Posted in friendship, Life, love, Musings, People, relationships

Most of the Time…

miss you

 

I am fine, most of the time.

And then, some days, like today, I miss you. I miss you being in the world, and I miss knowing you will be by, eventually, to check in on me. To check in with me. I miss the possibility of you. I miss that so much that it feels like the wind has been knocked out of me, and I want to double up and protect myself from the hurt, the physical pain of your absence.

I feel guilty for missing you so much. I have lost grandparents and friends, and I miss them all, of course I do. But this longing has legs, and it keeps creeping back up on me. You were…you were YOU. There is no one else that I looked at the way I looked at you, and I can’t help that. I’ve never known what to do with that information, not when you were alive, and even less now that you are gone. My love for you was almost embarrassing while you were here, and it is inescapable now that you’ve died. I keep bumping up against the truth of it, the way my heart won’t allow me to deny it, not to myself, not now. You may be somewhere else, but this weird relationship lives on. Not that it feels unusual for me to be in it alone- I spent a lot of time this way. But you always showed back up, always. Not this time.

What can I say? That you never had any business messing with me? I was so young, and you should have known better? Yeah, it’s true, but…I’m so glad you did. Should I say that I am sorry that I loved you, and I feel so bad for the hurt my loving you caused? I am. I’m sorry for the hurt I caused, but I’m not sorry that I loved you. I will never be sorry for that. I have so many regrets about my life, but that has never been one of them. I have loved others after you, and I will probably love others still…but I know that I will never love anyone the way I did you. You only get one love like that.  And besides, I will never be a nineteen year old girl again, able to love with reckless abandon, able to invest so much time in her devotion. I wouldn’t want to.

All these memories I have…you were the only one who knew, besides me. The way we would laugh about the crazy, stupid things we did. I never thought when I was with you, I was never afraid. I just knew you’d keep me safe, and you did. Now I remember alone, and it’s all tinged with sadness. What fun are memories you can’t share with the person you made them with? It’s just me, crying like a dummy in her kitchen, running to change the song that popped up on shuffle because it hurts too much right now to hear it.

I’m sorry it’s over. I know your life was not what you imagined it would be, and I know it wasn’t how you wanted it, and I know you wanted to change. I’m sorry you didn’t get what you were after. I hope wherever you are, you are happy and peaceful, and with your mom and dad, your sister. I hope you hear me when I talk to you, and that you know that I pray for you every single day. I hope you don’t get annoyed when I am weepy, but it wouldn’t surprise me.

And I’m so glad I chased after you, the last time you visited, and demanded one more hug. I don’t know why I did, but I was just so happy to have seen you. It was a good hug, and the expression on your faced stayed with me- amused and maybe a little baffled, like you wondered why I still liked you so much, after all these years. The answer is easy…because you were you.

You were you, and tonight I really miss you.

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Posted in Life, love, Mental Health, Musings, People, relationships

Down the Rabbit Hole I Fell…

rabbit hole
courtesy of pinterest

I woke up this morning in a fine mood- excited to be going to spend the day hiking with my older daughter, looking forward to doing something different and fun. Then I grabbed my phone off the charger, and was met with this all-too-familiar warning: “iphone storage is full-manage storage in settings.”

Well, shit. I would like to first say that I have just about had it with this stupid phone. I don’t know what is going on between my phone, my laptop, and my cloud. I don’t even think I really understand my cloud at all, to be honest. But with previous phones I’ve had, and previous laptops, you can upload all of your photos into your computer and move on with your life. I don’t know why, but my photos on my phone don’t want to go onto my computer. It’s a whole thing, and it pisses me off, and I just can’t deal with it.

Anyway, I knew I was going to want to take a lot of pictures today, and there is nothing worse than grabbing your phone to snap a shot and getting that stupid message about not having space on your phone. Ugh. So, I tried messing with my cloud. I tried figuring it out, tried seeing where the hell my pictures were going. I backed up my phone. I went through my phone and manually deleted about three hundred useless photos- horrible selfies, pictures of food, pictures that are already on Instagram. Then, I went into my Kindle and deleted books that I have already read. I went into my podcasts, and deleted downloaded episodes. I cleaned my phone. I deleted a couple of apps that I never use- literally, a couple. I use all of them, daily.

