Wondering.

I feel like such a lame ass to still be holding on to some kind of hope that my relationship may be able to be salvaged. When in reality, it probably can't be. When we broke up 2yrs ago, I told her everything that I was unhappy with. She worked on all of those things and showed me she had made a change. I was really impressed with her commitment to us and our relationship. I feel like now it is my turn to show her that I am committed to doing the right things in order to be in a relationship with her again. Of course these steps will better me regardless of whether or not we get back together but I have been putting in some hard work for 17 days. I have faced some fears, started boxing lessons, not gotten fucked up....been trying to get comfortable with feeling things again. Maybe 17 days isn't long enough. Maybe she doesn't actually care anymore. These changes will continue regardless, but I genuinely hope that she will give me another shot. Why? Because I never stopped loving her. I never stopped wanting to be with her despite being unhappy at times. I didn't walk away. I'm still wondering if we will have another chance. 

Butterflies.

When Morgan and I first got together she used to tell me I made her feel like she had a cage full of butterflies inside her. I always thought this was an insanely sweet thing to say and it also described how it is that I felt about her. Although things were rocky, I never lost that feeling. I never stopped being in love with her. I never stopped looking at her as anything but sexy and beautiful. Unfortunately, my actions didn't always match my thoughts. When I would get wasted I would say and do unkind things. None of which reflected how I really felt and do still feel on then inside. It's hard to express to someone something positive when you're so sad and down on yourself all the time you don't want to get up and do anything. For every chance I missed to tell you how beautiful you are - I give you all the stars in the sky. For every chance I didn't take to tell you how much I love you - I give you all the sand on the ocean. For every time I didn't take the chance to kiss you, hold your hand or hug you - I give you every single butterfly. Infinite numbers of stars, sand and butterflies....infinite number of times I shouldve told you those things, and shown you love. I still have my cage full. I still have so much love for you. I still am not walking away. 

Today.

Today is my day. I woke up and decided that I am going to pause to look at all the wonderful things around me; people, places and things. I am going to give every ounce of anger and hurt I have in my boxing lesson tonight. I am going to continue to keep my head held high and remind myself of my worth. 

This morning the fog was kind of thick and chopped off the top of the skyline. There's something eerie about fog and I like it. 

A friend of mine and I had a nice long conversation about life. There were several things that were holding me back from being happy. 

1) never letting go of my hurt/anger towards my ex from 4yrs ago

2) using substances to quell my emotions

3) processing the deaths of my brother and dad without being in an altered state

4) feeling poorly about my body because I had gained quite a bit of weight back

These are the things I've done to counteract those:

1) the day I got my tattoo, I woke up from a dream with my ex in it - we had an opportunity in said dream to hash out what happened to us and I was able to provide support for her as a friend. I woke up feeling peace in my heart about that. It may be the only closure I ever get...and I am letting it be the only closure I'm going to need. I feel lighter emotionally as a result. 

2) I haven't used anything to get away from my feelings in 16 days. I have been forced to look at myself and analyze and find ways to repair and build up. Panic attack sets in, call a friend...walk to the cafe...distract. Sad about dad or Andrew or Morgan....cry, feel it, process it, get it out and move on with the day. It has been really hard (although this week is much easier than the first) but I feel good when I come out on the other side knowing I did the right thing and used a different, more healthy coping skill. 

3) I've been allowing myself to think about Andrew and dad a lot. I used to either get messed up or just ignore it when I would think about them. Letting myself feel sad and grieve in a clear headed manner has helped me to process some of these feelings. 

4) I've gotten back to the gym, I start private boxing lessons today, I have lost 17lbs. I am trying to look at me the way I want others to look at me. 

I can do this...actually, bump that....I *AM* doing this....and it feels really damn good. 

Unknown.

Today is day 15 of not getting f'd up to get away from my feelings. I'm proud of myself and feel like I'm certainly on the right path. I feel more clear headed and rational than I have in a very long time. However, I still have break up brain. I can't believe it has been a month since I've seen the one person who I love with my entire heart. There's been so much distance put between is and I fear she will forget. Forget me, forget Diamond and Greta (who she once loved as if they were her own), forget our life together, forget the fun things we did and how when things were good, they were so good. I want a life with her. Not the life we had, not the way we both had become. But a real life, with future plans and communication and feeling good about ourselves so we feel good in our relationship. Laughing and crying and spending time with friends, cooking and eating together. Going on vacations and experiencing new things together. Holding hands when we walk down the streets and sneaking kisses when no one is looking. 

