I was complaining a couple weeks ago because I couldn’t get my Zen on, but something happened last week that blew my mind.
Another text, but this one was different. I was so…grateful. I guess is the best way to describe it.
Thanks Universe, 25swf
I have found that the past year has been one of addressing. Not confrontation. But addressing. I have addressed a lot of issues within myself, and with others involving myself. When people been acting like a foo’, I’m not one to be messed with nowadays.
Addressing problems is what adults do. Wait, let’s not get all caught up here. Addressing problems is what adults are supposed to do. I may be young, but so far it’s very rare to find people over the age of 30 who do such a thing.
I have addressed people who didn’t respect me because I was young and had to give them direction (that’s a fun one). I have addressed a person who really hated me for no apparent reason. I have addressed someone I used to refer to as Mind Fuck or MF (you may remember him). I have addressed things in my current relationship that in the past I would have just buried. I have even addressed my mom. All of these people I have said, “Hey can we talk?” to, and then we did…and guess what happened? It was over.
It felt right for me to embark upon my most recent bought of addressing after things kept popping up, and a certain Buddhist class pushed me the rest of the way. The class was all about suffering. We meditated for an hour. Which, I am not use to, but found incredibly rewarding and invigorating. Being surrounded by Buddhas, a Buddhist monk, and a room full of people who are working towards the same thing was worth the 20 minute drive. After the meditation, we started class.
The Buddhist Monk talked about transforming relationships. If someone is ill towards you, you must work very hard to try and transform that relationship. Two people came to mind when she said this. They were burning into my head, and I wanted them out. The burning subsided after a cool, fresh epiphany washed over me. I had to talk to them. Ugh. I really didn’t want to. MF and this other person we will call The Girl were the last people on the Earth that I wanted to talk to.
I talked to Mister M about it. He said that if talking to them would make me feel better, then I should go for it. He’s so supportive. It’s so rare.
Come Monday I called them. Yup, just straight up called them. MF didn’t answer so I left a message…which looking back was probably pretty awkward sounding because I said let’s meet for tea (I’m on this no-caffeine kick, but still that’s a funny thing to say if you’re not British) and I said my full name when I called…yeah, WEIRDO). My next call worked out. The Girl did answer and we deciding on a time to meet that week. We met, and hashed it all out, and I think she no longer hates me. I think she realized I wasn’t out to get her. So that’s one down. Already a weight was lifted off my shoulders.
As for MF, he really effed (it felt better than saying ‘fucked’ because I’m not really that angry about…just annoyed. Effed is for those annoyed occasions. FYI) up my transformation efforts. On my journey to a Zen place he started texting me at 2am on a Saturday night/morning. There was a mixture of, “You’re so awesome…even though we didn’t work out I want you to be happy” and “I’m sorry you hated me. Like level 9 hated me. I just want the best for you.” Oh, and the last piece worth mentioning was how he tried to get me to call him by throwing out, “You should call me. I will tell you a secret, and if you don’t call you will never know.” No, I’m not joking. And no, I did not call him. I told him we should talk when he wasn’t drunk, but he insisted he hadn’t been drinking.
This was not a part of my plan. My plan was to meet up with him, tell him I forgive him and want him to be happy. And then, the end. Like a formal, “I forgive you, but go fuck yourself, thank you.” But I didn’t get that. He ruined it.
I decided, taking into account the advice from Mister M and another friend, that I would not be calling MF to meet up. He had (once again) blown it. Now I need to ask the Buddhist Monk what you do once someone blows up your transformation plans…some would say it’s time to just walk away. I’m thinking that’s good and fine, but what about the next time I get 2am texts? I think I will just hand my phone over to Mister M and he can take care of those…
Yours tranformer style,
Take a drive with me down Purging Lane.
I can finally drive down the street, around the block from where I currently live, past the apartment where MF and I lived together from April to September. It used to be the case that I would force myself to drive by there (when it was on the way) in an attempt to face my fear and “get over it.” It never worked. I would get sick to my stomach and feel like shit after the drive by.
