One girl's mid-20's Life Crisis

QotD: Stress Case

People do many different things to cope with stress, loss, and "bumps in the road". How do you handle stress and hard times? 
Submitted by RedlyGal. 

Well, these days, I blog about it. 

And sleep too much. 

And generally, I do something rash and uncalled for, like, suddenly quitting my job or flaking out in some hugely irresponsible way. 

The latter, I'm working on changing. 

Not much to report...

Ok, so heres the plan:  I've got a sublet here in Santa Barbara for the month of August with a cool girl.  I take the month to get some distance and figure out my next move, maybe get a temp job for some cash, definitely try to make some friends down here.  Maybe ease into the idea of dating someone else by brushing up my eye-contact seduction and flirting skills. 

Well, that WAS the plan at least.

As for a clean break, this appears as though it is going to drag out a bit.

I don't move into my sublet until Sunday, so until that time--we're still in the (awesome) rental house together.  I thought about going to SD in the interim, etc, etc, but in the end, its not worth the hassle to me  After an awkward couple of nights last week, and its now like we're still together except that he is more friendly and wants to hang out with me and I don't care as much.

Furthermore, his contract here in SB was extended for ANOTHER MONTH, after which we will BOTH be returning to SF.  Our friend is coming to California and it is very important that I be there.    Its annoying more than anything because I am the type of person that likes to get on with it once I've made a decision.  And this thing is gonna DRAG for two more months ladies and gentlemen.  I've already picked at the band-aid and had braced myself to just rip the damned thing off. 

I am almost equally disturbed to report that I am not as sad as I thought I would/should be.  Possibly because, um, its like we're still together.  Also, even though he knows, he doesn't really get it.  He helped me move my stuff into storage and was rather shook up by it.  His sadness made me feel good.  Is that bad?  Obviously you want the person you've spent so much time with to be at least a LITTLE sad when they see that you are leaving them.  I had already been through the pain of packing up the apartment, and as mean as it might sound, I am glad that he got to share in that even just a tiny bit by seeing my, and "our" things into their new home--a storage unit in downtown SB.  I am loathe to admit that my heart skipped a beat when he reached out for me,  lowered his head, and buried his face in my neck saying that this is a mistake, then, " I have a better idea--why don't we move to europe and get married instead?"

He's gone on a work team-building thing, and I am glad to have the time alone, though I am scared sleeping here by myself.  Especially after my nightmare last week. 

During one of the awkward nights, I went to sleep in the downstairs bedroom.  He begged and begged for me to come upstairs, and I didn't, I told him to just leave me alone.  Being a guy, he took this literally to mean that I wanted to be left alone.  Well, being a girl, what I really wanted was to calm down and then for him to come back and get me.  That night I had such a frightening nightmare that it woke me up, and I couldn't get back to sleep I was so scared.  So I ran upstairs and got in bed with him.  And I felt better and was able to sleep.

So.....this is what I have done of any significance today:

• washed my car (by hand)
• ate the remainder of the potato chips.  with onion dip.
• read some more of the "Breakup Buddy" book
• wrote back to my long-time crush (who I mistakenly thought could be coming up single soon and I was hoping hook up with) to congratulate him on the news that he and his girlfriend are having a baby. 
• made a list of things to do and then didn't do a single one of them. 

I am sitting in roughly the same place I've been for way too long since despite the fact that its a comfy couch--my butt hurts. 

I had all these great wonderful things planned for when I was without a job and truly I am just WASTING my days away. 

One thing I have got to get a handle on is my $$  I now realize that it does not matter how much money I have in my account, come months end I am always back down to oh-my-god-i-am-going-to-overdraft-howdidthishappen?  I do not consider myself a big spender, that is, I am not out there buying clothes and shoes and expensive haircuts.  But hell, I might as well go buy nice clothes because I'm spending it on something and don't even have a cool wardrobe to show for it.   Not cool, not cool.  I fancy myself a business-minded and entreprenueral gal and this has gotta stop.

Argh, ok.  Even though its nearing bedtime for most normal people, I am going to get off this damned computer and check something, ANYTHING off my list. 
 

Gettin' all literary late at night--an email to my BF that i didn't send.

So, Im a night owl, this we know.  I napped on our cozy bed this afternoon, so I'm awake.

