Awkward Post is Awkward

Last night I was part of an awkward group hug.  I’m also the one who made it awkward, I realize, but it’s hard not to when the guy you like hugs you, and you know you can’t be with him.  I even said, “Awkward acknowledgement of hug” in case there was any question. I felt more awkward after I said it.  Awesome.

It’s almost been a month, but I’ve been missing him texting me all the time, and updating me on his life.  There was a few times when we hung out in a group, but it’s different than when we would sit together in his car, him sharing a song with me, or just talking.  I need to not dwell on that, but when you’ve almost resigned yourself to never meeting someone and then you meet a fantastic person who feels like your match, it’s crushing that they’re taken.  So I’m trying to get over it.  Trying.

A major reason why I haven’t seen him much, other than I think he’s trying to distance himself from me (which I understand), is things have been pretty hectic, family wise.   My uncle is in the hospital for the past three weeks, almost a month.  He was a fire fighter for twenty-five years who travelled all over North America coordinating large scale fire battles (is that what they’re called? If not, they should be.).  As a result he has two types of lung disease, Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder (COPD), and Interstitial Lung Disease (ILD). It’s common amongst fire fighters to develop these conditions.  And it doesn’t look good. 

So my aunt was staying with me in my tiny apartment for two weeks, and then over another week my cousins joined too, so there were four of us in my tiny one-bedroomed apartment.  I spent a good deal of that time on a camping cot in my living room, and driving them to and from the hospital on my way to and from work, and spending my evenings at the hospital.  I had previously considered med school and thus had taken a medical terminology class, and volunteered in a paediatrics ward when I was in high school, so I have a basic grasp of medical language.  Thus, I’ve been liaising a bit with the doctors and nurses on behalf of my aunt and uncle so they understand what’s going on and can make the best decisions in a terrible situation.

It’s been a tough time.  Last week we got them into a lodge (apartment building, really), across from the hospital, so that’s good.  They can walk over whenever they want, and I have my space back.  Man, have I missed my bed.  Not that I regret helping out.  I have a fairly large family, but so many of them are selfish or I just never connected with.  This uncle is one of the good ones, and I’ve always really gotten along with his wife.  So this has been rough.  My mum thanked me the other day for keeping her and the other aunts updated, and all I could respond was they would do the same for us. 

I’ve been trying very hard to stay strong.  For them.  For me.  But it also strikes me as weird that when tragedy strikes, I somehow become a robot who deals with the unpleasant side of things.  When my cousin died last year, that was me again, dealing with the police, doctors, coroner...  Now my uncle is in the hospital, and I had to explain to him and his wife that when they transfer him off life support to a BiPAP oxygen mask, things could go wrong so they needed to make some tough decisions.  It was the first time my aunt broke down crying in front of me because I couldn’t sugar coat that he could die right then and there. 

Nothing makes you feel shittier than destroying someone’s sense of hope.  But they had to be prepared.  Thank goodness it was a best case scenario where he’s doing much better on the BiPAP.  Maybe as a pessimist I insulate myself to the shit, but the upside is sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised.  It’s somewhat short-lived though, as his condition is so severe he doesn’t have much more time, but another day or two or week makes all the difference for my giving and loving aunt.  It’s been amazing seeing their love and dedication to each other through all of this.  Love exists.  I would have never fucking believed it, but there it is.

On top of all of this (But wait! There's more!), my dance troupe has a show this weekend, so I’ve been burning the candle at both ends.  Work.  Hospital.  Prep for show. Drive errands.   Rehearse.  Make sure my aunt eats.  Make sure I eat.  Updating my cousins on their dad’s condition because they don’t want to see him on life support. I find when I’m stressed my natural inclination is to push down feelings, and drink.  Those are usually opposing factors, so I’m feeling drained.  After this show, Imma sleep forever maybe.  Like being dead without the commitment, as I once read.

One of the strangest things that has come out of this, is that I found myself staring at my uncle as he was resting one night.  I had sent my aunt to get herself some dinner.  She doesn’t want to go to a real restaurant so she can be close to him.  I found myself wondering if someone would ever love me that way.  I found myself wishing, just for a moment, that I could take his place so they could have more time with each other.

