Month: January 2017
I wrote this on a train on November 22, 2015. It’s about the Christmas after my first heartbreak. This captures a glimmer of the deep and dark sadness that I felt that holiday season. I found this on my phone today, and wanted to share.
After You Left Me
There was a space next to my chair at the table. My family loves me enough to remove a chair so I didn’t have to see it empty. But I could feel it there. The hole. I dressed up and wore lipstick and looked like I was getting through the holidays without you. But everyone knew better. No one brought up the missing chair.
I remember thinking that at least I didn’t have to wait for you this year and offer excuses upon your behalf. You were always late, and I was constantly defending you.
The meal was all joy and laughs but I could feel it building in my chest. The ache always started low in my lungs and choked my heart and climbed up my throat and began to drown my eyes. I let my tears fall heavy and my hands shook. My fork tinged and tanged against my plate but I didn’t have the energy to move it. My family hushed to a silence that was unlike all of them. And they let me cry. They knew why, they didn’t have to ask questions. There has never been a more vulnerable moment for me than that. I was completely broken open. I couldn’t even pretend that I was ok, I couldn’t even excuse myself. I had nothing left.
Before you left me I was so solid, I was strong, cold even. I didn’t show weakness. After you left I couldn’t show strength. I had none of it left. Tears fell without warning, mostly in the car. Mostly while giving massages to strangers in a dark quiet room. It really is a cruel profession to break up in. You have 6 hours a day to think quietly, to replay conversations, and obsess over details. You are required to pretend that you are fine-even if you can barely stand up. You are required to pretend you care about someone else’s needs,knots, and lives.
The holidays that first year, though. That was a tough one. So many tears. So many tears for years after that. Not until you left me. When you left me everything changed in my heart. I am a professional at keeping people at an arms length from my heart. I’m three years in, and I’m waiting for the pain to move away, or the fear to move aside, because despite the complete sadness and abandonment of the last three years I want to love again. I want to believe there is love after the first time. There was for him.
“I’m going to stop you right there. I want you to verbally list out three things that you have accomplished because you haven’t owned a couch.”
This is what you hear after you diminish yourself in front of your life coach.
I pause not knowing what to say. I pause realizing how much I use this metaphor. I pause because she just showed me a glimpse into how I see myself and it is a difficult reality.
I often resort to self-deprecating humor when I compare my life to other friends my age and it usually goes something like this, “So-and-so owns a house, a boat, and has two kids. I don’t even own a couch.”
“Verbally list three things that you have accomplished by not owning a couch.” She said it again.
“I moved to New York, I’ve travelled all over the place, and I have the freedom to move anywhere that I want because I don’t own a couch.” I blurted out. Not a sophisticated list, but all felt important.
“Not so easy to move across the country with a couch is it? Not owning a couch has meant freedom for you. That is a beautiful thing.”She said.
She has a way of spinning all of the countless ways I diminish myself from a negative to a positive.(See below, I could list a hundred more (I think we all could) The left is what I apologize for, the right is what she sees from her lens)
Finished my degree later in life=Wisdom and self awareness
Change my mind a lot=Growth and evolution in the rawest form
I had no idea how much I diminish, apologize, and tiptoe around things that I say and how I act. Now that I have the awareness I’m going to make an effort to pause and spin it into a positive. I over explain things all of the time when there isn’t a need to do so. We over explain our insecurities and I don’t want to anymore.
I’ve been seeing my life coach/mentor/listener since mid-November and it is amazing and uncomfortable, and emotional, and has given me a clarity and drive that I haven’t ever had before. I didn’t have any idea what I was getting myself into, and didn’t really know what a life coach did, but I’ll try nearly anything when something lands serendipitously on my lap.
The conversations are usually on the phone, and it’s incredibly intimidating when a stranger says, “Tell me about you. This is about you.” It’s not very often that we are given the opportunity to have a willing listener. (Something else I want to improve this year, be a better listening friend) The first conversation with her I started with a lot of “ums, and I don’t knows,” but then I started telling the story of how/why I moved to New York. After a few sentences of telling my story to her, she stopped me, “So you moved to New York without a job, without having gone to school here, and only “sort of “knowing one person? Can you just pause and recognize that that is inspiring to me and you should be really proud of yourself.” I blushed through the phone and a smile stretched across my face the first time I heard her say that. (She says inspiring things like that all of the time, and it really seeps in after a while)
“Yeah, that does feel good, and I’m proud of that.” I usually talk to her while fidgeting on the floor of my bedroom and smiling. And then my story begins to flow out of me, comfortably, confidently, and clearly. By speaking life to my thoughts, feelings, and struggles I have been able to take an internal inventory. This inventory has helped to figure out how far I have come, but most importantly where I want to go.
My list of goals I want to accomplish this year is short, but very precise.
I have a new energy around my goals and feel really motivated to accomplish them. I have four things on my list, and one of them is to buy a couch. It’s no longer a soft place to sit, it’s going to be an extremely symbolic and emotional day when I make the purchase.
When I buy a couch I am putting down roots.
Roots! Something I haven’t been ready for until now. I’m always seeking clarity and have felt very spiritual in this new year.
I cut out a bunch of pictures of couches and put them on my dream board this weekend. I have a sexy little grey number in mind with a chaise lounge on one end…but I’m not quite ready yet but I have a feeling 2017 is the year of the couch.