3/15/2012
When I decided to walk away from X, I did it because I loved
him more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. I put together the last bits of strength,
will and dignity I had and I made the decision that he wasn’t strong enough to
make; I had to walk away because he was tearing us apart and I knew if we were
ever to work out we had to stop. The
last night that we were together, he told me he would “always feel this way”
when I said I was afraid our connection could go away. We were lying on his bed, just looking at
each others’ faces, memorizing every line and freckle and he told me I was so
beautiful. That night when I asked him
when the last time was that he slept with someone else and he said “last week”,
I fell apart. I told him we were perfect for each other and I knew that I would
be the best person in the world for him and I asked him why we still couldn’t
be together after more than eight months of this. We were made for each other. He said we were running the same race but at
a different pace. He said he knew he was
better than anyone else I was with too.
We both knew being with each other was better than being with anyone
else but that wasn’t enough for him. I
asked him why he didn’t stay away after the first time, why didn’t he just
leave me alone, why won’t he just let me go and he just kept saying that he
couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. I
begged him to please let me go and he said he couldn’t. I asked him why we can’t let each other go
and he said “because we love each other.”
That’s the closest X ever got to saying “I love you” but I knew he was
saying exactly that. And I believed
every single word. That was at 4 a.m. on
Tuesday, February 28. Five days later we
were finished and he had someone else in his bed.
Those first four days before March 4, I sent him love and
positive energy. I had stopped
communicating with him but every night before I went to sleep I would tell him
in my mind that I loved him and I hoped he was good and that this was just
temporary and it’s for us. I would tell
him that I hope he knows I love him. I
would whisper “because we love each other” and then fall asleep. Because we love each other was the only thing
that gave me strength. I knew if we
loved each other we could get through this.
That Sunday when he figured out that I had pulled away, he never asked
why, he never called, he never tried to stop me. It all ended in a text message of all things. And even after I knew that he had someone
staying there that very night, I still believed that he loved me. I believed that he was so hurt and irrational
that he couldn’t handle the pain of being alone. That’s how much faith I had in us, even until
the very end. For me it was never about
me leaving him and it was never about me hurting him but he made it about
that.
Now I ebb and flow between darkness and strength, depression
and feeling free of his shit and lies. But
I constantly find myself self muttering “why” and “how”. I find myself going over the things he said,
his sincere apologies over leaving me in November to be with that girl and how
he knew he’d made a mistake days after he left me. How he was so afraid he would never talk to
me again and he knew he was wrong about her; he had made something up in his
head and he was wrong. I think about how
we spoke again after 6 weeks of not hearing his voice and how it sounded like
home. Even with all of the pain it was
still like coming home after being gone for a long time. I thought that night would be a starting over
for us. That was Christmas Eve. We talked for hours, just like we did
before. And when he drove back to LA
from Arizona we spoke for four hours, almost the entire trip. But X forgot my birthday five days later and
by the time it popped up on his calendar the best he could do was send a text
that said “oh and happy birthday.” So
much for starting over. He was already
sleeping with someone else.
What he didn’t tell me but I would later find out is that he
had taken that November girl to an event down in Orange County and took her out
with his friends that night for her birthday while he was still seeing me. He took her to a concert with his manager
three days after he left me at that restaurant on November 12. He took her home to meet his family for
Thanksgiving 11 days after he ended it with me.
He took her snowboarding that same month. And they had planned to go back to his
family’s house for Christmas, but apparently she changed her mind at the last
second. Imagine if they’d gone through
with those plans…This person who told me he had stopped dreaming until I came
around. He told me that I had brought
him out of the dark hole that he couldn’t get escape from; he told me that he
had fallen for me and felt more for me than he had for anyone in a long
time. He told me he missed me, he loved
the way I laughed, he told me I felt like home to him, he told me I was so
beautiful it was hard to comprehend. I went to doctor appointments, the grocery
store and hell and back with him. That
night on March 4, when I drove by his house and saw that not only was another
girl there and that she had the exact same car as me- color and everything, but
she was also the girl from November. He
had brought her back into his life. I
don’t know, maybe she never left. He
took her to Mexico City the following weekend for a show he was doing
there. He left me up here to remember
the day back in January when we made love in the sun and talked about how much
we’d love to go somewhere with each other; somewhere warm. I can still imagine the sun shining on his
face and the way it felt when we loved each other in that moment. One month later I suppose he was doing just
that with someone else.
