This past week has been a little hectic, to say the least. I got home from Oregon, moved into my apartment, went to a couple of events hosted by my friends, and went back to work. Oh, I also met up with my ex-husband to do taxes, and I had my first therapy session since before my trip. So how do I feel now that a week has passed?
I feel great.
It's weird looking back to November and December. There were days I thought I would never get through. Don't get me wrong, my hope never faltered - I always hoped that I would get through each day and that the next day would be better. But honestly, I'm still not sure how I kept going sometimes. My therapist says I'm making progress, and she even told me that she does not feel it is necessary for me to go to her every week anymore. That was an exciting day. I went back to work after that session and I was smiling so much it made everyone else smile. That's a good feeling.
Of course, now that I'm adequately moving on in various aspects of my life, a certain someone is making my head spin in circles. Pretty much all I can do is think about this person, think about everything I've said to him that I wish I didn't, and fret about what I'll say to him next time I see him. He has completely infiltrated my head and I do not appreciate it. I was on the phone for two hours tonight with one of my friends, rambling off all my theories over what anything he said might mean. I should just take multiple people's advice and not read too much into anything, but hey. I'm a girl. It's kind of what I do.
I'm sure I'll eventually grow some courage and tell him what I'm thinking. Or not.
"Welcome to the wonderful world of Vicky. Join me on this journey into self-discovery and acceptance!" Fine. I copied this from a therapist's pamphlet. So what?
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Walk On
I knew that coming to Oregon for a month would be easy. That I could leave my job, my friends, my family, my car, and just come up and be okay. I also knew that leaving and going back to San Diego would be really difficult. I'm trying to convince myself that I don't have to think about the future right now, but if I don't think about it now, when will I think about it? I can't put it off forever.
So, should I move up here? Well, if I get into a school up here the choice will be easy. My education is very important to me. I need to go where I can so I can start my career. But then I start thinking about if I even want to apply to schools up here. Or do I even need to? Why not just come up here for a few months and then start applying to schools?
Sometimes I try to figure out what's holding me back from just going to San Diego, packing up my stuff, and coming back to Oregon. Right now, I think it is a few things. I'm not ready to say goodbye to the beautiful location, that's for sure. I'll miss my family and friends terribly. I hate moving. I love my job. I'm in school down there. Oh, and then there was someone who came into my life so suddenly and so forcefully that I'm still surprised at the impact this person has had on my decision.
I guess sometimes all you can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other.
So, should I move up here? Well, if I get into a school up here the choice will be easy. My education is very important to me. I need to go where I can so I can start my career. But then I start thinking about if I even want to apply to schools up here. Or do I even need to? Why not just come up here for a few months and then start applying to schools?
Sometimes I try to figure out what's holding me back from just going to San Diego, packing up my stuff, and coming back to Oregon. Right now, I think it is a few things. I'm not ready to say goodbye to the beautiful location, that's for sure. I'll miss my family and friends terribly. I hate moving. I love my job. I'm in school down there. Oh, and then there was someone who came into my life so suddenly and so forcefully that I'm still surprised at the impact this person has had on my decision.
I guess sometimes all you can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
You've Got So Far To Go
In about 10 days, I'll be going up to Oregon for about a month. Initially, I was just going to take a small 2 week vacation, but then last Tuesday happened and now here I am.
Last Tuesday, I had to go grab something from the old apartment. I meant to just stop in. pick up my registration, and be on my merry way. Instead, I started crying as soon as I parked my car. Then when I went into the apartment, I started crying more. I got myself under control enough to drive, but once I arrived at work, I was clutching my steering wheel, trying to contain the tears running down my face at a rapid pace. What happened? Why did all the happiness suddenly get sucked out of my body like there was some sort of dementor around?
It took awhile, but I think I figured it out. I know, in my head, what I am walking away from. My best friend of 7 years, a safe apartment, a comfortable life, my cat. But seeing it, actually seeing all the physical reminders of what it is that I had that I can no longer claim as my own, was jarring. Then, all at once, everything started reminding me of what I was leaving behind. I couldn't listen to music, watch TV, or even pass by certain buildings without feeling like I was suffocating in memories.
