When all else fails...write?
::sigh::
I often make the mistake of reading my last post immediately before posting again. Usually to remind myself of where I was and what I was doing the last time I remembered that I had a blog and decided to write.
This time around, I read all my posts from five years ago. When I think about five years - it doesn't seem like all that much time or that anything of major significance could happen. But that year was important...it was a new(ish) start for a lot of things. When I think about different eras in my life, there's Jersey Part One (birth to age 6), Illinois, Jersey Part Two, Florida, and Jersey Part Three - where I am now.
And now I've been back for five years. Those years have flown by and soooo much has happened since then. It was easier to start chronicling the landmarks and milestones with quippy status updates than sitting and compiling it all into a post. Eventually, as is quite evident from the growing length of time between posts, I forgave myself, let it all go, put the blog on "hiatus" and went on with the rest of my life.
But today I've felt unsettled. Bored? Agitated? Brunch didn't help. Shopping at Ikea didn't help. I had no interest in cleaning my apartment or doing my laundry. I watched a movie...haven't watched a whole movie at home in ages. Felt too distracted to watch Game of Thrones. I even read a book for a while. Eventually I thought, "Maybe I should write something."
And now I'm sitting here typing away and thinking, "Well, what the hell do I write about?" I purposely didn't read the most recent posts, so I'm fuzzy on where I left off...
...right. The end of a relationship with yet another guy that I was convinced was The One. Never mind that he came from a family of functioning alcoholics and questionably employed and all around degenerates. Or that he saw no problems with driving a battered death trap of a car until I convinced him to finally get a new one. Or that he truly believed that this world and all creatures in it only existed to serve him or amuse him or give him things when he had done little to deserve it. There's nothing quite like reading a definition of narcissistic personality disorder and realizing that you thought you were going to marry someone who fits that definition to a tee.
So that happened. I got out of the relationship, got my own apartment, and moved on with my life while slowly but systematically destroying traces of him in the process. Things pop up...and I eliminate them. Another fling came and spectacularly failed just as I thought I had recovered from the previous one.
People think my decision to stop dating is silly or short-sighted or just a knee-jerk reaction to yet another failed relationship. And I tell them that no, this was a carefully thought out decision. No, this isn't silly - in what rule book does it say that One Must Be Married Or Desperately Trying To Get Married? I tell people that the potential for bullshit is infinite (completely true - honestly), and I no longer have any tolerance for it (also completely true).
The only thing I never say, at the risk of sounding overly dramatic, is the other very real reason I have for deciding not to date anymore is that I truly fear for my own mental health in the event of another (quite probable and likely in this day and age) breakup.
I was severely depressed after the post-Sandy breakup. The first month was occupied with securing a new place to live and moving in, but once I was somewhat settled, the depression set in too. And I was angry at everything and everyone. I was angry at the people closest to me for not saying anything about the ex when we were dating, even though they all agreed after the fact that he was a jackass. I was angrier at myself for ignoring the red flags because "nobody's perfect" and "relationships are hard work." I was angriest, of course, at him for everything. I was angry and depressed and it was affecting everything around me until it didn't anymore...so I tried dating again. It ended badly. I ended up back where I was less than six months before - angry, depressed, and contemplating chugging an antifreeze margarita.
Yes, I said it. And yes, it was that bad.
Somehow I didn't get as far as carrying out my plan of death-by-cocktail. Part of that was making the decision to stop dating. I realized that between my family, friends, work, and sorority, I have plenty of things that require significant amounts of focus and time. It's not easy to balance it all, but I do. Being involved in a relationship takes away time and resources from things that are fairly permanent and very important to me. Why should I mess up the good things in my life over something that has little chance of working out? I don't need to be in a relationship to be happy. I'm quite content with all that I actually have (and it's truly a lot), and there's nothing wrong with that. I'm genuinely happy for those around me who are getting married and having babies. Who says that the single girl has to be bitter when others are happy?
I still don't know why I bothered to write. I haven't said anything particularly profound or poetic or even interesting. Some comeback post, huh?