Maybe that’s why I help in these situations.  It makes me feel something.  I can’t handle the emotions on one level, so I channel it into busy work.  To distance myself so I don’t really feel it, I throw myself in head first.

Awkward acknowledgement of feelings.

Crux

It’s a tough feeling to shake; not being good enough.

I know I’m a loner, but I really want someone to fall asleep next to and wake up with every day.  I find myself aching for a connection, or even a touch.  A hug showing me that I’m part of something.  That I am wanted.

I told Married Tattoo Guy how I felt about him as a way to cut off this growing attachment I have.  I could have never expected he would say he cared about me back.  I wasn’t ready for it, and he obviously isn’t either. 

I don’t want to be a mistress, but aren’t I already?  I’ve these feelings inside of me I don’t know what to do with.  The only outlet seems to lead down a terrible path. 

I’ve been trying to distract myself.  Some articles I’ve read show that when you have a crush on someone, it acts like a homing beacon for your thoughts, creating OCD like symptoms.  Forbidden or secret relationships also bond the couple closer.  It also throws off dopamine and serotonin levels making everything feel THAT MUCH MORE INTENSE.  That I can agree with.

I feel stupid.  I feel like I’m once again settling for less.  I’ve managed to find a new kind of unavailable.  Huzzah.  At least I’m consistent.

After wing night last week we were sitting in his car and we talked.  I needed to say I had to get over him, but didn’t want to lose our friendship.  Was that even possible? 

He told me how much I was coming to mean for him.  He had no one to talk to.  No one but me.  I believe that.  He seemed surprised by the revelation.  I get why he went back to his wife before we had even met.  His responsibilities.  He’s making three people happy over his own happiness.  He said how he’s no longer in love with his wife.  He told me how he told her that, but she was fine with the façade.  He was going to try and live with that, being unhappy.  Fulfilling his obligations.  And then we met.

I told him I care about him, but don’t want to cause any problems for him.  I told him how I don’t even know how he got past my armour other than it was so unexpected I didn’t even have it up with him.  Our connection was instant, and we were both surprised by it. I told him I couldn’t lie to him even if I wanted to.  I told him I never wanted to hurt him, but I can’t have these feeling for someone I can’t be with.

And then he kissed me. And I felt wanted.

Performing

I recently did an online personality test based on the writings of Carl Jung, David Keirsey and Isabel Briggs-Myers.  In University I had done a similar one (the MBTI), and I had come up as the only INTJ in a class of a hundred or so people.  It’s apparently a rare personality type (less than 2% of the population), and rarer still for women (0.8%).

My result: http://www.16personalities.com/intj-personality

My intent was to post this on my social network profile, but before doing so I read over the profile, considering it objectively in relation to what I knew about myself.  I had the same result as nearly ten years ago, so what of me has actually changed?  What hadn’t? What would I disagree with in the analysis? 

One part stuck out for me regarding an INTJ’s relationship with the spotlight.  I occasionally work as an emcee for a local dance company.  It’s a fun job most of the time.  I enjoy planning shows, coming up with intros and extros, meeting new talented people, the costuming, and being part of a production.  I get to engage with people, but from a distance, and essentially get to run things.   However when reading the comment about the spotlight, I felt an incongruence.

It has actually taken me quite a while to be comfortable with being in the spotlight.  I fell into emceeing because I was loud.  Seriously, I led an orientation because I had the loudest voice and everyone could hear me, and after that I used public speaking as a way to overcome social anxiety – sort of a trial by fire.  It kind of developed from there as previously I had preferred up to then to remain free to move about, not be featured (this is true for life and stage).  And honestly, when we began putting on shows, my desire to emcee stemmed from not having the confidence and desire to be a featured performer.  I figured I just talked until the real talent came on stage.  I still really feel that way.  When it came back to me that I was the main feature, linking the show together, I was surprised and rather terrified, and considered never performing again.  But then, one of the reasons I’ve done theatre my whole life was to get over those anxieties.  They do still visit me, though. 

Looking back at what I know of myself, I am afraid of being the centre of attention because as much as I (or anyone else) yearns for it, I do not feel I deserve it.  Call it imposter syndrome?  When I was told I *was* the show, it shocked and terrified me to my core. 

“But what if I let everyone down?”, was my very first thought. 

