Month: June 2016

Daily Post 123: First Adult Decision of Unemployment

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I am now part of the ranks of the unemployed.

 

I finished up wiping my laptop yesterday morning. I went to school to print out emails. I used to have a folder on my laptop. “Good Stuff”. It was where I kept all of the good emails I had received over the four years I worked there. Thank you emails for something I had done. The nominations I got for the PROPS award. Congratulations emails for different things I achieved. You know… good stuff that made me feel warm and fuzzy.

 

I printed out all of those emails so I could keep them. I got to see Donna while I was upstairs printing things out. And Steve. I got to say goodbye to them.

 

I had hoped to get to the gym after printing my emails out, but I didn’t have time. Instead I had to go over to the HR department and do my exit interview. It was pretty painless. They explained how my benefits would work. They explained my 401k. I filled out a survey and then, at the  very end, she gave me a sheet and said if I wanted to, no obligation, I could write about my time at Full Sail.

 

I thought about it for a minute. I thought about not writing and just leaving things as they are / were. But I ended up taking the piece of paper and I wrote. I wrote and wrote and wrote.

 

“People are not cogs.” Was the very first line.

 

I wrote about how I spent two weeks sleeping in a hospital room being grateful that my mom woke up each morning, breathing. I wrote how I was lucky enough to have had two weeks of vacation time to cover my absence. I wrote about how mom died and I had to spend a week waiting for her ashes. A week I had to use sick time to cover for. I wrote about how I had to fly on a plane with mom’s ashes to South Carolina where I spent another week visiting people, consoling them, and setting up the memorial service. A week I was given bereavement time for.

 

I wrote about how when I finally got back home that I took a week off to begin my grieving and to try to figure out my life. A week I wasn’t paid for. A week my supervisor wrote a personal check to cover for me so I could pay my expenses. A check I paid back using my inheritance money.

 

I wrote how it didn’t matter that I was a PROPS recipient, or that I worked, unpaid, after hours to help my students. It didn’t matter that while being a full-time employee I was also working on a Digital Graphics degree. The only thing the school had cared about was that I wasn’t being a diligent cog and grinding away in the machine. Because I was being human I didn’t deserve to get paid.

 

I wrote how I wouldn’t be coming back to the school. That during this event that I deserved to not have to worry about how I was going to pay rent. I deserved to not have to worry about losing my home  after just having lost my mom. I shouldn’t have had to choose between my family, my well being, and my pay check.

 

I signed and dated my paper, placed my pencil down with most likely too much force, and slid the paper to the woman.

 

Her: “You wrote a lot.”

Me: “Yeah. It’s not the happiest letter.”

Her: “That’s ok. It doesn’t have to be.”

 

It was cathartic. It was my “fuck you” to the school. I’m not leaving because of my boss. I’m leaving because the school did nothing to support me, help me, care for me. All of the things I had done in the past to prove that I was a worthwhile employee, a worthwhile person, meant nothing.

 

Fine. I don’t have to stay. I don’t  have to chain myself to a place that disregards my input and treats me like a number, like an inanimate object. I’m a human. I deserve to be treated like a human. With love. Compassion. Understanding. Respect. And I refuse to accept anything less than that.

 

So that was done. After the interview I went to lab, which was the longest lab I have ever sat through. Clavan came in and asked if I wanted to do dinner afterward. I said yes. At least getting dinner would let me get a drink. It would give me something to mark my last day. An act of clousre.

 

After lab was done I walked out of the building, turned around, and took a picture of the doors that I have walked in and out of for the last six years of my life. I posted the picture on Facebook  saying thank you for an amazing six years. Even with all of the BS that happened during my time at the school I still feel like I grew a lot as a person. I have met life long friends that I’m not going to lose touch with. I don’t want to undo or change any of my time. I’m sad for it to be ending, but I’m happy that it happened and there are several moments I will cherish.

 

I walked over to Clavan’s office. I saw Joe while I was leaving, my boss’s boss.  We said our farewells and that was it. Clavan and I ended up going to my sports bar. I had an Angry Orchard. It helped me relax. It was  nice to have someone to share a drink with because I didn’t want to have a drink alone, but I really wanted a drink. It was only one. I was fine to drive. I wasn’t smashed or anything.

 

When we were leaving he gave me another hug. He, too, said I was a beautiful soul and that he knew I would do well. Queue mini cry session in my car. What is it with people telling me I’m a beautiful soul? I guess that’s going to be one of my truths.

 

I’m Jennifer Conley and I am a beautiful soul.

 

I need to meditate more on that one. Just like I need to meditate more on “I really will be ok”. In general I need to meditate.

 

Anyway…

 

I came back to my room and felt lonely. Sad. I was beginning to process through everything. I had also been messaging Warren #1 for most of the day, explaining my feelings about V. That’s another thing I’m having to process through.

 

I messaged V the other night and the conversation ended up turning to goodbyes and I said how he was going to be one of the people I miss. He said, “It’ll be ok.” And the weird thing is… I believe him. One way or another it will work out however it’s supposed to work out.

 

That mentality is reinforced by a dream I had last night. I don’t remember much about it. The details are already fading. But I was me. I was thin, healthy, the me I picture after a few months at the dojang and conditioning like I want. I was walking towards a building. I don’t remember what it was for. I remember I was  dressed nice. In heels I think. I remember something happening at the building and walking away from it. The more I think about it the more I think it was school for some reason. Maybe that’s just me filling in details that I shouldn’t be.

 

Anyway I was walking away from the building. I think there were people around. Like, it was an audition or something. And people were outside waiting. I remember walking by a person. There was a table with shoes on it. It might have only been one shoe. I only remember one being important, but it would have been silly to not have at least a pair…

 

The person was crying. They were overweight. They were sad and nervous. What if they didn’t make it? What if they weren’t good enough? Self-doubt. Insecurity. All things I feel and face daily. I think this person, too, was me, though I wasn’t playing her role in the dream.

 

Thin me stood by the table. I remember picking up a shoe. It was a high heel. Red. There was an ankle strap with feathers or some sort of fluff around it. It wasn’t a shoe I would wear, but I held it and sort of played with it  while I talked to the other women.

 

“It’s about trying. It doesn’t matter if you win. It matters that you tried and did your best. Be happy with you and it will be ok.”

 

I woke up knowing that the dream was about V and myself. I don’t know why or how I know, but I do. I feel a bit more secure, but it’s still something I need to meditate on. I’m really slacking off on the whole meditation, figuring my shit out, thing. I guess that’s why I’m taking a year off. To figure it all out.

 

Last night ended up being alright. I eventually got up, ordered a pizza, went to the store and got booze, then came home and played Witcher III for about 30 minutes before going to sleep. Chill night. Nothing major happened. I would have rather spent it as a blanket burrito being hugged by someone, but alas, I don’t have that option. Instead I ordered a brownie with my pizza because for once I actually did want some chocolate in my life.

 

First Adult Decision of Unemployment

Pizza and Strong Bow
with a brownie
followed by gaming

 

Seems like a legit adult decision.

 

Today feels like a low day. Like a sad day. We’ll see how it turns out.

 

Daily Post 122: Another Truth

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Today my day is the remnants of yesterday. Today my day is better. Today my day is apprehension about tomorrow. Today my day is a day.

 

The night before last was hard. I slept curled around mom’s urn again as I cried myself to sleep. I slept deeply once I was able to, but I didn’t sleep enough. I had to wake up early for a dentist appointment which left half my face numb for the whole day. After my appointment I should have called in and said I wouldn’t be at work. I knew it wouldn’t end well for me if I continued on with everything I had scheduled.

 

Instead I drove to Sir’s apartment and did laundry. I got to watch Game of Thrones, which was worth it, but by the time laundry was done I had 30 minutes to get to school. Not enough time to go home, or shower, or change clothes. It didn’t help that there was traffic on the interstate, so I was late. Later than I would have been originally because since I was already late I stopped and got food.

 

I sat through lab. I saw Clavan towards the end. He hugged me and thanked me for his gift. It was hard not to cry. It was already a hard day without the prodding of a looming farewell in my future. I had the beginnings of a headache, one that I knew was going to turn into a migraine. I was talking to a friend and explaining how I was sad, to which he kept suggesting things to try to cheer me up. I didn’t want to be cheered up, though. There’s no “cheering up” when I miss mom because unless mom can magically come back the only thing I can do is breathe through the pain and loneliness. Distractions don’t work for me. Understanding does. I know he meant well but I wanted someone to listen rather than to give me suggestions.

