In light of yesterday's cathartic post...

Reblogged from Too Good to be True

Why It Hurt(s)

This post was inspired by Kat George's over at Thought Catalog. I was originally just going to reblog hers, but then there were things I wanted to cross out and brackets I wanted to add and then it seemed like writing my own was just a better idea. 


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Because he said he loved me the night before, like he'd said nearly every night for about two months, and the next morning he said he'd never meant it. Because love should never be a lie. 
Because he was the first man of my "type" to ever have seemed to have wanted me in a substantive manner. Because his desire and "love" for me amplified that which I had for myself--knowing he wanted me around, wanted me to hold a special place in his life reserved for no one else, was such an ego boost. I certainly hadn't held myself in overwhelming disregard before he came into my life, but belonging to him [or giving myself to him, if the ownership implied in "belonging" doesn't sit well with you] made me feel better about myself. Because knowing he never wanted me like he made it seem like he wanted me unleashed every insecurity I'd previously successfully locked away and suddenly they were all feasting on me at once.  
Because I ignored the things I was uncomfortable with/unsure about and had convinced myself that we had found perfection. Because he totally blindsided me that morning; I didn't see it coming at all. Because I had been thoroughly and completely fooled. Duped. Bamboozled. Toyed with. Conned. Because the realest thing I had ever known was never real at all. Because I thought I fell for him, but it turns out I had fallen for an act, and that was personally humiliating. I was so disgusted with myself for having been blind to the truth. I was angry at myself because I thought I should have known better, I should have seen the signs. Because once I wasn't in it anymore, I could see that I had lost myself inside of this, and all along I'd been thinking I was winning. Because hindsight is a bitch with 20-20 vision. Because I'd had endings before, yes, and I'd been lied to before, but never this thoroughly.
Because I thought I was doing pretty well for my first time around the meaningful relationship thing. Because we had serious-relationship-conversations and met each other's parents and celebrated month-aversaries and how could all of that be part of something that wasn't real?
Because I'd gone and let my imagination run away with me. Once we both seemed sure about this, I lifted the restraining order between my head and my heart and let them start talking again, and when they do that I get to making silly plans. Plans like international mail and sexy lingerie and rearranging my clothes to have an extra drawer for him and leaving an extra toothbrush in his room and Thanksgiving with my family and visiting his over our extended Christmas vacation. Because it had felt so much like an idyllic movie romance and I wanted to do everything in my power to keep it that way. Because I was suddenly alone to wallow not only in losing what we had, but also in losing everything I'd imagined we were going to have.
Because if he'd spent so much time and energy projecting emotions he didn't feel for so long, he could have at least had the decency to pretend to be upset as he was telling me all the ways I was wrong and he'd done wrong. Because he just got to walk away apparently unscathed, while I felt like I'd gotten run over by a tractor trailer. Because he'd gone from being the person who could make me feel invincible to the person who left me wide-open and vulnerable in the blink of an eye. Because I will never know what was and what was not a lie. Because he played love and I fell in, even though it was hard and I was scared, thinking it was an exercise in reciprocity, a leap of faith. 
Because I thought we were good for each other; I wanted us to be good for each other. Because he was the first time I had put my love life into my own hands and gone after something I wanted in six years, and look where it got me. Because even if I'm smart enough to not think I can't trust men because of what he did,  I have learned that I perhaps should be less trusting of my damn self. Because this doubt is a stain I can't get out no matter how many times I put myself through the wash.


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Sorry if you're sick of hearing about this. That was even more cathartic than I'd imagined it would be.    
  

