The Greastest Thing You'll Ever Learn Is Just To Love And Be Loved In Return

And there in the darkness, she saw it: a flicker of light. It danced quickly for her, enticing her to come closer. It ran from one side of the dark room to the other, a trace of light following its path. A smile forms on her face. The giddy light and the girl approach each other in curiosity and excitement. The room becomes brighter. The light grows. The girl can finally see. Both in awe of each other and finding a mutual understanding that the world would never be the same again. She reaches out to grab the light and it dashes into her chest. Warmth. Gratitude. The feeling of home. It was a moment of souls colliding into each other, embracing one another, and the promise of never letting go.

Both of us would have to be strong over the next long years. Both of us would have to fight to survive many dark rooms. Taking turns in being the flicker of light, no matter how dim. We were stubborn and tough, one and the same. If our souls had no vessel, you'd not be able to tell who was who.

Growing up is a fraud a lot of the time. But out of our control. We try to just hold on for dear life, hoping a friend is holding on with you.

He held on.  Even through the times I tried to shake him off. Since when did the light bother me so much? Since when did it become a nuisance? And how unfair of me...

He needed me more than anyone in the whole world. I made him into a ghost. But he was my ghost.

I miss my little light in the darkness. I miss making him happy. I can't even remember the last time I made him happy. Truly. I only pray that I gave him comfort as his light went out. And I can only pray that I am forgiven and that he saw my love and gratitude for him, even through all the absence. 

I have grown from a little girl full of hope into a woman self-obsessed with things that don't matter. I should have been present. I should have come down to his level more often and just told him how much I loved him. I should have snuggled him more. Remembered to feed him every single night. Instead, I spent the days caught up in so much bullshit. In fucked up friendships and relationships. Moving from town to town. House to house. Apartment to apartment. Having kid after kid. And then feeling this need to label everything wrong with me. And for what? So I could lose my dog?

 I truly don't care if I'm bipolar, have ADHD, CPTSD, dysthymia, whatever the fuck else you want to label me. You can literally label me insane and I no longer give a shit because my light, my dog, is gone. All the days, the hours I spent trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me, took away the love and care I could have given to my dog. I will never get those hours or minutes back. Never. 19 years.

No matter what is wrong with you in life, literally the only thing you ever need to do in this life is to love with all your heart. Be present. Be grateful. Take nothing for granted, ever. That's it.

And I have this cat that I am now terrified to put all my love into because I watched my dog take his last breath and dread the moment I do the same with my kitty. But my dog told me I have to do better this time. And so I will. I will be present. I will never take for granted the love and light of another animal. My obsession with figuring out what "things" to call myself so I have an explanation for whatever absurdity I commit in this life, is over. I am me. Take me or leave me. But I need to love better. That's literally all I need to do.

 I am a human being. I struggle like many others. But that mean that I am broken. That doesn't mean I need to label myself a single thing. What point and purpose does it serve to have "an official diagnosis?" So I grew up sad and lonely. Things happened in life that affected me...wow *shocked pikachu* Maybe my emotions disregulate. Maybe I'm sensitive. Maybe it feels heavier for me. But you know what? Who fucking cares? I have a shit ton of love to give. And I've been so selfish with it. I could have given so much more to my little guy. He deserved that from me.

Remember Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec saying, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." This is life summed up. This is the beginning of me learning this delicate lesson. I wish I didn't have to learn it through failing my dog. This has been the hardest blow of my life. One I'm unsure I can forgive myself for. But forgiveness is a practice of love too. So I will practice this daily.

While I practice this, I will keep sending my love to my little guy. Every day. And every night before bed I will let him know I'm still thinking of him. And that I feel him in my heart. I told my sister a few months ago that the only way I can get through grief is by remembering that it is never the physical that we fall in love with. It is the energy. The soul. So even when the physical vessel is no longer here with us, their energy is. And the energy is free! And can be literally anywhere! So now, instead of him having to wait for me to come home, he can be anywhere I am...and simultaneously wandering the forest...because he is free!

