Hardest goodbyes aren’t always for what you think

I’m not good at saying goodbye. Some people say that and walk with elegance away while my goodbyes equate to tennis ball sized swollen eyes from crying and snot bubbles dripping down the sides of my mouth.

My goodbyes aren’t pretty. When I’m placed in that position to have to leave something behind and know in my heart that I’ll never see it again, I start to call back every memory I’ve had. The ones where I am transported and I can still remember the smell of my surroundings. The ones where I can see the exact shirt I was wearing and how that person made me feel.

Today, by a text message from a friend, I received a Redfin link to a posting for a house. The url already told me everything I needed to know before I even clicked on it, but like any masochist would do, I tapped on my phone to open up the listing to my childhood home to further affirm my dad was putting it up for sale.

The one where I finally had my own room and had to stop sharing with my mom on nights she couldn’t stand my dad. The one where I had my sweet sixteen party – however sad and pathetic it was to other people, that party was the best thing my parents could have scrounged to afford.

This is the house I snuck out at midnight when both my parents were asleep so I could be cool and thought I was badass to go up the mountains car racing with other high school kids. This is the house where my mom left.

The house that had an empty room I’d go in and remember how broken our family was. But this house was where my dad raised me and I so fondly remember everything he sacrificed to ensure my life was one of luxury, and even if we were just faking it, I could at least feel equal to my peers at school.

The bones of that house kept me safe. Made me feel things were going to be okay when I was all alone restlessly sleeping on the couch closest to the front door when my dad had surgery so I could run out at mach speed to the hospital once he was out of the OR.

This house persevered a kitchen fire. This house outlived each one of us leaving.

First, my mother after she filed for divorce.

Then I packed up for college and barely came back.

Now my father’s remarried and moved on with the wife.

But I always felt that I could go back if I wanted to one day. My dad had rented it out all these years, probably for the same sentimental emotions I seem to have attached so much to.

2020 has taken so many things away. It took away kindness from strangers and replaced their eyes with judgement and uncertainty. It took away our way of life and replaced us with a box to live in 24/7. It took away the ability to see family and hug loved ones. It took away the plans I made to travel and see Europe for the very first time. It took away a hopeful future while we all wait unsettled without a target date to reach for a sense of normalcy. And now, it took away my past. The one place other than my dinky little apartment where I remember life when it was good. So damn good that when I think of it, I can see my dad in the kitchen donning his never-emasculating checkered apron nursing a sweet aromatic chicken stew while I’m upstairs in my heavy eyeliner from the early 2000’s banging out to some Avril Lavigne until he calls me down for dinner.

Good times.

Gone.

If I could speak my truth to that house, I’d like to thank it for protecting me and putting up with me. The days when I yelled and cried for having to deal with curfew to the days I just needed a nice warm shower after a long day of ballet practice.  Maybe one day, I’ll pick up my kid from ballet and cruise by the street and show them, “Look, that’s where mommy grew up. That’s the house that saw all the good with the bad and kept standing tall to protect its family.”

 

Where our arguments lead

We were like two ships in the night with a vast ocean separating us,

We’ll be in same sea, on the same journey but never meeting in between

a flicker in the light from your deck is all I can see,

The waves roll on swaying across the dark unknown

spilling fear and mystery,

I look to your light,

waiting and praying the flicker grows warmer and stronger, closer to mine

Alas, the storm rages on dividing our two ships with no means to an end.

Both lost,

both afraid,

and both stuck away from each other with no way back.

 

Did your idea of love change as you got older?

Butterflies and goosebumps are fairytales. None of it lasts and so doesn’t love. At the end of the day we’re just living our lives with a roommate whom we trust and maybe decide to commit to a marriage license with as a tax deductible.

Except that latter part isn’t even something to consider in this day and age. Tax benefits for married couple doesn’t actually ‘benefit’ unless you one of you is making significantly less than the other. If you’re both at an equivalent base salary, the tough truth is you’ll end up in the same bracket as if you filed individually. How do I know this? Simple trip to my friendly trusted neighborhood CPA. She filed both my taxes and my partner’s. By the end of the 2 hour session we booked her for, I wanted to float the idea of possibly getting hitched with my partner in the next 5 years. With over 30 min left of the time we paid her for, she pranced her fingers around the calculator, played with numbers on a blank white sheet, and discovered we’d be paying more if we filed jointly. HILARIOUS.

So, back to the original subject, did your idea of love change as you grew older?