Well, at 12:30 I took another load of things down to my car. It was foggy, (oddly) warm, and serenely quiet.  On my way back in--our apartment looks so cozy from the outside.  So golden and inviting.  It made me very sad to think that soon, I won't live here anymore.  I looked out over the neighborhood.  I noticed buildings as I had never seen them before-- huddling close together, like pigeons on the ledge of the bart station, so that it is sometimes difficult to tell where one begins and the other ends. Though each one is angular and distinct. Yet awkward.  Almost adolescent looking.  I noticed a building I almost rented a studio apartment in a year ago and wondered how my life would be different if I had.  It is an attractive building from here--but somehow has the same closed in feeling I got when I was inside.  I felt if I had lived there my life would have been cast in a greenish tint.  I wonder if I could ever love this place.

About half an hour ago, i was procrastinating.  I found that CD that you made for me-- your christmas present to me when we were in Europe. My present to you was that lopsided hat I knitted you.  We reunited in Paris a few days before New Years after I fled that awful job in Austria.  When we met at the metro station, you scooped me up in your arms and kissed me deeply.  I gave you the hat, which I had just finished stitching your initials on in orange thread.  With tears in your eyes you said that without a doubt it was the best present you have ever received in your entire life.  It was cold and you put it on.  Then your nose started bleeding.  You titled the CD 'Something to Keep you Happy', you remember it.  I thought that sounded good and put it in the xbox, but alas, all the songs were happy, and I realized that I didn't want to feel that kind of happy right now.  So I curled up on the couch with my fuzzy, trying to get motivated for another round of packing.  When.....

pop poppop! 

I waited a moment....yep, that sounded like gunfire.  And it was nearby.  Then....

silence.

a moment later.....

the sound of a car speeding by.

then, silence.

then,

the whuuuup whup of a police car pulling someone over.

screeching tires,

then,

silence.

Ok, I thought.  It's either really good news, or really bad news.  Either no one got hurt.  Or someone is without a doubt just plain dead, which means they will finish up the police work before calling the coroner. 

Its such a still night, and now so quiet, I'm sure no one was hurt.

Then, a full 10 minutes later, a sudden downpour of sirens--police sirens, ambulance sirens.   5 maybe 7 seconds of shrieking hemorrhaging sirens--then suddenly---!  silence again, as though someone with a giant remote pressed "mute".  

Freeeeeaked me out.  I am waiting until daylight to go down to my car again. 

It is very sad and...

It is very sad and takes much inner conviction to pack up the life you have shared with another individual.  Our bed is very comfortable.  Our room smells like him+me, some combination of eucalyptus and his musk. 

if you count from 18, he has been "home" for four years--thats half of my adult life.  If you count from graduating from college,since thats when adult life really seems to begin, then he's been home since before that.  (we were platonic roommates for a year before we got together). 

I do not know or understand the abyss I am stepping into.   

I have made some progress packing, but I keep going in to lie down in our bed.  It is so inviting--soft yet firm and secure, like the feeling of being held close. 

Why can't he just love me right? 

Last night he called me, he was very concerned.  He asked if all this time that we've referred to "having sex", should he have called it "making love" instead?  He seemed to think that was somehow a cause of this splitting, this lack of connection.  I said I honestly didn't think that made a huge difference.  Sometimes we have sex, sometimes we make love.  I know the difference, and it doesn't matter what we called it.  Though I think if we were having just sex, and he called it making love, I would be a little upset.

So I emailed him a snippet from this blog, where I talk about what it feels like when we connect in that way.  This was his response:

Baby this writing is beautiful.  It describes everything I've felt about our relationship but could never put in words.  I've always wondered if, but hoped that, you felt the same way.

Like you've always said, whether you want to write or not, it's something you absolutely have to do.  I do love you you silly girl.  And now you're making lumps in my throat.

Do you ever feel like all this is a dream?  And when we wake up lying next to eachother, all these problems and obstacles will have just been figments of our imagination? 

Love,

R

Yes, I have felt like this was a dream, and I would wake up lying next to him and all of these problems would have just disappeared, for months and months and months. And months. 

