Some readers have noticed that in my Props for Shaun post, I referred to my ex by name. No more "The Ex". That's because the ex...er....Steve and I are talking again.
We hadn't spoken since the first of December and that was probably best. After six years, you can't break up and just act like everything is okay. He wasn't part of the mistake or fiasco, just so you know, and he was smart to remove himself from anyone involved. But, for the most part, that's all behind us and he's in a great relationship and I'm in a great relationship, so we're friendly again. We've even had dinner together and we still quote the same movies to each other in the middle of a conversation. Old habits die hard.
I'm happy that I still have Steve in my life. Because after six years of living with him, I can't just act like he doesn't exist (plus, he cracks me up. He's a funny guy). And I'm so very happy that Todd understands that, just as I understand that Sam was a huge part of his life and is the mother of his children, so she will never be completely gone. We can talk about our pasts and the people in them and no gets all bent out of shape or competitive.
I think I'm a very lucky woman.
Showing posts with label break up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label break up. Show all posts
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Props for My Gals...er....Guys III
I haven't really told you about Shaun, have I? You merely know him as one of my Sheauns, the guy I stayed with last summer and the guy who lets me get drunk and cry on his chest.
But there's so much more to him.
I met Shaun in January of 2001. Steve and I had started dating, for the second time, and he invited me to join him and his buddies for Guitar Night. They had one night a week where they all got together and played guitar and ate and drank. There were a couple of non-guitar players, Ms. Heather included, who sang or shook shakers or just curled up quietly in the corner and listened. On this particular night, Shaun and McP were the only attendees. And since they were just so impressed by my singing, I became a regular with the group and saw them every week.
In the course of my six year relationship with Steve, Shaun became one of my best friends from the group. He, Steve, McP and I went on a few three day weekends together and I probably saw him more often than anyone else. He moved back to Boston for a year, but when he returned to Seattle, we all picked up right where we had left off.
I had always considered Shaun a good friend, but I never knew how good of a friend until he suddenly became my family.
Two days after the break up, I called and asked if I could stay with him for a few days. He said I could stay as long as I needed. And he meant it. He cleaned out a drawer in the bathroom for me and gave me his spare set of keys. He would text me throughout the day and ask if I had eaten anything recently. He would drag me out of the apartment in the evenings when I was curled up on the couch, staring glassy- and teary-eyed at the TV.
When I felt I had burdened him enough, and I went to stay with Jessica for a few weeks, I offered to give his spare keys back. He said no. He said since he traveled so much, I should just hang onto them in case I needed to do laundry or just wanted to crash there one night.
When I finally moved into my own apartment, I again offered to give his keys back. He again said no. Since I was having such laundry stress, he told me I could come over and do my laundry at his place anytime. (And in November, when The Fiasco happened, he started texting again. "Consider this your daily check in from Chicago! Eaten anything today?")
I spent Thanksgiving day and New Year's Eve with Shaun. He sat and watched football with me almost every Sunday, even though he doesn't give a shit about football and would spend the whole afternoon talking about how great Brady was, even though the Patriots weren't playing. He even talked me out of extending my West Virginia trip so that we could have a few three day weekends this summer.
Then, in April, I met Todd. Who, coincidentally, has a ton of things in common with Shaun (theater, graphic novels, music) When I told Shaun, he said, "You can't date him until I meet him." Well, Shaun was still traveling a lot, so after a month or so, he changed his tune. "You can't move in with him until I meet him." They finally met at dinner earlier this month. And I think he approves.
I went over to Shaun's this past Tuesday night, and as I left, I again asked if he wanted his spare set of keys back.
This time he said, "Sure". And I cried a little.
It was such a turning point. I don't need his keys anymore. And he knows it, so he took them back. It's like giving up a security blanket, or the pretty pink pills. I'm okay now. I have security (and laundry privileges) with Todd, but Shaun will always be my big brother. There has never been a doubt in my mind about his loyalty or his intentions. I knew I could let down my guard with him and he would still be a true friend. Oh, there were other men comforting poor Raechelle last summer, but I was way too broken to realize that they had ulterior motives. Shaun never had an ulterior motive.
(Or maybe he did. He's a guy. I'm cute. And was drunk. A lot.)
He never crossed that line. And when I confessed to him the Ginormous Bad Decision of 2007, he just looked at me and said, "Wow. You really screwed up. But you know what, Raechelle? Everybody does. Don't let anyone judge you because they've all screwed up, too." And then he let me cry on his chest.
So, raise those glasses!
To Shaun! One of my best friends. My big brother. My lifeboat.
*clink*
I love ya, man.
But there's so much more to him.
I met Shaun in January of 2001. Steve and I had started dating, for the second time, and he invited me to join him and his buddies for Guitar Night. They had one night a week where they all got together and played guitar and ate and drank. There were a couple of non-guitar players, Ms. Heather included, who sang or shook shakers or just curled up quietly in the corner and listened. On this particular night, Shaun and McP were the only attendees. And since they were just so impressed by my singing, I became a regular with the group and saw them every week.
In the course of my six year relationship with Steve, Shaun became one of my best friends from the group. He, Steve, McP and I went on a few three day weekends together and I probably saw him more often than anyone else. He moved back to Boston for a year, but when he returned to Seattle, we all picked up right where we had left off.
I had always considered Shaun a good friend, but I never knew how good of a friend until he suddenly became my family.
Two days after the break up, I called and asked if I could stay with him for a few days. He said I could stay as long as I needed. And he meant it. He cleaned out a drawer in the bathroom for me and gave me his spare set of keys. He would text me throughout the day and ask if I had eaten anything recently. He would drag me out of the apartment in the evenings when I was curled up on the couch, staring glassy- and teary-eyed at the TV.
When I felt I had burdened him enough, and I went to stay with Jessica for a few weeks, I offered to give his spare keys back. He said no. He said since he traveled so much, I should just hang onto them in case I needed to do laundry or just wanted to crash there one night.
When I finally moved into my own apartment, I again offered to give his keys back. He again said no. Since I was having such laundry stress, he told me I could come over and do my laundry at his place anytime. (And in November, when The Fiasco happened, he started texting again. "Consider this your daily check in from Chicago! Eaten anything today?")
I spent Thanksgiving day and New Year's Eve with Shaun. He sat and watched football with me almost every Sunday, even though he doesn't give a shit about football and would spend the whole afternoon talking about how great Brady was, even though the Patriots weren't playing. He even talked me out of extending my West Virginia trip so that we could have a few three day weekends this summer.
Then, in April, I met Todd. Who, coincidentally, has a ton of things in common with Shaun (theater, graphic novels, music) When I told Shaun, he said, "You can't date him until I meet him." Well, Shaun was still traveling a lot, so after a month or so, he changed his tune. "You can't move in with him until I meet him." They finally met at dinner earlier this month. And I think he approves.
I went over to Shaun's this past Tuesday night, and as I left, I again asked if he wanted his spare set of keys back.
This time he said, "Sure". And I cried a little.