I’ve been really lucky to have felt the phase ‘in love’ longer than most during their puppy love stage. Somewhere between the transition of year 1 to year 2, my partner and I slowly but comfortably became more individuals but as a unit. I remember being glued as a siamese twin the first year. That part doesn’t last and I think we all know that. For us, it went on for almost a year and half before we fell back into our separate entities.

It is still love though. Not the same roller coaster highs and lows, but a safer sanctuary where you learn the perfect curvature of how they sleep and where you fit right in. I do miss the rampant need to cling onto my partner as a koala does on a eucalyptus tree during the early phase but its nice to fall back into a groove where I can work on my own craft and know sitting barely 12 feet away is someone who loves me doodling on his iPad and sipping his tea.

What going on a ‘Break’ really means

The fights get worse and the screaming grows louder.

I’m crying in a matter of seconds with flailing arms.

You move away and sit opposite side of the couch from me.

There’s no love left at this point, just two egos battling to see who can win.

I suggest a break, hoping you’d fight for me.

You reply, ‘Yeah’ with no hesitation.

Minutes flash by quicker than blinking, and you’ve already packed up your things.

My heart’s crying silently, internally begging you to stop.

The door opens and you leave me behind.

I sit hugging my knees, soaking tears into my jeans.

After a mind numbing eternity, I wrap up my heart and hide it away,

knowing full well this break means the end.

The word ‘break’ was just a softer blow than ‘break up’.

Because you aren’t coming back.

 

What Forgetting You is Like

Forgetting you is like rolling down the window driving on the coast and not smelling the musky salt water.
Forgetting you is like tapping on the table with my fingers and not hearing a sound,
it’s biting into an apple and not having a memorable sweetness explode on my tastebuds.

Forgetting you is like waking up and not seeing sunlight bleed through my curtains,
it’s touching cotton without feeling the soft warmth of a coat in an autumn night.

Forgetting you is forcing myself to forget the 5 senses. If I can smell, hear, taste, see and feel – you are there.

The way your scent is everywhere on my pillows and old jackets.
The way your old records are sitting on my shelf giving me a glimpse back into our old life when you’d take my hand and swing my body around to the tunes.
The way your silent breathing through the night calms me and helps me sleep.
The way your body felt in the morning when I climbed closer to steal your warmth.
The way your tongue tasted minty and aged after you’ve brushed your teeth from drinking whiskey all night.

Even when you aren’t here, all my memory stayed.

Forgetting you is like holding onto what’s familiar,
It’s expecting what was there to always be there.

My five senses will always hold you in memory, even when you aren’t here.

adult affection bed closeness
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

What we’re like to be in pain

It is so easy to feel bad for yourself
To wallow in self pity about everything that is wrong in your life and blame external factors for it

To feel as though an injustice was placed on you,
and you yourself is singled out to be worse off than everyone else.

It is so easy isn’t it ?
To listen to sad music and relate to the heartbreaking vocals
To sit outside watching rainfall while you light one up
To ponder at the same sky we all do and ask, “why me?”

When we’re at our worst, nothing feels better but hurting ourselves further
Testing our pain threshold more
Gauge how much more we can take.
Marinate in pain and sorrow.
Feeling sorry for ourselves.

It’s so wrong but feels so right to hurt

If I’m already in pain, what’s a little more ?

Read More. Believe More – Here’s my 2019 list of greats I will read.

Is it so terribly wrong that I’m already starting my reading list for 2019 when I’m still behind on finishing the last two for this year?

I got so excited with the list I have that I’ve just been researching, researching until I fell into this rabbit hole of anecdotal discovery.