I often make the mistake of reading my last post immediately before posting again. Usually to remind myself of where I was and what I was doing the last time I remembered that I had a blog and decided to write.
This time around, I read all my posts from five years ago. When I think about five years - it doesn't seem like all that much time or that anything of major significance could happen. But that year was important...it was a new(ish) start for a lot of things. When I think about different eras in my life, there's Jersey Part One (birth to age 6), Illinois, Jersey Part Two, Florida, and Jersey Part Three - where I am now.
And now I've been back for five years. Those years have flown by and soooo much has happened since then. It was easier to start chronicling the landmarks and milestones with quippy status updates than sitting and compiling it all into a post. Eventually, as is quite evident from the growing length of time between posts, I forgave myself, let it all go, put the blog on "hiatus" and went on with the rest of my life.
But today I've felt unsettled. Bored? Agitated? Brunch didn't help. Shopping at Ikea didn't help. I had no interest in cleaning my apartment or doing my laundry. I watched a movie...haven't watched a whole movie at home in ages. Felt too distracted to watch Game of Thrones. I even read a book for a while. Eventually I thought, "Maybe I should write something."
And now I'm sitting here typing away and thinking, "Well, what the hell do I write about?" I purposely didn't read the most recent posts, so I'm fuzzy on where I left off...
...right. The end of a relationship with yet another guy that I was convinced was The One. Never mind that he came from a family of functioning alcoholics and questionably employed and all around degenerates. Or that he saw no problems with driving a battered death trap of a car until I convinced him to finally get a new one. Or that he truly believed that this world and all creatures in it only existed to serve him or amuse him or give him things when he had done little to deserve it. There's nothing quite like reading a definition of narcissistic personality disorder and realizing that you thought you were going to marry someone who fits that definition to a tee.
So that happened. I got out of the relationship, got my own apartment, and moved on with my life while slowly but systematically destroying traces of him in the process. Things pop up...and I eliminate them. Another fling came and spectacularly failed just as I thought I had recovered from the previous one.
People think my decision to stop dating is silly or short-sighted or just a knee-jerk reaction to yet another failed relationship. And I tell them that no, this was a carefully thought out decision. No, this isn't silly - in what rule book does it say that One Must Be Married Or Desperately Trying To Get Married? I tell people that the potential for bullshit is infinite (completely true - honestly), and I no longer have any tolerance for it (also completely true).
The only thing I never say, at the risk of sounding overly dramatic, is the other very real reason I have for deciding not to date anymore is that I truly fear for my own mental health in the event of another (quite probable and likely in this day and age) breakup.
I was severely depressed after the post-Sandy breakup. The first month was occupied with securing a new place to live and moving in, but once I was somewhat settled, the depression set in too. And I was angry at everything and everyone. I was angry at the people closest to me for not saying anything about the ex when we were dating, even though they all agreed after the fact that he was a jackass. I was angrier at myself for ignoring the red flags because "nobody's perfect" and "relationships are hard work." I was angriest, of course, at him for everything. I was angry and depressed and it was affecting everything around me until it didn't anymore...so I tried dating again. It ended badly. I ended up back where I was less than six months before - angry, depressed, and contemplating chugging an antifreeze margarita.
Yes, I said it. And yes, it was that bad.
Somehow I didn't get as far as carrying out my plan of death-by-cocktail. Part of that was making the decision to stop dating. I realized that between my family, friends, work, and sorority, I have plenty of things that require significant amounts of focus and time. It's not easy to balance it all, but I do. Being involved in a relationship takes away time and resources from things that are fairly permanent and very important to me. Why should I mess up the good things in my life over something that has little chance of working out? I don't need to be in a relationship to be happy. I'm quite content with all that I actually have (and it's truly a lot), and there's nothing wrong with that. I'm genuinely happy for those around me who are getting married and having babies. Who says that the single girl has to be bitter when others are happy?
I still don't know why I bothered to write. I haven't said anything particularly profound or poetic or even interesting. Some comeback post, huh?
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