I'm off today. I got up crazy early feeling anxious. I can't pinpoint where it's coming from but it's eating me alive. I put a ton of pressure on myself to enjoy every last second of my days off that I can't actually relax long enough to do it. It's like I somehow feel I don't deserve to have fun, to have a life because while assisting I've spent too much time being focused on everyone else and what they might need from me at any given time. I don't know how to turn it off. I desperately want to sink into my creative endeavors, get lost in them and scrape away the stress of the week but it never works out that way. I end up being more wound up because I can't think to write, procrastinating is much more appealing, plus I tend to get caught up too much in what people might think to make my jewelry. What happened? What happened to enjoying these things? I used to. It used to dive head first into all of it and get such satisfaction at their completion. Lately it's been such a great stressor that I won't go near the computer or open my box of sparkly making supplies. I'm scared of people again...scared of expressing myself, or letting you see that expression. My inner critic is so loud that it paralyzes me, reducing to daydreaming only.
I spend my morning bouncing from coffee shop to coffee shop trying to get comfortable. Outside influences are grating on my nerves. From the NPR radio playing at one place to the loud mouthed lady yelling her opinions about something she's trying to do with her job to a man sitting just a few inches from her, I'm not sure I'm actually going to get anything down on paper. Cipollina is where I finally settle down. For whatever reason today I'm afraid that if I'm not out and about, I might miss something. Thoughts of food consume my mind. I have no idea what I'm running from or what it is I'm so scared of. I'm sick of picking at myself for not being "productive" enough. Prodective enough for what and for whom? Who's judging me? No one. No one because I can't seem to let anyone in long enough to do so. I can't even let myself in right now because I fear the harshness I unleash on my already fragile self esteem. An hour later when I've left Cipollina I go for a run. It feels good to get out and move. I was hoping for some clarity on what's buggin' me but nothing really happens. Still, I'm glad I went. On my way home I'm stopped at stop sign waiting for a car to pass. For whatever reason I look down and see the words "I love you" spelled out next to my feet. I stare at this image and find myself smiling. "I love you, I love you, I love you..." I repeat over and over to Rob.
At home I grab my purse and head to the gym. I'm trying to slow down, calm down and breathe through my workout. Nothing is helping. When I leave I cath the train to the grocery store, then walk home. Once I'm through the door I think about all the things I could be or should be doing My head is going to explode. I drop the idea of writing, necklace making, laundry, or paying bills. In my room I find a box of "bath bombs" one of my clients gave me for Christmas. I pull out a purple one with star confetti in it, pick up a book and head to the bathroom. I turn on the water, peel off my sweaty clothes and drop the "bomb' in the tub. The sparkly confetti is released. I giggle to myself thinking those stars are going to be attached to my ass when all of this is said and done. I carefully sink into the hot water once the tub is half full. When I'm settled I reach for my book but don't open it. I stare straight ahead at the faucet. Tiny drop of water are slowly peeking out from the spout before falling with a subtle splash into the tub.
"Honey?" I say to Rob in my mind. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm all over the place and feel I can't calm down. I know you're here with me. I just feel a bit lost at the moment. I feel like I'm wandering away from you, letting food, work and guilt run my life. I just want to calm down." Tears pool in my eyes and eventually fall. I ask over and over again for him to stay, to never leave. I reach for and open my book when I'm feeling out of words. I place the bookmark on the edge of the tub. It's centered there, not leaning one way or another. There is no air circulating in the bathroom only a comfortable, still, silence. Minutes into my reading the bookmark falls to the floor. A heavy calm fills my chest as I stare at the spot where it once was. I don't move. My brain immediately tries to rationalize how this just happened. It draws a blank. Carefully I sit up, pick the bookmark up off the floor and place it back where it was. I stare at it, waiting for it to move again. It doesn't. I go back to reading. I'm not sure how much time passed but I feel I should get up and get movin'. I need to wash my hair and rinse the confetti off of me. I stand up turning the shower on after undoing the drain. The hot spray splashes onto my back. I stand there for a moment, not moving before getting to my hair and getting out. I pull the shower curtain back and step out of the tub. My favorite swimsuit from swim team in high school is draped over one end of the shower rail and my roommate's wash cloth is hanging on the other end. I reach for my towel and dry off before pulling out my blowdryer and get busy on my hair. Minutes into this my swimsuit falls to the floor. By itself. I turn the dryer off, walk over to it, pick it up and go back to my hair, keeping one eye on the suit. Again this intense calm washes over me and I feel it's Rob making his presence known. As much as I'd like to share this immediately, I think "who would believe me?" How do I describe what just happened? There is no way really to fully explain what this calm inside me feels like. It doesn't stay either. I do try very hard not to question it but accept that it's happening and enjoy it for what it is before it moves along again until the next time...
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Close...
Close…
I'm back at Halsted the next morning, caffinated and ready to go. I'm assisting Candace today for the most part and feel better today than yesterday. After taking care of several of her clients another one is ready to be shampooed after the usual half hour processing time.
I approach the pretty, blonde with small brown eyes and a head full of foil and get her situated in the shampoo bowl. Once I pull all the foil out I lean her back and shampoo her hair. We chat briefly before she closes her eyes and I continue until everything is rinsed out.
“I like your tattoos.” she tells me when we've walked over to the blowdry station and I've started drying her hair.
“Thank you.” I smile.
“How many do you have?”
“Eleven!” I laugh.
