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I feel yucky today.  It’s been a Monday for sure, already, even this early, and it’s hot here.  Like severe weather warning hot.  Ugh.  I have what feels like a blechy, blechy hangover.  I suspect it’s from crying so much in the last few days in the yucko heat.  Last Thursday morning Hawthorn told me he was in agreement with me that we should just be a friends (in regards to my boundary setting of the past few weeks) and that he was going to start seeing other people, cue me falling into a wretched puddle. It felt like, well it felt like when we first broke up.  I spent most of the weekend  crying, meditating, talking to a few friends and having some fairly intense exchanges with Hawthorn.  It’s all wound down now, or worn itself out, or I’ve worn myself out about it.  We seem to be basically where were before, good friends, no possibility of getting back together.  I’ve gotten maybe 3 of the 5 apologies I think he owes me.

I feel better about the level open communication we have.  I feel glad to have him as my friend.  I honestly do think us getting back together would be a terrible idea. And still the thought of him finding someone else knots my stomach and makes me want to choke on my own sadness.  I recognize that a lot that comes from my own issues and my perception of the situation: if he wants to be with someone else that means he broke up with me because I’m not good enough, not because he wasn’t ready for a relationship.   I’m trying really hard to let that go and make the space for both of us to move on.  It sucks still.

To that end this week I’m going to work as much as I can on these questions.  I was reaching the point that I felt like I needed to figure out what was behind my jealousy and what was making hold on to all the hurt from that relationship then the universe just slapped me in the face with it.  I guess maybe I need to speed up my emotional transformation or something.  So today is question 1:  I am enough, worthy and good.  I do not need to be fixed.  I am strong enough and smart enough for everything that faces me.  I will continue to work to heal my own wounds, but I am not those wounds, not defined by them and I did not get them because I deserved them.  They were an accident that I can recover from because I am worthy of feeling whole and healthy and good.

I am wiped, people.  I don’t even know what to say about the last week.

I think I feel better.  I’m still feeling around the edges of this.  The edges feel solid, but it might be hollow in the middle.

However that I feel better (maybe) seems weird as this week has been pretty sucky.  In reverse order:

Back at work after a to brief vacation.  I got a promotion, but, wow, I was not prepared for the focus and energy I’d need for my new job.  I feel good about my ability to learn it.  And honestly I’m kind of glad to have it to focus on.  Less time to worry pointlessly about things I can’t control.

My vacation ended, um, confusingly.  Wait, I’m going backwards, so between work restarting and vacation I had a cancer biopsy on, well, I’ll maintain some level of politeness and say that my stitches make peeing awkward, sitting can be uncomfortable and at no time would I feel comfortable telling a coworker where it is.  It was an unpleasant procedure, though the team that did it was great and made me feel as comfortable as possible.  I’m (probably overly) concerned about keeping it clean while it heals and hoping the location means it will heal faster than say my foot or my back would.

I came home from the procedure more distressed than I thought I’d be.  I tried to distract myself by cleaning up the post house guest untidiness.  While doing the dishes a pipe connector broke and water started pouring over my feet.  I got the water off, threw down some towels and stood at the sink and sobbed for my mom. Who lives 2500 miles away.  As I pulled myself back together my amazing landlord and friend came and fixed the sink, cleaned the mess and even ran the heap pf wet towels through the laundry.  Later my mom called and successfully distracted me until bedtime, with many reminders to take of myself since a removal biopsy is trauma, it seems small but a centimeter of flesh lost wasn’t meant to happen to your body.

The entire biopsy was misery, I still don’t have the results and the stitches are awful.  This has been the delineating line between my vacation and my return to my new position at work.  And my vacation ended confusingly.

I didn’t sleep with Cedar. But only because he had the presence of mind to slow it down before it went to far.  But that was the last of our trip: we kissed, groped, fondled and pushed the bounds of intimacy. Then we slept and I took him straight to the airport with everything unresolved.

The thing is I decided before the trip started that I needed a friend more than I needed a vacation lover or possible complicated long distance relationship.  We very much enjoyed each other’s company on the trip.  It was a good trip.  Mind clearing, beautiful, full of the small, good kind of unexpected.  For days and days, nothing but sky and green and back roads and music.   Silence for all the right long stretches of time, good conversation in between.

