Let me be very clear

It's not often that I repeat the title of my post in the first sentence of my post, but let me be very clear here: This is my blog. This is the most self-absorbed way that I have to communicate and express myself. Occasionally I think about making it private and just writing it for myself, but I love the online community that I've built through blogging and I wouldn't want them to make their blogs private, so I don't make mine.

I can't make it anymore crystal clear that this is MY blog. I solely control the content, design, and language. This is my space on the Internet and I suggest that if you don't like what you read, that you hit the back button on the top of your browser and never come back. In fact, I would say that if you know me offline and refuse to talk to me, that you are better off not reading what I have to say. I can actually guarantee that. Don't read what I have to say and then be too chicken shit to comment on it. This is my forum and I will defend it, fiercely.

You see? I've got a lot invested in this whole blogging thing. I have seven years invested in blog archives and I still enjoy what I do. I wouldn't write if I didn't enjoy it. But facebook has changed everything. Suddenly, when I post my blog link to facebook, everyone that I know in real life gets a window into a world that I normally keep very secret.

So, let me apologize. I will make you a deal: I won't write about you if you don't read what I write. Let's call it a truce. But let me be very clear, this is my blog. There is a reason they call blog readers "visitors".

Burning Bowl

I don't know how Officer Hotness and Chaps make me do it, but somehow, by some unknown, mystical force, I agree to leave my house and go somewhere other than work during weeknights. I can't really describe how much of a hermit I am Sunday-Thursday. Those are Zac's days. Those are the days that I work, eat, parent, eat, and sleep. In that order. Prior to the past month, there has been little to no deviation in that routine.

Here it is on Thursday and I've been social twice this week. Last night I went to one of the worst open mic nights that my ears have ever had to experience. Then tonight I went to Chuck E Cheese with, who else, Officer Hotness, her kiddo, my kiddo, and Chaps, who doesn't have a kid, but might as well at this point. I was there for over two hours. We saw Chuck E dance two times. Two! That big rat can shuffle like no body's business. I think Chaps was only tempted to shoot the rat once when he surprised her the first time.

We all had our own plans for Friday and Saturday night, so I suggested Sunday. Again, let me empathize. Never before in Zac's six year history on this planet have I suggested hanging out on a Sunday after 3pm. Never.

On Sunday at 5:30pm, the four of us are all to arrive at Officer Hotness' house for a Burning Bowl ceremony. You can blame google for coming up with that name. Then they looked at me. What was I going to burn? I'm pretty sure a blank look crossed my face. I started taking a mental inventory of house, scanning from room to room in my mind. Everything I could think of, I owned and had no lingering emotional attachments to anyone else. Sure, my couch has been sat on by people that have hurt me, but I can't burn my couch. I don't have papers, photographs, or mementos from relationships past that conjure up...well...anything, because they don't exist. Clicker once wrote me a letter saying how proud he was of me, but it has been lost in move and I wouldn't want to burn it anyways. He's my best friend. I have nothing, but some lingering resentment towards my MBA professors and their idea of "appropriate" reading.

It didn't even occur to me until I got home. Oh, I have some things to burn. Some things that our powerfully significant to me and shaped how I felt throughout out October, November, and most of December. Those things weren't at home, though, which is why they didn't come up in the initial registry. I keep them at work. I want to look into a bon fire and rip into tiny pieces the words that remind me of that period of self-doubt, stress, and mental instability. I let someone knock me off my game. I'm bitter that it happened, but I'm stronger now. So I'm going to burn the papers that remind of those months. Those damn months when I questioned my career choice, my choice in friends and confidantes, and myself. It's those memories that I will burn on Sunday and with my kid sitting next to me on a school night, I will be thankful to be surrounded by love and support. But mostly, it will feel just so damn good to let go.

Appreciation

If you've been following me on facebook, you've known that I've been on a bit of a roller coaster for the past couple of weeks. At least I stopped crashing cars. That's something to be proud of. Right now I'm listening to hard core west coast rap with east coast influences on headphones, jamming along with the music...letting it take me to a place where I can't feel and my heart stops racing.

