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There are some days (okay, most) that I really hate this job to my core. I knew it was going to be hard when I took this job, but this is pushing my every last bit of patience and soul. My boss got fired (not laid-off) a month ago, I’m still feeling like a producing hound and having to see Mr. Co-worker every day doesn’t help (although we’ve seen to established an ability to act like the other doesn’t exist). On top of that, the girls that I once trusted here seem to have lost their minds and abandoned and outcasted me.
But the economy is bad so I have to be grateful I have this job and a source of income. I feel guilty even thinking these hateful and negative thoughts, but it consumes me day in and day out. Would I have been happy if I had taken the other job in New Orleans? Maybe, but maybe not. There’s no way to ever know and it’s pointless to ever ask that.
It’s been 6 months and it’s been hard. So hard. There are moments or short-lived days where I feel happy, satisfaction and pride that I’ve come this far. But the majority of the time, I’m just drained from having to keep pushing forward with this much energy. I don’t really know how else to do it. If I just sit back and wait for life to happen, I go against every “life” rule of “fighting for what you want.” If I keep going at the rate I’m going, I’m destined for a complete shutdown (which is already happening). People keeps saying, “Give it time. It takes at least a year to feel IT when you move and make such a life change.”
I long ago stopped believing that “things happen for a reason.” Nowadays, I just feel like “Crap happens. Random. Bad luck.”
Apparently I need to learn patience.
I’ve never been great at staying mad for long. I may have a spectacular memory for events, incidents and fights, but I more often than not forgive the offending party and move on (indicated by how friendly I remain with exes, ex-flings, ex-crushes).
One thing I never have accomplished, however, is forgiving myself. More than enough times, friends have commented, “You’re too hard on yourself” and then shake their head and wish I would ease up. Even my parents have relayed their worries that I put too much unnecessary pressure on myself.
In regards to my career and successes, that may never change and I’m okay with that. With relationships and my personal life, it needs to change. As I’ve mentioned before, I was in an emotionally abusive on-and-off again relationship/friendship with an ex-boyfriend that spanned 6-something years. Although I’ve moved on from him and have started a new phase in my life, I’ve realized lately I haven’t gotten over the effects.
A year ago exactly this week is when I finally decided to move out of the emotional turmoil that had been St. Louis. And since then, I’ve been on an exhausting and enthralling adventure to really live my life. If I got a chance to travel, I took it. If there was a guy I felt a connection with, I put myself out there. If there was anything new worth trying (or even not worth trying), I signed up. If you asked me if I could be living life any differently, I would be confident in my answer that I’m living life just the way I should be.
But the anxiety doesn’t leave. I still haven’t forgiven myself for all the time wasted on him. And even though I fought back, I always ended up back in the vicious cycle that is abuse and feeling weak. Of course he’s at fault, but I feel like I knew better. I was never blind to the crap or the hurt or the abuse (although it took me years to finally put a name to it). So in some twisted way, all this carpe diem mentality is an attempt to make up for all the lost time because I just can’t seem to let it go that I put myself through that for so long.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s been exciting and fun and scary and memorable, but also incredibly exhausting. When I have a span of time that I’m not “grabbing life by the horns,” I feel guilt that I’m wasting time again, especially because I’m so young. So many people have told me that the fact I’m no longer around or with him is all the success I need, but each time I stumble a little and find myself hurting over a jerk, I return to being mad at myself for falling back. Not that all men will be abusive, of course, but apparently going through one horrible one doesn’t make it easier to run from the other jerks.
I’m not sure how to ease up on myself or this self-imposed pressure. More importantly, I clueless at how to forgive myself the way I forgive the ones that have hurt me.
It’s been a rough few weeks. Despite telling myself I’ve been through much much worse, I can’t seem to ease this heartache. Seeing him 5 days a week doesn’t help the situation whatsoever. Apparently heartache is a bitch, no matter how many times you’ve been through it. I’m also spending my first NYE away from New Orleans, which isn’t going to help the “healing time.”
I’ve gotten a lot of platitudes lately, “It’ll be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end!” or “He’s a jerk, anyways. What guy hurts 2 girls so easily?” or “You work together; it would have been a disaster.” I know. I know all of this, but it doesn’t seem to lighten the ache that is in my chest. The entire situation keeps nagging me because in a way, I believed so strongly in our chemistry and how much we had in common that it seems so WRONG that it just dies. How is it possible we go from having great conversations and and hooking up to … nothing and acting like strangers?
