I am absolutely stuck between a rock and a hard place. Deciding upon the correct balance, too much contact or too little could destroy things, is an all-consuming task. I find myself drift away when I am not occupied, dreading and fixating on my next move and whether I need to be the first one to initiate, whether I should even continue expressing and outpouring energy into something with someone who may or may not even care that I am alive. Being ignored and jilted on a consistent basis could send me spiraling.
These things are true, however, I have vowed that I will do what I do because I want to, endless possible repercussions for my actions will not be factored in. My heart breaks a little more each day but I spend a few minutes before I get out of bed in the morning, putting bandages on the critical areas. I will continue to act in a way that reflects me in the purest possible way and I will continue to care and cry and laugh and hope each day that soon things will return to their previous, wonderfully free place.
If not, at this point I know I will survive, unhappy, but alive. I have enough of my own life, something that I had to reacquire over the past year, that losing one aspect of my orbit will not destroy the rest of the solar system. I just absolutely continue to wish that someone, somewhere, will shake some sense into this whole situation and help me be at peace, so I don’t have to work so damn hard at it.
More waiting. When will I finally hear the response I’ve been craving for the past two weeks?
Tonight as I was getting ready for dinner I began to smell the most intoxicating smell. Over and over again I asked my friends what I was smelling.
Coming into the bathroom, my friend holds up a bottle of Z’s cologne.
That was the intoxicating scent I was drawn to.
I threw it unceremoniously onto the pile of his things I’ve been creating.
"are you safe?" my therapist asks me as I explain through sob-ridden phrases that my boyfriend of over 2 years has just out of the blue ended our life together.
"yes," i answered, choking. "of course I’m safe."
It is with irony that I look back at my previous post about how dating is like auditioning a new family in addition to auditioning a new person. When the movie starts shooting, you barely know each other, but by the end, you can’t believe you’ve read all your lines and are simply looking to have a close-up spot when the credits role.
The truth is that I never once, even during the single rocky phase that Z and I went through, thought that we would end, that there would be an end to the ‘us’ that was so fabulous. We made a promise to each other before he left for the deployment that if one of us started having doubts about the future, we would TALK about it and try to work things out. That’s not what happened. He broke his promise to me. After a preemptive email outlining today’s conversation topic (the end of us), I spent two helpless hours watching us break up. Unable to defend myself , or our relationship, I instead had to sit and listen to him explain that although he cares for me immensely and has been thinking endlessly about the moment that he comes home and sees me waiting for him at the airport, he can’t see us having a future. As the conversation wore on, he admitted that he’s been thinking about this for a while and that all the time he spends with me is so wonderful but is a complete distraction from the fact that he is unwilling to plan any sort of future with me.
I attempted to argue that after being apart now for 8 (EIGHT) months, and feeling the distance that occurs during deployment, how could he possibly think that we could not have a future together? He simply said that he just knows and that there was nothing definitive that he could use to help explain his feelings (no actions, traits, or insanities on my end) or justify his reasoning. He was simply done. It was not a conversation. It was a lecture with interjections for clarification on my end and a lot of crying and attempts to derail the conversation with desperate attempts at reasoning with him.
After 8 months of separation and having less than three months before he comes home, he’s ending things. The idea of being with me and spending time with me is wonderful but it will simply increase the amount of time we spend together because he’ll start to forget about his concerns and remember how good we are. But, as soon as the plot for a future or a move or a trip comes up, the whole matter of not wanting to commit will rise up and demand some face time.
I’ve spent much of the day grieving and avoiding food. Currently, I’m drinking some rather delicious aged single malt scotch straight out of a double glass and have just finished a small burrito. So, calories are beginning to hit my system. I’m awaiting two friends and have another friend date tomorrow. I’m still grieving and find my body racked by unsolicited and violent sobs whenever I consider my life. My plan for staying present in my body at all times is not doing me any favors and I want to fall into the trap of ‘la la land’ that I once found so enjoyable.
I have lost the one person that I cared for deeply. I am now journeying into untempered waters and am doing so without the person that was once guiding my damaged boat. I have also lost my new family.
I am without words, without meaning, without guidance and a light at the end of the tunnel.
How do things get so fucked up so quickly? We had a future together, an unclear, remarkable future together, until about 10 hours ago. I never asked for marriage or children or a big shiny house. I just wanted him, NOW, in the present, not three months from now, not a year, not a decade. I only wanted to have him say “I love you, you’re the best, babe!” and mean it. I guess I’ll simply have to teach one of my birds to say that now.
How pathetic. I keep hoping beyond hope that I’ll get a call tomorrow or the next day or the day after and hear him telling me about the terrible mistake he’s made and that he doesn’t care about the future and that he just wants me now. But, as that’s unlikely, I’ll keep drinking scotch and chronicling my cycle in and out of heartache for the world to read and learn from.