He no longer lives there. He moved out a couple of weeks after I did. Before I broke up with him the plan was to find a bigger place for us both to fit comfortably in. I couldn’t have my cat with his three cats (because she would be attacked by the girl cat), and I was hoping the extra space would alleviate the problem so I could get my fluffy love back (she had been staying at my mom’s place in Tulsa). So we didn’t renew the lease. Because of the breakup and lease going up, he moved in with his dad so he could save money since he just started his own motion graphics/website company.
The Garage Lofts were always a soft spot in my heart. Memories, usually good, would come flooding back when I would see those lofty windows staring back at me. I would imagine myself looking out them, as I often would. But this time I was on the other side. Looking up, from the street, from my car, driving by, silently screaming inside. Confused. Heart broken.
But a couple of months ago I drove by and I guess I am done dealing with it, because nothing came rushing over me. Except for relief that nothing was rushing over me. It wasn’t painful to look at. I could just stare at it and feel indifferent.
Everyone has those spots. Those spots that just hurt to look at. Just remember it goes away eventually. But it’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to avoid that street. Do what you need to do until that spot is sore no more.
And with this, that concludes my 3 post series of purging MF memories. I’m done. This is me telling you I will write about MF no more. The MF chapter of this 25swf life is finally closed. June 17, 2011.
Yours with a new destination,
*This is the third (and last) post in a series of three memories from my relationship with MF I seek to purge.
Think about where you were a year ago…
Today, 365 days ago, I was here.
“Ultimately you are rude and you don’t care about me. You talked demeaning about my mother. I cannot handle that. You have been around her twice in your life and I ask you to not be on your phone as much and you react with hate and malice. I see your parents, sister, and grandma many times and enjoy their company– interacting with them, making an effort. You can’t do the same for me for barely 24 hours. Thank you for teaching me a lot. I know you will go on to do great things in your life. Unfortunately it will not be with me. When the realization hits that it’s not all about you I think you will understand what you have lost and why you have lost it. We can still go to Alaska as friends. I will look for a place to stay as soon as possible.
I know you’re not going to respond to this and that’s fine. I am not going to change my mind. I cannot handle your excuses for the way you treat me anymore. Some things are inexcusable and in my mind this is one. I can’t be with someone who treats me like this. It’s humiliating and is driving me crazy.”
I didn’t actually break up with him. I wrote this on my phone while I was in “our” bed. I never sent it. 9 days later, on July 25th, I found the sex file of him and his fiancee, filmed in “our” bed. If I had left on July 16th I would have never found it. I just realized that when I was writing this post. Always trust your gut. ALWAYS. You will never be punished for trusting your gut.
I’ve been writing about MF lately. That’s because I’ve decided this is the week of purging memories. Feelings. Cleaning out the closet, if you will. Bare with me. There is so much happiness in my life. I am feeling grateful for where I am, but I want to remember where I came from. Everything that happened last year is the reason why I am here today. Writing before you. Loving before you. I feel like I have super powers. The power to heal myself. The power to overcome. The power to understand. The power to forgive. The power to be happy. The power to know I’m human and I am (ultimately) powerless.
Yours a Wondering Woman,
*This is the second post in a series of three memories from my relationship with MF I seek to purge.
A memory came back to me the other day and it was something I never thought I would tell anyone (let alone blog about). But the other day I had the deep urge to write about it.
The day before I broke up with MF back in September 2010 was memorable for more than the obvious reasons.
I was on my period, but in his usual fashion he woke me up in the middle of the night to fool around.
But this time was different. I was curious what was going to happen since I was unsexable.
He stuck in a place he had never before. No lube. No nothing. Just him and me half-asleep whimpering, “Ow.” I didn’t physically stop him. I wanted to see what he’d do after hearing my groan.
He went further. I yelled louder. “Ow, that hurts.”
He stopped and said, “Ok.”