I guess it can be argued in the last year, I’ve had numerous run-ins with chemistry (physical and otherwise) and I’m more than sure I’ll have many more in the future. The question is, when do you stay and fight for it and when do you walk away?
On the 10 hour drive today, I had a lot of time to think about everything that’s happened. I cried for the first 20 minutes and then slapped my head when I realized I was so distracted, I had gone 1-44 West all the way down to Pacific (the route we went yesterday to float) and completely missed 1-270 fifty minutes ago. Not a great way to start the trip. Good thing it’s my favorite stretch of road to drive because the scenery is so breathtaking. I had to flip back a few times on the drive due to my mind being completely somewhere else and each time, the “ST. LOUIS [# miles]” would show up, I was tempted to keep heading back. The second I walked in the door, my mom started nagging me and I had to pay a pile of bills and unpack the car. At that moment, I realized how real it was I was no longer in another city.
I never ever fathomed it would be this hard. Or I did but never in the situation that I imagined for years. There was no tearful goodbye to him; I didn’t even see him in the last week. There was no goodbye at all. He just faded off my radar. Instead, my sadness and bittersweet goodbyes were towards the new people in my life – the girls from the last year that befriended me and made me feel so welcome, the new co-workers from a job that fell in my lap and the two guys that suddenly became a big part of my life in the last week. Isn’t that funny? The one situation that caused me so much grief and every emotion possible in the last 6 years was barely on my mind as I drove away today. I wouldn’t have been so miserable in STL for so many years if it wasn’t for that, so it begs the question if I would have ever bothered to leave. Or if I would have left earlier. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore other that I got ever a massive obstacle in my life that I never thought I would and now I’m about to start this unknown new chapter of my life.
I can’t seem to think about the future right now. Not even tomorrow or the day after because right now, my heart seems to be somewhere floating along a river or in the car on a last minute road trip through small town Missouri. He asked me last Sunday night why we hadn’t become friends sooner or hung out more. Not for lack of trying on my part, buddy. Despite knowing each other for a year, I guess our friendship didn’t exist until this week. I’m pretty damn sure the chemistry has always been there. But this is the way life falls and it wasn’t meant for anything more than that. And I think I’m okay with it, even though our eyes do meet in humorous moments and in such a short time, we wordless share sandwiches and the occasional drink as if we’ve been doing it for years. I didn’t jump that cliff for him. I can promise that. But I did jump knowing he would at the bottom to yank me out when I panicked and drowned. I don’t remember much of it other than jumping, screaming, closing my eyes and hitting the water and getting pulled out. A lot of laughter, patting on the back and the girls on the shore thinking I was insane.
I miss my apartment. Not that I don’t love being home, but that apartment was me, my space, my solace. It was painful closing the door behind and locking it one more time. The first thing that went in was the last thing that went out as a friend helped me lug the old Walmart futon mattress (that has slept many guests) to the dumpster. He seemed a bit bummed too; it was his first post-college apartment as much as it was mine and hearing our voices echo made me want to blink my eyes back to the way it looked a month ago. I never thought leaving St. Louis would be so heartbreaking. It actually felt like those days after the end of a relationship when you know it was the best choice, but that feeling in your chest won’t go away.
And I just got an email from this guy, basically saying he was sad I was gone and thanking me for a cupcake and note I sent him right before I left. Hilarious. Good timing, buddy.
It’s weird slowing down. I’m so used to being on the go and now I just have time to breathe. It’s a good thing, but the workaholic in me is itching to do something. But I have to do this one day at a time, at my own pace and remember to continually living my life like I have in the last 6 months: with heart, with exuberant passion and with an undying desire for adventure.
chemistry:
1) the science that deals with the composition and properties of substances and various elementary forms of matter
2) chemical properties, reactions, phenomena, etc.: the chemistry of carbon.
3) the interaction of one personality with another: The chemistry between him and his boss was all wrong.
4) sympathetic understanding; rapport: the astonishing chemistry between the actors.
