frenetic-ramblings

[frenetic-ramblings]

I thought about making this one another audio post but it’s a bit longer and too personal. I tried to record audio for it but I just don’t have it within me. There’s no bigger lesson here or some growth found in a shitty moment. It’s just some on going processing that I needed to get out of me and share. You can read it. You can ignore it. It’s your choice. But maybe read it. Maybe you’ll still find something positive in it. Something to feel less alone and grow from. I haven’t found that growth moment yet for myself but *shrug* we’re all different. Maybe you’ll have a growth moment to share with me. God knows I could use it. 

The one thing I want the most right now, and for the last few years, I can’t have. I can’t make it happen. It is well outside my control. All I want is a conversation.  A few moments of honesty with one person where I can ask questions that have been burning inside of me and get truthful answers. Would that help put me at ease? Maybe. Maybe not. More so on the not side, I’d guess because things don’t ever work out how we’d imagine… but the one thing I have consistently wished and hoped for the past couple of years has been that conversation. That moment to lay it all out there and it breaks me to know I’ll never have it. It will never happen. I mean they say “never say never” because you can’t ever rule anything out… but it won’t. She won’t. Even if I believed in prayer like she does, it wouldn’t help.

I spend so much time wondering if things could’ve been different. Better. Happier. Or even if not those things, still a different ending if an ending were inevitable. A more definitive ending.

I recently saw the movie Disobedience twice and read the book as well. It was beautifully acted but both times it left me battling inner demons that I thought, that I hoped, I had defeated ages ago. I guess I was fooling myself all that time.

I think about her. My Esti. The girl I wish had left with me but stayed behind because she believed so fully in her religion in a way that, while I respected,  I could never believe myself. Our story is nothing like Ronit and Esti’s. We didn’t grow up together and neither of us grew up in a orthodox religious setting. But we did find each other and in each other we found a special connection that led to growth and love…and a fork in the road.

I’m not going to go into what happens in the book or the movie (there are some differences) but I mean, she and I didn’t end up together. And when I think about why, why we never had a proper shot at a relationship, I think of one thing she said to me one night while we Facetimed.

“It would be so much easier if you lived closer and if you were a guy.”

It hurt then. It hurts now. Two years later. It hurts because it’s not that she didn’t feel for me as I did her. It’s because the fear was stronger and louder than the love that existed. She was too scared to go against the grain. To tell others in her life that while they always thought she was straight, she had found a woman she could love. Did love. I forget exactly how she worded it, because I try not to go back and reread those messages we shared. But once she said how she didn’t know if she was ready to tell her family and friends that she was attracted to/thought the world of a woman when everyone thought she was straight. She admitted to being scared and unsure and it’s why I gave her a wide berth. I could not and would not push her hand or rush her. It was easier for me to sort through my feelings and fears. Not easy. But easier. I grew up a tom boy who didn’t date much. People questioned my sexuality before I ever did. I was a bit more prepared for a shake up than she was.

I’ve spent the past few years trying to sort through my shit. My feelings. My love. My heartbreak. My pain. My fears. My loss. But it hasn’t helped. I keep thinking I’ve made progress until I wind up back here triggered emotionally by a song, a movie, a book. And I’m left processing trying to figure out why when deep down I know why. I was on the verge of something great. I had been awakened and then had it all ripped away suddenly, no warning and no explanation. I can’t blame her. To this day, I still don’t. I understand the initial fear and hesitation. I just can’t understand the ghosting. The running and hiding. And despite my patience and space the absolute lack at trying to salvage the friendship when she once said she couldn’t imagine her life without me in it.

I know I have a tendency to take things to personally but some things are personal. Deeply personal. I contemplate posting this in some format. She may or may not see it. She still follows me on some social media. At least the ones where my unfriending her wouldn’t force an unfollow on her end. She was never super active on social media but, who knows. She may she it. She may not. She may get angry because she never did like the passive aggressive type of posts where I vaguely spoke of her or issues involving her. She’d rather I directly approach her with the problem. Well… I tried that. Several times. It’s a bit pointless messaging someone who refuses to answer any type of message for over 2 years. So I am forced to process on my own but I do best when I speak as if I have an audience. I need to be heard sometimes whether it’s an audience of one or one hundred. I need to feel like I’m not screaming into a void. That I’m not talking to a wall or texting a ghost. I need to feel like I’m heard.

