The stories it would tell.

It would tell you about the many, many nights I hugged it as I sat in the bathroom floor, too weak to go back to the bedroom between rounds of vomiting.

It would tell you all about my heartbreak and the number of tears it caught.

It would tell you how it comforted me when I felt so alone.

It would tell you about the nights I screamed into it for hours on end.

It would tell you about the nights I simply laid my head on it and quietly cried, begging for the strength to just hold on until morning.

It would tell you about a night where I cried and begged God to not let me wake in the morning. A night where I was in so much pain, that I simply would rather have stopped breathing. A night where I would alternate sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe with periods of complete silence. Silence so deafening that you couldn’t hear me breathing.

It would tell you all the bitter things I have said and the revenge I have plotted.

It would tell you all about my grief. How my grief is named Dad and Brother. And how my grief is as real today as it was the day it began.

It would then tell you about the nights I cried out begging for guidance to find forgiveness for those who have hurt me.

It would tell you about the nightmares that leave me scared, heart pounding, and afraid. It would tell you about the nightmares I don’t even remember, but it does.

It would tell you all the things that I haven’t healed from enough to tell you. It would tell you about my healing. The progress I have made, the words that I can say that I couldn’t say before.

It would tell you how angry I still get. That I still cry out in anger and hurt.

It would tell you about all the tears that have came from walking down memory lane. Remembering favorite stories of so many people I love.

It would tell you about the giggles that come from browsing old photos, recalling precious memories, or reading a text from someone.

It would tell you my story.

When I was a young teenager, I would call my biological father every week and ask him to come see me. He always had the same answer, “I’ll be there Saturday morning. See ya then.”

Every Saturday morning I would wait at my aunt’s house for him to come. I would pass up spending the weekend with my friends. I would pass up going out with my aunt for the day. I would miss moments that I could have made a memory different than the memory of sitting at my aunt’s house waiting for someone who would never show up. Moments not filled with disappointment, anger, unanswered questions, and sadness.

My aunt got to where she would say, “you may as well live your life, he isn’t coming.” But, what if that weekend was the one……the weekend that he decided to show up, the weekend that my dreams came true.

It took several Saturdays in a row before I gave up. I started to live my life and make those memories I was missing out. I found peace at the fact it was never going to happen.

It’s funny how years later something can happen to tear that wound wide open. You thought there was a scar and it was all healed up, but come to find out it was only a scab that could be peeled off and that wound will bleed again.

For over the past year I have been hesitant to make plans, making sure I leave my calendar as open as possible. They’d be talk of plans of my best friends visiting, or us meeting up. They’d never happen. People would ask me if I wanted to go here or there and I’d pass it up saying that they were coming that weekend. Before the weekend would come, the plans would fade out. But I’d hold out hope that maybe they’d change their mind. I didn’t want to fill up my weekends because…..what if this is the one? The one they actually come.

After accepting that it would likely not happen that they’d actually come, I stopped asking, I stopped hoping, I stopped leaving my weekends open.

All those wounds from 27 years ago opened up. I struggled. My heart hurt. I could not continue to deal with the old wounds and try to heal the new wounds.

I filled my calendar. I took my life off hold. I began to go live. Go spend weekends making the memories I should be making.

I decided that every weekend was the one. The one where I would not wait for anyone to choose me. The one I would pick me. I would choose me. I would make time for me. I would love me enough to show up for myself. The one where I would stop waiting to be worth the effort, the time, and the memories.

One small phrase, so many meanings. Have you ever thought about what that phrase really means to people when they say it? Have you ever even thought that it could have multiple meanings?

We miss different things about different people. We miss their smile, we miss their laugh, we miss their hugs, we miss their presence.

