From work with love

Why is it that for the last few months I have had this overwelming urget to contact him? I wonder why I think this will be the best thing for my sanity. I am sitting at work, as I came in early this mornign, blogging about this, hoping that the Universe will offer me answers. So far none have come through. I am left wondering why he did this to me!? I am left with no answers and a feeling of complete emptiness. So I am sending it out there.... and hoping something comes back. Why? And if there is to be no answer ever, can I not have a little peace by now?
I am off to a bachelorette party this weekend. Staying downtown Vancouver. I am ready to let loose and have a good time. This will include but not be limited to drinking, dancing, male stippers, and tons of girl time. When I return from said party my current roommate will be gone and my friend with the babies will be in. Yes I am nervous.

Piece for Peace

I am in a constant debate as of late on whether or not I am going to send said break up letter. I want to share my feelings with him, as I am sure I have mentioned a million times. I want him to see the hurt that he caused and how badly I feel. I want him to know tricking me into an abortion was probably the lowest thing he could have done imaginable. The question is, if he doesn't already know that then will my words matter? And if he does know it and he did it anyway, again will they matter? The questions for me are endless. Will I be OK if I never hear from him. Am I do this to throw a wrench in their marriage? I miss him lately. I am tired of being alone but not ready to love anyone new. I miss who he was to me and am dying for that last conversation. That conversation that makes things OK between us. Or at least gives me a moment to say my piece, and perhaps find some peace? I want to know this is a good idea before I send it. But then the question becomes how will I ever know until I do it? So I fall back on the question, is this a decision a girl who loves herself would make..... and the answer is I have no idea. A girl who loves herself might seek closure but at the same time might seek closure without having to say anything to him. Fuck I don't know.

Post Fake Birthday

I am sitting on my patio enjoying coffee and the sun. I managed to survive my fake birthday by getting over the top drunk during Shabbat. It was ridiculous but just what I needed: good friends letting me get pissed and making me laugh. Sometimes when you are so heartbroken that your sure you dead heart will cause you to die the only thing to do is get drunk and laugh. When I woke up in the morning the pain had subsided and I was free to carry on with my weekend. Which I did with gusto. Yesterday was spent at Beaver lake, followed with good summer time movies with popcorn on the couch. A nice sleep in this morning, and now I am sitting out here on the patio sipping coffee and enjoy the sunshine. I am actively trying to combat heartbreak with good times this weekend. I don't know if this battle will be a winner but I vow to keep on keeping on.

My Fake BIRTHDAY

Today is my fake birthday. D christened today my fake birthday years ago. We always celebrate with cake, and sometimes roses. Always birthday sex. Always an extra effort made on this day for me. So in response to that I took a beer into the shower today and cried my eyes out. I cried for all the I have lost. And all that I thought I had. And all that I will never have again. For the man who I loved who thought I was worth two birthdays a year. For the man who doesn't exist anymore. I really loved him. I think he loved me too. Life just got in the way. Maybe he was never the man for me, but part of me believes that he is my person. Out there without me. Today I am utterly heartbroken.

In my Garden..... literally

There is something so soothing about working in the garden; I become completely immersed in what I am doing. Just feeling a sense of accomplishment as things grow. I had my first strawberry ripen yesterday. I have been watching the plants patiently waiting for something to happen.

I was so proud of my skills as it grew before my eyes and it was so ripe and delicious. I think that perhaps the thing about gardening is there are obvious results. Life is so complicated and difficult at times. Gardening offers time outside, in solitude, while still keeping busy both mind and body. In the end there is something beautiful. Sometimes edible. Lately things seem like they are swirling out of control with me; I have a new roommate who has two children and they are moving in shortly. I miss D every day and wonder why he doesn't miss me. I spend an incredible amount of time alone thinking. I am not feeling very satisfied with my AVI volunteering. I need a new job. It just feels like I need some time away to regroup. Perhaps regenerate. Gardening offers a little beauty in my day and a moment of respite however brief it may be.

Entitled?

I had a conversation last night with a group of friends after a lovely dinner on the patio that concerned me. We were casually joking about moving back in with our parents and somehow it shifted to how hard done by our generation is. How much harder we have it than our parents generation. From buying a home to choosing a career our generation, and us personally have it so hard. I cannot stress how ridiculous I found this, to say that our parents had it easy is absurd. It is trivializing how hard they worked for us to have the lives we have bothered me. What really struck a cord with me is this sense of entitlement that seems to be out there. Why do we just automatically deserve to be home owners? Why do our start homes have to resemble the our parent end homes? I am really surprised that there is this belief out that somehow our parents should help us because they can. I know how lucky I am, I have parents who give and give. I just never want to get to the point where I expect them to give me everything that they have. I need to earn my own way, however difficult this way has become. I cannot run home at twenty-seven because I can't have everything I want when I want it. Where is this sense of work ethic coming from? Did our parents unknowingly create this sense of entitlement because they gave us everything we ever wanted. I wonder if children who do not come from upper middle class families have this same work ethic. The whole thing surprised me. The funny thing is no one at the table was very hard done by. One of us is going travelling for seven months through the south pacific on a sail boat, one us is attending a master program, and then I know I am not hard done by. I live in a beautiful home in Victoria, I am going to Paris for my summer vacation, I am never hungry, I have nice clothes, and computers, and cable, and the list goes on and on.... So do I want more? Of course. It is perhaps part of the human condition. Do I expect it to be easy? No. I might have to work twice as hard, and for way longer to buy a home that my parents own outright. But did my parents get to go to University on their parent's dime. No. Did they get to travel Europe on their parents dime. No. But I did. I got all this and more. So it is a trade off. Some things come easier and some things comes harder. The simple truth is we are not entitled, we need to earn it.