Mind, I had already done a few shows; but I honestly hadn’t considered I was any sort of feature other than distracting the audience.  It was a bit to wrap my head around.  It still is.  I say this because I have had so much going on in my life, I stepped down from the main emcee role about a year ago.  Since then, I’ve been involved, but finally emceed my first full show again this past weekend.  It was fun, but I notice all my flaws and flubs, and find it hard to believe when after a show audience members or fellow performers compliment me, tell my how funny I was, and what a great job I’ve done. 

I feel like I can’t believe them.  They’re just saying that because they recognized me.  That’s nice of them to make me feel included.  And yet, I’m having a harder time brushing those compliments aside since this time I had many approach me and say how much they’ve missed me as emcee.  A spark of me twinged, wanting so much to revel in the compliment, but I have a tendency to quash such feelings.  It’s not a good practice, and I am trying to work on it.

Actually, I’ve come a long way.  I used to hide back stage after the shows and not come down until everyone was gone.  I’d not acknowledge when I received a compliment, or even worse, I’d swear back (issues, ammaright?).  It felt painful to be complimented, but when you have self-esteem issues like I do, it’s a common feeling.  I think one of the reasons I keep doing the shows is to get outside my comfort zone.  It pushes me, and I desperately need that.  Performing still terrifies me, but I do it to help perfect the image I want to project; one of a confident, intelligent, funny woman, who is deserving of praise and love.

And yet, I still feel like an imposter.  I often hear “fake it ‘til you make it”, and similar words of wisdom spouted.  I thought after a while I would be more confident in what I’m doing, but I still have that nagging feeling.  Feeling that I’ve failed at a job severely highlights that disparity to me, which is probably why I’m still doing the shows.  I want to feel successful somewhere. 

Now I make myself mingle after a show.  I act confident (wine helps), and I smile and say “thank you” when I get a compliment.  I’m still not letting it really sink in, though.  I’m still blocking it from my heart.  In a way, I’m still putting on a show.

Revelations (part 1)

Wow. Moment of self-realization today at work.  I’ve been going back correcting several months of improperly entered data at the job I am currently at.  I’m through a temp agency, and was placed here with two other women.  I’m the only left, as they keep extending my placement.  That’s good and I should feel good, but I notice I feel bad that I am “wasting” so much time correcting things that should have been entered correctly the first time.  And the more I go back, or feel I should double-check something, the more errors I find.  It has been weighing on me.

I have been finding it tough telling my supervisors this, though they have been supportive and impressed with my attention to detail.  I think it’s why I’ve been extended, and they’ve told me they wish they could make me fulltime.  I should feel good about that, but I’ve noticed I feel responsible for the errors.  I mean, there’s no way I could have made them (I had never come across this data before), but I feel nervous and scared when I find errors and report on them. 

It finally occurred to me today as I was telling my supervisor what I thought had happened.  I figured maybe 30% of the data had been missed (not entered at all, but filed), and that within the data program itself someone must have selected a large chunk of info and accidently changed it, screwing up another 20%.  She nodded, saying it was likely, and then kind of gave me a weird look. I realized I was kind of cowering like a small dog afraid of being kicked.  Then I realized after she left that that’s exactly what I have been feeling. 

I was so used to feeling worthless at my last job, I have forgotten how to interact with confidence. 

I know I’m good at what I do, or I wouldn’t be doing it, but when you constantly find problems and it puts off other work you were to do, you internalize it as failure.  Or I do at any rate.  At my last “proper” job, everything that went wrong was my fault.  I repeatedly heard that from a Board of Directors who couldn’t even be bothered to even read the first page of my reports which were bullet-pointed.  They were unaware of even the structure of the business, but everything I did was the worst.  I was doing badly, and I should feel badly.  And I did.

I know I stayed there about a year too long, but it’s tough to get over that sense of failure.  To try and reason with a belligerent brick wall.  I would spend countless hours worrying, and tying my self-worth to that job.  It was prestigious, but I was constantly looked down on by others in the field because I didn’t have the same degree.  It was an abusive relationship but I was sure I could make it work.  Leaving felt like failure and I had made that my life.  I sunk into a deep and crippling depression.