After this, I need to take a break from being in a relationship and seriously evaluate, so this doesn't happen again.  You see, I am a serial " he's just not that into you" gal.  Sheesh, that book could have saved me a combined total of.....about 6 1/2 years of my life.  Read it.  Read or listen to the damned thing, even if you don't think it applies to you now or ever.  Just do it, if not for you, then for your friends who you give advice to.  In fact, it is on my list to call a friend who I realize I gave some seriously not good advice to regarding men. I am going to call and tell her that SHE WAS RIGHT.

Back to packing.  Now I am going to listen to 'Why we want you to be Rich" by donald trump and richard kiyosaki. 

 

The bomb has detonated and I GET IT NOW- He's just not that into me

He's Just Not That Into You (The Newly Expanded Edition): The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys

Greg Behrendt

I get it now.  He's just not that into me, and you know what--it feels great.  I mean, it sucks ass totally and completely, but there is no more confusion, no more feelings of inadequacy, of "if I do this or be like that then he will treat me better/be more interested in me/ listen/not get mad/etc/etc/etc"

For last two weeks or so--a curious phrase has been echoing through my brain.  I had heard this phrase before but never explored into what it meant or the phenomena behind it.  But every time R did something that seemed a little rude, inconsiderate, or made me feel bad about myself or the relationship, a little bell went off and I heard an announcement come over the loudspeaker in my head:

ding! He's just not that into you.

We have been staying in this amazing rental with the other consultant from his work.  This consultant had started arousing curious feelings in me from the very beginning.  Lets call him.....Eric. 

Our first two weeks there, R's relationship behavior was pretty bad/weird.  He was just gone most of the time, with little or no consideration for my feelings about it and pretty rude to me, plus we were fighting a bit.  Things were very busy, oh darn it, I really don't have the mental energy to fill in the details.  The point is that I didn't know Eric at all, and I found myself feeling slightly embarrassed in front of him.  Eric would come home night after night, sometimes late, and see me there.  After a few sentences of requisite small talk he would ask "Where's R?" and I would tell him wherever he was that night.  At first, I tried to come across as the cool girlfriend.  But soon, I started feeling ashamed for him to see me there alone--this pretty, smart, cool girl who is a good cook--being so emotionally neglected and taken for granted.  I really just tried to play it cool and pretend that I wasn't bothered by my boyfriend's absence.

Eric likes to cook too.  I had bought a bunch of food for the house, including three delicious looking pork chops designated to be eaten by the three of us on a designated night.  Honestly, I don't remember where R was, but he was supposed to be there.  While Eric and I cooked, we shared conversation and wine, and decided on the dinner menu together.  There is an orange tree in the front yard, and it was his inspiration to make an orange-honey glaze for the chops.  Finally, at nearly 10 pm, dinner was ready and R was nowhere to be seen nor heard from, so we ate.  Yes--it stung but I was going to stash those emotions away to be dealt with at a later time.  In fact, it was a curious blend of emotions, feeling so jilted in front of an audience, and the unexpected romance of this night with our roommmate.  There it is, I said it.  It was romantic, and I didn't care how much of it was Eric taking pity on me--I was enjoying it and I could tell that he was too. 

R called in the middle of dinner.  Honestly, I forget what I said and what he said.  I remember feeling like I needed to cover my ass in front of Eric and to do this I tried to "playfully" chide R, like, Oh, haha you silly boy, then tell him that we were in the middle of dinner and I'll see him when he gets home.  What I DO remember is getting my ass chewed out later.  WAit--I remember now.  He called to tell me that he was really tired and wasn't going to be home at all, that he would be sleeping over at his parent's house unless I wanted to come pick him up.  Well, I was 3 glasses of wine in so there was no way I could drive, not that I would have anyway....

Wow, why am I still in a relationship with him?  I like myself way more than this.  Forget about him treating me like crap-- I'm treating myself like crap for putting up with this. 

He called later and chewed me out for whatever it was I had said in front of Eric saying I was making him look bad.  I told him HE was making himself look bad and that I was so embarrassed in front of this guy that I'm sorry if what I said wasn't perfect but that what I said was not the issue here.

