Last night was the Glow In The Dark Party at Heather & Jess's, a blacklight-only party with rave-quantity glowsticks. I missed seeing the girls. We've all been so busy lately, and I wanted to make sure I saw everybody before I disappear for three months. Jason spent a good portion of the evening making glow in the dark hats for me to wear out of lightsticks.

Aster, I will have you know that I was only pleasantly tipsy until whatever passionfruity concoction you made tipped me firmly over into the drunkface column. This morning was a slightly bleary one. :)

Anyhow, I had a good time. I've been in a great place lately and for once in recent memory I wasn't totally wiped out by the prospect of being social. I also saw Mike for the first time in a few years. He actually spotted me first-- I almost walked right past him because he's got these giant Civil War-esque muttonchops now. The first thing he did was give me a big hug, and that felt really good. Really gracious. I mean, it's not like I expected things to be awkward or anything, but sometimes you just never know, and I was happy that it was not that way. We did a little bit of the cursory catching up thing and I hope I was not too much of a chatterbox considering the smiley happy euphoric glow of a bottle of wine. But anyway, he seems to be doing well, and I am happy for that. He is good people.

Also, Mizz Ashley-- double date at Joss's when I get back! We need some sushi!

And Heather, I am sad I missed out on pancakes. :(

AND I MUST KNOW WHERE THOSE STRAWS CAME FROM.

I'm waiting for Jason to finish his acupuncture treatment, then we're making another round of goulash for dinner. My man is a really good cook, and I'm looking forward to it.

I have a little bit more work to do before I put up a 25-item update on Wednesday. I will likely reduce prices on some older stock-- a sort of "don't make me take it with me" sort of sale, and I'll have three pairs of earrings up for grabs in a contest. FYI, any orders placed after Saturday will not be shipped for a week, as we're driving out west, and I will probably not stop at a PO on the way. Shipping will resume as normal just as soon as I get settled in. I do need to buy or borrow a bike, though.

So, because I've been in a reflective mood of late, I decided to read over some of my old tags.

( Contemplating my own metaphorical navel.Collapse )

1. Fun responses in my inbox to answer in the morning!

2. Hanging out with the girls and going through my high school scrapbooks.

3. CHOCOLATE.

4. Flowers from Don! Big honking stargazer lilies!

5. A really satisfying rainstorm.

6. This awesome BSG + Lost post by ack_attack.

7. An email from Mike, saying he thought I could use some:



...which was really freakin' awesome and thoughtful.


Good things.

Spy says:

So I hope your belly dancing went well, and that it made your day a
little brighter, and put a smile on your face.

You forget that so often, and I keep having to remind you.

You should smile more often than you do, 'cause I know you don't do it
enough, and you're damn selfish to keep such a beautiful thing to
yourself.

This was meant in a completely friendly, no-ulterior-motive kind of way. I think we've finally gotten to a healthy place.

And you know what? He's right.

I texted a little with Mike today. Simple how-do-you-dos, nothing more. I thanked him for his holiday greetings, because it meant a lot to me.

I finally added Ashley and Heather back to my Myspace top people, as I can now look at their respective pages without breaking down when I scroll halfway down the page.

I am not upset, I am not crying. I'm actually quite content.

I'm proud of myself. Go team me.

This is progress.

I think I'm going to leave work early today. I'm at that peculiar stage of malaise where I feel like bursting into tears at nothing at all.

Well, not nothing. My kidneys are beginning to ache, and I absolutely do not want to go to the hospital again. I'm drinking water, and I'm getting enough rest, and I'm taking all the right herbs, but I still don't seem to be getting any better-- in fact, I'm getting more tender, more irritable, more washed out. I woke up this morning with a terrible headache that has not let up. I'm so tired of this. I'm tired of not feeling well.

