Open Letter to My Single Life

Single Life,

My god, it seems like forever!  I'm pretty sure last time we were spending quality time together I was wearing wide-leg jeans, a starter jacket and my Fila's.  My, has time flown.  Look at you now!  You look fantastic!  You know, even though we haven't seen each other in a while, people still tell me about you.  I thought about calling on you about a year ago, but I accidentlly joined Match.com, and well, we know how that goes. 

I kept hearing how wonderful you were.  I guess a part of me always missed you, but I was just far too distracted with the wild ones.  My sincerest apologies.  I remember when I was getting ready to meet up with you this time around, I kept hoping that we could pick up where we left off, but so much has changed, that clearly wasn't the case.  I want to say thank you for sticking through this whole process.  I know there were times when I seemed distant and even close to forgetting the whole idea of us reconnecting, but that was all my own insecurities.  I didn't feel I had a place in your life anymore.  If it weren't for you showing me how great it could really be, I'd probably be busy changing my status on Facebook yet again and getting a downpour of shit for it. 

Well, I don't want to start ranting, I just wanted you to know how much I miss and appreciate you.  So cheers to great memories to come!

Elina

P.S.  This weekend was insane.  Thank you!

A Relationship from Cover to Cover - Prelude

I knew I was late.  At that point I had already pushed the meet-up time by an hour.  Still, I found myself racing to the parking deck with my heart beating fast and my shoes lost somewhere in the ocean of crap in the backseat of my car.  Just when I thought the night would be horrible before it even started, I saw the reverse lights of a Chevy parked as close as I could get to the restaurant.  Finally, a stroke of luck.  I fished out my shoes, adjusted all adjustables, and walked toward our dinner spot for the evening. 

E: Hey, are you inside the restaurant?

B: I am...outside. Waiting for a table.

Great.  That says one thing - she'll be standing outside, watching me walk up to the place while I was left out in the open to desperately scan the crowd and attempt to find a face familiar to the one I had been staring at over online conversations for the last two weeks.  Mission one.  Here we go...

I spotted many people.  A young couple with a terrier puppy sitting on a bench near the front door.  An older man assisting his wife into the car.  A pair of couples with about 4 or 5 kids running around them.  Where is she? As I got closer, I finally saw the one girl standing alone, entertaining herself by trying to keep her balance while teetering on the curb.  That had to be her.  She was the only solo female outside.  With not much to lose, I walked right up to her and threw my arms up for our first hug.

The night continued with great conversation, good food, a wonderful atmosphere, and a sprinkle of awkward moments to dwell on for the remainder of the night...

Love

Once upon a time, I was a young, beautiful girl, in love with an older, seemingly charming man.  The night I met him, I felt a fire inside.  It wasn't love at first sight.  It was excitement, lust, intrigue, and curiosity.  At that moment, I didn't know what was to come.  I had no idea I was embarking on one of the most life-changing relationships of my life, thus far.  Being in love with this man was a hard lesson to learn.  I was putty to him.  He shaped me in ways I never thought I'd bend.  He would mold me into an innocent angel and then find ways to remold me into a monster.  With every press of his fingers, I gave in.  I never fought his creativity with who I would be from one day to the next.  Not until the end.  I just allowed  him to pleasure his own need for guiltless love and I played the role to perfection.  So much so, that I could anticipate his next desire and stay a step ahead.  Eventually, I was pretty much damaging myself, without him having to even start to reshape me.  I did it for him.  After years of losing myself and willingly allowing this abuse to occur, I was faced with an important decision.  I had to stand alone, and decide whether I wanted to live, or to die and live in him.  Although this may seem like a simple and easy decision to make, the stakes were high on both sides.  I could bleed out and breathe his air for the remainder of my existence or face a faceless girl.  If I chose life, I'd have to find it as well.  "My life" no longer existed.  I had to accept a quest to find myself again.  After many tears and sleepless nights, I decided to pack my bags and search for the girl at the bar five years before that day. 

In a blind search for something, I accepted everything.  I had such a large void in my nothingness, that I was desperate to fill with meaning.  My first goal was to recuperate the family I had lost.  For taking me back, as broken as I was, I owe them my everything.  I lost many friends and was unable to repair many relationships with them, but I held onto the love we once shared.  Our memories will forever remain imprinted in who I was to become. 

Still, I never found romantic love.  I tried.  Love found me a few times, but I walked away from it.  I realize now, that even with the fruitful relationships I have been able to build, I still cannot love another.  I cannot seem to figure out how to unlock my heart and open it to another.  Fear of becoming lost again has overwhelmed me and has kept me from opening my eyes to the possibility of true love.  So I sit here today, a broken women on the path to solidity.  I sit here today, a woman who is still as lost as ever.  But I sit here today, in the hopes of finding what people strive for every day.  I want to love again.  I'm ready.

FUCK YOU!

Breakups Hurt

There's a ton of ways to get over a breakup.  You can stay local, as local as your own bed, and surround yourself with your laptop, empty ice cream tubs, dirty dishes, a bottle of wine with no glass in sight, and tissues.  You can decide to explore a bit more and actually make your way to the bathroom and...well...bathe.  You can even go as far as putting on some make-up, brushing your hair and going to meet a friend for lunch.  Whatever you end up doing, whether it's one of the above or a blurred mix of a few, your end goal is the same: to stop the pain.

Everyone knows about the steps.  Maybe you acquired these steps from a  know-it-all magazine, listed out between "10 Ways to Please Your Man" and "Who Wore It Best".  Perhaps it was at a girl-night venting session, or maybe even a desperate Google search.  Whichever way you learned them, the basics are denial, sadness, anger and acceptance.  Somehow, you might end up feeling even more lost than you did before you tried to justify your actions on these steps.  There's a good reason for this.  There are no steps.  There is no key phrase to live by.  There is nothing a pint of Cookies and Cream, bottle of Johnny, or Sci-Fi movie can teach to magically break free of the chains of a damaging break up.  All you have is time. 

