Tag Archives: sadness

Dusty Trails

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Dear Nora,

Ok, ok. I get it. You’re giving me a taste of my own medicine, waiting weeks and weeks to reply. It is not fun at all… I am in suspense woman! But for real, I know you’re super busy with all your new life stuff in Philly. I hope you are doing well and school is captivating and your heart is full and Toby is feeling ok these days.

I am writing you again because I can’t keep my shit together long enough to wait for a response.

This week I have found myself wishing that I was a polyamorous fairy like you. I feel like life would be so much easier if I didn’t feel compelled to commit to being with one person. And that when I found a really wonderful human who didn’t happen to be “it” for me I could still date them in good conscience.

But alas, my monogamous heart will not yield. And I hold on to hope that the person is still to come, but I am so discouraged, my friend.  I am getting too old to date just to date. Actually I don’t think I’ve ever really been good at that. (“We date to mate” was the mantra at my Christian college and unfortunately that seems to have stuck with me).

My gut weighed in at about 2 months with Hannah. Before I felt ready, it’s infuriating nuisance of a voice spoke up and informed me that as delightful as I found her to be, Hannah was not my match. Anxiety started to build as I recognized this, and she sensed something was off, so there was no point in putting it off the wretched conversation. We were both extremely frustrated with my gut and I cried more than you might guess a person in a two month casual dating situation would. But I had really grown to care about her, so much. And have known her for almost a year at this point. And most importantly, I want to keep her in my life. Once again, I have hopes of a friendship remaining after the pain has subsided.  It’s so hard to let go.

You know what we’re never taught when we’re told fairytales and love stories as children? That before prince charming, the princess may date some really great guys. That is never in the plot line. She’s either alone until she meets the one, or she dates someone awful and then meets the prince who is night-and-day-contrast, no-contest, way better. But real life is not often black and white like that. It is gray. And real life is Hannah’s and Lily’s and the most kind and beautiful souls I could ask for, treating me like a queen, and me having to move forward with a blind faith that when I meet the one I’m going to rest my heart with my gut will provide a confirmation, not a protest.

And so, I continue to trust my gut. God knows fucking why. But I don’t feel I really have much of a choice. I can’t live opposed to what I feel instinctively, can I? I’ve tried that and then the truth still kicks me in the ass.

It feels like the more I trust my gut, the more in tune with it I am becoming…

Being human is weird.

Back to square one. Back to forever alone.

I’ve been playing the lyrics to this song Lily introduced to me over and over again in my head:

I know I’m no doctor but if I was guessing I’d say it was just growing pains
And painful as growing is we can’t forget it’s our ticket to taking the reins
And we’ll all be okay, we’ll be okay
Dusty trails can lead you to a golden road, I’ve been told
…
It’s all in the manual that we’ve been writing, a future instructional guide
If we skip to add to our pre-fulfilled dreams, we’d be lost without our own advice
We’ll be alright, we’ll be alright
Dusty trails can lead you to a golden road, I’ve been told
…

I finally bought a tent that’s all my own

My heart is tired. I am spending lots of time in nature this summer to restore it. I am talking to my sisters and reading books and snuggling Magpie and continuing on this dusty trail.

Tell me something encouraging. Have you met your Anita Blake? Have good things and people been appearing in your life?

Write me! Love, Ruth

Alone-ness

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TRIGGER WARNING: It’s depressing. If you are having a bad day, do not read it.

Dear Ruth:

I try to not be a complete self absorbed asshole and respond to your last letter as I update on my life but today I cannot. This letter is going to be a word vomit of my pain and my loneliness and all the negative feelings that have been roaming my heart.

First, I should tell you that I am PMSing. Hence, depression comes by to say hi, every month on schedule. Sometimes I nod to it and smile, acknowledging its existence but not giving in. This time I have little energy left after the hell of a week I have had, and it has me.

Wednesday morning I woke up with a cough. It seemed like an average cold except my body was in pain, I attributed muscle ache to the PMS and went to work for the next two days. Thursday night I drugged myself on cough medicine and went to bed. I woke up in a puddle of boogers, drool and my sweat. I showered and got dressed for work before realizing that I was not functional. Friday morning at 7am, before it even opened I was at the door of the Urgent Care Clinic. Dr. said it was bronchitis and I got pain meds and antibiotics. Jayne and Pixie came over to hang and brought me plenty of fluids.

I spent all Friday and most of Saturday on the couch. Having difficulty breathing until I realized it was not getting better. Second trip to Urgent Care Saturday night. I ended up getting a shit load more drugs to deal with the shortness of breath and had to buy a nebulizer the next morning, so I can give myself the treatments and not run to the clinic every time I am suffocating.

