Following Your Gut

Sometimes you have to follow your gut. If listening to the Universe has taught me anything, it’s been to listen to my heart and not ask questions. So this morning, after waking late and feeling only slightly guilty about wasting so much of my day off (I got up at 11:30 today), I decided I was going to find my own Orlando Smokey Row. After a quick google search, I found the Dandelion Communitea Café, which had been the only place that from their description gave me the idea that I would be welcome to camp out for a while. I mean, really, what are the rules? The coffee shop etiquette? I would go to Smokey Row and sit for six hours, but I would refill my drink and tip with every refill (even though more hot water was free) and I would always be sure to tip large on whatever food item I bought as well. I wanted to make up for the table I was taking. I don’t think you’re really supposed to spend as much time as I did, but I felt as though I was making up for it somehow, and I wasn’t the only one who was always there.

So now my struggle is to find a place with good eats, good tea, cozy artsy atmosphere, and will allow me to hang out for a few hours while I write and put together a piece. An hour and a quarter of a tank of gas later, I think maybe I’ve actually found that place. When I set out this morning, I didn’t realize I would be on the road for so long, and I didn’t think that I would get that hopeless feeling in my gut. When I pulled up to the Dandelion the vibe was not what I was expecting. Not that it was a bad one, but it just didn’t give me the feeling that I had hoped for. Similar to Smokey Row in that it was tucked back into a neighborhood, but not modern enough on the outside to make me comfortable. Plenty of people were sitting outside on the patio, but the building itself was an old house I didn’t want to waltz in with my computer bag in tow, just assuming I would camp out. Slightly disappointed and mildly flustered because I had just had to dig for change for a toll (I still hate them), I searched on my phone again and headed off on another 25 minute drive.

That’s the other thing about Florida. I am only 10 miles away from my original destination, but because of traffic, everything takes twice as long here as getting anywhere in Iowa. I am still trying to remember to budget enough time and to remain patient. I also find myself getting more carsick that I have previously which I really do not enjoy. Anyway, I digress. I pulled up in front of this current shop and my first thought was, “oh god, are they even open today?” because the parking lot was near empty and the building was shaded. I decided I would walk inside and see the atmosphere before I would bring in my computer, just in case. Immediately after walking through the door, I knew that Achille’s Art Café would be my new get away. The furniture outside gave a boho chic vibe, and inside it was shady and lit with small lanterns and Christmas lights. Covering the walls are an eclectic collection of signs, some decorative and some with witty sayings, like the one with the 50’s style housewife that reads, “DRINK COFFEE: do stupid things faster with more energy.” There is real art hanging alongside these pieces as well, and it feels like a small inspirational cave. I’m not the only one camped out on a computer, and there are some who are just having a drink and chatting. The furniture ranges from tables and chair to large stuffed couches and lounge chairs. My choice of tea was something simple from Twinnings, their Lemongrass Ginger blend.

I don’t know that I like Florida, but I like it here. I have been on the fence a lot recently, unsure of if I will go home or not. I feel pressure to stay because I made the move and I told so many people this was where I needed to be going. Is six months really worth all of the effort I put into this? But at the same time, I don’t know that this place feels like home. I enjoy work, I love the beach, and my apartment complex is nice, but certainly I could come visit the beach and I’ll find work I enjoy if I go home to finish school. I can find a nice apartment anywhere, and I have a dream of living in downtown Des Moines right near the baseball field. I’ve got a lot of choices and decisions ahead of me that I need to make in the coming weeks, but at least I know that for the next 4 months, I have this place. I have a space that I can visit once or twice a month and relax while I write. A place that allows me to get out of the house and be productive but also doesn’t that too much effort out of my day off. I’ll let you know if their caprese panini is any good!

New Beginnings, Final Goodbyes

I was doing so well, and now I'm three months behind. Whoops.

Life moves fast and before you know it, you're 6 weeks down the road and you have a handful of broken pieces in your hand. Try as you might, you cannot undo what has already been done and so there is nothing left but to move forward.

