Thanksgiving Day

"What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love." -Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I am grateful. There are so many external factors for which I am grateful, most notably are the ones that I am sure we all feel, our families, our friends, a roof over head and warm food in our bellies. But this year, I am struck with gratitude for something that feels selfish, at first, but stay with me. I am grateful for my heart. My poor, torn, battered, and beaten heart that pumps life through my veins and renews itself over and over again. My heart has been pushed to the breaking point and has come back with such resilience and sincerity and an overwhelming capacity to give and receive love. It is because of this heart, which often feels as though it is hanging by threads, that I am able to feel the wealth of gratitude I have for the aforementioned external factors in my life which contribute so generously to my life's richness. It has been in my darkest moments when my brain tells me that I can’t go on, I can’t give love away again and open myself up to such pain, that my heart steps in and reminds me that to love and be loved is worth it, and that I can and will keep giving love and accepting it in return. It is for this that I am grateful; this torn up and beaten down heart that never gives up, never breaks down, and never grows cold. With this, I wish you the happiest day, and I leave you with an invitation to push your heart to the maximum of its capacity to love and be loved. If I can do it, you can do it. Happy Thanksgiving, dear ones. I love you.

Themes and therapy.

I recently finished seven, 12-hour days of school in a row.  I am in school to get my master's in counseling psychology and hopefully get my MFT license.  The school that I chose is not your run of the mill school, but used to be named the Institute for Transformative Learning, or something like that.  Long story short, it is a hippy dippy new wave institution in which I have grown and learned a TON and I fucking love it, but it is really hard.  Like, really hard.  Not like, damn, it's tough to be in school such long hours because listening to a lecture is tough, but more like, damn, I am doing so much work on myself and I am emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausted and I feel like my eyeballs are going to pop out because I have been crying so much.

It's a lot like therapy, but it's education.

This past week I learned a lot about myself as I was pushed by a difficult person in my cohort.  A common theme came up in my life that I guess I had always known was there, but I wasn't working with or processing in any healthy way.  That theme is that good things in my life get cut short and then I shut down.

Seriously. Think about that for a hot second.

I am sure it happened before KC died, and it stands to reason that this is just a natural rhythm of life. Good things happen, bad things happen, wash, rinse, repeat.  But the shut down part, that is a problem.  It's a problem because it keeps me from having experiences and I am afraid I am missing valuable time in my life.  Maybe this is why I am not able to successfully date someone.  Maybe this is why I have only gone for unavailable men since I tried to start dating.  Maybe this is why when things start going well for me, I get ill.

What I know is that I am wasting time and I don't have much of it, so I want to make it worth something.  I don't want fear to rule my life.  I don't want to be the Debbie Downer-let's-live-like-everything-is-shit-because-eventually-we'll-all-be-dead character who I see myself becoming. I need to be able to trust people.  I need to be able to trust the world around me.  I need to believe that love is still an available option for me.  And the most salient point? I need help.  I am not healthy in the mind body soul kind of way that I want to be.  So I am looking for a good therapist. Know someone? Let me know.  I want to disrupt this theme in my life and be able to be a well-adjusted person who believes in the goodness that I do know is there. I just need to be able to tap into that and find a way to become willing to risk pain for love again.

I just wonder if that is possible.

Well, today was stupid.

I hate days like today.  Everything started off sideways and just kept at it.  I was really trying to turn it around, and at one point I even thought I had it.  But no.  More shit.  I felt ineffective and naive. Those are two of the worst feelings besides grief, I think.  I am at work and I am not being affective so I feel like shit.   I was thoughtless about social media (like a fucking dummy) and it bit me in the ass and now I feel naive, and that feels shitty.  So that's where I am at.  And the WORST part, you ask? No KC to make me feel better at the end of the day.  No anyone to make me feel better at the end of the day.  Just come home to my parents house and hide away and feel shitty til I don't. Happy mother fuckin Tuesday.

It's most illogical

I was really actively trying to date. Like, really trying. I asked people to set me up. I went online. I had 4 dates set up since the first of the year. Every single one of them fell off of the face of the earth as soon as the words "it's a date" were uttered. I am not taking it personally. I truly feel like I am a catch and I really think it is they're loss, and if they're that type of douche bag I would like to know before I waste any real time on them, so I considered it a gift. One night, a couple of weeks ago, I had a little moment of clarity where I realized, without any self-loathing, self-deprecation, and especially no self pity that I am just going to be alone. And for the first time I am kind of ok with that. I was so lucky to have been loved so well, like seriously loved SOOOOO well. I mean, it was instant, and true, and electric, and I remember feeling like I couldn't squeeze him hard enough, I couldn't tell him enough what he meant, the word love seemed so small and meaningless compared to the level of profundity and abundance I had for him and the I KNEW and I still KNOW in my whole being that it was 100% reciprocal. How could I ever expect that again? It's just....illogical and childish to think I will ever be in love like that twice in a lifetime. I wasn't sad when I realized this. I think I will have a boyfriend again, maybe after grad school someday. I am sure I will share time with someone. I would love to make children, but I am not sure I will have that chance either (that is what I am struggling to accept). But really, I have been alone for over 3 years now and I really truly like who I am and what I do. I am proud of myself and what I have accomplished since KC died and I believe he would be proud of me too. But, I have given up wasting time looking for the impossible. It's just not possible. But I think that's ok.