I wish I had more answers. I don’t need all the answers but a few more would certainly help. Or at least I hope they’d help. With my luck, they’d just leave me more lost and confused. I don’t know. I never hated or blamed her even when I wished I could. I just wanted to know what was going on in her life. In her head. Her heart. But she wasn’t ready to open up and share that with me. And then I wish I could’ve been better, stronger, more of what she needed so she could’ve felt safe enough to share that all with me. Then I think, “You can’t be everything for everyone. Or everything for even one person. You can just be you and that should be enough. You don’t have to be perfect but be kind, be authentic. That should be enough and if it isn’t enough then it isn’t meant to be.” but that’s idealistic bullshit. I war with myself. My reality. My perception. The rationalization of it all. The intellectual response and analysis of everything. It’s exhausting. It’s no wonder I find myself spontaneously crying at the most random of triggers.

I wish for one of two things. The answers… or the ability to let go and not care what those answers are. I have yet to get either and it’s killing me, slowly but surely. I shut myself down and close myself off and hide and it’s killing my soul. I can feel it but I don’t know how to stop it.

[frenetic-ramblings]

This is probably my shortest post yet but the message still matters. It’s in response to a post by Chyler Leigh on Create Change.  Be sure to check out that website. Sign up. Maybe even become a content creator there. Anyway - on with the show.

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When Chyler first posted her “Your Stripes are Beautiful” article, I was a couple weeks into a journey I had playfully named Operation Danvers. It was a journey towards health and happiness that was named after her character on Supergirl who had helped me connect with a part of myself, but it was more than just a diet and exercise routine.

I was taking moments out of my day to stop the craziness and focus on something beautiful, something that made me calm and happy. Sometimes, it was going for a run on the boardwalk and when that run was done, walking along the water’s edge, enjoying the footprints I left behind in the sand and how the sun bounced off the water. Or stopping my run to watch a wedding happening on the beach. They may have been complete strangers, but for that brief moment all the spectators on that boardwalk, myself included, were a part of those people’s lives and we had the good luck and fortune to see their love shine.

I can’t remember a time I didn’t struggle to find love and acceptance for myself. I don’t know why it’s been such a struggle and I have always hated when I couldn’t figure something out. I’d get rage tears born of frustration when I couldn’t figure out a homework assignment. Imagine what happened when I couldn’t find a way to love myself.

No amount of external acceptance will be able to change how you feel about yourself inside. It’s taken me a long time to figure this out. Sure, it feels nice when a friend or loved one tells you how beautiful you look but at the end of the day, when it’s just you and your thoughts left, you need to be able to find that within yourself. And that’s where Operation Danvers came into play for me.

Part of Operation Danvers was to exercise more and eat better but the end goal wasn’t to lose weight. It was to be stronger and improve my endurance. The by product was a loss of fat and gaining of muscle. Sticking to a plan and a goal and actually seeing results in turn improved my emotional and mental well-being. Taking moments out of the day to center myself also aided in that improvement. I had found a balance I had been missing.

One hot summer day, I was sitting on my couch in a pair of pretty darn short pajama shorts. And I noticed my legs looked more muscular and a bit thinner, and then I noticed the stretch marks all over my inner thighs. I’ve had them since I was a young teenager. I used to hate them. I didn’t understand why they had to form. But that day, at 28, I sat and I looked. I traced the patterns. Indents like grooves on vinyl.Those stretch marks were a record of 28 years of life. They told a story. My body growing and changing so I could survive, so I could learn to be strong. My stripes were my own. I had earned them and they truly were beautiful.

[frenetic-ramblings]

I wanted to write something about “Love is Louder” because it’s an amazing idea that grew into such a beautiful thing. This is the third or fourth attempt and I’m still not quite sure it’s what I was aiming for, but I’m hoping it still strikes a chord with a few people.

Love is louder. It’s a fact. A statement. A full thought all its own. And then you can personalize it based on your needs; love is louder than…

What is your love louder than?

For me? My reminder to keep me on track? To keep me sane? Love is louder than fear.

