Who the heck is Pablo anyway? (Insert crying laughing face here)

Current Age: 28

Gym Status: On the grind, most of the time

Dating Status: Nonexistent

Goals: Unsure

Accomplishments 2015-16:

• Surviving a tornado
• Sauntering through a grand total of 2 Spartan Races without dying or losing an eye
• Lowering my cholesterol; therefore increasing my bio-metric screening score at work 

Let’s get introspective, right now.

What is your current opinion of yourself? 

Does it vary day-to-day, or is it pretty consistent? 

Lately, I’ve been turning this topic over in my mind. It’s something I think of often, mostly because I don’t have a very high self-opinion. I wish I did. But I have never been the kind of person to really really love themselves. This, I know, is my most unattractive quality. More unattractive than the last 40 pounds I am self convinced I need to get rid of.

Let’s ponder though, where our self-opinion comes from. What develops it?  What fosters it?  Where does our intrinsic love or loathing come from?  I think that it’s a combination of many things, nevertheless, I believe that it comes from the way that we see ourselves, and unfortunately the way we think others see us.

My entire life, I’ve always been on the chubby side. Minus college.  College, I was thinner than I was in high school.  Being chubby, in my experience, is painful. You just feel like you’re constantly trying to escape yourself. You wish that you could be outside of who you really are physically, which causes you to want to be outside of who you really are mentally as well.  It’s hard to understand that your physical appearance does not define the person you really are. There are plenty of beautiful people out there who are evil miscreants. People are people. No matter what they look like.

Just recently, I was looking through recent pictures that I had been tagged in. Throughout my entire weight loss journey, I learned how to pose in such a way that would limit what kind of imperfections people would see in the picture. Tilt your head just so, in case someone sees a potential double chin, or wrinkle. Part your hair this way, so that it’s not looking too thin on top. Pop your hip out that way, so that you look longer and thinner than you really are. It’s fucking exhausting. At the end of the day, I look at the pictures, and don’t even like them anyway, so I end up overthinking how badly I wish I could change the imperfections that I so blatantly see.

2013-A year of deep self introspection.

2014-Lost 40 so pounds. This was my crowning achievement. The year of all years. This is where I really came into myself. Left the old life behind and started anew. This was my year.

2015-Total pounds lost: 50. Two Spartan races and a giant blister later…I was really rocking it.

I love to look back at my progress. It actually makes me feel happy.  I often get discouraged, because I feel like I have this huge mountain to get over in order to achieve what I think is necessary in order to feel like I am where I want to be physically. I go to Orange Theory, and I work out, and when we have to face the mirror for floor exercises, I turn myself away from it if I can. Because I again focus on every little imperfection that I see. At work, we have elevators with reflective doors. I try to turn away from those, because I hate looking at my entire reflection. I again, see everything.

At this point, you’re probably saying ‘Alex, you need help’.

But wait, here’s the redeeming part of this blog:

I might turn away from the mirror at OT. But when I do this, I think about my first month of that workout regimen. Every time I’d get there, I’d be so nervous. I would immediately get on the treadmill because it was the worst part of the workout routine. I’d sort of saunter along, and when the time came, I would always walk when we were supposed to be in an active recovery base pace. When it came to do an ‘All-Out’ I would sort of increase my speed two notches and roll with it. I think about my feelings about the running portion of OT now, and I get pretty excited. Inclines still kill me, but I go all out during All Out(s)! Wednesday night, I started my all out at a 6, increased to a 7, and finished at a 7.5.

7.5. It was an incredible feeling. A feeling that I cannot describe. It’s this sense of sheer joy. I can compare it to the way a person would feel when they’ve figured something out for the first time. It feels damn good. I look back to everything I feel about myself when I catch a glimpse of random reflections, and I say ‘Listen, you are by far, miles ahead of where you were during this time in 2013.’

Then I, I say to myself…..

Let yourself appreciate it.

It’s tough, but I think that slowly I am letting myself appreciate the things I am able to do now. At the end of the day, I know that I have come such a long way. The girl I was almost 4 years ago, was such a different person. If I saw her on the street today, and attempted conversation, I probably wouldn’t know her at all.  This is an amazing feeling, and it outshines all of the negative things I sometimes think about when I look in the mirror.

You, see, there’s so much more to life than negativity---and life’s too short to ignore all of the amazing things you’re capable of.

