Failing and Finishing

I have been feeling like a failure lately. 

Tonight, I was confiding in my aesthetician while I was having my eyebrows waxed. I told her the story of my breakup, and mentioned that the relationship failed. She gently put her hands on my shoulders and said, "sweetie, it didn't fail. It just finished." She was so sincere and tender with her words. I let the finality of the word - finished - sit in the air a few minutes. Then, I told her she was right.

I have been carrying a lot of guilt and blame around for the way things went down. I don't feel responsible for his actions, but I feel like I should have stopped it. I feel like I let him get away with treating me poorly for a long time. I feel like I allowed him to hurt me. Like I invited it in because I was too scared that if I really said what I wanted, he would leave.

He still ended up leaving. And I know there was nothing I could do. I also am starting to understand that this was not my fault. That it really isn't about placing blame, or assigning failure. I chose to do one thing with my half of our relationship, he chose to do another. 

I am disappointed. And sad. And hurting in a deep place. Alongside those feelings however, is one of curiosity. What path has been opened now that I am not focused on being his girlfriend? Which opportunities will present themselves now that I'm not planning to move to Seattle? Where will life take me now, with new perspective and a better idea of what I need in a partner?

I didn't fail. I tried something, and then I stopped trying that something. This is just one story that has concluded, but there are so many other stories eagerly waiting to be penned.

Failing and finishing aren't the same thing. 

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. - Anais Nin

New York in Pictures

It’s amazing what a weekend away can do for a girl. I spent a good part of last week in New York City, and had a really memorable time.

What I love about New York is the energy I get from the city. Everyone, everywhere, is moving. Constantly. I can imagine that living there would make me feel exhausted, but for the five days I was there, I loved it.

 Since I have officially become a runner (by the loosest definition of the word), I decided it was only fitting to take a jog through Central Park. It was a beautiful autumn day, perfect for snapping some pics. Even though it is early November, the leaves were still beautiful shades of red, orange, and gold. 

My first night there, I took a stroll down 5th Ave, only to realize the Empire State Building was ahead of me. I have been to the top a couple times, but really appreciated how beautiful it was from outside with the mist from the night surrounding the spire. 

Our last night in town, my friend and I decided to make a late night run for Shake Shack. Aside from gorging on a delicious greasy burgers and milkshakes, we stopped along our way and took in some of the sights in Midtown. The Rockefeller Center Skating Rink was iced, and full of skaters. 

We spent one day visiting Washington Square Park, The High Line Chelsea, and the Chelsea Market. This was one of my favorite days. The Chelsea Market was a series of sights and scents, including Spice and Tease, my new favorite tea shop. 

The High Line is a converted train line turned park, that runs through a few neighborhoods in New York and Brooklyn. We walked from the entrance on 23rd Ave, all the way through the south end of Chelsea. I can only imagine how gorgeous the view is in the summer, but we had some pretty colors for late fall as well. 

As with any trip to New York, I got to partake of some excellent dining experiences. I was lucky enough to get recommendations from friends while I was there, and had a wonderful time.

A.O.C (Bleecker St): http://aocnyc.com

Perhaps it was the wine-induced head rush I experienced after strolling the lovely streets of the West Village, but I really enjoyed A.O.C. I was there on a quasi-date with an old friend from college, and this was  the perfect spot for a cozy dinner. Try the duck, or the oysters. My friend and I even stopped back in during one of our midday strolls and enjoyed the cheese board and a few glasses of wine.

The Smile (NoHo): http://thesmilenyc.com

My friend and I met up with one of our New Yorker friends at this sweet little spot, tucked away in a basement on Bond St. The drinks were delicious and well-made. The service was a little aloof, but the food was great. Try the squash and ricotta or the pork chop.

Ilili (Midtown): http://www.ililinyc.com/Menus.html

Ilili embodied what I think of when I think of New York restaurants. Trendy, dark, sophisticated, a little pricey. The food was great, and this is a hot spot. Try the lamb shoulder or the diver scallops.

Jane (SoHo/Washington Square Park): http://janerestaurant.com

I had quite possibly, the greatest brunch experience of my life here. This place is packed. We had reservations, and still waited over 30 minutes for our table. The food was especially tasty, try the french toast or the eggs Benedict. And a mimosa. Or six.

I felt energized after I got back from my trip. The thing about New York is that while I always love the time I spend there, I'm always just tired enough to be happy for home. 

Happy Travels

The Winston Churchill Effect

Full disclosure: this has been a tough week.

Last weekend was his birthday. I had made sure to have plans, to surround myself with friends and errands and hopefully let the day pass without incident. And I felt okay, and not entirely crushed. I didn't spend the entire day wondering what he was doing, and who he was doing it with. At the end of the evening, I left the party I attended feeling strong and settled.

Then Sunday came. And for all the planning and preparation I had done, I was not expecting Sunday.

What I keep being reminded of, is that grief doesn't really follow a certain formula. Just when I think I'm turning a corner, I get knocked down by an emotion I didn't expect. On Sunday, this emotion was sadness. Overwhelming, chest-tightening sadness. I laid in bed for most of the day, watching bad television and eating anything that sounded good.

It's been awhile since I used food to cope. One of the good parts about the healing process is that my appetite has finally returned. The bad part is that for so long I used food to help soothe myself, that I sometimes just don't know what else to do.

I indulged this week, way more than I should have. And I beat myself up for it. But I also wrote about it, ran a 5k, and talked to my friends about it. I'm accepting that as progress.

It's hard to pinpoint how I'm feeling during the tough days. It's hard to tell people what I need from them. I talked to an old friend of my from college earlier in the week, and I had told her about the breakup. She immediately started emailing me helpful quotes and graphics that I think were meant to make me feel better. One quote was from Winston Churchill and read, "If you are going through hell, keep going."

Here's the thing. I'm not really going through hell. I am sad, lonely, and feeling a little lost. But I'm also enjoying my friends. I'm planning a trip to South America later this month. I'm working out, and surpassing fitness goals that I set for myself. I'm Skyping with my nephews. I'm discovering new hobbies, interests, and TV shows to watch en masse. I'm really trying to enjoy spending time with myself, despite the fact that it feels like a piece of me is missing.

All this is to say that I know I'm going to be okay. My closest friends know this, and they know what I need without asking. They know that sometimes I just need to be sad and quiet and be taken care of. And sometimes I need to talk about it and wonder and obsess over every detail. And other times I just need to laugh and not worry about what my future looks like.

I feel a certain sense of accomplishment that I have weathered another tiny storm that is part of the process of healing. I know this isn't the last one, and that the next one might be worse. Where I find comfort is in knowing that I can get through it. It may not be hell, but I'm pushing through, regardless.

Though I never been through hell like that
I've closed enough windows to know you can never look back

If you're lost and alone or sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet on solid ground
Carry on
Carry on, carry on

But I'd like to think I can cheat it all
To make up for the times I've been cheated on
And it's nice to know when I was left for dead
I was found and now I don't roam these streets
I am not the ghost you are to me