C'mon

Come on, Ian... come on! Muther fikker. I should not be walking down by his house - nostalgia city! Come on. Boy doesn't know what he's missing.

Banter

Who would want to be with someone that agrees with everything they say? For one thing, someone who agrees with everything is full of shit, get an opinion already. I don't mind someone that agrees with me if they agree with me but people who say they agree even though they have no idea what is going on piss me off. I can't stand that in a female friend, let alone a guy that I am considering spending my whole life with! I don't need a yes man. If anything, I would rather a guy that agrees with nothing I say... I kinda miss that debating banter that Fabe and I used to get on with... we talked, we played games, we didn't just get stoned and watch a movie that we couldn't even remember the next day. Or maybe I was just more comfortable with the banter, not that I enjoyed it more.

Ian didn't banter. And honestly it kind of irritated me that he didn't get me. He did not get me. The deep down stuff I think he got; it was the everyday stuff that he could not connect with. Maybe that's why all we did was watch movies that we couldn't remember the next day. I loved the romantic stuff with him, I love that he thought of me and I love that he wanted to be with me in bed and out. But he always read me wrong, he always took everything I did wrong... ha, I guess he always looked for support of what he thought of himself. Which, in turn, supports my theory. Do you think that it is possible that I am looking for instances that only support my theory and not acknowledging the ones that don't? My point, exactly.

Ian's mother thinks that she gets hang ups on her machine because someone doesn't like her, one of the grandkids or something. Of course, it is about 98.25% more likely that these are telemarketers (because, quite frankly, when you have to call someone that you don't actually like, I think most people would be delirious to get a machine!). And, in turn, she is kind of saucy to everyone and, because of that, no one really likes her. I will recap: she is mean because she wrongly thinks no one likes her and no one likes her because she is mean. Could it really be that simple??????????????????????????

I notice that I keep going back to commenting on being comfortable in the negative situations. Comfortable just doesn't cut it, sister. Let's get a little uncomfortable and see what happens.

Be patient

I have to go over it and over it and over it because I am learning. I have to look for behaviors and change some of them and appreciate some of the others. Be patient, be patient... this is a process.

Did I tell you about that yet? Yesterday I was trying to articulate what I am looking for and what I am not looking for. Here's what I came up with:

WHAT AM I LOOKING FOR?
- he will be bigger than me and stronger than me
- tradesman, no soft hands
- humor that compliments mine
- he will call me on my shit
- he will be direct but not mean
- adventurous but in small ways
- entrepreneur-ish
- wants children and/or has children
- accepts the differences in other people
- flirts, picks and pokes; affectionate
- I will feel comfortable with him - and not run
- he will stand next to me and support me and tell me off later
- he will like dogs
- he will do for me and allow me to do for him
- don't care about color or amount of hair/car/money
- I will trust him
- I will trust that he wants to be with me and not just someone
- values alone time and encourages mine
- he will open doors for others
- he will love his family and have lots of friends
- he will let me question him and know that I like to know why instead of thinking that I am judging/doubting him
- I will feel safe with him, that he will protect me and not hurt me intentionally

ABSOLUTE DEAL BREAKERS
- married
- does not want children
- mean to others
- no physical attraction
- I do not feel comfortable and safe

Another thing? I think it's too soon. I think it's too soon to be even thinking about getting involved with someone. I need more practice. When I am ready, he will show himself. But first I need more practice. I will not lose this; I will not let me down.

Practice

You know, I think I know why I talk about this so much. I have always been confident that I would slow down the self-righteous chatter and I will. But right now I have to practice. I am in training to be myself. Maybe this should be called 'searching for myself'; but that's just too obvious!

I just got off the phone with my brother. I love talking to him. You know, there was a time in my life that I had absolutely no interest in talking to him. I felt he would put me down, pull me down. Now, he is my greatest supporter. He was the one that pushed me through this journey... most people said I have no idea what you are talking about but whatever. Cathy actually said that she was just waiting for me to figure this stuff out so that she could learn from what I learn. (Isn't that funny? There's just something about you, Bev) Tom said YES, way to go, you are on the right track, pat on the back, I love you... and that made a big difference. He thinks he gets it. He mostly does get it. I have to say, he comes closer than anyone yet. And it's very cute when he raves about how sad it is that other people don't get it. I am pretty sure he is on his way to a big lesson soon. Stacey is getting her shit together and he is falling for her again. And she doesn't want to be with him anymore. It will be a good lesson. Hopefully he gets it! I'll nudge. That's what I do now. I nudge. And maybe when he gets the lesson, she will be finished her own lesson and they can get back together and pass the lesson on. I'll nudge. (Could the psychic be right???????????????)

And maybe I am preaching. And maybe I should mind my own business. And maybe I should try to remember: I'm not here to save the world... but I'm going to do my part. I have to do my part. I am excited to do my part. Thanks, brother.

New

Well, what do you think of the new name/look? It's still me, boo-hooing myself to exhaustion, searching for answers to questions that have not yet been asked. I wonder what that means. Hmmm.

Searching for answers to questions that have not yet been asked. That's an interesting comment that I will have to explore a bit more.

Did I ever tell you that I think my dramatic life change was brought on by my absolute mastery of Sudoku (a game that I have yet to pronounce correctly on the first try)? Okay, perhaps absolute mastery is pushing the envelope a little. A lot. But I think I'm pretty good. It complements my brain: numbers and logic. You get this grid with nine squares, and there are nine squares inside each of those; seemingly random numbers are inserted in some of the squares (where they are and how many numbers are what determine the skill level of the puzzle). Basically, if you have seen it, you know what I'm talking about; if you haven't seen it, there is no way that I would ever be able to describe it to you easily. Anyway, it's a numbering game: the numbers 1 - 9 are present only once in each row, each column, and each small set of squares. It requires logic: it won't go here and it won't go here but it might go here and it absolutely will go here. You use a series of deductions to determine what number should be in each little box. Look right to left, look left to right, up and down and down and up, look at each box individually and the puzzle in it's entirety and deduce what number fits where. And I like it. And I'm good at it.

I always used to say I was the opposite of that saying "she can't see the forest for the trees". Most people look at each individual tree so intently that they don't see that they all stand together to make a forest. I was the opposite; I couldn't see the trees for the forest. I was so used to the broad view, which is how I see things, that I would forget to also look at each individual tree. I couldn't find the answer if I looked at it this way so I learned to look at it this way and up and down and over and around - and then I started doing that with my thoughts instead of puzzles. When I wonder why I act a certain way, I now use my Sudoku concept of thinking to figure it out. I look at it from every angle and I am amazed at some of the answers that I found.

