Pause The Tragic Ending

I’ve wanted nothing more than to pause this tragic ending, but that isn’t an option. Don’t get me wrong, my brain has been scheming plenty, but I haven’t acted on any of it, in fact I’ve done nothing but cry, write, talk, scream, pray, and agonize over my loss.

From the onset of the end, I started (not intentionally) cataloging my inner-life out on Social Media for everyone to see. I did it as a cry for help, a real cry for help. I needed love, and support in a big way, and I also needed to pour my heart and soul out to an audience, because that’s just what I do, because doing it this way is what makes me do it, and I need this release.

I need other people more than most. I’m an extravert, a creative, and a very insecure-ego-maniac. But what this really means is that I need your love, attention, praise and accolades. I want you to see me, feel, me hear me and love me.

So here starts my public morning:

September 2013

Week 1, Day 3:

I’m feeling so blessed by the amount of love I’ve received over the past few days. Thank you all for the healing words, kind thoughts and prayers. For me, The word “loss” means many things, thank God in this case it doesn’t mean someone lost their life, it just means something was taken from me, and I’m grieving that which I’m missing. It feels tragic, like something I can’t reconcile, something I can’t make sense of right now. We’re all hurting. I’m so grateful for the many soldiers of a higher love-my support system-keeping me upright and moving forward. I’m thankful for the inner strength I have that only comes from being a mom, loving my children pushes me to exceed my self-imposed limits. I wish for you all a happy Friday, full of much love and joy. Whatever you do today, make time love each other. Big Hugs, SJ

Week 1, Day 5

I’m grateful for the all people in my life who have loved, encouraged, and supported me through the recent changes I’ve been forced to acknowledge. I’m having a difficult time accepting my new reality, my denial is glazed on hard and thick, to see through the illusion is almost maddening. I still need you all to carry me until I find my courage again, until my strength returns and I come to accept life on life’s terms. For now, I’m still angry, broken and confused. My will is unwilling to surrender to that which I cannot change. I can’t do this alone, please continue praying for my children and me, send us your love, and light. It helps far more than you’ll ever know.
Thank you. XO, SJ

The End of Week 1

Healing= Sunrise-Coffee, (Heard an owl hooting) Took Dog For Walk (Saw many beautiful critters and plant life), 1 1/2 hour of Hot Yoga, (Including a 4 minute head stand), Ate Watermelon, (rehydrated) Sunbathed on my porch, (felt the brilliant sun on my face) Read some uplifting literature, (Letting go is good for me) Received kind texts from friends, A few min on FaceBook, (Saw your adorable faces and inspirational lives), Walked The Dog again, (More for my eyes to take in and enjoy), Laundry, (It’s the simple things that make me feel better), Meeting a friend for a smoothies,(Because a spoon full of natural sugar helps the medicine go down) And by sunset tonight, I will have made it through week one, One Day at A Time, One Hour at A Time, One Minute at A Time, and One Second at A Time, ah.

Week 2= Healing, a new perspective:

Best 2 things I’ve heard so far this week, ” Rejection is God’s protection.” Unknown

And, “She lost you”. MLH

I’m moving through the grief, coming to terms with my sadness over the false future I created in my head.
I’m not sure which is worse, the actual loss or the piercing shards of my glass-fantasy-life, shattering all around me. Seeing the truth is sharp and unrelenting, cracking first in large sections, and then crumbling into pieces of recognizable mirror images of my life.

This is where I stand, the uneven ground of my self-worth, of my needs, and wants in life. From here, I will get to know myself, from here I won’t abandon myself again, and from my reality-the truth beneath my feet-is where I will re-build.

October 2013

Week 2, Day 2: Healing= Quick Weight Loss Strategy

Nothing like an old fashioned break-up to drop a solid 5.

{And it feels good to make myself smile again.}

I’m such a whore to “the story,” you know it’s unraveling.

Week 3, Day 2

Taking my fine-ass out on a date, playas. This is the beginning of a lasting love affair. I can love her enough to let her go, that’s the most graceful thing about love-loving enough to want nothing but happiness for someone else even if that doesn’t include me. However, I can also love myself just as much, now lets just hope I can fake this shit until I make it. — at Apres Diem.

Week 4, Day 2= Humility

My heart is so open right now, it is raw, exposed, naked, and penetrable to emotion-therefore vulnerable not only to deep pain, but also to love, laughter, hope, joy, truth, and gratitude.

So many of you have reached out to me with your kind words, good thoughts and prayers. Your support has gotten me through my darkest moments, week 3 ended up being impossible; the pain was sickening. There were times when I couldn’t see or feel past it, but your strength carried me.

Thank you.

There has been more to this grief than just losing my love. For me, I have lost my first and true, intimate love. I am fifteen again, except this time I am experiencing real feelings.

As a friend with a thick, backwoods-country accent said, “SOBER= Sombitch, Everything Is Real.” Loving her was my drug.

I know I tend to be somewhat dramatic, this is just me, I show up to the world this way-it’s also however, part of my charm. But I am telling you-all drama aside, except for the writing piece-l have never in my life felt this way before.