Another curious thing started to happen.  Eric started asking me questions.  Questions that made me uneasy and that I didn't know how to answer, such as " So how are you?"  and "How was your day?".  At first my answers were halting and clumsy.  I didn't know what to say. What startled me even more was that he waited for my responses and seemed genuinely interested in what I was going to say--"Fine" and "Good" were not sufficient and he wanted to know more. It stirs something inside of me every time he asks.  It stirs feelings of sadness and longing.  It stirs emotions of feeling connected to someone by being valued and listened to.  

One time, he called me.  He said he was going Trader Joe's, was there anything he could pick up for me?  Was there anything we needed?

I was too stunned to think of anything.  I think I said, "You're going to Trader Joe's??"

"Yeah, I thought I'd pick up a few things for the house.  Is there anything you want?"

::stunned silence:: "Mmm.....no.....I can't think of anything.  Thanks so much though."

"Are you sure?  Is there anything you think we need?"

!?#!@?  I tried to come up with something--anything. "Um.......mmmm.........milk?  Yeah, get some milk, that would be great.  Thank you so much for calling, I really appreciate it.  See you when you get home, Byeeee..."

"Wait--Ok, milk.  Is it alright if I get a smaller container?  How about half a gallon since we don't seem to use it that fast and otherwise it might go bad?"

At this point, I was totally floored.  Who is this man?

"Yeah, sure, milk in a smaller container.  Sounds great.  I think that's a great idea.  Thanks again, see ya when ya get here, byeeee.....!"

Little things.  Its so true what they say in "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus", that for women, Little things make a big difference.

Listen, I don't know Eric--he's a bit of a tough nut to crack.  Honestly, I don't pretend to get him in the slightest.  But over the month that we've been there, I am starting to get the feeling that he likes having me around.  It's possible that he's maybe even a little smitten.  Not a lot, but just a bit.  But even before this, the routine courtesy that he has shown me has just highlighted what is not happening in what is supposedly my most intimate relationship.  It feels really good to have someone WANT you to be around.  One night when the three of us were eating dinner, I mentioned that I might be heading back to SF the next week.  What happened made my heart skip.  R's face didn't change at all, and Eric's face fell, so instantly and obviously that I swear I saw him glance to make sure R didn't notice. 
 

On Thursday, there was the straw that broke the camel's back. Just a tiny fluffy little straw.  I didn't even care.  Not really.  In the beginning of the day, R said that after work, he was going to check the waves at the beach.  If there were no waves, he would come home.  If it was good, he was going to call me to come meet him.  That was a fine plan in my book. 

6:30 pm rolls around.  Eric comes into the livingroom and sits down in a chair opposite me with his new Mac.  "Hey, so R wanted me to tell you to meet him at the beach. His cell battery is dead."  I look up.  They had carpooled to work that day.  R had just dropped Eric off, literally 2 seconds ago, in front of the house, and then drove away to go to the beach. 

"Why didn't he come up?" I asked.

"Oh, uh, I guess he thought you wouldn't be home.  I was supposed to call you, but you are here, so I didn't have to call you." 

"Thats strange.  I don't know why he would think I wasn't home, I didn't tell him I was going anywhere, and I'm usually home."

"Yeah, I don't know, he just thought you weren't going to be home....." 

Hm.  That's strange, but ok.  So I decided to go to the library to pick up a book I wanted, and then decide if I was going to the beach.  I figured if he really wanted me to go to the beach with him he would have been more sure that I was coming.  So he can have that time alone if I don't show. 

I went to the library.  Stayed later than I intended.  R called and asked if I was coming home soon, I said yeah, and went home.  I made us dinner.  We had a nice conversation.  Both feeling pretty good.  An hour goes by, two hours.  We are enjoying each other's company.  Then I say to him, "yeah, sorry I didn't make it to the beach.  Sounds like you had a good time anyway.  But that's strange--why didn't you think I was home?"  

"Huh?"

"Eric said you didn't come up and went straight to the beach because you thought I wasn't going to be home."

[good-natured laughter] " Oh, he just said that because he thought you would be mad."

?  perplexed half-smile on my end.......

"Yeah, I really wanted to get to the beach and didn't want you to slow me down.  You take so long to get ready and I didn't have much time as it is."

"But, I don't take long to get ready anymore."

"Yeah, but if I came upstairs you would have offered me a snack, told me to rest a bit, tried to slow me down.  You would have been mad if I didn't want to wait for you to get ready."