Does that make sense at all? I should just delete this right now. It takes me a hell of a long time to get through a story - because I have to describe the whole forest instead of just telling you about this tree. God, I talk a lot. About nothing. What do other people do? Do other people talk this much? Maybe the world is comprised of talkers and listeners and you just have to find the one that complements your level. When considering men in the future, I think it's important to my sanity to talk to someone who's views I actually am interested in and want to hear, instead of just waiting for my turn to talk. I want to be with someone that sees things basically the way I do. Not that he agrees with every thing that I say, just that our brains process things in a similar way.

Speaking of which, I have to tell you: I developed a bit of a crush on Colin when he was here the other day. He made me breakfast. Perhaps some background first: I met Colin when I managed the mall about 9 years ago. He did commercial HVAC and worked for the company that serviced the mall. He was very cute and very flirty and very safe because he was married and I was with Karl and we were just teasing, having a little innocent fun. We started going to breakfast. I have no idea how that started but every few months or less or more, we would get together at the ABC for breakfast. Eventually I did his books for his side-business, residential HVAC. I left Karl and moved in here, the flirting became a bit more intense. I was lonely. I was excited. I was eager to have some fun and break some rules. I was out from under the control of the Karl. I was in control. One night, after a couple of bottles of wine, I called him and he told his wife that he had a job and he came here and he fucked me. Kinda, not exceptionally good but he was pretty freaked out that he was here so I think his dick was reflecting that. And I was freaked out, too; it was the first time that I was with anyone but Karl for 5 years (and Karl was the first person that I had sex with sober since my first time and I think Karl was number 27 or something - how fucked up is that?).

It was somewhat weird and uncomfortable afterward. I realize now that I didn't know how to deal with men after; I had always been drunk so you go home (or he goes home) and you never ever see the guy again if at all possible. Unless he was really fun and then you would go for another round. Rarely more than twice, if ever. In my life, afterward used to consist of getting up from the floor of that porch with the guy whose name slipped your mind hours ago and go back inside to your friend who brought you here to the party and introduced you to the guy that she liked - the guy you just fucked. (Why doesn't Tracey like me anymore? Can't remember! Fuck.) I also didn't realize that I would feel so disgusting for sleeping with a married man. Or did I? Disgusting? Or just another step down the degradation ladder that led to my own personal little slice of hell?

We remained friends and eventually took up the breakfast thing again and the flirting, although never to the same degree that we were at when we tripped. I never liked him in that way; I didn't think of him as a potential fella. He was just number 28 in the legion of men who fucked me because my legs were open, who talked to me because I was there - and I gave it away for free. Sure he liked me enough as a friend and confidant. His marriage wasn't happy and I think he liked our flirting and I think he liked talking things out with a woman.

Yesterday he said that he is amazed that we haven't seen each other in so long and many things have changed but here we sit as if barely a moment had passed. (Sound familiar? Ian, Rog, Craig, Fabe said "there's just something about you, Bev". And it would piss me off; what a fucking line. I would never allow myself to believe that they might mean it.) And he was right; it felt as if barely a moment had passed. It was very comfortable. He came into my home and cooked me breakfast in my kitchen. It was quite... quite... close... intimate - not in a romantic way, just intimate. He didn't overly flirt or get on with his constant innuendo - and I was very glad about that. He was respectful and kind and lippy and saucy and fun. We talked about what I was doing, why I quit my job, why I was living here again. And we talked about his kids and his business and his wife and his unhappiness at home.

He used to say that he and his wife were pals, roommates who raised their children together. She never wanted to have sex - which is what I went through with Karl - but they got along fine. He said he couldn't leave her because of his children (nine years ago they were 3 and 5). Now he says that they are still roommates who are raising their children together but they no longer get along well. They fight, bicker, ignore. He told me about their conversations, about her blaming him for everything, her not wanting to go out even to the pub on a Thursday night to mix it up a bit.

He was floored when I told him that these were the same stories that he told me the last time I saw him - almost two years ago.

Except he seems to have a vague plan to leave her.

And I can't stop thinking about him.

I also can't stop thinking that I fall in love with every guy that I meet.

And I refuse to repeat those old, self destructive ways again. If he wants me, he will have to come to me. That goes for any man. And then we'll see.

Horoscope

Once upon a time you were a creature of reason, dear Scorpio. For you, everything had an explanation and a reason to exist, and a place in this world, and you would never miss an occasion to share your point of view. And then, all of the sudden, silence... You may have needed to get some perspective on things, not necessarily about the things you know, but how you express that knowledge. Now, words have come back into your life and you are more moderate in your ideas.

Side Effects

I was just giggling to myself about the strange side effects of letting go of those things that I tried so hard to control. This might sound stupid to you but it's who I am/was.

I would always run out of Diet Coke before I got more, I would have to bring my gas tank practically W (for Walk!) before I would get gas. All of those extremes that I was talking about the day that I had my Let It Be epiphany are different now. I don't do all or nothing. If I feel like going for a run, I go for a run; if I don't feel like going for a run, I don't go for a run and I accept that today I just don't feel like it but tomorrow I probably will again so beating myself up and giving me so much shit did not help (read: made things worse) and all I did was make myself feel like shit. I don't care if my place is a bit of a mess when people come over but if I want to clean it up, I just do; sometimes it's tidy, sometimes not, depends on the day. I am nicer to people. I reach out my hand to help when before I would have thought about it, I would have wanted to help but did nothing. Perhaps I have been cured of my 'poor me' syndrome!

And now I am going to get ready to go for a run. Because I feel like going for a run. =)

But then he called...

6:11pm the phone says. I think we hung up somewhere around 7:35pm. We laughed and we chatted and it was so good... he's so funny... I don't think many people get his humor but I do (most of the time). I had just finished writing the email that is my last post and he called as I was ready to push send - weird timing.

Heart swelled a teeny weeny bit. He asked me to come over, I said nope. Another time he asked if I was going to come down and walk Daisy, I said nope. When I asked where his girlfriend was he said he was calling on the sly and not going to tell her (of course, he said it sarcastically because he knows that's one of the things that I think men do). He made a couple of comments that made wonder if he was trying to tell me that he was available (I always think that! He was just tryin' to be nice, girlfriend!) and I wondered, heart swelled a teeny weeny bit more. He then cracked open a beer and, oopsy, made a comment about how it wasn't his beer. Why for, do you ask? Because he picked it up for a family party that Lynda is having tomorrow.

And it was okay. There was a moment that I almost said "don't want to know about your girlfriend!!!!!" but I didn't and I'm glad. Because things are good between us and I probably won't hear from him for another 6 months and it will be okay. Dad was right - he used to say that I must be one of a twin, one person couldn't be that stupid (wow, he was always just kidding and I know he didn't mean it but that's kind of a mean thing to say to a kid, huh?). All of the pushing away and suppressing just made it bigger and worse. Letting it be ROCKS! Way to go Beatles... you coulda told me!