As Bruce Lee once said:

“If you always put a limit on everything you do, physical or anything else, it will spread into your work and into your life. There are no limits. There are only plateaus, and you must not stay there, you must go beyond them.”

Here’s to my inner struggle….and moving beyond it.

A.

The Hourglass

Time. It's precious, and I discuss it quite often. We base our lives on time. We move through our days constantly looking at the clock. Will I be late for work?  When will this class end?  When do I finally get to go home? When I think back to my childhood, I remember I could not wait to drive. I couldn't wait to turn 21, and I surely was excited to turn 25 for that famed car insurance discount. Now I wish I could go back in time, sometimes. Just to relive the moments I think I might have missed out on.

Time isn't just something I think we should just throw or wish away. It's what we are built on. It's what we take for granted, yet it's what we cherish. It is funny to think about. Those 10 extra minutes of sleep that I covet every morning....those are 10 minutes I know I am wasting. Valuable time, just gone. Then I am typically rushing around to get out of the house on time. Regardless of the rush, I still stall as long as humanly possible just to avoid being productive. It's a shame, but maybe there's something about the physical rush that gives me mental stimulation. Really, though, let's be honest. This is me we're talking about. No mental stimulation comes from the stress of being rushed. I'm just lazy.

So what am I talking about here?  Well, honestly, I am not talking about being late for work, or even stalling to go somewhere. I am talking about time, and about how 'life's deadlines' just sort of seem to pass some of us by. Very recently, I started thinking about myself, and where my life is at now. When I first started this blog, I was very worried about being alone. More than starting over, more than finding myself. I was worried about who I would be without another person. For quite some time, I thought that being with someone was the very thing that defined who I was. I was, in all essence, very mistaken.

3 years, 2 (almost 3) weddings later, and 1.5 caught bouquet(s)....I couldn't be more wrong. Well, sort of. You see, for awhile, I didn't mind being me by myself. There's something liberating about doing your own shit, when you want to. It's also funny---especially when others are like 'Be careful here, and don't talk to someone there, and be aware of things at this place, etc...etc...'.  Well, I go everywhere by myself---and I am still alive. Impending doom hasn't caught up with me thus far, so I think we're okay. Nevertheless, attending events sort of makes you realize, that you are 'doing your own shit'....with yourself....all of the time. Every single day.

I suppose it's always been in the back of my mind...but hasn't really bothered me. It's always been a thought, like "Gee, pretty sure 3 years of being single means that I might be alone forever." Match.com has been a bust, and Tinder, while entertaining, just doesn't really do it's thing for me. I am not the kind of person to approach someone in a bar---AND have realized that I am more than overly picky when it comes to dating. It's probably a defense mechanism to be honest.

Very recently, it was brought to my attention that I was perhaps 'ruined'.  That's the way it was put. And while I don't think that it was meant to come off the way that it sounds, it did feel the way that it sounds. Ruined. Interesting term. Nevertheless, potentially true. At 28 years old, I am living my life the way I think I was supposed to at 21. Free. I think I am a little late to the party. Somehow, though, I am oddly at peace with that.

This is where the timing of my life sort of comes into play. At 28, it's clearly evident to me, that I should probably be in a different life stage. Do I want to be loved by someone else? Sure. But, at this juncture, I just feel like I want to be free. I don't want to sacrifice anything for anyone. This might be a product of past experiences, because the right person will just fit into my life without any sacrifice. It will just be. Here's the thing, I know that I am not ruined. Because even before my past, I wasn't confident enough to approach a guy in the bar just randomly. Let's be honest, I don't even like to ask grocery store attendants questions. That's just me.

I think, rather, I am stronger than I ever was. I feel that I don't have to live by any certain time standard in order to find my happiness. Rather, I think that figuring out where I am supposed to go, and what I am supposed to do is where my happiness lies. If I am 'right' with me, I can be 'right' with everything else. At this point, I just don't care. It's sad, and it's sort of counterproductive to what I am trying to achieve.

So I guess here's where I'm at. While being alone does come with it's pain, I don't want to feel forced into making something work just for the sake of being with someone. We often measure our worth through the approval of others. I'm not really about that life anymore. While you want people to accept you, and you want them to approve of the things you say and the choices you make---at the end of the day, you're the one who puts yourself into bed at night. I know that mantra seems sort of one-sided, and there have been plenty of people that I couldn't thank enough for being there when I needed them. However, I feel like living by your own standard of happy is where you really need to be. So here's to my awkward self. I'm going to keep on keepin'. I just don't really want to keep watching the sand in the hourglass anymore. It's too much. The way I see it, I'll just let time do it's thing.