So I decided I needed to get away.
I will deny that I am running away from my problems, because I do fully intend on coming back to San Diego. Instead, I think of it as giving my mind time to heal so I can face this city without feeling pain every time I turn my head. Who knows? My plan could backfire and I could come back and be worse. If that's the case, then I'll deal with it then. But I think one of my problems is that I never gave my mind time to heal. I just started trying to move on. Maybe I just need to rest a little before I can keep going.
Last Tuesday, I had to go grab something from the old apartment. I meant to just stop in. pick up my registration, and be on my merry way. Instead, I started crying as soon as I parked my car. Then when I went into the apartment, I started crying more. I got myself under control enough to drive, but once I arrived at work, I was clutching my steering wheel, trying to contain the tears running down my face at a rapid pace. What happened? Why did all the happiness suddenly get sucked out of my body like there was some sort of dementor around?
It took awhile, but I think I figured it out. I know, in my head, what I am walking away from. My best friend of 7 years, a safe apartment, a comfortable life, my cat. But seeing it, actually seeing all the physical reminders of what it is that I had that I can no longer claim as my own, was jarring. Then, all at once, everything started reminding me of what I was leaving behind. I couldn't listen to music, watch TV, or even pass by certain buildings without feeling like I was suffocating in memories.
So I decided I needed to get away.
I will deny that I am running away from my problems, because I do fully intend on coming back to San Diego. Instead, I think of it as giving my mind time to heal so I can face this city without feeling pain every time I turn my head. Who knows? My plan could backfire and I could come back and be worse. If that's the case, then I'll deal with it then. But I think one of my problems is that I never gave my mind time to heal. I just started trying to move on. Maybe I just need to rest a little before I can keep going.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Roll With the Changes
It's my birthday! Yay for being 25 years old and able to rent a car in California (not that I need it, since I got my car back today - yay again!).
While many people will be celebrating the new year in a few days, I am celebrating my new year today. I had some time of quiet reflection this morning (my phone died, which obviously means I can't do anything but reflect) and I suppose I have gone through a lot. Between my last birthday and today, I mourned the loss of my car, studied so hard my brain turned to mush, accidentally almost went into anaphylactic shock, and of course, divorced my husband. Inbetween all those fun things, I endured countless hours of stress at work, lost some of my best friends in the divorce, and got through all of it. I'm still not 100%. Sometimes I forget that I can't just call certain people anymore, and it makes me sad. Sometimes I really want to eat a banana before I realize that it's evil and I'm allergic to it.
But this is my new year. I don't have my parents in town, so I went to my grandma's last night. That way, I could wake up and have someone with me. I hung out with her, talked to my mom and sister for hours on the phone, and got my car back. Tonight I'm going to dinner with one of my dearest friends, and then going out and having fun with a big group of people.
This is my new year. I know I can get through whatever comes my way. I know that I can make decisions, and that when I make a decision, I can trust myself to get me through whatever it brings along. I know I will cry, but I also know I will laugh so much. I will smile until my cheeks hurt.
This is my new year. I'm going to find a place to live, I'm going to eat like an ordinary person again, and I'm going to figure out a way to sleep. I'll continue working at my job or I'll find a new one. I'll figure out what to do about school. I'll stay in San Diego, or I'll go to Oregon.
This is my new year, and it will be a good year.
While many people will be celebrating the new year in a few days, I am celebrating my new year today. I had some time of quiet reflection this morning (my phone died, which obviously means I can't do anything but reflect) and I suppose I have gone through a lot. Between my last birthday and today, I mourned the loss of my car, studied so hard my brain turned to mush, accidentally almost went into anaphylactic shock, and of course, divorced my husband. Inbetween all those fun things, I endured countless hours of stress at work, lost some of my best friends in the divorce, and got through all of it. I'm still not 100%. Sometimes I forget that I can't just call certain people anymore, and it makes me sad. Sometimes I really want to eat a banana before I realize that it's evil and I'm allergic to it.