A little token wisdom

“In youth we learn; in age we understand.” Mare Von Ebner-Eschenback

Keeping the Crazy out

Why are people so determined to bring you into the crazy??? I don't know if other people experience this problem but it feels like I am constantly being asked to participate in crazy. Today I agreed to go shopping with my future roommate because she needs to get some items for her sons for the move. Unfortunately we had to stop by to drop off her son for his nap at her house (which she is vacating) and her crazy partner came out to freak out at me. She is mad because I refuse to communicate with her. Why should that be a problem? I am not refusing to communicate with her about the children but I am refusing to communicate with her outside of the children. Why should I be subject to such intense craziness? I do not need this in my life and am trying to create a boundary. This should not be so hard but yet every time I try to place one I receive resistance. I do not want crazy people in my life, that is why I am no longer communicating with my Stepmother. I do not want hurtful people in my life. I do not want people who drain me of all emotion. I do not want people who do not bring anything positive to the relationship. Is this such a huge line in the sand? Apparently so.

The break up letter

It is another warm evening here in Victoria. Writing from my bed. My very empty bed. I am lonely. Not all the time but when I am bed, I find that the loneliness hits the hardest here. Here is where his touch still echos in my body and I can still feel him when I curl up on my side. I can still hear his breathing and feel safe in his arms. I wonder what those arms would feel like if they were wrapped around me now? If I would ever feel safe there again?

I wrote him a letter yesterday. A heartbreaking, bare it all letter complete with tear stains on the page. I have it in an envelope along with two other letters I have written in the progression of our break up. In an enveloped addressed to him with a stamp. All I need to do is stick it in a mailbox and then I open up the dialogue.

I am not sure if I really want to hear back from him though. I mean part of me desperately wants to hear his voice, hear him say everything is OK. But I don't think I have the ability to believe him anymore. And who knows what he would say really? In the end he could say something even more damaging to me. I mean he has proven that hurting me means nothing to him. That is inconsequential. How did I ever become inconsequential?

Thoughts from my patio

I am out sitting on my patio this morning, nursing a hangover. It is gorgeous and sunny here today, and what I should be doing is going to the beach but I can not seem to get the strength together to go. Last night was interesting, I spent the evening celebrating my friend's birthday in a group of women. The reason that they are all women is because they are also all lesbians. It was wonderful having a man free night, but unfortunately for me those seem more often than not lately. I miss him lately when I wake up. I dream about him at night. He has seeped into my daily conscious again. I am struggling all over again with the concept that he doesn't care what happens to me. I almost don't believe, the cruelty is too much. He is so harsh sometimes and I wonder what in our relationship could have lead to such an intense anger. It could not have been all about me, although maybe it was. Maybe he was tired of balancing me with his other life. Maybe I was too demanding of him. I kept wanting more. I wanted more and more all the time, and was demanding that he leave his wife for me. So maybe that is the problem. But then I stop to consider what that means and really I was just demanding the things in life I deserve. A man who is faithful to me and me alone is not too much to ask. Going on a holiday with someone you have been with for years is not too much to ask. It is though when the married man is a coward, and will not tell you what he really wants. Well fuck him.
I spent the day at Beaver lake yesterday with my "birthday" friend and a coworker. Picnic with beer while bathing in the sun was a lovely way to spend the day. Today promises to be a little more low key. Perhaps a nap. Definitely a shower. BBQ for dinner and then True Blood. All and all a nice summer day. Just wish I wasn't spending it alone. Sans man. Oh well. C'est La Vie.

Building blocks

Lovely summer night. Book club in the backyard of a friend's house. The air was warm and the sun was shining and the shade was a haven. It was something out of a Henry James novel, with the tables set up off to the side, with the various salads, cakes, and cold drinks laid out in a beautiful spread.

