You sit on the front steps of my parents building. The kind of building where you can’t really sit on the steps. You look broken- defeated. I lift up my hand and gesture to my engagement ring “weddings are so stressful! Don’t ever get married!”, and as I laugh to lighten your mood I notice you have on a wedding ring. It’s a gold band. Classic, elegant even. She picked it out. Your wife has excellent taste. Your wife.
I wake up.
Shit.
I suddenly realize I shouldn’t care. You have someone…I have someone. That’s the way it should be. And I don’t love you anymore- I gave up on you as soon as you gave up on me- a long time ago. But for some reason the sting is still real.
The night I was coming down and you told me you could never love me. That was the worst night of my life. It felt like being sliced in half with a razor (or how I imagine that must feel). I sat in my room for 2 weeks, in the dark, listening to Linda Ronstadt and Dashboard Confessional and feeling dead. I was dead.
But now I’m with him. I’m over you. He is more open then you ever were. He knows how to show me he loves me. He knows how to protect me. He knows how to hold me. You were never even in the same league as he is.
So why do I still feel dead when I think about that time? Those 6 months of my life that I wasted on you, hoping you would realize how fucking lucky you are. You were.
That was almost 5 years ago. And I haven’t seen you since that summer; the summer I did everything I could to avoid feeling. It hurt too much to feel with you. Just lying there with you I felt…sad. Good sad though, like the kind of sad you feel at the end of a Nicolas Sparks novel. Almost sad in a beautiful kind of way. Shimmering like city lights or stars in a desert.
I look over at him. My future husband. A man I love more than I ever thought I loved you. I don’t deserve to be this lucky- to be this loved. I lay back- look at the white painted chipped ceiling and allow the sound of the fan to lull me to sleep.
You say you want a Resolution...well, you know...
Okay, so fuck resolutions.
I am deciding.
Deciding to express how I am feeling every day (not necessarily on this blog, but somewhere).
I am also deciding to start saying yes to myself, and saying no to others a bit more. My boyfriend, the love of my life, and the only person who sees right through me, always points out to me that put others needs ahead of my own, so I am deciding to make a change today.
Also, together, we are deciding to try and live more healthily. Both of us are major foodies so this will involve putting healthful spins on our favorite meals. Good Luck to us!
Happiness is a Warm Gun
So things are good.
They are more than good, they're great.
Then how come I get so absorbed in the neurosis of my friends?
Getting frustrated when they make the wrong choices; getting wrapped up in the drama of their single, dramatic, complicated lives.
When I was in college, or high school, or even my post collegiate single phase- my life was a hot mess, or so I can see from up here on my horse. Even though my life was seemingly out of control, I always dubbed myself the fixer...always navigating my friends and family through the rocky waters of life...always somehow avoiding my own conflicts and stupidities.
Now the stiletto is on the other foot, and I struggle to help those I love make better choices; more informed decisions about their relationships, friendships, careers.
Now, look, high horse and all, my life is not perfect. I am deeply flawed as are many aspects of my life. I lucky enough to have found the love of my life and although we adore each other and have an strong relationship (please hold your gagging for later), we argue about a million different things, both big and small, and things are never perfect...I would never expect them to be. My current job is a large step back from my last one, I never look how I want to (-20lbs), and I have a long-ass list of insecurities. I can be needy, and whiny, and hyper emotional. I am overt, critical, and should really think before I open my mouth 99% of the time.
I have one thing many of my friends do not (and I am so not talking about a boyfriend)- and that is the P word.
Perspective.
I have been there! I have gotten physical with guys too soon and tried desperately to turn what was purely sexual into a relationship. I have let men and women alike walk all over me and have come back for more. I have stayed at a dead end job way too long because I was scared of having to look for a new one. I have convinced myself that I was capable of staying friends with an ex boyfriend when I wasn't and ignored all my friends when they called me an idiot. I have resented all my friends for trying to help me make better choices; more informed decisions about my relationships, friendships, careers.
I am no better than any of my friends. I am exactly the same. As much as I can mean well and try desperately to help everyone get to the place I am at, the place of perspective, they need to learn all the things I learned to get me where I am-
where things are good.
Me, Pre-Perspective----> (can't you tell my blond hair and blue contacts?)
Labels: friend, life, love, perspective, relationship, vent
I aint that scarred when I'm covered up
Hey kids,
I am back in the world of the living.
I finally am employed and starting my new job doing pr/marketing/sales at the Michael Howard Acting Studios in Chelsea and am stoked.
In the last 9 months a lot has happened...went on brithright israel with my boyfriend and got to know myself again and am now ready to start working again and keep on trucking.
So stay tuned...
D
Failure
I spend a lot of my childhood failing.
Failing classes, failing friendships, failing.
Now I am one of millions who have lost their jobs this year, due to "downsizing", "job cuts", or whatever else you want to call it, which is essentially corporate speak for "this crappy economy".
I have never felt so powerless. I feel as if none of my
shmoozing, late hours, banging out reports, has been good enough.
And also I was assured that this had nothing to do with performance, I can't help but say "fuck that".
I am just angry, and hurt, and in spite of trying my hardest not to feel sorry for myself...I feel fucking sorry for myself.
I loved that job. I gave it everything. I created a work-ethic I never had to kick ass at this job. And it kicked my ass.
And now what? I feel like I failed.
Logically I don't know any different.
I wish I could see this as an opportunity...but I see this as a blow to my self esteem, and a slap in the face.
I feel crushed, and I don't know what to do.
I don't know how to be anything but a publicist. I lived for it.
Every day I went to the office hungry to pitch someone-- anyone.
And now what will satiate that hunger?
Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day
I have no business being in a bad mood.
I have a good job which allows me to travel and be fabulous.
I have a incredible boyfriend with whom I share a beautiful Upper East Side Apartment (with a freaking washer and dryer and an East River View).
I have a good quasi normal family that loves me.
And I have a new really cute Gucci Bag c/o my kick ass grandmother (even though I have a good job, it's certainly not good enough to allow me to afford Italian designers).
And still, I am mopey, whiny, and sitting in my office procrastinating and listening to Jewel.
Yes, I am
PMSing like crazy...and yes, I am super stressed out over various impending events and/or projects but I should not be this BLAH.
I guess I just need to keep reminding myself of the above facts over and over and over and over...
Love songs start the same
Holding hands
Kissing in the Rain
No one seems to be sure how they end
Happily ever after
Or just pretend