The trip was only marred by being a little rainy and cool, and the occasional text from Hawthorn expressing a previously unknown amount of jealousy about me being with anyone else.  I tersely reminded him that he broke up with me and didn’t get to even comment on what I did now (much later, post trip, when he was consoling me I pulled out the big guns and meanly made him feel like utter shit about it).

In the aftermath of all of it I realized that what I’ve been wanting is Hawthorn back, things back the way they were. But now I know I could never accept that.  It isn’t a possibility.  I just don’t think I could ever trust him again.  And ironically it was his expression of jealousy that made me realize this.  Like he could decide not to want me and I could mourn and mourn and mourn, but if decides again after all that that he wants me then he’s untrustworthy.  Because when will he decide again that he doesn’t want me? I couldn’t go through it again.  I couldn’t even go through the possibility of being with him always filled with doubt that some unknown action of mine would make him change my mind again.

So I guess that’s a relief. I still feel sadness over the loss of our relationship, but in just a few short days I feel more calm around Hawthorn and less broken up by every interaction.

As for Cedar, I just don’t know. I haven’t really processed it all.  In the short, I feel like I do need a friend more than a complicated romance. There isn’t more to say about it right now.  I’m just giving it time.  That last interaction we had was so sexually charged, but somehow it was only about me. I don’t mean that negatively.  I feel like I gained power.  Or like maybe I found power I thought I had lost forever.

Still it’s all very jumbled emotionally for me. I’m trying to just let it all go, all out into the universe.  What returns, returns.  I’m just to tired to worry about it any more.  For now I want to be better at my job.  I want to make my home more my own, not just filled with things, but filled with things I made with my hands.  I want to read books and watch TV.  I want to sleep late and get my chores done.  Every minute of the last two years, every interaction with Oak, every second I spent longing for something else from Hawthorn has drained me.  I feel like I’ve been struggling for so long, grasping for emotional straws only to keep getting shoved below the metaphorical water, where I can’t breathe.  I’m not struggling and it turns out I float okay.  So I’m just gonna hang here for a bit and breathe big lungfuls of air. Recharge until it’s time to actually swim for something.  Until I know which direction to swim.

There’s obviously so much more to say, but that’s what this time I’m giving myself is for, right? Thinking it out until it’s clear enough to say.

I’ve been having some weirdly inappropriate sex dreams lately.  Last night I dreamt I was walking with an acquaintance (who is probably 50 to 55) and it seemed like he was hitting on me but I wasn’t sure.  We got to the point where we were parting ways and I felt relieved but then my bus left with out me (passed me completely even though I was at the stop, on the curb and waiting) and so I went after this guy, intending to ask him to have sex with me.  I caught up with him much later after many shenanigans of changing clothes and calling girlfriends, and when I did find him he was quite drunk and trying to sing karaoke to me.  Fortunately I woke up before anything happened, but this probably the third dream I’ve had about having resigning myself to have sex with someone I’m only marginally attracted too who is also an utterly inappropriate partner.  Okay, brain, I get it, just having sex with anyone won’t solve my problems, I’ll be selective.  Jeez.

Speaking of boys, I have been seriously trying to sort out my feelings on that front.  I don’t think I’m ready to tackle a relationship, even a fairly casual one. Still, I’m determined to have sex, as I don’t think it’s fair to be denied that just because I’m single. But then I don’t want to come across as the low self esteem party girl who is up for anything. And I guess it’s harder than one would think to find a guy to just have sex with you.  Or not hard at all, but hard to find one who isn’t inappropriate and wouldn’t leave me feeling a little skeezy later.

