A dream of you.

Sometimes I wake up, imagining you were holding me. Of course, you aren't there. You won't be.

Caresses, warmth, and more only exist within my imagination.

You are not real.

That doesn't stop me though- stop me from picturing you.

All hard angles, softer curves. A voice I haven't heard, but I can imagine- rumbling in my mind and my heart.

I lay my head on your chest to feel closer to you.

I can almost feel it- the sensation of me running my fingers through your hair.

You transfix me. Your eyes- they see right through me.

I awaken then- you are always just beyond my fingertips.

I swear, I swear I wake up with the feeling of your breath, you saying my name.

I rub the sleep from my eyes, and you're gone.

n.d.

A world apart.

You don't know me. I don't think you ever will.

Your expectations of me, I could never meet. 

We had an accord early, it's true. 

Then I couldn't trust you. 

Over and over.

I tried. I tried to be better.

I should have read into my guarding. 

Read into my lacking.

Read into so many things.

We could never find a rhythm. 

From one step, to the next, and back again.

I'm not afraid of failing. I do it often.

I still don't know why it feels different- failing you. 

But fail I did- and now it's gone. 

The big gamble.

Gamble for me. Gamble the way I would for you- the way I already have.

Show me. Tell me. Be different. Be brave.

I know it's scary. I'm terrified too.

I want to believe I'm doing the right thing, laying it out there. I want to believe with the infinite possibilities, the odds could be in our favor.

I'm afraid to make mistakes too. The "what ifs" lay heavy on my heart, my mind. They drag me into spiraling thoughts- thoughts I chase, but can't answer on my own. Don't leave me alone with them.

So risk with me. Stand afraid with me. Hold my hand, and look beyond it all. Catch me, the way I'd catch you.

I don't want to make the same mistakes. I know I'm better than I used to be.

I'd fall down with you. I'd trip, and get up again with you. For you.

I just have to keep telling myself- be brave. Be brave.

Take my hand. Don't let me go.

tell me something good.

Tell me something good.

Tell me this is different. Please, use your words. I crave your words. I have to wait for the actions. Patience girl, patience.

I can tell you here, I know I'm scared. I am. I can tell you my fear lies more with you than with me. The unknown. I know my own mind.

I can tell you this feels good. 

What happens now? I can hear it, the bell ringing.

Now we wait.

Rough patches.

Thank you for not making me explain it.

You get how tired I am. How much I hide. How exhausting it is to put on a brave face on the bad days, weeks, months. You get with all of the armor, it still hurts to hear what people think- especially when they are so far from the truth about me. But I face forward, and brush it off over and over again. They don't really know me, and fuck them.

You also get I still have good days, weeks, months. A lot of people don't get there can be good and bad.

You told me I scared you- I don't think you have any idea how much I scare myself. When I detach. When I disappear. I'm good at hiding it though. You told me I could tell you if it's a bad day.

We both know I'll never make that call. Kind of awful, isn't it? I can't promise anything.

That being said, I know I've made it this far. I'm still breathing, and thankfully I have people like you who remind me it's okay to be short of breath too.

There's a racist at my table.

"They go low, you go high"

An expectation that has always been there. Rise above, and live your life- it doesn't have to touch you, if you don't let it.

You have no idea how tired I am. I'm so tired of letting it roll of my back. Of turning the other cheek. Of being better, all the while eating the bullshit you serve me, knife and fork in hand. Don't make waves, because it might make someone uncomfortable. Swallow the words, because you don't want to make a scene.

White people are looking at you.

You think I'm going to hell, because of who I love. You think I'm less than, because I'm a woman. You think I'm subhuman, because I'm black.

I'm leaning into the angry black woman today.

How fucking dare you? How dare you minimize me and mine, because you don't understand our point of view, who I am, my morals and values? You've never a day in your life tried to stand in my shoes. We are all allowed our opinions- absolutely. What you have said- it's not an opinion. There is no excuse. There is no going back. It. Is. Racist.

I will not, "go back to Africa" for you. Do you even understand what you are saying? I can't go back to Africa, I DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHERE I'M FROM. Quick history lesson- MY ANCESTORS WERE NOT BROUGHT HERE BY CHOICE. It's not as simple as catching the next boat, and sailing away. Your throwback KKK rhetoric really let's me know where your head is at. I will not walk away, allowing you to ever think what you said is okay. I will say, I'd love to give you a middle passage experience right about now...

You grew up with me. You broke bread with me. I've played with your kids... you're indoctrinating them with so much hate... and now I can honestly say I could live the rest of my life, and never see you again.

We're protected to an extent when it's outside of us. Away from us. If things are happening over there, in that town, over on that coast, playing out anywhere but here, then we're okay. It hurts, you feel, but it's not sitting in your living room.

There is no protection when they are one of your own. The wound cuts too deep for the healing.

I've been asked for too many years to excuse you, accommodate you. Too long have I just walked out of rooms, or skipped a party to not see you. Now I don't even want to be associated with you.

You are the embodiment of everything I fear- ignorance wrapped within a fancy facade, smile to my face all while thinking you are better than me. You are not better than me. You are archaic.

I've watched over the last couple of years, how people like you have been allowed to act. Whipped into a frenzy that somehow your way of life is in danger. All because my lot are just beginning to have access to the privilege you take for granted.

You don't live in fear of your father or brother being pulled over, and what could happen to them. You don't worry about them being another statistic.

You don't have to deal with daily "casual" racism, nor do you have any idea what that looks like. You don't bother to understand what it's like to be me. You get to live your charmed life, with your charmed skin... you will never know how I feel every day.

You have never been in danger. You have been in power.

It's one thing to turn on the television, to see the hate projected back at me there. It's another thing to sit across the table from it.

Today is the last day. I refuse, and I am done.

phantom touch.

It burns, thinking of your fingers tracing lines across my skin. It's almost as if I can feel it for real, though we've never touched that way. The hairs on my arms stand up, chills run through me.

I imagine your lips on the back of my ear, me trying not to lean into you, craning my neck for more exposure. Your breath ruffles the baby hairs there.

It's building, the tension. I feel spread thin, just thinking on it. Wondering at it. What could be? What could happen?

Will there be hesitation? It's all so heightened now. My pulse quickens. My breath catches.

Nothings happened yet. Nothing.

Yet the feeling is still there. A phantom touch. An already established intimacy, built on words. Built on time. Built on...

Can I trust it? The burning? Will it last? I feel the weight, as if it's real. It lays on my heart, my mind, as if it's real weight.

And now we wait.

behind the curtain.

You frighten me.

You frighten me, because you see me.

I didn't hide from you. I didn't know better. I don't know how to now.

I've been authentic. I've been an open wound. I've done it all in front of you.

Dynamics change, people change.

So many years have passed. The world comes into sharper focus. I see you. I thought I did before.

Late at night, when I can't sleep, I mentally try to push you away. I try to find the reasons, reasons I should change, rather than continue to be my authentic self with you.

My magic is in the facade- hiding, never giving it all away. You seem to think my magic lies out in the open- funny, that's only been with you.

It doesn't work. I'm in too deep now.

I want to be scared. I can't be.

