Positive...

Before I go bat shit fucking crazy and start going to places where I’m not making any sense, let me just say this as a disclaimer of sorts…I am one angry turkey. It’s that time of year again when I’m reminded of losing Rob and I don’t know where to put my feelings. They would like a direction and writing has certainly given me that direction as well as running, and the focus that work offers has been welcome but nothing fully eases all this sadness, grief, and anger.
I should talk. I know this. I should open up to another human being. Preferably a therapist who has an unbiased opinion but what I want, is to be open with the people I’m closest to but that’s too hard. I want to tell the person in front of me that I hurt, but for me, hurt equals weakness and I don’t want to show anyone that.
Why?
Well, for starters, every time I open my mouth I feel like I’m slamming my head against a wall. The wall is thick and made of the hardest concrete and keeps any sound from permeating through it. Tears are also threatening to come if the words don’t. I’ve gone right back to not wanting to cry in front of people. When I do squeak something out it usually starts innocently enough but morphs into some strange rambling with no direction and when I’m finally done, I feel silly for all that I’ve given up to someone.
Then there’s the “positive” feedback. This is where the person I’m speaking to reminds me to remain “positive.” What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing this whole fucking time?! I could have gone down a scary road. I feel I’ve worked very hard at remaining positive, at seeing the good at having to learn such an excruciating lesson so early in life. When Rob died, I took time for myself. I didn’t shut off, I talked to people. I made time for writing and running. I went back to work, and did the best I could to function in society. I didn’t sink into my eating disorder, but continued to go to meetings and continued to connect with people. Eventually I made it up to Chicago which was the plan to begin with. I could have stayed in Atlanta, could have stopped everything but nope, I chose to keep going. So tell me dear person, where is it that you come off saying that I need to stay “positive” when I feel I have? Since when is it not ok not to be sad, or hurt or angry or even selfish? Sometimes I need to be. I react so strongly to your “positive” declarations because I feel I’m not entitled to feel anything else. Even when I do and express those feelings I always feel the need to wrap up my lil outburst with something positive, just so you can be assured that I am in fact ok and I’m not headed for the looney bin any time soon. Regardless of entitlement, the feelings, the negative ones are still there, waiting patiently to descend and make their presence known just as much as the positives ones. If I don’t feel everything as it comes I’ll be even more of a mess than I am now and what fun would that be?
I don’t ask for these feelings. I don’t ask for anger and hurt. I know you don’t either. I don’t know why they come. I don’t know why I constantly want to yell and scream and punch things. I miss Rob, sure. I love him still, yes. Sometimes I can’t believe that this happened. That one minute he was there and the next, in an instant, he’s not. How does anyone wrap their mind around death? How can you ask me to stay positive when you have no idea what’s going on in my head, the depths of anything I’m currently feeling? Maybe I would be if I could be but for today, it’s not going to happen.
So, well meaning human, what I need is acceptance. Not only from you but from myself. I need acceptance that all my feelings can be experienced freely and openly no matter how dark they seem to be. I need to feel ok with being angry without fear of having to be reminded to be positive. I need to sink into the dark stuff, the weakness, the anger, the hurt to keep on feeling the positive feelings that I more often than not posses. Please and thank you.

Heaven...

It’s Sunday and one of my clients, we’ll call her Jackie, is coming in for an adjustment. I met her about a week ago and had a wonderful conversation about meditating and spirituality. I don’t get in that deep with people usually but every now and then someone special crosses my path and reminds me there is so much more out there…
“I’m so sorry! I really do love my hair, it’s just I need more off the length.” she exclaims before sitting in my chair.
“It’s no problem!” I laugh, happy to see her. We decide how much I’ll be taking off and I get started.
We start talking about writing. She’d love nothing more than to sit in a cabin out in nature and write a book.
“Me too!” I exclaim. I don’t want to be too far away from people though but for a little while that sounds really nice.
Our words bounce back forth between what we’ve done in the past as far as employment and what we’d like to do in the future. She used to be a massage therapist and energy healer, two things I’m fascinated by. The things we want require money and time, two things I’m generally not ok with. My impatient self wants everything right this minute.
Somehow the subject of Rob comes up. I tell her about losing him, about the South Carolina license plates and the “I love yous” that I see on occasion.
“You are so lucky!” she beams.
My eyes tear up and I nod. “I feel that way.”
“He’s still here.” she reminds me.
I nod.
“You know what I think?” she asks. “I think you two were up in Heaven, hashing out the details of your lives, picking your parents, your lessons and when you’d meet. He knew that his life’s work would be done and in order for you to move forward, he’d have to leave so you could live.”
I’m losing it as she puts words to the thought that ha been in my mind since I met Rob. She stands and hugs me. I never want to let her go. We’re covered in her hair but it doesn’t matter.
“I totally feel that way.” I smile, wiping my face as she sits down again but faces me. Nothing else matters more than right now. Noise and people are buzzing around me but she’s the only person I see.
Her words remind me of a morning that I woke up wrapped up in Rob’s arms which was in my opinion impossible because we each liked to be on our own sides of the bed when it was time to go to sleep. This particular morning I remember having a hard time opening my eyes, not wanting to let go of something. It was dreamlike and felt as if we went somewhere together. When we both opened our eyes I felt that he felt this way too because he hugged me hard saying that he didn’t want to let me go. I still wonder if he felt whatever it was I was feeling to the extent that I did.
Jackie reminds me again how lucky I am to have him with me always. I explain that I have a hard time talking about all of this with my family. I want to. I want to share all the little things with them but in the past when I’ve told mom about the South Carolina plates or sent dad an email I’m met with skepticism or silence.
Pat reminds me that I must’ve chosen mom to be my mom because of our differences like this.
“You need her to have those opinions to gain confidence in your own beliefs.”
That is quite possibly the most positive spin anyone could ever put on it.
“I’m so glad you came in.” I tell her as I finish up her hair.
“We obviously had messages for each other.” she smiles and hugs me goodbye.