“Really?!” she exclaims.
I love watching people’s reaction to this news.
“I just have one.” she tells me and pulls up her pants leg to reveal a beautiful, small pink flower and the letter “T” next to it. “It’s for my sister. She died about 2 years ago.”
“Really.” I stop briefly and look at her.
“Yeah. Cancer.”
I carefully ask her questions, curious about her experience and she answers all of them. I feel we’re the only two people in the room as I listen intently to her story.
It doesn’t take long for me to tell her about Rob. It feels so good to share this with her. It’s amazing to be able to explain this to someone, to be able to feel close to another person who has lost someone.
“Are there days when grief eats you up?” I ask.
“Of course. One day you’re fine, the next you’re not. I think we’ll be this way our whole lives. It never really goes away.”
I agree.
“Do you ever feel her?”
“I do. It’ll be a song or I’ll see something that reminds me of her suddenly, and just “know” that it’s her telling me she’s still around. My mother feels it too. Something really crazy that happened was one day we were driving, my mom, my sister’s daughter and me and we were talking about my sister and her daughter goes “But Mommy’s right here.” and I explained that no, she was in Heaven and she said “No she’s not. She’s sitting right here.” Children are much closer to that, I dunno, side of things than we are. What about you?”
I have chills. I explain the South Carolina license plates, the random “I love yous” that I see around, songs, the water that turned on in my house without explanation shortly after he died etc…I feel less alone and less crazy knowing someone else has had these experiences. I tend to keep them to myself. Our conversation continues. It’s taking me forever to finish her hair but I’m so wrapped up in this that I don’t want her to leave. I love how she tells me she still gets insanely angry because all she wants is to hear her sister’s voice and she can’t pick up the phone to call her. I love to hear how she’ll take it out on other people, and recognizes that it’s only because she can’t have her sister. I do all of this. I hate admitting it. I hate admitting that I hurt so much that I sometimes want to hurt other people.
I can see myself in the mirror talking to her, big smile plastered across my face, being extra animated so as not to cry. It would be ok to do so with her but I refuse to at work, so I keep the front up.
Later, long after she’s gone I tell Candace about how I loved talking with her and about how I’m so not tolerant of my own process, about how I can listen to other people talk about their experience, not judge them, but judge myself so harshly.
“Why?” she asks.
“It’s opening up…feeling entitled to feel all of this is hard when I’m used to pushing everything away.”
“It’s ok for you to take the time you need.” she reminds me.
I want to believe her, I do…
I'm back at Halsted the next morning, caffinated and ready to go. I'm assisting Candace today for the most part and feel better today than yesterday. After taking care of several of her clients another one is ready to be shampooed after the usual half hour processing time.
I approach the pretty, blonde with small brown eyes and a head full of foil and get her situated in the shampoo bowl. Once I pull all the foil out I lean her back and shampoo her hair. We chat briefly before she closes her eyes and I continue until everything is rinsed out.
“I like your tattoos.” she tells me when we've walked over to the blowdry station and I've started drying her hair.
“Thank you.” I smile.
“How many do you have?”
“Eleven!” I laugh.
“Really?!” she exclaims.
I love watching people’s reaction to this news.
“I just have one.” she tells me and pulls up her pants leg to reveal a beautiful, small pink flower and the letter “T” next to it. “It’s for my sister. She died about 2 years ago.”
“Really.” I stop briefly and look at her.
“Yeah. Cancer.”
I carefully ask her questions, curious about her experience and she answers all of them. I feel we’re the only two people in the room as I listen intently to her story.
It doesn’t take long for me to tell her about Rob. It feels so good to share this with her. It’s amazing to be able to explain this to someone, to be able to feel close to another person who has lost someone.
“Are there days when grief eats you up?” I ask.
“Of course. One day you’re fine, the next you’re not. I think we’ll be this way our whole lives. It never really goes away.”
I agree.
“Do you ever feel her?”
“I do. It’ll be a song or I’ll see something that reminds me of her suddenly, and just “know” that it’s her telling me she’s still around. My mother feels it too. Something really crazy that happened was one day we were driving, my mom, my sister’s daughter and me and we were talking about my sister and her daughter goes “But Mommy’s right here.” and I explained that no, she was in Heaven and she said “No she’s not. She’s sitting right here.” Children are much closer to that, I dunno, side of things than we are. What about you?”
I have chills. I explain the South Carolina license plates, the random “I love yous” that I see around, songs, the water that turned on in my house without explanation shortly after he died etc…I feel less alone and less crazy knowing someone else has had these experiences. I tend to keep them to myself. Our conversation continues. It’s taking me forever to finish her hair but I’m so wrapped up in this that I don’t want her to leave. I love how she tells me she still gets insanely angry because all she wants is to hear her sister’s voice and she can’t pick up the phone to call her. I love to hear how she’ll take it out on other people, and recognizes that it’s only because she can’t have her sister. I do all of this. I hate admitting it. I hate admitting that I hurt so much that I sometimes want to hurt other people.
I can see myself in the mirror talking to her, big smile plastered across my face, being extra animated so as not to cry. It would be ok to do so with her but I refuse to at work, so I keep the front up.
Later, long after she’s gone I tell Candace about how I loved talking with her and about how I’m so not tolerant of my own process, about how I can listen to other people talk about their experience, not judge them, but judge myself so harshly.
“Why?” she asks.
