2 Years of Evolution

So I was actually going to write this post back at the end of the May (around the 2 year break up anniversary), but then . . . I just got busy and it got pushed to the back burner and I ended up not getting around to it then.

But the more I've thought about it, the more I've realized that today—the first of July—is actually a more appropriate anniversary for this journey I've been on. Because, even though it was on May 25^th that Ex-Fiance told me he didn't think we should get married, that relationship didn't truly end—and I didn't truly start to focus on myself and getting better—until I moved back up to Flagstaff. And that happened two years ago today.

Honestly, it's hard to even know where to begin when I talk about this. I've changed so drastically since that day two years ago that I barely know how to put it into words. I've talked about it a lot on here, in bits and pieces, but summing it all up is a challenge.

The day that Ex-Fiance drove me to Flagstaff felt like the worst of my life. To say I was miserable would be a pretty major understatement. I remember the anxiety and numbness coming in waves: my stomach knotting up, palms sweating, heart racing, and then a sudden detachment, a sense of almost nothingness, like I was outside of my body and all around not a part of what was going on. I didn't want to be in Flagstaff; I kept thinking that there was no way I was ever going to get better in the place where my life had completely fallen apart. I kept thinking about my nephew and and saying goodbye to him and how awful that had been, and how bitter I was at being forced out of my hometown and away from my family. At the time I had a crappy job and really didn't know how I was going to survive financially. I knew I needed a full time job, but I also knew that I wasn't mentally well enough to hold down a full time job . . . and I wasn't going to be able to afford treatment without a full time job. (How's that for a vicious cycle?). I didn't have a car and I was dreading having to depend on the bus system. And on top of that I had just gotten dumped; I was with the man I loved, the man I had fully intended to spend the rest of my life with, the man I was supposed to have married just the day before, and I knew that at the end of the day he was going to leave. I remember that he stuck around for a few hours, and that I felt like I was going to throw up when he finally said he needed to get going. He kissed me and told me he loved me before he left; I stood on my porch and watched him drive away and wished that I was dead.

On that day my life just didn't make sense. I looked at it from all the angles I could, and it sucked from every single one. I don't think I'd ever felt more defeated than I did that day. My future—to me, at least—looked bleak. Very, very bleak.

Today, two years later, I am happier than I've ever been. And it was just a normal, busy day; I got up, went to work (at both jobs), and came home to Jerbs and my dogs. That's probably the best part about being mentally healthy—that the normal, uneventful, everyday kind of days are happy ones. When I was sick I hated being alive, hated having to live through every day, but now I'm truly engaged in my life and myself. It's such a good feeling.

I've come so far in two years. I got an amazing full time job, and I've been excelling at it for almost 18 months now. I feel like a lot of my personal growth has come from my job at MHC, for a lot of reasons. The financial stability has been great, and has led to a lot less anxiety about money. I've also been able to start getting my credit on track. Aside from that, I feel like I've become a lot more confident about myself since I started at MHC. I've taken on more responsibility there than I ever imagined I would; some of the things that have been added to my work load are things that, when I first started, I didn't think I could do or would want to do. But now, I'm pretty sure I could do anything that was asked of me at work; I'm very confident in my abilities. And the confidence that's come from everything I do at MHC is what let me to be sure I could handle a second job. And let me tell you that having two jobs makes me feel absolutely amazing.

It's also been a great experience to work with people who don't know me as being sick. My co-workers like me, and just think of me as me. And it's been nice to be looked at like a normal person, to have been able to make friends and just . . . I don't know, show people who I really am. When you think about it, my MHC co-workers are the first group of people who have ever met me without knowing anything about my mental health history. And I'm definitely not saying that I feel like other people in my life have been judgmental; I'm just saying that it's kind of nice to have people in my life who never saw me like that. They make me feel normal.

I've stopped overreacting to things. I feel like in the past, things that were pretty small and insignificant would make me freak out. Like changes in schedules or the store being out of something I needed or whatever. Those little things would just make me go ballistic and ruin my whole day. Now, those things just don't bother me. And even bigger things that happen don't bother me as much. Like the flat tire on my way to work last month. Old me would have lost my shit. I'd probably have cried and screamed and kicked my car. I wouldn't have had the money to pay for a tow or new tire and I'd have made Jerbs wake up and meet me so she could take care of it. I probably would have been so upset that I'd have called in to work because I wouldn't have been able to focus after freaking out. And then I'd have come home and thrown myself a huge pity party and thought about all the reasons my life sucked. But instead, I rolled my eyes, grumbled a little bit (because no one WANTS to get a flat tire on their way to work on a Monday morning), and took care of it. I joked with the tow truck driver, passed the time at the tire shop playing Angry Birds on my phone, and then went to work. And that was just that. It didn't even remotely ruin my day.