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At Urgent Care, Saturday night.

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At home with the nebulizer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Besides the constant feeling an asphyxia, the random pains, spasms, fever, a nose that has been running marathons the last few days and other even grosser symptoms, I have to deal with regression. I have had asthma since childhood. I spent says, sometimes weeks in the hospital. It changed my upbringing and made me into the melancholic over thinker I am. You become this way when you near death pretty often.

Pixie and Toby at the pharmacy waiting with me

Pixie and Toby at the pharmacy 

My entire immediate family were having a trip this weekend to Cartagena, Colombia, a few hours away from Barranquilla where they live to see some cousins that went to visit from the US. My friends in New York City were having Dinner somewhere in Bay Ridge. Cory was moving into her new dorm. I felt so alone. And for good parts of the weekend I was not alone at all. I saw my rooomate, my ex, Jayne and my friend Pixie who took me to UC visit 2 and drove me around to get the medicine and the nebulizer.

But I felt so alone. I felt the weight of the life I chose for myself away from my family into a vast land of loving strangers where I will always be foreign. The homelessness that I try so hard to evade, instead invaded me. I could not think of an emergency contact. I did not know who to tell at first that I was sick. The only person who I told how miserable I was was my BFF who lives in NYC.

I was stuck in regression. I remembered bitterly the times I ran to the ER with Trace and how I dont have someone to do that with me. I remember the times in New York where I would go weeks sick. Undocumented and uninsured, I was always afraid of the seeking medical attention. My roommate worked at a pharmacy and would get me antibiotics under the table. I would get inhalers as gifts from random kind people who understood. Dragged myself to the ER more than once though, always alone.

Regress even more into childhood. My family made miserable by my health problems. My insurance card got lost EVERY single time. My father would yell and become violent. I cannot stand him to this day. My mother taking care of me, my sisters, my brother, her job, finances and her abusive unfaithful good for nothing backward glance of a husband. Asthma the only inheritance I received from him. I left them I escaped. I moved away from this dysfunctional shitty environment and chose the American Dream.

Here I am, so many years later still as alone and just as broken. Hustling, fighting struggling. On my own for a while now (eleven years of independence to be exact), my resilience is exhausted. I want my reward for all those years of hard work. I want to not have to worry about money when I am sick (I have insurance though, which is a HUGE progress from where I started). I want partners who meet me all the way and commit. WHY DO MOTHERFUCKERS NOT COMMIT!?!?!?!?!?

I just wanna stay with someone and share life. I am tired of break ups, falling in love with the wrong people, dysfunction, disappointment, abandonment. I am tired of being the orphan, the homeless wanderer, the ship without a port. I want to look at a form, see the words Emergency Contact and not cringe. I want to have someone near, who I know will be there.

This may never change. Someone may or may not come. I may one day or perhaps never have a family. And I live every day in patience, love, and gratitude. Ignoring the uncertainty and rising above the loneliness. But not today. Today I feel how alone I am in every cell of my body and every crevice of my soul.

I am going back to work tomorrow. I hope is up from here and that I menstruate soon enough to stop lamenting. I am sorry if this letter is not what you are used. I have to live with this gigantic monster called depression that sometimes chews its way of the cage.

Thank you for reading this and I hope it was not too self piteous.

I promise you a decent piece of epistolary literature next time, when it stops raining inside my head.

Love

Nora

My only emergency contact

My only emergency contact

Feeble attempts and forgiveness

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Dear Nora,

Well, my dear, you were right to chuckle at my feeble attempt and optimism at being friends with Elise. We were kind of still chatting, and seeing each other occasionally or in group settings. Or, you know, watching TV together and then hooking up that one time… So in other words, working hard at the transition to friendship. She danced around the boundaries I had set (boundary testing is her favorite pastime), and said things to me like “you are going to be one of my best friends, you’re different than all my other exes, you’re so special Ruth, I have to keep you in my life”.

And I really could tell she was trying for this time to be different. For example, she waited almost a whole month before she made it official with a new girl. Her norm is usually a week tops. She said I should consider myself fortunate she held off so long. Lucky me! You have to give her credit for efficiency.

She had okCupid dates lined up like job interviews for a position that needed to be filled immediately.

You may be able to tell from my bitter tone that I’m not handling it the best. But I am proud that I refrained for saying 99% of the things I wanted to say, and let her know I could not speak to her or see her for a while, and she agreed. And we left it at that. She didn’t do anything “wrong”, but it still felt like a slap in the face, especially when a week before she had told me she’s still in love with me and kept asking if there was any possibility we’d end up back together someday.