 

My younger brother gave me that. I told him I was sad and that yesterday was hard.  He said that he understood and was sorry. He gave me a virtual hug and I cried silent tears as I told him I felt alone even though I was in a room full of people. He responded with he understood how that felt, too. We shared in our loss. We shared in our grief, and that small sentence of, “I understand how you feel,” did more to help me feel connected than the paragraphs of text my other friend was sending me.

 

I needed to be heard. I needed to say, “I’m sad,” and for it to not be a bad thing that needed to be fixed. This isn’t something that is ever going to be fixed. I have sad days and I want to be able to share that with people and for it to not need correcting. I want it to be ok to be sad, because if it’s as ok as everyone keeps telling me it is, then it should be ok rather than lip service.

 

I think yesterday was so much harder than it needed to be because I didn’t drink enough water. I didn’t drink to replenish what I had cried away the night before. I didn’t eat until too late into the day, and even then I didn’t eat enough. I had an appointment and should have been kind to myself and taken the rest of the day off. I should have gone back home and slept more. I should have done everything differently. I can’t barrel through my days the way I used to. I’m not emotionally or physically in a place where I can do that. If I wear myself down too much physically the depression will creep back in. The sadness. The loneliness. They’re so much harder to contend with when I have nothing in my body to defend against them.

 

And so yesterday, after spending the day disregarding my body’s gentle reminders to take care of myself I ended up with a migraine which kept me in bed for the rest of the  night. No gym. No writing. No preplanning for today. Just silence and darkness and hoping that sleep would eventually come and give me peace.

 

I slept most of the night. I only woke up a few times to eat and drink water. I woke up at 9 this morning thinking that would be enough time to have a good breakfast before therapy, only to realize my appointment was at 10 rather than 11.

 

I didn’t eat breakfast, but I’m ok with that. I made up for it later. I barely made it to therapy on time.  I don’t feel like I made any progress or revelations today. Right now the four year old inside myself is scared and I need to tend to her. That’s basically what today amounted to.

 

I’m scared of leaving Orlando because it feels like I’m losing everyone here. It feels like I’ll lose them like I lost mom. That they’ll just stop existing. That they’ll be dead and I don’t want that. I’m so… I don’t know… worried, terrified, hurt, sad at the thought of not seeing the people I care about ever again. I don’t want to lose more people in my life because I just lost mom. I’ve already lost such a huge part of my life. I don’t want to lose any more. And it feels like I’m going to when I leave.

 

We talked about how that yes, there will be a loss when I move, but it’s not the same as how I lost mom. That’s what I have to make my inner child understand. It’s hard though. It’s hard to change a mentality.

 

Logically I understand it’s different.

 

Emotionally my brain gives zero fucks about logic. Emotionally I know this change is painful and pain is bad and bad things should be avoided so I should avoid change. Moving is causing pain so there’s an aversion to it now. Now that it’s real, that the emotions are real, it’s something my inner, injured self wants to pull  away from.

 

I know this is part of the process. I know this is how I grow and change and move forward. Anything worth having is outside of my comfort zone. Trust me I know all of these great, inspirational, spiritual quotes about change and being strong and moving forward…  I get it. I do.

 

Right now I feel like throwing my hands up and screaming in frustration. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m hoping it works out. I’m hoping it’s worth it. I’m hoping it’s right. Hope is a lot like blind faith. Why is it that I was hard core set on this decision, but now that it’s go time I’m second guessing myself and worrying and freaking out over nothing? Why do emotions have to be illogical? Why can’t they just behave and go back into their designated boxes? Why can’t something just be emotionally easy for a little bit? Why do I get frustrated with myself for feeling? Why can’t I allow myself to feel without giving myself shit for it? I’m pretty sure that was something I was supposed to be working on…

 

It’s not goodbye. This, me leaving, isn’t goodbye. I’m going to visit Orlando and see most everyone again. Why am I making such a big deal out of moving when I’ve wanted to move for so long now?

 

I’m not going to back out of it. I’m going to move. Everything is set into motion already. It’s too late to back out of it even if I wanted to.

 

I talked to John, the property manage for the apartment. I stopped by the office after my therapy session. I told him about the fight Zane and I had, how I wasn’t signed off the lease and how I don’t think I would be able to be signed off even if Zane had filled out the paperwork. I asked what would happen when I moved and wasn’t around to sign the documents. John was understanding and looked into the situation for me and we have a solution now. When / if Zane brings someone in to sign the lease they will sign everything on their end, a copy will be scanned and emailed to me, I will sign things on my end, have it notarized, and then sent back with a copy of my ID. This will include the roommate release paperwork so everything gets done in one go.

 

I’m happy with that. So at least I can leave Orlando knowing that there’s still an out. And I’m still not financially contributing to the apartment. It’s been three months since all of this started. Three months for Zane to figure something out. I’m not going to feel sorry or guilty. If he wanted me to keep paying rent he shouldn’t have taken my room away from me. I’m still angry. I know one day in my near-ish future I will move past this point. I will no longer feel anger or injustice when I think of him, but right now I still give power to that part of my past, and I’m not at a point where I want to meditate on it. I’m ok with anger at the moment because at least I’m not directing it inwards towards myself.

 

After settling the apartment stuff I went to my sports bar for lunch. I didn’t have my laptop with me so it was a quick stop. Just eating. No working which was actually a nice change of pace.

 

I went back home afterwards. I showered, changed, went to work. I took my external hard drive with me so I could begin cleaning up my laptop. I have to turn it in tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow is my last day of work. Tomorrow there will be no fanfare. Tomorrow I will go in, work, then leave as if nothing special or important were happening. Nothing significant. It will be like any other day. I don’t know how I feel about that fact. I want to mark it somehow. Some way. Maybe a picture as lame as that is. Maybe I’ll write sitting on the curb in front of my building. The building I walked in and out of for six years of my life. Almost a third of my life… It’s sort of crazy to think of it like that.

 

Tomorrow begins my week of farewells. A week of gaming really. I’m going to have so much time on my hands I’m not going to know what to do with myself. I’m going to sleep and wake up when I want to. I’m going to go to the gym when I want to. I’m going to message people and see if they want to hang out one last time. I’m going to figure out my travel plans. I’m going to organize my things and pack my storage unit. I’m going to play laser tag with the people who care enough to be there. And then on the 11th I’m going to begin a two week trip.  A two week trip that will end at home. True home. Real home.

 

My home.

 

I want that so much. Thinking about the farewells hurts, but when I think of what is past those, past the hurt, I smile. I feel happy. I look forward to it. My herb garden. My dojang. My kitchen with my pots and knife set and dish rack. My walk in shower.

 

I want to be there. I want to go through the exit interview. I want to go through the farewells. I want to go through the traveling.

 

I want to go home.

 

And so I guess the biggest part of today is reminding myself that it’s worth it. This pain. It’s worth it. There are things past it. I lose sight of that sometimes. I get caught up in the now. I get caught up in focusing on only the hurt that I forget that there’s a tomorrow. I forget that I’ll be able to hug Jason again. I forget that I’ll see Master Sue again. I forget that there’s all of this positive stuff waiting for me because the only thing I can think of, the only thing I can focus on, is that I’m having to let go.

 

It’s that moment of jumping from one platform to another. There’s that moment when you’re in the air, caught inbetween, and you wonder if you’ve jumped hard enough, far enough, to make it to the other side. You wonder, question, if you made the right choice.

 

I know I have. I know I’ll land. I know I’ll stand up afterwards and wonder why I was so scared. But I haven’t landed yet. I’m still in the air, wishing I had solid earth under my feet. I’m still worried that it wasn’t enough. I know where I’m at, and I know where I’ll be.

 

I just have to breathe and let it happen. I have to trust myself. I have to love myself. I have to hug my inner four year old self and tell her it really will be ok, because it really will be ok. I have to accept that as one of my truths.

 

My name is Jennifer Conley and I really will be ok.

 

Daily Post 121: Internet Willing…

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Yesterday went well.

 

I left “home” around 9:30. I’m going to call my extended stay home because that’s lazier faster than typing out extended stay.

 

I was able to run by school and print a few things out, including my tattoo concept, though that’s a whole ‘nother post for a different time. The locksmith still hadn’t called me so I ran over to the post office. I needed to mail out the promissory note to the bank I had my original car loan. I finally got the address for that. While I was there I checked my PO box but the new checks hadn’t come in yet.

 

I’m having to overnight the note since it took so long to get the address, but that’s fine. As long as it gets taken care of. I got the phone call I was waiting for while I was standing in line. The locksmith would be at the unit in about 30 minutes. Perfect. I could totally be there in time. So I finished  up what I was doing and headed over to the U-Haul site.

 

The locksmith sawed off my lock, which was pretty interesting to see. Sad to think that it’s so easy to break into things. I was able to put some stuff into my unit finally, which allowed me to clean up my car. I was also able to finally retrieve things, including my desktop computer.

