Looks like the blog section became an ad section...so that means I'm probably writing this for no one except myself My ex husband's now ex-girlfriend has stopped stalking him, his mom, harassing me. So I've got that going for me. Still not sure if I'll go back to Facebook, but that's not important. My relationship of nearly three years is over - no, don't be sorry. I ended and it took me too long to free myself. We talked less and fought more. He felt that he was constantly under attack, I felt unwanted. He blamed too many of our issues on my new job, when our problems began well before. We probably both held on, because who the hell wants to be single, starting over with someone new at 36. Oh, so I turned 36 in May. Worst birthday yet. All I kept thinking was "I'm almost 40." And I shouldn't have said that aloud, especially to anyone I work with, because they all heard something full of vanity. It wasn't about looks. My looks are fine. But I'm almost 40, and I look at most everyone else I know. Families, spouses, real homes. I don't believe that I'll experience a forever love and that's ok. We don't all get that. We get other things - whatever they are. I don't think he ever loved me. He wanted to. I never felt like I knew him. He always kept too much of himself hidden. Maybe I did the same thing. He didn't say anything when I ended it. Sat and stared ahead. Dead in the eyes. I asked him to say anything. He said that he'd said everything he needed to say in the months leading up. But he never said anything I needed to hear.So no tinder, no set ups with anyone's friends; I'll just sit by myself, practicing how to apply fake lashes and winged liner, going back to Saturday night dance classes, planning a solo trip, and counting down the days until next spring.
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I had a rough summer into fall. If you read the last blog, you'll see that Jeff Foster piece that summed up all of my fears in just a few paragraphs.I am still scared, but I don't cry about it anymore.I do move a lot to distract myself from my own thoughts. I need to move for work, but even when work is done, I find a treadmill and a song to push me through intervals or I stay in the studio. I'd rather sweat, I'd rather be sore, than think about turning 35, or think about how old I'll live to be, or how I turned into someone else like four times over in the last decade.I had to talk to my ex husband last week. He picked up, "Hi, it's DB.""Who?"Swallow. "Your ex-wife.""Hey!" He sounded happy. "You sound different.""So do you..."He began apologizing. I told him that's not why I called. I cleared up what I needed to clear up. He ended with, "You can call me anytime."He sounded happy...I was glad.And then I ran for a while. I don't know why I wrote this. My boyfriend and I have been together for over a year and things are going well. I stare at him a lot, still, like we've just met. It's because I like his face, but also because sometimes I can't believe he's real. Last weekend, while walking to the parade from the car in Huntington, I hesitated before stepping into a huge pile of snow (there was no where else to walk). As I raised my leg, he moved quickly from behind to pick me up and carry me over it. I feel like that one gesture really explains a lot about him.And again, I don't know why I wrote any of this.I read "Their Eyes Were Watching God" end the end of 2013 and I think every woman should read that book. "There are years that ask questions and years that answer" might be one of the best lines I've ever read. I think last year I got answers. Maybe this year is for questions.Either way, things are alright in my little corner.
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"You will lose everything. Your money, your power, your fame, your success, perhaps even your memories. Your looks will go. Loved ones will die. Your body will fall apart. Everything that seems permanent is impermanent and will be smashed. Experience will gradually, or not so gradually, strip away everything that it can strip away. Waking up means facing this reality with open eyes and no longer turning away."But right now, we stand on sacred and holy ground, for that which will be lost has not yet been lost, and realizing this is the key to unspeakable joy. Whoever or whatever is in your life right now has not yet been taken away from you. This may sound trivial, obvious, like nothing, but really it is the key to everything, the why and how and wherefore of existence. Impermanence has already rendered everything and everyone around you so deeply holy and significant and worthy of your heartbreaking gratitude."Loss has already transfigured your life into an altar."- Jeff FosterFor the last two months, I have been unhealthily preoccupied with my own mortality. That one day, sooner or later, I will stop breathing and thinking and moving, and won't have even known that I was ever doing those things for however long I get to be here.The fear takes over at least once a day. And then I read the passage above over the weekend. When I found it, I read it aloud to my boyfriend. Once I got to "But right now, we stand on sacred and holy ground", my voice started breaking and by the time I finished, he could barely understand me. But I feel better. I'm still scared, but I feel much less alone now that I've read this.