It was such a turning point. I don't need his keys anymore. And he knows it, so he took them back. It's like giving up a security blanket, or the pretty pink pills. I'm okay now. I have security (and laundry privileges) with Todd, but Shaun will always be my big brother. There has never been a doubt in my mind about his loyalty or his intentions. I knew I could let down my guard with him and he would still be a true friend. Oh, there were other men comforting poor Raechelle last summer, but I was way too broken to realize that they had ulterior motives. Shaun never had an ulterior motive.
(Or maybe he did. He's a guy. I'm cute. And was drunk. A lot.)
He never crossed that line. And when I confessed to him the Ginormous Bad Decision of 2007, he just looked at me and said, "Wow. You really screwed up. But you know what, Raechelle? Everybody does. Don't let anyone judge you because they've all screwed up, too." And then he let me cry on his chest.
So, raise those glasses!
To Shaun! One of my best friends. My big brother. My lifeboat.
*clink*
I love ya, man.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
The Very Last First
Welcome Back
By Eliza Gilkyson
It was the summer of my discontent
It was the fall of a lifetimeIt was the winter of my penitence
Waitin' on the springtimeIt was all sackcloth and ashes
Four a couple of years
I took my licks and my hundred lashesI cried a bucket of tears
Well, that distant shore is forever out of reach
Before you know it you're washed up on the beach
And it's welcome back
It was a pretty dark dayBut now the sun is shining
Welcome backI guess I'm on my way
I was bent but I was not broken
I was sinking but I did not drownI was reeling but I was still hoping
I could be lost and foundI was temporarily disconnected
In a state of disrepairDisoriented and dejected
I had to climb out of thereThrough the labyrinth and down
Til you land on solid groundWelcome back......
Monday, June 9, 2008
The Last of the Firsts
Despite my utter joy in this wonderful, new relationship, I am still struggling through this first year of life after The Ex. Six years with someone, when you're in your mid 20's, is a long time and although I've bounced back from the break up almost completely, I'm still stricken with moments of sadness and mourning. That first christmas, the first anniversary in January, my birthday. And now we're coming upon a year anniversary of the break up itself. Once all of these firsts are done, I'm home free. I'll start a new post break up first free year.
But until then......
Today marks the year anniversary of the big party. The night that made it so very clear that even though I loved The Ex very much, my heart just wasn't in it anymore. It was a fantastic party, but I went to bed knowing the end was near.
I'm not really sad today. I'm way too happy to be sad. But it's still a milestone and I'm still a bit emotional. It's just overwhelming to think about how different my life is these days.
I'm happy where I am now. I'm more confident, I'm stronger (I'm thinner) and I know exactly what I want and what I will not tolerate. And now, I make choices rather than letting someone else decide what I get out of my life. That's empowering. It's been a long time since I've felt empowered.
I've got one more first and then we're done. I can put that Year After The Break Up behind me and finally move on. And start making new firsts.
But until then......
Today marks the year anniversary of the big party. The night that made it so very clear that even though I loved The Ex very much, my heart just wasn't in it anymore. It was a fantastic party, but I went to bed knowing the end was near.
I'm not really sad today. I'm way too happy to be sad. But it's still a milestone and I'm still a bit emotional. It's just overwhelming to think about how different my life is these days.
I'm happy where I am now. I'm more confident, I'm stronger (I'm thinner) and I know exactly what I want and what I will not tolerate. And now, I make choices rather than letting someone else decide what I get out of my life. That's empowering. It's been a long time since I've felt empowered.
I've got one more first and then we're done. I can put that Year After The Break Up behind me and finally move on. And start making new firsts.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Who Knew Pink Towels Could Be An Opportunity To Grow?
It finally happened.
I turned my white bathroom towels pink.
Along with my white kitchen towel and all of my white hair towels.
I got permission from my neighbor to throw a load of laundry in, so I washed the huge pile of towels that's been accumulating for the past three weeks. I did think to pull out the red cloth napkins and the plaid napkins from the picnic backpack, but I thought the other towels were old enough that they wouldn't bleed.
Wrong.
All pink.
So I filled up the bathtub with bleach and water and soaked the two big bath towels, the wash cloths and the hand towel.
And then occurred to me.
I wasn't upset.
A year ago, this situation would have made me snap. I think my stress level was that high and I was that wound up.
Case in point: When I was still with The Ex, I washed (and dried) a load of laundry, completely unaware that that my red lipstick was still in the pocket of my jeans. There was lipstick on everything. And I cracked. Literally. The Ex came upstairs to find me standing in the bedroom, looking at the pile of laundry on the bed and just sobbing and saying the F word over and over. I felt like a failure.
For six years, I was trying so hard to prove that I would be a great wife. I was cooking dinners five nights a week, I was spending all of my spare energy keeping the apartment clean, I was taking care of the bills and going grocery shopping and managing our social calendar.
So when I screwed up a load of laundry, I felt like I disappointed The Ex. And don't get me started on my feelings of inadequacy when I almost burned down the kitchen trying to fry homemade won tons.
The point is, today, in this new life, I am not the least bit concerned about these pink towels. Yes, it bugs me, but I did not cry. I did not cuss. I didn't throw anything. I figure, I'll just go back to JC Penny and buy two more towels and two more wash clothes. Big deal. The bleaching helped tremendously, but they still have a tint. And that's just fine for now. No biggie.
It's funny how these little things that happen now make me realize how unhappy I was for so long. I was so wound up that I cried at laundry. I cried at full trashcans. I cried at having too many social engagements in one week. I cried. A lot.
So what if I turn the towels pink? I'm still going to make a great wife. If anything, I'll be more comic relief than one man can stand.
And if he gets upset at pink towels, well, then maybe I don't want to be with him anyway.
I turned my white bathroom towels pink.
Along with my white kitchen towel and all of my white hair towels.
I got permission from my neighbor to throw a load of laundry in, so I washed the huge pile of towels that's been accumulating for the past three weeks. I did think to pull out the red cloth napkins and the plaid napkins from the picnic backpack, but I thought the other towels were old enough that they wouldn't bleed.
Wrong.
All pink.
So I filled up the bathtub with bleach and water and soaked the two big bath towels, the wash cloths and the hand towel.
And then occurred to me.
I wasn't upset.
A year ago, this situation would have made me snap. I think my stress level was that high and I was that wound up.
Case in point: When I was still with The Ex, I washed (and dried) a load of laundry, completely unaware that that my red lipstick was still in the pocket of my jeans. There was lipstick on everything. And I cracked. Literally. The Ex came upstairs to find me standing in the bedroom, looking at the pile of laundry on the bed and just sobbing and saying the F word over and over. I felt like a failure.
For six years, I was trying so hard to prove that I would be a great wife. I was cooking dinners five nights a week, I was spending all of my spare energy keeping the apartment clean, I was taking care of the bills and going grocery shopping and managing our social calendar.
So when I screwed up a load of laundry, I felt like I disappointed The Ex. And don't get me started on my feelings of inadequacy when I almost burned down the kitchen trying to fry homemade won tons.
