What I've Learned...

I have learned that it is important to get things back from exes...immediately after breaking up. Like STAT. Time now. You might think its not a big deal or its too much of a hassle to have to deal with them and their attitude (and yours) at that current moment when the feelings of being broken up are still fresh, but do it.

If you don't this is what might happen to you:
You know that senior thesis you worked sooooo hard on in undergrad. The one you spent over a year doing research on, traveling all over the east coast to do research on in archives. The one you defended doctorate style to your two professors. The one that earned you an A.  The one that you lent to your significant other while he was in Iraq because he said he wanted to read it.  The bound and print-shop copy that you had of your senior thesis...

Yea, he threw it out after you broke up. 

And only had the balls to tell you that when you asked for it back a few months later, because you thought it would be best if you let tensions cool between the two of you before you asked for him to mail you your things back.

Interestingly enough he didn't throw away the clothes that you bought him for when he returned from Iraq. Nope, Facebook pictures prove that those he still wears quite frequently. Including on Christmas. Funny, I thought he hated me. Why would he wear anything that I ever touched? Probably should have burned that stuff with lighter fluid.

But your senior thesis, something [I would think] a normal person might see and be like, "this isn't mine, she probably would want this back. I know she worked extremely hard on it" despite all the anger and hatred they have for you might have set it aside or sent it back.

For the record, if the tables had been turned I would have sent his senior thesis back, no matter how much I hated him.  Somewhere along the line I learned empathy. 

So get your stuff back ASAP. Because that ladder, target, DVDs, etc. might not have a long shelf life after your relationship expires.  It's the principle of getting your belongings back...not gifts. Just what is yours.

Catharsis

Catharsis is seriously the best feeling in the world. The feeling of just letting all of a certain type of emotion drain out of your body is an amazing feeling. It's relief, pure joy, happiness, sadness, and tension relief all rolled into one moment [or series of moments]. 

In many cases, its an act of letting go.  Letting go of the past. Letting go of anger. Letting go of something you have no power to change.  It's release. 

Sometimes it takes the form of ripping up old photographs. Other times its burning love letters.  Recently it was deleted someone from my phone and all the photographs of us from Facebook.

It might seem like such a small and perhaps even petty act in the grand scheme of things but there is something that shouldn't be messed with when it comes to emotions. You feel the way you feel, and there are times when it makes you feel good to be a little petty.  Especially when it comes to an ex.

It was a cathartic act. It was release. You shouldn't begrudge me for that; for wanting to let go of the past in order to be emotionally free for the future.

Before I'm 30 List

People always refer to their Bucket List. The things in life they want to do before they die. Me, on the other hand, I'm a bit more ambitious. I want to have as many adventures and things crossed off my list by the time I'm 30. Why wait until I am old, have decaying bones, poor health, mortgage, possible spouse, children, grandchildren, and medical bills to worry about? More responsibility. The only things I have to worry about these days are my career, paying back student loans, and my car note. Just me. These are minimal in comparison. These are the days to conquer my list!

So my list:
1. Backpack/travel to England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France, Germany, Italy (again), Greece, Denmark, Sweden, Russia, Mexico, Peru....Quebec....maybe a few others!
2. Get deployed to the Middle East.
3. Live overseas for at least 3 months.
4. Drive through all 48 continental United States.
5. Get published.
6. Research.
7. Join an alumna chapter & be involved.
8. Visit Nashville & see St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.
9. Go on an amazing vacation with my best friends.
10. Get tenure! (Wooo! Go me!)
11. Live in another state for at least a year.
12. Purchase a(nother) Jeep Wrangler.
13. Go deer hunting.
14. Make a palpable difference in a student's life.
15. Spoil my nephew and little cousins.
16. Take way too many pictures.
17. Fall in love (again).
18. Meet a celebrity. Preferably Luke Bryan.
19. Give back to Epsilon Iota & Allegheny College.
20. Visit NYC.
21. Throw my parent's an anniversary party.
22. Speak fluent Italian.

As for what I plan to do after I'm 30...well, I haven't really thought about it much.  I figure once I start crossing things off this list I'll think of more things I want to tackle. Let's face it, what I tackle, I conquer.

Ideas for the After I'm 30 List: jump out of an airplane; get married? maybe?; kids? maybe?; house? maybe? ehhh guess I'll figure that list out after this one is finished!