He sent me a link to a military photographer that took pics of some of their field training exercises. He told me I should check them out because there was a message for me hidden in the pictures.
I assumed that at the end of the photos, the soldiers would have written little messages or something to their families/loved ones. WRONG.
After looking through several hundred photos (including some fabulous ones of him), I discovered a picture of him sitting near his mock “patient,” holding up a gloved hand upon which he’d written, “Hi (my name)!”
I about died. How adorable is that?? AND I pick him up from the airport in a week.
Cloud 9 is my current location.
I’m between flights on my way back home. My weekend in Texas was amazing and I already miss him more than ever.
We toured the river walk and saw the Alamo. We hung by the pool, relaxed in the hot tub, played pool at his favorite dive bar.
We spent so much time in contact, fingertips touching and locking, eyes meeting and memorizing. My heart broke as he walked out the door and headed back to base.
I wouldn’t trade the three days we spent together for the pain of watching him leave. I spent the next three hours nimbly trying to distract myself and prepare to head back home.
He says he associates me with home which is why it was bittersweet for him. I have to say that I agree with him. I can only continue through the motions, thank the gods that my job keeps me so busy, and wait until we’re able to be together again. This time for more than a few brief days, hours, or weeks.
I think I build things up in my head to the point that when my dreams aren’t satisfied, I get hurt.
My mantra today: lower expectations.
At least I survived the flights, right??
Eleven to go.
A time machine would be nice right about now.
I spent a fair amount of time today comforting a friend who’s coming out of/ in the process of repairing, what can be classified as a parasitic relationship. Essentially, she is far too fantastic to not be treated as such, and I love her for her strength throughout this process. All of this occurred after spending a good portion of last night texting her in the throes of an emotional sandstorm that I stupidly unleashed upon myself in a moment afflicted by poor timing, poor phrasing, and overly-idealistic romantic notions. And I realized something. We, my group of female friends at least, are independent, strong, intelligent, and driven.
We are also all creative. A by-product of this combination is that as fabulous as we all can be, we are also far more volatile than most women because we get so wrapped up in our own “perfect” versions of how things should be that when reality hits us with something that completely contradicts our vision, we have to recover from the self-inflicted damage.
There is nothing wrong with idealism. I am a self-identified idealist. But, going from cloud 9 in one moment to sub zero in the next can leave you reeling for days. And we sit and wait for the next domino to fall, for them to make that next move that will allow us to move forward and return to reality. Whether coming off of a fight, a misplaced word, a break up, or simply a conflict of interest, we who spend our days creating, can end up in a cycle of accidental emotional destruction. This cycle, once reflected upon, is generally unfounded and based often on high emotions and stemmed by a few glasses of wine. But, it takes time and a few bouts of external reassurance to understand that. Even after the millionth time.
So, I, heavily dosed with natural sedatives, am shutting down my brain for the night and trying to relax my overly-sensitive and intensely-feeling mind and heart for as long as I possibly can. I hope everyone else can do the same thing.
I woke up, exhausted from work the night before, fed horses, went for a run, did miscellaneous useless stuff around the house. Then, went out to my grandparents’ place to help with some barn chores. Had a nice chat with my grandmother :) Then, rode Bess, ate a sweet lunch, went to work, made some sweet cash, and now I’m home and in bed waiting for my 5HTP to kick in so I can sleep.
BUT THE BEST PART IS !
Z called me right when I was on break at work :) He will hopefully be able to send me his address on Saturday when he officially starts Basic so we can start writing each other but if not, it’s going to be a long few weeks until we get to talk to each other again …
Either way, he basically straight up was like, “Corie. I’m going to be selfish. I want you to wait for me. I want you to pick me up from the airport and I want to make plans with you. I want to be able to plan my time home out so I can spend it with you. That’s what’s going to get me through this.”
YAYYYYYY !!! So, we’re like unofficially officially an item ? And thank the GODS because we were all confused when I dropped him off at MEPS about how the whole thing was going to work out. And now, I’m ecstatic. Waiting until December is going to be a breeze after today :)
SO HAPPY <3
Yep. Awesome. I meet what appears to be a great guy, foreign, great sense of humor, absolutely cute… and then I take him into downtown Portland.
Can you guess what happens next ? I spend the evening getting the cold shoulder from him, chatting up his friend to keep things from becoming outrageously awkward, and then get driven home and dropped off to a one-armed hug.
And checking Facebook reveals … yes, a status update in German about how Portland girls are smokin’ hot and how downtown is a single man’s dream.
Maybe don’t let me talk to your Mom before you act like a douche and ditch me after a night in the ‘big city.’