 

<3 so much <3

 

By the time I was done playing with all my stuff I didn’t have much time before work. I dashed back home to put all of my techy stuff into the room  so it wouldn’t roast in my car, showered, then headed to work. It wasn’t until I was parking in the parking lot that I realized I  had forgotten my badge on my table. So much fail. >.<;

 

I was still able to get into school and David was awesome enough to let me use his badge to go to the break room to eat my lunch. Overall work went well. I got to reply to several emails, updated a bunch of stuff, and in general was able to keep busy enough that I didn’t need Facebook as a distraction.

 

After class I saw James outside. He’s in his first month  of Finals. We chatted for a while before I said I needed to go to the gym. Got all the way there, was actually walking into the building when I realized not only did I leave my badge at home, but also my headphones…

 

For serious, Universe? Fuuuuu….

 

I knew that I most likely wouldn’t go  back out if I went home. So I sort of made peace with the fact that I most likely wouldn’t be working out and instead went to the grocery store. When I got home I went about setting up my computer. It still works!!!! Yay!!!!

 

There was a moment of sadness when I booted it up. The web browser was still on the page where I had purchased my plane ticket to Vegas. It was a sobering moment, but I closed out of the tab. That moment happened and I won’t forget it, but it is in my past. It’s ok to close those tabs and to move forward. So I did.

 

I started installing Witcher III and Star Craft II since I found the box for that in my storage unit. Sometimes you just want to make a giant army and kill things…

 

Anyway, while that was going I thought about how it would be cool to do yoga in the room, but that with the way it was arrange there wasn’t really the space for it… so I rearranged my room. I love it. There’s a giant open space in the center now, and I spent  about 25 minutes doing a routine for posture. I know that my back and shoulders have rounded over the past months. Not surprising that my heart chakra is closed off with everything that’s been going on.

 

Well… last night I started taking steps to correct that. It’s always interesting to see where the body stores stress. The tendons along the top of my hands and fingers… who knew?

 

I tried upgrading my internet to the higher speed but I don’t think it worked since I’m still trying to download updates… So much lame. I’m going to go to the office once I’m done writing to figure it out. I want me my games, yo….

 

Aside from work I’m not really sure what’s going to be going on today. I need to call my eye place and have them order a supply of contacts for me since I like using them at the gym. I guess that means I need to find a decent pair of sunglasses. The gym needs to happen at some point today. Laundry would be a good thing. You know… that whole, “having clean clothes,” thing…

 

Not a whole lot to get done though… I think I’m pretty ok with that. I want to have some chill time where I can game. I think I’ll get that today…. Internet gods willing….

Daily Post 120: A Mostly Normal Post

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I rewrote my about section the other day. Not sure why I find that important now, but I do. I guess my brain is trying to play catch-up with life.

 

I’ve cooked breakfast, cup of coffee included. I wish I had a toaster oven. I might see if someone has an extra they can let me borrow for the few weeks I’ll still be here. It’s scary. In two weeks I’ll be leaving.

 

I have an appointment with a locksmith today to unlock my storage unit. Through all of the moving around I’ve done since being back in Orlando I managed to lose my storage unit keys. Much lame. I already bought a new lock. I did that while I was reserving the UBox for my stuff. That’s on the 8th… Again, so close… so many mixed emotions.

 

Because the end is coming so soon I’ve been trying to find closure with some of the people in my life. I’ve reached out to Jarrett twice to see if I could say goodbye to him in person. He hasn’t responded to my messages so I’m guessing that’s not going to happen. I did what I could so I have not regrets or residual feelings. It would have been nice to wish him well in life and to not have animosity between us for the break up. He’s another ex who owes me roughly $1000.

 

I tried to reach out to Chad as well. I don’t think I ever wrote about him. He was prominent in my life while I was dating Corey. In the timeline of my dating life that was before Warren #2 (the second time), before Jarrett, before Sir, before Zane. Chad and I never dated, but there was undeniable chemistry between us which we both felt. Which I ignored. It’s one of the things I wonder on sometimes. What would have happened if we had dated? There was / is a lot between us and I wanted to reach out to him and let him know even though we haven’t talked in years that he was an important person in my life. I wanted to say goodbye to him in person. I haven’t heard back from him though, so I guess that’s not going to happen either.

 

Again, I tried everything I could to facilitate a meeting. If it doesn’t happen then it doesn’t happen. I can only do my best.

 

I saw Zane yesterday. That led to mixed emotions. He had a few thing I needed to pick up from the apartment; a blanket my mom had bought me while I was a freshmen in high school, Scarlet’s flea comb, and a tablet pen and well that I need to return to the school during my exit interview on Friday.

 

I had stopped by after going to the gym yesterday. He wasn’t home and I was ok with that. I had forgotten to stop by the bank, though. We went over our data usage again because of me listening to Spotify, which I don’t regret or feel bad for. If we go over I pay the overage fee. So I needed to leave money at the apartment for the payment and had forgotten to go to the bank first. It wasn’t on my to-do list.

 

By the time I got back to the apartment Zane was walking in with the groceries he had gotten. I know he saw me pull up. It was frustrating and I feel disrespectful how he kept walking away from me. Looking back on it, he most likely didn’t know I had already been to the apartment and gotten my things. He most likely thought that I still had to come inside. But I didn’t. I wanted to hand him the money and leave and instead I had to “chase” him into the apartment to give it to him.

 

He was extremely nice and friendly to me and the whole time all I could think of was how he yelled and cursed at me on the phone last Saturday. How he had Sara over while I was in Vegas and lied to me about it. How he admitted to taking advantage of my need for human contact. How he had wanted to “be my friend.”

 

I couldn’t be nice back, so instead I was quiet.

 

When he wished me a good day I turned and left, not saying anything in return. I didn’t wish him a good day. I wish him nothing. I’m still too angry and hurt. I don’t wish anything negative anymore but I guess I’m still too low to wish him a happy life because I don’t feel like someone who can be that inconsiderate, that selfish, deserves happiness. I feel like he should feel the pain he put me through, that he put Nic through, that he’s most likely going to put Sara through. I want him to understand what it feels like. And maybe that’s selfishness on my part.

 

I don’t know. That’s where I am with that right now. There shouldn’t be another reason for me to see him again aside from signing paperwork. I’m giving him until Friday to switch his phone over to his own account. If not then I’m going to send a reminder about it, explaining the only options I have available are to disconnect the line which would terminate his service.

 

Anywho…

 

Seeing him led to all sorts of mixed up feelings. I came back to the extended stay and cried a little. I wrote, which helped. Afterwards I went to Sir’s place and watched Batman Bad Blood and last week’s Game of Thrones episode. I was pretty ok with everything that happened. I love the Hound.

 

I don’t think a whole lot is going to happen today. I have the storage unit to take care of. Currently waiting on the guy to call me, but that shouldn’t be until around 10ish. I have work at 1pm. At some point I want to go to the gym. I need to run to the grocery store for a few things, but nothing overly major.

 

I think I’m going to set my computer up and get a controller so I can play Witcher III. I think that will give me something to occupy my time with. Something I actually want to be doing. I’ve kicked the idea of cross stitching around, but I don’t have it in my at the moment.

 

Today is the first official day of summer. It doesn’t feel different in Florida. There isn’t an energy shift. It’s been “summer” for months.

 

Oh. Something else that happened. I got contacts. I’m not going to wear them constantly. Only when I’m at the gym or doing crazy taekwondo / aikido stuff. I figured it would be beneficial to my glasses to not put them in harms way.

 

So I guess this is a public service announcement… foreign objects on your eyeballs feel weird. >.<

 

That’s about it though. Going to go finish my coffee and shower so I can get the day started. Looking forward to killing me some ghouls and bandits.

Musing Moment 096: Today My Grief Is…

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I’m sitting outside of my extended stay. There’s a pretty busy road that runs in front of it. It’s windy outside because the sky keeps threatening to rain. It did earlier, while I was trying to put air in my tires. A task that has been on my to-do list for some time now, which sadly is still undone. Not due to the rain… but because the machine was out of order at the gas stationed I stopped at.

 

Today my grief feels like waiting. Today my grief feels like holding my breath and counting down the days until I have to say goodbye.

 

I don’t like waiting. And I don’t like goodbyes, so currently it feels like there is sandpaper underneath my skin, rubbing, scratching, scrapping, and I don’t know how to get it to stop. I don’t know what will alleviate this sensation. What will heal it. Ease it. Make it go away and leave me in peace.

 

The question of, “Is this an insecurity?” answered with a “yes,” doesn’t do much to help me. I don’t like thinking of myself as insecure. I don’t like thinking of myself as weak.

