Thursday, June 30, 2011

I love to admit when I am wrong

I went to lunch with Kyle, and it was not what I expected.

In a good way.

I expected feelings, and such. I expected to have to restrain myself and make sure I behaved.

But none of that happened.

Talking to him was bland. Seeing him was bland. He even ordered a bland sandwich, which makes me sad. I love a good sandwich.

Kyle is boring, and simply put: I no longer have any feelings for him.

I think that this is wonderful, and I know it took all this time harboring over what could or might have been for me to get to a happy place in my own life without him to be able to see that he never really mattered. He only mattered because I needed him too.

I needed someone, anyone to matter.

I am pathetic sometimes.

Now, I am happy knowing that there is no chance of redemption; he doesn't need to change for us to be happy. He and I are not happy. And we aren't meant to be together, here or there.

And now the only other man on my mind and in my heart is Harry Potter. But, to get technical, Tom is the other man to Harry, he was there first. And I'll love him forever.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

a real blog for once

I'm sorry for being so MIA, I'm sorry for beign so trite.

Recently (note: two days ago) I joined a weight loss site, and they have a blog system on there. I sort of love it. I love you still, but I have been in a weird place with you lately where i don't know where to go.

I'm here to fix that.

Today, on the weightloss site, I found a place for journal entries... and since I never do anything in private (I love being a blogger) I thought I'd post my first Journal entry here. Also, it's kind of a big deal what happened...

Here ya' go:

Dear Journal,
You have never before existed, except in that awful thing I finally threw away from sixth or so grade where I write horrible stories about mermaids and talk about how much I love Ian and Derrick... Thank you for letting me start clean. Although you provided a good laugh to my friends when I randomly would find you, you embarrassed the poo outta me, I can't have that happen again.
Also, sixth grade Denise, thank you for growing up, but being hilarious while you existed. I am not proud of being you, but I adore you for your hilarity.
Moving on...
What is there to talk about but the men I love???
Now I am realizing how ironically embarrassing it is to have a journal, start to write a post about how lame I was, and then be more lame once I actually get to what I wanted to post about.
God, I'm a big pile of entertainment and embarrassment all wrapped up in a cute little internet package for myself ten years from now who will still be worrying about boys and how to fit her boobs into cute clothes without looking like a hussy...
Ten years from now Denise, remember, you are just as lame now (2011) as you were in sixth grade. And you don't give a shit. I hope you (2021 Denise) don't care either.
So, the email:
Once upon a time I internet dated, and it was a blast for many reasons. I got a lot of free dinners, I met people crazier than myself, and I had the best sex of my life, many many times. I met a boy who explained to me, without even trying, how much chemistry two people could actually have. He showed me that I don't need to be a size 10 to get sexy men, and he showed me what a man should do to a woman when it comes to getting down and dirty.
He also showed me what it meant to be hurting, and lost, and trying to find a substitute to being alone. He was more broken than I was, and I was broken.
I was coming from depression, anxiety, and insomnia so bad that I hadn't slept properly for almost a year. He was coming from a relationship ended by his fiancé having cheated on him. His depression was great, and he wasn't getting help.
I tried to help him, and I think in small ways I did. I loved him, I was good to him, and we spent a lot of time together; easy time, the kind you have in long term relationships that comes from comfort and familiarity, only we only "saw each other"
(note: nothing official...)
for about four months. He was easy, we were easy, but neither of us was really happy.
I wanted him, I was over my break up, in therapy, and on medication that made me feel alive again, and helped me sleep properly for the first time in what seemed like forever.
He wanted her, but not her now, her before she cheated. Her before his heart was broken. Her before everything.
But I wasn't her, and he couldn't be with me.
We enjoyed each other more than either of us imagined possible, but it still wasn't right. Wrong place, wrong time. More hurt feelings.
We stopped talking about four months ago, I remember it perfectly because it was the day I got my acceptance letter in the mail for nursing school, and just after Tom and I started dating... and today is mine and Tom's four-month-iversery.
This morning, I woke up next to Tom, all cuddly and spoony like he loves to sleep, and checked my email.
There it was, from him. From Kyle. From the man I wanted nothing more than to be with forever, apologizing for the way he had treated me, wishing me well, and saying he hoped I remembered him.
The only thing I could do was read it again. And again.
Could it be real? Could the only other guy I think about besides my boyfriend really be emailing me, thinking I'd forgotten him?
So I emailed him back.
The thing I hate most is when people don't answer. So I refuse to be that girl.
I told him I miss him, and that I of course remember him. I told a few bad jokes and informed him of my updates. I told him that there was no need to apologize because I understand where he was coming from and it was my own fault for thinking I could make him happy. And I gave him my phone number.
Told him I would love to see him if he wanted.
And now I am here, writing, waiting, and hoping that the easiest "relationship" I ever had really isn't over and I can at least continue a friendship with him. Because I do miss him,
And in a completely warped and unhealthy way, I loved him too. Still love him.
And miss him terribly.
And want him to be happy again.
I want to know him when he is happy.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011


