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[literaryjerseygirl]

Milk and honey.

[literaryjerseygirl]

[literaryjerseygirl]

I feel like half of me is gone the last several days. It’s been a little over six weeks since I cut ties for good, but I’ve ached for you the last week or so. Missing you intensely. Rereading old messages and asking WHY.

I broke myself open when you told me you were in love with me. Maybe it was too much. I showed you every feeling I had for you. I let you inside the deepest part of my heart and soul that no one ever touched before you.

I’m always going to love you. If you came to my door today, tomorrow, probably even next week, I’d welcome you inside. I think then I would know that you were ready.

I prepared myself two years ago to find another you, to find in another person what I felt that we had. But that was before you opened your heart and soul to me. I’m searching yet again, but everyone falls short in some way.

I miss you terribly. I love you deeply. My soul aches for yours. I know you don’t believe in all of this...but the deepest part of me that is connected to you KNOWS you are feeling these things too.

Swallow your fucking pride and come get me.

[literaryjerseygirl]

I love you. I miss you. I wish you happiness.

[literaryjerseygirl]

[literaryjerseygirl]

...ohh...

[literaryjerseygirl]

[literaryjerseygirl]

[literaryjerseygirl]

Second Chances 5/17/2020

I’m a lucky girl. I know, I know...I’m a grown woman and should refer to myself as such. But fuck it. Today I’m a girl, and a lucky one.

You may ask how. Or why. Why do I think I’m so damn lucky?

It’s spring 2020, and most of NJ is under a stay-at-home order. And for a semi-social person like me (who happens to live alone), it’s difficult at times. I’ve been working from home. My gym and the yoga studio are closed. I miss my friends. Loved ones and I have been hit by losses, and we cannot comfort each other. And if you’ve followed me for any length of time, you know my struggles. There’s no need to reiterate them here.

Yet I’m smiling as I write this. The sun is out. The ocean is a block away. Summer is imminent. I have a job, decent health, food, a roof...yadda yadda yadda. And I have friends who are my family and who love me. And who I love right back.

You know what else makes me lucky?

Second chances.

I’ve gotten several. A big one in 1994. Others through various times in my life. And that’s what this is about.

I have to get real, and to do that I need to be honest about myself. I was not always a great friend. I probably still am not a great friend at times; the difference now is I’m more aware and I try harder. If the connection has value to me, I’m going to do the work to keep the friendship. I’m going to talk about the difficult things, and be there when it isn’t easy. But I wasn’t always this way. I found it almost impossible to connect to others. I felt like I had things to hide. I also felt I didn’t have much to offer anyone as a friend. Sure I can laugh at your jokes, let a double entendre fly, inject some witty observation into almost any situation...but when shit got real? When disagreements happened? When life got in the way? Or, when I needed to face some part of myself I couldn't or wouldn’t face in order to maintain the friendship? Nope. I was out. Usually without a word. These days, it’s called ghosting.

People don’t always give you a second chance when you behave this way.

When I returned to New Jersey in the summer of 1998, I was likely suffering from PTSD or C-PTSD. The stigma surrounding mental health (or lack thereof) coupled with my own pride/shame/fear kept me from seeking the help I needed. I came home thinking I’d slip right back into my old life, and that my old friends would be overjoyed to see me. I thought I’d be “OK;” I’d somehow magically be whole again.

WRONG.

Some of my friends were glad to see me. Some weren’t sure how to take me, I think. They kind of...well, did a “me” and nope’d out when I wasn’t quite my old self. I vividly remember being asked how married life was, and when I explained I was in the midst of a divorce, the look of shock I received surprised me. The response was something like, “wow, you kinda lapped us all...divorced at 26...some of us haven’t even gotten MARRIED yet!” That stung, a lot in fact. I wondered if that’s why I had a tough time reconnecting with people-the whole “divorced at 26” thing. Logically-probably not. But I have no way of knowing. I only knew that I felt different when I came home; I knew I was not the same. I longed to be the “same” young woman I was before the abuse.

I was thankful to the small group of classmates who just about treated me the same when I returned. They didn’t remark too much on the divorce, they didn’t ask too many prying questions. They accepted me back, and I was grateful. I offered the bare minimum of details, which seemed to satisfy them. I didn’t have to delve into specifics and, even better, I didn’t have to talk about what was going on while I lived at my parents’ house those few months. This is where I circle back to “nope’ing out” on friends. As happens during the course of friendship, boundaries were crossed, things were said, promises made and broken. Shit got real, and life got in the way. And because I’d so recently chucked everything and it seemed to work (it actually didn’t, but that’s another piece of writing for another time), I did it again. I turned my back on those friends. I fulfilled the remaining social obligations I had with them, and then just dropped out. Didn’t return calls, ignored emails, and avoided places I knew they might be. And when social media showed up a few years later and they found me...well, I hid. Or I tried to.

