Monday, November 23, 2009

from this to that and back again

You know you love a place when you walk in and the loud, obnoxious woman screaming (though she thinks she’s just talking) gives you a warm, safe feeling. I spent all of the first day of Thanksgiving break at home, waiting for massage clients to call (they call all the time when I’m at school, so it made sense they would today—obviously not). I also didn’t want to come to my coffee shop because of money and I’m afraid to start editing the fantasy novel again (which is always how it is). By six, I was depressed enough that I thought the coffee shop would be a good investment. It was, while not bubbly and happy (I don’t think I remember how), I don’t feel like shoving my hand in the garbage disposal to make sure I’m still human.

I am thrilled to be feeling so much better though. My mouth and throat aren’t operating as well as they should, but soooooo much better. And, best of all, my brain is starting to work again. I may even have the courage to start working on the 1st Men of Myth installment editing this week. Maybe. I haven’t looked at it since he read it and gave me feedback at the end of summer, which has something to do with it as well.

Yesterday, one of my best girl-friends, in an act extremely unlike her, texted me to let me know she saw him working at Mary’s the night previous. I’m not sure why such news always hurts so much. I know what he’s doing, I even remember his work schedule that he mentioned to me a couple months ago, but still. I have been doing a pretty good job convincing myself that he doesn’t exist anymore. His body does, which granted, I love more than life, but the man I love and that loved me doesn’t inhabit it. Of course, that is not tested by refusing to go anywhere I could possibly see him and by intentionally avoiding all news of him. I don’t want people to text me and tell me that he’s with someone, that he is having dinner, that he is walking on the sidewalk, that he is still under the same sun and stars as me. There is no good to be had from it, so why do people still do this? I know the intention isn’t to rub my face in the fact that despite my illusions, the man I love is still out there, but that he just doesn’t love me, but that is the only result of such actions. So, stop, world. Stop.

I have my annual Christmas dinner in about three or four weeks. Which only reminds me that I am nearly a month past my typical Christmas Tree putting up deadline. One day I decide that I am going to put it up. Just long enough for the party, then take it back down again. Then, most days, like today, I decide that I’m not going to. I can’t decide which is more genuine and healthy. I don’t feel like putting it up. The thought of it makes me want to rip out my fingers nails—and without exaggeration, I would choose to have one of them ripped out (albeit quickly) if it meant I didn’t have to face this decision. However, the other thought is that I would somehow be giving him too much power and my hurt and depression too much power (and letting down my small group of friends that are coming over this year for our tradition) if I choose to not do one of the things that has always been one of my favorite things of the year, for my favorite day of the year. And maybe that’s just it. I’m not me anymore. There is very little I really care about anymore or find valuable, and a Christmas tree surely isn’t on the list. So, is leaving it alone and not having a tree an act of truth and being genuine of where and am and who I’ve become or is it a weakness and simply asking for a pity party? Would it simply be a cry for people to realize how much I am really still hurting? Like they don’t know. Like there’s anything else I suffocate them with. I really should have just put the damn thing up already so I wouldn’t have to keep going back and forth, but then I’d have to see it in my living room everyday, reminding me of who I was and what I had, and I don’t know if I could handle that. Blah, Blah, Blah!

One last question:

Why are there so many men that want me right now? Why do they all think that they’d be any different? Or that I’d look at them twice after the man I already had? What makes them think I possibly would be willing to try this again? Why are they interested when they see clearly that I’m still in love with him, that I am nowhere near the end of this? When they see that I’m not even a whole person right now? I’ve never had so many pursue me so relentlessly. A small part of me finds it flattering. A much larger part just wants them to leave me alone. Why do people say that I obviously have something better in my future, that it wasn’t just good enough for me? You say that to the person that did the leaving! Not the person who was sublimely happy. Why do they even assume that there is something more in the future (better or not)? Do they not see this world? Do they not see how it really works? Do they not see that although I love the Disney movies, I know I don’t live in one?

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