I've stopped focusing on other people's lives and letting them effect me. Before I dreaded reading Facebook statuses because every little thing just . . . I don't know, made me get all over analytical about my own life. Any time a friend would get engaged or get married or move or get a job or really succeed in any way, I'd have an anxiety attack about the fact that I wasn't succeeding. I felt like a failure and everyone else's successes just reinforced that over and over again. It got to points where I wouldn't be able to focus on anything else and would get far too wrapped up in other people's lives for my own good. Now when I hear about good things happening to other people on Facebook, I'm just happy for them. I'm doing well enough in my own life, at this point, that I can come back to it easily. And even more than that, I want to come back to it. No matter how well anyone I know is doing, I like my own life better. I used to dread the future but now I'm excited about it. I see so much potential in myself and I know I'm going to accomplish great things.

I've stopped feeling like I need to define myself and become more OK with all of the parts of my personality co-existing. Before I felt like I had to pick who I was and whenever I did anything I wondered about how that fit into this over arching definition of me. For example, I remember once I got to thinking that I hadn't done a sewing project in a while. So I decided I wanted to sew something. And what should have been as easy as picking a pattern, grabbing some fabric, and setting up my machine turned into a massive anxiety attack because I just didn't know if I was the type of person who sewed. Does that make sense? My head made it a far bigger thing than it was, I guess. I just didn't know how to reconcile all the things I enjoyed into one personality. It seems so ridiculous now but it was a very serious issue at the time. And now I really get that I can be all the things I like and it's all just part of who I am. I sew, I write, I read, I hike, I work out . . . and it's all fine. I can do all those things without worrying about what they mean.

In general, my mind just feels more mine than it used to. I feel like I didn't used to have a lot of control over where my thoughts would go and what they would do; it was to the point that I couldn't really read books or watch TV or movies because I never knew how they'd effect my thought process. It sounds crazy but it's true. I was so afraid of the anxiety or depression or mania or whatever might come up that I just avoided anything I hadn't read or seen before. And it's silly but I missed those things, and having them back is a small victory but a victory nonetheless.

One thing that I haven't talked much about on here is that I've found my faith since I started this journey two years ago. I used to be a staunch atheist. And while I don't think there's anything wrong with that at all, my views in that area have definitely shifted. I don't know that I'd call myself a Christian, and I haven't read the Bible, and I don't go to church, but I do believe in God. I feel like my faith is something I want to experience on my own terms; I pursue a personal relationship with a higher power and that's that. I will say that I pray a lot, and that I feel very blessed. I see God at work every day in my own life. Like I said, I don't talk about it much, because it's very private.

Right now, I really do love my life. It's not perfect but it's wonderful, and I'm happy. I love where I live, I love what I do, and I love who I am. I am aware, every single day, of how fortunate I am to have gotten where I am from where I was. And I am thankful, every single day, for everything that got me there: for God, for my family, for Jerbs, for my ex, and for my own determination.

It hasn't been an easy journey, but it has been a beautiful one. As much pain and struggle as there's been, I don't think I'd change a thing.

Buckling Down

I don't really know how to explain it, but I feel like the past two weeks have just been . . . weird.  I can't quite put my finger on why but things have felt off.  It's been frustrating and I'm really trying to shake it.

Some of it, I think, is the transition into summer weather.  That's never easy for me.  And I know I said I was going to enjoy summer this year (and that's still my plan) but lately the weather has been doing this awful thing where it's super nice and awesome during the week (y'know, on the days when I spend 9 hours a day cooped up in my office), and then as soon as the weekend hits we have ridiculous wind that basically makes it impossible to do anything outside.  Very, very annoying.  I've also been just this side of physically ill the past couple weeks.  Nothing horrible, just a dull headache--almost like the start of a sinus headache--pretty constantly, and my eyes have been hurting/itching quite a bit.  I really think it's allergies, which means there's nothing I can really do about it, because there aren't any allergy medications that won't knock me out.  And I obviously can't sleep through work.  And this off feeling has made me really hit or miss diet/workout wise, which I hate.  I can't even tell you the last time I really worked out.  That whole walking on my lunch breaks pretty much went out the window because lately I haven't been able to take more than a half hour for lunch.

