Is it time for a road trip yet?

I'm not sure if my heart can withstand internet dating. I'm going to venture a guess and say that I don't think I will meet the guy that way. I'm not trashing it, I just have that feeling. I think it's good practice for me, though. I need to figure out how to deal with it all a little better- at a little more distance. I can't help getting my hopes up all the time, which is sending my emotions through more roller coasters than usual. Good grief.

Taking my lumps

Tonight I went to see a play with friends, and quite inadvertently ended up spending two hours looking at the girl who moved in with Chris and Ant the day after I moved out.

She was in the play in a minor part, and the weight on my chest is pain I couldn't bear then. Now it's leftovers: shit I don't want to eat again, but need to. She wasn't what I expected, but who could be? She also wasn't the reason my little family got torn apart, but she was the manifestation of it.

The play was hilarious, and it was good to hang out with friends, and I know you'll be disappointed to hear me take this perspective on it, but to hell with your timeline- I think this was exactly what this night was for. And I got a couple hours with friends afterwards to come down from this ridiculous intrusion. I could have chosen to go straight home and stew, but went for wings instead, and talked about art.

The earnest chorus member hovered between a derided and forgettable role in my brain, and settled into Patty's "one more girl on the stage." She's immaterial to me, but the foot on my chest is not. That is real and exhausting and painful, and it has to be felt to be let go of. AA and John Callahan say to sit still and hurt, and I don't see any other choice.

"I am done with my graceless heart
so tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart."

It brought me right back to the awful hurt of it- not the anxious churning in my stomach from when the tower was breaking apart- just the punch of acknowledgment to the breastbone that it was already rubble. It's amazing how physically that still hurts, long after I didn't want him back.

But that's why I'm here at my table at 2am, writing it out. Because even after this short unloading, that weight is lifted off my heart a bit, shared by my mind and my gut, and I can straighten out again. Now I feel tired like I should this late.

I'm not even mad at Chris, because every time I try to phrase that, it sounds petty and useless. I'm not mad at me, because it was unavoidable to love and inevitable to stop. It hurts to stop.

Bring your own bag

Last night I dreamt about walking Riley past the boundary of my apartment complex and into another neighborhood. It’s not horribly difficult to put that into context, considering that I had just spewed frustration to Tracy about these bastards yanking my rent up yet again.

So Riley and I are just beginning to wander among these darker, strange new buildings and we come across a school. It feels like Catoctin, but it’s probably like any elementary school. We’re walking up to the side, and some woman is pooping in a trash bag. I courteously look away to give her some privacy, like I do with Riley, and when she’s done, I look in the bag. It’s full of donated clothes for a thrift store, only with a turd on top now, so I pull the obligatory poop bag from my back pocket (Poop bags in my back pocket are so ubiquitous that they show up in my dreams.), and some other woman comes out of the school and gives me that teacher/mom/really good friend look that says, “What on earth are you doing?” I do the “Huh? But… Well,” and then I understand that:

1)      I see picking up my dog’s poop as my civic doody, but I am seriously overstepping my obligations.

2)      Nobody is going to want anything else in this bag now.

3)      I had really good autopilot intentions, but I have missed the bigger, more important point.

My friends just bought a house, and I went over there Sunday to help them paint. I tested my blood sugar and went to give myself a shot, and another painting volunteer became audibly upset. “Oh my god… I can’t handle it. You’re actually going to do that. I can’t look.”

I was surprised. I just watched this girl play full tackle football the night before. She’s an offensive guard. That is way more painful and impressive to watch than what I’m doing. I continued on with my shot and said as much to her. My friend Cristine immediately pointed out that this girl has about five piercings in her face. How can she have all those and be grossed out by an insulin syringe?

How did I miss that?

Sometimes, when things like this happen, I think sadly to myself: I’ll never be a detective.

Nevada Storm

I'm out in Dayton watching my friends play full tackle football. Cristine recovered a fumble by the other team, and Kristen- the quarterback- is a regular badass.