It's odd how the times I really miss Mike the most are the times when I'm sick. He always went out of his way to make me laugh when I was sick-- he saw it as his opportunity to really shine, to be SuperBoyfriend. It's kind of sadly amusing to me that he seemed to like when I took ill, because he enjoyed taking care of me-- stirring the soup, bringing endless bags from RiteAid, renting movies, rubbing my hair until I fell asleep. It always made me feel so well taken care of. Maybe it's because I'm so uncomfortable being vulnerable that he particularly liked to be around me then-- I was a little less put together, a little closer to the core of what's beneath. I remember a time my freshman year of college where I had to go home for a few days after a particularly nasty bout of Labyrinthitis. The only place I could stand to be was in the basement-- cool, dark, muffled. He came over in the morning before he started work-- got all of my medication lined up, brought a glass of water. I fell asleep with my head in his lap. When I awoke nine hours later, he was sitting at the foot of the couch with his laptop, his hand on my knee. He'd come straight back from work to be there with me, to make sure I was okay. But that's neither here nor there. Ancient history.

I feel terrible, shaky. I'm going to go home, lie in a warm tub, have some comfort food, and go to bed early.

I wore my pentacle yesterday for the first time in several months. When I stopped wearing it, it was intentional, just as my wearing and removal of all significant jewelry tends to be. For three years, I wore a silver claddagh ring that became my second skin. Taking it off was an act of will, a symbolic act. A painful act. I tried to replace it with something else so my finger didn't seem so naked. It didn't really work. I think I have to learn to be comfortable in my emotional nudity. In my unshieldedness.

I took my pentacle off a few months ago, when I was hitting bottom. When I wasn't sure if I could make it, or, what's more, if I even wanted to make it. I did all sorts of things to myself that I'm not proud of.

People say that you should cling to your spirituality/religion/beliefs when things get hard, that it gets you through it. I felt too ashamed of myself to do that. I felt, that in my despair, I was not able to represent myself as strong, intelligent, centered-- all of the things that the pentacle represents to me. I was incredibly unbalanced, so why should I wear a symbol that epitomizes balance? And so I took it off. I tried to hide from Divinity, because I felt too embarrassed to present myself to my guides, as broken as I was. I didn't touch my books, I couldn't work on my Compendium. I stopped writing about my spirituality. I felt like a fake, a phony. I pushed everything away and just sort of shut down.

A lot of this has to do with Mike. When we broke up, I got into a new relationship so quickly. Part of it is that Skyler is genuinely a good person, a person I was attracted to because he has all of the qualities I'm looking for-- intellect, manners, humor, shared interests, confidence, motivation. But that's only part of it. The other part is that I wasn't ready to face the fact that I couldn't make it work with Mike. That I had this precious thing, and I couldn't hold on to it. I felt so... so defeated. I felt like a failure.

I thought that if I could distract myself, it wouldn't hurt so bad. Of course, I should have known better. I should have known that it wouldn't make the hurt go away, it would only delay the bullet awhile. Not only that, but it was incredibly unfair to Skyler. We were in the car a few nights ago, and I thanked him for his help with the painting and the moving and all that. That I know I've been a burden on his time, and I hate not being self-sufficient. He said that actually, he didn't mind it all that much, because I'd been warmer to him in the past week than I have been in months.

I think it hit me harder than it was meant to. I had been holding him at arm's length. I'd been refusing to let him get close to me, because what if I end up really liking him, and I fail at this, too? Why should I get close to him when our futures are so seemingly divergent? Why should I risk it? I'd been so standoffish, so cold. I was doing my best Buffy impression. It's a wonder he put up with me at all.

I got a Christmas card from Mike's mom yesterday. It was brief, cordial. It was like a form letter. I started to cry. I think I've finally accepted that there's no going back, only forward. That problems just don't vaporize. That whatever gets built next will not be what stood there before the rubble. It's incredibly hard, because I have no guarantees that I'll like what the future holds as much as the imagined future I had in my head. Of course, living at home in such a toxic environment didn't help. It stressed me, frustrated me, made me feel so alien and unwanted.

I'm moving. New starts. I'm trying not to feel like my moving -- again, alone -- is just an affirmation that I couldn't make it work. I'm trying to see this as a positive. Eventually, it will sink in. Eventually, that balance will return. Every day requires conscious recognition of that point. I wore my pentacle yesterday. Every little thing helps.

Sunday night, I took Skyler to Medieval Times for his birthday. Scott and Sarah came with, and afterwards, we went to TGI Friday's for a drink.