“It’s opening up…feeling entitled to feel all of this is hard when I’m used to pushing everything away.”
“It’s ok for you to take the time you need.” she reminds me.
I want to believe her, I do…
Monday, February 1, 2010
Song #420...
I'm up at 5am. My hands are driving me insane. Their constant itching woke me up. I stare at the ceiling, not completely able to see it through my blurry vision but it's dark and doesn't matter. My heart is racing and I'm anxious for whatever reason. I don't want to be an assistant today. There is nothing else going on but that. I'm not sure I can take one more minute of it.
I exhale and pull myself out of bed. My usual routine is accomplished without much thought. My arms begin to tingle and in my head I'm screaming at them to stop. Once the tingling starts it's over with. My hands are sparked again and begin to blister. I can almost watch this happen. They swell and fluid comes out of them taking weeks to heal. I try to ignore this and get dressed.
I go to Alliance to journal for a little bit but mostly I stare out the window, watching the cars and people go by. I love this time of the morning. The sky is just beginning to lighten up, and everything is still practially silent. It's the only time of day I feel still and somewhat calm. When my Americano is finished I pack up head head home.
Once through the door I'm at the computer charging my iPOD shuffle. As I scroll down the list of purchased songs on iTUNES looking for something "new" to listen to I come across Train's "When I Look to the Sky". I don't remember downloading this. I listen to it, while looking at what number on iTUNES it is. It's number 420. April 20th. The day Rob died. The chorus goes...
Cause when I look to the sky, something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright.
And when I feel like I'm lost, something tells me you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here...
I stare at the computer screen. Why don't I remember this song? How did I miss it? I don't even remember downloading it but it's reappeared at the best possible time. I don't want to feel any emotion. I shut off my brain as the song continues to play and take a shower.
Later while standing in front of the mirror, putting on mascara, tears come. I blink them back. More come and spill down my cheeks. I stand back and wait for something else to hit but nothing does. I'm not even sure why I'm crying. I wipe my face, get dressed, pack up my work things, put my iPOD in my ears, and head out.
I'm working at our Halsted location this week. I walk there when I can. It's a good solid forty minutes but I don't mind it. I'm approaching the bridge I walk across each time I come this way and the Train song starts playing. My brain starts dreaming up images of publishing my novel and how nice that would be. Then suddenly an idea of getting home from work, and cooking dinner with Rob pours itself into me. In my mind he's there as I vent about work, saying I can't take it anymore and his warm gentle self reminds me that I came here for a bigger purpose and not to worry because he's right here. This yet again sparks the memory of standing on the purple line train platform after my interview with Cyndi telling him I was in love with Art+Science, then flashing to sitting on the phone with him telling him I had this feeling that he was going to leave me...then he died...and while it's just me here in Chicago, I know he didn't leave me entirely. He's been on this adventure with me the whole time. It's just that today, for whatever reason I am desperate to hold him. I want to feel the humaness of him I used to feel. I miss his skin, his warm expressions, his voice, his kisses, his everything. My first year in Chicago has gone by, full of so much wonderful insanity. I am grieving the absence of the experience of sharing this life with him.
I am hit so hard with this grief and hurt that it nearly doubles me over as I walk across the bridge. My legs go numb, my stomach is flip flopping and there isn't enough air in the atmosphere to fill my lungs. I almost welcome this, like I missed it or something. I somehow feel closer to him when these moments happen. It's such an intense release that I wonder how long I've been harboring it. I can't fully explain it. Underneath it all, it's as if he's in some way telling me to hang on, don't give up because it's almost over. It's a teeny tiny little feeling that is barely whispering but it's there and I hear it. Do I believe it? I don't know. I want to but I can't see how it's going to end.
The tears don't stop. They follow me all the way to work, into the salon, and stay with me as I do what I've been doing for 14 months now. While folding towels in the basement, I tell Annie about it, looking for some comfort, some sort of understanding even though I feel I'm not making any sense. Her words fill me up and I'm feeling this rush of another emotional release pour out of me so hard and fast that once again it's hard to function.
"What triggered this?" she asks.
"I have no idea. Just this thought of feeling desperate to go home to him, to cook dinner with him and unload all this stuff, then suddenly it was like, 'Wait. He's not even here.' It felt like I just learned all over again that he's gone."
"He not gone. He's still here." she smiles and hugs me hard.
"Annie! Your client is here" Ashley yells to her from upstairs.
"Thanks for being here." I grin at her.
"Always."
I later close the salon alone and start walking home. I missed a call from Charlie earlier and decide to call him back.
"How's it goin'?" he asks.
"Ok." I nod, head suddenly swimming.
"Any good drama?"
I giggle at this. "Um...uh.." I have plenty to say but I can't form words. I am completely without emotion, without anything. "I'm sorry. I just left work. I'm really tired and can't form complete sentences."
There is something inside me that is putting up a huge wall between me and him. Well... I think it's always been there. It holds my emotions, thoughts, myself essentially and bottles them up as a protective measure. Whatever it is that's holding on to everything is protecting me from giving anything else to this situation. It's not right. It never was as much as I wanted it to be. Something beyond me is holding me back and the more I fight it the tighter it holds on so I let go and in letting go, I have nothing else to share. I reverse everything and talk about him until we get off the phone and I walk home and gratefully fall into bed.