Then I went into my messenger app. This is when all the trouble began. Did you know that you could delete messages in there since forever? I apparently did not know that. I have messages dating all the way back to 2009, and to be honest with you, I wish I hadn’t gone into any of them. I am just sitting here feeling so many uncomfortable feelings right now, thinking about things I haven’t thought about in so long…

You know, my ex, he cheated on me. More than once. One of the things I did to figure out the truth was, I liked to reach out to the women he cheated with and try to befriend them, to get information out of them. I would find out all the awful things he said about me to them, and confirm that all of his lies to me were…well, lies. I would figure out a way to get them to divulge stark truths to me, and it was like a compulsion for me- I needed to know EVERYTHING. What did he say on this day, and where did he take you, and what did you do? I got screen shots of text messages, and full on letters back and forth. I had forgotten about so much of it, and it still really hurts.

I’m not mad at the women- not by a long shot. I am grateful that they shared what they knew with me, not that it wound up helping me very much in the long run. I continued to stay with him, for what reason, I couldn’t tell you. Maybe I have low self-esteem, maybe I needed to prove that I could, that I won, who knows what my reasoning was. I feel a lot of sympathy for that person that I was then- I know she was in a lot of pain, and I know she knew better on a certain level. Leaving was too hard at the time. What I know now is that staying was much more destructive than leaving would have been. I never forgave him, and you can’t make a relationship work when all you want to do is punish the other person. That isn’t even a relationship anymore. It’s something ugly and hard on everyone involved.

Seeing all of this now, it’s no wonder to me that I am hesitant as fuck to start dating again. It’s no wonder I would prefer not to be vulnerable, and just stay to myself. No big surprise that I have no interest in opening up to anyone, that I have real issues where love is concerned. I made some really bad choices, and now I am left with what I have- some serious baggage.

And here’s the funniest part of all- not ha-ha funny, but what the fuck is wrong with me funny…I can’t bring myself to delete the messages. I still want to have proof. Proof that I was right, proof that he lied, proof that love is a gamble I should not take again, maybe. I need to do it, I know. I need to get rid of it, because it’s over, and it’s in the past and it doesn’t even matter anymore. It shouldn’t even matter anymore.

But it does.

Anyway, I have enough room in my phone to take some pictures today. So I guess that’s good. 😦

 

Posted in beauty, family, kids, Learning, letter, Life, love, Musings

If Only You Were Here…

Lupine-1

Dear Grandma Eileen-

It has been so many, many years since I have heard your voice. Just so you know, I keep a picture of you on my refrigerator door, sitting there, at the end of that big oak table around which we shared so many happy meals, cups of coffee, games of gin rummy. My God, how terribly I miss you. I miss the smell of the make-up on your cheek, the sound of your voice saying “Corty”, or “Sweetheart” while you held me close in one of your wonderful hugs. I miss dialing your number and hearing you answer with “Mmm Yel-low.”

I miss being able to go home to you- I can go to your house any time I wish, but it is hard on me, now. Since you are not there, it just isn’t the same. I miss the way you loved me so much, you could look past the mess that I had become, and still see the sweet little girl inside of me. It is a gift, to be loved that way. I wish I had known it at the time. But I was very young, still, and terribly selfish. I was also very sick, and angry, and lost. I hope you have forgiven me for hurting you, wherever you are now.

I love you, still, and I miss you, always. If I had a magic wand, and I could go back in time, even just for a night, I would choose to go back to when I was a child, before you or papa were gone, just so I could be with you for a little while. How safe I felt then, and loved. I knew that when I was with you, there was nothing in the world that could ever hurt me. I am so grateful that you gave me that feeling, I am grateful for it all the time.

But I don’t have a magic wand. I only have my memories, and I do my best to keep them sharp and clear. I can’t change who I was, or take back my less kind moments, but I can remember the love you gave me, and the way it felt, and I can honor you by trying to love my children in that way. So that is what I do. I am not even nearly always successful, but I hope you can look down on me from heaven, and be proud of me. I hope that more than anything.

I was just thinking of you this morning, and wished that I could talk to you. This is the only way I could make it happen. I hope you are happy where you are, and that you look in on me, from time to time. I miss you, grandma. Thank you for loving me. It changed my life.

Love,

Courtney Loreanne.

Posted in family, friendship, kids, Learning, Life, love, Musings, People, relationships

Fallout

Fallout: 2. A secondary and often lingering effect, result, or set of consequences.

THE-PAST (1)

 

I have been dealing, lately, with the next wave of fallout from my choice to end my relationship. It’s weird, because it’s been nearly a year now, and I often think that if I am not totally over it, I am pretty close. Then, something will happen- a song will come on the radio, my daughter will ask me an innocent question, and a wave of grief so startling will roll over me that it is nearly panic. It leaves me questioning my entire set of choices between now and then…which is, of course, ridiculous. Anyone with eyes can see I have been a million times happier since I finally put an end to all of the chaos and fighting, the drugs and the lies, the anger and upheaval.