 

I’ve been told to think of it as, “I’ll see you next time.” But what if there isn’t a next time? What do I do then?

 

Not everyone is meant to stay for forever. Some people are temporary, walking with us for a time, and then leaving to continue on their on path. I know that about life. I accept it as a fact. So why, then? Why does it still hurt to think of some of these people not being in my life any longer? If I accept something as truth, how is it I still resist it?

 

Today my grief feels like sadness.

 

Today my grief isn’t about mom. Today my grief is about the future and where I’m going to end up and what I’ll have to do to get there. Today is another day where I question if what I am doing is right.

 

I know it is. I know once I am in Vegas and with family and going to the dojang, once I am doing the things that I feel will fulfill me, I know I’ll be ok. I’m not good at transitioning. I worry when I do. I fret.

 

Maybe today is a bit about mom because normally when I feel this way I call her. I would ask for her advice. I would spew all of the things I feel into the air, letting them go, knowing that someone was hearing my fears and that I was understood.

 

I haven’t found a replacement for that. No one can replace mom.

 

The gym helped a little. Maybe that’s why it was easier to cry earlier. And I feel better for having cried. For having let the emotions out, but where do I go from here? Where am I in the landscape of my mind? Physically I am sitting on a sidewalk in the shade watching the cars drive by. I’m watching people continue on with their lives as if none of my confliction matters. And in the vastness of the universe I suppose it doesn’t. Things will continue on as they are. People will live. People will die. Trees will grow. Planets will turn. Stars will shine. Rain will fall.

 

My sadness, my fear, isn’t going to stop any of that from happening. The only thing it will do is take away from my peace of mind. It will take away from my present and what I could be experiencing right now.

 

I want to feel fulfilled and yet I don’t know how to do that yet. What will make me happy? I don’t know. And my knee jerk reaction to that question is nothing. My life is barren. My life is pointless. All life is pointless without mom.

 

My grief is loneliness.

 

My grief is wondering when I will wake up and feel whole and like myself again. It’s realizing that I’ll most likely never be back there ever again. I’ll never be able to go back to who I was, how I felt, before mom died. This is the new me. This is matriarch me. This realness that I feel within myself… This is something that isn’t going to go away. I don’t know what to do with it yet. I don’t know how it fits into my identity, and with everything else I’m still having to figure out I guess it’s no wonder that I don’t know where it goes.

 

Who am I?

 

My grief is questioning.

 

I don’t know who I am. I know my name. The name I was given. What does that name mean, though? What does that name represent? What type of picture would be drawn of me through my characteristics and personality traits?

 

That’s fractured for me at the moment. With the ending of a relationship, an intimate connection, I am filled with hateful veil words that I have to work through. Am I those things? I don’t want to be. I don’t want to think of myself as a negative person. But I question myself. I question if they’re right. I know their words are most likely just hatefulness meant to hurt me. But it’s working. I’m letting it work. I’m letting myself entertain the idea that maybe they’re right. Maybe their words are truth.

 

I don’t want them to be truth. I don’t want their words to be part of my portrait. So If I don’t want that then why am I letting it happen? All I have to say is, “This isn’t me,” and be done with it. Let the words go. Let them run off of me like so much water.

 

But I’m not and that’s why they hurt. I’m holding on to them. I think on them, my mind cycling on them, over and over. I cut my ego with these knives, these words, when really I should let them go. I should put them down and move on.

 

I wonder if it’s a process, this letting go. I am done with the relationship. Truly I have made peace with that aspect of my situation. But the words… does it take longer to heal from those? I suppose the first step is to remove the offending object from the wound. It’s hard to heal when you keep stabbing yourself, right? So if I make peace with these comments, if I stop stabbing myself with them, then I can start to heal? Maybe?

 

My hair, a small piece of it keeps blowing against my face with the wind. It reminds me of how I shaved my head. How that was symbolic for me. Returning to my roots. Returning to me. So much has grown in the past year and half. So much has happened during that time.

 

I am still me. I don’t think we ever become different people. Yes, we do change. Our priorities shift. Our morals may fluctuate. What we cherish and deem as important… We’re dynamic, but, in the end, we are always the same soul.

 

I don’t want my soul to turn to one of apathy. Anger. Regret. Hate.

 

I want to love and be compassionate and I want to remain as I was at my core. I want to remain a beautiful soul, and I guess part of that is accepting that there is a beauty to sadness. Sadness is not in itself a bad thing. It is part of the balance. It’s how we appreciate and understand when we’re happy. The contrast between the two… It allows us to understand others. Empathize, connect, bond. It allows us to grow. It allows us the solitude to think and figure things out. It’s the stillness, the quiet. The loneliness.

 

I need to keep being kind to myself. It’s still less than three months. My official year of mourning hasn’t started yet. Not until I’m in Vegas, still a month off into the future. I’ve made a lot of progress and I feel I have done relatively well given my situation, but the true healing… that I have been waiting to start. In my head it hasn’t started happening yet, and maybe that is improper of me. Maybe that is discounting everything I have achieved so far. I can still start my year officially once I have moved and still accept that I have begun healing and moving forward.

 

I guess that’s something else to keep in mind. This chapter of my life isn’t over. I can’t move to the next one without closure and closure hasn’t happened yet. But that doesn’t mean that some parts of the story can’t overlap. I am still in Orlando, but I have still had experiences here. Experiences that have helped build me up and realize things about myself. Things that have healed new and old wounds alike.

 

Today my grief is waiting, but sitting outside and having written, my fingers moving over the keyboard as my eyes watch the cars going and going, I’m aware of how it is a nice day, and that I should be enjoying it. I have dinner to look forward to. I have a hello in my near future to combat the sadness. I have people who are warm and loving and caring and who accept me even when I am sad.

 

I have love in my life. Love and support I am grateful for. And that makes today worth it. That makes being awake and showered and dressed wroth it. Knowing that I have people who love me unconditionally.

 

That fills me with a feeling of acceptance and calmness. Maybe not happiness, but a realness. I am loved. This is a fact. I accept this as a truth about me.

 

I am Jennifer Conley and I am loved.

Daily Post 119: A Truce for Now

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Today has started. I don’t really know what I’m feeling. Not productive. Not energetic. I’m awake and I feel like that should count towards something.

 

After writing last night I slept roughly 12 hours. I woke up a handful of times but wasn’t conscious for very long. It was night. It was dark. There was no reason to be awake even though I had gone to sleep so early. I allowed myself to slip back into sleep. I didn’t give myself crap for sleeping. I embraced it, willed it, and enjoyed the thought of not worrying about anything. Whatever there was could wait. Would wait. This was what I wanted to do.

 

And now I’m awake. Not really early, but before noon. Extra points for that one maybe?

 

There’s not much to do today and so I’m left sort of trying to figure out what I want to do with myself.

 

I’ve done the dishes already. The plastic-ware really. Since I’m in the extended stay I got plastic containers to keep food in along with plastic silverware. I enjoy doing dishes by hand, so I’m not put off by not having a dishwasher. It’s been a little hard to care over the past week, though. The plastic-ware sat in the sink since I don’t remember when. Most likely about a week.

 

Each time I passed by the sink I would think I should clean them. And I wouldn’t. Why should I? There was this layer of apathy over everything. The clothes haven’t been put away yet. An empty water bottle has sat on my nightstand for days.

 

I don’t think anything has really changed inside of the landscape of my mind. I am still batting around the thought of, “It is not my place to feel ashamed.”

 

I feel like a cat and the thought is a little plastic ball with a bell inside. The thought keeps my attention as I pass it back and forth between my paws, my attention laser focused but not really sure what to do.

 

I got out of bed. I did what I needed to do in Dragonvale, a game I started a month or so before mom’s hospitalization. I’ve kept playing it, maybe not as hardcore as I did in the beginning, but it’s been something my brain can poke at. A distraction at times. So yeah, I cleared out all of my coins, grew new food, and hatched all of my eggs. I got another Jet dragon. It would be nice to get a fourth so I have even numbers still. Three is just so weird. All odd numbers are weird… except five. Five is ok in my book.

 

I charged my laptop since it had died during the night. I washed the dishes so I could have a clean cup for my coffee. I’m currently sipping at it as I type. At the moment I am boiling eggs so I can make tuna.

 

I’m happy with what I’ve been able to do so far today, but it’s still before noon and I know I really aught to do more with my time. With myself.

 

I guess this is as good a place as any to figure it out. I feel low energy today. So what are low energy things I can do?

