What's in a name?

“That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”.

Ugh. Whatever, Bill.

So, as I have hinted on some of my social media accounts as well as gushing like a 13 year old girl, I am dating someone. We’ve been seeing each other for two months now and I like to say it’s serious, in that neither one of us is seeing anyone else. Also, he drives up every weekend to see me. Future plans are made well in advance and it’s just assumed that that’s just the way it’s going to be. However, something curious happened over the weekend.

We spent the day doing some fun stuff around the city, which included some cocktails (because, Baltimore) and I was feeling the liquid courage. When we got home, we were sitting on the couch and here’s what happened…

Me: So, since I’m slightly intoxicated and can’t be held responsible for what comes out of my mouth, can I be your girlfriend now?

M: *Big shit eating/patronizing grin* Awwww…..

Me: *stomaching falling out of butt* ha…well…that’s not really the reaction I was expecting *cue panic*

M: *puts hand on my face* You’re so beautiful…

Me: EW don’t compliment me now! *straight.up.dying.inside*

M: Haha oh my god stop!

Me: I’m sorry I brought it up. Just forget I said anything…

M: Well, what’s wrong with the way things are now?

Me: Nothing. I’m just used to defining things after some time, I’m not used to just ‘going with the flow’. I know that for all intents and purposes we are in a relationship, but, I mean, how am I supposed to introduce you to someone? ‘This is my FRIEND, M?’

M: Hmm…I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. But isn’t it kind of High School? Like, ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’

Me: I don’t think so. But nevermind.

So, in true ME fashion, I panicked the rest of the evening. Every now and then saying “Sorry if I made things weird now” which would receive a “Oh my God, stop” from M. And I mean, everything was normal. He was super cuddly and cooked me a fantastic breakfast the next morning. But, I’m a mess.

I don’t understand his reaction. Why the hesitation? We essentially ARE what define a relationship between a boyfriend and a girlfriend. Plus, all of his friends call me M’s girlfriend. Why can’t he? What’s the big deal?

But on the other side of the argument, what is the big deal that I need for him to call me his girlfriend? It’s just a word, right? Wrong. For me, the title carries a level of respect to the relationship. I’m not some girl that he hangs out with. I am someone whom he spends a decent amount of time with. I need that security that that word can guarantee. As a functioning and realistic person who understands that people are people and they’re going to do what they want to do, one would hope that both people in the relationship would respect the title and what that relationship means.

Again, people, I get it. I got a big ol’ FUCK YOU when I was titled a fiancé so I know girlfriend is not going to stop anything. Here’s my thing, though, I need to have the conversation so both parties have the chance to both come to mutual understanding that they are in a relationship that is to be only between them and that there has to be that respect. As it stands right now, he owes me nothing and vice versa. If he were to do something with someone else, I technically cannot be angry as we have not established that we are in a monogamous relationship, other than me casually asking a handful of weeks ago if he was seeing anyone else (which he isn’t).

This is my first “relationship” since all the bullshit happened. It’s terrifying. I find that I panic really easily about stupid stuff and my mind is constantly going. I worry that I say too much and that I will drive him away. I know that my life will not end if we stop seeing each other, but, I’ve grown to really like this kid and I don’t want to lose it. I have to stop myself if I mentally question if what he’s saying to me is the truth. I have to remind myself that I must not hold him responsible for someone else’s crime. I need to remind myself that I did not drive Chris to cheat and that not everyone will do that to me. I need to remember that not everyone thinks like me.

What I really need is to get the fuck out of my own head.

I know everything will work out either way and it’s really not the end of the world. All I can surmise is that I DETEST DATING!

Today I Hate Exercising

More than usual.

I make it very plain that I do NOT like to exercise. To exercise I need to be tricked into it, like, dancing. I will dance until my face melts off. But to set out to run on the treadmill or the elliptical? PSH. I get bored.

I get tired.

I get over it, RULL fast.

It's a regular mental Game of Thrones and there's ALL KINDS of "Red Wedding" going on in my brain.

