the I is never silent - An (r)evolutionary heartbreak.

 “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 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