Archive for August, 2014

You're Almost There

You’re almost there…

“But it’s over now. It must have been good, but I lost it somehow. It must have been love, but it’s over now. From the moment we touched, ’til the time had run out…”

This past Monday night I severed a tie that was seemingly unconditional and as eternal as a sapphire would have you believe. Earlier, I had learned that my comic idol, Robin Williams, had reportedly killed himself that morning. Both of which happened while I was in San Diego saying goodbye to my second family who have welcomed me into their lives for the last six years, who were now moving to Washington on military orders. Any of those, individually, would make one hellacious day. All three together? I’m surprised I made it through the day without a psychotic break. And afterwards I still drove two hours home to Los Angeles and the Comedy Store to drink a shot to the dearly departed.

But it’s that first one that cuts me to the quick the deepest. Fifteen years. Fifteen years of hoping and truly believing that the fantasy in my head and in my heart was to come to pass – someday. More than half of my adult life I thought things would work out a certain way with a certain man, so I allowed myself to be misled, mostly by my own wishful thinking and delusions of grandeur. This relationship was my everything and I allowed it to consume me. Most of how I live my day-to-day is based on the huge influence he has been to my life. I like certain things because of him, I dislike certain things because of him, but mostly I hurt myself because of him. He was always more important to me than I ever was to myself. I enabled him in his own addictions and he enabled me in my addiction to him. What we thought was symbiotic and mutually beneficial was parasitic instead.

He’s known all along that I loved him and that I’ve been in love with him for more than half the time we’ve known each other. And I’ve always known that he loves me, but he’s not in love with me – never has been, in fact. And I never cared. I did know however, that it wasn’t anything against me (which kept hope alive)… it was that he wasn’t going to get involved with anyone seriously while he was still in the military. When he retired, he could give 100% to family. He had always encouraged me not to wait for him and not to pass up happiness with someone else, if I ever found it. The few times I thought I “met someone else” and was happy, he was genuinely happy for me but the relationship would fail at some point and my heart would fall back in love with him with the greatest of ease.

Through the years, what little he could give me was always good enough for me. I took anything he would give me and somehow my hope would thrive off of it. That was until mid-October 2010 when I had to stop our physical relationship, because I was just not getting what I needed from him emotionally anymore due to other life events he experienced. I thought I needed time away from him and I thought I could do it because it killed me that I rarely saw him anymore due to work and living arrangements (“You know I love you, but I’m In Too Deep,” as Genesis put it so succinctly). Unbeknownst to me, this is when the relationship became an unseen cancer that would grow untreated for years. The stages of grief came and oscillated from anger and depression to bargaining and denial – never acceptance. That lasted only 3 months until in a drunken stupor I called him on Christmas Eve at midnight in tears because I missed him so much I could have died. We began a short lived Christmas morning tradition of having breakfast together. We were friends again – the best of friends, in fact, which we had been all along. Nothing more and certainly nothing less, except still being just friends without benefits. I still felt in my heart and soul that my someday would come. That one day he would wake up and realize that I was The One and that he couldn’t live without me. I relied on someday, as movies and love songs have raised me to think… I always felt it was just around the corner, like in the song Almost Paradisealmost being the operative word. I even have a saved fortune cookie that reads “You’re almost there.” It’s astonishing how much faith I have put into those three words over the years. I was always Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

I have always known that I need to work on myself; I’m not my own person, I tend to have low self-esteem and I live my life based on the opinions of others. I see a psychologist and a psychiatrist for my depression and anxiety and have been slowly but surely working on psycho-analysis trying to better my mental health, my self-image and my behavior. I thought I would have the time to do that, to catch up to his progress. There was a time when this man needed me, but that time passed long ago. He’s made so many positive changes in his life in the last four years that he is basically a new person. I’ve always seen him as My Hero and then also as a role model – the whole package. I assumed that when I changed for the better that someday we would come at the relationship again and finally have our time, being two grown-ups who were ready for that kind of relationship as we knew who we were and that we were no longer living co-dependent lives.

Four abstaining (from each other that is) years later, we were still best of friends, but I always wanted more and I always expected more to come. Until the day I had dreaded for fourteen and a half years came to pass; early spring 2014 he told me he’d started seeing someone and that it had just kind of happened. The parallels in their lives eerily just made sense. She too had planned to focus on career and to not get into a relationship if it was to disrupt that plan in any way. Now that they are both on the cusp of retirement, in the same age bracket, and work together – everything just started falling into place and they both couldn’t believe it, but they were beginning to have feelings for each other. It was a perfect storm of heart-wrenching devastation to me. It was then that I was certain that I was still in love with him and that I will always love him and that it was quite likely that I could no longer be friends with him. The cancer that was this relationship had hit stage 4 and it was terminal. But to hear him speak with such excitement and awe of something he had never really known before started to fill me with joy and I thought maybe, just maybe I can be happy for him and still be his friend.