The point is, today, in this new life, I am not the least bit concerned about these pink towels. Yes, it bugs me, but I did not cry. I did not cuss. I didn't throw anything. I figure, I'll just go back to JC Penny and buy two more towels and two more wash clothes. Big deal. The bleaching helped tremendously, but they still have a tint. And that's just fine for now. No biggie.
It's funny how these little things that happen now make me realize how unhappy I was for so long. I was so wound up that I cried at laundry. I cried at full trashcans. I cried at having too many social engagements in one week. I cried. A lot.
So what if I turn the towels pink? I'm still going to make a great wife. If anything, I'll be more comic relief than one man can stand.
And if he gets upset at pink towels, well, then maybe I don't want to be with him anyway.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Homesick, Blue, Blah....
I woke up this morning and had a hankering for my youth. So I made Coco Wheats and watched Looney Tunes while wrapped up in my jammies and a blanket. Gossamer is my favorite. And this scene where Bugs is doing Gossamer's nails and talking about how monsters are so int-er-resting.
I think I'm homesick. That's the only time I crave Coco Wheats.
And while we're reminiscing, here's my very first coffee mug. Yes, I used to drink coffee out of it when I was a wee pup.
Today is gray. In many ways. Yes, the sky is overcast and there are a few raindrops on my window, but I'm just a little blue, too.
But K-Ski is coming over for dinner! I'm making enchiladas and we'll watch The Committments and get our Glen on. I do love me a red headed Irish boy.....
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Sunday Blahs
I'm blue today. Not sure why. So, of course, I'm overanalyzing it and trying to figure out just where the "blue" is and why.
Which makes me even more blue.
I could be tired. I blame the drive to Covington last night for the monthly gals' dinner. After dinner, we all went back to Nichole's and had birthday cake. She bought me an ice cream cake. My first ever. Then she barked at me to "blow out the goddamn candles, Raechelle, they're melting on the cake!" I love Nichole. She reminds me a lot of my mom. Nichole may not be so flattered to hear that.
Anyway, since we were all just lounging around, I didn't leave her place until 11pm or so. I got home and went straight to bed, and slept pretty well until 7am when my new upstairs neighbor, Esther (who I fear may be a morning person), started clomping around. She must have left around 7:30am, because it got quiet again, so I slept until 9:30am.
Then, since I was blinded by sunlight, I figured I'd make the most of the nice day and go for a walk. Couldn't hurt to burn off the mud pie ice cream cake from last night. It was a good walk. I wanted a new route, so I maybe slightly inadvertently but maybe on purpose walked by The Ex's place. And I maybe felt like a stalker. Nothing noteworth except all of the blinds are down and his car has a new hole in the side.
Funny thing. I've dreamed about him for the past two nights (source of the blue?). In one dream, I was visiting him and was just appalled at the state of the apartment. Then he morphed into a creepy doctor I work with. In the other dream, I was visiting him again and he was making dinner. We were hugging and I remember thinking, "Why bother? It's not like this relationship is ever going to go anywhere." He asked me to put his cell phone away because he didn't want to be bothered and as I was putting it in the drawer of the coffee table, I noticed the screensaver was a picture of me. Then I was sitting on the couch and his girlfriend came over with her parents. And she was none too happy that I was there. And that's it. So he was on my mind as I set out this morning.
Got home from my walk, stretched, ate some breakfast, took a shower, then just sat in my new chair and stared out the window while I drank my tea. And I have no plans for day. None. How weird is that? My Sheauns are both traveling, Jamie has to study, Val's out of town, Rachelle has Date Morning with her man on Sundays......
I'm all alone.
I don't think I'm handling it well.
Could very well be PMS.
I'm not used to this downtime. I know it's good for me, but then I beat myself up because there are things I should be doing. That's what I want on my headstone - "But there are things I should be doing!!"
I should call my ex-sis-in-sin. I've been wanting to see her for a month and just haven't had the time to get up there and visit. I should call my ex-aunt-in-sin to see how she's recuperating after a recent medical procedure she had done. I should go see Milo and Kim. I should go grocery shopping. I should take my vacuum in for servicing since I've never had it serviced in the five years I've had it AND I have a 50% off coupon. I should get my hair trimmed. I should take the pile of stuff in my corner to Goodwill. I should sneak into Shaun's apartment and do laundry (and clean for him - because I'm good like that.) I should do SOMETHING! I feel like I'm wasting the day.
But I can't seem to move from this chair. My mind is on overload with everything it wants to do, but my body is not cooperating. Maybe it's already exhausted from what's coming up: Monday: Jessica. Tuesday: walking, Wednesday: massage, maybe shopping with Jamie, Thursday: maybe shopping with Jamie if Wednesday doesn't work, Friday: happy hour with Jamie and her school buds. I may take Friday off. I have Monday, the 14th, off (because, ahem, it's my birthday) so why not just take Friday off too and make it a four day weekend?
Honestly, I just want to go back to bed.
Ooh, my Carrie Bradshaw moment:
At what point do we listen to our bodies and just do what it wants, without thinking there's something wrong?
Which makes me even more blue.
I could be tired. I blame the drive to Covington last night for the monthly gals' dinner. After dinner, we all went back to Nichole's and had birthday cake. She bought me an ice cream cake. My first ever. Then she barked at me to "blow out the goddamn candles, Raechelle, they're melting on the cake!" I love Nichole. She reminds me a lot of my mom. Nichole may not be so flattered to hear that.
Anyway, since we were all just lounging around, I didn't leave her place until 11pm or so. I got home and went straight to bed, and slept pretty well until 7am when my new upstairs neighbor, Esther (who I fear may be a morning person), started clomping around. She must have left around 7:30am, because it got quiet again, so I slept until 9:30am.
Then, since I was blinded by sunlight, I figured I'd make the most of the nice day and go for a walk. Couldn't hurt to burn off the mud pie ice cream cake from last night. It was a good walk. I wanted a new route, so I maybe slightly inadvertently but maybe on purpose walked by The Ex's place. And I maybe felt like a stalker. Nothing noteworth except all of the blinds are down and his car has a new hole in the side.
Funny thing. I've dreamed about him for the past two nights (source of the blue?). In one dream, I was visiting him and was just appalled at the state of the apartment. Then he morphed into a creepy doctor I work with. In the other dream, I was visiting him again and he was making dinner. We were hugging and I remember thinking, "Why bother? It's not like this relationship is ever going to go anywhere." He asked me to put his cell phone away because he didn't want to be bothered and as I was putting it in the drawer of the coffee table, I noticed the screensaver was a picture of me. Then I was sitting on the couch and his girlfriend came over with her parents. And she was none too happy that I was there. And that's it. So he was on my mind as I set out this morning.
Got home from my walk, stretched, ate some breakfast, took a shower, then just sat in my new chair and stared out the window while I drank my tea. And I have no plans for day. None. How weird is that? My Sheauns are both traveling, Jamie has to study, Val's out of town, Rachelle has Date Morning with her man on Sundays......
I'm all alone.
I don't think I'm handling it well.
Could very well be PMS.
I'm not used to this downtime. I know it's good for me, but then I beat myself up because there are things I should be doing. That's what I want on my headstone - "But there are things I should be doing!!"