Lately, I’ve really thought a lot about this phrase. I recently was able to go spend some time with my family and a few friends. Most of which I had been missing terribly. I’ve been thinking about why I miss some more than others when I just saw them. I have realized that because what I was missing from each was different. For some of them I fulfilled that. For others, I did not. For some I simply missed being in their presence, laughing and having a good time. For others, I have realized, what I was missing and what I’m still missing is their connection. I can say I miss you to one person and simply just mean I miss seeing you. For those, a group hangout, a short visit to catch up, etc is sufficient to curb that. For others, I need alone time, one on one, deep connection. For that is what I am missing about them. That is not something I get from a short visit to catch up, by simply being in their presence, by calling them up, by a group hangout. I can have any or all of the above and I’ll still walk away missing them. Walk away with that deep yearning to spend time with them. For those things, in some ways, make it worse. You know the old phrase “so close I can feel it”? You are right there. Everything you’ve been missing. But yet, somehow, you just can’t grab ahold of it. It’s just outside your reach. This is because it wasn’t what you missed. It wasn’t what your heart so deeply ached for. It’s more of a feeling you are missing. A feeling of old times past, a feeling of familiarity, a feeling of safeness, a feeling of home.

It’s so hard to explain to someone that you can “see them” and still be missing them at the very same moment. It makes you feel needy, selfish, and difficult. The reality is you just miss them.

For most people when they notice a knot, they just brush it off. They may watch it for a week or even months before they decide to mention it. They’ll think of what it could be but not really let it get them wound up much. They are sure it will fine. It’s just a knot.

For others when they notice a knot, they will relive many painful moments. Their stomach will twist itself up. They will call their physician immediately and rightfully so. It will steal their sleep, their peace. They will come up with all the could be scenarios refusing to think they would have to relive a moment of their life over again. As time goes on and hours seem like weeks and days seem like months, they slowly let the could be scenarios drift in. Most don’t think about themselves and the past moments they’ve endured. They think about all those around them. What this would mean for them. It’s a lifelong fear of every time something feels off, something feels different, they have a pain. They will relive it all over again. They will think of all it affected and wonder how they’ll say it again. It is not like when you have a cold, you take meds and it’s gone. It lives with you. It haunts you. Because for them it’s not just a knot.

Holding it all in,

Some days I feel like I’m living a lie,

Making my head spin,

Because all I want to do is cry.

Cry into the arms of someone who cares,

It’d be nice to just let it all out,

But instead I look off in a blank stare.

Feels like my heart has suffered a clout,

I keep telling myself that it will all be over soon,

Someday I’ll find someone who cherishes me,

And will sit with me looking at the moon,

They won’t let me be,

They’ll always be there to see me through,

Especially on the days I feel blue.

They’ll always be there with open arms,

They won’t need to make time for me,

No matter how near or far.

As they’ll freely give their time with glee.

They’ll be no more holding it in,

I can let the feelings freely flow,

Maybe it will give me some peace,

Don’t I deserve that at least?

You know how when your child was small and they’d keep trying to touch a hot surface? Every time you’d tell them no, they’d get their little heart broken because they didn’t understand why you were telling them no, just that you were. They’d keep trying to see if today was the day they could do it.

Eventually one day you had to stop telling them no because they stopped. Ever think about why they stopped? They knew they were always going to be told no. So they learned not to do it, not to touch the stove. They moved on to something else and stopped trying to touch the stove.

I’ve learned not to touch the stove. The day has come that you don’t need to tell me no any longer. I’ve heard you. I’ve listened to you.

When you consider moving away from home you’ll get lots of advice. People will share their experience about moving away. Friends and family will give well wishes, promises of support, make commitments to stay in touch, friends will tell you nothing will change. However, there are things that people won’t tell you. They won’t tell you about all the missed events. The birthday party for your best friend’s child or grandchild you’ve never missed before, you will only see pictures of it on Facebook and hear about it from your other best friends. The school events you’ve always shared with your friends because your kids are the same age or you live near each other you’ll find your self sitting through them alone and missing those same events belonging to their kids. They’ll also fail to tell you that it’s more than just physically missing those events. You’ll miss them deep in your soul. They’ll make you homesick and question your decision to move away even though you know you made the right decision. They won’t tell you that some days the homesickness is so much it’s physically hard to breath. They won’t tell you that there will be a point that you’ll go back home to visit and feel like the outsider and feel like you don’t belong. That there is a point in the transition where you haven’t quite found your place in your new “home” but you no longer have a place at your old “home”. That point sucks.

And about all the things they did tell you….most of them were meant well but they were false. Things will change. People won’t come visit. They’ll talk about it, maybe attempt at making plans. It may happen occasionally, but it will be rare. Some will stay in touch, but mostly just at first. As time passes the communication lessens. Out of sight out of mind I guess. All of the advice was meant well, to encourage you. After all, are you going to want to move away if someone tells you that they’ll be excited to see you when you come home the first few months but after awhile they’ll usually be busy, or if they tell you that your friends will move on with their life and you will no longer hold the same place in their life you once did?