It's only been the last few years I knew that I would never be exactly the same-and I was determined to be better. I spent many years looking in the mirror for that girl who entered college with enthusiasm and big dreams. I caught glimpses of her as I opened up and worked on healing. And when I stopped running from my demons and turned around to face them, she came roaring back. I felt her. I saw her. She was me, and I was her once again. Under the laugh lines, the crow’s feet, and beneath the gray hair-there she was. That energetic, sarcastic girl who loved her college classes, adored the TV station she helped start, and could be found laughing with her friends.

But this is about second chances, and I’m getting there. I knew that I would have to, at some point, make amends to people I hurt by ghosting. I knew I couldn’t hide forever.

Probably the greatest compliment I received was after reconnecting with an old friend I’d literally hidden from. I knew that the circumstances surrounding the hiatus in our friendship, and my ‘disappearance’ were going to come up. I let their friend request sit for quite some time as I asked myself if I was ready to talk about it. Was I ready to face it, and ready to admit that I’d been wrong? This is where the blog comes in handy. It’s already been written, it’s all laid out, and I don’t have to say a word. So when we reconnected, and the time came, I merely spoke about my blog, and warned them it was graphic. I'd had numerous classes with them in college, and as I suspected, they had no earthly idea what was going on back then.

The compliment? It was something along the lines of, “Even though we haven’t talked in 20 years, you’re still LJG....it seems like no time has passed...you’re still you.” I’m not gonna lie...I got teary over those words. Maybe I am not 100% the same, but the big things, the inside stuff...the things that make me fundamentally who I am...well it seems my core is unshaken and unsullied. And THAT is why I am a lucky girl. Lucky to have a second chance in so many things, lucky to have a good life, and lucky that I’ve found “myself” again.

https://www.theliteraryjerseygirl.com/originalwriting/second-chances-5-17-2020/

[literaryjerseygirl]

[literaryjerseygirl]

[literaryjerseygirl]

[literaryjerseygirl]

For him.

[literaryjerseygirl]

Some of you know I’m a blogger-well a writer; I like thinking of myself as a writer first and foremost. Some of you even know I have a regular blog.

I’ve shared many vulnerable things on that blog: things that most would never share. This is not a post for my regular blog; because it talks about something I’ve held close to my heart for many years. So close that maybe one person knows. Maybe, and that person knows only part of what I’m about to disclose.

I’m afraid. Terrified, really. You see, I’ve held a dream inside for most of my adult life. And I think it’s about to become reality, and I am fucking terrified. This dream was something I stuck inside a mental box, and shoved it waaayyy in the back corner of my mind. I did this because I thought it was something that would never be. I didn’t want to pine away over it, so if I put it away, it wouldn’t be at the front of my mind anymore. Kind of like a box of mementos you stumble across once a year or so-I’d take out this mental box, examine the dream, and let my imagination run wild with all that this dream entailed.

I am now on the verge of seeing this dream become a reality...and god yes I am so very happy...and I am also afraid. Afraid of the other shoe dropping, afraid to be this happy, and afraid of losing myself.

Losing myself? Yes. Losing myself-because I’ve held this dream so long, that I’m afraid I’ll lose myself in trying to make the dream work in reality.

The reality of this dream entails me opening myself up and becoming vulnerable in a way that I have never experienced before. I don’t do vulnerable, because anytime I’ve tried, I’ve failed. And I’ve never determined if the failure is mine and is due to something I’ve done or not done; or if the failure is due to placing trust in the wrong people. Right now, I am so sure I am placing my trust in the right person. However I have held so much back, held myself in check for so long that I’m beginning to think I cannot let go and open up.

I have held myself in check for my entire life. This dream-into-reality involves another person, and I kind of think that while this person has seen me at my worst, I don’t think they have ever seen me weak and vulnerable. I don’t think anyone has. There’s been no reason to allow anyone in that way; especially not this person. This is someone who I only want to give my best to, and show my best self, and for several years, I’ve been able to do that. If you see someone face-to-face infrequently, it’s easy to only show them your best self. So very easy. The more often you see them, the more likely they can see those ugly sides of you.

It’s kind of an odd situation. I’m not sure I’m at liberty to articulate it. I guess the best way to talk about it is...well...have you ever known someone for a long time? Like...decades? And for those decades, you know them one way. I mean, you know a lot of things about them, you learn their quirks and nuances; yet at the same time, they have one role in your life. Then all of a sudden one day, that role changes. Ok ‘changes’ is not the right word. Their role evolves. It becomes more and better than it had been for those decades, and you get a chance to see them with new eyes. And it’s AMAZING. For me, at the same time, it is frightening.