It’s taken me a lot to pull myself out of that, and get back into the work game.  Temping was a way for me to try out my skills again, and see if there was something I could learn to love again.  I rather like what I’m doing now.  Sure, I work for a giant conglomerate that placed me at another giant conglomerate, but I’m okay with being a cog in a wheel right now.  Here they listen, and appreciate when I explain what’s gone wrong, and how I can fix it.  I like the people, the work is challenging, and I’m good at it.  Now I just need to remember how to translate that into feeling good about me.

How Does One Get “Asked Out”?

It's been a while since I posted, so these are some posts that I just hadn't gotten around to posting. Woo. :)

Seriously.  Tell it to me like I’m a four-year-old.  If you can break it down onto post-it notes, I’d be much obliged.  Because man, am I doing something wrong.

I get I’m not the hottest.  I do.  Empirically, I’m average.  Add to that I happen to be overweight. Okay.  Smarts-wise, I’m a bit more prepared.  I can use the word irony correctly.  But there are a lot more unattractive people, and heavier people, and people who think Alanis really nailed that song who are in long-term relationships, and I am just sitting here, knowing I use way too many commas.

Nothing really hits it home quicker or more succinctly that I am not appealing to the opposite sex than hanging out with a good-looking friend of mine.  They get hit on ALL THE TIME.  And they handle it well, because they are used to it.  “You’re beautiful! Would you like to go out some time?”  Little clouds of men form around these women.  Suddenly I’m a rejected satellite to this gorgeous Hotness Planet I came with.  I get it.  They’re attractive.  Not only that, they’re intelligent, funny, caring people.  I know because I wouldn’t be friends with them if they weren’t.  So am I allowed to envy this? Resent it? I try not to.

It still hurts to be around.  I’ve mastered the art of, “No worries, I’ve got to go over here and stare at this odd brick pattern anyways.”

I’ve studied enough sociology and psychology to understand why people are drawn to certain traits (seriously, I’ve written papers on it), and get if you hit on attractive people you’re eventually going to find some that are smart and nice instead of evil and shallow.  Those are some goods odds.  People are nice to attractive people, so they’re used to it.  They’re often very kind back.  True story.

Not ‘hot’ people get the shaft.  People are not as willing to give the benefit of the doubt that spending their time with you is worth the effort of finding a match.  There are other hot people to meet and maybe make that connection with.  It sucks. I know, I know… Heeeey, green grass…

I am quite lucky to have some very attractive friends.  I often use the line that attractive people attract attractive people (ha ha), and it can be a bit of a bubble.  I seem to have subverted it by working in bars for years (hired for skill, not looks), and being witty enough to make it past my below average veneer.  As a result, I find myself from time to time wondering what I am doing faking it around these people who may accept me for some reasons, but will never date me.

Am I shallow for wanting the hot people to want to date me? Yes.  I am shallow.  Deep down I am very shallow (ha ha).  I want to be attracted to whom I date, but I also find some people get less attractive when they have a bad personality.  I find they are more attractive when they are insightful, intelligent, and funny.  I’m often told this, too.  People seem to be more attracted to me the more they talk with me, and so on, but it never leads to dating.  It’s frustrating.

Simply put, I don’t get asked out.  I get invited to things, but it’s not the same.  And it often reminds me that I am not the same.  I can ignore it most of the time.  It only really stings when people literally stop us on the street to talk to my friend, or I get a, “Oh, you too” invite when sitting next to my friend.

I think I’m pretty quick witted (I am told this enough that I am inclined to believe it), funny to be around, am involved in things, and try to engage honestly with people.  I’m not the worst, just not the best.  Average is what it is, but there are many, many average people out there with successful dating lives.

I know I’m not the most confident, but I have really worked at breaking out of this the past year.  After a heavy funk and depression, I am focusing on being happier and more balanced.  I just keep coming back to this huge area of my life that no development or real progress has been made.  I’ve been trying to talk more, flirt more, and ask guys to do things.  This was like pulling teeth, but I’ve been working at it.  It just hasn’t been panning out.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve selected carefully my ‘object’ of affection (of the moment), but the whole “if he is interested, he’ll ask you out” does hang over my head quite a bit.

I ran into the guy with whom I swapped numbers with the other day.  Maybe that’s why this came up again.  It was in a gas station.  One I pretty much never stop at, but did that day.  His smile was big and genuine, so I got a little thump in my chest, and kind of missed what I was saying in walking to the counter to pay.  Picturing music, and clever banter, and an invite for coffee?  Ha. 