I've started going to this class called Pop Physique. It's AHMAHZING (you're welcome, Wil). It's a mixture of pilates and ballet barre and it is probably one of the hardest classes I've taken. But we listen to house music and the workout is split into threes- arms/chest, legs/ass, abs. And in between each big workout are long stretch sessions so you feel really long after you leave. You can visit the website here.

Anyway. The reason for the title.

You know those days that are just...annoying? They're not bad but they're not particularly good, either. They're typically Mondays. Well, today, mes amis, I had one of those annoying days and it continued into my class. I wasn't really into going anyway, but, Fatty McFatterson has begun her slow return and that bitch needs to stay back (plus, there are way too many restaurants in this city for me to just order a salad).

The annoying bit starts even before I leave the apartment- I can't find the partner to the the freaking $10 sock I have to wear for this class. Oh, I should have mentioned, this class is the typical white girl-lulu lemon yoga pants-i have to wear fancy socks- type of class. Obviously this is the type of class I would like. Anyway, lost sock = annoying. Thanks, dryer.

I get to class and then it really starts. Here's just some of the thoughts going on in my head:

"ugh God i don't wanna be here"
"i have to do this....i don't want to but I have to...."
"...is she....really? REALLY?! THE PRIMA BALLERINA IS GONNA SIT NEXT TO ME?! TODAY?!!? OF ALL DAYS?! Is it too late to bail?"
"ugh. sure. you're all bendy. thanks for showing off. and do you really have to wear the ballet slippers? and the top knot is a bit much. whatever."
"[teacher] is gonna wear a scarf the whole time? sure you get to look cute while we sweat our balls off. i really want her cartier bracelet. doesn't she worry that it's gonna get messed up?"
"i'm a really hateful person. what's wrong with me? c'mon endorphins...."
"this is really hard"
"breathe. breathe. breathe. breathe. breatheohmygodbreathe. breatheholyjesusbreathe"
"she's really skinny. she kinda looks like my old roommate. huh."
"OH COME ON, BALLERINA!"
"i really should be focusing on what i'm doing..."
"oh fuck. legs."
"FUCK MY LEGS"
"i'm gonna puke. i'm gonna pukeFUCKMYLEGS"
"[teacher] hates me. oh she hates me. she totally knows i'm cheating. whatever."
"i'm done. can we be done?"
"i really need to stop staring at [the ballerina]. she probably knows i'm looking. how is she so bendy?! she probably goes to yoga all the time. i should go to yoga. no i shouldn't, i hate yoga"
"DAMMIT, JANE FONDA!"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW"
"ha. ballerina has no ass. at least i have an ass."
"HOLYFUCKINGSHITBALLSMYASSHURTSOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW"
"abs. abs. lets do this."
"omgggggggggggggggggggg this stretch feels so good."
"ya know...happy baby pose is really weird but this feels great. oh my hips....ow. ow. ow."
"yep. i'm still in a terrible mood."

I really did throw a lot of shade at Ms. Ballerina, lol. I'm not proud but, oh well.

As much as I hated working out today, I did it and I'm proud of myself. Let's just hope I keep it up this week.

Later, gators.

*tap tap* Is This Thing On?

Well, hello there. How goes it blog friend?

It's funny- blogging has gone the way of all my diaries growing up. I get it because I HAVE to have it, I write a couple entries and then I forget where I hide it until I really need it. But I have to say, I miss writing. I keep talking about how I'm going to write a book so I really need to get to work on what said book is going to be about.

Things are good. Busy, but good. Still trying to figure my life out, but, who isn't? Especially being in 20-something land. Speaking of, I celebrated my 27th birthday last month. HOLY BALLS. I. am. Twenty. Seven. Is this what it's supposed to feel like? I don't feel a day over 20 and I am nowhere near where I thought I'd be at this age. I still laugh when I think of how I had planned my life. The two options that I had given myself were 1. A successful actress, either on TV or in film. Possibly an owner of an Oscar and dripping in designers and men. 2. A successful actress who is married. EL OH EL, Life. EL OH EL.