That's funny - I just noticed that his silly comment about his day in which he seems to be spending lots of time alone in my mind becomes he wants me, he changed his mind, he loves me. However, him telling me about the party becomes a slip up in his lies. That is funny... but mostly just sad, huh?

Okay, I must eat! It's after 8pm, I have been stoned since 4pm and I have not put a single morsel of food into my mouth. Growl city!

And then I told him...

** He emailed me back first, honest!**

Oh, Ian... you are so good and kind, considerate - you have no idea how much that still amazes me. I always denied that side of me because I thought it was wrong and it was weak and I always pushed (ate) it away. I spent my life with people who were like me because I knew how to deal with them, but you were so different. I just could not understand you or the way that you demonstrated your compassion for others. Your way of showing someone that you cared was to be kind and try to help but my way was to stand in the background and let them work it out alone - not because I didn't care but because I didn't know any other way. I thought that loving you meant believing in you, standing behind you and supporting you but somehow the way I expressed it came across as the exact opposite. Remember in the beginning? We had such a good time and I fell for you hard and fast. I have always been a firm believer in the theory that if it seems too good to be true it probably is, so, I didn't think that you really loved me - I was a replacement for Lynda (I didn't enjoy learning how right I was in that assessment) - but, at the time, it only made it easier for me to be with you. I loved you so much and I was excited by the prospect of spending my life with you, but loving someone in my world meant bickering and solitude; I had never experienced nor witnessed anything different than that. In the early days I could not even open up enough to reach out for you in the night, your deep hugs when we would stand in the kitchen made me uncomfortable (ask Stacey - she told me I was weird) and, for some unknown reason, I always seemed to try to make you go away. I pushed and pushed but you didn't push back and I didn't know how to deal with that. To me not pushing meant that you didn't care enough to ask me to stay. I always left because not leaving meant getting in deeper and letting you see the part of me that was weak and stupid and afraid (and let me point out that being weak and stupid and afraid isn't what I thought I was, this is what I KNEW without a single doubt). Remember how hard I cried as I packed my things and you sat on the couch ignoring me? Those were not the tears of someone who wanted to leave, those were the tears of someone who did not feel wanted. But I left and I figured some stuff out, mainly that the only place I wanted to be was in your arms, even if that meant showing the things that I hated so much. I tried to be kind and thoughtful and more open when we started seeing each other again, although I felt that you never really did quite buy into the nice-girl-act. I never once looked at the plentyoffish site to see if you were still going on there, you told me that you wouldn't and that was enough - the old me would have looked, and worse. After we had what I can only describe as that serious lack of communication when we were skiing that day, I called to talk about it but you were abrupt and quiet; you didn't call me again. I figured it was over at that point but I hoped it wasn't. And one day I innocently went on the plentyoffish site, only because I wanted to do that stupid personality quiz again to see if the new me had better results (honest to my god) and the first thing I saw was your profile. That's what happens when you let someone in. And I left again, and I figured some more stuff out. In Bev years, that was a long time ago. I know now that the things I feel on the inside are okay - the things that I have always tried to suppress are the best part of me, I am good and working on a change was long overdue (regrettably, I seem to keep volunteering you to help me practice). More than anything, Ian, I think that knowing you has affected my life more positively than anything ever has, and for that I will always be grateful.

Shit, I hate this blubbering nice stuff... nice weather, huh? Yes, that is better...

An Embarrassment to Myself

Omigod... yes, I did it again... but this time I realized it - that counts for something, right?

So, for some unknown reason I thought that it would be a good idea to email Ian again and tell him that I don't like this silence and I want to be able to at least be on speaking terms with him. An hour later I thought - how many times have I told him that I want to talk, I don't want to talk, I want to be civil but not talk, I want to never see him again. The poor guy... all the poor guys. What a butt head I am... who am I to dictate whether or not he can be in contact with me? Who do I think I am? Anyway, I sent him another note saying something like: sorry, just realized that I do this, talk, don't talk, up to you, I'm okay, no worries. And I am so embarrassed. So, so, so, so, so embarrassed. Am I 12??????

Also (exercise IS extremely important to me... no wonder I was fucked up my whole life... I have been spending all my time on the couch!) when I went for a run I was thinking how I feel that it's not fair that he is with her and not me. But you know what???? It is fair! It is so fair! I treated him terribly - not intentionally but still terribly! It is fair.

Back

Well, it's back. Here I am, got it all figured out and I'm obviously no better off for it. I guess knowing that it's a cycle doesn't stop the cycle. How am I ever going to find a man that will put up with this person? How am I going to find a job if I collapse into a bunch of mush every few months? How am I going to have children and make them understand that sometimes mommy just can't deal with them and wants them to go away? How am I going to live the rest of my life like this?

I don't know what to do. I try to push past it, I try to avoid it, deny it, hide from it, run from it. I know that this basket case is the anti me and it's what makes the good stuff so damn good but this would be easier to handle if some bad stuff went with it. I don't want to talk to anyone, see anyone, do anything, I don't want to sleep, I don't want to be awake, I don't want to watch tv, I don't want to go to a movie, I don't want to read, I don't want to play the piano, I don't want to exercise, I don't want to work, I don't want to eat and I don't want to exist. I almost want to make myself believe that eating will make me feel better. But it won't. Nothing will. Nothing ever will. I just have to push past these times. All I can do is get stoned and wait for it to pass. REALLY? IS THIS HOW I HAVE TO LIVE MY FUCKING LIFE? WAITING FOR IT TO PASS? WONDERING WHEN IT WILL HIT AGAIN? MAYBE I SHOULD JUST STAY HERE BY MYSELF. MAYBE I SHOULD JUST GO BACK TO THAT JOB THAT I HATE. WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE? F U C K .

I can certainly see why I behave the way I do sometimes. It's not being in this state that causes most of my problems, it's what I do after I am in this state. Right now I need to push people away. I have to, I have to. How could I ever let someone see this? I let Ian see it and we all know the ending to that story. Maybe I can find someone that will let me push them away while I am in this state if I am nicer the rest of the time. I think I just got so used to being here and pushing people away that I kept pushing even when I was feeling better. Because I was always trying to fix what caused this feeling so when I was coherent again I would get rid of anything that might have caused it. And when I learned that nothing caused it, I just kept getting rid of everything until I had nothing left. And here I sit: jobless, manless, childless, just less.

I know it will get better again, I know it will, I know it will, I know it has to. I am going to let myself have a bad day today and pull myself up again tomorrow. Or the next day. And continue on.

The Old and the New

I am transposing that old journal and I'm sitting there in shock. I'm Cathy. Omigod, my poor sister. My poor sister's male companions. We are, for certain, a couple of freaks. Yes, we show it differently, we react differently but it's for the same reasons. Did she feel pushed aside when she was young, too? Unimportant? Looking back, I know that she did. Another difference is that she saw it, I didn't. She recognized it, she commented on it but that was just her way. To complain. She just did it out loud while I did it inside my head.

