When I go out, I start sorting guys into two groups: protectors and assailants. I quickly label everyone in my head in order to navigate my way through the night. Although this strategy keeps me present for a while, it always ends the same way. Slowly and then all at once, I shut off completely. And when I get to this point nothing anyone says can bring me back.
The assailants in a bar are easy to spot. They look at me, my skin crawls, and I know. When they talk to me I feel nothing and everything all at the same time. I've tried to describe this panicked feeling before, but the exact words to explain it are still elusive. I fight to hold conversations with assailants as long as I possibly can, but eventually their every word, every movement pushes my heart to a cliff. As I near the edge, the alarms sound in my head and I have to excuse myself to find my nearest protector.
Protectors are guys I know well and have a level of trust in. Their close proximity to me is never a threat, but not always a comfort either. As they see me start to unravel, they hold me like a fragile piece of porcelain. Cradling me too cautiously, encasing me so I don't shatter. They create a barrier between us and the rest of the world so that no one can touch me. Although I'm grateful for this at first, inevitably I panic again. Not in the heart stopping way that the assailants incite, but instead this panic squeezes my lungs. I lose my ability to breathe, suffocating under the weight of their fierce protection.
And then I'm alone.
Not physically, as my protector won't leave my side, but mentally I've rowed myself to an island of my own making. I sit there as the ocean laps at my oars, trying to coax me back in. But I can't. I won't. I refuse. I've made my choice to disconnect and now I'm lost to the world.
As I shut myself off from this confusing crowd of protectors and assailants, I search inside myself for you. You reassure me that things won't always be like this; I need to be patient. That someday, I'll be ready to stop labeling guys as either protectors or assailants. Little by little, I'll start viewing them as they actually are. Not just there to attack or defend me, but as real people who are searching for connections in the same way I am.
So even though it feels like there's you and then there's everyone else, I'll wait. I'll keep attempting to find my way through the safety and the set backs, the challenges and the comfort, the help and the hurt. Because I know on the other side of it is a world full of love. A world that I'll belong to again if I take my time.
Showing posts with label girlfriend. Show all posts
Showing posts with label girlfriend. Show all posts
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Sunday, October 27, 2013
When Your Words Don't Matter
Last night I left the bar to go home because a guy made me feel extremely uncomfortable. After acknowledging my fear of new men, I've made an effort to clearly state what I want and don't want without being rude, but firmly enough to get my point across. The reason I panicked last night was because I discovered how powerless you can feel when your words don't seem to be enough.
To make a long story short, this guy did not seem to understand that when I said, "You're making me uncomfortable, can you please stop," and "I'm not ready," I meant it with complete sincerity. This was not me inviting him to try harder and push until I changed my mind. This was not a challenge. Even after a friend of mine explained to him that my boyfriend recently died, he still came back at me with, "I could be the guy to help you forget about him."
This is not flattering to me. This is terrifying and disrespectful.
After I realized he wasn't budging on his insistence that going out with him was best thing for me, I told him I needed to leave. I got up, walked outside, and hailed a cab home. I did what I had to do to feel safe. But on the way to my apartment I was quick to start looking for ways to blame myself for what happened. Did I come off too friendly in the beginning? Was it my fault for accepting a drink from him in the first place? Should I not be in bars at all?
Although I never felt like he was going to physically violate me, undermining the weight of someone's words is almost as debilitating. What gave him the right to insist that he knew what I needed better than I did? What I say should be a factor in my interactions with others. My words matter. When that isn't honored, it can make a person feel insignificant. If what I said didn't register with him, maybe what I want isn't important. It made me start thinking that I was wrong.
But after a lot of reflection, I decided my question to myself shouldn't be "Was he right?" but instead, "How can I build my own confidence to insure that the opinions of others don't rattle it?" I need to shift the focus away from this man (and other men) and his actions. I will never understand why people do the things they do and I definitely won't be able to alter their actions. Just as they must decide for themselves to change, so must I.
Last night I didn't leave the bar to go home because a guy made me feel uncomfortable. I left because I allowed myself to feel uncomfortable. Yes, the choices he made in his interaction with me were questionable (in my opinion), but I gave him the power to affect me. By taking what he said to heart, I granted his words the permission to get under my skin. I allowed what he thought to mean more to me than what I thought.
Although I am by no means condoning how he treated me, I need to focus on my part in the situation. Because what I do, say, and tell myself is all I have command over. I will give myself consent to leave a bar if I have to. I will allow myself to tell any guy to back away and feel good about my decision to do so. And I will promise to remind myself that if I listen to my heart, it will never lead me astray. Because I am the master of what I do and think, and my words matter.