But this is my new year. I don't have my parents in town, so I went to my grandma's last night. That way, I could wake up and have someone with me. I hung out with her, talked to my mom and sister for hours on the phone, and got my car back. Tonight I'm going to dinner with one of my dearest friends, and then going out and having fun with a big group of people.
This is my new year. I know I can get through whatever comes my way. I know that I can make decisions, and that when I make a decision, I can trust myself to get me through whatever it brings along. I know I will cry, but I also know I will laugh so much. I will smile until my cheeks hurt.
This is my new year. I'm going to find a place to live, I'm going to eat like an ordinary person again, and I'm going to figure out a way to sleep. I'll continue working at my job or I'll find a new one. I'll figure out what to do about school. I'll stay in San Diego, or I'll go to Oregon.
This is my new year, and it will be a good year.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Red Barchetta
I have been without my car since Saturday. Some ass face felt it necessary to come into the lane that I was currently occupying, which resulted in one of my wheels being bent. Thanks, ass face. You're a winner. Oh, did I mention that ass face then drove away? And that I had just switched insurance companies so it is taking a really long time for anything to get done? I understand it looks fishy that I was in an accident that no one saw, just days after I switched insurance. But seriously right now?
So, anyway. I have been without my car since Saturday. It is now Tuesday. Wow, it's only Tuesday. I could have sworn it was at least Thursday. Regardless, I have been kind of upset this entire time. Driving in my car was like my moment where I got to be alone. I could scream or sing at the top of my lungs. I could speed. I could go for a drive just for the hell of it. Obviously my car will be all better soon (taking her to the car hospital tomorrow), but just knowing that she's out there and in pain makes me sad.
Yes, I know she doesn't have feelings (and that she is not really a she since she is inanimate), but this car has gotten me through some pretty tough times and we have only been together for 11 months. The beautiful leather seats comforted me as I sobbed hysterically. The speakers pumped music so loud, it made it impossible to think. The engine purred, letting me know that we could go fast if we needed to get away. The car is like the one thing that has been constant this entire time. Sure, I left my cat, my husband, and my apartment. But I had Pearl II. And sometimes knowing that I got to drive her was what got me through the day.
I keep telling myself that it could be worse. Last year (December 19th) it was worse. Last year, Pearl I (my beautiful Honda Accord, that, although it did not go as fast as my current car, did not have a car payment) was killed in an accident on the I-5. That sucked too. That sucked way more than this.
I guess, really, the only thing there's left to say is that I won't be driving next December. I'll go out of town, out of the country, whatever. But I won't be driving, because rest assured someone will hit my car.
So, anyway. I have been without my car since Saturday. It is now Tuesday. Wow, it's only Tuesday. I could have sworn it was at least Thursday. Regardless, I have been kind of upset this entire time. Driving in my car was like my moment where I got to be alone. I could scream or sing at the top of my lungs. I could speed. I could go for a drive just for the hell of it. Obviously my car will be all better soon (taking her to the car hospital tomorrow), but just knowing that she's out there and in pain makes me sad.
Yes, I know she doesn't have feelings (and that she is not really a she since she is inanimate), but this car has gotten me through some pretty tough times and we have only been together for 11 months. The beautiful leather seats comforted me as I sobbed hysterically. The speakers pumped music so loud, it made it impossible to think. The engine purred, letting me know that we could go fast if we needed to get away. The car is like the one thing that has been constant this entire time. Sure, I left my cat, my husband, and my apartment. But I had Pearl II. And sometimes knowing that I got to drive her was what got me through the day.
I keep telling myself that it could be worse. Last year (December 19th) it was worse. Last year, Pearl I (my beautiful Honda Accord, that, although it did not go as fast as my current car, did not have a car payment) was killed in an accident on the I-5. That sucked too. That sucked way more than this.
