thursday night

Well it's been over a month since I talked to the Big Dog.  I feel pretty sad about it still.  I don't think she really saw a few sides of me, and I don't hold her responsible for that.  I don't think she saw the compassion I have, because sometimes I keep it to myself in this world.  At least, in terms of how I relate politically.  Maybe she believed the rhetoric more than the actions, because I think in my actions it's pretty clear I'm sensitive and easily hurt not just by my suffering but by that of others.  Since my nihilist turn, I don't always acknowledge that.  I'm at 130 pages in my novel.  Hopefully something good is coming out of my heartbreak and ruptured ear drum.  I'm not ready to give up on her yet and I hope I don't have to, but sometimes the seeds are sewn into the ground and I can't control how they grow.  I love you big dog. I hope you're ok.

Monday night

It's Monday night just before 9.  I've been worried the big dog didn't get my homemade gift.  It feels strange she didn't just text to let me know.  Maybe I've been repeating myself, I dunno.  I feel so distant from her, when I wanted so much closeness.  I don't want to get better and try again.  I want to try again with her and get better with her.  I've been writing so much.  I want to write so much more.  If one good thing comes out of this breakup it is that I've been reminded that writing has always been my calling even if I wished it to be athletic pursuits.  I'm reading Frankenstein and it's changing everything for me, I kind of wished I could have been reading this with the Big Dog.  When jealous rears its ugly head I worry she's w her ex, or someone new, and is ignoring me.  When insecurity rises I worry she doesn't love me anymore, doesn't like me anymore, thinks I was a stepping stone on her way to something better.  I felt so unseen as we broke up and I wonder if I saw her correctly.  I'm not sure the last few months that I was in the place too.  I've been drinking tonight, because I'm alone, and writing didn't come easy this evening.  I'm going to drink then fall asleep and hope that one day I find the intimacy I'm looking for.  I know, if nothing else, I will continue to doggedly work for it.

Stilllll lonely

It's Saturday night, a longtime meaningless notion for me, since I basically never work a normal m-f job. I still miss her.  It feels like I fucked up so badly when she visited.  I sent her a book of drawings that I drew and made for her birthday, but the tracking site isn't working so I have no idea if she got them.  I also sent a long email, a birthday card, and an album I was hoping she didn't have.  I've written over 100 pages of fiction, for a novel I'm working on, this week. I haven't heard from her in a month.  I didn't get any response to any of the birthday stuff, or to the long email I sent.  It doesn't feel very good.  I get that she's taking space, but she wasn't specific with the dates and I thought the communication would be better.  Something like "hey I need more space, it might be a few months," with some date she might check in by or something.  This kind of silence makes me feel like she isn't committed to even being friends, which I know eventually I'll be open to but right now I want more.  I wish I didn't fuck up when she was here.  The past is a minefield, and today is a prison break, as Pat the Bunny says.  The past really feels like a minefield lately.  I want so much more for myself, to be, to have, to do. I want so much more.  I still miss her. I'm sick of writing shit like that into here.

lonely

For a while I joked with snail that I was cosmo most alone...suffice to say they didn't find this funny.  It was at a time of my life that was overflowing with friends, projects, and relations.  Though it might have been towards the end of that time and the beginning of another phase that felt something like in between...in between what? I'm not so sure.  I decided I am going to read Frankenstein, and see if I recognize something of myself in there, in the desire to create a monster, in being one, in the mystery of an unread novel.  In that novel mystery there is almost always something that feel like it changes everything about who I am.  I wish I was finishing the Devourers with the other Big Dog.  We stopped at an exciting time.  I wish she was tucked into this way too warm Hawaii bed with me tonight and that we could take turns reading to each other, and maybe exchange some kisses and cuddles...and maybe play.  I feel like the playful sexy part of me is returning, but it yearns for her right now.  It's not really there for anyone else.  It's going to be her birthday in 3 days.  The plan right now is to text her happy birthday and ask if a phone call is OK.  I really enjoyed making her present, I love when my childish side comes out to play, because ya know, it's never too late to have a happy childhood, which is what maybe I'm always searching for...maybe there is something in combining that with a happy adulthood?

I've decided more or less that I'm going to seriously look into getting an MFT.  I think maybe it combines the favorite parts of what I did as a social worker(work with individual humans ) without having to navigate the systems, at least in terms of my own values.  I already know I don't take that emotional work home with me.  I also know that I can connect to people and I think it might even be good for me to make a practice out of connecting with people instead of making a practice out of focusing on my differences.   I know this could seem reactionary to my breakup? hopefully break? from the other big dog C but I also think it is what makes sense for me right now.  Tomorrow I start a plan to dedicate serious and contained time to writing each day, writing a book, not journaling, and im scared and nervous.  I guess I'm more worried about the writing and schedule being stuck to than the quality of the writing.  A first novel...I could give myself space on it not being earth shattering, but meaningful to me and some of those who know me.  Anyways, here is to coffee in the morning, a clean space to write, and always always always a new day.

Weird times, important conversations

It feels like more hard times and personal growth have hit me in the last few weeks than I've encountered in longer than I can remember.  I talked to a childhood close friend today, and felt rejuvenated a bit.  He reminded me of my strengths.  I talked to my brother yesterday and he said the nicest thing maybe anyone has ever said to me.  I was talking to him about how all his best skills are fit perfectly for the world...emotional stability, ability to produce, and he can fix any machine.  When I said this he told me that "your skills were meant for a much better world than this one" which made me cry, a lot.  I've been thinking a lot about fitting in lately.  My ex(hopefully not, its not certain)C and I had spent a lot of time arguing about being special.  I've come around a lot on it.  Ive thought a lot about it, talked about it with friends and my therapist.  I know where my desire to be special comes from, but sometimes I think it makes me fight my desire to connect and be happy and I'm trying to find more middle ground.  This is just going to be short.  I miss C so much.  I regret several things from the past year, I regret not being more vulnerable on numerous occasions.  I'm feeling insanely lonely out here, finding most of my connect on the phone with long term friends.  I am hoping for some progress with C while also preparing myself for rejection, which isn't something I am particularly good at dealing with.  I also talked to my dad about my older sister for the first time in my life, I didn't even understand how she died til this week.  He was surprised I felt connected to her, which says more about him than me, but the fact that we had the conversation  was huge.  More to deal with, more to write about another day