I’m pissed off and listening to angry songs and thinking mean thoughts and crying sporadically. I keep reminding myself of two things. 1) we all deal with pain differently, and for her maybe that’s just moving on really quickly, and 2) her moving on is about her doing what she needs to do, not about my value or worth and even what I meant or didn’t mean to her.

All that to say, go easy on Jayne, if you can. I have a feeling she just genuinely wanted to find a way to keep you in her life, and made her best attempt at that in spite of other feelings she was suppressing. We are all suckers for the sweet Colombian poison. Trust me, it’s a hard addiction to break. Maybe she’s not lost forever… she just needs some detox.

I think forgiveness is some of the best, and hardest work we have to do in our lives (especially towards ourselves). It is so goddamn beautiful and defies all of our basest instincts. I promise I’ll try not to quote Cheryl Strayed in every single letter… but I did laugh and nod at this one: “Forgiveness doesn’t just sit there like a pretty boy in a bar. Forgiveness is the old fat guy you have to haul up the hill.”

That’s a really interesting discussion of actions vs. intentions. That’s something I think a lot about. Elise usually didn’t give a shit about intentions, only actions. I, as a benefit-of-doubt type would say I usually take intentions into weighty consideration. But I think ultimately, I have to agree that our truest truths come out in the form of actions. The core of who we are will persist in the living of our lives. Yes, there will be aberrations, and those who know us well should take our intentions into account during those times. But generally speaking, who you are is what you do, not what you say.

<3

Love.

In the case of relationships, I think kind of the deal going into it is that people usually have hopes and good intentions, and sometimes they decide it’s not for them, and sometimes you decide it’s not for you, and neither is wrong or bad. I have been thinking about that a lot. I feel pretty at peace with our decision to break up, and confident now that Elise wasn’t meant for me, or I for her… so then why the hell didn’t I know that at the start of it? Because who I am now is a slightly different person with different knowledge and experiences and further understanding of myself than I was 16 months ago. I read a good quote from Dan Savage the other day about this: “dating is about figuring out who we are and what we want — and when it comes to dating a specific person, it’s also about figuring out whether this person is who and what we want. Early on, when we’re smitten, we sometimes fantasize about a future — we talk about the longterm and/or listen as the other person talks about the longterm — that isn’t destined to be. Being open to the possibility of a longterm relationship with someone, imagining a future with that person, etc., doesn’t obligate us to stay in the relationship eternally, and it doesn’t mean we lied or misled someone if the relationship should end. Fantasizing about a life together is not the same thing as committing to a life together.”

Totally changing subjects–I met Cory and AJ! They arrived this week and stayed at my place and I had so much fun grabbing dinner and drinks with them. I couldn’t stop smiling at the ridiculousness of this all. I confirmed with them that you are, in fact, a real person. So that was good. It’s a little tricky explaining to someone how I both feel like I know you pretty well, but also know very little about your actual day to day life. But I rode around in “Chad” your roadtrip car, and listened to the Rap Caviar playlist with them and made fun of Cory’s gigantically oversized suitcase. It was fun getting to hear them chat about the trip and you and Toby. Anyway, so that happened.

I fly out tonight, headed to the midwest to see lots of my family for my grandma’s 90th birthday party. All of my siblings will be there, my parents, cousins, aunts, uncles. It is so needed. My family for me is the place where I go to rest and reset. My original self. A place of unconditional love. I’ll just be there a very short time, it will be a small but potent dose of exactly what I need right now. I also get to see some of my good friends too while I’m there. And my cat Luscious!!!

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Purrington’s Cat Cafe in Portland

By the way, I also judge myself real hard also for giving up my cats for Elise. I can’t say, looking back, that I could have or would have done it differently. But, moving forward, the cat thing will from now on represent for me the importance of me keeping parts of myself that make me “me” and make me happy. Cats make me pretty fucking happy. I will definitely be getting one for my 30th birthday.

Nothing says “winning at life” like a single lesbian getting a cat for her 30th birthday, am I right?

I hope you find exactly what you need right now. Toby cuddles. Altars full of candles and incense. Puzzles and more puzzles. What are you favorite things about being alone? Also, can you take this personality test for me? I want to see what you get! I got ISFJ (“The Defender”) and it was spot-on. We can talk about our results more if you take it.

Love, Ruth

P.S. I’m looking at possibly coming to LA around labor day weekend? Just sayin’…
P.P.S. Your wish list of kids books brought back a lot of good childhood reading memories. I sent some your way, I hope others do too! What a great idea!

The loss of it all

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Dear Nora,

Reading your letter tonight made me laugh and cry. Thank you for writing me, your words did my heart good. I will have a proper response for you soon. But in the meantime, I’m sharing a poem with you. I make zero claims of being a poet, but sometimes this is just how words present themselves to me and I like writing them down.

