Are you there, God? It's me, Rachel.

I always love using that title.

I'm not sure if you know this about me, but, I'm a very practical person. Shocking, I know, given my affinity for ridiculously priced shoes and grandiose ideas of being famous for SOMETHING. But really, I am. That's why I don't own said shoes and I'm still living in Small Town, USA........for the time being. I have found that I am this way in pretty much every facet of my life. Even religion.

Now, I do consider myself a religious person. I am a confirmed Catholic and go to church on a fairly normal basis. I have many friends who are very devout, while also having friends that consider themselves more "spiritual" rather than religious.I also have friends that don't believe in a higher power, which is fine. I totally get it's different strokes for different folks. I was brought up in a household where we were taught to ask questions. Catholicism is ALL ABOUT the free will so we were taught to exercise it to its fullest extent when it came to gaining knowledge. Believe in something, but make sure you fully understand it to the best of your abilities. So, in true family fashion, I was the poster CCD child (CCD, for you non-Catholic heathens, is Sunday School with a fancy name. Also in true Catholic fashion, I don't remember what it stands for). I did my homework, I knew all my prayers and I participated in heated debate. I also told my 6th grade teacher that she was a bad person when I asked if my pets would be in Heaven and she promptly informed me that dogs don't go to Heaven. She clearly hadn't seen the movie and didn't know my dog. I also was thrown out of class in 7th grade because I got into a debate with my teacher as to whether or not I was being a "good" Catholic by not reading this thing at Mass where the congregation was the mob choosing for Jesus to die. I believe my words were, "...but I, as Rachel, was not there and did not make that choice. So I shouldn't have to be made to feel bad about it". I didn't get the memo about the Catholic guilt, so, I was asked to leave. Which was fine because I didn't want any stupid pizza anyway, Mr. H. But, still, I had/have my faith and truly believe that I always will. Even when it is tested, though it may not be up to optimum strength.

I don't know about you, but, I can honestly say that I don't think I've had a true religious experience. You know, the type where you hear/feel the voice of God or a deceased loved one giving you a message or encouraging you one way or another. I've had dreams before, but none of the prophetic kind. And to be honest, they were still kind of confusing and left me with more questions than closure. Which is hard, particularly in my situation. All I've wanted is a message from the beyond or a soothing feeling from God when I needed it most. I don't know if I haven't been listening loud enough or openly enough, but, I don't feel that I've gotten one. I can't tell you how many times I've been sobbing in the bathroom, repeating my Our Fathers or Hail Marys until I can't speak anymore and I haven't felt anything. No warm hand on my shoulder, no burning bath towel in lieu of a bush, nothing.

At first, I wasn't able to talk to God. I remember laying in my bed after I forced myself to take a shower those first few days, and I asked my friend J (she was staying with me) if she thought God would be mad at me if I didn't talk to him for a few days. She assured me that he wouldn't so I didn't. I felt that I couldn't ask him for anything at that moment. I just didn't have it in me. But I came around. And I remember that in conversations that I had with people in the beginning, I would tell them that I wasn't mad at God. That I more-so clung to him and my religion more than ever. I wouldn't say that is true anymore.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not denouncing the existence of God nor my religion itself, so don't freak out! I'm just much more comfortable saying now that I'm frustrated. I wouldn't say angry, because, for me, I know what it means when I'm angry at someone. I'm very absolute with my anger, there is no middle. And I don't necessarily feel that way at God. Frustrated though? Oh hell yes. Because like, God- WTF, BRO?!

I guess I need to explain what prompted this religious confession and confusion. I recently started reading "Eat Pray Love". And when I say recently, I mean today. In the beginning where she is kind of laying out her situation, she talks about her sobbing in her bathroom (By the way, the bathroom seems to be THE place for crying.) and she has her first real conversation with God. She is sobbing and praying for him to tell her what to do. She then describes hearing/feeling "her" voice, in a way that she's never heard/felt it before, telling her to go back to bed. She then explains that she felt that that was God telling her what she needed to hear at that moment. Reading that reduced me to tears.

I've also recently had a conversation with a friend of mine who told me about her brother's passing in the last month. She explained to me the situation and then she told me that she heard/felt her brother's voice telling her that he was okay and that she didn't need to be upset or worried. When I drove home that night, I cried.

A few months ago, my mom told me that she felt Chris around. That she felt specific feelings. I told her that I didn't want to know and I cried.

Noticing a trend?

All of these instances, which should bring me hope and comfort, reduce me to a crumpling, teary mess and are like a serrated knife to the chest. None of it makes me feel good. Why? Because I haven't felt any of it. I have been so desperate for a comforting word or a feeling and I haven't gotten anything. Not that I really deserve it, but, dammit! I deserve it! I've done my best to be faithful and to not be angry at God. I don't want to be angry at God. He didn't do all this crap (granted, I'm sure his hand was in it in some way) but like, c'mon! And then on top of that, a month or so back, I was feeling particularly crappy this one Sunday. So, I felt that my soul needed to be nourished and that I would get my message. Because when I started to REALLY go to church again, every Sunday it was like the sermon was meant for me. It was everything I needed to hear and sometimes, everything I didn't know I needed to hear. So of course, I figured that would make everything better. Well, the Gospels start to be read and it's the freaking story of how woman was created from man and all those other sappy Gospels that they read at weddings. I felt like I had been slapped in the face. And Father D's sermon was no better! I literally cried the entire time I was at church. I didn't need to hear that, at all. And to be honest, I hadn't been back to church since, until Christmas Eve. Which really was no better because that message made me cry, too. AND there was a couple that was in our Pre-Cana class. ALL KINDS OF AWESOME.

Maybe this is partly my fault. Maybe I don't have my heart open enough. But the idea of completely opening my heart, even to God, is terrifying. I'll try just a little and I can literally feel one of side of my heart tearing into the other to keep from being separated. I guess I'm being stubborn and waiting for The Sign to show that God is listening and hasn't forsaken one of his children (I don't really think he has but that was nice for dramatic effect, no?). I now, more than ever, need the reassurance that I'm not alone. I am loved and cared for and that there is a reason.

Maybe that's part of this lesson. To learn what it really means to have faith. That you still have it when it's tested. Ugh....do you know what that must mean? I have to be patient to get the pay off.

Gross. I suck at being patient.

Christmas Card

Hello my lovelies!

I know I'm always saying this, but, I am sorry for the delays in posting. But! That's a sign of a somewhat busy social life so GO ME!

Things have been going well. The holidays have made things a teensy bit crazy but I'm doing okay. I think there have only been maybe two days that I've actually felt sad about where my life is now. I know that sounds kind of bad, especially since I should be sad about who is missing from my life. But I'm still angry. I'll probably be angry for a long time. And as unhealthy as long-term anger is, it's been making this process easier. I'm not clutching my "What Should Have Been's" and what we had any more. Trust me, my self-deprecating humor and penchant for making those around me uncomfortable with my jokes is still here. I mean c'mon, how could you NOT joke about my situation? I'm one locked-up-in-the-basement situation away from a complete Lifetime movie. And yes; I fully expect Neve Campbell or Jennifer Love Hewitt to play me. Dopplegangers say whaaaaaaaaaaat?!?!