" Um, no.  First of all, I have never tried to get you to eat a snack or rest when you've been rushing to go to the beach. You're confusing me with your mother.  Secondly, I would not have been upset if you wanted to go ahead to the beach since that was the original plan.  Third, its just weird.  Why didn't you come upstairs?"

"I dunno, I just didn't want you to slow me down."

ding!  He's just not that into you. 

Yup, so that's it ladies and gentlemen.  A three year relationship is over.  It wasn't that bad, I didn't even CARE since I did not want to go to the freezing beach and watch him skimboard.  But something about it was just too weird.  It makes me feel all creepy crawly to even write about it right now. 

That night, I went to bed with the time bomb ticking away.  Tick tock tick tock, I'm leaving tomorrow, I'm leaving tomorrow.  And when I woke up in the morning, the clock was still ticking away,  louder than before,  I'm leaving today, I'm leaving today. 

And then--I left.

So.....I am here in San Francisco. 

When I left, I didn't know I was breaking up with R, I just knew that I was leaving San Francisco.

One thing I will miss when I leave is the public library.  Since that phrase has been repeating inside my head, I decided to check out the book and see if there was something relevant in there for me.  The branch 2 blocks from my house happened to have the "He's Just Not That Into You" book on CD.  I have listened to it, and honestly, I think it is going to change my romantic life from here on out.

Since I've been gone, I've gotten deep loving phone calls and text messages. 

He texted me saying "Come back asap.  I miss you and I want to be with you"  and " Sigh I suppose i've lost you for good this time.  You damn angel offering paradise.  I may just have to repent and accept your offer".  He's saying he is going to follow me and we'll be together and he'll stop living this out-of-whack life he's living. 

The other night, he was saying how much he was missing me and how he felt sad.  I said, you know, you've never once asked me how I'm feeling.  A minute later, he said he had an "epiphany".  That it had not OCCURRED to him before to ask me how I'm feeling.  At first, I thought this was kinda cool, progress, and it felt good for him to ask.

As of writing this, I have not packed a single thing.  I feel terrible dismantling the cozy home we have.  I think that maybe I'm doing the wrong thing.  I want to take my bookshelf and feel a twinge of guilt, like I'm taking something away from him and will make him sad.  I think that I'm just acting out and I don't mean what I'm doing.

Last night, he sends me a text message at 10:30 at night that read I wrote that letter so you can send yours now too. [it was an errand he had completed]  Love you goodnight. 

Um, no.  I called him and told him not to text message me anymore unless it was something that warranted a text message.  Don't text me goodnight.  Oh, well, he said he almost didn't write the goodnight part.  Even worse dude, don't text me at 10:30 at night to tell me you have completed an errand and have that be the last thing I hear from you before bed. 

ding!  He's just not that into you!

Then, he asked rather awkwardly "how are you feeling?"  I said I was feeling like he is just not that into me.   That when a girl is breaking up with you that you really truly care about, you do not TEXT her to tell her goodnight.  You call.  Well--he didn't want to get into a big conversation.

DING DING DING DING DING!!!!  HE'S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU!

You know what? Gag me with a freakin spoon!  This is pathetic and unacceptable.  Scraps from the table of love.  And I'm over it.  If he is that into me, he will follow and grovel and do anything and everything to get me back.  And if not, thats ok.  There is someone out there who will be very into me.  Someone who will be as into me and I am into him, and maybe even more so. 

Well everyone, I've gotta cut this short for now, I have some packing to do.  And I'm going to take my bookshelf and not feel the least bit bad about it.  The only thing I feel bad about is the fact that it has taken me this long to realize what is really going on, and respect myself enough to leave. 

Have you ever just wanted to slap yourself and say 'Stop being such a whiny bitch" ?

Ist2_1564755_ticking_time_bomb_clip_path

I have noted a very interesting phenomena in my life recently.

In the evening, I often feel sad, lonely, angry.  I find that the thoughts going on in my head are usually about leaving San Fran, leaving R, etc.  Last night I had a very strong feeling of wanting to go home, but not knowing where that place would be...

One of the last things I remember thinking last night before I drifted off to sleep was, "I think I will leave either Friday or Saturday.  Should I get storage in Southern California or wait until after Julian* comes to move out?"

*Julian is a very good friend of mine, and of R's who is coming to visit in September.  More about him later.