Four months went by with less than a handful of texts, as he was away on trainings, and all the while my mind transitioned from almost accepting that “the love of my life had found the one, and that it wasn’t me” to realizing I could no longer put myself at his mercy, my delusions needed to stop, and that I needed to face reality. This relationship is and always has been toxic and I knew I could no longer use Band-Aids to cover the small hurts him or I caused my psyche over the years – it was time to amputate the cancer.

Monday night, as we sat on the patio of Panera Bread, I bided my time while we caught up with each other as we usually did, still unsure if I had the fortitude to do what I had to do. Finally, it was time to bring it up. And somehow I did. We’d had this talk before, about four years before, but I knew this would not be quite the same. That one ended with him thinking that, after I felt better, that we would always be the best of friends, playing with each other’s kids and always being there for each other. This one was not dissimilar, but I knew there was a permanence in the words I spoke to him. I told him that I did want him to be happy, but that I didn’t want to know about it – it would hurt me too much to know that someone else made him happier than I ever could. I do want him to be happy, but not to my detriment, and the only solution to that was to never know about it. And severing our friendship would ensure that. Or at least that’s what I am hoping. So through tears I realized the truth in the words I was saying to him: that I would not be at his pinning ceremony, I would not be at his retirement ceremony, and most assuredly I would not be at his wedding. All events at which I always thought I would stand next to him as I always have. The reality of that still brings tears to my eyes (and will continue to do so, no doubt, for some time) while I type this and listen to my Spotify playlist “Love Exsanguinated.”

Saying goodbye to the man I love, is one of the hardest and shittiest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. Time After Time I composed myself, but when he realized it was not just the loss of him, but also how it tied into my loss of my job in the Navy and the loss of my dreams and fantasies that had grown over the years, he began to understand. It is all just too much for me, I’ve got to be true to myself. I was crushed by the tears I wiped from his face as I hugged him for the last time. It was so hard to let him go from my arms, but when I watched him head around the corner to his car, I got into mine. I sat there crying for ten minutes before the tears eased to the point that I could see to drive. And I left, sobbing on and off, on cruise-control, up 5 North to Los Angeles.

In time, I know that I will slowly feel less and less of a connection with him and perhaps even be able to smile when thinking back to all the good times that fifteen years of best-friendship brings without crying and without resentment in my heart. I dread the day he becomes just “Somebody That I Used To Know.” Fifteen years of laughs and references and inside jokes… It’s hard to foresee a friendship like that being formed again. The pain that comes with that thought is Sobering. But for now, I feel the Schism that has probably always been between us.

The stages of grief begin all over again without the pressure of some unforeseen future where I will be able to be friends with him afterwards. Granted, it’s happened with other exes that one day it’s no big deal and we can be friends again, but I cannot guarantee that will happen, nor can I hope for it. In fact I need to stop hoping for anything. Hope has never helped me produce results, it has only ever set me up for failure. If I want something, nothing short of actually doing something will change a thing. “I need to know how to live my life as it’s meant to be.” Wishing and hoping and fantasizing and dreaming have gotten me nowhere. Just like I’ve heard from him for years – the fantasy is always better than the reality. So Goodbye, Yellow Brick Road. It’s time I work on those dreams and goals that only pertain to me and not others, whom I have no control over, born out of fiction and fairytales.

“And so, Castles Made of Sand melt into the sea, eventually.”

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I NEED A BREAK

Who’da thunk 21 accumulative days of 2 trips in one month would be such an exhausting vacation? I always feel like a need a vacation from my vacation. Is that everyone? Or do I just overdo everything I set before myself.

Texas was fun but short and also hectic. It’s so strange to have the perfect storm of anxiety, overwhelming socialization, not enough time and too many activities to cram into 5 days. Great seeing my friend and her husband that I haven’t seen since their wedding 2 years ago. And being introduced to the music of the live band they had, The Zydeco Dots, was awesome. I felt Creole down to my soul. [Note to self: Must go back to NOLA someday] I even got to play the accordion, which I didn’t know I could figure out so quickly.

One of the greatest things that happened though? I slept. I slept for hours on a floaty in my friends’ gorgeous pool, in the middle of the night with the stars overhead and nature all around me. I was the only one outside and it was glorious. Seems such a simple thing, that I’m surprised at how calming and unique the experience was.