Love and Clippers...

Two years ago today it was Easter Sunday. Rob and I were up early getting all fancy, him in a hurry because he was late, and me, not so much because I didn’t have to leave until later.
Today it’s Tuesday and the start of my work week. I’m in Chicago waking up next to Jeff and pulling myself out of bed to go run. It’s dark outside still but I love it. The sky is just beginning to lighten up. This is my favorite time of day.
Last night while falling asleep Jeff asked if there was anything on my mind. This cracks me up. He and I spent most of the day drinking coffee on his couch yesterday and having intense, wonderful, deep conversations. I’m not sure how it is that I haven’t covered everything that my brain could possibly come up with or hold today.
“Hmm…nope. You?”
He’s quiet for a while until he asks, “Is it ok if I call you my girlfriend?”
I giggle. “Of course.”
We laugh at how it’s annoying to constantly refer to the other one when talking to people as “this guy/girl” I’m seeing.
He hugged me hard. I felt calm, content, and happy. It’s like some sort of anxiety was just scraped away. Not that I didn’t think we were going to go in this direction, it’s just nice to have it said out loud.
I return home from my run and get ready for work. Once there I get no-showed by my first one and everyone after that wanted to change their hair. My most challenging was a boy who had hair that was about 3 inches below the top of his ear. He showed me a picture of a haircut that was extremely short, something I’d have to do with the clippers. Now I’m not real fond of the clippers. George teases me about it on a regular basis and is always encouraging me to use them.
I stare at the picture trying to find a way out of this. There is no way. I have to do it. I remind myself that I have everything I need right now. Help is here should something happen.
After shampooing my client I walk over to George’s station and rummage through it looking for his clippers. He walks up to me in the middle of doing this.
“May I use your clippers?” I ask.
“Of course you can!” he exclaims and reaches passed me to pull out a comb and the clippers. While he’s doing this, I notice something on the inside of his station’s cabinet door. It’s a small piece of paper with the words “I love you” written on it in his son’s handwriting. My eyes flood with tears for a second out of gratitude and out of fear for what is going to happen once I turn these things on and start running them up my client’s head. I’m reminded though of a friend’s words when she told me to imagine God there with you in any situation you find yourself fearful in. Seeing the words “I love you” written there in George’s station reminded me that I’m not alone.
“May the force be with you.” George smiled and left for the day.
I cut my client’s hair and was proud of and happy with the end result as was my client. Whew!

Fear...