But I feel like this week I need to suck it up, buckle down, and get my shit together.

I need to make an appointment with a psychiatrist.  That is, at the moment, a high priority.  Jerbs found some doctors that look promising down in Phoenix (because I can't find anyone closer), I just need to call them and set it up.

I need to quit eating fast food, both for the sake of my physical well being and my financial well being.  I need to drink less soda and more water.  I need to get better about meeting the calorie goal I have on MFP.  I'm also going to start weekly weigh ins instead of every two weeks, just to hold myself a little more accountable.

I need to work out.  I know that this week, between the allergy stuff and not drinking as much soda, I'm not going to get in any hardcore cardio.  My plan is to walk as much as I can during the day and then do a yoga workout every night before bed.

And speaking of going to bed, I need to go to bed at a reasonable hour (11ish) every night this week, wake up in time to get ready for work and make sure the dogs are all taken care of (Jerbs is out of town again), and not nap after work.

I need to write.  That's something that's been on my mind a lot lately--the fact that writing has always been my passion and my dream and that I've been completely ignoring it.  I feel like I've gotten so wrapped up in my serious, grown up job that I've lost sight of my more creative goals, and I need to get back to that.

Did I Mention I Had A Baby?

Obviously I didn't actually have a baby.

But last night I dreamt very, very vividly that I did.  And I wasn't happy about it.  I kept looking at the baby in my dream and wondering how in the hell it had happened, and then being overcome with anxiety at the thought of moving to Seattle with the baby (because apparently the baby's father and I had moving plans), and I think I asked my mom if she would keep it.  (I'm saying it because it wasn't clear in the dream whether it was a boy or a girl . . . the baby's dad in my dream was also not clear, just some random character my head invented . . . none of my exes, none of my guy friends).  In my dream I had apparently never mentioned my pregnancy or the fact that I gave birth on my blog, and I decided that I probably should, and I titled the dream post "Did I Mention I Had A Baby?".  

Weird.  So weird.  And so freaking vivid that I woke up at the very edge of a full on anxiety attack, and it took me a second to come back and remember that I am childless, at which point I was just immensely relieved.

I blame this on the blog I was reading just before I went to bed.

In other news, I have had a lovely 3 day weekend.  I've made a lot of progress on my massive cleaning/organizing plan for the apartment and it's starting to look less cluttered and disorganized now.  I also haven't worn real pants or brushed my hair since Friday.  Glorious.

Last week wasn't great.  I went on kind of a food bender last week.  It was bad.  I think it had a lot to do with my sleep schedule, which was effed up all week long.  Last Sunday night I couldn't sleep, and tossed and turned until almost 3 AM, which of course led to a nap after work, which led to staying up too late again, and so on and so forth.  So I was basically tired all week.  And then there was all the stress and whatnot at work, and in my head the best cure for stress is CALORIES so . . . yeah.  Failure all around last week.

So I'm looking forward to this week, because tomorrow is already Tuesday, and Friday is payday, and since I ate so much fast food last week I still have a shit load of groceries left, so I'm good for this week.  I'm confident I'm going to kick ass food/fitness wise this week.

Also, my whole house is clean.  Which is always a good way to start the week.

And I'm feeling better about the work stuff I talked about last time I posted.  I'm actually starting to get really excited about moving to my office.  It'll be a nice change of pace.  I'm also confident that things will work out workload wise the way I want them to.  Here's hoping, anyway.

And with that, I need to go finish up my laundry.

Fitness Update

I haven't weighed myself since October 15th, which is why I didn't post a November weigh in.  I just kind of decided I didn't care.  During that whole incident with my medicine I went completely off the rails diet/exercise wise so I knew that whatever I saw on the scale wasn't going to be pleasant.  I didn't measure myself either.

