too much thinking

I’ve had several realizations during yesterday evening at my parents and over this morning, while trying to get out of bed and then going to church. Some of which, I am sure I have had before, but have forgotten, and maybe some new ones that I will forget. I have felt so guilty last night and this morning thinking of when he took me out on Friday for my birthday and how I said goodbye. I got out of the car and he gave me his usual huge loving hug, then I gave him a kiss, then I stood there for several seconds as we looked at each other, waiting for him to kiss me back. Hello, attempting guilt trip (although unintentional). Plus, could I devise a better plan of attack to make him not want to see me: make myself look more desperate and more pathetic and more needy and more [insert your own self-deprecating adjective]. I hate that he gave me such a wonderful night and I chose to end it like that. I hate that he is so okay and happy with his life at the moment, and I only show him how miserable I am. I hate that with every tear I cry and with every weak moment, to him, I am confirming his decision.

If I say I love Chad, and I do, then I have to show him that. To show him that, I have to not only respect his decision but allow him to make it without forcing myself on him, no matter how desperately I need him. To truly love someone you must hurt—to love them, you let them make their own choice and even if it hurts you, you choose to love them anyway. ICorinthians 13:4 (I went to hear TB teach this morning—always wonderful, meaningful, and tearful) says: Love is patient. God has been patient with me with no guarantee of my returning his love (even though He does know the final outcome and I don’t). Should I not have the same patience with Chad without any guarantees? If I love Chad, then I simply love Chad. It isn’t conditional on him still loving me in the way I want him to, it isn’t dependent on him making the choices I believe are right and healthy, it isn’t dependent on him even desiring to see or talk to me anymore. From the beginning, when I realized I wanted to be with Chad, that I needed who he was in my life, I loved him for everything Chad was and is. That hasn’t changed. I have to show him that I respect him, his choices, and his freedom. I have to leave him alone to let him live his life. If he chooses to come back or not. I have to let him be him. Period. I have to show him I love him. Period. It’s not how I want to show him that I love him (and maybe he won’t even notice or care enough to consider it, but, once again, my love for him is not dependent on that either), but I do love him; therefore this is what I must do.

On the flip side, and completely opposite note, I have been getting in touch with my anger at people, and the world in general. I am angry with the people in his life that simply supported his feelings and didn’t help us fight for our relationship, even though they always told us they couldn’t believe how good we are for each other. Truth is so much more than a feeling. Just because we are feeling something doesn’t mean it is our only option, or that it is even what we should do. Maybe what he chose is exactly what he should have chosen, maybe not. Either way, I think it is vital for us to be good friends to others to not only support their feelings but also help them know when they might need to sit with their feelings, work on figuring out how to fix them or nurture them, and to fight for the good things in our lives, regardless. Anything worth anything in life takes a lot of work, a lot fear-facing, a lot of tears, and a lot of fighting for its life. Our society is much too quick to simply ask what we are feeling and use those feelings as a declaration of truth, instead of what they truly are (an indication of an area of our life that needs some focus and attention).

The other beef I have with our culture (not just gay culture, but the American—higher educated—more ‘enlightened’ culture) is our oxymoron believes. Everything we think about (books, movies, music, everything) is most often about finding love, being in love, building a life together. However, the minute that is found, the focus is on learning how to be yourself, how to be fine on your own, not needing the other person too much, not loosing yourself to them, not changing who you are. In moderation, all those things are true, but I truly think the way we think about it is fucked up. To be a good pairing, both parties must bring themselves together and keep what made them special individually so that the pairing is stronger and more complete. However, we take it to an extreme, you can not come together with someone else, build a life together, and have a ‘soul-mate’ if you don’t change who you are, if you don’t need them too much, if they do not become a part of your very essence. The entire point is two becoming one, not two squishing together to form a very crowded two, pushing and shoving jostling for position. In our fucking quest to be fully realized, whole, independent, modern individuals, we have made a culture of people who only know how to be alone, only take care of ourselves, and build up walls so that others can’t change us (God forbid), and have made it where we are all alone, no matter who we ‘devote’ ourselves to.

Happy Birthday

Halfway through the birthday. Of course, I am well aware in twenty-five minutes, it will be exactly six weeks sine Chad left me. Yes, I know I shouldn’t think about that, I know that’s pathetic, I know.

I just had lunch with they boys at Benny’s and then we went to Licks for ice cream. It was very nice, and luckily, with this bunch, I don’t have to say that much, I can just listen. It meant a lot that they showed up, and that they continue to be patient with me and not rush me to feeling what I don’t feel. They even honored my request of no presents (which, may sound strange, also meant a lot). I am so blessed with the people God has given me to walk through this life with.

I have had many rough and bad birthdays, often involving car wrecks, surgeries, dumb stuff. Number Thirty-one is by far the hardest (not that it had much choice since I have been dreading it so much). None that I have cried so much during. I hate how much it meant to me that I got a text from Chad around 10:30 this morning telling me happy birthday and how much I deserve a good day. I also hate I had a hard time breathing until that point because I was afraid he would forget, even though I knew he wouldn’t—he always keeps his word.

Now it is off to mom and dad’s for dinner. I am so glad I have them as well (and my brother). I wish I could say that I wouldn’t cry up there, but I don’t know if I can keep that. A mutual friend of Chad and I saw me at the gym this morning (he was Chad’s friend first), and I started to cry when he asked me how I was. He was concerned about me, and said that I soon needed to decide to not let it bother me. This is what I tell my kids too, that we choose to be happy. Most of the time, I believe that, but right now, I don’t know how to choose that, how to quit grieving, how to stop hoping he’ll choose me again, how to stop wishing I would have been enough for him. I don’t know how, but I so want to. I’m tired of hurting.

for this birthday...

Birthday dinner with Chad finished a couple hours ago. We went to the Rio and then to see UP in 3D. (Tonight would have been our two year four month anniversary, btw. It is also the first time we have gotten together since he left me that we haven’t had a definite plan/date to get together again, so that is hard as well.) He gave me lavish gifts, blew my mind. It was very, very, very sweet of him, and not needed, but I know he was trying to show me how much he loves me. Of course, they weren’t what I wanted for my birthday, but I guess the love he can give me is better than no love from him at all. I don’t know why he isn’t in love with me any more, and I don’t understand why he can turn his back on the life we had together, and why he doesn’t want me, but he truly is a wonderful, kind, loving, amazing man. Again, I have to say how blessed and thankful I am for the time I got to be with him.