I should call my ex-sis-in-sin. I've been wanting to see her for a month and just haven't had the time to get up there and visit. I should call my ex-aunt-in-sin to see how she's recuperating after a recent medical procedure she had done. I should go see Milo and Kim. I should go grocery shopping. I should take my vacuum in for servicing since I've never had it serviced in the five years I've had it AND I have a 50% off coupon. I should get my hair trimmed. I should take the pile of stuff in my corner to Goodwill. I should sneak into Shaun's apartment and do laundry (and clean for him - because I'm good like that.) I should do SOMETHING! I feel like I'm wasting the day.
But I can't seem to move from this chair. My mind is on overload with everything it wants to do, but my body is not cooperating. Maybe it's already exhausted from what's coming up: Monday: Jessica. Tuesday: walking, Wednesday: massage, maybe shopping with Jamie, Thursday: maybe shopping with Jamie if Wednesday doesn't work, Friday: happy hour with Jamie and her school buds. I may take Friday off. I have Monday, the 14th, off (because, ahem, it's my birthday) so why not just take Friday off too and make it a four day weekend?
Honestly, I just want to go back to bed.
Ooh, my Carrie Bradshaw moment:
At what point do we listen to our bodies and just do what it wants, without thinking there's something wrong?
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Gimme A Break, Will Ya?
My horoscope from the Seattle Times today:
ARIES (March 21-April 19): The future is not what it used to be. You may be faced with a drastic change or a new group of people. As alarming as it may sound this could have a dramatic yet positive influence on your future.
Um. How is this new news?
I believe that "drastic change" and that "new group of people" took place last summer.
Unless....
Oh no....
Does this mean yet ANOTHER drastic change is on it's way?
Oh, for the love of puppies! What could possibly happen now?! I just got a new gang! I've been so good! My social life is on fire! I haven't cried in, like, MONTHS!
I like the whole "positive influence" part, but come on! I cannot take another DRASTIC CHANGE.
It sounds bad. Doesn't it sound bad? It could be good, but I'm not in the most positive frame of mind today, so it just sounds bad. Ominous. More drama. I don't want anymore drama. I've been drama free for months now. I just want normal. Ho-hum. No drastic changes. No new group of people.
Another drastic change will break me.
I mean it.
No more changes. Please?
No more.....
ARIES (March 21-April 19): The future is not what it used to be. You may be faced with a drastic change or a new group of people. As alarming as it may sound this could have a dramatic yet positive influence on your future.
Um. How is this new news?
I believe that "drastic change" and that "new group of people" took place last summer.
Unless....
Oh no....
Does this mean yet ANOTHER drastic change is on it's way?
Oh, for the love of puppies! What could possibly happen now?! I just got a new gang! I've been so good! My social life is on fire! I haven't cried in, like, MONTHS!
I like the whole "positive influence" part, but come on! I cannot take another DRASTIC CHANGE.
It sounds bad. Doesn't it sound bad? It could be good, but I'm not in the most positive frame of mind today, so it just sounds bad. Ominous. More drama. I don't want anymore drama. I've been drama free for months now. I just want normal. Ho-hum. No drastic changes. No new group of people.
Another drastic change will break me.
I mean it.
No more changes. Please?
No more.....
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
The Year of Raechelle
Did I tell you I bought new dishes? On a whim?
I argued with The Ex for over a year about buying new dishes. He brought his Goodwill dishes to the relationship, I brought mine, and I just wanted matching dishes. Not china. Not a fancy place setting for 20 people, just new matching dishes. How difficult is that?
Apparently, pretty damn difficult for some people. We couldn't agree on a color. Couldn't agree on what type of bowls, how many settings, designs or solids. Oh, for the love of puppies, they're just dishes! But dishes represented a whole big can o' worms to The Ex. Forget the fact we had a joint checking account and that he was on my insurance as a domestic partner. New, matching dishes meant we were Serious.
After one of the many where-is-this-relationship-going talks, The Ex saw that he was being silly and said, in much the same tone he would say "I love you":
"Go buy the dishes."
You would think he had proposed to me. I was giddy. I knew what a big step this was and by golly, I was out the next day buying dishes.
When I moved out, we semi divided them up. I left all of the bowls. They were suited for him and his cereal - who knew some bowls aren't good for cereal? (And who knew I would ever be with a man who could eat an entire box of Captain Crunch in one sitting?) I took all of the big plates because he didn't like them and we split the little plates.
Last weekend, I took everything to Goodwill. And, oh my god, you have no idea how freeing it was. Letting go of something that constantly reminded me of a crappy afternoon, almost breaking up, then being so freakin' happy that my boyfriend gave me permission to buy dishes. How pathetic do I look in that scene?
I am no longer asking for permission to buy dishes. I bought the damn dishes. White ones. Because they're clean and airy and simple and they are EXACTLY what I want. And the bowls are not at all cereal friendly.
I also bought new lamps for my bedroom. I searched and search for exactly what I wanted, and I found them (on sale, no less). And I love them. Every time I turn on the light, I think "These are mine. They don't belong to anyone else."
This is the Year of Raechelle. I declare it. I've spent way too many years catering to someone else and their issues. I think I owe it to myself to be a little selfish. Focus on me for a while. Because there will come a day when I won't be alone anymore. I may even have a couple of little ones who are demanding all of my time. One day, I will do nothing but cater to other people.
So, while I have this time, I am going to make the most of it.
I'm starting with a manicure this evening.
I argued with The Ex for over a year about buying new dishes. He brought his Goodwill dishes to the relationship, I brought mine, and I just wanted matching dishes. Not china. Not a fancy place setting for 20 people, just new matching dishes. How difficult is that?
Apparently, pretty damn difficult for some people. We couldn't agree on a color. Couldn't agree on what type of bowls, how many settings, designs or solids. Oh, for the love of puppies, they're just dishes! But dishes represented a whole big can o' worms to The Ex. Forget the fact we had a joint checking account and that he was on my insurance as a domestic partner. New, matching dishes meant we were Serious.
After one of the many where-is-this-relationship-going talks, The Ex saw that he was being silly and said, in much the same tone he would say "I love you":
"Go buy the dishes."
You would think he had proposed to me. I was giddy. I knew what a big step this was and by golly, I was out the next day buying dishes.
When I moved out, we semi divided them up. I left all of the bowls. They were suited for him and his cereal - who knew some bowls aren't good for cereal? (And who knew I would ever be with a man who could eat an entire box of Captain Crunch in one sitting?) I took all of the big plates because he didn't like them and we split the little plates.
Last weekend, I took everything to Goodwill. And, oh my god, you have no idea how freeing it was. Letting go of something that constantly reminded me of a crappy afternoon, almost breaking up, then being so freakin' happy that my boyfriend gave me permission to buy dishes. How pathetic do I look in that scene?
I am no longer asking for permission to buy dishes. I bought the damn dishes. White ones. Because they're clean and airy and simple and they are EXACTLY what I want. And the bowls are not at all cereal friendly.
I also bought new lamps for my bedroom. I searched and search for exactly what I wanted, and I found them (on sale, no less). And I love them. Every time I turn on the light, I think "These are mine. They don't belong to anyone else."