I knew before we began that it would only end in pain. For one of us there would be heartbreak, and I suppose I am happy it was me. I think it was nice to try again, a noble effort. Because really, there would have been nothing but "what ifs" without it. But time can't always heal every wound and the mind can't always forget. It wasn't just me, it was a mix of many others, but it still came down to the fact that he couldn't find it in his mind to let go and trust. I would have loved unconditionally and supported faithfully. I would have done anything and everything to make him happy, to show him the love he doesn't think he deserves, but I was not given that chance. Somewhere out there, the great controller of the Universe said, "no, not today. Not this one."

And I suppose I feel like the Universe is laughing a little, saying, "I told you not to mess with this, I gave you every opportunity! And yet here we are, so now you just have to sit there and be sad for a while." And I think that's fair. When you know something in your gut, you know it, but sometimes you can let it go and sometimes you need to pick at the wound a bit until it scars. This will be a scar, but hopefully one that tells a good story, a lesson learned, instead of bearing the burden of regret. I don't want to be upset that I took this chance, I don't want to be sad for what was and what will never be. I want to be happy for the moments we had, and thankful for the things I was taught- both by him and by the Universe itself.

I was very sad when it happened, and I think I'll continue to be sad for the loss of a friend. But I feel relief, finally. I feel free from the guilt and the frustration. I know the answers to questions left behind before, and I know it was real. At one point, it was all real and that is what matters. If he cannot commit, if he cannot be all in, then that is okay. That is where he is. We were never different in age, but we were always different in our emotional states. I pushed for things he never wanted and he gave in. That's not how a successful relationship is built.

I will miss my friend, I will miss my confidante. All of the time we shared will be dearly held in my heart. But this place is not just ours, it is also mine. And as difficult as it will be to take every day one at a time, I am ready to be someone new. Someone with new knowledge and new desires. It breaks my heart more as I type, as I realize I will be okay, but as I come to terms with the fact that he won't be there to see it. I wanted to badly for him to be part of it, and I think the plans that have fallen to dust are the things that hurt the most. I can look at memories fondly, but the happiness I was borrowing from the future has run dry and now I have to find it again in the present.

I have learned not to put my only happiness into a person, so I am already ahead of where I started before. And I know that I will be okay. I am strong and brave and true and resolute. I will face every day as its own challenge and I will rise to the occasion when it is time. I have people who love me, friends who care about me, and if I trust in the Universe, I have a future that is waiting for me.

Being Here

This is all a lot more difficult than I imagined it would be, than I anticipated it to be. I was hoping for flawless, seamless transition. In fact, the fact that all of our old haunts were here never really crossed my mind. I didn't realize that I would still be seeing him at every turn, because for me, he never existed in Iowa. I got to move on and pretend it was nothing but a memory. I thought that I was mostly okay, that the guilt and sadness had given way to relief, but I was so wrong.

Having to drive past the outlet malls, driving past Vista Way and seeing the parking lot. Driving past Denny's, IHOP, Steak & Shake, Ale House. Walking through the TTC. Seeing all of the places where he used to be, where we used to be, it hurts me. I can only imagine how it was for him. I can never know the difference it would have made in my life if I could go back and change anything. It's an infinite loop of what-ifs and timelines. Maybe some day I'll know, maybe something out there knows now.

How do I move on? How do I stop feeling guilty? I cannot stop, I try and I cannot stop feeling so terribly responsible for every bad thing. I hurt him, and he didn't deserve it. He was the furthest thing from deserving and I destroyed him. He was devastated. Just like me. I never wanted anyone to feel as broken and empty as Noah left me, and less than a year later and I caused the same damage. I'm so scared to be with anyone else for fear. Fear of hurting them, fear of being hurt. But I am so lonely. I miss having someone to confide in, someone who is always on my side. Someone who will push me onward to be better, someone to share myself with.

I made such a terrible mistake. If only I had just listened to him, if I had not dug in my heels. He used to say that I made him love me, as if that were a good thing, but now I am not so sure. He was hurt from before and I pushed and forced my way in. He said before I left that I helped to heal him from that, but I certainly had to only leave a bigger hole afterwards.

