So March.
Jerbs started her new job right at the beginning of the month, and it was awesome. I drive her to work at the crack of dawn (because the buses don't run as early as she has to be there). That's been an interesting experience, but I really don't mind. I've worked at they gym, I've gone into work at MHC early and gotten some extra hours, I've eaten breakfast at Dunkin' Donuts (love it, btw), I've studied for my coding class, stuff like that. One morning I even went to the gym and worked out before work, which was not as earth shatteringly awful as I'd been expecting. But full disclosure, I haven't done it a second time. It's really just not for me, and I prefer working out after work.
Jerbs loves her new job, though. It's definitely a huge improvement from Staples. Pretty much right away Jerbs seemed happier, and less stressed than she had been for a long time, and seeing her happy makes me happy. She's got a really nice schedule there plus more hours than she was getting at Staples. Plus guaranteed overtime, which is awesome.
In the middle of the month I got a storage unit and my dad brought up all my stuff. As in, all of the things I had to leave in Kingman when I moved back to Flagstaff almost 3 years ago, which is most of what I own. For 6 months or so after I left, all of it was in the garage at my old place (where Ex-Fiance was still living); at some point my dad went and got all of it, and it had been in his garage ever since. We had talked about him bringing it up before but never got anywhere, but my dad apparently might be moving, so it was a necessity. It was weird to see all my stuff, because I honestly hadn't looked at it since the move. It was both comforting and somehow not comforting at the same time. Everything was just as I'd packed it, but there is an extra box, labeled in Ex-Fiance's handwriting. I couldn't bring myself to open it and see what was inside, because, even nearly 3 years after the fact, the mental image of him walking through our house and packing up the things that reminded him of me just hurts. That's not something I'm quite ready to face. (More on that whole issue later, probably).
Also in March, things got BAD at MHC. I don't even really know exactly what happened, but it was basically just one disaster after another, pretty much all related to one area of my job (DME). I was angry, frustrated, discouraged, and beyond stressed. For the first time since I started there more than 2 years ago, I hated my job. I dreaded going to work and was literally having anxiety attacks about it. It was terrible. I told my boss that it was time for DME to go to someone else, but that wasn't an option, so instead I got approved overtime. Which did help. But still, I was at a point where I probably would have quit had it not been for the coding class thing (ie if I leave now I owe the company the whole cost of that class). Things are better now, but I was suffering for a couple weeks there.
Jerbs and I really started to focus on moving in March as well--or at least, getting ready to move. There are these 2 bed 1.5 bath 2 story townhomes across the street from us, managed by the same company as our current complex. They looked reasonably priced online, so we decided to check them out. (In the 2 days between when we looked at the website and when we toured the place, though, the base rent went up by $80, just putting that out there). I honestly wasn't impressed with the place. It wasn't terrible, but it felt TINY, I think because of the layout. And both the bedrooms were super, super small, like small enough that I wouldn't actually have been able to fit all my stuff in mine.
But we forged ahead, did the application online, paid the app fee and reservation fee, got approved, the whole nine. Then we saw the actual rent breakdown and it was just too expensive. I mean, we probably could have swung the rent, but that would have made it really tight, and I don't want to live like that. So between the stupidly high rent, the not too impressive apartment, the fact that we're only planning to be in Flagstaff another year, and the less than awesome thought of actually moving all our shit, we decided to just stay. Ultimately we decided it would be better to suck it up, stay where we are, and save for the big out of state move we'd like to make happen next year.
And that's the story of how we really and truly almost moved and then decided not to. I know, it's a little anti climactic.
So Jerbs signed the lease for another year here. And while she was in the office doing it, the property manager asked if we'd had any more issues with our neighbor. Jerbs said that things had been quiet on that front. The manager proceeded to tell Jerbs that she'd had a long talk with the neighbor and she'd been warned about her behavior (ie she was told to stop being an overdramatic bitch), and that we needed to let her know if absolutely ANYTHING else happened. Again, we get the vibe that they want her gone as much as we do. The property manager also told Jerbs that she's been an excellent tenant in the whole time she's/we've lived here. It's good to know the complex is on our side and knows the neighbor is the one with issues. Right now we're just hoping she gets kicked out sooner rather than later.
And that's about it for March. Definitely not a great month, but free of any major disasters, and sometimes that's the best you can hope for, right?
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thoughts. Show all posts
4.29.2015
8.21.2014
Remember When?
Lately I find myself feeling very nostalgic. I think it's mostly related to this time of year, because it was right around 4 years ago that I went on my first date with my ex.
I remember him asking me to hang out via Facebook, and I remember almost ignoring the message and pretending I'd never seen it, and then saying yes at the last minute because I knew he needed to talk to someone and I felt bad blowing him off. I remember him calling for directions to my apartment, because I live on the weirdest street in Flagstaff (it's a boulevard that is literally a block long) and no one can find it unless they've been there before. I remember just driving all over town and listening to him talk about whatever. I remember finally stopping at Lake Mary, and walking down to the water and having to grab his hand a few times to keep from falling, and him holding on longer than was necessary every time. I remember him asking to hold me and sitting on a rock at the side of the lake with his arms around me. I remember going to WalMart to buy an inflatable raft and leaving disappointed because they didn't have any. I remember him taking the longest route possible to take me home, and him saying it was just because of the road work on the highway, and I remember having a feeling that he really just didn't want to drop me off. I remember coming home and telling Jerbs about him and her making a comment that when I talked about him, I smiled like she hadn't seen me smile in a long time.
And all that wasn't even our first date. Our first date was the next night, when he showed up at my apartment with a stuffed duck, a get well card, and a raft.
I really do miss him. And it seems to get worse instead of better--I feel like I miss him more now than I ever have, when we're 2 years out from the break up and I'm fairly settled into this life without him. It's something I just can't seem to get over, regardless of what I do. I think I talk a big game about being over him, about not caring, and it's bullshit. I am happy with my life, yes, and I'm doing well on my own, but I'm not over him. I also think I put a lot of pressure on myself to be over it, telling myself that it's stupid to hang on and that I'm an idiot for still being in love with him and that after 2 years, I should have moved on.
I'm done with that. I'm done beating myself up for the way I feel about him. Honestly, it was a serious, real relationship, we were very committed to each other, and I'm not ashamed of the fact that those feelings are still there. I'm allowed to feel the way I feel. Obviously I'm not going to let it rule my life or anything like that, but still.
I want to be with him. I know that, at this point, the odds of anything happening, of him feeling the same way, of him not having found someone else, are utterly astronomical, but I'm choosing to remain hopeful. Because I still feel like he's who I'm supposed to end up with. There's just something about him, about the way we were together, that makes me believe that. I'm sure I sound like a total idiot to anyone reading this, but whatever. I'm OK with that.
2.14.2014
Valentine's Day Reflections
Valentine's Day has, in all honesty, never been a huge deal to me. I' not too invested in it either way: if I'm attached, I don't go overboard celebrating, and if I'm single, I don't get all bitter and angry. So today was just another day as far as I'm concerned.
But hearing all my happily married co-workers making plans (I am the only single person in my department) did make me feel a little lonely. And it definitely reminded me of how much I miss my ex, and refreshed some of that regret I've talked about before. Because at the end of the day, even with how happy I am and how well I'm doing, that loneliness and regret are still there. Maybe not overwhelmingly so but for sure at the back of my mind.
So Valentine's Day made me think.
At this point it's been almost two years since he told me he didn't want to marry me, and just about a month less that I've been in Flagstaff. I haven't seen or spoken to him since last July.
It's a pretty significant amount of time, yet I am no closer to being over him than I was the day I moved here. Far more mentally stable, sure, and far more capable of living my own life. There's no question that I'm doing better now than I was then. But I'm still not over him.
And sometimes I wonder why, because it should be enough time to let go, right? I mean . . . when this amount of time had passed after Jerbs and I broke up, I was already in love with and engaged to someone else. I honestly thought that time was really going to be what led to getting over it, but that hasn't been the case. Lately it seems that the better I get, the more I want a second chance with him.
I think it's because of the difference in myself.
Back when the break up happened, as completely miserable as I was about it, I knew it needed to happen. I knew how sick I was and I knew that, at that point, I simply wasn't capable of being in a relationship. I wasn't capable of being the kind of partner that I wanted to be and that he needed/deserved me to be. I wanted to succeed at it but I just couldn't. Even when I was engaged to and living with him, even on the good days, I would look at happily married couples (via all my married friends on FB, mostly) and just KNOW that it wasn't something I could attain the way I was then. And I would feel so sad, because I knew I had the right guy, and I would feel so frustrated, because I felt like I was this close to the life I wanted but I couldn't stop sabotaging myself.
But now, I've done a full 180 from those feelings. I know now--with 100% certainty--that I am completely capable of being in a relationship. It's difficult to even put into words because the change has been so dramatic. Things that used to bother me to the point of obsession (I'm not going to go into specifics here but he'd know what I was talking about if he read this) now seem dumb and insignificant and most definitely not worth the grief I let them cause me. I've learned the importance and necessity of accepting someone, flaws and disagreements and all, for who they are. I've learned how little someone's past matters when you genuinely love them and they genuinely love you. I've gotten a lot better at communicating and I think I know how to express myself without flying off the handle or freaking out. (Sad to just be figuring out all those skills at damn near 30 but whatever.
So I think that knowing all those things, and knowing how capable of being in a relationship I am now, makes the fact that it's not happening hurt more. Knowing you can do something makes it extra shitty to not be able to.
I remember once, when I was living in Kingman and he was massively stressed out, I told him how sorry I was for the things that were going badly then. And he looked at me and told me that I was his anchor through all of those bad things. It is still one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me, and I was so happy and flattered to hear him say it, because I wanted to be his anchor. But at the same time I felt terrified, because I knew that I was failing at it. I could do it now. Because I'm pretty awesome now.
I'm sure that someday, eventually, I'll be able to let go--of him and the regret--and love someone else. I don't believe that I'm supposed to end up alone. But I also genuinely believe that I already found the right person for me, and I hope his feelings are the same.
Happy Valentine's Day.
But hearing all my happily married co-workers making plans (I am the only single person in my department) did make me feel a little lonely. And it definitely reminded me of how much I miss my ex, and refreshed some of that regret I've talked about before. Because at the end of the day, even with how happy I am and how well I'm doing, that loneliness and regret are still there. Maybe not overwhelmingly so but for sure at the back of my mind.
So Valentine's Day made me think.
At this point it's been almost two years since he told me he didn't want to marry me, and just about a month less that I've been in Flagstaff. I haven't seen or spoken to him since last July.
It's a pretty significant amount of time, yet I am no closer to being over him than I was the day I moved here. Far more mentally stable, sure, and far more capable of living my own life. There's no question that I'm doing better now than I was then. But I'm still not over him.
And sometimes I wonder why, because it should be enough time to let go, right? I mean . . . when this amount of time had passed after Jerbs and I broke up, I was already in love with and engaged to someone else. I honestly thought that time was really going to be what led to getting over it, but that hasn't been the case. Lately it seems that the better I get, the more I want a second chance with him.
I think it's because of the difference in myself.
Back when the break up happened, as completely miserable as I was about it, I knew it needed to happen. I knew how sick I was and I knew that, at that point, I simply wasn't capable of being in a relationship. I wasn't capable of being the kind of partner that I wanted to be and that he needed/deserved me to be. I wanted to succeed at it but I just couldn't. Even when I was engaged to and living with him, even on the good days, I would look at happily married couples (via all my married friends on FB, mostly) and just KNOW that it wasn't something I could attain the way I was then. And I would feel so sad, because I knew I had the right guy, and I would feel so frustrated, because I felt like I was this close to the life I wanted but I couldn't stop sabotaging myself.
But now, I've done a full 180 from those feelings. I know now--with 100% certainty--that I am completely capable of being in a relationship. It's difficult to even put into words because the change has been so dramatic. Things that used to bother me to the point of obsession (I'm not going to go into specifics here but he'd know what I was talking about if he read this) now seem dumb and insignificant and most definitely not worth the grief I let them cause me. I've learned the importance and necessity of accepting someone, flaws and disagreements and all, for who they are. I've learned how little someone's past matters when you genuinely love them and they genuinely love you. I've gotten a lot better at communicating and I think I know how to express myself without flying off the handle or freaking out. (Sad to just be figuring out all those skills at damn near 30 but whatever.
So I think that knowing all those things, and knowing how capable of being in a relationship I am now, makes the fact that it's not happening hurt more. Knowing you can do something makes it extra shitty to not be able to.
I remember once, when I was living in Kingman and he was massively stressed out, I told him how sorry I was for the things that were going badly then. And he looked at me and told me that I was his anchor through all of those bad things. It is still one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me, and I was so happy and flattered to hear him say it, because I wanted to be his anchor. But at the same time I felt terrified, because I knew that I was failing at it. I could do it now. Because I'm pretty awesome now.
I'm sure that someday, eventually, I'll be able to let go--of him and the regret--and love someone else. I don't believe that I'm supposed to end up alone. But I also genuinely believe that I already found the right person for me, and I hope his feelings are the same.
Happy Valentine's Day.