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I can't stop laughing at this. I can't stop listening to this song I can't watch enough of Deandra the new girl on the Most Popular Girls in School on youtube.I can't get enough of staring at my boyfriend's face.I can't stop being afraid that someone one day might decide they want to marry me.I can't help but wonder where people went to school that they managed to get a high school diploma without knowing how to use then/than, advice/advise, don't know that should've = should have, that it's "supposeD to." I also wonder how your work emails are received.I can't figure out if the world is devolving into a state of total depraved psychosis or if everyone has always been ******* crazy and we're just learning now about everyone's collective insanity and perversion because of 24/7 news and the internet.I don't want to be the person that cries at weddings because I can only think about the ways things can end.I will try to sop letting my failed marriage fuel my fear of the future, but I swear, I don't know how people are able to remarry. I don't know how you take that leap of faith. I won't tell my boyfriend that I'm so scared. Unfortunately, he already knows.
Dear Psycho Dating My Ex-Husband,Remove me from your email contacts. (Why do you have my info saved anyway?) I don't need Linked-In requests from an illiterate lunatic. I didn't now crazy people could even hold real jobs.Signed,He's alllllll yours, crazy train---Dear Self,Don't forget how lucky you are to be finally making a living at what you were too afraid to admit you wanted to do a long time ago. On to phase two!---Dear Tanqueray,I miss you, but you really did me wrong in December. For the first time ever, you made me *that* girl by 9:30 on a Wednesday night. I still felt like that girl 12 hours later at work. I'm pretty sure my students could smell me. So long. It was beautiful while it lasted.---Dear City of Las Vegas,Soon...Signed, ---Dear Self (again),Stop playing the Simpsons: Tapped Out. Just stop. Also, do not even think about starting Candy Crush.---Dear Britney Spears,Why do you own so many spandex turtlenecks?Signed,Glad you bought bras---To My Dear Boyfriend,Between Christmas and New Year's Eve, you stole my heart. As scared as I am, I feel safe with you. It's funny that you think I need any kind of protecting, but I'm grateful that someone finally does.Love,Me
What are you doing?Stop doing the same things every.single.day. The stuff that makes you unhappy. That you don't want to do. Don't do that shit. Just have a fabulous year.
My grandmother, dad's mom, died in 1998. I was 19.I go long stretches without thinking about her. Everything else gets in the way, the mundane, the annoying, the urgent, all of that everyday shit. We talk about her sometimes but those conversations don't last too long. Once my brother goes silent and he stops making eye contact with us, I know it's become too much and the laughter will turn into something else.She was in a lot of my dreams for the first few years after she died. In the last one several years ago, she showed up at my door - I asked her what she was doing at my place and she said, "I need you to take me home.""Nonna, you're dead.""No, I'm right here. And I need you to take me home."In the dream, as in real life, she spoke to me in Sicilian, I answered in English.I reluctantly drove her to the home that had been sold. Before I woke up, her last words were, "How could you sell my home?""We didn't know you were going to come back."She hasn't been in my dreams since.I wondered if she would have liked my ex husband (I think she would have), what she would have worn to my wedding. I wonder how much more English she would have learned by now (she spoke her own hybrid of Sicilian and English) and if she would have ever been able to pronounce the word bird (no matter how hard she tried, it always came out 'booyid'). I wonder what she'd look like now.I miss her big loud laugh that filled every room of the house. I miss being called 'bambolina' (little doll). I miss the way she looked at me - I was always aware of how much she loved me every single time she set eyes on me. I was her first grandchild, her only granddaughter -- and I just want her back.She spent every Christmas with us. Long after we stopped believing in Santa, Nonna sat, watching with excitement as we opened our gifts. The holiday hasn't been the same since she died. That first Christmas was awful. Eleven Christmas mornings have passed since she died and eleven times, no one has sat on her spot on the living room couch Christmas morning.It seems cruel to have to miss someone like that for the rest of your life.Sorry this one was sad, y'all. My mother is decorating the house with items purchased for her by my grandmother. It's hard to look at it all.
For now...right now...that's how I feel.Happiness feels so fragile to me. It breaks or disappears so easily. A year ago this month, I left my lovely little home to move back to Long Island. I'm still about a year away from being in my own little place again, but now I have something I didn't have a year ago: hope.Returning to Long Island, without a job, job prospects, was harder than I could have thought. **** being single. Who cares about that when you've always had a job, you even supported someone else, and then you can't support yourself?People have commented on how hard I've worked to make my newest endeavor happen...but I don't feel that way. I feel like I've done what I had to do, that I could work harder...and I will work harder.I have a couple of dream jobs. Author is always one, and I've started a new novel to try to make that happen...but I've got the other starting to come to fruition. And it really fills me with joy. There are several layers to it; I'm on level one, but I've got two other pieces to work on and when I get there, I'm shouting it from the rooftops and posting all sorts of pictures.You don't get to revel in happiness the way you end up experiencing sadness or depression. You wallow in the bad and can get really mired down in it. The good stuff...it's more like you're floating above all of that. Please don't let anything pull me down for a while. NOT crying has been incredible.
