curly su

green grass, white fence, doghouse in the backyard

2012-07-08T19:27:00.002-05:00

I have a new home, and I feel much better.

The time away gave me perspective, and now that I'm back I feel ready to start a new chapter.

Dating (or, the prospect of dating) is no longer overwhelming, and I'm ready to do it responsibly. More importantly, I believe I'm ready to care about someone again.

I still have a lot to work on in terms of regaining self-confidence. No matter whose fault it was, the past year really beat me up. A doting boyfriend is never good, but (for a while, at least) I'm going to need someone who is able to give compliments, who will help to make me feel secure.

And (for a while, at least), I want monogamy. Competition (for time, affection, or otherwise) and comparisons don't interest me.

The picket fence may or may not exist, but (for a while, at least) I intend to look for it.

Stupidly Content

2012-06-17T15:36:00.003-05:00

All of a sudden it hit me: I don't need to feel lonely. I don't need to feel sad.

I'm okay... happy, even. I'm all by myself, and I'm fine with that.

I'm sure there will be lows again, but that's only because there will be also be highs.

To steal a line from my dad in his youth (fitting, since it's Father's Day): "I believe in Vermont."

When you begin to open your eyes and your brain slowly starts to function

2012-06-11T08:19:00.001-05:00

Today, for the first time, I didn't roll over in bed and think about him as I was waking up.

In fact, he didn't even cross my mind until about 30 minutes later, when I was putting on my running clothes and getting my stuff for the day together.

....

The dating had gotten to be too much; I couldn't figure out what I was feeling and what I was simply falling into... and no one deserves to be hit by the human wrecking ball that I am right now. [There are some really interesting and kind men out there.] And so, I'm withdrawing from it all for a while. I'll be out of town for a couple of weeks anyhow, so advertising myself on a dating website is kind of irrelevant.

And when I get back, I'll have an apartment and I'll be able to get Princess Jasmine and my bike and I'll be able to establish myself within the realm of normalcy.

Maybe by then, I'll forget about him for longer than a half hour at a time. And maybe by then, I'll be able to treat people the way I want to be treated.

And meanwhile,

2012-06-09T15:31:00.000-05:00

I'm enjoying getting to know people slowly, and without expectation.

All I need...

2012-06-09T12:15:00.003-05:00

This is my spot... my place to figure things out. I appreciate the advice and help and I appreciate people reaching out in any shape or form.

However, do not attack me. It's not necessary.

Aside from the people within, no one knows what goes on in a relationship. Did I become co-dependent? Was I searching for validation from the person I loved? Sure. But, there were multitudes of factors that led to those states -- some of them my fault, some of them not.

Am I working to avoid having it happen again? Of course. Does that mean it's going to be easy, that I'll just keep moving up a ladder towards complete mental and emotional perfection? Of course not.

I'll keep doing my best though, because that's about all I have.

The Private/Public Self

2012-06-08T14:16:00.004-05:00

A good friend recently said:

You're so damn strong in everything you do. Physically, professionally... you do what very few people can. You're one of the strongest people I know in every aspect... except with boys. Then, you turn into a pathetic, blubbering mess. What the hell is wrong with you?

So, I brought that up to my head-shrinker this week... it seemed like a valid issue to approach.

And since we're still in the getting-to-know-you phase (and because we only had about 2 minutes left of the session), she didn't say all that much. But what she did say is that there is a big difference between what we put out in the world [public] and what we feel inside [private].

And of course, our 'self' is composed of both parts. But the question really is... why do my public/private sides contrast so much?

My armchair analysis of myself tells me that inside I feel I'm not good enough -- that nothing I do will ever be good enough. So, I keep doing BIG THINGS to make up for it.

Leave home at 15. IronMan. Bike across the country. Doctorate. Start a chamber music festival...

And, of course it's not bad to be doing those things -- it's just that I need to internally regard myself in a way that matches what I put out into the world. Or, I need to find someone who can see both sides and be okay with me, wholly.

Because right now -- inside, in my relationships, I need to know that the part of me that needs to be taken care of -- my worst parts -- will still be loved. When I'm jealous and cranky and tired and 5lbs overweight... will you still love me then?

The answer was no.

