(Three posts in one month?  This must be some kind of record for me.)

A while ago, someone posed the question "do you think there is someone out there for you?"  My immediate answer was no.  My answer, a few months later, is still no.

There are a lot of reasons for this.  I could reach back into my past of growing up, and how I wasn't surrounded by the boys.  Few rarely showed interest in me; those who did, were the shy, quiet, and yes - awkward - ones, who didn't actually like me.  They just thought they did because I was kind to them when others were not.  Even growing into adulthood, and occasionally dressing up and wearing minimal makeup, men were not falling over themselves to get to me.  My former spouse once insisted that I'm incredibly attractive and that there are plenty of men out there who would be lucky to be with me.  He also said in the same breath that I don't give out vibes of being easily approachable.  He said a lot of things.  The majority of them turned out to be untrue, so we can't really say he's a reliable source.

I'm awkward.  I'm also quiet and shy.  I'm nerdy and weird.  I'm a lot of things, honestly.  But I at least know I'm awkward, and I pretend it's part of my charm (ha).  I don't really care one way or the other about it, frankly.  It's part of who I am and I live with it and that's pretty much that.

When I was younger (teens to early 20's), I usually found myself attracted to the tall, skinny, nerdy type of guy.  Largely influenced by my brother who, you guessed it, is tall and nerdy.  I used to say if he wasn't my brother I would want to marry him, because he's a good man.

Then I met the man I used to be married to.  And he definitely wasn't the tall/skinny/nerdy type.  He was strong and bulked and somehow didn't fit into the gym rat stereotype, because he was also intelligent and knew a lot about a lot, and could match my wit.  He was my kind of weird (the only other people who are my kind of weird are my family members...shocker, truly), he was nerdy, but he was also (at the time) gentle and kind.  I felt safe around him, and I loved that I didn't have to worry about being protected, because if anything happened, I knew he was strong, and with his experience in fighting, I knew he would fight to protect me, and win. 

We didn't have every single thing in common, but we did have some things in common.  And while he had a lot of interests in things I didn't particularly care about one way or the other, I made an effort to show an interest in those things, because they mattered to him.  There were a lot of ways he balanced me out.  I would get anxious about things, he would try to help me center myself and calm down.  I would always be in a rush to get from point A to point B on a trip, he would be there to help take things easy, and enjoy the journey, and not just race to the destination.  I believed certain things because it was how I was raised, and my answer to why I believed what I believed was "because it's right" and he questioned that.  Because that wasn't a sufficient answer.  He made me realise I needed to figure out why I believed what I believed, and not just believe it because it's how I grew up.  And he also helped me see the world isn't as black and white as I saw it before him (although it's still black and white in the ways of right and wrong, but his perspective helped me see that I needed to give people more empathy and grace).

I think about when I was a kid, and the boys I had crushes on, my crushes were superficial.  Because it was about looks, and I was attracted to their faces.  Also, what kid with raging hormones is going to think about things that matter when it comes to crushes?  Things like character, values, beliefs, integrity, etc.  Thankfully, none of those boys ever liked me back (with the exception of one in 6th grade and boy I blew it big time); but I also knew that I would never end up marrying them, so after crushing on them for a certain amount of time (who doesn't like to suffer from unrequited obsession?) I would work on suffocating my feelings until they went away. 

When I was older, I found myself attracted to guys who were decently older than me (think 10-13 years).  This was usually due to the fact that they were mature, and usually at least more intellectually on my level.  The man I found myself in love with (he never knew) was probably the first man who ever felt my equal in intelligence, and we got along well (in our very short interactions with each other), but he didn't share the same beliefs, so I knew it wouldn't work out.

The one thing that my former spouse lacked was sharing the same beliefs and values, even though previously I thought we did.  If we would have been on the same page on those things, he would have never broken the covenant he made on the day we got married.  He would have sought after the same things, meaning things that are not material and ephemeral, but things that truly matter, like doing what's right (even when it's hard), keeping your word, honouring and respecting and loving your spouse, etc. etc. etc.