I exhale and pull myself out of bed. My usual routine is accomplished without much thought. My arms begin to tingle and in my head I'm screaming at them to stop. Once the tingling starts it's over with. My hands are sparked again and begin to blister. I can almost watch this happen. They swell and fluid comes out of them taking weeks to heal. I try to ignore this and get dressed.
I go to Alliance to journal for a little bit but mostly I stare out the window, watching the cars and people go by. I love this time of the morning. The sky is just beginning to lighten up, and everything is still practially silent. It's the only time of day I feel still and somewhat calm. When my Americano is finished I pack up head head home.
Once through the door I'm at the computer charging my iPOD shuffle. As I scroll down the list of purchased songs on iTUNES looking for something "new" to listen to I come across Train's "When I Look to the Sky". I don't remember downloading this. I listen to it, while looking at what number on iTUNES it is. It's number 420. April 20th. The day Rob died. The chorus goes...
Cause when I look to the sky, something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright.
And when I feel like I'm lost, something tells me you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here...
I stare at the computer screen. Why don't I remember this song? How did I miss it? I don't even remember downloading it but it's reappeared at the best possible time. I don't want to feel any emotion. I shut off my brain as the song continues to play and take a shower.
Later while standing in front of the mirror, putting on mascara, tears come. I blink them back. More come and spill down my cheeks. I stand back and wait for something else to hit but nothing does. I'm not even sure why I'm crying. I wipe my face, get dressed, pack up my work things, put my iPOD in my ears, and head out.
I'm working at our Halsted location this week. I walk there when I can. It's a good solid forty minutes but I don't mind it. I'm approaching the bridge I walk across each time I come this way and the Train song starts playing. My brain starts dreaming up images of publishing my novel and how nice that would be. Then suddenly an idea of getting home from work, and cooking dinner with Rob pours itself into me. In my mind he's there as I vent about work, saying I can't take it anymore and his warm gentle self reminds me that I came here for a bigger purpose and not to worry because he's right here. This yet again sparks the memory of standing on the purple line train platform after my interview with Cyndi telling him I was in love with Art+Science, then flashing to sitting on the phone with him telling him I had this feeling that he was going to leave me...then he died...and while it's just me here in Chicago, I know he didn't leave me entirely. He's been on this adventure with me the whole time. It's just that today, for whatever reason I am desperate to hold him. I want to feel the humaness of him I used to feel. I miss his skin, his warm expressions, his voice, his kisses, his everything. My first year in Chicago has gone by, full of so much wonderful insanity. I am grieving the absence of the experience of sharing this life with him.
I am hit so hard with this grief and hurt that it nearly doubles me over as I walk across the bridge. My legs go numb, my stomach is flip flopping and there isn't enough air in the atmosphere to fill my lungs. I almost welcome this, like I missed it or something. I somehow feel closer to him when these moments happen. It's such an intense release that I wonder how long I've been harboring it. I can't fully explain it. Underneath it all, it's as if he's in some way telling me to hang on, don't give up because it's almost over. It's a teeny tiny little feeling that is barely whispering but it's there and I hear it. Do I believe it? I don't know. I want to but I can't see how it's going to end.
The tears don't stop. They follow me all the way to work, into the salon, and stay with me as I do what I've been doing for 14 months now. While folding towels in the basement, I tell Annie about it, looking for some comfort, some sort of understanding even though I feel I'm not making any sense. Her words fill me up and I'm feeling this rush of another emotional release pour out of me so hard and fast that once again it's hard to function.
"What triggered this?" she asks.
"I have no idea. Just this thought of feeling desperate to go home to him, to cook dinner with him and unload all this stuff, then suddenly it was like, 'Wait. He's not even here.' It felt like I just learned all over again that he's gone."
"He not gone. He's still here." she smiles and hugs me hard.
"Annie! Your client is here" Ashley yells to her from upstairs.
"Thanks for being here." I grin at her.
"Always."
I later close the salon alone and start walking home. I missed a call from Charlie earlier and decide to call him back.
"How's it goin'?" he asks.
"Ok." I nod, head suddenly swimming.
"Any good drama?"
I giggle at this. "Um...uh.." I have plenty to say but I can't form words. I am completely without emotion, without anything. "I'm sorry. I just left work. I'm really tired and can't form complete sentences."
There is something inside me that is putting up a huge wall between me and him. Well... I think it's always been there. It holds my emotions, thoughts, myself essentially and bottles them up as a protective measure. Whatever it is that's holding on to everything is protecting me from giving anything else to this situation. It's not right. It never was as much as I wanted it to be. Something beyond me is holding me back and the more I fight it the tighter it holds on so I let go and in letting go, I have nothing else to share. I reverse everything and talk about him until we get off the phone and I walk home and gratefully fall into bed.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Floor...
