You Can Sleep In The Bed You’ve Made

He and I broke up in high school. While we were broken up, the school put on this production of Sober Grad.

Sober Grad is a program which aims to educate teens about the reality of drunk driving accidents. They set up an accident, all the seniors arrive and see all their friends covered in blood looking like they were just in the accident. My best friend was selected as one of the two people who would “die” in this performance.

They really go all out putting this thing on, real drunk driving cars, people being driven off in ambulances, the drunk driver is arrested by the police and driven off to jail for the night where that person has to call their mom and have their mug shot taken.

Throughout the day leading up to the crash the grim reaper pulls selected seniors out of class and they have to dress in black, paint their faces white, carry around a gravestone and walk the halls all day, haunting the school and speaking to no one.

He was selected as one of these people.

On the day of the crash I had to run across campus to meet another friend who was hysterically crying because she saw the cars being set up and knew that our friend Kelsey would be acting her part in a matter of hours. We hugged, standing there shaking, looking at the cars and I remember everything suddenly feeling real.

I saw him walk the halls that day and it shocked me to see him “dead”.

The day after the crash, the students have to attend Kelsey and Christopher’s funeral, where their family and friends gather to speak about the death of each of these students. I cried silently through the entire thing.

At the end of the funeral, Kelsey and Christopher were allowed to join us again, and I remember grabbing her and telling her that I loved her so much and I would never change anything about her. So many of us were standing on the floor of the gym, crying and hugging one another, thankful to have those people back in our lives once more. Glad that the whole thing wasn’t actually real.

But I remember being aware of his every move, of watching and waiting to see if he would react to me, speak to me at all.

Much to my relief, he did. He grabbed me in the tightest hug I’ve ever felt and we cried. He told me he was sorry and I said I was sorry too. It was surreal.

Here we were, these two teenagers, really seeing that there were circumstances that were bigger than us. Realizing that what we were going through wasn’t that bad.

That hug broke the tension, and it somehow allowed us to speak again. Eventually, we got back together. But it took really looking at what it would be like to lose one another to really make us get over our ego and talk about what was wrong.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sometimes, when I’m being an idiot, I think about how graduation could do the same thing for us.

I’m not saying I want to get back together with him, because I don’t.

But sometimes I think that the joy of that day, the relief of college finally being complete would be enough for him to reach out and hug me again. Break the ice so that we could talk and be friends again.

That’s silly and wishful thinking and I know that.

But sometimes I still wish it could happen.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

But you know what the truth is? He’s done too much, too often, he’s gone too far. And if for some reason he suddenly decided to grow up and reach out and look me in the eye and hug me on graduation…

I’d walk away.

Honestly, I think I would. I think I’d duck right under his outstretched arms, or spin on the spot and flee.

Because if he wanted to be in my life bad enough he would be. And since he’s not. He doesn’t get to be whenever he chooses to be.

I have some control here. And right now, I don’t want him in my life.

Well, I suppose that’s not true, I do wish he could be in my life, or rather, I wish the old he could be in my life. But this new person? No thank you.

I’d rather walk away and be rude then get caught up in all that.

So that’s what I’ll do.

Because he doesn’t deserve it, I don’t owe him anything. And I’m better than all this.

So as romantic as history repeating itself might be in this case, I choose reality.

I’ve been forced into it by him, and if the situation presents itself, he’ll be forced to sleep in the bed he’s made by me.

In My Nightmares

This past week I was left alone at the house because it’s spring break and my roommates were traveling. I figured that would be terrifying and toxic, that I’d wallow in pity and over think my life until I finally snapped. Turns out, I got sick instead, so I did wallow, but I wasn’t thinking about him all that much.

For the past two nights the dreams have come back, along with a nagging feeling that something else was going to happen. I toss and turn all night, dreaming of him and in the morning I can’t remember the details, I just know that he was in them. This week I also knew that there was another girl in them.

Today his facebook photo is him and another girl at a baseball game. These tickets were purchased with half my money. They were purchased because my grandma wanted the bobble head that they would be giving out game day. And he went with some other girl.

Half of me feels disrespected and angry and sad and half of me honestly doesn’t give a shit.

He’s not worth anything.

It makes me sad to say that because for so long he was worth everything to me. But now, now I have no idea who he is. He has honestly become a stranger to me. The person and the relationship that I knew and loved has died. And now…

Well, there’s no point really, in thinking about him now, because he’s gone.

