Write Off

Behind the curtain are countless unpublished posts that ramble on for pages. I usually abandon them because it's late and I'm tired. When I revisit them, I find myself right back in the sad or angry or other emotion that was pulsing through my veins when I wrote it.

Fact is, I'm writing him out of my life right now. Every time I lay words down, I take another step away from the most amazing love that I (or any of our friends) have ever known. Not my goal when I hopped back on the blog bus...not by a long shot.

So it's time to get back to those heart-to-hearts that we promised one another several weeks ago. It's been incredibly easy to hold each other, pretend like nothing is missing, and enjoy phenomenal sex. Being fearful of staying in and falling out of love at the same time is damn confusing.

Thinking...and/or Inking

I consider myself to be pretty intuitive. I've called a lot of events (that were close to me) before they were announced. Right now, my inner fortune teller is hinting at things I don't want to be true.

So I'll sit here bewildered and confused and tired (mostly tired) and a little bit sad...

...and I'll ponder my next tattoo.

(Lest we forget my personal GPS is oft off course. 
I still want another tattoo.)

To-Do List

Join a book club: I love to read. I love getting lost in another world, pondering what will happen next, the jaw drop that happens when the plot twists, the sad that fills me as I reluctantly turn the final page of the final chapter. But I'm so damn tired at the end of any given night, it's hard to put on my cheaters and knock out a few chapters. I need a book club to hold me accountable. I will read the book. I will come prepared to discuss it. I will enjoy the chatter and sisterhood. Now...where do I find said literary gaggle of women? (I have a decent lead, but will happily listen to your suggestions.)

Plant a seed: I need to learn how planning ahead can reward me (and my loved ones). I will (very very soon) plant a seed that will grow into something that I will eat in a month or two or three. Year after year I say I would like to grow a garden but the idea is daunting and I don't do anything about it. By the end of next week, I will have researched what I can start now that will flourish before summer's end. One thing. I will grow and care for one kind of plant, I will do it well, and I will enjoy (and share) the fruits (or vegetables) of my labor.

Set a fitness goal: I have been flailing since November's marathon. Even while I was running said race, I was pressing myself to set my sites on another event. I didn't. And I haven't. While I have stayed in shape between EnduraCamps, trail running, and client workouts, I'm not committed to anything in particular. I'm not pushing myself to the uncomfortable. I'm not reaching new heights. I love new heights. Gimme two weeks. I'll lay down the cash for a race and report back.

The Crying Game

Spontaneous weeping. All the damn time.

A racist asshole with guns killed my Kansas City neighbors.

And it's been a year since punk ass kids blew up my sport.

And mortality has started tapping me on the shoulder at work and in my personal relationships.

So here it is, plain and simple: I don't want to go at this alone. I don't want to navigate the waters of this harrowing life without a partner. I need a shoulder right now...because these tears are wreaking havoc on my blouse.

Broken [up] Dreams

Last night's dream pictured me shoved to the side while he mingled with society folk. He promised to come for me after a few minutes, but he never did.

A week ago the vision was about an ex from college, but I knew, even while sleeping, who the dream was really about. Needless to say, it didn't end well (both the dream and the relationship with the ex).

I rarely remember what happens between my ears while I sleep. I do recall once waking incredibly angry because my then-sweetheart had done wrong by me in my imagination, but other than that, I hardly recall dreams the moment I wake, and even if they hang with me beyond 5:00 am, the memory is swept clean by the time I am dressed for the day.

So to have two dreams within a week that are vivid, memorable, and about the same subject seems to be a message of sorts from my psyche. Or maybe not.

Let me sleep on it.

Experimental Rambling

What you're about to witness is precisely the reason I began blogging (again...and before). I'm looking for answers to a question I don't even know. I'm going to write down some words and cross my fingers (well, not actually cross them as that would making typing quite difficult) that at the end of it all, I have made some headway toward some kind of solution, or at the very least, have a challenge set forth for the tackling.