I am happy for him. Sad for myself. Sad I can never kiss his little face again or scratch behind his ears. Hear his snoring or his little feet tapping on the floor behind me as I walk. I miss him and always will. But one day we will be reunited. Two eager souls.

See you in Paradise my little boy, my first baby. Hershey, my little trooper. April 10th, 2006-November 7th, 2024.

No Room For Nihilism

I spent my childhood much in silence. Though my head was constantly buzzing, my lips managed to stay sealed. Through the pain and trauma, my head screaming at me, the world already feeling heavy on my shoulders and I was only five. I was quiet. I was afraid. I was alone. It was as if I was watching the world through the eyes of a foreigner that stumbled upon a disaster on his travels. He sat down in silence and observed. And he observed and observed and that's all he could find himself to do. Never taking his eyes off of the disaster that seemed to go on for years.

That's what my childhood was like. Suffering in fear and anxiety and trauma and never being able to speak up. Never being able to escape from the experiences. My head never quieting. I think that is why I finally broke at age ten. I craved death. I craved it in a way that would not only torture myself, but my parents as well. I wanted to die in pain. And I wanted my parents to know so and for them to feel what I had been feeling for so many years; well because to a child, five years is forever.

It was two years later at age 12 when I was in Georgia and I got my first moon cycle; when I thought I was dying because black tar was coming out of me, that I experienced my first real sign of bipolar disorder. It was the realization of life and wanting to be a part of it. To experience it. I doubted myself and those thoughts. The dark part of me was still alive and well and mostly in the front of my face. But then I bled, and I danced in the desert. Danced my soul out. And experienced my first true mania. And ironically, it was the mania that saved my mind at the time.

I don't know what it is about puberty and the changes of your body that suddenly make you rush to be an adult. But the race started for me. I had a best friend who kept me quite innocent still and it was the only time in my life where I felt like a kid. But then when I left for high school, I met a girl who would turn my world upside down. It was over then. My childhood. The darkness crept up to the front of my face again, taking over. I regressed into my old ways of self-harm and sabotage. Envious of the wrong people. Ingesting more chemicals into my body and brain. Seemingly trying my hardest to fuck up my life and become a drifter.

The rushing. The racing. My evolving sexuality. My mommy issues. My daddy issues. All at the forefront of my existence and leading my future. It was becoming quite a disaster again. I didn't seem to have control over this disaster just as much as when I was that little girl. But perhaps this was a normal teenage experience? Mine was just...darker?

But it was full-blown mental illness as a result of trauma and not being allowed to process through any of it. It all sat inside my body. Creating Dis-Ease in all parts. My developing brain having been stunted or morphed into an organ that wanted to see my demise. Thrived in the thought, or so it seemed.

And then my 16th birthday rolled around, and I still sat there in quiet anger. The fire raging inside me, unable to escape. Instead I hurt myself as a means of release and punishment. Isn't it so fucked up how we blame ourselves as kids and take the world on ourselves? 

My mother betrayed me and off I went to my new life. A new timeline. A destination of life unknown. Still, I sat in anger. Hurt. Pain. Escapism. I tried to dull it out with weed, psilocybin, and men. I was put into situations that could have ended terribly if I hadn't of done what they wanted me to do. I was vulnerable. And people knew and took advantage of that vulnerability. A trend which would become all too familiar through the next 13 years of my life.

I rushed through it all. Or I tried, I should say. Things went flying by me. Even though it felt like time had purposefully slowed down as a joke to my face about the things I was trying to do.

And then I ran into you. Well, you found me. And then all at once, the world collected itself. Time caught up with itself; enveloped us in an embrace as if it was relieved and proud of the destiny that was fulfilled. I didn't believe in destiny or fate until I met you. 

