“CHANGE YOUR REACTION
TO PEOPLE BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE CAN’T CHANGE”
~Timehop, 11:35 pm
A year ago today is the morning I woke up hoping that the
previous night was a dream. The prior night led to me discovering that the
person I had foolishly fallen in love with had been out on the day after
Christmas, dating someone that wasn’t me. If you’ve kept up with this blog, you
know the story and if not, there’s a whole blog here besides the post you are
currently reading. I won’t recall the
story in it’s entirety.
Today, I look back on the last year. In this last year, the ups and downs of moving on beyond a love
turned sour has been one of the biggest challenges I have faced. I burned
things, threw things away, retrieved things, wrote blogs and poems, lip synced
to songs with all my little heart, I have done all I could think to do…..including
praying, talking to my friends and ignoring my own broken urges.
He hurt me. But I buried myself in it. I closed the casket
on myself and laid in death with the things I hoped for us that turned out to
be for someone else. I peeked out only when I thought I wanted to breathe again.
It has been terrible on my soul.
One of our earlier conversations and something I may have
mentioned in this blog before was about the woman prior to me. He asked me ‘do
you think a person can be in love with the idea of love?’. I told him yes, and in all honesty right now,
I remember thinking to myself how ‘foreshadow-y’ this conversation FELT. We
talked quite a bit about the possibility of a woman being in love with an idea
rather than reality. He went on to tell me that she thought she loved him
although he gave her no reason to fall in love and he never even slept with her
or lead her to believe he was interested in her. He said she was basically
having a hard time moving on. I remember standing in my living room pushing away
the consciousness of my internal voice. There were all sorts of alarms and
pre-warnings in this conversation but I had to believe in him. I had to believe
in the possibility that the person I wanted was also the person that wanted ME.
He described who we turned out to be in telling me the previous entry in his collection
of emotions campaign. I can’t even refer to it as hindsight because it was in
view at that moment. I just was different, lol. ;)
#ThingsWeTellOurselvesInTheFire
Seeing as though 2014 literally began with the crash of me
and him, it is of no surprise to me that it played it for a long time; I just
didn’t expect it to last nearly the entire year. Never have I experienced that
type of grief over a relationship before, and especially not one that wasn’t
even a professed relationship. “It was all a dream”. I pitched this idea and
projected my hopes and wants and got hurt when NONE of it was
reciprocated. Read the blog if you are
curious. It’s all here.
I don’t want to dig it all up, but basically, I’ve walked a
great deal of this year in zombie-like state because my heart was broken. He lied,
he hurt me and he half ass-I’ve-been-caught apologized for it and chucked the deuces
like I was no one. I AM someone. And it hurt me even more, that like so many
before him, I was forgettable. Nothing I said or did mattered, because there
was something about me that wasn’t connecting. If any of these things came out
as honest conversations, I really don’t believe it would have stung as hard. But
when a woman has to investigate and find out shit on her own, that becomes its
own beast. And boy has it been one.
Its been one hell of a fucking year. Trying to forget him
and how much he hurt me. Forgetting him, moving on from HIM, not wanting HIM
anymore has been the easiest part. Forgetting how the hurt FELT, forgetting how
easily he forgot about me, forgetting how stupid I was, how much I ignored all
the warnings, forgetting the day I stopped trying to avoid who he was has been
what the challenge is.
It’s easy to dislike a person and no longer want contact
with them.
It is not as easy to forget what occurred to make things
that way.
I buried myself in plays and shows and ideas and people in
hopes to keep my mind busy, but at the end of everything, I was still hurting
greatly. Small step by small step, I have rid myself of bits and pieces of him
that were left behind. The dopamine flavor faded a long time ago. I haven’t ‘wanted’
him. I have craved retribution. And I never got it.
Never saw a big break up or heard about bad news through the
grapevine. Nothing. Not a peep.
It was never about him.
It’s always been about me. MuseWeasel was the culmination of
all of the bad choices I could possibly make and all the instinctive
conversations I could ignore from myself.
He came packaged up so beautifully with the perfect charm and the
greatest arms I had ran for cover to. I loved him. Even in typing that, I remember
loving him, in such a short but very deliberate period of time and how excited
it made me to fall. I was excited he would fall for me too. Queen told me she
had never seen me beaming like that before.
Gabby told me she had never heard me cry like that before.
In the play, For Colored Girls, I was asked to write two
original pieces that I perform during the show. One of them comes after the
rape scene and the poem is entitled ‘Non-stranger with a Familiar Name’. I was
asked to write about being raped by
someone you know. I wrote this poem ten minutes after being asked to write it,
in one sitting, with VERY minimal change/alterations from inception to
performance. I wrote it, during a loud, tightly enclosed rehearsal and the way
the words flew from my fingers was as if it was a poem that had been long
sitting on my heart, awaiting the day they would be released. No, he did not rape me, at all. But the
words, beyond the surface of the topic, are everything. They are him. They are all of them. They are
each and every heartbreak, every time I fell in an unrequited love, in a single
poem that was written for my character who had nothing and yet everything to do
with me.
What a year.
Hell, what a life !!!!!