But after awhile of not caring I'm in the process of trying to get back into the groove of losing weight.  Right now I'm focusing on diet as opposed to exercise, because the food part of stuff is what I have the most trouble with.  And I know that the food part is the most important, so right now my goal is to cut out fast food, limit soda (OMG SO HARD), and eat at a calorie deficit.  I'm on myfitnesspal.com and logging what I eat and drink, and for the past couple days I've done well!  I didn't eat fast food on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday, I stayed under my calorie goal every day, and the most soda I've had on any day has been 2 cans (which I realize is still quite a bit but for me that's freaking amazing), and I haven't gone over my calorie goal any day.

I won't lie, I feel like shit.  I'm definitely having some caffeine withdrawals; mostly I'm a lot more tired than usual and I have headaches.  And I'm grouchy as well.  I think I'm having fasts food withdrawal too.  I know that I'm eating enough, I just think my body is used to a really big intake of fat and calories and without that it's like WTF are you doing?  It's not really pleasant but it's manageable.  This is one reason I'm giving myself a break from the gym for a bit.  I just don't feel up to exercising but I think that as my body gets used to less fat/calories/sugar/caffeine I'll be able to back to the gym and do well.  I knew that when I finally actually committed to a diet it wasn't going to feel good, because I've spent years and years eating nothing but fatty, high calorie, high sugar junk and that's what my body's acclimated to.  It's kind of depressing.  At the same time, I'm proud of myself and I feel like the pat few days are a great start!  When it comes to weight loss food has ALWAYS been what's held me back, because let's face it, going to the gym and hitting up Taco Bell on your way home just isn't the way to do things!  But now that I've got almost a week under my belt I'm feeling very confident, and I think maybe this will finally be the time I make it happen.

I've heard from two people, both of whom I trust, that the first week is the hardest and that once I get past that I'll be fine . . . here's hoping, right?

At any rate, I'm going to weigh/measure on December 1st, and hopefully the numbers will be encouraging!

Bringin' My A-Game in April!

It's April.  And I'm excited about it.  Yeah, it started off a smidge crappy with my bad day Monday but hey, it was a Monday, and I'm still excited.

I just feel glad for a new month.  I've been kind of slacking in some areas the past couple months (namely my diet) and I'm just done with that.  I don't know why but something about this trip to Kingman this past weekend just made me feel better.  Happier, calmer, more hopeful, renewed.  It made me think about how I want to work on myself even harder and how much I still need to do.

So this month, I'm going to work my ass off.  I'm going to be stricter about my diet, I'm going to workout with a vengeance, I'm going to improve at work, I'm going to save money, I'm going to write.

This is more than just a renewed sense of confidence, though.  I experienced a really amazing mental shift this weekend that I think will do wonders for me as I continue to get better.

I feel like for a long time, I have this sort of false sense of determination.  Like I'll say that I'm going to do this or do that and even though I want to do those things, I can't seem to stick with it.  And I always promise myself that this time'll be different and this time it's for real and so on but I also always know that I'm lying to myself.  And I hate it but I've also been in a place where I try not to push myself and just do what I can, and it's frustrating to be afraid to push myself, if that makes sense.

But . . . I don't know.  All of a sudden this weekend, I believed myself.  I told myself, I am going to do this, and I believed.  I do believe it.  And while this probably doesn't seem like a huge deal, I think it is, because I finally trust myself.  I finally believe myself.  I finally feel like I can rely on myself.  And it is overwhelming and I know that this time it's for real.  I love it.

I also realized something else this weekend.  I've felt, for quite awhile now, very READY to talk to Corey about us and our relationship.  Like I'm ready to have that conversation and all that.  And this weekend I realized that I'm actually not completely ready, that I have to work a little more on myself before that conversation happens.  I think what I need is just one month where I do really, really well.  Where I stick to my goals and the things I need to do, where I just get even better.  So hello April!

Plus that realization--that I'm not ready--didn't actually bother me.  It's hard, because I want to talk it out now (this is all assuming that he wants to talk it out too), but also, I felt calm.  I trust that if that conversation is supposed to happen, then it will, and whenever it happens it will be the right time.  I have a good feeling that that conversation is in my future, though.

Broken Is Beautiful

Did you know that in Japan when a piece of pottery or something similar cracks, it's repaired with gold lacquer?  The result is shoots of gold in the original piece, and while you can still see the cracks, they make what was originally there even more beautiful.  I am so in love with this concept I can't even tell you.  Even though it's an aesthetic concept, I feel like it also speaks to the idea of honoring the cracks, the broken parts, as part of the whole.  I'm trying to do that now: I have a mental illness and that sucks, but it's part of who I am.  And I'm close to whole now but I wouldn't be who I am without that mental illness, and I'll never deny its part in my past.  Ever.