Seriously? Fucking Valentine's Day....

I have been in a shitty mood all week, and I think I have figured out why. No, it's not just Valentine's Day, however that has something to do with it. Having the fact that you are unattached when you don't want to be pointed out in such a blatant way does everything BUT make you want to celebrate love.  When you have lost love like I have, it hurts to see other people celebrating with their husbands, fiance's, or significant others.  It's everywhere. I tapped out on Facebook at 9am. Can't do it.  I keep clicking on it and instantly think, why the fuck are you doing this to yourself? Then comes the guilt. Why can't you just be happy for other people who you care about? Why can't you feel happy that people you love feel happy too? I hate that something as beautiful as the love that other people share makes me feel so sad. I hate that I have become one of the people who HATE Valentine's day. But really, if you think about it, I have only had 2 good Valentine's days in 30 years...not exactly battin a thousand here.

Anyway, the thing that has really gotten me down is so terrible I don't really even want to admit it. But here she goes...
I don't believe that I will fall in love again.
Damn.
Just sit with that for a moment. 


I am 30 years old and I lost the person who made me believe that love is real. I have dated other people since his passing. I have felt romantic feelings for other men.  But I have always known it wasn't right, or real. I've known there isn't a potential for love.  As much as I try not to make comparisons to KC, it's damn near impossible not to. I think it's great that I have a high bar set, but really, I think my bar is unreachable by any man who isn't KC.


So what, I'm doomed to a life of loneliness? Destined for black shrowded widowhood and sadness for the next 60 years? Fuck that. I really don't think that is going to happen, but I really don't believe, down in my soul, that I will ever be truly, recklessly, unconditionally, ridiculously in love ever again. And that is a daunting realization. 

So as for Valentine's Day. Fuck off with your red roses and chocolates (okleavethechocolate), I don't wanna see that shit.  But really, I love you, and I hope you're happy today, as ever. I am just feeling a little wounded and defensive, so I am trying to act tough. But crying in my office today was enough...

Dating Sucks.

I fucking hate it! I am trying to be available, open, look my best so I will feel my best, I am doing the online thing one TWO different sites! I am finding that the more options available the more I hate that I have to "pick" a new life partner. I signed up to do online dating because I thought it would quickly narrow down the options to just the one's who want what I want, but I am starting to think no one wants what I want. I am just being met with rapid fire rejection and men with whom I am completely uninterested. It is so unfair. I had everything with KC, everything. I shouldn't have to be looking again. And honestly, not to sound boastful, but I don't think it should be so fucking hard for me to find a nice guy who is reasonably attractive that wants to make babies. It's not like I am looking for a god-damned unicorn here, just a nice, funny person who is excited to raise a family. I entitled this post dating sucks, but I can't even say that I am even dating because I haven't actually been on any dates! Though I really don't want to, I think I just am going to have to get comfortable being alone. I have said it before, but I always felt like I had more work to do before I was really ready to date, and that was why I wasn't being flooded with opportunities. At this point, I feel like I know what I want. I feel like I am confident in who I am and what I have to offer someone in a relationship. And still nothing. I guess KC really was the only man for me.