I guess, really, the only thing there's left to say is that I won't be driving next December. I'll go out of town, out of the country, whatever. But I won't be driving, because rest assured someone will hit my car.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Closing Time
I went to Oregon to visit my family this past week. It was the first time since August 2010 that all 7 of us (mom, dad, and siblings) have been in the same state. It was strange. I thought I would spend the whole time in tears, just basking in the comfort of being surrounded by my family. Bask I did, but cry? Not so much. I mean, I cried a few times here and there, but mostly I felt happy. I remember walking out to the lobby (is that what you call the place where people wait for you in an airport? Does that have a name?), seeing my father, and feeling relief and happiness. Then I got to the house and saw my mom and sister. My heart felt so whole that crying was the last thing on my mind. I couldn't even cry out of happiness, that's how complete I felt. I have not felt that in so long.
I was able to spend time with each member of my family, and I really hope that when I left they were less worried about me. I hope my mom listened when I told her that she should not be worried, but instead proud that she raised a daughter capable of handling anything thrown at her. I hope my little brothers know that they made me laugh and feel happier than I have in weeks. I hope my sister saw that when I cried at the airport when she said goodbye, that I was crying because I knew I could count on her to be there if I need her, and that is a wonderful feeling. I hope my older brother knows that just being in his presence made me feel more calm than I have in months. And I hope my father realized that the first hug he gave me when he picked me up at the airport was so full of love, I'm still feeling the effects of it right now.
Then I came home. I'm not sure I belong in San Diego anymore. I'm not going to run to Oregon right now, because I need to know that I can survive on my own for a little bit. And who knows? Maybe I'll actually love being on my own so much that I'll never move up there. But realistically, I'm guessing I'm up there within a year. I love my friends and I love my family down here, but there was something about knowing that my brothers and sisters were within arms reach of me that made my whole being feel at ease. I love my job and I love the people I work with, but there is no room to grow. I can go to school in Oregon, just like I'm going to school in San Diego.
[Side note: Being the girly girl I am, and being a lifelong fan of romantic comedies, sometimes I hope that Prince Charming will stop me right before I drive off into the sunset and say that I do have something to stay for. I have him. Seriously, this is an actual fantasy I have had in my mind several times over the past week. I'm pretty sure I could do an entire post consisting of scenes I see in movies that I hope happen to me, so stay tuned for that.]
I know I need to give my body and mind time to calm down before I reach a decision, but until then I will hold on to that feeling of love that I felt for the three days I was in Portland.
I was able to spend time with each member of my family, and I really hope that when I left they were less worried about me. I hope my mom listened when I told her that she should not be worried, but instead proud that she raised a daughter capable of handling anything thrown at her. I hope my little brothers know that they made me laugh and feel happier than I have in weeks. I hope my sister saw that when I cried at the airport when she said goodbye, that I was crying because I knew I could count on her to be there if I need her, and that is a wonderful feeling. I hope my older brother knows that just being in his presence made me feel more calm than I have in months. And I hope my father realized that the first hug he gave me when he picked me up at the airport was so full of love, I'm still feeling the effects of it right now.
Then I came home. I'm not sure I belong in San Diego anymore. I'm not going to run to Oregon right now, because I need to know that I can survive on my own for a little bit. And who knows? Maybe I'll actually love being on my own so much that I'll never move up there. But realistically, I'm guessing I'm up there within a year. I love my friends and I love my family down here, but there was something about knowing that my brothers and sisters were within arms reach of me that made my whole being feel at ease. I love my job and I love the people I work with, but there is no room to grow. I can go to school in Oregon, just like I'm going to school in San Diego.
[Side note: Being the girly girl I am, and being a lifelong fan of romantic comedies, sometimes I hope that Prince Charming will stop me right before I drive off into the sunset and say that I do have something to stay for. I have him. Seriously, this is an actual fantasy I have had in my mind several times over the past week. I'm pretty sure I could do an entire post consisting of scenes I see in movies that I hope happen to me, so stay tuned for that.]