But what’s surreal is the fact that he’s not. His body is out there, walking around, going to bars and baseball games. But it’s not mine anymore.

I don’t know how to settle this thought in my head. In fact, I feel quite unsettled by it.

It makes me appreciate death in a way. At least in death, there is no confusion. The person is gone, there’s a finality to it. That’s it.

But with a breakup, it’s not a death although it feels like one. It’s complicated because all it involves is the past and present of two people not adding up right. There’s a discrepancy.

It’s easier for me to think that he’s dead. But then every time something like this happens it’s like a slap in the face. I suddenly remember, and am surprised by the fact that he’s still alive.

The longer this all goes on like this the more I believe that he and I will never speak again. That we won’t be friends one day.

This past week the truth seemed pretty simple. I made decisions, he made decisions, we aren’t going to be together, so why get upset about it? It’s obviously been done and it’s not going to change.

And then something like this happens and I’m back where I started. Emotionally invested.

I don’t want to care about him. I don’t want this stuff to affect me. I don’t want it to feel spiteful. But it does.

Sometimes when I need a silly comfort, one that isn’t very rational but nonetheless true I think of the following…

Since this all happened, he has done absolutely everything humanly possible to ignore and avoid speaking to me because that’s too hard for him to do. It makes him feel guilty I’m sure. He can’t actually look me in the eye.

And because those things are true. This is true: It was real. And he feels it too.

He may not feel or go through what I am, in fact, I doubt he is. But his inability to acknowledge my presence in his life is my only reminder that it really happened, that I didn’t make it all up. And sometimes, that’s all I have to cling to.

And in a bizarre way, it’s comforting.

But it also teaches me that I deserve better.

Somebodys Special Someone

Today I just miss him.

I can’t stop myself from making plans for a future that doesn’t exist anymore. The worst part is, these thoughts still catch me off guard. Today I called a friend to vent about my day and when I hung up I didn’t feel like I’d really connected with the person. I didn’t really feel heard or understood. There wasn’t that instant understanding of the true meaning of my rant like there would have been if I had been talking to him. There wasn’t the same history with that person. They just didn’t know me as well.

My counselor talked to me this week about being someone’s “special someone”. I always thought that phrase was cheesy, but this week; it’s really resonating with me. I feel like everyone in my life is on to new, better, exciting things. New relationships, new jobs, new houses, new lives are bursting forth all around me. It’s really this stage of life, most of my friends are graduating in May and it’s a huge transition period for most people. And that means, I’m feeling left out. Me and my problems are taking a backseat to everyone else’s newness. Which is fine, every once in a while it’s good to acknowledge the fact that I’m not the center of the Universe. But at the same time, I’m feeling sort of lost in the shuffle.

I went from having this person, this relationship where I was the top dog. I mattered, I had a shared history with this person, I was important. And now that that’s gone, well, it leaves me feeling unheard.

“You miss being special to someone.”

Yes. I guess I do.

I didn’t even appreciate how great that was when I had it, I didn’t acknowledge it. And now it’s gone. And, I feel like I’m everyone’s second priority. Which sucks.

I feel like I spoiled brat saying that. But I miss feeling special. I miss being able to relate to him in a completely unique way because he knew everything about me. I can talk to friends about my goings-on but that doesn’t mean they catch the significance in the same way he would. Seven years is a long time, especially at this stage of life so he and I saw a lot together. And every time something significant happens now, I want to be able to share it with someone who gets it. Really truly gets it. Without extra explanation. Because the explaining isn’t gratifying, it’s cheapening. It just highlights the fact that I’m not as close to other people as I am to him. It just highlights the fact that he no longer wants to listen to my rants.

Highlights the fact that he no longer wants to share my life or make a history together.

And that fucking hurts.

And it makes me hate him. And it makes me cry. And it makes me want to call him and find a way to be his friend. And apparently…it makes me start crying before my stats class in the middle of Darwin Hall.

I feel alone.

My Needs: Please Recognize Me

It just so happens that this semester I am enrolled in a counseling course as a client. The purpose of the course is to give Masters in Counseling students the opportunity to practice. I will put myself out-there right now and say: I’m client of the year.

You want problems? I’ll give you problems! Beware!