Those of you who are friends with me on FB and follow me on Instagram have already been informed, but, for those of you who don't know, I got cast in a show! I play Nora in "Brighton Beach Memoirs" at Port Tobacco Players! This is my first speaking role since I did "A Midsummer Night's Dream" in 2006 and I couldn't be happier. This show is amazing, the cast is amazing and the management staff is amazing. The show opens January 25th and runs until February 10th. Expect lots of shameless promotion and demands for YOU to come see it. Did I mention I have to speak in a Brooklyn Jewish accent? Priceless.

Now, I'm sure you saw the title of this post and are perhaps curious as to what Christmas card I am referring to. Given how things have gone for me this year, you might be expecting that Grandma Crazy Pants sent me a Christmas Card. While that would be appropriate and expected, that isn't what it is. This is my Christmas Card to you.

So many of you have been so supportive and loving through this entire process. And while it isn't over, I can't express to you how much I appreciate each and every one of you. I would have never imagined this for myself but I'm glad it happened. It has given me a glimpse into so many hearts and minds that I would never have gotten the chance to experience had it not happened. You all have such beautiful hearts and I am so blessed to have such a stupendous support system. I wish that I could have written each of you a beautiful note but I probably would get instant arthritis and it would take me about 5 hours, every day, for three weeks. But just know that I appreciate you. I thank you. And I love you.

I hope you have the Merriest of Christmases, Happiest of Hanukkahs, Kewlest of Kwanzas, Rocking-est of Solstices and whatever else you cah-razay kids celebrate. You guys are the tits and I love the shit out of you.

Lying Is the Most Fun a Guy Can Have Without Taking His Clothes Off

I'm actually kind of nervous to write this post, which is hilarious given the murderous rage its subject matter has incited time and time again since I've found out. I've disabled the comments because frankly, I'm tired of everyone dropping bombs on me. I'm tired of people telling me things that they think will help me when all it has done is tear me apart. Especially whoever LoveABlackCat is (even though I'm pretty sure I know who you are), leave me alone. I don't want any part of what you are, who you are or what you have to say. I am beyond done. Finished.

And I have every right to be. This is my life and I have a right to say what I have to say.

Well, now that that ominous disclaimer has been thrown out there, I'm not sure if you all saw my post The Fool, but the profile named above left a comment on that post that read:

 He was married a second time and it was a contract marriage. None of the family knew until the day before the funeral. She was at the funeral, but stayed in the background to spare you any more pain. She didn't even know he was dead until days before the funeral, that's how much they were a 'couple'. He filed for a divorce a week before he died. He loved YOU.

Haha.....that.....I can't even tell you how much that comment did NOT make me feel better. I'll have you know that after I read that, I cried so hard that I had to leave work and go talk to my cousin for the better part of two hours. So hard that my father debated driving to come get me to take me home. Ripped in half. Disgusted. Confused. Ruined. That's what that comment did. I clearly can't have any part of this to be mine. At all. And I thought about it and I knew EXACTLY what this girl looked like. I remember clear as day turning around to watch the processional (of his remains in a fucking gift box, which I was not told that was happening until AFTER the funeral), and I saw a girl there who I did not recognize. At that moment, I remember feeling my warning bells go off. Who is that girl? I've never seen her before. Why is she here by herself? And I made note that day that I hadn't seen her at the reception. And I've never seen her again. I mean, why would I have those feelings that day? Now everything makes perfect sense. 

The balls of that girl. I mean....I can't get over it. The complete and utter gall to even THINK that she should have been there. To watch my skin scream to try to keep me together. To try to keep me from falling to pieces on the floor. To know that she was LEGALLY Chris' wife when I had his ring on my finger. And what; am I supposed to THANK her for keeping away from me to "spare pain"? Thank you, dear mystery wife of Chris. Thank you for doing your part in this yarn of lies. Thank you for staring me in the eye as you plunged yet another knife into my still-beating heart. What's left of it. Thank you for ruining another part of Chris that I so desperately clung to. I can't thank you enough.

Now, when did he marry this girl you ask? According to my very reliable source, he married her about two weeks before he met me. Here's the kicker. When he told me that he had been married before, I asked him very thorough questions. I asked when the divorced was finalized and if there were any children. I also asked if there was anything else he needed to tell me and he said that he was SUPPOSED to marry this girl for a contract marriage, but he met me and went back to Arizona and told her that he couldn't go through with it. Apparently when he went back to Arizona, he told her he didn't want to do it and filed for divorce and the bitch was being difficult and wouldn't sign papers. He thought that everything had been taken care of when he was shipped off to Iraq. But it wasn't since he found out three weeks before he died that he was still married. So, he deliberately lied. 

Now, if THAT isn't enough, another layer of the onion has been torn off.

Chris cheated. 

I'm not disclosing how many times but it was a handful. But, does it really matter how many? The fact is, he cheated. I've never been cheated on....that I know of. Now, I question everything. Every gift, every endearing word, every touch. I mean, who else wouldn't cheat on me if the one person I loved with my very being, who I was planning on spending my life with would?

How do I know for sure, you ask? Hindsight is always 20/20 my friends.

• A few months prior to all this nonsense, I had felt like I was losing Chris. I didn't know why, but I did. I thought that maybe it was because I had lost a bunch of weight. I know it sounds silly, but, I thought that because I looked different, even though it was for the better, that it created some sort of wedge. Things were just different and I'm very much the type that if there is something different then maybe I'm the one not doing enough. So dumb, I know, but I just wanted to make everything better.
• He started drinking more. A lot more. Granted, that could have been attributed to all the stress he was under, keeping up with all the lying he was doing. 
• It started to become more difficult for him to come up for wedding stuff. He would give me reasons why he couldn't come up, even though he knew they were important.
• I was going to surprise him and drive to GA to visit him and when I told him, he talked me out of it. I had a bit of a medical issue around that time and he used that to his advantage.
• I'm not ashamed to say that I have had HPV before. I mean, seriously, who hasn't? I got it from my first serious boyfriend yeeeeears ago and haven't tested positive for it in 3 years. When I went for my yearly check up in May, I had such a flare that my doctor called to tell me that it came back positive. Again, I turned it all on myself and thought "How could this happen?! I've never tested positive for it while with Chris! How can my body be doing this?". I cried because I was so concerned. 

That last reason makes me feel ashamed of myself. Why didn't I trust my gut and why on earth would I make that positive test my fault? Infidelity never crossed my mind. I mean, I didn't think he had the time. He really had me fooled.

And then recently when I was trying to fall asleep, you know, that time when your brain likes to drop little memory nuggets on you to keep you up at all hours. I remembered something that I had completely brushed off.

I found the evidence in front of his family.