To make a long story short, this guy did not seem to understand that when I said, "You're making me uncomfortable, can you please stop," and "I'm not ready," I meant it with complete sincerity. This was not me inviting him to try harder and push until I changed my mind. This was not a challenge. Even after a friend of mine explained to him that my boyfriend recently died, he still came back at me with, "I could be the guy to help you forget about him."
This is not flattering to me. This is terrifying and disrespectful.
After I realized he wasn't budging on his insistence that going out with him was best thing for me, I told him I needed to leave. I got up, walked outside, and hailed a cab home. I did what I had to do to feel safe. But on the way to my apartment I was quick to start looking for ways to blame myself for what happened. Did I come off too friendly in the beginning? Was it my fault for accepting a drink from him in the first place? Should I not be in bars at all?
Although I never felt like he was going to physically violate me, undermining the weight of someone's words is almost as debilitating. What gave him the right to insist that he knew what I needed better than I did? What I say should be a factor in my interactions with others. My words matter. When that isn't honored, it can make a person feel insignificant. If what I said didn't register with him, maybe what I want isn't important. It made me start thinking that I was wrong.
Last night I didn't leave the bar to go home because a guy made me feel uncomfortable. I left because I allowed myself to feel uncomfortable. Yes, the choices he made in his interaction with me were questionable (in my opinion), but I gave him the power to affect me. By taking what he said to heart, I granted his words the permission to get under my skin. I allowed what he thought to mean more to me than what I thought.
Although I am by no means condoning how he treated me, I need to focus on my part in the situation. Because what I do, say, and tell myself is all I have command over. I will give myself consent to leave a bar if I have to. I will allow myself to tell any guy to back away and feel good about my decision to do so. And I will promise to remind myself that if I listen to my heart, it will never lead me astray. Because I am the master of what I do and think, and my words matter.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Lost Lips
Blake and I would have to go weeks without kissing. With me in California and him in Arizona, sometimes our lips had to be hundreds of miles apart. During those periods, they would wait impatiently on our faces. Once they knew each others' touch, an existence quietly perched between nose and chin would never be enough. After they tasted sweet purpose, they changed. They knew how it felt to come alive, so they lived in anxious anticipation of their next embrace.
Especially after longer gaps between reunions, our lips met with overpowering urgency. It was as if they had been holding their breath all along and were finally able to greedily gulp in oxygen. They were completely consumed with each other. Inseparable to the point that it was hard to tell where one set ended and the other began. So when one set ended, the other couldn't begin again.
Now my lips are just lips.
They no longer get the chance to feel and lust and love. They reluctantly hold their place between my cheeks and resent me for leaving them there. Filled with memories of when they used to dance freely, my lips fight to imagine their phantom partner. They fall silent in defeat, waiving a white flag to signal their surrender. And so they lay dormant. In defiant refusal to live a life any less than the extraordinary one they once knew.
But even though hope is faint, they still cling onto the dream that maybe one day
they will come alive again.
Especially after longer gaps between reunions, our lips met with overpowering urgency. It was as if they had been holding their breath all along and were finally able to greedily gulp in oxygen. They were completely consumed with each other. Inseparable to the point that it was hard to tell where one set ended and the other began. So when one set ended, the other couldn't begin again.
Now my lips are just lips.
They no longer get the chance to feel and lust and love. They reluctantly hold their place between my cheeks and resent me for leaving them there. Filled with memories of when they used to dance freely, my lips fight to imagine their phantom partner. They fall silent in defeat, waiving a white flag to signal their surrender. And so they lay dormant. In defiant refusal to live a life any less than the extraordinary one they once knew.
But even though hope is faint, they still cling onto the dream that maybe one day
they will come alive again.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Separating (A Poem)
Enough space to keep me sane
Close enough to heed my heart
Straddling this fine line
Crossing over, ripped apart
The strength is in the balance
Of knowing how to choose
At what distance to hold you
The amount of separation to use
I'm lost, disconnected, alone
Wandering, restless, broken
A soul without a home
If I pull you in too tightly
It's like embracing the sun
Engulfed in blissful light
But scorched and overdone
Where's the happy medium?
The perfect in between?
Fully accepting my reality
While still honoring the unseen
So goes my daily struggle
Learning to navigate this mismatch
Loving you thoroughly and truly
While beginning to detach
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Connecting With Blake
Sometimes at night, when I lay perfectly still, the wheels in my brain stop spinning. The incessant and ever-present buzzing in my mind takes a pause. Instead of a million thoughts racing around, bouncing off of each other, crashing, and colliding, there is peace.
