If you couldn't tell, I was in a bad place over winter break. Doctors say that they treat more people for depression and anxiety in the months of December through February than any other time of the year. Whether that is because of the consumerism driven holidays that make us feel alone, coming off of the high of such an exciting time of year, or because the weather is shitty, I don't know.
But I do know it sucked.
The remnants of the depression I was dealing with are still here, however I did make some really good decisions while I was in the trenches.
I stopped chasing the cowboy. I knew in my heart from the start that it wasn't going to happen, so I finally let the hurt pour out of me in the form of sobs, and let the healing pour into me (quite literally) in the form of cocktails with my mother.
I admitted that I was still hurt from my ex. The one I wrote the letter to. Last night a friend told me "It's only been six months Lizzie, that's not that long. And he was a pretty horrible person to you."
I reminded myself that time is not equated to feelings. (Thanks you Meagan Meyers for that wisdom nugget. It has gotten me through many a rough night!)
I let myself feel like shit. No more brave face. I had about two weeks of just full on vegetative state. Not physically, but mentally. It started the day after my birthday, the 31st. I had been going back and forth about what to do for New Years, when I said screw men and the problems they cause, and drove up to Nac to surprise Blanca, who was stuck here working. I took one of my best friends from high school with me, my hair in a pony tail, no make up, over-sized tee and jacket, and celebrated with great people. We drank a couple cold ones at my old bosses house, watched fireworks, and sat around a fire.
That night I didn't force myself to be the life of the party. I didn't make a point to tell jokes, or play games, or start conversations like I normally do. I just existed. And I watched everything going on around me with a weird sense of calm.
The night winded down, I headed back to my apartment, had just sat down in my big leather chair and was checking Facebook when it happened.
A name popped up in my messenger.
It was him. The ex.
Heart in throat. Isn't he still with her? Why is he messaging me? We don't speak to each other.
My first thought "Well. He learned his lesson about texting girls he shouldn't be, so he has started using FB messenger. Clever boy."
1 AM, January 1st, 2015.
"Hey, I was just sitting here watching Bill Burr and it made me think of you."
Oh did it? That's sweet. Referencing something we used to watch together. What are you doing? Trying to get back on good terms? Making sure I don't have a nice relaxing New Years? Shouldn't you be kissing someone right now?
Bill Burr? That's what made you think of me? God how unromantic. I think of you every time I look at my cross tattoo. Every time I put on jeans that are a little too tight. Anytime I hear Toby Keith. Every time I wake up after dreaming about you, in that fuzzy morning stage when I think you still might be there to hold me when I roll over. Every time I shower and think about when I cut myself. Every time anyone mentions fishing. Or I drive by that laundromat. Or see the cute pajama outfit I bought just for you that is now shoved in the back of my closet. Or put on what were your favorite pair of heels for me to wear. So don't come at me with this pathetic Bill Burr shit.
"I just wanted to say that I hope everything is going well for you."
Well it's not. Does that make you feel better? Life sucks right now. Do you really hope that? Because I hope you wake up every day and regret the way you treated me. But maybe I'm just bitter. Oh I am probably going to Auburn though. So that's nice.
"You were really such a big part of my life, and you taught me so much about love, and about myself."
Oh was I? You could have fooled me with all the girls you have gone through since you left me. Hopefully I taught you important things like, not to make your girlfriends feel like they aren't enough....not to project your insecurities onto them until they hate themselves....to appreciate the things they do for you...From the Facebook posts you have been posting about her, I think the last one might have at least gotten through.
Did I teach you that you were going through life unhappy because it's easier to be unhappy and get what you want than to actually work towards improving yourself and maybe face failure? No? Oh. Darn.
"Anyway, I just wanted to say that. I'll see you in a few weeks."
I paused for what seemed like eternity, re-reading the message over and over, before showing it to my friend. She laughed and said "Yeah uh huh. His ass is trying to get back in good graces to make himself feel better. Joke. He does not get to do that to you."
Of course I didn't respond with any of those things I just wrote. In fact I wasn't sure if I should even respond. I ended up saying,
"You too __________. Actually, no, things aren't going well. You screwed me up in a lot of ways. I have been thinking about seeing a counselor. And you actually won't see me in a few weeks, because I am student teaching this semester. So that was goodbye."
I followed that up with a text that said, "You don't get to do that." just to make sure he got the message.
He read the message, but I never heard back from him. That's okay because I wasn't trying to open up a dialogue, I was trying to end one before it started. As I sat there wondering what on earth possessed him to message me, and why he was thinking about me on New Year's Eve, I promised myself that I had to get better.
None of this lose ten pounds, or spend less money resolution b.s. I had to get back to me. So I spent the next several weeks doing just that. I went out when I wanted to, and binged on Netflix and Oreos when I wanted too. I cooked more at home. Spent more time alone. I started student teaching. I got a dog (good lord the struggle is real).
I started to realize that the things I was chastising myself for, like going out all the time to avoid feelings, constantly needing company to avoid myself, etc, are things that are simply part of me. Yes, I had taken them to a whole new level last semester, but I'm just the type of girl who likes to have fun.
Not trashy, dangerous fun. That gives me anxiety. But the type of girl who wants to hear all about her friends boyfriend problems over margaritas on a Monday. The type of girl who loves to smile and laugh and dance the night away in the arms of good looking cowboys. The girl who loves to drink wine and watch stand up with her best friends. The type of girl who likes to back road and listen to Texas country when the party scene gets too loud. Or play guitar and write songs when there are too many things for me to feel.
I have stopped focusing on everything I have done wrong, and started focusing on the things I have done right. Taking care of my pets, although trivial to some, makes me so happy. Teaching high school kids about artificial insemination, although gross to some, lights up my day. Having friends who are going to hate to see me leave if I go to Auburn, overwhelms me with love. Making plans to road trip for two weeks this summer with Blanca and Sunshine excites me. Knowing that I put my heart out there after it had been broken, even if only to be rejected again, reminds me that I am a loving and hopeful person. I refuse to become hardened and bitter.
There are still battles to come, and hardships to face. I long for the day that I don't worry, or regret, or fret about a single thing. But in the mean time I am enjoying the days that get awfully close. Where I only think of him once. Or remember poor decisions for just a fleeting moment.
Even though my friends and I joke that life's a bitch and then you die, the good days make all of those bad ones worth it. You have to go through moments like I did over the break to recognize that moments like this...
Are ones worth fighting for.
-L