5) any or all of the elements that make up something: the chemistry of love
I have a strange fascination with chemistry between people. Does chemistry only exist if it’s mutual? If neither person acknowledges it out loud to the other, is it actually there or just in one person’s imagination? Is it then just attraction? Chemistry is such a frustrating and amazing thing. It’s a mixture of lust and a spark of emotional/intelligent connection and when it suddenly pops up, your heart feels warm and possibly like it might pop out of your chest at any minute.
But, of course, there’s always obstacles in the way. Chemistry is frustrating that way. Social dynamics of a group, girlfriends, boyfriends, distance, etc., etc. But despite all that, it’s still nice to get that little thrill in your chest and know that there’s people out there that you can have such a connection with. His are the eyes that you catch anytime something funny happens in the room. When you’re alone, all you can think about the hope he kisses you. He finds you interesting and wonders why y’all weren’t friends sooner and says how much he admires you for what you’re about to do. Boom boom boom goes the heart.
I had the one of the best days in a long time: one of those perfect summer days that makes me realize I’m so damn lucky and feeling happy is an incredible feeling. During lunch with 2 new guy friends (one which I have the above chemistry with, but as usual, he has a girlfriend), I threw out I had a tradition (started last year with Smallbone) of spontaneous adventure on Memorial Day. The next thing I knew, they had agreed to go with me to Elephant Rock State Park, a place I’ve been itching to go to for years. Most people would have scoffed at doing a 2 hour road trip so late in the day, but they were completely game and off we went through the back roads of Missouri. Not once did they look at the time and say, “It’s getting late. We really should get going.” They barely checked their watches, other to say, “It’s still early!”
The park was everything I had hoped and much more. The giant granite boulders were for some serious hiking and climbing and anytime I had to jump over a huge gap, the guys were both incredibly encouraging, making sure we took routes that my shorter legs could take safely. Unlike most people that get annoyed with my constant picture taking, they made sure I had my camera and continually took photos whenever they held the camera when I jumped. I get this is what guys should do, but it’s not done enough: being accommodating, nice and patient and I left feeling the most energetic I’ve felt in a long time.
So despite we had work tomorrow morning, we took our time driving back, watching the scenery and little towns and the gorgeous sunset. Even more of a clue we were fated to be friends: They wanted to stop by a small town diner for some good food (I’m a huge fan of this). The place we chose was sketch though and even though the name was “Frogz,” their frog legs looked like it had just came off the amphibian and smelled like it was picked from the pond outside. It did NOT taste good or like chicken legs (and I’ve had good frog legs before). We ran out after that.
It’s a shame I discovered them so late in my life here. It’s even more of a shame I didn’t realize how good I had it here until recently. I thought for the longest time I was alone here as I watched my college friends filter out the city. But in this last year, I’ve made some incredible new friends and social/professional network and it hurts a little I’m leaving. But nothing worth doing was ever easy, right? I’m leaving on a high note with a great memory of a spontaneous road trip with bad frog legs and a crush that makes me feel 15 again…even if he has a girlfriend.
90% of the time, I’m very okay with being alone and single and living by myself. The 10% is when I have to chase after jumping crickets at 2am in the summer or move large giant boxes or when I’m deathly sick. I woke up at 8:30am with that distinct feeling of sick – you know, the kind where you feel your stomach is cramping and your chest has the feeling of upchucking everything. I stumbled into the bathroom and spent the morning dealing with food poisoning from a bad creme brulee.
Being sick is bad enough, but having to clean up and take care of myself at the same time is a challenge. But I have to say, in the last years that I’ve lived alone and had no family or significant other to come to the rescue, I’ve learned a lot and feel good about standing on my own two feet, even when I’m bowled over throwing up.
Today was my last Cardinals game before I leave and I refused to miss it due to a bad egg, so I powered through. I was feeling much better by the time we left, but the shaking of the metro and going backwards led me to throwing up anyway (I was prepared with a plastic bag and it was a relatively empty car). Then I really did feel better and had a great perfect weather day at the ballpark: sunny, blue sky, a gentle breeze and the most exciting game I’ve ever watched in person. Most importantly, my first experience of seeing a walk-off home run in the 11th. Worth the getting sick on the train any day.
My point is, I guess, is will there ever be a time that I’ll release control and let someone into my life in that way? It isn’t really not being afraid to ask help or not wanting to, but not being able to imagine having someone in my life in such a big capacity. I have an incredibly group of supportive friends and a busy work life that I never really notice the missing hole in the romance department. Then l I get sick or watch my friends with their amazing boyfriends and I hope that I’ll find that one day. If anything, being single for this long has taught me what I want and don’t want a guy.