This is the Year of Raechelle. I declare it. I've spent way too many years catering to someone else and their issues. I think I owe it to myself to be a little selfish. Focus on me for a while. Because there will come a day when I won't be alone anymore. I may even have a couple of little ones who are demanding all of my time. One day, I will do nothing but cater to other people.
So, while I have this time, I am going to make the most of it.
I'm starting with a manicure this evening.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
The Comfort of Silence
It's a wonderful, yet jarring, thing to actually feel yourself change. Not change, like grow a new arm, or sprout a third eye, but change like suddenly be okay with something you didn't used to be okay with.
Back in the day, I couldn't be alone in a house without the TV on. The silence would creep me out. When I cleaned houses, the first thing I would do when I got there was turn on the TV or the radio.
And I realize now that I needed that noise to distract me from myself. And, apparently, my own unhappiness.
I know it was unhappiness because I can be alone with myself, in the silence, now. Silence doesn't scare me. Having thoughts or conversations in my head doesn't scare me. A lot of the thoughts I used to have were issues I was having with Steve. There was always something going in my head that wouldn't let up. Those thoughts and imaginary conversations stressed me out and made me angry, so it was just easier to drown them out.
I don't have anything going on now that needs drowning out. Oh, I did. I had the TV on constantly July through December. And it was loud. But those troubles have, for the most part, drifted away, and what's left is just.....quiet. I have a few conversations going on in my head with a couple of people that I need to get some closure with, but those aren't too bad. I can handle them.
I had this little epiphany this evening when I came home to a sun filled apartment and didn't turn on the TV. And then thought, huh, I've been doing that a lot lately. Especially with the days getting longer and it not being so dark when I get home. I changed clothes, threw some laundry in, did the dishes and just piddled around. I thought about listening to the Once soundtrack I just downloaded last night (because I rented the movie and it's just freakin' fantastic. I'm going to watch it again tonight with the commentary on) but then I though, no. No need. I just wanted to enjoy the silence.
And there I go again. Growing.
Sheesh.
Back in the day, I couldn't be alone in a house without the TV on. The silence would creep me out. When I cleaned houses, the first thing I would do when I got there was turn on the TV or the radio.
And I realize now that I needed that noise to distract me from myself. And, apparently, my own unhappiness.
I know it was unhappiness because I can be alone with myself, in the silence, now. Silence doesn't scare me. Having thoughts or conversations in my head doesn't scare me. A lot of the thoughts I used to have were issues I was having with Steve. There was always something going in my head that wouldn't let up. Those thoughts and imaginary conversations stressed me out and made me angry, so it was just easier to drown them out.
I don't have anything going on now that needs drowning out. Oh, I did. I had the TV on constantly July through December. And it was loud. But those troubles have, for the most part, drifted away, and what's left is just.....quiet. I have a few conversations going on in my head with a couple of people that I need to get some closure with, but those aren't too bad. I can handle them.
I had this little epiphany this evening when I came home to a sun filled apartment and didn't turn on the TV. And then thought, huh, I've been doing that a lot lately. Especially with the days getting longer and it not being so dark when I get home. I changed clothes, threw some laundry in, did the dishes and just piddled around. I thought about listening to the Once soundtrack I just downloaded last night (because I rented the movie and it's just freakin' fantastic. I'm going to watch it again tonight with the commentary on) but then I though, no. No need. I just wanted to enjoy the silence.
And there I go again. Growing.
Sheesh.
Friday, January 4, 2008
It's Amazing How Much Can Change In A Year
It was a year ago today that Steve and I went out to dinner for our 6th anniversary and I proposed to him.
Yes. I proposed to him.
And, well, I don't think I need to tell you what happened. I'm not married, now am I? He didn't say no. After 30 minutes, he actually said yes, but I don't think he meant it. His death grip on the steering wheel during our drive home was quite telling. So, the next day I took it off the table.
But I was engaged for 14 hours.
A few of my friends have said, oh thank god, you guys didn't get married! They said I would have resented him on every anniversary because he didn't do the proposing. At the time, I just thought, if I want this to happen, I have to take the bull by the horns! Make it so! But looking back, my friends are right. I would have resented him for not stepping up. So it all worked out for the best.
I deserve to be wanted. I deserve to be pursued and sought after and desired. I spent too many years wrangling Steve into submission. It's not that he didn't want to be with me necessarily, it's just that he didn't do a whole lot to choose to be with me. Other than just not breaking up with me. He just went with the flow. Which was fine back then.
One of my favorite quotes from Dirty Dancing (because yes, I'm a dweeb):
"It didn't occur to me to mind."
Well, now I mind. I don't regret the past, but I've sure as hell learned a lot from it. I will not waste my time on someone who can't muster the energy to want me. Life is too short. And I'm too cute.
Yes. I proposed to him.
And, well, I don't think I need to tell you what happened. I'm not married, now am I? He didn't say no. After 30 minutes, he actually said yes, but I don't think he meant it. His death grip on the steering wheel during our drive home was quite telling. So, the next day I took it off the table.
But I was engaged for 14 hours.
A few of my friends have said, oh thank god, you guys didn't get married! They said I would have resented him on every anniversary because he didn't do the proposing. At the time, I just thought, if I want this to happen, I have to take the bull by the horns! Make it so! But looking back, my friends are right. I would have resented him for not stepping up. So it all worked out for the best.
I deserve to be wanted. I deserve to be pursued and sought after and desired. I spent too many years wrangling Steve into submission. It's not that he didn't want to be with me necessarily, it's just that he didn't do a whole lot to choose to be with me. Other than just not breaking up with me. He just went with the flow. Which was fine back then.
One of my favorite quotes from Dirty Dancing (because yes, I'm a dweeb):
"It didn't occur to me to mind."
Well, now I mind. I don't regret the past, but I've sure as hell learned a lot from it. I will not waste my time on someone who can't muster the energy to want me. Life is too short. And I'm too cute.
Monday, December 24, 2007
All Introspective and Crap
So, while I have this downtime, I thought I would babble about some deep, introspective stuff that's been rolling around my mind this week.
You know how I'm not much for the company of women? Well lately, the majority of my friends are women (with the exception of Darragh, who is walking a fine line as he is going to teach me how to make sugar cookies, he tells me I desperately need a Kitchen Aid mixer and he once owned pearls). And these are some very strong, independent, confident, inspirational women. They are making me think and acknowledge things that I otherwise wouldn't consider. And for this, I'd like to give them some props. Props for my homies!
First up, Erin.
Erin is a glaciologist and spends her time either in Alaska, Antartica or Portand. She simply amazes me. I've know Erin for seven years; she's part of the gang. Or, what used to be our gang. The gang has imploded recently, and I am partly responsible for that (hence, the pretty pink pills). Therefore, I was extremely surprised she contacted me when she was in town last week. I thought she had no idea what was going on with the gang, because if she did, she sure as hell wouldn't want to see me.
But she knew. She'd seen Darragh last month. She knew, and she still wanted to see me. There's Erin's first prop.