I feel like I've been really melodramatic lately, and for that I apologise. Things really aren't that bad, in fact, they are quite well; I just tend to write more when I'm blue than when I'm not.

Two days ago I went bowling with Tom and Harry, and out of the three games we all played, I beat both of them twice! And, I beat Tom all three times, I also won over all and had the best stats with about a 0.39. If you know me, you'll know that I'm not naturally that competitive, I just like to play, and that's what's fun. But, Tom is obsessive when it comes to winning, so it was nice to wipe the floor with him. When we went mini golfing he beat me by one stroke... I feel that it's my duty to the world to diminish his gigantic ego from time to time; also, with his head size almost inhibiting him from using normal sized doors, I'm doing it for his own good.

I promise.

: )

Yesterday I did a power point for one of my classes, one of those, "getting to know you," projects, and because I have little other than my nephew in my life I care very deeply about, I devoted two of the six slides to my blogs...

When I told Tom about it, he asked if he had been in it, and while I had actually considered it, I had decided not to since we literally have no photos together. And I did it about my family. Tom may be pretty special, but we're not family.

Speaking of Tom and family...

Society makes me laugh, but for the main purpose to avoid crying. People are depressing, it's a wonder it took me this long to need therapy, I must have had my eyes closed for a really long time.

Christianity is based on the fundamentals that God is God, and he is perfect, and his word is law; redeeming yes, but law.

The golden rule states that we are to love others as we love ourselves.

So, by the transitive property, Christians should be the most loving, accepting, understanding, and caring group of people on the planet. Right?

But, as we all know, they are the most judgemental, hateful, stubborn, stuck up people. It makes me very sad to think that they share the same belief system with me, but live such hypocritical lives.

Just an observation.

This doesn't diminish my opinions of Tom's family. I still really like them, and like I said, it does make me laugh.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

spiraling into the abyss

Alternate title: my period and how it ruins my life.

Now, I'm not going to complain because I'm bleeding or having back pain or anything like that. I'm a strong (black) woman, like Kathy Griffin

       who, by the way, I have tickets to see on October 23rd!

and I do not blog about things like the monthly war raged between my ovaries and my uterus. I'm above that.

What I'm not above, however, is talking about my emotions. You're welcome.

        By the way, is anyone else on blogger? I hate the new set up.  

Recently I've noticed that my emotions are sluty bitches who ambush me in the hallways and steal my lunch money. I fear them, I try to avoid them, but somehow they always find a way to sneak up behind me and catch me off guard. It sucks. And it's because mother nature makes me all touchy feely when my ovaries decided they want knocked up again, which is every single month. I cry when I don't want to, I get upset at jokes that aren't meant to hurt me, I get super stressed by everyday qualms. Currently I am having major shoulder pain because I carry the weight of the world on my left one... and it's started spreading to my right.

I know that a few days from now when my estrogen levels are back to normal and I have more control in hiding the crazy I'll be fine, but this past week I have had to be very cognitive of feeling depressed. I have to make sure I don't go to bed and lay awake for hours thinking about all the ways I can and have and will fail. I have to make sure that the stupid shit that causes me stress every day, such as loosing my wallet last week and still not having a debit or credit card available to me, don't knock me out.