We can't stop it, afterall.....

A. 

Eye Opener

In the last week, much has changed, and yet, nothing really feels like it has changed at all. Let's start with the most obvious...I'm 28. While it would seem like this change is inevitable, and, in all honesty I have been 28 for just 2 days--it feels like a milestone. A year where I can really figure things out.

Next, let's talk about the whirlwind the past week has been. On August 2nd, we were victims of a tornado. Yes, you read right, a tornado. While this natural disaster was only classified as an 'EF-1' tornado, we still saw much damage to the world we know and love. The house that I grew up in is still standing. Yet, there's not the same amount of allure that surrounded what I once knew. No more trees protecting us from the summer sun. The fence that my uncle once built is no more, and everything feels, well empty. With this change, I can be appreciative, as we're all still here. It's true what they say, things are replaceable. People, are not.

That brings me to the next thing: Dad. As you all know, and have been reading, my father suffers from Congestive Heart Failure. In the last month or so, his health has deteriorated rapidly. A few weeks ago, he pretty much went into diabetic shock at GoJo's and an ambulance had to be called. He came home, and was having some issues breathing. He's been having this problem for months now. Finally, he was admitted to Advocate Condell (again) where they told our family that his heart has gotten weaker---and that our options were limited. Nevertheless there were options.

Options. It's such a simple word, and can mean so much. When I think of options, I think about the outfit I am going to wear the next day, or perhaps my meal choice. It seems so optimistic and holds so many possibilities. Yet, in our case, our options seems to be a really specific choice of words. It's a consciously chosen word...and it doesn't hold as many possibilities as one would think. After a week, they decided that really, an LVAD or external heart pump would be the best choice. So, they moved him to Advocate Christ in Oak Lawn, where he currently awaits installation. Tomorrow, is that day.

During this time, our family has really been trying to hold it together in the best way possible. Last Friday, as his heart struggled to do it's job, the rest of his organs tried to hold their end of the bargain. His kidneys began to worsen, and his breathing went along with it. It was clear that something had to be done---and so the doctors called my mother for permission to install a temporary heart balloon with the hopes that it would lessen the burden his heart was carrying. In so many ways than one. It was scary, and the way it all went down really terrified all of us. When Mom called me Friday morning, I thought that I was probably never going to speak to Dad again. When he came out of the procedure, seeing him strugging to breathe on that bed was probaby one of the scariest moments of my life. It seems melodramtic. Mostly because he was fine. The only thing I could think to say to him was, "I am not ready for this yet. I am not ready." How selfish?

As the days have passed since Friday, his kidey function has drastically improved. They moved him out of the ICU, and into the ASHU, or 'Adult Surgical Heart Unit'---which has been as sign of hope. We have received word that he will, in fact, be receiving his LVAD tomorrow. This is amazing news. It's amazing and terrifying at the same time. I am a nervous person by nature, and so, I always feel like I need to prepare myself for the worst.  Alas, in my 28th year of life, I am trying to be more optimistic. So, I put my faith in the man upstairs, and of course, I hand the key's to my dad's life over ot the doctors that will be operating on him tomorrow.

I cannot begin to thank everyone for their kind words, love and prayers. I never really understood or believed in the power of prayer until now. It's so shitty to admit, and I am probably going to be looked down upon for it, but I don't think he would have made it through without it. You believe what you believe, and that's that.

So, as I end this...and I am sure that Dad won't be able to read this before tomorrow morning, here's what I have to say:

In these 28 years, I could not have asked for a better father. You may not have taught me how to ride a bike, or spell words--but you did teach me the meaning of hard work.  While I was learning those things, you were out there following a dream and making it a reality so that we could live a life that was and has been truly amazing. You made sure we wanted for nothing. You inspired me to go to college, and when I didn't think I wanted to teach anymore, you supported my decision to move on and find something that made me happy. Most of all, you've taught me the importance of driving with the top down, you've taught me it's okay to take your car all the way to 5th gear on 120---just so you could feel the thrill of it all. You've taught me to get up when I have fallen, brush the dirt of my knees and keep going. You've taught me that I should not and cannot settle for anything less than perfect. You've taught me to listen and observe---and then take action. Your advice, has been both hilarious in it's own way, but true to a fault. It has never steered me wrong. I will cherish our fishing trips, getting lost on lakes, riding in the Miata, attempting to play Softball, Lakehurst Days, Rollo's from Ace, Sunday breakfasts, Driving to nowhere like fools without a purpose, British Accents, Music, the times you told us Evil Woman was about Mom, Tractor Pulls and so many more memories I cannot even begin to list them. I want you to know, you are strong. You are a fighter, and I have nothing but faith that tomorrow will bring good news, and the renewed sense of life you deserve and hold deep within you. Hold on just a bit longer, we have one more race to run...and when you cross that finish line....we'll all be able to breathe a little easier.