At the till was another friend I had not seen in a very long time.  Cue catch up session with him all through my transaction, and walk back to my car.  I think phone number guy gave a quick wave as we left, but yeah.  Friendship was a blocker that day.  Don’t get me wrong, I in no way begrudge my long-time friend I had run into, it’s just one of those “Of course it would happen this way. You’re you, Friday.  Don’t forget.” kind of moments.

I hugged my long-time friend goodbye when we reached our cars, but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t felt a pang of regret and irritancy.  I wish I was a better person sometimes. 

The cheese stands alone...

Do we ever outgrow feeling left out? I have to admit, it's something that's been bothering me the past while. It's come about in a few ways, from not feeling super buddy-buddy with co-workers at my last job which I just assumed was part of the position I was in, but this even spreads to my friends.

I just found out that last night a bunch of them got together to celebrate the ending of one of my close friend's divorce. I had send a supportive text since I knew he would be in divorce court and he would be having a rough time, and today I ran out and got a small cake with “congrats” written on it, only to find out that everyone else had gotten together last night and partied so hard most don't feel like coming out tonight to our regular wing night at the local pub.

It really hurts.

I sent a “I feel stupid for getting this cake” text to one of my friends who was out last night, and now I'm sure she messaged him because he's sending “Hey! Come out!” texts to me, but it's not the same if he had to be reminded. I don't want them feeling bad for forgetting me, but I also don't want the pity invite.

I've been trying to get over how overlooked I feel, and I've sometimes managed to talk myself out of it, but then something like this happens, and I wonder why I bother at all.

I just feel stupid. Stupid for getting this cake, and stupid for thinking I would be included. It's chocolate fudge, too, which I can't eat, so now I'm at home trying not to feel neglected while pity texts come in and this damned cake sits in my fridge. If I go, I am not in the mood to stay and socialize. If I sit at home, well, it's obvious its because I'm hurt. Rock and a hurt place.

In which I had a boyfriend...

So, after a brief hiatus we return to our hero at the same spot we left her. Well, not the exact same spot, but close enough...

Two years. In the two years since I have really posted anything here a lot has changed, and yet nothing at all.

I had recently begun a new job last I posted, and by the long gap I think it's evident it took over most of my life. I was overworked, underpaid, and under appreciated. But somehow I thought that's what I deserved. It was a terrible experience, but it showed me quite certainly what I *didn't* want, which according to my mother, is half the battle. Learning to go after what I do want is the rest, so I am taking stock of my life to go after the kind of job I will at least be happy in.

I won't lie here. Leaving that job felt like failure. I am far less convinced of my skill and worth now as a result of it, and I'm finding it hard to seek a new one. I've a little money saved away, so I'm good for a bit (I'm calling it my "sabbatical"), and in this past month I've really begun to be my old self again. I went for a treat with a friend of mine on Monday, and she told me she was so worried for me, and how much I had changed, that she was going to tell me she thought I need to change my job, but then I quit. I was a little stunned. I knew I was becoming so negative, drinking a lot, and stopped caring about everything. I'm not normally like that, so it's been good to get my head out of that fog.

I also moved this past week. The old place had too many memories of the negative life I had created for myself, so I moved closer to the area I used to live in, and already I can feel the positive change in my life. It's walking distance to most things I do, where I hang out, and closer to my friends. It's amazing how much a change of scenery can boost you, mentally and emotionally.

So here I am, getting my life back on track. The past two years feeling like a dark, dank, depressing hole. I wish I had gotten out sooner. It always feels selfish to say, but I really do need to focus on me.

Also, in 2010 I had begun seeing someone. C*** was, I guess, somehow my first official boyfriend. He worked in the building where my offices were, and by September we were chatting every day, and I was taken with his sense of humour (which I find as very important in someone I'm interested in), his eclectic taste in music, and our chats on weird things like zombies.

It was because of our mutual interest that he came over to watch some zombie movies with me. I was unsure at the time if it was a "date", but was happy to spend the night chatting away. Before we knew it, seven hours had passed and we hadn't started a single film. We agreed to try again, and the same thing happened. I was smitten. He was smart, funny, and quite good-looking. Dare I dream that he might be interested in me that way?