Meanwhile, the Fabian/Ian similarities continue to shock. SHOCK! Well, not shock because I wrote them but shock because I never read them from this angle before - even when I read them in January I did not see how exact it is. Maybe because a large part of the similarity is happening right now. And, if I look back, I remember it happening with Karl and Paul and Dave, even Jeff. We would have a fight and break up, or just break up depending on the guy, then I would have some amazing self discovery shit happen and all the world was beautiful again and I would try to get back with them. Oh, the humor in that! What's the definition of insanity?

HOLY FUCK! Can't I make the font darker? Bigger? Flash? So I can punctuate the enormity of this? I always said that I have never gone out with a guy for more than 3 months... even with the guys who I didn't actually leave, I would just break up with them in my heart. Whether I left or stayed, the same thing happened. Every three months. The running away, the crushing hell of knowing that nobody loved me and, as I got older, that I couldn't even blame them for it. The funny thing is other times, with the ones who did love me, I thought less of them for wanting to be with me - or I just found another reason to end things. The ones who showed their feelings for me were wimps. At least I could respect the assholes, they were assholes but they were smarter than the wimps. THE CYCLE! Looks like I knew about the cycle before I even knew about it!

And, you know what, I don't think it could work with Ian. I mean, I guess it could if we really worked at it but even just in the couple of lines that he wrote the other day you could see that we just operate on opposing teams. We can love each other (and I do love him, I really do) and we can have great sex (and we did, oh, we had good sex) and we can even enjoy each others company but when things get rough we are in absolutely separate worlds. It doesn't mean that I don't love him and it doesn't mean that he doesn't love me, we just don't work well as a couple. And there's been too much happen now, too much has been said, there are too many memories. He knows that girl, not this one. I want to find someone who I have never been with before, someone who doesn't know me, someone that I can start fresh with and start living this life.

It's time to get back to that other part of the plan for the future. Hey! Maybe me wanting Ian back is something like how, after I started my bookkeeping business, I went back to working at the bank in the evenings because it suddenly hit me that I didn't have a guaranteed income... almost like an 'oh, shit, what did I do?' when the future is exciting but scary. Just a little back track is all. And that's okay. Remember? I quit the evening job in less than two months.

But I will

Ian replied to an email that I sent at the same time as the "reply to the reply" - I asked him to see if his sister still wanted my old curtains and he had forwarded the message to her and forwarded her answer to me. And that's it. Wuz shaken? he said. Wuz shaken.

And guess who I got a call from today? No, guess? (that's the way I told Stacey at dinner) Guess! Fabian. The one, the only. He was in Langley and asked if I wanted a visit. I gave him a big hug when I saw him. And he smelled like Fabian; I remember that smell. He showed me his new van-thingy that he is so proud of, we went for a short drive. The steering is on the right side... that's the first time that I have been in something like that... kinda odd but pretty cool. I remembered that I like his driving, I trust him. He is, after all, a professional driver. Anyway, we came back here and chatted for a couple of hours. Same old Fabe - only a few sexual comments, though, which was a nice change. At 5pm I had to leave to go meet Stacey. I gave him another big hug and went on my merry way. And it came to my mind that I felt no attraction to him anymore. I still care about him as a person and want him to be happy and to find love but I don't want that to be from me anymore. And then it hit me that someday I will feel that way about Ian, too. I let go of Fabian in March 2006 (and if you read my postings from that time, you will see exactly why I would phrase it 'let go' instead of 'broke up') and Ian and I started dating that June. I can't really say when I stopped thinking about Fabe; I guess it just went away after a while. And then we had sex last October, mere hours before Ian invited me over for the first time since the breakup. And I would have chosen to be with Ian a million times over. It was what really made me want to be back with Ian. The next night when he held me all I could think was "I'm home. This is where I want to be." And now he's holding someone else. Then I remembered that today Fabe and I talked about his girlfriend and it didn't bother me in the very least.

And some day I will fee that way about Ian, too. I don't right now. But I will.

Psst...

Oh, come on, silly Ian. Don't you think it's time to realize how wonderful I am and dump that bitch? And then I wondered... what are the chances that I want him more because of her? I don't doubt that this has made it more hurried somehow, which is silly because my impatience will do nothing to make him feel things that he might not feel. And how confident am I that I actually have these feelings for him? That this is real and not just the same old song and dance? Very confident, I am pleased to report!

Conveniently, I just so happen to be transposing my old journal from 2003... which talks about little other than the ups and downs with Fabian. I have a direct comparison. I have the memory of it happening the same way with every other guy and I have my own words, complete with dates, that show me the rise and decent of my tumultuous moods. And it's the same right now. The moods are basically the same, albeit much much more managable; the cycle repeats and repeats. (I am actually going to pull out my first journal from when I was in my teens just because I'm curious to read it now - all of the other journals that I wrote have been destroyed because... well, this is interesting, because I didn't want anyone to ever know what I was on the inside.)

Oh, but it's different, too and it's the differences that are giving me the confidence to continue down this path that I have recently put myself on. It's different. For one thing, I am not obsessing and unable to stop myself from thinking of him every moment. I am not paralyzed and imprisoned in my own home, unable to cope, not wanting to talk to anyone, I am not pigging out, I am not crying uncontrollably, not wondering if I will be able to live knowing that I will have these ups and downs for the rest of my life, not wondering if I should live at all. I am going on with my day. Yes, every single time that I check my email and every single time my phone rings, he comes to my mind and a little teeny tickle of hope flutters through my belly but then it recedes when his name isn't on my caller id or in my email inbox. And I continue on. I am accepting that I love him. I am allowing myself to acknowledge that I love him, to feel that love and to feel the pain that is part of it right now. It's not all sunshine and roses, life always comes with a challenge. I am constantly second guessing myself right now, checking to make sure that what I feel is really what I feel. You know how sometimes you hear about someone who is sick all the time, who always has something wrong, always is going through some devastating drama? That was me. And I continue to look at myself with far more accusing eyes than you ever would.

Let's face it - this little breakthrough, this new knowledge, does not make the old habits disappear. Right now I am looking for those old habits, it's kind of a constant questioning to learn to recognize those habits and let go of them. I am noticing negative comments when they come into my mind. (Was I Verlie? But let's hope it didn't get to that, dear god.) It's very similar to what I experienced when I first started the anti-depressants: I am constantly on the look out, waiting for myself to act or think in a manner that is not genuinely me. Instantly after a negative thoughts comes 'really, is that what you really think?'. I am not going to be able to just shut that off instantly. This is all a learning process. And it's not that I am mean, I honestly think that a lot of it has to do with the way my brain processes things.

