“Hey Melissa? C’mere for a sec.” Amy, my assistant manager says to me after I set up my station. It’s early on Saturday morning and I’m already contemplating my second Americano. I walk over to her and she pulls me aside next to the washer and dryer near our break room.
“So I heard a rumor that you want to go to Wicker Park’s meeting next week.”
“Reeaally.” I reply remembering Shana and I weren’t the only two in the break room yesterday morning. “What did you hear?”
“Just that the tenth is when you met Rob and you’d like to have the day to yourself. It’s no problem. Just make sure you don’t miss Wicker Park’s because it’s a benefits meeting.”
Tears are waiting for permission to be released but I hold on tightly to them. “Thank you. I have a hard time with it and am not ok with being upset.” I confess.
“It’s ok. It’s all ok. Sometimes you don’t know how you’re going to feel. We’re here for you though. You can talk to us ok? Just let us know what you need.”
I wish it were that easy. I wish I could say to anyone “Hey, I need to talk, do you have a minute?” but I don’t let myself utter those words. I do however explain April 20th and ask to work on Thursday instead of that day.
“Sure, I’ll mark it off right now.”
I thank her again and walk out to get my first client.
I enjoy my day, my clients, their hair, their conversation but I’m exhausted when I’m done. I take the train home and instead of catching the bus, I decide to walk. Jeff and I are texting, both of us tired, neither of us wanting to be at either of our places. His roommates are having a party and things are tense between me and one of mine. Jeff and I decide to meet in Logan Square at New Wave coffee. I’ve been wanting to see this place for a while now.
It’s precious! We both get tea and sit next to each other at a small round table. We’re both very touchy-feely, grinning, all googly-eyed, and I’ve suddenly forgotten that I was ever tired.
“Tell me about your day.” he says rubbing the tops of my knees.
“Well, um, my clients were great. Uh, I’m just not feeling so good right now…” I can’t look him in the eye.
“You want to talk about it?”
I nod. “It’s hard. Um…” I trail off. The music is blaring and I don’t want to have to raise my voice. “I think I’m going to save it for when I don’t have to yell it to you.”
“Ok.” he nods and excuses himself to the bathroom. I go when we returns and lock myself into the tiny space and look around. Bright colored words and drawings fill the walls. Near the mirror I see the words “I love you” and “you’re beautiful” scrawled in pink ink. I smile to myself.
Jeff and I talk, laugh and tell stories until deciding to leave. We contemplate our apartments and decide to go to mine.
“My room’s a mess.” I giggle.
He says he doesn’t mind, but he hasn’t seen it yet. Hehe. The train doesn’t take us long and yes, as expected he’s surprised to see the aftermath of what looks like a tornado that tore through my little living space.
“No judging!” I exclaim as we plop onto my bed.
It would be in our best interest to sleep but what fun is that when there’s still so much to share and learn about this shiny new person in front of me.
We’re facing each other, laying on our sides when his fingertips begin to trail along the tops of my hands. I do my absolute best not to recoil and hide them out of fear he’ll think they’re gross. My dermatitis has been getting the better of me lately making my skin look a little mangled.
“I like your hands.” he tells me.
I chew on the inside of my face. “Say it.” I tell myself. “Come on…say thank you.”
“Thank you.” I reply and wait for the other shoe to drop, preparing for him to mention my skin. He doesn’t, so I do, explaining that I get nervous about people seeing them. “Sometimes I hide them and sometimes I don’t care. I try not to care more often than not, but it’s hard.”
“I still like them.” he says.
I smile and stare at them trying to simply be grateful that I have ten fingers that function despite the skin wanting to fall off.
He tells me that he finds it crazy that he’s here, that we’re hanging out and that it’s been so easy and that he’s been really open about the whole thing. I feel the same way. It’s scary, wonderful, exhilarating and I find myself wondering how we even got here. It feels like five minutes ago that I saw him behind an espresso machine, wanting to feel his hair between my fingers, his collarbone beneath my fingertips, his voice in my ear, his smile lighting me up and here he is, inches from my face.
While laying on my stomach, propped up on my elbows, Jeff on his back next to me, I begin my story about Rob starting with wanting to move to Chicago. I ramble on and on without making eye contact, talking at my headboard, at a pillow, but rarely at him. I almost cry but hold it. I explain all my interviewing, flying back and forth, falling in love with Rob, feeling like I was going to lose him, then…actually losing him and everything that came after.
I stop talking abruptly when I feel there’s nothing more to say. It’s weird how this happens. I’ll talk and talk until there are no words left to form but a weird silence that all the noise in the world could never fill. I can’t identify how I feel. I’m irritated for sure. I’m mad at myself for giving up all that information. What do I expect him to do with all that? What’s the point?
I can see that there isn’t a right or wrong when it comes to feelings, and sharing but I sometimes wish there were. I wish there was an instruction book for grief, a template to follow but I’ve got nothing. It’s all day to day and I think that’s the hardest part. I’m alone in my own journey through it even though there are people around me, I still have to find my own way and I lose my mind wanting someone to just tell me. Why can’t you just tell me where to go and what to do and how to say it and feel it?
Jeff hugs me hard. “I’m sorry. That’s really heavy.”
It is and I try to just hear what he said instead of taking it and running away with it on the crazy train. The crazy train will take me to a destination where everything is silenced and never shared out of fear that I’m somehow broken and not worth messing with. Somewhere though underneath all the crap I’ve piled on myself I know this to be untrue. So I stay put, not running but lacing up my shoes “just incase” for now. I let him hug me and I hear his words and roll them over I my head.
The subject begins to change in between kisses and quiet moments of staring at each other. I try to let him look me, my face and body and be ok with it. I’m working hard on being ok with letting him see me, with being still and not disrupting any of this stillness with my giggling, tickling or kissing. He asks me what I’m thinking and or feeling from time to time. I don’t have a lot of words.
Time is moving faster than I care to see and before we know it, it’s four the morning! I have to be awake in an hour then operate sharp objects for ten hours. Gonna be a looong day…
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Salon Meeting...
I’m not feeling too hot today. Lots of emotion is bubbling under my surface and I want nothing to do with it. I enjoyed my time writing at the Unicorn café in Evanston before work but when I walked through the door I was immediately annoyed.
I took off my coat, changed my shoes and set up my station. My first one cancelled so I decided to work on my IL/GA State Board issue. I’m trying to get an Illinois license being the state reciprocates with Georgia instead of taking the exam again but it’s looking like I’m going to have to take the exam and I’m not a happy camper.
A new piece of paper on our break room wall catches my eye. There is a salon meeting on Feb 10th. Rage boils under my skin. Calm down. I tell myself. It’s only a couple of hours…
I want to be alone that day. I’m not accepting of it. I don’t want to see that it’s been two years since I met Rob, that I’ve lived two years without him, and that I am being reminded yet again that he’s not here. I am jealous still of my parents celebrating their anniversary. I hate having these feelings. I hate admitting it. I hate that my emotions are all over the place and are out of my control. I glare at the paper, trying to find a way out, wanting to go to Wicker Park’s meeting on the 11th. Hmm.
“Hey Melissa. How you feeling?” Shana, an assistant, asks me as she walks into the break room and sits across from me. I feel myself wanting to be honest so instead of the obligatory answer that consists of “Good!” before walking away I tell her I’m a bit stressed.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, there this state board crap…” I begin, telling her a little about that before launching into Rob and this meeting action. “ I don’t want to do it! I want to be alone!“ I exclaim. “I feel like I need to tell Jeff about all of this. Soon.” I’m trying not to cry, embarrassed at my outburst. “I don’t know how though. I don’t know how to bring it up.” I was seriously hoping to wait on unleashing all of this on him but it just so happens we met at about this time and I feel I’m going to need to explain my erratic moods and emotions.
“Just go to Wicker Park’s or Halsted’s meeting. I’m sure they’ll understand.” Shana tells me. “And with Jeff, just tell him what’s going on. Sometimes you’ve gotta give into the word vomit and let it all out.”
“When will it not be in the forefront of my mind? I don’t even know if I want that really. I have so much trouble just feeling anything. I judge myself so harshly.” I explain.
“It doesn’t get better. I just get’s a point where it sit in your heart a little more. The sadness is always there.” She says quietly then tells me her dad died on his birthday 12 years ago. It feels so good to talk to someone who “gets” it, who isn’t going to tell me to get over it, or shy away from me or my words. “This is part of who you are now.” she reminds me. “It’s ok to share it.
I never looked at it that way before. I’m ok with Rob while he was alive being a part of my life but his death being a current part of it? I don’t do too well with that. I want to carve that part out and forget that it ever happened.
“It takes a ton of time.” Shana says and I nod believing her but not wanting to…
Back to work…
I enjoy my clients. I’m trying to be as present as possible. Jeff and I text each other through out the day. He’s my breath of fresh air. When I finish my last client I get on the train home feeling beaten down but have found enough energy to write for a while. Before turning off the computer a couple of hours later, and climbing into bed, I remember that Jeff told me yesterday that he like hearing me talk. No one has ever said that before. I feel self conscious when talking about myself and about the fact that I almost need to. It’s a release for me, but I’m scared of it though. It’s so much easier to hold it all in. I quickly send him an email before heading to bed, thanking him for his comment.
Five am is going to come faster than I’d like…
I took off my coat, changed my shoes and set up my station. My first one cancelled so I decided to work on my IL/GA State Board issue. I’m trying to get an Illinois license being the state reciprocates with Georgia instead of taking the exam again but it’s looking like I’m going to have to take the exam and I’m not a happy camper.