So tomrorow, is the day. The 13th of August. Excuse this blog, as I am sure it rambles, and I am not checking for grammatical errors. I am just typing as fast as my little fingers can move. Mostly because, this is the only way I can think to express myself---and also because I know that if I create positive things with my thoughts, those things can be true.

Thank you to all for everything, you know who you are.  Tomorrow, we'll just need prayers and positive vibes.

Until then....

A.

10.

Hey Baby girl!! Gosh Alex. I am so proud of you and how far you've come. You have done so much for yourself, just like you always said you were going to. I can see how happy you are and it makes me smile. I've always only wanted to see you happy and lively. You deserve great things in life and I know you are going to go so far. You are pretty, smart, goofy and so much fun! I am proud to be your friend. I love you so much! I know you are going to have a wonderful summer. You know my #, so call me!

Love Always,

Frenchy

Dear Frenchy,
I do know your number. It's been saved in my phone for over 10 years. I've often wondered who would be on the other end if I called it. I feel funny writing this response now. Mostly because you wrote this to me junior year. Precisely a year before you left us. I guess it didn't mean as much then as it does now, and that's sad. Your message, if you remember, is scrawled in silver ink, on a white page. A page in the back of the yearbook, over hundreds of people's names. I remember you saying 'I am writing my message over these people's names because I am important and they are not." Ha, your sense of humor never escapes me, not even today.

Now, 10 years later---so much has happened, and I feel like I've grown so much. Yet, in a way, I'm right where you left me. As I type now, I am sitting in the same bed I was laying in that fateful day. The same day my mom told me you were gone. That's another story, and you know it well. I'm still goofy, and I am still the same person in a way. I've grown---and gone through those life milestones. College educated. Former teacher turned HR professional. Still cautious. Still clumsy as all hell. Still nerdy. Still the same pensive Alex you knew. The girl who would drive with all the windows down just so her hair could blow in the wind. The girl with big dreams.

I suffered some setbacks. I fell in love, which didn't turn out to be so great in the end, but whatever. I gained 80 pounds. I got to the lowest place imaginable, and found a way to somewhat pick myself out of it. I opened up.  I lost myself. Which, I am working on finding again. I am working on being happy. Sometimes it is easy. Sometimes it is a battle. That's life.

There is so much I have to say, and so little time. I remember I used to write to you every single day. After awhile the need for that kind of faded. Mostly because I just knew you were with me. Or at least watching over me. And while I know you've been there with me for every milestone, I cannot help wanting to sit in a room with you for hours, just to get the smallest piece of advice. The truth is, I might seem like I have it pretty together, but I honestly have no idea what I am doing. I know what I want, but it's taking so long to get there.  I've been back to that place lately, where I see the world moving around me and it's like I am stuck in quicksand. Nevertheless, that's neither here nor there. I feel like I am a little late to the 'figuring out what you want' party. Since I'll be 28 this year, and I feel like I am in all the wrong places at all the wrong times. I know if you were here, you'd tell me not to worry about it. As everyone else does now. You would tell me, as you did in high school, that I have my own agenda. That time just consists of numbers on a clock.

You're right. Time is just time. However, I think that we often take moments within time for granted.

I miss you dearly, and I have been blessed with an amazing friend like you. We were both those weird kids. The kind of friends where if one was present, you knew the other was following suit shortly. I am thankful that I regret not one moment of our friendship. Not even the time you wouldn't give me the aisle seat on the bus. Not even the times you made me go back to the shoe store 554577555 times to find the right pair of heels for prom. Not even the time you made me sleep head to toe in your twin size bed---with your dirty flip flop feet and two pit bulls.

I write you now, because 10 years later, I've done the one thing you've always asked me to do. That's remember you. I know you always used to ask me (in your morbid way) 'Alex, if I died, would you remember me?' I used to yell at you for asking the question, and in some way, maybe you knew you would leave us early. Even so, I would say 'Of course.'