The unknown is so hard. Will she ever speak to me again? Will we ever have a chance to talk and give this a try once more? Will she try to push me out so far that we are then strangers? I hope not. I have a little hope that we can come back together as more improved versions of ourselves and make it work. I haven't given up. I haven't stopped loving her. I haven't walked away just yet. Because I have a little bit of hope that we can work this out. That we can show the love we once had. It's just so hard. Hard to hold on. 

"Say Something"

Say something, I'm giving up on you

I'll be the one, if you want me to

Anywhere I would've followed you

Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I am feeling so small

It was over my head

I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall

I'm still learning to love

Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you

I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you

Anywhere I would've followed you

Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride

You're the one that I love

And I'm saying goodbye

Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you

And anywhere I would've followed you (Oh-oh-oh-oh)

Say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something...

Wasted.

Time. Energy. Brain cells. Money. Time with people I love. Feelings. Tears. Days after. My body. All things that I've wasted. I used to love it. It used to be my favorite. Until I realized how much wasting I was doing when wasted. I look at pictures and think "oh what a great picture!" and then my mind fasts forward to what happened after that millisecond capture. I passed out on the table at the restaurant, I picked a fight with the cops at the bar, I told everyone I was with to fuck off, I cussed Morgan out, I said mean things, I broke my tooth from falling on my face, I did things that under any other circumstances would be completely unthought of. So...why is it ok when I'm wasted? It's not. But I could always apologize. Apologies only mean so much when they happen over and over again. They lose their worth. They become empty and meaningless. They are just words. The past 2 weeks have made me realize that while it's "fun" to do all of that, it isn't getting me anywhere. It isn't fixing the missing part in my heart. It isn't making the bad go away or the good come back. It isn't making Dad or Andrew come back and it isn't helping me to deal with losing Morgan. These feelings were what I had been avoiding for so long. My fear and anxiety and insecurities and not wanting to feel any of them...make them go away. Push them back down. You can only fill a freezer with so much stuff before the door won't close and things start to fall out. Whether they fall out loudly when I'm wasted or quietly when I'm trying to make my mind numb....they still fall out. It is impossible to keep all of this in. Nobody except for myself ever expected me to do so. So unreasonable. Knowing all the while that it was eating me up inside. Just make it stop. A song comes on, I cry, I tell myself to stop. Don't cry. Keep it together. Don't lose it. Be strong. Fuck that. Why can't I be upset? It takes 10 times the strength to show people how you feel than it does to try and fake everyone else out....especially when they all know you're bullshitting yourself. 2 weeks of not being drunk. Of having to look at and feel this shit...and I do mean shit. These things happened to me - this isn't some dream or movie script...this is my life. This is the way things went. That doesn't mean I just get to check out. People need me. I need me. Life goes on. So why am I wasting it on being wasted? Instead of continuing to love and appreciate the things in life that are important; a conversation, time with folks I love, moments that I'll never get back....that, when sober, I'll wish I had to cherish all over again. 

Again.

These two pictures were taken on April 20, 2013. Wake up. So excited. Morgan is running in the Color Me Rad 5K! Gonna be fun. Hang out after. Stop for chick fil a. Home to change clothes and grab the dog. Headed to NoVa to see my Dad and spend the night with him. It's Manchester Earth Day. Want to stay in RVA and have fun. Dad has been crazy-ish again lately. 95 north. Quantico exit. Phone rings. It's the little brother.

Me: "cellos, violins and violas!"

Ryan: "Bear....Dad died...."

Me: "no no, I'm only 20 mins away"

Again.