Up was great (a few parts were too cheesy, but still fun). Spoiler ahead—The old man of the movie is the way he is because of the death of his wife. The first part of the movie shows them growing up together, getting married, learning they can’t have children, loving each other, and her dying. It showed them as kids dreaming of taking adventures together, specifically, wanting to go to a waterfall in South America. His wife (as a little girl) had an adventure book to document her adventures. She had a special place for her main adventure, which she left blank for when she/them went to the live by the waterfall. They never got to go, he bought tickets for them right before she died. Thus, he takes off on the adventure (with their house) because he promised her they would go—he spoke to her throughout the movie like she was still with him. At the end of the movie, he looks back in her adventure book that he finds. He is saddened when he gets to the section she saved for their adventure to South America. However, as he turns the pages, expecting to see blank page after blank page, he finds she had documented their life together, each step they took together. On the last page, he finds a hand-written note from her: “Thank you for the amazing adventure. Now go have more of your own.”

I had been pretty proud of myself. I looked better than I have in a couple years. I fit into my favorite pair of Lucky jeans (size 31), wore a $400 pair of boots Chad gave me our first Christmas together and a shirt he gave me this last Christmas, and of course, the tattoo, that he helped finish for my 30^th birthday. I really looked great (and so did he, truly!), and that helped. I was able to stay ‘happy and cheerful’ the whole time (except for some tears when I opened his presents and was blown away). However, during the movie, there were three or four parts I sobbed. I know people see themselves wherever they possibly can, but I couldn’t help correlate the movie with what I want. I simply want to live my life out with Chad, for us to have our own everyday adventures together, simply living life. He is the man I have chosen, the man I have deemed worthy enough to give my life too. There are not words to express how painful it is that he does not feel the same, especially after the years and all the love we have shared. The movie also made me sob for thinking of having to go through what the old man did. I am barely handling Chad leaving me. How could I possibly handle the death of the person I grow old with, if I get the gift of having someone to grow old with?

Oh, and now there are forty-five more minutes until I turn thirty-one. I can’t wait until this is over.

Taking a step, maybe forward, maybe backward

I am doing something I never thought I would do, and I don’t feel great about it, but I think I have to. I am going to pick up some anti-depressant medicine in a couple hours. My doctor cleared me for some when I called yesterday about getting a therapist. At the time, I told him no, but something has to give. Plus, the therapist I called can’t get me in until the ninth of June. I don’t think I can make it that long without some help. I left him a message to try to beg him to fit me in sooner. We’ll see if it works.

Also, in facing my weakness, and I don’t know why I feel the need to confess this on here, but I do, I really just want someone to come and hold me at night, make the pain a little less. I’d like to say that I’d like someone to kiss me too. However, that is my favorite thing in the world, and Chad was the best kisser I have ever had, and I don’t think I’m ready to not be able to say that he was the last one to kiss me. I know it wouldn’t replace Chad (I don’t want it to), and I know it might even make me feel worse to have someone in my bed holding me when I would have to admit even more that it wasn’t Chad there holding me like he used to. Plus, then there’s the whole thing of what if I fell into a rebound relationship that I didn’t really want that would hurt me later and the other person and make it where Chad couldn’t feel comfortable to come back (oh, didn’t hear the memo? Yeah, he’s coming back in two weeks! Oh, wait. . . ). One of my dear friends told me that I need to learn how to be hard-hearted. Not to shut off the hurt of Chad, but to shut off worrying about hurting someone else by asking them to love me for a moment. The whole thing sounds wrong, to whoever the other person would be, to show respect for Chad, and for myself. But I really do just want to be held, have another warm body by me when I sleep, and to be held again when I remember that warm body isn’t the body of the man I love.

I guess if that little vomit session didn’t show that it’s a good time for meds, nothing will. . .

Again, please keep me in your prayers. (Chad too, of course.) Pray for some relief of this, some strength and wisdom, and for me to truly be able to live up to my favorite verse (Job 13:15 [I think]—Though You slay me I will trust You.) so that I really can trust God that He is doing what is best for both of us, whether He sees fit to bring us back together or if we are meant to walk only side by side instead of hand in hand.

a year later

I was only at school for an hour before I had everything wrapped and ready to go. I was glad I didn’t have to wait there for the rest of the day, I don’t think I could have handled that. Of course, I completely broke down as I walked out the door. That’s been well over an hour ago, and I am just getting a small amount of sanity back.

All I can think of is leaving school last year. It was my birthday and Chad told me to rush home that there was a surprise. I got home, he told me to pack, and that he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. He (and my other friends) didn’t tell me until we got there, a gorgeous condo in Breckenridge for the entire weekend. It was hands down the best birthday of my life (and one of the best experiences in general of my life). Then I had the rest of the summer living the life I have dreamed about. I wrote on my novel all day while Chad was at work, and then he would come home and we would have our life together. In my head, the only thing that would have made it better would have been if I had already been published. However, if I had to choose between that and living my life with the man I love, I would give up being published in a second. What does any of that mean without the person you adore to spend your life with? Again, I have to be thankful for what I received. I got a whole summer of living my perfect life, my dream life, and it really was everything I had ever hoped for, and I got to realize it at the time—how often does that happen?

Here I am a year later, and I have to celebrate my birthday with Chad the night before my birthday (on what would have been our two year four month anniversary—my actual birthday is the six week mark since he left me), I had to walk to out of school today to an empty house, to a summer that terrifies me, to writing I’m not sure if I can actually do, to a massage business I don’t want to have to start again, to knowing that the man I love, my best friend, isn’t coming back and doesn’t want to. Yes, I know that I have it easy, that sooooo many more people have it so much worse than I do. I’m not trying to claim I have it the worst in the world. However, I am hurting. I am scared. I don’t think I can hurt any more and then I do. I hate feeling how weak I really am. I’ve never been so broken or hurt so badly. I know at some point I will get through this and I will come to the other side, whatever that might look like. But, right now, I can’t see how to get there or how long I will have to stay in this misery.

family?