I felt the loss of my family when I left my marriage, I felt the heaviness of grief for my children, and for the person I was leaving. I grieved my grandmother’s love when she passed, I suffered rejection when my high-school boyfriend broke up with me, and I struggled with my self-esteem and self-worth when my second boyfriend cheated on me; and I mourned the loss of my pride and ego, and my vision of a “future” when it finally ended.

However, I have never felt this intense sadness, this feeling that something just isn’t right-this notion of loving someone I can’t be with-this profound loss of romantic love until now.

I’m stunned. I had no idea.

She is my first love, and for this, I am grateful.

She was worth the wait.

I have changed, I am a better person, I am more myself: alive, and in touch with who I am and what I want, and for that I am thankful to her, and for her love.

But now and over the past few weeks I’ve had to learn to rely on myself, and my Higher Power for those things. I’ve discovered that I’m not really alone, God-The Universe-The Order of Things-has been with me the whole time, (although we’ve been fighting a lot) and I have leaned on this power-which flows through you all more so now than ever before.

Thank you all, those of you who appeared like messengers from God, for loving me, supporting me, and for sharing your hope and faith with me.

In Love, and Humility, SJ

Week 5: Courage

I’m regaining my strength, and relying on my old friend Courage, she never leaves me.

Yes, I’m still on this, yes, I’m still in “this” space-the place of asking Why and How, none it makes sense to me. I’m trapped with my emotions, stuck with the discomfort, I can’t escape it, but I’m learning how to manage them.

I don’t run away from them, I confront them like a thief of my dignity. I want to face all of this, deal with every rotten feeling of anger, sadness, regret, guilt, resentment, and despair. I want to feel the goodness of love that won’t let go, the sensation of my sensuality, and the part of me that has undying compassion for her.

I am not filling the void with excessive exercise, food, or alcohol, I’m not fucking it away, (as my gay and straight male friends have suggested,) and I’m not busying myself with a list of have-to-do. I’m just here and dealing.

I met courage when I was a little girl, but our meeting wasn’t by choice. She is so ingrained in me, and for that I’m grateful.

{We} are picking me up bit by bit, peeling myself from the floor. I’ve been on my knees praying for the strength to move beyond that which I can’t control. And I’m doing it; I’m slowly starting to resume my life.

I’m still amazed by the amount of love you all have sent my way. You were there for me when I couldn’t be there for myself, but I’m coming back. I am finally able to access my inner strength, the part of me that knows nothing else other than how to love.

Love>Fear

Thank you all for loving me. SJ

Week 5, Day 5

I’m on my second date with my little self. My chillins’ are with their papa this weekend. I’m having a burger and fries (still down on the weight for the count) and mentally composing a love letter to myself. I’m a hot number this week, 2 different people offered to set me up with someone, but I’m just not ready. To be continued. — at Murphy’s Restaurant.

Week 6: Weary; and mocking and loving myself

Pull out your violins, and play me a pathetic song, yeah, this my trajectory right now, so much so that’s almost comical. I’m like a walking, talking, writing dramedy. There is something funny about all my sadness, and I am that funny bone. I can still laugh at myself, and yes, even laugh at all these hysterical, but true to my life-writings.

So there, I said it, I’m a little pitiful right now, (surprise) but that’s just what happens to me when I grow tired. I’m worn out from all this “staying strong bullshit.” It’s exhausting telling myself that I can live without my love, acting as if I don’t even know her anymore, pretending that we don’t need to speak. The truth is I’m miserable as hell without her; and I’m even more miserable trying not to speak with her when all I want to do is lay my head in her lap, let my tears fall, and tell her my troubles. (Insert sappy music)

But my heart is afraid; she’s scared to death of what she might hear. She’s afraid that it would only prolong my healing. And she speaks to me in a profound way, most notably when I listen.

However, my head/pride tells a different story, one that involves lengthy conversations, and a lot of troublesome accusations, and judgments. The types of things that make me feel worse about myself, words that aren’t worthy of the person I inherently am, and strive to be.

I’m torn. I cannot speak until all else silences, until my true higher self emerges, the piece of me that feels nothing but love, compassion and gratitude.

That I’d say is a tall, strong order in a short, cracked glass, but I haven’t lost hope. I am mutable. And if there’s one thing that’s of upmost importance to me is my commitment to myself, and to taking care of my emotional, and spiritual well-being. In other words, I am trying to prevent further insult to injury.

Speaking of emotional and spiritual help, I told my “Childhood Story” to a group of people on Friday. I was awarded with a standing ovation. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. People told me what an incredible storyteller I am, how real everything felt to them. I was deeply moved by their comments.

A friend said, “The work you’ve done dealing with your hurt is obvious. You are dealing with everything head-on, and you will wind up in a good spot.” Right now I want to say, “Fuck the work, I’m worn out bitches.” I will keep at it for now, but I will screw things up plenty, that’s just me.