My brain works in a logical mode so I deal with things almost mathematically (A+B=C) and emotions don't really come into play much. Perhaps using homeless people, for example. Are they suffering? Yes. Do I care about that? Yes, I have a very strong sense of morality. Do I want to help? Absolutely. Do I think that they are in that situation by their own hand? Most of the time, yes, I do. And it's not that I don't understand that they are in pain. Just, to me, A - you're homeless + B - you need a home = C - clean up your act and find a roof somewhere. On the news this evening they were complaining about not enough low cost housing available in the city. Pretty simple stuff isn't it: if you can't afford a home in the city, move out of the city (I couldn't afford a house here if I made twice what I used to make and had a spouse's second income!); if you want a roof over your head, you do what you need to do to get one... it's just that simple. And, for the most part, that is what I have always felt about the subject. Today I thought 'you don't feel that you could have a little more compassion? Maybe understand that it's not always that easy and they could probably do a lot better with a helping hand?'

The funny thing is that I KNOW I will try to help people if I am free to let what is on the inside show on the outside. I used to feel bad for them but not neccessarily compassion; honestly, kind of a sucks to be you, suck it up kind of attitude. (Sadly, now that I think of it, that was pretty much my attitude with Ian - just deal with it and get over it! I don't think he liked that very much.) I used to think that I can't help someone who won't help themselves - just get your shit together already.

And, check it out, I am looking at getting a job as a 911 operator so that I can go to school to become a family mediator? Or something along those lines. I want to counsel, I want to help. I want to go out and HELP! On the outside... not just feel it and push it away and shrug my shoulders because I'm not going to put myself out there like that. I want to help, I want to make someone's life better - if it's as much as I did for Sheena during her tough times and even if it's only by making someones day better with a smile. And the funny thing is that's how I have always been, that's who I have always been, but I have never let it show on the outside if at all possible. How is that possible??

The reply. And the reply to the reply.

HE SAID:
>
> Nice. Thank you, really (c:
> Wow. no email feelings eh(c: I know you busted your ass for me while
> in the hosp and many other times chicky pooh. I had to tell you right
> away about Lynda visiting and seeing me. We tried......remember you
> gave me those photos for plentyoffish then got mad because they were
> still up. You are ok right?
> I am doing well. aches and pains etc. incredible munchies from Predezone.
> Thanks for your thoughts, I have to go snooze. We said no email
> feelings eh(c: I'll read it again.
> Ian

SHE SAID:

Good, I'm glad that was your reaction. I didn't know what to expect but that was exactly the response that I wanted... so, I thank you, too. There's lots more where that came from if you're looking for a light read! LOL

Yeah, that no email feelings concept didn't really pan out the way that I had hoped, huh? I thought it would help us communicate better but it never really did happen the way I imagined it would. I had a big argument with Mom about that subject when she was here. I asked her, as someone with experience and a 40 year marriage, how did she feel about communicating by letter when you were having trouble getting something out? I expected that she would say she thought writing to each other was very helpful --- because when I was a kid I used to look in my folk's room for porn (yes, the devil got to me early) and I found a letter that Dad was writing to Mom and he was flipping out about something she said or did. I always thought that was how they communicated. She says "Oh god, no, we never did any of that stuff; we would write love notes in the early days but no, nothing like that". Looks like she didn't receive the letter after all. And then she started saying stuff like he was free to go if he wanted to go and "when your father threatened to leave, I said 'you know where the door is.'" And my jaw dropped. I was pissed at her because I knew exactly how those words would feel because that's how she used to treat me, too... and that's how I treat other people! I said, "you mean to tell me that you don't think that it would have helped to put your arms around him and say I'm sorry, I love you, let's work it out??????????????" Do you wonder where I got it from? But I guess she learned it from somewhere, too. So now I am - again - a huge advocate of writing it out (only when sober!) but I am also learning how to put my arms around the person... because that just sounds like a good idea.

I appreciate you telling me about Lynda, it was very good of you to be upfront about it. I was surprised that you would go back with her after the things that you told me (that seems even worse than me getting back together with Fabian)... but I suppose the things that seemed so bad before me were not so bad after. I can't blame you for choosing to be with someone else - it's just not something that I am ready to witness yet. I'm not trying to be difficult or mean but it hurts right now... I know that won't last forever but that's how it is right now. It's okay, anyway, because that means that I am not pushing away my feelings. I'm learning lots about myself and for that I am grateful.

I'm glad you are feeling good... you must be pigging out like a mad man! Have you gained lots of weight, fatty? I'm selling if you're buying!

Learn more please!

I'm awesome.

It's a fucking cycle. It was all a fucking cycle. I wasn't able to control it when I was younger. I didn't know. Now I know.

It's a cycle. The battle with the other side. Ahhhh.

Peace.

That's what I call it.

Whoa!

Holy shit, man. Holy shit.

Am I just copying what I did with Fabian? Is this part of the cycle? I love him, I hate him, I want him, I don't. I was just remembering about the end with Fabian. After almost 4 years of him not wanting to be with me, I finally realized that he didn't want to be with me. 4 years. If I didn't have 4 years to waste by staying with Ian, then I don't have 4 years to waste without him, either.

Stop. If he wants you, he will let you know. For now, assume that he doesn't. And continue on with life. Let's get going again, girlfriend! No more torture, no more looking for the email that never comes and then sending some kind of reply to the email that never came in the first place? What the shit? Holy fuck, dude. Holy fuck.

Run, move, vent. Get up. It's time.

Hahaha... this is my favorite part of the cycle!



**4/16/08 - that was super funny "no more looking for the email that never comes and then sending some kind of reply to the email that never came in the first place"... good stuff... because I pretty much just did that about 4 hours ago. Fuck.**

Only in my Dreams

I just stood up to go into the kitchen and suddenly thought 'come on, Ian, just something'... the second thought was that I don't know if I can bear never seeing my little girl again... and the third thought was that it's time to accept it. Why am I still holding on when I know I don't want to be with him? Yes, I do. I do. I think about him at night, I feel myself cuddle into him, I am sitting on the couch with him, I am loving him. I can't help it; in the dark I let myself dream just a little bit more. I want to be with him and I want to be me. But he's with someone else so I am just going to have to get over it... and have patience with myself while I am getting over it. That's the tricky part.

God, I am so emotional... not repressing my feelings is hard work right now! I know this will ease in time again and I will get used to this new self awareness but it's like I'm finding out that all of the missing pieces of the puzzle were under the couch this whole time! I was frustrated and ready to toss the damn puzzle out the window but the pieces were right here. So I'm not having swinging moods but connections maybe. I'm letting things in. I am allowing myself to feel for others - out loud for a change. I am allowing others to feel for me so I am now able to feel for them, too? Yes, I am understanding something that I never really got before. It sounds so stupid but I just didn't get something. I don't even know how to explain it in words. Last night when Stacey was here and I couldn't pull out my computer, I wrote a couple of thoughts down... this is about the closest that I can get to an explanation right now:

"I always felt that I was so different from them but I didn't realize that they were also different from me and, in recognizing those differences, I finally understood the similarities."

