I don't know why I want to do things for him. I don't know why I continue to reach out, continue to produce gestures that may have an effect. Since the day I moved out he hasn't reached out, he hasn't made any attempts or gestures toward me. No acts of affection or words that would make me believe he is missing me, or wanting me, or even thinking of me. So why am I still acting in such ways? Is it out of habit? Out of frustration? I genuinely miss him. But deep down I must know better. Am I a total glutton? When will I get it? When will I see how this doesn't serve. How many times does he have to tell me to stop before I do? Before I really accept this is how he wants it to lie - like it never existed. Can the doughnut just be a gift. Can it make him smile? That is my intention. But have I lost that privilege? Do I continue to just do as he says, not question or fight, but go along with what he wants and the decisions he makes? I can recognize this is how we learned to be, the habits and roles we created... But I know that wouldn't serve me or us (and therefore him) in the long term. The other option is to continue to act how I wish to and suffer the consequences. Torturing us both. 11 days to go. Leaving will hold a lot of answers and space for me. I'm ready.
"I get a lot of earth coming from you," she said the moment I sat down. "What is your sign?" I confirmed her intuition and replied, "Capricorn." "I am getting the weight of a thousand lifetimes - you're really big, you're a really big person - you feel that, don't you?" I smile ear to ear, my eyes become glassy, and goosebumps appear on my arms. "You feel how big you are" and she continues to shuffle the tarot card deck. Her expression is one of knowing, and feels genuine, like she also carries the weight of her self, her impact, her gifts, and her spirit. "You need to go. I am not sure what this means but I just keep getting the sensation that you need to go. I'm sorry I can't get anything more specific than that. Does that makes sense to you? It might be a relationship or an apartment or a job, but you need to go." Whoa. I feel that in my chest, the heart space behind my ribs, that newly familiar place of ache. Of breaking, of expansion. I nod my head and I tell her "Yes."
I am quickly approaching that point. In 12 days I'll be leaving New York. I have a one-way ticket to Vancouver, a hope, and a prayer. I also have the most incredible friends. They have held my hands, grabbed me by the shoulders, and looked me in the eyes as I sob, as I feel completely helpless, as I sit on the sidewalk in moments of intense sadness and panic. They have told me how brave I am, how strong I am, and how I'm doing what's best for me right now. I'm so ready to move forward. I'm so ready to get out of this room in an apartment that isn't ours. So ready to get out of this inbetween place - truly purgatory (but with tequila). This summer has felt like tumbling in the waves; at times fun, exciting, playful, and free. At other times it's terrifying, suffocating, and you can't tell which way is up or down. You can't tell your hands from your feet and you have no idea if you'll come up in time to take a breath. So is life I suppose... But this has been so much more extreme than any other moments I can recal - even from growing up.
I'm ready to move forward. So ready to get out of this. I'm so ready to start thinking about myself again, to start thinking about what I need to do in order to have the life that I want. I'm so ready to be on my own and no longer be living in what was supposed to be a temporary apartment, no longer living in a city that I feel imprisoned by. No longer feeling like I have to figure out how to be happy because I love someone too much to do or say anything else. I'm so ready to be in charge of myself, so ready to let him go, so ready to forgive myself and so ready to forgive him.
I'm so ready to get back to me. To have a vegan diet and go on long runs true nature. I'm ready to stop getting blackout drunk. For not needing to escape in such an unhealthy way (It's been fun, but I don't do anything in moderation). I'm so ready for things to be easy. To be 100% in charge of what I'm doing, where I'm doing it, and how I'm doing it. I'm really excited to start this new chapter. It's time. 2015 has been a bear and the summer has been beyond - I don't have words.
The crazy thing is, I wouldn't trade any of it. The experiences, the people I've met, the people who love me, who have shown me and taught me so much about myself - it's overwhelming. But it has also shown me how big I truly am, it's like validation, or confirmation from the universe. It is helping me to own a little bit of the idea that I am different and that I am meant for more and that that is ok. One of the regulars and I were getting a little weepy and he said to me, "You are special, you have a way of touching people."I just smiled and shook my head "no" and he continued, "you are so bright, you're like a solar flare." To be seen in that way, especially when I've haven't felt less appealing, less attractive, less wanted, in a really long time, was huge. To have someone who knows me in a small way, over a short amount of time, and during my darkest days, say something like that - it is amazing. It gives me hope. It gives me the ownership I need to take a step forward, to know that I do deserve more, and to know that I am making the right choice. It's that moment of "you've got this" from the universe. To be seen like that reminds me of Costa Rica and how I felt that recognition in such a deep way for the first time. It is still hard to articulate.
There are moments where I think "have I been overreacting?" "Have I become an egomaniac?" How much can I analyze, can I see how this brings me back to my childhood and adolescence? How much can I look back and dissect and rework? How do I stop wondering if I created something out of nothing? How do I stop worrying that I was "upper limiting"? I keep dumping all of the puzzle pieces on the floor and trying to fit them together. But even if I get close they don't match the picture on the box. It feels like I stirred a pot that he didn't see as needing stirring, so the pot was emptied and thrown away. Why wasn't the pot allowed to settle and simmer? Why didn't I fight (or did I? What else could I try?) for the pot to be left alone or for one more tweak of the recipe? Why did I just let him let it go? But he also wasn't happy with me, what I was and wasn't...
When I feel pure sadness I try to remind myself that this is my first breakup. I have no barometer for this. I have no way to understand this kind of loss. How to digest what has happened, and what has not. I have to stay present with respecting how he's choosing to deal with this and how he has chosen to act. It is so hard and takes so much energy. I have moments where I stop myself from reaching out to him and I reach out to a friend instead. At other times I am fucking tired of respect and respecting the fact that he's done, and that it's black-and-white. But that's how he deals with things. And I remind myself that that is not the type of person I want to be with. Not the type of person that one can co-create a sustainable lifetime with. So there it stands. This constant dance. Or tug of war.