I find myself tongue tied when I never used to be. I find myself speechless when I used to overflow with words. I find myself blushing and shy when I used to be bold and a little brash. WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING? My world has been turned around-in a good way mind you-but also in a scary way.

Fuck this. I can’t pussyfoot around what’s happening. I fell in love with one of my best friends about 26 years ago. In order to continue the friendship, I had to let go of the romantic feelings and maintain that strictly platonic vibe. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done-and I’ve done many difficult things in my 47 years on this earth. The friendship that remained was well worth it. From time to time I would wonder what if this or that had happened, what if we’d dated, what if we’d given it a shot. These were the thoughts that I put away in that mental box in the back closet of my mind. Our friendship and that connection felt so easy to me that I didn’t dare give voice to these feelings. I didn’t want to destroy the friendship. About a year and a half ago, I had a YOLO moment and decided I would boldy tell my friend how I felt. There was no way I could do this in a face-to-face conversation, so I did what I do best-I wrote. It wasn’t some sappy missive full of sonnets and flowery words. It probably wasn’t even my best piece of writing. It was heartfelt, and I labored over this piece of writing for many months before finally sending it. I wanted to make sure that my friend knew I expected absolutely zero in return; that I didn’t expect my feelings to be returned-hell I didn’t even expect an acknowledgement of what I’d written. I simply didn’t want to let any more of my life pass without them knowing what I thought and how I felt.

To make a long and somewhat drawn out story much shorter...it turned out that they felt the same. They had the same thoughts. And now...and now, here I am, trying to figure out how we go from lifelong friends to...well what? What are we? Can I even ask that? Is that a thing to ask at my age? I mean of course we are still friends-which means the world to me-but like...I don’t know! I don’t know how to act anymore. Sometimes I don’t know what to say anymore either. I find myself talking to them, looking into those eyes I know so well, seeing that smile I adore-while also standing outside myself like a teenager going OH MY GOD WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING?! Are they REALLY looking at me like that? Are they REALLY saying all those words my heart has longed to hear?? AM I DREAMING???? And if I am dreaming….dear god please do NOT wake me up. Is it even normal for me to think this, to feel this, to be in this much disbelief?

I know my worth and know what I have to offer...and yet suddenly all that I am seems so very inadequate. I’m 21 again; in awe of this amazing person life has plopped in front of me. And that’s the scary part. I’m an adult. I’m not a kid with a crush anymore. Is it normal to feel this way, to question this? Shouldn’t I be more like...confident? Instead of being all “why are they picking ME” shouldn’t I be all “OF COURSE THEY ARE PICKING ME, I FUCKING ROCK AND I’M SEXY AS HELL TO BOOT!”

[literaryjerseygirl]

YES

“People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth. When you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can show yourself to them, when you stand in front of them and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.”

— The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo: A novel by Taylor Jenkins Reid

[literaryjerseygirl]

Oooohhhhh

Before. After. Always His.

Before; I looked in in the mirror, my gaze tinted red with hate, and ached to feel the glass shatter under my knuckles. How can you hate something so strongly When you’re the reason it exists at all? Before; I stood and quivered, cloaked in shadowed uncertainty, Unsure of my right to exist. Am I good enough to be here? Before; I yearned in silence For a love I’d never reach. Longing for something you’ll never have is, after all, its own kind of hell. Before; Heartbreak a constant companion Looming over my shoulder. It told me, “You don’t deserve him. He’ll never want you.” I made the mistake of believing it, And then it promised to never leave. So I stood and I ached under the weight, And then I smiled, because at least I still had him. Pain has never been so pleasant. After; I look in the mirror with a smile I see hints of beauty in my broken pieces. I am a mosaic of life events. Art in a form no one has seen before. After; I stand and raise my chin For this is me; unapologetically With him by my side I am invincible. After; He says His And I say Mine. We know the truth we dare not speak. We belong to each other Long before anyone else. After; His touch like fire after snow Warm and alive Melting the ice in my veins He brings spring to my winter, And I autumn to his summer. Balance comes with ease when we’re together. After; He looks at me And the bats in my belly Fly in the night sky And never settle again. My heart gallops and my breath vanishes. Under his gaze, I come alive. Always; I lean into his touch Where once I shied away. I do not fear cutting him on my jagged pieces. He does not run from my darkness, He only holds me tighter, And shines a light into the shadows. Always; I look at him, Without fear of rejection. With love in my gaze, And trust in my fingertips. Safe, I name him. Protected, he promises me. Always; Heartbreak has no place here. And I tell it so. Happiness will always be intimidating. But if I am a demon, He is my tamer. He has the key to my shackles, The leash to my collar, The code to my Do Not Destruct button. He is the exception to the rules I have created.

Always; I am a forest full of monsters, But he’s always loved playing in the dark.

[literaryjerseygirl]

If it is important enough to you, you will find a way. If it is not, you will find an excuse.