When my model days ended and it was time for me to begin my first day on the floor, Cyndi decided that my first one will be on Tuesday December 29th and then it’ll switch to Sundays. There are certain criteria I have to meet in order to earn my second day then more criteria to earn my third and fourth days. I work toward earning each day over the course of four weeks. The rest of the time, I’m assisting. I’m glad that my first day back to work after our Christmas break will be spent in Evanston cutting hair. I’m scared though. Scared of everything. There will be no more help from my educators. I don’t know what I’m going to walk into when I get there. I don’t know if my books are full. I’m nervous that I may not be able to handle a situation, or that I might get stuck on something and not know where to go from there. I stare out the window of the Unicorn Café, watching bundled up people walk by. Something a friend I met in OA told me pops in my head. We were both stressing about returning to our homes over Christmas and she told me to imagine God waiting for me at the terminal when I landed in Atlanta. Imagine him holding my hand through whatever it was that was scaring me. When she said this, an image of Rob smiling at me as I exited the terminal entered my mind and flooded my eyes with tears. Now sitting in the coffee shop, I begin to imagine that once I walk in the salon door, he’ll be standing at my station, never leaving me with something I’m not equipped to handle. Worrying about this isn’t solving anything. Maybe I’ll be booked, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll have crazy clients, maybe I won’t. I remind myself that the bottom line is that no matter what, things are going to happen the way they’re supposed to. I just can’t see the outcomes yet and that’s ok. I down the rest of my coffee, gather my things and head to the salon. “No help for you today!” My men’s educator George tells me upon walking in. “You’re on your own.” “Hey now. If something truly fucked up is going on in my chair, please feel free to lemme know.” I smile putting my things down. “Nope.” “George!” I reach over for my day sheet and nearly pass out. One hundred percent booked. Not one single opening. I put the sheet down, go to the bathroom and cry out of sheer relief and happiness. I spent all that time freaking out about not knowing what I’d walk into. It never occurred to me that I could walk into a full day. It was one of the best days I’ve had in Evanston. I race around at the speed of light, with a huge smile on my face. I am fully present in each moment, concentrating on nothing but the hair beneath my dermatitis encrusted fingers. I don’t feel it though. Nothing bad, negative or painful can penetrate through my ecstatic exterior. I’ve always loved hair. I’ve enjoyed my previous jobs, but this? This is something that is completely, totally, utterly out of this world. I never imagined my love for my job deepening as much as it has. I still view hair as a long term relationship. There are days where I love it, days where I never want to see another strand of hair again. Days that are hard, days that run so smoothly it ends as fast as it started. There are days where I’m not into it, days where it’s not really into me. There are times where I think about leaving hair, divorcing it so to speak to chase after something that appears sparklier, butI always come back. It always takes me back and I love it even more for that. This time though my deepening of love for the industry I believe stems from the fact that assisting is so difficult and I’ve wanted nothing more than to be on the other side again, responsible solely for my clients only and not everyone else’s. My day comes to and end. I’m happily exhausted putting my things away and pulling on all my extra layers of clothing before heading out to the train. I had plans tonight but decide to cancel. Charlie called but I have no energy left to call him right now. When the train starts moving I close my eyes and simply breathe.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Julie and Julia...
I wake up in my bed next to Lucas the day after flying back into Chicago. He's in town from Atlanta for a couple of weeks before moving to Denver. He picked me up from O'hare when I landed. We went to dinner and out for drinks afterward. Our friendship is unlike anything I've had with anyone before. We don't talk much on a regular basis but when we do we're open books and share everything with each other. It's comfortable, easy and just what I need at the moment.
I'm quick to replace something once I "lose" it. Charlie's gone and I want love. I want it in every way I can have it. Hell I wanted it even when I was with him. Sat there waiting for just a drop of it to leave his being and fall on to me. I want to sink into another human living like a parasite until I'm full and fall away or they pull me off. Ok that's gross but you get the picture...
I'm awake before Lucas. His back is to me and I'm eyeing the curvature of his shoulder. "Stop it." I tell myself when my mind starts to wander. I'm not giving in. I don't need to "replace" anything. There was never anything to replace. I'm going to sit here and deal with it. I remind myself that God is giving me everything I need right now.
He rolls over and faces me, his blue eyes opening. "Hi."
"Mornin' sunshine."
"What time is it?"
"I don't wanna know." I reply sitting up and fumbling for my glasses. "Ten thirty?!" I squeal when I see the clock. I hate sleeping this late!
"Seriously?"
"Ugh." I flop backward onto my pillow.
"Breakfast?"
"Definitely."
An hour later after I've made us coffee and we're set to go we hop on the train and head to "Orange", a delicious little breakfast place that serves orange flavored coffee.
"This is awesome." he smiles at me after we've both downed our first cup.
Our conversation flows from one thing to the next like usual. I'm perfectly content, not wanting to rejoin society when he leaves.
"So, what's the point of your book? What's your protagonist learning?" he asks when the subject of writing comes up.
"How to be herself. How to stop being a doormat and go her own way, even if it's less than popular. She needs to figure out how to please herself and stop pleasing everyone else first. I'm having trouble though figuring out where to go with it. How far do I take certain things, how much do I disclose, what's good what's bad, etc..."
"I think you just need to write. Don't worry about anything or anyone. Just get it out."
"I think you're right but I'm still sketched out by where my brain can go. I judge my process so harshly and of course am scared of what people may think."
"Isn't that what you're protagonist is learning?" he grins. "Not to care?"
"You're right!" I laugh. "You're right I know. It's just hard when I've been a certain way all my life."
A few hours later Lucas is packed up and leaving. We quickly say goodbye and he too is gone almost as fast as he arrived. I feel jarred all the sudden. I push myself to change clothes, grab my gym stuff and get moving even though I'm going at a snail's pace. Once there I lift weights then swim for a while. Back and forth, back and forth, I go from one end to the pool to the other concentrating on spacing out my breathing, the pulling of my arms, stretching of my stomach and the kicking of my legs and feet. I do this until I can't anymore and get out.