9.10.2013
3 Years Ago And Some Thoughts On Regret
Three years ago I was falling in love. Being swept off my feet by a guy I never would have expected to end up with. It was all so beautifully unexpected because neither one of us was looking for anything resembling a relationship when we met but things just clicked too much for either of us to stop. I'll never forget the first few months of that relationship--staying up all night eating cold pizza and drinking root beer and talking about everything, flipping my TV back and forth between football and Dancing With the Stars on Monday nights, him playing our song and dancing at his apartment . . . it was wonderful. I don't think I could have imagined a better start to anything; it was exactly what I wanted, even if I didn't know I wanted it, even if before I'd never really imagined myself spending the rest of my life with anyone. I fell for him on our first date, lying in his arms in a raft under the stars in the middle of a lake.
But three years ago, I was sick, too.
The thing is, when I look back over the past year, over the time that he and I have been apart and the time I've spent getting better, I feel nearly nothing but pride. Because I know--I know--that I have accomplished something tremendous. I've talked about it time and time again, and I'm sure I'll talk about it more in the future, because it's true. I know exactly how far I've come and exactly how much better I am. I'm aware of it every single day. And I am grateful for it every single day, even on less than awesome days.
I've worked hard to get to where I am now, and I like my life. And I really want to be able to look back and say that if all I got out of that relationship was this, then that's fine. That's enough. That whatever happens after that is just icing on the cake.
But I just can't think like that. Not now, anyway.
Because sometimes when I think about what I've accomplished, it just doesn't feel as good as it should. I'll never, ever think that it was pointless, because it wasn't. I wouldn't trade being mentally healthy for anything. I needed to get better, regardless of what was going on in my life otherwise. That wasn't a maybe, that was a for sure.
But at the end of the day, no amount of being better can change the fact that I spent a pretty big chunk of time treating an amazing person who loved me and was trying to help me like absolute dirt, and that guilt and regret still overwhelms me sometimes. Sometimes I honestly can't believe how awful I was, and it makes me feel terrible. So getting better wasn't pointless by any means, but there are moments when it seems like it was too little, too late, at least in this one respect. Because, aside from my own health, the biggest and most significant thing the bipolar crap cost me was that relationship.
I feel like I've fixed almost everything else. My relationship with my family is fine (aside from normal family stuff, of course), my relationship with Jerbs is good, and I've reconnected with people from college who I cut out of my life when I was sick. My financial situation is improving and I am slowly but surely learning how to manage my money correctly. I'm taking baby steps towards physical health (and I'm fine with that . . . better small steps than no steps, right?).
I would just love to be forgiven. I would love for him to see that I really am better and that the issues I used to have were genuinely not me; I would love for him to know how absolutely horrible I feel for every terrible thing I did and said. I would love--really, really love-- for him to know this me. I would love a second chance and a clean slate. And I'm better enough now that I could have a second chance and make it work.
But, I can't change the past. I wish I could. So for now, I am just going to hope that this person eventually finds his way to forgiveness and that he still has feelings for me.
These are the thoughts that I'm putting out into the universe tonight. And hopefully whatever powers are out there--God or stars or vortices or whatever--see fit to return them to me in a good way.
But three years ago, I was sick, too.
The thing is, when I look back over the past year, over the time that he and I have been apart and the time I've spent getting better, I feel nearly nothing but pride. Because I know--I know--that I have accomplished something tremendous. I've talked about it time and time again, and I'm sure I'll talk about it more in the future, because it's true. I know exactly how far I've come and exactly how much better I am. I'm aware of it every single day. And I am grateful for it every single day, even on less than awesome days.
I've worked hard to get to where I am now, and I like my life. And I really want to be able to look back and say that if all I got out of that relationship was this, then that's fine. That's enough. That whatever happens after that is just icing on the cake.
But I just can't think like that. Not now, anyway.
Because sometimes when I think about what I've accomplished, it just doesn't feel as good as it should. I'll never, ever think that it was pointless, because it wasn't. I wouldn't trade being mentally healthy for anything. I needed to get better, regardless of what was going on in my life otherwise. That wasn't a maybe, that was a for sure.
But at the end of the day, no amount of being better can change the fact that I spent a pretty big chunk of time treating an amazing person who loved me and was trying to help me like absolute dirt, and that guilt and regret still overwhelms me sometimes. Sometimes I honestly can't believe how awful I was, and it makes me feel terrible. So getting better wasn't pointless by any means, but there are moments when it seems like it was too little, too late, at least in this one respect. Because, aside from my own health, the biggest and most significant thing the bipolar crap cost me was that relationship.
I feel like I've fixed almost everything else. My relationship with my family is fine (aside from normal family stuff, of course), my relationship with Jerbs is good, and I've reconnected with people from college who I cut out of my life when I was sick. My financial situation is improving and I am slowly but surely learning how to manage my money correctly. I'm taking baby steps towards physical health (and I'm fine with that . . . better small steps than no steps, right?).
I would just love to be forgiven. I would love for him to see that I really am better and that the issues I used to have were genuinely not me; I would love for him to know how absolutely horrible I feel for every terrible thing I did and said. I would love--really, really love-- for him to know this me. I would love a second chance and a clean slate. And I'm better enough now that I could have a second chance and make it work.
But, I can't change the past. I wish I could. So for now, I am just going to hope that this person eventually finds his way to forgiveness and that he still has feelings for me.
These are the thoughts that I'm putting out into the universe tonight. And hopefully whatever powers are out there--God or stars or vortices or whatever--see fit to return them to me in a good way.
4.15.2013
Something I Don't Understand
Sometimes, when I really think about it, what confuses me the most is what keeps me holding on. Why I'm not over him. Why I haven't just moved on with my life. What was so great about him anyway? What was so great about that life and that relationship and what was it that made me so sure I wanted to marry him?
What was so great that even now, almost a year--a whole fucking year--after the break up I am no closer to being over him than I was the day it happened?
I thought time would help. And I guess it has because if you'd seen me the night he dumped me compared to now you wouldn't believe I was the same person.
Time has helped with the me things. Not the me and him things. And I really don't get it. Especially considering how much I got hurt at the end.
That's it for today. No cheesy "but" at the end of this entry. I really just . . . don't get it.
What was so great that even now, almost a year--a whole fucking year--after the break up I am no closer to being over him than I was the day it happened?
I thought time would help. And I guess it has because if you'd seen me the night he dumped me compared to now you wouldn't believe I was the same person.
Time has helped with the me things. Not the me and him things. And I really don't get it. Especially considering how much I got hurt at the end.
That's it for today. No cheesy "but" at the end of this entry. I really just . . . don't get it.
4.06.2013
More Mental Shifts
I find that lately (the past two weeks or so) I've been having quite a few positive mental shifts like the one I mentioned before, so I thought I'd write about them. I am loving this little stage in getting better because it feels like I'm over the hill now, if that makes sense. Like all the struggling and trying and treatment is finally really and truly starting to pay off.
I have less social anxiety now, especially when it comes to work. I used to kind of obsess about how I was being perceived by my co-workers, about how they saw me and how I was doing my job. I constantly worried that I was rubbing someone the wrong way or irritating someone and there were days when I'd go home and replay conversations from the day over and over in my head. I don't feel that anymore, or at least not as strongly. And granted some of that is probably just actually having a good job and good co-workers where I'm respected, but still, my gut tells me that if I'd gotten this job when I was still really sick it would not have gone well.
If anything I now struggle with this in the opposite direction: I have a hard time accepting that nothing's going wrong at work, that my co-workers like me, and that I am trusted to do my job and be competent. It's an odd feeling.
I'm also better at taking constructive criticism, although I probably still need work in this area. There are times when I worry that whatever co-worker is telling me to fix something is secretly pissed that I work there. At the same time I also think that if I was a big problem I'd already have been talked to about it, and they know that I'm still learning. Still better than I used to be though.
I am less afraid now. In the past I have definitely been the type to hide from my problems; if it's something I didn't want to deal with, I just didn't deal with it. I would put off painful conversations, anything to do with bills and money, and anything that made me sad. I've gotten over this in a big way. When I need to talk about something now, even if I'm dreading it, I just do it (it's usually nothing big, I just used to be weird!). I've stopped even giving myself time to hesitate. Financially, I pay a lot more attention to my money, and I'm in the process of making payments that I was unable to for a long time. I'm still working on this area because discussions about money just make me nervous, and I still need to sit down and write out a budget but I'm much better than I used to be. I also take my financial responsibilities seriously, most noticeably in the fact that I've given Jerbs rent money out of every paycheck I've gotten since I started working. And things that make me sad don't crop up often, but recently, Benji* was in desperate need of a grooming, so I finally sucked it up and shaved him and bathed him. Grooming him just makes me so sad, because I can feel how frail he is and how old he's getting it, and I hate thinking about how he probably won't be with me much longer. I think in the past, I wasn't able to put myself through that kind of stuff because I knew that it would always go deeper because I was mentally weak. But now . . . well, it still made me incredibly sad because I want Benji to live forever (seriously, I love that dog), but it didn't fuck up my life for days. Benji was pissed at me for a few days (he really hates baths) but whatever. Basically I was able to do what I had to do and then continue living without over analyzing it or letting it get the best of me, if that makes sense. In the past I'd have spent a few days moping and crying and beating myself up for being a bad dog owner.
This one is more difficult to explain, but it's also one of the best ones. I used to have this weird feeling that I was almost outside my own body; like I wasn't invested in my life, but rather was watching from outside it, like I was watching someone else live my life. It was an odd, odd thing, and it's almost completely gone now. There are still days when it crops up but I'm definitely at a point where I have an easier time seeing myself in my life and feeling fully engaged than I used to.
I also used to have trouble imagining my future for the same reason. When I would picture myself down the road, whether it was a month or a year or a decade, I would have this sensation of it just being impossible, like I was, again, on the outside looking in. I never really knew why this was but I think now that it was because at the time I just literally couldn't conceive of ever being healthy or capable enough to achieve what I was imagining. This was especially true of my relationship with Corey. I would imagine us married and living outside of AZ, just being happy together; working and coming home to each other and cooking dinner together and having date nights and going on vacations and so much more, and even though it was beautiful, I also felt very strongly that the woman I imagined doing those things with him just wasn't me. I felt like I would never, ever be the type of woman who could have that life, that kind of relationship with someone. But now, that all feels very possible, and when I imagine those things, whether with him or just generally, I genuinely see myself in those moments. It's beautiful**, and I really, finally believe in the possibility of my own life.
My personal favorite mental shift is that I have stopped having all these weird questions of identity. I used to spend my days doing nothing because I was so anxious about whether what I wanted to do made sense to my identity. Like, I'd think, I want to read, or write, or sew, or whatever, and I wouldn't know which one to choose because I didn't know which one was me. I had no idea who I was (the benchmark of borderline personality disorder), and therefore I felt the need to fit my whole identity into a really concrete definition. So I'd wonder: am I the type of person who writes? who reads? who sews? who hikes? who whatevers? It was horrible. But now, I feel much more relaxed about this, and I realize that I can be a person who does ALL of those things, and that if I go through phases where I prefer one over the other, then that's not a big deal. I need to do what makes me happy and what I enjoy, period the end.
So I'm doing well. Very well. And I love it.
--------------------
*Seriously, I love Benji. I would give anything for him to be healthy again. If somehow I could make it that way I would. But he's not doing so hot right now and I try to just focus on the fact that I gave him the best life he could possibly have and saved him from misery and death. When he passes I'm going to have him cremated, and then when I die, his urn will be buried with me. I'm also going to get a memorial tattoo for him.
**The only downside of this newfound sense of possibility is that it makes the breakup even more painful. It sucks to know that I've finally gotten there--like I can finally legit be with someone in a real way--but that the one person I want to be with . . . well, you know.
I have less social anxiety now, especially when it comes to work. I used to kind of obsess about how I was being perceived by my co-workers, about how they saw me and how I was doing my job. I constantly worried that I was rubbing someone the wrong way or irritating someone and there were days when I'd go home and replay conversations from the day over and over in my head. I don't feel that anymore, or at least not as strongly. And granted some of that is probably just actually having a good job and good co-workers where I'm respected, but still, my gut tells me that if I'd gotten this job when I was still really sick it would not have gone well.
If anything I now struggle with this in the opposite direction: I have a hard time accepting that nothing's going wrong at work, that my co-workers like me, and that I am trusted to do my job and be competent. It's an odd feeling.
I'm also better at taking constructive criticism, although I probably still need work in this area. There are times when I worry that whatever co-worker is telling me to fix something is secretly pissed that I work there. At the same time I also think that if I was a big problem I'd already have been talked to about it, and they know that I'm still learning. Still better than I used to be though.
I am less afraid now. In the past I have definitely been the type to hide from my problems; if it's something I didn't want to deal with, I just didn't deal with it. I would put off painful conversations, anything to do with bills and money, and anything that made me sad. I've gotten over this in a big way. When I need to talk about something now, even if I'm dreading it, I just do it (it's usually nothing big, I just used to be weird!). I've stopped even giving myself time to hesitate. Financially, I pay a lot more attention to my money, and I'm in the process of making payments that I was unable to for a long time. I'm still working on this area because discussions about money just make me nervous, and I still need to sit down and write out a budget but I'm much better than I used to be. I also take my financial responsibilities seriously, most noticeably in the fact that I've given Jerbs rent money out of every paycheck I've gotten since I started working. And things that make me sad don't crop up often, but recently, Benji* was in desperate need of a grooming, so I finally sucked it up and shaved him and bathed him. Grooming him just makes me so sad, because I can feel how frail he is and how old he's getting it, and I hate thinking about how he probably won't be with me much longer. I think in the past, I wasn't able to put myself through that kind of stuff because I knew that it would always go deeper because I was mentally weak. But now . . . well, it still made me incredibly sad because I want Benji to live forever (seriously, I love that dog), but it didn't fuck up my life for days. Benji was pissed at me for a few days (he really hates baths) but whatever. Basically I was able to do what I had to do and then continue living without over analyzing it or letting it get the best of me, if that makes sense. In the past I'd have spent a few days moping and crying and beating myself up for being a bad dog owner.