I’ve dated a lot of assholes in the past; guys like Smallbone’s man that can’t deal with being told no or don’t stay in contact because they’re not getting any. My retort is usually on the lines of: “You left your balls in your purse. Man up that you’re being told ‘no’.” I’ve never been the kind of girl to sleep around or bring home a stranger from a bar or date for the sole reason of not being lonely, but sometimes, it seems those girls or the ones that seem to be having more fun. And yeah, I know that in the long run, I may fare better, but I worry sometimes I’m missing out on some experience by not dating more.
I have 2 weeks left and my life is a mess. So much to do, so little time!
So I guess it can be said that I’m in a bit of a rut lately. The weird thing was I didn’t even realize it until I stopped and took a breath. Life seems to be blurring by and I have no idea where my head is.
Everything just feels like an oxymoron lately. Or is a juxtaposition? Or irony? (My high school English teachers would lecture me quickly for this since English was apparently my best subject). When I finally have money to travel, I don’t have the time. When I have the time, I don’t have the money. What is that?
I’ve also come to the conclusion that I’m not necessarily anti-relationships or pro-single anymore, but rather anti-being with the wrong guy. It’s ironic; a lot of guys have told me I come off as very confident in who I am when most of the time I feel insecure. Apparently I pull off “having it together” well.
I think I’m a sarcastic cynical realist (say that 3 times fast) and incredibly shy in unknown situations, but to anyone who meets me, I’m a “ray of sunshine and rainbows with a quick wit and an exuberance for life” (says my co-worker who is adamant I’ll make some geek/sports nut very happy one day).
Then there’s my weight. Maybe that’s what’s been nagging me. I grew up a slightly insecure awkward kid, but never really had serious body issues. Went through the usual puberty issues most girls do, dealt with the braces, but weight was never something I worried about. If anything, I was a skinny kid. Going to an all-girl high school helped with never having to impress or care what guys thought.
It’s been an ridiculous struggle in the last few years. Up and down and up and down. Being friends with a bunch of size 0-4 girls doesn’t help. I think what’s frustrating is I’ve made the needed changes numerous times. I gave up most fast food years ago; no longer bring junk food into the apartment; only drink water and fruit juices and now I exercise consistently (never underestimate the intensity of step aerobics with multi steps). And the weight still isn’t going away! It just adds on. And I’m pretty damn sure it’s not muscle because clothes are still struggling to fit.
It seriously drives me insane that I worry so much about it. Being curvy isn’t a bad thing, of course. I like my curves just fine. But holy crap, is this what happens as we get older?! Sigh. I seem to be thinner when I’m depressed; heavier when I’m doing well. But now that I’m the latter, I’m upset and depressed I’ve gained weight. I even wrote a paper in a health anthro class in college about how I grew up never worrying about weight or health and that was the way to life. After all, worry and stress is known to cause heart attacks and related problems, so why push yourself into worrying about every calorie? The professor gave me an A for a having an unique perspective.
Despite all that, I do worry. It’s all I ever do. Sigh. Does it ever stop?
P.S. I hosted an ice cream social at work today. It was a big hit with everyone bringing different things for a great afternoon dessert on a rainy cold day. No guilt. I’m sure that’ll come later.
As I scrambled into a cab in the middle of a snowstorm, all I could think was, “How the hell do successful women have time for a relationship?!”
After a crazy week of traveling home for a fabulous Mardi Gras time, Austin and a jam-packed NY weekend with Penny Smallbone, I finally made it back to STL (a delayed flight and snowstorm later). My ride had canceled so I had to wait 20 minutes for a cab, throw my luggage into my apartment, grab kickboxing gear, de-ice my car and run to an interview. And with only some airport Aunt Em’s pretzels in my stomach.
On those days that I’m going from work to kickboxing to my other job to meeting friends for dinner to dealing with a long list of errands, I can’t help but think how a guy could ever fit in to my life. I barely have time for myself! How do women fit in dating and relationships with a successful career? Or is is the same saying about exercise? “If you really want to do it, you’ll make time.” What happens when there’s a hubbie and kids and pets? Can a woman have it all?