So those were my final thoughts before drifting off to dreamland.  Sure enough, 8 hours later, I'm no longer angry or sad, and I cannot for the life of me remember why I was planning on leaving in the morning.  I told R that I feel like almost every night I go to sleep a time bomb, and during the night the clock resets.  Maybe its the cuddling, but if I'm awake and feeling those same things as we cuddle, it doesn't change the feelings.  I wonder if we each have our conscious thinking minds, and our hearts, and during the day the conscious mind is spinning spinning with ego and doubt and confusion, and at night, that turns off and our hearts secretly whisper to one another while we're sleeping.  Maybe our hearts can't wait for bedtime when our stupid heads shut off and they can finally spend some time together. 

I am definitely realizing that while there are some issues in the relationship, and I have no idea if we should stay together or not.  I feel like we should be together less and less, that is, how things are now.  I do wish I could "get back" the "old" R.  He's so aloof these days, and its hurting us both.  He says that sometimes he has such a feeling of wanting to cry but can't, and how he wants so desperately to open up and be vulnerable with me but he can't let himself for some reason.  Its how I imagine dating a movie star would be--super hot, on all the time, everybody wants a piece of him.  He's running around pleasing so many people, achieving, popular, and when it comes to being in a relationship--demanding and constantly preoccupied.  Like, sometimes I feel more like a live-in masseuse than a girlfriend.  He'll come home, not say two words to me, flop down on the bed, and want his back rubbed.  I can do that, thats cool.  But not ALL the time!  And not if I'm not feeling good about "us".  Go buy a massage. 

Anyway, that was tangential.  My POINT was that there are questionss re: the relationship, but I am beginning to understand that there's some other shit going on with me that needs to be dealt with.  I never really grieved my grandma's death which was a little over a year ago.  I don't know why I don't feel that sad, because it was very sad, and I love my grandma so much.  SO MUCH.  She was my protector and good friend.  But so I'm reading a couple books right now to try to understand what we should do with the trust, and what my duties are, etc.  My brother took care of most of this last year, but he's overwhelmed now, so I'm trying to step in and pick up some of the slack.  I am reading this very dry book called "Your Executor Duties".  Stuff like this "Most wills include a paragraph or two which delineate the powers and duties of the executor.  Find these paragraphs and focus exclusively on them.  Note carefully certain words and phrases therein...."   and it goes on like this.  Well, I find  myself getting really emotional while reading this book.  I start flashing back to things and sometimes tears well up in my eyes.  Needless to say, I haven't made it very far through the book. 

Also, I have emotions regarding my dad that I totally need to work through with a therapist.  I'm not gonna go into that now.  And then I think its time to "tell my story" again.  I have to say though, I thank god or the universe or whatever you wanna call it that my sister is doing so well.  HER life could be a made for TV movie.  She totally did the whole party drug (gang?) scene in Long Beach wound up in jail, went through 3 rehabs.  This time last year she was somewhere on the streets--because we wouldn't support her habit (heroin) and she also ran away.  But now she has been clean for 9 months, she's working, going to community college, got her license back, and is trying to do modeling.  Its just such a change, and now I don't worry every time my phone rings early in the morning or late at night that she was found ODed somewhere with a needle in her arm.  All this and she's turning 20 in October.  Furthermore, she is HILARIOUS.  I'm so jealous, she got all the cool and funny.  I keep encouraging her to start a blog.  Of all the people I know, she is the only one who I can say that without a doubt, being a celebrity would be the absolute best use of her talents and skills.

Here is an email she wrote me:

Subject:  biiiitch

okay trick i guess your too cool now. ahah anyways how are you??? im doing spectacular but looking even better ... as always. anyways i was goign through this box i used to keep old pictures cards n stuff in and i read this card from mom it was for my graduation ... she like wrote happy birthday under and then crossed it out. and then wrote oops. and the circled graduation and put an arrow pointing to it. it was soooo funny i just thought of mom especially back then... oh myyy. so yah, like this one random person told me we were related, and i was like nah dude i dont really know that chick soo i just thought id write you and like see if you were my sister or not. cause like i was just curious. hahah love you hoe

 

 

tell R i saiiid

 

holla fo' a dolla

Time for a change?