I came to the realization last night

while having one of the wee-hours-of-the-morning laying in bed chats with E that I've missed greatly since we were roommates sophomore year, that I have changed my mind. [M, another former roommate, will tell you this is not uncommon in the least.] Even more accurate a statement, I suppose, is that I have recovered the good sense my damned-fool-blinded-by-love-and-hurt self had obviously lost. I am thinking clearly again now, though, and I don't want to be friends. What's more serious, I don't even want to want to be friends. Maybe he doesn't either, and those things we both said were just the things you say...we mentioned this at length in multiple communications, but I have no understanding of when he is being sincere. 
And I'm not even mad at that. All I know is that I felt like my world was falling apart because there wasn't a single section of my life that he hadn't affected. I couldn't wrap my head around losing him completely. He said he couldn't either, but actions speak louder than words [Yeah actually I can't stand by that oft-true cliche in the context of this situation...] inaction speaks louder than... I have already lost him. And yeah, I was a hot-ass-mess about that for a while, I'm not even gonna front, but...I'm not even trippin off that anymore, because something more important happened between then and now: he lost me. He has lost whatever hold he used to have over me, whatever it was that said I needed him in my life. He has lost my affection. He has lost my desire. He has lost my remorse. To an extent, he has even lost my interest.
I never stopped following his blog, so I know how his summer is going and all that jazz, but I noticed a while ago that I don't get excited when he posts something now. I read it, sure, but I've stopped wondering how he's doing. Today I kind of even skimmed it, more excited to move onto the other unread items in my blogroll. I've spent a lot of time in the past month and a half wracking my brain, trying to find a way to imagine being at the club together without it being so awkward I just want to leave. I was basically unsuccessful, but I've realized that at least some of the awkwardness is coming from trying to find a way to be friendly. I don't want to be all antagonistic or some shit, but I don't want to make small talk with him over lunch either. There are lots of people I have no meaningful interactions with in my club...I just wanna add him to that pile. Feigning a desire to interact that I just don't HAVE is the awkward part. Reservedness and polite interest I think I can handle. And anyway, they say fake it til you make it, right? Game plan accomplished.

"Loving someone that doesn’t love you is the most impossibly pointless endeavor anyone can ever find themselves sucked into and usually, when you finally pull yourself away you realize that you learned nothing, gained nothing, and lost – for a time – everything." --SingleBlackMale

2nd 30 Day Letter Challenge--Day 27: Letter to Someone Who Taught You Something New

Dear KO,
The breadth of this topic means I could have written to lots of people, but it just feels most accurate to write to you because of how much you've taught me since February. I recently read somewhere on the interwebz the line, "I don't want to come out of a relationship feeling like I haven't changed much," and regardless of the misalignment between the levels of seriousness with which each of us regarded this, I've certainly changed a lot. Maybe I'll expand this to include things I learned about myself via being with you, which may not be the exact same thing as you teaching me, but oh well.
I learned that if grown-ass-woman-Maya wanted someone badly enough, I could take action steps to get from Point A to Point B with said person; I hadn't been brave enough to do that since I was little just-barely-a-teenager-Maya. You taught me what it feels like to be swept off my feet. You reintroduced me to anticipation and infatuation, 12-year-old schoolgirl style: will I see him today? Is he gonna text me? What will he say? I learned to prioritize something that was bigger than just me, even if my friends thought I was crazy. I learned to dismiss my friends' opinions/advice, which I hope I have unlearned just as quickly. 
I learned a new level of happiness, a level that evidently constantly showed on my face and got commented on all the time. You helped me see that striving for independence doesn't mean I can't ask for help in moments of need. You taught me that my ex (before you) may have been right on two counts: 1) that I just might have been a nympho waiting to happen, and 2) that the best thing two people can do in bed is to wake up together. You taught me the bliss that comes from waking up happy with the arm of a man I adore slung around my ribcage in casual protection, and that there are better reasons than schoolwork to only get three hours of sleep. There were more tangible things: you taught me how to two-step, that Campus Club sells $2 milkshakes, and that the ears are a very erogenous zone (among various other lessons in physics and anatomy that we learned together). I learned new levels of physical comfort, both with myself and with another person. I learned how to stretch the tiniest events as far as they could go, a whole new version of time management.
You taught me that I was wrong about myself in so many ways: I'd always abhorred cutesy, gagged at over-the-top romance. I always told myself I never wanted anything like that, but from the moment you gave it to me, I reveled in it. You taught me that, against everything I'd ever believed, in my heart of hearts all I want is a routine of togetherness, regularly shared meals and molding myself to fit into someone else's shape night after night. I know now that you never meant to, but you taught me how to dive into love: to weigh the options upon the shore and make the conscious decision to Get. In. The. Water! [Notebook reference]. Even if the two-way street was only a very well-put-together mirage, you taught me how it feels to be in love. With you, I learned to abandon all but my most important reservation: reservedness about my reservations; I'm working on it in your absence. I wish I had learned how to tell you when I was worried; instead, I learned to put my worries on the back burner and live half in the moment and half in a larger picture my silly little heart had concocted. I learned to be carefree in a glorious but potentially dangerous way. I learned trust and security at deeper levels than ever before, in the I wanted to put all of me in a box with a bow on it and give it to you and say This is yours now, take care of it, and I remembered again what it was to want to share myself with someone completely. 
I have since learned the true value of honesty, the sting of hypocrisy, and what exactly constitutes a lie. I have learned to be more open in my questioning. I have learned that a person's intentions have no true bearing on the effects of their actions on others, and am in the process of learning which component (the intentions or the effects) hold more weight in the course of this life we live, which I should value more. I have relearned the weight of shattered expectations, along with how to hurt, how to feel like I've been fooled, how to be furious, how to doubt, how to blame, and how to over-analyze (though I'm sure I never forgot that last one).
Most recently, I am learning to enjoy the memories of the past for what they were when they were, and to not try to tear them apart by applying later feelings. I am learning to stomp out dread with determination. I am learning to reprioritize myself. I am learning to forgive. 
It seems only appropriate to end with my our girl India:

"I'm only human
Let's shake free this gravity of resentment
And fly high, and fly high
You're only human
Let's shake free this gravity of judgment
And fly high on the wings of forgiveness

I've searched for romance
Flowers and affection
What I found is a lesson
Of what love really is
Found the game of love is
Not about how much you can take
In fact authentic love is about
How much you can give

...

And I wanna let you know how much you changed my life
I wanna let you know you taught me how to fly
And I wrote this song to tell you this
I'm better cuz you taught me how to give"

--India.Arie, "Wings of Forgiveness" 

Maya

Firsts

You were my first gentleman

The first to sweep me off my feet

You were the first man to ask me on a legitimate date

or want to meet each other’s families

You were the first man I could imagine bringing home

for Thanksgiving Dinner, or going away with

You were the first time I didn’t feel embarrassed

No, I was entirely comfortable in my own skin

with your teasing sensitivity all over my own skin

You were the first man I wanted to lay myself bare for,

though I could only manage that in the most obvious of ways.

You were the first man I welcomed wholly into my space,

the first man I wanted to clear out a drawer for.

You were the first man to make me feel treasured.

You made me believe in love after I’d long-forgotten how.  

I was the first woman to try to share her life with you,

the first to always want you around.

I was the first woman you thought you could make happy.

Rife with raw emotion, I was the first woman

to make your life complicated.

I was the first woman you treated like a Queen.

I was the first to show you there difference between

love as something you do and love as something you’re in,

for you could only manage the former (and do it spectacularly).

I may have been the first woman to stress you out

or to make you ask yourself really difficult questions.

I was the first woman you shared a bed with, and in that

I hope I’m not the first woman you compromised yourself for.

We were each other’s first serious relationship,

and firsts are a series of trial and error.

We wondered more about what the other person wanted

or expected than we paid attention to ourselves.

We killed a hundred conversations with kisses.

We said things we weren’t ready for.

We are each teacher and student, villain and victim,

the player and the played. Somewhere between

lust and love, we were each other’s first adventure.

Despite inexperience, we treated each other well

We gave to each other as well as we could.

Now it’s time to give back to ourselves.  

I hope this is the end of posts about this. This one gets REAL.

I find the intensity with which I can feel various emotions for short periods of time to be incredibly interesting. I guess I just give in very easily to wallowing or celebrating, depending upon the nature of the emotion. I let myself get carried away by feeling. 

