I realized I was fighting the sun going down more than anything. Since I walked and took the trolley from my hotel, I had a while to go and didn’t want to do it in the dark.

   By the time we got back to the peer, we were exhausted. My skin was burnt (from the walk and the biking), my hair was plastered to my head and my body was tired. My ass hurt so much the next day from that 20 minute bike ride.

   Once we got back in San Diego, we exchanged numbers for a possible meet up mid-week and I was on my way. It felt so good knowing my way around downtown and on the trolley. I didn’t fear getting lost at all! That’s first for me; I’m always lost.

Isn’t that an amazing way to start my first visit to California?! I was so happy that all happened and that I got to do so much. Thanks God!

To view random pictures see: San Diego

No Words

I broke up with my girlfriend.

I debated whether or not to post on this topic right away, but seeing how this is my blog about my emotions I am going to post.

I really have no words right now. I’m writing more out of the numbed darkness in my head. I hear you ask, “If you feel that way, why did YOU break up with her?” The best way I know how to tell you is through this song “Haley” by Needtobreathe. I was tired of treating the person I care most for like she wasn’t important enough to know/stay/remain/exist in feelings toward our relationship. Nothing to do with being a woman dating a woman. Something changed and I couldn’t ask her to excuse my behavior any more. It was too selfish, too much like my ex. One person I never want to be. Amy I’m so sorry.

If you don’t know just how you feel,
Don’t say those sweet things that you know I’d wanna hear
And if you don’t know, just what to think
then put your thoughts away and keep them out of reach

Haley don’t hurt me if you don’t know
I could have moved on long time ago
You’re undecided your eyes do show
Haley don’t hurt me if you don’t know

If you don’t know just where we are
Then slowly step away before we get too far
If you don’t know just where you stand
Don’t brace a fall you may never want to land

Haley don’t hurt me if you don’t know
I could have moved on long time ago
You’re undecided your eyes do show
Haley don’t hurt me if you don’t know

We’re on and off again
It’s more than I can stand
Just let me know if you’re for real this time
Your voice it shook again
Reminded me of when
We talked our way to the end

Haley don’t hurt me if you don’t know
I could have moved on long time ago
You’re undecided your eyes do show
Haley don’t hurt me if you don’t know