This one is more difficult to explain, but it's also one of the best ones. I used to have this weird feeling that I was almost outside my own body; like I wasn't invested in my life, but rather was watching from outside it, like I was watching someone else live my life. It was an odd, odd thing, and it's almost completely gone now. There are still days when it crops up but I'm definitely at a point where I have an easier time seeing myself in my life and feeling fully engaged than I used to.
I also used to have trouble imagining my future for the same reason. When I would picture myself down the road, whether it was a month or a year or a decade, I would have this sensation of it just being impossible, like I was, again, on the outside looking in. I never really knew why this was but I think now that it was because at the time I just literally couldn't conceive of ever being healthy or capable enough to achieve what I was imagining. This was especially true of my relationship with Corey. I would imagine us married and living outside of AZ, just being happy together; working and coming home to each other and cooking dinner together and having date nights and going on vacations and so much more, and even though it was beautiful, I also felt very strongly that the woman I imagined doing those things with him just wasn't me. I felt like I would never, ever be the type of woman who could have that life, that kind of relationship with someone. But now, that all feels very possible, and when I imagine those things, whether with him or just generally, I genuinely see myself in those moments. It's beautiful**, and I really, finally believe in the possibility of my own life.
My personal favorite mental shift is that I have stopped having all these weird questions of identity. I used to spend my days doing nothing because I was so anxious about whether what I wanted to do made sense to my identity. Like, I'd think, I want to read, or write, or sew, or whatever, and I wouldn't know which one to choose because I didn't know which one was me. I had no idea who I was (the benchmark of borderline personality disorder), and therefore I felt the need to fit my whole identity into a really concrete definition. So I'd wonder: am I the type of person who writes? who reads? who sews? who hikes? who whatevers? It was horrible. But now, I feel much more relaxed about this, and I realize that I can be a person who does ALL of those things, and that if I go through phases where I prefer one over the other, then that's not a big deal. I need to do what makes me happy and what I enjoy, period the end.
So I'm doing well. Very well. And I love it.
--------------------
*Seriously, I love Benji. I would give anything for him to be healthy again. If somehow I could make it that way I would. But he's not doing so hot right now and I try to just focus on the fact that I gave him the best life he could possibly have and saved him from misery and death. When he passes I'm going to have him cremated, and then when I die, his urn will be buried with me. I'm also going to get a memorial tattoo for him.
**The only downside of this newfound sense of possibility is that it makes the breakup even more painful. It sucks to know that I've finally gotten there--like I can finally legit be with someone in a real way--but that the one person I want to be with . . . well, you know.
3.23.2013
The Other Side
Did you know that, in the thick of the breakup last May, I threatened to stop all forms of treatment in response to getting dumped? I very clearly remember saying to Corey, "I can't do this without you. Getting better isn't worth it if you're not waiting for me on the other side."
I am ashamed to admit how absolutely I meant that at the time. At that point, I honestly, 100% believed what I was saying, believed that getting better was a waste of time without having something tangible to do it for. I didn't want to get better for a life I wasn't happy in, if that makes sense, and that was what it felt like: getting better without him was getting better just to go back to something I already disliked.
I'm glad to be able to say now that I was wrong.
Because now, I am on the other side. And I got to this place without him waiting here, without him doing a thing to help me get here, and it's just as beautiful for it.
Do you know who was waiting for me? I was. Me. Myself. The real me. The person I'm supposed to be. The healthy version of myself. (And yes, I know how cheesy that is).
This journey has been worth it. As much as I regret how badly I screwed things up with Corey (I'm going to post about that soon) and as much as I do wish he'd been here to share it with me (because having to do it alone and wanting to do it alone are different things), I have to say that looking back, I really don't know that I could have attained this level of mental health with him in my life. Which is not to say he was keeping me sick, but more that I really did need to be able to completely focus on myself.
I think deep down I always knew I'd have to do it on my own. I think I knew that even before Corey came around. Self reliance has been the most significant thing I've gained from this, and I am grateful for that.
And I have to say that now that I'm here, on the other side, I have no intention of ever going back.
I am ashamed to admit how absolutely I meant that at the time. At that point, I honestly, 100% believed what I was saying, believed that getting better was a waste of time without having something tangible to do it for. I didn't want to get better for a life I wasn't happy in, if that makes sense, and that was what it felt like: getting better without him was getting better just to go back to something I already disliked.
I'm glad to be able to say now that I was wrong.
Because now, I am on the other side. And I got to this place without him waiting here, without him doing a thing to help me get here, and it's just as beautiful for it.
Do you know who was waiting for me? I was. Me. Myself. The real me. The person I'm supposed to be. The healthy version of myself. (And yes, I know how cheesy that is).
This journey has been worth it. As much as I regret how badly I screwed things up with Corey (I'm going to post about that soon) and as much as I do wish he'd been here to share it with me (because having to do it alone and wanting to do it alone are different things), I have to say that looking back, I really don't know that I could have attained this level of mental health with him in my life. Which is not to say he was keeping me sick, but more that I really did need to be able to completely focus on myself.
I think deep down I always knew I'd have to do it on my own. I think I knew that even before Corey came around. Self reliance has been the most significant thing I've gained from this, and I am grateful for that.
And I have to say that now that I'm here, on the other side, I have no intention of ever going back.
2.10.2013
The Big Two Eight
Today is my birthday!
As of this afternoon, I am officially 28. Twenty.freaking.eight. I cannot even begin to tell you how weird it is to say that. It's just . . . I don't know.
I think that when we're kids, and teenagers, and even when we're young adults, we expect adulthood to feel really distinctly different from childhood and teenhood and collegehood and all those other stages. I think we all expect there to be a *moment* where we become real grown ups, and that we wait and wait for that moment, and then hit our late twenties and realize that we're definitely grown ups, but that that moment never came. Instead you just kind of somehow grow up. It's like driving somewhere without paying attention and arriving at your destination with no clue how you got there.
I think I definitely did that. I definitely thought I'd feel different now than I did when I was younger but . . . well, I really don't. I'm still the same person I was back in college, just a bit more polished and mature. I'm still awkward as ever, but I'm more confident now than I ever have been.
I actually like who I am right now.
There are things I'd change. There are things I'm working on changing. But overall, I like who I am. I am OK with me.
As for my birthday, it wasn't bad. I'm not too excited to be 28 because I like odd numbered ages better (I know that's weird, and I don't know why). I had to go grocery shopping today, in the snow; there was a lot on the ground and it came down steadily for most of the time I was out, which caused the buses to be massively behind schedule. Not so fun. But it all worked out and Jerbs was able to meet me for dinner, and we got home safely, so overall, it was a success.
I didn't get the one thing I really wanted, but then again I don't know that I really expected to, so I'm only a little disappointed.
And that's about it.
So hello, 28. Let's be good to one another.
As of this afternoon, I am officially 28. Twenty.freaking.eight. I cannot even begin to tell you how weird it is to say that. It's just . . . I don't know.
I think that when we're kids, and teenagers, and even when we're young adults, we expect adulthood to feel really distinctly different from childhood and teenhood and collegehood and all those other stages. I think we all expect there to be a *moment* where we become real grown ups, and that we wait and wait for that moment, and then hit our late twenties and realize that we're definitely grown ups, but that that moment never came. Instead you just kind of somehow grow up. It's like driving somewhere without paying attention and arriving at your destination with no clue how you got there.
I think I definitely did that. I definitely thought I'd feel different now than I did when I was younger but . . . well, I really don't. I'm still the same person I was back in college, just a bit more polished and mature. I'm still awkward as ever, but I'm more confident now than I ever have been.
I actually like who I am right now.
There are things I'd change. There are things I'm working on changing. But overall, I like who I am. I am OK with me.
As for my birthday, it wasn't bad. I'm not too excited to be 28 because I like odd numbered ages better (I know that's weird, and I don't know why). I had to go grocery shopping today, in the snow; there was a lot on the ground and it came down steadily for most of the time I was out, which caused the buses to be massively behind schedule. Not so fun. But it all worked out and Jerbs was able to meet me for dinner, and we got home safely, so overall, it was a success.
I didn't get the one thing I really wanted, but then again I don't know that I really expected to, so I'm only a little disappointed.
And that's about it.
So hello, 28. Let's be good to one another.
1.26.2013
It's Weird
It's weird to have a job.
It's weird to have the job that I do. (Seriously, I have a degree in literature and I'm working in a math and medical related field. WTF?)
It's weird to have a grown up schedule.
It's weird to be making enough money to support myself. (Eventually. Obviously I haven't gotten a full paycheck yet).
I'm happy, but it's also just . . . weird. Some nights I can't really believe I got this job. Some nights I habitually go to Craigslist and look at the job ads before I remember that I don't have to do that anymore. And you would not believe the relief I feel every time that happens.
Did I tell you I almost didn't even go to the second interview? I don't think I ever mentioned that, but it's totally true. I'd had a good feeling after my first interview, but for whatever reason, New Years was a hard holiday. I found myself anxious and depressed for part of New Years Eve and all of New Years Day. So on the morning of the second I was feeling very negative, and as I got ready for my interview my mind was racing. I just kept thinking, there is no way in hell I'm going to get this job, and why would I ever think I might? I kept thinking that it was going to be a huge disappointment just like all my other interviews. And then I kept thinking about what I would do if that happened--like in a what would I do next way--and it wasn't pleasant. I just kept thinking about how I'd applied at all the retail places I could and how there were never office jobs anymore on CL and what was I going to do? The anxiety made me feel physically sick and I really did almost cancel. I almost cried on the way there because I was absolutely terrified, thinking that I really couldn't deal with another disappointment and hoping like hell I didn't totally blow it. I remember sitting in the MHC waiting room feeling so anxious I was dizzy, and feeling like I was going to throw up or pass out or some horrible combo of both.
I'm so glad I didn't cancel. I think deep, deep down I knew I was going to get this one from the very beginning--I just had a good feeling--but that morning was so stressful. I remember I relaxed as soon as I saw the office manager who did my first interview, which I took as a good sign.
Anyway, back to the weird. I tell myself that of course I'm going to feel a little weird for a while for a few reasons.
1) I haven't had a full time job since 2009. Isn't that sad? In Nov. 2009 I lost my job at the clinic and didn't work again until Hastings in September 2011. And obviously that was part time so suddenly working 36 hours is an adjustment.
2) I have never had a Monday thru Friday job. At the clinic I did 12 hour shifts and worked every other weekend, so the schedule was a little weird. (But good). So M thru F is a bit strange . . . but I like it!
3) I haven't had a job that required actual focus and concentration since 2009. Because Hastings isn't really a hard place to work, and since I'd worked there before, I usually did my job on auto pilot; my mind was rarely engaged. But working at MHC, I actually have to pay attention and remember things. My brain is having a hard time waking up, if that makes sense.
4) Not to mention I spent about 2.5 years totally mentally checked out of life in general. It's hard to be engaged in life again, y'know what I mean? Not only in the actual work sense, but in other things, like relating to co-workers as well. Just having a life feels strange. Talking to people and interacting and all that . . . weird. But definitely good.
5) It's weird to be one of the few single and childless people in the office. Pretty much everyone is married and has kids, or is at least one of those two. Kinda strange.
It's odd because I almost feel like I used to, before I got really sick. Back when I was first at the clinic and loving life, when I was happy to have an office job and happy with how cool my co-workers were, when I had a car. How I feel now is similar to how I felt then, like I feel flashes of the back then, but it's different now. I realize that back then, even before I got sick, I was already sick, because I feel so much more normal and level headed than I did then. And I just kind of wonder how things would have gone if I'd gotten help then.
And I feel like I almost don't know what to make of the time in between, if that makes sense. The years of illness, meeting Corey, falling in love and getting engaged, moving back to Kingman, the ups and downs of initial treatment . . . it's really strange to think that I went through all of that and ended up almost right back where I started. In Flagstaff, with Jerbs, working in a medical office, and . . . happy. Honestly there are times when I wonder if Corey ever happened at all, when it doesn't even seem real. The question of how I got from that life back to this one is a big one with a lot of answers . . .
But really that's for another post.
Good night.
It's weird to have the job that I do. (Seriously, I have a degree in literature and I'm working in a math and medical related field. WTF?)
It's weird to have a grown up schedule.
It's weird to be making enough money to support myself. (Eventually. Obviously I haven't gotten a full paycheck yet).
I'm happy, but it's also just . . . weird. Some nights I can't really believe I got this job. Some nights I habitually go to Craigslist and look at the job ads before I remember that I don't have to do that anymore. And you would not believe the relief I feel every time that happens.
