I can’t actually tell you how I feel, and not because I can’t find the words, but because I am afraid they will be misconstrued. For some reason, still slightly unknown to me, I decided to enter into this situation, being fully aware of the facts and the situation.
So where does this leave me, I know that I agreed and signed up for this, I knew that in no capacity could you ever be mine, really mine. But my mind can not control my metaphorical heart and to put it simply, I love you. This love, however, is not to be taken for anything more than that, love.
It seems that it’s nearly impossible to take anything for exactly for what it is. We are always reading into everything, trying to find the deeper meaning or the double entendre that may exist. Nothing is allowed to just be what is it, the sky is no longer blue but a reflection of the ocean, just as love is not love, but a million other emotions and feelings all wrapped up into one four letter word. People no longer believe in simplicity and the art of directness, people can no longer take anything at its word, everything always has a deeper meaning.
So than what happens when you just feel something, truly and fully without any strings attached.. When there is nothing attached to the the feeling, no emotion or pre-existing circumstance making or controlling your feelings. Is it possible for a feeling, an emotion, to just purely exist, to just be a fact with nothing else surrounding it or controlling it. To have that feeling not expect anything in return, it just is what it is.
I feel love, what I know to be true love. This comes with no obligation or misunderstanding. I do not feel this love in hopes of future, a relationship or any other type of commitment. I just simply feel it. I feel love. I know all of the circumstances surrounding this love and yet it does not stop or deter me. Because I do not feel this love for anything in return. I will not speak those three words to make anyone say or feel them back. For the first time in my life I own the fact that I just feel something entirely. I love fully and completely, without expecting anything in return. I feel grateful that I have been given the chance to feel something as it is, without any expectations or stipulations. I just love, because this is all I can do, all I can think or feel. It’s just love, pure, intense and completely unreal.
I grew up with two brothers, two very wonderful, bizarre, awkward, and in their own right loving brothers. Even as a very young girl I knew how fortunate I was to not only be the youngest child but to also be the only the girl in the family. I was sitting pretty, in my life of the entitled, blonde ringlet-ed little girl, who always got her own room and never had to wear hand-me-downs.
I never wanted a sister. I always knew that if I had one she would be far more beautiful, intelligent and captivating than I. Although I would never say it out loud, I was very grateful that my mother was unable to have more children after me. With her overly large heart she would have kept going, until she had at least ten kids. I relished in my spot in the family. I was always convinced that I was my parents secretly favorite child. Nothing against my brothers, I was just unique!
But then I met her, I met my sister. And yes she was all that I ever assumed my sister would be. She was smart, beautiful, charming and had a way better body than me. On top of all that she was an artist, just like my mother, something that I certainly was not.
My mother actually met her first, as a student in her class. She called me one day, in my freshmen year of college and told me she had met this girl, and had the weirdest feeling that she just belonged in our family. My mom claimed that she had envisioned us living in an apartment together when we were older. I brushed it off and chopped it up to my mom being her typically, spiritual self. She always formed an attachment to her students so I didn’t read too much into it.
When our paths did finally cross it was in a completely unforced and casual manner. I was waiting for my mom to finish a class at her school, when I was home for spring break. She sat down next to me on the wooden bench in the very sterile hallway and we laughed about random things that my mom would say or do. At the time I didn’t even put two and two together, that she was the girl my mom had spoken of.
My sister, as I would eventually come to know her as, got into some amazing art schools, due to her incredible talent. Yet for some reason she decided to go to a simple state school in Vermont, and it just so happened that it was the same school I went to. Obviously we crossed paths and I was always so happy to see her, and since her family was out of state, I always brought her home to my family whenever possible. It was undeniable that I had a strange connection with her, even though I didn’t know her that well. We didn’t necessarily hang out that often, even though all my friends adored her. We didn’t even really have anything in common, other than the fact that we both loved my mom and my dad’s cooking. And yet we continued to always be in one another’s life. It seemed that whenever my life was falling apart I would seek her out.