I know I need to give my body and mind time to calm down before I reach a decision, but until then I will hold on to that feeling of love that I felt for the three days I was in Portland.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
A New Day
Today we filed for divorce. Today we filed for divorce. We filed for divorce today. Divorce papers were filed for the dissolution of our marriage today. Somehow I can't get that through my head. I was there so I know it happened. Peeking out of my purse is a receipt for $400 and a packet of paperwork, so it definitely happened.
When I was little I would sing along to every song on the radio (okay I still do that - I also sing along to whatever is in my head, and I make up songs to sing). I remember singing along to love songs hoping that one day I would feel that way. I'm sure every girl does this, just as every girl in some capacity imagines what her Prince Charming will look like and what dress she'll wear to her wedding. And then you fall in love and every single love song makes sense. You get it! Finally, you understand why people sing these words. Faith Hill, I get you. Celine Dion, you are singing the words of my heart.
Then I started to really hear the songs about sadness and heartache and drinking the pain away. I never felt that. I hoped I never would. But, around 9am on December 7, 2011, I felt it. I felt all of it. The world stopped. In that moment, just in that single, tiny moment, I knew I couldn't love. I couldn't care about anyone anymore. I couldn't even believe that love was real and that other people were in love. Of course that moment passed, and my hope and fervor for life came back. But that moment was so beautiful in it's rawness. There was only one emotion in me, and it was hopelessness. I felt naked to the world. There I was, standing on the sidewalk, looking at the parking meter with an hour and 42 minutes left on it, thinking "this is what it feels like to hurt to your very core." And then I celebrated that I was a human and could feel that. It hurt, but it made me thankful for every moment that I don't feel that way.
I know this isn't the end of me hurting about this decision. I know that when I move, I'll feel it again. I saw my wedding ring today and sobbed. I heard a song on a tv show that I never heard before and it reminded me of happier days in our relationship - and then I cried. I looked at the cat and I teared up. I'm sure so many more moments will be like these moments, and that's okay. I know that one day I'll wake up and I'll be happy the entire day. I know I can do it because I've done it before. I know that I can still love, that I can still be happy, and that I will be okay. The best feeling I felt today was right after my moment of hopelessness, when hope ran through my veins and chased the bad feelings away.
When I was little I would sing along to every song on the radio (okay I still do that - I also sing along to whatever is in my head, and I make up songs to sing). I remember singing along to love songs hoping that one day I would feel that way. I'm sure every girl does this, just as every girl in some capacity imagines what her Prince Charming will look like and what dress she'll wear to her wedding. And then you fall in love and every single love song makes sense. You get it! Finally, you understand why people sing these words. Faith Hill, I get you. Celine Dion, you are singing the words of my heart.
Then I started to really hear the songs about sadness and heartache and drinking the pain away. I never felt that. I hoped I never would. But, around 9am on December 7, 2011, I felt it. I felt all of it. The world stopped. In that moment, just in that single, tiny moment, I knew I couldn't love. I couldn't care about anyone anymore. I couldn't even believe that love was real and that other people were in love. Of course that moment passed, and my hope and fervor for life came back. But that moment was so beautiful in it's rawness. There was only one emotion in me, and it was hopelessness. I felt naked to the world. There I was, standing on the sidewalk, looking at the parking meter with an hour and 42 minutes left on it, thinking "this is what it feels like to hurt to your very core." And then I celebrated that I was a human and could feel that. It hurt, but it made me thankful for every moment that I don't feel that way.
I know this isn't the end of me hurting about this decision. I know that when I move, I'll feel it again. I saw my wedding ring today and sobbed. I heard a song on a tv show that I never heard before and it reminded me of happier days in our relationship - and then I cried. I looked at the cat and I teared up. I'm sure so many more moments will be like these moments, and that's okay. I know that one day I'll wake up and I'll be happy the entire day. I know I can do it because I've done it before. I know that I can still love, that I can still be happy, and that I will be okay. The best feeling I felt today was right after my moment of hopelessness, when hope ran through my veins and chased the bad feelings away.
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