After Chris' belongings were shipped to his family, they had me over to go through his stuff. He had a blanket of mine that my deceased grandmother made for me when I was born as well as countless gifts and movies. Well, as we're all sitting together in the living room, I find a pair of these tacky ass hoop earrings with dangling feathers on them. I picked them up and my face went crimson and hot. I asked everyone, "Whose earrings are these?" and everyone just assumed they were mine. Which, c'mon. Do I look like the type who would wear feathery hoop earrings? I wish I still had them to show you because they were AWFUL! But in that moment, my stomach was in that throat and the world went from beneath my feet. But I talked myself out of it. I thought, "There's no way in hell. When would he have had the time? I would've known. He couldn't have done that to me". And I didn't think of that again. Until now.

Now, the rage that happened was a three level rage. 

• Level 1: Rage that it happened.
• Level 2: Rage that it happened in front of his family.
• Level 3: That this bitch was probably tacky as all hell. I mean, I taught him to have MUCH better taste than that! Taste in fashion translates to taste in women. I TAUGHT HIM TO LIKE BOWTIES FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!

I can't even begin to explain to you how Italian I handled this situation. The night I found all this out, I laughed hysterically. I didn't stop laughing for 2 days. I laughed so much that everyone around me was nervous to talk to me. God bless my father because he knew exactly what I needed. That night he went to go to bed and I said "Before you go to bed, do we have access to a hammer?" "Why?", he asked. "Because I think I need to break something before I go to bed so I don't cry". So, up he got and headed outside. I went up to my room to grab the thing I wanted to break: an engagement gift from Chris' grandparents. It was a picture that I had taken that they had matted and framed. Smashing this would be releasing anger for Chris and his grandmother. Because, as you've seen, she's a nutjob (and that's the nicest thing I can call her). So, I went outside and my dad meets me and says, "Okay. So, we have the hammer (lifts hammer) but with this you have to get closer to what you want to hit and you'll get glass in your face. But with this baseball bat (lifts bat), you'll use more of your body and you'll be farther away". 

I grabbed the shit out of that bat.

He put down a big poster board and laid the picture face down. He says something about whenever I was ready but before he could even get the sentence out, I had already swung and slammed the tip of that louisville slugger into the back of that photo. Glass smashed, the frame crunched, and I felt glorious. By the time I was done it was hard to tell it used to be a picture. I believe my dad told me he was impressed, haha.

That's what was left when I was done.

After that I became incensed. I went up to my room and just started tearing things apart and throwing things in piles. I took out every picture I had framed in my room, fished out every memento I had hidden and pulled out three shirts I had saved that smelled like him. I tore everything apart with my bare hands. The last thing I did was grab a shirt of his that I had saved in a plastic bag. It had the most of his essence left and I have to be honest, I had to pause to think about whether or not I wanted to destroy it. What if I needed it for a day that I got really sad? What if I regret it? But then I thought, if I don't do it now I won't ever do it. And aren't I sad already? Why would I want to take comfort in something/someone who regarded me as nothing. As the 'ol "ball and chain" back in Maryland. The ghost of a fiance. So I grabbed the front of his collar and I relished the sound of the fibers tearing. I finally had an organic sound to what the sound of my heart had made. It felt good.

I haven't really cried since I found out. Up until recently I hadn't cried at all. I was too angry. Too disgusted. I'm still both of those things but I'm starting to feel more. I still don't understand and I will never understand. I have been the most hurt in this situation and all I did was love him unconditionally. All I did was be the best woman, the best partner, the best friend, the best person I could be and everything that can be taken from me has been taken from me. And not only that, I have been accosted and harassed publicly for nothing. For loving him.

I'm partially thankful for this happening. It gave me the final push to help me move on. I'm in the process of selling my engagement ring so that I'm able to leave this place. Many people have asked me if that was something I really wanted to do. If I really wanted to get rid of something so beautiful. I assure them that it is. It is beautiful. It is a beautiful reminder of a broken promise. A promise that has been broken time and time again.

I know this post is going to worry you, but really, I'm okay. I needed time to write this. I wanted to write as soon as I found out but it would have been a lot different. And please, if you have the means to do so, contact me only if it is something positive. As I stated before, if you only want to make comments or "say your piece", save it. Save your time, save your data, save your breath. Because I will not hear it. 

I am done. 

Inside The Actors Studio

Hello lovelies!

Again, I apologize for my absence. I am currently writing my explanation post as to why I've been quiet, so that should be up in the next few days. In the meantime, I visited a friend of mine's blog, Jasmine over at YelloMiniJazz and she did something I have ALWAYS wanted to do. If any of you are familiar with Inside The Actors Studio you'll know what I'm talking about. I know a fair amount of my theatre pals read this so I know you've got this covered and more than likely have already answered these questions. For those of you who don't, Inside The Actors Studio is hosted by James Lipton at New School University. He invites various actors and actresses and really gets inside their minds to find out what makes them tick. The best part is that the audience is made up of other aspiring artists so this show is extremely beneficial. From one artist to another, you can really learn so much from another person. At the end of the program James asks every single guest these questions and I have always dreamed about what I'd say if I were on that program. And trust me, I've been working on this for as long as I can remember since I've wanted to be an actress for as long as I can remember. So, here are my answers.....for now, haha:

1. What is your favorite word? Arugula...I just love the way it rolls off the tongue 
2. What is your least favorite word? Pussy....makes me cringe every.single.time.
3. What turns you on? A sense of humor and not being afraid to be silly
4. What turns you off? A showoff
5. What sound or noise do you love? Applause. And the violin
6. What sound or noise do you hate? Silverware scraping against a plate. It makes my teeth hurt
7. What is your favorite curse word? Fuck. It's a multipurpose word and a fricative so it feels so FUCKING good when you say it!
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? A stylist or a writer
9. What profession would you not like to do? The guys who collect all the dead animals on the side of the roads. A teacher or anything to do with politics.
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? I'm sorry for all of this but I knew you could do it. They can't wait to see you...

Whew! That last question almost made me tear up! What do you think your answers would be?

I Promise I'm Still Here

I know, I know. I'm horrible.

Most of you who follow me on Instagram and Facebook saw the amount of rage I had going on a couple weeks ago and I PROMISE I'll fill you in on what happened. I just have to wait for one more loose end to be tied up before I can do that. We just want to make sure our asses are covered before I blow the top off.

Thank you so much for the interest and the support, though! It really means a lot that so many of you read my story and have such great things to share. To say that your comments build my confidence level would be a huge understatement. So thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!!!

Hang in there. The news I've got is super juicy!!

The Fool

Well, my feeling of power and positivity was rather fleeting. I'm kind of back where I was; confused, angry, sad.....numb. I have found that I'm starting to become numb. And I don't really know how I feel about that. On one hand I feel like it's good because in a way it's like stuff isn't bothering me anymore. But on the other hand it worries me. Numb equals the inability to feel. This may make me sound like a masochist, but, even if I'm feeling hurt, I still want to feel.

What brings all this on, you ask? Here, I'll show you.