The first summer after her freshman year, she subleased a place right down the road from where I was living. That summer I had the first of many life shattering events and after my world, as I knew it then, fell apart, I retreated to her apartment. I actually moved in for the rest of the summer, fulfilling the first part of my mother’s prophecy. This would be the first time of four that we would live together, and not all in one state.
Sixteen years later, four apartments, two coasts, mass amounts of crying, quite a few Vicodin, countless heartbreaks, a few great road trips and our fair share of fights, I have a sister. She has to be my sister because there is no other way we would have survived. We have different passions, habits, hobbies and style (well she has style, I have a lack thereof) She does art with my mother and drinks whisky with my father. She knows every detail of my life and probably talks to my mom as much as I do. She is in fact, just as my mother said, part of our family.
I never wanted a sister, but I have one, and I would not change it for the world, because I need one. I could not imagine my life without her. From Vermont, to Lake Tahoe, to San Francisco, we have done it together, when no one else could even fathom what it’s like to keep searching. We have supported each other, talked sense into each other and been there for one another, in the way that only family can do. I love my sister, and I’m so grateful that I met her in the manner that I did. If she had been born into my family a year after me, I would have grown up with the resentment of having a sister who was prettier, funnier and more lovable than me. Instead my sister came into my life at a time when I needed her most, and when I was mature enough to love her for her qualities, and cherish her for her being, and thank her for her love. I love my sister, even if she is, most likely, my parents real favorite.
Since I was 15 I have either been on a diet, in post diet downfall, or in pre diet binge phase. There are a lot of reasons for this constant need to lose weight, control, depression, spite, loneliness, just to name a few. For the last 17 years my weight has always been on the forefront of my mind, even more so than sex, which is saying a lot because I think about sex all the time. The only small break I got was when I was living in Ecuador because all the man there considered me thin, probably the reason I want to go back so much. But other than that, I can not recall a time that I was not fixated on my weight and appearance.
When I was younger I would just not eat, that was my preferred method of dieting. This lasted about 8 years, on and off. I would have long stretches of eating less than 500 calories a day and then one night I’d get drunk and eat until it hurt. The next day would be spent in pain and loathing. Eventually I began to take laxatives after such binges, but then I got very addicted to that pain and suffering that you feel and started taking them all the time, even if I hadn’t eaten in days. It only took a few months before my body could no longer handle it and then the internal bleeding began. As much as I love the extreme feeling of emptiness and accomplishment that came from taking those little pink pills, it just didn’t seem worth it to be shitting blood. So I stopped and just stopped allowing myself to ever eat more than 700 calories on my fattest day.
Luckily when my life fell apart and I moved to California I lost the will power to starve myself for more than a day. I was surrounded by free food, fun people, at cost booze and sunshine, so I gained a lot of weight. I still obsessed about my weight but it seemed as I had no control over it, after all those years my body was wining out over my mind. So for about a year and a half I packed on the lbs, and finally got so uncomfortable that I had to do something about it.
In the past 6 years I have run the gamete in terms of diets and fads. I have tried just about everything that I have ever read about. Atkins, Keto, Master Cleans, Raw, Fast Track Detox, 3 Day Military diet, Ford Diet, juice fast, egg fast, even a fat fast and countless others. I became a self proclaimed diet expert. I always enjoyed trying new diets, it was a challenge and gave me focus. I always enjoyed them even more when they actually made me lose weight. But of course, as you read on any healthy lifestyle website, diets are never long term. I went on and off a lot of these a million times over. This was just what I did. It is still just what I do.