So few get behind the curtain, really behind it. But you did.

A love letter to a younger me.

Baby girl, you're doing better than you think.

I know you have a hard time looking in the mirror- it's okay. You can't rub off your skin color. You'll come to realize it's a bigger part of you than you think. You'll embrace your blackness, and fall in love with the freckles sprinkled across your face- they remind you of your mum.

You'll face hard times- don't diminish the experience. It may or may not be as hard as anyones else's, but it's still yours. People will hate you for things beyond your control, and you'll be scared. You are not alone. Something will click for you- and you'll say f*** it. F*** you. I am me. I can't change these things about myself, and I don't want to.

You'll love the chameleon you become, your style and hair forever evolving. Something that started as a defense mechanism, deliberate choices made, they become something so much more- people will come to know you for it. You control the narrative.

You are beautiful. Smart as hell, too. It's okay to think so. It's not being full of yourself. Sure, you're going to keep comparing yourself to others. Your weight is going to fluctuate, especially when you aren't happy. You'll be your worst enemy, picking things apart that don't need to. The curves, the cellulite, you'll learn to love them. I still have plenty of moments, even now. You're going to let others make you feel like you aren't worth looking at, or being with. You'll let that go with time. They didn't deserve you in the first place.

You're going to have your heart broken. You're going to break hearts too. Neither will be easy for you. You'll think the world has ended. You'll think you will never feel that way again- how could you love more than once? You will. I promise. Your biggest love story is when you finally fall in love with yourself. It will be epic, sweeping, all consuming- it will be the love you hoped and dreamed for, the one you will compare all other loves to. You'll finally realize your imperfections are just as beautiful as the rest of you, and when you embrace yourself as a whole, your world will change forever.

That secret you were so scared to share- turns out everyone will already know you like boys and girls. Especially girls. The people who matter will love you just the same. They won't judge you, they won't turn you away. It'll turn out to not be the earth-shattering moment you thought it would be. It will weave into the rest of your life, just another thread in the fabric of who you are.

The other thing you're ashamed of, the overwhelming sadness you sometimes feel- I'm sorry luv, that will get worse. There will be times you don't want to get out of bed. There will be times you think you can't breathe, and you'll feel as if the walls are caving in. You'll even think the thoughts no one wants to talk about- you'll wonder if anyone would miss you if you were gone. You'll come through all of that. Battered and bruised. Dented, but unbroken. You are so much stronger than you think. You'll open up, and find out you aren't alone. What you feel is nothing to be ashamed of.

Those things that will happen to you- they were not your fault. You did not do anything wrong. It will take you years to wrap your head around that. Those people who took advantage of you- they were in the wrong. You are not a victim. You survived. There will be a time when the tide changes, and people like them will get called out. You'll have a voice, supported by so many others. You'll share your story. You'll feel the weight of the past shift and fall away.

Remember those rose colored glasses? You'll still be wearing them. Don't ask me how- as I'm writing this to you, I still marvel at it. You still believe in people. You still believe the best is yet to come, and dreams do come true. You still hear Disney songs play in your head. You'll still wish, and offer that up to the cosmos. A part of you will still wonder at the world like you did as a child- there will be so many things that take your breath away. You'll be enchanted, enthralled, in awe- you'll drink it in and want to taste so much more. Lean into it. Be on the journey.

Not a damn thing you thought would happen, has happened. All those life plans? Not a one. That being said... it's oh so much better than you imagined. Honestly. The travel you'll do, the work, the people you'll meet... it will all be vastly different then you thought. It's better than ok. It's grand.

I know you're afraid. I know you don't think you know how to cope and adapt. You will. There is so much for you to see and do- up to this point, I've crammed a great deal of living into thirty-four years. You'll be proud, and not have regrets. All of your choices, the good and the bad, they bring you here.

Let go. There's beauty in the breakdown. And trust- there's no other way to live.

xo.

I believe her.

There is no statute of limitations on trauma.

For those in the back, for the people who don't understand what I mean by that- my trauma, our collective traumas- we, the survivors of sexual assault- they do not go away. We carry them, a burden we are never able to fully put down. Process, cope with, try and put behind us- absolutely. But they do not go away. Scars may fade, but they remain with us.

Look to the women protesting outside of the Kavanaugh hearings during the live coverage, all the women and men who wore black on Monday to show support of Christen Blasey Ford. Look to the accounts of the women with earphones in, crying silently over their devices on their way to work today, the countless social media posts of women identifying themselves as fellow survivors. We are glued to this coverage- we know how high the stakes are. I cried in my office by myself, watching. Waiting.

Women like me, are reliving our traumas played out on a national stage- Blasey Ford is us, and we are her. She is our voice, quavering and and terrified. We're watching as her character is assassinated, as she is subjected to death threats, all because she had the audacity to come forward and speak her truth- a truth that should without a shadow of a doubt effect a nominee for the supreme court.

Who in their right mind would subject themselves to this kind of scrutiny? Who would go through what she is going through? Who would submit to a polygraph, ask for a full FBI investigation, if they did not whole heartedly stand behind what they are saying?

When someone has the power to be one of the voices for an entire country, to make decisions that will ripple outward for years to come, to sit on our highest court- you had better represent the best of us. You had better be looking to the future, and how you can aid in continuing our legacy as a leader in this world. You cannot be someone who harkens back to a time that is dying, and in its death throes is doing it's best to belittle and limit me and mine from being equal participants in this democracy.

For those who would come back at me with, "innocent until proven guilty" I take issue with you throwing that into the ring. It does no mean innocent no matter the consequences. Kavanaugh is essentially interviewing to serve the United States of America- and lets be serious, if this was any other job interview, he most likely would have been taken out of the running for even having these kinds of allegations brought forth against him.

To those who saying her timing is suspect- when it comes to justice, is there such a thing as poor timing? I think we all know the answer to that.

I am afraid. I'm afraid we learned nothing from Anita Hill. I am afraid we will learn nothing from these hearings. I'm afraid another older white man will help navigate this country and make decisions that will follow me for the rest of my life, far beyond his own life.

Stop with your disgusting victim shaming, your questions, your cover ups. Stop asking the survivors why we wait, what we were wearing, if we were drunk. Was I asking for it? Was she asking for it?

I believe her, because I am her. She is not just someone's sister, friend, or daughter. She is someone- period. She is a person, a citizen, a hero. She is standing up, with the full knowledge her life will be forever changed, and most likely not for the better.

And I'm standing behind her. Because I believe her.

Stop asking why we wait.

Rape- (definition) sexual activity and usually sexual intercourse carried out forcibly or under threat of injury against the will usually of a female, or with a person who is beneath a certain age, or incapable of valid consent-

Stop asking why we wait.

We wait for all kinds of reasons.

I waited to tell anyone because the first time I was 14 years old. I was ashamed, and felt I'd somehow let down my parents. They had taught me how to protect myself, what to look for- and it still happened. No, I wasn't asking for it. It doesn't matter how I was dressed, or if I was under the influence. I was a child. I was innocent, and someone took advantage of that. It's been 20 years- this is the first time I'm talking about it openly.