Additionally I still have my sort of Junior High feeling of boy crazyness. For instance there’s a guy who comes into the bar where I work, often earlier in the evening, by himself, to eat, have a beer and read his book, but he ends up talking to me someone of the time.  Lately he’s been coming in more often and I swear I keep catching him looking at me and looking away.  Now, most of the guys I know that are my age are married or coupled off, so I generally don’t give them a second glance, but this guy and I recently because Facebook friends and I know that an FB status as ‘single’ doesn’t necessarily mean that, it does mean that he’s not married and bothered to list a relationship status rather than none at all.  ANYWAY, he commented on my Facebook last night and suddenly I was all giddy and dorky like I was 13 and exclaiming that he noticed me!  Wheee!  (Luckily I was home alone so no one had to witness this.)  And I feel like this is just a distraction, but definitely a welcome one.  If my choices are panicking and thinking too much about bad things I can’t control, focusing and studying meditation and relaxation techniques, or thinking useless giddy thoughts about a cute boy, then I pick #3, you know?  And I maintain that this isn’t the need a man to rescue and rule me thing I was bitching about yesterday, this is more like thinking about Domokun chasing kittens in a field.  Not serious, just fun.

In that same realm, Cedar and I are still emailing nearly every day, long long emails and it is still very much the high point of my day.  His overt bad (and good jokes) make me laugh so much and stay with me all day.  I feel like I’m getting the subtle nuances of everything he says as well.  I was thinking last night about communication.  I think I tried to talk once here about the study where couples that used the same language quirks got along better than those who didn’t.  And how I often feel like I have no idea what Hawthorn is talking about, like his references seem so out of left field, or he’s talking in something that seems like it should be shorthand almost code that partner would get that just goes right over my head.  But with Cedar it’s like we’re on exactly the same wavelength. Which makes sense since we had similar upbringings in the same location and knew each other when we were much, much younger, in our formative years, as it were.  But it isn’t just the language, I feel like he’s taking me really seriously in way no one has in a long time.  Like no matter what I talk about, flaky astrology talk, or having prophetic dreams, or my anxiety or whatever, it’s like he weighs and balances each thing and knows when to joke and when not too and seems to regard each part of me as something valuable and worth hearing about.  I never feel condescended too or like he doesn’t care about what I’m saying, no matter how personal or how other there whatever I’m going on about is.  Indeed he also seems to be full of as many random facts as I am, with some cross over.  So if I make an offhand reference to Freya’s Day, I’m treated to a Viking Saga story in return.  I am very much much looking forward to the trip he and I are taking in May.  I’m still maintaining that there isn’t a romantic thread in what’s happening with he and I, but I suppose I’m not willing to completely discount that yet either.  Still every interaction with him leaves me feeling very supported and hoping that I’ve done the same for him.  So there’s that.  I’m not sure what to do with it.

I was driving home from work a little bit ago (second shift at the bar) and thinking about how lax I’d been in posting here and how I should come home and write up my week (nothing special, or really out of the ordinary) and how I’m feeling (tired, just really, bone tired, worn down, wore out–in general not just tonight) and about good friends and how much better making time for them makes me feel.  But then somehow in the 8 minutes it takes me to get home I was so filled with rage and wanting punch Hawthorn’s smug fucking face in that I almost started crying in the car.  I pulled it together, got home, took off my make up and brushed my teeth and managed to calm down somewhat in that time.  I’m not sure if it’s PMS or entirely my residual anger at the whole stupid situation, but man am I mad at him this week.  I keep coming back to the fact that he’s never apologized to me.  He’s apologized for his fucked up personal shit bleeding into mine, he’s apologized for my suffering (“I’m sorry your feelings are hurt” which by my reckoning doesn’t count) but he’s never said, “I am so very sorry for what I did.  I am so very sorry for hurting you.” And while I’m sure I cold talk to him about it, I just don’t think it’ll have any meaning to me at all if I have to ask for that apology.  It doesn’t help that this week he’s been dumb boy bullshit inconsiderate, and done some dumb work stuff that makes my life a little harder (and was really just an extension of dumb boy inconsideration).

Tomorrow morning I’m going to get my haircut.  I decided it was better way to spend my money than going to the flea market even if I still do need furniture.  Then I’m going to spend the day doing chores at home and puttering and putting things away until I have to go do another shift at the bar, which will hopefully be busy, distracting and full of cute boys who want to flirt with me.  And maybe when I wake up Sunday, I’ll feel rested and content and happy at home, not full of anger that borders on violence.