The moment I walked in the door, I just felt odd. Uncomfortable. Like I wanted to leave.

They had a good time-- chatting, joking. As for me, I developed a terrible stress headache and kept imagining I smelled Armani Black Code. We left early, upon my request, because I just couldn't let my guard down in that place. My skin was tingling, I was so on edge.

Mike called last night. We chatted for a few minutes about this and that-- small talk. He asked how I was doing, and we talked about our weekends. I mentioned that I'd gone to Friday's on Sunday evening.

"Oh, what time?" he asked.

"About 7:30," I replied. "We stayed for an hour or so."

And then he said he'd been there too, but he left at about 7. He then came back around 9. We missed each other not once, but twice.

That explains why I was so uncomfortable. I could sense him, even if I couldn't see him. I could still feel him there.

Every time I hear this song, I am reminded of a time of ecstatic joy. Hands around my waist, a crowd swaying in rhythm. Synchronicity. A kiss on the back of my neck. Heart swelling, bursting with gratitude and love. My cup was so full, it spilled over. Everything shone brighter-- I was illuminated by grace, by magic.

Now, when I hear this song, I wonder if I will ever feel that again-- so happy, so complete, so sure. I don't know if I ever will. It almost brings me to tears.

Tonight was hard on my heart. I guess I don't know which way's up.

I tore my room apart earlier searching for W2 forms. They were in my closet, but I went through everything before I got there-- shelves and drawers. I threw everything to the floor, socks mixing with pens and mismatched batteries. And then there it was, a picture of me in Mike's arms, the both of us smiling. I lost it. I couldn't help it.

If only he could have let me love him. If only he could have been secure in it. I loved him so fiercely. I drowned.

I still haven't processed that I will never kiss him again. Not really. And I could never let myself again, either. I wanted to call, though. I wanted to hear his voice and tell him I'm raw too. It's just that I repress it under everything else so that it doesn't hurt most of the time.

Why couldn't he fight back? Why did he have to wallow in his misery? Why couldn't he bend down to help me pick up the pieces? Why couldn't he see I was just as scared of losing him?

In the end, I suppose it's not a blame thing. It was just as much my fault as his, the whole snooping thing aside. Why couldn't we fix it? I looked at his smiling face, his adorable pointed ears. I could not stop crying. All of that repressed grief welled to the surface. I've spent so much time telling myself that it's okay, that it doesn't hurt. And usually, it doesn't. I don't let myself think about it. I deal with things in my own way-- in words, piece by piece, over the span of aeons. Bite-sized chunks of grief.

I'm so afraid that I'll never feel anything as powerful as the things I felt those first few years with him. That nothing else will ever core so deep, will tear me open and expose me to the sun. And part of me wonders how much of that is the gauzy remembrance of an enamored seventeen year-old. God, I hope it wasn't that. It might be easier to think it was, though.

And then there's Skyler. I feel so comfortable around him. I could love him, maybe. Someday when I don't hurt so much, when there aren't so many reminders. He's so sweet-- flowers and champagne. Midnight backrubs and ice-cream brownies when I'm stressed out. I am powerfully attracted to him. Magnetic. But there's a wall around me right now, and I can't let it go yet.

He called me his girlfriend last night. I don't know why it shocked me like it did. It doesn't bother me... it's just that I hadn't thought of it. I suppose that's what I am. We've been dating for a month now. But that means I'm not Mike's girlfriend, and well, I'm still dealing with that. Please don't give me advice on this. I'll sort it out in my own time.

Like Mike, like Ariel, and yeah, even Johnny, I knew from the start that Skyler would be important to me. It's the sensation of a gunshot tearing through flesh, it's how I know. It's the same strange heart's alchemy that lets me know if I could love someone simply by pressing my lips to theirs. And so that's something. But still there's that fear-- that nothing else will ever touch me so deeply, will ever change me so irrevocably. It makes me hold him at arms's length, though it's not his fault. I'm not ready to melt yet.

This is all my choice. All things I have brought about, have shaped with my own hands. I know it will be okay, that I have made and will make the best choices for me. It's just that there are times when it hurts to know that some of those choices are irreversible.


I owe the state of Maryland $23. Bastards.