He was a good match in a lot of ways.  Because he balanced me out, because I was attracted to him and felt safe with him, because I knew he would protect me, because we went on adventures together, because we were both introverted, because we had some shared interests.  It would have been better if he would have put in the same effort in sharing an interest in the things I liked, just like I did with him.  Or other things that I won't get into.  We all have room for improvement.

I don't think there's anyone out there like that.  Someone who basically would be like him, except sharing the same beliefs and values.  Someone who is intelligent, that I find attractive (because that does matter to a degree), someone who follows through on their word, someone who shows up, someone who fights to stay together and to nurture the relationship, someone who doesn't give up when things get hard...it's a long list.  Not to be weird (who am I kidding, this is me we're talking about), but it would be nice to find someone like me.  That's not to say I'm the best thing ever and someone should be exactly like me; more so that I just want someone who puts in equal effort.  Who sees I get tired of making plans all the time, and who would take charge and plan things here and there (but planning things we would both enjoy...not just what they would enjoy).  Who would make an effort to show an interest and spend time doing things I like, and not just be one-sided.  Someone I could have deep and intellectual conversations with about faith and things that matter, but also be weird and strange and goofy and not be judged for it.  Someone who puts in equal time in the upkeep of the living space because we both live there and contribute to the mess, so we both put in the work of keeping it clean.

 And this isn't even getting into the different political spheres.  The men who align more with me politically are - and this is a gross generalisation - men who think women are lesser, that women should be meek and mild, men who think that their word is law.  They see women as breeders of children and keepers of the home.  Not people of equal value, who also have a voice in the house and in the marriage.  It's a view I don't 100% agree with (although I am very much not a feminist - I just think two people of equal value and worth both have voices and perspectives that should be valued in a relationship).  But then the men who are more of the mindset where the house is shared equally (in terms of who gets a vote in things, chores done, care for house and children, etc.) are men I don't agree with politically.  Unfortunately, those kinds of men also tend to be on the more intellectual side, and on the more adventurous side (in terms of...intimacy, shall we say). 

It was rare enough the first time to find someone who seemed to like me for me (although he ended up not liking me), who was my kind of weird, who said he understood why men went to war over one woman (Helen of Troy), who found me attractive and I him, who was comfortable talking about normal human body functions, who was okay with crying, who encouraged me to cry and feel things (bet he regretted that), who tried his best to comfort me when I was sad or down, who was a renaissance man and knew a lot and could do a lot...

There's no way I'm going to find someone like that again.  The first time was a miracle.  It's not going to happen a second time.

 I think my whole life I've been chasing the high of feeling special.

 The earliest evidence of this was when I was a child in elementary school.  Every year near the beginning of the school year, the teacher did something to show/display when everyone had their birthday.  And every year I waited with baited breath, to see if I would be the one whose birthday was first in the year, or if someone else had a birthday before me.
I remember in second grade there was a girl whose birthday was the day right after mine, and even that felt too close.  She felt like the enemy.  How dare she try to upstage my birthday, by having hers the day after mine!

Every time someone pointed out I was unique, every time someone praised me for standing out, for excelling above others, even for the skills and talents I acquired (most of those are credited to my mom, who pushed for us to have opportunities to learn things), I, for just a moment, felt elated.  I glowed within.  I got an A+ in being different, in being special.  I was noticed in a positive way.

I'm pretty sure chasing that feeling, wanting to feel special, like I mattered in some way, was driven by growing up as the youngest child in a large family, who was often either overlooked or ignored unless I was misbehaving, in which case, I definitely got attention.  But the negative kind.  The kind that felt like I was being punished for existing (even though I was rightly being punished, because I was doing wrong).

When will I ever feel enough?