I can’t picture my life without the struggle of wanting to lose weight. As this point in time I fear it is how I identify myself. I recently became extremely put off by men, so I no longer have them or the thoughts of sex to at least consume some of my thoughts. Now it is weight, diet and exercise 100% of the time…even when I am suppose to be working. I workout twice a day, I have multiple calorie trackers on my phone, there is nothing but diet and exercise pins on my Pinterest board. I’m full on obsessed, and yet I’m still fat, I’ve always been fat, even when I wasn’t. I will never be able to see myself as anything other than fat, because if I’m not, what would I do? I get to a point, so close to reaching my goal and then sabotage myself out of fear of losing my identity. Then I begin again. If I am not on a diet, I’m pretty sure it means that I’m dead, hopefully in the afterlife I won’t have to worry about a body at all.
Once again I am back here, to this state of discomfort and unrest. It seems as though there is a time limit to my complacency. I can’t fathom how people do this, their whole lives, just stay in one place, do the same things, day after day after day. I can’t seem to find the appeal, the desirer to never change, in my mind that is hell.
I have a tendency to blame my depression for everything that happens. My inability to maintain a relationship or my constant feelings of hopelessness, are just a bi-product of the chemical imbalance that is in my brain. But what if my illness is actually saving me from a mundane and monotonous existence.
For so long I have been judging myself based on others, feeling as though I am inadequate because I am still single, have no interest in children and couldn’t put down a downpayment on a house if my life depended on it. I constantly see what I don’t have, the stability, the support, the peace of mind. But what I fail to see is that these people may be content, but they might not be happy. The difference between their unhappiness and mine, is that I get to at least try to change it.
I have been searching for happiness for a long time now and it has brought me to some amazing places and introduced me to some amazing people. I have traveled, I have experienced and even though the whole time I was struggling, I have lived. I can’t imagine if all of those had never happened, if I had gotten what I always thought I wanted.
When I was younger I would picture my life working out, the house, the husband, the career, these were all things that I just thought were part of life. As life progressed though, I began to realize that my life wasn’t quit falling into place as I had planed. There was just something off, I didn’t fit the mold, as much as I wanted to.
I still feel as though something is wrong with me, but I’m slowly coming to terms with who I am, illness and all. I may never settle down, I may always feel anxious and not at ease, but at least I will know that I never stopped trying, I will not have to wake up at the age of 65 wondering what my life had been like if I wasn’t afraid of change. Instead I will have a long list of places I’ve lived in, jobs I have worked, beautiful men I have slept with and the incredible people I have met along the way. I have given up on thinking that I can cure my depression, but I’ve also learned to appreciate it for what it is. Ironically the thing that makes me want to end my life, has been the thing making me live a better life.
Hello I was hoping to reach out to you in regards to some exciting new ideas I have. I have been wanting to branch out for a long time in regards to my own life. I want to be fully responsible for myself only…I no longer want to depend on anyone for anything. I understand that this is near impossible in this day and age. It is pretty impossible to be completely self-sufficient. Especially if you have grown up in the modern world, as I did. I do think I could do it, breakaway from it all and “live off the grid” as they say. I could do it for as long as I would deem it necessary. It’s not as if I dislike other people, well no more than anyone else does… I think deep down we all actually hate everyone. I think this is fine because it’s mutual and luckily humans seem to be capable of loving those whom we hate. Not to mention that we have evolved enough as a society that we are all very good at pretending that we don’t in fact hate each other…but I digress.
I would like the opportunity to not have to make it work anymore. I would just like to mealy exist for a little while. I want to go about my day and not have any thought or worry as to if I am doing enough for others, pissing others off, working hard enough for others so they pay me. Our lives, wellbeing and survival are so incredibly contingent upon our relationships with others. There are so many people that claim that they are in control of their own lives, destiny or whatever they call it. But that is simple not true. Everything we do, everyday has either something to do with someone else, or it’s dictated by someone else. Even when we think we are doing something of our own free will, that’s actually not the case. When you wake up on your day off and feel like you have the freedom to plan you day, you don’t because your plans are already being dictated by the fact that you only have that time of freedom because you spend the rest of your time at your job or school or other places you “have” to be. We are never fully free, or I’m not at least. I never have the luxury of purely existing.
