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

That Friday Feeling

It's been a sort of strange week for me emotionally. I have really dug into my grief work, which means a lot of reflecting on him and our relationship. Reflection is tough stuff, and not just because it serves as a reminder of all the not so good things that happened in our relationship. It's also a reminder of all the awesome stuff we did together. Being alone is scary, but right alongside the fear I feel, I feel equal amounts of hope. There is something about the prospect of creating new memories, visiting new places, and experiencing something with someone new that is so...refreshing.

As I go into this weekend, feeling so hopeful, I can't help but have this song on replay in my mind. Now more than ever, I feel so incredibly brave.



And since your history of silence
Won't do you any good
Did you think it would?
Let your words be anything but empty
Why don't you tell them the truth?

Medifast Mondays (on Thursday): On Rapid Weight Loss

I am a little late with this, so I hope you will forgive me for doing a Medifast Mondays installment on a Thursday..

Rapid weight loss is a strange, socially awkward change. I have lost over 120 pounds in the last nine months, and plan to lose another 20 or so before I transition off the Medifast program. My appearance has changed pretty significantly over the past year, which means that I get a lot of unsolicited comments from family, friends, and coworkers. Hearing people comment on my appearance is a weird thing. Don’t get me wrong; it is always nice to hear encouraging words, or have someone tell me how great I look. It is the in between comments that are sometimes hard to take.

For the most part, I have received a lot of support, especially from my close friends and family. The people in my life closest to me understand the struggles I have had with my weight, and understand what a big deal this has been for me. I recognize though, that a lot of people I come in contact with have no idea what to say. I also have to recognize that because I have lost a lot of weight, it is a bit startling to someone who has not seen me in a long time. That said, I struggle sometimes with feedback that I get.

Commentary from outsiders falls into a couple categories. There are the people who gush, and can’t say enough complimentary and flattering things to me. I love hearing these things, but I do feel a bit self-conscious being the center of attention and having my appearance be the focus of every conversation. This is especially tough at work. There are some days when I just wish my weight was not a major topic for discussion. I also get a lot of cautionary comments. “You look great, but don’t get too skinny!” and “be careful, you’re wasting away.” These comments usually come from men, who I think in their efforts to be sensitive to the way women view weight loss, end up saying all kinds of weird things. I also get the skeptics. The ones who initially give a compliment, but then follow-up and ask what I am doing. When I tell them the truth, that I am following a very regimented diet and exercising six days a week, they usually sort of raise their eyebrows and offer a reluctant “good job.” I do get a fair amount of judgment from those who don’t approve of how quickly I have lost the weight, and are quick to tell me that slow and steady is better.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful; this is definitely me being in my own head and not knowing how to field positive attention. My weight has always been a thing for me, always top of mind. And even though the parameters have shifted, my weight remains this thing. I was thinking of this in the context of the work I am doing around my breakup and setting boundaries. I am really bad at setting boundaries. I am even worse at holding people accountable to the boundaries I have set. In thinking about boundaries as it relates to weight loss, I have decided to set some parameters about how I react to comments, and what I am willing to share with people who are outside of my inner circle.

1.        I don’t owe anyone an explanation of what I have done to lose weight. I do not have to feel obligated to share the steps I have taken to get a healthy lifestyle. It is my choice how much or how little I disclose to those who ask, and I do not have to feel bad if the answer is not satisfactory.
2.       “Thank you” is a perfectly appropriate response to a compliment. I don’t have to make light of the weight loss, but I also don’t have to indulge others in their fascination.
3.       I am still a human being, attached to the body that everyone is commenting on. It is perfectly okay for me to feel self-conscious, and to excuse myself from a conversation if I feel uncomfortable.

Setting these boundaries has helped me immensely. I feel less guilty about acknowledging what I have done to lose weight. I feel less obligated to provide an overview of how I feel, and how much I have lost to every person who asks. I feel a little less self-conscious, and a little more comfortable in my skin. I know that it time, this will stop being an issue. As I reach my goal weight, and keep the weight off, it will stop being such a thing. It is really refreshing to think that I will meet people in the future who only know me the way I am now. I am so excited for that day.