This is the latest hate speech I've received from the Grandmother:

·  Anne posted toChris

Sunday

Rachel, you are so sincerely insecure and immature. The message I sent was in reference to something someone else sent, someone you know. The message was sent with the love he had for his mom, whom you never knew nor knew of the relationship the two of them had. You were never even in mind when this was written. Where do you come off thinking it was about you? Again, it's all about Rachel. Mo

st of us have lives and views without thinking that it's all about us. Do you ever go through a day without so much hate and anger??? What you should do is embrace the fact that he had such a great relationship with his mother. This certainly would have been advantagious to you had the two of you had been married and she would have been alive. I do hope one day you will see how your attitude towards me specifically, and possibly the rest of our family, only hurt you in the long run. It could have been so different. His first and second wives knew all about him and his life and understood him completly. As it stands now, I still have a wonderful friendship with the two of them and we do keep in contact all the time. I wish it could have been differerent with you.

So, when I originally read this, I just kind of shook my head. It really didn't incite the rage in me that previous posts had. More or less, I know this woman is a COMPLETE AND TOTAL nut-job and she has no idea what she's talking about. But being the glutton for punishment that I am, I texted a close friend of Chris' and asked what all this crap about him having a second wife was about. I got "What about her? She was a contract wife. I've had one". 

................................................

Now, I know what a contract wife is. If you don't, basically the guy and the girl agree to get married for the benefits and the money. There is nothing romantic going on nor do the couple typically live together. It's essentially a business merger, the most basic form of marriage. This does not bother me. I find it sad but it's whatever. The part that bothers me is that Chris told me that he was SUPPOSED to enter into a contract marriage with a girl but then he met me so he told the girl that they weren't going to do it anymore. So why is it that everyone is saying that he actually DID marry this girl?

I feel duped. I feel lied to. I feel like such a fool. I feel angry at Chris for lying to me. I feel angry that I'm questioning him. I feel so lost and confused.

I don't know who or what to believe. And everyone keeps saying, "Just believe in the love that you and Chris shared and the fact that he loved you". And yes, while that is all well and good, how do I believe in that if our love was sort of based on a lie? 

In my heart of hearts I don't think he lied. I'm sure something messed up some place, somewhere, or something. And I know the person he was and he wouldn't do that to me. But it's just so hard because he's not here to answer my questions or to assuage my fear. I will never know the truth and that's what kills me about this whole situation. There are too many god damned questions that I won't ever get answers to.

It just makes me not want to believe in people or in relationships. I was lied to about an ex's alcoholism, I was lied to about this, I was lied to about another ex's feelings of me. I just want someone to love me enough to tell me the truth. To be so honest that there isn't a shadow of a doubt about how they feel, what they've done, or anything. When I am in a relationship, I am in it. I want to believe in that person so much and do anything I can to make them happy. I think what hurts the most that in this relationship with Chris, he was hands down the love of my life. I sacrificed so much and relied on a promise. A promise that in the end he would take care of me and that would be together. And I waited. For two years and one month. On a promise. On his word. And it terrifies me that I may have believed in a liar. And I hate myself for feeling that way.

I just want it all to end.

Sometimes It Pays To Be A Drama Queen

Here's the post you've all been waiting for....

I believe that I have alluded to the troubles my family and I have been having with the caterer that we had chosen for my wedding. Basically they effed up by not putting anything in their contract about what happens when a client cancels their date, so we're due back our money. Well, we've only gotten half back and the woman who owns the business has been a complete ASSHOLE, stating that she hasn't gotten proof that "the guy is dead". You can read all the details on my yelp review.

Thursday after I had gotten home from work, my dad told me that he spoke with Caroline and she threw that lovely nugget of a comment at him. Now, my dad has a very colorful way with words and so I'm sure she got a pretty good idea of how my dad feels about her and the situation. He also dug out one of the programs from Chris' battalion ceremony in GA and said, "I got this out so if you'd like to go by there tomorrow and give this bitch her proof, you can go right ahead". "Oh, she's gonna get god damn proof alright..."

And then the drama queen planning began.

Now, I don't like confrontation. I'm really bad at it, especially if it's with women and if I'm sober. I panic about what the other person is going to say and I'm just not used to fighting with women. I grew up with all boys so that shit is cake. You literally just challenge their man-hood and out-wit them and you're good. It has been proven that I have earned my big man-balls when it comes to fighting with dudes.....but I digress. So, you can imagine that while I was FIRED.UP. Thursday night, my confidence began to wane as Friday went on. I played out the scenario over and over in my head and may have made a few notes about what I would say. Kind of a script, if you will. And I was gonna lay the guilt on so goooooooooooodddddddd.

I drove over to their house/place of business after I got off work. The last time I went over there, Caroline was home and her husband wasn't so I was fully prepared/nervous to talk to her. I pulled up in the driveway and prepared my proof: The battalion ceremony program, the obituary in the newspaper, Chris' dog tags and one of the bags of his clothes.

That's right. A bag of his clothes. Gotta go big or go home right?

High on nerves and rage, I marched around the house and to their front door. I plopped the bag down and had it open so a couple of his shirts were exposed. I knocked on the door and the husband, Hassan, answered. He REEKED of alcohol and had only the top two buttons of his shirt buttoned, so that I could see ALL KINDS of belly. I was thoroughly grossed out but I wasn't going to let this break my concentration.

Me: Is Caroline here?
Hassan: No she isn't.
Me: Well, Hassan, I guess you got the short of the stick in this situation. I am here because your wife has twice demanded that she needed proof that "the guy is dead". So, here I am. I have his program from the ceremony in GA, his obituary, his dog tags and a bag of his clothes since he won't be needing them anymore. Is this thorough enough for you?
Hassan: *makes hand gestures trying to get me to stop* No really, this isn't necessa-
Me: No. You don't get to talk. You've been talking for months now. It's my turn to talk. You're wife is disgusting. Do you have ANY idea how that makes me feel that she's demanding proof?!?! What kind of person does that?!?! My family is being treated appallingly and the fact that she has said this TWICE is beyond offensive. And then to act like she's sorry when it's to my face??!? I don't think so! I don't particularly have an issue with you, Hassan, but I have an issue how you run your business and I have a huge fucking problem with your disgusting wife.
Hassan: I'm so sorry. I haven't even talked to my wife, I don't-
Me: This has been going on since June 16th! You were notified the day after it happen. It's OCTOBER! That's embarrassing. I'm embarrassed that you run your business this way and I'm embarrassed that I chose you. Do you realize that on top of my grief and mourning that I now have to deal with this stress on top of everything else? Because you all can't run your business, I am unable to put to rest this fucking circus of a wedding. THE DATE IS PASSED!
Hassan: I will call your father immediately. 301-***-****. 301-***-****
Me: The fact that you have that number memorized just shows that this has gone on way too long. And I hope you do call him and figure this out. I also expect a personal apology from your disgusting wife.
Hassan: Look, I'm-
Me: Do you all also realize I'm 26. And I'm alone. (At this point I am shaking from all the rage and I can feel tears prickiling in my cheeks. "PLEASE LET ME CRY!" I kept thinking.) I have to COMPLETELY start over. Do you know how that feels? No. You don't. You got to get married and have children. I wasn't afforded that luxury. So thanks for making this situation a total and complete loss, not to mention a total and complete hell.
Hassan: I'm so sorry *gestures for hug*
Me: Don't touch me. I am leaving.