I become hyper aware of my breathing. My lungs swell and my chest rises, my lungs deflate, my chest falls. Air streams into my nose and swirls ever so softly inside of it. I feel a burst of coolness before it leaves to return to the outside. This repeats over and over and over again. Rhythmic... Even... Stable...
Gradually my body gets heavier, but I acclimate to its weight in the most effortless way. My bones settle quietly within my skin as I slowly melt into my bed. I sink into the mattress almost as if I was meant to be part of it my entire life. I grow roots into where I lie.
My mind is finally calm enough, my breathing steady enough, body still enough, to feel Blake. Although tears well up and leak out through the bottom of my shut eyelids, I am not sad. I am not only happy, but complete.
Sometimes I see Blake and sometimes I just hear his voice. But the way he looks or the things he says are never the important parts of this experience. The most spiritual, emotional, moving piece is how my heart feels. In those brief, but incredible moments there is no hole inside of it. The constant ache that has become as much a part of me as the blood that flows through my veins, disappears. I am who I am, but bigger, myself, but stronger, me, but absolutely and positively whole.
He leaves me, but his kiss lingers on my lips. Although goose bumps cover every inch of my skin, I am the farthest thing from cold. The warmth of his embrace cloaks me like a security blanket. The ripples in the sound waves he caused with his voice act as a soothing lullaby. I drift comfortably into sleep knowing that's where he's waiting for me.
I become hyper aware of my breathing. My lungs swell and my chest rises, my lungs deflate, my chest falls. Air streams into my nose and swirls ever so softly inside of it. I feel a burst of coolness before it leaves to return to the outside. This repeats over and over and over again. Rhythmic... Even... Stable...
Gradually my body gets heavier, but I acclimate to its weight in the most effortless way. My bones settle quietly within my skin as I slowly melt into my bed. I sink into the mattress almost as if I was meant to be part of it my entire life. I grow roots into where I lie.
My mind is finally calm enough, my breathing steady enough, body still enough, to feel Blake. Although tears well up and leak out through the bottom of my shut eyelids, I am not sad. I am not only happy, but complete.
Sometimes I see Blake and sometimes I just hear his voice. But the way he looks or the things he says are never the important parts of this experience. The most spiritual, emotional, moving piece is how my heart feels. In those brief, but incredible moments there is no hole inside of it. The constant ache that has become as much a part of me as the blood that flows through my veins, disappears. I am who I am, but bigger, myself, but stronger, me, but absolutely and positively whole.He leaves me, but his kiss lingers on my lips. Although goose bumps cover every inch of my skin, I am the farthest thing from cold. The warmth of his embrace cloaks me like a security blanket. The ripples in the sound waves he caused with his voice act as a soothing lullaby. I drift comfortably into sleep knowing that's where he's waiting for me.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Coping in Different Ways
There's a TV show called Degrassi that my mom and I have been obsessed with since my sister and I discovered it years ago. The first time we watched it, it was this super awkward episode about one of the main characters getting her period for the first time during school. Since we were young at the time, we immediately turned into a ball of giggles over such an uncomfortable topic being talked about so openly. I believe one of the slogans from the show a few seasons back was "Degrassi: it goes there." Clearly.
Anyway, there was a new episode last night about the funeral for one of the main characters, Adam. Throughout the video, I really related to his brother Drew. While everyone gave him advice to smile, focus on the positives, and move on by allowing himself to say goodbye, he felt completely alone and detached from that advice. All of his friends tried to do what was best for them, which meant sharing memories, laughing, and resolving to make the most of their lives from then on out. But for Drew it was different. He couldn't cope that way.
The link to the video is here, if you want to watch it ---> "Young Forever." It really helped me to watch Drew go through this loss and see the juxtaposition of his struggle and that of Adam's friends and girlfriend. This reminded me that there are so many different ways to cope. Just because one way is right for one person, doesn't mean it's the best for everyone.
The most powerful part for me was the ending. Drew asks his friend, "How do we move on?" and his friend answers, "By learning to say goodbye." In the next scene we see Drew looking at a picture of Adam and surprising himself and everyone there when he starts talking directly to him. At the end of his message he says, "I'm not going to (say goodbye) because to me you'll never be gone." And that's exactly how I feel too.
Anyway, there was a new episode last night about the funeral for one of the main characters, Adam. Throughout the video, I really related to his brother Drew. While everyone gave him advice to smile, focus on the positives, and move on by allowing himself to say goodbye, he felt completely alone and detached from that advice. All of his friends tried to do what was best for them, which meant sharing memories, laughing, and resolving to make the most of their lives from then on out. But for Drew it was different. He couldn't cope that way.