Rob's mom let me borrow her copy of the movie "Julie and Julia" exclaiming that Julie is me and I need to see it immediately. Once home, I make dinner and set it up. I knew I wanted to watch it alone because more than likely, I'm going to cry. Not because it's sad or happy or anything but because I have a feeling it'll tap into something I've been scared of.
Oh and I cry. It's at the most random moments. I don't even think I could go back and identify these moments if I had to. This reminds me of watching Friday Night Lights with Kaci and feeling the need to cry. When I told her about this she explained that she feels it's because the show is so real.
I want what Julie accomplished. I feel like I just spent the evening with Rob and that he's "telling" me to get up off my ass and do this. I'd love to get my act together. Really I would. I love thinking about writing for a living. I love thinking about composing the pages, and telling my stories. I love to imagine my finished manuscript. I enjoy playing images in my head of being on the train and seeing someone reading my book. It's wonderful but it all lives in my head, never surfacing because surfacing means it's real and real can fail. Living in my little dream world is so much easier but accomplishes nothing. It's what's familiar though. Sitting in this is what I'm used to. I've never done anything different. It's a slow process this learning thing. I didn't get to this point overnight that's for sure. It took twenty eight years. I'm just now trying to turn all my critical, self doubting, negative thinking around. Sure this task is hard but I truly believe it'll so be worth it when it's all said and done. One day at a time...
I'm quick to replace something once I "lose" it. Charlie's gone and I want love. I want it in every way I can have it. Hell I wanted it even when I was with him. Sat there waiting for just a drop of it to leave his being and fall on to me. I want to sink into another human living like a parasite until I'm full and fall away or they pull me off. Ok that's gross but you get the picture...
I'm awake before Lucas. His back is to me and I'm eyeing the curvature of his shoulder. "Stop it." I tell myself when my mind starts to wander. I'm not giving in. I don't need to "replace" anything. There was never anything to replace. I'm going to sit here and deal with it. I remind myself that God is giving me everything I need right now.
He rolls over and faces me, his blue eyes opening. "Hi."
"Mornin' sunshine."
"What time is it?"
"I don't wanna know." I reply sitting up and fumbling for my glasses. "Ten thirty?!" I squeal when I see the clock. I hate sleeping this late!
"Seriously?"
"Ugh." I flop backward onto my pillow.
"Breakfast?"
"Definitely."
An hour later after I've made us coffee and we're set to go we hop on the train and head to "Orange", a delicious little breakfast place that serves orange flavored coffee.
"This is awesome." he smiles at me after we've both downed our first cup.
Our conversation flows from one thing to the next like usual. I'm perfectly content, not wanting to rejoin society when he leaves.
"So, what's the point of your book? What's your protagonist learning?" he asks when the subject of writing comes up.
"How to be herself. How to stop being a doormat and go her own way, even if it's less than popular. She needs to figure out how to please herself and stop pleasing everyone else first. I'm having trouble though figuring out where to go with it. How far do I take certain things, how much do I disclose, what's good what's bad, etc..."
"I think you just need to write. Don't worry about anything or anyone. Just get it out."
"I think you're right but I'm still sketched out by where my brain can go. I judge my process so harshly and of course am scared of what people may think."
"Isn't that what you're protagonist is learning?" he grins. "Not to care?"
"You're right!" I laugh. "You're right I know. It's just hard when I've been a certain way all my life."
A few hours later Lucas is packed up and leaving. We quickly say goodbye and he too is gone almost as fast as he arrived. I feel jarred all the sudden. I push myself to change clothes, grab my gym stuff and get moving even though I'm going at a snail's pace. Once there I lift weights then swim for a while. Back and forth, back and forth, I go from one end to the pool to the other concentrating on spacing out my breathing, the pulling of my arms, stretching of my stomach and the kicking of my legs and feet. I do this until I can't anymore and get out.
Rob's mom let me borrow her copy of the movie "Julie and Julia" exclaiming that Julie is me and I need to see it immediately. Once home, I make dinner and set it up. I knew I wanted to watch it alone because more than likely, I'm going to cry. Not because it's sad or happy or anything but because I have a feeling it'll tap into something I've been scared of.
Oh and I cry. It's at the most random moments. I don't even think I could go back and identify these moments if I had to. This reminds me of watching Friday Night Lights with Kaci and feeling the need to cry. When I told her about this she explained that she feels it's because the show is so real.
I want what Julie accomplished. I feel like I just spent the evening with Rob and that he's "telling" me to get up off my ass and do this. I'd love to get my act together. Really I would. I love thinking about writing for a living. I love thinking about composing the pages, and telling my stories. I love to imagine my finished manuscript. I enjoy playing images in my head of being on the train and seeing someone reading my book. It's wonderful but it all lives in my head, never surfacing because surfacing means it's real and real can fail. Living in my little dream world is so much easier but accomplishes nothing. It's what's familiar though. Sitting in this is what I'm used to. I've never done anything different. It's a slow process this learning thing. I didn't get to this point overnight that's for sure. It took twenty eight years. I'm just now trying to turn all my critical, self doubting, negative thinking around. Sure this task is hard but I truly believe it'll so be worth it when it's all said and done. One day at a time...
Belly...
It's the day after Christmas. I'm in Atlanta, the sun is out and it's absolutely beautiful outside. I feel completely totally and utterly full of life. My entire being is elated and smiling so hard it almost hurts. I'm going to meet Rob's mom Judy and his youngest sister Lesley for lunch. It's been over a year since I've seen them. I can't wait to catch up with them, to look at his mother and see his eyes and to watch his sister's hands, seeing a female version of his, to be able to connect with pieces of him that are still on this planet...