"A year from now, this will look entirely different to you."

It certainly does, but not in the way he imagined when he said that. I feel such deep regret and guilt for hurting him. I wouldn't change a single day spent with him, but I would change every second of hurt if it meant I had to give those moments up. I want the perfect time before I left back, why wouldn't I just it be perfect? I still love him, I care for him. I got scared and I ran, and I wonder if he had just fought for me if things would have been different still. But he let me go because he still believed it was what was best and that I was fickle and young and wild.

When will my heart stop hurting? When will I stop feeling so guilty? How do I ever make this right? He will never trust me again, he can't. He made that very clear. So knowing that, why is it not easier to move on? Why do I want to cling tighter to hope that things can be okay when they never will be?

Flapper Girl

I am struggling.

With how I look, with what I've done.

I cut off my hair this week in an impulsive moment. In a moment lacking self-control, I went to the salon and had them cut off my long hair that I have worked for 2 years to grow back. That I have been working seriously on since Noah left me. Why am I so heartbroken over my hair? Why am I so dissatisfied with a look I have previously had and enjoyed? Why does it feel like I've lost my identity in a few short clips? Looking into the future is daunting as I know just how long it takes to grow this out, and just how many awkward phases I have to go through first.

"Hey, at least I didn't get a tattoo I would regret!" I joke, trying to make it better. But even that certainly would have been better, a more welcome change. In fact, I spent the same amount of money on this haircut as I would have on a potential new small tattoo, all because I was impulsive and unprepared. I long for the sting and the pain of that needle putting new ink into my skin. I want to hurt because I deserve it sometimes. I want to grit my teeth feel the vibrations throughout my body, wash tenderly, and feel the welts.

I look in the mirror and the reflection refuses to show what I feel inside. Inside, I am confident and happy. I am bursting at the seams from the excitement of the unknown. Deep inside, I am beautiful and bad-ass and I love who I am most days because I know that I am unique. So then, if those truths are buried so deep, how is it that they don't grow more roots. How am I so easily convinced that I am unworthy of love and joy. How can I look at myself in the mirror of my car in the parking lot, tears welling in my eyes, telling myself out loud that I'm ugly, disgusting, and that I don't belong? How can those words feel like truth and instead of stinging, they sink in comfortably?

I cannot forgive myself for the wrong things I've done. As hard as I try, I cannot stop feeling guilty for hurting him and I honestly don't know that I ever will. There will be no second chance, not only because he is a smart man with smart friends who will protect him, but also because I cannot allow it. I could not bear to hurt him again, as I am bound to do. I don't know where I am going, but I am almost certainly not bound to Florida for the rest of my life, and I am not ready to settle. I miss companionship; I long to be intimate with a person and feel deeply cared for. If I had one more day to relive that night at the Hangar, one more evening like the one at Prato. I cannot stop thinking of the laughter and how comfortable I was, how happy he made me, and then suddenly, like a fire without oxygen, it was snuffed out. There wasn't another to tempt me, it was simply my own fears.

I cry and I remain sad and I cannot forgive myself because all of it could have been possible if I had been patient. This will forever be the ultimate example of my desires winning out over my logic. Hair will grow back, tattoos will fade, physical pain will recede, but a human heart cannot forget when it has been broken. I will forever have the moment when I broke two hearts because of my own selfish pursuits. I will always have that to look upon and remember that my actions don't just effect me. I don't think I will ever forgive myself, and maybe I shouldn't, because God-forbid I forgive and forger and then do this again. I had fair warning, I had enough signs. I should have known better and yet I forged ahead. I should always be reminded of my callous behavior, even if I never had mal-intent.

I know that he wants me to be brave and true and resolute, but I don't know that it has done either of us any good. I can't find it in my heart to be something that once hurt him. When I see myself in the mirror I see someone who does not deserve to feel that deep love again, because I was not responsible enough before. Looks will fade, they can be manipulated with time and technology, but your true self cannot be hidden behind a lens.