Sweet Tired Cat

On cold and dreary January night, I was alone in my apartment feeling sad, and well, lonely. Desperate to bridge the gap between the existential despair that was beginning to settle in and the warm comfort I wished to be feeling, I stared at the blank "Google" search page before me.  Upbeat optimistic primary colors gleamed--promising to connect me to people and places across time and distance--the entire world awaited my very keystrokes--if only....if only I could find the words.

A minute went by.  And then another.  A darkness began to settle over my heart.

And then, like a sudden flash of light in the middle of a storm, I found it.

I found the word that would lead me safely to shore.  The word that transported me away from it all.

Cute. 

Yes. You read correctly.  I typed "cute" into google.  And since that night in January, I have done so many more times.  At first, it seemed quirky, but acceptable.  I needed "cute" in my life and so I got it.  But now I need more cute, better cuter, cuter-cute.  After exhausting the resources of cute, I turned to adorable, cutest-thing-ever, baby animals, and finally--'laughing baby'.

Tonight, I went through all the old search terms and can't seem to get my fix.  I am desperate for cute--nothing is cute enough.  I'm re-hashing the old favorites like

Bambi_thumper

and

Bunny

or this--the big guns. 

When a 3 year old is asked about monsters

Nothing will give me that warm fuzzy feeling I used to get in the beginning.  Well, except the monster thing just gave me chuckle.

But the point is, tonight,  I realize that what was initially an innocent personality quirk of a young woman whose biological clock is starting to tick--is possibly an indication of something deeper.  It indicates a void that I am trying to fill. 


My friend Miss Scotch mentioned being invisible.  I definitely feel invisible much of the time right now, or if not invisible, translucent like the scotch tape.  This is how I want things for the moment, but at the same time, I am starting to ache for a feeling of connection, a feeling of purpose, and also, a feeling of fun.  I ache for laughter. I feel very joyous in my everyday living--I am in Santa Barbara staying in a beautiful house, I'm not working, and my days are my own to do as I please.  I am doing work on some of my projects, reading both fiction and non-fiction at my leisure, and generally doing whatever the heck I want whenever the heck I want.  That part is AMAZING. 

But as my time in magical Santa Barbara is coming to an end--the sheer uncertainty of my next step is starting to gnaw at me.  And also, the fact that the REASON for my uncertainty is due to the lack of reason in my life.  A driving force.  Something to propel one forward.  I've noticed that many people look back wistfully and with teary eyes on what is supposedly the most challenging period of ones life--when you have small children.  I wonder if its because even though its very difficult and tiring, it is also rewarding. I wonder if there is any other time in a person's life when one's own existence is more justified.  Parents of young children know EXACTLY why they get out of bed each morning.  They know exactly why they do everything they do sans exception.

Thats all for now. 

Message in a Bottle - Tuesday, July 03, 2007 4:48:32 PM

Psapp - the only thing i ever wanted - 06 - tricycle

Ok, Miss Scotch.  I will break the silence.  I have not written because I have no perspective and cannot be held accountable for what I say.  Or, more accurately, do not want to be held accountable, since its all subject to change erratically and with no notice.

I am currently in Santa Barbara for a month.  By some synchronistic miracle Boyfriend's company sent him down here on a consulting gig. Boyfriend's initial is R, and he will hereafter be referred to as such.  I'm sick of the weird pronoun. Initially we were put up in the most cell-like hotel room ever conceived by man.  It was as though they started building a halfway house but the investors changed their minds and decided to call it Extended Stay America instead.  Now we are staying at a really awesome house, thanks to a heckofalotta work by me and R's mom.  It was drama way above and beyond what was necessary (I blame the mercury retrograde) but we're settled now.

Everyone asks me, so....what are you doing in Santa Barbara....?  On vacation?  I usually say yes just to keep things simpler.  But the truth of the matter is that before coming down here, I decided that I may not be coming back to San Francisco.  I was very upfront with my job and told them that I was leaving to southern california for a month because I needed to figure some sh*t out.  Strangely--they didn't fire me.  Which is a compliment, but also vaguely frustrating. 

On my last day at the office, we inked a deal (finally! the damned thing dragged on and on), so I've got a bit of $. 