A new piece of paper on our break room wall catches my eye. There is a salon meeting on Feb 10th. Rage boils under my skin. Calm down. I tell myself. It’s only a couple of hours…
I want to be alone that day. I’m not accepting of it. I don’t want to see that it’s been two years since I met Rob, that I’ve lived two years without him, and that I am being reminded yet again that he’s not here. I am jealous still of my parents celebrating their anniversary. I hate having these feelings. I hate admitting it. I hate that my emotions are all over the place and are out of my control. I glare at the paper, trying to find a way out, wanting to go to Wicker Park’s meeting on the 11th. Hmm.
“Hey Melissa. How you feeling?” Shana, an assistant, asks me as she walks into the break room and sits across from me. I feel myself wanting to be honest so instead of the obligatory answer that consists of “Good!” before walking away I tell her I’m a bit stressed.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, there this state board crap…” I begin, telling her a little about that before launching into Rob and this meeting action. “ I don’t want to do it! I want to be alone!“ I exclaim. “I feel like I need to tell Jeff about all of this. Soon.” I’m trying not to cry, embarrassed at my outburst. “I don’t know how though. I don’t know how to bring it up.” I was seriously hoping to wait on unleashing all of this on him but it just so happens we met at about this time and I feel I’m going to need to explain my erratic moods and emotions.
“Just go to Wicker Park’s or Halsted’s meeting. I’m sure they’ll understand.” Shana tells me. “And with Jeff, just tell him what’s going on. Sometimes you’ve gotta give into the word vomit and let it all out.”
“When will it not be in the forefront of my mind? I don’t even know if I want that really. I have so much trouble just feeling anything. I judge myself so harshly.” I explain.
“It doesn’t get better. I just get’s a point where it sit in your heart a little more. The sadness is always there.” She says quietly then tells me her dad died on his birthday 12 years ago. It feels so good to talk to someone who “gets” it, who isn’t going to tell me to get over it, or shy away from me or my words. “This is part of who you are now.” she reminds me. “It’s ok to share it.
I never looked at it that way before. I’m ok with Rob while he was alive being a part of my life but his death being a current part of it? I don’t do too well with that. I want to carve that part out and forget that it ever happened.
“It takes a ton of time.” Shana says and I nod believing her but not wanting to…
Back to work…
I enjoy my clients. I’m trying to be as present as possible. Jeff and I text each other through out the day. He’s my breath of fresh air. When I finish my last client I get on the train home feeling beaten down but have found enough energy to write for a while. Before turning off the computer a couple of hours later, and climbing into bed, I remember that Jeff told me yesterday that he like hearing me talk. No one has ever said that before. I feel self conscious when talking about myself and about the fact that I almost need to. It’s a release for me, but I’m scared of it though. It’s so much easier to hold it all in. I quickly send him an email before heading to bed, thanking him for his comment.
Extra Giddy...
I’m racing up Milwaukee in heeled shiny boots, a dress, and my favorite red purse I bought in Stockholm lifetime ago. Well, that’s quite an exaggeration but it’s what it feels like at this point. I feel I have these chunks of life that are separate from each other because I was and am so different when I compare one chunk of life to another.
After I finished up at the gym this morning, Jeff texted me asking if I’d like to get lunch before he had to head to work. His schedule in a way resembles my former one as an assistant. It’s always changing from week to week. I haven’t had the chance yet to get used to having a set one again, but am enjoying the idea of it.
We agree on the Bongo Room. He’s never been and I have plenty of delicious and wonderful memories of the place from my first visit on my 26th birthday with Kat, to going every time I had an interview, to starting the first day of my life here in Chicago with breakfast from there, to eating alone, with friends, and now with Jeff.
I see him sitting at a table in corner and feel my face light up as his does the same.
“Hi!” I exclaim as he stands to hug me.
“How are you?”
“Good! How are you?” I sit and lean forward wanting to fall into him.
He nods. “Good.”
We stare at each other, smiling. I feel my toes curl in my boots, unable to hold his gaze for too long before shifting my eyes to the menu.
“You look nice.” he tells me. “I like your boots.”
“Thank you. So do you. I like your shirt.”
Dating while having an eating disorder is quite the dilemma. I use the fact that I’m on a date as an excuse to eat whatever I want and deal with the consequences later. This is how the trouble starts and snowballs into insanity. I don’t know how to balance it. I know that for today, to maintain my hard earned sanity I need to order a salad but find myself saying “red velvet pancakes” to the girl taking our order. When they arrive though, I don’t focus on them but on Jeff and his words, strung together into sentences describing his life, his work and find myself sharing details of my own life and work with such ease that it’s taking me aback a little bit. It’s like having my big toe sticking out of the wall I’ve been hiding behind testing the ground to see if it’s solid and safe. The toe is out there wiggling around until Jeff’s hand reaches for it, holds it’s and gently pulls it forward until my foot is exposed. Just the foot though.
After lunch we decide to get tea at a little place on Damen that a friend of his, James, just opened. We sit on a couch that matches my purple dress and continue our conversations about our younger selves, music, past job experiences etc… until he’s got to get to work. I’m not wanting the afternoon to end. We walk to the train and again find ourselves at the corner of Damen, Milwaukee and North Ave saying goodbye and agreeing to hang out tomorrow.
“I mean, if that’s ok.” he says. “I don’t want to eat up all of your time.”
Eat away my dear…
“Of course it’s ok!” I giggle. He hugs me hard and we go our separate ways.
I’ve officially had too much caffeine and am shaking by the time I get home. I quickly inhale lunch, barely tasting the sandwich I threw together and change into my running clothes. I quickly get that out of the way and shower trying to make it on time for OA. I don’t though and resign to staying home and working on my novel. I’m having trouble with the beginning. I’ve written some “middle” stuff but I’m not settled on how to start it. This is my third attempt and I’m trying it from starting on the morning of April 20th, the day that Rob died.
I’m alone at my kitchen table trying to get to a place mentally that will allow me to write about all of this. I have my journal out from that day and am trying to read it without getting too overwhelmed. I write but mostly sit there and stare out the window as if the words are going to write themselves. My roommate comes home and gives me shit for coming home late last night, assuming I was with Jeff.
“I work late on Tuesday.” I blandly say.
“No you don’t. You never work that late.” he nearly snaps.
“I do, and I commute!” I’m starting to snap. I don’t owe anyone an explanation for my whereabouts yet I feel like I have to defend myself.
He believes I’m already spending too much time with Jeff. I believe that’s no one’s business but mine. He continues to express his feelings on the matter before I snap yet again “Maybe I’m a fun date!” I’m surprised at this exclamation. I’m surprised I said it but even more surprised that I actually believe it. For the first time in my life I feel I’m worth dating, and maybe, just maybe I am deserving of someone else’s love.
I didn’t plan on spending so much time with Jeff, and am judgmental of my own process so I feel extra sensitive to my roommate’s observations. Still though, I feel ok with it and plan to keep going whether or not I spend every day with Jeff or simply see him once a week. I like him. Why can’t I just be ok with that?
Back to novel writing. I put my iPOD in when the television is turned on. I try to concentrate. I just want to be alone. My head is getting caught up in future stuff. I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to write about a million different other things. If I could just focus on one sentence at a time, that would be great. Easier said than done.
I stop and decide to go back and read some messages that were sent after Rob died from people expressing their condolences through MySpace. I haven’t looked at these in a while. It’s excruciating, wonderful, comforting, and unbelievable. I feel I’m reading about someone else’s life, like I’m not in my body right now. I’m crying reading a message from a girl I worked with at Salonred explaining that Rob will “visit” me in various ways, I just have to remember to be open to seeing it. Being many steps ahead from that time in my life, I feel that I can look back now and “see” all the ways he reminds me that he’s still around me.
I stop reading and ask Rob if I’m supposed to be reading this right now…if everything I’ve seen is him and if I’m on the right path. Minutes later “Addicted” plays on my iPOD and I feel my heart may explode. My insides though feel as if they’re being washed by something calming, something that is involuntarily drying my tears and making me sit up a little straighter.
I need to take a walk. I don’t want to be in the house. I want my head to clear. I quickly fire off an email to mom having no idea what I just wrote when I click “send” and wander to bed.
After I finished up at the gym this morning, Jeff texted me asking if I’d like to get lunch before he had to head to work. His schedule in a way resembles my former one as an assistant. It’s always changing from week to week. I haven’t had the chance yet to get used to having a set one again, but am enjoying the idea of it.
We agree on the Bongo Room. He’s never been and I have plenty of delicious and wonderful memories of the place from my first visit on my 26th birthday with Kat, to going every time I had an interview, to starting the first day of my life here in Chicago with breakfast from there, to eating alone, with friends, and now with Jeff.
I see him sitting at a table in corner and feel my face light up as his does the same.
“Hi!” I exclaim as he stands to hug me.
“How are you?”
“Good! How are you?” I sit and lean forward wanting to fall into him.
He nods. “Good.”
We stare at each other, smiling. I feel my toes curl in my boots, unable to hold his gaze for too long before shifting my eyes to the menu.
“You look nice.” he tells me. “I like your boots.”
“Thank you. So do you. I like your shirt.”
Dating while having an eating disorder is quite the dilemma. I use the fact that I’m on a date as an excuse to eat whatever I want and deal with the consequences later. This is how the trouble starts and snowballs into insanity. I don’t know how to balance it. I know that for today, to maintain my hard earned sanity I need to order a salad but find myself saying “red velvet pancakes” to the girl taking our order. When they arrive though, I don’t focus on them but on Jeff and his words, strung together into sentences describing his life, his work and find myself sharing details of my own life and work with such ease that it’s taking me aback a little bit. It’s like having my big toe sticking out of the wall I’ve been hiding behind testing the ground to see if it’s solid and safe. The toe is out there wiggling around until Jeff’s hand reaches for it, holds it’s and gently pulls it forward until my foot is exposed. Just the foot though.
