Deep breath.

7 10 2008

I’ve been struggling lately with an all-too-familiar set of circumstances.  Years of therapy and pharmaceuticals (and yeah, I guess personal growth is in there, too) convinced me that I am above trite, simplistic emotions like bitterness and jealousy.  I am a WOMAN, a strong, intelligent, confident, ass-kicking woman.  My worth is not determined by what others think of me or their choices regarding my place in their lives.  I love myself regardless of my life’s circumstances.

But a recent turn of events has me picking up the mirror again, that same mirror I discarded a few years ago.  This mirror reflects self-loathing, weakness, rage, jealousy, envy, and yes, bitterness.  I can’t begin to wrap my brain around this turmoil and why it’s suddenly come out of remission.  I’m at a loss.  I do my best to go on about my days and love myself and the life I’ve made in this beautiful place, but all I want right now is my Mom, and my sister, and my best friend, and her back porch with the view of those Kentucky mountains I love so much.

I went down to the beach with my Mocha Man a few nights ago after work.  I needed some majesty.  I needed to feel the embrace of something far bigger than myself.  We sat on a tattered bedsheet from my childhood, sipping beer from a travel coffee mug and eating fresh green grapes.  He held me as we lay there, watching the waves emerge and crash from the midnight.  A band of fog rolled in and obscured us from the peering eyes of the world, and I felt better.

But now it’s Tuesday morning, and I’m headed out to job number 2.

Deep breath.



23 12 2007

What is beauty?

Why is the world driven by beauty?

How is it that I know I wouldn’t be single right now if I were out-of-this-world beautiful?

Men will do anything for a beautiful woman. This I’ve come to know.

Maybe I should date a blind guy.


24 11 2007

I promise, I’ll get back to being funny really soon. But I just have to unload some shit first. Bear with me. I am a girl, after all.

I’m a weirdo. I’ve never seen A Christmas Story. I’d much rather read a book than watch TV. I’m a classically trained opera singer who’d sooner be swilling bourbon and screaming the blues than be twittering away onstage at The Met.

I don’t know how to date. I have no fucking idea what to do. I did the whole laid-back, chill, be with someone for the company and hope it turns into the love of your life thing, and I ended it because it didn’t. That was the longest relationship of my life, by a LONG SHOT, and it never made it past the knock-on-the-door-when-you-come-over stage. I chose to be alone rather than be taken and unfulfilled.

And here I am, on my first Friday night as a single woman in nine months, sitting in front of a computer screen.

Why, you ask?

Because I’m terrified.

PETRIFIED, truthfully.

I have no idea what to do. I don’t even know where to begin. I always freak guys out because I’m so ballsy and straight-forward, and I don’t really do the “play up to their egos” thing. I mean, what the fuck is that, really? Men have treated me like shit most of my life, and while I don’t play the victim anymore, I’m not about to act all submissive and fragile just so they’re not scared of me. I have a HUGE personality, and I pretty much steamroll most people I meet without ever intending to do so. I’m strong and I’m smart and I’m funny and a lot of people can’t keep up with me. A lot of people just don’t GET me, and they certainly can’t begin to HANDLE me.

But goddammit, I’m scared.

What if the next 15 years of dating end up like the previous 15 years, if not worse? What if I fall right back into the old pattern of unrequited yearning for men who adore me as a friend, but just don’t see me as their “type?” What if I’m (gulp) alone for the rest of my life because I just don’t know how to go about this dating thing?!?!?

What if staying with someone who isn’t right for you really IS better than being alone?

What if all this fucking crying never stops, and I grow old and tired and bitter?

Goddamn. I need a drink.

More than that, I need to be screeching my lungs out into a microphone because that’s how I need to get this shit out of my system. I’m a musician, and I haven’t touched my piano in at least 6 months. I haven’t wanted to play.

And I don’t want to play this stupid dating game, either. I just don’t understand it.



20 11 2007

For the past few days, I’ve thought I knew a little bit about pain.

Over the past few decades I have known a lot about pain. 

One thing I learned in this particular decade is that PAIN IS NOT A GOOD THING. 

Pain is not something I want.  And it’s definitely not something I want to inflict upon myself. 

Precisely where and when this enlightenment dawned on me, I can’t pinpoint. But I do know that I’ve been a different person since I came to understand that. 


Can I get an amen, hollaback?