I've decided on my next tattoo.  I'm going to get the word "lost" in Hindi on my left shoulder blade, and the word "found" in Hindi on my right shoulder blade.  I've wanted to get a pair of tattoos on my shoulder blades that go together for a long time and this idea just came to me a week or so ago.  Initially I was going to do it with Kanji symbols, so it would kind of match what I already have, but I really love how the words in Hindi look, so I'm going to go with that.  I'm really looking forward to these tattoos because there's a lot of meaning in them for me.  To me they represent this journey I've been on: I was lost and distraught and struggling, and now I'm found and doing well.  I'm getting both words because both concepts are equally important to the journey.

My right upper leg is covered with self harm scars.  Some of them are old and faded, some of them are newer and bright, and I see them whenever I go to the bathroom or shower or change.  I used to hate them and feel like I should cover them up, but now when I see them, I feel like they're a reminder of how dark things used to be and how far I've come.  In a weird way I've come to love that old, broken me, and I like having a reminder of it.  That probably doesn't make a lot of sense but . . . I don't know.  Maybe it's because I struggled with issues of identity and self for so long; in a way it's nice to know that that me was still real, even if that part of me is in the past now.

Benji was broken when I got him and even though it drove me crazy sometimes I loved him anyway.  When I was feeding him soft dog food by hand just to get him to eat and taking him on the longest walks ever so he'd go to the bathroom or scrubbing dog poop out of my carpet because he had nervous accidents, I loved him.  And the thought of getting rid of Benji never once crossed my mind, because it just wasn't an option.  It was worth it because in return I got lots of laughs and entertainment, a protectiveness you wouldn't think was possible in something that weighs like 4 pounds, an intense loyalty that really is what they mean when  they call dogs man's best friend, and a tiny little thing who did a happy little dance whenever I came home and cuddled up to me every night in bed.  Max is even more broken than Benji was but I have absolute faith that if I give him love and time he'll be an awesome companion, so just like with Benji, giving up on him is not an option.  If you love a broken something or someone enough to stick it out, it will always be worth it in the end.  I love finally being in a place where I believe that.

Anyway.  Just some of what's been on my mind lately.  Lots more to come, I think.

2012 in Review

Three hours left until the new year, and I kind of can't believe it.  Normally I don't like new year, because it's and ending, and that's always made me sad.  But this year, I find myself looking forward to the new year more than I ever have, and even though today is an ending, it's also a beginning.

I think the truest thing I can say about 2012 is that it was absolutely nothing what I expected.  I started the year engaged and kissed my fiance at midnight; I'm ending the year single and I'm a lot more OK with that than I ever thought I would be.  I began 2012 in a mental health rash, and I'm finishing it the most mentally healthy I've been in years.  At the beginning of 2012 I expected I'd be married by the end of it, still living in Kingman, building a life with a husband.  I never imagined that this year would bring me back to Flagstaff, but at the same time, in retrospect, I can't see it going any other way.

My year was exactly split between Flagstaff and Kingman.  From January 1st until June 30th, I lived in Ktown; from July 1st until now, I've been in Flagstaff.  Sometimes I feel like I've forgotten the first half of the year and the second half is all that this year was, but that's not true.

The first half of the year is defined by Ex-Fiance, and our relationship, and the end of our relationship.  As devastated as I was when I got dumped, I've realized that I probably knew all along it wasn't going to work out as was.  I think about how I felt then and there's no question that marriage in that state of mind would have been a huge, huge mistake.  But still, I know that my love for Ex-Fiance was genuine, and we had some truly beautiful moments this year.  And I know that he really loved me too.

Besides him, the first half of the year had lots of time with my family, orchestra and bells, and an OK job with a lot of really awesome co-workers.  I am so grateful that I got to get back into music in Kingman, and especially glad that I got to ring again.  It's true that those memories are a little marred by the fact that Ex-Fiance was so involved in them, but still.  And I'm glad that I got to work at the Kingman Hastings, because it showed me that I could get back on my feet and get out of my shell a little, if that makes sense.  Plus I made some amazing friends in my co-workers, and I miss them!