I remember back in May of last year when I travelled to Idaho to shoot the wedding of one of my best friends.  I got there a few days early to explore and hike around the area.  At one point I met up with my friend, because it had been years since we had been together in person, and we both wanted to catch up.  After we parted ways, I sent her a text thanking her for spending time with me, and admitting that my existence felt like an inconvenience to everyone.  She responded saying "your existence is not an inconvenience.  It's a gift."  I remember reading those words (I was hiking when she texted them to me), and feeling...well...nothing.  I wanted to believe her.  With my whole heart I wanted to believe her.  Instead, I read those words - I was grateful she sent them - and while they did hit me for a split second, I went right back to thinking the same thoughts.

My existence is an inconvenience.

Several months ago I went hiking with a new friend.  On our way back from the hike, she and I were talking about something I had been assigned as homework by my therapist.  I told my friend that I didn't think I was enough, and my therapist had challenged me to look for ways that proved otherwise.  A couple weeks later, my friend and I were working together, and she told me she had something for me.  At the end of our shift, she gave me a sticker.  It said "you are enough."  I felt so seen by her in that moment.  She had heard what I said, she saw that sticker, she bought it and gifted it to me.  She wanted me to see that I was enough.

I don't feel like I'm enough.

In the past couple of months, in one of my sessions with my therapist she told me "I think the way you love is very rare."  When she said that, at first I felt pleased.  I felt special.  Something rare about me!  Something others don't have in common.  But on the drive back to my apartment, I went from feeling pleased, to adding that fact to the list of things I hate about myself.  

Rarely in my life have I ever felt like being me is a good thing.

Growing up, being me got me in trouble.  So I smothered, I drowned, I suffocated as much of myself as I could, not feeling, hardly existing, so I could get through life.  I survived, but growth of emotions, of mental health, of maturity was stunted in a lot of ways.
Then I met the man I eventually married.  In the beginning, he told me I was unlike any woman he had ever known; that I was the measuring point of what all women should strive to be.  He told me he cared about me, and he didn't know why, because he didn't care about most people.  That made me feel special.  Even more, I felt cared for and cared about, things I hadn't ever really experienced previously, at least not in large quantities.  So I was myself with him.  And that earned me criticism.  It also earned me eventually being abandoned by him.

Being me has, overall, not proven to be an advantage.

I know a large part of not liking myself, not feeling like I'm enough, or feeling like my existence is an inconvenience is due to the way I grew up.  And due to the way people who I allowed to have major influence in my life treated me.  So the majority of all these things were outside of my control.

But I'm an adult now.  I cannot go back and change the past, nor can I change the way people treat(ed) me.  At this point, it's my responsibility to change and grow and be different.
But how?  How do you change that?  How do you go from spending your whole life not liking yourself (to eventually hating yourself), and shift to liking who you are instead?  How do you learn to feel like you are enough?  Like you deserve to take up space?  That you aren't an inconvenience?

It feels impossible.  It feels like a mountain too big to climb.  A task too large to take on, much less accomplish.

But...will I ever be free?  Will I ever feel like I'm enough?  Like I'm wanted?  I don't know.  I don't have enough hope to say "someday."  I suppose only time will tell. 

This should be a journal entry, not a blog post...

 Today feels like the quintessence of a spring day.  Blue skies, trees bursting in bloom, fresh air that isn't stifled with heat or humidity.  It's days like today that, when I get in my car, I just want to drive and drive and drive.

It's also days like today where my brain just picks up, doesn't stop, and things end up being worse than usual.  For whatever reason, the feel, the smell, the collective summation of everything that is happening, triggers my brain in usually two ways: one, being nostalgic and summoning a general feel of my childhood (with no specific memories), the other (often triggered by the aforementioned trigger), reflecting on...well, what feels like everything, but is usually dealers (i.e. my brain's) choice.

The past week has been what feels like a lot.  Not that a lot has happened, but my mind has had so much swirling around in it, that it's like I can't remember what was churning inside.  Mostly because when I wanted to write, and remembered what I wanted to write or what I was thinking about, I was working, so I couldn't drop things to whip out my computer and/or journal to furiously try to keep up with my thoughts.