Yesterday I wanted to make Tom and I dinner, because I love dinner and I like Tom. I also love cooking, I really wanted to do this. So, I go to the store and try to buy groceries... but guess what? They don't accept checks. And the bank was closed so I couldn't cash a check... So I felt like a piece of shit.

Also, I need a break. I've been going to school every week day then coming to work straight after for over a month now, skipping my lunch break and just eating discreetly at my desk when I can... I'm getting overwhelmed.

I think that is the first key to noticing when I am becoming depressed again... "overwhelming" is a far to overused word in my vocabulary.

Hope this is enough of an update. Have a nice weekend.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

the apology, and why it mattered

The last time we spoke I was having an awful week. Stress at work, accumulated with the fact that I'd decided I no longer needed my depression/anti-anxiety medication and hadn't taken it in over a week meant that I was feeling really weird, and unable to deal with it well.

I was very sad, despite the lack of any real trigger, I was super anxious about everything, and I had a bunch of homework I decided to get drunk and half do.

Last week I had a paper to write, which I did not write. It was the last assignment for a class that was only a month long, and because I didn't do it (and did really poorly on the two tests I took last Friday as well) I got a 76% in the class, which is just passing in the nursing program.

But I didn't care.

I still don't mostly because I know I can't change it, but the fact that I was insurmountably anxious and still had no real care about the paper (which only had to be two pages by the way, it would have probably taken me an hour) scared me.

One thing I may or may not have ever talked about is the amazing motivation my medicine gives me. Before I was taking it I was exhausted all the time from my year of insomnia, I was melancholy about everything, and I didn't really do anything because I just didn't care...

After a week of being off it I was almost back in the same mental state, and that scared me. Scares me. I don't want to be an unmotivated blob who cares so little about everything. I don't want to be sad all the time for no reason, and anxious just because I exist. I hated that. I still do, but after three horrible days in a row, Friday of last week being the final straw, I started taking my medicine again and within two hours I felt better.

I stopped because my doctor said I could if I was ready, she said that most patients take it for six to nine months, and since I was at the six month mark and felt like I could do without it, she said that was fine.

But it was not fine.


Which brings me to what Tom said, and why it hurt so much.

Tom has said this to me before, and every time it infuriates me to the point of almost writing him off as a waste of space, I'm not kidding. He says it at the worst possible times, and in doing so makes me feel like literal crap.

He says, "aww, are you going to cry now?"

It's mocking, it's condescending, and because he says it when I'm actually getting mad (or any other form of strong emotion) and am probably actually on the verge of tears, completely horrible in timing. I cry when I get angry, it sucks because people just think I'm hurt, but it's really just because I am so good at holding my feelings in (note: why I still need a therapist) that when something pushes me over the edge, my body takes full advantage of my lax guard and turns on the Bitch Tears. If I'm crying, 80% of the time it's because I'm really pissed off, and calling me out on it is usually enough to make it happen.

I hate crying, not because it makes me feel weak (it does, I can just accept that about myself) but because it gets in the way of getting my point across, it reminds everyone that I am a woman and sometimes unable to control my emotions, and those two things I do hate. When Tom mocks me by asking if I am about to cry, it's a direct hit to my mental stability.

I can take a lot of crap, it's something I know I shouldn't do but have always done, however, I cannot tolerate someone insulting my sanity.

So, I gave Tom a day, and I went over to his apartment under the pretense that he would apologise to me. And he did. And he knows that if it ever happens again I will leave him, because it's unacceptable. And he has been given reasons and chances and I am not going to tolerate that sort of treatment from someone who is planning on falling in love with me in the future.

Especially since I really like him, and his opinion means a whole freaking lot to me.

Thornton Wilder said that he who loves the least wins.

And I don't mind losing.

But I have lines, and if they are crossed I'm fully prepared to do what if right for me, even if it's walking away.