Did I tell you I almost didn't even go to the second interview? I don't think I ever mentioned that, but it's totally true. I'd had a good feeling after my first interview, but for whatever reason, New Years was a hard holiday. I found myself anxious and depressed for part of New Years Eve and all of New Years Day. So on the morning of the second I was feeling very negative, and as I got ready for my interview my mind was racing. I just kept thinking, there is no way in hell I'm going to get this job, and why would I ever think I might? I kept thinking that it was going to be a huge disappointment just like all my other interviews. And then I kept thinking about what I would do if that happened--like in a what would I do next way--and it wasn't pleasant. I just kept thinking about how I'd applied at all the retail places I could and how there were never office jobs anymore on CL and what was I going to do? The anxiety made me feel physically sick and I really did almost cancel. I almost cried on the way there because I was absolutely terrified, thinking that I really couldn't deal with another disappointment and hoping like hell I didn't totally blow it. I remember sitting in the MHC waiting room feeling so anxious I was dizzy, and feeling like I was going to throw up or pass out or some horrible combo of both.
I'm so glad I didn't cancel. I think deep, deep down I knew I was going to get this one from the very beginning--I just had a good feeling--but that morning was so stressful. I remember I relaxed as soon as I saw the office manager who did my first interview, which I took as a good sign.
Anyway, back to the weird. I tell myself that of course I'm going to feel a little weird for a while for a few reasons.
1) I haven't had a full time job since 2009. Isn't that sad? In Nov. 2009 I lost my job at the clinic and didn't work again until Hastings in September 2011. And obviously that was part time so suddenly working 36 hours is an adjustment.
2) I have never had a Monday thru Friday job. At the clinic I did 12 hour shifts and worked every other weekend, so the schedule was a little weird. (But good). So M thru F is a bit strange . . . but I like it!
3) I haven't had a job that required actual focus and concentration since 2009. Because Hastings isn't really a hard place to work, and since I'd worked there before, I usually did my job on auto pilot; my mind was rarely engaged. But working at MHC, I actually have to pay attention and remember things. My brain is having a hard time waking up, if that makes sense.
4) Not to mention I spent about 2.5 years totally mentally checked out of life in general. It's hard to be engaged in life again, y'know what I mean? Not only in the actual work sense, but in other things, like relating to co-workers as well. Just having a life feels strange. Talking to people and interacting and all that . . . weird. But definitely good.
5) It's weird to be one of the few single and childless people in the office. Pretty much everyone is married and has kids, or is at least one of those two. Kinda strange.
It's odd because I almost feel like I used to, before I got really sick. Back when I was first at the clinic and loving life, when I was happy to have an office job and happy with how cool my co-workers were, when I had a car. How I feel now is similar to how I felt then, like I feel flashes of the back then, but it's different now. I realize that back then, even before I got sick, I was already sick, because I feel so much more normal and level headed than I did then. And I just kind of wonder how things would have gone if I'd gotten help then.
And I feel like I almost don't know what to make of the time in between, if that makes sense. The years of illness, meeting Corey, falling in love and getting engaged, moving back to Kingman, the ups and downs of initial treatment . . . it's really strange to think that I went through all of that and ended up almost right back where I started. In Flagstaff, with Jerbs, working in a medical office, and . . . happy. Honestly there are times when I wonder if Corey ever happened at all, when it doesn't even seem real. The question of how I got from that life back to this one is a big one with a lot of answers . . .
But really that's for another post.
Good night.
1.19.2013
So Long, 9816
Before I left the Kingman Hastings last July, I was under the impression that the Flagstaff Hastings was the more successful of the 2: higher sales, more hours, more associates, etc. (Which is why I was delusional enough to think I'd get 30 hours a week . . . ha!) Right before I left, though, the Kingman LS manager told me that the Flag store was floundering and that as a result of that the store was moving.
And when I got up here, that's what everyone here knew: that the store was going to move, that they needed to be out of the space by the end of March, and that the corporate office was in the process of finding a new location. Well, corporate kind of just kept jerking us around with, "Oh, we're still looking," and blah blah blah. By the time I left at the beginning of November they still had not found a location. And I don't know if it's obvious to anyone else but . . . moving an entire retail store (a pretty big store too) as well as making sure all the connections to corporate are set up is kind of a big undertaking--not really something you can do overnight. So of course the speculation that the store might actually be closing started among the staff. At the time I left the official answer was still a move.
Then this evening I was reading the AZ Daily Sun online, and sure enough, there it was: an article officially announcing that Hastings 9816 will be permanently closing on March 15th. The reason listed by the paper was just that the lease was up on the building (which is obviously not what's actually going on).
We were told not to say anything about the real reason, so I'm not going to here (just in case).
At any rate, though, I can say that based on the real reason, corporate had two options: move the store or close the store. And at the end of the day, between the abysmal sales, the pathetic staff, the dissatisfied customers, and the overall complete dysfunction of the store made them decide that it would be a waste to invest the time and money in moving and opted for closing. (Honestly, if the store wasn't closing now, my guess is that it would have closed by the end of this year anyway).
Obviously, I'm not sad. I'm actually pretty happy. I feel very vindicated as far as how I ended up leaving and all that, because I feel like this basically says, see? You can't run a store that poorly and treat your employees that badly and still stay in business. Because it all comes back to how the store was being run, in my opinion.
Yes, the decision is a financial one, and yes, sales were way down most days I was there. But that's to be expected--when you have Redbox and Netflix for movies and TV, iTunes and other services like that for music, and Kindle and Nook and all those for books (not to mention all the illegal download stuff) it's hard to keep customers. Personally, I think that in an environment that's that competitive, where the customer can pretty much do everything on their own, the only reason they're gong to prefer an actual in store experience is if they really love the environment of the store and the attitudes/personalities/knowledge of the employees. And when your employees are all assholes who don't know shit about the job, and the store feels nothing but chaotic and messy and disorganized . . . well, then there's zero incentive for the customer to choose the store over all their other options. And that's what bit these guys in the ass.
It's kind of a vicious cycle: the store and employees aren't well liked by the customer . . . customers stop returning and sales drop . . . drop in sales leads to cutting hours all over and fewer workers in the store at any given time . . . lowered workforce only makes the initial problems worse because then work is never done properly and stocking and cleaning fall behind and when a customer does need help, they have to wait . . . if someone does help them there's a good chance they don't know what they're doing because there aren't enough hours to actually train people on the sales floor.
I think Hastings could still be successful in Flag if it bought a much, much smaller space and became strictly a movie and game rental place. Because Hastings is(was) the ONLY rental place in town anymore aside from Redbox kiosks. We used to have a Hollywood Video, a Blockbuster, and an indie rental place, but they've all been closed for years. A huge chunk of this store's sales was from rental because it was the only thing there's really no competition for in town (we have a bunch of indie music stores, 2 or 3 Game Stops, 2 RadioShacks and a Best Buy, Barnes and Noble, a comic book store, and a Spencers and a Hot Topic that carry most of the same novelty items Hastings did).
(Meanwhile, the Kingman Hastings, while sales are down (sales are down across the company, really, which isn't surprising) will probably never actually go out of business, because aside from the online stuff, there's no competition for them in Kingman).
I am a little sad. I'm sad that there won't be a rental place anymore, and I did have some good times at the store here--back in college, at least. Jenny and I both did, and we made some good friends and got up to quite a bit of mischief around that place. It wasn't the best place to work even in college, but I'm appalled at how far down hill it went in the time between then and when I worked there last year. And there were a few co-workers I actually liked and thought were decent people and I hope that they're all able to find new jobs quickly. (But honestly, they all barely did better than me in the hours department so I'm sure that whatever work they do find will be a step up for them).
I'm glad I got out when I did. I remember thinking in November that I was such an idiot for just quitting the way I did and being so worried that I'd done the wrong thing--but now more than ever I feel like I definitely made the best choice, because not only did I find a killer new job that I'm really loving, but I also escaped the stress of having to worry about finding a new job and all that when the store closed. I almost feel "I told you so" about it, because I came up here doing everything right per corporate standards, the way I was trained, and I was basically hated for it. My co-workers were like lol, look at this idiot actually doing her job and not cutting all the corners. And now . . . they're out of a job! And in my head I'm like, I tried.
It's sad because this store had a lot of potential. It had a great location close to campus and if it had been managed better I think it could have done SO well. But it seems, at the same time, like it was destined to fail, because something about it just always felt off. This store just never had the same sense of work ethic as the Kingman store or other ones I've been to (the downside of living in a college town: lots of college student employees who don't actually give a shit about the job). And whenever there was a manager there who actually tried to make people work and do their jobs correctly, the staff would make them so miserable with their assholeishness about it that the manager would end up leaving (I saw this happen to 2 managers and I don't blame them at all for leaving). It's so sad. It's so stupid. Especially considering that in an economy where a lot of people need jobs very badly you could probably be picky and hire a really great crew.
Oh well. All those suggestions are too late now. I wish some of them the best and most of them not the best. (I have no desire to be the bigger person when it comes to that place).
I'm definitely going to hit up the going out of business sale because why not? Plus . . . ok, I haven't been in Hastings since I quit, because I hate it there and just didn't want to go in. But I feel like now that they're all about to lose their jobs and I'm in a really good work position . . . I'll mind less going in. Good lord, that makes me sound like a horrible, horrible person, but it's true! After what I said when I left about the store being so unprofessional it would have been a little embarrassing to go in and potentially have to admit that I was still unemployed . . . but now I look better than them in comparison. (I swear I'm actually a good person . . . I just hate that place and the people there so, so much). Most of them treated me like complete shit and acted like I was a moron when I actually knew more about the company than they did, and it's really just a wonderful feeling to see such misplaced arrogance cut down. I definitely don't want to go in and rub it in their faces that I'm doing well Hastings free, but I feel like I earned the right to go in and shop and silently gloat. (I got fucking keys thrown at me by a manager when I worked there, so I earned it!)
Anyway. So that's that. So long, Hastings 9816.
Yes, the decision is a financial one, and yes, sales were way down most days I was there. But that's to be expected--when you have Redbox and Netflix for movies and TV, iTunes and other services like that for music, and Kindle and Nook and all those for books (not to mention all the illegal download stuff) it's hard to keep customers. Personally, I think that in an environment that's that competitive, where the customer can pretty much do everything on their own, the only reason they're gong to prefer an actual in store experience is if they really love the environment of the store and the attitudes/personalities/knowledge of the employees. And when your employees are all assholes who don't know shit about the job, and the store feels nothing but chaotic and messy and disorganized . . . well, then there's zero incentive for the customer to choose the store over all their other options. And that's what bit these guys in the ass.
It's kind of a vicious cycle: the store and employees aren't well liked by the customer . . . customers stop returning and sales drop . . . drop in sales leads to cutting hours all over and fewer workers in the store at any given time . . . lowered workforce only makes the initial problems worse because then work is never done properly and stocking and cleaning fall behind and when a customer does need help, they have to wait . . . if someone does help them there's a good chance they don't know what they're doing because there aren't enough hours to actually train people on the sales floor.
I think Hastings could still be successful in Flag if it bought a much, much smaller space and became strictly a movie and game rental place. Because Hastings is(was) the ONLY rental place in town anymore aside from Redbox kiosks. We used to have a Hollywood Video, a Blockbuster, and an indie rental place, but they've all been closed for years. A huge chunk of this store's sales was from rental because it was the only thing there's really no competition for in town (we have a bunch of indie music stores, 2 or 3 Game Stops, 2 RadioShacks and a Best Buy, Barnes and Noble, a comic book store, and a Spencers and a Hot Topic that carry most of the same novelty items Hastings did).
(Meanwhile, the Kingman Hastings, while sales are down (sales are down across the company, really, which isn't surprising) will probably never actually go out of business, because aside from the online stuff, there's no competition for them in Kingman).
I am a little sad. I'm sad that there won't be a rental place anymore, and I did have some good times at the store here--back in college, at least. Jenny and I both did, and we made some good friends and got up to quite a bit of mischief around that place. It wasn't the best place to work even in college, but I'm appalled at how far down hill it went in the time between then and when I worked there last year. And there were a few co-workers I actually liked and thought were decent people and I hope that they're all able to find new jobs quickly. (But honestly, they all barely did better than me in the hours department so I'm sure that whatever work they do find will be a step up for them).
I'm glad I got out when I did. I remember thinking in November that I was such an idiot for just quitting the way I did and being so worried that I'd done the wrong thing--but now more than ever I feel like I definitely made the best choice, because not only did I find a killer new job that I'm really loving, but I also escaped the stress of having to worry about finding a new job and all that when the store closed. I almost feel "I told you so" about it, because I came up here doing everything right per corporate standards, the way I was trained, and I was basically hated for it. My co-workers were like lol, look at this idiot actually doing her job and not cutting all the corners. And now . . . they're out of a job! And in my head I'm like, I tried.
It's sad because this store had a lot of potential. It had a great location close to campus and if it had been managed better I think it could have done SO well. But it seems, at the same time, like it was destined to fail, because something about it just always felt off. This store just never had the same sense of work ethic as the Kingman store or other ones I've been to (the downside of living in a college town: lots of college student employees who don't actually give a shit about the job). And whenever there was a manager there who actually tried to make people work and do their jobs correctly, the staff would make them so miserable with their assholeishness about it that the manager would end up leaving (I saw this happen to 2 managers and I don't blame them at all for leaving). It's so sad. It's so stupid. Especially considering that in an economy where a lot of people need jobs very badly you could probably be picky and hire a really great crew.