And I grabbed my bag and made my dramatic departure.

No sooner than when I got in my car and called my dad, he was already on the phone. He called me back a few minutes later and told me that he had just gotten off the phone with Hassan. He said that Hassan apologized profusely and that he would talk to Caroline and call my dad in the morning with a plan. Which, kind of happened but the phone call didn't happen until the afternoon. Hassan said that he would pay us something when he gets paid Thursday or Friday.

I gotta tell ya, THAT FELT AWESOME! I felt like I had freed some of the rage that I've had inside me the past four months. I was a little bummed that I couldn't do that to Caroline but oh well. That was probably a gift since I might have choked up a bit with her, but, who knows. I felt glorious and composed during my rage purge. Not to mention, clever as SHIT with my "props" (feel a little guilty calling them props but the thespian in me can't help it. i set one dramatic scene).

I'll be sure to keep you updated on it we actually get our money this week and if I get my apology. I've already cooked up my response :-)

The Yankee Swings and He Misses

Hidey-ho blog-readers!

A change of pace! This entry might ACTUALLY  be humorous! HUZZAH! But don't worry, I've still got plenty of drama. Chris' grandmother is being an uber C again. Say it with me now, yaaayyyyyyy!

As you have been reading, I was seeing the Yankee. Things were going "really" well and then they just stopped. Literally. I haven't heard from him in....two weeks? Maybe three? I've lost count. And before I get there, I feel that I need to fill you in on some details:

• He's 31
• From New York
• Doesn't want to stay in this county
• Catholic
• Family sounds relatively normal
• Has a vehicle (trust me, this NEEDS to be on my list)
• Has a pretty good job
• Has his a Masters degree and wants to get his Doctorate
• Physically fit 
• Of Irish decent
• Plays sports on the side
• HIS MOM IS BFF WITH BETSY HILFIGER- TOMMY HILFIGER'S WIFE!
• His family is loaded

Now, a few of those things on that list I do not generally require (especially if you look at my past track record of boyfriends.....heh) but they were a nice bonus. ESPECIALLY the Hilfiger part. When he told me that, I thought to myself "I need to make this work at least until I meet them...." Haha...totally kidding!......or not....But, as you can see, he's great on paper. It's just the coming OFF the paper is where we had the problems.

He's a winker. Like, he winks. ALL.THE.TIME. I have never encountered that before and I HATED it. It made him seem so car-salesman-ish. Very smarmy. And usually my M.O. is to call the guy out on stuff that I don't particularly care for, and they either fall in love with me right then and there or they can't handle it. This time, however, I decided to be "nice" and not say anything. But truthfully, the winks made a piece of my soul shrivel and die with ever closed eyelid. He did triple-wink me one time (yes, I said triple-wink) and I couldn't help myself. "What was that?!", I said. "Haha, what?". I'm like, really dude? But I said "The triple wink you just gave me", and he was like "Oh, ya like that, huh?" And I said "No! You look like you got stuck! Are you having a spasm?". And then he just laughed. I laughed as well........at him.

The kissing. Umm......how do I say this? The kissing itself isn't SO bad per se, however, he would position his nose in such a way that it would stab me in the face. Like, it hurt. Bad. Do me a favor- extend your hand like you're going to backhand someone and then stab your face with your finger tips, a la "Bridesmaids". And he doesn't even have a huge shnozz! It's almost as if he doesn't know how to use it! But I would try to reposition my face in such away that would relieve the pain but then it would just end up in my eye. And stay in my eye. Which, I have a hard time understanding. I mean, I have eyelashes. Like, a lot of them. Soooo.....how would he not know that he was in my eyeball?

He also sweats profusely. Now, that really isn't an issue. I find it a liiiiitle bit gross but guys usually operate on a temperature that is slightly higher than us ladies. But it becomes an issue when you're in a situation and some of his sweat drips into your eyeball. So I'm laying there, trying to focus on the kissing while I've got sweat in one eye and a nose in the other. I'm like frickin' Popeye. He looked away for a minute so I took that as my opportunity to try to wipe away the sweat and then I'm like, "Shit! Now he's gonna think I'm crying!" So I quickly stop that. Well, after that little makeout sesh, I go into the bathroom and my hair was completely straight when we started. After, the hair framing my face  was completely curly. SO GROSS!

And oh God, the dancing. THE DANCING! *facepalm*

Now, all of these things I was willing to overlook. You can politely encourage change sometimes, haha. The beginning of the end was because I was beginning to be used for lunch money (in a sense) and he started to kind of blow me off.

He had taken us to some really nice dinners so I offered a few times to pick up lunch. Well, as of two weeks ago, I had paid for the last four or five lunches we had. Again, not so much of a problem but he became very fond of a little cafe that I like that tends to be a little expensive. I'm talking $18, $19 lunches and I can't afford to do that three or four times a week. Strike one.

Strike two, the first time we actually DID have lunch after a good week and a half of not seeing each other (work drama), he complained about being broke. And this was after he told me he had just bought the brand new shirt and tie that he was wearing from Brooks Brothers. I just turned and looked at him and said "Dude, you make about $20 to $30 grand more than I do. And I just paid for lunch", and left it at that. Then we went to dinner the following day. When it came time to pay, he started patting his pockets. As soon as that started I knew what was coming. "We might have a problem..." he said. "And what problem would that be?" I replied. "I don't have my money clip...". I hope to God I had a look on my face because at that point I was pissed. I just looked at him and said "Don't worry....I got it." And he goes "Are you sure?" AM I SURE?!?! What other alternative did we have?!?! Ughhh....... Then we get back to my house and he goes "Well, if you would like, maybe we could do something.....I mean, if you wanted to". At that point I was so frickin' irritated and he would preface EVERYTHING like that! At first I thought he was just trying not to push me but at that point he should know better. So I turned to him and said "Why don't you just say that you want to see me?" And he looked at him like I was speaking chinese. So I continued, "You never just flat out say that you want to see me or spend time with me", and he goes "Well, I just don't want you to feel pressured to hang out with me if you get a better offer." .......Dudes, he was serious. I was like, "What better offer? That doesn't make sense!". So he goes "Fine, I want to see you tomorrow." and I was like "See? That wasn't so hard".

Strike three. All day Thursday we texted and everything seemed fine. After work I offered to come hang out with him while he was working an after school event (mind you, he works at a school that is five minutes from my house). He told me no because he was in the booth working the scoreboard and blah blah blah. So I told him that if he wanted, SO HE DIDN'T HAVE TO SPEND MONEY, he could come by after the event and have some dinner since we had leftover homemade food (I should also mention that he eats out for every meal. No, I'm not kidding.). He said that that sounded really good, so, I thought I'd get to see him. He texts me at around 930 or 945 to tell me that he's done. "Yay! Now the question is, will I get to see you?", I respond. He goes, "Haha, oh beautiful..."

