Tag Archives: break-ups

5 Steps to Self-Care

22 Aug

It has been a rough week (I am broken record!)

Last Friday, dangerous situation. Monday, Lovely said she wanted me out of her life. Monday night– literally spent all night in tears like some kind of very sad character that rocks back in forth in the corner. Depresso. I actually ended up calling the suicide hotline for an hour at 3 am after I couldn’t stop crying. It was a little surreal– but I was concerned with the combo of not wanting to exist and how extremely devastated I was with the idea of not making a future work with Lovely– I had started to make plans for things I wanted to talk to her about for a future together, but was waiting for her to get back from *France. HOWEVER, as we know, I was too late. Talking to the hotline was odd because of my interests, I very well could have been on the other side of the line. I didn’t want to worry or burden my loved ones with my concern and this neutrality towards stopping moving forward to live another 60 years. That sounds concerning, and would likely just cause worry and not be all that helpful.

Yesterday, I hadn’t been eating or drinking water for really the last few days, and ended up actually passing out. At the same time my dog was throwing up for 24 hours, I was actually suffering from heat exhaustion and extreme dehydration, and I also was getting sick.

How to Care For Yourself And Not Die 

Step 1– I have to eat and drink things, or it will not be good for me. Step one in healthy self-care!

Step 2– Focus on people who will be constant in your life. I think that is part of the struggle with Lovely, is that she knew me and I knew her– and though those are simple words, once you have that it is literally like tearing apart your heart if you lose it.

I talked to my sister today. I haven’t talked to her since Friday– and when I told her all the happenings of the last few days, she asked why I hadn’t called her! I still think of her as my little sister, but she has become a woman of such strength and grace. We are incredibly different, but she is a big reason why I have developed the courage to think about coming out to the rest of my (let’s start with immediate!) family. She loves me, and it is evident. She is kind. And most of all, we know each other and there is a genuineness to our relationship that only comes with baring your souls to one another– an incredibly vulnerable thing to do.

Part of my despair has been building this kind of relationship only to have left or leave these people in different parts of the world. Having such a relationship and it being time-limited is literally almost unbearable. This is why people get married, or find partners. Having a “Witness” to your life and witnessing another’s, and being loved anyhow is the only true cure to the epidemic of loneliness.

Lovely is/was one of those relationships– and in fact, the primary person I have loved for over a year. But as I said, she doesn’t want to have that intimate of a relationship any longer. She doesn’t see herself loving me ever again. I don’t know if I will recover romantically, but I know I will not live if I cannot at least make it through the day. Logically I recognize that. I saw that yesterday– I felt my lower back pain, the muscle cramps, the dizziness. I felt my mind getting fuzzy. It is almost like my mind and heart are separate beings– my heart saying: how can you eat? how can you drink? how can you move with this piece you chose to make yourself and have then had torn away by your own cowardice? and my mind saying: “GET UP BAMBI (or is it bambie?) GET UP. GO get yourself a fucking glass of water.”

Loving my sister, working on that relationship, working on being able to disclose each bit of who I am and knowing she will be a constant is part of what I need to remember. The silver linings of building these relationships throughout the years is that in addition to it being painful to be physically separated from those people is the fact that there are incredibly precious relationships strewn about that I intend to have my entire life. Aside: try not let your dog get poisoned the same night your ex-girlfriend tells you not to talk to her anymore.

Step 3– Distraction. Maybe not to the extent of what I did last week– but maybe I say yes to those dates. Just to go on dates. Meet new people. Throw myself into my future. Working out. Painting. Writing. Things that make me feel centered and myself.

Step 4– No sad things at all at all. I have a folder and a box where I’ve kept any notes from Lovely, cards she’s sent me, things that remind me of trips together. You know– I am not ruling out the possibility that someday, if it is meant to be, maybe she might choose to forgive me and maybe be together again. Therefore I keep this box. I’ve kept the birthday present box I collected for her of this and that she would love. A CD of songs I made her. A book she would love. Things for her dogs (matching!) A white and rose gold simple ring. Things I didn’t send her, and now probably can’t because of my promise to let her decide. But I HAVE NOT read the cards again. I have not. Because if I did, I would end up in the corner rocking place again. ALSO I banned sad music. God, I walked into a coffee shop on Tuesday and stupid Adele and her “Never mind I’ll find someone like youuuu-oouuuu” was playing, and the cute waitress was like WTF is wrong with you. She actually gave me my coffee on the house because I was mumbling something about allergies and like swiping the snot from my face with my hand. Hot.

Step 5– Have a plan. I don’t have a plan. I don’t want to love anyone ever again. But I do want to come out to my parents. I will never not acknowledge how deep and powerful my feelings are if I have them. I will never not consider a future even if it is hard to see what it looks like at the time.

I do have some plans like: try and climb a mountain without dying and learn to kayak and visit my former best friend in *El Salvador, and maybe raise a child someday, and maybe marry a woman and be okay with it, and always talk to old people because I know what it feels like to have lived too long and it is very tiring.


Nostalgia, men, women, and hope

12 Aug

I am so prone to nostalgia, and it is a problem.

I cried on the phone to my sister today about how I wanted to come out to my parents, and talk to my mom about my heart-ache, and how unfair and mad I was that my relationships seemed invalid. I know that is awkward for her, because she has been dating her boyfriend for four years. I talked to my friend in Africa, Cassie*, about love and leaving and how tired I am of it. I am worried a bit, and not quite sure what to do. I am only 26, and I feel done. I’m over it. I don’t want to do it anymore, and that scares me. I am just so tired of investing in people and loving them and having them love me, and I feel like I just can’t do it anymore. It makes me feel numb– and back to the scary kinda wishing I just could stop existing type feelings. I don’t know what that means, and I tried to explain it to my sister– which I feel so bad for doing, because what a burden “Um… so I’m feeling like I just am tired and don’t really want to participate in ever baring my soul again/ ever loving anyone” right? She is 22 for goodness sakes.