He has to know how bad it hurt me the last time; I couldn’t
eat, my hair fell out, I couldn’t sleep, I had nightmares, the pain and stress
were so intense I actually had physical changes to my body. How could he do it again. How could he do this to me again after I let
him back in and he saw how much damage he had done to me and to us. I remember X and I used to go for drives in
the mountains or in the hills and just talk.
I used to be the one who could calm him down when he was upset, I could
get him to eat when he had worked for 20 hours straight. I saw him at his absolute worst when the
reality of the divorce hit him and he broke down and cried. Those moments had to be real. I wiped the tears from his face. And now here I am alone, wiping away my own
tears while he is pretending his do not exist.
X used to tell me that I had no patience. That I was the one he liked the most and that
it would probably end up being us in the end.
And if I would just back off and let go a little bit he would naturally
gravitate to me. He would say that he
thought about us being together all the time.
He said sometimes he would look at me and think “what am I doing, not
being with this girl?” He would say
things about our kids. I believed every
word of it. We could spend hours
together, just the two us, laughing, talking, touching, not speaking, and just looking
at each other. I knew every hair, every spot on his entire body. I knew how to touch him. I thought I knew everything about him. But I should have known he was full of
shit. I should have known when he didn’t
want to meet my friends, or my cousin who flew all the way from Germany to LA,
or when he wouldn’t speak to me before his show in LA and hardly spoke to me or
sat by me after that show. I should have
known when he always kept his phone on silent, face down with a code on it –
stealth mode. I should have known when
he blamed the girls in his past for the failure of all of his
relationships. I should have known when
his ex-wife refused to have contact with him, even for her spousal support
payments. I should have known when he
said he didn’t want to be with anyone but me and then all of a sudden that was
not true. I should have known when I
thought to myself “should I get out of this?”
I should have known when I thought to myself “is he a mean person?” Part of me still believes all those things he
said. Part of me believes he loved me,
and did think about being with just me.
Part of me believes when we looked in each others’ eyes, we were feeling
the same thing. And the other part of me
believes it was all a lie. He never
loved me, he only used me to help him get better, he never meant anything he
said and he was just good at manipulating and making me believe. I cannot believe that someone could do the
things he did to me if they’re in love. You
don’t do these things to the person you love.
I had to find out through twitter that he was back with the trashy girl
from November. When I saw it, I fell to
the floor and screamed. I think
something happened to my heart at that moment.
I think it truly broke. I don’t
feel the same. I don’t feel like I’m the
same person anymore, I feel like I’ve been changed…a part of me is missing. I
could have loved him forever. I saw
fathers with their children and I thought of him and our family. I don’t know how people recover from this
kind of heartache but I know they do. I’ve seen movies and heard songs and
stories about people recovering from this.
I’m sure if you ask X what he thinks of me and why this
failed he would say I pressured him. He
would say I didn’t give him enough time and that eventually I became “an
inspector” every time I came over, looking for clues that another girl had been
there. I guess he’s right, I was
impatient. I saw how incredibly perfect
and happy we could be with each other, I knew what could have been and, to my
investigative credit…other girls had been there. So yeah, I’ll give him that. But I wish he would have given me the truth
from the start. Even back in September
2008 when we met and in the summer of 2009 when he told me he was getting a
divorce and I walked away and the in-between when we kept in touch until we met
up again June 18th, 2011. We
were still friends then, just getting together for drinks and to catch up. Nothing more in my mind, X was a friend and
someone I considered to be a pretty cool guy, but I didn’t want to date
him. Even when I saw him and went to hug
him for the first time in two years I still didn’t want him. And then we touched and everything changed. Something happened. I still tried to deny it; X wasn’t my type at
all and I was happily single at that point, I didn’t want this. But he was very convincing. I suppose he still is. He sought out and broke down every single
barrier, wall and defense mechanism I’d implemented. He chipped away at all of it until I was
completely his. And then he decided he
didn’t want it. Twice. Ten times. Fifty
times. He even rejects me in my
nightmares. I wake up and force myself
to get out of bed, force myself to eat, force myself to do my job. Before March 4th, he told me he thought about
me every day. I wonder if he thinks
about me now, I wonder what he thinks or feels.