The simple joys in life often make me stop and give pause, realizing that it is things like this, evenings with wonderful women that have gotten me through this horrible break up/break down or whatever you want to call it. All of these various activities I have joined have given me the strength I needed to get through the first hump. It has been several months, and although I still miss him I am not consumed. I still cry but not even as much as when I was with him. I am busy and the key is that I am busy becoming the person I want to be. I am a woman who belongs to a book club. Who is learning how to cook. Who is volunteering for causes I believe in. Who doesn't need to look at her phone a hundred times a day, and certainly can stop and really listen now. I wasn't able to listen before. I was too busy worrying about his next text, his next call, his next visit, to really stop and hear what my friends were saying. I couldn't be any one's shoulder. I was too busy worrying about staying afloat myself. I was not capable of being the woman I wanted to be then and now I am slowly putting myself on the correct road. The road not taken and all that jazz. So thanks for a lovely evening ladies. While I made myself so busy trying to survive life, I also managed to build a life I can enjoy piece by piece. Little by little.

Ms. McBeal I think you have a point

Today felt like summer. It was hot enough that I had to take my cardigan off while walking home from work. I started my morning off in the heat, looking up at the sun and smiling. I picked my playlist on my ipod based on my sunny disposition and found myself listening to songs like "Fire" by both Bruce and then the version by The Pointer Sisters. Summer rockin out while walking to work. I ate lunch on the patio in the sun. I put sunscreen on and actually thought about reapplying. I used my fan in my bedroom. I am now sitting on my bed with my patio door wide open and a nice warm air with a hint of flowers is drifting in. Summer is here. And of course this also makes me miss him. Yes I know EVERYTHING seems to make me miss him but I think this is somewhat valid. I miss hot sex. Summertime sex with him. I miss picnics, especially in open fields. I miss sleeping in the backseat of my car with him in a field somewhere in Nanaimo. I miss "our" spot under the canopy of trees right by the exit into Nanaimo. The list goes on and on.
I went to a friends house tonight to watch Ally McBeal. That is a great show. I mean "bygones people, bygones". Seriously brilliant. Anyways the point of this rant is that while I was watching the pilot episode I was thinking this is no longer something I can not relate to. She is supposed to be a twenty-eight year old woman, starting a career, dealing with the loss of her first real love and trying to figure out who she really is. When I first watched this show I was a teenager. I thought it was hilarious and great, but I didn't know what it was to be in your late twenties and still feel like you don't really have it yet. Twenty-seven and still picking the path. Ally says something wise at the end of the episode though; she talks about liking the turmoil, liking the challenges, even the drama, because it means she is still on the journey. That she is attempting to live the authentic life, whatever that may be for her. Now I am paraphrasing, but I think her message was essentially that. Live the journey, cause in the end the getting there is life. Food for thought.
Link to purchase Ally McBeal complete series

Hurricane D

I keep hearing "we belong together baby" over and over in my head by Maria Carie. A little getoutthepinkbicandtakethatlastbath kind of music. He left me in the most terrible way imaginable and he isn't sorry about it. Or at least to my knowledge. So I sometimes need to replay our tragic ending and cry in the shower. I do not have therapy this week, which is of my own doing. I am trying to ween my way down to every other week because although it is helping I need to be the cure. I just might not be ready to stop talking about D. He is the train wreck I am recovering from.

I went to Beaver Lake this weekend with my friends for a birthday picnic. I was sitting in the gorgeous sunshine, enjoying the view and the happening soccer game my friends were playing, and yet I was huddled in deep discussion with one of my girlfriends who compared what happened to me to being raped. Now I would never presume to know what that is like I imagine there are some similar elements, like the violation and the sense of betrayal. What he did was such a violation of everything we were, and all the rights I had to make the right decision about the baby.  I don't know how he manages to creep into my present so often. Sitting at the lake enjoying a picnic and all of a sudden he is there in my mind, in my heart. I must learn how to keep him from invading my present. He is my past not my future.

Today I bought a journal and on the cover it says,
           
              today I had a conversation with my true self.
              She asked me why I had abandoned her,
              why I had ignored all her constant advice.
              And then she reminded me of all the things
              I had forgotten.
              And never once
              did she say,
             "I told you so."

I feel in love with it because this is me. I ignored my inner voice for so long, I forgot what she sounded like. Who she was. I missed her so much. She was trying to protect me this whole time from the Hurricane that is D, if only I had sought refuge in her boarded up home, hidden in the basement. I should have ran to her so many times and let myself be taken in. Instead I chose to weather the storm above ground, out in the open and I was wounded, almost mortally so. I need to really learn this. To remember this lesson. To carry it with me wherever I go. I feel like this one will be really important.

Garlic Scape Pesto Recipe!

I was checking out some of my favorite blogs this morning and noticed on Audrey wants more wooden spoons she had posted the recipe for garlic scape pesto. I did this myself last week with a friend and after almost blowing the blender up (warning they are very sinewy) I thought I would share her recipe, just follow the link!

http://paigeout.blogspot.com/2010/07/fresh-from-market-garlic-scape-pesto.html

More later, my Mom and Aunt are visiting this weekend so busy, busy, busy!