A few more weeks went by, and by October he came out to meet some of my friends after a Hallowe'en show. At Christmas, I was unsure of how to ask if we were "seeing each other", and broached the topic by asking if we were at the stage to buy each other gifts. "No, I don't think so," was the response, and I admit, it kind of crushed me a little, but at least we talked about it. Amazing how much you can put up with on the potential promise of "the future", isn't it? So no gifts, but oddly enough he wanted me to meet his two sons. This took me aback. No gifts, but meet my sons? That seemed far more serious than just exchanging gifts, but okay.

C*** was going through a divorce, and while I was concerned he told me it was basically a done deal, the motions had been in place for a while, and his ex was a psycho, etc. We didn't talk about it much (I didn't think it my place to be involved), but I knew that his sons lived in another city with their mom, and C*** was depressed about that as he really loved his sons. Thus, his introducing them to me felt like a big deal.

They were quite adorable, and over the next couple of months, when they were in town, we took them to movies, and had dinner together. It was odd, but since I do not know if I really want kids of my own, it was rather nice at times to be out in a group that rather felt like a little family. One of C***'s son's said when we were waiting for an order one day, "I bet they think you're my mom." It struck me as odd, and I think I made a joke about it, but it made me think that if things progressed with their dad, maybe that might be the case. It might not be so bad.

C*** was also making noises about us as a couple. He seemed more into the idea, and we were spending a lot of time together. In the spring of 2011, some of my extended family had a barbeque, and I brought C*** . Afterward, something seemed to be bugging him, so I asked. He said he was disappointed that I hadn't been introducing him as my boyfriend to everyone. I was pretty surprised! Okay, I said, I didn't know that's what he had wanted, and in all honesty, I didn't know everyone's names, so introducing him would have meant introducing myself first and learning their name (I have a pretty big family). He seemed better after that, but from that point, we were officially boyfriend and girlfriend!

I was still pretty unsure how to handle it, but I was happy. A smart, funny, attractive guy willing to date me? I really never thought it would happen to me! It felt good. It might have felt really good, had our together time begun to drop right around that point. I thought maybe he was beginning to regret it. Regret me. I could understand that. I'm no catch. Work was also getting far more stressful. The business moved into a much larger space, and as such, I didn't see him every day anymore. Not to mention, as time went on, our plans fell through more and more.

I tried to talk myself out of thinking the worst. He had been under stress with the divorce (I also found out it hadn't been as long as I thought since the separation), and he admitted to having issues with depression. As someone who has suffered from depression I gave as much room as I could while remaining supportive. I was concerned I had been too clingy, or not there for him when he needed me. I tried not to feel bad when we made plans, but then he didn't feel well enough to follow through. I had previously turned people down when invited out to do things since I had plans with C*** , but as time went on, I began double-booking myself, almost. He was in touch less and less, and finally one night when he didn't show up, I texted that I would come over to his place if he didn't show up.

I arrived at his place to find him livid. Why did I go there? Didn't I know he wanted to be alone? He reeked of pot. I never liked that he smoked pot, but figured it was none of my business. I let it slide. Much like all the times he stood me up. Tonight I had really wanted to see him, and frustrated, I had let him know if he didn't show, I would stop by his place. He wasn't impressed.

“I told you if you didn't show up I would come here so you can't be surprised. It feels like you've been avoiding me.” I'll admit I was shaky. How could someone change so much? I could understand if he just didn't want to see me anymore. At least say as much, but making plans repeatedly only to break them confused me. Didn't people keep their word?

He was pissed. I didn't know what to do. It was over. So over.

It got worse.

I wasn't the only one he was seeing at the time. I found out months later. Our cleaning lady at the new office was the same lady from the last building. I had liked her work and hired her on contract. We visited while I worked late and she cleaned.

“Did R**** have her baby yet?” I asked. R**** was a young woman of 19 who had been pregnant last time I visited the old offices. I wasn't expecting the answer.

“Yes, and C*** finally admitted to being the father!”

You could have knocked me over with a strong breath. She was pregnant when C*** and I were together. I wanted to cry. I wanted to hit. I wanted to die. So it's true after all. I'm not worth anything to anyone.

