Still passing the open windows and falling down the stairs

Flutter

I love this part. The flirty innuendo. The text banter that keeps the phone buzzing through an already busy day. And the anticipation. Oh…the anticipation.

I remind myself that as fun as this part is, it rarely ever leads to the meaty part, and even when it does, that has always led to the devastating part.

Returning to my breath, focusing on the flutter. He is not them, the good parts or the bad. He may hurt me, or I may hurt him, or we may hurt each other.

Or not. It’s not necessarily destined that this part, this wonderful, exhilarating part, will lead to the other part that I have known too well.

Everything’s coming up bandick

I’m super stoked and my fingers are flying across the keyboard and I’m probably gonna drop the eff bomb a whole bunch, so look out!

Finally. FINALLY. Things have ticked back into the awesome category.

October 9 marks two years since d-day with the baron, which was absolutely the most devastating day of my life. I feel so overly dramatic making that statement, but it’s the truth. I felt shell shocked for months (and a little covered in the residue until this summer). I was on the brink of total destruction that October. Four months later, my job blew up and the char on my spirit was complete. I was a pile of ash.

I knew, I have always known, that life is change and when it feels like the bottom, there’s nothing to do but climb. I wasn’t ready to climb then, so I just clung to the bottom of the ladder and tried to stay optimistic; to let my eyes gloss over and paste the smile on when people told me how strong I was being.

But I didn’t feel strong. I felt hollow and lost. And frozen. I was scared of making any decisions. I’d chosen a man who’d made a conscious decision to hurt me, day after day, for 18 months. And I’d chosen a career path that led me to a place where 10 years of dedication turned out to be nothing compared to the whim of someone in a superior position.

Now I believe that being frozen was the only thing that shielded me from the chaos. I learned how to not make decisions. I learned how to breathe. I learned how to be patient and calm in the world. And then I learned how to rock it out and land a kick ass job that makes me want to shout, FUCK YEAH! And I learned how to let men enter my life without shifting the focus from myself. Some have floated around as background noise for a while and some are brand new, but all are reminders that I am not a pile of ash.

I’m a mother-fucking Phoenix.

My Stuart Smalley moment

In a little more than eight years, I’ve written 502 posts. Now 503. About five a month. Not a very high average. But, for some unknown reason, I can’t seem to let this space go. It’s not about trying to draw in readers; it’s about trying to find my voice.I still have no idea what that is.

When I started writing here, I guess it was a break up blog. Then it was a stupidly get back together with the guy who was behind all of the initial pain and try to put bandages on the compound fractures of the relationship with cute little posts about kitten breath blog. Then it was a break up blog again, with less moaning and wailing.

And for a while it was a just happy to be alive and writing blog. Until it became a dating blog. Which, of course, returned us to the original format…break up blog.

If I were more consistent about writing recently, I guess we’d be back to dating blog but I’m so freaked out that the dating stuff will just lead back to the break up stuff and my poor blog and I will be stuck in an infinite loop of awkward conversations and gut wrenching sobs.

Which begs the question, do I give up dating? Or do I give up writing?

There were brief spurts of attempted humor as well. Some weren’t half bad. But most had one consistent theme. Self-deprecation. It’s my go to. For unknown reasons, my fall back humor is the kind that makes the audience laugh and then make then awwwww face. I guess it could be tied to self-esteem, except that I generally feel pretty damn good about who I am, finally, but I’m so used to saying negative things about myself that I find it difficult to stop.

And the self-deprecation goes hand in hand with the angst. It seems funnier to me somehow if I turn the negative results of a relationship back on myself. But it’s not really that funny. Since I started this site, I’ve loved two men deeply and I was destroyed both times. Trying to make a joke out of that, especially at my own expense, is not going to change the results or my outlook on the future.

So, I guess I’ll keep writing without any expectation of some sort of blog theme developing. If it ever does, it will happen organically. And if it already has and this is indeed a dating/break up blog, I’ll try to keep it entertaining. At someone else’s expense.

Showing my privates

I’ve spent a few minutes browsing through some of my more “recent” posts and I reread Spring Cleaning, to which I cried, “bullshit”!

I wrote it in an effort to conceal that I was still hurting from the break up, as a proactive mask in the off chance that the guy I had recently met would find my blog. But none of it was real. I wasn’t over it. And I wasn’t in a new “relationship”. But I wanted to be both and so I changed the visibility of 30 break up related posts from public to private.

I censored myself which is I something that I had never wanted to do on this site. Which is not to imply that I just vomit every thought onto my keyboard. I (usually) think through my posts and determine what I am and am not willing to share. I will admit to a couple of knee jerk posts here and there, but I don’t want to feel shame or regret for being a human person, so I had always let them stand, until last May.

And so I have decided to flash my privates to the world! I have returned all posts to public visibility and now every post ever written over the past eight years is here for the world to see. Some are clever, some are depressing, and most are pointless to anyone but me. But who cares? This is my space and I will not concern myself in the future with who might read what and how that might affect their opinion of me.

Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a post.

The clean slate club

As much as I have tried to dig my heels in and keep change out of my life recently, I have to accept that some change is inevitable.

There was a time, not so long ago, when I thought the unexpected change of losing the Baron might break me. So, I made the naïve plan to avoid major change for at least six months. Unfortunately, that’s not really the way the world works.

It’s the second month of 2012 and I am single and unemployed.

In retrospect, I’m really not sure how any of this happened. They say that things become clearer from a distance, but that is not my experience. At least not yet.

But, as sad as I was to have resigned from a company that I had been with for ten years (and for which I still hold a great deal of respect), I believe that it was a move I needed to make in order to clear the path for something new.

My life is on a completely new trajectory and I am holding out hope that all of my recent changes will become the starting point of a more fulfilled life, that is guided by (and not reacted to) by me.

As a member of the clean slate club, I feel that dessert is in order.

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