Two Weeks since 09/07.

He's alive. I'm alive. He's travel back today from Maine, as I request off work to go to Maine for Christmas. Is this my life? Is this what I want for my life? And yeah, it is. In many ways, I've wanted this and hoped for something like this. I hope it keeps growing and stays in this happy place. There is an evil part of me that wants him to fail, that seeks out his mistakes and decides magnify his (FEW!) flaws. I guess because I'm comfortable with that. I'm comfortable with loss and disappointment, and this happiness and lightness isn't meant for me. I wasn't meant to be in anything resembling healthy. I'm old. I'm used up. I've lost every ounce of romantic ideals that I've had. I'd already decided that my romantic future was doomed. I was meant to be alone and revel in that. I'd bought a house, gotten a dog, made the friends, booked the trips, and cemented myself a woman on her own. A permanent fixture as a 3, 5, 7th wheel. The dating apps were loooong dropped. There was no reason to fight against a situation that I'd made for myself. Our futures are the result of our choices, the tiny ones and the big ones all compounding together, and then you have this mixture. Do you like that recipe? How's it taste?! You only have yourself to blame because you're the one that made it. 

So, it's a little odd to be paired now, and it's scary to maybe, someday lose this. I don't want to be the one to wreck anything like I have in the past. 

New Post

New post which means new changes, always. Never one to jinx anything, I'm doing my best to maintain my expectations while also allowing myself to smile at the thought of him. He's so nice. So giving and full of life and love. He's gently charged our relationship forward with intentionality and quite strength. It scares me a little how much I like him. I'm scared of how hurt I could get, of how disappointed I could be if this doesn't work out. I wonder when the other shoe will drop, and I'll be forced to reconcile my intuition with what I want so badly. Stay tuned. 

Death

 is stupid. Can I just decide that people don't actually die. I mean, what the heck do we know? Maybe the dead are truly alive with us, moving about with us through our lives. Maybe as long as the person exists in our memories, the person is still living. The body is a vessel. The soul is the water. If the vessel breaks, the soul pours out, absorbed into the ground, and feeds, nourishes the life that its connected to. There is no death, only life in different forms, spilling out

34

For sure, this is not my favorite birthday. Not exactly joyFULL. But I'm thankful that I have it. There's tragedy and war everywhere, so let's do our best to celebrate those brief moments of happiness. And then let them go. No feelings are forever. We can't hold on forever. We are fleeting, all of us. And that's life running its course. Similar to us, life has no choice but to move forward. 

We all carry our pockets of pain. By my age, you've usually lost someone important and you've been forced to learn hard lessons. But again, life is going on everywhere. Everyone carries something. I guess that's why I've been enjoying a bit of Buddhism lately- the idea of not holding such a tight grasp on anything. Prayer and meditation. Allowing the sands of the mandala to wash away from you. Despite our best efforts and toil, the mandala will always be washed away because nothing is ever permanent. 

Christianity advises to go to God like a child, with openness and genuine curiosity. Asking questions and absorbing the stories. Buddhism advises to greet life like an empty vessel, waiting to be filled. You must empty out and rest, in order to be filled again. Either way, we aren't meant to know anything. We are only meant to experience and then rest. To understand pain, one must experience pain. To understand life, one must experience life, in all of its messy glories. It's risky because it's not all rainbows and balloons. Not every birthday is going to be rainbows and balloons. Who knows, maybe next year, I'll have that rainbow.  Anyways, have a nice day and weekend. 

Brad

Brad, you taught me so much. About the importance of family, friendship, loyalty, unconditional love, and lifted trucks. I'd never been with someone who was so completely my opposite, with such a different background from me. He had a large, unconventional family, was from the Southwest, more Motocross than SEC football. He was so laid-back, playful, fun-loving, and hilarious. He was good at everything. He had the unique ability to make friends with anyone. And he was bold, as he rolled up in his white Mercedes and asked for my number the first time the we met. 