 

I want to do yoga at the gym today. I want to do one of the routines that I don’t currently have on my phone so I’ll need to transfer it. I want to do a morning routine, a wake up routine. Something soft and gentle. I think I would like to go running after that. Last time I ran I shaved a minute off my run time. It’s the first time that I’ve “improved” since before mom died. I’ve been so sporadic with going to the gym and what I actually do while I’m there that I was surprised I had only slipped back to my 20 minute pace. The best I’ve ever done was 14 minutes I think. Maybe only 15, but still, the point is I know I can do better. I have done better.

 

There’s a part of me that wants to disregard my 19 minute pace. But I’m not going to. Yeah. I have done better in the past. But you know what, I’m not in the past. I’m here, and here I was doing 20 minute miles and last time I did a 19. I’m not going to turn a blind eye to improvement, even if it is small. We all start somewhere and sometimes we have to start over. It was the first “good” run I felt like I’ve done since mom died. It was good to feel sore and like I pushed myself. It was good to see that effort reflected in my time.

 

So yeah… some gentle yoga to warm up, then a run. Maybe I’ll sit in the sauna as a reward before showering and getting lunch at my sports bar. I want to put the clothes away finally. I need to call the bank I had my old car loan through. I need the address to send the promissory note.

 

I also told Sir and Em I would come over tonight / today. Maybe that could be around dinner time. Maybe I could con them into watching last weeks Game of Thrones episode since I still haven’t seen it. It will be nice to cuddle with Scarlet since I haven’t spent much time with her. I miss my cat cuddles.

 

I feel like I’m sitting today. Not standing, not running, not fighting, not falling to the ground, bloodied and beaten.

 

I feel clean, washed and bandaged. I feel tired, but not heavy. More of a soul weary type of tired. I feel as if I’m under a tree, the sun filtering down through the leaves, warm against my skin. I feel like I’m recovering, observing. I don’t want to move much. I don’t want to do much. I want to sit and enjoy what I can from where I’m at. I’m content to not be out in the field running, playing. I’m content to sit quietly on my own and ponder over things. I’m content with getting lost in my head as I gaze out over the things around me and being left relatively alone, undisturbed. No obligations. No requirements. Just peace.

 

I don’t know. Maybe that’s where I’m at. Content. Though, even as I type that I know the  word doesn’t feel right inside of my head. There’s a happiness to that word which I don’t feel. Maybe accord is better. A truce inside of my head. There’s no war. No fighting. There’s stillness.

 

I’m sure the confliction will return. I know there are still hard days in my future. But today… today it is sunny outside. Today is another day of summer. Today I might not do much, but I will do and right now that’s enough for me. I will enjoy my day of accord and continue to take things one day at a time.

Musing Moment 095: My Place

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I spend a lot of time on Facebook. I spend a lot of time in bed, resting, which usually leads to sleeping.

 

I spend a lot of time thinking that I should be doing something meaningful with my life. I spend a lot of time not having the energy to do much of anything by the time I get home, like today…

 

I went to work. I’m giving myself points for that because I really didn’t want to. Next week is my last week. Friday I have my exit interview. I’m sad when I think about it. I’m sad thinking that I’m going to be leaving everyone soon. I’m sad that it feels like goodbye.

 

I spent most of the lab scrolling through Facebook. I did everything I needed to do beforehand. I emailed Jason to update him on life and to solidify dates with him. I replied to all of the emails I had. I did all of these “things” and then I had nothing else to occupy my time with. At least nothing that I really wanted to do. So instead I scrolled through Facefail, saving images with inspiration quotes on them until the day was over and I was allowed to leave.

 

I had no intention of going to the gym today, which ended up working in my favor because there was a torrential down pour going on as I was leaving work. I just wanted to come back “home” to my extended stay and not be outside or around people.

 

So that’s where I am. At home, in comfy clothes, not sure what to do about food, and in general sort of sad and introspective.

 

There is a realness to everything now. I have a UBox reserved for the 8th. That’s when I’ll be packing my things to have them shipped to Vegas. I have the going away event, laser tag awesomeness, set up for the 9th. On the 11th, Monday, the start of the week, I check out of my extended stay and begin my trip westward.

 

There are so many things I’m looking forward to. Attending the dojang. Having a full-sized kitchen to myself. Using my pots and knives and in general being able to cook again. Turning the garage into my own personal workout area. Starting a herb garden. Potentially looking into reiki. Maybe becoming a certified nursing assistant. Having dinners with Lio and Jason.

 

I want all of those things. The thought of them makes me happy.

 

I have to leave Orlando to do those things. The thought of leaving hurts. I don’t want to hurt.

 

It sucks. It’s confusing. I don’t want to process but I know I need to. And so that’s where I’m at.

 

I saw V again last night. There was one point where we were talking and I started to cry. And by cry I mean I had tears running down my cheeks. I wasn’t sobbing, but I was remembering painful memories and because of that there were tears that I couldn’t stop.

 

V saw them and asked what was wrong.

 

“Emotions,” was the only word I could say. He reached out and wiped away one of the tears with his thumb. I tried pulling away and saying sorry. I didn’t want to mess up the night with emo stuff. I didn’t want to feel disappointment or rejection. I didn’t want to feel vulnerable because being vulnerable always seems to mean I’m going to end up hurt.

 

He kept his hand on my face even though I tried to pull away. I wanted to hide. I wanted to not hurt. He told me to look at him, and after an internal struggle of fearing what I would see, I did look up at him.

 

“It is not your place to be ashamed. Don’t ever feel ashamed for what you feel. It is your place to be the confident woman you are.”

 

I keep thinking of that phrase.

 

It’s not my place to feel ashamed.

 

It makes me think of all of my past relationships. The ones I knew I should have left. The ones that made me question and doubt myself. The ones that made me feel unworthy. The ones where I was gross. Mentally unstable. Fucked up. A whore. A cheater. Cumrag…

 

I think of all of these emotionally horrific experiences where the person who claimed to love me degraded me and made me feel less than. Made me feel ashamed of myself because being me was the absolute worst, most awful thing I could have done.

 

It’s not my place to feel ashamed.

 

Then why I was in so many places that made me feel that way? I instinctually want to pull away from this kindness because it is so hard to trust it now. I trusted all of my previous partners. I don’t feel like a confident woman. And maybe that’s because right now I’m still figuring out how to stand on my own. It’s not just mom’s death. It’s the betrayal of Zane. It’s the ending of my job. It’s the loss of my sphere in Orlando.

 

I feel hurt. I feel lost sometimes. I feel like this is another transitional period and things are shifting and I’m losing touch with solid ground. It’s scary and I just want to know that what I’m doing is right.

 

And yet, feeling V’s hands hold my cheeks while we looked at each other, his thumbs rubbing the tears away… I felt no negativity from him. It was ok to feel everything I was feeling. It was ok to have tears because tears didn’t make me a bad person or less than. It didn’t feel like lip service even though the things he said where everything I’ve wanted to hear. It felt like he meant those words. It felt like he cared.

 

It’s not my place means that I shouldn’t be there. I shouldn’t be in places that make me feel unworthy, that make me feel less than. I’m not less than. I deserve respect. I deserve to feel wanted and loved and cared for. Not ashamed and like a beaten animal. I shouldn’t feel the need to cower away from someone when I cry. I shouldn’t feel sorry for feeling because feeling isn’t a bad thing. I’m allowed to feel. There is no shame in feeling, in expressing, in being human.

 

I wish I could say I was confident. But right now I’m not. Right now I feel the need to cry and purge the hurt of all of those memories. It’s not my place, but I felt all of those emotions. I felt shame and regret and guilt because so many people have told me that I should feel those things.

 

I don’t know what this is. Healing maybe? It’s confusing. It hurts. I need to let go of it, of them. These dark pieces of shattered memory. These shards that keep cutting me, causing my confidence to bleed out of me through the slashes. Like so many other aspects of myself, I need to look at these situations and evaluate them.

 

Do I accept these things
as truths about me?

 

Am I gross because I sweat when I bike 7 miles to work everyday?

 

Am I mentally unstable for being interested in BDSM?

 

Am I fucked up for preferring an atypical relationship dynamic?

 

Am I a whore, a cheater, for being involved with another person once a relationship is over?

NO.

No. My answer is no to all of those questions and so many more. No. I’m not gross. No. I’m not unstable. No. I’m not fucked up. No. I’m not a cheater or a whore.

 

I don’t want to feel shame for being who I am. I don’t want to give dishonorable people the power to make me feel shame. My place is not in my past. My place is not to feel ashamed anymore. It never was my place to feel ashamed about who I was.

 

My place is here. In the present. My place is figuring myself out, finding myself and my truths. My place is to be me. My place is to know myself. And knowing myself, believing in myself, is how I will return to being confident.

 

My place is not in my past. My place is here in my present.

