Swear-wolves

I often forget that not everyone was afforded the ability to have a clean break. Where the detachment from another person was already in progress well before the actual concept of separation was initiated.

I’ve been reminded of this much more frequently lately and it has had me wondering if it’s even worth trying for a second or third time. Our hearts can only take so much, and yet we often find ourselves re-enlisting in the same battles. The landscape and the players are all different, but the story is typically the same. Our hearts are in the right place at first, with a concept that we’re smarter now, we’re weather-worn and can recognize when the flags start waving. But the reality is that the story repeats itself in the same way over and over again for so many of us. Once the shiny veneer begins to fade and when the sentiment shifts from “trying to impress” to “I’m going to unapologetically be myself” the fight begins. For the battle hardened, this is just wave one of many; more a test of fortitude and stamina for some than a trial of compatibility.

If you so happen to survive and come to an understanding of the rules of engagement, the next series of battles are lying in wait, either ready to erupt in a fury of fire fighting, or a small but deadly placed explosive.

I know it’s possible that in some relationships the battles begin to subside and become less frequent with work and time. How that happens, I don’t know, it’s not something I’ve experienced. What I have experienced is exhaustion and complacency; a feeling of “this is as good as it’s going to get” or “the devil you know” when it comes to the thought of starting over. At some point just sitting with those feelings drove me mad enough to pull myself from active duty and work on rehabilitation.

I started briefly dating again and came to a realization I just don’t want to do it. I’m not interested in learning someone new or having to develop new coping mechanisms for someone else’s trauma. I don’t want to endanger all the progress I’ve made on recovery and my self worth. And most of all, I don’t want what started off as acts of affection and care to turn into something that feels like work; acts of kindness turned to acts of obligation.

I say all this and then the universe decides to test me. I don’t think it was intentional, or maybe it was, but I can’t help but laugh at the timing and circumstance.

I’ve made short-term friends pretty frequently at events, shows, and the like, but their lifespan has never extended past the situation of meeting. Never much outside of social media posts or the occasional wave at other events. The universal understanding in these situations is based on the fact that A) we are there sharing a common bond, B) we have to exist in a common space so we should get along, and C) our friendship is over once the event is done.

These are the common rules of engagement for short term friendships; a basic and shared understanding.

But not this time.

“Here lies the destiny of 2 hurt souls, Afraid to be cured again.”

“Montauk”

I would come to realize we were both at this show for similar reasons; a cathartic experience to release some of the raw emotion we’d been experiencing from our breakups. His was much more recent and much more brutal; a betrayal I’ve felt before but not on that scale. Me, I was just going through the anger and resentful stage of my breakup and all I really wanted to do was sing some angry breakup songs, have a few drinks, and a good time.

This is still really new, I mean, really, really new. But I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who has so many shared interests and curiosities as I do and it really intrigues me. I find myself trying to temper my expectations, trying to frame it as just friends, but my mind continues to wander into places I don’t want and it starts to think of scenarios I know won’t happen.

Am I in a situation once again where I’m falling for someone who is well outside of my access? I hate this and I hate the ambiguity, but I really enjoy the process of meeting and learning another person. Someone who I share a lot of common threads with; not exactly the same but pretty dang close. Our meeting is a setup of idilic stories to come; a story that could potentially be what we both need, but is the timing really right? Or is this a short term friendship that will eventually expire way too soon and leave us wondering what could have been? Will we have to part ways or, just be friends? Will I be able to maintain a platonic friendship with someone who just feels right, but isn’t right right now? Can I survive that initial attack of being pinned into the friend zone, or will I forever be hurting myself each time we hang out because the pangs of wanting to be something more are too great?

Ultimately, I just don’t want to fuck this one up. I’m glad I’m cognizant of it this time; maybe seeing the battlefield from this vantage point is enough to keep me from feeling like I’m re-enlisting in a fight in futility. I’m hopeful, but I’m also very skeptical.

Earlier in the evening, I got a message from a friend asking me when I realized my marriage was ending. To say I was easily able to succinctly answer instantly would be a lie. I had to take some time to think the question over, and then I was flooded with these emotions that I’ve been contending with recently. A mixture of anger, frustration, disappointment, a feeling of loss, and regret all have been the newest phase of this journey. I am officially in the resentment phase.

And then I also realized there were other feelings, too. Guilt that I don’t miss him at all, relief that I’m no longer in this situation, and a series of other emotions that I’m still trying to sort and process because they’re just too much.