I also joined a gym in the first half of the year, which is something I NEVER thought I'd do.  Even though I didn't stick to a diet or lose much weight, I'm proud of how much I worked out, because it was definitely a step in the right direction.

Then came the big move back to Flagstaff.  I remember honestly thinking I would rather die than deal with what I was going through then--Ex-Fiance leaving me, having to say goodbye to my family, having to move back to a place I truly thought was hell, this horrible sense of my life being ripped out from under me and having to find a new path on my own.  I thought the stress and the sadness would kill me.

But it didn't.  I came to Flagstaff and I got stronger.  I got better, and sometimes I am still amazed at that.  I've definitely had my downs here--all of the work drama and now going on almost two months unemployed, but that's far better than I thought I would do.  The time I've spent up here, away from Ex-Fiance, focusing on myself, has been a blessing, for lack of a better term.  I've found this tremendous strength in me that I didn't know existed, and I've discovered that I can actually survive whatever life throws at me.  I may not always do it gracefully or beautifully, but I'll get through it.

I've learned to survive without a car.  To sleep on the floor and just be grateful that I've got somewhere to sleep at all.  To not be bitter when good things happen to the people around me.  To relax and take my life day by day and be patient with myself.  To believe that I am going somewhere and that my life is worth something.  To not take people I love for granted because they do have a breaking point.

I've learned that treatment for bipolar is something that I have to take seriously, and that when I do, I get better.  A lot better.  I only wish that had clicked sooner, because there aren't words for what I'd give to experience my relationship with Ex-Fiance from a mentally healthy perspective.  I believe, still, that there is a lot of love and genuine chemistry and potential between us, and I would love to see what it feels like to be together mentally healthy.

Even though there were some hellishly painful moments, I think 2012 went the way it was supposed to.  I think that where I am now is where I need to be.  Am I sad that I'm not doing anything for new year's eve?  A little.  Do I wish I was somewhere with Ex-Fiance, getting ready to kick of 2013 with a big romantic kiss?  Absolutely.  But if I had that, I might not be looking at life through these new, healthy eyes, and really, recovery has been worth all the trouble.

As for me and Ex-Fiance, I'm starting the new year in the middle of the road, with no expectations.  I'm focusing on myself and continuing my self improvement.  I still hope that eventually he and I can have a conversation and see what it feels like to be us again, but it's not something I'm focusing on.  I have a lot of other things I want to do, but if the opportunity to see him comes up, I know that I'll take it.  But I'm not dwelling on him anymore.

As for 2013, I'm starting the year off with a lot of stress--mostly work and money related, because I am still not working and I really need to be.  But even with that in mind, I feel like I'm going into the year with a clean slate.  I'm going into it not 100% mentally healthy, but closer to true mental health than I have been in a long, long, long time.  This is the first new year in years that I've not been miserable in some way, and I actually feel like 2013 is full of potential for me.  I am just looking forward to living my life.  I feel like this could actually be my year to accomplish something great.  I'm starting the year liking myself more than I ever have, and I'm happy to have that.

So here's to 2013, whatever it may bring.

Six Months & An Evaluation

Today it's been six months since Ex-Fiance told me he didn't think we should get married.
--------------------
I remember that moment very well.  What was said, how it sounded, what he looked like as he was saying it.  It's hard to put into words what I felt when that happened.  I was shocked because even though I knew things weren't good, I really wasn't expecting it.  As time passed and I decided to go back to Flagstaff and I packed my things and quit my job and I realized that all of those things were really happening, I don't think it's an understatement to say that I felt like my life had done a complete 180 overnight.  I was beyond devastated and completely heartbroken.  I spent a lot of time crying--randomly bursting into tears at work, crying any time I saw or spoke to Austin, crying whenever I looked at Ex-Fiance.  I felt so lost and so . . . out of place.  The last two and a half weeks that I was in Kingman Ex-Fiance and I started to reconnect a little, and that was a blessing.  I left at least knowing that he didn't hate me and that he did still have some feelings for me.  I dreaded coming back to Flagstaff in a way that I had never dreaded anything before.  Flagstaff was, in my mind, a place of intense negativity, where a whoooole lot of bad things had happened to me, and I thought, I will never, ever, ever get better there.  The day we left for Flagstaff was impossibly difficult for me, because I honestly felt like I was losing my whole life--Ex-Fiance, my parents, my sisters, Austin, my job/co-workers, my car, my gym, a house that I loved, my pets, bell choir, orchestra . . . everything.
--------------------
Now it's been six months.  Six months since the break up and almost five months since I got back to Flagstaff.