I felt dirty. I felt used. I felt broken. I thought if I kept it to myself, then maybe it wasn't real. I could wipe it away. No one had to know, so I turned inward. I hid my feelings behind my surly teenage years. I was so angry all of the time, and the little faith I had at the time was lost. I didn't even tell my friends. I lied, and I hid.

It happened twice more. That doesn't even account for the sexual harassment I've experienced. Everything from unwanted touching, to words. But those unwanted advances weren't the worst violations I'd experienced.

It happened again right after I graduated college. I begged them to get off of me. My friends were a room away. We both walked out of the room like it was fine... I cried all the way home that night. I didn't say anything because earlier in the night we had been quite amorous. I knew what it would look like. I didn't want to hear all the tired accusations, and I knew the statistics. The chances of them actually being punished- let's be serious. They wouldn't have been. How it was far more likely I'd be a social pariah. Who would really believe me?

The last time was with someone I was dating. I'd had a panic attack. They were comforting me. The comforting turned to touching. Then more. I didn't say anything because I was in love with them. I talked myself out of believing they had forced themselves on me. Someone I loved- how could they? I didn't even realize what had happened could be characterized as rape until years later. I was a grown woman, who didn't even fully understand the scope of what rape was.

I told someone close to me just the other day about my experiences. They were shocked. I'm outspoken. I'm an advocate. "How? When? I didn't know" they couldn't believe it had happened to me.

I'm not unique. It's sad what's far more unique, is to find a woman without a story like mine.

I've gone to therapy to process these experiences. I've written them down, talked them out- and now I'm sharing them.

Because women are the last to be believed. Our word holds less value. We were taught silence was best...we must have done something to provoke the actions against us...we are eternally fragile, victims. Less than, and preyed upon. At least in the eyes of society.

We aren't less than. We aren't dirty. We aren't broken. We are courageous. We are survivors. And we can speak out when we have the strength to do so- even if it takes us 20 years or more to do it. How we process our traumas are our own journeys- not for anyone else to define. Not to be told how we should and should not feel.

So stop fucking asking why we wait. It's not your story.

Doing it my way.

This is not the life I would have chosen for myself.

Which in truth, would mean I chose poorly. I have loved and lost so much in this unchosen path. I couldn't be happier with the result of all of it. I'm not saying I didn't have influence- my choices define who stands here now. Whether it's truly destiny, divine intervention, I don't know. I've always trusted there's something bigger out there than me.

There are things I still want. Things I hope for, long for. Things I'll strive to deserve.

The biggest thing I think I've learned, is it's okay- it's okay I don't know where I'll end up. It's ok I have no idea if I'll meet or even know my true partner. It's more than okay my soulmates are my friends- they know me better than anyone else, and can attest to how hard it is to break through with me in the first place. It's okay I get depressed, just as much as it's okay when I'm incandescently happy. It's okay I still am afraid, and okay when I'm feeling myself and full of confidence.

I'm not broken, just dented. Not perfect, just striving. I'm not special, just me.

Loving an addict.

I fell in love with you when I was sixteen years old. You were the first boy I'd ever liked that way, and I thought it was something so special. 

When we got married at the ripe old age of twenty-one, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with you. We had so many plans, we thought... we thought all the things.

You described to me years later how you felt. Like things were constantly churning inside of you. You could never quiet your mind. You never felt you were good enough, smart enough, capable. Always out of step. The only times you felt any semblance of peace, was when you were under the influence of one thing, or another.

In the early days, I found all kinds of ways to excuse it. I helped you hide it- from our friends, our families. Years later they told me they knew. We thought we were getting away with it. I thought if I helped you, I was being a good partner, a good wife. I was a liar, right alongside you. I was afraid-and with all of that, I felt incredibly lonely. 

The unhealthy habits I established while we were together lasted far beyond it. The amount of compromise I allowed, feeding into my need to help, to fix. A codependency that haunted me, and followed me from one relationship to the next. If I took care of everything, you would find a way to get healthy. You'd feel less pressure. You wouldn't use. I saw all of your potential- I knew you could be and do so much. But you didn't- you didn't see it. 

Did you know for years after we ended things between us, I still woke up at 2am? When the bars closed, and I'd reach out for you. Often times, you weren't there. I had so many panic attacks in that little one bedroom apartment we had- by myself, waiting for you. You'd stumble through the door, and I'd spend the next hour or so trying to sober you up. Doing whatever it took to get you ready for the next day. I got really good at living for two people. I was willing to give up everything for you. 

We talk often about what the addicts go through, and I know your demons were not my demons- but I felt an obligation to stand by you. I know I felt a need to "save you", something you could have only ever done for yourself. I was constantly terrified- every time the phone rang late in the night, and when one of my worst fears was confirmed, when it was a cop's voice on the other end of the phone instead of yours... 

I was scared I'd lose you. Scared you'd drive drunk, or something awful would happen to you. There were times I showed up just in time... thinking about those moments still really fucks me up. Broken promises, so many times you told me you were going to get help, you'd get sober. I stayed, knowing full well the cycle would start over. 

I remember when it was over for me, I was twenty-four years old. I'd lost and gained so much by that time, and I was starting to dim. I was going through life like an automaton- barely emoting, just functioning. One day I finally broke, I looked at you and said I couldn't do it anymore. A door inside of me closed to you, and it never reopened. It took us another two years to truly pull apart.

It was up to that point the hardest decision I'd ever made. Realizing I'd fallen out of love with you, knowing I couldn't continue to be with you. Also knowing I would be blamed if something happened to you close to the break up, even though it wouldn't have been my fault. I would have blamed myself too. You hit bottom after I left, and I had to force myself to stay away. To just watch. You weren't mine anymore. 

We blame the partners, especially the women. If I'd just loved you enough, worked hard enough, gave enough of myself... it's just not the case. I'm thankful that after we ended, you found sobriety. You are a success story- one with a happy ending. You moved on, living a happy and fulfilling life. It so easily could have gone the other way.

It's been eight years since I left you, eighteen years since I fell in love with you. The scars left behind don't show, but they're still there. 

Forgiving myself.

It's a struggle to look in the mirror sometimes. I'm far from perfect, sometimes I feel pretty, smart, all the things- often times I don't. I have a go at myself on a regular basis, about all those same things. I know I was struggling to look in the mirror more often than not when I was with you. 

What I need to forgive is allowing you to have so much power over me. I allowed you to think my love was less than, not as deserving. If I didn't tell you about my sacrifices, if I balanced the world for the both of us. If I tried to keep my anxieties in check, if I put your needs before mine. If I shifted my dreams to accommodate for yours...you would just know. You would know how much I loved you. You would somehow know to reciprocate. You would know all I did, and what I would have done. And you would love me back. 

What ridiculous expectations. Truly. I shouldn't have expected you to read my mind. I also shouldn't have expected you to know what I did at any given moment. I shouldn't have ignored when my body told me time and time again something was wrong. 

I need to forgive doubting my worth. Doubting my abilities. Doubting what I deserved. Forgiving myself means not blaming you- not blaming me. Not looking back at us still love blind, but with deeper understanding. Believing you were what I needed at the time, to learn from- good and bad.