My story

My story began and ended with tragedy.  I met my late fiancé at a funeral for the father of my dear friend, who, as it turned out, was KC’s Uncle.  I remember the very first time I saw him; he was walking through the reception hall of the church following the service. He was wearing a suit and had sunglasses on his head and he was with a beautiful young Asian woman.  I thought to myself too bad that guy is married, he’s so cute. That is the type of man I would want to be with. Following the service my friend asked me to accompany her to her mother’s house and stay with her. It was here that I met KC, and was pleasantly surprised to learn that the lovely young Asian woman he was with was not his wife, but his adopted sister. KC’s father, aunts and uncles have told me several times how they had never seen anything like it when KC and I met; it was electric. We clicked immediately and felt completely at ease with each other. I couldn’t believe I had only known this man for a mere couple of hours as I felt as if we were old friends.  KC would make little jokes about me, like that I was too tall in my heels and too tan from living in Orange County. Somehow even when he was making fun of me I could feel the affection and I knew it was his way of complimenting me.  KC and I were sitting outside and he leant me his sweater to stay warm. When I left that night with his cousin, my friend Heather, we were about halfway home when I realized I had left my phone in the pocket of his sweater, so we turned around to get go retrieve it.  I was so embarrassed when I walked back in the door to see him sitting there amongst his whole family, adorned in the sweater I had been wearing all night, with his hands in the pocket.  The room went quiet and he looked right at me, held out my phone to me and said “if you wanted my number so bad, you could’ve just asked me for it.”  I was mortified and the family all laughed. I took my phone and thanked him, and left.  When I got back in the car I looked at my phone and scrolled through my contact list, where I found his phone number.  Three days later, I called him and we set up a time for me to visit him in Santa Barbara.  I knew I loved him right away and KC always said the same thing.  We talked about living together on our first date (or more accurately, he tried his damndest to convince me to move from the OC to the SB).  Everything in me wanted to just say “OK I’ll send for my things!” but the logic within me and the fear of what the people in my life would think made me wait 3 months before moving to be with him. KC and I had so many adventures together, and we taught each other so much.  In less than three years, we visited mexico, Mammoth Lakes, traveled the entirety of the California Coast, partied in Las Vegas and hiked the mountainsides in search of wild mushrooms, fished the Channel Islands, and even lived in Southeast Alaska for 5 months.  All this time we knew this was the real thing, and we often talked late into the night about how we would raise our children (one of our own, then adopting another one or two).  We had a timeline and a plan. Everything we wanted was coming to us, and just two months after returning from our summer Alaskan adventure, KC took me to one of our favorite coastal escapes on the Sonoma Coast in Gualala.  We had this tiny little cottage all to ourselves with a bay window that looked right out at the ocean; it was incredible! After a quick tour of the grounds and a little mushroom hunt, I was sitting in the bay window wrapped in a blanket and reading.  KC walked over to me and stood at my feet looking out the window but not saying anything.  He looked a little strange to me, so I closed my book and asked what he was doing.  I could tell he was starting to cry and I reached for his hand but he pulled it away.  He looked up toward the ceiling and took a deep breath, and then looked toward me and said “Babe, you know I’m going to love you forever, right?” I said “yes,” and he went on. “And you know that as long as we’re together, we’ll be OK, and we can do anything.  And that no one can ever love you like I love you, right? You know that, right?” (Here is where it is tough to remember the details). I said “yes” and he dropped to one knee and held out a little heart shaped box with a bow on it.  I think I asked him what it was and he told me to open it.  I said “you have to say it, you have to ask me!”  He looked me straight in the eye and said “babe, will you marry me?”  I took the ring from the box, handed it to him, and held out my left hand; I couldn’t speak.  He put the ring on my finger and I kissed him.  He said “you never answered me.”  I screamed “YES YES YES!!!!” and jumped into his arms.  We sat on the window for hours and talked about our wedding and all the plans we had to make, what songs we would dance to and who would be in our bridal parties.  It was perfect.

            The days that followed were the happiest I can ever remember.  We were back in Santa Barbara, everyone knew he was proposing and knew we were coming home engaged and everyone we knew was so happy for us. It was eight days after he proposed when he went out lobster diving with his father and a friend. I was no stranger to this as fishing and diving was his obsession and this happened on a weekly basis.  Around sun down that day I got a call from KC’s father, Dave.  I answered and asked if they were back in. He said yes, and asked me where I was. I told him I was in my apartment. Then he asked me if I was alone and I knew something was wrong. Instantly I flashed that KC must be in the hospital; I thought he got the bends. I said “is everything ok?” “No.” I collapsed. He went on “KC went down for his first dive and he didn’t come back up.” I dropped the phone, and my friend Ashlee picked it up and talked to Dave. I heard her scream through what sounded like a tunnel.  KC was missing for about 30 hours until his body was found outside of a cave on the front side of Santa Cruz Island.  When his sister, Emily, came in the door and told me they had found him I already knew he was gone, but I was hoping. She told me “they found him, but he’s, he wasn’t, he isn’t alive.” I was back in the tunnel, couldn’t hear people talking to me, couldn’t see straight, couldn’t stand, couldn’t cry or talk.  My next memory is being in my mother’s car and begging her to take me with him, but she said she couldn’t. Then the hospital. Then drugs. Then a week of flickering memories and lots of people and no food and everyone trying to give me food. December 4, 2010, two days before my twenty-seventh birthday and eight days after getting engaged my world ended as I knew it.