Brunch, Autumn Days, and Booty Dancing: A Guide to Breaking Up

I have Sunday evening blues after coming off a great weekend. Nothing extraordinary, but there is something about crisp fall days that make the world seem a little brighter and little more clear.

I conquered a big hurdle today: going to the movies alone. Movies had kind of been "our thing," while we were dating. Before he left for Seattle, we used to go every Saturday to a matinee. We'd usually see the latest and greatest release and I would sit in the dark next to him, just happy to be sharing something. After he left, we still saw movies at the same time, and I always looked forward to reviewing the movie with him when we talked. Movies have always been an escape for me, so it bugged me that I was having trouble enjoying one since our breakup.

I've only seen a couple movies since our breakup, and they've all been with groups of people. I made plans several weekends in a row to go see a matinee, but just couldn't bring myself to do it. I had brunch with a friend today, and left feeling so good that I decided to go to the next showing of Gravity. I felt such relief in burrowing down in seat, just enjoying the anonymity of being alone in the dark. Despite being a seemingly small hurdle, it felt really big do this. On my own. Just me.

A friend sent me this article earlier in the week. I know Thought Catalog isn't considered to be the philosopher's favorite, but I thought it was insightful while still being cheeky. I also considered what advice I would give someone going through what I am experiencing. I am over a month out of this relationship, and feel like I am right where I am supposed to be. So here it is, my very own thought catalog of getting over it suggestions.

1. Don't try to rush the healing process. Breaking-up with some one is experiencing a loss, even though that person is still alive. It's normal to feel sad, angry, helpless, and lonely. It's normal to want him or her to call. It's normal to feel relief, or blame, or regret. Allow yourself to feel these feelings without judgement.

2. No contact. A couple weeks after the five minute breakup conversation we had, I communicated with my ex out of what I felt was necessity. I needed to close the chapter, even if he wasn't willing to give me the answers I needed. After that, I cut off all contact. I turned off my social media pages, blocked him from Twitter, email, and chat. I deleted his contact information from my phone so I wouldn't be tempted to text him. It sucks, but it sucks a lot less than knowing what he's up to, seeing him with the woman he kissed, watching him live his life without me. Once I feel a bit stronger, I think I'll be able to access social media without feeling the need to look him up.

3. Journal. I know writing about feelings sounds totally cliche. Maybe it is. But I do think there is something to be said about sharing feelings with a totally unbiased thing. While I do blog here, I keep a journal that is much more intimate and is where I work out my feelings of grief.

4. Talk about it. I am guilty of holding feelings in, repressing bad thoughts. I know not everyone has a great support system, but do what you can to find an outlet for your pain. I see a therapist, and I have also found great support from friends and family. There are even a lot of great online resources if you don't have a great support system. What I have found is that I don't have to carry this alone, and supportive friends and family usually have great advice and insight.

5. Get away. When my ex ended things with me, it was just a few days before I was supposed to visit him on the west coast. I knew that staying at home during that time would likely bring me down, so I visited some friends on the east coast instead. I know it's not always possible to plan a vacation, but even a night away can help clear the mind.

6. Dance, sing, and act silly. Seriously. It's going to feel weird to do these things when you don't feel like being happy. I remember that first week, I couldn't listen to any music or watch anything on TV. The sound grated my nerves, I didn't want to be cheered up. I had taken a trip with some friends the following weekend, and we were driving along the beach when a really stupid pop song came on the radio. I turned up the radio, opened the sun roof, and we all sang our lungs out. It felt forced, sure, but I couldn't help but feel sunnier afterwards.

7. Exercise. If you already have an exercise program in place, great. If not, try getting in some movement every day. I cannot express how much this has helped me. Exercise is an outlet for the pent up anxiety I have coursing through my veins. It allows me to channel my anger and sadness in a physical way. It also helps me sleep, which is something that I still haven't been able to regulate since we broke up.