So what I am asking is a break, a break from reality, responsibility and basically from being a human. I would like my actions to not matter to anyone and I would like to not have others actions affect me. I want to know how it feels to have nothing pulling or pushing my life. What would happen? Who would I be if there was no reason to be or do anything? Would that be the ultimate form of peace, or would I go crazy, lacking purpose? Whatever the outcome may be I’d like to try, at least just for a moment. I would like a tiny snippet in time where I essentially do not exist in society, only in physical form, to do nothing but just be me, whoever that may be.
All it took was one date for me to fall completely and with every day that feeling grew into more, until I wanted to drug you and marry you. Hell I liked you so much I would have gotten knocked up by you and I’ve never wanted children. But then you left, I knew you were going to, you told me that from the get go. Unfortunately that information did not stop me from getting entirely attached. But as I said now you are gone, so very far away.
So what do I do now? I try to move on and date, telling myself it is my only option. Even if by some crazy chance you do return, there certainly is no guarantee that what we had was anything. It was most likely all in my head, I concocted this whirlwind romance because I knew it was safe. There was no real fear, the rejection was upfront due to you only being here temporarily. Thus I went for it with full gusto, I was honest and vulnerable. I told you how I felt about you and talked about family and dreams. I laughed with you, slept with you, drank too much with you and had an amazing time. Then cried when it was all over. For the first time, in what feels like an eternity, I committed to someone, someone I knew could not commit to me.
The problem is that not only were you handsome, hung and had an awesome accent but I never got to know you well enough to see the bad. I don’t have any memories of you upsetting or disgusting me, I don’t have enough material to convince myself that I dodged a bullet. All I have left is the pedestal I put you on.
Now I need to try and find someone new, hopefully someone with an accent who is interesting. But the truth is, even if I find that person I won’t be happy, not unless their is a time stamp on it. Not the typical time stamp of inevitable rejection, but some type of extenuating circumstances forcing a separation before I get to the point of hurt and disappointment or even worse, boredom. Maybe I’ll just use waiting for you as an excuse to stop trying altogether…maybe you are infact, just perfect.
Today was a huge milestone for me. I finally, after far too long, told a man who had controlled my thoughts, emotions and actions for over six years that I no longer loved him. Well not in so many words but essentially that was what my email was eluding to, and yes I did it in email form but I’m still viewing it as an accomplishment on my part. Almost four years ago I made a terrible judgment call and agreed to add this man to my phone plan, and help buy and set up his smart phone. For some reason at the ripe old age of 39 he was not able to figure it out. I, at the time, was so smitten and infatuated that I did it, without hesitation. I convinced myself that if we shared this monthly bill that it would help him see how easy it would be to be with me. Instead I ended up taking care of the bill every month and he never even had to think about it. Needless to say it never brought us closer to being in a real relationship it just amplified my stupidity for thinking that he might ever love me. So after a year of living somewhere new and far away I decided it was time to cut all ties for good. I do not love him any more, it’s still a little to fresh to be able to tell if I ever really loved him or if it was all infatuations, but for now I can at least state that what ever I once felt is no more.
But than there is that other one, the one that I truly did love and he loved me. Today is his birthday, and 11 years since the first time we slept together and started our 3 plus year relationship. Unfortunately with him I can not write that email. We have no ties to be broken, I have no way to state that I no longer love him, and more so I have no way of ever not loving him. He is in my dreams, he is my concision mind and forever in my heart. I don’t think it’s necessary a bad thing to have a place in ones heart for a former love, but this love is not allowing me to move on. I have not had one mention-able relationship since him, and it’s been 8 years. I have nothing tangible to throw away, no photos to delete, no voicemail to erase. All I have is what’s in my head, and that does not seem to be fading anytime soon. So here I sit, still loving him and wishing I could stop, but perhaps you can’t ever stop when it was real in the first place.