After lunch we decide to get tea at a little place on Damen that a friend of his, James, just opened. We sit on a couch that matches my purple dress and continue our conversations about our younger selves, music, past job experiences etc… until he’s got to get to work. I’m not wanting the afternoon to end. We walk to the train and again find ourselves at the corner of Damen, Milwaukee and North Ave saying goodbye and agreeing to hang out tomorrow.
“I mean, if that’s ok.” he says. “I don’t want to eat up all of your time.”
Eat away my dear…
“Of course it’s ok!” I giggle. He hugs me hard and we go our separate ways.
I’ve officially had too much caffeine and am shaking by the time I get home. I quickly inhale lunch, barely tasting the sandwich I threw together and change into my running clothes. I quickly get that out of the way and shower trying to make it on time for OA. I don’t though and resign to staying home and working on my novel. I’m having trouble with the beginning. I’ve written some “middle” stuff but I’m not settled on how to start it. This is my third attempt and I’m trying it from starting on the morning of April 20th, the day that Rob died.
I’m alone at my kitchen table trying to get to a place mentally that will allow me to write about all of this. I have my journal out from that day and am trying to read it without getting too overwhelmed. I write but mostly sit there and stare out the window as if the words are going to write themselves. My roommate comes home and gives me shit for coming home late last night, assuming I was with Jeff.
“I work late on Tuesday.” I blandly say.
“No you don’t. You never work that late.” he nearly snaps.
“I do, and I commute!” I’m starting to snap. I don’t owe anyone an explanation for my whereabouts yet I feel like I have to defend myself.
He believes I’m already spending too much time with Jeff. I believe that’s no one’s business but mine. He continues to express his feelings on the matter before I snap yet again “Maybe I’m a fun date!” I’m surprised at this exclamation. I’m surprised I said it but even more surprised that I actually believe it. For the first time in my life I feel I’m worth dating, and maybe, just maybe I am deserving of someone else’s love.
I didn’t plan on spending so much time with Jeff, and am judgmental of my own process so I feel extra sensitive to my roommate’s observations. Still though, I feel ok with it and plan to keep going whether or not I spend every day with Jeff or simply see him once a week. I like him. Why can’t I just be ok with that?
Back to novel writing. I put my iPOD in when the television is turned on. I try to concentrate. I just want to be alone. My head is getting caught up in future stuff. I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to write about a million different other things. If I could just focus on one sentence at a time, that would be great. Easier said than done.
I stop and decide to go back and read some messages that were sent after Rob died from people expressing their condolences through MySpace. I haven’t looked at these in a while. It’s excruciating, wonderful, comforting, and unbelievable. I feel I’m reading about someone else’s life, like I’m not in my body right now. I’m crying reading a message from a girl I worked with at Salonred explaining that Rob will “visit” me in various ways, I just have to remember to be open to seeing it. Being many steps ahead from that time in my life, I feel that I can look back now and “see” all the ways he reminds me that he’s still around me.
I stop reading and ask Rob if I’m supposed to be reading this right now…if everything I’ve seen is him and if I’m on the right path. Minutes later “Addicted” plays on my iPOD and I feel my heart may explode. My insides though feel as if they’re being washed by something calming, something that is involuntarily drying my tears and making me sit up a little straighter.
I need to take a walk. I don’t want to be in the house. I want my head to clear. I quickly fire off an email to mom having no idea what I just wrote when I click “send” and wander to bed.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Facebook...
The next morning I turn the computer on to see I have a “friend request” on Facebook from Jeff. I readily accept then let my mind go a little insane over the amount of information I choose to share on Facebook.
For instance, my blog. (Hey ya’ll!) My entire life with all it’s thoughts and experiences are documented and out there for the world to see. I chose to put it out there, to share and for the most part it has been met with love. There are times though where it’s been criticized, or my grieving process has been judged and it sends me into a frenzy. I also have trouble with what to write at times, wanting to let you into my thoughts and life but also feeling scared, or protective over all of it to a point where I won’t share anything.
Then… there’s the dating factor. I question how much to share with the world, because well, anyone who walks into my life can read about all my past stuff and know about it before I’m ready to share it on a more personal level with them. Of course this is a choice I make and continue to make but it’s always in the back of my mind. I feel I hide a lot from people out of fear. I fear once I let you in, let you see all of me, you’ll go away, you won’t want me. I can’t even let my own self in. How can I let someone else in?
A coworker asked why do I blog? Why put everything out there in such a way where I can never take it back.
“Sure I get writing in a journal and not letting anyone see that. I get writing to get your feelings out, but why is there a need to share…with everyone?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I like it. I like knowing there are people out there who care or are at least curious. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I don’t share much with people and this is a way to do so in a controlled environment. I feel I can connect with people and share my experience through something that is easier for me than talking face to face. I really can’t fully explain it. I still keep a journal and I am able to write about stuff I don’t post on my blog but when I write to you out here I can tap into other things I wouldn’t normally have thought about for some reason and I (as frustrating as it can be sometimes) enjoy the process.
“I still don’t understand the need for it. I’m glad it works for you, I just don’t understand.”
We have to agree to disagree because I can’t explain it the way I want.
February is tough. Rob and I met on the tenth which is my parent’s wedding anniversary as you know. I’m already feeling a bit squirrelly over it. Part of me wants to feel whatever it is I need to feel and part of me wants to be completely numb. This constant internal battle simply creates anger. That I can do. On some level it’s like I search for something to channel that anger to release what’s underneath instead of just letting what’s underneath out. I don’t know how to unlock it though. I’m not even sure I’m willing.
I like to think we met in February so that after he died the entire month would be filled with the hearts and love. I am reminded everywhere I go that he is still very much here despite all my feelings.
I find myself yet again dating someone new while feeling all of this. I can barely deal with myself. How do I take on another person? I feel like Rob and I are a package deal when it comes to letting someone else into my life. I don’t know how to share my experience out of fear of the reaction from the person I’m sharing it with. It’s easy to just be quiet, or let my anger take over…
My work day is filled with wonderful clients, and sweet text messages from Jeff. Assisting feels like a distant memory all the sudden as I race from client to client, always in motion and never stopping. I had forgotten what it was like to be a stylist. Only briefly though! I enjoy feeling hair beneath my fingers instead of towels or foil. I love all the conversations and the decision making. I also enjoy that I’m able to answer my client’s questions, am able to freely give my opinion when they ask and feel confident in my ability to do so. This wasn’t so much a reality in Atlanta and something I desperately wanted to attain while here in Chicago. The whole experience has been an absolute dream.
When it’s all said and done, I pack up and head home. I missed the Metra (the fast train…) and settle onto the red line of the CTA until I reach my stop and have to will my legs to move to catch the bus home and fall into bed.
For instance, my blog. (Hey ya’ll!) My entire life with all it’s thoughts and experiences are documented and out there for the world to see. I chose to put it out there, to share and for the most part it has been met with love. There are times though where it’s been criticized, or my grieving process has been judged and it sends me into a frenzy. I also have trouble with what to write at times, wanting to let you into my thoughts and life but also feeling scared, or protective over all of it to a point where I won’t share anything.
Then… there’s the dating factor. I question how much to share with the world, because well, anyone who walks into my life can read about all my past stuff and know about it before I’m ready to share it on a more personal level with them. Of course this is a choice I make and continue to make but it’s always in the back of my mind. I feel I hide a lot from people out of fear. I fear once I let you in, let you see all of me, you’ll go away, you won’t want me. I can’t even let my own self in. How can I let someone else in?
A coworker asked why do I blog? Why put everything out there in such a way where I can never take it back.
“Sure I get writing in a journal and not letting anyone see that. I get writing to get your feelings out, but why is there a need to share…with everyone?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I like it. I like knowing there are people out there who care or are at least curious. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I don’t share much with people and this is a way to do so in a controlled environment. I feel I can connect with people and share my experience through something that is easier for me than talking face to face. I really can’t fully explain it. I still keep a journal and I am able to write about stuff I don’t post on my blog but when I write to you out here I can tap into other things I wouldn’t normally have thought about for some reason and I (as frustrating as it can be sometimes) enjoy the process.
“I still don’t understand the need for it. I’m glad it works for you, I just don’t understand.”
We have to agree to disagree because I can’t explain it the way I want.
February is tough. Rob and I met on the tenth which is my parent’s wedding anniversary as you know. I’m already feeling a bit squirrelly over it. Part of me wants to feel whatever it is I need to feel and part of me wants to be completely numb. This constant internal battle simply creates anger. That I can do. On some level it’s like I search for something to channel that anger to release what’s underneath instead of just letting what’s underneath out. I don’t know how to unlock it though. I’m not even sure I’m willing.
I like to think we met in February so that after he died the entire month would be filled with the hearts and love. I am reminded everywhere I go that he is still very much here despite all my feelings.
I find myself yet again dating someone new while feeling all of this. I can barely deal with myself. How do I take on another person? I feel like Rob and I are a package deal when it comes to letting someone else into my life. I don’t know how to share my experience out of fear of the reaction from the person I’m sharing it with. It’s easy to just be quiet, or let my anger take over…
My work day is filled with wonderful clients, and sweet text messages from Jeff. Assisting feels like a distant memory all the sudden as I race from client to client, always in motion and never stopping. I had forgotten what it was like to be a stylist. Only briefly though! I enjoy feeling hair beneath my fingers instead of towels or foil. I love all the conversations and the decision making. I also enjoy that I’m able to answer my client’s questions, am able to freely give my opinion when they ask and feel confident in my ability to do so. This wasn’t so much a reality in Atlanta and something I desperately wanted to attain while here in Chicago. The whole experience has been an absolute dream.
When it’s all said and done, I pack up and head home. I missed the Metra (the fast train…) and settle onto the red line of the CTA until I reach my stop and have to will my legs to move to catch the bus home and fall into bed.
Giddy...
Happy Monday! It feels good to say that once again. This is my first Monday free from class. For now, there are no more model searches, no more scrambling to find more when folks cancel, and no more stressing over testing out of haircuts.