Change sucks, but it is needed in life. It’s not all bad. You’ll make new friends, new routines, new normals. It will never be the same, but will be a new same. Someday. I hope.

My mind is jumbled tonight. This week, this month, this year has been a mess, but especially this week. So many things are going through my head. Depression and anxiety are the hardest two things to explain to anyone who hasn’t experienced them. You wish people could understand, but you are glad they don’t because you know the only way for them to truly understand would mean they have experienced it and you wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Depression and anxiety are wars in which I know I cannot win. I will never win the war so long ago I accepted that I will face each battle and win them instead. The problem comes in that I am now facing a battle in which I no longer feel I can win. I wonder if it’s time to wave the white flag, dance on the moon, and wait for everyone on the other side of the stars. I feel I’m in the battle of my life and I look around and I’m alone. No one fighting beside me. I’ve pushed them away. For when they said I love you more, they put limits on it. I love you more, but only so much more. I love you more than X bad days, more than X arguments, more than X. The difference is when I said I love you more to anyone it was and is without limits. You can only give 10% in our relationship, ok I’ll give the other 90%. That’s why it works. When you can’t give, I pick up the slack. When I can’t give, you pick up the slack. Then they get tired of picking up the slack, they can’t fight the battle with you. You’re left to put on this fake front and use every ounce of energy you have left to pretend you aren’t fighting a battle to give what you can give so they don’t leave and it drains you even more. There is no winning the fucking battle. There is no solution. Why don’t I wave the flag? Why?, because I have my little positive Polly sending me “good morning warrior” and “I love you warrior”. I’m no damn warrior. I’m a coward. A warrior wouldn’t want to wave the white flag. A warrior wouldn’t need someone to fight the battle and pick up the slack. Scars mean you fought. It means you healed. It means you survived. I don’t think there will be a scar this time.

I hate it. There is no substance to it. It’s uncomfortable and adds nothing to my life. What is the point of it? It feels forced and has no meaning or value. There are different kinds of small talk. When I ask my friend how she is or how her day was or how she slept last night and she gives me answers with depth, that’s not small talk. That’s something real. When I pass someone in the hall and ask or even ask my friend and get a shallow response, that’s the small talk I hate. I wasted my time and you wasted your time answering. It added nothing to either of our lives. I want real. I want depth. I want raw. I want honesty. I don’t want forced. I don’t want canned answers. I don’t want awkwardness. Small talk is for acquaintances, not friends. When a friend puts me in the small talk zone there is no quicker way to lose my interest and push me away. I don’t really know why. For me, there is some emotional connection in conversations and when you lose that connection, I feel pushed away, rejected.

Your thoughts on small talk?

Anxiety is a bitch. Excuse the language but it has to be said. It convinces you that no one wants you around. It convinces you that you aren’t good enough. That promotion you work your ass off, it tells you that you’ll never get it. It tells you that no one loves you. When your friends are going to come see you and you suggest that they not come that day and they agree, you immediately think they didn’t even want to come in the first place. You just done them a favor. Yes, it was your idea for them not to come. But your anxiety just convinced you that you just let them off the hook because they didn’t really want to come anyhow. You second guess everyone’s motives, not because you don’t trust them, but because your anxiety has convinced you that there must be another reason behind them doing what they are doing. Anxiety steals your peace of mind, it robs you of your rest, and sometimes prevents you from having good friendships/relationships. It keeps you from just being you. Anxiety is real. Seek help and I don’t mean go and get meds or see a therapist, unless that is what is needed. Sometimes just speaking out to those closest to you about what is going on is enough, but be open and honest. Tell them about your anxiety. Let them know what you are dealing with. Let them help you through it. If they aren’t willing to be understanding and try to help you through it, then maybe it’s not a bad idea to lose those friendships/relationships.

If you are friends with someone dealing with anxiety, be supportive of them. Be reassuring, be compassionate, be there for them. Reach out to them when they are drifting away. Let them know they are safe with you. Love them extra on their hard days and just be a friend. Know they are always trying.