After a rather horrible, yet nice evening (horrible because I was once again a wreck, nice because my friend AV had dinner with me and hung out after), I fell into an exhausted sleep, with very few dreams (just the way I like it). I woke up, of course, thinking of Chad, but instead of crying, I was able to simply pray a prayer of thanks for the time we were allowed to walk together, pray that God would watch over him, show his love to him, and that, if at all possible, our paths would merge once more.
I also decided yesterday that I am going to seek some help, go through my insurance and talk to a therapist. Things should at least be getting somewhat more manageable, not worse everyday, and I think I need to talk to someone before I crack. Everyone is telling me that part of the problem is that Chad and I still see each other. They also say that if there is any chance for him to come back, I need to cut it off so that he can experience life without me. I’m not completely sure what I feel about this, they may be right, but I love him and don’t want to not see him, and I don’t want to hurt him. I hate even thinking about it.
With the way I woke up, I had some hope that today might be a day I didn’t break down. On my way out the door, I pulled out the mail from the mail slot, so that more could get shoved in. On top was a bent card with Chad’s mom and dad listed as the return address. That, in and of itself, made me start to get teary. I opened it, the stupid thing got stuck in the envelope and I thought I was going to have to throw a fit to get it out. Finally, I got it out. Chad’s mom (although both she and her husband’s name were on it) had sent me a very sweet birthday card. Of course, I lost it on the couch for several minutes, Dolan at my feet, my constant companion in tears lately. It means so much to me that they would not only remember, but care enough to still send me good thoughts. It is one more area of hurt and confusion for me. Similar to Chad and I, Chad’s family and I on paper don’t make much sense. We have a lot of the same background, but are so very different. However, I love, love his mom and dad. We visited them several times, stayed the weekend, they came and saw us. Just as I saw Chad as the man I would spend my life with, I saw his folks as my in-laws, as the people who would be my family one day. And, unlike most people, I was very happy about that fact. They are wonderful. They are one more thing I have lost. One more thing I don’t understand. How can all the puzzle pieces that really didn’t look like they should have fit together, but did, now be separate? I’d like to think it means that the pieces are destined to return together. I know better. I still have a small bit of hope for one day, but I know better. And, yes, they are one more thing I have lost, but they are also one more wonderful thing I was allowed to have.

kisses

Just in case I don’t think about Chad and I enough during the day, last night all I dreamed about was kissing him, just kissing Chad. They weren’t movie kisses or anything, just real kisses. I never had anyone kiss me like (in real life), and I could never ask for a better kisser. In the dream I told him that he’d better figure this out soon. Of course, I woke up in tears. How does he walk away from what we had, from what he had? Why doesn’t he figure it out? What he had doesn’t come along every day, it just doesn’t. Why doesn’t he wake up already!

Living the same life, but without me

I start to think that I am making progress, and then I realize that I’m not moving at all. I had a great day hiking with KE and CP. We hiked six miles and before that I did five miles at the gym. All of this should have guaranteed and a good mind space (exercise, endorphins, etc.). However, I got to mom and dad’s and broke down for a few hours. Broke down. Partly, although wonderful to see KE and CP be so cute and sweet together, they were Chad’s and my couple to go do things with. They were also making plans to simply go out to dinner (or eat in, the couldn’t decided) and watch TV for a relaxing evening at home. That was always one of my favorite times with Chad, simply being together. I knew he was at his house just watching TV and ordering pizza (facebook means that there is no privacy), after going out a few times for Memorial Day weekend. My question is this: What is he experiencing that is so much different without me that makes it so great? I never made him not go out, I know how to sit at watch TV and order pizza. Really? What is he doing that makes him so much happier without me in his life? How did living with me make his so miserable that he had to run away? I am so thankful for my parents, but it was hard today, knowing that Chad was doing what we normally would do to draw the weekend to a close, and here I was watching the Bachelorette with my folks. I really couldn’t feel much more pathetic and unlovable. I also can’t figure out what I did to chase away the man I love. With my other breakup before this one (not that they are comparable), I knew exactly why he left and what I did wrong. Here, I can’t figure it out.

On a different, yet similar note, it always amazes me the people who read my blog that aren’t close friends. A few of these people have contacted me and we have become ‘computer friends.’ One such friend wrote me an email today. He has gone out of his way to show me compassion, let me know he is praying for me, and making sure he tells me that I am not alone. Here is a portion of his email that really hit me today:

“I wanted to let you know.. even though you're going through a very rough time.. that I'm envious of you. I'm the type of person who totally wants the type of relationship you had with Chad. It may surprise you to know that I've never had a boyfriend. No one has taken that kind of interest in me before.. you know gay men, they always have their excuses.. . Anyway, I just want you to know that even though things may be rough, you've experienced a lot more than some of us. So I hope you will see that as a positive thing. There are many of us who would have loved to have been in your shoes, even if it was just for two years, with aspirations for more.”

He really should be envious. I am not completely sure that I am going to get through this with my sanity intact or my heart is less than a thousand pieces, but I am holding to the fact that I got to live the two best years of my life so far with Chad. True, it makes it that much more confusing and painful, and at times it feels like it didn’t happened, but it did. I experienced more love, more happiness, more contentment than I dreamed I could. To make it even more confusing, one of my straight girlfriends told me again, just this past Friday, that even though Chad left me, our relationship was the best she has ever seen (of any relationship, not just gay) and gives her hope for herself. So, I am grateful, blessed, and thankful. I just wish I could understand what Chad was doing and why he is happier without me.

All Over The Place

Most of the time, it seems when I am finally able to blog, my emotions are somewhat under control, even though it may not seem like it to the outside reader. Scary thought that I am a little more emotionally crazy than can be read on here, huh?

Seriously, I hate weekends. I hate them. Too much time to think, each Saturday marks another week he has chosen everything else buy me (five, now).

Today, my brother and I went to a coffee shop to read for a couple hours. His idea (I couldn’t believe it, he doesn’t read). I haven’t read since Chad left me, but my second favorite author (Kelly Armstrong) came out with her second installment of her young adult series, so we went and bought that and went to the coffee shop. It is about necromancers, werewolves, witches, demons, etc, so nothing that could really trigger any connections to Chad and me, and life at the moment. However, at some point, I dozed off. It was one of those that you know was no more than 5 seconds, if that. However, in those few seconds, I was with Chad. I’ve dreamed of him several times. This wasn’t that. When I’ve dreamed of him, I’ve always known it was a dream. In those few seconds, I was with him. We were in bed, I felt his chest on my face (I guess my face on his chest is more apt), felt his warmth, the familiar feel of our skin touching, could hear his breathing and the sound of his voice. Somehow, I was there. (Yes, I know I wasn’t actually there, but I was there.) When my eyes opened, I was confused. I was in a coffee shop, not with Chad. It was another second before I realized I really wasn’t with him and that things are like they are. I don’t know what brought it on or even how it happened. In one way it was wonderful, in the other, it was devastating to realize it all, all over again.