I am still a quiet person. My voice small. Sometimes feel the burning eyes of my mother on the back of my neck. Except during the 13 years that you and I have been together, the searing is hardly noticeable. My world is safe with you. And continuously so. Especially since adding God into the mix of it all. Lately, I feel very accomplished in my transmutation of my traumatic and neglected childhood into something beautiful and worth celebrating daily.

There is something incredible about time and the way it gives us the ability to find our way and make our lives better, even if it takes a long time. I went from a Jean-Paul Satre "Nausea" life...to what it is now. And it's almost laughable. Never in a million years would I have ever imagined my life being what it is now. It took me almost 30 years to truly believe that truly, anything is possible. 

It's Been About 4 Years -Let me explain- (Part Six)

Thursday, January 12th, 2022

4:57pm

Hey I just wanted to reach out.

With my roommate relapsing

and holidays things have been

hard for me to keep up and in

touch with everyone.

I was touching base with

_____ and we had a really

long conversation where I

basically ripped him a new

asshole. Particularly for his

lack of handling things with 

you and how he's had the

wrong perspective and you

needed him to be there

actually building with

you.....that you weren't

pushing him away and him

taking it that way and acting

the way he has been is him

abandoning you and is not ok.

That there is a lot about this

that is not ok and he needs to

man up or leave you the fuck

alone and accept that you have

to do what's best to protect

yourself and your kids and

your a grown woman who

doesn't need another 

unreliable man child you need

someone who's actually going

to come home and fucking be

there. That if he is building a

family like he says he needs to

seriously act like it and stop

thinking and acting how he has

been. That to be a father a 

husband a protector.....takes a

lot more then he's been putting

in and how dare he take on a

warrior women start building a

family and leave them to fend

on their own like that.

I also told him there's a very

good chance it's not fixable

even now that he realizes just

how badly he fucked this up

and if that's the case he needs

to respect that. You gotta do

what's best for those kids and

you and an unreliable father

who doesn't understand kids

wait for him and look for him

and expect him to be there and

protect him and he's letting

everyone down. It's not ok. I

was....livid and had a lot to say

to him.

I wanted to reach out to let

YOU know I support you either

way pretty mama. You are

strong and smart and I know

what you're doing takes an

impossible amount of strength

that I can barely

comprehend....

And my homie might be an

utter idiot but....

I see you....I hear you...

And I'm here for you.

I have ______ and _______ off

work. Can I come like clean

your house and hang out and

just catch up and support you?

Help with whatever needs to

get done and do what I can to

give you a moment to relax?

Women to women this shit

breaks my heart and is a lot of

my mentality towards

men in general like...and

now that I'm aware of what's

going on and less

overwhelmed by my own shit

I'd like to do what I can as a

fellow boss bitch to support

you and be a better friend.

I'm really sorry I haven't been

around. And I'm sorry my

homie is a dumbass.

I'm here for you no matter

what in any way you will allow

me to be.

Now when I say I just about passed out, I really, truly, almost passed out. Everything around me was spinning. My stomach had the butterflies again. Except this time, I couldn't tell if they were the good kind or the bad. I read it and re-read it, again and again. I was in utter shock. And terribly confused. I didn't know what to think. The last time her and I ever talked, we had planned a lunch together. I was going to cook. I bought all the ingredients for the meals and then my boyfriend said that we should all do the lunch together. After that, she said something came up and then I never heard a word from her until this specific moment. 

Even though my boyfriend had told me that she was very happy and excited for us and was looking forward to being Godmom to this baby. So where was she? And why was it now that she needed to say something? How had she allowed him to spend so much time with her in the first place if this is how she felt? Had he been lying to her the whole time?

I had so many damn questions. And I think if I hadn't of had so many questions, I probably never would have responded so that we could get together to talk in person.

And that following week, I opened my door and saw her walking down my hallway for the first time. We hugged, my giant belly between us. And then I invited her inside. We talked momentarily on the couch before Roommate walked in and we took the conversation to the 8th floor balcony. There we sat, for 5 hours in the cold, talking through everything.