I worked hard to get over it. Time does wonders, but that sting of being cheated on stays with you. It's worse than never finding anyone. It's worse because you weren't enough, no matter what you gave. Someone was interested, and then didn't like what they saw. It validates every negative thing you ever thought of yourself because for once, you tried.

It gets worse.

I had had R**** as a friend on a social networking site. I had accepted her request because she was a young woman I was trying to be a good role model for, but instead I saw the happy photos of her and her baby. Of C*** .

I deleted her.

She messaged me. Why did I delete her?

I took a deep breath, and I told the truth. I wished her the best. I cried.

I'm not sure what's happened with her or him since. I know he lost his job because of it. The cleaner told me. He was a youth worker, and surprise surprise, she had been one of the youth at the centre. It made me feel sick.

I know at one point after those emails they broke up. She told me so in an email. She said they had been together for two years, so really, he cheated on her with me. I was the other woman. Which is weird. Does that make it better? Worse? It feels worse.

In the email where she asked why I deleted her, and I told the truth, she seemed very bitter (who wouldn't be?). I had told her that C*** should be the one she should be talking to. A following email told me they had broken up and I could have him back if I wanted. I told her I wished her and her baby the best, but not a chance in hell.

Last I heard they were together again.

And me? I sit here, with memories that needle me at inopportune times. It hits me again when I meet someone I like, or try to flirt, or chat with a really great guy. It makes me doubt everyone, and most of all, myself. It reminds me that I'll never be good enough, so why try at all...

One week.

A week has passed since my friend died, and I’ve awkwardly stumbled my way through the emotions. I’ve discovered that when serious situations strike, I need to be kept busy. Maybe so it doesn’t make me think as much.

I met Young Engineer through my friend, the Overanalyzer about 5 years ago. Hard to believe it was so long ago. He was still a teenager, and I in my mid-20’s at that point, but we got along swimmingly. He was incredibly intelligent, cute and quirky. He and my friend dated for over 3 years. When they broke up it practically broke O. I cannot imagine what his death did. I didn’t know what to do but apparently decided that food was the answer. I guess now when death occurs I turn into an Italian grandmother or something. I insist on cooking and feeding people.

I bought a severe amount of groceries and went over to O’s after I returned from Vancouver. I wanted to spend time with him, but needed a project. I hate sitting around when someone is sad. So we made pizza from scratch, and stuffed some peppers, and tested out a pasta salad. Considering I am just learning how to cook, it all came out fantastic, but the best part was O’s mum saying how happy she was O was eating something. I guess seeing food made over a few hours builds an appetite.

We talked about Young sporadically while making the dough and stuffing the peppers. Young and I had talked about depression a few times in the past. I struggle with it, and had a bad bout when I was 15. I told him what it took for me to get a hold of myself and move on, and he told me how he felt. We both criticized the methods of current drug prescribing practices, and what it took us to keep going. I mentioned that a big turning point for me was the old saying, “I would die for you.” I used to use that a lot at my worst. But then, I would die for just about any reason back then. It wasn’t until I thought of my mum (after I had been institutionalized) that it occurred to me that it meant more to live for someone. I felt I could die for anyone? Big deal. Living for someone was a hell of a lot harder, and I set that as my new goal. If for a while I could at least live for my mum, then maybe one day I could live for myself. I am mostly there now.

It hurts me that Young couldn’t do that for himself. It hurts me that there was more we could have talked about. It hurts me that we lost touch this past year and that he made the choice he made. But he doesn’t have to live with it, we do. O does. His friends and family do. I can’t blame him though, he’s already blamed himself enough. But, I miss all the things we talked about. It’s funny how death stains life so much. We used to sit at my place, with our friend Butler making us waffles while we watched cartoons. When I saw waffles the other day I started crying. Stupid, really. But I did. I am again.

So I made pizza because I didn’t know what to do. We ate, and later on I went home. And I thought about who and what I would live for. Does an event like this make you cherish life more? Or do we instead focus so much on the hollow, gaping holes in life that we lose ourselves? I’ve felt without purpose for a while now, but have been making a life for myself, slowly. Yet this makes me feel more awash at sea. No land in sight. And it’s night. But there is something peaceful about that to me. On a boat. The moon shining down. And I am alone. Then there is peace. I have chosen the boat instead of the sea. And for now, that is enough.

Rest.