..........................

..........................................

Number 1: Way to be a condescending asshole.
Number 2: The only time he would call me beautiful is when he was telling me goodnight or telling me no.

So, I respond, "Yeah. That's a no". And then he sends me this big long thing how he's tired and blah blah blah. Again, he is right around the corner from my house and he could pass me on his way home. Stop in for five minutes and then head home. But, NOPE! I get a big long goodnight text too but I didn't say anything. Well, I didn't hear from him until 1130 the next day. "Lunch?". That's it. Nothing else. So, I said "Sorry, I can't today" and I have never heard from him again.

Seriously. Crickets, lol. Which I find to be HILARIOUS since the week before he was telling me how he wanted me to meet his parents, lol. Like, I'm not even mad. I'm kind of impressed, haha. Never have I experienced this with a guy, this staying power.

So, that's done I guess. Eh, oh well. At least I got it out of the way.

wedDing Day

September 22nd was indeed a D Day. I, in no way, could have prepared myself for what happened, how it happened, or why.

The tears starting making their presence early Friday as I started getting a flood of "Hey....how are you holding up?" texts and emails. I also had to call Arlington National Cemetery to find out exactly where Chris was buried because I couldn't remember from the last time I was there. The man on the phone was very nice and I had to stop talking and clear my throat a few times to make sure I didn't lose it on the phone with him. Luckily I was successful and made it until I put the phone handset back on its cradle. "Ugh...", I thought, "this is going to be a fantastic day".

I made it through the rest of my work day dry-eyed so that was good. I also hung out with The Yankee for a bit and all I did was apologize for how weird I was being, haha. Before we left to go run some errands I must have changed my outfit six times, and God bless him, he didn't say a word. The whole evening he was very reassuring and calm. Haha, poor thing, he was probably panicking the whole time. At the end of the night he gave me a sweet kiss and told me to text him if I needed anything. I thought to myself "HA....you have no idea....".

I tossed and turned all night and woke up before my alarm at 7. The cemetery opens at 8 am every day so I wanted to get there as early as I could. I got up and fished out a gray sweater that I bought Chris last year that happens to also look pretty decent on me and wore it. It was his favorite. If you have access to any of my pictures or go to this blog you can see it because apparently it isn't tacky to have these pictures up still.........but I digress. I headed over to my parents' bar to get the champagne that my dad saved for our wedding. I wanted to bring just enough that he and I could have some together, the way it should have been. I popped the cork and poured it into a water bottle. I may or may not have also had a taste before it was re-corked.

On my way up I stopped at Starbucks and got a iced caramel machiato, another of Chris' favorites, because I imagined that he might have had one that day. And, you know, I felt good. I felt like this was going to be pretty cathartic and sweet in a way. I was also terrified and kept imagining me completely losing my shit at the grave. Well, neither of those things happened. I went to take the exit to the cemetery when I saw that there was a cop blocking the exit. I pulled up next to him and this is how our exchange went,

Me: Excuse me officer, may I ask you a question?
Cop: WHAT?!
Me: ......I'm trying to get to the cemetery....
Cop: Nope. It's closed for the next 3 hours because of a bike race.
Me: Are you kidding?
Cop: Does it look like I'm kidding?
Me: Okie dokie, fuck you too then!

And then I pulled back out into traffic. And I lost it. Completely. I was heartbroken, angry, embarrassed, horrified, frustrated, confused, exasperated, just too many feelings to name. I had no idea how to get myself turned around because I'm not familiar with that area and all I wanted to do was ram my car into the side wall. I didn't, so don't worry. But all I kept thinking was "How could this happen? I couldn't have him in life and I still can't have him in death?!" I also kept thinking that all I wanted to do was go home and set all of his clothes on fire, burn all the photos and just forget that I had ever met him. If I was to have absolutely no interaction with him at all, then so be it. I'd forget. I'm still really angry at him. I don't know who I'm angry with. I'm just angry.

I called my mom and basically yelled and sobbed the entire way home. I went back to the bar and got the rest of the Champagne so I could finish it for breakfast. I got home and you could tell that everyone was on eggshells. I felt bad because my stepmom had cooked a really great breakfast but I couldn't stomach anything but a few potatoes. I could feel myself getting antsy and losing it so I ran up to my room and screamed so hard into my pillow that eventually all that came out was air and sobs. I hate that I can't scream at him. He deserves to hear it.

I went back downstairs and hung out with my brothers for a bit. Them making me laugh and the champagne was making me feel better. We also started gathering our stuff together to go out on our boat. It was absolutely gorgeous day and my parents didn't want me sitting in the house. I didn't want to either.

The rest of the day was going great, I was successfully drunk by 1230 and the boat was so much fun! We decided to go to this local marina restaurant and as we're pulling in, I noticed everyone got kind of weird for a minute. And then I saw it- there was a wedding reception set up on the back deck. Paper wedding bell and everything.

And you know, I had to laugh. I can always appreciate irony and damn if this isn't ironic. All I needed was Alanis Morrissett to show up and sing about ten thousand spoons.

We finished our late lunch there and decided to ride out on the river for a bit and then head down to another local river bar. We had just ordered our drinks when I checked my phone and noticed that I had a comment. And then I saw this:

This is Chris' grandmother. Apparently she is okay with all of Chris' friends and family seeing things like this but apparently I'm not allowed to defend myself and my feelings. So, here ya go.

As soon as I read this I walked over to my parents and read it to them. My parents promptly asked for her telephone number so they could handle it. Now, I should backtrack and tell you that for the last few months, Chris' grandmother has been saying stuff like this to me through texts. She also wrote this long post on my FACEBOOK WALL a few months prior, which I promptly removed and then blocked her from doing so in the future. I have not lashed out at her, nor answered any of the crazy. But, I'm tired of hiding what she's saying. And she clearly wants everyone to know how terrible of a person I am. So, I'm sharing it with you. I'm also sharing with you that after I read this and gave them her number, I went into the bathroom and cried. A lot. I don't understand why this experience has to be so fucking terrible. Like, seriously. This is beyond ridiculous.

When my parents (tried) talked to her, all she did was blame me. Told them that I treat her absolutely horribly (again, haven't spoken to her since July 10th) and all this other delusional stuff. Oh, and the "secrets" that she's referring to? I guess she told my parents that Chris was still married. Yeah. I knew he was briefly married before but they officially divorced in 2009. No secret. But why would you EVER say that to me? Like seriously?!

I broke. I broke hard. My brothers had to see me in a way that they've never seen me before and I feel very guilty for that. And that is the only thing I feel guilty for in this situation.

I, in no way, feel guilty about anything that I have said or done while Chris was still living and after. I have been as honest, loving and human as I could be. I did everything I could for him and for us. I loved him and  took care of him. Obviously, some people can't handle that but that's not on my conscience. I can sleep at night.

I'm glad that day is dead and buried. I can start to really move on with my life. I know that holidays and his birthday will be hard this year but I don't have anything else looming in the future.