I told her my story and we got all of that out of the way, then we sat on my couch for three hours and pondered growing up and the suckiness of it all. And she said something that literally slapped me across the face, in a good way.
We were talking about our Christ year. 33. Your Christ year is your pivotal year. Big stuff happens at 33. Erin said she was 33 when she was working on her thesis, getting ready to defend. And she was freakin' out. Someone told her to drop her advisor. Her advisor was like a parent - coaching her through the process, helping focus, teaching her the system. But just like a parent, there comes a point when you have to do it on your own. So she dropped her advisor and went about writing her thesis on her own. And she did great. She got her PhD and we celebrated like lunatics afterwards (there was bondage by toilet paper and an ice contraption that you do shots from. Good times). She said she hit a point where she needed to step out and be independent. And as soon as she did that, she just excelled.
When she said "step out and be independent", I thought of myself, breaking up with Steve. How much more freakin' independent can you get? Leaving a six year relationship and your home? Packing a bag, walking out the door and calling a friend to ask if you can sleep on their couch indefinately? That is some scary shit. There is no net. There is no "just kidding". It was done. And I didn't know what the hell I was going to do. I couldn't think past the current day, let alone into the next week or month. I was making it up as I went along.
And I kept going. I didn't freeze up. I didn't run back to Steve. I kept going. I did what I had to do, even though I couldn't eat and I cried most of the time. I had to keep going. I think that's independent.
Can you believe I never saw that? I never equated "independent" with "breaking up". Until I was talking with Erin.
And then we talked about relationships and the feeling that you need something from the other person. It's like you're reaching out your hands and grasping for them. You need something from them to complete some aspect of yourself. That's a problem. But once you find yourself and accept yourself and feel like you're pretty whole, you can be in a relationship with someone without needing something from them to complete something within you.
I think I was needy with Steve. I needed him to marry me. I needed him to be my partner, and it was very clear for a very long time that he wasn't into that. It's not what he wanted. He loved me. He wanted to be with me. But he couldn't provided what I needed.
Looking back now, I shouldn't have "needed" that. Wanting is fine. Needing is problematic. Just like I tell my parents "I don't NEED a man. I'm very self sufficient (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). But I WANT a man. I WANT a partner. I can do without just fine. But I WANT it." I'm seeing the difference now.
I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm whole. Who the hell is really whole these days? If you're whole, email me. I'd like to pick your brain and see what that's like. But I'm sure as hell not that needy 20-something year old I used to be. I don't need another person to complete me. Only I can do that. Eventually.
But it would be fun to have someone with which to enjoy my completeness, right?
Oy. Now it's late, so I'll have to give props to the other gals some other time. Stay tuned.
You know how I'm not much for the company of women? Well lately, the majority of my friends are women (with the exception of Darragh, who is walking a fine line as he is going to teach me how to make sugar cookies, he tells me I desperately need a Kitchen Aid mixer and he once owned pearls). And these are some very strong, independent, confident, inspirational women. They are making me think and acknowledge things that I otherwise wouldn't consider. And for this, I'd like to give them some props. Props for my homies!
First up, Erin.
Erin is a glaciologist and spends her time either in Alaska, Antartica or Portand. She simply amazes me. I've know Erin for seven years; she's part of the gang. Or, what used to be our gang. The gang has imploded recently, and I am partly responsible for that (hence, the pretty pink pills). Therefore, I was extremely surprised she contacted me when she was in town last week. I thought she had no idea what was going on with the gang, because if she did, she sure as hell wouldn't want to see me.
But she knew. She'd seen Darragh last month. She knew, and she still wanted to see me. There's Erin's first prop.
I told her my story and we got all of that out of the way, then we sat on my couch for three hours and pondered growing up and the suckiness of it all. And she said something that literally slapped me across the face, in a good way.
We were talking about our Christ year. 33. Your Christ year is your pivotal year. Big stuff happens at 33. Erin said she was 33 when she was working on her thesis, getting ready to defend. And she was freakin' out. Someone told her to drop her advisor. Her advisor was like a parent - coaching her through the process, helping focus, teaching her the system. But just like a parent, there comes a point when you have to do it on your own. So she dropped her advisor and went about writing her thesis on her own. And she did great. She got her PhD and we celebrated like lunatics afterwards (there was bondage by toilet paper and an ice contraption that you do shots from. Good times). She said she hit a point where she needed to step out and be independent. And as soon as she did that, she just excelled.
When she said "step out and be independent", I thought of myself, breaking up with Steve. How much more freakin' independent can you get? Leaving a six year relationship and your home? Packing a bag, walking out the door and calling a friend to ask if you can sleep on their couch indefinately? That is some scary shit. There is no net. There is no "just kidding". It was done. And I didn't know what the hell I was going to do. I couldn't think past the current day, let alone into the next week or month. I was making it up as I went along.
And I kept going. I didn't freeze up. I didn't run back to Steve. I kept going. I did what I had to do, even though I couldn't eat and I cried most of the time. I had to keep going. I think that's independent.
Can you believe I never saw that? I never equated "independent" with "breaking up". Until I was talking with Erin.
And then we talked about relationships and the feeling that you need something from the other person. It's like you're reaching out your hands and grasping for them. You need something from them to complete some aspect of yourself. That's a problem. But once you find yourself and accept yourself and feel like you're pretty whole, you can be in a relationship with someone without needing something from them to complete something within you.
I think I was needy with Steve. I needed him to marry me. I needed him to be my partner, and it was very clear for a very long time that he wasn't into that. It's not what he wanted. He loved me. He wanted to be with me. But he couldn't provided what I needed.
Looking back now, I shouldn't have "needed" that. Wanting is fine. Needing is problematic. Just like I tell my parents "I don't NEED a man. I'm very self sufficient (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). But I WANT a man. I WANT a partner. I can do without just fine. But I WANT it." I'm seeing the difference now.
I wouldn't go so far as to say that I'm whole. Who the hell is really whole these days? If you're whole, email me. I'd like to pick your brain and see what that's like. But I'm sure as hell not that needy 20-something year old I used to be. I don't need another person to complete me. Only I can do that. Eventually.
But it would be fun to have someone with which to enjoy my completeness, right?
Oy. Now it's late, so I'll have to give props to the other gals some other time. Stay tuned.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Saddness Rears It's Ugly Head
I've been good for so long I forgot what it was like to sit at my desk and cry. Until about 2pm this afternoon.
I'm not sure what happened. My morning just trickled downhill and by this afternoon I was just sad. I thought the pretty pink pills were suppose to fix that? Maybe this is my punishment for having a few sips of wine this past weekend? Whatever it is, it's thrown me back to that curl-up-in-bed-and-cry-myself-to-sleep place.
This week looks so long and daunting. I just need to make it until Friday. Then Friday night, I'm on a plane to Houston and for some reason, I think once I'm there, things will be all better. For six days I can act like everything is fine and shop with my mom and watch cable with dad. But I'm already dreading coming back to Seattle. Dealing with New Year's Eve. Being alone.