The link to the video is here, if you want to watch it ---> "Young Forever." It really helped me to watch Drew go through this loss and see the juxtaposition of his struggle and that of Adam's friends and girlfriend. This reminded me that there are so many different ways to cope. Just because one way is right for one person, doesn't mean it's the best for everyone.
The most powerful part for me was the ending. Drew asks his friend, "How do we move on?" and his friend answers, "By learning to say goodbye." In the next scene we see Drew looking at a picture of Adam and surprising himself and everyone there when he starts talking directly to him. At the end of his message he says, "I'm not going to (say goodbye) because to me you'll never be gone." And that's exactly how I feel too.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Who Am I Now?
A girl who also recently lost her boyfriend and I have been messaging back and forth since Blake died. Although she is very much still going through a lot of the same emotions as me, she is a couple months further down the road. Talking with her has given me insight into typical challenges during the grieving process that I will encounter, before I encounter them.
A few days ago I wrote her this:
"The hardest thing for me right now is realizing that I'm never going to be myself again. I think I'll become more like myself as time goes on, but I'll never be exactly the same as I was before. Everyone says that's a good thing and I'll come out of this a different, but stronger person, but it just sucks. When I do things I used to do with people I used to do them with I want so badly to just be myself and I can't."
After affirming that that was normal and she was experiencing it too, she shared this:
"I started an internship a month ago and am meeting a bunch of new people and they think of me as a single girl with short hair, when I see myself as a girlfriend with long hair and a nose piercing haha. I am scared to add any one on Facebook because I just know they won't be able to comprehend how much I have been through in the last three months and how much I have changed, to them I am just another college student. Have you started experiencing that at all yet?"
At that point I hadn't, but today I move to San Diego and I know that time has come for me.
Am I Blake's girlfriend?
Am I single?'
A few days ago I wrote her this:
"The hardest thing for me right now is realizing that I'm never going to be myself again. I think I'll become more like myself as time goes on, but I'll never be exactly the same as I was before. Everyone says that's a good thing and I'll come out of this a different, but stronger person, but it just sucks. When I do things I used to do with people I used to do them with I want so badly to just be myself and I can't."
After affirming that that was normal and she was experiencing it too, she shared this:
"I started an internship a month ago and am meeting a bunch of new people and they think of me as a single girl with short hair, when I see myself as a girlfriend with long hair and a nose piercing haha. I am scared to add any one on Facebook because I just know they won't be able to comprehend how much I have been through in the last three months and how much I have changed, to them I am just another college student. Have you started experiencing that at all yet?"
At that point I hadn't, but today I move to San Diego and I know that time has come for me.
Who am I Now?
Am I Blake's girlfriend?
Am I single?'
Should I let new people friend me on Facebook?
Will it scare them to find out what I am going through?
Can I get close with anyone who doesn't know this important part of me?
Is it necessary for everyone to know?
I honestly don't have answers to these questions and even three months out, neither does she. Although this kind of seems contradictory, I want to be able to answer "yes" to all six of those questions.
Blake will always be my boyfriend, but that doesn't mean I can't eventually be completely happy and in love with someone else. I know that sounds ridiculous and maybe to some people it is. However, widows get remarried all the time, does that mean they love their first husband any less? Absolutely not. Does that mean they'll never be able to fully give themselves to their new husband? I don't think so either. At age 24 it would be silly to think I will never love again, and Blake wouldn't want that for me either.
I can't be afraid to let new people into my life because of my reality right now. Yes, it will probably scare them. It might even scare a few people away from wanting to be my friend altogether (why would I want to be friends with those people anyway?). But after they get over the initial shock, I think they'll come to realize that everyone has a story. Everyone has a battle they are fighting that makes them who they are, but doesn't define them.
Which brings me to the last two questions. Yes, I can get close with someone who doesn't know about my boyfriend's death, but eventually I'll need to tell them if I want more than just a surface level friendship. Going through a loss like this is going to change me. It's going to make me into someone a little different and hopefully a little stronger, wiser, and more beautiful too. Because of that, how could I hide this life altering experience from a person I love? That being said, it won't define me.
So who am I now?
I'm still figuring that out. But I know once I do, I'll be everything I used to be and so much more.
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Addiction From a Girlfriend's Perspective: To Stay or Go?
Today I woke up to everything I needed to hear.
In my inbox there was a message from an old friend saying my writing has encouraged him to finally come clean to his girlfriend about his addiction. He told me that the way I've processed things showed that "there's compassion and love for people like me from people like you."