I wonder if he looks at one of those girls or that one girl and sees my
face. I wonder if he can feel the pain
I’m feeling. I wonder if he thinks about
his ex-wife. I wonder if he still wishes
it could work out with her. I wonder if
that has been the problem all along. I
wonder if he’s doing the same thing to this other girl as he did to me. I wonder if the same thing will happen to
her. But mostly I wonder how I’ll get
over this and how long it will take. I
pray for it to not be long and I pray for the strength to get through it. I pray my hair doesn’t fall out again and
that I’ll want to eat.
I would have call X a friend but he probably doesn’t know
very many things about me. He probably
doesn’t know that my favorite color for the past seven years was green but now
it’s magenta, that I’m left-handed, I lived in Germany for 6 weeks when I was
an infant, I had my nose pierced, I shaved my head in the 7th grade
and I gave myself a Vanilla Ice eyebrow (just one brow). He doesn’t know what my degree is in, he
doesn’t know that my brother and his girlfriend are expecting their third child,
he doesn’t know that I like to take pictures and I love dancing and I’m afraid
of skunks and banks. He doesn’t know
what I went through to get to where I am and how much I struggled and fought to
get here. He doesn’t know that I paid
for seven years of my education by myself or that I taught myself to play the piano
when I was younger. He will never know
how much he hurt me. And I think I will
never know why.
3/23/2012
It’s been nearly 3 weeks and I still feel…loss. I have no distinction between my feelings:
love, hate, anger, comfort, loneliness and rage all blend into one. I thank God the nightmares have stopped, I’ve
started eating again and he’s not the last thing I think of before I drift off
and the first thing I think of the second I open my eyes. I’m doing better at my job, I’m starting my
skincare line and I’m spending more time with friends, but the city feels
lonely to me. It feels like I’m sleeping
with a stranger, I feel homesick. My
subconscious automatically turns right at Cahuenga and gets onto the 101 South
and speeds down the freeway to his house, into his arms and I feel
complete. Even with everything he took
from me it still felt right to be with him.
I suppose that’s the power a manipulator and a liar has on another
person; they can make someone believe, even when nothing is truly there, even
when they feel like a stranger in their own home. I still ask ‘why’ but it’s
not as often or with as much pain. I’m
just now today starting to feel like myself.
But I still wonder who I was with all this time. Who was he really? If none of this was real, what was he
thinking? What is he thinking now? How could he have hid the truth from me so
many times? How could he have fucked me
over so many times until there was barely anything left. I feel like I’m a ghost in that house and I
feel like that part of the city fell off of the earth and into outer space. It’s gone.
It doesn’t exist for me. They say
“don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened” but I’m pretty sure
that person didn’t give up their soul to the worst human on Earth; a wolf in
sheep’s clothing. Satan. I had all the faith in the world, I had
enough love for both of us, but that is not enough when the person you’re
loving isn’t being real to anyone. I
wish I knew how he really truly felt.
When he’s all alone, when he can’t avoid being by himself in those hotel
rooms, how does he really feel. I feel
like he has never ever fixed himself and the loneliness and fear swallow him
until he finds a distraction. It’s sad
to watch the person you love and thought you would spend the rest of your life
with destroy their self. Do I still love
him? Yes, because it was real for
me. Every glance, every touch, every
laugh, every fight, every tear, every memory, every promise, every bonding
moment was real for me. Do I hate him?
Yes, for all the same reasons.