(I need to interject that both my doula and my best friends were not thrilled about this situation and did not trust this woman. But I told them that she sounded genuine in her messages and that I needed to get a better feel of the situation, to which they respected).

During this 5 hour conversation, she wanted me to dive deeper into my experience and my reasonings and thoughts about everything. And I did. I spilled it all out. I even told her that I was convinced she and my boyfriend were sleeping together. She adamantly denied such things. Assured me even. She showed a lot of sympathy. Everything was very heartfelt. And then she gave me his version of things. 

She knew that he had it all wrong, as was said in the messages, but she wanted me to understand why he had it all wrong. (I'm a sucker for Why's). She gave me a whole new perspective on the situation. She explained how he had been saving up money for the baby, and how she'd gotten him into AA. She also told me that she made him tell his boss at the restaurant that he will only be working normal, regular hours so that he could be home with his family. She said he started going to therapy too. All of the things I had been trying to get him to do all this time...which, yes, irked me, but at least he was doing. 

It opened my eyes and my heart in ways I didn't imagine was possible, given the situation. In the end, I ultimately felt like I was an asshole for not giving him the opportunity to try. I know, I know, this sounds so dumb now. But hear me out: Boyfriend had never had the experience of raising a kid. He also did not have a great blueprint for being a dad, or a partner in general. His childhood was....turbulent. Unstable. Like me, he didn't have a strong foundation or basis as a child and into adolescence. Therefore, how could it ever be possible to "know how to do it." Whatever the it was. 

For me, how she explained it is that I had already been a mother. Twice. I had already been in a very serious relationship. And so expecting him to just "know" or "do" was not going to compute for him. He was like a lost puppy dog. In my mind, I pictured him as a little boy who just left the ice cream store, excited to try his ice cream, when the scoops fall off the cone and he is so disappointed. I felt like it was my responsibility to give him new scoops of ice cream. 

My heart grew that day. And I was filled with love and a whole new sense of hope and perspective on our love and relationship. She suggested we all get together in a week or so to discuss things, where she could be our mediator if necessary. Oh, and of course I explained to her the Roommate situation, to which she was also disgusted and appalled. She told us we needed to get the fuck outta there as soon as possible and said if the kids and I ever needed a place to stay, to just reach out to her any time. 

I told her I was very grateful for her. And I looked forward to getting together again in a week. I left back down to my apartment feeling so much lighter and so full of hope. I felt like I finally understood it all; like I had been given the missing puzzle piece to us. And I was so ready to make this shit work. 

I know...

Now, having been in such a long state of depression and anxiety, I found myself going into hypomanic drive. It was the last bit of energy that I would need to get me through the next 2 and a half months. I started out with explaining to my friends absolutely everything. They were surprised and shocked, just as I was. And they felt like they could trust this woman more now. She seemed genuine enough. They could see the perspective she gave me as well. It was confirmation to me that I should continue on this path of giving _____ one. more. chance. 

For the next 3 days, I typed up a 32 page "Sage Manual." A genius idea my best friend suggested in all seriousness.

With hope restored, (and maybe a little craziness), I poured my heart and soul into this thing. And I just couldn't wait until I could see him again, hold him, and give him this manual. And I remember very vividly that morning getting ready for the meet up at our local coffee shop. I was so nervous. I wanted to feel pretty so that he could see I was pretty too. I put on a little mascara, I made my hair really nice, I wore my favorite scent. And I hobbled my way across the street, manual in hand, to see my love and apologize with all I had in me.

It's Been About 4 Years -Let me explain- (Part Five)

It must have been a day before Christmas while me and my family were out of town visiting some family in Grand Junction when I received a text message that caught me way off guard and made me panic a bit. I did not respond to it in any form. And then New Year's Eve came and me and my kids were now spending time with my best friend and her loved one in the mountains outside of Manitou Springs. I got another stream of messages.