So, in therapy the other day I was talking about how frustrating I find this whole Cory situation and how I constantly feel rejected by him and how it bothers me that he doesn’t give me the time of day or want me in his life. I ranted about how he always takes the easy way out instead of just facing me for a good part of my session and then…

my therapist looked me in the eyes and said, “It sounds like because of everything that he’s going through he’s having a hard time looking you in the eye…”. Now, she meant this as a figure of speech, but I quickly reflected and found that, she was right.

Since the breakup, Cory and I have made eye contact a grand total of two times. He literally cannot look me in the eyes. For some reason, this was shocking to me. And I sat there feeling rejected all over again.

My therapist interrupted my memory reel by asking my least favorite question:

“What do you need from Cory?”

I hate this question, and it’s been coming up a lot. Turns out, I’m not very good at telling people what I need. So, my therapist is now taking the approach of forcing me to think about what I need and whether or not I want to ask for it.

What do I need from Cory?

Turns out, I could answer it in one word: Recognition.

That’s it, that’s all I really need from him. Recognition.

I’d like to hear him say that what we had was real. I’d like to hear him say he thinks about me and misses me sometimes. I’d like him to look me in the eye and say he’s sorry. I’d like him to look at me and tell me he knows he hurt me. I want him to recognize that I exist, that we share a rich and complex history. I’d like him to recognize that we helped each other and that our relationship was important. I’d like him to look at me. See me. And appreciate me. I’d like him to remember that I do know him, as much as it is possible to. I’d like him to be sad that he’s lost his best friend. I’d like him to grieve for that loss. I’d like him to stop ignoring me, stop trying so hard to cut me out of his life. I’d like him to embrace what we had.

That sounds like a lot of needs, but I’m not sure it is. I think it’s very simple. And I think the alternative is very naive and immature. And that really, really hurts my feelings.

I realized that every time I see him out and we don’t speak or every time the phone call isn’t him, I feel rejected all over again. And that’s not because I’m sitting around waiting for him to come back, or because I think we’ll ever be together again, because I know we won’t. It’s just because out of seemingly nowhere, my best friend just up and left, and the staying away is just as hurtful as the initial walk out the door.

My needs are different from my wants: I want to be his friend. I realize that’s not possible now. For either of us. But I really do feel like I need some recognition.

Obviously, once I explained this to my therapist she asked if I thought it would be a good idea to contact Cory and let him know that, when he’s ready, I’d like to talk about what we had or whatever. Pay homage to the life we arranged I suppose.

I had mixed feelings about that.

On one hand, my heart was jumping up and down at the idea of reaching out and getting a response. Of getting closure and a chance to talk like normal human beings.

On the other, I’d be terrified of being rejected again. I’d be scared of getting no response or more reasons to hate him. I’d be worried he would respond right away instead of actually doing so when he’s ready. I’d be worried of having some great talk and then finding out he’s dating someone else. I’d be worried of having to really truly say good-bye, and mean it. I’d be worried he wouldn’t want to be my friend. I’d be worried about everything.

But at the same time, I can’t help but think of Glee. Rachel and Finn are exes and when they have to write a song together Rachel reaches out and gives Finn a hug and then she says something along the lines of, “You and I dated, Finn. There’s no reason to pretend we aren’t comfortable around each other”.

That’s how I feel. I feel like all of this stupid tip-toeing is ridiculous. But maybe it’s also necessary.

All I know is, it’s confusing.

“Just When I Thought I Was Out…”

“…they pull me back in”.

That’s how I feel about this whole situation. As soon as I make some progress, I end up sucked back into the drama of the situation. The pain of it.

Three days ago I was putting myself to bed every night, getting up in the morning, going to work, talking with my roommates and overall getting through it. I seemed to be accepting my new normal, this new reality. I was getting excited about my future and impossibly, I was getting all my homework in on time. I was getting some clarity. Still, definitely in the ocean, but managing to stay above water a bit better.

When I get the text message, “I need to get my things out of your storage unit on Saturday, when will you be available for me to pick up the key I will return it as well as my key to the house on Saturday”.

Huh. Let’s just pause to react to that for a second:

1. You’re a douche. Pick up the fucking phone and give me a call if you want to talk. Stop hiding behind voiceless text messages like a punk.