I'm still very angry. I'm not really sure when I'm going to stop but I know that one day I will. I have faith that one day I'll get my answer.

This is my life and I tell how it happens. I fight for what happens. I learn from what happens.

Wake Me Up When September Ends

Hi all.

So, the day I was supposed to get married is quickly approaching. Saturday the 22nd. I'm not looking forward to it.

All I keep thinking is that day had so much potential, as did this month. This week was supposed to be filled with family, laughter, bridal stress, drinks, good food and copious amounts of excitement. But when the thoughts go too far I snap myself back because I can't afford to go that deep. I can't mourn for something that isn't going to happen before the deadline gets here. If that makes sense. Which I doubt it did, haha. I'm basically limiting my grief and sadness to Saturday. I say that, but, it has definitely made it's presence in bits and pieces this week. Monday I woke up in a funk, Tuesday I was fine all day until the afternoon and then I couldn't shake the sads. Fortunately, yesterday, I was fine all day. It's so weird, and I know I say that in every post but, seriously, grief is the oddest thing ever. Oh gosh, and all the "are you okay"s and "how are you holding up"s have started. While I appreciate them, I also get a little irritated. I'm not sure why. I guess because I don't really want to talk about it? Or I really am just trying to limit my pain to the day itself. Who knows? I sure don't.

Haha, side note: "At Last" by Etta James just started playing on my Pandora. And to start it, she says "Every time someone gets married they always ask 'Sing At last'". God I love poetic irony. *sigh*

At this point in my former wedding journey, the caterer still hasn't given us our money back ( they have $3500 of our money and spent it.), we still don't know if we're getting my money back for my dress (no one is letting me handling that so I have ZERO clue as to how that's going), and I have yet to hear from the photographer. Like, at all. Not even an "I'm sorry" or anything. Which, whatever, that's fine I guess. I just now have an extremely definitive list of who I will not be using when the time comes again. In fact, I think the only vendors I will be using again will be the videographer Shaking Hands Productions (seriously, they're amazing) and Sandals. That's it. Everyone else has been such an utter nightmare to work with and you'd think that with this kind of situation that everyone would be falling over themselves to make things easy. I mean, I plan on getting married again. Wouldn't you want my business? Wouldn't you want me to tell everyone I know about how wonderful you treated me through this time? But, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I learned a lot about people's true nature through this process.

I also told The Yankee about everything that happened to Chris and what was going on this weekend. It was understood what happened since he's friends with my brothers but he was never given the full story. I didn't want to tell him at the very beginning because I was worried that it would scare him away. I alluded to it, sure, because how could I not? But I kept things very vague. I even told him that I was spoken for this Saturday but I never told him why and, God bless him, he didn't ask. He's so wonderful in that way. He doesn't pry at all. He waits for me to volunteer the information and then we'll talk about it. But at the same time, I almost wish that he would ask. It's so much harder to just strike up that conversation and be like "Soooo.....like.....I was supposed to get married this coming Saturday. Isn't that weird?! Hahaha.....". I always laugh and make jokes when I'm uncomfortable. It's awful, haha. Given my mood swings though, I felt I had to let him know. Plus, I want to be honest with him. He's really great and patient and I really like him and he deserves to know. He deserves to know since this was such a large part of my life and he deserves to know what he's getting into and if he wants to jump ship or not. I needed to be fair. So, fair I was.

We went to dinner on Tuesday (another side note: "Dark Paradise" just came on. If you're not sure what I'm talking about, I posted the lyrics as a post here), and I had told him earlier in the day that I was in a funk. So, I thanked him for getting me out of it. And just as I needed him to, he asked why I was in one. I started by explaining what Saturday meant and went from there. His face wore such a heartbroken expression the entire time and all he could say was "wow" and "I'm so sorry....". All I did was what I always do; smile and shrug as if to say "what can you do?". Then after we moved on from that topic, I was a ball of nerves and all I kept saying was "I totally understand if this is too much for you and you don't want to continue this anymore" and blah blah blah. Finally he stopped me and was like, "I don't know what you're talking about". I said, "I'm giving you an out if you would like one". To which he replied, "Stop. I don't want an out. I don't need an out. I am here for you. And if it would make you feel better, I can tell you sad stories that might make you not want to see me anymore". I told him that wasn't necessary since we had enough depressing conversation that evening. He really is so sweet.

So, Saturday. It's coming. I'm prepared as I'm gonna be. And I'll have our $150 bottle of champagne to help with the sad.

It's supposed to be sunny and 86 degrees. At least we were going to have nice weather....

Hello, My Name is Rachel...

...and my life is a romantic comedy. For real, I feel like I am Sandra Bullock in real life. And yes I realize that she is a real person but you know what I mean.

But, guys, I did it. I went on my first date. The friend that I alluded to on my last post is awesome. Not to be a copy of Ms. Bradshaw, but, I'm going to call him The Yankee. He's from New York and a Yankees fan so it totally works.

My family has a HUGE Labor Day party every year and my brother invited The Yankee. Me, J and L were sitting inside talking and getting away from the heat when they came upstairs. You could tell that The Yankee was nervous but introductions were made and approval was given. I was intrigued. J and L kept trying to get me to go strike up conversation with him but I was really nervous. I tried to get closer to where he was standing but would only do so when J and L were with me. Well, wouldn't you know it, they walked away from me, leaving me all by my lonesome, haha. So, I decided to park my ass on a cooler and just wait it out. Then the opportunity arose and The Yankee needed a beer. So, being the helpful pseudo hostess that I was, I asked if he needed a beer. He said yes and it turns out that the cooler where I parked was his cooler. Convenient? Cut to 3 hours and 4 strong drinks later, I'm miss social butterfly and spy just the conversation piece I needed to get things started. It worked, he was hooked, I was drunk and flirty and I may or may not have spilled red wine all over my pants. All was right with the world and we made plans to hang out that Monday.

Monday rolls along and I was getting SUPER nervous. L and I stayed up until about 11:30 the night before trying to pick out the perfect first date outfit. We settled on this really pretty, flowy dress and high heels. I had asked The Yankee earlier in the day for a clue as to where we were going and all he said was either French or Italian. So, in my mind, I thought "Somewhere nice that isn't around here". Points already.

I spent a good 2 hours on getting myself together and I gotta say, I looked goooooood. Especially for how nervous and excited I was, haha. I go to make my grand entrance into the living room in front of everyone and I see that The Yankee is wearing a white t-shirt, jeans and sperrys. I was SEVERELY overdressed, which I announced once I walked into the room which sent everyone into a fit of laughter. So guess who had to run upstairs and change......this girl. So, I ran upstairs and got it done in 5 minutes while in a panic. Good to know this was getting off to a great start.

