Saturday, February 12, 2011


Last night I was caught off guard by Twitter.  Yes, the little social networking site did something that knocked the wind out me.  What could it possibly do that would be so devastating to me?  I was looking through my “followers” and there was a little section over to the right that was titled “similar to you.”  It had my friend Jessica from Wisconsin listed there and 2 tweeters that I didn’t recognize.  The fourth person is the one that packed a heavy punch for me.  A punch I thought I’d be able to dodge and deflect.  Apparently not.  It was my ex, Jon-Pierre.  Why?  Why did Twitter think that it would be appropriate to even think of listing him as someone “like me” especially when I have him blocked on Twitter???  I haven’t a clue.  All I know is that it affected me to the point that I didn’t believe was still possible.  I guess because he still lives just one flight of stairs away from me, thus keeping him close to me when I’d much rather he was far, far away so that his existence would be so much easier for me to deny and so much easier for me to forget and move forward.  I slept horribly last night.  I don’t think I slept for more than an hour straight without waking up bathed in sweat.  My anxiety level was higher than it has been in months.  My chest was tight and I had to struggle with my breathing to keep myself from hyperventilating.  I had been tired before I laid down, but the instant that I placed my head on my pillow and assumed my comfortable sleeping position, I was wide awake, fidgety, and uncomfortable.

I would have thought myself more resilient than that.  I would have thought that anything about him wouldn’t affect me so deeply, so drastically.  But I would have been wrong, and I was.  I'm not as “over” him as I thought I was.  Part of me still hurts from the wounds he inflicted upon me.  Part of me still aches for the love I once felt for him.  And Heather pointed out to me that I was crazy about him and that what I was feeling was perfectly natural.  You don’t just get over being completely crazy about someone.  It takes longer than the statistical norm of 1/3 the length of the relationship to heal.  He was my Romeo and I was his lovesick Juliet.  Heather told me not to fret and to just breathe through it and remember that I am better off without him.  She also pointedly asked me what this little incident would have done to me 4 months ago.  Exactly.  It would have completely debilitated me.  I would have been a completely inconsolable emotional wreck.  I wouldn’t have been able to function properly.  So I have moved forward.  I may not have completely moved on, but I have moved forward and am making progress.  It’s not a setback like I originally thought it was last night while I was living through my own little emotional hell for 8 hours.  It’s a mile marker.  It’s something to remind me of my pain and to show me just how far I have come.

Some days, I wish I didn’t have to carry around this pain and wait for what seems like forever to work my way through it.  But, what lessons would I learn if I didn’t have to go through it all?  What progress would I make if I didn’t have to dredge through so much sorrow and anguish?  What movement would I have made if I had never loved him and been completely crazy about him and all consumed by him?  None.  None at all.  I would be a blank shell of a person.  Without suffering there is no hope for the future.  Without pain, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.  There would be no growth or sense of accomplishment when all is said and done with.

Life is marked with pitfalls.  Without them, life wouldn’t be worth it; it wouldn’t be so precious.  There would be no point to living a human life at all.  We might as well be mindless animals.  What keeps me up at night is what allows him to sleep.  He thinks he has done no wrong by me.  He couldn’t be further from the truth of the matter.  My heart was under his control.  I don’t know why he affected me so strongly…so much more strongly than all other men with the exception of one other: Vance.  Both of them I loved with every fiber of my being and both of them emotionally destroyed me.  They were my two great loves.  I haven’t given up so much as I am just taking a much needed and well deserved break from dating.  The last time I was truly happy and at peace and felt balanced was when I was single for 2 years and only concerned myself with myself.  I am on the path to regain that feeling and that balance into my life again.  And I will.  I don’t have a doubt about it.

It’s cliché, but it’s also so very true.  I'm a survivor.  I will move past this and be so much stronger for it.  I will become even more resilient.  I will do my best to not develop even more trust issues, but if I do, then there is a reason for it.  I must remember that all happens for a reason.  There is never a senseless act or moment.  The reasons may not make themselves clear, but don’t be fooled, they are there.  Not being a religious person, this is a concept I struggle with, but that I innately believe to be true.  That which does not stop me or kill me builds me up inside.  It gives me confidence for the future.  I will be okay.  I will move beyond this.

There is perfection in imperfection.  Without imperfection nothing is unique.  Without imperfection everything is the same, boring, redundant, mediocre, repetitive, endless droning.  I don’t want to be like everyone else.  I want to be true to myself.  I want to be my own imperfect example of perfection.  I am my own person and I need to take ownership of my life again.  I need to thrive in my own way.  I need to make new friends and create a social support system for myself.  I need to do what I enjoy and what I want to do and not do things just because it’s what other people are doing.

My paintings offer me a window into my mind.  They may be simple and not great works of art, but they are pieces of me, pieces of my soul.  I’ve been given the two greatest compliments I could ever hope to receive.  First, I’ve had 2 separate people tell me that they would seriously consider buying paintings from me.  Second, my mom told me that my sunflowers painting was reminiscent of Van Gogh, my favorite painter.  How great of a compliment to be compared to your idol?  My paintings are not something I do to make money, but if it brings me money, then great.  But it’s not the reason I do it.  It’s an emotional release for me.  And an outlet.  I love blending the colors for my backgrounds.  Bright and vibrant and varied.  I love dreaming up designs to paint in the forefront.  A few I will never consider selling and will keep just for myself.  But most I will seek to sell. 

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