Three Weeks Out

Yeah, that was definitely a title reference to that one Walking Dead episode, 18 Miles Out. Get over it. I'm in a funk. I have been for a while. I've been able to write for WfW a little bit, but not much here. I definitely lost my two week advantage. I'm three weeks out from my last post here and three weeks out from the day I leave Iowa. Wow.

26 short days stand between me and what I think is my dream??? What the Hell was I ever thinking? Someone? ANYONE? Nah, okay that's cool.

It's not that bad. I was going to be taking this time off anyway. And if I hate it, I can come home. Maybe I'll live with mom instead of dad then. It's not like I feel hopeless or fucked or anything along those lines. I'm pretty excited and I am so thrilled to be going back. But I think I'm more scared this time, at least in a different way. I was scared to leave my friends and family last time, and to leave my home but now I know I can do those things. I can be away from the people I love and maintain relationships and I can have more than one place to call my home, more than one place that calls my name. I am really going to miss Iowa in Spring, and the State Fair, and the I-Cubs. I'm going to miss those things but I know I will be okay.

What is getting to me now is that I might fail. I don't want to, I don't want to prove everyone right. Everyone who insisted that I go to school and "finish strong" to get that degree! Gee! I'm tired and snarky today. I feel empty, emotionless actually. I feel like I'm forcing these words from my fingers. I'm rambling. I don't want to be a bad example, a cautionary tale. I don't want to be a good example either! "Oh look there, she did it without, and she did it well." I just want to live and not be viewed through 1,000 lenses. When I came home, I felt new and revived. On top of the world and alive. Now I feel sapped and exhausted.

No one would go to the Cubs game with me tonight and it felt really important. I wanted to go and see the new boys, the up and comers. I wanted to sit in the setting sun and enjoy the atmosphere. I wanted more to say when I know I should be staying quiet. I should be leaving him alone, even though he gave me permission. Kind of. Baseball talk is allowed and I stepped outside of those lines yesterday and I feel bad. I didn't mean to. I figured Ben and Bre were fair territory. I want to turn back time, I want to not feel sad, I want to not be sitting here listening to the playlist titled "effie" and remembering everything. I want to not be playing "Please Remember Me" on repeat. I want a lot.

I'm sitting here at Smokey Row trying not to cry because of all the things I want and can't yet have. You'd think I would be happy that one piece of the puzzle seems to be falling into place. I need to find peace, I need to make a plan. I need to set goals and make steps and strides. I don't know if I'll ever feel "accomplished" or "finished" but I want to stop sitting and wallowing. Steve wanted so much more for me and I should live up to that. Hell, even Noah wanted more for me. If only he could see me now.

Make a plan, then let the plan worry. Don't lose the thread. And.. but...
My heart hurts, but I have to keep moving forward. Maybe this is a lost day. Maybe this is a pitiful day. Either way, I have to keep going. In 26 days my life is going to take a new, drastic, exciting, terrifying, amazing turn.

Happy Birthday

I have plenty I could be doing right now. In fact, I have a whole to-do list.
I'm roughly 3 weeks behind on posts for Waiting for Walt if I want to finish my CP posts before I start my new program. I have new things to discover and play around with on my new website. I have editing to do, promotion to do, debuting to do. I should go home and see my dad for the first time in 48 hours.

But I'm sitting here at Smokey Row trying to write one of my posts and I keep having flashbacks to being on a tram. I'm riding on the platform and Morgado is sauntering up to me from the lot with some smart-ass comment or I'm standing at point in the lot and chatting to Andy, and Vince, and Justin. I can't do this tonight. I thought I needed to write, but I can't focus enough on the task at hand.

Maybe it's just the day. It is his birthday after all.

This day has almost come and gone with no significance. For nine months I've been trying desperately to figure out why 3-1-8 sounded so familiar, why those numbers stuck out. Now here I am, convinced that something was going to happen today, but nothing has. I messaged Steve, he replied in a kind way. I'm still broken.