 

 

 

Musing Moment 094 : That Moment When The Universe Speaks To You…

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There were two beautiful moments in my night last night. Really… there’s been a lot of good things going on. Lots of things mixed in which help to overcome the negativity that I’m still contending with.

 

I was supposed to have a phone call with one of my best friends last night. She called and I stepped outside to chat with her. I had driven over to Sir’s place because I had felt lonely. I haven’t had a “hard” day in a while, but I live in Orlando, and the mass shooting hurts a part of me. It was mostly a distant hurt until I read something on Facebook.

 

It was a quote from an anonymous cop. He said that he had always thought after a shooting that it would be quiet, but that’s not how it was. After the shooting there was the sound of countless cell phones ringing. Phones that would never be answered. He said that sound was the worst sound he had ever heard.

 

That… That touched and connected with something inside of me. It reminded me of the six hours I sat on the plane flying out to Vegas, not sure if mom would be alive when it landed. Not knowing if she was coding. Not knowing if she was recovering. Six hours of sitting, waiting. Six hours of not knowing.

 

Just like with those phones. Ringing. Ringing. A dial tone going to voice mail. Never knowing. Waiting. Waiting.

 

I started feeling alone. A bad alone. It was like ice in my chest, creeping out from my heart charaka and I knew if I didn’t do something that it would consume me. All of me. I knew I needed help.

 

I messaged Sir, just saying hi. I never know how to start conversations when I need to be around people. What am I supposed to say? “I’m slipping into depression because mom died. Please let me come over because I feel like I’m becoming emotionally unstable”?

 

I’m pretty sure that’s not how that conversation is supposed to go down. But when I’m in the moment I can’t think. All I can do is feel. And so my messages are short. They most likely convey nothing of what I’m feeling because I’m terrified of coming off as needy and making the other person feel like helping me is an obligation. I know none of this is easy for the people around me. I don’t make it easy by hiding how I feel.

 

I didn’t hide it yesterday, though. I told Sir that I wasn’t ok, and he offered for me to come over. I got to do laundry and see Scarlet since she’s not allowed to stay with me at the extended stay.

 

And I was going to have my phone call with Allison finally. We haven’t talked since the day mom died.

 

I was actually on the phone with her, had just answered when one of Sir’s neighbors came walking down the stairs. He waved to get my attention, so I told Allison to hold on a second.

 

She ended up hanging up on me and I don’t blame her since I had a 15 minute conversation with this guy. I don’t even know his name. But he said some of the kindest things to me.

 

He said that he had seen me coming and going over the month and felt bad for not introducing himself sooner. He said that it was his birthday and that he was celebrating (read drunk) but that he wanted me to know that he thought I had a beautiful soul and that the Lord was working through me. That he had plans for me. That I was blessed.

 

It was so hard not to cry. We hugged twice during those 15 minutes because I was so moved by his words.

 

I’m not Christian, but that doesn’t mean anything. I believe people can see goodness within others. I know I’ve seen my share of amazingly beautiful people. Beautiful souls. And for this person to take the time to come down simply to tell me that, during a time that I felt like I was dying on the inside… I don’t know. I’m still moved. I still want to cry thinking about it.

 

I keep worrying. My move is coming up. I leave the 11th of July. I still don’t know if my choices are right. I still don’t know if I’m about to fuck everything up. I don’t know. I don’t know. And not knowing drives me crazy because all I want is to know that I’m doing the right thing.

 

And this person, a total stranger, says that I am beautiful, compassionate, and that the Universe has plans for me.

 

I did end up having my phone call with Allison. A two hour phone call. We talked about her up coming wedding. We talked about how I’m most likely staying a week with her as I travel out to Vegas. We talked about mom’s death. We talked about Zane and the apartment situation. We talked about the life insurance check. We listened. We laughed. We cried. We shared.

 

And at the end when I said I was scared about moving, that I was scared of messing up my life, she said that she had no fear. She knew I would be successful.

 

A few years ago, forever ago, I came to the conclusion that my definition of success meant happiness. As long as I am happy with my life then I am successful regardless of what I do or where I end up.

 

Hearing Allison say those words, hearing her say she knew I would be successful equated in my brain to her saying she knew I would be happy. I don’t know why but that, too, touched something inside me. It’s like the Universe knew that I needed some encouragement. Some loving support. A comforting hug and a pep talk.

 

Em switched my laundry to the dryer while I was on the phone. A small random act of kindness that made me feel cared for. One small task that I didn’t have to worry about. One, small, nearly insignificant part of my day that someone considered and took care of for me, and yet it leaves me humbled and gracious.

 

I’m still processing through things. Not just last night, but life in general. I’m pretty sure I will be for a while, especially now that I’m beginning to have the space to do it. But I wanted to take a moment to write about last night because I need to remember these moments. The moments where I don’t know… the Universe reached out and let me know that things really will be ok.

 

Part of me wonders if these are signs or something from mom. Part of me thinks it’s stupid to think of things like that because they’re not logical. But another part of me doesn’t care because I’m still scared about what I’m doing with my life. I’m scared that she would be disappointed even though I know she wouldn’t be.

 

She would encourage me to do what I thought was right, what I thought would be the best thing for me.

 

I want her to be proud of me. I want her to be here. And as I type that I feel slightly better and my tears have stopped because I know she’s still here. I’m getting better about catching myself when I think those thoughts.

 

“All I want is for her to be here.”

 

But she’s already here. There’s nothing to want.

Musing Moment 093: I Wish I Knew

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I’ve talked to two people about the situation so far. I’m not the ball of blind, almost uncontrollable rage I was, but I’m still angry and unsettled and I’m still unsure of what to do. I don’t think writing is going to enlighten me or help me find the answers, but I feel like now that all of the anger has been spent I can now become introspective and look at the other emotions that are there.

 

Thursday I messaged Zane. I wasn’t sure what was going on with the apartment. He hadn’t messaged me about the new person moving in. I wanted to know what was going on, but didn’t know how to ask without sounding demanding or accusatory.

 

Eventually I found what I wanted to say.

 

Me: Hey. Just curious if anything has been figured out about the lease. Should I keep time free on Saturday for paperwork?

Zane: Sure. We can go to the office on Saturday.

Me: Is there a specific time that works for you?

Zane: The office is open 10 to 4. Sarah will be over til like 2:30, most likely. But the office is open 10 to 4 so any time within that window would be fine for me.

Me: I can come by around 3.

Zane: That will be fine. Have you figured out what you’re going to do about phones?

Me: I would like to try to switch the account fully to your name and move my phone over to Metro.

Zane: Ok. Figure that out please

Me: Will do.

 

I was a little miffed by the comment about the phones. But overall I was glad that there was an end date in sight. Saturday the apartment would be done.

 

Fast forward to today.

 

I slept pretty well. Slept in actually. I woke up at 6:30. Talked to V for a bit before falling back to sleep, then headed out the door by 10 after I had woken up the second time.

 

I returned the pair of headphone I had gotten because I still didn’t like them. Went to a different store and got a different style.

 

I got my car loan switched over to Navy Federal which lowered my interest rate 4%. I got checks ordered because even though I was told they were ordered they weren’t. I deposited my check from work as well since I switched over my direct deposit.

 

After that I went to Bank of America where I closed out my accounts. All I need to do is call and cancel my credit card and I’m completely done with them.

 

I was getting hungry so instead of going straight to the Verizon store I stopped at IHOP for food. While I was sitting there I started missing mom and got really sad. I left my waiter a 95% tip because he was running around taking care of so many tables and the other customers were being rude to him. When I was paying for my bill he said thank you as I was leaving. Just a normal thank you. You know… not much thought put into it, more just saying the words because that’s what’s expected, almost said absent-mindedly because it’s more of a habit than an actually thing…

 

I was ok with that. I didn’t give him a tip because I wanted a thank you.

 

It took me a bit longer to put my card away, and so I was just starting to walk to the door when I heard him say a sort of awed, heartfelt gracious thank you. I half turned and smiled and said thank you back to him.

 

I then went to my car and cried because I felt alone and all I wanted was to try to make someone else’s day better. Maybe the rest of his shift would be shitty, but hopefully by the end of it he would be able to look back and remember the one table with the super quiet girl who left him an amazing tip and smile and remember not all customers are douche bags.

 

After a minor session of crying I still had two-ish hours before meeting with Zane. I didn’t want to do anything further chore wise and I didn’t want to drive back to my room just to have to drive all the way back out to where I was to sign the paperwork.

 

I decided to send him a message.

 

Me: Would it be possible to do the lease stuff now?

Zane: Why?

Me: Because I’m in the area and done with everything I wanted to get done.

Zane: I mean. I guess. Sure. Did you figure out the phone?