And it took nearly the entire year for me to see a great
deal of it, bit by bit, but oh boy does it feel like ice to a wound to be in
the process of continual letting go and healing. Heart remodeling. I’m still
not a point where I feel like I believe that a love out there exists for me by
way of companionship. That’s still hard
for me to believe. But I flirt with the
idea.
At least I’m not sitting up in the middle of the night
contemplating things. Or facebooking ( my timehop started jumping as of today)
my way through this heartbreak. At least I did it semi-gracefully. * shrug
* Or, idk, at least I didn’t catch no
cases or end up in no one’s jail or on the wrong side of karma.
I started this blog.
And I am damn glad I did. I have NO regrets.
If calling his ass out means I get to fully heal, then his
ear phones will be ringing. I have no regrets. While I take complete and full responsibility
for the way of my heart is set up, I don’t, can’t and wouldn’t if I could take
responsibility for his wrong doings. He was wrong. By all accounts, he was
wrong for lying, for being a dick, for fucking multiple people, for toying with
people’s emotions and for many others things that are outlined in this blog.
He was wrong.
And I’m ok with saying that too.
Before, I thought any time I called him out, I needed to
follow that up with what I did wrong as well, but fuck it yo. Wrong is wrong is
wrong is wrong.
I don’t have to tit for tat. I don’t have to heal overnight
or smile about it when I’m hurting. I don’t have to protect his legacy. Or stay
quiet and not mention anything. I don’t have to be ok right now. I don’t have
to hold on. I don’t have to hold him too high of standards and I don’t have to
hold myself to low of any. One of my timehops said that I was officially gonna ‘stop
pushing my chair in at the toddler’s table’.
That was from today, a year ago.
One of my older timehops stated that I expected it would
take the better of a year for me to get over what I was feeling. The year is
here. It has nothing to do with the ‘new year.’ It has everything to do with
actual time.
The time has elapsed.
The blogs became less frequent and although I intend to
continue this blog, it is no longer a necessary part of my healing. I’ve
flirted with that cute lil young dude quite a bit.
One time, not too long ago, we hugged tightly and I found
myself scared to hug him back in the way he was hugging me. We had already
hugged, only moments before, so this hug was really something else. This was
our secret moment. This was us physically flirting in innocence. I knew it by
the way his pelvis touched mine. I was firm in my stance and even though I wanted
to turn my head into his neck and inhale deeply, while pushing my chest into
his and returning the momentary flirt, I couldn’t. We broke hug and went our
separate ways.
I don’t know when (or if) someone will ever touch my heart
again or when I will be able to hug without pause or kiss without one eye open.
I haven’t had a date since 2013 and sex is the furthest thing from my mind.
I don’t talk on the phone, or text anyone and that has been
my existence since the inception of this blog. But today, I don’t say that in
sadness like I did when I first started. Today, I say that in acceptance and ok’ness.
Today, I am so ok with where I am. I don’t wonder if I’m ‘good
enough’ or if I’m less than because I’m not a sorority chick or cause I didn’t
go to IU. I know I don’t have to play games and force feelings. I think the reason
I was destined to fall in love with MuseWeasel was for this life lesson he left
me with. I admit, sometimes I wonder if he ever thinks about me. I wonder if he’s
smiling or life is treating him well, but those thoughts have become fewer and
fewer and none of them have immediate emotion or tears accompaniment. I’m ok
with meeting him. I’m ok with falling in love with who I met. I am no longer
upset with myself for being so willing to love him. To hand him my heart and
wait to see what he would do with it. This is work. It has taken GREAT work, great resilience, great refusal to bow down and let him run away and propose to his BAE with my crown!
I don’t regret him or my choices anymore. I don’t regret the
times I tried to help him or the tears or the way the I felt when I thought we
were making love to each other. But I will never doubt myself again or my
instincts. This was step by step Guide to Relationship Building for Dummy JY. I
see that in hindsight. And I accept it
for the betterment of my soul.
I filed for bankruptcy. And I look forward to rebuilding my
finances and my heart. I found my inner sexy again and i'm ready for a photo shoot. I am not 100 percent but I am the closest to it that I have been this entire year. I wouldn't change it.
I look forward to someone taking interest in me and
asking me out.But I won't hold my breath or my life waiting for it to happen. #WatchMeLive
I really want to go skiing for my birthday. I found myself inviting the secret service man I have spoken of once or twice. He asked me when and I never responded.
I really want to go skiing for my birthday. I found myself inviting the secret service man I have spoken of once or twice. He asked me when and I never responded.
I figured I was doing it again.
Going at things all wrong. I’m about to be 36 and if there
is one thing that being 35 taught me, it is that I am seasoned, beautiful and
deserving enough to have someone take interest in pursuing the knowledge of who
I am, rather than me trying to handcuff a nigga out of his carseat and label him a
King.
**
pulls down aviator shades, turns on JayZ and pulls away of from Pump 2 **
I
finally got my fill up.
Today's soundtrack was Californication's last episode. There is a song they played near the end, that they have played during different melancholy episodes prior to this one. It was the perfect soundtrack. It was a good ending. A happy-ish ending. It was one of those, sometimes life happens, but all you can really do is throw on a pair of red boots, click them twice, say there's no place like ROAM and just.....go!
Watch out world.
I'm not dead yet.
~januarIe
