All The Small Things

I finally realized what's changed. I've been wondering where this journey was taking me. And I think I am finally starting to understand my destination. I don't know that I've arrived but I've made a lot of headway in the past two years. It has nothing to do with getting over Illinois or knowing I will never be over that heartbreaking betrayal of my body, the loss of two babies; or relearning how to live life with this illness, or not knowing if I ever want to practice law again but about taking things slow and taking pleasure in the small things. It's about taking pleasure and giving myself credit for the day-to-day good stuff. There is so much of it and when I don't stop and enjoy that stuff because I am waiting for something big to happen I will never be happy I will never be satisfied I will never be in the moment. If I am always looking over my shoulder and at other people I will never see myself. If I never see myself I will never know what I need I will never know what I have I will never know who I am I will never know how I feel. It's like what I read somewhere about success; that it's your first little break that is the most gratifying. After that, it becomes monotonous; you start to anticipate and become greedy and it stops being about recognition and pleasure of what you do and more about ego and status.

And I don't want that.

The first few months or weeks after Illinois and I broke up I couldn't write a word. Then when I started, the floodgates opened. It saved me because it opened me up and I walked back through the events of October and November 2004 to find what was left of me. I needed to process I needed to absorb. I needed to find answers. Just as our relationship was a whirlwind; the end of our relationship was a whirlwind that left me in a state of shock.

I remember sitting on my bed and writing, "[w]hy do I have so much emotion still? I wish there was a way to just purge it out. It won't go away. I try and put it into words and sometimes I can. And when I can it is absolutely exhausting. The words flood out of me, not without a little bit of crying, not without a little dying for a cigarette, dying for a drink, dying for sex. Anything to numb my emotions or pour them into something else. I usually end up manically eating while I vomit my feelings out through my fingertips. Afterwards I am mentally and emotionally drained. But it is amazing to have purged and never have to feel that nostalgia or sadness or pain about that one moment again. Unfortunately it appears that there are an endless amount of moments that I am dealing with."
"Writing this is like picking open a scab. You are compelled to pick it because it's itchy and in your way but then when you pick it off it starts to bleed and you need to apply pressure and it hurts all over again. I am a big time scab picker. From bug bites to cuts and scrapes. I pick it all. I wish I didn't but I have to. And that's kind of what this is for me. I need to exorcise this experience. Is it exorcise or excise? I think it's both. I feel like once I get it all down on paper I will be okay. Like it will stop being this painful secret that I live with on a daily basis and instead will become a story. I want it to be a sad story but no longer my sad story. I don't want to own this one. I will own the strength and confidence and honesty that I learned from it but I don't want to own to seering pain or the fear of losing my mind and myself or the sleepless nights or the nausea or the heart palpitations or the random crying attacks or the lack of focus on the rest of my life."

That enabled me to arrive here in the present tense. I got out of the whirlwind. And that whirlwind prepared me for the next whirlwinds that I didn't allow myself to be swept up in. I could have been just as lost in the last four months as I was back then but I learned important survival skills. And I found my inner anchor. And I figured out what was important. It is miraculous to me that I went from being with Illinois and the men who came before him none of whom which gave me any space to breathe, to be me, to realizing at the old age of 28 that,


"I have been seeing 1982 since June. It is now October. We barely see each other. There have been weeks where I have seen him twice but there have been weeks after weeks that we haven't even spoken to each other. And I don't mind. I don't feel like I am being jerked around. I don't feel like I am being used for sex. I don't wish we saw each other more often. I am not curious as to whether he is dating anybody else. Is there something wrong with me for being satisfied with whatever this is? Am I supposed to want more? Will I one day, whether with him or someone else? I want to. I hope I do. But right now I don't. Is it because I have never been with someone who has let me be myself and now I can't risk losing myself and rebuilding myself all over again; I would rather just remain me and therefore be single? I am not settling for less than exactly what I want and who I deserve. I want someone who takes care of himself and is in shape physically. I want someone who takes care of himself and cares about what he looks like. I want someone who takes care of himself and makes sure he sleeps and eats. I want someone who takes care of himself and gets to work on time because he enjoys what he does and doesn't want to fuck it up. I want someone who takes care of himself and doesn't blow all of his money on stupid shit. I want someone who takes care of himself and always finds the time to find joy in life; whether it is the joy he and I have together or the fun he has with his friends or the solace he finds with his family or his alone time that recharges him. I want someone who doesn't need my approval or feedback for every little thing that he does in his life. Someone who can make himself happy and who believes happiness is important. Otherwise I will remain alone. And right now I am having fun being me by myself. I think I am actually celebrating being me. I am not isolating myself for safety. Big difference."

Why did it take me so long? Who cares. At least I got here. I never thought about what I wanted in a guy before. I just kind of fell into relationships or flings or whatever. I guess I could be upset that I haven't found this guy but instead I am happy that I have isolated certain important qualities I am seeking in him. That might be a small realization but it has big consequences. And that translates into other areas as well. I had four days off and unrealistically hoped to get the structure of the book down. I didn't, but I started going through my archives in earnest to find these patterns and consistent themes and parallels and answers to eventually synthesize and organize. I found an important theme, an important answer which could be the filter I read with until I find another one; so again, this little discovery might reap important consequences. When I wrote it I was just purging, probably crying, I didn't realize that it was a larger life lesson than just writing down a list like a schoolgirl would with little hearts all over the page; "he has to be tall with brown eyes and a nice smile and be able to make me laugh and have a good job and blah blah blah." It's me learning how to live. And it also gives me a pass to fuck around with all the guys I want until I find the one in that there list up there. So it makes me feel all kinds of good.