I can’t remember a time in nearly 30 years of life when I wasn’t afraid. (Perhaps that’s why I loved the young adult series “Fearless” so much as a teen.) Anyway -my fears kind of came to a head in 2015 and kicked my ass for nearly two years. I mean, it had kicked my ass on and off through out adolescence and young adulthood, but that was the first time fear had really taken a stronghold and attempted to strangle the life out of me.

I had just moved back to New York after living in LA for a few years. The move was supposed to be a good thing, full of opportunities, but I ended up feeling alone and lost. My New York friends were MIA. (Imagine - millennials who don’t know how to text back! Whhhaaaaa???) And uh, my LA friends, who I was used to seeing nearly every day, were 3000 miles away. I felt isolated and alone at my new job, and my love life was a complicated confusing mess. This was shortly after my slide down the Kinsey scale and I was still struggling to figure out what that all meant. It didn’t help that the friend/girl who was involved with that slide would go silent and ignore me for long stretches of time which I, of course, internalized. I assumed it was because I had done something wrong or something was wrong with me. I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t worth the effort. I wasn’t lovable because who could want someone so worthless and lost? And that was just the beginning of the negative thought spirals I would find myself going down during that time.

I spent most of 2015 buried under these fears and feelings of worthlessness. I tried so hard to hide them from the people who cared about me, but they always found a way to surface.

I had nights I’d come home from work, turn on music, and drink. One month, I did it it every Friday night like clockwork. I’d drink. I’d put myself down. I’d hurt myself. And then usually I’d cry myself to sleep. I cried myself to sleep more often than not in 2015. I was so afraid that the voice telling me I was useless, unlovable, and just a piece of shit was right… and I had no idea how to fight it.

Instead of fighting, I tried to ignore it. Bury it. But then I had a few really bad nights. Nights when the self-loathing was unbearable… when it found a way out, whether I liked it or not. Whether it was safe or not. Those nights scared me and kicked my ass into gear and allowed me to hear the love I had in my life.

I know I have a tendency to overshare. It’s not because I think I’m all that interesting. Honestly, I am horribly average. But I hope that by sharing my missteps, or confusion, or pain, that at least one person will hear it and get some kind of relief from it. Whether that relief is finally hearing something they’ve felt put into words, or knowing they aren’t alone in that feeling, or finding hope because if someone just like them can find a positive in a shitty situation, then maybe they can too. This is a big part of “Love is louder” and why it is so damn important.

It took the unwavering love of my family and friends to lift me up. I know I was and am lucky to have them. When I finally let their love be louder than my fear, my doubts, I was able to take the steps I needed to get healthy. I started to look at therapists in the area and called a few. I started to work out and eat better. I cut back on the booze. I promised myself no more drinking if I’m sad or upset. I made sure I took the time to make myself stronger and happier.

I often joke with my friends about how much I hate things. I hate the world. I hate my life… but nothing could be further from the truth. I’m hyperbolizing and ranting to vent my frustrations but in reality, I love so damn much. It’s why I’m a big ole sensitive softy. I want my love for life to be louder than anything else. I want it to be so loud it drowns out all of the hate, negativity, ignorance, and whatever else causes people unnecessary pain.

If you’re listening to this, odds are I love you; even if I don’t know you. There is something about you that makes you special and I love that. I hope you amplify that part of yourself and shine that light on to the world. The darkness can’t win if we’re all fighting together. It won’t be an easy fight, but it will be worth it.

For everyone listening: please remember, there are so many resources at your fingertips. If you find yourself struggling, it is ok to ask for help. There is no weakness in that. It takes great strength to reach out and trust someone will help you.

If you aren’t ready to speak to someone but need help - please check out loveislouder.com and some of the resources they have linked to there. There are so many ways to take care of yourself and be heard.

You matter. You are loved. And I hope love is louder than your fears…

[frenetic-ramblings]

After listening to the podcast “Unqualified” I felt the need to write up some kind of a response. It’s super personal but sometimes sharing things we would normally hide and keep to ourselves facilitates the most growth, and not just for ourselves. I’m going to share about a painful time in my life and if anyone is able to draw something from it that allows them to grow from their own painful experiences then it’ll be worth the potential embarrassment of sharing it. I try not to go into too much detail. I summed up about 3 years in just a few pages. I left a lot out but tried to hit the main points. Anyway, thank you Anna Farris and Brittany Snow for being hilarious in the podcast but also touching on some important things we should all take the time to think about.