I guess what intrigues me about this right now is the question: how much of the feelings those moments of intensity are based around is legitimate? If I can put so much energy into feeling angry, or feeling sad, or hell even feeling love or happiness, that when the moment of intensity passes I just feel...sort of used up and like I need to recharge, then what becomes of the emotion once it has consumed all of my energy? It makes me wonder how much of a flame was there in the first place, and how much is just some part of my brain leaking gas to feed it. Even if the emotion is negative, a large part of me very much enjoys letting myself be overcome by it: it's like lighting something on fire and watching the fire burn itself out. Except the something is me. 

But I don't think it's healthy. Realizing it makes me not trust myself more than anyone else. If I keep shooting myself in the foot by feeling things so intensely it scares people, I am going to always be lonely. This habit gets me into all kinds of bad situations. 

I'm going to put even more of my business out here than usual and walk you through a recent example: a little under two weeks ago, I got really scared that my then-boyfriend [who I am still in the long-process of trying to let go, though I still can't say I want to fully. I wish we could just change the nature of things and leave them as they were. But this isn't about that.] didn't think I cared about him like I should. He called attention to a mistake I had made in a previous relationship that I talked about here and without letting him explain himself at all or what he thought we should talk about about that post, I freaked out and I sent him an email of things that were (I still believe) entirely accurate about how I felt about our relationship and how I felt about him and I hoped that was enough. But that fear about what he might be thinking just kept gnawing away at me until I couldn't stand it any more [living alone and taking 4 trains every day and working in an environment where you have very little human interaction means you have WAY TOO MUCH TIME TO THINK] and I started writing a letter full of frilly romantic things, which I now believe to have mostly been exaggerations of how I actually felt. Throughout our whole relationship, he had been the frilly romantic one and I had been the one who kept how she was feeling to herself until it had to be let out in little bursts--this was a big burst and though I believed it then, I can't look back at it now and feel like it was real and/or legitimate. Love was the emotion I got carried away with then, and I think I could tell that I was unsure about everything I wrote (I don't even remember most of it) because I almost didn't put it in the mail the next day. But then I remembered our "open and honest" policy and how in the previous letter I'd written to him, I stressed that I wanted us to be able to tell each other anything. So I drew little hearts on the envelope and left it in my mailbox for the postman to pick up. And what clues me in that it was an emotion wave is that by a few days later, I was worried about us growing apart while he was gone and I had this terrifying thought of what if we get to the point where saying I love you is a habit as opposed to a truth, and that came with a sister-worry of whether we were already there. He pointed to other things that made him realize it was time to end this, not just that letter, but I can't help but feel like these stupid emotion waves ruined this for me. 

Except the more accurate culprit is my apparent inability to voice my feelings about a situation with a person to that actual person. If we had just really talked and really listened none of this would have happened, I think. I'm beginning to believe that neither of us was completely open or honest or fair to the other for a very long time. And I think that's the reason I can latch onto for why I have to let this go. I've been struggling for days to solve this puzzle: 

lust < x < love

What is x and how am I supposed to feel about it? But wondering how one of us is supposed to feel or what the other expects/wants us to feel is what got us into so much trouble in the first place. 

So let's instead ask the radical question, how DO I actually feel about it? And the brutally honest answer is that as good as it has made me feel, and as much as I have an incredibly strong desire to just make it more casual and not stop, it is [very] possible that any improbably feasible course of action that involves lowering expectations and just enjoying each other for a while such as I have been privately entertaining over the course of the past few days wouldn't leave me feeling good in the long run. Where is the line between enjoying each other's company and using each other? I don't want to find out. I would rather this be over than find out. That's the first time I've been able to say this being over is not an entirely cruel happenstance. 

So now it's time to perhaps buy a new vibrator since mine doesn't vibrate anymore, and figure out how to not get overwhelmed by the desire to have his (someone's? his? someone-I-trust-and-am-physically-comfortable-with-which-describes-him-more-accurately-than-anyone-else's? Door Number Three sounds like the winner.) hands and mouth all over me, so that I don't have to go back on my statement that I want to be friends come the fall. I will find a way to stand not being able to wrap myself around him and a way not to miss the warmth and protection of his arm around me while we sleep, because more unbearable than either of these is the idea of yet another mistruth between us.