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Within a year of it ending for good, news traveled back to me that zorba is engaged.He's not thinking about me, so me finding out isn't even in his realm of shit to care about.One of my good friends went to his high school. She knows many of his friends and still keeps in touch with several of them. And zorba and his friends know that she and I are close.So zorba's friend told my friend a few weeks ago. And then followed with, "Are you going to tell DB?"She sat with the news for a couple of days before she told me in person.I reacted. But I had no time to wallow. I knew about the girlfriend...I knew that an engagement would come by 2013.I have a few things to say to him...like you're a liar because you told me you couldn't be in a relationship when the truth was you couldn't be in a relationship with me.I could say I'm sure your parents had a party when I moved away because then the girl from church that they'd chosen for you years ago could be shoved at you with no other distractions. (Because, big shock, while he and I were together, they told him to end it with me, over and over and over again, because they had a girl for him).I could say a lot more.But I won't.I hope he's happy. I mean, maybe he met her her and fell for her and decided that he needed to marry her immediately.His friend told my friend that this is all happening so fast, that he doesn't understand where the engagement came from. Especially because, his words, "she's not for him."Oh, but she is for him. I feel sorry for her.Good luck, kids.
"All of our young lives we search for someone to love. Someone that makes us complete. We choose partners and change partners. We dance to a song of heartbreak and hope. All the while wondering if somewhere, somehow, there’s someone perfect who might be searching for us."~The Wonder YearsI distinctly remember how this felt at 16, 18, 22...It doesn't feel like that anymore. There's no more desperate hope. Just sad resignation. No one completes you. But people still search.He (fable guy) told me he'd been looking for me for years. Maybe he really was. Or maybe he didn't know what he was even looking for.
I made it through.It was beautiful. She was beautiful. I've never seen her look so incredible. Or be so emotional.The first time she cried, after she saw herself with her hair done, was when I knew it was time to get the **** over being the divorced lady and just be there for her because every minute of that day was about her and her new husband. Though I will admit at one point during the reception, I took myself out into the 8pm heat and sat alone for a few minutes. Not to wallow in self pity but to escape the music and the people and to remind myself that it was time to let go of her for a little bit.When she gave me my gift at the rehearsal dinner, we hugged for a long time and she said, "You have always fought for me. You made my life better.""I will always fight for you."I've felt particularly protective of her. I remember junior year of college, I was going to a different school but we'd maintained our best friend status. She called me sobbing on a Thursday night in November. Her boyfriend had cheated on her. "I'm coming out there," I said. I packed up my car, sped out along route 80 to the middle nowhere PA and when I got there she was kind of amused, "What are you going to do?"I didn't know. I was ready to fight him, believe it or not. I got there on a late Friday morning, left on Sunday night...I walked around campus and that tiny town looking for him. But word got back to my friend that his friends had either seen me or heard I was coming out and he hid. This six foot tall guy hid from me. She talks about that weekend once in a rare while.We won't have anymore girls weekends were we shop, work out, eat, go out dancing, and talk talk talk talk talk for hours about the most trivial and heavy subjects. I have to share her and I am happy to now because I know she has what she's always wanted - a man that loves her.Being at the wedding alone did suck though It was 100 freaking degrees that day. I wanted to take a pair of scissors to the hem of my dress. At least two people would have loved that.Update (I defy anyone to ever again suggest that my face is in any way deformed)
If you watched My So Called Life, you might remember Angela's poem from the episode "The Substitute":"Once upon a time there lived a girl. She slept in a lovely little cottage made of gingerbread and candy. She was always asleep. One morning she woke up, and the candy had mold on it. Her father blew her a kiss and the house fell down. She realized she was lost. She found herself walking down a crowded street, but the people were made of paper, like paper dolls. She blew everyone a kiss goodbye, and watched as they blew away."I met a man.That's the first time I've been able to call someone that. They're almost always referred to as boys. Boys like to masquerade as men, like women can't tell the difference. We humor them a lot; we placate them with their delusions of manhood when they haven't reached it. We should stop doing this.But with every breath and in every cell of his body, he was a man.We met on May 23, this man and I, and I don't know how to describe it or him or any of it and convey how something so inconsequential as meeting him made me feel like I was finally awake. Something like that makes you grateful for timing and all those things that seemed like mistakes because it all led me to the only place and time I would have ever met him.Only he could get away with saying "I love you" within 48 hours of meeting me. Nothing about it scared me or made me roll my eyes. Only he could grab me by the back of the neck and kiss me in public, anywhere, and make me forget where we were. Minutes after midnight while we were out one night, I looked at my phone, saw the time and told him that it was officially my birthday. He kissed me again. I put the past behind me that night. All of it - the last few years...I let it fade out. I wanted the present.Those first few days of knowing him, I slept very little. I woke up every morning alert but still in a dream haze from having seen him the night before. Nothing has been this frenetic in so long. Nothing.How I met him and everything that followed is a very long story that I can't even begin to share here. The length alone is stupid. All of these feelings are irrational. I can't describe any part of him or what happened well enough. And honestly I don't feel like sharing it because it's too close - I'd be bleeding it out in trying to tell it.I just hope this story doesn't end.Anyway, that episode of MSCL ends with Angela's voice over reading this part of the poem:"Once upon a time there lived a girl. She slept in a lovely little cottage made of gingerbread and candy. She was always asleep. One morning she woke up"She repeats the most important line:"She woke up."