I need to stop punishing myself for loving you. It wasn't a waste of time. I mean, still this close to it, it wasn't ideal... ah but I could chase the rabbit on that one for days. I don't want to chase the rabbit about you anymore. 

I want to remember what I deserve, and not become lost ever again. I want to remember I am all of the good things wrapped with the bad. I'm human. I'm allowed to doubt, just as much as I'm allowed to leap. 

I'm allowed to forgive, but not forget. 

my tiny flutter.

I can hear it- the flutter of your tiny heartbeat. It's still in the distance- on my horizon.

Do you know how long I've waited for you? I thought I needed someone else to be there when I finally meet you. When I realized that wasn't the case, it was such a crystalizing moment. A point of no return. It couldn't be with anyone who came before. They didn't deserve you. They didn't deserve me.

Do you know? Do you already know you're mine, and I'm yours? Do you know you'll change my life forever?

I hope you know you'd be my greatest achievement- who I've always been waiting for. Though I already exist, you would be the one who ushered me into a greater chapter, one I can never turn my back on.

I keep trying to imagine what you may look like, what you could become. Right now you're a dream- I cannot wait for you to be a reality.

I already love you. I'm glad you don't know me now. You see, I'm not ready to love, except for you. For you to be here tomorrow wouldn't be soon enough, but I'm happy to wait. Just a little bit longer. Each days makes it seconds and minutes closer.

I'm enjoying my last days without you, but I'll be honest- I'm ready for time to speed up. I'll already have to wait so long for you when I finally start your story.

I can hear it.

A newer version of me.

A little over six months ago my world was turned on its ear. From there, heartbreak and growth, sacrifice and understanding. In the place of so many unhealthy things, grow the buds of the new, the better for me, and so much happiness.

What I'm finding most difficult now is navigating my interactions with those around me. People have always joked there isn't a thought or feeling I'm unwilling to share. This isn't entirely true. I share what I want, when I want. I'm incredibly clear about some things, and exceedingly private about others. With all of the change this year, a new resolve has flourished.

To love me first.

Even in writing this, I slightly cringe. We're taught by society and beyond to love yourself is to be selfish- to put yourself first, to be aware of your needs before another is not attractive, unwanted, undesirable.

I'm planning to sacrifice this in the coming year by beginning to try and become a mum. When that happens, I'll no longer be first in line. So why wouldn't I take this time to dig deep, to fall in love with me in a way I never have? The little person I hope comes along will fully rely on me, and not in the ways people have before.

I've always been dependable, someone who shows up, someone who can be relied on. Never really for myself. My friends joke about the change. I've become more busy socially, harder to nail down for a casual hang out or two. To those I give more to, it's harder still. I can't be the one who always shows up. Not yet. I've got to learn how in showing up for them, I won't break. How to not allow to be drained so much, there's nothing left for me afterwards. To continue to actively listen, but to choose my priorities wisely. I'm not blind- I can see the ripples of my choices.

In many ways, not including the above mentioned lack of time, I'm still that person. My friends are good enough to tell me I'm no longer failing on my end of our friendships. Since my priorities have shifted, they feel my presence again. In talking to a friend about these changes, she tells me as transparent and honest I am, this can be difficult for others. "People have a difficult time with your honesty. They want to believe they can influence you otherwise."

I try to give as much as I can, but I am not perfect. It's not just my stubbornness. It's not just a reaction or a pendulum swing from the last. These are easy and fast excuses. I am an imperfect person, who in seeking making myself whole, can't always be what others need of me. Though parts of me want to, the rest knows better.

There's seeking balance, there's seeking awareness and more. There's peace of mind in knowing I am becoming a better version of myself with time. I'm told regularly of how happy I look, compared to the past. I plan to lean into that, to hold space for myself, to be better.

Still dented, but shinier.

Slow Burn

I remember the first time I saw a picture of you- I remember sitting there, looking at it for a long time. I can't tell you why, what it was that held me there. It was months ago, months before we ever met.

Time passed, and I kept hearing your name mentioned. It's funny how when you come out of the fog of a relationship, everything else comes into sharper focus. There you were again and again, "Oh you should meet," "You'd get along well with," "I always have fun when she's around,".

I had started to become curious, and then I put my curiosity to the side to begin a relationship with someone else. She captivated me as the others had before, familiar feelings welled up, along with familiar habits.

In the midst of getting to know her better, I finally met you.

Talking to you felt the same way it does when you haven't seen a close friend in so long- like you're starting in the middle of a conversation. I didn't have to explain myself, I didn't have to feel self conscious or out of sorts. The communication flowed without thinking, lacking in judgement or preconceived notions.

The romantic feelings weren't there yet- I'm almost painfully loyal, and even though I could tell things were dimming in the new relationship I'd started, you saw our potential far before I did.

You started to make overtures, ask questions I didn't fully understand. Things ended with the last, and you were right there.

All of the sudden the blinders were off- I began to see it. The chemistry was palpable once I acknowledged it- we both know I wasn't ready to. You were zealous- ready to show me what could be, what we could have. I retreated- well aware I wasn't ready for all of it. Knowing you weren't someone I couldn't jump all the steps with.

It almost ended there- between my stubbornness and yours. My reassertion of personality and will, your openness and willingness to continue to pursue.

I'm carrying the burden now- something I don't take lightly. The lack of trust isn't with you, it's with me. I've picked for myself so poorly in the past, I've chosen partners who were not well suited. I've given my all, and been given nothing but photographs and dreams of what could have been.

You embody all the things I should and could want- but I'm still dragging my feet. The pacing is painful, but needed. The compromises are hard, but rewarding. The burn is slow, but so good.

I thought I needed to marry you

I've noticed a change in my thought process when it comes to my future. Actually getting married is becoming less of a thing. Sure- I've decided to get a dog, and I've also decided I'm ready to have a child without a partner... (so many truths coming out in this post already).

I remember right after my divorce, thinking I never wanted to get married again. Anyone with an ounce of knowledge knows saying never is ridiculous, and it doesn't usually work out in your favor. I stuck to my guns for a long time, until my relationship with you- so what changed?

Can't tell you how many times I've chewed on this, especially since we broke up. It felt like such a needed step. We had begun planning our own nuptials... Ok, begun is a bit of an understatement but here we are... and things ended very abruptly.

Why did I want to get married so badly? I think there was a certain amount of security involved. I think I hoped it would force you to grow up. I think it would force me to choose one life. What horrid reasons to get married. What a shit realization to have. Sonovabitch. When you start to really ask what matters, what things you feel like you really need to do and strive for, just to come to realize marriage isn't really making the list... whoa.

I do want commitment. A partner. Someone who will love and support me. Someone who doesn't expect me to carry the load, and still have the gall to complain about the way I do it. I never want to feel like you married me to keep me as some kind of possession, or I chose to get married so you wouldn't leave.

I thought I needed to marry, even though it's an antiquated social convention we're still taught. Don't even get me started on diamond engagement rings... anyway, my point is in the past I wanted to get married for all the wrong reasons. The reasons pretty much guaranteed to lead to a divorce. I know I loved you, but still. Love really isn't enough. I have zero plans to pull a JLo and get married a million times, so I'm thinking I'm going to put marriage on the back burner.

