Is it wrong?

I asked what your type was, and you described me. It must have been a sign. Do you wish we were a couple? Perhaps that we had a little thing? I would ask you if it weren’t for the fear that you don’t want to be a couple. Then, I wouldn’t even dare to say hello. I’m just trying to stuff all the feelings into the bag.

You lose yourself in the dance, and I want to lose myself in you. You’re so unaware that everyone is watching you, or maybe you just don’t care. A guy is filming, a girl who checked you out left, but I stay and dance beside you. Because if you see me unconcerned, maybe you’ll realize that you care, not about the people around us, but about me. Maybe you’ll realize that I see you as more than just an awkward dance.

I know I’m going away, and it’s not smart of me to think in the ways I do about us. But I don’t care. Why can’t we just have a good month and then pick up where we left off when I’m back again? Because then, I would stay. But I don’t think you see me as an option, either because you don’t like me that way or because three months is a long time. You should see that I like you; otherwise, you must be blind or think I’m more unfortunate and foolish than I actually am.

I know I’m going away, but is it wrong to long for a meaningful relationship? I want someone who can whisper in my ear on the dance floor, but it feels like I’m not worthy of that. I’m just a friend or a quick fling; I’m not more than that. But I want to be more than that. I don’t want to be the one who goes home alone, running the last steps to catch the bus. I want someone to check that I get home safely, and even better, someone to crawl next to, stagger through the snowstorm together, warm each other under the blanket, and think that it’s forever. But I’ve made the choice to go away. But I’ll come back. Everyone says I should wait, but I’ve waited. I’ve waited for several years. What if I don’t end up in Uppsala? Then, I shouldn’t have people I care about here. Why start something that has to end? But I don’t want things to end. I want something forever. And what does three months matter in forever? I’ll come back. Can’t we have fun for a month and then see where life takes us and maybe continue to have fun after three months if it’s someone you like? Why wait?

The real end, is the best ending

When the darkness begins to fall, and winter arrives with large steps, I always start thinking about you. It’s been five years since you and I were ‘we.’ But here I am at my job that makes me feel like crap, thinking about you. Maybe it’s because you made me feel the same way, or maybe it’s because I don’t have anything better to do.

I saw you at the club a few weekends ago. Was the girl you hugged your girlfriend, or was she a girl you found on the dance floor, a girl for the night? I wouldn’t judge you for something like that. I know how it is – how the colorful lights and the bass of the music make you feel love for unknown people, a hunger for closeness.

I wish I dared to say hello and not just stared foolishly at you, avoiding your gaze as soon as you looked up. I want you to have looked at me, to see how much fun I was having, how nice my new friends are, and to wonder if any of them were my boyfriend, just like I wonder if the girl on the dance floor was yours.

I want you to be jealous of my friends, that they know me now, now that I’m a bit of a new, more fun person. Yet, deep down, I know so well that I would go back to being the pathetic 15-year-old girl you knew if we were to become ‘we’ again.

But I would like to try hanging out with you as an adult, sitting on someone’s balcony, chain-smoking cigarettes and drinking red wine, talking about world peace and how to move on in life. I want all of this while being too afraid to say hello, not being able to smoke cigarettes, and not even drinking red wine.

Therapy #2

I got to go out for my friend’s birthday a few nights ago. We hit up a restaurant named Kokopelli’s followed by a Japanese Barcade that served the most luscious lavender sake Mule. I was worried I’d be the Eyeore of her quite large group but it turns out I wasn’t and we all had a great time.

I’m still agitated the morning of the therapy session and i bring up a specific instance where previously I had been open about my feelings of him bowling through a group of ladies to get to the front the show and then shit down emotionally after when I try to talk about how this bothered me. He says something along the lines of ” you must be an archeologist because you love to dig up the past. ”
My blunt response is that at some point behavior like that becomes not so much him “fangirling” as he gently calls it, and more of defining characteristics of him as a person.
The irony isn’t lost on me when I later lock myself out ,not once but twice within the next few days. One of them with which he is present and able to climb to get the forgotten keys. We’ve implemented a permanent solution but it became glaringly obvious that the more depressed I was, the more often this shit happened.

During our actual therapy session, the lady speaks to us separately as before asking about our family lives and then together. I’m surprised she says point blankly to him, “whatever you think you went through, she had it worse.” It’s not exactly something to celebrate, but I appreciate the backup. She gives a book recommendation S.o.S for emotions, and she approves one of my friends suggested peoples Brene’ Brown .
We later go for a walk and I get to pet a miniature pony hanging out by the trail fence.

Winter

I sit day in and day out at this desk, trying to appear focused on work while attempting to unravel all my thoughts. In reality, it feels like I have no thoughts but am fabricating them just to have something to sort out. Evenings come quicker, and dawn later. And it scares me to fall into the same state of mind as last winter. I don’t want to be that person again – the one who pretends she doesn’t have a heart, who doesn’t care if she’s left alone but actually feels incredibly lonely when standing there alone.

But she was seldom alone, always finding a warm embrace to fall asleep in. Yet, the warmth from a stranger seldom soothes the loneliness. The tears that fell down her cheeks were invisible but strong and eternally flowing. She believed that no one liked her, but the truth was, the one who hated her most was herself. She was a tough facade that began to crack when the sun’s rays warmed her, and what little remained of her desperately tried to escape from the cracks in the facade.