Me: Not yet. I don’t have it in me to do more today. If we can’t do the lease now then it’s going to have to wait until next week. I need to go cry.

Zane: Ok. You go cry and we’ll do it next week.

Me: K

 

First off… it’s a yes or no question. I shouldn’t have to justify my reason. I admit that’s most likely me being emotionally raw at the time. I had just gotten done crying, and so I kept those feelings to myself.

 

I stayed in the car for a bit longer, letting the emotions do their thing, then started to drive back to the room. As I was driving I thought about how John and Trevor were signed off of the lease. None of us could make it to the office at the same time, so we all signed the paperwork at the apartment while we were home, and then I took it to the office for everyone.

 

I messaged Zane again.

 

Me: Could we sign it separately like with Trevor and John?

Zane: Sure. I guess. Go grab the paper and leave it at the office. I’ll take care of it at my leisure.

Me: I would like to be the one to turn it in since I can get there at almost any point during the week. It could be done by Monday that way.

Zane: As could the phone. It’s fine that you want to be severed financially. Honest. But the phone is part of that. And I’d prefer to have both done in the relative succession of each other for the sake of fairness.

Me: I’m going to the gym to see if that helps. If it does could we still try to do the lease around 2:30 / 3? I have the phones on the list for tomorrow.

Zane: K

Me: K

 

The gym didn’t help much but it felt I would at least be able to sign a piece of paper and then be done with the day. At 3pm I sent another message.

 

Me: Is it cool to come over?

Zane: Can we do this next week?

Me: Is there a reason other than my episode earlier?

Zane: I’m in the middle of critical role and Sarah is burnt like the seven hells.

Me: It’s signing a piece of paper. I can pick it up and bring it to you.

Zane: Not everything has to be done in your schedule. An hour ago you were fine with next week.

Me: We agreed to 3 Originally.

Zane: You can do it and leave it at the office or we can do it next week.

Me: I don’t see why you can’t sign it when you’re not even having to leave the apartment any more. You’re schedule doesn’t permit you do it any other day.

Zane: Next Saturday.

Me: Fine. Enjoy your day.

 

I was pissed. My “enjoy your day” comment was really “go fuck yourself” inside of my head. I left the gym angry and started heading back to the room when I received a message back.

 

Zane: I can do it Wednesday.

Me: What time?

Zane: I leave work at 3:30 so I can be home in time to sign it if you lave it at the office.

Me: I want to be there when it’s turned in. I can be there at 4:30

Zane: So. We agreed to 3 originally. Then you asked to come by early and I said fine. Then you said no we can do it next week. I’m not beholden to your schedule, Jen. I’m sorry you don’t trust that I’ll sign this paper. I haven’t done anything to betray your trust. I haven’t lied to you. I haven’t gone back and forth on things so many times that I can’t even recall what I most recently said. I’m not the one between us who fits that description. I can do Wednesday if you leave it at the office or we can do it next week. But if you require proof that I signed the paper, shouldn’t I require proof that you took care of the phones?

Me: Omission of truth is lying. And I can provide proof it you want. I want to either be there or to have proof for peace of mind.

Zane: I’ll send you a pic

Me: I want something official from John (the property manager). You’ll be getting official paperwork from Verizon. You could just as easily sign the paperwork and leave it at the office on Wednesday and I can sign it when I’m able to go over after work.

Zane: I’m trying not to yell at your right now. You keep treating me like I’m this terrible villain. Like I’ve taken everything from you. I have only ever tried to be supportive. I’m sorry you feel hurt. I’m sorry you feel lied to. I’m sorry you feel like I’m untrustworthy. But one lie by omission doesn’t really equate to all the shit you’ve pulled since you left for Vegas. I’m done with this conversation. Do not text me again today. And do not come by. Period.

Me: You used me as a cum rag. Your exact words.

Zane: Jen. Seriously. Fuck off for the day.

Me: And I have every right to come by until I’m off the lease. You want me to not come over get off your ass and sign the paper. I’ll even give you the key back.

Zane: Not legally. No. I’ll call the cops.

Me: Do it. And legally yes. That’s my place of residences according to the lease.

Zane: The last time you were here when I asked you politely not to be, you came in screaming and slamming shit. I don’t want you here today and I definitely don’t want you throwing a violent tantrum in my place of living. If you come by, I will call the cops and have you trespassed. Give it space and we can talk later this week. Cordially and calmly. But I will not be threatened into abiding your schedule.

Me: I’m going to talk to John now.

Zane: You have established yourself as a threat.

Me: And you’re a dick.

Zane: I’m not being lazy. I’m doing other shit. Stay away today.

Me: Watching tv is too much to sign a line.

 

From there Zane called me and it devolved into a screaming match on the phone with him screaming fuck you at me and me screaming back for him to go fuck himself until he eventually hung up on me.

 

By then I was at the leasing office. John wasn’t there, but another person was. I explained I had just had a yelling match with my roommate and asked if it would be ok to sit and talk with her about the lease.

 

I explained how mom had died, and that the agreement with Zane and me was that once he had found a replacement I would be signed off the lease and how that was supposed to have been today. I told her about being told I wasn’t allowed at the apartment and asked if he legally could bar me from the property.

 

No. He can’t. That’s one of the shitty things about having roommates.

 

I asked if there was any way to force him to sign the paper.

 

No. There isn’t. That’s one of the shitty things about having roommates.

 

So that’s where we’re at. I can’t make him do anything, but he can’t force me to stay away either.

 

There’s the added complication that he might not be able to sign me off the lease until the new girl is signed on. If Zane doesn’t make 2.5 times the amount required for a rent payment, then I won’t be allowed to be removed. Zane and I would both have to sign the new girl on, then Zane and her would have to sign me off.

 

I don’t know what to do. Still. Writing didn’t make it better. I knew the longer the text messages went on the more I stooped to his level.

 

I feel childish. I feel like I should have held it together better and been the matriarch I keep saying that I am. I feel like he’s not going to sign me off the lease.

 

And I keep having all of these awful thoughts like closing out the Verizon account and leaving him without phone service. Or going to the apartment during the week while he’s at work and unplugging the PlayStation or leaving the controller on so the battery is dead when he gets home just so he knows I’ve been there. Just to prove that I’m allowed to be there until he does something to make it to where I actually am legally trespassing.

 

I have all of these petty thoughts and there’s a part of me who hopes his day was ruined after he called me because he was so angry and frustrated. Mine actually wasn’t bad afterwards. Talking to the women in the leasing office helped balance me out. It gave me facts and logic, and even though there’s not much I can do, there’s not much he can do either and that makes it at least feel fair.

 

I spent time with Sir and Em watching Sword Art Online. We have 3 more episodes left in the second season. I’m liking the new story arch so far.

 

My day wasn’t ruined. But there’s a part of me that hopes his was. That he spent the rest of it seething. And I’m glad that there’s a part of me who feels guilty for those feelings. I don’t want to be a hateful, spiteful person.

 

I know I went back and forth earlier. I know I was emotional, and so I do feel guilty. I do feel like in some way all of this is my fault. On the other side of the coin… I offered to pick up the paper and bring it to him so he didn’t even have to leave the couch. How hard would it have been to just sign the paper at the time we had originally agreed to?

 

I’m not going to wish that I had handled the situation better because I know the rage I felt during those messages and on the phone. If we had been standing face to face there would have been blood. That’s a fact. I would not have been able to stand there and not physically do something to him because I was that angry and I’m ashamed to admit that. I’m ashamed that I lost so much control over myself that I wished physical harm on someone. Craved it even. I wanted to hurt him for all of the hurtful things he has done to me, not only over the past two months, for all the things peppered through out our relationship.

 

With feelings that strong, I’m proud that the worst I said was that he was lazy and a dick and that he could go fuck himself. The worst I did was through a fit and lower myself and my standards of conduct to that of a four-year-old.

 

I didn’t go to the apartment and sit on the coffee table, blocking his view of the TV. I didn’t do any of the vicious thoughts I had in my head.

 

I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I wish I did. I wish this were over. I wish I understood why it’s so easy for things to get so fucked up.

Daily Post 118: Finding Myself

Standard

I’m at work early because I’m supposed to do grading but I have the urge to write so I’m going to do that first.

 

It’s nice to feel like this. To have the urge to actually type things out and to process through things. It’s nice to not feel a pain inside my chest at the thought of figuring things out. I think a lot of that has to do with my therapy session yesterday. I think a lot of it has to do with recent events and how I’m starting to find things to look forward to. It’s not just a day to day existence anymore.

 

I may not have life goals yet. I haven’t gotten that far in my recovery, but I find myself genuinely smiling at the thought of the future. Things seem to be going well, and even though mom isn’t here to enjoy the forward progress with me, I know that she would be happy for me. She would smile with me and be glad.