I’ve been feeling these feelings all too frequently as of late and I’m upset about the energy drain it’s causing. I’m frustrated I’m not able to create; I feel creatively blocked in all ways right now. When I get into a space to try and produce something (some writing, an image, art, or media) I just sit and stare, willing anything to come to surface. Pleading that inspiration or motivation surfaces to help me create. Even now, this feels like a struggle, and I’m growing annoyed with myself.

Why is it so hard for me to create or articulate these emotions that are overwhelming me? Why can’t I channel the experiences I’ve lived into something more than just a personal anecdote? The words, the pictures, the work just aren’t coming to fruition right now and I just wish for it to resume.

I miss the days where I was so overwhelmed with creativity that I couldn’t produce fast enough.

Whatever went away, I’ll get it over now.

Start a War

Oh, and if you’re curious how I responded to my friend’s question, I’ll post a summary of it below.

There were so many signs and reasons that lead me to it, honestly. The biggest was when I started feeling like things I’d do for him weren’t a labor of love anymore, but work, like it was a chore.

The second biggest was when I realized he wasn’t holding me down, he was holding me back.

I would be lying if I said I was too busy to write. I have written a few things, a few wild musings and feeble attempts at poetry, but they feel too raw, too embarrassing to share. Even in this capacity, where it feels anonymity is in my favor, but I’m still not willing to share. The subject and the topic are too visceral in my heart and mind that it all feels like a smattering of random gibberish, childish hopes, and ridiculous thought processes that I am genuinely ashamed of entertaining these thoughts and feelings. Like I know I shouldn’t be spending even a moment’s amount of time on such far-off and unattainable longings so I try to shove them into the back of my mind; in a locked box tucked away in a wardrobe. But eventually I find and open that box, and get sucked in.

The words have come and gone just like water. I try to ride the wave as best I can, and I think I’m doing a fair job of it, but sometimes I’m overtaken by a rogue wave.

I’ve intentionally kept myself from this outlet in fear and concern that I might continue what I started lamenting about. I fell into a few patterns that were great temporary distractions, but in the end, as the year begins to wind down and social obligations begin to fade, I need to give myself a few moments pause, a bit of respite. Respite from all the change, a chance to catch my breath, and an opportunity to lay out all of my cards to see what’s truly in hand.

I haven’t had that opportunity, not really. I haven’t allowed myself that opportunity; the simple truth is that I’ve been throwing myself into everything at full-speed. I don’t have to do that anymore; I have time and I have space to really look at what’s in my deck and what I’d like to add/take away from it. Formulate a personal plan, move into that final stage of shedding an old existence.

I think the hardest thing is admitting I’ve been putting this off and getting caught up in short-term situations to avoid this kind of introspection. I’ve been doing the thing I’ve been working to avoid; compartmentalizing a major issue because I’m worried about the pain it’ll cause, so I put it off. Instead what I’m doing by procrastinating is extending that pain, adding additional stress to the mix, and almost deceiving myself into thinking everything is fine. I’m just not giving myself the proper space to really process some things and I worry if I don’t eventually allow those thoughts to be given the proper space and time they need that emotion will spill into other vectors.

I need to stop intentionally getting distracted, and I need to stop pretending I don’t have any need for short-term and long-term planning. I also need to stop thinking about situations I’m manifesting in my own head based on longing.

Park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me
Park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me
Park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me

I have been spending a lot of time, a lot of mental bandwidth, and a lot of emotional spiraling on old feelings. I can’t do this anymore, as it does not benefit me, but rather, diminish or counter all the work I’ve been doing to find me.

You’re a good friend, you’re a good soul, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t ride this rollercoaster of emotions because it always leads to anxiety I do not need. I even asked myself, is this weird feedback loop of anxiety something I actually like? Do I actually get some kind of pleasure in this rush, this tug and pull at my heartstrings? Maybe I do, and if that’s what it is, then I need to be okay with it.

Can I be okay with it? At this point in my life, after all this change, all this defeat, all this new momentum I’m building for myself, what is it that I’m trying to get out of this?

I don’t have the answers to any of it, but I do know that what is happening now is not sustainable for me. It feels like a mental illness, a self-inflicted wound I keep picking at, keep using to hurt myself intentionally. I need to stop, or at least realize that at this moment in my life, this uncomfortable feeling, this stupid fucking infatuation, is hindering me.

I’ve missed out on things, I’ve spent countless hours hoping for a situation to surface, only to be let down again and again by you. It’s not good and it definitely isn’t something I want to keep perpetuating, or feeding.