I am learning how to love myself, regardless; regardless of how needy, selfish, self-righteous, bitchy, arrogant, dramatic, histrionic, insecure and attention seeking I am, because those are the things that make me want to be my true self. My true self is kind, loving, giving, forgiving, and teachable.

I’m special because I’m a cupcake snob, and because I’m in your face with all my inner-dialog business. Take it, or love it.

And when I falter, I’m going to ask you to pick me up again, it will happen.

I’m tired and I miss my love, my favorite person around.

There’s so much to say, and yet nothing to say when I’m weary.

November 2013

Week 7- The Turning Point

My gratitude soars like flight, effortless like a bird, but only when I’m in touch with that part of myself. It takes so much, and I’m really proud of myself. I am just so proud of the human I’m becoming, and the type of human I have been through all of this.

She has given me such a gift, the opportunity to love myself, and to learn the meaning of unconditional romantic love. I can’t believe the miracle that’s happening in front of me, and at such a painful expense, it’s too hard to comprehend, really. It isn’t of this world, it isn’t of my understanding, but I trust the process.

There is such a paradox, such a fucking dichotomy in loving without expecting anything in return. The loving has become something for me, while the expectation is now of the past, and what freedom it brings, to love without expectation. That is all I have left. There is nothing more, but it is enough. And I can’t believe I’m even saying so, I can’t believe this is all I have left, but that it is also enough. It is enough to love her without receiving anything in return. I know she loves me, and I know she loves my kids. I also know she just can’t be with us. And as painful as that is, it is her truth, and for that I am grateful. I am grateful for honesty, no matter.

Honesty is all we have: truth is where love begins, and fear ends.

I’m sad for her, sad that she chose to let go of us, sad that she is missing out on our love, we are such a joy. We are difficult, and we require so much hard work, but we are also incredibly loving and forgiving, we are soft, and loyal; we love without limits, and we love from a place of truth and grace. But I understand, for her my compassion reaches beyond my limits, I get it, I do, I promise.

It just makes me sad at my deepest core-levels possible, sad down to the marrow in my bones, in my heart of understanding, in the pieces of me that seek only God’s love. In the parts of me that know nothing but God’s love, the God of universal love, not a God of any religion, but a God of love, a love where we are all connected. A God that knows we all want nothing more than to be seen, reached, understood, heard, touched and felt.

But I forgive her. I forgive her for her limitations, and I forgive myself for how much I pushed, pushed her to be more than she was, more than she wanted to be, and I forgive myself for my impatience and judgment of her. I love her for being honest, and I love her for making me a better person, better human, mother, lover, and friend. I love her for hurting me, for opening me like a time-bomb vessel, for loving me like no other has before, ever; and I love her for being true to her self. I love her for her sweetness, and I love myself for loving her regardless. I love myself for not falling prey to the stranger inside, the person who does more harm than good. The person who lashes out, who hurts because she was hurt, and the person who makes others suffer her suffering. I am not that person, she doesn’t own me; I have outgrown her, and it feels triumphant. I have become triumphant in the most personal, profound way.

The turning point is here: the place where anger is dissolving, the space in me that doesn’t feel resentment, the tenant that no longer wants to take up occupancy with feelings of anything but love, compassion, forgiveness and gratitude. This is who I am; I am the girl I’ve always been, and the version of me I’ve wanted to become.

I’m the girl who turned her back on revenge, anger, resentment, un-forgiveness, and shame, the girl who feels like a victim, like a martyr, and a mastermind. I am outgrowing that old skin, I am becoming. I am becoming someone to be proud of, someone to love. I am worthy of this person’s love, worthy of her praise, friendship, commitment, sex, and intimacy. I am at a turning point, and this is who I am. (Today.)

And I wouldn’t be here without her.

And I wouldn’t be here without the love, support, strength, prayers, and guidance of all of you: my friends and family that have sheltered and pushed me, my friends that have prayed for me, and sent loving thoughts my way. And to those of you who have silently held me, thank you. Thank you all for everything.

I feel so loved, so blessed, I am grateful for you all.
(I wish I knew how to express it more, but I don’t. I’m here, exposed for you, and I’m brought to my knees by the outpouring of love being sent my way. I’m in awe of you all. I’m in reverie of your steadfastness, your kindness and love for us both.

In all my drama, in all my writings, and in all my over-the-top nature,

XOXO, SJ

PS. Thanks for reading; this is for me. I just need an audience.

To Be Continued

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About monocurious

I'm like air, forever flowing, moving, changing, gaining and losing myself, undefinable. View my complete profile
This entry was posted in Break-ups, Death, Divorce, Expectations, Gay Men, in love with a woman, Lesbian, Lesbian Marriage, loss, love, Rachel Yamagata, wounds, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Pause The Tragic Ending

  1. vaalexander says:

    Thank you for your open and sincere giving of yourself. You know how to self preserve better than most and you speak from your core and it fills my heart with light. I’m sure it has done the same for many others also. Keep on keeping on! Love at 200% because that is who you are!
    All my best to you,
    Victoria~

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