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My good friend's wedding is making me feel a lot of things which ultimately stem from my sadness, my feelings of inadequacy or my discomfort. There's a lot of discomfort. A whole lot of feeling left out, like I don't belong. I'm starting to feel like I haven't moved on, not even an inch. I've been working toward moving on but I don't know what that really means or entails. It's not like I am able to go back and physically leave him behind. I sent him a text. Zorba. There are certain songs that leave me really vulnerable. This one came on while I was on the train a couple of weeks ago. I stopped writing, put my sunglasses on, and cried quietly while berating myself for being weak in public on the stupid train. His phone number was in the corner of the entry where I wrote about the break up and without really thinking about it, turned to that page and then sent a text. I only said 'how are you?'Weeks. He never responded.I deleted that text and ripped out that corner of the page in my journal. I heard this song for the first time in 2010... Things with Zorba were great but when this came on as a class cool down, it took a lot of effort to keep myself together. I only downloaded it recently...and it doesn't have anything to do with my ex husband or my ex Zorba as much as this has always been a fear of mine. Which is weird because loneliness has been so familiar to me. I expected that I'd always feel it. But I dread it. Loneliness isn't like physical pain - there isn't this constant ache but when there's silence - that's when loneliness does its worst work.Yeah yeah I've said that there's a difference between being alone and feeling lonely...but I don't just feel lonely when it comes to being single. I feel lonely among friends too. I'm tired of being with a group of people and feeling like I don't belong. I'm tired of listening to people's stories about their jobs or their kids colds or allergies or their wedding gowns or their mortgage or their home renovations or their pets. I don't care. Tell me that there's something you care about outside of all these obligations. Tell me that you still dream. Tell me you still see something bigger, outside of your life. Tell me that you think about running away too. Tell me you heard a song or read something that made you laugh or cry. Tell me anything - just stop hiding behind these 'stories' because I cannot hear anymore of them.And no, it's not that I don't care about my friends and family's lives - I just can't keep listening to the same shit over and over again. It's like so many people just gave up who they were. I don't recognize anyone anymore.What the hell am I talking about? I'm probably gonna delete this one soon especially since this blog is either feeding the stalker or giving those that hate me something to talk about.I can't wait for this wedding to come and go. At least the dress looks good on me. What am I talking about, of course it looks good on me.
But they are my pins and they can speak for me.I'm graceful but still...
If someone's gonna stalk me, they'll find any way to dig up dirt, whether it's here or not, right?Who knows.Just wanted to say Happy 2012 to anyone that has any hope that it'll be any good.I'm not even cautiously optimistic about it. If it sucks, at least I knew to brace myself when it's all said and done.At least I'm not Job. Seriously, if you've never read the ridiculousness that it the Book of Job, read it. Or read Neil Simon's play "God's Favorite" because it's funnier way to get the gist of it. For real, if I get boils on my asss at this point I won't be surprised.Yes yes, I have my youth, my health, friends and family...People like to remind me any time I want to take 6 seconds to wallow.Back to my point....Happy New Year to you. Hold your breath, make a wish.......I hope it comes true for you.PS Not sure if I'm back....but the silence was too much
The blogs are down.LIF is unworthy of my entries.Not to mention...the marriage is done, Zorba is over and I am regrouping. Focusing more on real life than virtual. Especially after reading some of the heartless things I've read on here over the years...it's time to move on from so much.If you read, thanks. I think you're crazy for even caring for a minute about what I have to say but crazy has always been my favorite flavor anyway.
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