Even with all of that, there is one thing that I am struck by today. I have some amazing people in my life. There are people that would go to the mat for me, to use a "Godfather" reference. People that will look me straight in the eye and tell me, "You need to do what makes you happy because you deserve to be happy, every day," There are people that protect me in ways that I wish I could protect myself. These people that still see things in me that I used to believe were there, before I lost all the confidence in myself and turned into a sniveling whiner that can't take much more than a sideways look without thinking that it means I'm a bad person. Sometimes it amazes me that their faith in me is unwavering. I disappoint them, show them all of my faults and flaws, and they still call and ask me how I'm doing and tell me to text them, any time, just to make sure that I'm safe.

Right now, all I can say is thank you. You are appreciated in my life. You are what holds me together on the days where it feels like everything is falling apart. Thank you.

Friends

Dear Friends,

I would really, really like to talk to you again on the phone. Please call or text me with your number and I'll love you even more than I already do.

I'm lonely.

Love,

B

I Heart Erica

Look! Twin Diet Coke bottles. It's like we were meant to be...

Since my last post was exclusively devoted to my reunion (and no, Brian doesn't look identical to the way he did in high school. He had blond hair then and fewer wrinkles (and I mean that in the best way possible because he has laugh lines around his eyes and mouth now, which I think look great)), I didn't post much about my mini-reunion with Erica.

Erica and I met sometime between the ages of 11 and 12 (we think). We met at one of the Methodist church dances that were organized monthly at different churches in the Western Washington area. She lived about two hours north from where I lived, but after our first meeting, we felt drawn to each other. I remembered asking for her address so we could communicate in-between dances. At that same dance, I had my first kiss with a boy that went to Erica's church. I won't post his full name here to avoid a repetition of past run-ins with google, but nevertheless, when Erica said his name I remembered him immediately.

We communicated through letters for a year or so and then lost touch with each other. Around Christmas time this year, I got a message from her on myspace. She said she woke up one day and remembered my last name, which hasn't changed through the years, as her's had. She typed my full name into myspace and only had one hit - my page. After a coincidence like that, she knew that she wanted to contact me and reconnect.

When I got the first message from her, I think I almost fell off the sofa. Memories of church dances, slow songs, first kisses, and letters came flooding back to me. It's not that I had forgotten about her, it was just that she was pushed into a recess in my mind. What's even more amazing than her finding me online has been the friendship that has developed (or redeveloped as it were).

Her unconditional love has redefined me as a person. When I say that I never knew people could treat each other this way, I mean that in both the negative and the positive sense. I've been hurt so badly this year by cruel, insensitive people, yet they've been overshadowed by these brilliant points of light. She's one of those points.


Why yes, I was a little drunk and more than a little tired in the above picture. At least Erica is looking fabulous. I love this picture of her and her husband, Rodney, below. Rod waited to meet me in person before asking if he could "friend" me on myspace. For the record, I said yes to his request.

Anyone recognize what's in the background of that photo?

Deep, Cleansing Breath

I need to take several deep, cleansing breaths in order to post the photos from my reunion. Photos from the reunion can also be given the title: "Ways to turn memories from an event into self-loathing, with one easy flash" I've mentioned several times on here that I lost 25 lbs over the course of the past year. Going from what I thought was severely overweight to pleasantly rotund. I mean, I dated at both weights and couldn't see any noticeable differences. I still don't look at myself naked after getting out of the shower and I still have to have the lights turned off before, during, and after any form of physical intimacy. That much hasn't changed. Nonetheless, I have photographic evidence that I have a long ways to go in my struggle against the bulge. I'm built like a brick.

The day of the reunion started out with Erica and I driving from norther WA down to Auburn. In theory, it's a 90 mile drive that should have taken us an hour and a half. In reality, Seattle traffic is the only place worse than Houston. A full three-and-a-half hours later we were stumbling from the car going, "Is this really Auburn. I thought it was just a mystical land of fairies, little leprechauns, and mascots named after a popular brand of condoms. I wasn't sure it even really existed."