Will I always freak out over a relationship? Why does being involved with someone consume my mind, and stress me out to a point to where my arms and hands are in dermatitis crisis mode? Why does sharing my life with someone pull me away from the life I was living alone? Where did my little creative mind go and why is it stuck to this boy like a fly on sticky paper?
I’ve been trying my best to strike a balance between Jeff, my friends, work and my “alone” time with writing, the gym, running, necklace and earring making. It’s all overwhelming and I’m not sure what I’m doing just yet. I’ve never done this well before. When I’m with someone my life fills with them, my brain is in overdrive with thoughts of them, and I forget who I am. I’m desperately trying to hang on to what little I’ve discovered about myself and continue forward in a healthy way with Jeff.
We’re smashed together when I wake up and listen to his soft breathing before he opens his eyes and smiles. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Hi.” I whisper. I’m off today and he has to leave by 8:30 to get downtown to work. I desperately want to eat…
We start waking up a little more. He asks me when our first date was.
“February first.”
“So it’s been a month. How are you feeling about all of this?”
I nod. “Good. You?”
He nods. “Good.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Just curious.”
We stare at each other. His phone beeps with a text message. He reads it and puts the phone down.
“I need to get into the shower.” he tells me.
I jump up exclaiming that I need to eat before drinking coffee. I can’t sit still. I can’t handle the intensity at which he’s observing me.
While he’s in the shower, I inhale my oatmeal trying to finish it before he’s done. I feel badly for not tasting it, for not taking my time, for requiring it like I do, for my fear of being seen while eating and for wanting it so badly.
Jeff went to El Salvador for work a couple of weeks ago. He brought back a small cup from a “cupping” he had to do while he was down there. It’s a fabulous little thing and I’m happy to have it. I fell asleep the night before last with it next to me because after I chose to eat granola out of stress and irritation from work, I passed out. He found it while we were getting ready for bed last night and I dodged his questioning about why it was there saying I’d explain it later. As we’re walking out the door this morning he brings it up again. I tell him I don’t want to talk about it. I’m surprised at myself because I’ve been so honest with him and now I’m shutting off? What is that?
We walk outside. I inhale, exhale and decide the only way I can change is to actually… well, change and that will mean actually talking. I tell him about the granola incident.
“That wasn’t so bad.” he says. “I mean, I don’t think so.”
“To other people, it may not be but for me it’s huge.”
He nods.
I am still so deeply embarrassed about my eating disorder that it’s excruciating to talk about it’s details sometimes. I hate the fact that I’m not “normal” with or around food, that I can’t have certain things in my house, that I can’t eat at certain restaurants, that I tend to obsess over sugar and know it’s in my best interest to not go near it. I also hate feeling like I have to explain myself when in the company of other people. My explanations are subject to judgment and I’d rather not go there.
We get downtown to Intelligentsia and Jeff starts work while I write for a while. He smiles at me from behind the espresso machine. I can’t stand for him to admire me, to smile at me, to want me. I don’t love me so how can I accept someone else’s love?
Later he comes over, hugs me and asks how I am. I try to be as honest as possible and not give him my usual “Good! Great! Everything’s awesome!”
“I don’t know. Irritated.”
I’m not present, not settled, my brain feels scrambled, and I’m insanely self conscious. I’m unable to let anything simply be. I’m pressuring myself to do a million things. I feel I need to write a novel today, get to the gym, run, be perfect in all aspects of my life but of course, like every human on this planet, I fall short of perfection. I know this yet I have this insatiable desire to continue to strive for it. I wonder what would happen if perfection could be achieved? I think that even then I’d be unsatisfied. My co-worker George asked me one day while sitting in the office at work “What happens when the dog gets the car?”
I laughed imagining how some dogs will tear after a car, something that is insanely larger than it is and…then what?
Yup. What happens when the human finally reaches happiness? Would I even know if I found it? Maybe it’s an illusion I chase after to avoid finding the happiness in the moment I’m sitting in currently? The only moment I’ll ever have is this one, until the next one…
I leave Intelligentsia and head to Whole Foods in the South Loop. I buy my usual groceries and head back home.
Later I’m headed out again to meet up with my friend Lydia for dinner. I’m still not feeling completely fabulous. It’s everything I’ve got not to cancel. I want to see her, I do, I’m just wrapped up in my head. As I’m waiting for people to exit the Clark bus, I watch a man step down on to the pavement and exclaim to a lady next to me so loudly that I almost jump out of my skin, “I LOVE YOU!” I smile to myself and get on the bus.
Dinner was good and it was wonderful to see my friend. Lydia is one of my favorite people. I still wasn’t completely grounded or present though and didn’t share much with her at all, just listened. It’s so much easier for me to simply sit and listen than it is to actually share something.
I don’t feel like waiting on the bus. I remember walking all the way downtown from this area when Shannon came to visit. I start moving. I walk and walk until I find a cupcake shop that’s…open. Without even thinking I’m pushing open the door, walking up to the counter, ordering, paying, eating.
My brain sparks on it’s sugar induced high. I don’t remember the last time I had a cupcake and this isn’t the direction I’d like to go in. I’ve checked out completely, unable to think, to make a decision, to move. I want another one once that one is finished. I want to sit in a coma, licking icing off my fingers forever and ever.
Not really. It’s inviting, the warm blanket of chocolate, butter, sugar, and cake, but it’s all an illusion. There’s no life in it, no happiness, nothing.
I catch the Clark bus back towards home. Once I’m there I drink water, text a friend from OA and try to be calm.
I pick up my journal from my time with Rob and read through a few entries. On those pages he’s still alive, we’re still physically together. At the time I was feeling all the crazy I’m currently feeling with Jeff. I’m sinking into a weird depression and eating too much yet again. It makes me cry. How is it that receiving someone else’s love sends me into a funk? Every. Time. This time though, I’m trying to fix it. I remember waiting to hear from Rob unable to breathe practically until he called, unable to live my life.
Jeff calls. I’m so afraid he’ll go away. Afraid everyone will. I’m afraid he’ll pick up on my neediness, afraid I’ll do something unattractive and he’ll disappear… but won’t that be his choice? Isn’t that something I can’t control? Is that my problem? I fear his leaving, can’t control what he does so I act out with food? Even though he’s given me no indication that he’s going anywhere? What sense does any of this make?
I contemplate telling him about the cupcake and eventually I do. He listens, saying nothing which makes me nervous but what do I expect? When I’m quiet he tells me thanks for sharing. Relief floods my overactive brain and I thank him for listening.
He has no idea how amazing it is for me to feel safe enough to tell him all of this. I already feel insane for my thoughts, my food and all the crazy that surrounds my life. Having him simply hear it makes it so much better.
I can’t actually believe he wants to hear it. He’s taken such interest in my life that it’s sometimes overwhelming. I can’t imagine that someone finds me interesting enough to want to know all of this.