People keep telling me all these things, often unsolicited. They say he’s just confused that he will figure it out, they say that this is obviously who he is and he isn’t’ going to change, they say that this happened to lots of couples and they get together in a year or so and stay for life, they say that things will never be the same even if he comes back, they say he won’t change until I move on and he sees me happy with someone else, they say he is showing his true colors and he is showing me that I don’t want him anyway. They say a million other things. They don’t know. Neither do I. As much as I want to. I think Chad might know, but maybe not. I think he might go with the reason that he was trying so hard to be something he was not, something he thought I wanted him to be, and that he just didn’t have it in him anymore. Which makes me think he was miserable with me. Several people I have talked to would agree with this assessment. I don’t. I refuse to believe these certain choices are definitions of a person. They may be things a person enjoys or chooses, but they are not who they are or what defines them, and they are only that—choices. This sorta helps and sorta doesn’t. If they are choices, then by definition, he found these other things much more important and valuable and desirable than he does me.

Every day that goes by makes it feel like the past two plus years weren’t real, that they didn’t even happen, that I made them up. I hate that so much. I don’t want to loose those years, even if he never comes back. Even if I don’t get to be with that Chad again. Even if he continues to simply be in contact with me because he feels bad and wants to take care of me, not because he really wants to be with me or misses me.

I want to be held and kissed so badly, to be told that I am loved, to be loved. Of course, I want this from Chad. “They” have also told me that I can get this from other people (and there are other people I have found out recently that would actually mean these things), but what would the consequences of that be? And what could possibly substitute the best kisses of my life and being held by the man I love more than anyone else in my life, that wouldn’t leave me feeling more empty and even more alone and abandoned and rejected?

You

You made me love you for your laugh

For your smile

For your ease

You made me want you with your heart

With your patience

With you humor

You asked me to stay when I tried to go

When I gave into fear

When I couldn’t give my heart

You waited for me to see the real you

See the real me with you

See how life would be

You gently took me into your arms

Took my lips with yours

Took my hand into your hand

You opened yourself to a life with me

To moving in

To growing together

You slowly made each day a little better

A little more safe

A little more real

You taught me what it is to love completely

To love through the risk

To love without end

You helped me start to build a home

Build a life

Build a family

You showed me a world I didn’t know

World of contentment

World of wonders

You dropped my hand in the middle of the walk

In the middle of a kiss

In the middle of our beginning

You walked away with plans left unfinished

Plans left waiting

Plans left to be made

You chose over me a life of easy come easy go

A life of late nights and blurry eyes

A life with no one waiting at home

You taught me that I didn’t know pain

I didn’t know rejection

I didn’t know love unanswered

You look at me and don’t want to come back

Don’t want to hold me

Don’t want me

You left me without understanding

Without your hand to hold

Without my best friend

You remain the man I love

The hope for tomorrow

The reason for my tears

You deserve to know you are loved

Know you are capable

Know you are a man

You will always be loved by me

Be respected by me

Be vital in my life

You may never return but you were here

You were you

You were loved

You are the best gift I have ever been given

The most pain I have ever endured

The reason I know love

You are so much more than you know you are

More than you can imagine

More than you think you can be

You are . . .

this day

One week from today I will be out of school, summer will have started, Chad will take me to dinner and a movie for my birthday and then have me drop him off at his place and contentedly walk away, I will turn thirty-one the next day, and I will truly have to look at where my life is without being able to be distracted by work. I am dreading it, and needing it. I am scared to death of having eleven weeks off (which is crazy since I’ve looked forward to it all year) to really feel the absence of Chad, to have to face that he isn’t going to choose me. However, I am desperate to get out of here since I can barely function at work, and I am excited to attempt to loose myself in my writing and try to find my sanity (or however much I had) once again.
I was hoping to have a friend from out of town stay with me tonight and tomorrow. It wasn’t set in stone and was spur of the moment, but I really had my hopes up. I was really looking forward to having someone in the house, even for a little bit, someone that was excited to see me. However, I got a text yesterday that he already had lodging plans, so my place wouldn’t be needed, but that we would still get together some time Saturday. I know it is just where my mind goes these days, but it felt like another rejection (obviously, one that doesn’t matter, or even is real), and I couldn’t help feel my insides crush a bit more as I thought, ‘of course you don’t wanna be with me, join the club, I hear membership is cheap and the benefits are great.’ And, yes, I know I sound like a whinny brat or Eyore or some other poor-pitiful-me character. You’re the one reading this, I’m not making you. Maybe you should join the club. I hear there’s a discounted induction fee for new members this weekend. Table for bitter, party of one.
On a happy note, my Harry Potter CD’s are still working (I love hearing them again, one of the few moments that I can enjoy breathing) and I even started reading the first novel to my kids yesterday. (Yes, this is the kind of teacher I am. Hey, kids, let’s start Harry Potter. What? You love Harry Potter? Wow! Me too! Nope not gonna finish in two more days. You have to go home to families that don’t read to you and never get to hear Harry Potter again. Don’t worry, we’ll get to at least the seventh chapter before I leave you. You know, just about the time he moves into the castle and you think life will be great and magically forever! See ya, have a great summer. Won’t think of you again!)

cut in half yet doubled

I rushed home to give a massage right after work today. About half way through, it was all I could do to not break down. I almost ended the massage. (The client couldn’t tell, luckily, eyes are closed during massages.) Everything just came crashing down once again. Partly the music, which I still have not been able to listen to music, but massage music is the worst. I made a playlist of massage music ages and ages ago, music that is soft but still new and fun (Colbie, Mandy, Bebo, Kelly Sweet, etc.), a lot of it is music that Chad and I enjoyed together, so that didn’t help. The other part, the heavier part was realizing yet again where my life is. When Chad moved in, I refinanced to pay off some credit card debt, and other bills, which made my monthly payment go up (I would have had to do it if Chad had moved in or not, so I didn’t discuss it with him then, it wasn’t and isn’t his responsibility), but I wasn’t worried about it, because I knew Chad was going to help with the mortgage, and I wasn’t questioning if we would last. So, now, I am once again, a single income family (yes, if you have dogs and fish, you count as a family), and I am forced to open the massage business once again, which I hate doing, but it is the most financially practical option, especially if I still want to pursue writing and keep my house. The whole thing just makes me feel so alone and abandoned by the one I thought I was going to share my life with. Realizing just how much I need the money (doubly so after the car wreck and I will somehow have to also save enough to buy a junker at some point before school starts again next fall) allowed me to suck it up, finish the massage and not break down until after.