So lets see where that takes me. I always felt that I was so different from everyone else. I knew that there was something in me, something different... it never crossed my mind to think that it might be something good. And I also didn't realize that if I was different from them, they were different from me, too... and different from each other. Everyone has good qualities and bad. It's okay to be yourself because eventually you will find someone that is the same different as you are. Haha! The parts of my personality that I have been trying to suppress my whole life are actually the things that people like about me. People are drawn to me - have you ever thought such a thing? How is that possible? How do they see something that I don't? Or, no, that's not right - I saw it. Why did I never want to let other people see it, too? And why did I not realize that they might love me for it?

If I am different from them then they are different from me, too... and the weirdest thing struck me - that's how we are alike. Our differences are what make us similar. I don't understand you and you don't understand me so we are the same. And if we are the same, even in our differences, then I think I can let go and be different with someone. I'm not a freak, I'm not crazy, I'm not disgusting, I'm just different than you. And the things that I used to hate the most about me are now what I love most about me.

It's like this... when I first moved here, my skin was terrible. It was bumpy and blemished and it really bugged me because I have had good skin most of my life. So I got new facial cleanser and I cleaned my face every morning and every night. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I just couldn't get to clear up. I tried stronger cleaners, scrubs, masks and nothing worked. Finally, I convinced Karl to get me a gift certificate for a facial. You know what she said? Kim, the woman that has been giving me facials ever since? She said that I have very sensitive skin and I was making it worse by working it and working it... leaving it alone was the only thing that would help. I never thought that I might be sensitive on the inside, too, and trying to fix myself just made it worse... leave it alone and it will be fine!

I just wanted to be like everyone else. And the more that I tried to not stand out, the more I blended in. Then I would be unhappy that I was blending into the wall (I remember telling Ian once that I felt like I was invisible to every man that I had ever dated, including him). Why didn't anyone love me? Why didn't anyone see me? What was wrong with me? So I would try harder to fit in with everyone else, more neutral, more colorless, more nothingness. Maybe that's why I was so difficult to live with. I could only be me around me so I always wanted to get away from Ian so I could be me. I couldn't let him see! Then he will know, he'll see that I'm not what he thinks I am. I was myself with Stacey because she didn't have the power to hurt me like he did and she had stuck it out with me through thick and thin for years by then. I didn't trust that any man would do that, I didn't trust that anyone would ever want to. Stacey and I were best friends for years before I let her in - I think I was on my anti-depressants for more than a year before I even told her and he thought that I should trust him as much after only a few months?! He, the one that could demolish my whole world in an instant? A few years ago I felt bad that I had to ask Stacey to stay with me over night because I had a concussion; Fabian was hurt that I didn't ask him to take care of me but I could barely ask Stacey... and she returned my calls.

Of course I was mostly comfortable with my family and close friends, people that had to love me. That's when my me-ness shined through. But inevitably I would laugh a bit too loud or tell a joke that was a bit too strong and my mother would be sitting over there doing her fucking tsk, tsk, tsk shit and I would back down, I would conform and not embarrass her. It was okay if she was having a good time, too... but then it was usually Dad shaking his head with that look that stopped me cold. I almost lost it on Mom once, when I saw the tsk, tsk in a different light... or maybe just realized that she always did it and I was finally ready for it to piss me off. Same old story... I was having a good time with everyone else (we were all home for the last Christmas and Andrew bought a bottle of red wine and we got wasted! We played games and we laughed and we drank and we joked and I was having the best time... until I looked at the woman next to me and her "Now , Bev. That's enough." and I almost drop kicked her. I actually wrote about it in the journal that I am transposing onto here... it was late December/early January of 2005. Read it - entertaining stuff (okay, well, I'm still working on 2003 so you'll have to come back to it!!).

When I was young, I participated in everything. I was asked to join my school choir a year before the rules said I was old enough, I was asked to be a mime in a school play in grade 6 (it was a traveling Christmas show and they needed one person to be the angel and they picked me), I was asked to represent my school in a Red Cross camp in grade 7 or 8 and I got to go to Newfoundland for a full week (that was fucking huge where I grew up!), I sang and danced in the school variety show, I sang in church, I was a cheerleader, I was in the drama festival regional competition, I was asked to be a group leader in a weekend retreat that we had in high school, I sang at a couple of weddings... always up front, always entertaining, always strong, always confident, the life of the party, the outgoing one. But inside I was starting to learn something.

I was always embarrassing someone, I would be silly or make a smart ass crack around a bunch of the older kids and Sue would be devastated, I would come out of my shell in a social situation and start to enjoy myself and Mom would tsk. I never heard any of those people that told me I was wonderful. They were saying it, they were telling me but I was learning how awful I was, that they were better than me. And eventually the bad stuff won and I stopped questioning it. I am still embarrassed about the mockery that I made of the song that I sang at my cousin's wedding when I was 18 (I didn't even bother to learn the song and poor Jackie sighed and said here sing this one instead and I got a cold and I sucked... okay I was afraid and embarrassed because I was making a fool out of myself) and I never sang in public again until karaoke at some strangers house a few years ago when I was first coming out of my shell. And they were telling me that I was wonderful and I thought 'well, everyone is entitled to their own opinion... but you're wrong, you don't know me, you are wrong'. And it never bothered me, it never pissed me off, I just didn't believe them. I quit cheer leading because our coach said I was fat (no she didn't, she said that I was really good and that I had so much potential, why not practice more and get in better shape so I could do more splits and jumps) and I passed in my pompoms and most likely went home for something to eat. If I got drunk and some boy hit on me, that was okay because I knew that they only hit on me because I was drunk and easy and they were drunk and horny. And I became very easy and then I was right... I was with so many different men that eventually people got with me because I was drunk and easy. That I could accept. I could not accept that someone would like me for me.

Mutherfucker! I just got another one! It never made sense to me that I dated all of those man troubles back to when Dave screwed around on me and broke up with me in grade 10. Yes, it was hurtful at the time but not hurtful enough to make such a huge impact on my relationships with men for the rest of my life. I just figured that it was because I was embarrassed more than I was hurt - which is most likely true - but it never made sense to me, it wasn't enough to cause the scar on my heart that has been with me all of this time. Ha! And it wasn't Dave breaking up with me that was the problem, it wasn't that he did it while everyone else was watching that was the problem - yes, those things sucked but - it was that he was confirming everything that I already believed about myself. Of course no one is going to love you, idiot. Even this guy. He liked me, I knew he did and I opened myself up to him and I trusted him but it turned out that he realized that I was crap, too. I think that was the first time that I truly received confirmation of all of the bad things that I thought about me. (Funny how it never crossed my mind that he was just pissed off with me for being so inconsiderate that I stood him up yet again because I was having fun somewhere else and I didn't even bother to call.)