So much has changed for me, especially in the past few months. It's like I took the blinders off to really see all the things.

I thought I needed to marry you. Turns out it's probably the best thing that I didn't.

"I've never dated someone who made my life better"

I just had a conversation with a good friend about our past relationships. What she said knocked me for a bit of a six. She said,

"I've never dated someone who made my life better."

Of course this made me reflect on my past relationships, and I had to sit down once I'd thought about it. I feel the same way. That might seem harsh, but it's the damn truth. I've loved three times over. Not once did they honestly make my life better.

Fuck. Epiphanies blow sometimes.

I'm not saying there weren't happy times. There were. I cared for these people. I chose them. I have great memories, and I look back on all three mostly with fondness.

None of them brought out the best in me. None of them pushed me to strive for more, or be better. Whenever I improved, it was out of spite, or in hopes they would want to meet me where I was headed. They didn't help me. They didn't lessen the load. If anything, they did things to make it harder- told me how tired I always was, how I was no longer fun, or go on benders when I was trying to study for finals, (these are all real examples sadly).  My favorite is whenever they pointed out I'd gained weight... all women love to hear that, right? Or during my one long distance relationship, having them go silent and not communicate to punish me whenever we had a disagreement. Not manipulative in the slightest...

Every time I did things to make myself better, pursuing my bachelors, later my masters, working for Team USA, starting a business- I was the driving force. All of my achievements were mine alone, and were not because of anything they had done. They never gave me a leg up. Their name never got me through the door. They didn't help me edit my resume, or offer to take over this or that so I could pursue something. I was doing these things to enhance our lives.

I came home and cooked dinners. I still got up and went to work everyday. I carried all the responsibilities, planned... ugh. Thinking about this makes my head hurt. I helped more than one of them complete college courses, I emotionally supported all three. I worked multiple jobs to support them, managed their lives, even filed their taxes.

These people weren't bad people. They just weren't good partners for me. I joke about my picker being broken... maybe that's the case. I've settled again and again for what I thought I deserved, rather than what I do deserve. They were fun, or sweet, or sexy. They had qualities I appreciated, but truly not who I needed.

I know, I know- I don't need anyone. But I want a partner.

Funny thing is, I'm getting tired of it.

I told the same friend recently I'm about to get a dog, and seriously considering starting a family on my own. I'm not joking. Maybe instead of me trying to find someone to "fit", just live.

I guess we'll see what happens next.

push, pull.

I push. You pull away. I ask questions. I stay open.

Over and over. It's the definition of insanity. I never feel good enough, or smart enough or...

I wonder if they'll ever want me the way I want them. Will I ever be enough, enough?

All I have to offer, I still push, they still pull.

I look in the mirror- reflect back all of my flaws. How unwanted I feel. I can't see past myself. My mistakes, my missteps. I can't see the flaw may be in you.

Push. Push. Push.

Why can't I pull? It takes me too long. I have to have nothing left. I still can't. Me offering you space with me, doesn't mean I'm not scared. I'm fucking terrified.

No pull, all push.

I feel so tired, emotionally hung over. Still, I can't hear you anymore. I can't hear any of them anymore.

At some point I can't push anymore. I can't beat myself up anymore. I can't feel for you, when you can't feel for me.

Pull. Pull. Pull.

no, don't rush.

" I burn, I pine, I perish.." -The Taming of the Shrew

I can't help but laugh at myself. Has it even been this long for me to make the leap to the next step? Patience has never been my strong suit.

I kiss you, oh so lightly- does it do to you what it does to me? Is it one sided?

I've never been left to wonder like this. I've never prolonged this stage. My mind wanders at the possibilities.

What happens when we do touch? What happens when we do break? Will we... or... what if we never do? So many questions.

My mind wants so much more- so does the rest of me. Intellectually stimulated in all the ways I'm used to physically- what are you doing so differently?

Wait- you're worth the wait. I can feel it. So am I. Go against the tide, don't rush.

Be different to feel different. Change the "game" to change the result.

Penny for your thoughts. What are you thinking? Feeling? No, don't tell me. I'll wait.

when I didn't staunch the bleeding.

"The wound is the place where the light enters you." -Rumi

When you left, I didn't staunch the bleeding. I didn't try to hide, or save face, or cover it up. I cried myself to sleep, and woke up to fresh tears. I forgot to eat, and didn't turn to my usual escapes. I let it wash over me again and again- allowing for me to feel tormented and broken. A shell of a person, going through the motions because life didn't stop, even though I felt like it should have. I was knocked off my axis- neither afraid, nor caring enough whether I course corrected.

"Don't let her see it. Don't let her see how she broke you." Why? I allowed you to. I gave you the power to break me. I gave you permission. I trusted, ignored, bargained, and loved to get there. You took all of that, laid it down, and walked away.

I didn't want to wake up in the morning. Didn't want to believe it had really happened. You'd really left. Having it reaffirmed by the reactions of everyone around me- the shock. My trying to explain, trying to paint a picture where you weren't the villain, or I duped. People forming narratives around us, and me finally not wanting or caring to correct them.

My hope for us faded quickly. I think it's because of the bleed. I knew the hemorrhaging was vital- get you out. Let you go. Feel it all- I had to trust I wouldn't break completely. Trust I couldn't do it as I had before. I had never let anyone in so fully- of course excising you would be the most painful. Still- I cut you out.

Time is a funny thing- I thought it would take so much longer for me to let you go. For me to feel differently about you. Emotional cutting isn't always a productive process, but for me it was everything. It was the portal, the change, the clearance. I didn't give myself arbitrary dates- I stopped crying when there was nothing left to cry about. I stopped missing you when I realized I really didn't. I stopped hating you when I realized I was only hurting myself, and hating you was still awarding you a certain amount of feeling. You told me during the breaking you weren't mine anymore- as if I'd ever treated you like a possession. I stopped it all when I realized I was no longer yours.

I don't want to bleed like that again- in the corner of the bathroom with a towel over my face, or on the kitchen floor, or under the covers. I don't think we're allowed an infinite amount of times to drain ourselves the way that process does. I left a piece of me behind with you. The piece that thought I needed you, and needed to constantly prove I loved you, deserved you.

The rest of me turned towards light- towards happiness, towards wants. The pain in my chest is gone, and you with it. Months ago, I wasn't sure I would ever stop the bleed- now there's just a scar.

Piece it together.

"My divorce from dependence, that's when you found me. I was still soft..." - No Doubt

We carry the baggage from the ones who came before. Emotional scarring leaves marks no one can see, but they can feel. Habits and tendencies build up over time, and though we forget so much, we hold onto good and bad memories.

How do I pick it apart? How do I glean the good, and let go of the bad?

I've spent time on my own in between. There have been months and years between people. I know who I am on my own, and how to navigate this life when it's just me at the wheel. I'm confident. My edges aren't blurred, fading into someone else. It's when I add someone that things seem to go a bit haywire.

"I love you" was said quickly by everyone I've been with. Though I struggled with saying it back so soon, I always did. I didn't want to let them down. Which then became a theme. I always grew to love them, but what if we had taken our time? What if instead of infatuation, there was a slow burn? Why couldn't I allow for the space?