Despite my whining last night I did have a good time with Oak yesterday.  It was a nice, open conversation and I am actually happy for him, should his new potential love work out.  Even moreso, I’m amused that I figured it out before he did  (girls don’t invite you to drive 2 hours to visit three weekends in a row and comment on ALL your FB posts if they don’t like you).  “I guess she was flirting with me,” he said, “I guess I need to be hit over the head with that stuff.”  Having the conversation about all that seemed to finally relax him enough to be teasingly flirty with me, which was wonderful, though a little bittersweet.

It was an enjoyable day, all the way until I was walking home alone from my afternoon with Oak.  Partly because we’d talked a lot about how mad I am at Hawthorn and because I was mad at Hawthorn still and because my experiment of asking that guitar-playing boy out ended in two rejections (one more subtle and open to interpretation and the other pretty outright, though he still insists he wants to go get a beer some time.  Whatever).

Ironically, I was paying lip service yesterday to how much better I’ve been at letting things go and not getting riled up over things I have no control over or things that would seem otherwise inconsequential.  And yet, I spent the whole evening riled up over things I have no control over.  As the anxiety and fear start to ebb, I realize that I am just so filled with anger all the time.  More anger than I’ve ever had in my life.  And I still really lack any sort of control over my emotions and emotional responses so anger more often than not means tears and frustration for me.  Honestly, I’m so tired of crying that this in itself makes me more angry and perpetuates the cycle.

As a result of how I felt at the end of the day yesterday I spent some time trying to dig out why I am so mad at Hawthorn.  Certainly it’s obvious on the surface, the poorly timed break up, the incredible upheaval to my life right when I really needed to feel stable, the obvious selfishness of his actions all the way through.  But I think that bigger picture stuff is actually too much for me to deal with, it’s more how it plays out every day.  I do enjoy his company and some of the time we spend together.  I just feel like he takes it for granted that I’m going to go see a show or do something with him. And that combined with his repeated asking if I’m going after I’ve said no, leaves me feeling like he doesn’t recognize any of my boundaries.  Plus he often fails to come through when I do want him, leaving me feel like we only do his things on his schedule and once again I don’t matter, or what I want doesn’t matter.  Plus when he knows he’s angered or annoyed me he goes out of his way to try and appease me which just further frustrates me.  I don’t want offerings and presents after the fact, I just want my own needs and boundaries recognized right up front.

Of course I recognize the need to separate myself from Hawthorn, that will be the best way to limit these frustrations.  But even that is limited, since I have to work with him everyday.  And obviously I am in a very lonely place right now and he’s easy to call on to keep me company.  Which of course isn’t necessarily the best option, but we don’t all always pick the best options, you know?  And I still maintain that having sex with someone else will surely go a long way towards helping me let go of the current attachments, I’m just not sure how t make that happen without things getting messy and more complicated.  Or, in fact, I just need to meet new people who will think I’m charming and take up my time.

And when I’m feeling like this, I reach out more into to divine and unknown to try help understand what I’m feeling.  This mostly takes form in meditation and much in depth exploration of my astrological chart and where my signs are sitting right now. A very simplified example of that is my current horoscopes, which have for the past several days, mostly looked like some variation on today’s projection:

Physical passion
This influence arouses a strong attraction to and desire to be with someone. You will be much more aggressive than usual in going out and finding a partner. This influence is often a sign of physical passion. Under this influence a sexual relationship is very satisfying to both partners. Even without sex, you will be very happy with other people. You feel more vivacious and attractive than usual and may well be the life of the party. You will work hard to gain the approval of others during this time, so strong is your need for affection. Artistic activity is also indicated, for the general significance of this influence is self- expression through creativity and love.

It’s not like it’s telling me anything I don’t know.  More it simply affirms what I already know I’ve been feeling. I recognize how much positivity there is in all that.  I do feel more attractive.  I do want to go out and socialize more.  I am much less locked in by my negative emotions and ready to get back to living in the world.  Still following through on getting out more and seeing more and different people is work, even when it’s positive and my available energy for dealing with things, even positive ones, is still pretty low (although admittedly the positive social interactions do replenish that energy to some extent).

(An aside: hahaha! While I’m typing this, Hawthorn just stuck his head in my office door and offered me coffee and told me he brought something he knew I wanted from the old house–see? Offereings and gifts because he knows I’m pissed off.  ARG!)