The whole experience is making me feel really old and that I am going to continue to end up at square one. I also am accepting that no matter how I cut it, I am just fully rejected. Sure maybe he really did need to leave so he could grow up and experience whatever it is he needed to. Still, the bottom line is that all the other stuff was more important than his love for me, more important than our life together, and more important than my love for him. I’m tired, and I’m weaker than I though I was.

Potter Therapy

Of course going to bed last night was a torment, no shock there. The one blessing in that is how much better I sleep when I actually am able to shut everything out or at least pass out in the middle of it. Heart break is the best weight loss program (I’ve lost twenty pounds so far) and weeping is the best sleeping pill, even if you do wake up aching.
I started re-listening to the Harry Potter series this week (for the sixth or seventh time). The Harry Potter obsession was something Chad and I shared equally, we already have ‘date’ planned to go see the next movie installment together. There is something healing about those books to me, more than any others. It is so nice to go back and visit that world and my friends there. I really should send a check to Rowlings for inexpensive therapy. (Which I think I may need to check into the expensive kind for a bit as well.) Speaking a strange types of therapy, I have decided to get a new tattoo (not the finishing of the sleeve on my right arm, that will happen in when, if, I get published), one I have known I would get for years, the timing was never right. The time is right. Actually, the time is vital. It is my favorite Bible verse, from Job, of course, which I want on my left forearm. So, if you have extra money in your couch cushions, feel free to add to the continuing fund to make Brandon look even more white trash. :)

question

I just got home from another Wednesday night with Chad. We went to dinner and then to the movies to watch Angels and Demons (much better than the Davinci Code). Of course it was a balanced mixture of pleasure and pain to be with him. I don’t understand how he can be with me and be ok with me dropping him off at the house where he is staying instead of returning to be with me at our home.

Here’s my question. One that I don’t want an actual answer from anyone, but it is still my question. How long before I am supposed to shut him out of my heart? Not that I could, but still. Not that I want to. The vast majority of people are telling me that I need to quit seeing him, quit talking to him, quit thinking about him. Here is what people don’t get. Yes, he was my boyfriend, but he was not my boyfriend. We lived together for a long time. We talked about plans for years into the future. He was the man I planned on spending my life with. To me, he was my husband. So, excuse for not cutting him out. Excuse me for wanting the man I love most, my best friend, to still be in my life. I know that he is not coming back, or I think I do. Obviously some part me still thinks he might, otherwise I wouldn’t be crushed every day that he doesn’t choose again. How do you shrug your shoulders and say, ‘Huh, that didn’t work out, must not have been the one. I wonder who is?’

Bottom line: I love Chad. I have no question that I would choose (that I do choose) him to build a life with. I think he loves me too, still. He doesn’t choose me. Maybe because I’ve never been good at math, I don’t add it up right, but to me I should allow my heart to stay true to the man it chose. I never faked how much I loved him. Why would I fake now that I don’t?

from blisters to strength

I just got back from one of my nights with MS (actually MD, now). We did our traditional walk from my house to the end of 16^th Street Mall and back again, with a stop at the Cheesecake factory. This time we split a meal and got side salads instead of cheesecake. Very few things, besides writing, are as healing to me as walking. We walked so much the bottoms of my feet have blisters. These walks are the definition of our friendship. We both take equal time being completely self-absorbed and completely there for each other. Pretty beautiful. Through it all I have been so blessed with a litany of true, true friends that have been there for me (with me, even better) through so much. And here they still are. On a side note, I think it says a lot for who Chad is, who Chad truly is, the character of the man, that not one of my friends has said (even though several are mad at him) that I am better off. And, there hasn’t been one break up before (not that there any were like this one) where they haven’t said that.

I’ve talked about it before, I must bring it up again. I am constantly humbled by the women at my work. The strength that comes from this group of women is a torrent. The same weekend that Chad left, I went to school the following Monday and was talking to a part time second grade teacher who was going to retire next year. Her husband of over twenty years (they have two teenagers living at home), without warning, left her and his family. She was stunned, felt that he had become someone she had never even seen before and was left wondering which version of himself was the real one. She now is raising the two kids on her own, and she can no longer retire. In fact, she is now going to be the full time fourth grade teacher next year. I am sure she breaks down at home, but to look at her at work, you would never know. She is just as professional and dedicated to the students as ever. Where, in contrast, there are still days where I have to rush out of the classroom and duck into the nearest bathroom to break down for a bit. In addition, I am losing my mind. I had a huge, important Tri today (it is an IEP meeting that is a very substantial legal document/process for kids in special education). I opened it up yesterday to finish writing it. I thought I had a little less than half to finish. When I opened it, I saw that I had not done anything. Nothing. I remember writing it. However, I hadn’t. I hadn’t even sent out meeting notices, and I set up the meeting over a month ago. Thing after thing is like that right now. I am NEVER late on things at work. At the end of the school there are countless things due and that have to be done. Not only am I late on everyone them, most I haven’t even started, not because I am putting them off, I simply can’t remember that I have to do them. I am dreading summer, but it is a good thing it is only a week away, or I would probably loose my job.

On the track of strong women at work, another teacher (one of the most graceful, classy women I have ever met) was talking about her life the other day after work. I was late to workout and ended up not going so that I could stay and listen as she casually talked to some of the other special education teachers. By the time she finished, I was in tears (must be a day that ends in Y at the moment, right?). She has two adopted daughters, one with severe physical handicaps, that were not present at adoption, that are both life threatening and costly. The other daughter (both are grown now, although the first still has to live at home) has several emotional problems, and literally made life hell in their home four about eight years. As she spoke, through her own tears, she graceful expressed her immense love for both her girls, and also told of the days she thought she was going walk away from her family, her marriage, her commitment to her children, because she didn’t think she had the strength to withstand the pain and torment any longer. There is story after story like that with most of these women, from cheating/abusive husbands, to horrific children, to battles with cancer, to deaths of spouses, on and on and on.