I felt shocked and honored that I'd somehow tied down the infamous, footloose, and fancy-free, Brad Walters. He confirmed to me just three weeks in, "I'm going to start telling people that you're my girlfriend now, okay?" Full of surprises. He turned out to be such a homebody, enjoying evenings at home making ceviche and salsa, taking long baths, repotting our plants. On weekends, we'd sleep in until 8am (he never did learn how to sleep late) and cook up large, elaborate breakfasts for just the two of us. We enjoyed the little things like running errands together as a formidable team, formulating a plan of action, and executing what we wanted to accomplish that day. 

He was also extremely smart. He could take apart a car and put it back together again; he could build a house from the ground-up. He always kept himself busy, even installing a literal iPad into his 4Runner dashboard. He cared for his animals and his people. If Brad's in your corner, you're taken care of for life, and you are his family now. Even in our break-up, he made it explicit that he was always here for me. I feel like I've been waiting for him to come to his senses and realize all that he is. See what we all see in him. A quote that I'm holding close, "What is grief, if not love persevering?" He's gone too soon, but he loved and was loved. 

feels fade and flicker

I guess feelings are truly transient, and maybe that's their beauty and their downfall. All it required was one friend to snap me back into reality and dish out the crusty, dusty dirt. She said that he wasn't someone that she'd set a friend up with. She confirmed with me that I hadn't gone too far. She talked about his past, which we all have, myself included, so how much stake do I place in this past. 

It feels good to have my feet under me again because I knew that something wasn't right. I knew that it was complicated, and I was already losing my logic, as the hopeful, romantic side conquered my thoughts, as created a rich fantasy of a person that I didn't actually, truly know. The other shoe dropped unpleasantly from the sky, and it was only a matter of time before I would be disappointed. So, looking at my post from yesterday feels pretty ridiculous, way overblown and romantical, but those feelings were real and flowing, and it was nice to have my hopes up--even for just a week. 

"I want someone to make a big deal out of me"

I have large crush. On a real, living human, who is cute and kind and so completely unavailable to me that it almost physically hurts. We hung out a week ago- it was our second time in each other's space. I felt like I was giving my best performance. I wanted to be fun, charming, smart, outgoing, and wise. And CULTURED- oh my gosh, I wanted to seem so freaking worldly, ew, like chill out!  I was juggling several, revolving, thriving personalities to impress a person that I'd met one time. Of course, that one previous meeting lasted half of a day and all of the night. We both struggled to sleep innocently next to each other in a tiny double bed. I could feel the warmth of our shoulders touching each other, the full weight of his bare shoulder rested on top of mine and it was magic. His shoulder literally sent me to heaven. The bed moved when he moved, and I had microscopic awareness of his every shifting movement. I willed him to put his arm around me, but never happened. I watched him kneel down and adjust the room temperature. He breathed, he dreamed, he mumbled the word "sorry." 

I've singularly romanticized an experience that has catapulted my fantasies and intrigue into a human that I want to know more about and be around more and simply have more of. But why- after only one or two events, do I like this guy so absurdly much? Who, mind you, disappears into the ether every time he leaves Nashville, which is often, too often. He moves into another life, with potentially another woman (who knows!), and doesn't speak to me. He's neither asked for my number nor given his. It's like a strange, bewildering, wonderful mirage. A guy with growing, glowing potential for something that may be quite nice, fun, maybe even something resembling infatuation or love or passion- who envelops himself into the world, almost like he's absorbed away- into another life, other cities, or countries, and I'm instantly in the past and assumedly forgotten. He doesn't belong to me and never will, judging from what I've experienced thus far. Though I secretly (not so much secretly to innermost sweet and romantic self) hope I'm wrong- though I'm not wrong. I'm rarely wrong on my intuition; I just rarely listen to it. He doesn't belong to me, and he's not beholden to me just because I feel such immense interest and hope. And I think I may enjoy being around him? He belongs to himself. I belong only to myself and I need this blog to remind me of this every second and every time my hope wants to peek through the smog of my lonely (but quite lovely) hallow of the world.