We learn things, in such short spans of time- about ourselves and our true desires.

Sometimes, I miss him. The loudness of it all pounded through my brain in the beginning, and now it’s almost like an infrequent, low buzz. It hits when I see the strangest of things, and reminds me of who I was.

I will always long to understand, but for some questions, answers will never exist. In that, lies life.

It has almost been a month, and as I contemplated over the weekend- the vastness of change, my ideas and former dreams- like skins I’ve shed- lost… I also gained.

I have done more in the last month than I have done in years. I stopped saying the word, “No.” And started listening to those around me. I joined a softball team, (and didn’t strike out- not once!) I swam in a pool, (which most of you know is as taboo for me as it gets.) I laughed so hard publically, people turned around and stared. I wept in people’s arms I barely knew, and I heard, “Mommy, you are my favorite,” out of my daughter’s sweet mouth. I stopped saying no to everything that I’ve been holding back, and it’s been a ride.

I’ve met people, so many wonderful people. People that kindly still email, and I try to get back to- and they are incredbly patient. (Thank you.) I met N; whose longing to love someone, for the first time in my adult life- I have found to surpass mine. He wanted more than I could give, and the feeling of knowing I didn’t have what he so wanted – left me feeling guilty and incredibly tortured. I saw myself in him- and perhaps, that’s what scared me the most. I met people who loved jazz, and musicals, and someone I’m able to help with a fall production. I met someone who’s turning into an amazing friend, and someone who I can’t imagine not meeting at all. Ava’s found daycare with a friend of mine, (all the pieces just fell into place, strangely-) and I even found a girl to hang out with- to boot. I think of him, in these moments- when I know I shouldn’t and I wish that the night I said, “I will become who I want to be- and you will miss me,” … I wish he had the foresight to see now. I wish I had the same vision to realize, that the moments which drive us to our knees are often the greatest moments of change. He told me once, “You’ll change, and you’ll be perfect for the next person you meet, it won’t be me, and that makes me sad.” He was right, because, I met myself.

Work is keeping me occupied with thoughts of setting fire to anything red- but I’m managing. The home life has been somewhat- dull, and in that very state I’m happiest.

It’s strange, how everything happens when you’re indifferent. (Which- I always told myself is a terrible state to be in- but for now- I find indifference to be completely and utterly freeing.) I’m starting to see the more I pull away and focus on myself, the more people seem to dig that- which worries me. The more emotionally unavailable I become? The more people like to chase… and that should be outlawed. Maybe it’s the contentment I’ve found- who knows.

…Im falling asleep.

This is probably going to be offensive. I say this upfront, and maybe- you could stop reading now.

You know those stories that just pop into your head and you start telling them and you suddenly stop…. And think… Oh my god- this story is entirely inappropriate. How do you end it? “….andtheyputtheirclothesonandwenttochurch..theend!” Because that never works. People look at you like you’re nuts, and you start backpedaling… really- it’s a good thing to have foresight in these things.

I do not have that.

I wanted to sit down and write a well-worded love song to my form of birth control, because in all seriousness- it’s probably the favorite part of myself right now. I googled, “love song birth control,” and nothing came up, and by nothing came up? A weird song by some strange band and of course- Jesus’s love and our sinful bodies using birth control… blah. So- I thought… somewhere someone has to have written a giddy love note to the device/pill/method that they use so when they hold hands, or even thinking about someone, ‘in-that-way,’ they can’t get pregnant. (Because that’s how my mom still tells me baby’s happen- like I don’t know.)

So, to my parents and everyone shaking their heads at this moment- you have my sincerest apologies. But I have written a love song to someone very special in my life- someone, that because I’m not a freak who personifies things with weird names… doesn’t have a name. (And it’s probably better. Because I might call it ‘thecoolestthingevah.’)

Dearest Coolest-thing-ever-formed-by-a-man-next-to-chocolate-covered-bacon,

I love you. I love you more than words could ever express. I love that when I feel the slight tug, when most months I’m rolling my eyes? I sigh, a heavy, happy sigh, like sleeping in on a Sunday Morning, and I rejoice. You have kept me happily uninvolved with the disgusting thing I shall call, ‘pregnancy,’ for yet, another month. You don’t work overtime, and I try not to put too much pressure on you to ‘step up to the plate.’ I’m fairly librarian-like. I learned once, and I try to cross my legs at my ankles. But you? You afford me freedoms I’ve never known. I hold hands with men! I sit next to phantom-hotness-geek-guy, (PHGG,) on the bus, and I do not fear his strength!