I’ve spent the past few days running, writing, and seeing a few friends. My first full week of work as a stylist starts tomorrow. I seriously can’t believe it’s here already. I’m elated in so many different ways. I’ve been so content this past week and am so looking forward to starting the next part of my career.
This morning I’m up early and downtown at Intelligentsia coffee before the sun is up. I’ve adopted a new routine of coming here when they open at 6am then going to the gym next door. I’ve also recently developed a crush on a boy working behind the counter which has made my time spent here even more entertaining. I’ve only seen him a handful of times since coming but each time have been met with smiles and a little jump in my chest that I haven’t felt in a while.
When I push through the revolving door I see him standing with a girl at the register and feel my skin warm. I’ve wanted to talk to him but haven’t thought of anything clever to say. I notice that he’s gotten a haircut as I approach the counter and giggle to myself that that’s what I’m going to use to chat with him.
“Hi!” I smile at both of them and order a large Americano. “I like your haircut.” I tell the object of my affection while the girl rings me up.
“Thank you.” he smiles.
“Where’d you get it done?”
“A barber shop near Fullerton. It was my first experience in one.” He tells me about his time spent there explaining that he usually gets his haircut every five months or so. The first time I saw him his straight black hair was covering his ears. It’s now quite short and I wonder why he lets it go so long. I’m intrigued by his thoughts on his experience. I like men’s hairdressing and am always curious as to what it is they think and want in their service.
He’s quite talkative and I like it. I tell him I do hair and am always investigating people. Our conversation moves to where we’re from, how we got here and where we live now.
“Atlanta.” I smile. “You?”
“Alaska.”
(What?!)
“I came here for vacation and decided to move…”
“I moved here with my girlfriend at the time…”
“Wicker Park…”
“Logan Square…”
He gets busy so I sit and write with my Americano, occasionally looking up to meet his eyes, smiling and watching him look away first, making me smile more. I seriously have such a fourth grade crush on this guy. He seems to have a very gentle spirit about him and I want to know more.
I order another Americano an hour or so later. He makes it and asks what I’m writing.
“Right now? That’s my journal. I’m using it as a distraction from the novel project I have going on.” I blurt.
“A novel? What’s it about? Or do you not want to say or talk about it?”
Hair, grief, love, and yes I need to talk about it to remain accountable…is what I want to say but reign all that in. Something tells me though that I can share with him whatever I want. I just don’t want to do it yet.
“Oh no, I need to talk about it!” I laugh and tell him it’s about my experience doing hair in Atlanta. The subject of Rob is still lingering in my mind but I refuse to let it out.
“I’ve never met anyone who has written a novel.” Delicious boy tells me.
“Neither have I.” I laugh. “It’s quite the task.”
He smiles and holds out his hand over the espresso machine. “I’m Jeff.”
“Melissa.” I grin and place my hand in his feeling his fingers wrap around it and firmly deliver in my opinion, a perfect handshake.
“Good to meet you.”
“You as well.” I’m feeling all sorts of things spark in my brain.
He gets busy again and I get back to writing. Even though my heart may explode from all my caffeinated nervousness I’m slow with my writing and enjoying the process. After a while though I can’t sit still any longer. I scan the counter and don’t see Jeff behind it. I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye. I wait another minute or so and start thinking about leaving one of my cards with the girl at the register for him. As the thought leaves my mind though, he’s there. Standing next to me, out of no where and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Hey, I’m about to go on break and was wondering if you’d like to join me?”
EEEEEKKKKKK!!!!
“I would!” I shut my journal and put my pen down faster than lightening.
“Ok. I have only thirty minutes and need to get my things together. Are you vegetarian or vegan?”
“I move in that direction.” I nod.
“Ok, I was thinking about this little diner around the corner…”
“Perfect.” I smile.
He disappears and I pack my things up. Minutes later we’re outside inhaling the freezing February air.
“Have you eaten at many places downtown?” he asks.
“I haven’t. I don’t know a whole lot about this area.”
“I just know this block. There are a lot of great places tucked away though.”
The diner is in a huge building on the ground floor. The ceiling in the building reminds me of a fancy cake with all it‘s pink and green intricacies. We sit across from each other, both of us grinning. After ordering we bounce questions back and forth off of each other. I’m completely, totally, and utterly enjoying his calm, laid back nature. I feel I could possibly open up to him, maybe let him in…but later. A shift in my behavior has taken place since Charlie when it comes to dating. I’m starting to pay attention more to what I want instead of anticipating what they want and just going along with it. I still have a long road ahead of me concerning this project but am happy to be questioning my actions instead of blindly going forward.
Thirty minutes went by like thirty seconds. He’s off work at one and I’m…well I’m off all day and want to see more of him.
“May I ask for your number?” he asks.
“Of course.” I smile and tell it to him as he programs it into his phone.
“You want mine?” he asks.
“Sure. You can text it or call.”
“I’ll text it. Thank you for coming.” he smiles.
“Thank you for asking.” I return his smile and confess that I was going to leave my card with one of his co-workers. I tell him I have to run some errands but am free later if he wants to hang out.
“A nap is definitely in store for me, but after that, I’ll give you a call.”
“Deal.”
He thanks me again for coming along and goes back to work as I bounce to the gym.
After the gym, I head to the grocery store, home, then go for a run. It’s tough. I’m tired and feel my feet wanting to drag. The ground is clear and free of snow and ice so I feel guilty for not taking advantage of going.
Back at home, I quickly shower and spend some time writing. At a little after five Jeff texts me asking if I still want to hang out. I am stupid giddy and loving every second of it. I’m giggling as I text him back saying yes I do.
He calls a few minutes later. We decide on Café de Luca on Damen at 6:30. I really wanted to finish my writing and look presentable being he’s only seen me in my gym clothes.
At six, I’m hauling ass up there. I decided to walk instead of taking the bus. I suddenly feel a rush of negative feelings wash over me. I feel guilty that I’m keeping him out late, knowing he has to open again in the morning. I also feel badly for wanting to finish my writing before meeting up and voicing that. I quickly push it all away remembering that if this wasn’t what he was able to do he would tell me. As I turn on to Damen I see a guy pretty far ahead of me and by watching him I’m pretty sure it’s Jeff. Funny how someone’s movements can identify them.
It is Jeff and he’s turned around, smiling at me as I approach him.
“Hi!” I squeal walking into his open arms, wrapping mine around him.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
“Good. You?”
He nods. “Good. Looks like they’re closed.” he glances in the direction of the café.
“Well damn. Hmm.” I think for a moment and suggest a few other places nearby. We decide on the Bluebird, a fabulous bar down the street from where we’re standing.
“You look nice.” he tells me as we start walking.
“So do you.” I don’t get to drink him in until we’re seated across from each other at a small wooden table, beer in our hands, still smiling at each other. His warm hazel eyes sparkle, reflecting interest, and attraction. I quite like it, finding myself giving it back. He’s wearing a black sweater that is contrasting his smooth fair skin but enhancing his short, black, straight hair and facial hair. His smile lights me up and I find myself wanting to run my fingers over his as he sets his beer down after taking a sip.
“I admire your writing.” he tells me. “Most people write a few lines and stare off into space for a while but you’re really consistent with it.”
“Thank you!” I laugh.
“I was trying to sneak a peek at it. You really pack a lot in there.”
I nod. That I do and even then it’s not everything which makes me crazy.
Our conversation lasts through beer, dinner and more beer. We both have to be up early tomorrow and both said before dinner that we couldn’t stay out late. We’ve been here for five hours. So much for an early bedtime.
“I’m having a really good time with you.” he smiles.
“Me too.” I like hearing this. I don’t think to say it nearly enough when enjoying someone’s company.
“I’ve got to get going though.” he tells me.
“I know, me too.”
We both stand, putting all our winter gear on and minutes later we’re back out in the freezing air.
As we approach the huge Damen, Milwaukee, North Ave intersection he turns and gives me huge hug.
“You give a good hug!” he smiles.
“So do you!”
We both agree we had a great time and he asks if he can call me again.
“Of course!”
After saying goodnight, he turns to get on the train and I walk home, smiling to myself, trying to hurry to stay warm...
I’ve spent the past few days running, writing, and seeing a few friends. My first full week of work as a stylist starts tomorrow. I seriously can’t believe it’s here already. I’m elated in so many different ways. I’ve been so content this past week and am so looking forward to starting the next part of my career.
This morning I’m up early and downtown at Intelligentsia coffee before the sun is up. I’ve adopted a new routine of coming here when they open at 6am then going to the gym next door. I’ve also recently developed a crush on a boy working behind the counter which has made my time spent here even more entertaining. I’ve only seen him a handful of times since coming but each time have been met with smiles and a little jump in my chest that I haven’t felt in a while.
When I push through the revolving door I see him standing with a girl at the register and feel my skin warm. I’ve wanted to talk to him but haven’t thought of anything clever to say. I notice that he’s gotten a haircut as I approach the counter and giggle to myself that that’s what I’m going to use to chat with him.
“Hi!” I smile at both of them and order a large Americano. “I like your haircut.” I tell the object of my affection while the girl rings me up.
“Thank you.” he smiles.
“Where’d you get it done?”
“A barber shop near Fullerton. It was my first experience in one.” He tells me about his time spent there explaining that he usually gets his haircut every five months or so. The first time I saw him his straight black hair was covering his ears. It’s now quite short and I wonder why he lets it go so long. I’m intrigued by his thoughts on his experience. I like men’s hairdressing and am always curious as to what it is they think and want in their service.
He’s quite talkative and I like it. I tell him I do hair and am always investigating people. Our conversation moves to where we’re from, how we got here and where we live now.
“Atlanta.” I smile. “You?”
“Alaska.”
(What?!)