Oh well. All those suggestions are too late now. I wish some of them the best and most of them not the best. (I have no desire to be the bigger person when it comes to that place).
I'm definitely going to hit up the going out of business sale because why not? Plus . . . ok, I haven't been in Hastings since I quit, because I hate it there and just didn't want to go in. But I feel like now that they're all about to lose their jobs and I'm in a really good work position . . . I'll mind less going in. Good lord, that makes me sound like a horrible, horrible person, but it's true! After what I said when I left about the store being so unprofessional it would have been a little embarrassing to go in and potentially have to admit that I was still unemployed . . . but now I look better than them in comparison. (I swear I'm actually a good person . . . I just hate that place and the people there so, so much). Most of them treated me like complete shit and acted like I was a moron when I actually knew more about the company than they did, and it's really just a wonderful feeling to see such misplaced arrogance cut down. I definitely don't want to go in and rub it in their faces that I'm doing well Hastings free, but I feel like I earned the right to go in and shop and silently gloat. (I got fucking keys thrown at me by a manager when I worked there, so I earned it!)
Anyway. So that's that. So long, Hastings 9816.
11.13.2012
This Pain is MY Pain
One of my biggest pet peeves is people who always tell you that it could be worse when you're not doing well.
I hate it even more when people go into specifics. When they say things like, "Well, at least you aren't [somewhere currently affected by a natural disaster] [suffering from some awful disease like so and so] [dealing with blah blah blah like so and so] [whatever other specific example you can think of]."
I know that sentiment is rarely, if ever, meant as an insult or a negative. I think generally when people say it they're trying to remind you to count your blessings. I respect that, and being reminded to be thankful isn't necessarily a bad thing. And yes, most of those examples are, objectively, worse than what I'm going through. Right now, I'm going through a break up, and yes, I'd rather be dealing with this than a natural disaster or a bad medical diagnosis or a lot of other things.
But that doesn't mean I'm not hurting. It doesn't mean that what I'm going through isn't the worst thing to me. It doesn't mean that whatever I'm going through is meaningless in comparison to what anyone else is going through. This is my obstacle right now, and it feels like hell.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to say that other peoples' pain doesn't matter or that I don't keep those I know who are dealing with some bad things in my thoughts and prayers. It does and I do. Absolutely.
I just don't like the concept of comparing grief and pain. It's not a contest. And honestly, if it was a contest, is it one you'd really want to win?
I think everyone has their own pain to deal with, whether it's something tremendous like losing parts of their lives to a natural disaster, or something not quite as tremendous as being dumped a month before your wedding. And I think we should respect one another's pain--respect the fact that it exists and is real to them, even if we can't see it. Does that make sense? Just because you think someone else might be hurting more, it doesn't mean that the person you're talking to isn't hurting.
When people confide in me about whatever it is they're going through, I never tell them it could be worse. I only tell them it'll get better, and that I'll listen if they need someone to talk to, and that if I can help them some other way, I will. If I catch myself thinking that they don't know crap about grief or pain based on what I've gone through myself, I tell myself to shut up. Because their pain is theirs and I don't know what it feels like to them.
I hate it even more when people go into specifics. When they say things like, "Well, at least you aren't [somewhere currently affected by a natural disaster] [suffering from some awful disease like so and so] [dealing with blah blah blah like so and so] [whatever other specific example you can think of]."
I know that sentiment is rarely, if ever, meant as an insult or a negative. I think generally when people say it they're trying to remind you to count your blessings. I respect that, and being reminded to be thankful isn't necessarily a bad thing. And yes, most of those examples are, objectively, worse than what I'm going through. Right now, I'm going through a break up, and yes, I'd rather be dealing with this than a natural disaster or a bad medical diagnosis or a lot of other things.
But that doesn't mean I'm not hurting. It doesn't mean that what I'm going through isn't the worst thing to me. It doesn't mean that whatever I'm going through is meaningless in comparison to what anyone else is going through. This is my obstacle right now, and it feels like hell.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to say that other peoples' pain doesn't matter or that I don't keep those I know who are dealing with some bad things in my thoughts and prayers. It does and I do. Absolutely.
I just don't like the concept of comparing grief and pain. It's not a contest. And honestly, if it was a contest, is it one you'd really want to win?
I think everyone has their own pain to deal with, whether it's something tremendous like losing parts of their lives to a natural disaster, or something not quite as tremendous as being dumped a month before your wedding. And I think we should respect one another's pain--respect the fact that it exists and is real to them, even if we can't see it. Does that make sense? Just because you think someone else might be hurting more, it doesn't mean that the person you're talking to isn't hurting.
When people confide in me about whatever it is they're going through, I never tell them it could be worse. I only tell them it'll get better, and that I'll listen if they need someone to talk to, and that if I can help them some other way, I will. If I catch myself thinking that they don't know crap about grief or pain based on what I've gone through myself, I tell myself to shut up. Because their pain is theirs and I don't know what it feels like to them.
11.10.2012
Interesting
Tonight in my internet rounds, I came across an article on MSNBC.com that talked about how marriage proposals are becoming bigger and bigger and more public events; about how so many men now propose in big public ways, like with flash mobs or on stage at concerts for whatever. And how there are apparently event planners now who specialize in this sort of thing. I was reading the article about midway through I came across this quote:
"Sure, you can have an intimate proposal between two people--but that's not the way a couple or a family live their lives together. They live their lives connected to hundreds of other people. This kind of a proposal takes it to a more natural place where you get to share this moment with people who care about you and hundreds of other people as well."
And it really just kind of caught my attention and made me think.
The guy who said this has a point. We are very, very social beings these days, and we live in a place and time where it's really easy to connect to other people. We share our whole lives with people without even blinking--I mean, look at this blog. It's public, but I don't mind in the least that there are potentially strangers reading it. We're almost trained to share our lives anymore. I don't really think it's necessarily a bad thing; a lot of good has come from having a world that is so interconnected in so many ways. I think sharing so much can make us feel validated, almost, and that's why we're so drawn to work. Networking definitely has its advantages.
BUT. The thought of sharing some of the most beautiful moments of my life with hundreds of complete strangers is something I don't like the sound of. I have no problem discussing some elements of my personal life or venting online to strangers. But there are definitely some things I want kept to myself.
I firmly believe that there are some parts of our lives that should still be private, and love/marriage is one of them. Obviously we all talk about those things with people to an extent, but at the same time, I think that when two people are in love or married there should be some things that are only between them. I mean, isn't that the point of a serious relationship? That it's different than any of the other relationships in your life? Closer, more intimate? That's what I think--that a marriage should be an intimate thing that doesn't involve hundreds of other people, and that there's nothing wrong with that.
I felt very strongly about this when Corey and I started discussing forever, and I realized I'd be getting engaged or married. I thought about what I really wanted out of those things. I knew I wanted an intimate proposal, and it was; Corey and I were hiking in Sedona, along the Oak Creek, when he asked me to marry him, and I've never told anyone exactly what he said when he did it. Just because I want it to be ours alone. It was beautiful, and I think that if I'd been being watched by a ton of other people, I'd have hated it. Because it was just the two of us . . . I don't know, it felt like there was some kind of promise in that. The engagement was really the beginning of the rest of our lives (or so I imagined it to be at the time) and since it was just us, it felt like that was what I was agreeing to. That I was saying yes to there always being an us--that at the end of the day, whatever was going on in our lives, good or bad, it would come down to the two of us. Cheesy, I know, but totally true.
Then as we started to plan the wedding the question of who would be our Maid of Honor and Best Man came up. I won't lie, I didn't really have anyone I could ask. I don't have a lot of good friends. Well, there's Jerbs, but given that she's my ex, her being in the wedding seemed like a no no. So it probably would have been one of my sisters, and I didn't want to have to choose just one of them. Corey had someone in mind but they hadn't talked in a long time so it wasn't a for sure thing. I stressed over this, trying to figure out who I could see standing by my side when I said my vows, and eventually, I realized that I didn't want anyone there. I wanted (and Corey agreed with this) it to just be Corey and me at the altar. That made sense to me. It felt more intimate that way--it felt like the way I wanted to start our life together. I honestly think that once I thought it over that's what I would want regardless of whether or not I have an obvious choice for Maid of Honor. It's still what I want for my someday wedding, whether it's with Corey or not.
Really, when I was with Corey, especially after we moved in together, my favorite parts of our relationship were the just us times. I loved going home together, and that the day always ended and began with us alone. (Again, cheesy as hell . . . but true).
I'm not saying that engagements and weddings aren't awesome things that shouldn't be shared with friends and family. I just think that our society tends to focus more on those things than the actual marriage. And this article insinuated at points that people are feeling more social pressure to make those parts of their lives huge, public spectacles, and I think that's sad. There's nothing wrong with wanting intimacy over exposure, in my opinion.
Besides, a fancy, elaborate, public proposal doesn't mean you're more loved than anyone else. It doesn't mean your marriage is going to be better because of it. And it doesn't matter either how big the engagement ring is or how many people are in your wedding or at your wedding or how much the dress cost or how much you spend on the honeymoon. I mean, there's nothing wrong with those things, but not one of them guarantees a successful marriage. And the engagement doesn't last forever, and the wedding's only a day, but the marriage is forever.
Anyway. Just my opinion of the matter.
"Sure, you can have an intimate proposal between two people--but that's not the way a couple or a family live their lives together. They live their lives connected to hundreds of other people. This kind of a proposal takes it to a more natural place where you get to share this moment with people who care about you and hundreds of other people as well."
And it really just kind of caught my attention and made me think.
The guy who said this has a point. We are very, very social beings these days, and we live in a place and time where it's really easy to connect to other people. We share our whole lives with people without even blinking--I mean, look at this blog. It's public, but I don't mind in the least that there are potentially strangers reading it. We're almost trained to share our lives anymore. I don't really think it's necessarily a bad thing; a lot of good has come from having a world that is so interconnected in so many ways. I think sharing so much can make us feel validated, almost, and that's why we're so drawn to work. Networking definitely has its advantages.
BUT. The thought of sharing some of the most beautiful moments of my life with hundreds of complete strangers is something I don't like the sound of. I have no problem discussing some elements of my personal life or venting online to strangers. But there are definitely some things I want kept to myself.
I firmly believe that there are some parts of our lives that should still be private, and love/marriage is one of them. Obviously we all talk about those things with people to an extent, but at the same time, I think that when two people are in love or married there should be some things that are only between them. I mean, isn't that the point of a serious relationship? That it's different than any of the other relationships in your life? Closer, more intimate? That's what I think--that a marriage should be an intimate thing that doesn't involve hundreds of other people, and that there's nothing wrong with that.
I felt very strongly about this when Corey and I started discussing forever, and I realized I'd be getting engaged or married. I thought about what I really wanted out of those things. I knew I wanted an intimate proposal, and it was; Corey and I were hiking in Sedona, along the Oak Creek, when he asked me to marry him, and I've never told anyone exactly what he said when he did it. Just because I want it to be ours alone. It was beautiful, and I think that if I'd been being watched by a ton of other people, I'd have hated it. Because it was just the two of us . . . I don't know, it felt like there was some kind of promise in that. The engagement was really the beginning of the rest of our lives (or so I imagined it to be at the time) and since it was just us, it felt like that was what I was agreeing to. That I was saying yes to there always being an us--that at the end of the day, whatever was going on in our lives, good or bad, it would come down to the two of us. Cheesy, I know, but totally true.
Then as we started to plan the wedding the question of who would be our Maid of Honor and Best Man came up. I won't lie, I didn't really have anyone I could ask. I don't have a lot of good friends. Well, there's Jerbs, but given that she's my ex, her being in the wedding seemed like a no no. So it probably would have been one of my sisters, and I didn't want to have to choose just one of them. Corey had someone in mind but they hadn't talked in a long time so it wasn't a for sure thing. I stressed over this, trying to figure out who I could see standing by my side when I said my vows, and eventually, I realized that I didn't want anyone there. I wanted (and Corey agreed with this) it to just be Corey and me at the altar. That made sense to me. It felt more intimate that way--it felt like the way I wanted to start our life together. I honestly think that once I thought it over that's what I would want regardless of whether or not I have an obvious choice for Maid of Honor. It's still what I want for my someday wedding, whether it's with Corey or not.
Really, when I was with Corey, especially after we moved in together, my favorite parts of our relationship were the just us times. I loved going home together, and that the day always ended and began with us alone. (Again, cheesy as hell . . . but true).
I'm not saying that engagements and weddings aren't awesome things that shouldn't be shared with friends and family. I just think that our society tends to focus more on those things than the actual marriage. And this article insinuated at points that people are feeling more social pressure to make those parts of their lives huge, public spectacles, and I think that's sad. There's nothing wrong with wanting intimacy over exposure, in my opinion.
Besides, a fancy, elaborate, public proposal doesn't mean you're more loved than anyone else. It doesn't mean your marriage is going to be better because of it. And it doesn't matter either how big the engagement ring is or how many people are in your wedding or at your wedding or how much the dress cost or how much you spend on the honeymoon. I mean, there's nothing wrong with those things, but not one of them guarantees a successful marriage. And the engagement doesn't last forever, and the wedding's only a day, but the marriage is forever.