About once a month I have a quarter-life crisis cathartic cry (ahhh the alliteration...) and go over where I'm at and what I want to do. But here's the kicker- I have no idea what I want to do. Or, I do, and I'm too afraid to say it out loud. I don't know if it's because I'm afraid if I say it out loud that I'll be disappointed or someone else will be disappointed. Or that I automatically talk myself out of it because it's not "doable" or "financially smart". I don't really know. And on top of that it doesn't help seeing all these articles about Gen Y-ers (or "GYPSYS" as one writer affectionately refers to us) about how we're entitled and have this inflated sense of self. What if I'm not as good as I think I am? What if I'm not as fabulous as I know I am? What if I need to stop having this idea for myself that I should be more? Fuck I hate the what ifs.

I don't know. I just want to mean something. I want it all to mean something. But how do I do that?

Wow. This post got all intense really fast, haha. Sorry! I do have some funny posts planned because, me and my life. So, until then mes amis....

Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend

Hi All! Long time no blog, eh?

Something huge happened recently. I'm talking 2 carats and a platinum setting huge.

My engagement ring finally sold!!!!!!

I know some of you may be wondering if I feel okay about it or feel unsure if you should be happy for me or sad. And honestly, I'm over the moon.

I don't mean to come off callous at all. That is the furthest from my intentions and I'm sure I'm going to catch some flack for it, but, whatever. I struggled with the decision to sell my ring because I loved it. It was so different and it was such a personal decision for Chris. But, after I found out about all the other stuff, it just hurt. It represented something that would never happen and I didn't want to hold on to something that I wasn't even sure if it meant what I thought. So, in October I took my ring to a huge Tacori dealer in Virginia. I felt that I would get my money's worth and this ring would go to someone who would love it as much as I did.

And ooooh girl was that trip a t-rip. The gentleman that I worked with at the jeweler was very nice and didn't ask why I was selling. So he took the ring and told me that he was going to dismantle it to weigh it and make all the inspections to make sure things were up to snuff. Well, he came back in and sat the carcass of my engagement ring on the table. I'm talking the thing was in two pieces- diamond separate from the setting. Head and body in pieces. I actually had to stifle a gasp just because it was so pretty and so broken. Ha, kinda ironic, huh? The gentleman, J, asked if I was okay and if I wanted to move forward, which I appreciated. But, I was solid in my decision. Even though it was hard to let it go.

Months passed and having that loose end undone was hard. I just wanted to be finished with everything and this last piece of the puzzle was keeping me from doing that. Finally, I got the email that it had sold. I was elated. I am elated.

I. am. done.

I can't explain to you what this means to me. Hell, I don't really know what it means yet.

All I know is, is that I'm free.

And I got my Loubs.

If you know anything about me, you know I love my shoes. And I love Louboutins more than any other shoe in this world. When I decided to sell my ring, I made a promise to myself that I would buy my first pair, for two reasons.

1. I've always wanted a pair
2. Chris would have wanted me to

I'd like that think that Chris is happy with my decision to do this for myself. Because- guilt be damned- I fucking deserve it. I always feel guilty saying it, but, it's true. I've had a year from hell and he left me a gift of sorts that can help me do things for myself. So, thank you Chris. I get to start my life over in a beautiful pair of shoes!

Damned If I do. Damned If I don't.

For realz, dudes. This shit is ridiculous. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Saturday was the anniversary of Chris' passing, what I've affectionally re-named "The Bad". And let me tell you, it's been pretty bad. All last week my feelings were up and down and I'm still stuck in more of the down side of things. Everyone's been really great and supportive and I apologize if I haven't been the nicest or the most positive.

I had a nice weekend. Friday was pretty rough- I lost it at work and had to go home early. But I got to hang out with my friend W and he always makes me feel better. We pretty much spent the weekend together, which was amazing. But, I feel like I somehow procrastinated my feelings. I had entertained the thought of going to Arlington to finally visit and say goodbye, but I couldn't fully commit to the idea. You're going to laugh when I tell you why.