Yes. My roommate who my children and I had been living with for 6 going on 7 months, whom I had previously known at my last apartment as a good friend to me and my children...had just come onto me...during my 30th week of pregnancy. Mind you, before I even made the decision to move back out to Colorado and have him as my roommate, I made it EXTREMELY clear that he was my friend, that I trusted him to respect me and my children, and that I would absolutely not move into an apartment with him if he wanted to be anything more than friends. So yes, I was very naïve. Very, very naïve. And still, I was shocked and incredibly hurt. He was, at one time, the one person in my life where I was physically living, that I trusted. That reminded me I wasn't alone. That I felt safe around. That I could trust him to be around my CHILDREN which was one of the biggest deals for me EVER.

I declined politely, calmly, nicely. Left it at that, but knew I needed to get outta there and into my own space where I could feel comfortable and safe with my kids. I needed to move while I still had the time. I had been prepping myself for a VBAC and it felt like bootcamp. There was so much happening in my life and it just felt like I had zero time to catch my damn breath. The last thing I wanted to deal with was this. What ticked me off too was the fact that he waited until he knew that my and my boyfriend were done. Sigh. I was feeling like a damned fool.

When the kids and I got home from our little family holiday, I went straight to the leasing office to speak with the manager. A lovely lady. I told her the situation to which she was also appalled, and asked her if there were any one bedroom apartments that I could transfer over to. She looked at me with dismay and folded her hands on the desk. "I'm afraid even if we did, you wouldn't be allowed to transfer." I looked at her with confusion. "Why not?" She looked over at her computer and printed out our ledger. "Roommate has not made a single payment since August. You guys owe just under $13,000." And she slipped the ledger over to me. "I am so sorry, Sage. I wish there was a way I could help you with this." I was starting to cry. "The only you could try doing is get his permission to get your name off the lease." I cried harder. And internally, I was filled with rage. Simultaneously, I felt like the stupidest idiot in the whole world.

You see, once I became pregnant, and once I made the decision to keep this baby, and after almost losing the baby with, what they call, a "threatened miscarriage," it was a mutual agreement that I focus on the kids and making sure this growing baby stayed that way. Roommate said to not worry about a thing, as long as I brought food into the home, (which I clearly had the ability to), that I could pay him back down the line whenever I had the means, whether that was 6 months or 6 years from now. He had 2 jobs, one was under the table. So he definitely had the means to pay rent each month, which is the only reason I accepted his offer. I kept trying to find work from home, but no one wanted to work with my schedule with my kids.

And this guy. He just said, nope to paying a single cent towards rent. Leaving us both in HUGE debt, and the inability to look for another apartment. Long story short: I was stuck. And it was my own damn fault for thinking that he was just being a genuine, caring, supportive guy. This man, who was closer in age to my own dad. I swear, once men find out you had a relationship with an older man, they think you're just like, only interested in older dudes. 

After finding out about the rent situation, I lost my shit. I wrote him a 5 page letter explaining in great detail, my hurt, my loss, my betrayal. The fact that he has now prevented me and my children from finding a place to live. The fact that we now owed the apartment $13k. And I had NO employment or means for income at all. The fact that I trusted him with my whole heart and how much he has hurt me, and in turn, my kids.

His response was shit. And because I turned him down AND called him out, Good-Guy Roomie turned Asshole Roomie. It actually got quite scary. Like I had no idea who I had really been living with this whole time...

At this point, as I got closer and closer to the end of the pregnancy, I was living in constant anxiety. The most anxiety I have ever felt in my whole life. On top of that, he wracked up another $6.5k owed. The apartment manager was doing everything she could to help me and my kids. Back in August, Roommate and I had applied for rental assistance for what I assumed would be for the month of August, since we needed help that month. Come to find out, months later, they had not yet approved the application. My best guess is that Roommate thought he could just apply for this assistance and that this assistance would magically pay a years worth of rent...and not tell me. (Even though he had every means to just pay for rent).