And while I'm doing all these seemingly-impossible things [preferably without doing any of the aforementioned things with someone who doesn't deserve me, because the best way to get over a guy is definitely not to get under a new one...], I will also learn to keep myself in check. I will learn to take a step back from whatever situation I find myself in and say 'Maya, how much of this is real?' Because I just don't have the time/extra energy/desire to keep putting myself through these waves, no matter what they're related to. And more importantly, the other people in my life who are affected by these waves DON'T DESERVE THEM.             

My life is a series of progression and relapse.

B told me on Friday night that he thinks I'm taking this all very well. I didn't have the heart to tell him I'm just trying to hide how much it hurts, even from myself. 

Dear Universe,

It's like, okay, all cocky/snobbish/self-centeredness aside, I know that I'm a pretty awesome person. I like me. I think I have cool ideas and I have a big heart and I'm kinda cute and most of the time I'm an interesting person to be around. I take pretty good care of myself. I have a pretty good self-concept. I can do all the self-affirmations in the book and I believe them. I do. 

But is it too much to ask for a little external validation? Like, damn, no matter how hard you believe, if no one else can see something, maybe you're just wrong? I don't feel like I'm crazy. But sometimes I feel like I just give and give and give and don't get much in return. I spend my life trying to share myself and my time and my energy and my love/affection/admiration with other people and I'm never quite sure they're sharing back with me equally. I don't know how to hear what basically boils down to I wanted to give you more but I just couldn't without having serious qualms about whether I will ever be enough for anyone but me. I don't wanna hide myself away and give of myself sparingly, but unless I see some proof that reciprocity is possible, I'm going to have to. I see no other way to avoid destroying myself through the process of simply trying to live. [Although I suppose in a really morbid way, that's all life is--a process of self-destruction.] 

Universe, maybe this is an impossible thing to ask for, but I'm going to ask anyway because I'm running out of other ideas. I just want a little bit of confirmation that I am, in fact, lovable. That it is possible, even if it won't happen for a long time. That anyone besides my Daddy--whose kindness and support this week have been unbelievable and unprecedentedly appreciated--can see me as a priority. I just want to know I'm not holding out for an impossible dream. You made me believe in love, Universe, and then you snatched the foundation I'd built right out from under my feet, and I thank you for not letting me continue to build my life around should-be-truths, but I feel like I'm at Square Negative Two right about now. Knowing that someone can go through the motions of loving and cherishing me and succeed in making me feel like a treasure without having his heart actually in it...I don't want to turn into a pessimist but I don't know how I'll ever shake this shroud of doubt. I want to make it clear that I don't feel like I was trivialized, but I do feel...trivializable, almost. 

It's really and truly my goal to try to be friendly or even friends, because I still think he's an awesome person and someone I'd like to have in my life, but...a) it's going to be hard to leave it at just that, and b) I have lots of friends already, goddammit! Yes it is infinitely better than people not wanting me in their lives at all, but I'm scared I'll never be enough to cross that line from an interesting friend you care about and want to keep around to a person you want to share your life with, even for a while. The last thing I'm looking for is forever at this stage, but I want...the temptation of wanting forever? And that temptation to be real on both sides. I want something REAL. I'm an intense person and maybe my candle is burning at more than just both ends and I am willing to light myself afire in even more places if someone will just burn with me. Maybe this is just a showcase of my immaturity or all the reasons why now isn't the time for this to happen for me, but I just want to know what it's like to be important to someone. I want someone to feel like they can give of themselves freely back to me. I want organic reciprocity. If I have value only to myself, am I not worthless on the open market? 

I know I'm not. But I want proof. Because if insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, then I'm...worried, because nothing's changing. Do I have to change? I'm happy with me though. I don't think the way I'm doing things is fundamentally wrong. 