The first couple of weeks are crucial to your own survival and sanity.  The aforementioned steps can be picked out in these weeks, but there is a lot of gray area.  One of the strangest feelings in life will most likely be felt during these weeks.  When you manage to somehow hate and love the same person, all at the same time.  It makes no sense and feels as crazy as laughing and crying at the same time, which to some people is actually what happens.  How can I want to just rewind time to the last moment we were happy together yet daydream about carving my initials on the hood of your brand new car?  Trust me, it's crazy moments like these that you'll eventually end up forgetting first and probably for the best. 

While most people think that you should stand up tall and brush off the pain, I tend to disagree.  Actually, I completely disagree.  How can you actually believe that smothering your feelings about something very emotionally impacting to you and putting on a smile is healthy?  It's okay to cry, scream, listen to those songs that you swear were written for you, and click through your pictures, deleting any and all that remind you of your ex.  Don't get me wrong, there is a time for everything.  Don't make the mistake of lingering in this self-deprecating limbo.  Feel your heart away but remember that sooner rather than later, you will have to wake up from it all.  You can't hurt forever.  How do I climb out of this phase you ask? Let's explore.

Friends, how many of us have them? All of us.  That's right ladies and gentlemen.  You're friends are your greatest assets.  They were there from the start.  The audience that applauded your high moments and awed at all the sad times as well as throwing up their fists during those arguments.  They knew you before it all, and if you're lucky, will know you for a long time after it's all over.  Vent to them.  Talk it out.  Let them hug you and curse him with you, but love them back.  Respect their time and make sure you're not making everything all about you.  If they're being a friend to you, you must always return the gesture.

Other than friends, there is a plethora of escapes from the tears, food, and LifeTime Original movies.  You can turn to god, assuming you have one.  If not, perhaps the instrument you decided to pick up a couple months before the ex walked into your life.  Maybe a new sport, brushing up on your mechanic skills (on your car, NOT his) or even time with family.  Whatever it is, use it to fill up the time you would normally be with him. 

One day, you're going to get out.  You're going to wake up and feel new.  You will still remember the pain, the good times and the bad, but you will not hurt.  You'll look back and appreciate the lessons you learned along the way.  Remember that you are worth more than all those tears.  You deserve to smile.  So turn that frown upside down and conquer this world as you were meant to.

Good luck to all of you heartbroken lovers out there.  You're time is now.  Get it done.

Our next performer is...

As the first reader was obviously wrapping up his story on the beauty of failure, I remembered that I was about to walk on stage, alone, all eyes on me and my neon green tank top.  Immediately, my palms started to sweat.  I took a swig of water, hoping more than ever before that it was bourbon.  As the roar of applause started to fill the room and my own insides began to freeze, I heard my name.  I stood up as certain as I could knowing that the potential of actually vomiting in front of this lovely crown was quite real.  Suddenly feeling calm knowing that I was being introduced by a friend, I found comfort in a quick hug as he tagged out of the ring.  Unfortunately for me, we weren't on the same page.  What was expected to be a hug turned into an awkward pat on the shoulder and suddenly, I was thrust back into the realization that sometimes things don't turn out the way we dream.  As the worn metal tips of my heels clanked with each timid step I took, I tried to decide what to say first.  Normally in situations like these, a minute feels like an eternity.  Not now, not for me.  Time was speeding up and before I knew what I was going to say, my lips started explaining to these strangers that I was nervous and had given up on my planned introduction.  Great.

A considerable number of months ago, I witnessed the talents of a poet who's name I won't mention in fear that his talents have brought him fame and a booking agent.  He seemed so naturally graceful on stage.  His presence was poetry enough, his words solidifying his right to be heard.  He discussed one particular subject.  Being a nervous wreck on stage.  I first thought to myself, he had to be kidding.  He spoke as if he was born to be a public figure.  His approach was unlike any I had ever heard.  At the risk of butchering his explanation, I'll continue to say that what everyone considered "butterflies" or the feeling of  free fall was actually energy emanating out of us, and into other people around us.  So essentially, the feeling of being nervous was actually inflicted upon us by those around us. 

I asked the audience to close their eyes.  Mainly, because if I had closed mine, I would have fall off the stage, but also because I felt like it calmed them down.  According to my previous lesson on nervousness, I had to get them to relax before I could.  Worked like a charm.  As soon as their eyes were taken off of me and placed onto themselves, I knew I'd get through my performance.

I started with a poem discussing typical situations that people go through in relationships.  Losing yourself in someone else.  Becoming unsure of you're own convictions.  Your gut becomes this fickle wad of jealously, paranoia and lust.  It's a damn shame.  The words came out of my mouth with such authority, that I almost convinced myself to forget my current love.  I'll say this once and let it be known: Poetry is medicine.  Follow the dosage.  Beware of operating heavy machinery.  Love is the heaviest.

The applause warmed my blood.  I was ready for hardball.  My next poem was torture for myself and my loved ones.  It is based on a horribly true story.  I was once told by a clairvoyant that said relationship was so painful that I would rather feel physical pain than the emotional pain.  That because my reality.  Bruised, battered and left for dead.  As I continued through the poem, my eyes kept falling on the recognized faces.  I felt somewhat guilty for dragging them through something I had no choice to bare.  They would lower their eyes, each and every last one.  I loved them more.

As I wrapped up my final poem, I anxiously waited for my breath to run out so that I too could run out and feed myself some much needed nicotine. 

The thrills of performance.  What a bitch.

Remind me to not give a shit...

...sometimes I forget.