3/26/12
But I still want to hold his face in my hands and I want to
ask him why he kept himself from me and from the happiness we could have
had. I want to know why he broke us
until we were nothing. I want to tell
him I didn’t walk away out of love lost, I walked away to save it. I want to tell him how much he hurts me every
single day. I want to ask him if he
remembers listening to Halocene our way home from Malibu. I want to ask him if he remembers the first
time I called his house “home”. I want
to ask him if he remembers how we were. I
want to ask him if he walked all over me because I let him. I want to know if he ever meant anything that
he said. I want to ask him how he could really sleep with me and then sleep with
someone else in the same week and then me again a few days later. I want to ask him if he knows what that did
to me and I want to know if he did it to the girl before me and is he doing it
to the girl now, or was it just me. I
want to ask him if he hates me. I want
to ask him why and I want to ask him how.
Why. How. And I want honesty. I want to ask him if he listens to the songs
I sent him. I want to know how long it
will take before this doesn’t hurt anymore.
I shouldn’t have to face this alone every day and even in my sleep. I see him in my dreams; sometimes he tells me
he’s over it, sometimes he apologizes for what he’s done, sometimes he’s with
her and she lives with him.
It’s sick but I still love him. I still want him by me and I still want to
touch him and talk to him and just do nothing with him. Even with us being completely broken I still
love him. The love never dies. The pain is so real and so intense it gives
me chills and I dig my fingers into the space between my ribs just so I can
feel something else. I pray for the pain
and the attachment to be over – take it all away – the bond, the connection,
the love. He has ruined this thing
beyond repair, there’s nothing left of what it used to be and I’m not who I
used to be. Twenty-two days later I
thought I would have made some progress but I’m in the same spot I was, if not
worse. I feel like we should have cared
and respected each other more than this, it just doesn’t feel right. And if he came back around, I wouldn’t send
him away, I would scream and cry and hurt and go through those trenches with
him again. I know that I’m still in that
space and I wonder how long it will be before I don’t have that weakness. I don’t feel like I’m going to hear from him
for a long time, if ever again and that should bring me some sort of comfort
but it leaves me feeling absolutely alone and haunted. This just isn’t the way it should have gone,
but is this how it’s been with every other girl? Do they just have to eventually walk
away? I have so many unanswered
questions for him and while I’m doing the work on myself and digging deep in
myself, I feel like I’ll never get that piece of the puzzle, it will always be
missing. How do you recover from a
broken heart and a robbed fate? Time
heals everything, even the pain of death but you never forget the taste of
heartbreak. The wound may heal but that
part of you never looks the same again – it’s jagged, uneven and ugly. So how do you heal while time is
passing? I read, I watch movies, I run, I
spend time with my friends, I’ve dove into my skincare line and my waxing
business but it’s always back there, waiting for me to give it attention, like
a begging dog. Even with this, writing
for hours, I’m hoping that purging myself of these thoughts will help, but I
wonder if it’s just feeding the fire.
These days the only semblance of warmth I feel comes from my
laptop, while he is busy staying warm with someone else in his bed. I wonder if he thinks about me when he’s with
her, I wonder if it feels different in his heart when he’s with her. I wonder if she’s knows that everyone who
works at The Coffee Table knows that she’s the 10th girl he’s
brought there. I remember feeling smug
and thinking I was the last new girl he’d ever take there. But I wasn’t, he hasn’t even taken a breath
between girls, hell they’ve even overlapped.
I’ve probably crossed paths with one on the way to his house. The thing is, I found two hours of songs that
have something almost exactly like what we had and what I’m going through which
makes me wonder HOW this could be a frequent enough thing that there is no
shortage of music written on the situation.
That’s sad. I would make the best melancholy DJ, just look at my
spotify account if you don’t believe me.
You may not believe me, but I actually want something
healthy. I want someone who wants me as
much as I want him. I want someone who
wants to go on a trip with me – not just because he’s punch drunk or in a deep
dark hole, but because he loves being with me and we have such a great time
together. I want someone who knows my
friends and has their phone numbers and knows about them and knows my mother
and where I grew up. I want someone who
wants to know what it was like where I grew up.
