Calloused

I’m back writing again, and you all know what that means.

I’m in emotional turmoil 🙂

Nothing makes me more uncomfortable than succumbing  to my own humanity. Y’know, feelings and whatnot. Particularly the ones that make you appear vulnerable and weak.

I’ve developed into the classic “funny girl.” Ask anyone that’s had a 30-minute conversation with me, I guarantee I’ve made them laugh. Humor is arguably the most effective tool of deflection.

I guess this is my self-protective mechanism; my adaptation to the realization that i’m not safe out in the world. And it’s served me well, for the most part.

I want to be perceived as the comedic, confrontational, independent gal who couldn’t give two bothers as to what anybody thinks of her. And to my core, I am that person. And I love that person. But even she isn’t immune to the pain of rejection, betrayal, misplaced trust, and heartbreak.

And i’ll be honest, initially, things don’t really get to me. I can shrug off most anything, and I’ll probably even crack a joke about it just to assure you that I’m okay. But after a random duration of time, it all gets to me at once. Pain always catches up, no matter how far of a head start you have.

Today was one of those days where I felt the pain of the last decade all come crashing down on me at the same time. I happened to be at the gym, actually, when the lump in my throat began to build. Leg day was cut short so I could make it to my car in time for the water works.

I’ve been through a lot in the past 10 years. Puberty, anorexia, braces, high school, rape, the loss of friends and significant others, death, rejection, and the constant frustration that I’m the one behind the wheel, but my GPS keeps rerouting, turning me in unproductive circles.

And I really haven’t done a whole lot of feeling.

You can only suppress emotion for so long before you break, I guess. Being alive hurts.

A healthy, well-adjusted individual would probably just allow themselves to feel the pain in real time, give themselves time to work through it, and then move on. I’d really, REALLY like to be a healthy, well-adjusted individual.

Recently, I’d misplaced my trust in someone completely, allowing them to tug me around. They gained my trust and vulnerability far too quickly, and left me the fool. My initial reaction was complete denial that it even affected me at all, and then it turned to frustration. Granted, this person wasn’t in my life long enough to put me in the emotional state that I am now.

But there’s always a catalyst for this sort of thing.

And that lead me down the rabbit hole to every other instance in which I was forced into a vulnerable position, which turned into me driving home from the gym with tears dripping down my face and some Kanye song blasting in the background.

I would beg whatever supernatural forces that exist to take the pain away, but I think the point is for me to let myself feel it.

So i’m laying here, in a cuddle puddle with my two felines, doing just that.

Growth; it isn’t always pretty.

 

M.

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Prevaricator

I am kind of becoming the Taylor Swift of the blogging world.

Yes, I have endured yet another unfortunate break-up. Kissed another frog. (Insert whatever other cliche, yet encouraging phrase here.)

This past week has been the week from Hell. My family is kind of falling apart (another story for another day) and I had just gotten in quite the quarrel with my mother over familial issues. I was reduced to pathetic sobs and tears, and after leaving my mother’s house, texted this ex-suitor of mine, (let’s call him Derek, that’s a liar-face name, isn’t it? Oh, and sorry if your name is Derek and you’re not a liar-face. It’s unfair of me to generalize. Please don’t take offense and discontinue reading my blog, truthful Derek’s of the world.)

Anyway, I texted Derek and told him I was now available to hang out. He responded to my SMS messages swiftly, that is, until I had physically pulled my Camry out of my parents’ driveway. As according to plan, I drove to Derek’s bro-mance’s house and parked right out front. I shot him another text message, informing him that I’d arrived.

Ten minutes passed, and I sat and waited in my car for a response, still sobbing, though gentler now, and listening to my favorite angsty Fall Out Boy songs. I waited another five minutes before sending him another message to notify him that I was just going to head home now.

The next morning, Derek told me that he’d been sleeping in his car, which was also parked outside his bro-mance’s house, while I had been waiting for him. I responded bluntly, as I was having a horrible day, and still somewhat traumatized by the fight I’d gotten into with my mother the previous night.

Later that afternoon, Derek sent me the notorious frowny face.–> 😦

“What’s wrong?” I texted back, genuinely concerned.

“I’m not good enough for you. You shouldn’t waste your time on me, M.” Blah, blah, blah. All of the “It’s not you, it’s me,” bullshit you could think of.

I think now would be a good time to say that I am NOT in a good position to be broken up with, if there ever was such a thing. We’re talking breakdowns on the nightly, folks.

So there I was, on campus, attempting to prepare myself for a required assessment for a job i’d been pursuing, when this breakup happened.

I’m not going to lie, my initial reaction was laughter-laughter of confusion and unbelief.

Because I will probably not get the chance to ask Derek why he is not good enough for me, I am forced to jump to my own conclusions, in the sake of closure.

Although to me, this breakup seems to have come without warning, I think I can figure out just exactly what caused it. Derek, you didn’t break up with me because “you’re not good enough for me.” Well, I take that back. Perhaps that was partially it, seeing as my standards and morals are levels upon levels higher than yours, as are my ambitions. I am simply more grown up than you, and you feel pressured by me to change your boyish behavior, but aren’t quite ready to drop your bad habits. But it’s way more complicated than that, isn’t it?

No, Derek, the underlying reason as to why you’ve decided to drop me like a hot spoon is the mere fact that I won’t put out for you. Which is fine, and I completely understand that. You are a 19-year-old man-child hybrid with hormones. This is only unfair to me because we had discussed this earlier in our pathetic, little fling, and you assured me that you were fine with taking things slow.

You insisted that I “open up” to you and that you were here for me.

You told me next time I have a breakdown to call you so you can at least hold me while I cry.

You told me you liked me, and that you cared about me.

And then, when I finally gave in and decided that yes, I was ready to let you be there for me, you were nowhere to be found.

You, sir, are a liar.

Over the past few days, I’ve spent plenty of time over-analyzing this, and being plenty hurt by your deciding to go away at the time I could have used someone’s company most. And now I have blogged out my feelings. And now, I will move on.

Being alone sucks, but it’s nothing I haven’t done before.

I swear I become more and more cynical with age, or maybe people are just gradually sucking more and more?

M.