I had gotten ahold of the rental assistance program to see what my options were and also why nothing had happened since August when we first submitted. They said that the application had actually not been submitted, as in, he forgot to click submit when he finished signing everything. I don't know if you could tell from the texts that he sent me, but he loves his drink. My best guess is he had a bit too much to drink and just didn't finish submitting the application, and then forgot that he didn't finish.

Man, I sure do attract the golden ones, don't I?

I did everything I could to get get this application pushed through. And while dealing with the stress of me and my kids living situation and doing my best to prepare for labor, by the 2nd to week of January, yes, all of this happened from Christmas to the 2nd week of January, I received yet another text out of the blue that about dropped me to my knees. 

It's Been About 4 Years -Let me explain- (part three)

If you can guess, I didn't make it into work that day. My eyes were swollen, my face was puffy and red. I was an emotional wreck. No energy, especially having gotten only 3 hours of sleep the night before. 

♫♪ Happy Birthday to me ♪♫ 

If you didn't know, the whole breakdown in the car took about 6 hours. After my "work day" was over, I came back inside to be with my son. I got a notification on my phone that there was a delivery for me. As I dragged my feet downstairs to the package room, I thought about my daughter and how much I missed her. I also thought about her dad and what I was going to tell him. How was I going to tell him? Sigh. My heart was torn up about so much. 

My package was a big box. Inside was a beautiful vase of flowers! I thought to myself, "I wonder if my boyfriend sent these to me!" The note inside read: 

"Happy Birthday Dear Friend! We love you!" M&M

Though I was so happy and surprised that they sent me flowers for my birthday, I was a bit peeved that my boyfriend hadn't even sent me a text all day. I texted my friends and thanked them for the beautiful flowers and displayed them on the coffee table. 

I went to my room to lay in bed for a bit and process through the day. My son sat next to me watching a movie. I lay there, staring up at the ceiling and I was filled with gratitude. I was filled with hope. I knew I was going to have this baby and even though I was absolutely terrified, I was excited to meet this little stranger I used to call my Little Gypsy. I apologized to God and to my ancestors for ever thinking about terminating. I apologized to myself for not following my own heart. I vowed to myself that from that moment, I would always listen to my heart; to listen to my intuition. And then I felt I could finally embrace this journey and take it head on.

The next day, I sent a message to my boyfriend and told him I needed a few days before I could talk to him. I told him how I was absolutely not okay with what happened the other night. I told him I needed to calm my energy and emotions before talking to him. He respected that at least. Over the course of the week, it was just work, home, work, home, work, home. Waiting for my daughter to come back. I was gearing up to have the conversation with my boyfriend that needed to happen. I invited him over to talk and he arrived shortly after. 

-Now, before I get into this conversation that was had, I need to say that it is my assumption that he was expecting me to move forward with the termination, and that this conversation did not go the way he thought it would. So the decision he made was most likely very impulsive and not well thought through- 

Okay, so we sat on my couch and I looked directly at him. I talked about what he did the other night was not okay and that I would not tolerate being spoken to and treated like that ever again. And that it also made my son very upset and to think about his actions before he does anything that could affect someone, especially children. He did apologize. 

I then went on to say, "I have decided to have this baby." He froze. 

"This is my decision alone and if this is something you do not want to have in your life, this is your opportunity to tell me so and walk away. No hard feelings at all, nothing will be asked of you ever. I just need you to be honest with me so I know what to expect and what to count on. I am okay with having this baby alone. More than happy to. If you walk away, I would understand and just know that I will always appreciate you and the times we shared together." Anticipation.

Silence. 

My palms were sweating and leaving marks on the leather couch. "No, this is what I want. I want my family. I want this with you." 

I go back in time and remember feeling the yucky butterflies in this moment. A feeling I should have followed. Out of shock and hope, I said, "Okay. But I need it to be more than words. Show me this what you want." I felt unsure. But I was trying to move past that feeling. To try to give him the opportunity to show me that this was truly what he wanted. To stop putting up my walls and let trust come in. "Trust the process" I would say in my mind.