Love of my sexual life, we’ve been through these recent weeks together, and I want you to know that for all you’ve done, and the reassurance you have given me- I owe you- like big time. You deserve parades in your honor, and singing telegrams of thanks. You used your mystical and magical powers, and have freed me from someone who might have used his evil lure of manhood and Stenson, (which totally reaks- btw,) to save me. You, are my superhero, birth control. There are few times in my life when I can actually utter the words, ‘Holy Shit. What? What is ….. oooooooooooo. (thankgod.)” in the woman’s bathroom and ANYONE who’s ever gotten their period magically when they did the prayer KNOWS.

Dear God.

Dude– I know. I know! Why, right? Here’s the thing- I liked him, he had a cool car… I didn’t mind the backhair… I mean- he’s your kid, right? Don’t judge me, or like… and stuff. Maybe, umm- this once? (Again?) You could like totally just poof- make my period come so I don’t have to do the whole awkward phone call thing, where we already broke up but like- waytogoKate’suterus, waytodowhatyou’resupposedtodo. Because that’s really, really awkward, and I’m totally not really wanting that right now. Remember how in highschool, when I said that if you could make that hickey go away, I’d totally ace my tests and sing in church more? Well– you kinda owe me for that one. My mom- (do you remember how pissed she was? No? …I do.) And I know- you’ve like, totally got SO MUCH on your plate- starving kids, dying pets, disease, war, and Clay Aiken getting someone pregnant- I mean… who knew, right? So– maybe… you could point your finger and make my fallopian tubes the epitome of holiness again. K? I’ll like, help homeless people and donate to good causes. I’ll totally NEVER kiss a guy again. Promise. PinkySwear. (Are you even still listening?) Cool. Thanks, Dude.  

We should totally hang out- I’ll grab us coffee. We’ll chat, and you can sit a little taller. I’ll never take you for granted… promise.

B.F.F.

All my thanks,

The girl who owns the uterus.

You can hear the soft hum of the transistor radio from here. You lay in a ditch as the sun beats down over your helmet. It’s been weeks of war, you’re famished for what you had at home, but you must win, so on your belly you crawl.

The sun is fading as you come upon a house with the enemy’s markings all around. This must have been his digs, you swear you can smell his scent- feel his footprints. You’re in army gear, you have your ears perked for ANYTHING. Any bit of information that would make you get the inside look, and defeat. You’re taking mental notes of everything you’ve seen, leaving no trail behind you, trying to move closer to the catch. You’re dirty, and exhausted- and the longing to not want to care anymore is extreme. You believed someone else’s words to get here, and you let all the ‘evidence’ build up, and sadly- it’s all evidence that amounts to nothing. You stand up, you shrug your shoulders and you take off your helmet. No one’s shot at you, you realize. There’s been no bullets flying over your head, only one radio you stole from the garage, and a few people who said, “I know he probably did this.” And you? Feel like, a –total- idiot.

My friend Seanathon recently told me a story I hope he doesn’t share. He had a tough breakup with his girlfriend at the time and in angry words she told him how she had done a certain sexual act with someone else. He was devastated. Seanathon’s not one to give out personal stories, so I know when one comes? It’s usually well-prepared-gold. It’s usually of deep meaning. “Do not go searching for the things that hurt you further, no matter if someone else finds it, or you stumble across enemy lines- cut the cord, and let it go.” I know, a lot of us do this. We break up with someone and especially when there’s a huge amount of doubt and dishonesty that occurred in the relationship, nothing seems out of the question. Suddenly because you can’t trust him, he screwed the entire female lacrosse team. Suddenly, he’s the one laughing when you point something out and you take another look and shake your head… circumstantial evidence- that amounts to nothing.

We swap stories like battle wounds, don’t we? Someone emailed me from GMG and talked about how she caught her ex in bed with another guy, and he asked her to join. I can’t even imagine the balls, (all four of them,) it took to look his devastated girlfriend in the face and ask her to buy-in to his cheating. The sadder thing was, is that she did and years later she still feels the pain of doing something she knows that would do nothing but hurt her. She thought that maybe by accepting this side of him, he’d grow to love her more. He did, for a while. But she grew less to herself. This is what happens when we compromise who we are for someone else, or winning with them.