What say you?

Maya 

#truth

Reblogged from my friend Lauren over at http://inyourafterglow.tumblr.com/

#Iwillnotbebitter!

K says nobody likes a bitter black woman. #truth 

And so, I love Roger's and Hammerstein's Cinderella as much as any other black woman of my generation, but this song has got to stop trying to insert itself in my head like it defines my life. Because lots of songs do, but this doesn't:

 

Confessions:

Small font because I'm whispering this:the hardest part about not hating him is that I have no reason not to still like him.

There. I said it. I know I'm not supposed to. I know this isn't a positive step forward in the healing process. I [think I] know it's a waste of my time. I know all my hardcore feminist friends are shaking their fists and lamenting my lack of pride right now. But silly hearts, they don't listen to heads very well. And my silly heart keeps wondering exactly how wrong it is to continue to be lovers if you aren't in love. K says married people do it all the time. Idk which option is sadder.

But then I remember that everyone deserves relationships that are equal partnerships, in which each partner is getting as much as s/he is giving and visa versa. Everyone deserves equal rankings in the priorities hierarchy. So even though right now I almost feel like if we had just a) listened to each other and b) been straightforward with each other from the beginning, we might have been on the same page the whole time, you can't go from trying to reach grown-person concepts like love and devotion to just trying to have fun and enjoy each other's company. #Lifedoesn'tworklikethat #That'sjustnothealthy

But [insert womp-womps here] #Knowingthatdoesn'tchangehowIfeel  

More songs because music makes the world go round:

 #WhatI'mtryingtobeabletomeanwhenIsayit

(I just mean the goodbye part. He's kind of intense.)

#ExceptmaybeIshouldbesayingthis

#AndwhatIactuallymeanisthis

Even smaller font because I don't even like admitting this to myself: It was easy to say that even if I knew then what I know now, I would do this again. That's still true. It's a lot harder to say that knowing what I know about everything that happened here, I'd still rather not let this go. But, silly little heart, you a) have to stop being selfish, and b) can't always get what you want. 

Continuing the confessions that are really hard to make: I'd never been treated so well in my whole life. That will be the hardest thing to let go of, I think. 

INSANE WHIRLWIND OF EMOTIONS cannot begin to accurately describe the past two days.

Extreme sadness. Hurt. Fury that almost scared me. Fear separately. Deep confusion, or maybe simply a profound lack of understanding.



All of those feelings are done now. Well I'm still sad that it's over, because I wanted to snuggle into this and stay there for a long while, but I feel nothing like the overwhelming _________ I was feeling. I feel surprisingly good right now. I feel like nothing was as bad as I'd thought/imagined/suspected/worried/feared. I am not a bad judge of character, and I would like to come out and publicly say to all of you who know me in real life and know the other person involved in this situation--he is not the villain here. This situation doesn't have a villain. It has two good people who made some bad choices and that's it. #theoppositeofpubliclyflaming


I'm not gonna list out all the terrible things that have been running through my head. They don't need mentioning, as they're all either flat out wrong, unwarranted, invalid, or have been deconstructed to the point of my being content. It may have felt at first like the world was ending, but up is still up, down is still down, and I don't think anything permanently damaging happened here. 



I have, however, learned a lot. And the things I have learned can be listed:

1.  It is entirely impossible to undervalue honesty, especially when you know the truth is going to hurt. 
2. Wanting to mean something is entirely different from meaning it. Changing your definition of something so that you can mean it isn't being honest either. 
3. Relationships are based on a lot of assumptions. It's probably a good idea to talk about things rather than assuming you're on the same page about X issue.
4. It actually shocks me that these words are about to come out of my mouth, but maybe it really is the thought that counts. Intentions mean something, even when they lead down unpredictable and hurtful paths. Sometimes people deserve the benefit of the doubt even in the most unfortunate situations.
5. Anger is actually an essential part of the healing process. 
6. My friends are awesome. But I already knew that.
7. Pain does not automatically negate all the previous joy a situation gave. Hurt does not erase prior happiness. I'm not saying "don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened," because I think that crying is a healthy part of LIFE in general, and it's important to be unabashedly sad when something makes you sad...but when it's all said and done, everything good that happened still happened. And that's what you should focus on. 
8. Your world should always be bigger than one person. I think I forgot that mine was for a little while until the support came rushing in from every direction while I was freaking out and I remembered that I have a whole network of people who love and care about me. 
9. Love is a nuanced, nuanced thing. It has so many layers and components and meanings and strivings. It varies from person to person and situation to situation. There are lots of things that love is. There are also lots of things that love isn't. And I'm still learning the differences, I think. Maybe we all are. 
10. Don't underestimate the benefits that can come from actually talking to someone who hurt you, instead of just festering in your own emotions. Every story has two sides. 
11. Analysis of every tiny detail of a situation is pointless and futile. Analysis of what major mistakes were made and what should have been done differently in those specific instances is an opportunity for growth that should not be overlooked. 
12. It is evidently possible for me to open up to my father under times of complete and total duress. It is also evidently impossible for my mother to let me open up to her during such times. This is unsurprising. Maybe I should be less freely open with my mother and talk to my dad more. 
13. I have no regrets. None. I might even want to change everything I've ever believed about exes and want to try to be friends. And on that note, I will pick a song:

And I'd choose you again...

I wore a green shirt today. Subconsciously channeling:

The two artists I have the most music by are India.Arie and Eminem

As such, the two feelings I'm torn between are:

"And if he ever left me, I wouldn't even be sad, 'cause there's a blessing in every lesson and I'm glad that I knew him at all." --India.Arie, "The Truth"

and 

"when someone seems too good to be true, they usually are. But see, when you're in it it's too hard to see..." --Eminem, "Spend Some Time"

Not sure I'll ever make a decision between the two feelings. Not sure it's even possible. I am not sure how I'm not supremely angry or if I'll stay that way. I'm not sure what to believe about the past four months, except that for the sake of my sanity it can't be nothing. Not sure how long it will take to shake this sick-to-my-stomach feeling or to rebuild the ability to trust. Not sure you ever really know a person. Not sure how to make myself stop caring about him. Even less sure than I ever was before (not including the past three months) about what love ostensibly is. Not sure I'll ever really understand what happened here. 

I am sure I'll waste lots of time and energy trying to. I am sure that I feel humiliated, like I have been made a fool of. I am sure I'll throw myself into my independent work like nobody's business in a thinly veiled attempt to hide the fact that my life doesn't make sense to me anymore. I am sure that I was happy (albeit a different kind of happy) before this and I can be happy again after it. I am sure that there's a lot to be learned from this situation.  I am sure that I will never again undervalue the importance of complete and brutal honesty, especially when the truth hurts. I'm also pretty sure that I am (un?)fortunately too good a person to repeatedly flame him on this blog, because like I don't deserve this, I can't make myself believe he's a terrible enough person to deserve that, so I will try to avoid it (after this).

A DirectTV blimp just passed overhead saying "Change your life." My first reaction? I don't want to. But sometimes you don't have a choice. 

I will leave you with an excerpt from my favorite play, Ntozake Shange's For Colored Girls who've Considered Suicide/ when the Rainbow is enuf:

"My love is too beautiful to have thrown back on my face. [...]

My love is too sanctified to have thrown back on my face.

My love is too magic to have thrown back on my face.

My love is too Saturday night to have thrown back on my face.

My love is too complicated to have thrown back on my face.

 My love is too music to have thrown back on my face.

And you remember that the next time some man tries to walk away with all of your stuff. 

I know that's right. Or says I'm sorry a million times.

...

 It's ok. I asked myself how I could let that happen and I realized that I was missing something. Something so important. Something promised.

I suppose what I'm left with now is me time. More than time to analyze what happened here, I suppose I should go find what I'm missing to make sure it never happens again. Not that I'm blaming myself--mistakes were made on both sides--but something needs to change.

How did I get here?