I don't know what is wrong with me. I'm sitting in this perfectly nice coffee shop listening to George Strait(which admittedly probably isn't helping) trying to write and I'm just distracted and sad. 50 days to go before I leave and start all over. No time at all, and yet all the time in the world. I'm so scared to leave, a different kind of afraid than before. I'm excited, but this time I'm afraid to fail. Before, it was the fear of the completely unknown. I know now a few crucial details that will help me along, but failure is still an option. And what the Hell am I doing with my life? What if I have to come home and face everyone after failing yet again? Failed school, failed Disney, failed myself. It seems like a dark and ominous road to be honest.

I'm trying not to lose the thread. I'm trying to remember to take one day at a time. But I'm scared and I'm going against everything I have known. I hope that you would still be proud of me.

Still Hurting

I don't even know if I want to write about this. If this is something that I need to put down and have forever, but Lord knows that writing seems to be cathartic for me.

Last week, dad and I had a huge fight. Now we've had arguments before, raised voices and rolling eyes, but nothing like this. Slamming doors, yelling over each other, actual anger. And words that should have gone unsaid. Words that didn't come me. Now this blog is for me most of the time, so there's no reason for me to lie here. I'm being objective in this. I may have yelled and stormed out of the room showing immaturity in my actions, but I did not say anything designed to hurt my father's feelings. Trust me, there were 100 things that came to mind during and after that would have cut him to the quick, but I refrained because I didn't want to be the person that resorted to hurtful words.

I don't know if it matters why the argument started anymore, but rather the words said and the aftermath of the fight. Perhaps he was angry for other reasons, feeling depressed and needed an outlet for all of the pent up emotion. Or maybe he was actually angry with me. I don't really know. I do know that I don't feel comfortable or welcome in the house right now. I know that I can't wait until I can move 1300 miles away. I know that I am still hurting.

I am following my dreams. I am chasing my heart, following the path I know I should be taking, and apparently that's a disappointment to him. Hey, I get it. I didn't finish school in 3, 4, 5 years. I didn't study mathematics or engineering. I didn't pass every class with flying colors. I didn't live up to the dream you had in your head. I can totally see how those things might make you sad, Hell, maybe even disappointed. For a minute. Then, if I was in your situation looking at my own child, I would realize that my child is an adult. Their own person who must in turn follow their own path. I don't have children so I can't say I fully understand the whole "not wanting them to make my same mistakes" thing, but I get the gist of it and all I can say to that is that sometimes you have to just let someone fall and learn on their own.

I'm sorry that I won't be finishing school in the next year. That wasn't going to happen anyway.
I'm sorry I'm not following the path you had laid out in your head.
I'm sorry that I'm not the perfect carbon copy of you that you wanted me to be.
I'm sorry that your life isn't fulfilling and you're jealous that mine is.
I'm sorry that mom left you.
I'm sorry that you raised me to think for myself and have my own thoughts, and now that those thoughts differ from you, you find that upsetting.
I'm sorry that you feel like you have the right to tell me you're disappointed in me because I'm going to be happy.

And on second thought, I'M NOT SORRY AT ALL. Just because you are stuck in the same place you've been in for 50 years doesn't mean I have to be. You don't have to be so miserable, trust me. It's easy to fall into the hole, I know that very well. When the same old feelings sneak up, it's almost simpler to just let it consume you than to fight, because fighting is exhausting. However, at some point, you have to take responsibility for yourself. You can't just float on through blaming the depression and blaming my mom. Take a look at yourself and realize that if you want to be happy, you have to make a goddamn effort. Either that or continue to wallow, but don't expect anyone to feel sorry for you, and you sure as Hell don't get to take it out on anyone. Maybe Disney will be a huge failure, maybe this program will be the worst experience of my life, maybe I'll regret every second, and maybe I'll be home in six months. You'd probably like that, so you can tell me you were right all along. I'm willing to bet though that it's going to be amazing and I'm going to have a great time. That I'll spend a few years making magic and filling my heart, and then I'll finish school and follow the next path in front of me.