Melancholy/Melodrama

2012-06-08T07:45:00.002-05:00

I try not to flat-out create drama, but certainly sometimes I experience unnecessary intensity...

I have a lovely day planned for today, and I feel fine. Maybe the whole ideal of having time off to 'let myself think' was a bad one. Maybe, for now, I need to just keeping scheduling my days rigorously... otherwise, the rejection-fairy plans a sneak attack and I forget how to defend myself.

Today: coffee, practice, road trip to Princeton, practice, hike, dinner. Nothing much to complain about, right?

I was talking with a friend and she told me I shouldn't feel so ashamed of my feelings. Even though other people have worse problems, these emotions I'm feeling are real. They are not irrational or irrelevant to me. So, while of course it's good to keep things in perspective, I also have to remember not to swallow/push away pain.

Oh, it's a long process. I'm making my way through it, but oscillation is inevitable; I have to learn how to give myself room to be okay with the roller-coaster. Otherwise, the wounds will be debilitating and I don't want that.

Right now, I feel unlovable.

2012-06-07T23:02:00.000-05:00

And anyway, that is all.

Wanting

2012-06-07T20:09:00.002-05:00

Today was harder.

I had to work a lot, but other than that I didn't make any plans. I kept things free on purpose, to give myself a chance to think. But, by the end of the day, I definitely found myself wanting...

Wanting a glass of wine with a friend...

Wanting to go out on a date...

Wanting dinner with family...

Basically, wanting to have someone's arm around me, telling me everything is going to be okay. I don't think it would matter if the arm was that of a friend/foe/family/lover: I just wanted a degree of physical and emotional connection.

I had practiced and worked and exercised and it was the end of the day and I looked around and no one was there.

Ahh, it may be pathetic to admit this, but I was lonely.

So, the path continues on. Sometimes it'll feel easy and other times it'll feel like this and that's life and I should just get used to it already, right?

I think it's good that I'm still wanting. It means I'm alive and I have hopes and dreams and I can be happy and sad and angry and depressed and ecstatic. Even within the doldrums of today, I want all of that.

"I'm not angry anymore..."

2012-06-07T09:15:00.001-05:00

Realizing that I had passed through anger made me want to know what to expect next...

(Of course external factors apply; of course individuals react to things in different ways; of course these 'stages of grief' are theories, and not proven science.)

Still, according to the omniscient wikipedia, the 5 stages of grief are: denial, bargaining, anger, depression, and acceptance.

As with anything, the stair-stepping tends to be murky at best, and I think I'm currently somewhere between depression and acceptance. And if I'm completely honest with myself, I suppose I slide back toward anger every once in a while.

Mostly though, I'm progressing toward having a healthy outlook, and that's encouraging.

The Time Passes

2012-06-06T22:10:00.002-05:00

People kept telling me it would just take time. Time would pass, and I'd be okay.

And I knew they were right, but...

I couldn't breathe or see or eat or sleep, and so I couldn't understand how exactly I was going to live through the mean-time.

But of course, I did.

[To those that occasionally worry about me: I'm too scared of dying to do anything else.]

And now?

Now, I'm very much looking forward to having my own apartment. I miss my cat. Even if I "shouldn't", I still miss him, and I miss [parts of] our life together.

But, I'm okay.

I'm not angry anymore. I hope that some day we can be friendly, if not friends.

We have no contact, and I think that's still a good thing. We need the space and air and... time... time to ease past the hurt. But still, I can feel things getting easier. I can feel that someday [soon?] I'll wake up and I won't have the all-too-stereotypical lump in my chest.

Today, it was a gorgeous day outside and I ran and walked and explored and I didn't once feel lonely or sad. I'm proud of that.

One Day at a Time

2012-06-01T10:23:00.000-05:00

Mornings are still hard. I wake up, roll over, and remember...

And it's hard.

But, I've met some awesome people (and yes, one person in particular) over the past week, and it gives me hope.

Of course, I'm taking things slowly. Breathing. Reminding myself to be intelligent about my [raw] emotional state.

Still, it's encouraging to remember that the world is way too big and wonderful to waste time obsessing about something that didn't work.

I can learn from it and move on.

Even if I'm not quite ready for that yet, I'll get there eventually.

....

I'm seeing a therapist. It's time to figure out how to get rid of the residual misery.

....