“I came here for vacation and decided to move…”
“I moved here with my girlfriend at the time…”
“Wicker Park…”
“Logan Square…”
He gets busy so I sit and write with my Americano, occasionally looking up to meet his eyes, smiling and watching him look away first, making me smile more. I seriously have such a fourth grade crush on this guy. He seems to have a very gentle spirit about him and I want to know more.
I order another Americano an hour or so later. He makes it and asks what I’m writing.
“Right now? That’s my journal. I’m using it as a distraction from the novel project I have going on.” I blurt.
“A novel? What’s it about? Or do you not want to say or talk about it?”
Hair, grief, love, and yes I need to talk about it to remain accountable…is what I want to say but reign all that in. Something tells me though that I can share with him whatever I want. I just don’t want to do it yet.
“Oh no, I need to talk about it!” I laugh and tell him it’s about my experience doing hair in Atlanta. The subject of Rob is still lingering in my mind but I refuse to let it out.
“I’ve never met anyone who has written a novel.” Delicious boy tells me.
“Neither have I.” I laugh. “It’s quite the task.”
He smiles and holds out his hand over the espresso machine. “I’m Jeff.”
“Melissa.” I grin and place my hand in his feeling his fingers wrap around it and firmly deliver in my opinion, a perfect handshake.
“Good to meet you.”
“You as well.” I’m feeling all sorts of things spark in my brain.
He gets busy again and I get back to writing. Even though my heart may explode from all my caffeinated nervousness I’m slow with my writing and enjoying the process. After a while though I can’t sit still any longer. I scan the counter and don’t see Jeff behind it. I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye. I wait another minute or so and start thinking about leaving one of my cards with the girl at the register for him. As the thought leaves my mind though, he’s there. Standing next to me, out of no where and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Hey, I’m about to go on break and was wondering if you’d like to join me?”
EEEEEKKKKKK!!!!
“I would!” I shut my journal and put my pen down faster than lightening.
“Ok. I have only thirty minutes and need to get my things together. Are you vegetarian or vegan?”
“I move in that direction.” I nod.
“Ok, I was thinking about this little diner around the corner…”
“Perfect.” I smile.
He disappears and I pack my things up. Minutes later we’re outside inhaling the freezing February air.
“Have you eaten at many places downtown?” he asks.
“I haven’t. I don’t know a whole lot about this area.”
“I just know this block. There are a lot of great places tucked away though.”
The diner is in a huge building on the ground floor. The ceiling in the building reminds me of a fancy cake with all it‘s pink and green intricacies. We sit across from each other, both of us grinning. After ordering we bounce questions back and forth off of each other. I’m completely, totally, and utterly enjoying his calm, laid back nature. I feel I could possibly open up to him, maybe let him in…but later. A shift in my behavior has taken place since Charlie when it comes to dating. I’m starting to pay attention more to what I want instead of anticipating what they want and just going along with it. I still have a long road ahead of me concerning this project but am happy to be questioning my actions instead of blindly going forward.
Thirty minutes went by like thirty seconds. He’s off work at one and I’m…well I’m off all day and want to see more of him.
“May I ask for your number?” he asks.
“Of course.” I smile and tell it to him as he programs it into his phone.
“You want mine?” he asks.
“Sure. You can text it or call.”
“I’ll text it. Thank you for coming.” he smiles.
“Thank you for asking.” I return his smile and confess that I was going to leave my card with one of his co-workers. I tell him I have to run some errands but am free later if he wants to hang out.
“A nap is definitely in store for me, but after that, I’ll give you a call.”
“Deal.”
He thanks me again for coming along and goes back to work as I bounce to the gym.
After the gym, I head to the grocery store, home, then go for a run. It’s tough. I’m tired and feel my feet wanting to drag. The ground is clear and free of snow and ice so I feel guilty for not taking advantage of going.
Back at home, I quickly shower and spend some time writing. At a little after five Jeff texts me asking if I still want to hang out. I am stupid giddy and loving every second of it. I’m giggling as I text him back saying yes I do.
He calls a few minutes later. We decide on Café de Luca on Damen at 6:30. I really wanted to finish my writing and look presentable being he’s only seen me in my gym clothes.
At six, I’m hauling ass up there. I decided to walk instead of taking the bus. I suddenly feel a rush of negative feelings wash over me. I feel guilty that I’m keeping him out late, knowing he has to open again in the morning. I also feel badly for wanting to finish my writing before meeting up and voicing that. I quickly push it all away remembering that if this wasn’t what he was able to do he would tell me. As I turn on to Damen I see a guy pretty far ahead of me and by watching him I’m pretty sure it’s Jeff. Funny how someone’s movements can identify them.
It is Jeff and he’s turned around, smiling at me as I approach him.
“Hi!” I squeal walking into his open arms, wrapping mine around him.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
“Good. You?”
He nods. “Good. Looks like they’re closed.” he glances in the direction of the café.
“Well damn. Hmm.” I think for a moment and suggest a few other places nearby. We decide on the Bluebird, a fabulous bar down the street from where we’re standing.
“You look nice.” he tells me as we start walking.
“So do you.” I don’t get to drink him in until we’re seated across from each other at a small wooden table, beer in our hands, still smiling at each other. His warm hazel eyes sparkle, reflecting interest, and attraction. I quite like it, finding myself giving it back. He’s wearing a black sweater that is contrasting his smooth fair skin but enhancing his short, black, straight hair and facial hair. His smile lights me up and I find myself wanting to run my fingers over his as he sets his beer down after taking a sip.
“I admire your writing.” he tells me. “Most people write a few lines and stare off into space for a while but you’re really consistent with it.”
“Thank you!” I laugh.
“I was trying to sneak a peek at it. You really pack a lot in there.”
I nod. That I do and even then it’s not everything which makes me crazy.
Our conversation lasts through beer, dinner and more beer. We both have to be up early tomorrow and both said before dinner that we couldn’t stay out late. We’ve been here for five hours. So much for an early bedtime.
“I’m having a really good time with you.” he smiles.
“Me too.” I like hearing this. I don’t think to say it nearly enough when enjoying someone’s company.
“I’ve got to get going though.” he tells me.
“I know, me too.”
We both stand, putting all our winter gear on and minutes later we’re back out in the freezing air.
As we approach the huge Damen, Milwaukee, North Ave intersection he turns and gives me huge hug.
“You give a good hug!” he smiles.
“So do you!”
We both agree we had a great time and he asks if he can call me again.
“Of course!”
After saying goodnight, he turns to get on the train and I walk home, smiling to myself, trying to hurry to stay warm...
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Peace, love, coffee...
I'm sitting at San Fransisco Coffee in Atlanta feeling so in love. The sun is out and the air surrounding the place smells of freshly brewed caffinated deliciousness mixed with a faint sugary sweetness of baked things. I can't get enough. I don't ever want to exhale. I wish I could bottle up smells and keep them with me always. I would like a bottle of Rob, a bottle of this place, a bottle of my parents, a bottle of cookies, the list is endless...
It kills me I can't fully describe all the things that go through my mind when I'm here in Atlanta. I'm both anxious and calm. I'm everywhere and nowhere. I relive all sorts of memories and create new ones. I feel physically close to Rob when I'm here. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by everything that reminds me of things we did. It hurts in ways I can't describe. I have visuals of places we went to together in Atlanta unlike Chicago. I go to these places and feel closer to him.
Currently I'm sitting at a table we shared one Sunday morning before heading to work. I remember him ordering a soy caramel latte and doing an impression of a southern Baptist preacher, making me laugh so hard I think I almost fell off my chair. I can still hear the tone of his voice now and it makes me smile. When I get like this I want these feelings to last forever. I want to sink into them, hang on to them, and never let them go. I freak out because I know they pass. They move in and out of me like air through my lungs.
Nineties music is playing taking me on all sorts of journeys. It moves from the Counting Crows to the Cranberries. Most of it isn't anything I'd rush home to download but is special enough to float through, to allow myself to drift out to the sea of past moments and live them again. From a church youth retreat when I was 12, to the fall of my freshman year of high school to sitting in the passenger seat of Nathan's Celica on a date, I am reminded that all this music used to be part of "now". It's currently in the past which feels weird that so much time as gone by. Life is still moving and this music is a gentle reminder of that.
I guess while I'm bottling up smells, I'd like to bottle up memories and feelings to keep with me also. My writing doesn't do justice to what's in my head. I feel so completely wide open today. I love being this way. I want to save it and pull out on a bad day to remind myself how much happiness is out there to have and experience. I'd really like to share all of this with someone, anyone really, but I'm trying to keep it with me, hold it, wait for an available, safe, healthy person to open myself up to. I'd like to stop hurting myself, stop getting attached to people who aren't actually there and delve into something real. I think... It's hard to be healthy though when all I've done is hurt myself in one way or another.
After a while I leave and go see Shannon. We're going to have lunch at Alon's Bakery. While driving down North Highland, I pass LaRaine's bridal store. Hearts are on the window and I smile thinking of Rob and him sending them. I remember the Saturday before Easter Sunday, we were walking back to my place from dinner and he nodded in the direction of the store saying we should get me a dress from there. I joked with him saying it was awfully fancy for an Easter dress...
I catch a glimpse of my little Celica parked where I usually kept it at Kat and Gordon's and feel my smile broaden. I am so full of giddyness that it's almost like he's still alive...
It's so good to see Shannon. I talk her face off and wish I could pack her up with me. After lunch I drive over to Kat and Gordon's and change clothes. I run through Freedom Park and into Candler Park. It's perfect outside and I'm elated running through my favorite places. While running down McClendon Ave I feel connected to Rob and everything around me in a way I can't describe. It's like he's here inside me, joining me on my run. My iPOD is clicked into "Shuffle" mode and "Addicted" comes on. I "hear" the words "I love you" in my head. "I love you too." I say back smiling to myself. "I miss you." I "hear" the voice tell me. "I miss you too." I tell it.