I know that so many have been through so much more pain than I have, and have handled it with so much more grace and strength than I have. It doesn’t lessen my pain or grief or even anger, but it does cause me to stop and admire the strength and grace God provides us (even those who don’t necessarily turn to Him).

a;ldfja;ofijh;sfn

Today was pretty horrible, but in a new way. I was filled with fury almost every minute. I don’t want to be mad at him, I don’t want to hurt him, but I am so, so angry. How could he throw us away? What does he have now that is so much better than us? I thought I would get on here and type for an hour, try to get it all out, but I don’t think I can. I can’t even form into words. And even as I type this, the fucking anger just turns to tears. Seriously, how do you walk away from someone who loves you so much, someone you love, someone who you have shared so much with, both in the past and in future plans? And how do you go about living life and looking like you’ve never been happier? What was so worthwhile that you would throw me away? Wake up!

One Month

Last night was the worst night I have had yet, which is strange. Today is the 18th, so it marks exactly a month since he left, but I don’t think that is the reason for the difficulty last night. Sleeping has been surprisingly easy (at least compared to the rest of the time). I am normally exhausted before I go to bed, so that helps, and I literally surround myself with pillows on every side, it’s almost like sleeping next to him. At one o’clock last night, my reminder went off on my phone. I guess I set it for one AM, instead of PM. I thought it was my alarm to wake me up for work, so I jumped out of bed, not believing that my six hours of sleep went so fast. Then I realized what was going on. It washed over me how alone I am. It was like my insides imploded and caved in on themselves. It was all I could do to not run away from the house. How doesn’t he miss me like that? How does he not long for the life we had? I know I’ve said it a million times, but I just can’t grasp it. How do I experience such happiness and contentment, and he feels so desperate to leave that he can just walk away from all we had, all we planned, and all we were, and seemingly never look back?

everywhichway

I only broke once today. That’s a pretty good day, right? I was jumbled today. I went back and forth between being angry and feeling like the last two years didn’t really happened. Which, in and of itself, makes me angry. They were the best years of my life thus far, I don’t want to feel like they didn’t happen! The anger is such a confusing emotion as well. I understand completely what Chad is going through, and I don’t at all. He says he needs to grow up and find himself. I feel like I grew up with Chad. Actually, because of Chad. Well over a year ago, I was internally freaking out about our relationship, if I could really have a relationship that I could commit to for a lifetime. It is a scary thing. I wrestled with it for quite awhile, unsure of how to figure it out, but knowing that I needed to or I would risk truly hurting him later on. It came down to this: Could I see myself without Chad? Would I like my life better without him/with someone else/alone? The answer was a resounding, No! My life was better with Chad. From then on, how I saw him changed. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He was the man I had chosen to spend my life with, and we were in the beginning phases of our life together, figuring things out, preparing for the next stage. Now, to have the whole thing turned where Chad was battling the same questions and have him choose the different response is agonizing. And, I wonder why I wasn’t enough for him to choose to see me they way I chose to see him? Why his life wasn’t better with me in it? He’s twenty-seven. That ain’t a baby. However, at that same age, I wouldn’t have been able to face that decision either.

Today the thing that hurts the most is that I constantly want to tell him how much I love him. Not to try to get him back. I have never loved someone else so deeply and completely as I love him. It feels like that love should be expressed (and it has been) all the time. Of course, I know that would not be wise or fair to do to him. Still, it takes all I have to not express how much he is loved by me. My prayer all day has been that God would show him how much He loves him. That Chad would feel surrounded by love. It sounds strange, but it is hard for me to imagine God loving Chad as much as I do. Of course, I know he loves Chad much more than I would ever be capable of. In some small way, it gives me solace to know that there is someone out there, someone much stronger and capable than me, who loves Chad and desires Chad. I can give Chad over to God knowing that he is loved beyond all else. Of course, it is only moments before I wrestle him back from God and then have to do it all over again.

And for myself. . . in church today, the preacher said the best prayer we can ever pray is simply, “Help Me!” So, that is my prayer, “Father, love Chad and help him feel how precious he is, and please, please, help me!”

four weeks, twenty-eight days, six hundred seventy-two hours, forty thousand three hundred twenty minutes, give or take

It’s been four weeks today. It feels like years, yet somehow hurts more than the moment it happened. I thought that maybe today would be okay. I hadn’t really lost it since Monday. However, last night was rough, and today was worse. “Field Day” was going on today, and Chad and I had such a great time at that last year. It hurt so much to think of him there having a good time, not needing me the way I need him. I was helping my brother move today. He moved into his new apartment. It seems rather rhythmical that he should move out exactly on this day. He has been staying with me since Chad left. Now it is officially just me, Dunkyn, Dolan, and eight goldfish (only three are named—the professors).

After moving my brother, Mom, Dad, and I went to a concert at church by P R-L—the P of P, C, and S R-L. It was fantastic, his singing was beautiful and I always feel better when I am with them. The last four of five songs he did, the kids got up and danced in front of the church, including his darling daughter. Not danced in a show kinda way, but just for the fun of it, reveling in childhood sort of dancing. All of them spinning and laughing and falling. He sang a song of lamentation over the death of his newborn son, whom they lost last year. The longer I live, the more I love life, the more joy I find, the more love I experience. However, the longer I am here on this Earth, the more pain I hold. I thought I had hurt as much as I could, and then Chad left, and I find that I didn’t really know what pain was. As much as I hurt now, I know that I will one day hurt more. My folks may die, I may loose a spouse, I may loose a child, I may loose a brother. I don’t know how I could go on with more pain than what I am experiencing now. Most of the time, I don’t know how I am going on currently. It is only by God’s grace, and only through the love of my family, friends, and even Chad.

I wish I could shake it. I wish I could stop asking questions and wondering. I wish I didn’t need to know why. I wish I could just shrug it away, but I can’t. Did he fall out of love with me? I don’t think so. I really don’t. I think he loves me as much as he ever did. Which leads one to ask, did he ever really love me? Or why wasn’t his love enough for him to choose me over whatever it is he chose over me? Why is he able to go out dancing, drinking, and being with his friends night after night, not pausing to desire the life we shared?