Panic

Sometimes, in grief, I notice these moments of panic. They are subtle and internal, which I suppose makes panic seem, well, hyperbole. I keep these feelings subtle because I know if I do what my body wants to do I will ruin my life. If I do what I am supposed to do, what my body and heart wants, like throw a giant fucking fit, or cut myself, or get drunk, or take meds, run away, or shut down, if I do that there will be consequences lasting far longer than the urges I have to do these things. So I just sit and breathe and sometimes cry a little (or a lot) and feel all of the feelings that I have and wait for it to go away. See, I know I am not crazy, because I know that these urges would make me seem crazy so I control it. Right? I mean if I were really crazy I wouldn't be thinking about cause-and-effect type consequences, I would just act on impulse. I mean, right?

I just sometimes get really overwhelmed by loneliness and I get scared that I will always be alone. This generally happens when I am, in point of fact, alone (which I am sure exacerbates the issue, although on rare occasions it will happen in public). But I just get scared I guess that it is impossible for me to be loved ever again. Or at least for me to accept it and love someone back. It happens every single day, people fall in love. It seemed so super special and significant when KC and I fell in love that I just feel like it is impossible to get that twice with a second man. I have tried to date, and I have actually dated. I have enjoyed the company of another man but it felt nothing like what it felt like when I fell in love with KC. I knew I loved KC and I knew he loved me, and we both knew it right away. And in the same way, I think *and I am scared to put this out there but this is how I am feeling*  that I know that I won't have the family that I want. So now I just have one question, knowing what I know.

How do I become OK with this life?

Today is a day that makes me fucking hate to be widowed. Scratch that, there aren't ever days that I'm like, "Oh yea, I am one sexy ass widow and proud of it!" But some days I feel empowered, more compassionate, more knowledgeable, more sympathetic, empathetic, stronger, all of these really positive things as a result of what I have survived. Today is not one of those days. I didn't have a great day at work. I had to physically restrain a kid and that always sucks, especially when it results in back pain.  My car is falling apart, and as I have a shit-for-pay job I am not really able to give it the TLC it deserves, and therefore Optimus Prime is swiftly becoming a hooptie. Not super fun to "dip through the hood" in (as KC would have said). I am coming towards the end of a very stressful class in school and I am not feeling very confident in what I will turn in on Saturday. I have started to see a boy, socially. This, I think, is really what is causing me inner turmoil. I like him. It is unexpected. He was unexpected. I really like being with him and I find myself thinking of him often. He is terribly kind, and attentive, and funny, and sweet. He is much different physically than any one who I have ever dated in the past, though I guess I never really did have a "type."  Things are progressing slowly which is great, I need it that way, but I am just so bad at this. I never thought I would have to do it again, and frankly, I was never really any good at this dating stuff. KC was, he taught me how to be with him. This new guy is different, which is great, but similar, which is also great, but weird. I worry about texting him too much or bugging him. I just don't fucking know how to do this! I don't know how to talk to him about my feelings because it would make the feelings really real to say them out loud.
All of this is another reminder of my loss all the time, not that I need any reminders, but still. I am trying so hard to be open and just let things unfold naturally, and I think I am being successful in that when in the moment with him. I am just scared. There are implications and things that pop into my head all the time, like introducing him to family and friends who knew KC. I worry so much about how these people in my life may respond to him---or me with him---and what they will think about all of it. I guess I just wonder how people could possibly understand the co-existence of romantic feelings in such a way when I don't understand it myself. I still love and miss KC desperately, but yet I have these new romantic feelings about another man, a good man, and I don't even really know what these feelings mean, so how could I possibly expect him to understand, or my parents, or KC's dad and sister, or anyone? Will people feel that I am betraying KC's memory? That is the last thing I want. Will I be able to really fall in love again? I don't know. If I can't answer these questions, maybe I shouldn't be dating anyone yet. But the fact remains, the new guy makes me happy when I am with him, and I continue wanting to be with him, so it wouldn't be true to me to stop this.....right? Or am I justifying neglectful and disrespectful and hurtful behavior to meet my own selfish and primal needs? What I do know is it that it feels good to be wanted, to be doted upon, to be touched sweetly and held gently. I miss these things and I want them again, but maybe I don't really get them again. Maybe it isn't in the cards. But then again, maybe it is. I'm not putting pressure on this new *relationship* nor am I operating under the delusion that this dude has to be the man I marry in order to entertain the thought of dating him, but it is just tough to not go there. So here I am, delirious after a long, shit day, and questioning everything I know and feel while successfully avoiding writing my paper. What do I do? Fuck if I know. Happy hump day, hahahaha....


*** I seriously doubt it, but New Guy, if you're reading this, please don't get scared away! I am not quite as crazy as my blog might make me sound, this is merely my stream of consciousness and mode of catharsis to release all my muhfuckin crazy. If you are reading this, and you are NOT scared away, I guess we got something good goin...so there's that.