I remember you, and I always will.  I see so much of you around me each day. In Mae, and your family--who continues to blossom and grow. They are all doing their own amazing things, and I know you would be proud.

 I hope that you are with me each day. I feel it sometimes in the most subtle of ways--and even now, a decade later, I see things that make me smile--these same things let me know that you're smiling down on me. Mostly, I want to make you proud.You taught me some of the hardest lessons I ever had to learn. 10 years ago, I was just a kid. Then, in the blink of an eye, I had to sort of grow up. And fast. I had to learn how to put on my boots and move forward. I think I'm a stronger person for it---and even though I am not the pinnacle of 'tough', I'd still like to think I am pretty strong.

I want to end this by letting you know I'm doing alright. I am not exactly where I thought I would be.  But you know what? I'm okay with that. I used to think I could have this amazing ability to have everything figured out all of the time. You know, I've always had control issues. Yet, I think little by little I am learning to let go more often. It isn't easy, and it's scary as shit (yes, I swore)...but I think I am coming to terms with it. I'm not sure what the future holds, but I am hoping that I can make some good things happen for me in the next year.

Thank you for being such an amazing friend. Even though you're not physically here--I know you're with me. It's probably not always easy watching some of my paths--but hey, sometimes you have to make a few wrong turns to get to your final destination.

Thank you for being with me, always in my dreams....and I promise, I'll carry you with me, always in my heart.

Love Always,

Alex



FMR
12/17/86-04/20/05

Mind Over Matter

I once knew this woman. I guess, I shouldn't introduce her as that. She was someone very special to people that I love. She was an observer, but she also had her opinions about things. Sometimes, I felt like she had this crazy intuition, like she could read me like a book. Mostly, though, I know that more than anything, she just knew people. Or at least that's what I think.

I could go into this grandiose story about the moment in time where this woman really made an impression on me. Yet, I am not really in an overly descriptive mood. Here's the basis of it. I was at a birthday party for my friend's son. He's really more like a nephew to me. Nevertheless, at this time, I was still dating He Who Must Not Be Named. Also, at this time, I was sort of starting to gain weight. I would say this had to be about a year or so before our relationship ended. Anyway, it had to be about 95 degrees out. In the true fashion of our 'family', we went out to the baseball field across the street to play ball. Per the usual, I was uncomfortable in my skin. I wore jeans (like I still do), and chose to sweat my ass off, while I also tried not to embarrass myself by chasing the ball all out of breath.

I feel like, this time period in my life really solidified my deepest insecurities. I had been with someone for quite some time, and there was still no sign of commitment. More than that, I was overly critical of everything I did. I just didn't like me. It was evident in so many ways, and as hard as I was on myself, my other half was also critical of me in the same sense. Not that he ever full on came out and made comments about my weight, but did put pressure on me in other ways.

So, after I had come back from the field, sweaty and out of breath. I sat under the covered bench, next to this woman. I pulled my pants up, and pulled my shirt down. It was (and is even to this day) evident that I was 100% uncomfortable in my own skin. We sat there for a bit, until she put her hand on my lap, and said "Let's go for a walk."  So we did. During this walk, she told me a story, and it didn't really hit me as important until just recently.  The story goes like this--and it's somewhat fuzzy now---and I probably have some of the details off, but I'll do my best.

She told me that she had never been the smallest person in her life--but that it never really bothered her. Nevertheless, she knew who she was, and she knew that she wasn't exactly the smallest person.  It affected her sometimes, but it wasn't really top of mind.  One summer, she had gone to the beach (or something) with her husband and children---and was feeling somewhat insecure.  She tried, at every avenue to hide her body with a tee-shirt or a coverup (I can't remember which one).  On this day, her husband had noticed.  He ended up saying something to her about it.  He told her, that she was beautiful.  He told her that he loved her, and he reassured her that there was no reason known to man why she should be hiding herself.  Because he loved her and that was that. She went on to tell me that she could see my feelings.  She told me that I wear my heart on my sleeve.  That there's nothing wrong with that.  Yet, she went on to tell me that if I was feeling uncomfortable in my own skin....that I shouldn't change it because someone told me to.  That I should change it because I want to.  That no man, or woman or anyone should make me feel small.

When we finished our walk, she gave me a hug, and walked away.  I kind of stood there perplexed.  Not really sure how I wanted to process our talk.  Not really knowing where it was all coming from.  At the time, I sort of just dismissed it--and moved on. Continuing to just sort of float in the existence I knew.  Not really doing anything good for myself.  At all ever.  Just sticking to what was comfortable.