Is There an App for That?

Grief. Sadness. Crying. Indifference. Defiance. Contempt. Independence. Happiness. Freedom. Loneliness. Ambivalence. These are just some of the emotions I have been feeling in the last month as I have put forth in my effort for my heart to forget Maj. It has not been easy. After roughly 2 full weeks of crying, crippling depression, and just mangled feelings in general, I was able to, for the past 2 weeks start breathing again. I have started to see the signs of my full acceptance of what has occurred.  I have started to believe in the positive things in my life, rather than focusing on this negative.  I have felt very happy; felt alive even. 

Despite these positive emotions I have been having I also have my moments of sadness. I can't say it is even just a singular moment where tears fall from my eyes. Mostly it feels like a headache does...it is there, you notice it, but still you have to trudge along and not pay it much heed.  It is a constant emotion that I simply can not shake. There are times when it is not present at all; like when I was front row at the Luke Bryan concert last week. But then there are times when I know its there, I let myself feel terribly sad for a moment, but rather than have it disappear, the sting of sadness? regret? longing? love unrequited? remains. 

After other breakups I would see something or think of a memory and immediately start bawling.  Once I had calmed down and the crying ceased, I felt better. I was able to cry out my frustration and feelings then.  This time around though, I can't seem to be able to fall back on my normal remedy to fix my heart. 

So here I ask, in this world of technology, where everything seems to have a quick solution...Is there an app for that? Is there an app for moving on? Is there a special formula I should follow in order to see results?  Is there a guide to the galaxy of a broken heart?

I've enlisted advice from some of my closest friends.  All weekend I asked my cousin how she was able to move on from her previous long term relationship.  Carina always helps me whenever I send her a message stating my disapproval of how I am handling the situation.  The truth is, I don't know how to handle this! I don't feel like myself! I feel so much more mature than I have in past breakups.  While this should be a good thing, I simply don't understand how a mature woman deals with such heartache.  Why aren't I crying? Why am I able to feel so happy so soon after? How can I still miss him? How can I believe things happen for a reason? Why am I not crying all the time?

Charlotte York says that it takes half as long to move on from a past relationship as you were in it (meaning: 1 year relationship, 6 months of grief before fully moving on).  Laura says it just takes time, but that I will be able to fully recover.  Carina says there is no set place or stage that I should be in at this time. "As long as you're doing the best that you know how to do, you're fine! You're making strides and I'm so proud of you!"  Elizabeth Gilbert once drove into a new relationship, another time she took a year hiatus to Italy, India, and Bali. Carrie Bradshaw starts dating again sometimes, others she dyes her hair and redecorates her apartment.  Hayden suggests just getting back in there and playing the game with new boys.

So again I ask for a simpler solution: Is there an app for that?

Is recovering from heartache an individual process? Or can it/should it follow some sort of established protocol in order receive the fullest results?  Is there a right and wrong way to move through the termination of a relationship?

Road Trips

When I was younger our family vacations started with a road trip; all 5 of us and our stuff piled up in our garnet and grey van.  When I was in high school I never went on the road trips that my cousin & I or my friends & I dreamed of finally being able to go on when we turned 16. But my sense of adventure, or rather, burning desire for adventure has never subsided.

I first started conducting my solo road trips when I was a freshman in college. I drove from Brockport to Allegheny nearly every other weekend to visit my high school boyfriend.  During the summer of my junior year I would travel to Pittsburgh to see a boyfriend.  Later in my senior year of college I drove to North Carolina to see Zach who was stationed in Fayetteville. 

I guess I started falling in love with driving.  I bought a new car that got better gas mileage so that it wouldn't cost so much.  I remembered the fun I would have as a kid, cruising along the road, seeing what was out there, listening to the radio (which is how I can sing along to all the Oldies songs my parents listen to). I was out there on the road by myself. I controlled my own destination.  I felt free.

There is something that makes me feel alive when I'm out there on the road. I love feeling the sun beat in through the windshield. I love the sound of the wind gushing through the open windows.  I love turning the radio up as loud as I can make it when I find a station with one of my favorites. I love the way I can scan the radio and hear a song that I haven't heard in awhile, years perhaps, that immediately puts a smile on my face. I love not having a GPS system guide me. Yes, I have the directions written down, but the way "going with your gut" when it comes to directions gives the instant gratification of strength and courage that nothing else has ever compared to in my life. I love stopping in new places to get gasoline.