After a brief rest in the hotel, Erica and I started getting ready for my reunion. I was about eighteen times more nervous than she was, of course, and pretty much felt like I was going to vomit the whole time.
Applying eye liner while feeling like you might get sick to your stomach is a skill that I picked up while pregnant, driving down the freeway, trying to make it to a lunch shift on-time. Clearly, it's a skill that continues to serve me well. Erica snapped this shot as I was getting ready to head out the door. I think she was grabbing her chap stick and the camera that would forever immortalize my downfall as a fat drunkard.

The choice of dress for the evening was almost exclusively chosen because it covered both my arms and my legs. A burlap sack would have done as nicely, but probably would have been less comfortable against my armor-wielding undergarments. But, I'm avoiding the inevitable, let's introduce the cast of major players at my high school 10-year reunion.

In a coming blog post, I'll have to show you the picture of the last time my ex-boyfriend, Brian, and I saw each other. We were in Hawaii and I was almost six months pregnant. I teased him mercilessly at the reunion because he didn't recognize me in Oahu. I'm pretty sure he recognized me this time before I threw myself onto him and gave him a big hug. He was late coming into the reunion, so I had resigned myself to not seeing him. Yet, he suddenly appeared, and it almost felt like we were back in 10th grade math class again, even though he's married to a wonderful woman and I'm a a single Mom to a kid that dumped yogurt on my pillow this morning. All that aside, it was great to see him. As I said, I think I possibly jumped on him in excitement.

Then there was Sean. Sean and I met our 7th grade year in Honors Reading and Language Arts class. He was a staple of my junior high and high school years. Seeing him at the reunion, so clearly having such a good time, convinced me to let go of my occasionally uptight demeanor and just go a little wild. I'm not sure either one of us meant to get as wild as we did, however.

I blame Jared, the guy on the far left-hand side for buying all three of us a shot of tequila with a wedge of lime. It makes me a little sick to my stomach just thinking about it. Yes, I was one of "those people" that goes to a reunion and gets drunk. I'm also one of "those type of people" that gets a little crazy when I'm not caring for a toddler or rear-ending school buses. I have my priorities.

From left to right, the men in this photo are Jared, Sean, Scott, Jake, and Quang. Jake was one of my first boyfriend in the seventh grade. I think we lasted all of two weeks. His wife is quite possibly a saint for going to his reunion 8 months pregnant and letting me rub her stomach while sputtering, "Did Jake tell you that he was my first boyfriend?" and trying not to spill Bud Light on her shoes (and they were very nice shoes. Did I mention that she's possibly saint-worthy? There were a number of pregnant women there that seemed to fit that category. Aside - where the hell did all those pregnant women come from? Holy moly!!)

You can tell it's getting later in the evening. I'm openly sporting my beer bottle in the photos and there are fewer and fewer people in the chairs behind us.

Kalae, the woman on the left, turned into a supermodel at some point following high school and Rachael is looking amazing (in general), but also for having a two month-old son. She mentioned the fact that she was feeding and didn't get to enjoy as many beverages as the rest of the crowd seemed to be enjoying. Poor woman.

After the reunion, we went to a house party where there were several more alumni that didn't want to pay the cost to go the actual event. I have to mention Derek S., and what he said to me when I showed up at his house on Friday evening. He said, 'B...I've been waiting for you. You don't know how many conversations you've been a part of since you've been gone. I've been waiting for you and now you are here." Ok, granted, Derek might have been a little high (he would have had to be to not punch me in the face after singing the chorus of "In the Navy" to him twenty times after he told me he joined the Navy and went around the world for five years.)