I start crying and hit the steering wheel and yell about why do people keep dying without me being able to say good bye? Cry about why this is happening again. First Andrew and now Dad. Morgan offers to drive but I know it'll be worse for me to sit and not do anything. We get to Dad's house and he's still in his bed. Waiting for the funeral home to come to take his body. Ryan and I go in and out of the house to sit with him or look around or freak out. I take 3 of Dads pain killers. Choke them back and know that within an hour, I'll be ok. We talk with neighbors, we keep crying. I read him a blog entry that I wrote knowing he was not going to be with us that much longer. Oxy working through my system, I can handle this now. I have to continue on this perceived path of strength. Only losing it when I'm alone or wasted. Mostly when I'm wasted. Back to Richmond to drop off the dog, get my stuff and head back up to plan another funeral. The night of the viewing we go out with our Uncles. I end up so wasted that I pick a fight with my little brother at the bar. We stayed at his house that night and he said to his wife that night that if I was awake and he had to see me when he got home he wasn't sure how it would go. Lucky for him, I was completely passed out. Funeral time. Eyes glassy. Reeking of whatever I drank the night before. My body is tired from being so drunk. I don't want to be there. I don't want to do this again. We just did this 6mos ago. Funeral is finished, people are coming over to the house. I apologize to Ryan and tell myself not to do it again. I drink a little more slowly that day but still end up drunk...I had enough sense to say I needed to go to bed instead of stay awake and try to keep it together. Got my benzos filled in March - couldn't be responsible with them and just use them for sleep like I'm supposed to. Had to not feel. This kept going until 12 days ago. I didn't realize how much I was using all kinds of things to get by. I didn't realize that my actions when wasted, and also when sober, were ruining my relationship. Was she perfect? No. Was she doing all of the extra that I was doing? No. Here we are a year and a half later. I see it now. I see the path of all of this. Before all of this, sure I got drunk...and sometimes I was mean, but I feel like it intensified and became more frequent after all of this. It feels good in a way to be totally conscious of all that I've done. Not clouded. Honest with myself and folks around me. I've done a lot. Too much. Reckless and dangerous. I'm tired of trying to be tough. This doesn't get to define me anymore. I'm making a new path. 

Stop.

This picture was taken of Morgan and me on the night before everything stopped. We went to my Moms house that day - October 20, 2012. She helped me braid my hair that morning because I wanted double braids for fall time. We hung out, relatively uneventful yet relaxing day. We came home and went to sleep. I woke up around 4:30am and saw that my Dad was calling me. Assuming he was just awake and calling to ask me a nonsense question or tell me what he was watching on tv, I ignored it. I looked to see if he left a voice mail and noticed I had 30+ missed calls. My little brother, my older brothers room mates and friends, my Dad...a few texts. I called my Dad back thinking he would tell me Andrew (my older brother) was in the hospital. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong until I woke Morgan up and put him on speaker phone. 

Me: "ok dad what's going on?"

Dad: "is Morgan awake?"

Morgan: "hey pops, I'm here" 

Me: "ok Dad what's wrong?"

Dad: "Andrew's dead."

Stop.

Everything stopped. I didn't know what to say. I cried. Of course I cried. I couldn't sleep. I called my Mom...or maybe I called Ryan (my little brother) first....I don't remember. I remember saying to my Mom "Mom, Andrew's gone" and her flatly saying "I know baby." Ryan was sobbing. I stayed awake in to that day. While we were at Mom's the day before, Andrew called repeatedly trying to get my Mom to wire him money like she had been doing. She told him several times that she couldn't leave because we were there. When we left, she wired him money. 

I got drunk that day and called everyone I knew. And everyone I knew called me. I drank several bottles of champagne because I wanted mimosas. Kylee brought over bagels. My new furniture was delivered and I was so wasted that Morgan had to tell them where to put it. 

That is the day everything stopped. If I could rewind my life and go back to the moment in this picture, I would. My whole family was still alive. Morgan and I were still together. I wasn't doing the dumb shit I started doing afterwards. Fast forward a year and a half later...and here I am working very very hard to not be that person anymore. Hopefully so there can be some reconciliation with Morgan, but also because I can't live like that anymore. There's something to be said for getting drunk and having a good time. There's quite another to be said for getting wasted in an effort to just not feel. Or to feel normal. Or to be able to sleep. Or to be able to cry. As a result of never having dealt with the shit...the shit started to deal with me. 12 days I haven't gotten drunk or taken anything to alter my mentals. This is the hardest I've ever looked at myself. It is uncomfortable and I am sad a lot and I don't really like it....but it has to be done because I want to start living again. I don't want to just exist. I want to be the happy person I used to be. Not worn down from being drunk or sad because I don't feel good about myself or wanting to hide under my sweats all the time. I am trying so hard - so so hard....and so far it is working and although the pain is awful in my heart and I am realizing all the different layers on which I was unhappy, it's been an absolutely eye opening experience. I am more aware of my fucked up coping skills and my shitty behavior than I've ever been. 

I want to press play.