We had a pretty good conversation in the car and I was really looking forward to going to a restaurant that wasn't a chain restaurant and that wasn't in the immediate area. We parked and walked a few blocks to get to the Italian restaurant that he picked, all the while he explained why he picked it and telling me how great the place was. Well, we get to the restaurant and it's closed. I'm talking chairs stacked, no lights, all doors locked kind of closed. The Yankee was like "OMG! They never close! This sucks!" I told him not to worry about it but I had to laugh. So we got back in the  truck and drive a few blocks to the French Place. He manages to parallel park his HUGE truck on the TINY street (points again) and we start the walk. Well, we get to the restaurant and it's closed. I shit you not, it was closed. I laughed SO hard but The Yankee was really embarrassed. I reassured him it was fine but that he had to pick a third place because I was starving, haha.

The third place he took me to was this little trattoria which actually turned out to be really good. Our waitress was really cute and kept telling us stories about her life (you could tell she was still new the job because she didn't hate her life, haha) and kept commenting on what we ordered, WHICH WAS DELICIOUS! Again, all was right in the world.

Once the date starting winding down I started getting really nervous about the end. Ya know how at the end of "Cinderella" she turns back into a tattered mess? Yeah, that's me except I turn into a bumbling, giggling idiot who uses sound effects for words. But, The Yankee handled it and just told me how great a time he had and asked to walk me to the door. "This is it...." I thought. "He's totally going to kiss me. Omg what if my breath is bad? What if he is a bad kisser? WHY ARE THERE SO MANY BUGS ON OUR DOOR?!" Panicked. We get to the bug-covered door, I turn around he he's standing on the last step not really saying anything so I squeak out "Hug?" and make some stupid arm gesture. He obliges and then tells me to have a good night and walks back to the truck.


That's it.

I gotta tell ya, I was confused. This has never happened to me before. I ALWAYS got kissed on the first date. But, I liked it. And I didn't. It just really threw me for a loop. Then I got the text, "I had an amazing time with you tonight and I really would like to see you again soon". BOOSTED! Cue touchdown dance in the pjs in my room.

I don't know guys, this one might be interesting......

Timelines

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack! I apologize for the long hiatus. It's been a bit bonkers since I've returned from Disney.

Speaking of, Disney was AWESOME! I had such a blast the entire week and I'm exhausted, haha. I think I need another vacation just to rest from this one. I'll have to do a separate post to fill you in on all the details and pictures because I don't want to put your eyeballs through a marathon.

One thing that has me thinking lately is timelines. Everyone has one for themselves for pretty much any situation in their life. I feel like all I'm doing is examining my timelines and, moreover, focusing on what other people think of my timeline. Which I know is totally stupid but I can't help it.

In one of my recent posts I told you guys that I had removed my relationship status from my Facebook and how hard that was but that I was glad I did it. And one of the hardest parts about it was how I thought other people might perceive what I was doing and what that removal meant. I still think about it but I still don't feel bad about it. But, the next step in my timeline that is causing a HUGE head-scratching, thought overload is dating.

I've kind of made advances to "get back in the saddle" but nothing too major. They've been hilarious and, I hate to do this to you, unfortunately I can't share just yet. They were exciting and unfamiliar and still kind of sad. There are times when I feel guilty and then I end up just having a fight between me and a picture of Chris and telling him he can't be mad at me because he's the one that did this to me. *Sigh* It's hell being crazy, haha. And a large part of me is mad at him for this. I LOATHE dating. I hate the rules, I hate the games, I just hate all of it. I don't want to have to do it again. I mean, I found HIM; I found my Mr. Right. Sooooo, why am I back in the dating pool?! And that's when the thoughts of the timeline come busting through my brain. I'm I doing this too early? How long should I give myself? Why should I have to wait 6 months to a year and be alone and hate all the couples?

Recently a friend of my brother's told him that he wants to be introduced to me and take me out on a date. Now, I gotta tell ya, my ego is like "EFFIN RIGHT! THIS OLD DOG'S STILL GOT IT!". And I'm excited and nervous and just a big ball of "QWLEI5UQ3OV FJHAIUEY249983Y@#$#$#%qvM  IOAYEI U". Now, because I'm a girl and a total headcase (..........I really do not sell myself very well here), the future thoughts are already happening. But not in the sense of "When we get married....", it's more the sense of "What if he asks me to take Chris' pictures down? That totally won't happen. What will I do with Chris' clothes? Can I not get my remembrance tattoo now? Is it too soon to date?". Guys, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!?!?! This is so stupid. I know it is. And I tell myself not to do it because I haven't even had a conversation with this guy yet! Who knows if I will even like him? But I can't help it because we're all told that we have to have a plan or some idea of our timeline.

I guess the thing I'm worried about most is that people will think Chris didn't mean anything to me. That I'm some heartless, glib asshole who was only after him for some specific reason. But I'm not. He was my everything and I will grieve for what we had for as long as I live. It might not be as intense at times, but, it will still be there. Our hearts, I think anyway, are big enough for more than one person. The part that belongs to Chris will always belong to him and who I was with him will always belong to him. But I also belong to me (hey there Jessica Simpson reference) and I choose when and how I'm ready. No one is an expert at what I'm going through and I don't know what I'm doing. I won't know what I'm doing until I do it and then I'll go from there. For example, if I happen to start crying while kissing someone because a song of mine and Chris' comes on (....this may or may not have happened.....) then I'll deal. And if someone has something smart to say, well, then they can go play with a big 'ol bag of dicks. HOW 'BOUT THAT?!!

YOU JUST WON THE SHITTIEST HAND OF LIFE EVER! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW?!

I AM GOING TO MUTHA EFFING DISNEY WORLD!

That's what.

For realsies! I leave for the Land of Mouse on Monday and don't come back until the 26th. Which just so happens to be my 26th birthday! Woot!

One of my very best friends, W, lives in Orlando and he is being an awesome/wonderful/fantastic/marvelous friend and taking me to Disney for my very first time!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fyi, a lot of this post is going to be in caps and followed by a series of exclamation points. Because I am THAT excited. You don't even understand....


Given that this is my golden birthday (26 on the 26th) and because this summer has just been complete and utter shit, I wanted to give myself a little gift and carpe the fuck out of the diem. So, for me, that meant Disney. I've been wanting to go there FOR-EV-VER and it's been a while since I've gone to Orlando. I miss my Florida peeps. AND I GET TO MEET MICKEY MOUSE AND ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL THE PRINCESSES! Did I mention I'm actually 25 going on 6?

I have this irrational idea that I'm going to make friends with all of the princesses, given they're all probably around my age, and we'll hang out and get drunk together and then they'll give me a job. I would be Belle SO HARD. Haha I can feel your judgment. And you're not wrong because I totally judge me, haha.

It's going to be so nice to get away, though. I keep feeling that way any time I go away. No one knows me, no one knows my situation, they're just going to look at me and think "Wow, that young woman is really enjoying herself with her sequined Minnie Mouse ears". Do you have any idea how refreshing that will be? I hate going out where I live. I feel like everyone knows who I am and they're all staring and pitying me. That's probably not what's happening but I can't help but feel that way.

So, off to the land of wishing and dreams coming true. Hopefully I'll come back with tons of stories and a new job! Hey, a girl can dream right?