I am proud of myself for trying so hard, out of real love, to make something difficult work. Sometimes I beat myself up for pouring so much into something that could never have worked, but I didn’t believe that while it was happening, and the truth is, I had to know that I did everything within my power before I walked away. I think before he and I were together, I really believed that if two people loved each other, that was all that really needed to be true for a relationship to work out. I had to learn that there is so much more to it than that- for two people to be happy and healthy together, they first need to be happy and healthy as individuals, and then they are charged with the very difficult task of somehow managing to maintain that, while figuring out how to build a life together. You can love the shit out of each other, and if one or both of you is a mess, or wanting a different version of the same thing, or can’t see eye to eye in certain critical ways, it just won’t work.

I am even more proud of myself for finally finding the strength to get out. It was one of the hardest things I ever did in my life, much harder than the familiar misery of staying together. I was used to hating who I was when I was with him. I was used to being angry, insecure, mean, erratic, volatile, and sad. But it was killing me. I don’t think that when he moved out the last time I really thought it would stick- how many times had we been down that road? But I kept holding out another day, then another and another, until finally I even started believing myself when I would say ” We are never getting back together.” (Credit: Taylor Swift, LOL)

I would not have it any other way, now. As I said in the beginning- I am so much happier now. I could not undo what has been done if I wanted to, anyway. What we were, for better or worse, is over. We couldn’t go back if we wanted to.

But Autumn is upon us- my first one alone in over seven years. I don’t know about you, but Autumn is the season for families, in my mind. Spring and Summer are fantastic times to be single, but the minute Autumn rolls around, I start looking around for my security blanket. In this case, I guess mine is a two hundred pound man. Who knew?

I woke up two days ago, thinking…maybe I am ready to start dating again. Maybe it is time. That night, I was at a meeting, watching the fire crackle in the hearth, and the candles flicker on the mantle, and I thought how nice it would be to go home and crawl in bed with someone…but not really someone. Him.  Yesterday, I was out with our daughter, and I picked up some food and headed to the beach. I pulled into the parking lot just as a song came on that reminded me of him, and some horrible times he put me through. I realized that the beach we were at just then was where he had been working a construction job when we first started dating, and I would bring him lunch, we would sit on the beach and flirt with each other.

We had no idea, then, that seven years down the road we would be this- more broken than we started out. A child between us that we both loved desperately. A mountain of bad choices  and broken promises trailing behind us. A bad taste in our mouths over each other, and two broken hearts. I sat in my car and cried facing forward so my daughter didn’t see me. And I realized that I wasn’t really ready to date, not yet. I am still in mourning for what I gave up, as hard as it was, and as sad as it was, it was still very significant to me, and it was a loss I felt, and still feel deeply.

I certainly will not go back. But I will honor my grief and myself until I am ready to move on.

Posted in advice, aging, family, friendship, kids, Life, love, People, relationships

Not Your Mama’s Broken Heart…But it Sure Feels Like it.

broken_heart3I’ve been going through one of the hardest break-ups of my life, recently, and it isn’t even my own. It would be so much more bearable if it WAS, I think, because at least then I could be an active participant, rather than this spectator on the sidelines, watching helplessly as my beautiful daughter finds her way through this age old struggle. Everyone goes through it. Everyone one of us has loved and lost. It’s just part of life, I KNOW that…but what I didn’t know was how devastating it would be to watch your child go through it. Another thing I wasn’t prepared for was my own feeling of loss- I’m not sure if I should count myself as lucky or not that I really, sincerely LOVED my daughter’s ex. We ALL loved him. My MOTHER loved him, for Pete’s sake, and she has rarely been able to muster a crumb of enthusiasm for any guy I’ve ever dated.  That ought to tell you something.

Josh wandered into my life about a year ago. I believe he wandered into my daughters life a little before that…according to her, she wanted to make sure they were really “together-together” before she introduced him to me. When I finally did meet him, I was prepared to despise him. I wanted to- I even tried to- stay ambivalent, keep him at arms length. But he was so damn personable! He didn’t mind talking to me, even though I was technically the enemy, as the mother of the girl he was making out with all the time. I’m not going to lie, that part made me want to puke, and I tried to pretend they were like characters from a Disney movie, sweet and chaste. But I’m not completely stupid. I just wound up liking him in spite of all that.