My physical attributes were a constant focus, so I felt pressure to maintain, " I can't keep my hands off of you", "Do you know what you do to me?". Sex always came into the picture sooner than it should have, at least looking back. This inevitably backfired. My mind and body would sabotage me, over and over. I felt less sexy, less desired. I looked in the mirror and didn't see myself.  I was an object, rather than a person. Had they only wanted me for this? I am a sexual being, I want to be wanted- but what about the rest of me? Sex is a big form of expression for me as well, and it's so easy to get lost in the lust. Even after the breakups, it's something every one of them mentioned missing. Not my mind, or my heart. My body.

My insecurities allowed for the rush. I allowed being treated as a possession, a pretty thing to be held, desired, and treated as such. I played down my smarts, because I didn't feel smart. Hid my talents- that would be bragging. Covered up my anxieties- I thought they proved I was broken. I looked in the mirror and saw the little girl who felt ugly, my skin color too dark, my hair too crazy, my eyes too big. If I was their girlfriend, their partner, their wife, I would always be wanted. I kept leaving out how unfulfilled I was in the entire process.

My dreams couldn't be "normal" because they never were my partners dreams, not taking into consideration the fact that maybe we just weren't suited. Hindsight and retrospect can be so cruel.

My normal is the desire to have a partnership, to carry and raise children. To work, but not too much. Travel, get my doctorate, own a house. Have dogs, maybe stay in California, keep my family close. To know when I fall, they'll catch me. When I'm scared, they'll comfort me. My triumphs will be theirs, and vice versa. No more quid pro quo. I'm ok with give and take, but I gave it all. If I give it all, they've got to give it back- that's what I told myself. Expectation was never reality.

I want to be better, be bold, be patient. Enjoy the ride, don't force it, really fall. I want to miss them for the right reasons, and dream alongside them. When I get lost, have them find me. Remind me who I was, and who I am. Depend on one another in the right ways, not the unhealthy ones.

Piecemeal. Do it right this time.

Chapter 4.

"... in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason, you are behaving like the best friend." - The Holiday 

"live, Live, LIVE! Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starvin' to death!"
 - Auntie Mame

At the beginning of this year my most current relationship ended. Almost four years of investing and getting to know someone is now being put on a shelf. Habits are being forgotten, memories are fading. Dreams and plans built and made with them no longer hold any value, or priority. I'm starting over. Ok, this was my third rodeo. So much for third time being a charm.

Unlike all the TV shows we watch and love, we did not remain friends. I've never been someone who could do that- casually hang with them as if it wasn't earth shattering for us to break apart. To be fair, I never had to keep the kind of ties I had to with my last. Shared friend groups and interests, a common work space, hell- the same damn town, or all over my effing social media...ah well. I don't wish them any ill will. I'm just no longer invested. A protective mechanism, surely. All or nothing. I'm choosing nothing.

So I threw the book out I'd written for myself up to this point. I decided to tear myself down to the studs, and in my thirty-forth year of living decided I needed to be better. Better to myself first and foremost, which would in turn make me better for the people in my life. I've been so good at giving myself away for so long, often times to those who proved themselves unworthy of all I have to give. Also- what the hell did I want out of this life?

I'm not perfect, but I'm fucking awesome. It's taken a long time for me to be okay with saying that out loud. If you try to tell me I am, I'm still gonna get awkward and immediately tell you you're full of shit. I'm working on that bit. I'm well aware of my insecurities when it comes to my looks and smarts, my worth and place in this world- I need not to give the power away to others. Allow them to use the same insecurities I've shared with them against me, or my giving nature, or my want to help. I know I'll give you everything- can you do me a solid and not take full advantage?

Step 1- therapy. I don't think the poor woman was ready to be verbally thrown up on, but there ya go. She got an earful on a weekly basis, and helped me start to find the patterns. How I felt I needed to prove my value through acts of service to the people I love. By taking care of them, and by take care of them I mean DO ALL THE THINGS- I showed they were important to me. What I didn't take into consideration was how much of myself was lost in the process. I gave myself away at the expense of sleep, time. I fed into my most anxious patterns, and by spreading myself too thin, also fed into all of my fears. If I was better, I could balance it all. If I was worthy, they would want to give back to me. If I was valued, they would tell me, show me.

*Message* When you set the bar so fucking low for people, they aren't gonna rise to the occasion. I'm not knocking the good people in my life, past and present. They know who they are, and know I'm not referencing them in this narrative.

Step 2- Do my own shit. I went to my first opera, and my first ballet. I bought Groupons to learn to scuba dive, and dance lessons. I started volunteering. Bought a last minute plane ticket to Kauai and spent a lovely weekend surrounded by scantily clad professional and semi professional beach volleyball players, all while being very much intoxicated, (which is not a normal state of being for me). I threw myself out of a perfectly good airplane. I drank wine and ate cheese in bed. Netflix binged like there was no tomorrow, and started taking entire days off to read. Went to the beach, dinner, or the movies by myself, spent time to reconnect with everyone I'd hidden away from for so long. Good damn people who missed me, and hadn't taken me for granted.

Step 3- Open up. My initial foray into this was awkward. You see, I open up between relationships, then close off in them. Ugh. My friends and family aren't used to hearing all my thoughts and feelings. One friend told me she used to learn months later if I was depressed, or dating, or really anything because I was so damn good at keeping it to myself. Which is funny, because as I kid I had no poker face to speak of. Didn't hide a damn thought or feeling. All of the sudden they heard it all. I'll give it to them, I feel like all my people handled it swimmingly. On the good and bad days, they just listened. They didn't make me feel bad for the petty moments, or the sad ones. They championed the successes and the changes. I'm so lucky, and I know it.

Step 4- Establish what I want. My therapist looked at me one day and asked what I really wanted. I immediately blurted out a great partner and kids. I want a giver, not a taker. She asked about my professional life. I told her I've been very successful- I realize I've done and seen a lot of things people haven't. My bumbling working style led me into some amazing opportunities, and jobs. I've been all over the damn place. That all being said- the money, the acknowledgement, the shine of the jobs had lost their luster. Who gave a shit what I did day to day? I wanted the people to matter. I didn't want to be defined by what I do any longer.

Step 5- Tip toe into dating. One could argue timelines. Too soon? Too whatever. Fuck you. I tried a couple of dating apps... what a great way to scare the high holy hell out of myself. THIS IS WHAT'S OUT THERE?! I'M DOOMED!

Went on a couple of hilarious dates, went home and immediately thought I could just find a sperm donor, buy a dog, and call it a day... was about to erase the last one because screw it I could make a stylish spinster...

I'm dating someone now... (they had me at tacos).

Step 6- Slow my roll. I say that because I have a tendency to get a little ahead of myself, (hello understatement of the century). My business is doing great, my friendships are thriving, my family is just the best, I have my own routines, and I've met someone I really like. Nope- I have absolutely no idea how any of it is gonna go, especially the dating. I'm already learning a lot there though- they have their own shit, I have my own shit. I can't fix anything for them, I can only be present and listen... it's like my super power has been stolen. What do you mean you don't need anything from me? You just want to hang out because you enjoy my company, and for whatever reason find my crazy attractive?! Stfu.