There's a part of me that can't believe it's been this long.  For half of a year, I've been single.  It's so odd to think that because I really thought, when I got engaged, that I'd never be single again.  I also can't believe I came back to Flagstaff, because after I struggled so hard to leave this place behind, I didn't think life would ever, ever bring me back here.

So six months in, how am I doing?

Surprisingly well.  I'm honestly shocked at how well I've done since I got to Flagstaff.  I thought I'd be a complete mess.  I thought I'd get here and be completely unable to function.

But that hasn't been the case.

I've adjusted to taking the bus very well, and instead of thinking all the time about how much I want a car, taking the bus is just second nature.  I've started eating a little better and drinking more water and I've lost a few pounds.  I've held down a job as well as I could for as long as I could and am actively looking for another.  I've worked out.  I've written two short stories.  I've watched TV and slept and played video games and hung out with Jerbs and . . . well, I've lived my life.  And I have taken my medication nearly every.single.day. and I have seen the improvement that comes with it.  I've made peace with Jerbs and all the things that happened between us.

I feel like I'm doing much, much better right now than I was six months ago.  Mentally, I'm night and day.  I am so much healthier now.  SO much healthier.  I really can't even express the difference in my thought processes and the things I can deal with now.  I'm just so much more at home in my own mind.  I finally feel like myself, for the first time in years.  It's amazing.  And honestly, if I had to go through all that heartbreak to finally get to a place of real mental health, then . . . then I'm OK with that.  Because what I have needed all along was just to get better.  I feel like I've accomplished that since I got here.  Do I still have a ways to go? Absolutely.  But I'm a hell of a lot closer to my end goals than I've ever been.

Since the move I've found my own inner strength, and I am amazed by it.  I never thought I'd be this person. Back in 2009/2010 at the height of my disorder I never thought I'd get better.  I started to believe that I was just supposed to be sick, that I wasn't meant for a real, normal life like other people.  And now I know how untrue that is, and I am so happy with myself.  I really am.

The thing is, I know I still have a lot to work on and a lot to do to get where I want to be.  But the thing is, I'm OK with that now.  I feel like that's DOABLE.  I feel like I can work towards those goals and . . . y'know, meet them, I suppose.  Before, if I'd been where I am now, I'd be panicking about it.  Panicking and worrying about everything I wanted to do and struggling to figure out how to do it.  But now I feel OK with the journey, and that's a beautiful change in myself.
--------------------
So how do I feel about Ex-Fiance after six months?

In short, I still love him.  I still feel like my heart is his, and I still believe that at some point, we need to have a conversation about us.

I still want a second chance and I still think that we could make things work between us if we tried.  I still hope for that.  I think that eventually it's going to happen, and I am trying to just be patient until it does.  And I'm at a point where I feel really ready to talk things out; I feel like I'd be able to have that conversation now without freaking out or anything like that.
--------------------
At any rate, I think that from here I'm only going to keep getting better, and that makes me happy.

I Finally Realized

This past Saturday, I was thinking about Ex-Fiance.  And I had this moment where I was overwhelmed with hope.  I suddenly had this strong feeling that things would happen soon.  That we were going to start talking, that the conversation was going to happen, and that it wouldn't be much longer before it did.  And that feeling made me happy.

Then on Monday, while I was taking a shower, my mind was wandering and all of a sudden that feeling just kind of disappeared, and I had another moment where I realized . . . the whole getting back together thing that I've been hoping for since May isn't going to happen.

It didn't bother me as much as you'd think.  It was more like a calm realization, probably one I've needed to come to for awhile.

I just realized that . . . it's not going to happen.  It can't.  For a few reasons.

I guess, mostly, I just feel like we can't go back.  Our life together before wasn't wonderful, what with all the bipolar crap and his horrible first year of teaching.  Whatever potential it might have had is gone now.  There was too much bad stuff and whatever we tried now would just be too little too late.

I really did, and do, love him.  For so many reasons.  And there are still a lot of things that remind me of that, and a lot of things that I miss and will continue to miss.  Our relationship was broken but it was still beautiful. I firmly believe that at one point it was fixable but for whatever reason, we missed the opportunity.