I really love it here and have been having an amazing, wonderful, positive time.  Part of this is because I love this place and its where I want to be, and I'm sure part of it is because I have all the time to do whatever I want since I'm not working.  I've started exercising again, eating better, going outside, getting some stuff done that I need to do.  Its great. 

Everything, that is, except R (the boyfriend).  He's all over the freakin' map, but he's super nice and loving and relaxed at the moment.  Two days ago I told him I was leaving on Saturday to go back to San Francisco to pack my shit and that we're breaking up.  Now he's all calm and happy, and I guarantee you he has completely forgotten about us breaking up.  Sag's man.  He only wants me when I have the self-respect to walk away.  I DO have the self-respect to walk away, and every time I am about to he does a 180 and pulls me back.  I really love him, and the hardest part is that I really really want to have babies with him--but I want off the rollercoaster.  Maybe it was cool or fun or something a while ago, but I am done.  There is something wrong in our relationship, and it has nothing to do with me, it has to do with his idea of me which often bears little resemblance to reality.  This relationship COULD work.  It could be amazing and fulfilling and we could have beautiful babies and a happy life, but something in his head won't let it.  I still do blame his work for a lot of it.  We've always had our ups and downs, but everything became really weird and different last year when we moved to SF and he took that job. 

A force inside of me is being propelled forward, moving towards meditation, health, dealing with the shit from my past, and with wanting to be proactive in making positive changes.  The breaking-up may be a moot point, because I do not think I can stay in SF.  Its a scary leap of faith.  I have no idea where I will go or what I will do or why.  For so many years my home has been with R, and I've enjoyed it.  But something in my life is not working on many many levels, and rather than try to parse it out, I need to just listen to the voice inside of me that is telling me to get out.  I know I will feel very sad and miss him.  I am doing it for me, because I HAVE to, but a big part of me hopes that it will save my relationship too.  I'm not ready for it to be over--it just cannot continue in the way its been going.  Part of me hopes that he will get back to SF and be miserable, and follow me to France and Santa Barbara, and I think it would be different.  And I am scared because I know that the chances are we won't get back together, and I'm just thinking this to allow me to take the plunge into the unknown. 

It is the only option.  There is nothing else left for me to do. 

An Omen

I really hate this place.  There is, however, one thing of beauty that has given me a great deal of pleasure since I moved here, and that is my neighbors flower tree. 

Flower

I have never seen flowers like this before, and for some reason, they delight me.  Every time I notice them, life softens around the edges and I feel as though everything is not so bad after all.  I wish to paint them.  They have inspired a line of porcelain china in my mind, and if I could have a set of dishes with this flower as a design I would be gleeful every time I used it.  I would use fresh vegetables, perhaps that I've grown myself.  Unexpected combinations of lettuce.  Stunningly simple and deliciously elegant crudite.  Or just coffee.  For an afternoon tea, each guest receives a biscuit on a small plate, garnished with a single raspberry and a leaf of mint.  This simple flower inspires me to creativity, happiness, generosity, and love.

I passed by last week on my way to the BART train, noticing my beauties bouncing gently in the wind.  I realized that its almost exactly a year since I first passed by them, and reflected on what a consistent and positive impact they have had on my life here.  I have seen the tree in all seasons, and, though more scarce in the winter--these flowers bloom year round.
                                                            
On the way back from an outing on Saturday night, I was telling Boyfriend that I am desperate to leave here, and want to do so June 15, but that after reviewing my finances, it might be stupid of me to leave that soon--that if I hold out a bit longer, I might be able to make considerably more money.

He interrupted me. 

"Look at that--I wonder why its on the ground."

A closer look revealed the top portion my beautiful tree, laying in the gutter.  My tree!  This must be some mistake, some vandalism.  Perhaps some of the branches were broken off, or perhaps they got a bit ardent in their pruning.  I looked into the yard where it once stood and saw a neatly cut stump.  They cut it down.

I feel like that is an omen.  Not only that it is cut down, but that I came across it in the very moment I was justifying why I should stay in SF longer even though I feel like it is killing me emotionally and spiritually.

This also just makes me very sad.  I am going to knock on their door and ask them why they cut it down, and if they know the name of it.  Someday, I would like to plant one.     

Fack

I'm such an emotional freaking rollercoaster trainwreck.  CONFUSION.