I liked him because he sang along to “Bennie and the Jets” with us the first time I gave him a ride in my car. I liked him because he went with us to the pumpkin patch in October, and he wanted to know if he could pick out a pumpkin, too. I liked him because he was sweet to my two year old. I liked that he brought out the happy kid inside my surly teenage daughter, and I got to see her play again. I liked that he walked my dog for me, and helped with the dishes, and even took out the garbage for me from time to time. I loved that he looked out for my daughter- he had his dad drop him off at my house every morning at six thirty so that he could walk her to school, even though he didn’t have to be at school himself until nine.  One time, when they were fighting, my daughter locked him out of the house. When I went to let him in, I heard him start to say something to her, then he sighed, and said “I just can’t be mean to you.”

I guess I knew that they would break up. I mean, they are KIDS, really, really, young kids…the odds of them staying together were super slim. But it does happen from time to time, right? The thing is, I SAW them together. I saw the way they laughed, and the way they treated each other with such tenderness, and I don’t care how old you are, love is love. Those two REALLY loved each other. They would fight, and break up, then the next day it was like nothing happened. I stopped paying attention.

But the last time they broke up, it stuck. Josh went off the grid. They had a pretty serious situation, and I guess he was just done. That happens, doesn’t it? You get used to someone putting up with something, and then, one day, they just won’t anymore. I know I’ve certainly stood where my daughter found herself standing. It HURTS. And it damn near killed me to watch.  I’m not going to lie, I stepped over the line, and I tried to reach out to him, myself- he had just disappeared, and I was worried. I realize now there was probably more to the story that I didn’t know…but this boy was like a kid to me by the end, and he practically lived at my house. He didn’t want to talk to me, either. He just said he was too hurt, and he didn’t want to ever feel the way he felt, ever again. I had to leave it be.

Aisley has had her good days and her bad over the last month or so. She is learning all about the void left behind when someone you love is no longer there. She is learning all about the old cliche “Don’t know what you got until it’s gone.”. She is learning what it is like to have to really look at your behavior and not like what you see. I am not saying this is all her fault, don’t get me wrong. I am just saying she is going through what everyone of us goes through when a relationship ends before we want it to. And it is HARD, HARD, HARD for me to see. I know there is nothing I can do.

Josh came by for a second yesterday to pick up something of his. Aisley made me promise to stay inside so that she could talk to him. Of course, I agreed. Of course, I totally reneged, and had to poke my head out. He smiled and ran up to give me a hug. He came in real quick to say hi to the baby (who was not ready to be nice to him, I guess. She misses him, too.). I left them alone after that. In just a few minutes, Aisley was back inside. I asked if she was okay, she said she was. She said “I actually feel a lot better, mom.” Which made me happy.

I guess now I’ll have to start getting over it, too.

Posted in family, inner peace, kids, Life, love, People

Inevitable Sadness

I guess it was stupid of me to think that I could feel ONLY good about what is happening here, within the walls of this house. The fact of the matter is, a long and important relationship that I cherished and worked at and tried my very hardest to salvage is ending, and it would be weird as hell if it didn’t hurt  to let it go.

I thought Thanksgiving would be hard without him. I left on Thursday morning and drove, just me and the girls, to my late grandparents home up in Oakhurst. My family was all there- my mom and stepdad, my cousin Heidi whom I adore and look up to, and her husband Tom, who I also adore, her kids…my two uncles and various other folks. Thanksgiving was WONDERFUL. I didn’t have one moment where it felt weird or bad or lonely or anything. It was the first time I’d been home for the holiday in five years- all the time Devon and I had been together- and I can’t believe I missed it.

As a matter of fact, the entire time I was gone was like that- I spent the night with my sister in Fresno, and for the first time ever, we got to hang out, just her and I, with our kids, and do NOTHING. All of that pressure that comes with worrying that your significant other is okay, not bored, wanting to leave- it was gone, and it was wonderful. I am pretty sure that it doesn’t have to be that way, but in this relationship, it was always that way. if it wasn’t him wanting to leave my family, it was me wanting to leave his. Not that I don’t love his family, because I really, really do. I think it always had more to do with us not wanting to keep up the charade of happiness and harmony that made it hard…I don’t know.

To be honest, I sort of dreaded coming home to him and that familiar hostility more than anything. He hasn’t said much to me since the break up. I mostly have just left him alone, knowing there is nothing I can say that he wants to hear.

Yesterday, I left the baby with him and took the kids up to San Francisco for the day because I promised them (Aisley and her boyfriend) that I would. At the last second, and old friend of mine asked if I’d meet him for breakfast, and since it was on the way, I said yes. He ended up riding along with us for the day, and I had a fantastic time. I was so glad he came, since the kids didn’t want me tagging along with them, making gagging sounds every time they kissed (which is WAY more than necessary, in my opinion.) He just recently ended a ten year relationship, and is still trying to figure it all out- he’s dating a lot, or rather, he was, and now he’s sort of started seeing only one girl that he really likes, but you can tell he’s still a little wobbly- trying to get his land legs, as it were.