Saturdays are always the hardest thus far. Each one marking another week he has chosen all else but me. Another week taking him further from returning. Mom asked me today if I relive the day he left on Saturdays, thinking that may be why they are worse. I don’t, actually, the day he left was agony, but it wasn’t the worst part. The worst part is that he is gone, that he chooses something else over a life I never dreamed I could have. I remember us at Sea World. Him playing a stupid ukulele on the sidewalk as we waited for a table in Old Towne San Diego. I remember us walking across the bridge in San Francisco. I remember making love in Estes. I remember our week on the couch watching Buffy after his appendectomy. I remember the weekend we stayed with his parents in the mountains. I remember his lips and his arms, how safe I was on his chest. I remember how he swished when he walked, even when he tried not to. I remember our plans for this summer, our plans to go to New York one day, our talk of buying a house and a mini cooper and bulldog. I remember his eyes that were almost yellow sometimes. I remember crying with him, laughing with, simply being at peace with him. That is what goes through my mind. All the good we shared, all the love we had. And while I am thankful for it, it always comes back to why? Why could he leave? How could he leave? Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t it worth the effort? Why wasn’t I?

So, here I am in my house, that I used to love to so much (and will again, I am sure), with my dogs that I adore (thank God they are here), with the bed we shared so much in, on the couch where we fell asleep almost every night, and all I want is to feel his arms around me and feel his lips on mine, to hold him close and rest my head on his chest, and know that I am loved, that I am living a dream I never thought I could have, and simply have my life back.

your gifts to me

pain

my arms and love were not enough to hold you
my lover and best friend ran away
my dreams of our future were crushed and crumbled


confusion

you said you love me more than i
you are my safety and my home
you found me lacking yet said there was no other


aching

to see you laugh and love life without me
to know your life went on without pause
to see the love in your eyes and yet turn away


love

never knew life could be so full of joy
never knew i could love someone so beautiful
never knew what i didn't have until you


thankfulness

for the moments we walked together
for the happiness i never knew existed
for the honor of holding you even for a little while


hopefulness

you find what you seek even if it is not i
i can still love and not break
we continue our path together

from the previous page to this and back again

Maybe I am forcing myself to try to see the good in it all and it will come crashing down on me later and I won’t be able to pretend, but, for now, I am encouraged and uneasily content. I have often looked at my life as a book. All people’s lives, for that matter. Since I started writing books, this has been even more true for me. While I don’t believe in pre-destination, I do believe God has already read my book. He knows what’s in the next chapter, He knows how it ends. To me, that doesn’t mean he spelled it all out, He just knows what is going to happen and allows it. In writing my novels I have an idea how the book will go. There are certain events that I know will take place; however, it is ridiculously typical for my characters to go down completely different paths that I didn’t see coming, sometimes changing the nuances of their final story, sometimes it is just a different direction leading to the same event. What is satisfying to me, both in what I write and the books I most love to read is that when certain events end or take a hiatus, I can go back and live them again. Once they have been read, they don’t disappear; they are still there to be read again, they are still there to affect the outcome of the story. Sometimes events circle back around to bring situations to fruition. Other times, they simply change what will happen. Right now, this is how I see Chad and me. We got to be vital chapters in each other’s novel, our lives. Just because the chapter ends and the page turns, none of what transpired is erased or negated. It is there to relive and there to affect the next chapters. While I don’t know the end, and I have little faith, it brings me hope that these chapters in our lives will come full circle and tie in at the end, simply having a turbulent plot twist in the middle. If it doesn’t, the chapters are still there to be read again and to effect the present. These chapters are just as important as the chapters to come. The chapters are written in both of our books, and, I’d like think that those pages, at least, are edged in gold leaf and shine brightly, enticing to be read again and to be vital for the upcoming lines.

not the final

Ok, so I must say, some of you are actually praying for me—or at least I think I can feel the effect—even if it is a placebo, and you really aren’t praying for me. However I choose to believe the former. The past two days have been decent. Of course, the kids have been nightmares at work (not a bit of an exaggeration), and that helps me not have time to get all weepy, and I have been looking forward to getting to see Chad tonight, too, so that helps. Tonight was the finale of Top Model, so I assumed that we wouldn’t see each other again for a bit. However, he brought up getting together next week to watch Grey’s or something. I was floored, and he is taking me to dinner and a movie for my birthday on the day before my birthday in two weeks. (Not a date, just dinner and movie.) So that is all great too. True, it is a painful reminder of how much has changed in a year since my last birthday, but still. I have to be grateful for what I do have. Although I hate how absolutely okay he is when he sees me, how excited he is about everyday life (like concerts and such), and how it is obvious that he is not tempted at all to kiss me when we are together [all of which is a torment, and all of which I simply can not, for the life of me, understand], I am still thankful that he loves me and actually wants to spend time with me. Which means, at some level, he likes his life better with me in it, even if it is not how I want to be in it. Several people have mentioned that they find it strange and a bit inviting of pain that we still see each other and talk. Chad has not had people say that to him, but plenty have to me. It’s like I told him tonight, it hurts if I do see him. It hurts if I don’t see him. To me, the math is pretty simple to add up. Both hurt. Only one lets me see my best friend and the man I love. Duh! Plus, he’s worth the pain. Others have told me I need to cut him off, not only for my sanity but so that he will have a chance to miss me and create a desire to come back. Well, I guess if I was guaranteed for that to work, I would do it. However, I don’t want to play games with him and I don’t want to be anything but honest with him. And, if my choices are not have him as a boyfriend and not in my life at all, or not have him as a boyfriend and have him in my life on his terms, I choose the latter. I am sure the anvil will fall on my heart and head in the next day or too, but for now, once again, I am taking solace in the fact that I know he still loves and cares for me, that he still wants me in his life, and that I love getting to see him and talk with him, and be in the presence of the person I hold most dear. For now, it is a relief to give thanks for the amazing years I got to live my life with him, for the fact he still cares, for the glimmer of hope buried under all my shit that he may come back to me one day, and for the simple gift of him being in this world, and that I have experienced enough love and importance, that I get the gift of pain.

pray twice

I’ve been asking for your prayers that Chad would find his way back to me. Of course, I still ask that you would keep that request in your prayers. However, I have another one as well. It can be linked to the first request or separate, however you feel led. I need some help. Every day is getting worse and harder. I didn’t know I was capable of hurting so much. For those of you who remember my grandmother’s death and what a huge deal for me that was (the biggest of my life so far, especially where God is concerned), this is equal. At times even harder. At least grandma didn’t choose to leave me. People keep saying they are sorry to hear about my breakup. And, I know that is exactly what it is, however, that is not at all what it was to me. Chad quit being my ‘boyfriend’ well over a year ago. In every faucet of my mind, he was the one I was going to spend my life with. I knew he wasn’t ready to make that leap, but I was, and I thought he would be there one day as well. The total direction of my life and every aspect in it has been flipped overnight. Every plan I made, every dream I longed for (even the ones about me getting published) had Chad in them, and how all of it would affect him, me, and us. In my mind, we were one. I know many would call that foolish. Go ahead, I never claimed to be anything other. And I know, this sounds morbid, but you don’t need to worry about me doing anything stupid. It’s not like that; I’m not eyeing the kitchen knives or anything. However, I do need your prayers. I need some relief. I figured, even if Chad didn’t come back, each day would get a little easier. Instead, each day is one more day he chooses everything else but me, every day is another day that takes him further and further away. Every day my hurt goes deeper. So please, pray for some relief, some sanity. Pray for both of us, that we walk the paths we are meant to, and that God would grant his peace, wisdom, and clarity to each of us. Thank you.