It’s ok to feel
Everything that demands to be felt.
breathe deeply
the loss
the loss of it all

of her.
of them.

My loves.
the arms of someone who loved me
nuzzling into the neck
of a girl who makes me laugh

it’s ok to hurt
this pain is a good,
pure thing.

it pools in the imprint of love.
big, beautiful impressions of love.

my heart still works!
it expands
it contracts,
and squeezes out every last tear

so that it can be filled up again.

But god
how the wringing of it hurts.

It hurts to have an empty hand.
it hurts to have my dear one,
that little loved person,
be here one day, and then gone

and holding someone else’s hand.

there is grieving when I think of what’s been lost
anger at the universe
for the jokes it plays on me,
the tide sweeping my treasures back to the sea

fear.
oh great, huge fear.
still and stoic as the vast night sky,
the deafening silence of the unknown.

and filled with stars of possibility

seemingly wonderful and at the same moment
terrifying in its immeasurability
each pinpoint of light in the dark
both potential joy and disappointment.

If fear and hope are two sides of the same coin
then we can’t spend either without the other.
so I release hope,
and with it, fear.
and hold nothing but the present as my own.

Be still, my soul.
In the pain of it.
In the present of it.

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Love, Ruth

The grass is not greener

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Dear Ruth, 

I am so incredibly sorry about your break up with Elise. I know how attached to each other you two are. Plus the fact that you lived together is such pain and now someone has to move out. I am so very proud of you for listening to your gut and going with it this time. It shows growth, it shows self trust. 

I am not sure where in your mourning process you are right now but I wonder how long before the break up you knew it was inevitable and the reasons why it came on. I need details girl. The devil is in the details. 

You definitely need an escape to Los Angeles and I can really use the company because guess what? Trace and I broke up. My pansexual polyamorous ass has joined the forever alone club and I am frustrated and heart broken and destroyed and beyond sadness. I am just sitting in the darkness of my lonely room thinking about the games life plays on me and hating myself for not running on time. 

I have known for at least three weeks that it was over. I knew when I told them that I was in love with them and they confirmed they were not any where near falling in love with me. I mentioned that I was worried that they were with me only buying time to be with someone they could fall in love with. Their response was: “What happens then?”. This was the stab. This confirmed my suspicions. I was a past time until the “real deal” came around or they just got over me. And they did.

We had not had sex in an incredibly long time, and we had been spending less and less time together. I worked so hard to gain their affection. I wanted to believe that sweet words and acts of kindness and good morning texts would do the trick. But no. It was all a figment of my imagination and I am back in square one holding my broken heart and wondering where to put it next to keep it safe. 

I don’t resent them as much as I would want to. I know they cannot force themselves to be in love with someone. And I am trying to forgive myself for letting this person break my heart TWICE. This is our second break up. The conversation I mentioned above happened on May 1st. That was our very first date last year, May 1st. I knew then that if they had known me for one whole year and they were not in love with me, it just was not going to happen. 

If there’s something that does not fail me is my intuition. I mourn things and people before the fall out happens. I see it coming and I want to deny it and I look the other way but oh I know is coming. Sometimes its a tsunami. One giant wave that destroys everything at once. This time it was a storm. A snow storm that slowly, quietly and beautifully burrowed my soul, cut off my power, isolated me and starved me. 

Trace wants to be friends. I said no. They asked why I had stayed friends with other people I dated, like Jayne and they could not. My answer was because I am not in love with my friends. And I stand by that. I want to purge my life of all the places and people and things that remind me of Trace. I don’t want to see or hear their name ever again. They do not get to be my friend. 

Friendship is a powerful force of salvation.

Friendship, in my humble opinion, is the only true love. My friends are my family. I am my best (and my worst) with my friends. Trace does not get to be my friend, they don’t get to keep the best of me after breaking my heart. They don’t get to string me along for a year to then realize it’s really not me. YOU KNEW IT WASN’T ME BITCH WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU START DATING ME AGAIN. Whether they meant to or not it’s beyond the point. I am in pain and they are enjoying their freedom. 

GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE!

This happened yesterday so the wound is pretty raw. But again, the stab happened weeks ago and I have been patching it up and hiding the blood spill. It’s clearly infected and I am using writing as my antibiotic. Letting all the pus out before my hearts gets gangrene and I need to amputate it. 

I have been making a garden for the fairies in my back yard. Here’s a picture of it. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am  sorry I cannot offer more support or more hopeful words. But my own pain is all I have.

One of the fairies has picked up the Ukelele

One of the fairies has picked up the Ukelele

Thank you being a friend.

 

Love,

 

Nora