I've been fine with being alone recently. I like myself. Hell, I crack myself up. I am my own best friend. But this lonliness comes in waves. Or shifts, if you will. Four weeks, fine and dandy. Three days of crying. Four weeks, fine and dandy. Three days of crying. Those three days are the longest days ever. I can't wait to get out of work, but once I'm home, I can't wait to go bed, so I can get up and go to work and not be alone. Craziness.
Thankfully, I don't have much alone time this week. I visited with Kim and Milo for a couple of hours this evening, then I called Rachelle to see if she wanted to go to sushi. Sushi always makes it better. Tomorrow, we're walking, then I'm meeting up with a friend who is in from out of town. And, poor girl, she has no idea what's been going on for the past few months. Just wait until she asks me, "So! What's new with you?" I'm not looking forward to that conversation. Or explaining why I'm drinking diet coke instead of jack-n-coke. That alone will throw up a red flag.
Wednesday night is laundry and packing. And Jessica is coming over to hang out for a few hours. Thursday is probably more packing and good TV, so even though I'll be alone, I've got good TV. Then Friday night I leave. So at least I'm occupied this week. I don't know what I'd do with myself if I had every evening to myself. I don't think that bottle of wine in my fridge would survive, that's for sure.
Man, I don't like this feeling. I thought I was past all this. I guess I'll just wait it out. Saddness is like a cold. There's not much I can do about it. Yes, I could take Nyquil (see: wine), but that's only going to mask the symptoms. You have to just let it run it's course and try to make yourself as comfortable as possible (jammies, couch, friends, chocolate covered cherries) in the meantime.
This too, like dinner, shall pass.
I'm not sure what happened. My morning just trickled downhill and by this afternoon I was just sad. I thought the pretty pink pills were suppose to fix that? Maybe this is my punishment for having a few sips of wine this past weekend? Whatever it is, it's thrown me back to that curl-up-in-bed-and-cry-myself-to-sleep place.
This week looks so long and daunting. I just need to make it until Friday. Then Friday night, I'm on a plane to Houston and for some reason, I think once I'm there, things will be all better. For six days I can act like everything is fine and shop with my mom and watch cable with dad. But I'm already dreading coming back to Seattle. Dealing with New Year's Eve. Being alone.
I've been fine with being alone recently. I like myself. Hell, I crack myself up. I am my own best friend. But this lonliness comes in waves. Or shifts, if you will. Four weeks, fine and dandy. Three days of crying. Four weeks, fine and dandy. Three days of crying. Those three days are the longest days ever. I can't wait to get out of work, but once I'm home, I can't wait to go bed, so I can get up and go to work and not be alone. Craziness.
Thankfully, I don't have much alone time this week. I visited with Kim and Milo for a couple of hours this evening, then I called Rachelle to see if she wanted to go to sushi. Sushi always makes it better. Tomorrow, we're walking, then I'm meeting up with a friend who is in from out of town. And, poor girl, she has no idea what's been going on for the past few months. Just wait until she asks me, "So! What's new with you?" I'm not looking forward to that conversation. Or explaining why I'm drinking diet coke instead of jack-n-coke. That alone will throw up a red flag.
Wednesday night is laundry and packing. And Jessica is coming over to hang out for a few hours. Thursday is probably more packing and good TV, so even though I'll be alone, I've got good TV. Then Friday night I leave. So at least I'm occupied this week. I don't know what I'd do with myself if I had every evening to myself. I don't think that bottle of wine in my fridge would survive, that's for sure.
Man, I don't like this feeling. I thought I was past all this. I guess I'll just wait it out. Saddness is like a cold. There's not much I can do about it. Yes, I could take Nyquil (see: wine), but that's only going to mask the symptoms. You have to just let it run it's course and try to make yourself as comfortable as possible (jammies, couch, friends, chocolate covered cherries) in the meantime.
This too, like dinner, shall pass.
Monday, November 5, 2007
No Words to Describe My Weekend
My god, I've spoiled you people. Two whole days without a post and you're beating down my inbox. I know you won't believe me, but there are things that go on here in Raechelle-land that I don't write about. And it's those things, that I don't write about, that made for a shitty, shitty weekend.
So what can I tell you?
Friday was the Day of the Dead party.
Started out fine, got bad, I drank a shit load of wine, it got even worse.
Saturday I woke up, the worseness continued, I slept until 6pm. I crawled to the couch, watched two Cold Cases, two CSIs, the Bionic Woman, SNL and then went back to bed.
Sunday, I spent the day at Shaun's, wrapped up in a blanket, watching the Colts/Patriots game on one TV and the Seahawks/Bears game on another TV. Came home.
Then Steve came over to bring me some random mail. And he told me he's seeing someone.
(insert crickets chirping here)
She has a three year old daughter.
(more crickets chirping)
I'm fine. Really. Just fine. And oh yes, he sees the irony there. We ended up talking for two hours and it was nice. It felt like we were friends. And to put a big fat positive spin on it, a post break up hurdle has been cleared. One Of Us Is Dating. It's every man for himself now.
So what can I tell you?
Friday was the Day of the Dead party.
Started out fine, got bad, I drank a shit load of wine, it got even worse.
Saturday I woke up, the worseness continued, I slept until 6pm. I crawled to the couch, watched two Cold Cases, two CSIs, the Bionic Woman, SNL and then went back to bed.
Sunday, I spent the day at Shaun's, wrapped up in a blanket, watching the Colts/Patriots game on one TV and the Seahawks/Bears game on another TV. Came home.
Then Steve came over to bring me some random mail. And he told me he's seeing someone.
(insert crickets chirping here)
She has a three year old daughter.
(more crickets chirping)
I'm fine. Really. Just fine. And oh yes, he sees the irony there. We ended up talking for two hours and it was nice. It felt like we were friends. And to put a big fat positive spin on it, a post break up hurdle has been cleared. One Of Us Is Dating. It's every man for himself now.
Monday, October 15, 2007
On The Mend
It has finally hit me that the Lock & Keel is not the place to go when I'm sad. And lookin' cute. The jack-n-cokes were endless Friday night, and unfortunately it was a long night. I had a friend with me, but she left early. At least one of the regulars was kind enough to walk me home.
Needless to say, Saturday was a bit rough. The saddness that had been looming, combined with the hangover, equaled crying on the phone to mom and dad for over an hour from bed. But mom is good at cheering up by telling me what she bought everyone for christmas and what all of their neighbors are up to. And then that evening, I hung out with my Sheauns, which always makes things better. They let me cry and be a girl without ridiculing me.
And then Sunday, life started looking much better. I talked with mom again, my brother called (which surprised the hell out of me) and I visited Kim-n-Tim-n-Milo. After I left there, I did some boot shopping, which was quite disappointing because the boots at Shoe Pavillion, that very much resembled these (from Zappos), looked cheap. So I may splurge and buy the Zappo ones. Then back home in time for the Seahawks game (if you can even call what they did on the field a "game").
And today, even though the SAD season up here has officially begun, I feel pretty good. I think I bottomed out, and now I'm working my way back up. At least for a while. I'm sure I'll fall back down again, but hopefully it won't be anytime soon. If the waves get farther and farther apart, I that must mean I'm doing better, right?