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There is a lot to be said about closure. Most of it is difficult to verbalize because it is so steeped in emotion. At least for me, I don’t think closure has an intellectual or rational basis. At the end of the day, a thing has ended. A relationship has ended. That is the fact. There is no reviving it or restoring it to what it once was. That entity, that world, that framework, is dead. It’s harsh but it is what is it. My mind fully understands that.

The hard, almost impossible, part is getting my heart to listen. My heart could’t give two shits about facts or rationality. It wants what it wants. It throws tantrums like a cranky two year old in a supermarket. It holds on to burning hot coals for fear of losing the ability to feel, even if all it is currently feeling is seering pain because refusing to let go is so damaging.

I had never needed closure until a couple of years ago. I haven't had many relationships (for a number of reasons we won't get into now) but of the few I've had all but one ended in a clear way... and of course it was the most complicated, blurry lined relationship that began and ended without any kind of clear definition.

For privacy reasons, I'll give her a fake name. Let's call her Maggie. The tl;dr version of everything? We were friends. We crossed the physical lines beyond friendship. There were feelings involved. It got complicated. It didn't end well.

Slightly longer version?

Maggie and I were friends who met because of a mutual interest in a band. We had a group of friends who we'd meet up with a couple times of year and party for New Years and concerts. We got along really well and quickly became friends and had an oddly close friendship. I only call it odd in retrospect because she and I were more physically close than I usually would be with a friend and didn't second guess it until the dynamic changed.... which happened maybe 6 years into the friendship when, for the first time, we were both single. We both identified as straight but had this weird flirtatious thing that seemed to have been growing over the years. But hey, girls do that with each other, right? It's totally normal to do body shots, or give each other lap dances, or kiss at midnight on New Years because you don't have a guy to kiss. There's a totally heterosexual explanation for all of that.

Though I don't think a heterosexual reason exists for full on making out one night and then having sex the next.

After that, things got more complicated. It was not a one off event despite us living on opposite sides of the country. It happened again months later. There was some discussion of feelings. Confusion, but no regrets. Desire to spend more time together, but worries about life getting in the way. Fear of what others would think or say. We were in a holding pattern for almost 2 years. I gave her time and space to sort things out while we continued to be friends and talk and share things with each other that I wouldn't share with anyone else.

I know I messed up several times in that time span; strained whatever tenuous relationship we had. But I also know I asked her to tell me if she ever wanted me to leave her alone. To stop reaching out. To go back to a basic friendship. Or if she wanted to end the friendship completely. And she promised me she would. Instead, she ghosted me after nearly 8 years of friendship.

She never blocked me and still follows me on my public social media but, to this day, I haven't heard a single word from her in nearly 21 months. At first I held onto those burning coals. I couldn't let go. I didn't care that I was hurting myself by wallowing in that pain and confusion because I just wanted to know why. I felt like I needed to know why she abandoned me in order for me to understand and move on. I needed closure.

As time passed, I realized that closure would never come. Maggie didn't owe me anything. It may have been the courteous thing to say something, anything, even if it was a lie meant to spare my feelings, but at the end of the day I wasn't entitled to anything. I imagined any number of scenarios and conversations and reasons she could have given but they did nothing. They brought me no peace. I realized I didn't have to make sense of it but I did need to accept that it happened and it wasn't going to change.

A part of me is always going to want closure, whatever it may mean. A piece of me is always going to wonder what went wrong and how I could've avoided that or fixed it or how do I make sure I don't do it again in the future.

That relationship ship left its mark. It left many marks. Some still hurt. Some left scars. But scars are proof that a wound has healed. I carry those marks and I know I have changed. I've grown. In some ways I am more hesitant and afraid to put myself out there. In other ways, I am stronger and more aware and sure of who I am. I wouldn't trade that clarity for anything.

It took me a long time to walk away and sometimes I still visit the memories of it. Is it healthy? Probably not. Is it unavoidable? Yes… at least for the time being. I do visit less frequently. It hurts less now than it did last year. I never got what my heart calls closure but I no longer believe I need it. I may want it but the need is gone. I found a stronger understanding and sense of self. I struggled to find it but it's mine now. In some ways that's better than closure.