Step 7. Don't get lost again. I've established healthy boundaries, and already called myself out a couple of times when I tried to erase them. I've asked for help- from the people closest to me, so I don't make the same mistakes. Don't borrow trouble, because really there's no damn point. Worry does nothing but make you suffer twice. Easier said than done, but I think very achievable.

I am my own leading lady, and I'm gonna fuckin' live. Maybe not the way I thought before. Let's be serious- pretty much 100% of the time the way things have turned out were far better than what I planned anyway.

my favorite mistake

I'd never felt the way I did with you. You lavished me with attention, you made me feel like I was the only person you ever wanted to be around. It was so intoxicating, it felt so fulfilling. You wanted us to do everything together. Move in together. Be with one another always. I started to bend, to fold myself around you. I didn't realize how quickly I was getting lost.

There are the good memories, the exotic places we'd go, the shine around you. It didn't matter I had been around the same shine for years, I'd always been a step apart. I let it all wash over me, I let it all matter. I let it be more important than me and all I was doing. I was sinking, and couldn't even feel it.

I'd start to notice, on your long trips away. That's when I would call my friends, I would spend time with just myself. My anxieties would ebb away, I would plan... and then you would come back, and I would forget. I let you make me feel guilty for wanting to be with anyone but you. I was so infatuated. I loved you, and wanted only you. All the cliches they say about love are so true.

Time would pass, and I would put my head down and plan. If I looked to the future, I didn't see the cracks in the present. I'd get lost again and again in your smiles, your words, your touch. I kept allowing for myself to chip away. My dreams, my wants. I'd fight to remember, I felt torn, in a constant heightened state. I attributed it to my anxieties going into overdrive, I was borrowing too much trouble. It was a phase, and it would pass.

I worked so hard to make your dreams my dreams, your priorities mine. I'd wake up thinking about what you needed done that day rather than what I needed done. We lived in a microcosm- so small, the outside world didn't even penetrate.

So much neglect there. I was splitting myself in two, carrying the burden of your work and mine. If I carried the load for you and me, somehow I would prove myself worth of... what? What were you giving me? I know you loved me, but love isn't enough. Where was this love? I couldn't see it. I couldn't feel it. It was all words.

I turned further and further inward, my self worth tied to you, to your triumphs rather than my own. You monopolized my thoughts in a way no one had before. I kept telling myself this was what it was supposed to be like. Then why was I so uneasy? So...off?

 Always off, wrong-footed by a constant gut feeling. I didn't pay attention. I pushed it away. The things that were good were so good. The things that were bad were... easily ignored. Constantly ignored. You felt it too, I know you did. You started to tell me what I wanted to hear, rather than what you wanted to do. You began to avoid certain subjects, I felt you pull away...

I was still so blindsided by the end. From picking colors of dresses to... nothing. Looking back, I shouldn't have been. It was all there- written so plainly. I gave you the very best of me, and left the scraps for myself. I allowed for so much turmoil, pain, heartache. All for the possibility of my dream, not even a fair shake. No guarantees.

Now I know- the things I wanted are out there. I want honesty. I want my dreams to be as important as theirs. I never want to feel less than, or because my dreams are small and simple, they are somehow not as important. I never needed glory, I never wanted to be a household name. I just want a good life, with all the twists and turns that come with it.

I think you were my last big learning curve. The last big push for me to realize I am as significant, as talented, as deserving. I can face who comes next with an open heart and mind, knowing I can say what I think and feel, and I know what I want out of this life.

You are my favorite mistake.

The darker moments

Sometimes it's just a bad damn day. Sometimes it's much longer. I never know when it's coming- I can never really prepare. It starts slow- my thoughts start to get a little cloudy. I can't remember the little things, like why I walked across a room. Then it blossoms into something bigger. I forget to eat. I don't want to get out of bed. Apathetic to all things, even my anxieties can't break through.

But no one knows me this way, they only know my smiles and jokes. A facade developed over years. Practice makes perfect, you know. When I give someone a glimpse, when I tell them maybe that day is a particularly hard day, the reactions are always the same- they suggest I focus on all I have going for me. I don't have a right to be unhappy when... fill in with all their thoughts and suggestions. Now not only am I feeling lost, I also feel guilty for feeling this way in the first place.

That's when the days get darker. I lose track of large swaths of time. Working through habit, coming awake to realize it's the end of the day, and I'm laying in bed. I don't remember getting there.

If a moment of clarity happens, I wonder if anyone has even noticed? I'm so known for doing things on my own, for going by my own drumbeat- have they noticed my real absence? This isn't attention seeking, but can they see me?

 It's not their job. Don't ask for help. You got yourself here. Dig out. But I keep slipping back. I can't find a foothold, I don't want to try anymore. What if I just let go? No one noticed my absence at this point. It won't hurt anyone. It's just me. My blinders are firmly affixed.

Just when I think I can't... I laugh that day. Or I call someone and had them tell me about their day- awash with someone else's thoughts and feelings. I almost can't hear mine. Then it becomes like a badly tuned radio, going in and out. Then the feeling you get when you lay face up in a boat, and it rocks you back and forth. Good to bad. Good to bad. I don't wake up crying, I don't sit in the shower for who knows how long- just letting the water hit my back. I got up.

Sometimes it's just a day, a moment, a thought. Sometimes so much longer. I've always sought the light- I've always been lucky enough to find it again. Still, I hide this part of me. I feel so broken. Who wants to play with something fractured, so imperfect?

So I hide it again. Keep smiling, don't tell anyone. They won't have noticed anyway. Or they'll tell me to keep my chin up- there's so much to live for.

I know. Doesn't mean I can't honor these shitty moments in time either. They're mine too- the darker moments.

different.

You are different. I can feel it when I stand near you. I can hear it in the lilt of your voice, and see it when you look at me. It's not the same flutter I've felt in my stomach before- the swoop and drop of anticipation. This feels more like satisfaction.

We're both afraid, so afraid- but just imagine the possibility. What if?

I look back and wonder at the ones who came before. Could they have been there, place holders for this? My rose colored glasses are firmly fixed upon my face, my fear bubbles under the surface, and yet I still wonder- did she break my heart to lead me to you? Time will answer these questions. Nothing but time. The great healer, decider, and taker- time.

Words are easy, actions are hard. I don't want easy words- please don't tell me what you think I want to hear. I couldn't handle the thought of you not meaning what you say- I've been there too often before. There are too many broken promises and lies left behind me as it is.

I don't want to fast forward, I don't want to miss any of it- because of your difference. It isn't exotic- no. It isn't lust- though you must know I'm attracted to you. It's... I can't find the words. I'll patiently wait instead, find them as they come.

I'm listening to my body this time. It's at peace near you. I've known nothing but turmoil for so long. Discomfort and sadness, aching and loneliness. Then there was space, then you.

And now we wait to see if difference is what it takes.

Afraid alongside you.

Please give me grace.

I'm scared, and I don't want to be. I want to trust you, really I don't trust myself. Not like I used to. I used to be so confident. I had nothing but time, I had youth on my side. I also had ignorance, and the blueprint of Hollywood romance right in front of my eyes.

