It’s easy to confuse being grateful with being in love

That quote is from my all time favorite book, “You Remind Me of You” by Eireann Corrigan. Whenever I have a question about why I’m doing something, that always pops in my head.

It’s also easy to confuse being comfortable with being in love.

It’s also easy to confuse being nostalgic with being in love.

When someone returns to my life that I feel I didn’t get the right amount of closure on (or when I feel that it just wasn’t over), I seem to forget the bad times and just remember the good. I forget the 6 months it took me to get over him. I forgot how often we argued (once a day). I forgot that he would purposely push my buttons to try and get me to crack, like it was humorous.

Love stories also glamorize the idea that if someone returns to your life after leaving it, it’s “meant to be.” What that fairytale fails to mention is that that door they strolled through should have been dead bolted, double locked, and sealed with concrete. Instead, we decide that it’s a sign (which it is- a sign that they don’t have boundaries, can bend your feelings to suit them, and have little respect for you) that we should try again with thoughts of rainbows and puppies and marriage in our heads.

And then I act surprised when he plays with my feelings to bait me, and then stomps on them again. And I’m shocked when he can’t make time to see me because he’s too “busy.” And I’m floored when he  tells me he’s just not sure he’d want to get back together (but hey, we can still sleep together, right?).

Insanity is doing the same thing over again and expecting different results. It’s time for me to get off the roller coaster ride.

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This super cryptic/emo blog post is mostly for me. Or you. If you get what the hell I’m saying.

One of my favorite things to do is torture myself with “what ifs” and “maybes.”

Just kidding. I actually like sleep and not having anxiety.

Why is it that you can put someone out of your mind for an extended period of time and then all of a sudden, BOOM. There they are. In the forefront of your brain. On your Facebook/Twitter/Instagram feed. Taunting your big feelings. And you can’t shake them! You’re engrossed in a task at work and there’s a tiny voice in the back of your mind repeating their name. You’re laughing, and all of a sudden you’re taken over by a memory you’ve had with that person and it just changes your mood totally. 

I have recently ended a dating saga with this guy I thought was super cool, but am now realizing we are just way too different to mesh. When presented with that fact, he fucking ghosted. Poof, gone. Which is cool, and I’m glad that it happened after 3 dates rather than 30.

However, I guess with him out of my bubble, I am stuck with memories of a previous “relationship.” If that’s what you would call it. It’s more like an on again, off again, tit for tat, I am obsessed with you but I fucking hate you so much, let’s pretend we don’t know each other, I miss you so much, all out civil war. And it is so frustrating. And it hurts the feelings I like to pretend I don’t have. And it makes me emotionally unavailable for the guys who don’t want to fuck with my head. And it sucks you guys. It SUCKS.

I guess it’s partially my fault. I let this person back into my life when it took about a year to get him out of my heart in the first place. That was a long time ago. And I guess I was just hoping we had both grown up enough to quit playing games and be legitimate and act right. But that was not the case.

It started out awesome. I mean, seriously great. Like Cloud 9 type shit. And out of nowhere, it got ugly. Like call your best-friend-at-3-am-after-being-iced-out-for-no-reason-hysterical type ugly. I have no idea what happened. I still don’t. When asked, I got fed a crock of bullshit, which is nothing new. The fact that I don’t know what the fuck happened eats at me hard. 

I tried so hard to let the past be in the past, but it didn’t stay there. It reared it’s ugly head and put a giant lump in my throat I couldn’t swallow. So I shut down and decided to play games twice as seriously. I don’t deal well with hurt, so I fight back. Which doesn’t work for anyone, mostly me. And it didn’t. So I pushed it out of my head and focused on other things and pretended I couldn’t give a shit less.

But here I am. Caring. And wishing that if I was patient, he would grow the hell up and it would fix itself. 

Apparently that is not in the plan. 

 

something a little different

So, I know that I usually blog about crafts, make up, and couponing (good Lord, could I be more of a girl?!), but lately I’ve been thinking about something that I need to discuss, even if it’s just to “myself” (or the, like, 6 people who read this. Love you guys). That’s right y’all, I’m going to discuss something I usually avoid like the plague: my feelings.

This thought all started about a week ago. My grandmother has been recovering from surgery, and my mom and I went to visit her at the OT facility. As we walked in the hallway, I was struck by something I usually never consider: people’s lives are going on around me. Shallow? Maybe. But I’ve always had a hard time considering where I’ll be when I’m 40 (married? cat lady? 8 children? living in Switzerland?), let alone when I’m 80 years old.  As we walked along, I realized that many of these people don’t have anyone left in their lives except the hospital staff that work there. Where are their loved ones? Had they ever been married? Did they miss those times?

Then the thought kind of developed. My grandfather died when I was 9. I adored him and still think about him all the time. That was 15 (!!) years ago, and my grandmother struggles to recall memories without getting choked up. She supported him throughout the (very quick) struggle with cancer, and is still the most wonderful grandmother I could have asked for. But now, she has to lean on us for support (although I know Papa’s up there watching us everyday. I can feel him with me all the time), which I’m sure when she was my age, she never imagined she’d have to do.

Struck with this, I tried to put myself in her shoes. Trying to imagine myself at 80 was difficult. What memories would I have? I’d sure like being in love with someone to be included in those memories. But this was proof that life ain’t always pretty, folks. There’s a lot of ugly. What did I want in a significant other that would support me through death, illness, being broke, bad times, etc.?

This thought has been plaguing me ever since. And today, I read a quote in Glamour (I know, shut up) about the Boston Marathon Bombing and two people that have loved each other through their trials enough to get married. Right after the bombing, she said to her then-boyfriend: “I want to do this with you, but I understand if you can’t do it.” Whoa. Talk about loving someone unselfishly. Talk about trusting someone with the absolute completeness of your soul. Do I have that in me? I’m not sure. But here’s what I do know.

Relationships are awesome, but they’re also work. Life is beautiful, but it can be ugly too. Forever means working through death, illness, babies, jobs, family, friendships, happiness, sadness, what have you. You have to find someone that loves you when you’re a pain in the ass and when you’re dressed to the 9s (channeling your “inner ‘yonce” if you will). You have to find someone who will tell you when you’re being ugly, when you’re doing something they’re proud of, and when you’re being a bitch. Sexual attraction isn’t everything, because that fades. You have to find someone who loves you when you’re 24 and when you’re 84. Relationships are so much more than who you are right now. I know it may seem like I’m selfish, or a brat, or what have you, but it’s taken me a long time to realize that. I’m not the same as I was at 16, 18, or even 21; I’m sure as hell not going to be the same when I’m 30. At this point in my life, finding love has to mean finding someone who’s okay with all that.

Daunting, but doable.