The Ugly Truth and the Ugly Cry
I cried.
I sobbed.
I did that thing with my face where it's so distorted I look like one of the lost munchkin kids.
We're talking snot down my face, gasping for air, can barely breathe.
The kind of tears that no waterproof mascara can possibly combat.
It felt fucking awful and incredible. I'm now drinking White Girl Rose straight from the bottle, if I have to be sad at least I'm on trend right?
I am in love with someone. He is in love with me, but on the journey of life I am about 20 paces in front of him. I will not give too many details surrounding him, I understand this will drive some people crazy, however this is my journey - not his. If he starts his own blog I will pass along the info. He is at a crossroads - left or right, right or left and he is paralyzed with fear. Fear of circumstance and fear of the unknown, fear of change. He told me I don't understand. That's the thing people cling to in these situations, it's a way to justify taking the easy way out, no one could possibly understand. In reality, most do.
I am a fixer and a fighter so my first reaction was to think "oh, I should have said this! Or THAT, YES THAT! That would have changed EVERYTHING", then I went to "FUCK YOU I'M AWESOME, GET IT TOGETHER", before finally landing around "sorry I'm crazy, maybe if I was less crazy this would be clear to you?". That's the thing though, this isn't about me. I want it to be. Partially because I'm selfish, but mainly because if it's about me then I can fix it, then I can provide the answer. If it's about me I can have control of the situation. I thought about writing a letter - then realized this isn't Shakespeare, considered just showing up at his house - then realized "single white female" isn't a label I want, irrationally talked about a candygram - then realized I don't even know what the fuck that is - and finally I realized I can only do one thing - have patience. Respect his time and space. I've been trapped inside myself with paralyzing fear and unfortunately there is no life raft that can be thrown in that moment.
A friend pointed out that I always jump in head first, that I am drawn towards emotionally scared men, that I end up hurt because of their fear, not my own. I once had a guy I was dating tell me I "vomited my emotions" all over him. And they're both right. I do like complicated and at times dysfunctional love. I jump into the deep end of the pool unsure of what happens next but knowing I can figure it out. I love the challenge and the intrigue and the person who pushes me to be a better version of myself. I've had the opportunity for uncomplicated and easy love, but it isn't who I am. I make zero apologies for it. I am judged often and swiftly, I will be judged for writing this. Everyone is waiting with an opinion and a stone to throw. But this is my journey. I have a therapist for a mother so I know the obvious labels that can be given to me, I see all the signs on my back pointing to the daddy issues. It has taken me 29 years, but I am finally okay with how I love and who I love. To look at those around me and say "yes, that is him. That is who I chose". However, before him, I still must choose me.
Tonight I packed up the things in my apt belonging to him. I can't live in a museum. I did that with my ex and it nearly drove me insane. I went to yoga, I texted the teacher beforehand requesting the class be "hard as shit with constant movement" - she delivered. I made plans to go out to dinner and to go dancing. Unlike before when life got hard, I went out to forget, but now I'm going out to remember - remember that I have a life, that I am no longer paralyzed. I would rather feel sadness and pain than nothing, because I have come a long way from nothing. Passion is scary, somehow the stakes are raised and the idea of being an active participant in a relationship is unnerving. Some spend their whole lives running away from it, I have spent my whole life running towards it. It is why I get hurt, it is why I drink rose out of the bottle, it is why I read things like this:
I may love dysfunctional men. I may even be dysfunctional.....but....I'm also fucking awesome.
I have no idea what happens next. I know I can't drink rose out of the bottle forever (or at least every night), but I can for right now. I can trust that everyday the pain will hurt less and the picture will become clearer. He didn't save me, but he did help bring me back to life. Life's sandbox can be a messy one, full of people who don't play fair, so it was nice to be able to share it with him. I can only hope he learns to fear the opinions of others less, that he learns to not run from passion because it means you actually have to show up. But in the words of my amazing sister, "Don't cling to the sinking ship. Wait until he's in a life boat."
I have no idea what happens next. But I do know that I've come out the other side. I know I'm no longer afraid. I know I'd rather die of passion than of boredom. I put myself in situations that I know are cause for people to judge - but I no longer give a damn. 29 years....29 years I've waited to be okay with this version of myself - emotional vomit and all.....
Cheers to the ugly cry and the sad days - for they are the ones that make me grateful for the happy ones.
