Still passing the open windows and falling down the stairs

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.


In many ways, this blog has been the best thing that ever happened to my mental health. I dabble in traditional journaling, but I find it so much easier to just emotionally vomit into the keyboard than onto paper; I can purge the yuck and clear my brain faster here.

An added benefit is that I can very easily review my past and in this case, my recovery from my relationship with McFuzz.

I had almost this exact experience last night in my weekly counseling session. Lots of tears. Lots of discomfort. One large ah-ha moment. And when I found “the couch trip” I realized that I’m just about on the same pace with the Baron recovery as I was with the McFuzz recovery. Although, this recovery is quite a bit more difficult because I always knew, not so deep down, that McFuzz was not life-partner material. At least not then. And the Baron was. Or so I thought.

You may notice that “the couch trip” also contains on of the very few (maybe two or three total) comments McFuzz ever made on this site. I VERY HIGHLY doubt you will EVER see a comment from the Baron. Which is why I feel so comfortable using this lovely little blog in times of journaling need.

NaBloPoMo – Day 30, Post 1

I can’t believe it’s the last day of November.

I completed NaBloPoMo. Granted, it was primarily just whining about my poor broken heart, but I managed to find enough focus to get the thoughts into my blog on days when I couldn’t even get a bite of food into my mouth.

Novemeber also marks the first full calendar month Baronless. I’m starting to get past the obsessive thoughts about what we would have been doing if we were still together, or what we were doing this time of year last year or the year before, but all in all, the holiday season hasn’t been as bad as anticipated. For the most part, I’ve been able to avoid most of the holiday flurry and I have been able to stay in a normal day bubble.

I’m intending to continue to write daily, even though I don’t have the NaBloPoMo committment to keep me on task. But for my own sanity, I’m really going to try to focus on remembering that there is a whole world outside of this grief and maybe write a little bit about it.

To that end, I am beginning a writing group (only one other member currently, but we’re about to take off, I’m sure). I’m hoping for at least two meetings a month to bring each other inspiration and encouragement. I hope that this sweet little blog will be the beneficiary of some reclaimed creativity.

November, thank you.
December, look out.

NaBloPoMo – Day 29, Post 1

I’m still struggling with sleep. I have only had a hand full of nights with decent sleep in the past 7-1/2 weeks and most of them were sponsored by melatonin.

Ahhh…melatonin. The herb I love to hate.

I am usually groggy the day after a melatonin sleep and sometimes I feel a little checked out. It used to be completely worth the trade to just be able to stop the maddening processing upon which my brain insists.

But for the past few nights, the melatonin seems to have amplified that processing. I have been having the most vivid dreams about the Baron. These seem to be extensions of the dreams I was having right after the break up; the dreams in which I was searching frantically for him. The ones in which he was so relieved to be found.

Now the dreams are different. At first, he’s still happy to see me, although I’m not searching quite as frantically, but then he changes. He’s not happy to see me at all and he can’t understand why I was even looking for him.

Then he gets mad and asks me to leave. I start to sob, and that’s when I wake up. This morning, I was actually crying when I woke up.

I’m trying to decide now whether I should skip the melatonin and take my chances with not sleeping or risk it and see what happens next in the dream-saga.

I understand that my brain is trying to heal a trauma, but fuck am I tired of it.

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