No, it’s time to start starving the issues that aren’t serving me and start feeding into the things that are actually making me evolve and become better.

I know it’s not as easy as a flip of a switch, but distance, time, and new experiences will help me focus on moving forward. I can either stay on the dock waiting for a ship that may never come, or I could double down and continue on this journey.

But at the same time, I also know that I’m still going to have these lyrics appear in the back of my mind every time we interact. It’ll get easier with time

But until then, I’ll be with you through the dark
Yes, until then, I’ll be with you through the dark

And who else can say that about you, baby?
Who else can say that about you, now?
And who else can take all your blood and your curses
Nobody I’ve seen you hanging around

“Biloxi Parish”
The Gaslight Anthem

Writer’s Note: Conscious stream of thought writing. No topic, just what’s on my mind.

A moment of panic strikes. I sit in my study lost in thought, and then a flood of emotions hit; “What have you done?”.

What have I done?

Oh, right. I left my partner and relocated to a city over 3000 miles away from my previous home.

Wow.

Yeah, I guess that’s cause for panic, but I did that almost 3 months ago and I’ve been in the process of establishing roots here. So why panic now?

Quickly realizing my mind wasn’t prepared for this rational way of thinking, it defaults to you. Straying back to things I’ve told myself I shouldn’t think anymore; that it’s just not feasible, not viable, and not worth entertaining. But lately, those feelings have somehow started to surface again. I’m not sure when or what set them in motion again, but here I am, a returning visitor, to heartache.

And then I start feeling guilty; guilty for thinking these things, and having these feelings. I shouldn’t have them!

I give myself a few beats to breathe.

Then I rationalize my emotions and try to tell myself that it’s impossible to separate a notion from a feeling.

My mind begins to wander again.

I stumble through bursts of my day that made me smile while I was in the midst of another touch of melancholy. My mind strays to the moment he, someone new, made me laugh.

And I ride that high for all it’s worth, and I try my best to hold onto the feeling, the rush, this gives me. To keep it going further, I start thinking about some of the other interactions we’ve had, and details about him. Him. With his dark hair, the way his eyes hold firm, and how much I like hearing his laugh. Oh, how much I try to make him laugh!

And then when the high from that begins to subside, I start thinking about you again.

I think about your laugh, your real laugh; the one only a few people get to hear. The real laugh when you’re watching your favorite movie or when you see something that sends you into a giggle fit. And then I think about how special it is that I know that about you.

But then that thought brings me back down, back to heartache. I need to stop entertaining these thoughts because they’ll only lead to heartache.

Reaching deep, I try to change focus and think about something else. My mind makes a feeble attempt at drawing negative points about you, but it just feels superficial and a waste of energy.

I try to force a different thought; willing all the thoughts, any thoughts at all, that I can surface, but I come up short. Like trying to hold water in my hands, other thoughts run through too quickly to grasp and hold.

I give myself another few breaths.

Resisting defeat, I once again remind myself this is silly and not worth thinking about. I accept it. I have to because I have no other choice.

I miss that laugh.

I wrote this at a coffee shop killing time until my appointment was due. It has no real bearing or merit on anything, but it’s also very true to who I am and what appeals to me.

Oh, the agony and the ecstasy 

Seattle boys! Oh Seattle boys! Amirite? 

As I walk the city there is one of them at every turn; wearing black hoodies and dark jeans. Their normally alabaster skin made ruddy by the cold breeze. Their dark hair is either windswept, kept under their hood or a beanie. Their eyes are light and clear, with a tinge of a hard edge but also have a hint of mischief. They have long limbs and wear practical black shoes and earbuds or headsets to traverse through the urban jungle. 

They aren’t like the men in Texas or Stockholm. While reserved, they also are willing to chat or suggest something exciting. Many of them came from Southern California – forgoing temperate climates and sunny days for a colder, rainier, and cloudy community entrenched in grit and culture. 

They sit in coffee shops, toss around fish at the market, ride bikes, or work at local haunts. 

I find myself romanticizing an encounter or two with them.  Not the typical romance novel encounter either, but more like engaging in a deep conversation about some common interest. A chance to really connect with another human who shares a similar interest, while also greedily stealing glances and admiring their physicality up close. Maybe it’s a mutual interest and attraction in which he sees something interesting in me, or maybe we just share a moment and move on to the next interaction with someone else, armed with just a bit more understanding of ourselves.

Oh Seattle boys!