I was reflecting today.  Alone.  I don’t do well with alone.

I am a really social person.  I love my friends and adore my family.  My aunt once told me that I am the glue that holds our family together.  I would like to believe that is true.  I am so utterly happy around the people I love, who love me unconditionally.  But as I am exploring this world of separatedness, I do realize that I really don’t know what to do when I am alone.

When I was in college, I spent a year living in an apartment on my own.  It was really the only time in my life I have ever lived alone.  While I loved my little apartment, it was also a place of misery.  My best friends had gone to different schools and I was alone.  I am outgoing and make friends fairly easily, but I never really HAD to make ALL NEW friends.  I went to the same school my whole life… friends came with the territory.  At some point, I think I was friends with every kid I went to school with.  I was a clique-hopper.  I just rotated through different groups and always seemed to fit in.

When I got married, I assumed that my days of feeling alone, or lonely, were over.  But looking back on 8 years of marriage… I always felt alone.  I had plenty of friends, but it just wasn’t the same.  They were all married and starting families.  Steve and I rarely went out, and never did anything with other couples.  It was really hard for me, being so incredibly social, being with someone completely content to lay on the couch in his underwear (or less) and watch mind numbing hours upon hours of TV.  So I holed up in our bedroom, watching my own hours of stupid, mindless TV… and falling further into the pit of despair.

And even now… after leaving… I still feel alone.  I have a fantastic support system, don’t get me wrong.  I have people nearly every day wanting to spend time.  And for a while I was packing my social calendar so tightly that I barely had time to pee.  But now it has been five months… and I still don’t know what to do with myself.  I know I need to spend time alone.  To get to know myself.  To be comfortable with alone.

But… the honest truth is… alone sucks.

I really don’t know what to do with myself.  So, I read a lot.  I play on the internet.  I hang out with the roomies.  I spend time with my sister and niece.  Lori told me today to get a hobby.  I have a hobby.  I scrapbook.  But it is hard to feel inspired to scrapbook.  I have to be in the mood for it, honestly.  I am working on digital scrapbooking for the first time, and I really enjoy that.  But a lot of times it seems that I am just commemorating someone else’s happy memories.

I need a life.  I need a purpose.  I guess I am just now beginning to examine who I am and what I want from life.

So, this weekend I have spent time doing things for me.  I finally broke down and bought a new desk that I have been drooling over for the past three years (but something that he always told me I didn’t need… was a waste of money).  I spent 4 hours putting the thing together myself Friday night.  It was a great sense of accomplishment.  It is also gorgeous and I am thrilled to have finished it.

I am hoping that it will inspire me to do more writing, scrapbooking, and other such things I enjoy.  Anything but hanging out for hours in my princess bed.  I am also finally going to hang some pictures on the wall.  A small thing, I know.  But it is something I always take forever to do for some reason… but when I do… it signifies “home.”

So… I am on my search for emotional wellness.  I don’t want to NEED other people in my life to be happy.  I want them there because I love them, and because they love me.  They should compliment my life… not be my reason for being.  This may sound like a simple concept, but give me a break… I have been in an emotional vortex for many years… I am still a little dizzy.

April 21, 2009

Playlist Choice: Over You by Daughtry

This day, eight years ago, I married the man I was in love with.  The person I loved most in this world.  The person I wanted to be with more than anything… It should be a day of celebration.

But on this day, eight years later, it is a day of sadness and reflection.  Sadness because things did not work out the way I planned.  Sadness for the children I never had.  Sadness for the misery I allowed this man to inflict on me over the years.  Reflection for the red flags I saw and ignored, and the ones I never noticed.  Times like this allow you to look backward with perfect clarity and see every misstep… every altercation…. every indication that ‘he’s just not that into you.’

The days of trying to fit a square peg into a round hole are over.  A friend reminded me that even when you try to trim the edges to make it fit, there is always friction.  I am not looking for perfection.  I wouldn’t even desire that, being a behavioralist… I know that is not possible.  I know that passion and desire don’t always come in a neat package.  We don’t always fall in love with the person who is best for us…

Sometimes it is just the person who fills the void.

Other times, we love that person with all our might, but it just isn’t enough.  Sometimes you have to make the ultimate sacrifice and do what is best for BOTH parties.  That is what I feel I have done.  It would be EASY to stay.  To ignore things.  To keep moving in a quasi-forward direction.  To grow further apart until we are that old couple living in different rooms and rarely speaking… oh wait… we were already there… at age 32.

It is HARD to implement change.  It is even HARDER to stick with it once the decision has been made.  Not because I wanted to go back, but because it was what I knew.  People never understand this concept until they are in the situation.  Believe me… it is HARD.

But, on this day, I gave myself a silent pat on the back for sticking it out and doing what I feel is right for me, for once.  If he really thought about it… he would realize that too. 

But he didn’t.  He asked me out to celebrate instead. [shaking head]

But what can I say?

I’m a catch!  And it is HIS loss.

Fall 2006

When we moved into our one-bedroom apartment, Steve started a love affair with the apartment’s hot tub.  He would go out every night around midnight and come back hours later.  I rarely went… because… come on… someone had to work and support us!  So I would go to bed about the time he would throw a towel over one shoulder… no shirt (poor neighbors!) and would walk barefoot over to the pool.  I found it annoying.  Why couldn’t he just come to bed like a normal person??  It made me feel very alone.

On this particular night, I woke up around 1:30 am to a strange sawing noise.  I couldn’t figure out what I was hearing… my brain still thick with sleep.  I opened the bedroom door and looked down.  I was confused until I realized what I was looking at was what was left of the carpet under my bedroom door, and an incredibly jittery miniature dachshund.  That only meant one thing.  Jerry.  Steve’s brother Jerry had a very unsettling effect on Major and the poor dog was just terrified of him.  I didn’t see the guys in the apartment, so I figured they went to the pool.  Poor Major had clawed up all the carpet under the door trying to get in to me.

I took Major to bed with me, fully intending on giving both Steve and Jerry a piece of my mind… later… zzzzzz.

Around 3am, I awoke to the lights going on in the bathroom and the sound of the shower.  I am a really light sleeper, so this REALLY annoyed me.  I stalked out into the living room… to find both Steve and Jerry sitting there watching TV.  Who the hell was in my shower???  I asked this very sentiment and the answer I received made me livid.

“Oh some girl Jerry brought over.”

There is a naked girl in my shower at 3am?  And no one thinks this is a problem but me??  ARGH!

But here’s the best part…

Not ONLY was there some strange girl in my shower at 3am.

She was a stripper.

A FUCKING STRIPPER IN MY SHOWER!  AFTER BEING IN THE HOT TUB WITH MY HUSBAND!

Sorry to offend those of you who “stripped your way through college”  [eye roll] But.  EWW.

Bleaching cleanser? $5.00

New soap?  $0.89

Eliminating stripper cooties from my shower? Priceless.

The best part was all three assholes got a rash from something going on in that hot tub.  Serves you right.  Get a real job… ALL OF YOU.