Here you are- and it's so easy. Too easy? Too early. But it feels different.

She took my well meanings and words, my wishes and dreams, and manipulated them to fit her. I was so blinded by lust and love I couldn't see it. The subtle shifts, the changes there.

I wish you could promise you won't do the same. I wish you could promise you'll grow with me, and soothe my fears. I wish you could promise you are different- battered but pure, honest and kind, willing to defend my heart as if it is a part of yours.

I wish I could promise you I'm better than they were- the ones who came before me. I too am battered and bruised. I carry the scars of love and loss, of heartbreak and loneliness. I carry hope too- it's written on my wrist and my heart. Constant reminders time can change all things.

I'll give you grace. I'll look you in the eye, I'll speak my truth as I know it. I'll lay bare my dreams and wishes for a life spent with someone.

Tell me something good.

Tell me you understand. Tell me I'm not alone. Tell me you feel it, see it, hope it, dream it. Tell me you aren't too far gone to come back. You believe in more, in togetherness, even in fear. Our fears could unite us rather than divide us.

Allow for time.

Whether it's short or long, can we see what this is? If we stand a chance, or if we're only here to remind one another there can be more with someone by our side? If you see me pull back, don't let me. I'll face forward with you. I'll face it with you. I'll walk afraid alongside you.

I'm holding my breath. Please don't let go yet.

That new car smell.

It's like you have that new car smell- with all the feelings wrapped up in it. Excitement, nerves, fear, hope. It's a big purchase, it's a leap of faith, it's...

Well, I don't know what it is yet. It's too soon. So soon. And yet...

You say all the right things. You say you want what I want. To grow old with someone, a simple life with a family. We like the same things, our backgrounds are similar. You seem as excited and afraid and hopeful as I do...

So don't borrow trouble, I tell myself. Don't hold you accountable for the mistakes of those who came before. It isn't your fault I've been burned- you didn't make those poor decisions for me. You didn't cheat, or lie, or hurt me.

Even if this comes to nothing, you have no idea what you've already given to me. Knowing I'm desired, cared for, invested in. When you give, I believe you. When you speak, I listen. When you touch me, I respond.

Too soon? Too late? Too... I don't care.

Let's see where this leads. Something, or nothing.

Then there was nothing.

I don't feel you here anymore.

 I had let you in, I had let you take me over. I was consumed- but what did you have to offer me?

Nothing.

Nothing.

 Nothing.

I finally realized I held all the cards. I was the one who could offer the world to you- give you support, all of my love, children, a home to come back to. You couldn't even give me half of your attention. I would have given you all of me. You would have given me excuses. So much lip service- I see it now. We allow so much when we fall.

I look at the space we used to occupy together- the empty walls, the shadows of pictures there. I look at the few things kept, but remember all I threw away. I didn't want the things you bought me to touch my skin, to encircle my fingers... you tried so hard to buy me. To possess me. To take me. The minute I figured it out, the moment I used my long lost voice to speak out from the fog I'd been lost in to tell you I wanted more, you let go. You knew, didn't you? You knew once I realized all the power and control truly lay with me that the game was lost to you forever.

My body knew it- why didn't I listen? It fought so hard to tell me. It screamed to try to make me hear. It begged me in all the ways it could and I ignored it. I loved you. I had faded into you, my edges blurred by yours.

And now you seek something I can't give you- you seek the kind of support I won't willingly let you have any longer. You are finally understanding the ripples, the wake left behind. Now it's me who has nothing to give.

You keep mistaking empathy for love, caring for more. I can care, and no longer love you. I can wish you the best, and no longer be invested. I let go, and now you feel it. You ask if this is what I felt like in the end? You ask if this is real, if what you are finally feeling is what I felt? I reply all of that and more, but without the guilt. Your view of the world paints you as the victim, but you and I both know better.

You see, I know I tried. I know I laid it all out there. I know I can look back for the rest of my days and be at peace with all I had to give. Can you?

Please don't answer, I've already begun to forget the timbre of your voice. I thought I would never forget the way you touched me, or the way you looked at me... but it's all gone now. They say time is both cruel and kind. We both know I lean towards kind.

I can't say I miss the idea of you- we both know I struggled even with that. I knew all you could be, all you could achieve... maybe you still will. Funny how much you can be invested in someone, and then you fill the space with something else. You are no longer the tenant of my heart. You say you still love me, but where is this love? Again- don't tell me. The earth between us is scorched now.

All that's left is for me to walk out the door one last time, to leave the key and know- it all ends here. Not tidy. Not clean. Just done.

Just call me Olivia.

“You’re a fixer”- I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard this, especially as it pertains to my personal life. I want to believe the best in people- but is it projection? If I make them “better”, will I be better? I’m over here, thinking I’m the Olivia Pope of my life, and to what end? What am I not working on in my own house?

I’m the person my friends call to edit papers, or to review their CV’s. I’m the person my partners and friends use as a sounding board- the mirror they can’t avoid. They know I’ll be honest, I’ll problem solve, I’ll expend all my effort to help them in their time of need. I’m the catch all. I’m the person who will get on the plane, pick up the phone, throw the blanket party, help hide the body...I’m proud of being that person for them. Proud to be dependable, someone the people around me know will always be there.

That all being said- I fall for takers. They aren’t necessarily bad people. To over-simplify the world, I believe it’s comprised of givers and takers. I’m a giver, someone who shows my love mostly through acts of service, and quality time. I’ll give you the world and back again, I’ll put your needs before my own, I’ll make you feel like you are the most important person, because to me you are. Takers are people who happily will take what is given to them. To be fair, it does take a pretty extraordinary person to not walk all over someone who lies down right in front of them… which is what I do.

One of my problems is that I do these things at the expense of myself, and of the relationships I’ve already established in my life. My family, my friends- they see the changes. It doesn’t matter some of them are brave enough to point things out, it isn’t their job to save me from myself and my own decision making.

I think I’m not compromising that much of myself, that I’m really just loving and supporting my partners. I wouldn’t end up crippled by anxiety, experience weight gain, sleep issues, or any of the other fun hints my body throws my way in these relationships if they were the right ones. I’m loyal, I want to believe these people could be my person, and I give them chance after chance- chances and excuses I wouldn’t give to anyone else.

I can’t lay the blame at the other person’s door- the fault lies with me. If I work hard enough, if I pour my heart and soul into someone, then they’ll stay. Or at least that is what I thought in the past. Why not meet someone whole, someone who doesn’t need fixing, doesn’t need me to help bolster their ego, their career, their self esteem…? Instead I see the person with the sign flashing over their head that says, “I need you”. Not, “I want you”.

I know I’m still learning. I know I need to give myself some grace. I also know I don’t need anyone in my life. I want to have someone. I want someone who will take care of me the way I’ll take care of them. That sees I push myself, and my expectations will always be the highest for me. Someone who makes me check my fixer hat at the door. Reminds me I am as important as they are. I am a priority, I am important. We’re partners, not just me bolstering them.

I’ve got to look in the mirror and know I deserve better, no- the best. If I give them the world and back again, I deserve the same in return. Let them be the fixer too.