Things are not permanent.  Nothing is in this life.  I remember being obsessed with the word "ephemeral" in high school after I learned it, because truly, most things are ephemeral.  And my peers at the time were obsessed with ephemeral things, things that didn't really matter in the long run.  Things that didn't hold actual value.  Eternal value.
On top of that, my life at the time taught me that things were not permanent.  That love was something to be gained based off behaviour, and something to be lost, based off that same thing.  My value was determined by what I could bring to the table (i.e. not take up the time and energy of my parents by misbehaving), so if I was good, or at least didn't draw attention to myself by way of getting in trouble, I was fine.  I was approved to be kept, to stick around.

I've been journalling (somewhat consistently) since I was 13.  I remember, even back then, being conscious of what I wrote, because when I grew up and got married and had children (ha), someday I would die, and they would stumble upon my journals.  I didn't want to write things I couldn't take back, or at least, write about things that weren't going to stick around in my life.  
The first man I ever found myself actually in love with, I never mentioned by name.  I wrote about him, to be sure, to process things that happened, the ways he made me want to be not me (but for the better).  But not once did I ever write his name in my journal.  Why?  Because I knew he wasn't permanent.  I knew he wasn't going to end up in my life in the way I so desperately wanted, because at the time, he did not believe the same as me, and that was a hard no for me.  (Also he had no idea how I felt, so it's not like he reciprocated feelings for me, although others assured me things he said and/or did indicated differently.)

The man I used to be married to found a permanent place in my journals.  Name, memories shared, and so much more.  Obviously, he ended up not being a permanent fixture in my life, in spite of the vows he clearly otherwise made.

I've been thinking lately (big surprise) about something that repeatedly breaks my heart every time I think about it.  Imagine knowing someone, having them be such a big part of your life, dreaming of a future with them, expecting to only part with them when death takes one (and eventually the other) of you.  And then imagine that it's not death that separates you, but the decision of a person who was not willing to put in the hard work that any and every relationship requires, at some point or another.

And then just like that, with no warning, that person becomes a stranger.

Yes, you grew apart when you were together, because the marriage was neglected.  You were strangers to some degree even when you were together, because of so much time spent with priorities placed elsewhere, and no curiosity was found to continue to get to know one another.  But then you were physically apart, and then vows were cut and severed.
And you still remember so much about that person.  Things they like or love (if they even still do), favourite colour, dream motorcycle, you see things so often that remind you of them.  You want to text them the things that remind you of them, you want to send them things you pick up from the few times you've travelled, you want to tell them things (even if you never felt heard, you still didn't stop trying to share, at least to some degree). 
But they are not part of your life anymore, as a consequence of their decisions.  And so the shared memories fade, the facts that were once true about them may no longer be true, you are not part of their life anymore and you become complete strangers.

He was once my world, my heart, the dream I never knew I had, and now I only see him in my dreams.  And it breaks my heart.

(I am living in a nightmare.  I have been for years now, and I cannot wake up.  Because it's not a bad dream, it's real life.  My world turned upside-down, I was betrayed in a way I never expected to be, and none of it was within my control.  I can't wake up.  Someone wake me up.)

I haven't felt seen the majority of my life.  Growing up I got in trouble, and unfortunately it was me fitting the youngest child stereotype of acting out to get some kind of attention, any attention, because I wasn't getting the positive connection and attention and affection every child needs.  And on the one day a year I did get positive attention (my birthday), the next day everything went back to normal (ignored unless I was getting in trouble), and the emotional crash and burn was real and hit hard.
There have been a few moments in my life where I have actually felt seen by my family.  By my dad, when he made a point to "fire up the grill" (so to speak) to make hamburgers for me when I visited home in 2021, because my parents know that's my favourite food.  Or when my mom suggested a local store for coffee, and my dad shot down the suggestion because he knew I thought their coffee wasn't the best (it's not).  Or when my sister-in-law passed on to me something my brother told her about me, that he commented to her that I'm extremely loyal.  Or the time when my then-husband had to drive a little bit a ways away for work, and saw some architecture where he was, and remembered I love architecture, and made a point to drive me back to that place to show me the houses that he saw.  (That was one of the few times I felt seen and loved by him to such a high degree.)