So...the long term relationship that ended...it's so much more complicated than that. Even today, after our mutual uncoupling, I am convinced that he and I have one of the greatest loves in the history of love. When we were together, we shared laughs and respect, we cooked up magic in the kitchen and created chemistry in the bedroom (and the kitchen and the in living room and on the stairs...). We inspired each other to become stronger and more fit. I can only speak for myself on this account, but knowing him made me want to be a better person. He helped me understand the world in ways I'd never bothered to learn. He introduced me to professionals who inspired me. He flew me to places I'd never been. He took it upon himself to make sure my passport didn't remain stamp-free. We massaged the other's sore bodies, we cared for sniffles and tummy aches. We held hands while grocery shopping. We sat side by side on the couch better than anyone.

And we shared our families too.

This was no ordinary love. There was nothing about our togetherness that felt like a compromise. For nearly four years, I looked forward to the minutes we could spend as a twosome. We had a rhythm that made the weeks and months fly past. We oozed passion.

So all of these lovely things make it quite hard to accept a break up -- especially because both of us will readily admit we still love the other.

The why of the break up? Let's call it claustrophobia. I understand -- probably more than he thinks I do. As previously mentioned, I'm not a huge fan of marriage, and don't have a lot of faith in forevers. At the same time, I don't want to go at this whole grown-up thing alone. Having felt how amazing a great relationship can be, I'll be the first in line to do it again. The caveat: it has to be just as good or better. The bar has been set almost impossibly high.

So while I know we are not "a thing" right now, we remain in touch (read that as you wish) and still rely on the other as dear friends. He was the first person I reached out to when my marathon toenail fell off. And I was his go-to gal when he needed to complain about chaffing. And when we are not "in touch," the extra alone time has given my brain chatter a whole new stage. My internal debate goes something like this:

He's never going to realize what he's missing by being broken up if you continue to support him as a friend and occasional lover.
So you want to play games? That's so not you, Jen. He knows you love him and if you act like a cold bitch, you're a) not fooling anyone, and b) mostly just being a bitch.
But he's taking you for granted. He knows you will always be there for him, yet you don't know he will always be there for you.
I'm pretty sure he'll be there for me. Haven't you been paying attention?

And so on...

The dialogue goes on forever. And ever. I hear it all day long...and all night too (because sleep is overrated). I hope to remain friends and be honest about how much I love and care for him. At the same time, I'd like to think I'm keeping my options open for qualified others who may be interested in getting to know me. I'm not sending off any particularly "I'm available" vibes, but hey...you never know.

I've been able to envision old age and hand holding with him since our very beginning. Add to that all of the lovelies mentioned at the beginning of this post and I think we can all see that I'm not in a hurry to (nor am I capable of) disposing of all of those wonders and simply moving on. I do realize that I might have to or choose to do exactly that (though I tamper the thought when it crops up). But for now, my part as a best friend, drinking buddy, and occasional fuck is still one of the most important roles in my life.

...and scene.

Okay, so I feel like I settled some stuff here. I wrote this a few nights ago and thought I was too tired to finish (looks fairly complete to me in a little bit of daylight). Upon reading it, it certainly appears I have some pretty strong feelings about where I am and where I'd like to be. I truly enjoy our interactions right now and don't feel rushed by my emotions or my friends to put a title on what he and I are.  And if one must attach a label to it, best friends will suffice. 

Don't Know What You've Got 'til It's Gone

I'm sick.

Achy, bloated stomach, even-more-than-usual tired, longing for someone to burp me like a baby, I've been mostly down for three days. (Now, please understand that by "mostly down," I mean I've met my clients, I've taught my classes, and I performed my day job, albeit with far less zest than most days.)

Every time I get sick, I remind myself to appreciate how good not feeling bad feels. And I might think about if for a few days after the ick passes, but just as quickly as the sickness makes itself known, so does the gratitude that it is gone.

Working with an aging, ailing population on a daily basis reminds me that I need to take care of what I've got while I've got it (body and brain), but I almost never take a moment to scan my body that is free of aches (other than the ones I proudly earned at boot camp or on the trails) and appreciate just how wonderful that is.

So it's going on my calendar. A daily reminder to express gratitude for health. I'll likely begin ignoring it after a few days or weeks, but a daily thanksgiving reminder will surely spark a smile even if I delete the memo the moment it nudges me.

But for now, I'm going to wallow in my tummy ache. And if it doesn't make an exit tout de suite, I'm gonna christen my ObamaCare card and visit a doctor. And speaking of, health insurance is another daily thank you for the to-do list...and smart kids and a cool cat and a roof over my head and a steady job and wonderful friends....now, what was it I was complaining about?