In other positive news, I got a kitchen table in this weekend and hopefully the rest of my office furniture arrives today, which means I’ll be able to get everything except the books put away.  The apartment has been rapidly becoming more comfortable (the recent additions of a reading lamp by the couch, small stereo for the living room and getting the bed room fully unpacked have really helped) and much more like my own sanctuary.  It’s nice to feel like I have a place I’m supposed to be.

What I did today, two versions.

Version 1:

I woke up too early for a weekend, but couldn’t sleep.  Cleaned, did laundry, ran all my errands, watched a movie, did more decorating and enjoyed my house, went for a walk with a friend, drank beers on a patio in the breeze on a warm day.  Walked home and made a good dinner.

Version 2:

Didn’t sleep enough, did too much work, watched a sad, too-close-to-home movie, got overheated, spent an hour drinking beer and a second hour learning all about Oak’s new girlfriend and convincing him that I was very happy for him.  Got rejected for the second time in 24 hours (I’m persistent) by the cute guitar playing boy. Made and ate a lonely dinner that was too nice for one person.

I woke up today thinking about chairs.  Partly because I have none.  Well I have one, but a cheap, well used rolling office chair doesn’t exactly make for good home comfort.  Ironically one of the first posts I made elsewhere after moving in with Hawthorn was about having a space with a chair to sit in that was all my own in a comfortable place.  I guess I’m still trying to get to that place.  Space at my new house is limited and it is my intention to buy three chairs (something like this, for use for sitting both at my desk and not at my desk, and two dining chairs for when I get a table) and a couch for maximum sitting comfort.

When I got divorced a decade-ish ago, we had a couple used couches and a love seat and matching chair from about the 1940s.  The love seat and chair set were given to us by a friend when that friend’s mother went into long term care and sold her house.  When we separated I took the chair and left the love seat.  It was a big over stuffed armchair in fuzzy deep green fabric (something like this but not leather). At some point my ex-mother-in-law decided she needed to complete the set for display while showing and selling the house my husband and I had lived in.  I refused to give up the chair.  I took nothing in my divorce but my own clothes and this chair.  It didn’t belong to her family (I left thousands of dollars worth of china and furniture that were given to me by my exhusband’s paternal grandmother–not as a wedding gift or anything, but given specifically to me, as a gift, before we got married–I left it because it belonged with his family, heirlooms as it were), it wasn’t worth much, had no sentimental value, she just wanted it because it matched.  I had many horrible, mean phone call fights after my divorce, mostly centering around that chair.  I refused to give it up unless it was replaced with a similar or better one.  No one had any more specific claim to this chair than I did!  This many years later and I actually have no idea what happened to that chair, but I have for years wished I still had a similar chair.

Now Hawthorn has a couple midcentury Danish modern chairs (something like this).  I am quite sure that he told me, when we started dating, that he bought these at an antique store immediately after his divorce and was waiting to have a house to put them in (they were in his office at work for a long time).  He has sat in one of these chairs exactly one time since I moved in with him (they are awkwardly placed in the far corners of the large living room of our old house).  When I was preparing to move I asked if I could borrow the chairs, just for two weeks or a month, until I got a couch and had else where to sit.  He agreed that would be fine.  Since then I have been treated to several discourses on how those chairs are the only thing he got in his divorce and how he gave up the chair he wanted and how important and sentimental those chairs are to him.  1. Our house was filled with pie-safes, wardrobes, an expensive sofa, several antique tables and a huge TV, all of which he had when he was married, all of which he took with him after his divorce.  2.  I’m not asking for them as a gift.  I am a careful, conscientious person who has just had her whole fucking life turned upside down by this guy and all I want is place to sit for a few weeks until I pick out and get a couch delivered.  I’m sorry I didn’t get right on the incredibly expensive couch thing, but I did have to outfit a whole entire household and pay extra rent and a deposit etc. (Yes, I recognize there are thrift stores, but I’m really allergic to animal hair and paranoid about bedbugs and I just want new upholstered furniture, damn it, everything wood can be bought used, but not if it has stuffing.)  Anyway, suffice to say, Hawthorn never said he wouldn’t lend me the chairs, yet the chairs are not at my house and he keeps offering to bring over some of the shitty dining chairs to sit on.  Man, I have a shitty chair, which for my present purposes is still preferable to your rickety dining chairs.