I'm driving my dad's truck, giggling at what this image could look like to the people around me. My five foot, three inch frame is almost pressed to the steering wheel, singing at the top of my lungs all the way up I-75. I miss singing so much. I find myself humming sometimes while walking the streets of Chicago wishing I could open my mouth and let the words come out.
I stop at San Fransico Coffee only to see that they're closed. Well damn. I drive further down N. Highland, see Belly and think that'll work.
I pull over and park the truck. Minutes later I'm walking inside inhaling the cafe's delicious freshly baked bagel smell mixed with coffee. I hear Rob's words in my head telling me he really likes this place. I can almost see us acros the way over there sitting on stools eating bagels at the wooden "bar", him with orange juice, me with grapefruit.
The memory leaves my mind as fast as it enters when the woman behind the counter asks what I'm having.
"A small Americano." I reply, still taking in my surroundings. Things have changed a good bit. I'm desperate to tell Rob. I want to pick up the phone, call him and tell him that the bar we used to sit at is no longer there. In it's place is a small wooden table. Next to that is a shelf that houses bulk candy. The shelves against a wall that were partially full of various soda and water bottles are now filled with them. Huge glass candy jars filled to the brim with bright sugary pieces of deliciousness line the bottom of the shelves.
I pay for the coffee and walk over to a massive wooden table and sit. I want to be everywhere with everyone. I want to literally run all over the place, take in all the images that are familiar etching them into my mind to take back to Chicago with me so they can be recalled whenever I need a break from the cold and snow. I want Rob here next to me with his coffee, orange juice and a bagel smiling at me with those shiny green eyes. I know he's here. I can almost feel him watching over me. I feel he probably sent me here to be with me in our little spot. He so loved this place. Loved it's old "general store" feel, it's organic fresh squeezed everything, the table we sat at...he appreciated the tiniest details which always made me smile because I thought I was the only one that noticed them.
The cupcakes are still pastel colored, cookies and coffee beans are still settled in their jars, and the flowers are still arranged on the tables, but I'm here by myself. How do I describe this feeling? I'm so frustrated! I feel I don't have time to think or write all it is I want. I can't even identify what it is I want to say anyway. I feel like I'm moving at the speed of light but in slow motion at the same time. I'm afraid of feeling too much and nothing at all.
I can't even identify what it feels like to be somewhere I used to be with Rob. I do know it hurts. It hurts so badly it's beyond comprehension. It's excruciating to want something I can never, ever, ever in this lifetime have again. There are no words to describe pain like that. To have something and then to have it practically disappear in an instant, never to return again is beyond anything I could ever understand.
Mixed with all of that there's happiness. I'm happy to be in a place I used to share with him, to be able to recall our memories to feel him on some level right here with me...
I'm driving my dad's truck, giggling at what this image could look like to the people around me. My five foot, three inch frame is almost pressed to the steering wheel, singing at the top of my lungs all the way up I-75. I miss singing so much. I find myself humming sometimes while walking the streets of Chicago wishing I could open my mouth and let the words come out.
I stop at San Fransico Coffee only to see that they're closed. Well damn. I drive further down N. Highland, see Belly and think that'll work.
I pull over and park the truck. Minutes later I'm walking inside inhaling the cafe's delicious freshly baked bagel smell mixed with coffee. I hear Rob's words in my head telling me he really likes this place. I can almost see us acros the way over there sitting on stools eating bagels at the wooden "bar", him with orange juice, me with grapefruit.
The memory leaves my mind as fast as it enters when the woman behind the counter asks what I'm having.
"A small Americano." I reply, still taking in my surroundings. Things have changed a good bit. I'm desperate to tell Rob. I want to pick up the phone, call him and tell him that the bar we used to sit at is no longer there. In it's place is a small wooden table. Next to that is a shelf that houses bulk candy. The shelves against a wall that were partially full of various soda and water bottles are now filled with them. Huge glass candy jars filled to the brim with bright sugary pieces of deliciousness line the bottom of the shelves.
I pay for the coffee and walk over to a massive wooden table and sit. I want to be everywhere with everyone. I want to literally run all over the place, take in all the images that are familiar etching them into my mind to take back to Chicago with me so they can be recalled whenever I need a break from the cold and snow. I want Rob here next to me with his coffee, orange juice and a bagel smiling at me with those shiny green eyes. I know he's here. I can almost feel him watching over me. I feel he probably sent me here to be with me in our little spot. He so loved this place. Loved it's old "general store" feel, it's organic fresh squeezed everything, the table we sat at...he appreciated the tiniest details which always made me smile because I thought I was the only one that noticed them.
The cupcakes are still pastel colored, cookies and coffee beans are still settled in their jars, and the flowers are still arranged on the tables, but I'm here by myself. How do I describe this feeling? I'm so frustrated! I feel I don't have time to think or write all it is I want. I can't even identify what it is I want to say anyway. I feel like I'm moving at the speed of light but in slow motion at the same time. I'm afraid of feeling too much and nothing at all.
I can't even identify what it feels like to be somewhere I used to be with Rob. I do know it hurts. It hurts so badly it's beyond comprehension. It's excruciating to want something I can never, ever, ever in this lifetime have again. There are no words to describe pain like that. To have something and then to have it practically disappear in an instant, never to return again is beyond anything I could ever understand.