I have felt this way traveling and experiencing and loving deeply and richly and I come to this conundrum: everything else is okay, in comparison. It works. It’s easier. It doesn’t hurt. But it pales in comparison really living– and thus the catch 22.

I always hate leaving, and I know that. I know it. But there are multiple issues at stake now. One is– I am afraid that in general my “bi-meter” (cute right?) is tipping more towards gals. I mostly am annoyed by men. Which sounds mean to categorize a whole sex as annoying– but men are so… simple. I don’t like being gawked at or hit on by men– and never really have. In fact, that is a super big turn off for me. When a guy has never talked to me in my life, and is suddenly all friendly– I’m like: it’s the boobs, right? It’s my particularly shiny hair. I get weird. The times I have fallen for guys is when they are super nerdy about their weird passions– THAT I like. Or like, when he heard me speak about mine, and then admires that passion. UNFORTUNATELY, I have found that at first, for guys, it is my clothes, hair, body that they like. Again not like in a mannnn I’m gorgeous way, but more like, I can dress this body if I want to. I don’t like it. I think all they want is what this body could do for them, and that makes me resentful. For not *seeing* me. Is that weird? It ISN’T insecurity because to be frank I could care less. It’s more like— disgust I guess that all they want is how I look and that is far from anything I really am. It makes me feel like the encounter is not genuine.

But women…. women want to know who I am. Why I’m here. Who I’ve loved, why, and what I want. So I have had this nibbling uncomfortable realization that I just am more comfortable (at least initially) with women. Which coupled with afore mentioned frustration with not being really known by my family, recent independence due to completing school stuff and finding job, and just the general openness and accepting nature of Denver— has made me reconsider what I want and what I deserve. I never thought I could justify coming out to my family because of how very much I love them, and how very much they would struggle with how I see love and what it can be. There are also just SO many gay/bi women here like EVERYWHERE and a lot of them seem like super strong amazing people who are actually interesting and not boring. I think that’s it… guys just seem boring sometimes. And not “fast processors.”

I thought I was trapped and just would never be able to tell them— but my life is mine, and I beginning to think NOT telling them is more toxic to me than I would have liked to compartmentalize. And then…. going down the road of telling them… it brings up a WHOLE BUNCH of stuff that I kind of thought was off limits and that I would never get to have. And then I get excited, like, maybe I can consider these things and still be me and marry all the parts of my life and maybe my family would still love me. But I feel like those thoughts just torture me more– so I don’t know if they are a good or a bad thing.

And in comparison to that, I suppose my nostalgia and heartache and desperate attempt at apathy are better than hoping for something. But there is this sneaking maybe, which hurts oh it hurts, because even a week later I feel more mine here.

Sad panda

18 Jul

Today is a sad day.

I miss my ex- girlfriend. We haven’t talked for over a week.

I know, I know. Pathetic you say. Er… a week? you say. It doesn’t seem like very long.

Well shut-up you, I miss her.

But no… I know that it is not long. For example– I haven’t talked to my best friend since her birthday which was about a month ago. But I think the difference is… a) I have the OPTION of talking to her like whenever b) I’m having coffee with her Friday c) I never liked her like that d) She wasn’t the first person I wanted to call all the time with all my stupid stuff and see how her day was and ask how she was and just cuddle with. Losing that for real sucks. But it has to, has to, has to be done. Or we’ll both be sad forever, and I could tell I kept making her sad even though I was happy with just having her in my life– I know sometimes 90 percent is worse than 0 percent, because you just want that extra 10 percent. Which I couldn’t give her. So now we have 0 because… I won’t keep hurting someone I love because I like having them in my life. I won’t do it. Ugh, so when I want to pick up the phone and cry and tell her I miss her, I try to remember that this is better.



“Protect your heart”

2 Jun

Something they always told us was to “protect our hearts”– like for any of you bachelorette aficionados (I mean… no… I’m not, but if I were…. there may have been the weird “guard and protect your heart” guy. Look it up.)

I talked with an old friend yesterday about how a lovely woman I met had extracted herself from the clutches of being in a cult, and my writing struck her. Scary, maybe?

The thing is– there is sometimes truth to the things that infuriate us. 

It is hard to have feelings. Duh. Common human experience, no? 

I have to wonder how you ever get over anyone you ever truly loved. 

Punched punched punched in the stomach.

I would say don’t think of them. Ever. I have done this and forced myself out of love. (Read: past situation– he had a girlfriend, I was a puppydog starry eyed opposite of realist.)

But we never had a real romantic relationship.

But then…. then there are the real connections I’ve (I almost said “you” my odd dissociative tendency I suppose) had.

And it still gathers in the bottom of my chest and inflates like a sadistic balloon hollowing out my insides until I have a hard time breathing. 

She, she, she. I have a heart attack like it is a casual thing you do. Drink your coffee. Brush your teeth.

I wonder if I will ever not have the pangs of missing her or missing what our lives could have been together. I try to close off my mind and wrestle away the thoughts (ugh thoughts). Does it get better? How long? 6 mo? A year?


(also since this was angsty— poetry blog angst if you’d like).

(ps– I actually would love real live strategies on how you’ve tried to get over people!)