2. I must have missed the part where my life is supposed to revolve around you. You don’t make demands, you work around my plans. Got it?

3. Thank God, if you want to be out of my life so badly then please get out. I don’t want your shit lying around, I don’t need the reminder, just take it all.

4. You could be a little nicer you know, you’re lucky I didn’t burn everything that you once touched. Grow up.

5. Why do you always make me sad now?

I can’t help it, the sad always follows the angry. But, right now, I’m trying to cling to the angry.

He went on to attempt talking me into picking the stuff up on his own (you’re kidding right??) and eventually we agreed on today, Saturday at 5:30. Bring on the nerves.

At one point he said: “I don’t want this 2 be any harder than it is, If you think im gonna take ur stuff thats not going 2 happen, I can pick up my stuff thats at the house at the house, I dont get y i cant just go”.

I responded: “Easier for who, Cody?”

He claimed it was for the benefit of both of us, but that’s him being a chicken-shit. Just like how he moved all his stuff out when I wasn’t home, he wanted to do this without me. Because facing me has consequences: guilt. He knows he messed this up. And he doesn’t want to have to look me in the eye. Because he’s weak. Because he’s not a man. Because he hasn’t grown up.

So, I did the only rational thing a girl in this situation could do. I picked out an outfit that made me feel good about myself, arranged a girl’s night in preparation for my meltdown and dreamt of witty one liners to add salt to his wounds.

Unnecessary? Probably. Mature? I guess not. A boost to my confidence? Definitely.

We’ll see how it goes, I hope I can keep up this frosty, indifferent exterior and save my emotions for my girl’s night. Because I don’t need him. And I shouldn’t waste one precious tear on someone who would do the things he has to me. And he deserves this. And I’m in control. And I can do this because I don’t need him. I don’t even think I want him anymore.

He’s pathetic. And I am a strong woman warrior. And this is battle.

Someone remind me? How did I get sucked back in?

Guess it doesn’t really matter.

“He’s a punk.”

That’s my life-raft today.

How I Got Robbed

Separateness. My relationship with Cory didn’t have a lot of that.

We had the same friends. Like the same music. Spent the majority of our time at school, at work or with each other. Some people call that being in love. Others call that too much.

While I was in it, it was great. Cory was my best friend, why wouldn’t I want to be with him as much as possible. He was my future husband. The person who understood me best, obviously we should be together all the time.

Now. Well, now I see it differently.

Separateness. Is. Necessary.

Now that we are apart, it is evident how involved we were in each other’s lives. Particularly when it comes to our friends.

Cory doesn’t really have friends. I guess I should say he has very few friends that he has made all by himself. Most of his friends started out as my friends and then got to know us as a couple. But now, well, it makes everything complicated. Not just in my relationship with Cory but also in my relationship with my friends.

In an effort to stop this from becoming a “choose me or choose him” situation we selected the people closest to us and then claimed that they were off bounds. The rule is we don’t talk to that group of people about our relationship.

The reason for this was clear, our friends were way too involved, they knew everything and it was starting to affect our relationships with them.

Which brings me to today:

I got a message today from a friend who said that she had run into Cory and two of these off-limits friends out to dinner and Cory had mentioned that we weren’t together anymore so she wanted to check on me.

My reaction to this news was to irrationally and naively flip out.

What do you mean they were all at dinner? Were they talking about me? How did he seem? Do they have information I should know about? Why didn’t they tell me that they had plans? Why didn’t they call me after to tell me everything that happened? How could they do that to me? Didn’t they have any loyalty? They know what he did to me!

WO!!

When I finally paused to take a breath I realized I was being stupid. These friends were doing exactly what I asked of them. What we asked of them. They were taking on really vital and complicated task to ensure our friendships would survive this break up. They were following the rules.

And that made me hate the rules. And hate the situation. And hate Cory. And hate the fact that things aren’t normal anymore. Everything is complicated.

And I’m so tired of complicated. I’m so tired of this web of connectedness and feeling like I’m walking around on egg shells and suffocating myself because I can’t talk to anyone about what’s going on with me. I feel like I’m drowning and all the people around me know that but they can’t do anything because I’ve bound them to these rules. But I know that without the rules we’ll end up dividing friends. Just like we wound up dividing our lives. And I don’t want that.