I want to be on the same team as someone, I want to feel grounded and
happy with someone. I want someone who knows me and knows what I’m thinking and
we have our own language and code words and inside jokes.
4/7/12
Ladies and gents, my soul mate has left the building. I asked for signs and I got them, I asked for
closure and it was immediately served.
Now I pray and beg for the pain of a broken heart to be gone. Part of me feels like true love doesn’t exist
– only time and a mutual decision build a bond that feels like love. The other
part of me believes there is someone out there who will treat me so well, they
will make X look like the horrible monster in my closet. X said things were too complicated – but all
I wanted was a monogamous relationship.
He says we started, then stopped then started then stopped... If I
recall correctly, we stopped the first time so he could fulfill some sort of
ridiculous fantasy that wasn’t really there and the second time we stopped was
because I decided I was too good to date someone who wanted to sleep with other
people. So yes X, that was really
complicated. Thank you for making it so
incredibly difficult. I do feel like I dodged a bullet with this
one, but what I can’t understand is why it hurts so much. Why is it taking so long to move on? Why do I still have dreams about him every
single night? Why does he continue to
haunt me? Am I holding on? I don’t even know how to let go other than
getting through each day, being grateful, and praying and begging for it to let
me go. This entire thing is a mystery to
me. I remember when I broke up with my
last boyfriend four years ago I was in misery for a long time, but I think I
was mostly upset because he had become one of my best friends and I didn’t want
to lose that. This is different, I wanted the rest of my life with this person
and I don’t know how to undo that decision; I don’t even know when that
decision happened but I wish it never ever did.
It’s such a paradox to me that I could love someone but feel pure
anxiety, pain, sadness and loss when I think of that person. That’s how I know this wasn’t meant to
be. It was bad timing and instead of
recognizing that and waiting, we couldn’t let each other go. Because we love each other.
6/10/12
Back, forth, back, forth.
Here, gone, give, take. I beg for
it to be done and finished but here I am, still. March, April, May, June…the days pass, my
life goes by and it’s counted in days with or without X. It’s not even happiness or sadness because
it’s mostly a sad thing but I don’t keep track of the emotions, I only notice
the time we spend apart. And I wonder
why, if I’ve begged and pleaded and truly asked this world to let me go of this
why the fuck is it still here? What does this thing want from me? How can it STILL be here? I feel like my life is wasting away waiting
for him. Is it because he isn’t letting
me go? It sounds like he has let me go;
when he says he doesn’t want to be with me I hear him and I gather up
everything I have in order to cut this thing off and end it but then here he is
calling me, making plans with me, thinking about me. Why. I
can’t be like my friends, I can’t do this for the next 3 years, I have to move
on with my life but I feel like there may be something he’s not telling
me. He doesn’t want to be with me, but
he’s drawn to me and thinks about me. If
I cut him off now will I lose him forever?
He has told me more than once that I want what he cannot give and he
hopes that I can find someone who will, but he has also said he fears the day I
meet that someone – but not enough for him to be with me for fear of losing
me. He’s willing to turn me down over
and over and over and I worry about whether or not he knows I’ll always be
there waiting for him. I can’t be caught with one foot in the door when the day
comes that he tells me he’s moved on and he’s with someone else. However, I’d love it if someone could explain
this voice in the back of my head that says “hold on, wait, it’s not your time,
give it time,” This voice is not telling me “walk away, it’s over,
it’s done there’s nothing left,” even though I would like it to be. X may be the love of my life but sometimes it
would be easier to be done with all of it.