 

Tomorrow I’m supposed to be signed off the lease for the apartment. That will be the last massive, ginormous step I have to take as far as the personal side of my life goes. It’s the last step that really requires other people. Past that it will be making sure Zane’s cool with me switching the phone plan over into his name so I can ditch Verizon for MetroPCS again.

 

I’m nervous about it. I don’t think he’s going to be a jerk tomorrow. I think he’s going to be overly sweet and try to get me to hang out. He’s going to try for the “friends” thing, and while I normally do try to maintain a friendship with my exs, this is one instance where I would rather move on. I’m not going to want to hang out. I’m not going to want to chitchat and let him know what’s been going on in my life. I didn’t invite him to my super awesome laser tag going away party for a reason. I want to finalize what I need to and be done with it.

 

I booked a room at an extended stay for the next 28 days. I check in at 3pm today. There’s a mini kitchen and a full sized fridge. I haven’t been there but the pictures look nice. There’s a bed. I seriously cannot put into words how much I am looking forward to having a bed to sleep on. I’m hoping the window lets in a nice amount of light. I’m thinking about taking my computer out of storage and setting it up in the room, space permitting. I’ve already chatted with a few friends. They’re going to let me borrow some of their extra kitchen stuff so I don’t have to go out and buy much of anything. That will be nice. I plan to return it before I leave for Vegas.

 

I want to make stuffed tomatoes for dinner tomorrow. With everything going on today I doubt I’ll be up for cooking or doing much by the time I’m actually able to spend any amount of time at the room.

 

I want to go to the gym after checking in. I need to run by Best Buy first though. The other day I bought a pair of Bluetooth headphones. With all of the kickboxing things I’ve been doing, having wired headphones gets annoying. The wire gets flung into my face or fucks with the motion of my punches. It’s distracting and throws off my groove. So I thought I would give Bluetooth a try.

 

The ones I have are alright… They stay on fine… But they feel sort of weird, and they’re not noise canceling so the sound is different. More airy. And that in itself is distracting. My brain keeps focusing on how it “doesn’t sound right,” even though it’s fine.

 

$100 is a lot to spend to only be “aright” with something. I want to see if any of the other styles / brands work better for me. So yeah, if I get to the gym today Best Buy will most likely happen first.

 

I need to go grocery shopping since I don’t have any coffee creamer. I used the last of it this morning. I’m looking forward to having my morning routine back. Cooking eggs and sitting with my coffee at the table pondering over my day and how to map things out so I’m most efficient. It’s going to be the weekend, so I’m thinking I’ll go to the storage unit and pull out things like my water filter, the computer, maybe go through my clothes again and pull out a few of my nicer tops since V and I want to meet again.

 

I think my date, because that’s what I’m going to call it, went really well the other night. I enjoyed myself. I laughed. I cried. I felt nervous. I felt acceptance. I was asked about the last time I had sex and was able to tell someone that story and begin letting go of those emotions.

 

I explained how I had felt really alone one of the mornings I had to take Zane to work. How we had cuddled in bed for a little bit. Things turned sexual and it was fine until the end.

 

I don’t know what it’s like for other people, but sometimes, when it’s over, I feel empty. Like… my partner has taken something from me, some energy, but hasn’t replaced it with anything else. Nothing has been given back. There wasn’t an exchange or a connection. It leaves me feeling cold, and… well… empty. Something is missing. I don’t feel connected and blissful, and warm, even if I am able to orgasm. There’s something about the interaction that is unfulfilling on an extremely deep and emotional level and it usually leaves me feeling alienated and alone.

 

That’s what it was like after Zane and I had sex the last time. The loneliness I had already been feeling intensified and it took a lot to hold it together. He knew that I wasn’t ok and asked what was wrong. I answered saying that it had felt good, but that I didn’t feel connected to him, I felt used, and I didn’t understand why and that I was sorry for feeling the way I did. Maybe it was just my grief messing up the experiences.

 

His reply was that he had been horny and “basically just needed a cumrag.” He said he knew I had wanted attention and that he took advantage of that.

 

I had been willing to try for friendship even with all of the shit that went down while mom was in the hospital and after her death. I was willing to let go of the betrayal of having another girl in what was supposed to be “our” bed, and accepting the fact that the sheets most likely weren’t washed when we tried cuddling the Saturday night that I got back to Orlando.

 

I was willing to let go of a lot of things because he “wanted to be friends”.

 

My friends don’t treat me like that. That wasn’t friendship. Taking advantage of my need for human interaction and closeness isn’t loving or caring. It’s manipulative. It’s fucked up, and I’m done with it. Point blank, end of story, I’m done.

 

I got to tell V about that experience and how it had made me feel. He didn’t say much about it. He let me cry. He hugged me while I did. He didn’t try to make it better because it’s not like anyone can go back and undo the past.

 

I’m still moving to Vegas. I’m still going to focus on myself. None of my plans have changed, but I’m grateful to V for making me feel like a human. For making me feel like I’m worth respect.

 

So there’s that. It was good to work through those emotions. It makes me feel like Zane doesn’t have power over me. The only way he can make me feel bad is if I let him. He isn’t going to change and I’m tired of being hurt. So it’s done. And as soon as the lease is taken care of I know I’ll feel that much freer from him, with the final cut being the phone plan.

 

Therapy was a lot of about my younger brother. He’s trying to come to Full Sail. Since I’m an alumnus and a staff member (for the moment at least) I can nominate him for a scholarship worth up to $40k. I’m looking into that. Currently waiting on an email from his admissions representative so we can see what needs to happen since Jon is currently over in Germany.

 

I feel stronger today than I have in a while. Still sort of tired and low energy. But strong. Stable. Solid.

 

In therapy the conversation turned to how I am doing so much better than when I first started my sessions. I said that it feels like I’m finding myself again, and for some reason that statement hurt and I started crying. Not sobbing or anything, but there were tears running down my face and I didn’t know why. The statement hurt, but finding myself should be a good thing, right? So why was I crying?

 

I said that moving forward moves me further away from mom’s physical form. To me, the more “ok” I am, the further away from the moment of her death I become. The knee-jerk jump in my thoughts is, the further away I am from that moment, the further away I am from her.

 

I know that’s not true. The further away from that moment I become, the closer to her spiritual presence I become. Our relationship isn’t over, it’s just different. But there is some part of me, some section of my brain that cries out in anguish whenever I think about moving forward. I think about every new accomplishment I want to achieve. Belt testing for taekwondo. Becoming a CNA. Running another Warrior Dash.

 

I think of all of these things and what it would be like to accomplish them and part of me screams in pain because those thoughts are almost instantly followed with the thought of “Mom won’t be there.”

 

That thought feels like having something punched through my chest. It’s not a cut. It’s not a sharp pain. It’s a gaping hole of agony and normally the only thing I can do is vocalize that pain. I scream as loud as I can in my car. I cry. I grip the steering wheel so hard my hands hurt because there’s nothing for me to tear apart or punch or thrash. I scream over and over and over until the pain is finally bearable and my voice is so raw I can’t talk. I scream until it’s finally something I can simply cry over, and then I cry and whimper and sound like a beaten animal because that’s what I feel like. And then… eventually… I’m quiet and exhausted and spent and there’s a stillness inside me. A peace. An acceptance. And normally I go home and sleep. I have nothing left in me to give to anything else after those moments.

 

My mom won’t be there, physically, for any of the achievements in my life. She won’t be there to wrap her arms around me. She won’t be there to do the “I told you so” dance when I do fantastic. She won’t be there to wink at me, or smile, or for her eyes to dance and glitter with happiness for me.

 

Mom will never physically be here ever again.

 

But she’s not gone and I have so many instances to prove that. The one that comes to mind the strongest is the night I slept curled around her urn. I know she was there. I know she was holding me, and even now I can feel her presence behind me like a slight weight on my shoulders.

 

I know that my knee jerk thought of “Mom isn’t here,” isn’t the thought I truly believe. It’s a reactive thought. And for me, it’s an unhealthy thought.

 

So yeah… that’s where I’m at today. I’m finding myself again. In the landscape of my mind I’ve started for find pieces of myself and I’ve started to put them back where they belong. I’m looking at things and questioning if I want to keep them or not. Change them, maybe?

 

What do I want?

 

I still don’t know, but I’m figuring it out and that gives me some sort of resolve I guess. I’ve started doing it, so I know it can be done. It makes me feel like it’s just a matter of time before I’m on my feet again, and knowing that I’m making progress, that my journey isn’t over, makes me feel secure in myself.

 

I’ll make it through this and I’m finally starting to believe those words.