Anyway. Just my opinion of the matter.
10.30.2012
Lately
--Work is going OK. I mean . . . it still mostly sucks but I've gotten 19 hours the past two weeks and 20 this week so I guess that's OK. I'm still actively looking for a new/full time job but there haven't been as many viable listings lately which sucks. Hopefully I'll find something soon.
--I haven't made much progress on my grad school application stuff. The personal statement thing is going to be the death of me . . . or at least of my application. I'm just not feeling terribly inspired in that area I suppose.
--I've been having a hypersomnia issue. Lately I just can't seem to get enough sleep. I mean, I'm a night owl so I always stay up really late (like . . . 3 AM kinda late, since I never work mornings) but I should still be able to be up by 11 AM or noon at the latest . . . or so I'd think. Lately I've been staying in bed until 3 or 4 in the afternoon, and I hate it. I think at least some of it is the weather; it's freezing so I want to hibernate. The house is cold, my bed is warm and at least somewhat comfy so . . . yeah. Also, I may have screwed up my schedule this past Saturday with the whole store meeting thing. Basically, I couldn't sleep, so I stayed up until 4 in the morning, then went to bed and got up at 6 in the morning to get ready and call a cab. I got home at around 9 AM and couldn't go to sleep right away, so I stayed up until about 11. Then I slept until 5:30 PM, so my schedule might just still be thrown off from that. It wouldn't surprise me. But still the hypersomnia makes me feel like crap about myself.
--Overall my mood has sucked. My period came and went and I'm still really really depressed and worried and anxious. I'm also feeling a little more irritable, like I'm consistently a little closer to anger/rage mood wise. I effing hate it but I don't know what to do about it. I don't even really know where it's coming from. (Well, I have a couple theories but overall I don't know).
--I feel overwhelmed with this sense of dread, just at everything. Just at the thought of my life going on. The holidays coming up, needing to get lab work done, trying to find a new job, needing to buy things like a new bed, worrying about Jerbs, worrying about money, not having a car, not really knowing what the hell I'm doing with my life at the moment . . . I just feel like I can't do it anymore.
--I feel like I have just stopped caring. I just don't care about anything right now. I more or less just . . . well, I hate my life, I guess. Maybe not hate, but am very dissatisfied with. I just . . . I've detached again. I feel like I'm totally uninvested in my own life all over again. This is EXACTLY how I felt before and I was so happy to have moved past it and gotten better. And now I wonder . . . was I wrong? Am I wrong about getting better? Am I still just treading water? I'm taking my Lithium religiously, why is it not doing what it should? Or is it just life factors that are screwing with me? I don't know, I can't tell.
So. Effing. Frustrating.
--I haven't made much progress on my grad school application stuff. The personal statement thing is going to be the death of me . . . or at least of my application. I'm just not feeling terribly inspired in that area I suppose.
--I've been having a hypersomnia issue. Lately I just can't seem to get enough sleep. I mean, I'm a night owl so I always stay up really late (like . . . 3 AM kinda late, since I never work mornings) but I should still be able to be up by 11 AM or noon at the latest . . . or so I'd think. Lately I've been staying in bed until 3 or 4 in the afternoon, and I hate it. I think at least some of it is the weather; it's freezing so I want to hibernate. The house is cold, my bed is warm and at least somewhat comfy so . . . yeah. Also, I may have screwed up my schedule this past Saturday with the whole store meeting thing. Basically, I couldn't sleep, so I stayed up until 4 in the morning, then went to bed and got up at 6 in the morning to get ready and call a cab. I got home at around 9 AM and couldn't go to sleep right away, so I stayed up until about 11. Then I slept until 5:30 PM, so my schedule might just still be thrown off from that. It wouldn't surprise me. But still the hypersomnia makes me feel like crap about myself.
--Overall my mood has sucked. My period came and went and I'm still really really depressed and worried and anxious. I'm also feeling a little more irritable, like I'm consistently a little closer to anger/rage mood wise. I effing hate it but I don't know what to do about it. I don't even really know where it's coming from. (Well, I have a couple theories but overall I don't know).
--I feel overwhelmed with this sense of dread, just at everything. Just at the thought of my life going on. The holidays coming up, needing to get lab work done, trying to find a new job, needing to buy things like a new bed, worrying about Jerbs, worrying about money, not having a car, not really knowing what the hell I'm doing with my life at the moment . . . I just feel like I can't do it anymore.
--I feel like I have just stopped caring. I just don't care about anything right now. I more or less just . . . well, I hate my life, I guess. Maybe not hate, but am very dissatisfied with. I just . . . I've detached again. I feel like I'm totally uninvested in my own life all over again. This is EXACTLY how I felt before and I was so happy to have moved past it and gotten better. And now I wonder . . . was I wrong? Am I wrong about getting better? Am I still just treading water? I'm taking my Lithium religiously, why is it not doing what it should? Or is it just life factors that are screwing with me? I don't know, I can't tell.
So. Effing. Frustrating.
10.27.2012
Torn & Displaced
Torn and displaced. Two words that I realized, today, describe how I've been feeling pretty accurately. And I'm not just talking about the funk of the past couple days, I'm talking about the overall way I've felt since I came back to Flag and all that.
Torn. Torn between lives, I feel. On the one hand, I want to go back to where I was before--to Kingman, to Corey, to that life. I want to incorporate the things I know I want now (like grad school) with that life. On the other hand, I want to live only this new life; go on to wherever I want, start fresh, find myself all over again.
I don't know. Early this morning we had a store meeting and when it was over, a co-worker gave me a ride home. This particular co-worker is a cute, young guy, who I really enjoy talking to. We have similar views on a lot of things and . . . and he's really cute. There is no relationship potential there, though, and even if he was interested it couldn't happen. He's just too young (22 . . . younger than Corey) and he's still figuring out what he wants to do with his life, and I'm past the point of being willing to wait for someone to do that, if that makes sense. I mean, he's a great guy and a gentleman (guys who open car doors for you even if they're already in the car themselves always get points with me). But he's the kind of guy I'd probably go out with if circumstances were different. And as he was driving me home and we were chatting I was thinking of what that might be like, and I was thinking of how there is this small part of me that wants to move on as far as Corey is concerned. A small part of me wants to be finished with him, to let it go and get over it and let myself be open to someday being with someone new.
Later, after I was at home, I was thinking back to our conversation and the trip home, and I remembered that he had taken Soliere. And all of a sudden I flashed back to the first night I hung out with Corey, the night before our first date, and I remembered that he had taken me home via Soliere too--because he wanted to extend our time together and wasn't ready to say good night. And just like that I was very aware of the even bigger part of me that is completely not ready to move on.
Displaced. Displaced because I don't really feel like I belong anywhere right now, like I'm not sure where my place is.
I don't have a real home right now. I'm crashing with Jerbs, and most of my things are in boxes in a different city. There's really not a place for me right now. It's not something that really overwhelms me or anything, but it is frustrating. I would like to have a place that feels like home and where I can unpack and feel like I'm living, y'know? I feel like if I had that it would make other things easier (like settling down to read or write or work on grad school). I would be far more comfortable.
I tell myself that someday it'll happen. Someday I'll have my own place or a place with someone I love; someday I won't feel caught in the middle of things; someday things will have shaken out.
Torn. Torn between lives, I feel. On the one hand, I want to go back to where I was before--to Kingman, to Corey, to that life. I want to incorporate the things I know I want now (like grad school) with that life. On the other hand, I want to live only this new life; go on to wherever I want, start fresh, find myself all over again.
I don't know. Early this morning we had a store meeting and when it was over, a co-worker gave me a ride home. This particular co-worker is a cute, young guy, who I really enjoy talking to. We have similar views on a lot of things and . . . and he's really cute. There is no relationship potential there, though, and even if he was interested it couldn't happen. He's just too young (22 . . . younger than Corey) and he's still figuring out what he wants to do with his life, and I'm past the point of being willing to wait for someone to do that, if that makes sense. I mean, he's a great guy and a gentleman (guys who open car doors for you even if they're already in the car themselves always get points with me). But he's the kind of guy I'd probably go out with if circumstances were different. And as he was driving me home and we were chatting I was thinking of what that might be like, and I was thinking of how there is this small part of me that wants to move on as far as Corey is concerned. A small part of me wants to be finished with him, to let it go and get over it and let myself be open to someday being with someone new.
Later, after I was at home, I was thinking back to our conversation and the trip home, and I remembered that he had taken Soliere. And all of a sudden I flashed back to the first night I hung out with Corey, the night before our first date, and I remembered that he had taken me home via Soliere too--because he wanted to extend our time together and wasn't ready to say good night. And just like that I was very aware of the even bigger part of me that is completely not ready to move on.
Displaced. Displaced because I don't really feel like I belong anywhere right now, like I'm not sure where my place is.
I don't have a real home right now. I'm crashing with Jerbs, and most of my things are in boxes in a different city. There's really not a place for me right now. It's not something that really overwhelms me or anything, but it is frustrating. I would like to have a place that feels like home and where I can unpack and feel like I'm living, y'know? I feel like if I had that it would make other things easier (like settling down to read or write or work on grad school). I would be far more comfortable.
I tell myself that someday it'll happen. Someday I'll have my own place or a place with someone I love; someday I won't feel caught in the middle of things; someday things will have shaken out.
10.12.2012
Looking Back
Recently, mostly out of boredom, I've gone through my Twitter account, reading tweets from the past two years--basically since I met Corey. That inspired me to do the same thing on Facebook, and what started out as just something to do because I was bored ended up being pretty eye opening.
First of all, I remember how detached and disengaged I felt when I wrote a good chunk of those statuses, and it's an odd thing to remember. I remember a lot of the statuses but I also remember only being half there when I wrote them. It's strange, because that sense of detachment is something that has gotten a lot better in the past . . . oh, 5 monthsish. And remembering it was almost terrifying, because in a way, I can't believe I ever lived like that. I can't believe that was ever just my normal. Now . . . well, I feel so much better in that regard, and it's kind of nice to see proof of improvement. As far as the detachment goes, I wonder about how the whole break up thing might have helped with that, and in a way, I think I needed a big, traumatic event to pull me back into my life, if that makes sense. (Although why a big happy event like finding the man of my dreams didn't do that I'll never understand . . . but too late to worry about that now).
Second of all, I was so negative. Every other tweet or FB status that I posted was about being angry or sad or sick . . . I found very few positive things over the years. And that's really just kind of depressing. I mean, I knew I wasn't a happy person because I was sick, but I don't think I ever realized just how negative I was. I feel like I've definitely improved in that area as well, and if you look at my tweets or statuses since the break up, there's a lot more positivity. I still have some bad days and it's not all sunshine but I feel like the bad things now are just normal things to be upset about. Like posting that I'm ticked about not getting the job, or being frustrated over things at work--normal. It's not like it used to be where every little thing that happened to me was negative or pissed me off or whatever.
Third of all--and most significantly, I think--I see the dichotomies in my personality; I see the kind of ups and downs and bipolar-ness of it. Like there'll be statuses about how much I disliked Corey and how I wasn't sure if I wanted to be with him, but then within a day there'll be something about how much I love Corey and can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him. It's . . . weird. And it kind of makes me go, no wonder there was such tension between us. No wonder I was so uneasy in the relationship--I couldn't figure things out.
I wonder why I was so up and down with Corey. I think, it's just because I was sick. And then I think, could it really be that simple? Is it really just that easily explained?
I think it is. I think it was all the mental illness. I know that for Corey, it got to a point where he decided that we just weren't compatible, and that was what led to the end of our relationship. But I honestly believe that if I were completely mentally healthy and he and I tried again, we would succeed. And this sort of past reading has made me certain that I never would have gotten better while I was with Corey, no matter how much I wanted to.
What I can say is this: I have definitely changed for the better since our break up. Which is not to say that I don't want to get back together with Corey or anything, because I definitely do. I am just so much healthier mentally than I was at that point in time. I read those old tweets and FB statuses and I know that they're mine, I know that those words came from me, but I feel like I'm a different person now than I was then.
I like me a lot better now.
First of all, I remember how detached and disengaged I felt when I wrote a good chunk of those statuses, and it's an odd thing to remember. I remember a lot of the statuses but I also remember only being half there when I wrote them. It's strange, because that sense of detachment is something that has gotten a lot better in the past . . . oh, 5 monthsish. And remembering it was almost terrifying, because in a way, I can't believe I ever lived like that. I can't believe that was ever just my normal. Now . . . well, I feel so much better in that regard, and it's kind of nice to see proof of improvement. As far as the detachment goes, I wonder about how the whole break up thing might have helped with that, and in a way, I think I needed a big, traumatic event to pull me back into my life, if that makes sense. (Although why a big happy event like finding the man of my dreams didn't do that I'll never understand . . . but too late to worry about that now).
Second of all, I was so negative. Every other tweet or FB status that I posted was about being angry or sad or sick . . . I found very few positive things over the years. And that's really just kind of depressing. I mean, I knew I wasn't a happy person because I was sick, but I don't think I ever realized just how negative I was. I feel like I've definitely improved in that area as well, and if you look at my tweets or statuses since the break up, there's a lot more positivity. I still have some bad days and it's not all sunshine but I feel like the bad things now are just normal things to be upset about. Like posting that I'm ticked about not getting the job, or being frustrated over things at work--normal. It's not like it used to be where every little thing that happened to me was negative or pissed me off or whatever.