All this time I've been saying how I just want to be done and move on, but, now that the time has come to be done and move on I feel like I don't want to. That I was sad to say goodbye. I mean, how do I feel now? What do I talk about? This whole year has just been about getting through and surviving. Well, I've survived- now what? How do I feel now? What do I feel now? What do I talk about on this blog? What do I talk about with people? I've had this crutch for the past year and now I feel like it's too hard to let go. It's like I'm letting go all over again.

But hadn't I let go? Didn't I let go when I decided to not let this whole thing hold me back?

I've always been the type of person that after a year anniversary passed of someone's death, I didn't really hold vigil for it anymore. I move past it. I mean, why continue to mourn and focus on the negative? Now I feel like I'm being such a hypocrite by feeling like I don't necessarily want to let go yet.

But seriously, what am I holding on to? Nothing. And yet, it feels like everything. Everything that I've been for this past year. I'm scared that I'm not allowed to feel sad anymore or have days when I'm kind of down in the dumps. Or I'm not allowed to silently resent the couples I see getting married. I have to be normal now and I don't know how to be.

I'm still so angry. I'm angry that I can never be that normal girl anymore. I'm angry that I have to figure everything out all over again. I'm angry that he's gone. I'm angry at what he's done. I'm just....I just hurt.

But at the same time, I don't hurt. I have moved on. I don't silently resent the couples. I'm already normal.

AHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO FUCKING FRUSTRATING!

A Journal Entry

I was writing a new entry in my journal when I came across this one. I want to share it because in a strange way I'm proud of it. It's a bit wordy but, I don't care. When I read it, it takes me back to the very day that I wrote it.

I'm telling you now, chill out. Stop before you even start commenting on the link when I share this on my fb. Just. Chill. Out.

I'm fine. So here it goes...

November 17, 2012

Cry In The Bathroom

I don't know why I always have my good cries in the bathroom. I'm talking basic, guttural, fall on the floor type of cry. The type where you dig your fingers into your skin so hard that you hope that you're able to rip at least one memory out. The type that you're afraid your soul will fall out in one of your sobs.

My bathroom is a small one. Perfect for just myself. Black and white tiles cover the floor, as does my hair, and there is a white carpet runner down the center. I can't tell you how many times that carpet has been my solace. Actually, you probably can by looking at all the battle scars that are the mascara/tear stains that mix with its fibers. I don't know why I find it so comforting, but, every episode here I am: in child's pose or sitting like Buddha, turning to stone. Either waiting for emotional enlightenment or for the carpet to fly me away.

Today is the first day I've cried since I found out he cheated. After I found out it was all a lie. For a while I felt so good. Feeling like myself. The anger of it all pushing me to sanity, while being slightly unhinged. I mean, I laughed about it for Christ's sake.

Looking back this week has been a bit of a doozy emotionally. I'm tired, I got rid of my engagement ring, I've been constantly rejected and there's been too much visual presence of love. Oh, and lest I forget, remembering the lovely memory of discovering another girl's earrings in Chris' shit IN FRONT of his family.

Typically, the rejection from the likes of B would not affect me. I mean, it WOULD, but not to the level of achievement it's currently receiving. The thought that keeps assaulting my brain/heart is that once, just once, I want someone to love me enough to think of me. To choose me. To realize that the only answer is me.

I'm starting to resent a lot of things about myself. I hate that I'm considered pretty. I feel like I'm punished for it all the time. I hate that I give too much of myself. I hate that I care. I hate that I put other people before myself. I hate that I'm not good at one particular thing. I hate the way I make decisions. I hate the way I think. I hate that deep down I want to believe the best in people. I hate that I don't trust myself enough to make big decisions.