"One thing I have to do before I get into dad-mode is Wasteland Weekend at the end of September. I think I just have to freak out a bit before I gotta put that away and be a dad." Understandably, as this trip had been planned for just about a year, I wasn't going to tell him no! Was I upset that he wasn't going to be here for my daughter's birthday? Of course!

Now, we had our first ultrasound during the second week of September. It felt.....strange. Like he wasn't in the room with me, even though he was. Honestly, I can't even remember if my daughter was with me for the appointment. Can you seen how things started to become a blur? But I know that I needed to have a conversation with her dad about this whole situation. I was feeling a multitude of emotions about it. Even guilt. Like, how could I have gotten pregnant after only a month of being back. When just a couple months ago, I was begging my kids' dad to move here with us. 

Looking back, I should have recognized my patterns. But I had spent 7 years running from myself. And I had to come to this realization.

I knew that there was a lot of emotional work to process through. A grieving process. I felt, in order to move forward freely and have this baby with my current boyfriend, I needed to let go of my ex-partner. Now, this wasn't an easy feat. But it needed to be done. Meanwhile, my boyfriend had gone and left for Wasteland. He was supposed to come and see us before he left, but that never happened. The whole time he was gone, it was strange, but I didn't miss him. That bothered me so much! I go back to it now and understand why. But at the time, it really irked me. 

Journal Entry 09/25/22--

"I have a lot of feelings, I have a lot of emotions. I have some shit to work through internally. I need to forgive myself for my abortion in 2020. I need to let some feelings of the past go. To be okay with my past. And my past decisions. I left the nest when I left my aunt's house. I feel like I haven't been okay since. It feels like my last safe space. The feeling of safety, comfort, stability, trust, family, hope."

Journal Entry 09/27/22--

"It's okay to be scared. Remember there is no courage without fear! And I am a lion! Sometimes I let my fears and insecurities get the best of me. And that's okay! It's okay for people to love you. It's okay for people to help you. I am creating new life with my body and energy. I can create and manifest the most magical life I deserve and desire. When I am in love with myself, life falls in love with me. 

Let Go & Let God."

His father was pissed off that he left us to go and party in the desert. I kinda shrugged my shoulders and was like, "Yeah, but this has been planned for him for a long time." He rolled his eyes at me and cracked open a beer. "If you need anything at all, please tell me so. I will do anything I can to help you." He slipped me some bucks. We hugged, I left.

I waited. I processed. 

Last year I was re-reading my journal at the time and had written about how weird it was that I didn't miss him while he was gone. I realized that it was because being with him and being alone felt the same.

Journal Entry 09/30/22--

"Why am I so content with being alone? ______ being away has revealed how much hurt, pain, and loss I still feel inside; how much healing I still need to do." 

Dec. 2023 Reflections- "That's because you felt alone while with ______. That is not your fault."

He came back and gave me this cool ring that he got while at Wasteland. It was very "me" styled. He said he had done some magic to it or something, and later that day after he left, the ring had broke. It should have been an omen. He also said he'd fix the stones to put them back in, but he never did. In fact, he stayed gone so long they sat there collecting dust on the shelf.

You see, he would text me. Sometimes call on the phone. Maybe stop by after work if it wasn't too late. But I started to feel those yucky butterflies again. It felt like he was avoiding me. And I sat there waiting for him to come through the door. To come home to his family. But when I found out he had been visiting an ex-girlfriend of his this whole time, mind you, she lived about 25 minutes from where I lived. My boyfriend didn't have a car, so by bus, if that's what was happening, it would have taken up to 40 minutes to get there. 

He worked 10 blocks away from my apartment. And for some reason, was choosing to see her and not his pregnant girlfriend. The family that he chose. 

"This is what I want. I want my family. I want this with you."