So, in an attempt to make this constructive. Here’s what I’ve learned:

Separateness can be a good thing. I need friends that are mine and he (whoever he is) will need friends that are his. And we need hobbies of our own and vices of our own and pleasures of our own. And sharing everything isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Because when one of you decides to stop sharing, the other will always feel robbed.

Library Lows

Motivation has become a foreign concept in my world lately. I seem to spend so much time and energy regulating my day-to-day emotions that things like paying bills, and doing homework and grocery shopping have all gone on the wayside.

This has all left me six weeks into my senior year semester terrified that I’m not going to get it together in time.

Terrified. Ter-if-ied. Terrified.

I’m sitting in the library right now, where I am supposed to be getting homework done and I literally have no idea where to start.

I haven’t started my observation hours for my education class, which means I’m twenty hours behind, plus homework. And there is no feasible way to make them up.

I have a Stats midterm on Monday and I need to study my brains out for that because I am getting a “D” and I can’t graduate unless I get a “C”. Which is freaking me out.

And I have a 13 minute presentation in my Psych class on Monday on a book I don’t have and haven’t read. 13 minutes.

So, I’m freaking out. And the mountain seems so high I don’t know where to start.

And that’s not a good thing. I really should just start doing something but I don’t even know how to try anymore.

I don’t care about school, and unfortunately, everyone around me feels the exact same way. They call it Senior-itis.

I don’t care what it is. It’s ruining my life.

I have one fracking semester. I cannot blow it. I don’t want to have to come back and push my life back another semester. So I just have to grit my teeth and do it. Get it done. But I don’t know how. I have no idea.

Today sucks.

Misery.

Last night I had a conversation with one of Cory’s cousins, we talked for hours. About everything. And it was the first time in a long time that I felt really happy. I was content, I was able to talk about it to a friend who didn’t judge and was just a really great listener.

Tonight I watched a movie, laying on the couch and when the credits rolled, I rolled over expecting to see Cory sitting next to me, asleep from the chic flick.

How do I stop responding to things this way?

Tonight, well tonight, I just miss him.

Often, I get so upset and emotional about everything that I can’t even describe what I’m dealing with. I’m reacting to the breakup instead of him. And tonight, it’s not like that.

I just miss him.

And now I really want to call him. And now I’m hating myself for admitting that.

Why can’t we just talk about things that don’t have to do with us? Why can’t I just listen to the sound of his voice? Why can’t he just hug me or hold my hand?

Why doesn’t he want me in his life?

What did I do?

And now I’m sitting in the living room, hysterically crying looking at pictures of us…smart.

Jesus it’s like I forgot what he looked like or something. Even in photos his eyes stare right through me.

God, I want to call him. I want to cry with him. I want to scream at him. I want to be allowed to love him.

I don’t know how to do this without him.

Why doesn’t he want me?

Why couldn’t he trust me?

I want answers, it’s not fair.

When did the unhappiness start?

What did I do?

Where’s my best friend?

I just want to hear his voice.

Growing Up

“Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I’ve built my life around you, but time makes you bolder, children get older and I’m getting older too.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

At least not for this moment.

I am sitting here thinking about life five years ago, I had Cory and two best girlfriends. Now, Cory’s gone, and one of those girlfriends is a mom and the other is married.

When did we all grow up?

Why did we all grow up?

Did you know that my whole life I thought Stevie Nicks’ lyrics were “Can I sail through the changing ocean tides…can I hand over seasons of my life”. It wasn’t until I looked them up for the last post that I learned otherwise.

I’d like to hand over some seasons of my life.

I don’t want to grow up. I want to be able to believe in forever again. I feel aged.

Why did we ever grow up?

Can I Handle The Seasons Of My Life?

I took my love and I took it down,

I climbed a mountain and I turned around,

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills,

Well the landslide brought me down,

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Oh, oh. Oh, oh. Oh, oh,

Well I’ve been afraid of changing,

Cause I’ve built my life around you,

But time makes you bolder, children get older,

And I’m getting older too,

Well…

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing,

Cause I’ve built my life around you,

But time makes you bolder, children get older,

And I’m getting older too,

Well I’m getting older too,

So, take this love and take it down,

Yea and if you climb a mountain and you turn around,

And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills,

Well the landslide brought me down,

And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills,

Well maybe, well maybe, well maybe,

The landslide will bring you down.