A few years ago, this woman passed away. Leaving behind a wonderful legacy. She's missed by many. She was even around for my crisis in 2012. Sadly, she never got to see the transformation I'm going through now.  Anyway, the other morning, I was in the shower, and all of a sudden the conversation just came to me.  Out of nowhere.  Like an epiphany.  In that brief moment, in that epiphany, I realized she wasn't just telling me that I had to do things for me in one way.  She was basically telling me, that I need to stick up for myself. That when I do things, I need to want to do those things. Then, I was in no position to really understand the meaning of that conversation or the story she told me. I was just barely getting by with what I was doing.

My entire life has been built on the basis that my own happiness was dependent on how I made others happy as well. To me, that's how things have worked for quite some time. You do something for someone, it makes them happy, which in turn makes you happy.  Well, not so much.  I have quickly and slowly come to realize that you can't do everything that everyone wants.  Moreover, sometimes you just (in the words of my mother) 'Plain ass don't feel like doing it.'  This realization is terrifying on multiple levels, and here's why:

1. If you don't want to do something, you run the risk of someone being upset with you.
2. Thus, in turn, you become upset because they're upset.

Well, most people would be like 'Who gives a shit?  Honestly, why do you care?'  My answer in the past was "Because I don't want to lose anyone, I've already lost enough." The answer to that "Well, if they get mad at you and won't talk to you for that reason, then they weren't really meant to be in your life in the first place."

Recently, I came in contact with a scenario, where someone insinuated that I was weak.  This pissed me off to the core.  I'll fully admit, I haven't had a bad childhood, I didn't go to war, I wasn't abused, etc...but I've been through some shit that has truly defined the girl sitting here typing this today.  Sure, I have a ton of insecurities, and yes, in the past, I might dropped everything to do what someone asked.  Yes, I sometimes still do it today---but things are starting to change little by little.

After the insinuation, I told my dad that it was really weighing heavily on me. We were sitting at Gojo's counter, and I said 'I just don't want anyone thinking I'm weak.'

He thought about it for at least two minutes, and as he sat there, with his eggs, over easy, he said:

"I don't think you're weak---I think you're one of the strongest damn people I know."

I told him that he had to say that because he's my dad.  He denied it.

So, where am I going with this?  I feel like lately, there's been nothing but self expectation. So many expectations for the future. Where I am going, who I need to be. But that's where I know I need to remember, Mind Over Matter.  Even if I am in 100 different places, and not in any one place I physically desire to be---I can make my own choices. I can set my own destination, and choose my own outcome. An outcome that is not dictated by any one person, place or thing. I can make my own decisions, and learn from them.

I feel like I rambled here---and that's okay. 5 months of thinking and not writing will do that to a person.  All the same, I think I'll end this with the notion that I continue to find my place in this world. A world where I don't always think I add much value.  I just kind of do my own thing---and make decisions as situations are presented to me. To that end, isn't that how everyone kind of lives their lives?  We're not all curing cancer, or deep sea diving, or climbing Everest.  Sometimes, the every day 'normality' of life is what truly makes or breaks the impact we leave on this world. On others.  It is with that thought, and in remembering that, I continue to just do me. I continue to learn that sometimes when I just 'plain ass don't feel like doing something' I can feel that way---and it's okay. We weren't all built the same--and if we were, it would be quite disturbing. So to you, my readers....go out and do you.  Do it in your own way.  We're all a little weird and twisted sometimes---but hey...that's the way the cookie crumbles.

A.


For GG. 

Found Out About You

Two years ago today, I stared at a computer screen full of emails at work—not thinking about or comprehending much of anything.  Two years ago today, I was (admittedly) numb. Two years ago today, I wrote my very first blog introducing you to a very sad girl, in a very mixed up place, at a very dark time.

I know that I said I would never write about this again after Little White Lies, but these two years have really changed me.  I feel that I am ready to tell you the truth about what happened (if you don’t already know), and touch on the transformation it caused within me.

