I swear I have a knack for something. I always manage to find myself involved with the bad guys who won’t go away, and the good guys who can’t stay. I’m also very good at overthinking a situation until I’m blue in the face and red in the eyes. This week I’ve gotten good at functioning at work on zero sleep at all. The past few days have been a bear for the anxiety I deal with as it is, and I sincerely hope it ends soon.
So, the last time I wrote, I expressed absolute confusion for what the heck was going on in my own mind. Fighting a battle against yourself is probably the hardest one to ever fight. I actually just closed my computer because I really don’t know if I’m going to make it through everything I have to say, but a certain song came on, so I’m going to take that as a sign that I need to. I will however preface this by saying that anything that happened and was talked about with him this past weekend will not be something I discuss. It really isn’t anyone’s business, no matter how much you may care about me or how much you may thrive off of knowing every detail of everything. That all will stay between the two people it pertains to; Nathan and I. And yes, that means that some of you who were under the impression I was alone, I was not. Or if you did not know this happened, now you do. Any texts regarding this will 150% be ignored because I don’t really need to explain my decisions to anyone (upsidedown smiley face).
When you don’t see someone, or interact, or even really think about them for over a year, you kind of forget some things. I forgot a lot. I forgot that this was someone I had once shared my biggest secrets with, cried to, cried about, laughed about stupid Vines with, looked in the eyes and expressed my love to. In the moment everything is kind of a whirlwind. It was the first date feeling without the awkwardness. Once you have a second to step back and actually process what the hell just happened, it can take you a lot of places. Those places aren’t always the warm and fuzzy ones like when people tell you not to cry because it’s over, but rather smile because it happened. Not to say that I didn’t smile to myself on the drive back to my apartment, because I did. The old familiar was welcomed. But walking back into that apartment and being alone, ouch. It was like having my heart broken all over again. That was not a feeling I had anticipated at all. Had that been the case, I wouldn’t have agreed to see him. I’m not interested in inflicting more pain on myself than has already been done in my 21 years.
So naturally I call some friends (and they have all been so amazing the past few days so thank you all for existing). And of course roughly four hours after the fact, I sat down and said that this was the biggest dumbest mistake I had made so far in 2016. I was truly beating myself over it, which is when Lindsey brough to my attention important fact number 1: This was the best thing I could have done. I don’t have to be angry anymore, and neither does he. And that in itself is an outcome worth whatever I may be feeling. I’m really glad that we could at least bypass the bullshit from the past. Admitting it is the first step, and getting past it is the second. So lets wipe our hands clean from that one.
“So remember when we were driving, driving in your car
Speed so fast I felt like I was drunk.
City lights lay out before us,
And your arm felt nice wrapped ’round my shoulder.
And I had a feeling that I belonged,
I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone…”
Although, I still wasn’t convinced that this was an entirely good idea. I mean seriously, there I was/here I am sobbing big fat ugly sobs into my bed and feeling conflicted in so many ways. My big had noted that it seemed like my apology was stemming from me still caring about him and what he thinks about me. Um, well, that would be true. Which is kind of hard to say. I mean NO girl want’s to openly admit to caring about her ex when things ended badly (even if you wish they didn’t). So I kind of had to sit and think about that. Why would I care what he thinks about me? Why would I care about him? I had just gone over a year without seeing or speaking to this guy. Clearly I was fine. I will say that in that time I had come a LONG way from the blubbering mess I was for the week following the break up, annnnnd the week following me going to Boone on a whim one weekend. And I needed to pat myself on the back for that. It was finally time to focus on me, and look out for number one. I’ve lost almost 20 pounds in the last month, I’m no longer a Diet Coke crackhead, my apartment is finally put together, and I’m doing just fine. So instead of realizing all the awesome progress I made, I beat myself down because I had still messed up in some capacity a year ago. Yeah sure my body is looking better but I’m still alone as hell. Yeah I have a job but do I have anyone to come home to and tell about my day (besides my cat)? Who. Even. Cares. I shouldn’t. But I can’t bullshit the world and pretend that I don’t. This doesn’t mean Nathan specifically, but making the transition from loving boyfriend to big empty bed is kind of hard. The plan is shot to hell and you just have to roll with it. I didn’t think I was rolling so well with the punches, but after some reflection, I found that I was what was turning the tides, and not the other way around. Hell yes to that.
“He is not good enough for you. You are TOO good of a person. You’re funny, a great little and beautiful and you deserve more.”
We are always our own worst critic. Maybe it’s a combination of my modesty (which doesn’t exist by the way), or my complete inability to see my great qualities. I am eternally selling myself short. I know when I kick ass at something. Or if I make a ton of sales at work. Or if I can hold my power legs in Pure Barre the entire time. I have no problem celebrating those wins. However, I will never just ackowledge that I am beautiful. I will say that I’m funny by comparing myself to an Amy Schumer that you can bring home to your parents. I don’t think I’m a great person, because I have been known to screw up sometimes. And sometimes I screw up really big. I didn’t realize by selling myself short, I was practically drilling into my own mind that I would never be good enough on my own. Now I know that to be absolute bullshit. I’ve been on my own for a while, and I’m not like Leonardo DiCaprio successful, but it’s nothing to just brush off. I don’t think it would kill me to work on loving myself more. Not just being aware of my highs, but appreciating them, and appreciating myself for making them happen.
“It’s hard to say what it is I see in you”
So, what exactly do I feel? I don’t know. I mean, I feel like I do, just based on history, which we all know repeats itself. So I don’t know how absolutely necessary it is for me to put everything out in the open. 9.9 times out of 10, I just get more hurt than I was to begin with, and I cannot handle another fucking sleepless night. I wish I knew why he had/has/whatever such a hold on me. I truly do, because then I might be able to rationalize whatever is running through my mind. It’s not like he was my first love. Or was he? I’ll never really know what the deal was with that first relationship… if you wanna talk about dysfunctional, talk to me about that. Actually ya know what? Screw it. He was my first of a lot of things. The first guy I dated long distance. The first guy I believed when he said he cared about me. The first guy who actually tested me. The first guy blah blah blah blah blah. I wish I could tell you that he would be the last guy to ever make me feel this way, but the truth is that there are a lot of fish left in the sea and I’d be willing to bet half of them have mercury poisoning. I don’t know what the future holds, for me or anyone else. I know what I would like it to hold, but as with most things, you can’t always get what you want. Contrary to what I’d like to think, the belief in a thing does not make it happen. So with that, I say yes, I do care for Nathan. I’m unsure of the capacity, but I can’t just not give a shit about someone who was once such a big part of my life. And if anyone expects me to, they can stick it where the sun don’t shine.
“Know troubles they may come and go,
But good times they’re the gold.”
No matter the messes that have happened for the last threeish years, I cannot harp on that. I remember the good times fondly, but it’s time to let go of the bad times. I don’t wish to remember those, nor do I deserve to be taunted by them. The more I sit here and wonder what the hell I’m going to write next, the more I wonder why I’m writing it all here. Shouldn’t I just say exactly what I’m thinking to the person it pertains to? What good is it doing to let it out into the unkown?
The unknown can’t hurt me.
PS – as I’m re-reading this I realize how incredibly risky this was