  1. The Lessons of History 
    • What are the possibilities of humanity? Where did it start and where does the potential go? Questions I believe we should all ponder as we look to past generations and hope for new.
  2. The Sun and Her Flowers – Rupi Kaur
    • I received this for Christmas and finished it before the clock struck twelve on the 26th. It’s a great follow up novel to Milk & Honey. If you love soft poetry colored with beautiful personification, grab it off the shelf and read it to your beloved.
  3. Laws of Human Nature
    • Robert Greene’s latest that I aim to finish right ater art of seduction
  4. The Art of Seduction
    • a classic Robert Greene providing historical figure’s tools and devices in realizing charm
  5. Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind
    • If you haven’t heard about this book, you haven’t been in the literary world recently. Praised by Captain America himself, Chris Evans shared that we must all understand our roots and how it lead our people (all people) to where we are today. I haven’t finished this just yet but I do want to share, this is what our grade school teachers should have taught in history class.
  6. The Decaying Pillars by Steve Ruygrok
    • I know a published author! Proud to be a coworker of his, Steve Ruygrok dropped of this book for me to read before beta reading his next novel.
  7. Herstory: 50 Women and Girls who shook up the world
    • Women lead. Women breathe life. Women are just as important as the men we remember from history. So why aren’t they on a pedestal as much as the great men? Let’s honor the women who long ago have broken the glass ceiling before Sheryl Sandberg.
  8. East of Eden
    • This is a hefty read but who doesn’t love a John Steinbeck classic?
  9. #GirlBoss
    • Sophia Amoruso is a special kind of person. She breaks all the rules and rebels with every bone in her body. I idolize her intrinsic nature to lead, mix personal style with passion and drive to help other women strive for what they deem as success.
  10. The Golden Compass
    • This is a must purely because I received the collection (#11, #12 below as well) as a christmas gift more than 2 years ago now.
  11. The Subtle Knife
  12. The Amber SpyGlass
  13. An absent mind
    • alzheimer’s touches me deeply with it taken my grandfather not long ago. This story follows a man’s struggle with the disease and the effect to his family in the final days.
  14. Getting to Know Gen Z .pdf
    • I feel old when Gen Z is the major topic of discussion and no longer the “entitled” millennials. I will say after finishing this PDF earlier this month, it made me realize the affects my parents had in raising me with a “can do” attitude and how it lead my generation to come off as “entitled.” Gen Z is the safer generation learning from the failures of mine and reaching further than my cohorts did in fighting for their beliefs. Not just racial, gender, and sexual orientation equality but also a long winded battle for environmental conservation, social imprint in bringing people together and much more. They have a louder voice than we did and it makes me so happy, we’re all leaning in and learning from generations younger than ourselves.
  15. The Autobiography of Malcom X
    • this was a recommendation and I honestly haven’t researched much.
  16. Michelle Obama’s Becoming
    • Top seller towards end of 2018, Michelle Obama is a powerhouse but continues to spread kindness.
  17. The Power by Naomi Alderman
    • What would happen if young women had superpowers balancing the status quo between genders? Will there be a shift in the superior gender juxtaposed to what it is now IRL? I’m curious to read
  18. On Writing by Stephen King
  19. Unlimited Memory: How to Use Advanced Learning Strategies to Learn Faster, Remember More and be More Productive

  20. The Day the World Came to Town
    • Come from Away, the Tony award winning musical guided me to understanding what I could not comprehend at age 11 when 9/11 had happened. I was 4 years into arriving on American soil, still picking up the English language when my 6th grade teacher made us all stand staring at the TV showing the planes flying into the Twin Towers. The Day the World Came to Town is a tribute to the kindness in others when the US needed it the most. Newfies (the locals in Newfoundland) took in the stranded for 5 days and showed a kindness I never thought could exist. We all think of how crude this world can be, but here was a pocket of land where people only shared kindness. It’s right there, above where we live and we just need to adopt that same philosophy. Help those in need, spread love and kindness, and give hope where we can. We’re all brothers and sisters to the land Mother Nature gave us, so why do draw lines on a map dividing each other?
  21. Crazy Rich Asians
    • For the light hearted who want nothing but hilarity and couture mixed with of course much needed old school Chinese tradition.

I was wrong about love

His lips tasted like salt water and freshly soaked wood on a rainy day. A combination that usually repulses me was like sweet nectar as I drank it in.

His hair smelled of faded cologne muddied with hair wax as he leaned over and placed his head on my right shoulder, prickling my skin with the stubble on his chin. A sensation that tickles and makes me uncomfortable felt familiar and warm.

When we kiss, it’s never as simple as a kiss. It’s twirling in euphoria and time standing still. It’s ignorance for everything around us except the moment we are frozen in.

He advances and I never pull away.

He tells me I’m beautiful, I don’t immediately think, “lie, lie, lie, lie….”

Am I blinded? Do I have my guard down? Or am I finally letting someone in?

I’m not sure if I’ve figured it out but I do know I was wrong.

I used to crave perfection. A paper perfect checklist of attributes and accomplishments. Instead, I found a man who was on a journey as much as I was. The type of man who’d walk 500 miles to fall down at your door. He sits on the floor with you when you’re drunk and crying at 11pm, 2am, & 4am even when he’s drunk himself. The perfect man doesn’t give you butterflies because he doesn’t exist. What does exist, is a man who will be your anchor as he lifts you up and tells you, you’re his Evangeline.