After that (and before that, too, I guess) it was so damn important to me to not let anyone know what a waste I was then why would I let anyone in to see it? Are you kidding me? I'm not letting you know! Everything is wonderful, everything is always good, always good. I tried opening up in very small ways a few times over the years. I let people in, just a toe, just for a second. In the early days with Karl he told me that the first thing he thought when he saw me was that I was cute but too chubby (guess I shouldn't have asked... I was flirting with him and looking for a compliment - you could fucking lie, asshole!). I thought my whole life that that was what people saw when they looked at me and, when I became an adult and dared to start to believe my friends that I was wrong, he spoke and in one sentence everything that I knew was right was confirmed again. I knew it. I knew it. I was right. Up goes the wall.

I met Fabian in 2002 and barely told him anything about me (I lived with Karl for 5 years and he knew less than anyone). I was only whatever he wanted me to be and I never let him see inside... until he caught me wimping out about the Sun Run in 2005. He was so kind and understanding and I cried and and he held me and he saw right through me and I let him in. God, I don't remember ever in my life letting everything out like that, it just oozed out. Then I stopped answering his calls. I always looked at that as the end of anything good with us... but I was always sure that it was because of him, not because of me.

I let Ian in... probably faster and more than any non-family member - no, strike that - faster and more than anyone ever before. And he loved me. And that drove me crazy! He would hug me and I would just wait for him to be done, I always always always broke hugs first (with everyone always). Then I started hugging back longer. Then I needed more and got more. He got closer and closer. He got the power to blow me over with barely a whistle. And then all I wanted was to get away from him. And then I started looking for reasons to go. Ha! That realization is far too funny, too sad and too late. And I treated him like shit until he said fuck, just go already. But I was right. I proved to him that I was right.

Holy shit... maybe half of this is just because I always need to be right!! Ian always said that I needed to be right - and I know it's a problem that I USED to have (before I moved to epiphany city) - maybe... well, yes... of course, I was always looking for confirmation of what I believed, right? I always needed to be right. And I always made sure that I was.

This is exhausting. =)

Email

I sent a copy of the last post to Ian. I can't really say why, to be honest. Closure? This is the note that I included in the beginning:

"Hi. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to send you this journal entry; I guess I want you to see where I was in all of this. Obviously I read you extremely wrong so it dawned on me that perhaps you read me wrong, too. Maybe I am hoping that letting you know this stuff will help me move on. This was written to me from me but - I am not trying to change anything and I am not inebriated in any way - these are things that I want you to know, things that I have always wanted you to know. Sorry, I'm a bit long winded..."

There has been no response which is good. Like I said, I wasn't trying to change anything I just wanted him to know. I had a weird little feeling that he had no idea of my side of the story. I, of course, also do not know his side of the story but I never will know it if he doesn't tell me. And that's okay; I did my part and that's all that I can do.

It's funny. Most of the things that I have been doing during my time off - writing, listening to music, lazing around - are things that I haven't really done since I was a teenager. Perhaps I should say that they are things that I haven't done without guilt since I was a teenager. And even then it was wrong. Why is it that every thing that I did while I was growing up wrong? Why was I always being told that I was wrong, not good enough, not fast enough, not anything enough? And why did I believe them so blindly? I guess what happened was that I looked for proof of what I was told, accepted only proof of the bad stuff and eventually learned to believe it, and after that I just accepted it and stopped questioning it - it was true, I was worthless. I think then I just put all of my energy into making sure that no one else found out.

Another oddity of all of this is that I'm sure I have cried at some point during every day for about a week (writing, listening, remembering, questioning) and NOT ONCE did I think that I was weak or wrong or having a break down or out of control. By letting go of all of the things that I used to HAVE to control, I finally feel in control. That doesn't really make sense on the outside of my head but it's true. I was trying to control all of the wrong things. I guess I was trying to control the things that I felt I still could have control of - like I said, I had long since given up questioning and the things that went on inside my head were accepted at face value and I didn't even... wait, I was going to say that I didn't even try to control them anymore but I did, that's all I did. I just had to control everything, at all times, in all ways, I am woman, hear me roar.

Food

I'm fat. Oh, I got fat again... I say that I got fat when I wasn't looking but I was looking... and I was getting fat. Perhaps my fat-suit was what I used to ensure that no one would get close enough to hurt me (I just didn't realize that the only one that was hurting me was me). It really started to get out of control when I moved to Newfoundland after high school. At first I would get drunk and have sex with someone, anyone, just once and never look at them again. I used sex instead of food for a while. Somehow that wouldn't placate me so I stopped the sex and went back to just getting drunk and pigging out... go to a bar, get wasted, go home, get fat. Eventually I stopped getting drunk because it hindered my desire to eat on the way home. Then I stopped going to the bar, too, and just hit the drive thru instead... sometimes more than once a night. Food was my punishment for being me.

I used to laugh and joke about how, in the end with Karl, I would go to Dairy Queen before supper every night - and after. I was trying to get him to go away. That was me, not wanting to be with him any more but seriously lacking the ability to tell him like a normal person would. I knew if I ate enough he would go away eventually... he already thought I was too fat so obviously getting fatter would give him reason to end things. The funny part of that is it didn't work. I had to leave him. But I'm sure he would have eventually ended things if I didn't go because, by the time I was done with him, he had to have been dancing on the ceiling to see me walk out that door. So I guess the weight gain didn't totally work. I always thought that it did but it looks like it was the bitch sleeping in his bed that really hit the ball out of the park.

But food was still a great tool to use to push people away. Eventually I got better at being a bitch and that helped but the thing that worked best to make me hate me was food. I couldn't wait for Fabian to go home so that I could eat. Eat eat eat. Every night. Every night I would wait for him to leave so I could have something to eat. I would be happy on the nights that he didn't come over because I could eat. I would lie in bed after sex and plan all of the things that I would eat if he left. If he stayed I didn't have anything but if he left I had everything - because I was sure that he went home because I was fat. Turns out that the weight gain didn't work with him either... score two for the bitch.

Then Ian. I started putting on weight early; I was becoming a pro. Man did I blimp out. I used to be so concerned about the difference in our size... obviously the best thing that I could do was put on more weight. I really loved him and I really thought that he loved me but I have to admit that there were a lot of walls that he couldn't get past... but I couldn't take them down when I didn't know they were there. It was so much easier to just believe that eventually he would walk... even if I had to prove it to him. Deep down I needed to hold on to all of the things that I always believed about myself... because not believing the bad stuff about me meant that I had to believe good stuff about him, trust him, relinquish control, let go. No. That's not me at all.