Just because you're "a hurt old man," doesn't excuse a damn word you said to me. If you can't recognize that you shouldn't say every single thought that comes to your mind, that telling someone how you feel shouldn't come at the cost of their feelings, that maybe brutal honesty isn't always the way to go (especially regarding your children), if you can't understand how telling your child "you disappoint me," could possibly hurt your feelings, then I can do nothing to help you. I mean sure, if I was murdering people or if I was in jail for some heinous crime, I could totally see being disappointed in me. It's pretty shameful though to believe that you're in the right for telling me those things for simply living my own life. Maybe you think that all of this has blown over, that it's all fine and dandy. And honestly, I wish that I could call you out for the bullshit apology you gave me. "I'm sorry you feel that way," is no apology at all. It's deflecting and it's designed to make me feel even worse for having my feelings. And by the way, I'm not too thin-skinned to handle a mature argument or conversation. I am entirely allowed to be hurt or upset by anything anyone says to me whether you deem it "enough" or not. You don't get to say hurtful things designed to make me feel bad and then backtrack and you cannot tell me or anyone else when you did or did not hurt my feelings. That's not how that works.

Oh, and another thing- it's pretty damn condescending to tell me that I sound like my mother. Perhaps, just maybe, if we sound alike, the common factor between us is not just blood relation. That's another thing you don't seem to understand. No, you don't get to tell me how you feel about my mother and the divorce. You can tell literally any other person in your life, but you do not get to make snarky comments or continue to blame her, or shame me for going to dinner with her once a fucking week. Do you know how many more times I get to see her before I go to Disney? Eight. I live in your house, I am a human presence in your every day life, and providing I can see my mother once a week until I leave, I get to see her eight more times. How dare you make me feel bad for rebuilding that relationship. Shame on you for even letting those words come out of your mouth. You don't get to tell me it feels like I'm rubbing it in your face, and then say "no no, it's great. Really, you should see your mother." You're goddamn right I should. And I will continue to see her as often as I please. You don't get to throw those things in my face, tell me I must not be disappointed in my mother when you know damn well I spent the better part of a year barely talking to her, and then say that you're glad we're getting along now. I'm sorry you're still hurt, no one expects you to just be over something like that immediately, but at some point, you can't blame her anymore. You have to take a good hard look at the role you played, accept your own responsibility, and move on. You don't get to be the poor baby for the rest of your life in this. I am far enough removed from my initial anger to see the mistakes on both sides, and at 67, you should be mature enough to do the same.

I'd really have loved to be a fly on the wall in your doctor's office today. Or when you called Kathy that night. I would have loved to hear what you had to say about me. Was I selfish and bratty? Was I overreacting and irrational? Was I rude, disrespectful, and hurtful? Do I not appreciate anything I have? Oh hey, can you point to something now, some tangible proof that I don't appreciate the things you've done for me? Still drawing a blank, huh? Interesting. Funny how the moment I break from you, how when I buy my own groceries with my own money and ask you not to eat them because I'm pretty poor as it turns out, funny how then your feelings are hurt. Interesting how my independence seems to threaten you. Maybe it's because I'm leaving, and you'll be alone again, something you remind me of frequently. Maybe it's because I'm going somewhere you've always wanted to go. I don't know the reason, but I gotta tell you, it's pretty damn selfish to put that on your kid. It's not my fault for growing up, and it's not my fault for being taught to be true to myself.

The worst of it all is that you believe you did the right thing. You believe you did nothing wrong, that I'm too sensitive and that because you're my father you had the right to say everything you did to me. I couldn't possibly bring all of this up again without being labeled as immature for not letting it go, too sensitive, or unappreciative. And I know I'll never change your mind. Really, I don't want to. However, a real honest apology would be nice. But I know I won't get that either. And that is the sad part. To realize that no matter what happens, you won't see this as a monumental shift in our relationship. I have to live with the words you said, knowing you see no fault in them, knowing you believe them to some degree, but that you have no remorse for hurting my feelings.

So there it is, the words I'll never get to say. It's a really sad moment when you see your parents from the outside and they are not who you always believed they were. I had that moment with my mom almost four years ago, and I've had it now with my dad a week ago. I hope some day I can be strong enough to move past this feeling, but right now I am still hurting, I am still upset, and I still have to pretend to be fine.