Needless to say, Saturday was a bit rough. The saddness that had been looming, combined with the hangover, equaled crying on the phone to mom and dad for over an hour from bed. But mom is good at cheering up by telling me what she bought everyone for christmas and what all of their neighbors are up to. And then that evening, I hung out with my Sheauns, which always makes things better. They let me cry and be a girl without ridiculing me.
And then Sunday, life started looking much better. I talked with mom again, my brother called (which surprised the hell out of me) and I visited Kim-n-Tim-n-Milo. After I left there, I did some boot shopping, which was quite disappointing because the boots at Shoe Pavillion, that very much resembled these (from Zappos), looked cheap. So I may splurge and buy the Zappo ones. Then back home in time for the Seahawks game (if you can even call what they did on the field a "game").
And today, even though the SAD season up here has officially begun, I feel pretty good. I think I bottomed out, and now I'm working my way back up. At least for a while. I'm sure I'll fall back down again, but hopefully it won't be anytime soon. If the waves get farther and farther apart, I that must mean I'm doing better, right?
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Random Thoughts
At lunch today, I witnessed an odd display of parenting.
A mother and her two kids, probably ages two and four, were sitting next to me. I heard the mother say "Pardon me?" a couple of times when one of the kids would mumble. That's good, I thought. Teach 'em well. But when the waitress came over and asked her a question, the woman replied with "What?" And not just once, but three times.
That doesn't seem like a very consistant method......
******************
Holy shit! The Raiders just returned a kick for a 90 yard touchdown. Where the hell were the Seahawks?!
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REI is having a major sale. So major, in fact, I may have to go back this weekend. Yes, I know I need a mattress, pots and pans and a microwave (is registering for housewarming gifts too gauche?) but I may not be able to resist the picnic backpack that I've been oogling for two years. And they already have their sweaters out and marked down. Fall's coming!
******************
I got reprimanded for hogging the guest parking spot at Shaun's place. There was a note on my car last night when I got home. And then another one this morning when I left for work. Since the note was signed and even had the unit number on it, I paid a visit to Mr. Mean Letter Writer when I got home. I was very nice and apologetic. But I made a point to mention that I just ended a very long relationship, I've been couch surfing for two months, the apartment I originally had fell through because they're being turned into condos, and I'll be leaving Shaun's for good next Thursday (fingers=crossed).
******************
Speaking of my shitty life, Rachelle was so kind on our Tuesday walk this week. I was talking about how I need to start walking again and I feel like I've been so lazy the last couple of months. And yes, I could walk around Capital Hill but it's just not the same as in Ballard. She said, "Raechelle. Cut yourself some slack. You haven't been lazy. You've been exhausted. You've got an awful lot going on in your life. You've just made a monumental life changing decision *and* you don't have a place to call home so I think it's okay if you don't feel like walking."
Which makes me wonder how I'm really doing. Or if I'm coping well. Am I not crying every day because I'm okay? Or because I think I'm weak if I do? But shouldn't I still be crying? My god, we were together six years. It must take longer than two months to get over something like that. Am I in denial and just not dealing with it, and that's going to come back and bite me in the ass a year from now? Am I over it? Have I been over it for a while now, but just didn't do anything about it? Was I ever really in it to begin with? My head hurts.........
I don't like to make excuses for myself or be pitied, so when I don't want to walk, I call myself lazy (which is "loaded word" according to my therapist) and don't take into account that maybe there's more going on inside than I'm really acknowledging. It takes my friends' and my readers' comments to make me realize that this really is a difficult thing and I'm not just being a selfish drama queen if I want to spend an evening curled up in a ball on the couch.
And speaking of my readers - thank you guys for being so supportive and loving. There are some mornings I just tear up reading your comments. Who knew a blog would be so good for my emotional health?
I'm thinking after I get moved and settled, I'm going go away for a the weekend. Take a dip in lake me. Relax. Let my breath out. Sleep in. Maybe sit in a hot tub for two days straight. Swaddle my inner child, if you will, and say, "It's okay. It's been a crappy summer, but it's behind us and there's a lot of good stuff waiting up ahead."
Maybe I should start writing greeting cards.....
A mother and her two kids, probably ages two and four, were sitting next to me. I heard the mother say "Pardon me?" a couple of times when one of the kids would mumble. That's good, I thought. Teach 'em well. But when the waitress came over and asked her a question, the woman replied with "What?" And not just once, but three times.
That doesn't seem like a very consistant method......
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Holy shit! The Raiders just returned a kick for a 90 yard touchdown. Where the hell were the Seahawks?!
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REI is having a major sale. So major, in fact, I may have to go back this weekend. Yes, I know I need a mattress, pots and pans and a microwave (is registering for housewarming gifts too gauche?) but I may not be able to resist the picnic backpack that I've been oogling for two years. And they already have their sweaters out and marked down. Fall's coming!
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I got reprimanded for hogging the guest parking spot at Shaun's place. There was a note on my car last night when I got home. And then another one this morning when I left for work. Since the note was signed and even had the unit number on it, I paid a visit to Mr. Mean Letter Writer when I got home. I was very nice and apologetic. But I made a point to mention that I just ended a very long relationship, I've been couch surfing for two months, the apartment I originally had fell through because they're being turned into condos, and I'll be leaving Shaun's for good next Thursday (fingers=crossed).
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Speaking of my shitty life, Rachelle was so kind on our Tuesday walk this week. I was talking about how I need to start walking again and I feel like I've been so lazy the last couple of months. And yes, I could walk around Capital Hill but it's just not the same as in Ballard. She said, "Raechelle. Cut yourself some slack. You haven't been lazy. You've been exhausted. You've got an awful lot going on in your life. You've just made a monumental life changing decision *and* you don't have a place to call home so I think it's okay if you don't feel like walking."
Which makes me wonder how I'm really doing. Or if I'm coping well. Am I not crying every day because I'm okay? Or because I think I'm weak if I do? But shouldn't I still be crying? My god, we were together six years. It must take longer than two months to get over something like that. Am I in denial and just not dealing with it, and that's going to come back and bite me in the ass a year from now? Am I over it? Have I been over it for a while now, but just didn't do anything about it? Was I ever really in it to begin with? My head hurts.........
I don't like to make excuses for myself or be pitied, so when I don't want to walk, I call myself lazy (which is "loaded word" according to my therapist) and don't take into account that maybe there's more going on inside than I'm really acknowledging. It takes my friends' and my readers' comments to make me realize that this really is a difficult thing and I'm not just being a selfish drama queen if I want to spend an evening curled up in a ball on the couch.
And speaking of my readers - thank you guys for being so supportive and loving. There are some mornings I just tear up reading your comments. Who knew a blog would be so good for my emotional health?
I'm thinking after I get moved and settled, I'm going go away for a the weekend. Take a dip in lake me. Relax. Let my breath out. Sleep in. Maybe sit in a hot tub for two days straight. Swaddle my inner child, if you will, and say, "It's okay. It's been a crappy summer, but it's behind us and there's a lot of good stuff waiting up ahead."
Maybe I should start writing greeting cards.....
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