Since Erica went back to the hotel, I don't have any pictures (she was the designated photographer for the evening) from the house party. What I do have is the embarrassing memory of having Brian drive Sean, Darin, and I back to the hotel in Auburn. Brian didn't have more than one beer the entire evening, so in addition to being the girl that didn't drink in high school that got sloshed at her reunion, I'm also the drunk ex-girlfriend that possibly said something along the lines of, "She didn't even know that I dated women until my plane landed in Seattle" and forced Brian to console me by telling me to remain true to myself. I nodded and wobbled into the hotel with his words.

Erica decided to celebrate by catching me in the act of returning to the hotel at 3am, after I had managed to change into my pajamas:

I'm so embarrassed at the fact that she's taking my pictures that I'm trying to cover my face (not actually stop myself from getting sick, which is the alternate interpretation of this picture).

When an evening ends like this, you know you've had a good time. I'm glad I went, self-deprecating humor and potential blood-alcohol poisoning and all. I only embarrassed myself a handful, or ten, times and at least I have the luxury of living over 2,000 miles away from anyone that might try to tease me about what happened. It was a good reunion.

Still Struggling

My fear of abandonment has been well-documented on this blog. This past year has taught me to never take someone for granted because you might not get the chance to tell them everything you wanted to say. You might not get to yell or scream at them and tell them how much they hurt you.

I have a friend, whom I'll call Jory. He and I were friends for over a year. We hung out on New Year's Eve together and I liked having him in my life. He was one of the few people that would come to my work to go out to lunch. I trusted him and enjoyed spending time with him.

In early April I wrote a post about the behavior and actions of jealous women. About two days before I wrote the post I got a call from Jory's on-again-off-again girlfriend. They were definitively "on-again" when she called me. Jory actually warned me before it happened that she might call since he found her looking through his phone. She had found my number and quizzed him on who I was and what I was doing as a contact in his phone.

The call went something along the lines of this:

Crazy Woman (CW): "Hi, you don't know me, but I think you know my BOYFRIEND *emphasis not added* Jory"

Me: "Hi CW. I don't know you but I've heard a lot about you. I do know Jory. How can I help you?"

CW: *obviously a little taken aback at my lack of surprise and shock at being called by her. She probably didn't realize that this wasn't the first Crazy Woman that I've had to talk to on the phone* "Umm...What is the nature of your relationship with Jory?" and she begins to speak really fast here, like all of her words were smashed together, "You see, because he's asked me to marry him and bought me an engagement ring and I want to know who you are and what the nature of your relationship is with him."

Me: *now really surprised* "Wow....Congratulations. My relationship with Jory is none of your business."

CW: "It is my business. He wants to marry me. Were you with him last Thursday night? Why won't you just tell me!?"

Me: (thinking, "She really is crazy. Disentangle yourself from this conversation immediately) "Jory and I are friends. I was not with him on Thursday. Never call me again."

CW: "Ok" - hung up.

I called Jory after she hung up the phone, but he didn't answer. He actually never answered again. She accused him of cheating on her with me and he decided that the "safest" course of action was to prove his love and devotion to her by cutting out all female friendships, including ours. He was just gone, this person that I had considered a good friend. I never even knew what had happened.

Then Smith left in the same way, without ever saying goodbye. I didn't even realize that people could treat each other like this. It never occurred to me.

Jory called me a week ago. He and CW had broken up in showdown that involved police, kids, and a follow-up visit from Protective Services. Crazy Woman isn't just an acronym with this woman. He called to tell me how upset he was, not by the five months that had passed since he stopped speaking to me, but about losing her. He drove past the gym where they work out, saw her car, and was physically sick.

I'm supposed to understand. He's made that much clear to me. I'm supposed to understand what he did and forgive him for his trespasses. I'm still struggling with the forgiveness part. I don't really want to listen to him talk about CW. I don't really want to hear him blow off my feelings by saying, "I wouldn't worry about it," like they don't matter. I'm torn between believing that everyone makes mistakes and deserves a chance at forgiveness and protecting my heart from someone who clearly isn't invested in treating it well. I'm still struggling.