I realize this could put me in the category of schizophrenics with all this in my head but there isn't a doubt in my mind that it's real. I remember a few weeks after Rob died, a coworker of mine explained that he'll "talk" to me. She's had more experience with death than I care to imagine so I paid a lot of attention to that and a lot of attention to the little things that have popped up in my path, from a South Carolina license plate to the words "I love you' somewhere to the kind words spoken from a friend.
I am still confused though and still second guessing myself. I have almost 200 songs on my little iPOD and "Addicted" just happened to start playing? At the same spot almost on the street that it played back in October when I was driving and heard it? I wish to myself that my head isn't screwing with me, that this is real and I'm not making it up. Seconds later, while still running, I look up and see a silver car with a South Carolina license plate on the back of it. I'm beaming feeling a calm sensation take over my body. My friend Derek told me that there are all sorts of things out there, we just have to be open to them. This is confusing to me. How come some people are and some aren't? I've felt that Rob never fully left me. I miss him terribly but don't feel abandoned. There's been a sort of calm that's floated around with me since. Whether or not I choose to tap into it is my own choice. Sometimes I walk away from it for a little bit, but always return.
I finish my run and meet Kat at their place when she gets done with work. We walk up the street to Harry and Sons for sushi. We talk nonstop about the events of the past month. I miss her terribly. Even sitting across from her, knowing I have to go back soon, I miss her and want to keep her with me always.
I leave shortly after dinner, wanting to be back at mom and dad's at a decent hour. I climb into dad's truck, and head to the interstate. I feel completely free. I don't live in Atlanta anymore and can come and go as I please, enjoying all the good stuff and leaving before losing my mind. Currently I'm not in Chicago with all it's challenges of the everyday life I've settled into. I'm on this long stretch of interstate with such a sense of peace that I never ever want to leave.
An upbeat song I've heard on occasion starts playing. I'm not sure who sings it but the chorus says "I love you" several times. How do I describe this? I am lit from within. I'm smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. This is the closest I've come to feeling physically with Rob since he died. It's like being injected with a powerful dose of the most intense love you could ever know.
My description of this pales when comparing it to what's happening. I've never had to find words to match a feeling like this before. There is no sadness, no wishing he were next to me or wishing I could share this with him because he's here, All I have is right now. Nothing else exists. It's all I could ever want. If I try to wrap my mind around it, it'll go away. I just have to feel it and hope that I can retain it. It's so strong and so lucid that I crave it, even while experiencing it. It's nothing I've ever felt before.
The song ends and I have to return to Earth. I'm so happy to feel this...to somehow open up to it. I want to be more open to it but don't know how yet. I try to just take everything as it comes and feel privileged that I can experience the short moments like this that I do.
Home. Mom and I stay up talking about relationships and marriage. I don't want to think about any of it. All my interactions with the opposite sex have had an underlying theme of "are you the one?" Maybe it's a human nature thing. Maybe it's a reflection of my southern upbringing. I don't know. What I do know is that I'm tired of that. I want to experience people as they are without worrying about anything else. I want to let go and be happy in any given moment no matter who I'm with or not with. This is easier said than done being I've lived my adult life seven steps ahead instead of in whatever moment I find myself in.
The subject of Rob comes up. Mom says "We don't really know what would have happened with you two if he lived. You were dead set on moving to Chicago."
A burst of anger makes my blood boil. I try to remain calm and remember that I never shared my feelings or intuitions with her. Or anyone really for that matter. When I decided to move to Chicago (before meeting Rob) I somehow "knew" that I would spend through my savings, get into a car accident and fall in love but it wouldn't last. (At least, not in the way I had imagined or wanted it to.) At the time that I had these feelings, I had no savings, hadn't been on a date in God knows how long and the accident? Well.. I did live in Atlanta where anything can happen so that one I wasn't too apprehensive about.
Sure enough, I managed to save up some money, fall in love, get into an accident, lose that love and spend through what I saved while taking time off from work to grieve and write.
I shared all of this with mom. I don't know if she believes me or not. I guess it doesn't matter. I know what I felt. I don't know if she has feelings like this. This is part of why I can second guess what's in my head because I feel like the two people who brought me into this world can't totally relate to what I'm talking about and it makes me feel isolated and alone in a way. I do look for understanding elsewhere and am always happy when I get it, it's just that I crave closeness with my parents. I must admit it's hard imagining them as human beings with their own set of thoughts and life experiences. It's hard to be gentle and understanding when I want something so badly that I can't totally explain it to ask for it I just know it's there and I need it from them. I wish to know them in other ways but have such an incredibly difficult time getting to a vulnerable enough place to ask anything or tell anything. It's much easier to sit in the child role I've been in my entire life...
It kills me I can't fully describe all the things that go through my mind when I'm here in Atlanta. I'm both anxious and calm. I'm everywhere and nowhere. I relive all sorts of memories and create new ones. I feel physically close to Rob when I'm here. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I'm surrounded by everything that reminds me of things we did. It hurts in ways I can't describe. I have visuals of places we went to together in Atlanta unlike Chicago. I go to these places and feel closer to him.
Currently I'm sitting at a table we shared one Sunday morning before heading to work. I remember him ordering a soy caramel latte and doing an impression of a southern Baptist preacher, making me laugh so hard I think I almost fell off my chair. I can still hear the tone of his voice now and it makes me smile. When I get like this I want these feelings to last forever. I want to sink into them, hang on to them, and never let them go. I freak out because I know they pass. They move in and out of me like air through my lungs.
Nineties music is playing taking me on all sorts of journeys. It moves from the Counting Crows to the Cranberries. Most of it isn't anything I'd rush home to download but is special enough to float through, to allow myself to drift out to the sea of past moments and live them again. From a church youth retreat when I was 12, to the fall of my freshman year of high school to sitting in the passenger seat of Nathan's Celica on a date, I am reminded that all this music used to be part of "now". It's currently in the past which feels weird that so much time as gone by. Life is still moving and this music is a gentle reminder of that.
I guess while I'm bottling up smells, I'd like to bottle up memories and feelings to keep with me also. My writing doesn't do justice to what's in my head. I feel so completely wide open today. I love being this way. I want to save it and pull out on a bad day to remind myself how much happiness is out there to have and experience. I'd really like to share all of this with someone, anyone really, but I'm trying to keep it with me, hold it, wait for an available, safe, healthy person to open myself up to. I'd like to stop hurting myself, stop getting attached to people who aren't actually there and delve into something real. I think... It's hard to be healthy though when all I've done is hurt myself in one way or another.
After a while I leave and go see Shannon. We're going to have lunch at Alon's Bakery. While driving down North Highland, I pass LaRaine's bridal store. Hearts are on the window and I smile thinking of Rob and him sending them. I remember the Saturday before Easter Sunday, we were walking back to my place from dinner and he nodded in the direction of the store saying we should get me a dress from there. I joked with him saying it was awfully fancy for an Easter dress...
I catch a glimpse of my little Celica parked where I usually kept it at Kat and Gordon's and feel my smile broaden. I am so full of giddyness that it's almost like he's still alive...
It's so good to see Shannon. I talk her face off and wish I could pack her up with me. After lunch I drive over to Kat and Gordon's and change clothes. I run through Freedom Park and into Candler Park. It's perfect outside and I'm elated running through my favorite places. While running down McClendon Ave I feel connected to Rob and everything around me in a way I can't describe. It's like he's here inside me, joining me on my run. My iPOD is clicked into "Shuffle" mode and "Addicted" comes on. I "hear" the words "I love you" in my head. "I love you too." I say back smiling to myself. "I miss you." I "hear" the voice tell me. "I miss you too." I tell it.
I realize this could put me in the category of schizophrenics with all this in my head but there isn't a doubt in my mind that it's real. I remember a few weeks after Rob died, a coworker of mine explained that he'll "talk" to me. She's had more experience with death than I care to imagine so I paid a lot of attention to that and a lot of attention to the little things that have popped up in my path, from a South Carolina license plate to the words "I love you' somewhere to the kind words spoken from a friend.
I am still confused though and still second guessing myself. I have almost 200 songs on my little iPOD and "Addicted" just happened to start playing? At the same spot almost on the street that it played back in October when I was driving and heard it? I wish to myself that my head isn't screwing with me, that this is real and I'm not making it up. Seconds later, while still running, I look up and see a silver car with a South Carolina license plate on the back of it. I'm beaming feeling a calm sensation take over my body. My friend Derek told me that there are all sorts of things out there, we just have to be open to them. This is confusing to me. How come some people are and some aren't? I've felt that Rob never fully left me. I miss him terribly but don't feel abandoned. There's been a sort of calm that's floated around with me since. Whether or not I choose to tap into it is my own choice. Sometimes I walk away from it for a little bit, but always return.
I finish my run and meet Kat at their place when she gets done with work. We walk up the street to Harry and Sons for sushi. We talk nonstop about the events of the past month. I miss her terribly. Even sitting across from her, knowing I have to go back soon, I miss her and want to keep her with me always.
I leave shortly after dinner, wanting to be back at mom and dad's at a decent hour. I climb into dad's truck, and head to the interstate. I feel completely free. I don't live in Atlanta anymore and can come and go as I please, enjoying all the good stuff and leaving before losing my mind. Currently I'm not in Chicago with all it's challenges of the everyday life I've settled into. I'm on this long stretch of interstate with such a sense of peace that I never ever want to leave.
An upbeat song I've heard on occasion starts playing. I'm not sure who sings it but the chorus says "I love you" several times. How do I describe this? I am lit from within. I'm smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. This is the closest I've come to feeling physically with Rob since he died. It's like being injected with a powerful dose of the most intense love you could ever know.