Recently there was someone who wrote me and basically pointed out they had a good idea that I would like things they sent me, because they (essentially) paid attention to things I said (well, not said, but wrote about, mentioned, posted online).  That floored me...because someone paid attention to me.  That got me feeling...well, a jumble of emotions.  Ones I'm still sorting, I think.
On one hand, I felt seen.  Haven't had a lot of that happen in my life, so it's weird when it does.  But I also felt exposed, because to be seen by someone feels like a vulnerable thing.  And it feels more comfortable (in a manner of speaking) to be seen when there's somewhat equal knowledge about each other.  Currently things are a bit one-sided, but hopefully that will change.  Maybe it won't.  I can't do anything about that, but I can hope that at least communication can continue, and perhaps even friendship.  (Also that person included a pun in their communication to me, and when I tell you I giggled like an idiot...I did, because it was both kind and funny, and if that isn't one of the ways to catch my interest, I don't know what is.)
I'm actually not reading into anything except that the person, for whatever reason, decided to pay some attention to me, and what that tells me is that they are observant.  Until communication about intent or anything at all is stated clearly, I'm not going to make things up in my head because that's dumb and will only get me in trouble.  Especially because I don't know anything about them, so I can't really make informed decisions one way or the other.

But I digress.

I haven't been to the gym since November of last year.  When I finished an 8-week fitness challenge I signed up for, made it to the final round of people to be considered winners, but wasn't a winner.  It was great progress though, and I was glad of the progress I made; although the burnout from that, plus the burnout of my job at the end of the year insanity that always happens, plus plummeting mental health meant I stopped going to the gym altogether, and have lost all progress that I previously made.
Consistency is everything, whether that's spiritual health, physical health, mental health, relational health.  You show up, consistently, frequently.  You put in the time and the work and change happens.  I know this.  I miss feeling and being strong.
I managed to make it to the gym a couple times a couple weeks ago.  But then I discovered the magic of sleeping longer (due to a change my manager approved for my shift to start later), and opted to sleep more instead of getting up early.  For one thing, you get super sore when you start working out after months of not.  So I wanted to rest and let my body recover.  But also, that was probably the first time in...I honestly have no idea how many years, where I slept move than 7 hours before getting up for work.  And the difference it made was insane.
I know I need rest.  I am perpetually exhausted, and feel like I never get enough sleep.  Sleep is incredibly important for health (physical and mental).  I know I should be okay with sleeping and allowing my body to rest.  And I am, for the most part.  But at the same time, I know I can't improve and get back to what I want if I'm not showing up at the gym.  The ideal is to go before work (even though that makes me exhausted the rest of the day), because the gym is less busy then.  Although with starting later, that means I get off later, which means not going right at the time everyone else is also going because they're off work...although even in the evening at 1900 or 2000, the gym is still pretty packed.  And mentally these days, I'm so exhausted, the thought of having to be in a crowded gym, avoiding people, waiting for machines, not being able to get in, do my sets, and get out...that adds to the exhaustion.  I need to figure out a way to get enough sleep AND be able to work extra hours (as I have been) AND get to the gym (ideally when it's not super crowded).

I have a surgical procedure scheduled for the end of next month.  I'm not in bad shape (gross shape, yes, but relatively healthy), but I want to be more fit than I am now when that time comes.  The only way that's going to happen is if I get back in to the gym.  I need to figure it out.  Or suck it up buttercup, and go back to not getting enough sleep in order to make it to the gym, but lack of sleep will hinder progress.  Ugh.  Fuck me, going around in circles like this makes me feel overwhelmed and I shut down.

There is just a lot going on.  In my head.  In my life.  Some things I'm trying to address, others I'm ignoring because I don't have the time (or money) to give.

I'm trying to process.  I'm trying to function (failing, most days, honestly).  The truest thing that is applicable right now is that my heart is still severely broken and it hurts.  That hasn't changed, even after all this time, even when thinking about the things that would indicate it shouldn't.

Love was not destroyed or lost or even lessened.  It is still there.  And probably, honestly, always will be.