I spent a lot of time talking about my situation, which is how you could tell it wasn’t a date- we both talked pretty constantly about our big, significant, failed relationships. But we had a great time, and being with him, who paid for my breakfast and had an all-day conversation with me, full of actual WORDS…well, it gave me hope. And it reminded me of how much I like to laugh, and flirt (innocently), and be heard. I came home thinking I would be okay. Better than okay. Better than ever before, maybe.

Then I got a letter from Devon, via Facebook (?), late, late at night. I read it twice, and then I replied, and that’s when the tears started. Just writing about it is starting them up again. He told me that he is hurting, and I could tell that he is angry and resentful and scared. I think it is finally sinking in that I am not bluffing this time.

The idea that he is hurting and feeling afraid, and that I am the source of this, it’s pretty unbearable for me. I understand that it’s a lot more complicated than that, but in a nutshell, in it’s simplest form, I am hurting him. I HATE that. I’ve said it here before, that I still love him, so it makes sense that it hurts me terribly to cause him pain. So many times I’ve felt like I could see the little kid in him, right beneath his grown up face, and a part of me is fiercely protective of that, even now.

But the fact remains that I want out. The truth I can see, through all of the heartache, is that there is nothing left of our relationship to save. It’s gone. And I am just not going to pretend. The letter I wrote back to him is not what he was wanting from me, which is going to cause him more pain, and I am really, really sad and sorry about that. At the bottom of it all, I feel like I am really making the best decision, not only for me but for both of us- that he deserves to be happy just as much as I do, and we can’t be happy together. Hopefully, he will see this eventually, too.

I am only responsible for myself, though, really, and trying to be in charge of his happiness is part of the reason we wound up here. I think if I would have let things run their course naturally, we would have broken up the first year.

Ah, I don’t know where to go from there. I guess I will just end here by saying this- I will let the tears come when they need to, and I will be enormously loving and gentle with myself, knowing that continued joy is ahead. I will pray for him, myself, and our children, and practice turning it back over to God when I start wanting to fix it.

Have a great day.

Posted in family, inner peace, kids, Life, love, People

Seeing Beyond The Separation

I don’t know the right words to describe what I am going to attempt to describe here, anyway, so bear with me. You know how there are moments in your life where you are aware that it’s all different now? Like, something happens, and it may not even be a big thing, or at least it may be way in the aftermath of a whole bunch of big things, and you have settled down, and you are driving your car down the same old road and this feeling of…change, I guess, just sets itself down upon you?

Well, I am in such a place right now. I have been trying to deny the urge to write about it all morning, hoping it would just go away, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. So, here I sit.

Last night, the switch got tripped. It wasn’t my fault, let me assure you. I was in bed at eight thirty, fast asleep. Then I was awake again at ten, and the person who is SUPPOSED to be sleeping in bed beside me was nowhere to be found. Nowhere in the house, either. This went on for most of the night and into the morning. Was he out cheating on me again, or getting high with his friends? I don’t know. But the worst part is that I didn’t even feel like wasting my time worrying about it. I mean, been there, done that, you know. To me, the most troubling thing of all was my weariness of it all- like, I’m not mad, but fuck you, buddy. I’m tired, I need my rest. Go live this life of yours elsewhere.

Remember when I said ( I think it may have been my last post) that I wasn’t leaving? Well, that part remains true- I am not going anywhere. But he can’t live here anymore. I just need and deserve so much more. I feel so bad for Camryn, because she loves her daddy so much, but you know what? If  he really is as devoted to her as he seems, he will continue to be that no matter where he is living.

The funny thing is, normally, I can’t imagine myself beyond the pain of the separation- I get all caught up in the idea of loneliness, financial ruin, fear of being incapable of doing all this alone. But this time, I saw beyond it, in my head, and it was just like anything else- a situation you get accustomed to, that becomes better, with time, than anything that we could accomplish together. I saw my way into the peace that lies on the other side of what has become a long, sad train wreck.

Because the truth is, I don’t think we’ve really been together in a long, long time. Our lives have been steadily more separate despite all our half hearted  efforts to pull them back together. And when there is this much indifference, what, really, is there left to do?

There’s a life out there to be lived that is more than just us getting by, going through the motions. Today, I’m going to start easing back into it. It’s the next right thing to do.