Third of all--and most significantly, I think--I see the dichotomies in my personality; I see the kind of ups and downs and bipolar-ness of it. Like there'll be statuses about how much I disliked Corey and how I wasn't sure if I wanted to be with him, but then within a day there'll be something about how much I love Corey and can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him. It's . . . weird. And it kind of makes me go, no wonder there was such tension between us. No wonder I was so uneasy in the relationship--I couldn't figure things out.
I wonder why I was so up and down with Corey. I think, it's just because I was sick. And then I think, could it really be that simple? Is it really just that easily explained?
I think it is. I think it was all the mental illness. I know that for Corey, it got to a point where he decided that we just weren't compatible, and that was what led to the end of our relationship. But I honestly believe that if I were completely mentally healthy and he and I tried again, we would succeed. And this sort of past reading has made me certain that I never would have gotten better while I was with Corey, no matter how much I wanted to.
What I can say is this: I have definitely changed for the better since our break up. Which is not to say that I don't want to get back together with Corey or anything, because I definitely do. I am just so much healthier mentally than I was at that point in time. I read those old tweets and FB statuses and I know that they're mine, I know that those words came from me, but I feel like I'm a different person now than I was then.
I like me a lot better now.
10.09.2012
Snowball
I don't know if this happens to anyone else, but, sometimes when one thing happens to tick me off, it snowballs and all of a sudden all I can think about is EVERYTHING I'm ticked off about.
That's what's going on right now. I was in a fine mood up until like a half an hour ago.
What started it was bad news. I was looking at the Kingman newspaper's website and on the front page, one of the obituaries was for the husband of a close friend. I was shocked and sad. This friend is a former teacher of mine; she was my junior high band director and we played together in the community orchestra. She is the reason I didn't give up music; she is one of the most amazing women I have ever met. She was so glad when I came back and re-joined the orchestra, and it was amazing for me to get to know her on a social level. She now teaches 1st grade at the school where Ex-Fiance teaches and she was one of his biggest allies last year when he was so miserable, and they're now good friends.
I'm sad for her, obviously, for losing her husband. But it's also so frustrating to not be there for something this big, y'know? It's frustrating to me that someone I've known for so long is going through something and I had no idea--but Ex-Fiance knew, and she and Ex-Fiance have probably talked about it. And it's this hugely awful anxiety inducing feeling that Ex-Fiance is living my life, that just because he and I broke up means I don't have a right to my home town or the people in it. Some of those people I've known for nearly 2 decades for fuck's sake.
And I'm mad that Ex-Fiance didn't bother calling or texting me to let me know. He knows that this woman and I are close, he knows that I miss her . . . it's like he wants to keep that life for himself and it feels so not fucking fair. It's kind of a sharp reminder of what the reality is--that I can imagine and hope all I want that Ex-Fiance and I are just taking a break and that we'll eventually get back together but that the truth is he doesn't give a flying fuck about me and we are done done done.
So I was in a bad mood over that, and I knew I needed to just calm down and go to bed. While I was getting ready for bed I checked my voicemails, and one was from my psychiatrist's office from a few days ago. It was kinda mean and basically said that they're closing my chart if I don't schedule an appointment within 30 days.
First of all let me say that I tried to call them twice yesterday to set up an appointment and both times I got their voicemail. Second of all, I don't think they realize how difficult my financial situation actually is. My last paycheck was $111, which doesn't even cover the cost of one half hour appointment with my psychiatrist. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my psychiatrist but it's like, when I don't make enough in a full two week pay period to cover an appointment, shouldn't I get a little bit of a fucking break?
And then, naturally, I was thinking about how I can't afford it, and I remembered that I still haven't heard back from the awesome interview place and I just got frustrated. I want that job SO BADLY and I'm so disappointed that I misinterpreted it. I'm frustrated about this situation in general. I've been up here for a few months now and I feel like I've hardly moved as far as self improvement.
Anyway, that's my rant for the night. I'm already starting to calm down, but now all I can think about is how badly I want to see Ex-Fiance and how much I still want to be with him.
I need to go to bed.
That's what's going on right now. I was in a fine mood up until like a half an hour ago.
What started it was bad news. I was looking at the Kingman newspaper's website and on the front page, one of the obituaries was for the husband of a close friend. I was shocked and sad. This friend is a former teacher of mine; she was my junior high band director and we played together in the community orchestra. She is the reason I didn't give up music; she is one of the most amazing women I have ever met. She was so glad when I came back and re-joined the orchestra, and it was amazing for me to get to know her on a social level. She now teaches 1st grade at the school where Ex-Fiance teaches and she was one of his biggest allies last year when he was so miserable, and they're now good friends.
I'm sad for her, obviously, for losing her husband. But it's also so frustrating to not be there for something this big, y'know? It's frustrating to me that someone I've known for so long is going through something and I had no idea--but Ex-Fiance knew, and she and Ex-Fiance have probably talked about it. And it's this hugely awful anxiety inducing feeling that Ex-Fiance is living my life, that just because he and I broke up means I don't have a right to my home town or the people in it. Some of those people I've known for nearly 2 decades for fuck's sake.
And I'm mad that Ex-Fiance didn't bother calling or texting me to let me know. He knows that this woman and I are close, he knows that I miss her . . . it's like he wants to keep that life for himself and it feels so not fucking fair. It's kind of a sharp reminder of what the reality is--that I can imagine and hope all I want that Ex-Fiance and I are just taking a break and that we'll eventually get back together but that the truth is he doesn't give a flying fuck about me and we are done done done.
So I was in a bad mood over that, and I knew I needed to just calm down and go to bed. While I was getting ready for bed I checked my voicemails, and one was from my psychiatrist's office from a few days ago. It was kinda mean and basically said that they're closing my chart if I don't schedule an appointment within 30 days.
First of all let me say that I tried to call them twice yesterday to set up an appointment and both times I got their voicemail. Second of all, I don't think they realize how difficult my financial situation actually is. My last paycheck was $111, which doesn't even cover the cost of one half hour appointment with my psychiatrist. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my psychiatrist but it's like, when I don't make enough in a full two week pay period to cover an appointment, shouldn't I get a little bit of a fucking break?
And then, naturally, I was thinking about how I can't afford it, and I remembered that I still haven't heard back from the awesome interview place and I just got frustrated. I want that job SO BADLY and I'm so disappointed that I misinterpreted it. I'm frustrated about this situation in general. I've been up here for a few months now and I feel like I've hardly moved as far as self improvement.
Anyway, that's my rant for the night. I'm already starting to calm down, but now all I can think about is how badly I want to see Ex-Fiance and how much I still want to be with him.
I need to go to bed.
9.28.2012
I Want To Grow Old With Someone
Just something that's been on my mind the past few days.
To me, the concept of being married really did mean for the rest of my life. And I didn't doubt that once Corey and I were married we would be together for the rest of our lives.
And I really did used to imagine (and still do imagine sometimes) what it would be like to grow old together. I wondered what we'd look like as we aged and I wondered who we'd become with each other, and I looked forward to that. Knowing that I had that with someone was one of my favorite things about being in a relationship--even when it wasn't so great, I believed we had a future.
When I worked at the walk in clinic there was an elderly couple (in their late '70's) who came in just about every week to see one of our doctors. They'd been married for almost 60 years, and they were just a very nice couple. I loved seeing them every week and since they always came in on my days, we got to know each other well.
I loved seeing them together, because you could tell they were just still in love with each other even after all that time together. He still always opened the door for her and made sure she got whatever she needed first; she was a few years older than him but since his health was poorer, she still worked to support them both. (She finally retired not long before I was fired, thank goodness). There was just something in the way they looked at each other that told you they'd really spent a life together. I remember seeing them together and thinking, if I ever find that with someone, I'll get married, but if I can't have that, I don't want anything.
More than a year ago now, I found her obituary in the Flagstaff newspaper. I actually cried, both because I liked her and because I thought of him and how lost he'd be without her. I still check now and then to see if his is in there, because I can't imagine him holding on for very long without her.
Something made me think of them today. Even now I'm still kind of amazed by them, because they had issues in their life--health problems for one thing, plus her still having to work at almost 80 (she never hid that it was difficult for her, and he always told her he was grateful)--but they were still in love. And it makes me think of how few the problems Corey and I had were, and how if we'd just tried a little harder and not let petty BS come between us things might have worked out.
Hopefully someday . . .
But for now, rest in peace, Mrs. M. And Mr. M, I hope you're doing all right.
To me, the concept of being married really did mean for the rest of my life. And I didn't doubt that once Corey and I were married we would be together for the rest of our lives.
And I really did used to imagine (and still do imagine sometimes) what it would be like to grow old together. I wondered what we'd look like as we aged and I wondered who we'd become with each other, and I looked forward to that. Knowing that I had that with someone was one of my favorite things about being in a relationship--even when it wasn't so great, I believed we had a future.
When I worked at the walk in clinic there was an elderly couple (in their late '70's) who came in just about every week to see one of our doctors. They'd been married for almost 60 years, and they were just a very nice couple. I loved seeing them every week and since they always came in on my days, we got to know each other well.
I loved seeing them together, because you could tell they were just still in love with each other even after all that time together. He still always opened the door for her and made sure she got whatever she needed first; she was a few years older than him but since his health was poorer, she still worked to support them both. (She finally retired not long before I was fired, thank goodness). There was just something in the way they looked at each other that told you they'd really spent a life together. I remember seeing them together and thinking, if I ever find that with someone, I'll get married, but if I can't have that, I don't want anything.
More than a year ago now, I found her obituary in the Flagstaff newspaper. I actually cried, both because I liked her and because I thought of him and how lost he'd be without her. I still check now and then to see if his is in there, because I can't imagine him holding on for very long without her.
Something made me think of them today. Even now I'm still kind of amazed by them, because they had issues in their life--health problems for one thing, plus her still having to work at almost 80 (she never hid that it was difficult for her, and he always told her he was grateful)--but they were still in love. And it makes me think of how few the problems Corey and I had were, and how if we'd just tried a little harder and not let petty BS come between us things might have worked out.
Hopefully someday . . .
But for now, rest in peace, Mrs. M. And Mr. M, I hope you're doing all right.
9.04.2012
Numb
I think the best way to describe how I've felt lately is numb.
I don't know if it's comfortably numb or uncomfortably numb but . . . it is what it is.
Then again, maybe numb isn't the right word. Detached, indifferent, apathetic, and dissociated all kinda work too.
I just feel blah. I don't feel particularly happy but for the most part I'm not feeling any extremely negative emotions either. Aside from a few episodes of crying over the whole breakup thing, I haven't had a breakdown in weeks. I feel like I need to decide what I want to do with my life and there are anxieties associated with that but at the same time it's not an all consuming anxiety. I know the things I need to do (like therapy) and I'm just waiting until I can do them, I guess.
I don't know if this is a bad thing or a good thing. On the one hand it's a good thing that I'm not super anxious and consumed with OMG WHAT IS MY LIFE thoughts constantly (though they do crop up occasionally and I need to write it all down and get it off my chest soon). I don't dread going to work anymore and I've gotten indifferent to the bus but . . . still. But at the same time I think I'm not really invested in my life right now. I feel detached and a little dissociated and that's . . . not good. I never particularly feel like doing anything.
I guess right now my life feels almost exactly like it did a couple years ago before meeting Corey/my diagnosis, only now the Lithium keeps the negative feelings at bay. I just . . . am. I'm empty and nothing. I'm living in my head as the woman I want to be, daydreaming and fantasizing about the life I want, because it's easier than actually moving towards anything.
Therapy therapy therapy. It's becoming more and more clear to me how badly I need to be in therapy.
Sometimes I think this is more about the ability to meet needs than anything else. I was just thinking about that today--how I really can't do anything. Today a good friend of mine is road tripping with her girlfriend to the city they're planning to move to soon, to job/apartment scout. And it occurred to me that it must be amazing to just be able to DO that. I want to leave AZ so badly. I want to start fresh somewhere new but . . . I can't. I'm broke and car-less and I can't just leave, y'know? Right now my eyes are really bothering me and I need an eye exam and new glasses (I wear reading glasses but the Rx is really old, I'm sure I need new ones), and I . . . can't. I don't know when I'll be able to. Sometimes I think that's what makes just living so difficult for me--the fact that no matter how little something costs, I can't just do it. Like last week I found sunglasses I want; they're $5.99 and I couldn't buy them. I need a new wallet, but same thing. There are these little things in life that most people just take for granted and don't think twice about but I don't get to have that luxury.
And I'm not saying that in a bitter way, at least not in this instance. I'm just pointing out the fact. Life is difficult when every little thing, no matter how insignificant, is a struggle. It's frustrating to have to push all your needs to the back burner--small ones like sunglasses or big ones like buying a car or in between ones like an eye exam.
I just wish I had the ability to say oh, my eyes are bugging me, and call and make an appointment. Instead I say, oh, my eyes are bugging me . . . the exam plus glasses will probably be at least $100, so I should budget for $150 . . . I get paid this week but I need this, this, this, and that, so . . . hopefully my next paycheck will be big enough to put away say $75 and hope I can hold onto that until my paycheck after that and then I can get an eye exam.