But there is something left. This
thing never feels done. It never feels
like there’s a period at the end of our sentence, just an ellipsis…
6/21/12
It would have been our one-year mark on Monday. I don’t think he has any idea. I texted him, but only because he had
frequently been on my mind the few days before. Whenever that happens I believe it’s because
he’s having a moment too. I hope that’s
why it happens. Sometimes I’ll go days
or a week without thinking of him or thinking of the fact that we haven’t
communicated whatsoever in 9, 10, 11 days…It’s so nice to not have him consume
my thoughts anymore; if I let myself I can still feel see smell taste what it’s
like to drive up the hill to his house, the excitement I felt at spending time
with him. But I try not to go
there. Sometimes my thoughts defy me and
force me to remember every detail about his kitchen, or which products under
the sink in the bathroom or some other obscure area of the house. I wonder if his ex-wife does that. I wonder if I’ll ever stop doing that. The pain that I used to feel – the kind that
felt like it could crush my bones into dust - it’s almost gone, but the pain of
the loss is still here. It lurks in dark
corners waiting for my brain to allow it to come out and play but most of the
time I keep it shoved in a corner. I
still can’t figure out why I still
feel this way: is it the rejection? Is
it the connection that I thought we had?
Is it some sort of past father issues?
Is it just plain old regular true soul mate love? There are so many reasons I should be
disgusted with him and sometimes that’s enough to get my mind from going off
the deep end but why isn’t it enough for me to dismiss him for forever? I’m so ready to move on. I know if I don’t, one day he’ll show up with
another girl and she’ll be his girlfriend and I’ll still be standing there with
my heart in my hand, waiting to give it back to him. He has been drawn to me since the moment we
met four years ago. He knows it and I
know it. And part of me has always felt
something too. I was always excited when
it was his turn to play on tour and I kept in touch with him for the next three
years after that. I regret that night
last June so much. I wish we would have
never met up because ever since then I’ve felt like I’m not quite right, like
the universe took my 21 grams or something.
Everything is just a little off, I can’t focus on why I’m here, and I
just don’t feel complete. He took
something from me and I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recuperate. I still think it should have been me.
11/07/12
The few people I’ve sent this to for proof-reading all had
the same question; what happened after June?
Not soon after I wrote that last entry I was faced with a couple of
truths: X will never be able to tell me what really happened and he also never stopped seeing the girl from November. How do I know? I’ll be honest with you, I had
a bad habit of looking at his social media to see what he was doing and try to
get some sort of idea as to how he was really feeling and living. I think it was around June 26th
when I saw it. X didn’t know his head
from his ass when it came to cooking and I came into his life, but there it was
a year later a picture of the breakfast I used to make for him, but he was now
making for her. The worst part is, he
and I had been communicating up until this point and we were going to get
together and talk, hang out, go shopping for running shoes, we even talked
about doing a race together…He told me he had to reschedule because his
schedule had changed and he wasn’t in town, but I know those plates and I know
that countertop. He was home, he was
with her and he was cooking her breakfast that I used to make for him. Once again I sat in that fucking Hollywood
apartment feeling horrified, crushed and hurt.
But this time there were a few additional emotions; intense anger,
disappointment in myself, stupidity and even more loss – but it was more about
a loss of myself, not a loss of him. Over and over he’d done all these terrible
things to me and I thought that would be the time that I would walk away and be
done but it never was. But seeing him
give the exact kind of love that was all I ever wanted to someone else was the
ultimate destruction of us. I had built
this person back up, fixed him, put every little piece back in its place and he
never ever gave a single thing back. X,
I know you think that 25 year old Bottle-Service girl from the nightclub in
Hollywood saved your life, but remember who held you when you cried, who was
there when you couldn’t sleep, when you had bad dreams, when you were soaking
wet in bed, covered in sweat. Who
brought you out of those nightmares? Who
dried you off and took care of you? Who got you to laugh? Who got you to smile? Heal? Remember
who got you back on your feet. Also know that Karma and Santa Claus work on the
same system, and they never fucking forget.
The Universe says you learn something from every person who has come
into your life but this was such a back-handed lesson it hardly feels right to
give him any credit at all. What did I
learn? How strong I am? What kind of person I want to be? What kind
of person I should never be again? How
to detect a person with Narcissistic Personality Disorder? Why do some lessons feel like they’d rather
see you dead than coming out the other side?