I got some great news yesterday, and I wanted to share it with him. Even with all the anger currently embedded between the two of us, I wanted to share it with him.

But, instead of feeling sad that I couldn't contact him with any degree of appropriateness, I instead just bit my tongue (and sat on my typing fingers) and called the other people in my life -- the people that were proud and appreciative and congratulatory.

Those are the people I should be associating with anyhow, yes?

....

Tomorrow, I'm running 17mi with my old running club in New Brunswick. When did I turn into someone that is excited about running 17 miles? That alone makes me grin.

And, yes...

2012-05-28T17:25:00.003-05:00

I threw away his toothbrush... and his loofah sponge.

I'm currently archiving pictures and videos of the past year+, so I don't accidentally run into them again and spark another backward slide.

It may not be much, but it's a start.

My Grandmother Asked Me Today:

2012-05-28T17:23:00.000-05:00

Why do you keep picking people that are controlling narcissists?

Why do you keep picking people that are psychologically damaged?

You're 30. It's time to be a little bit more emotionally-savvy.

I know no one really wants to read this shit anymore...

2012-05-28T12:41:00.004-05:00

But the thing is, I have to write to someone about it. Writing to myself doesn't cut it, and I'm pretty damn sure he doesn't care to hear my thoughts. (Don't worry; I'm relatively positive he's not reading this -- like I said, I really don't think he's interested...)

I'm doing everything I should. I'm working and practicing and running and spending time with friends and family and even going on an occasional date.

And, I'm fine. I'm productive. As I said, I'm doing everything I should.

But then, I leave brunch and I'm walking back and I see a park that we once walked through, and waves of sadness leave me almost doubled over in the street.

I know I'm certainly not the first one to feel this, nor will I be the last.

But that knowledge doesn't change the fact that I am, actually, feeling it.

I'm trying to keep things in perspective. I don't have cancer. I'm not dying of AIDS. I have friends and family that care about me a lot.

So even with a broken heart, I should get a grip.

...

I sincerely thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. I love him. There was so much potential between us, so much promise of an amazing life to come.

I gave it everything I could, and it wasn't enough.

And I think that's what is so scary -- my best didn't cut it, so how the hell am I supposed to start again?

On these dates, the guys are nice, and are attractive enough, and everything is fine. Interesting conversation, fun activities... nothing is wrong. I just can't bring myself to care; I'm not ready to be in any sort of relationship yet. I'm probably not even ready to date, but... I don't think sitting at home alone is a better alternative, because that just leads to wallowing.

[Now: case in point.]

So, I guess I'll just keep doing what I'm doing and hope that time will heal and that I'm not broken in a permanent way. I should be able to care about someone again sometime soon, right?

I am, actually, at peace.

2012-05-28T00:14:00.001-05:00

I tried to love him for both of us. I tried to give so much that he wouldn't be able to help but give me something back...

And so, now that it's finally completely over... I feel less exhausted, less at war with myself... I feel at peace.

That doesn't mean I don't miss him. I do, so damn much.

My cousins stole my phone tonight and were looking through the pictures... and glancing through them over their shoulders, I remembered all the fun things we'd done together. I remembered when we did actually enjoy each other.

It's hard not to wish we could go back to that point. A year ago, I felt like I had won the boyfriend lottery. I thought that finally, I had found someone that was intelligent enough to carry on a heated conversation, yet kind enough to bring me flowers when he picked me up from the airport.

But... that man is no longer someone that is available to me. Whatever the sequence of events, that man (the one that I fell in love with) became increasingly difficult to find. And then, he disappeared.

Of course I wish that hadn't happened. Of course I wish he would come back.

But he won't.

And, I'm finally at the point where I'm refusing to accept the waning table-scrap relationship he was offering. And so, we're left with nothing, at least in regard to each other.

So, while I certainly continue to miss him and my heart continues to ache (and I'm ashamed and apologetic about my physical explosion yesterday), I still feel much better. Despite knowing it will take quite a while before I'm ready to have feelings for someone else [despite the numbness completely encompassing me], I still know that it's for the best. He'll never be able to give me what I want and need; I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

Regardless... I feel like I'm on my way to becoming myself again. Like I said, I feel at peace.

I slapped him across the face last night.