I sobbed.
I did that thing with my face where it's so distorted I look like one of the lost munchkin kids.
We're talking snot down my face, gasping for air, can barely breathe.
The kind of tears that no waterproof mascara can possibly combat.
It felt fucking awful and incredible. I'm now drinking White Girl Rose straight from the bottle, if I have to be sad at least I'm on trend right?
I am in love with someone. He is in love with me, but on the journey of life I am about 20 paces in front of him. I will not give too many details surrounding him, I understand this will drive some people crazy, however this is my journey - not his. If he starts his own blog I will pass along the info. He is at a crossroads - left or right, right or left and he is paralyzed with fear. Fear of circumstance and fear of the unknown, fear of change. He told me I don't understand. That's the thing people cling to in these situations, it's a way to justify taking the easy way out, no one could possibly understand. In reality, most do.
I am a fixer and a fighter so my first reaction was to think "oh, I should have said this! Or THAT, YES THAT! That would have changed EVERYTHING", then I went to "FUCK YOU I'M AWESOME, GET IT TOGETHER", before finally landing around "sorry I'm crazy, maybe if I was less crazy this would be clear to you?". That's the thing though, this isn't about me. I want it to be. Partially because I'm selfish, but mainly because if it's about me then I can fix it, then I can provide the answer. If it's about me I can have control of the situation. I thought about writing a letter - then realized this isn't Shakespeare, considered just showing up at his house - then realized "single white female" isn't a label I want, irrationally talked about a candygram - then realized I don't even know what the fuck that is - and finally I realized I can only do one thing - have patience. Respect his time and space. I've been trapped inside myself with paralyzing fear and unfortunately there is no life raft that can be thrown in that moment.
A friend pointed out that I always jump in head first, that I am drawn towards emotionally scared men, that I end up hurt because of their fear, not my own. I once had a guy I was dating tell me I "vomited my emotions" all over him. And they're both right. I do like complicated and at times dysfunctional love. I jump into the deep end of the pool unsure of what happens next but knowing I can figure it out. I love the challenge and the intrigue and the person who pushes me to be a better version of myself. I've had the opportunity for uncomplicated and easy love, but it isn't who I am. I make zero apologies for it. I am judged often and swiftly, I will be judged for writing this. Everyone is waiting with an opinion and a stone to throw. But this is my journey. I have a therapist for a mother so I know the obvious labels that can be given to me, I see all the signs on my back pointing to the daddy issues. It has taken me 29 years, but I am finally okay with how I love and who I love. To look at those around me and say "yes, that is him. That is who I chose". However, before him, I still must choose me.
Tonight I packed up the things in my apt belonging to him. I can't live in a museum. I did that with my ex and it nearly drove me insane. I went to yoga, I texted the teacher beforehand requesting the class be "hard as shit with constant movement" - she delivered. I made plans to go out to dinner and to go dancing. Unlike before when life got hard, I went out to forget, but now I'm going out to remember - remember that I have a life, that I am no longer paralyzed. I would rather feel sadness and pain than nothing, because I have come a long way from nothing. Passion is scary, somehow the stakes are raised and the idea of being an active participant in a relationship is unnerving. Some spend their whole lives running away from it, I have spent my whole life running towards it. It is why I get hurt, it is why I drink rose out of the bottle, it is why I read things like this:
I may love dysfunctional men. I may even be dysfunctional.....but....I'm also fucking awesome.
I have no idea what happens next. I know I can't drink rose out of the bottle forever (or at least every night), but I can for right now. I can trust that everyday the pain will hurt less and the picture will become clearer. He didn't save me, but he did help bring me back to life. Life's sandbox can be a messy one, full of people who don't play fair, so it was nice to be able to share it with him. I can only hope he learns to fear the opinions of others less, that he learns to not run from passion because it means you actually have to show up. But in the words of my amazing sister, "Don't cling to the sinking ship. Wait until he's in a life boat."
I have no idea what happens next. But I do know that I've come out the other side. I know I'm no longer afraid. I know I'd rather die of passion than of boredom. I put myself in situations that I know are cause for people to judge - but I no longer give a damn. 29 years....29 years I've waited to be okay with this version of myself - emotional vomit and all.....
Cheers to the ugly cry and the sad days - for they are the ones that make me grateful for the happy ones.