But he broke my heart.  I know that I wasn't perfect, and I know that I put him through a lot.  But I don't think I deserved to have my heart completely crushed.

Did you know that he had a horrible first year teaching?  That he had a nightmare second grader who tried to stab him and who threatened to rape one of the girls in his class?  And that the administration refused to do anything to help and ultimately blamed his classroom management for the problems?  And I tried as hard as I could to be there for him through that.  And sometimes, I couldn't, I admit that.  But holy hell I tried and tried and tried.  And when the last day of school finally came I was so thrilled.  I was looking forward to him having a break, to a few months where we could relax together and reconnect and fix things and just be together.

He broke up with me on the last day of school.  I cannot even begin to describe what a slap in the face that was.

I felt like Flagstaff was my only viable option at that point for various reasons.  And yes, there have been times when I've thrived here, but for the most part, I've been depressed.  I've struggled.  Life isn't particularly happy for me.  I don't even have a real bed to sleep on, and as hard as I try to make the best of it, ultimately, I'm not happy.

I resent Ex-Fiance for putting me here.  And more than that, I resent him for keeping my life.  Even though we had issues, I was happy in Kingman.  I loved playing in orchestra--an orchestra I'd been in as a teenager.  I loved sharing that with him.  I loved ringing handbells again, and I loved that Ex-Fiance found that impressive (I'm a bad ass at handbells, not gonna lie).  I loved getting to spend time with my family, and at the Hastings there, at least I had co-workers I liked.

And Ex-Fiance kept that life.  While I'm up here struggling, he's happy.  He has a good job that I'm assuming is far improved this year.  He has orchestra and bells (at the end of this past season the bell choir lost like 4 members including me, so I'm assuming he's ringing).  He was going to join anyway and I was so excited to teach him to ring.  He's friends with people that have known me for decades but don't care that I'm gone and that it's because of him.  I can't even make a trip to my hometown without having an anxiety attack because now it's where he lives.  Now it's where my life did a very unpleasant 180.  I truly hate that.

Plus I feel like I gave all of myself to Ex-Fiance.  It may be TMI but I readily admit that I lost my virginity to him (yes, when I was 25).  Plus I spent holidays with him.  That almost hurts more than the physical intimacy, as stupid as that sounds.  Especially Christmas.  I love Christmas more than just about anything in the world, and I always daydreamed about having someone I could share that with.  And Ex-Fiance loved Christmas too, and last year, we had a whole house to decorate together, and I made us and our pets stockings to put up.  On Christmas Eve, as we got back to his parents' house from the candlelight service at their church, he pulled me aside, told me that I was beautiful, and that he was having an amazing Christmas with me.  On Christmas morning we woke up side by side and I remember thinking . . . this is what I've always wanted.  And now Christmas--for this year at the very least--isn't going to feel the same.  It makes me so sad.  I hate beyond all comprehension the fact that he has moved on like I was nothing, but there are things for me that will never be the same because of him.

I have tried to be his friend.  I have tried to give him time, and space, and to let him figure out whatever it is he needs to figure out.  But how fair is that?  Why should he get to break my heart so that he can be happy? And why should I just wait for him to be ready?

All this time I have thought, if only I knew what he was really thinking.  If only I knew how he really felt about me.  But . . . isn't almost 6 months of silence and ignorance the answer I need?  Isn't that a pretty damn good indicator of what he's really thinking and how he really feels?  I have never given up hope that we'd eventually end up together but . . . maybe that decision's been made for me.

Bottom line, I don't think I can forgive him for those things.  Because with all of what I just wrote in mind, I don't think it would matter how many times he apologized or told me he'd never stopped loving me or that he'd always planned on me being his future.  What's done is done.  I fucked up, he fucked up, and that's that.

I'm giving it until New Years Eve.  If nothing's happened by then, if we haven't started talking by then, I'm throwing in the towel in favor of figuring out my life solo.  I'm scared to death to say that out loud but it's time.  Come 2013 if there is still nothing but silence between us, I will get all of my stuff out of his garage, give back my key to the house in Kingman, and get my own phone plan.

I'll be honest:  if nothing's happened by New Years and I do actually carry out this plan, it'll be terrifying to me.  Because if I'm not hoping for a reconciliation, I don't have a clue what I'm doing with my life.  (Which I know is way way way way beyond pathetic but it's true).