2012-05-27T14:28:00.003-05:00

Hard. Twice.

I'm not proud of losing my temper like that.

I'm also not proud of persisting in a relationship that made me so miserable, so out of control.

He's a narcissist and a control freak, but I didn't care. I loved him; I even loved him partly because of those things. He had a hard childhood and I understand why he is the way he is.

But, the amount of pain he was/is inflicting on me... well, it would be insane to continue along that rocky, mountainous path.

I could explain the set of circumstances that led to the two of us standing outside what used to be our (and is now just his) apartment, with him refusing to allow me to come upstairs, with him refusing to have a conversation with me, with him telling me I was being presumptuous and me losing it, calling him a fucking asshole, and then slapping him across the face.

Hard. Twice.

And then, peeling out of the parking lot screaming that I wanted him out of my life completely.

[I think that's the one request he might actually grant me.]

But, the particulars don't really matter.

What matters is that he could never compromise, he always had to push me beyond what I was even partially comfortable with. He always had to have the upper hand. And, I'll admit -- there's a certain attractiveness to that last quality.

But in the end, I just need someone who will be there for me, who will listen to me when I'm trying to say what will make me comfortable/happy. He couldn't, for so many reasons, be someone like that.

I'm not sorry things exploded. I think they had to, or they would have just kept dragging along...

I am sorry though, that I resorted to physical violence. It makes me a little ill to think about, actually.

In any case, I just have to get my clothes and my cat from his place once I have an apartment of my own (July 3). I doubt we'll ever see each other again. That makes me really sad (sad enough to start bawling on cue), but... still, I'm looking forward to my new home.

Things Drag On

2012-05-17T06:34:00.002-05:00

And then you realize that he doesn't love you, at least not the way you need to be loved.

And not only that, but he doesn't understand you, nor does he care to.

He's not who you thought he was, and probably the reverse is true as well.

But, that sure as hell doesn't take away the hurt. I miss him.

"Hey! Nice to see you. Are you feeling better now?"

2012-05-02T23:06:00.000-05:00

Am I supposed to feel better already? It has been 2.5 weeks, and no... I don't feel better.

I realize we would need to be different people in order for it to work. I'm trying to concentrate on the differences (the aspects of the relationship that will never mesh) so that I avoid thinking about everything I miss.

I'm getting a lot done. I'm perfectly functional. In a lot of ways, I'm much better now than a month ago. But, I still feel numb. And underneath the numbness? A whole lot of aching. I prefer the rainy days. I'm lonely, and a little bit scared.

I realize I'm catastrophizing when I say this, but I'll say it anyway...

Right now, it feels like no one will ever love me.

His toothbrush is still in the cup by the bathroom sink.

2012-04-28T22:40:00.003-05:00

His loofah is still in the shower.

Today, the subletter is gone, and my apartment is once again mine.

I never should have moved in with him. All I wanted was a set of keys and a 'you're welcome anytime' invitation. I should have kept my own place, and perhaps our so-called domestic bliss might have actually become a reality.

We could have been okay. I think that, even if we had just lived in the city, where I felt like my life resided, we could have been fine... happy. But, living 22 miles from friends and music made me depend on him too much.

The worst part is, [I think] I knew all that from the beginning.

But -- the temptation was too great. I wanted the picket-fence-life with the bike path, the boy, and the deer spotted view, and I wanted it now. I dove in head first, and am currently suffering the consequential head-against-cement concussion.

Somehow, in the midst of having to submit final grades and finish the term, I have to survive a move, and then another move. Within 6 weeks I should be finally settled in my new apartment in the art museum, Princess Jasmine in tow.

In the meantime... I suppose I learned a bit about myself.

I cannot handle polyamory/monogamish-ness or whatever the hell you want to call an open relationship, at least not before things in the primary relationship are stable, and really -- I think I would ultimately only want it as an exception, not a rule.

I need someone that appreciates and respects me. I need someone who lets me share the control. I need someone who is willing to give compliments, even if they seem superfluous and hyperbolic. [You don't need to tell me I'm the most gorgeous person in the world, but you do need, from time to time, to make me feel desirable.] I need someone who is open to understanding music, or least pretending to do so for my sake. I need someone who doesn't withhold... emotionally or physically. I need someone who is willing to compromise.