My description of this pales when comparing it to what's happening. I've never had to find words to match a feeling like this before. There is no sadness, no wishing he were next to me or wishing I could share this with him because he's here, All I have is right now. Nothing else exists. It's all I could ever want. If I try to wrap my mind around it, it'll go away. I just have to feel it and hope that I can retain it. It's so strong and so lucid that I crave it, even while experiencing it. It's nothing I've ever felt before.
The song ends and I have to return to Earth. I'm so happy to feel this...to somehow open up to it. I want to be more open to it but don't know how yet. I try to just take everything as it comes and feel privileged that I can experience the short moments like this that I do.
Home. Mom and I stay up talking about relationships and marriage. I don't want to think about any of it. All my interactions with the opposite sex have had an underlying theme of "are you the one?" Maybe it's a human nature thing. Maybe it's a reflection of my southern upbringing. I don't know. What I do know is that I'm tired of that. I want to experience people as they are without worrying about anything else. I want to let go and be happy in any given moment no matter who I'm with or not with. This is easier said than done being I've lived my adult life seven steps ahead instead of in whatever moment I find myself in.
The subject of Rob comes up. Mom says "We don't really know what would have happened with you two if he lived. You were dead set on moving to Chicago."
A burst of anger makes my blood boil. I try to remain calm and remember that I never shared my feelings or intuitions with her. Or anyone really for that matter. When I decided to move to Chicago (before meeting Rob) I somehow "knew" that I would spend through my savings, get into a car accident and fall in love but it wouldn't last. (At least, not in the way I had imagined or wanted it to.) At the time that I had these feelings, I had no savings, hadn't been on a date in God knows how long and the accident? Well.. I did live in Atlanta where anything can happen so that one I wasn't too apprehensive about.
Sure enough, I managed to save up some money, fall in love, get into an accident, lose that love and spend through what I saved while taking time off from work to grieve and write.
I shared all of this with mom. I don't know if she believes me or not. I guess it doesn't matter. I know what I felt. I don't know if she has feelings like this. This is part of why I can second guess what's in my head because I feel like the two people who brought me into this world can't totally relate to what I'm talking about and it makes me feel isolated and alone in a way. I do look for understanding elsewhere and am always happy when I get it, it's just that I crave closeness with my parents. I must admit it's hard imagining them as human beings with their own set of thoughts and life experiences. It's hard to be gentle and understanding when I want something so badly that I can't totally explain it to ask for it I just know it's there and I need it from them. I wish to know them in other ways but have such an incredibly difficult time getting to a vulnerable enough place to ask anything or tell anything. It's much easier to sit in the child role I've been in my entire life...
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Full Time...
Before heading into work today I stopped by Lovely to drop off earrings I made for a girl who works there. She complimented a pair I had on yesterday morning and asked me to make her some that were similar. I was off yesterday and happily constructed a pair that I thought would suit her. When I walked in she just so happened to be wearing colors that matched them. It made me so happy to do this for her that I wonder why I don’t do it more often…
After sucking down an Americano at Cipollina, I peel my ass off the stool I am sitting on and push my arms through my coat, gather my 8,000 bags, and I head into our Wicker Park salon. I’m opening today, working one of my favorite shifts, but my head is full of anxiety. This is becoming the norm for me lately. Each week I can’t wait for Sunday to roll around so I can hurry up to Evanston and cut some hair. It’s almost time for me to earn my second day on the floor. It can’t get here fast enough.
“Hi!” I beam to Brian who is seating behind the front desk, hanging up the phone.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
“Good. You?”
He nods. “Good.”
“May I clock in?” I ask him.
“Of course.”
I reach over him, press the appropriate buttons, thank him and head to the break room. This is usually the extent of our conversations unless I need something for a stylist or colorist.
I hang my coat up, put my bags down and place my lunch in the ‘fridge. Reaching into my purse I pull my phone out and text my friend Derek about my issues with making my sparklies. His words always help make sense of things.
“Why am I so stressed about something I used to love so much?!”
I put the phone back and start my work day. I take the coffee up front, start laundry, check the bathrooms to see if they need to be restocked, and see they don’t. I fold towels then go see if Derek has responded.
Yup! His words are displayed across my little screen.
“Sounds like you might wanna judge yourself based solely on your own sense of person intent, effort and love. Not outside sources.”
Of course he’s right. I’ve lived my whole life that way. Bouncing from one thing to the next mostly because its what I think you want from me. Doing that is easier half the time than dong what I need to do for myself. I am most comfortable in your space, rarely in my own.
I go back out to the floor after thanking Derek and pull out some foil to tear. God knows how many sheets of this stuff I’ve torn along with my co-workers for the colorists to us to highlight their clients.
I’m still feeling unsettled. There is a constant buzz of irritation bubbling under my skin. I want more coffee. Not because I need to wake up but because I simply want to taste it. I make tea instead and get back to the foil. I then think about what I could eat and go to the break room. I pick up my phone and text a friend from OA and walk back out to the foil. I think about laundry, and check it. Foil. I look at the schedule to see when the next assistant is coming in. It’s Seven and she’ll be here at twelve. Foil.
The colorists begin coming in and starting their clients.
“Hey Meliss.” Stephanie smiles at me while reaching for color developer. “How are you?”
“Good. How are you?” I smile back at her.
“Good! How was your date?”
“Eh…ok. I spent three hours listening while he talked my ear off.” I rolled my eyes. The boy and I met at a coffee shop not too far from work a couple of days ago. This is my first date since Charlie and well, I’d rather be alone than subject myself to any more of that. I’m starting to see I have a choice in the matter, hence the whole project of figuring out what it is I want out of life instead of letting someone else choose for me, or hitching a ride on someone else’s life path.
“On to the next one!” she exclaims before rushing away to start her client. Steph is like a tornado sometimes, breezing from one thing to the next. I smile to myself and get back to the foil.
“Melissa, Cyndi’s on line one for you.” Nyssa, another receptionist appears out of no where, marking something on a day sheet for Stephanie.
“Really? May I take it in the office?” I ask.
“Yup!” she darts away.
I step through the tiny office and sit down reaching for the phone.
“Cyndi?” My eyes focus on a heart that is drawn on a huge calendar on the desk. I stare at it.
“Yes…how are you?” I hear her smile.
“Good, how are you?
“Good. I’m calling to tell you that today is your lucky day.”
“Oh really.” I laugh.
...I'm standing on a train platform, cell phone pressed to my ear exclaiming to Rob that my interview went well, I love Art and Science and they want me back for another interview in April.
“We were discussing you in our managers meeting this morning and we feel that…”
...“Just go,” Rob instructed. “have fun, be yourself and they’ll hire you on the spot.”
“…great progress…” Cyndi continues.
...“I’m sorry, I’m just scared that you’re going to leave me. I feel that I can’t have both you and Chicago.” I say to Rob.
“We want to start your full time…”
...“Don’t worry. I’m right here.” he reminded me.
“February second.”
...“I have some bad news.’ My dads voice cracked in my ear. “Rob’s been in an accident. He’s dead.”
My head begins to swim. I made it. I finished. Its over. Assisting is ending. Right now. “Really?” I exclaim.
“Uh huh. Now you know that we give the assistants a week off in between ending assisting and starting full time so you’ll have time to rest your hands before you start.”
Tears flood my eyes and stream down my face so fast I can’t see. I’m working hard not to sob openly in her ear. “You’ve just made my entire…everything.”
There will be no more racing around like a madwoman taking care of everyone else’s clients. I’ll have my own. No more washing dishes and folding towels but looking after a station again. I won’t be scrambling to find models for class anymore unless I choose to. Maybe my hands will actually heal. I can’t freakin’ believe it! Done and done!
Cyndi and I stay on the phone a little while longer to figure out my schedule. She says she’ll call me later to give me exact days and times I’ll need to be there. As I’m thanking her for the millionth time before hanging up the phone, my assistant manager Susan walks through the door.
“Is that Cyndi or Amy?” she asks, putting her purse down.
“Cyndi!” I jump up from the chair and throw my arms around her.
“Congratulations!” she laughs and I’m crying again.
I’m so happy!” I whisper and wipe my face, giggling at my rather open display of emotion.
“Let it out! I like happy tears!”
I exhale. What I wouldn’t give right now to pick up the phone and call Rob right now…
Nyssa appears again and needs Susan. I squeeze out of the office and let all of this sink in. I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t even know if I want to share it yet. I want to hold on to it for a few minutes and revel in it by myself. I go to the bathroom and cry so hard my eyes might explode. It’s like everything I’ve kept in the past year is pouring out of me. I suddenly feel free to have my feelings back. I don’t have to wear a mask. I don’t have to pretend. I didn’t even know I was until right this minute.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” I say over and over in my head to Rob. I still wish I could say it to his face. I wish I could squeeze him and tell him that I made it! Of course my outstretched hands grasp nothing. I’m not even sure I could have done this if he were still here. I truly believe it was him breathing life into my lungs when things got tough. He caught me when I was falling head first into my icky situational depressions. He pushed me on to the trains that took me into work every day. He never left my side. It was me who started to wander off. I closed my eyes, put my fingers in my ears, shutting out any love to listen to my own self deprecating thoughts.
I fix my face quickly, and emerge from the bathroom before calling my friend Christine and yet again choking out the words on her voicemail that I’m done!!! I send out mass text messages and squeal to Seven and Katie as they clock in. My head is no where on this planet. It’s like this huge nasty cloud has been lifted and I’m suddenly able to breathe. I suddenly feel I have permission to let go a little and enjoy…well, everything now. My days off are going to be set, my hours will be as well which is more of a relief than I had anticipated.
I think about Charlie. To call, or not to call? He was with me the most during all this. I do a shampoo and a blowdry before deciding to call him.
“I have something amazing to tell you!” I exclaim once he picks up. I’m walking toward Starbucks and the air has suddenly left my lungs.
“Lay it on me!”
