Last Christmas

Last Christmas, I gave him my heart
The very next day, he gave it away (it actually took 6 months but still)
This year to save me from tears
I will give it to someone special (already did and FAILED)

My God, I thought he was someone to rely on
Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on (about his fiancee - wtf was I thinking)

Last Christmas
This year won't be anything like, anything like
Last Christmas.



It was only a year ago...feels like at least 5. And to think I thought I was in love with this farm boy for the past 6 years. Last Christmas gave me the gift of closure and reality. Painful but now much appreciated. I still hope he has a shitty Christmas this year.

As for me?

Hey, maybe I'll learn to sew
Maybe I'll just lie low
Maybe I'll hit the bars
Maybe I'll count the stars until dawn
Me, I will go on

Lord, it's like a hard candy Christmas.

Pleasing Pig Principles

I remembered something today…about Mr. Ex. His friends invited us to do a mini Amazing Race type thing a few weeks ago. We tried for about an hour but it was tough, his English isn’t great and it was dark and cold outside. During the first leg of the race we happened to drive past my office building. I pointed it out thinking he might be a little curious where I spend my days. He didn’t even look where I was pointing. Just said “yeah?” I should have known then he wasn’t all that into me. One Sunday he drove me all the way (15 miles +) to his old house where he once lived with his wife and I was fascinated. Because I really liked him. Wanted to know everything about him. Willing to do anything for him and never, ever rock the boat.

On our last “date” together we went out for a nice dinner in Uptown and then for coffee and chocolate cake at a little French café. It was as romantic as it sounds. Held my hand. The lighting was perfect. It was cold outside. One of those nights I felt light and airy and happy and beautiful and lucky. Or at least I convinced myself I did because I ate pork that night. I don’t eat pork. I haven’t for months and months. I told him I don’t eat pork. We shared a pizza for dinner. He ordered it with sausage. He didn’t remember. Or maybe he did and was waiting for me to say something. But I sat there enthusiastically agreeing with his selection because I wanted him to be happy, for him to have what he wanted was more important than my principles. My love of pigs. They are like really smart dogs. I can’t eat something that plays and tries to snuggle with you while you pet it. No way. But I did! I lost myself in that moment or maybe I lost myself the moment I met him. Wanting to please him. Maybe he noticed this. I thought I saw him pause and look at me when he ordered. Maybe he was waiting for me to stand up to him and say what I needed or wanted. This causes me such a deep sense of shame. By me trying to be perfect for him, it made all my actual imperfections so apparent. I am sorry little pigs. I am sorry to the strong woman I am striving to be.

Naked Elevator Dancing

Basil went to the poochy parlor and got his “do” cut today. My naked Basily. He is going to be chilly for the next couple weeks but I selfishly enjoy this because he will be even more snuggly than ever. I love it when he sleeps under the covers at night.

I picked him up during my lunch break and when we got home I was so curious to see if he would do his naked elevator dance. My elevator is REALLY loud. It beeps (honks & vibrates really) at each floor as you ride it up and down. Basil and I take this ride at least 6 times a day. He is very familiar with it. I wonder why he thinks we have to go in a big metal box for 45 seconds every time he needs to pee. It’s confusing, even to me.


Anyway, after he gets shaved he does this dance where he spins around super fast and looks at his rear end every time the elevator beeps. EEEEEEEEE! Spin. EEEEEEEEE! Spin. EEEEEEEEE! Spin.




I smile after each twirl. Why does he look at his butt? It is the noise? The vibration? Something that I can’t see, hear or feel but he can sense? More so when he isn’t covered in fur? Whatever the reason, it makes my heart fill with love for him. My silly little Shih Tzu.


Side note: Not a good plan to wear tights and have a newly manicured dog sit on my lap while driving home.

Bursting Bubbles

After every bad breakup I have experienced, I go through this bizarre grieving process. It’s very contradictory to my fear of commitment but once I allow something or someone into my life I have a very, very hard time letting it go. For example, my mom had to change our phone number when I was little (my dad was a lying, cheating bastard – yes I see where my men issues stem from) and I freaked out. I still remember the feeling of loss. My world tilted on its axis and I was angry and so upset.