In the Spring of 2012 He Who Must Not Be Named and myself moved in to a home (that was thankfully owned by him), and began renovations on something we were proud to call ‘ours’. For six months, we worked diligently to make the home our own—and I was more than excited to be on our own, starting some kind of adult life.  During that time, we were often on different schedules, making it difficult to see each other.  However, because of the job he had, I knew it would be difficult. As time went on, and work on the house slowed down, I started to notice changes that I really never said anything about. He Who Must Not Be Named worked afternoons, and would sometimes go out with people from his shift afterwards.  There would be times, I’d wake up at 4 in the morning—and he wouldn’t be home.  I’d check my phone to have a text “Hey! Went out with some coworkers, and don’t really want to drive home (or don’t feel comfortable driving home) so I am staying at so-and-so’s house.  See you tomorrow, love you!”  Most of the time, I would let these things go, but when I did say something, it would spark arguments, so I never really liked to bring it up.  I could tell, deep down, that he was disenchanted with us.  He wanted to be young—but I wanted to force something that probably was just no longer there. 

During this time, I had gained probably 20-30lbs (which, in the end would contribute to a total of 70lbs that I had gained while we were together).  I was taking antidepressants, all the while quietly dealing with the loneliness I felt every single day (since I was so far away from family and friends).  I couldn’t figure out why I was gaining so much weight, and made an appointment with the doctor to see if it was perhaps a thyroid problem.  When the test came back, everything was fine.  There was no thyroid problem.  There was a ‘me’ problem.  So I called He Who Must Not Be Named to have a conversation that we’d had numerous times before throughout the course of our relationship:

Me: The doctor said everything is okay. I think I just have to diet and exercise.

Him: Yep, that’s what you have to do.

Me: I’m really going to try and make an effort this time.

He didn’t really say much.  I know why.  We had many a conversation like this during our 6 years together.  I was always fighting the battle---and every time I made some headway, I would just let go.  Consistency had always been my downfall, and when you hear someone say they’re going to do something over and over again (and they don’t)….you just kind of stop cheering them on. We had just celebrated our 6 year anniversary the month before, and attended 3 weddings that year.  There was a great deal of silent pressure coming from me---but a lot of expectation and questioning faces from everyone else.  Every time someone asked “When are you getting married?”  I would always say “We’re waiting” or “We’re not ready”.  In the past he would always say “We’re on the 10 year plan” or “I want to wait and see how we do when I start my job (because of the difficult schedule).”  I honestly didn’t know what to say, because I was ready---and I guess he wasn’t. Moreover, I didn’t want to push the issue---because forcing someone to marry you never ends well for anyone.

The night we had that conversation, he was quiet when I got home.  I took a shower, and sat down next to him on the couch. The air in our house was so thick; you could cut it with a knife.  Sad thing is I just could feel something was wrong the moment I walked in the door.  When I sat down on the couch, he was folding laundry.  The following conversation ensued:

Me: What’s wrong?

Him: Nothing.

Me: No, something is wrong, I can tell.

LONG PAUSE & AWKWARD SILENCE

Him: **Sigh**---well, I think that we should think about taking a break to figure out where this is going.  You just, you just don’t seem happy, and I think you need some time for yourself.

Me: No, please, I don’t want to do this.

Him: I think that you just need to figure out what you want, and I think some time apart would be good.  I think we both need that.

More conversation happened after this, but honestly, I can’t remember it.  I just packed all of the clothes I would need for a week, grabbed the dog, and went out to the car.  He put my bags in the car, and said:

“I think you just need to really reflect, and take some time. I am sorry”

He kissed me on the forehead, and went back into the house.  I just kind of stood there.  Got in the car, and went to my parent’s….not really knowing where things stood.

The next day, I called the Employee Assistance Program that we had through work.  If this was on me, if I wasn’t happy, then I was going to work on myself.  So I made an appointment with a therapist.  That morning, He Who Must Not Be Named emailed me and said:

“Do you want to have lunch? I think we should talk.”

So I agreed.  When I saw him, he gave me a big hug. Told me this isn’t what he wanted, that he wanted to work things out. So, me being me, afraid to be alone, and afraid to live life without him, agreed.

No more was said about this incident after that. He didn’t bring it up. I was afraid to bring it up, and really thought it was a bit weird that he never brought it up again.  So we went back to our normal lives.

A week passed—and that following Saturday was Sweetest Day. He brought home an Edible Arrangement as a gift for me, and although I was happy, it just seemed, again, like something wasn’t right.

Monday, October 22, 2012:

It’s a brisk cold evening, and the sun is about to set. I am literally walking out of work when the phone rings. It’s him.

Me: Hi baby! How was your day?

Him: Hey. Listen, this just isn’t working. I don’t think we should be together anymore. I wrote you an email.  I want you to read it. We can discuss when I get home tonight.