I certainly did my fair share of 'wrong.' I freaked out... and then: I snooped. I acted impulsively and slammed doors and ran away. I screamed. I felt ignored and betrayed and unloved and I wanted to be heard and the only way I felt I could get a reaction was with a huge crescendo.

And you know? I was right. I reached the climax, and he no longer wanted to deal with me. I probably deserve it, but still -- it hurts that he gave up, that he just doesn't care anymore.

The worst part? I feel like the broken girl; the 'damaged goods' that no one would set up on a date with a friend, because I'll just screw it up. I feel numb and unattractive and just... done.

I look around my apartment and I see him; I see things we did together and I know how much I love him, even if I also know it will never work, at least not with the impasse between the conditions we each demand. It hurts to be here, but it hurts to be there too. I can't wait for June 1 -- a 2 bedroom apartment (room for practicing! for exercising!) with a deck (I can sit outside on a hammock, with a grill and maybe some friends - assuming I still have some after all this moping), hardwood floors, and high ceilings.

A new start and a new neighborhood, with a friendly coffee shop right around the corner.

I just wish I could make the next month go a little faster.

And, I wish I was monetarily able to have someone else pack up my stuff. I'll find people to move the boxes of course (I no longer pretend I should do that alone), but looking around this 500 square feet, the thought of packing/unpacking makes me start to hyperventilate and I just have to tell myself that I don't need to deal with it for another few weeks. Maybe by the time it's a reality, I'll be capable.

Ok. It'll be ok. Certainly, I need to keep it all in perspective; there are millions of people with worse situations, and I'm actually doing alright in so many ways. I'm starting a chamber music festival, for god's sake.*

Things are going to be okay, eventually.

*I'm very proud of the way the festival is shaping up. It's the project I most enjoy these days. It's keeping me sane.

Potential

2012-03-17T20:14:00.006-05:00

This may come across as conceit, but it's actually the opposite:

I'm impressed with myself. I'm impressed that without really training, I can run a half marathon in 1:54:02 (8:42min/mi pace), putting me in the top 10% (or so) of my age group, the top 11% of females, and the top 18% of all finishers.

I'm not saying I'll ever be rock-star-fast. But, it does make me realize that, with concerted effort, I could actually be a decent runner. Most of the time, I'm self-deprecating about my athletic abilities and accomplishments to the point where they might as well not exist. But, today reminded me that I'm not simply slogging through the miles anymore; I'm really running.

As of late, I've been running hills (both on the treadmill and in-real-life). I've been doing speed work (again, both on the treadmill an in-real-life). But, my runs have been averaging 3-4 miles in length and have tended to top out around 5 or 6 miles.

I've been building my base. I can now run those 3-6 miles at an 8:00min/mi with relative ease. I can sprint up a hill at a 6:00min/mi. I figured I'd build the distance throughout the summer with the hopes of it all coming together for the Philadelphia Marathon next November 18 (which is, not coincidentally, my birthday). I had no intention of running any real distance any time soon.

But then 2+ weeks ago, Team MARATHON Bar called and asked if I would run for them down in DC today. They offered a racing shirt, a bunch of energy bars, and an entry to the race. I had to decide right away, and after about 30 seconds of hem-hawing, I said I would do it. (They asked if I would prefer the marathon instead of the half. I politely declined.)

So, in preparation, I ran a sluggish 10 miles the following weekend, and then did a few 5-6 mile runs at varying paces. I rode my bike this week to try to change up the muscles-usage. I ate a lot of pasta last night. And then I ran. Without having a real expectation or idea of what I was going to be able to do, I ran. I forgot sunglasses, a watch, gels, a hat, and body glide; my shoes are completely worn out. It turns out you actually can run without all the paraphernalia. Your feet may blister, but you can still run.

I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised by the morning's result. I know it's not breaking any speed records. Hell, it's not even breaking my own speed records (half marathon PR: 1:47). But, considering all of the above, I think I did really well. I'm proud of my residual fitness, and I'm proud of my little legs for being such troopers. The course was not flat or easy, and my hill training proved beneficial.

So, here we go. I still have the major goal of kicking my 2008 3:59:47 marathon PR substantially to the curb next November. I'm not there yet (by far), but I'm definitely on my way back. At the very least, today reminded me of my own potential.