I started to cry. First because I was so proud, and second because I was so happy that even with all the questioning I've done, it's still clear that I love and forgive Blake.
At times I feel like I am betraying him by exposing the things I have, but when I've asked myself "Is this helpful? Would this make Blake proud?" I have always been able to answer yes to both of those questions. Although I'm sure Blake would want everyone to think highly of him and who he was, I hope that finding out about his addiction doesn't change that. If anything, I know he would want his death to act as a way of him helping others, since he was always doing that in life. Without a doubt if he knew that his death could serve as a wake up call to his friends or even strangers, he would want me to share his story and my experience in a heart beat.
The friend that messaged told me that he wanted to tell his girlfriend about his addiction, "in such a way that she'll stay with me and still love me even when knowing me fully. I'm terrified, but I know it's the right thing to do." Although there is no way to guarantee that she won't break up with him, I gave him my best advice:
"Honestly, I would've stayed with Blake had he told me and made it clear that he knew he had a problem and was willing to completely surrender to treatment. When he went to rehab the first time, he came out going to meetings less and less frequently and still drinking alcohol and smoking weed. Although at the time I didn't think that was a big deal, I know now that was a sign of him not taking his addiction seriously."
I truly believe a person can recover from addiction. I know it's possible. However, sobriety cannot be taken lightly. In my very limited experience with the subject, I've come to learn that addiction is a life-long battle and needs to be treated as such. Just because you get clean and finish rehab doesn't mean you're cured.
Does a girlfriend or wife want to spend the rest of her life worrying about a relapse? Never fully trusting her partner? Always looking for warning signs? It's definitely possible I would've signed up for a life like that, but only if I was 100% sure of two things:
1) He knew he had a serious, life-threatening problem
2) He was willing to do everything in his power (including getting help when things were beyond his power) to stay sober for the rest of his life
Love makes you do crazy things that don't make sense to other people, even walking away from someone who you are completely in love with. I know I would've eventually had to make the choice to end our relationship if I was only even 90% sure of the two things.
Unfortunately, neither of the two things fully applied to Blake and that was what killed him. In the end, I never had to decide for myself if I wanted to stay or leave because his mindset and actions made the choice for me.
In my inbox there was a message from an old friend saying my writing has encouraged him to finally come clean to his girlfriend about his addiction. He told me that the way I've processed things showed that "there's compassion and love for people like me from people like you."
I started to cry. First because I was so proud, and second because I was so happy that even with all the questioning I've done, it's still clear that I love and forgive Blake.
At times I feel like I am betraying him by exposing the things I have, but when I've asked myself "Is this helpful? Would this make Blake proud?" I have always been able to answer yes to both of those questions. Although I'm sure Blake would want everyone to think highly of him and who he was, I hope that finding out about his addiction doesn't change that. If anything, I know he would want his death to act as a way of him helping others, since he was always doing that in life. Without a doubt if he knew that his death could serve as a wake up call to his friends or even strangers, he would want me to share his story and my experience in a heart beat.
The friend that messaged told me that he wanted to tell his girlfriend about his addiction, "in such a way that she'll stay with me and still love me even when knowing me fully. I'm terrified, but I know it's the right thing to do." Although there is no way to guarantee that she won't break up with him, I gave him my best advice:
"Honestly, I would've stayed with Blake had he told me and made it clear that he knew he had a problem and was willing to completely surrender to treatment. When he went to rehab the first time, he came out going to meetings less and less frequently and still drinking alcohol and smoking weed. Although at the time I didn't think that was a big deal, I know now that was a sign of him not taking his addiction seriously."
I truly believe a person can recover from addiction. I know it's possible. However, sobriety cannot be taken lightly. In my very limited experience with the subject, I've come to learn that addiction is a life-long battle and needs to be treated as such. Just because you get clean and finish rehab doesn't mean you're cured.
Does a girlfriend or wife want to spend the rest of her life worrying about a relapse? Never fully trusting her partner? Always looking for warning signs? It's definitely possible I would've signed up for a life like that, but only if I was 100% sure of two things:
1) He knew he had a serious, life-threatening problem
2) He was willing to do everything in his power (including getting help when things were beyond his power) to stay sober for the rest of his life
Love makes you do crazy things that don't make sense to other people, even walking away from someone who you are completely in love with. I know I would've eventually had to make the choice to end our relationship if I was only even 90% sure of the two things.
Unfortunately, neither of the two things fully applied to Blake and that was what killed him. In the end, I never had to decide for myself if I wanted to stay or leave because his mindset and actions made the choice for me.
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