Pearls

I have been pretty disappointed with myself today. I was really thinking I could hold it together better for Mother’s Day. No, I didn’t. I cried like five or six times today. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! Couldn’t afford to get you more than a card this year, but here, take this breakdown; sorry there’s not a bow!

For the second time in a row, I actually got something from the church service. One, they announced the pastor was leaving in the next couple weeks to become the district superintendent or something. You could feel the shock go through the congregation. They really depend on him. I don’t really know or have much affection for the man, but I know the church really does. Of course, I immediately went to, “Why does everybody have to leave?” and felt abandoned by Chad all over again. Not that I really needed that announcement to make that happen. That feeling seems to be growing by the day.

The lady who spoke told a ‘cute’ little story that kinda hit home for me. It was about this little five-year-old girl who saved up enough money to buy a string of $2 pearls from some junk shop. She loved, loved, loved, loved them. After awhile, her dad, after he read her a bedtime story, would ask her if she loved him. She would reply yes, of course. He would then ask her to give him her pearls to show him that she loved him. She always said no and tried to give her second favorite possession. Week after week this transpired. Until finally, one night, the dad came into the little girl’s bedroom. She was holding out her fist, tears rolling down her eyes, and dropped the cheap set of pearls in his hands, sobbing that she loved him. As she did, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a velvet box, opened it, and gave his daughter a priceless set of real pearls. He’d had them all the time. Life lesson: We have to surrender our ‘dime store treasures’ to God so that He can give us the real thing. Now, part of me feels like this is just cruel. Give the girl her pearls, damn it. Are you that insecure that you have to have her prove her love? On the other hand, I find it achingly beautiful and a little hopeful. Maybe what Chad and I had was dime store love, only in the sense that it wasn’t enough for him to want to stay. Maybe by surrendering, I can experience the real thing. In theory, this could be with someone else, or, hopefully, with Chad when he figures out whatever it is he is wanting to figure out, then he can return and we have the real thing that lasts…

This Wednesday is our last Top Model night together, it’s the season finale. I have such mixed emotions. I am looking forward to it so much. I get to see him! Dreading it so much. What will I look forward to when it’s done? When will I see him? Why will I see him? And, at the same time, I am hoping not having a set date will trigger him missing me, which, I know, hasn’t happened yet, so the absence of Top Model doesn’t hold much promise. Yet, I keep coming back to, “How could I have been unbelievably happy and it not be real? He has to come back!” Of course, the flip side is, “If I was so happy, and he so wasn’t, then it couldn’t be real, he’s glad he’s not with me, and he is not going to choose to come back.”

Really?

Our Song

It's a long trip alone over sand and stone

That lie along the road that we all must travel down

So maybe you could walk with me a while

And maybe I could rest beneath your smile

Everybody stumbles sometimes and needs a hand to hold

'Cause it's a long trip alone

It's a short piece of time but just enough to find

A little peace of mind under the sun somewhere

So maybe you could walk with me a while

And maybe I could rest beneath your smile

You know we can't afford to let one moment pass us by

'Cause it's a short piece of time

And I don't know where I'd be without you here

'Cause I'm not really me without you there

Yea, Yeah

Yea, Yeah, Oh

So maybe you could walk with me a while

Maybe I could rest beneath your smile

Everybody stumbles sometimes and needs a hand to hold

So maybe you could walk with me a while

Maybe I could rest beneath your smile

Maybe I could feel you right beside me til' I'm home

'Cause it's a long trip alone

A long trip alone

--Dierks Bently

three weeks later

At this moment three weeks ago, we were just getting out of bed, then we fixed lunch, then we packed, then he left.

I don't how it is possible to feel so much hurt, anger, confusion, and sorrow all at the same time.

the words i want won't come--just these

Here I am at Diedrich (now Dazbog) Coffee. Full intentions of writing on the novel today. It’s like I stepped back into someone else’s life. This was Brandon before Chad. I would come here and spend hours writing and blogging. I was perfectly content in that life, for the most part. I liked who I was, for the most part. I couldn’t imagine much better than just doing my own thing, free to do what I wanted, when I wanted.

So, here I sit, in my old life. And I hate it. Apparently, all the weight loss I have undergone in the past three weeks (yes, tomorrow will be three weeks) is paying off. I have a few men staring at me right now (one has even already dropped of a receipt with his name, number, and note on the back), of course, now that I am getting teary, I am sure their attention will divert elsewhere. I’m on page sixty-eight of my fantasy novel, and I could easily get to seventy-five, I know exactly where I need to go in it. One of my favorite characters just died a horrible death in the previous pages, and am I ever able to write about pain right now! It’s funny, ever since Chad and I have been together, I find it hard to write in my novels while listening to music, it’s too distracting. However, now I am not able to write without it (not distracted enough) and, sure enough, the second song that came on was Jon McLaughlin’s For You From Me, a song I dedicated to Chad and would, on occasion, sing to him. This is not the life I want, everything I do, hear, or see reminds me either of how happy I was with him or how much I have lost. Yes, I know it will get better in time. That knowledge doesn’t help so much. For several days, my brain has not been able to get Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat’s Lucky duet out of my head and I haven’t even heard it lately. “I’m lucky to be in love with my best friend, lucky to’ve been where I have been, lucky to be coming home again.”

Are you sick of hearing me cry all the time? If so, don’t answer that. I’ve had enough rejection. Just smile and nod.

Okay, I have more to say, but I have to get out of here. Despite the tears in my eyes, some big gross guy came over and asked how my dissertation is going. How’s that for a come-on line. What the hell? I guess I have found a worse place to grieve, not that that is the reason I came here in the first place. I know I’ve said I’ve turned it over to God, but He doesn’t seem to be fixing this fast enough. Could you ask Him to speed it up please?