The emotion drains from me entirely as I hear myself say “My manager just called! I’ve been promoted!” What is this? Why am I not filled with puppies, rainbows and little birds like I was seconds before I dialed his number?
“That’s awesome! Congratulations!”
“I’m so happy!” I don’t believe myself right now. What is happening? A little voice in my head tells me to get off the phone. I cross the street and stand outside Starbucks’ door, still talking. The voice gets louder and I get a little panicky, my left hand starting to burn and itch. Ok ok, I tell it. I’m getting off…
Seconds later I’ve hung up and ordered another Americano scraping that dull, aching numbness off my brain and heading back into the salon.
I shampoo client after client, emotion still running too high to really talk much. When things calm down I call mom and tell her about this morning.
“That’s wonderful!” I hear her smile.
There is a part of me that hates the fact I can’t control my tears right now. As happy as I am I’m embarrassed at such a display.
“I can’t believe it’s finally done.” I choke. I can’t say anything else, cant stop crying.
“Are you coming home at all during your week off?”
“Oh I didn’t think about that! Yes! I can’t stay long but yes. Maybe Tuesday?”
“Ok, I’ll let Daddy know then.”
Work ends late but I’m ok with that. I walk home still trying to let everything sink in. This is the first accomplishment I’ve achieved that I feel I actually deserve. I’ve been proud of other things but this is something entirely different. I feel I’ve worked hard and have gotten to a place where I wanted to be. I absolutely cannot wait to start the next phase of life here.
After sucking down an Americano at Cipollina, I peel my ass off the stool I am sitting on and push my arms through my coat, gather my 8,000 bags, and I head into our Wicker Park salon. I’m opening today, working one of my favorite shifts, but my head is full of anxiety. This is becoming the norm for me lately. Each week I can’t wait for Sunday to roll around so I can hurry up to Evanston and cut some hair. It’s almost time for me to earn my second day on the floor. It can’t get here fast enough.
“Hi!” I beam to Brian who is seating behind the front desk, hanging up the phone.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
“Good. You?”
He nods. “Good.”
“May I clock in?” I ask him.
“Of course.”
I reach over him, press the appropriate buttons, thank him and head to the break room. This is usually the extent of our conversations unless I need something for a stylist or colorist.
I hang my coat up, put my bags down and place my lunch in the ‘fridge. Reaching into my purse I pull my phone out and text my friend Derek about my issues with making my sparklies. His words always help make sense of things.
“Why am I so stressed about something I used to love so much?!”
I put the phone back and start my work day. I take the coffee up front, start laundry, check the bathrooms to see if they need to be restocked, and see they don’t. I fold towels then go see if Derek has responded.
Yup! His words are displayed across my little screen.
“Sounds like you might wanna judge yourself based solely on your own sense of person intent, effort and love. Not outside sources.”
Of course he’s right. I’ve lived my whole life that way. Bouncing from one thing to the next mostly because its what I think you want from me. Doing that is easier half the time than dong what I need to do for myself. I am most comfortable in your space, rarely in my own.
I go back out to the floor after thanking Derek and pull out some foil to tear. God knows how many sheets of this stuff I’ve torn along with my co-workers for the colorists to us to highlight their clients.
I’m still feeling unsettled. There is a constant buzz of irritation bubbling under my skin. I want more coffee. Not because I need to wake up but because I simply want to taste it. I make tea instead and get back to the foil. I then think about what I could eat and go to the break room. I pick up my phone and text a friend from OA and walk back out to the foil. I think about laundry, and check it. Foil. I look at the schedule to see when the next assistant is coming in. It’s Seven and she’ll be here at twelve. Foil.
The colorists begin coming in and starting their clients.
“Hey Meliss.” Stephanie smiles at me while reaching for color developer. “How are you?”
“Good. How are you?” I smile back at her.
“Good! How was your date?”
“Eh…ok. I spent three hours listening while he talked my ear off.” I rolled my eyes. The boy and I met at a coffee shop not too far from work a couple of days ago. This is my first date since Charlie and well, I’d rather be alone than subject myself to any more of that. I’m starting to see I have a choice in the matter, hence the whole project of figuring out what it is I want out of life instead of letting someone else choose for me, or hitching a ride on someone else’s life path.
“On to the next one!” she exclaims before rushing away to start her client. Steph is like a tornado sometimes, breezing from one thing to the next. I smile to myself and get back to the foil.
“Melissa, Cyndi’s on line one for you.” Nyssa, another receptionist appears out of no where, marking something on a day sheet for Stephanie.
“Really? May I take it in the office?” I ask.
“Yup!” she darts away.
I step through the tiny office and sit down reaching for the phone.
“Cyndi?” My eyes focus on a heart that is drawn on a huge calendar on the desk. I stare at it.
“Yes…how are you?” I hear her smile.
“Good, how are you?
“Good. I’m calling to tell you that today is your lucky day.”
“Oh really.” I laugh.
...I'm standing on a train platform, cell phone pressed to my ear exclaiming to Rob that my interview went well, I love Art and Science and they want me back for another interview in April.
“We were discussing you in our managers meeting this morning and we feel that…”
...“Just go,” Rob instructed. “have fun, be yourself and they’ll hire you on the spot.”
“…great progress…” Cyndi continues.
...“I’m sorry, I’m just scared that you’re going to leave me. I feel that I can’t have both you and Chicago.” I say to Rob.
“We want to start your full time…”
...“Don’t worry. I’m right here.” he reminded me.
“February second.”
...“I have some bad news.’ My dads voice cracked in my ear. “Rob’s been in an accident. He’s dead.”
My head begins to swim. I made it. I finished. Its over. Assisting is ending. Right now. “Really?” I exclaim.
“Uh huh. Now you know that we give the assistants a week off in between ending assisting and starting full time so you’ll have time to rest your hands before you start.”
Tears flood my eyes and stream down my face so fast I can’t see. I’m working hard not to sob openly in her ear. “You’ve just made my entire…everything.”
There will be no more racing around like a madwoman taking care of everyone else’s clients. I’ll have my own. No more washing dishes and folding towels but looking after a station again. I won’t be scrambling to find models for class anymore unless I choose to. Maybe my hands will actually heal. I can’t freakin’ believe it! Done and done!
Cyndi and I stay on the phone a little while longer to figure out my schedule. She says she’ll call me later to give me exact days and times I’ll need to be there. As I’m thanking her for the millionth time before hanging up the phone, my assistant manager Susan walks through the door.
“Is that Cyndi or Amy?” she asks, putting her purse down.
“Cyndi!” I jump up from the chair and throw my arms around her.
“Congratulations!” she laughs and I’m crying again.
I’m so happy!” I whisper and wipe my face, giggling at my rather open display of emotion.
“Let it out! I like happy tears!”
I exhale. What I wouldn’t give right now to pick up the phone and call Rob right now…
Nyssa appears again and needs Susan. I squeeze out of the office and let all of this sink in. I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t even know if I want to share it yet. I want to hold on to it for a few minutes and revel in it by myself. I go to the bathroom and cry so hard my eyes might explode. It’s like everything I’ve kept in the past year is pouring out of me. I suddenly feel free to have my feelings back. I don’t have to wear a mask. I don’t have to pretend. I didn’t even know I was until right this minute.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” I say over and over in my head to Rob. I still wish I could say it to his face. I wish I could squeeze him and tell him that I made it! Of course my outstretched hands grasp nothing. I’m not even sure I could have done this if he were still here. I truly believe it was him breathing life into my lungs when things got tough. He caught me when I was falling head first into my icky situational depressions. He pushed me on to the trains that took me into work every day. He never left my side. It was me who started to wander off. I closed my eyes, put my fingers in my ears, shutting out any love to listen to my own self deprecating thoughts.
I fix my face quickly, and emerge from the bathroom before calling my friend Christine and yet again choking out the words on her voicemail that I’m done!!! I send out mass text messages and squeal to Seven and Katie as they clock in. My head is no where on this planet. It’s like this huge nasty cloud has been lifted and I’m suddenly able to breathe. I suddenly feel I have permission to let go a little and enjoy…well, everything now. My days off are going to be set, my hours will be as well which is more of a relief than I had anticipated.
I think about Charlie. To call, or not to call? He was with me the most during all this. I do a shampoo and a blowdry before deciding to call him.
“I have something amazing to tell you!” I exclaim once he picks up. I’m walking toward Starbucks and the air has suddenly left my lungs.
“Lay it on me!”
The emotion drains from me entirely as I hear myself say “My manager just called! I’ve been promoted!” What is this? Why am I not filled with puppies, rainbows and little birds like I was seconds before I dialed his number?
“That’s awesome! Congratulations!”
“I’m so happy!” I don’t believe myself right now. What is happening? A little voice in my head tells me to get off the phone. I cross the street and stand outside Starbucks’ door, still talking. The voice gets louder and I get a little panicky, my left hand starting to burn and itch. Ok ok, I tell it. I’m getting off…
Seconds later I’ve hung up and ordered another Americano scraping that dull, aching numbness off my brain and heading back into the salon.
I shampoo client after client, emotion still running too high to really talk much. When things calm down I call mom and tell her about this morning.
“That’s wonderful!” I hear her smile.
There is a part of me that hates the fact I can’t control my tears right now. As happy as I am I’m embarrassed at such a display.
“I can’t believe it’s finally done.” I choke. I can’t say anything else, cant stop crying.
“Are you coming home at all during your week off?”
“Oh I didn’t think about that! Yes! I can’t stay long but yes. Maybe Tuesday?”
“Ok, I’ll let Daddy know then.”
Work ends late but I’m ok with that. I walk home still trying to let everything sink in. This is the first accomplishment I’ve achieved that I feel I actually deserve. I’ve been proud of other things but this is something entirely different. I feel I’ve worked hard and have gotten to a place where I wanted to be. I absolutely cannot wait to start the next phase of life here.
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