I was back one day for two doctors’ appointments before it was off to LAX once again…

I knew there was a reason why I only planned to be home in New York for 6 days. It was my 20th high School Reunion – the only reason I went back in the first place and it turned into a two week whirlwind adventure. Sadly, not nearly enough time was spent with old friends. Considering how much time I spent in New York and travelling, it almost seems all for naught over a four hour party where half the people I couldn’t place to save me life. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning and work our way winding to and fro.

As the door was closing on my plane from Los Angeles, before we’ve even gotten the announcement to turn off all electronic devices, I received a text from Southwest Airlines informing me that the next leg of my flight from Atlanta to LaGuardia has been cancelled. I asked the flight attendant what that meant since I have never had that happen before and she asked me if I wanted to get off the plane. I declined as she had no helpful information other than going to the kiosk at C16 when we arrived in Atlanta and ask what was up with the cancellation. I slept for shit on the plane and having stayed up all night out of trip anxiety which is all too common for me I was miserable and in pain from my Fibromyalgia and god only knows what other maladies lurking around the dark corners of my mind. When I got to Atlanta, “C16” informed me of a huge storm in NYC and that not just mine, but ALL flights into LaGuardia had been cancelled and everyone and their brother was getting replacement flights. There was no way for me to get even close to the city within the next 24 hours and I stumbled around for a couple hours trying to figure out what to do and where I could go and how I would get to NY once I got there. I thought about Boston where another classmate going to the Reunion lived but unfortunately she had already gotten to New York to be with her family. I then thought about going to Louisville, KY to visit an old Navy friend of mine, but she had to work and was unable to get out of it with such short notice. My last thought was Baltimore. I knew another high school buddy who either lived in Baltimore of Washington DC (couldn’t remember at the time) might be able to pick me up and drop me back off at the airport the next day. I had already talked to her a few weeks prior about going to the Reunion and she said she probably wouldn’t go, as her family had planned a trip to Myrtle Beach at the same time frame.

When I reached her she said that she would of course pick me up but why not just head up with her two mornings later as she was driving up for the Reunion. I was thrilled that she was going to be able to make it and thought what a perfect opportunity to see her family I hadn’t seen in years. She had to work the next day so I would have the whole day to myself and I had an “A-ha” moment. What if I drove her to work and then borrowed her car to drive to Richmond, VA (which wasn’t all that far away) to see family that I hadn’t seen since late fall of 2000 when I got out of the Navy. As luck would have it that idea had even better merit when she told me she was working in Fredericksburg, VA almost half way to Richmond and of course I could borrow her car. I was elated.

I got to see my cousins and their children, my aunt and uncle, and my grandfather on my father’s side. It was wonderful! I even sat down and went over some Ancestry.com entries with them, as that is a huge hobby of mine.

The next day my friend and I drove up to Upstate New York just in time for the reunion and my nerves were shot. I was so scared/nervous/paranoid about my swiss-cheesery brain not remembering people I knew I should. Within a couple hours my anxiety was ebbing and I felt like I was finally getting into the groove of the evening just as it was winding down. But of course. I know that the feelings I felt that night will have to be dissected with my therapist later this week. Insecurities and all… Maybe I need to up my meds. Just sayin’. At least it wasn’t nearly as bad as I was fearing; Grosse Point Blank and Romy & Michelle weren’t the best study guides. Facebook on the other hand, helped greatly. Interacting with old friends and looking at their photos, getting to re-know them and learn of their families is one of the only reasons that I felt comfortable around them at all.

Two days later I was at a huge family Pig Roast and saw nearly my entire living family plus some on my step-father’s side. Some of them I had not seen in 15-20 years. It reminded me of younger days when we would gather at one of their houses for Thanksgiving or when we would sit around a large room and do our white elephant present game at Christmas. It’s nostalgic memories such as this that I need help controlling. I feel as though I live in the past. Not only that I live there, but that I dwell on the feelings I had there and then and I create this sense of longing and yearning for days that will never be again.

I got to see more friends and family over the next few days and it was overwhelmingly wonderful and oh so close to being too much of a good thing. As I write this in the quiet of my apartment, I realize other than going out for small necessities, I have basically hermited myself away and truly enjoy being a home-body and continuing my watching schedule of The Twilight Zone and House, M.D.

I have started drawing again, which is great. And writing – evidently. I need to also work on some stand-up and get back into doing mics. Much like not working out I notice the longer I go without doing it, the less likely I am to keep doing it.

Some of this might seem a bit rambling, not to mention a bit long, but nobody said a blog about Depression, Anxiety, Fibromyalgia, Tension headaches and the like would always be full of unicorns and glitter. Although I do like Unicorns. And glitter.

…oh look! A butterfly!