After I saw that picture I was disgusted. It was time to let go because I was no longer
dealing with something pure and good.
From that point on, if I’d stuck around I’d be rolling in the mud with
pigs. So I found an amazing house in
Venice. It was destiny, a gift and a
message from the Universe telling me to go back where I belong; by the water
and the people seeking good loving positive experiences. I packed all of my things into boxes, moved
out here and never ever looked back. I
have had to go back to the area, to see clients or meet up with a couple of
important relationships I made while in the area (one being my neighbor who
came to the rescue after I was mugged).
But when I shut the door on that apartment I said goodbye to the bad
energy, the bad memories the bad events, the lonely nights, the lonely days,
all of it. I left it in there because I
refused to take that chapter with me.
That’s why Hollywood has bad
energy, so many people have done the very same thing I did; they left their
worst chapters in that area. It’s a
broken sad soulless place. Think of all
the shattered dreams and disappointment and unkempt promises that have happened
just in that one spot over the past 90 years.
Leaving Hollywood was absolutely vital for my recovery from this
mess. The first two months here were
pure magic. I cultivated amazing
relationships that seemed be waiting for me to join the party. I’ve spent four months working on myself,
questioning my mind and my spirit and what I want and need and what I won’t
accept. I’ve fallen down and picked
myself back up and faced the reality of loneliness and what it really means to
be physically alone with just myself. I
didn’t date, I didn’t kiss, I didn’t fall for anyone and I feel like that was
essential and important to my true healing.
I’ve spent the time to find the strength within to build myself back up
and recognize when I’ve hit a block and why.
There were still days when I would go back down into the “Deep Dark”;
I’d find myself on the floor with a vacant expression in my eyes, all cried out
and all of these toxic thoughts and emotions rolling off of me. But I believe those moments are those last
stubborn bits at the bottom of the bottle that are hard to get out unless you
have a special scrubby tool and some hot water.
The mind spirit and soul have to detoxify just like the body does. Once I was back in Venice, back home again,
it took a month just for my sinuses to heal.
It took even longer for my spirit to get back on her feet, dust herself
off and have a look around. After
reading this piece, one of my best friends asked me if I missed X and whether I
was hoped to ever reconcile with him. My
first immediate reaction was no but I’ll be honest, after I’d thought about it,
I thought there might be a bit of me that would actually take him back! After all of that I couldn’t believe that I
was really coming up with that answer. And
then I thought about it more and I realized I wasn’t want X back, I didn’t miss
him as a person I missed the feeling of loving someone and of being in
love. It had nothing to do with X. Do I want him back? No. Do I miss him?
No. I miss being in love. That was a lovely amazing rule-the-world kind
of feeling, but it was so short-lived.
Right now I live moments for me.
I try to work on myself everyday and question why I think and react the
way I do. I am grateful for my
surroundings and the abundance the Universe has provided for me. I am in full-on selfish mode and it feels
amazing but I’ve also started to pay attention to the ways other people
think. You can learn massive lessons
just from watching and listening to how others live their lives. I’m still impatient, bitchy and high-strung
but I’m also introspective and open to other ways and ideas. I’ve done the work and I’m doing the
work. The one year anniversary of the
night X left me at that restaurant is just around the corner. I’ve yet to go back to that place, but I
think I’m ready. I want to go back with
the people I love and who love me back and I want to take the negative power
from the spot and put amazing love in its place. Healing isn’t like an expiration date on your
milk carton, it takes its own time. But
I can feel it these days and one day I won’t think of him at all, not even
subconsciously. And nothing about him
will hurt anymore and the thought of possibly running into him will not make me
anxious. The thought is almost
thrilling, like hopping on a jet plane towards some amazing destination.
Listen, it’s November.
I feel like I’m beating a dead dog with this entire thing. Writing 9,000 words about my Deep Dark is
surely flattering to someone like X, but I’ve got some amazing things to
do. Like hopping on the back of a
classic Vespa and riding to yoga, then grabbing some fresh breaki (breakfast)
with my homies and then perhaps a surf in Malibu. Peace.
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