These are the thoughts that occur after the tears have stopped and the breathing has slowed. As I sit slightly slumped on my bathroom floor. These thoughts are intermingled with noticing how the texture in the paint is slightly raised and feeling the pain creeping up my back from having horrible posture, post-breakdown. Recognizing the ringing in my ears, despite the dingy bathroom silence. Noticing my heartbeat in the pools of tears that have yet to make their escape. Feeling the sensation of one tear losing itself, as it managed to remove itself from the others. Noticing that I'm holding my hands just so, that I'm cradling my naked ring finger. Wondering if it is Chris hauntingly guiding my hands to a soothing position.

And then I soberly remind myself that I do not feel him. I have not felt him at all since he's been gone. I do not feel the numbness of losing an appendage- of losing a piece of myself. To feel something missing. I am reminded ever-so of the gripping reality that I am pain-stakingly in the repsent. The searing, murderous feeling of being ever present in the here and now. The hard, cold truth that I am sitting on the floor, crying in the bathroom. Alone.

Anniversary

Hey stranger!

How goes it? Good? I hope so. Long time, no blog, eh?

Things have been going well. Every day I settle in more and more with my "new" life here. And I'm having a lot of fun. But, if you saw the title of this entry, the anniversary of all the hard times are coming.

Two weeks ago was mine and Chris' dating anniversary; May 15th.

I had been feeling a little wonky when the month started and I had actually started a blog post about it, but, never finished. It's funny...I'll feel all these feelings and then once I voice them, I feel better. But still the feelings are there, whether I want them or not. Which I don't.

I was in an Excel class all day on the 15th, which was probably the best thing for me. Subject matter that was in one way stimulating my mind and in another way, numbing it. I couldn't really focus on what that day meant or what I was feeling or thinking. But when I got home, I was making dinner for myself or something (I can't really remember what I was doing) and I just sat on the floor and bawled my eyes out. I hadn't cried like that in a really long time. And poor Beau, he just stared at me with this sweetest, confused look on his face and walked over and just laid on my lap. He tried to rub his face on mine but I was covering my face with my hands. And there was sat, just like that, for about 10 or 15 minutes. My friend, MM, came over later and brought me some wine which meant a lot. I felt okay the rest of the night. The next day, however, was a different story.

I woke up and it felt impossible to get out of bed. I was lethargic, anxious, just everything and nothing at the same time. And that's the worst feeling ever. You're absolutely REELING but feel like you weigh a ton so neither feeling is coming to fruition.

I sat down at my desk at work and just lost it. I told a few of my coworkers what was going on, when I was able, and they understood. But it got to the point that I really couldn't sit there anymore. I got up and went out to my car and called my mom and just sobbed. I was right back to feeling where I was last summer. I can't believe I felt that way for months. I don't wish that on anyone. It's awful. And I don't want to feel that way anymore. Any time I put my mind back there, the way my body physically reacts is...there are no words.

It's June 1st. In 14 days is the anniversary of what I have started calling The Bad; the day that my life changed forever. I'm terrified. I don't know how I will feel that day but I'm glad that it's on the weekend so I don't have to worry about work. I've contemplated going to the cemetery since I've never been and I want to have closure. I want to close this wound once and for all. A friend of mine told me that I don't need to physically be at the grave to have closure, but I like to stand on ceremony. For me, I need to physically be there. His....remains...if that's what you want to call them, are there. "He" is there. If I get to the cemetery and I'm blocked like I was last year, then I'll take that as a sign that I don't need to do it. But, I want to be done. "He" needs to "hear" what I have to say. And I don't feel him around so how do I know that he has "heard" what I've said at this point? I'm still so angry and hurt and I just need to release this for my sanity.

I hate that I have to do this. I hate that I'm not the person I was and will never be again. I hate that he took that from me. I hate how this entire process has happened. But, while I hate it, it is what it is. And I'm better for it.

If you haven't seen "The Great Gatsby" (uhh...you NEED to....), there is a scene where Gatsby is telling Nick the truth about his life. When he is talking about when he met Daisy, he says something that really resonated with me. He says, "I could have been a great man, Nick. I could have done great things, if I hadn't fallen in love".

Amen, Gatsby. A-freaking-men.