But then the darkness returns, and the night becomes long and frightening. She tries to stack the shards of the hard shell around her for loneliness and the darkness behind the shards are a familiar place and not as frightening as standing unprotected and proud when the darkness falls

I’m not sorry this time

I didn’t respond back to your last message in October. I still don’t feel like it today. Your apology was nothing more than matter-of-fact and ingenuine to its core. I’m okay being pinned as a villain so long as I am not invalidating myself. I realized quickly that your first initial message to me asking if “things were okay with us” wasn’t truly driven by your concern and you only wanted clearance to respond and act out the way you did on facebook. I discovered the context of the GROUP MESSAGE you were added in, and that it wasn’t my mother directly telling you that you were “lacking as a friend”, but instead she was trying to rally up close friends and family to attend my last gig for the year… You were angry with me because I dare told my mother how upset I was with *all my friends* for not going to any shows of mine? It was more embarrassing finding out my mother went behind my back and tried to convince people to show up for me, when the last thing I would ever do is guilt anyone into doing anything for me.
I was maybe too giving with my honesty about being “jealous” of your other friend. But when I said I was jealous I didn’t mean “you’re not allowed to have any other friends besides me”… I just wanted to be included and not left out or cancelled on. But admitting jealousy means I’m taking blame. I’m the problem, right?
What it really boils down to…
I considered you my best friend for over sixteen years.
I’ve been performing with a band since the beginning of 2023 and had our gigs listed for months.
You didn’t show up to my first performance that you said you were going to… let’s be real…it was the same weekend as one of your work luau cook outs… and I already knew you would only be able to get a sitter for one night out.
You RSVP’d for one of my last shows of the year.
You didn’t show up or bother to say you weren’t coming….though Facebook sends reminders regularly.
You blew me off to hang out with your other friend…. and then posted it on snap chat.
Since you were one of 3 people I interacted with on snap chat, I decided it was best to delete the app so I didn’t directly feed myself shit that would hurt my feelings. No announcement for my departure. I didn’t ignore you when you messaged me on other platforms. I just stepped back.
My reaction was appropriate.
You went off on social media about how your life is so demanding and how you appreciated those who didn’t take things personally from your absence over the last month.
You gave me your last word statement and then said you’re going off social media for a while.
Two weeks later you messaged me with the “apology you felt I deserved”.
It was a copy and paste of what you posted to your Facebook story with your added ‘apology’ followed by stating that you were “obviously not attending the Halloween party or any other fb event you may have rsvp’d to”.

Stress

We took my old boy to the vet yesterday. 500 for a rabies shot, ingrown nail extraction, blood work and antibiotics. He was a good boy and even though he’s sore , I think he’s feeling less pain at least.

I dream that I’m meeting some friends at the movies. My husband and my girl with her husband. As we are entering the theater there are multiple loud booms of a shotgun being fired, and people running every which way in a panic. I get separated from my group and my phone stops working, I’m lost and unable to contact anyone. I wake up and Nemo finds me and snuggles me aggressively.

A few hours later I’m taking my kid to school, I can’t find the keys leaving so I plan to keep the door unlocked and cracked to get back in. I accidentally close it completely and realized the kid locked it behind her. Panic, I’m locked out of the house again. Yeah my husband agrees to break away from work to come let me in but after the lady week I just feel like an absolute fuck up of a human being.
At least the kid is having a good holiday season.

Couples Therapy

We’d been bickering all morning, he implies because he makes the money I have a responsibility to lose the weight. As if it were part of our vows. He’s agitated because I bring up a comment he made at the start of the last Black Mirror season on how he can’t appreciate Salma Hayek because she reminds him to much if his mother, and how I link it to his dissatisfaction with my weight. I tell him it’s better that I bring this up to him personally now because it’ll be so much worse if I address that with the therapist.

10 am rolls around and we start our zoom call with the therapist. Weirdly enough the lady looks like an older me. She interviews us separate and then together to assess the situation and root of the problem. She asks us to evaluate what our first attraction to each other was as very often we choose partners based on what we know at home. It’s a more gentle nudge at him to look at his relationship with his mother. I know my basis is not my father figures and I tell him as much outside of the call, that he reminded me of Courtney with his love of metal music but without the trauma or drug abuse.
The therapists asks me to keep the conversation of separation off the table for now and to work on intimacy.
I’ve sleep on the couch most nights, so as to not wake my husband with my late schedule or asshole cats. She asks me to start sleeping in bed despite that.
My husband says the session gives him hope that the damage is reparable and by taking these steps we will be stronger in the long term. He admits to taking what I offer for granted and claims to not wanting to continue being that guy with those traits. I admit the benefits of having a mediator but am still pretty bitter about there ever being a conversation at all where the sum of my parts and partnership is reduced to my waistline. I quit smoking pot, I quit eating desserts, I’ve taken a number of adjustments in an attempt to improve things situationally before the words ever even came out of his mouth. I weigh 200 pounds, I’m not obese but yeah I’ve got a little extra. Given my upbringing with abusive father figures and history of being a borderline suicide or overdose statistic that i walked away from without rehab or institutionalization, I emphasize to him the importance to me that my partnership be that of authentic and genuine love. He stresses that he’s not giving up and he’s putting in the effort and I let him know I appreciate it because not everyone would try or even attempt to.
We’ll talk to her again next Monday.

Fortune of the day

In an effort to spend time together after the night of fighting and intense talks, we start driving out to Dinosaur Ridge for a quick hike. That plan is quickly spoiled by a flat tire off of the C470 ramp.
Glass shrapnel that littered the road and I was forced to travel across on my earlier trip to Target had infiltrated the tire as it deflates on us together now.
My partner does the work to change out the spare, but Firestone delivers the bad news that the insides are shredded and we have to replace the tire as it can no longer be patched. He pays his dues without complaint .It all feels very allegorical, or symbolic, something of that ilk.