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.