Anyway…so after a boyfriend (or husband) dumps me…I go through this ritual in my mind. I know it sounds quite psycho but this has only happened to me 4 times or so. When I have lost someone I actually LOVE. It goes something like this:

1. Laundry in the basket. Stare at it. Put it in the washer. Think about how these are the last clothes I wore around Mr. Ex. Once I wash them, I will wear them again (not around him) and that makes me sad.

2. Find receipts, fortune cookies, mints, gum, other miscellaneous, meaningless scraps of nothing that remind me of Mr. Ex that I will shove in my wallet or purse and refuse to throw away. This makes me understand hoarders a little bit.

3. Think about shampoo bottles, body wash, soap (anything that you use and throw away every couple months – does not apply to furniture or appliances for obvious reasons) and feel a sense of closure when I squeeze out the last drop of whatever product I had been using while dating Mr. Ex. Smell is a powerful sense for bringing back memories.


4. If convenient, go to the local mall and find where they sell Mr. Ex’s cologne. Spray it on a card, put in my purse and smell it periodically for the next week. This is conscious, intentional torture but hard to resist.

5. If Mr. Ex has left anything at my house, I will refuse to touch it. At all. Because once I move it, it somehow takes me further away from him.

Reading this…it sounds a little scary but it is my way of letting go and missing him. It is better than stalking and/or slashing tires right?




I went and got my car washed today…first time since the breakup so that was a step in the right direction. Wash him away, wash him away, wash him away.

Rapunzel, the Mailman and Monday

I spent the weekend hiding, hibernating, thinking. I didn't even leave my apartment except to walk the Basil. Honestly, it felt good to be so lazy and eat and eat and eat. When I get stressed, I totally and immediately lose my appetite. Between falling in love and then experiencing the loss of that...I had lost at least 5lbs in the past month. I am sure I gained it back over the last 3 days.

The mailman just came into my office and asked if I am going home next week. Only 11 days until Christmas. I am not going home. Just twice in 30 years have I not gone home for the holidays. Part of me would like to see my friends and family of course but mostly it sounds depressing. Thanksgiving was emotionally exhausting per normal and last Christmas was, well, something to be left in the history books. I don't want to self-destruct. The mailman also asked how I was doing, asked if I get lonely...locked away like Rapunzel...alone in my office. Ouch. Is it that obvious? My alone-ness? My loneliness? How do I remove that sign from my forehead?

My mom always says that I "need to be alone for awhile." The anger boils every time that phrase comes out of her mouth. She has NO IDEA how much time I have spent alone over the past 8 years. In Texas. Even living with my ex, I was alone so much. He travelled almost every week for work. Last Friday, during my lunch break, I drove to our old apartment. The one he chose 6 years ago for us when we first moved to Dallas. I sat there and stared at that apartment for about 10 minutes and thought about all that has occurred since the day we pulled up with our furniture, filled with hope of a new life in a new city. Within days I felt alone again. Nothing really had changed. We had so many dreams. So many. One choice here and another choice there and we didn't last.

Gosh I hate the holidays. The melancholy follows me around like a trail of smoke from my heart. I gotta blow that fire out.

Faith

I walked into yoga last night and immediately started to cry. The instructor was talking to some students and I could see their lips moving and hear their voices but I couldn’t make out their specific words. My head was spinning and I was so sad. I was remembering a week ago when I walked into class, felt so smug with the confidence in my newly discovered love. I WAS THE LUCKY ONE. Now I just feel embarrassed and ashamed. This is the first real time being around people since the breakup and I felt lonely. I spend my days alone in my office and my nights home snuggling with my animals. The four walls sheltering me, trapping me, comforting me 24 hours a day. Hiding from the world.



So I cried before class, during class, after class. When the instructor put his hand on my back and said he was glad I came, I my heart just shattered. I needed a hug. Needed to feel some sort of human contact to remember that I am alive…that I too deserve love. In the confines of that glass enclosed room where I have begun to grow, I felt love. And that gives me faith that everything is going to be ok.

I would rather feel this than nothing at all

Day #5 after the breakup consists of deep breaths and faith that this will soon pass. Right?

I go back and look at the pictures of us, listen to his voicemails and I daydream about the memories. The way his cologne would taint my clothes and how much I loved his smell on me. I miss his hand in mine. God, his beautiful hands. His voice, his stories, the way he looked at me.

I realize it had only been 1 month. 1 month! But we spent almost everyday together. Created so many memories. So many things that I will miss.

And we were so amazingly happy together. Why, oh why did we fuck it up?