Oh, the joys of being poor.
I think that my reaction to not being able to do anything is to do nothing. Instead I spend my money on little things that'll make me kind of happy for a little while because . . . aside from those tiny little things my life really is basically nothing.
I don't have anything in my life that makes me really happy. I don't have anything that makes me really angry or sad. I don't know what I want to do career wise or school wise. I don't even really know what I like anymore. It's awful. This is why I need therapy . . . which is a priority over an eye exam no matter how bad the eye strain headaches get.
I don't know. Sometimes I feel like to live a good life, to be genuinely happy, I'd have to be a completely different person. Sometimes I think I'm so far gone that there's no going back, if that makes sense.
I don't know if it's comfortably numb or uncomfortably numb but . . . it is what it is.
Then again, maybe numb isn't the right word. Detached, indifferent, apathetic, and dissociated all kinda work too.
I just feel blah. I don't feel particularly happy but for the most part I'm not feeling any extremely negative emotions either. Aside from a few episodes of crying over the whole breakup thing, I haven't had a breakdown in weeks. I feel like I need to decide what I want to do with my life and there are anxieties associated with that but at the same time it's not an all consuming anxiety. I know the things I need to do (like therapy) and I'm just waiting until I can do them, I guess.
I don't know if this is a bad thing or a good thing. On the one hand it's a good thing that I'm not super anxious and consumed with OMG WHAT IS MY LIFE thoughts constantly (though they do crop up occasionally and I need to write it all down and get it off my chest soon). I don't dread going to work anymore and I've gotten indifferent to the bus but . . . still. But at the same time I think I'm not really invested in my life right now. I feel detached and a little dissociated and that's . . . not good. I never particularly feel like doing anything.
I guess right now my life feels almost exactly like it did a couple years ago before meeting Corey/my diagnosis, only now the Lithium keeps the negative feelings at bay. I just . . . am. I'm empty and nothing. I'm living in my head as the woman I want to be, daydreaming and fantasizing about the life I want, because it's easier than actually moving towards anything.
Therapy therapy therapy. It's becoming more and more clear to me how badly I need to be in therapy.
Sometimes I think this is more about the ability to meet needs than anything else. I was just thinking about that today--how I really can't do anything. Today a good friend of mine is road tripping with her girlfriend to the city they're planning to move to soon, to job/apartment scout. And it occurred to me that it must be amazing to just be able to DO that. I want to leave AZ so badly. I want to start fresh somewhere new but . . . I can't. I'm broke and car-less and I can't just leave, y'know? Right now my eyes are really bothering me and I need an eye exam and new glasses (I wear reading glasses but the Rx is really old, I'm sure I need new ones), and I . . . can't. I don't know when I'll be able to. Sometimes I think that's what makes just living so difficult for me--the fact that no matter how little something costs, I can't just do it. Like last week I found sunglasses I want; they're $5.99 and I couldn't buy them. I need a new wallet, but same thing. There are these little things in life that most people just take for granted and don't think twice about but I don't get to have that luxury.
And I'm not saying that in a bitter way, at least not in this instance. I'm just pointing out the fact. Life is difficult when every little thing, no matter how insignificant, is a struggle. It's frustrating to have to push all your needs to the back burner--small ones like sunglasses or big ones like buying a car or in between ones like an eye exam.
I just wish I had the ability to say oh, my eyes are bugging me, and call and make an appointment. Instead I say, oh, my eyes are bugging me . . . the exam plus glasses will probably be at least $100, so I should budget for $150 . . . I get paid this week but I need this, this, this, and that, so . . . hopefully my next paycheck will be big enough to put away say $75 and hope I can hold onto that until my paycheck after that and then I can get an eye exam.
Oh, the joys of being poor.
I think that my reaction to not being able to do anything is to do nothing. Instead I spend my money on little things that'll make me kind of happy for a little while because . . . aside from those tiny little things my life really is basically nothing.
I don't have anything in my life that makes me really happy. I don't have anything that makes me really angry or sad. I don't know what I want to do career wise or school wise. I don't even really know what I like anymore. It's awful. This is why I need therapy . . . which is a priority over an eye exam no matter how bad the eye strain headaches get.
I don't know. Sometimes I feel like to live a good life, to be genuinely happy, I'd have to be a completely different person. Sometimes I think I'm so far gone that there's no going back, if that makes sense.
9.01.2012
2 Months
As of today I've been back in Flagstaff for two months.
Two. Freaking. Months.
That is just so bizarre to me.
I miss:
--having a car and not taking the bus
--the Kingman store and how organized and well run it is
--my awesome co-workers
--Anytime Fitness/working out in general (God I feel out of shape right now)
--orchestra
--bell choir (really I just miss having any kind of musical activity in my life)
--playing Legos/going to the park/watching Toy Story/painting/reading/whatever with Austin (so so much)
--hanging out with my mom and dad just whenever
--having my sisters nearby
--Herkimer, Gatsby, Bernard, Edgar (RIP), and the fishies
--sleeping in a real, comfortable, big bed
--having enough closet space for my clothes
--my sewing machine (definitely a priority as far as what I bring up next)
--having a kitchen I could cook in
--my big bathroom and deep bathtub and awesome showerhead
--sex (a lot)
--date nights
--Ex-Fiance and pretty much everything that goes with that
But even with all the things I miss, I do think that moving back to Flagstaff was the best choice in light of the situation. I was thinking the other day of what the past two months would have been like if I was in Kingman, and I think it would have been awful.
I was just thinking of going out in Kingman and worrying that I'd run into him, or wondering what he was doing at any given time, or going to orchestra or bells and not knowing how to act around him or what to say to him . . . it doesn't sound pleasant. And granted, I wonder what he's doing from time to time but somehow it's easier up here, because I can't really do anything about it. Whereas in Kingman I think the temptation to drive by the house or even just call him would be really awful. I also think about wanting to go out or needing to go grocery shopping and having to call my mom or dad or ask my sister for a ride, and I don't like that idea. Even though the bus kinda sucks, it's more independence than I'd have in Kingman.
I still miss that life. Some days my mind will be on something totally unrelated and it'll hit me out of nowhere--I had a whole other life for a while. I was doing something completely different and it's such a weird feeling and thought. But at the same time I think that with the advantage of hindsight I see how much I needed to work on myself and how unhappy I was at points. So in that respect, I'm . . . well, I'm not glad this happened by any means, but I understand why it was necessary. I just need to be patient and take things day by day and see what happens. If Ex-Fiance and I are meant to be we'll be.
Two months down and . . . I don't really know how long to go, but we'll see!
Two. Freaking. Months.
That is just so bizarre to me.
I miss:
--having a car and not taking the bus
--the Kingman store and how organized and well run it is
--my awesome co-workers
--Anytime Fitness/working out in general (God I feel out of shape right now)
--orchestra
--bell choir (really I just miss having any kind of musical activity in my life)
--playing Legos/going to the park/watching Toy Story/painting/reading/whatever with Austin (so so much)
--hanging out with my mom and dad just whenever
--having my sisters nearby
--Herkimer, Gatsby, Bernard, Edgar (RIP), and the fishies
--sleeping in a real, comfortable, big bed
--having enough closet space for my clothes
--my sewing machine (definitely a priority as far as what I bring up next)
--having a kitchen I could cook in
--my big bathroom and deep bathtub and awesome showerhead
--sex (a lot)
--date nights
--Ex-Fiance and pretty much everything that goes with that
But even with all the things I miss, I do think that moving back to Flagstaff was the best choice in light of the situation. I was thinking the other day of what the past two months would have been like if I was in Kingman, and I think it would have been awful.
I was just thinking of going out in Kingman and worrying that I'd run into him, or wondering what he was doing at any given time, or going to orchestra or bells and not knowing how to act around him or what to say to him . . . it doesn't sound pleasant. And granted, I wonder what he's doing from time to time but somehow it's easier up here, because I can't really do anything about it. Whereas in Kingman I think the temptation to drive by the house or even just call him would be really awful. I also think about wanting to go out or needing to go grocery shopping and having to call my mom or dad or ask my sister for a ride, and I don't like that idea. Even though the bus kinda sucks, it's more independence than I'd have in Kingman.
I still miss that life. Some days my mind will be on something totally unrelated and it'll hit me out of nowhere--I had a whole other life for a while. I was doing something completely different and it's such a weird feeling and thought. But at the same time I think that with the advantage of hindsight I see how much I needed to work on myself and how unhappy I was at points. So in that respect, I'm . . . well, I'm not glad this happened by any means, but I understand why it was necessary. I just need to be patient and take things day by day and see what happens. If Ex-Fiance and I are meant to be we'll be.
Two months down and . . . I don't really know how long to go, but we'll see!
8.13.2012
A Confession
Quite a few times since Ex-Fiance broke up with me, I've had these moments where I suddenly feel overwhelmed with this thought of, I was supposed to be married by now.* And it usually makes me sad, or bitter, or angry, depending on how my day is going at the time.
And then last night I was hanging out with Jerbs and my friend Theresa, and that thought hit me, and instead of any negative emotion, I felt relieved.
I am relieved that I am not married right now.
Don't get me wrong. My feelings for Ex-Fiance haven't changed, and I still want to be married someday. And yes, I'm still very sad that I didn't get to experience being a bride and a wedding and all that.
But the thought of getting married feeling the way I was in our relationship . . . I can't imagine doing that. Because the truth is I didn't want to get married with the way things were; I knew I wasn't mentally healthy enough to do it. But I didn't want to initiate a break because I was afraid that Ex-Fiance wouldn't wait for me. The thought of being in Kingman right now, in a new marriage, still struggling with mental illness makes me sick to my stomach.
That is not what I want. That is NEVER what I wanted.
I was adamant from the very beginning that I didn't want to get married mentally ill. I feel like I've already lost a chunk of my life to mental illness--I flat out refuse to sacrifice one second of my marriage to it as well. I feel like my marriage (be it to Ex-Fiance or someone else) will be the most important, sacred, beautiful, meaningful thing in my life, and I don't want the bullshit in my head touching that. Yes, I was getting better, but I was nowhere near where I needed to be to be a good partner.
And I think that's why this happened. Because as much as I love Ex-Fiance (and as much as I know he loves me) there is no way we could have made a marriage work with mental illness still being so much a part of me.
So for those reasons, I'm relieved that we didn't go through with it. I hope we do someday but . . . I really don't want to get married until we're ready. It's just difficult because I feel like, if we're meant to be we're wasting time. But I tell myself that I'm only 27 (and Ex-Fiance's only 24) and there's plenty of time left to live together and be married and experience life together.
Do I think Ex-Fiance handled this all as well as he could? God no. Am I expecting a huge ass apology if we decide to work things out? Damn right I am! But do I think he had a point? . . . Yeah, I do.
The thing is, I know what I need to do to get really and truly better, and I'm going to make it happen.
*I don't mean supposed to be as in I'm a girl so I have to be married to a man before I'm 30 or whatever. I just mean it as in, Ex-Fiance and I had planned to be married in December of 11, then March of 12, then June of 12, so really, I expected to be married now.
And then last night I was hanging out with Jerbs and my friend Theresa, and that thought hit me, and instead of any negative emotion, I felt relieved.
I am relieved that I am not married right now.
Don't get me wrong. My feelings for Ex-Fiance haven't changed, and I still want to be married someday. And yes, I'm still very sad that I didn't get to experience being a bride and a wedding and all that.
But the thought of getting married feeling the way I was in our relationship . . . I can't imagine doing that. Because the truth is I didn't want to get married with the way things were; I knew I wasn't mentally healthy enough to do it. But I didn't want to initiate a break because I was afraid that Ex-Fiance wouldn't wait for me. The thought of being in Kingman right now, in a new marriage, still struggling with mental illness makes me sick to my stomach.
That is not what I want. That is NEVER what I wanted.
I was adamant from the very beginning that I didn't want to get married mentally ill. I feel like I've already lost a chunk of my life to mental illness--I flat out refuse to sacrifice one second of my marriage to it as well. I feel like my marriage (be it to Ex-Fiance or someone else) will be the most important, sacred, beautiful, meaningful thing in my life, and I don't want the bullshit in my head touching that. Yes, I was getting better, but I was nowhere near where I needed to be to be a good partner.
And I think that's why this happened. Because as much as I love Ex-Fiance (and as much as I know he loves me) there is no way we could have made a marriage work with mental illness still being so much a part of me.
So for those reasons, I'm relieved that we didn't go through with it. I hope we do someday but . . . I really don't want to get married until we're ready. It's just difficult because I feel like, if we're meant to be we're wasting time. But I tell myself that I'm only 27 (and Ex-Fiance's only 24) and there's plenty of time left to live together and be married and experience life together.
Do I think Ex-Fiance handled this all as well as he could? God no. Am I expecting a huge ass apology if we decide to work things out? Damn right I am! But do I think he had a point? . . . Yeah, I do.
The thing is, I know what I need to do to get really and truly better, and I'm going to make it happen.
*I don't mean supposed to be as in I'm a girl so I have to be married to a man before I'm 30 or whatever. I just mean it as in, Ex-Fiance and I had planned to be married in December of 11, then March of 12, then June of 12, so really, I expected to be married now.
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