8. Cultivate a new hobby. I found that it was important to me to have something of my own, something that was part of my new life without him. I signed-up for an online Spanish class, and now I spend my Tuesday nights learning and speaking Spanish. Not only am I enjoying a new hobby, I'm also learning something that can help me in the long run.

Look, I'm no expert at this. Days like today, I feel great. I feel certain that I will be okay, that I will move on, and that I am building the skills I need to find a mate that treats me the way I deserve to be treated. Other days, I just want to stay in bed and lose myself in my grief. I do know that the scale is tipping, and that good days are becoming more the norm for me. Let's hope the trend continues.

I don't understand
Why do I stress the man
When there's so many bigger things at hand
We could've never had it all
We had to hit a wall
So this inevitable withdrawal
Even if I start wanting you
A perspective pushes true
I'll be some other man's woman soon

Red

For the past few weeks, my feelings have mostly been some variance of sadness. I’ve mourned the loss of him, worried about him, cried over the things we’ll never do again together, etc. etc. Just generally felt morose and down.

Those feelings started to change this week, as anger surfaced and slapped me in the face. Hard. Hot, seeping, seething anger. No sadness, no questioning, no longing. Just pure anger and all its friends: spite, irritation, fury, and outrage. I can feel it coursing through my veins – I feel physically charged by it. Unable to sit still, unable to find an outlet.

My anger falls in layers on my shoulders and circles around in my mind. He was not the person I thought he was. He lied to me, convinced me that he was someone else. He made me question my judgment, my ability to see things for what they were. He used me, manipulated me. He broke my heart like it was nothing. He took six years of my life, sucked the good things out of me and left me with this pile of uncertainty. He took the city that I was so excited to explore with him and made sure I would never want to be there again. He took something that I held so sacred and made it into a joke.

He was lazy. He didn’t put in any effort, any work to make sure I felt like a priority. He cheated, he lied, he was disloyal. He made me look like a fool in front of people I had to look in the eye. He didn’t care. He was selfish, always on his own side, always there for himself. I was secondary, an afterthought to the very end. He was exactly the type of guy he liked to bash. The bad boy, the careless heart breaker.

As much anger as I have piled up around me and directed towards him, I have an abundance that flies right back in my face. I let him do this. He showed me very early on how capable he was of hurting me, how dirty he could get. I believed that he wanted to change, despite all evidence of the contrary. I let his secret-keeping and manipulations get swept under the rug. I believed his tears, and his words. I ignored his actions when they didn’t align with what he was telling me. I believed him because I was scared that if I didn’t, he would leave.

I never told him what I needed, what I wanted until the very end. And he left. Because in the end he didn’t want to be the one for me. He made a choice, despite whatever he has told himself. He made a choice, and the choice was to chase something new and shiny that made him feel good. He took out his insecurities, his need for constant validation on me. When he had something better, he moved on. And I should have known better. I used to be his something better. Until I wasn’t.

Dealing with sadness is one thing; dealing with anger is another thing all together. What I’m not doing is trying to stuff the anger down inside me and pretending that it’s not there. I’m not masking the anger with hours of TV and plates of Chinese food. I’m letting myself feel it, even though it makes me want to jump out of my skin. I use it. I let it fuel my punches against the boxing bag. I run into it, let it carry me down the sidewalk. I write about it. I talk about it. I acknowledge it, and do my best not to feed it.

I know this is necessary. I know it’s part of the grieving process. I know I have to feel it if I ever expect to heal. I know I won’t always feel this way towards him, at least I hope I won’t. I know in the end this will just be one of those things that happened in my life.

Trying to apologize, you’re so ugly when you cry

Please, just cut it out

And don’t tell me you’re sorry cuz you’re not

Baby, when I know you’re only sorry you got caught

You put on quite a show, really had me going

Not it’s time to go, curtains finally closing

That was quite a show, very entertaining

But it’s over now

Go on a take a bow

But it’s over now…