Use Your Words

2012-03-07T10:30:00.001-05:00

On the heels of a multi-hour [calm/rational/thought-through] conversation, I feel so much lighter.

I admit: I've been a conflicted, insecure, hormonal lunatic over the past couple of weeks.

I know you can't undo actions with an apology and I know a conversation doesn't solidify a new way of being. But, it does do a great deal toward avoiding the knee-jerk sprint in the other direction (from either partner). And right now, with a couple of tweaks regarding learning how to live together and communicate effectively, I feel like there is possibility of a happy future together.

I've never had this ability/willingness to talk through things, and I'm realizing how much I treasure it. In the past, things have boiled over and then crashed into a dead-end wall. I'm hoping that, in this case, it's not too late to take a different path.

Normalcy, please.

2012-03-05T14:37:00.003-05:00

When did I become one of the fringe?

I just want to sip a cup of coffee with my husband on a Saturday morning, knowing that we'll go for a bike ride together sometime during the weekend, and that we'll watch a movie Saturday night with a glass or two of wine. I don't need a picket fence, but I do need [lots of] stability and security and sexuality and dammit I need [a little bit of] fun.

I feel so damn judged... unappreciated, unwanted, discredited. Yet, I wonder how much of it is actually his fault. He's certainly never pretended to be anyone he's not, but can I say the same about myself?

He's pushing me in certain directions, and I can't know yet if I want to go. I know I'm in significant pain, but is it unhappiness, or growing pains?

I wish someone could give me answers. I wish I could talk to him right now and tell him everything I want to tell everyone else. [So many pages written. All things I want to say but shouldn't.]

I can talk to him (he'd listen - not now, but later), but then it would be one more strike of the match and pretty soon we're going to fire each other.

I'm not ready for that.

Misread

2012-02-19T12:40:00.001-05:00

"Oh, but I thought you wanted to be a music administrator now?"

"...?"

"Your chamber music festival. I thought that you were starting it because you felt frustrated with auditions and wanted to move toward music administration."

To clear up any miscommunication: I am frustrated with auditions. Black and white proclamations are kind of useless, but for now at least, I don't feel that I want to take auditions. But, I still want to play the flute. OF COURSE I still want to play.

It's just that, instead of waiting for the phone to ring (instead of endlessly practicing the same 30 second excerpts) I'm taking control a bit more. [I've said this before, but I'd be damned before I waited around for some guy to call. So why have I been so content to take a passive role in my career?]

So, I'm raising some money, calling some friends, and making music in a place I love. That's what I want to be doing, so why not just do it? It might not be the romantic idea of the orchestral career I once dreamed, but hell -- it's a start, it's something I believe in, and it's something that excites me. I don't see how I could really be going wrong...

In any case, it's not the particulars that were actually all that bothersome -- it was more the idea that someone I thought knew me very well, one of the people I feel closest to, could just be so extravagantly wrong about something fundamental to who I am.

It made me think about all the misconceptions out there, because there are plenty (that should go without saying, I guess). But ultimately, what defines us? Are we who we think ourselves to be? Or are we someone else's interpretation? We're both, I suppose.

It's that same philosophy question we were all asked in high school -- art: who decides what is and isn't defined as such?

And so, it's kind of sophomoric to think too much about it. I suppose the ultimate realization this time around simply has to do with the fact that I'd rather be understood than not-so. It's important to me that (at least the influential people in my life) have some degree of accuracy in their understanding of who I am.

I'm not sure what that means in real-time, but I suppose I'll start with just attempting to be more clear. And just as important: I'm going to try harder to make sure that I'm accurate in my judgements (in the best sense of the word) of others.

Aren't I such a good person?

Big Things

2012-01-29T19:01:00.000-05:00

I swallow food in great, big gulps. I drink fast and read faster.

I biked across the country, earned the terminating academic degree in my field, and completed an IronMan Triathlon -- all within 3 years.

When I decide to do something, I do it.

Sometimes that's good, and other times it produces blinders that make it hard to see everything for what it really is.

Regardless, I love my big adventures. I love setting my mind to something and then just thinking about it non-stop until I conquer it.

New project: Pikes Falls Chamber Music Festival

I haven't felt this alive in quite a while.