For the next 12 days I'm going to probably drink too much, eat too much, laugh, and cry too much. I am going to soak it all up because it is all so temporary.
That has been the other amazing part of this whole thing - to think six years. They were beautiful and I was happy but I should've asked questions, I should've spoken up more, I should've stood up more for who I was and what I needed and what I wanted. I shouldn't have allowed myself to believe that I was the problem. I shouldn't have allowed myself to believe that he knew what was best. But I loved him. And I thought that was enough. And I know he was always acting from a place of love and preservation. We both were always doing what we thought was best. Playing it safe and trusting a little too much. And to remove the "should's" leaves lessons learned. Leaves beautiful memories that cut so deeply.
I need to accept all that led me to this here and now. How I can't get through a lap in the park without crying. Here I am - 30, single, living pay check to pay check with a one way ticket. I know I have options. I know I'm worth more, and I know I'll figure this out. It's what I do, it's who I am. I navigate between the self-help personal development nonsense of trying to change that to the acceptance of who I am at my core and how that doesn't need to change, it just needs to work for me, it needs to be cultivated and cared for.
I know on the other side of this it is going to be bigger and better than it's ever been before. I'm going to make choices that allow me to have everything I want, everything I need, and everything I deserve.
Fast-Paced Foodie may look different or have a different function. My coaching will expand in its message. My yoga practice will continue with more consistency and depth. I want to have a running podcast (I have serious thought-provoking sessions while hitting the streets). It is a way that I want to share with people and I hope it will inspire others to run as well, or to at least get outside and move. I want to get back to cooking and creating. Having roommates and living in a home that wasn't mine didn't feel right. Not having my dishes, pots, and pans didn't feel right. I avoided it like the plague. But I'm ready to face being in the kitchen. I'm ready to bring cooking back into my life and sharing that with people is something that really matters to me. I will be writing a lot more and working to get some of that published. I will be looking into what's next for my lifetime of continued learning - maybe Ayurveda, or personal training, or spinning. I'll be searching for the job or career that will support the lifestyle I want and the goals that I have.
It is scary in the best possible way. And good, bad, and otherwise, it is all mine. I am 100% responsible for being right here, right now.
Thank you for sticking around.
Working through some serious stuff. I don't even know what it is. But it is raw and it is real, and visceral. It feels like death and birth all at the same time. I don't know how to “get it out” or honor it in any other than write, so here it is. It is in my chest, raw, powerful, almost violent. Yet soft and supple, and just wanting to fall away. He is so beautiful and wonderful and simple. And this makes me well up with so much emotion. It should make this easier, it should bring me support, comfort, clarity, hope... That is what I want it to do. But it only makes me hurt deeper, clouds my vision, and makes me want to run for the hills. The trouble is, there is no such thing is should. It isn't real. It only adds to my guilt. Which obviously doesn't help the cycle.
Am I mourning the end of something beautiful? Or am I just shedding more skin to step into it? Am I preparing for the end of something and expressing remorse and fear? Or am I fighting the beauty and truth of my reality, simply fighting it, not allowing myself to fall into it? Or do I know its time to move on? To take action and do the scariest, yuckiest option? Does it make me cry because it is right and real? Or does it make me cry because it is wrong and false?
I need a tarot card, a shooting star, a sign from the heavens. I want to believe in miracles. I want to believe my Inner Guide is helping me, is showing me my truth. I want to trust this process and sit and meditate and breathe. But I also know such sweet packages rarely show up on our doorstep. I've learned in my 30 years that you have to not only ask for it, but go get it, and struggle a bit. Is that my story, a self-fulfilling prophecy or simply my destiny? Does it matter? I suppose not.
The hardest part is, I want to want it all. I want this to be enough. I want to turn off and fall asleep and move through this life, things as they are, and be full and be happy and never ask for more. But I can't. Something in me is screaming. Is begging for something else. And that hurts. And it is frustrating and it makes me want to keep searching, keep writing, keep mediating. Is it real? Am I leaning the right way? Am I not trying hard enough? Is there another way? But this only leads to further anxiety, darker circles under my eyes, more heartache. Only makes me feel flawed or sense impending doom.
And then I just want to run. To stop analyzing myself. To stop asking the hard questions. To just move home with my Mom and go to the beach, and teach yoga, and start again. The 21 year old me is appalled, but she was only so brave, so aware. Part of me envies her though. She was selfish and inspiring in her own right. If only she knew her greatness... But that wasn't the plan. I am here and now. And I choose where I will be. It can be good or bad. The choice is mine. I am so done with self-help and perspective and choose love and all that positive psychology BS. I need to stop. I need to just be. But be somewhere else. I cant think here. I love him too much and I hate NYC too much. It makes this just beyond overwhelming, So damn stressful. So exhausting. I need the ocean. I need a tribe. I need to figure this out, to have a plan, to take a step, any step, before I drown or spontaneously combust. My head is pounding. More water. Less brain-dumping. More cuddling and movies and breathing.
Is that positive distraction? Is that healing? Or is that an escape? What is feeding what? And at what point do we stop questioning it all? How do we stay small and accept. How long do we remind ourselves of the "why" versus moving towards the "how".
Less than two weeks before I get on that plane, say good bye to all I know, and hopefully, find more of the answers I seek, More of the space I need.
I love things that make the world brighter; mantras, a tasty meal, a great workout, serious self-love, dance music, a genuine hug, laughter and let's face it, tequila. May my journey exploring what makes me feel most fulfilled inspire you on yours.