Mixed with all of that there's happiness. I'm happy to be in a place I used to share with him, to be able to recall our memories to feel him on some level right here with me...
Nothingness...
I'd been anticipating feeling a void inside of me once Charlie left for Wisconsin. I've spent more time with him that anyone since I moved to Chicago. Even since breaking up, we've still managed to spend the majority of the past three weeks together. Over the course of these three weeks his things have made their way into boxes, furniture has shifted and the living room is no longer "liveable". Most of our time has been spent having dinner and watching Californication until we went to sleep. There were days where he had me laughing hysterically and days where there wasn't anything but an empty nothingness hanging over us leaving me to wonder what the hell I was doing. There were times my insides screamed at me to get up and get out. Even in the middle of the night my body ached to crawl home but I didn't move. When I tried to speak the words wouldn't come. I've never run into a wall like this before. It's like we both were repelling each other in some weird way. Something inside me felt pushed away. I wanted sometimes desperately to place my face on his chest, to put my arms around him, to feel him wrap around me but there was nothing.
The day before he was set to move I sat on the edge of his stripped down bed, legs swinging off the edge like a five year olds.
"I don't like this Mr. Russell." I simply state.
"It's not like I'm going forever. There are still cars, trains, email, and snail mail..." he replies sitting next to me.
I know this. It's not his leaving that is the problem. It's the fact that I will officially have to deal with myself. Everything I've managed to bury during all this time we've spent together will come to the surface and I don't know what that will look like. The unknown is a scary place for me.
We're both quiet, staring out the window. I'm going to miss it with all it's wide open
exposure. It's everything I'm not right now but aspire to be. It reveals everything. On the other side of the glass I see every human on the street below us. I see the cars racing by on the interstate, and the twinkling lights spread out all over the city. I've been on this side of the glass for far too long, watching other people live their lives. I want my own. I want to be on the outside. I want to be on the street walking with a purpose. I want the wind to tear my face off, I want to hear the cars racing by, I want to see the twinkling lights that are in front of me, I want to feel something.
"I have to drop some boxes I didn't use off at UPS. You wanna come with me and I'll drop you off at home?" Charlie breaks the silence.
"Sure."
We're quiet on the way to the store. It doesn't take long to drop everything off and get back into the car. I'm back to staring out yet another window. When we're stopped at a traffic light something grabs my attention. It's a silver SUV doning a South Carolina license plate. I stare at it as if it's the most beautiful image my eyes have ever come across. A delicious calm washes over me as I'm reminded that Rob, in his own way is still here, and still looking after me and I am not to worry about a thing...and maybe...there won't be any void to fill once Charlie leaves. Maybe the void is already present and will fill itself once this part of my life is all said and done.
At my apartment, Charlie pulls over and we get out of the car. He walks me to the front door, quickly kisses me goodbye and is gone almost as fast as he was here.
I walk inside, put my keys on the table, and drop my purse on the chair that I always sit in when on the computer. I turn on my laptop, check email and decide to order sushi online, having it delivered to the apartment. It arrives an hour later, I eat it,enjoy it then read for a little while before falling into bed. I close my eyes trying to identify what I'm feeling. Nothing.
The day before he was set to move I sat on the edge of his stripped down bed, legs swinging off the edge like a five year olds.
"I don't like this Mr. Russell." I simply state.
"It's not like I'm going forever. There are still cars, trains, email, and snail mail..." he replies sitting next to me.
I know this. It's not his leaving that is the problem. It's the fact that I will officially have to deal with myself. Everything I've managed to bury during all this time we've spent together will come to the surface and I don't know what that will look like. The unknown is a scary place for me.
We're both quiet, staring out the window. I'm going to miss it with all it's wide open
exposure. It's everything I'm not right now but aspire to be. It reveals everything. On the other side of the glass I see every human on the street below us. I see the cars racing by on the interstate, and the twinkling lights spread out all over the city. I've been on this side of the glass for far too long, watching other people live their lives. I want my own. I want to be on the outside. I want to be on the street walking with a purpose. I want the wind to tear my face off, I want to hear the cars racing by, I want to see the twinkling lights that are in front of me, I want to feel something.
"I have to drop some boxes I didn't use off at UPS. You wanna come with me and I'll drop you off at home?" Charlie breaks the silence.
"Sure."
We're quiet on the way to the store. It doesn't take long to drop everything off and get back into the car. I'm back to staring out yet another window. When we're stopped at a traffic light something grabs my attention. It's a silver SUV doning a South Carolina license plate. I stare at it as if it's the most beautiful image my eyes have ever come across. A delicious calm washes over me as I'm reminded that Rob, in his own way is still here, and still looking after me and I am not to worry about a thing...and maybe...there won't be any void to fill once Charlie leaves. Maybe the void is already present and will fill itself once this part of my life is all said and done.
At my apartment, Charlie pulls over and we get out of the car. He walks me to the front door, quickly kisses me goodbye and is gone almost as fast as he was here.
I walk inside, put my keys on the table, and drop my purse on the chair that I always sit in when on the computer. I turn on my laptop, check email and decide to order sushi online, having it delivered to the apartment. It arrives an hour later, I eat it,enjoy it then read for a little while before falling into bed. I close my eyes trying to identify what I'm feeling. Nothing.
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