The last time I saw a game was two years ago, and it's nice to see that the team has probably doubled. There's a pretty good crowd here, too. Right now they're behind, but they are playing Sacramento- a bigger and more established team. That's who beat them two years ago, but the Storm has been practicing (in a warehouse with concrete floors).

I just have to point out what stands out to me- look how beautiful this place is.

Go Storm!

This Upended

I've been feeling very fragile lately, and I'm trying to figure out why. I'm sure it's a good thing in limited doses. I know I feel lonely, which is expected, and surely vulnerability comes with that.

Friendships are deepening, and that feels wonderful, but they all still feel far away. Maybe I'm still recovering from having another half. Ten years is too long to just be a girlfriend.

I'm amazed at a lot of things that went on- a lot of things I endured, things I did, things I wore. The most interesting, sad, and surprising thing I have learned while trying to improve my wardrobe is that I just could not SEE myself. It takes numerous, active attempts to shake off the delusions and see what's really there. Learning what fits, for example. It took multiple shirts for Lena to show me where the sleeves started versus where my shoulders were. I see how it looks on the hanger, not how it looks on me. This reminds me of the mindfulness class, where I learned why I cannot sit still- it is not comfortable to sit still. I suppose I don't like what I see and therefore substitute a nicer image. Interesting how I can torture myself with unpleasant ideas that I can do nothing about, but ignore what I can change.

Lena also taught me that there are great shirts that looks better on somebody else- tell me that advice doesn't have wide applications. She also relayed to me the importance of trying things on, which means I get to practice, and practice, and practice. I can see it better now, and the results are interesting. I consult Tracy for approval many mornings, but more and more days, I feel like I'm finding the style I have always wanted. I am such a late bloomer.

I'm going to re-sign my lease. I took some time to calm down before talking to them, and today I asked my questions politely. I was offered carpet cleaning or minor upgrades, so that's nice. It's either spring or the yearly lease debate that makes me antsy, but I feel ready to change some things up- in my apartment, yes, and everywhere else.

Nest Eggs

Happy Easter!

Today I started out all pissed off when I found out the price went up on the washer and dryer in my building. This, in addition to my annual rent increase, did not make me happy. I had to put on real clothes, go out, and find an open store on Easter Sunday to get the one frigging quarter I needed to finish my laundry. GAAAGGHHH!

But.

I got the stupid quarter, I have clothes for the week, I took Miss Riley to PetSmart, made lunch, cleaned my place, talked to the fam, drank a Diet Coke, finished an audiobook, boiled eggs, dyed eggs, hid eggs. That was Dad's great idea. Facebook friends are having fun looking, and you can too! What's awesome is that all evening, no one has ruined the game.

I got to celebrate Easter in a neat way this year. I also made a little hamsteak, some fancy mac n cheese, and broccoli, so that felt very Eastery too. Then I watched Thief, and soon I will get ready for bed. This Sunday started out poopy, but I'm not sure if it's possible to feel more content at this moment.

I've been kind of cranky lately- feeling like the things I want will always be out of reach. Even if I know better, I can't help feeling that way sometimes. The accomplishments feel small compared with the anxiety they hold when they are still tasks to be completed. Mom stopped to acknowledge two important ones today, and I see that I have got to celebrate them- treat them like the big deal they are. In honor of that, here's a big one: on Thursday, I went to the dentist... with dental insurance... that I paid for.

I don't think I have ever done that, unless you count the Air Force, which I don't. If that's not enough- while I was in the chair, I was informed that I needed more than they'd estimated, and my copay would be double. I was able to tell them no problem- proceed as necessary. Clearly, things are getting better financially. I will get where I want to, and come up with new, more extravagant goals. In the meantime, I will try harder to remember that this isn't bad, and it's not just good- it's actually pretty awesome.

That's right.

Another friend who did not come asked for pictures of dinner. We sent him this.