The day that his divorce was final and he made the crack 'what? I gotta marry you now?' didn't really affect me at the time, I don't think (because yes, yes, yes!). I remember reading on here that Ian said we would be together until our pubes turned gray and fell out... and I thought it was sweet! Really! But when I looked back on that day, perhaps when I needed to take that conversation, twist it around and use it as proof, the 'I gotta marry you' comment was remembered with a totally different tone. Oh, I was so caught up in myself, in my own pain, in the making of my own pain because I didn't understand why I couldn't stop it and that only caused more pain. I caused him pain, too, I'm sure, but I didn't see it at the time. He got steadily on my nerves more and more, nothing he did was good enough. Because I was working so hard at pushing him away most of the time and he was trying to be nice to me - most likely just trying to figure out what was causing the bitch to come out - the bitch came out more. Eventually I became tired. It takes a lot of work to continuously push someone away. You would think that it was easy but it really was difficult. Pair that with my need to be right and always get my way (his perception of me) and he walked. Wait, no... I told him I was going to leave, he wanted to stay together but I would move out, and I finally realized that I had found the most amazing man that ever lived. And I was going to really, really try to work things out with him. It was the proof that I was looking for that he truly loved me, I was okay, I was finally ready to let the wall down. And when I went to his house to tell him - well, show him mostly because I still don't do the words so good in person - when I went to tell him, he was on the phone with another woman and he broke my heart. I never blamed him for looking elsewhere, all he really did was confirm a belief that I had held for most of my life. I had been just about ready to get past it but he proved me right. And part of me was relieved - I was right.

Eventually I realized how lonely it was to be right all the time. It was the beginning of the period of epiphany and change. And somehow I convinced him to give me another chance because I realized that I really did love him enough, to not only try again but to succeed this time. And I was there. I was present in that relationship and I was in it for the long haul. I knew we had our problems but there was nothing that we couldn't get through. Because we loved each other. And one day I got pissed off with him on a ski hill - when the real problem was my absolute humiliation (at having a dozen people watch me fall down and not be able to get up, oh, watch the whale try to get up, watch her flail, oops she's down again, haha, can't get her skis off, do you think she might cry, oh, how entertaining) - but I apologized and tried to explain what was going on. A couple of days later he was back on the prowl... and he broke my heart again.

Months later it was almost as if we might find our way back to each other. I finally figured that I was strong enough so I broke down and asked to see Daisy - and him. I don't even remember what excuse I gave him. He seemed to be drawn to me as much as I was drawn to him although we were both fighting it. Well, we both fought it the first time; the second time I thought we both were giving into it... I know I was. It was as if we were connecting again in some small way... not enough to jump into anything but enough to let the idea of it dance around. I had hurt him and he gave me chance after chance so, armed with my newly found ability to put away the fat suit, I decided that I would give him another chance, too. It takes three strikes for the game to really be over. Then, after he tried to get me into bed and I said no, he stopped all contact. Didn't even reply to my email. What an ass! But then his mother sent me an email that made my heart explode. No, I think the moment that my heart exploded was when I saw him in the hospital bed. But it exploded in a good way, it grew a size or two. I was so happy for him and scared for him and worried for him and excited for him and in love with him. I stayed in his house for a week and I was home. I was home with my baby and he would soon be there, too, and maybe we could find a way to get it right this time. I slept in his bed and I did as much as I could do for him and his mother while he was in the hospital and I busted my ass cleaning his house the night before he came home. I cared like I had never cared for anyone before. And my heart got bigger and bigger. And I thought that he was having those feelings again. And then I was sure he was having those feelings again. And then he broke my heart... again.

But it will mend eventually. My fat suit is under permanent destruction - at least all the bad feelings that it brought - and I will fall in love again. I'm in no hurry, I'm letting myself mourn the loss of love for probably the very first time (and without hair loss or vomit!) and, when I'm able to put aside this loss, I will pin my heart back onto my sleeve and try again... hopefully, this time without the bitch. And without the food.

Yeah? So what of it??

So what? Yes, I want him to email me. Yes, I want to see him. Yes, yes, I miss him... I hate her for sitting on my couch... I could kick him for getting back with her... my couch, my dog, my man! Why did she have to come back into the picture and fuck up my plans? Bitch.

Loneliness

You know, as much as I get lonely sometimes - and seriously horny - I don't think that I am anywhere near ready to start dating again. Of course, I am a girl and I am PMS-ing but I don't know if I have any desire right now to go through the bad stuff about boys. The waiting, the wondering, the disappointment. Do they all disappoint? Please tell me that I have just been picking the wrong ones my whole life and that someday, someone will break through and not make every day a little more painful than the one before it. However, if you did tell me that, I'm not sure if - at this very moment - I would be able to believe it.

The Fabe

It's kind of funny to be sitting here, entering all of these old thoughts and feelings from 2003. Especially because Fabian and I are supposed to get together and go for a hike tomorrow. It will be interesting to see if he calls. Just entertaining, you know?

I Got a Project!

I decided to transpose my old journal into this format... then I can get rid of the book because I hate leaving shit like that around. It does not bother me in the slightest if a stranger reads this stuff but I already know what happens when someone that I care about reads my rants and raves... and it's not pretty, not pretty at all. The journal starts in August 2003 and goes on and off to 2006. It's actually the perfect time frame to lend a reference point to the stuff that I have written over the past couple of years.

I lived with Karl from 1996 to 2001 and, for my 30th birthday, I bought me a condo and packed my bags. Ian and I dated from about November 2001 to about June 2002... at the same time I dated Niall and slept with two of the three Newfie guys, Terry from 202, Colin who is married with two children, Shayne's girlfriends younger brother (he was 18 and had a nipple ring!), Dobbin and a few others who I can't even remember now. I met Fabian in June 2002 and wasn't with any one else until Ian and I started dating again in June 2006. This is the story of Fabian. And my realization that I had much deeper problems than I had ever suspected.

Read it... read what a seriously fucked up person wrote on her journey to mental stability. So sad. So yesterday. =)

Bored!

Holy shit, dude... this early retirement stuff is B-O-R-I-N-G-A! What do people do? I have been looking at this first week as more of a vacation since I am back to help out at the office on Thursday but crap! How much can one sleep? And how much time can one spend alone? How much can one smoke and how the hell much can one watch stupit movies?? Who's idea was this, anyway? Criminy... I need to find something interesting to do but quick! I understand Ian's life a bit more now. Unfortunately I cannot tell him so because I cut off all ties (fucker). I had better figure out a way to occupy myself in May or there's gonta be some serleous truple!!