I’m convinced that maybe, someday- I’ll get it right. I won’t have to to look back the next morning, with a revenge-induced-hangover, and think, “why the hell did I let myself get pulled into that last night?” I bought in, and that was my responsibility. I looked, and that was my responsibility.

Sometimes, we put ourselves on our knees for others. (We know the outcome of this.) Other times, we put ourselves on our knees for no one but US. The outcome here- is the same. Martyrdom benefits no one. We have plenty of other things we could be doing, and that I could have been doing last night instead of reading something and allowing myself to become  incoherently depressed. My favorite guy even consoled me.

The best things in our lives are those that step up when we lose track. They come over to your former house and pack up while you sit at the kitchen table crying so hard that you ruin your contacts. They kiss you and hug you and tell you that you’re the best mommy in the world, (despite forgetting sunblock at the park.) They call you and remind you of your drive, and intelligence. And sometimes- they hold you, even a year after you swore to god if you saw them again you’d rip their eyeballs our and play hockey with them- thank god you didn’t- because you needed those eyes to show you that you were unforgettable, and they still cared. And out of all of these, the relationships that encourage, empower, and articulate who you are and who they know you can be- affection aside- the most important relationship we have, is with ourselves. (How many times have we heard this?) We take ourselves for granted, and we throw our emotions around and assume we’ll just clean it up later, without any thought to how it’ll make us feel then- we take for granted that things do matter, and the pain we cause ourselves cuts deepest of all.

You can convince yourself to move on, and mostly- you do. You start dating again, and you kiss someone else for the first time in a moment of thrill and regret, realizing- the touch of their lips on yours will never be the last. (So you take off your shirt too- because really while we at it?) … J (laugh with me.. this is funny.)

But in all seriousness, you move without moving. And suddenly the surprise of finding people that want to call when they say they will, and want commitment, scares the SHIT out of you. It’s like going from a deserted island to a convention of trekkies. They seem foreign and strange, and you wonder what kind of speak they will hit you with- or what technology they’ll pull out that’ll lure you. Your ears are still perked, and this isn’t always a good thing. Your fighting back for the very things you wanted, and you have NO IDEA why. Suddenly people are calling and you’re thinking it’s all just a little too much- more than you wanted- and with everyone around, you still feel lonely. I describe this as sabotage. You use yourself as a weapon, if he doesn’t want you? How could anyone possibly want you, right? And so.. you talk more, and you kiss more, you think more and you FEEL more. You push and pull, and suddenly a text goodnight seems a little less strange, and you take more nights alone- and you stop feeling like everyone is out to ninja-kick you. But you’re not sure.

And that, in all honesty? Is where I am. Sometimes, I’ve kept the people that have been the worst out of fear of not having them at all, and the good ones? I immediately try to find something wrong with- because, I’m probably somewhat unstable and mentally handicapped when it comes to decent men. I don’t think this can be perfected with, ‘the right guy.’ Because seriously? They’ve all seemed like decent guys, (even the one who only hung out with 18 year old girls.) His issues were front and center, so I thought- there must be little under the surface- I became comfortable with blinding, horrific, trainwreck issues, (as long as I could see them.) Every guy says, “I’m not him, baby!” And that’s epically true- they never are. But those who immediately go into defense mode usually have something to prove- maybe they’re the male version of me- maybe there are two kinds of people in the world: Those that have been ninja-kicked, and those that have not. Either way, at this age- most of us have experienced the evilness of a huge breakup. We seem to accept the wrong, and hide the good. We’re always expecting a hail-mary-pass in the last quarter to hit us in the face. And I’m convinced that if you weren’t on the field- that wouldn’t happen- but getting off the playing field? Is something I also completely SUCK at. I’ve been turning down second and third dates lately, and turning down a vacation request, (no joke.) Because I want this time, even if it’s week by week- to figure myself out. I don’t see the benefit of finding another hand to hold right now when I’m waiting for the the one behind their back to be holding a machete. It’s not about meeting the right one- it’s about trusting your instincts again- no one can prove that for you.