Speechless, I hung up the phone with an “OK”.  So I opened the email and read.  The email was titled ‘Letter’ and was a forward from an email that he had written to himself the evening before. 

So I read….

In it, he basically said he didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore.  Didn’t know if he wanted to get married because of his parent’s divorce, didn’t know if he wanted to have children. He just didn’t know.

He then went on to split all of our assets, in a manner that he saw fit. He essentially got everything, and I got the dog (whom I love dearly).  He explained that he planned on selling the house in the Spring, and that was that. He asked to temporarily keep the couches that my parents gave to us as a gift, as it was easier for him to sell the house with the room furnished.

There was more to it.  However, the fact of the matter was, in the five minutes it took for me to read the email I realized three things:

• He’d been thinking about this for some amount of time.  It was too organized and calculated
• In 6 paragraphs, he basically summed up 6 years of our lives
• It was over. For real.

So I went back to our home. The home we shared. The home we built, I packed a week’s worth of clothes, and the dog (again), and I left. This time knowing that I would only return to pack my life up.

During that time, he called me to see if I read the email.  I explained that I would not be home when he returned from work.  At the end of the day, sitting in that house for 6 hours waiting for him to get home wouldn’t do me much good.  As always (in our relationship) he had made our decision, and it was final.

In the aftermath of all the wreckage He Who Must Not Be Named caused, I felt so many things. Two months after he emailed me, he started dating someone else.  Then a year later, he got engaged to her. Hence, Little White Lies.

I felt betrayed and taken advantage of. I felt alone. I felt discarded.  It took a good year for me to actually just let it go.  I don’t write about this now to dwell on it, and I don’t write so that everyone can know what he did.  Moreover, I don’t write so you can feel bad for me. I’m over that. I write because, I think I can finally say I’m thankful for what he did. As sick and twisted as that sounds, the manipulative manner in which he did things taught me so much about him, myself and life in general.  I found out about him, and found out about me. Everything I closed my eyes to, really came to light—and I realized that I’d been living complacently for quite some time.

There were a lot of tears. For a long time, I put the entire onus on me. I took the blame. I wondered and wondered.  Then there came a time, when I just let go.  I reasoned with myself, and realized that it takes two to make something work—and the two of us just couldn’t do it.

Then something miraculous happened. I was able to use this whole situation to create a new me. I created a woman who is no longer dependent on someone else. I’ve burned off my frustration, sadness, anger (and whatever else I’ve felt).  I’ve used it to shed nearly 50lbs. The weight of him, and the weight of it all has slowly been lifted off my shoulders---and I am not nearly done yet.  

Last month, I participated in my very first race.  It wasn’t any old regular race. It was a 3+ mike obstacle race known as ‘The Spartan Sprint’.  It was muddy, and it was tough towards the end.  There were at least 3 times towards the end of the Sprint, where I literally said ‘I cannot do this, I am too tired’.  There were tears, and there was swearing---but I crossed that finish line.  I crossed that finish line and then I hugged my friends.  I hugged Jules, and just sobbed.  Sobbed because, I did something I never would have been able to do otherwise.  I did something athletic, and difficult, and challenging.  I did it---and in a way, I showed myself (and him—even though I didn’t really ‘show’ him), that I am a completely different person.  Closer to the person I want to be. The person I should be.

After the race, I was on an extreme high.  Then it kind of faded, and my brain caught up with me.  I told myself I should have done better, should have been stronger, should have been faster, I should look thinner, should be more toned. I should, I should, I should.  At the end of the day, I am telling myself, that I need to learn the hardest lesson there possibly could be: appreciation.  Losing nearly 50lbs in a year is amazing.  It takes hard work. It takes sweat, and blood and tears and sometimes those moments of doubt.  Nevertheless, I need to learn to accept where I am at, and appreciate that if I continue on this path, I can be where I want to.  These changes I am making take time, and unfortunately undoing what I did to myself for the course of those 6 years is not an easy task. 

So as I set my sights on the future, and attempt to decide what I’ll take on next, I remain thankful for everyone that’s cheered me on along the way.  I appreciate that I can look back two years, and understand the pain I felt---but also feel thankful for it.  That pain, was the catalyst for the very person I am at this moment.  I don’t know what the future holds for me…and no one does.  If they did, I would sort of feel sorry for them.  I think Sandburg said it best:

“I’m an idealist. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way.”

A.