So, I woke up thinking about chairs.  My recent (pre-Hawthorn break up) desire for a good one, my need for one now, my exhusband’s mean-spirited chair fights and now Hawthorn’s chair dickery.  If the absence of desire is the end of suffering, let me tell you, I am suffering over chairs. Grrrr.

I have been thinking a lot lately about listening and paying attention.  This post (especially the comments) identified a lot of things I’ve felt about being a woman.  I think men often hear only what they think I am going to say (and this isn’t limited to men, I think my mother does this to me too).   With Hawthorn I have long felt like he was never listening to me.  Much of this, I know, is because he would ask me 3 or 4 times in an evening if I wanted to do something, as if he never listened to my answer before or he assumed I’d change my mind.  I’m not sure which but it was VERY frustrating.  Indeed it would have killed our relationship eventually, although hopefully in a less dramatic and shitty fashion than it did end. This post on communication with partners has had me thinking a lot too.  I often have no freaking clue what Hawthorn is talking about.  Like he’s using some shorthand that is all words and cues that I just don’t get (or he starts in the middle of a thought, I guess unaware that I can’t read his mind) and now that we’ve broken up and spend even less time together it seems to be getting worse and worse.  And then today Tiny Buddha told me that love means attention.  And let me tell you not being listened too and not understanding sure does feel like a lack of attention.

This is all to say, I guess, that I’ve long recognized the signs of why things would  never work out with Hawthorn in the long run. And perhaps most my hurt over all of this is his hideously terrible timing on the break up and his seeming disregard for me and what I am going through in relation to be rejected at just this time.  Also if he was really listening to or paying attention to me, he would know that lending my his damned chairs would go a long way toward repairing my anger about his assholishness.

Ugh. I feel wrecked and overwrought. I think I would feel better if I was taking the time to dilligently and thoughtfully write here, but it doesn’t seem to be in the cards right now. In moving week you prep for moving, plan for moving, freak about moving, relax and let it go, freak again, prep some more, do some more, blah blah blah. And I feel this way after having paid someone to come pack everything! (Seriously all I have left to deal with really is clothes, toiletries and a handful of kitchen things and framed pictures. Hooray!)

Therapy is weird right now. I feel like maybe my therapist isn’t convinced I need therapy because I seem to be doing okay, so I spent today trying to explain that I simply cannot do the deep emotional work I need to until I get moved and get through this part. I just can not rip open those wounds until I have a safe place to go lick them after. And then I tried to explain about how everything has been back to back to back to back to back for the last couple years and I need therapy but I need to just talk and be calm in a safe place too. I don’t know. It was good, I think, but weird.

Then I came home and was PISSED OFF at Hawthorn. I can’t say exactly (yet) but basically he told me something at work (last week) that was unprofessional for him to tell me, he shouldn’t have told me and I wish I didn’t know. It’s been seriously stressing me out. So after packing was done tonight I told him that he owed me and apology and that he’d seriously fucked up. He said he didn’t know what say except sorry and I said that was enough. We both went about our business and later he came back and told me that I was very right to demand that apology and I surely deserved it and he suspected there were a few more apologies he probably owed me. I said that for now understanding that apology was enough and we’d worry about the rest later. So that was good.

I have nothing in my head, it feels like that isn’t moving or decorating related. I’m tired and I’ve definitely been over taxing myself. Still taking the St. John’s Wort and I think I’m going to start adding the 5-HTP back in as that really was helping with sleep before all this medication hoopla.

Oak is moving back to town the day after I move into my new apartment. I don’t think I’ve at all processed what this means to me or what it will be like to have him here. I feel like I really need him as friend right now but I can easily cross a line with him where he thinks I’m asking for too much, or he misunderstands my intentions.  I suspect it’ll be wobbly for a while

I had a pretty good weekend, although it says something about my mental state that the high point was discovering that a mini/half-size pair of pants I made (an experimental design for baby pants but made very small) fit my teddy bear from childhood. Then I took a picture of my teddy bear wearing pants and sent it to my mother. Also the pants the bear used to wear fit my hippo so now everyone has pants. This development is way more interesting to me right now than my emotional problems.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Have a picture of a puppy.