I think that the road trips I have been on are a mirror of my life.  Obviously they are moments in my life, but more than that the road trip itself is a mirror of my inner being and situation.  I have had my share of boyfriends, but all for one trip, it has been a solo journey.    I have made wrong turns. I have stopped and asked for directions.  I have nearly run out of gasoline.  I have had the anxiety of whether or not I actually took the correct exit.  I have discovered a place I had only heard of in books.  I have taken pictures. I have seen battlefields. I have crossed over plains and rivers. I have felt alone and scared. I have journeyed through mountains. I have felt happy and exhilarated.  I am always the driver.  I am in control.  I look forward to the drive to my destination, but typically dread the return home. I have felt like a pioneer. 

For those reasons above, it only seemed appropriate that after my recent heartache I take a road trip. However, this was no ordinary breakup. This was not some boy I just needed to get over.  This was a man I thought I was going to spend forever with.  So, I decided I needed, my soul needed, my heart needed more than one road trip. 4 to be precise. In the span of 5 weeks. To help me, my soul, and my heart to move forward and forget the past with new, bright, and happy moments. 

Maybe then, I'll find peace. Or at least the start of it. 

This Week

This week there has been a fundamental change in my emotions and outlook.  For weeks since the engagement and my relationship with Maj forever ended I walked around, feeling mangled and destroyed.  I knew I'd eventually be able to pull myself out of the depressed state, but during those weeks I didn't want to be pulled. I was trying to hang on to him and his memory because it was all I had left anymore. 

Yet this week I made powerful life decisions that brought me out of the darkness.  I was pulled to the surface this week.  And I did it all on my own. 

This week I had my physical fitness test.  I scored a 93%.  I completed 50 real push ups in 1 minute.  I felt strong and invincible. 

This week I realized I needed to be selfish, a trait I had diligently worked hard to push away since the start of my relationship with Maj.  I decided that self-sacrifice would not bring ultimate happiness to my future.  I needed to dig deep for what I really wanted in my life at the age of 23.  How did I want to see my future unfolding?  Moving south of the Mason Dixon line with Carina. Taking hold on my teaching career.  A deployment to Afghanistan. Researching and writing.  Visiting Bouton, Simpson, and Parrish in Europe. 

This week I returned the engagement ring and wedding bands.  Letting go of the past and my past dreams to make room for future dreams. 

This week I went to Barnes and Nobles. I bought books, like I normally do during a period of transformation in my life.  Books that would help guide me through the journey onward.  The Purpose Driven Life; Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert; Last One Down the Aisle Wins: 10 Keys to a Fabulous Single Life Now and an Even Better Marriage Later.

This week I went to school and volunteered at the Modified Football game.  Seeing students and being in a place where I feel needed has filled in the void of my desire to be needed by Maj. 

This week I realized that my life was not so different from what it had been.  Maj had been deployed, he was not around, so I had a separate life from him.  That meant I could continue with my life without feeling too much of a catastrophe. 

This week I decided to spend time in Georgia with my cousin.  I decided to take time for what was important to me.  A Luke Bryan concert. Oktoberfest.  Driving 15hours to Atlanta. 

This week I went back to Allegheny.  Back to the place where I was rejuvenated after my first real breakup; where I became part of something that had nothing to do with him and my past. Delta Delta Delta.

I feel strong. I feel powerful. I feel happy and content.  I feel like I am doing what is best for me, my health, and my happiness. 

Yes, it is true; I still have moments where I am sad.  However, I take those moments, seal them in an envelope, and send them up to the sky.  There they will stay, until the day I can fully face the feelings and memories with nostalgia, rather than sadness.

Diamond Ring

About a month ago I had Chinese food and received a fortune cookie that read : You will soon gain something that you have always wanted.  A few days later I was engaged. I thought ecstatically, maybe fortune cookies are (somewhat) true! 

From the moment that ring was slipped on my finger, I felt amazing. I felt so lucky, special, beautiful, wonderful, and above all loved.  I thought that everything was going to be better from now on, because I had this pretty little token on my left hand.

It was a beautiful ring. I never would have picked it out myself, but it was classic and timeless. I simply fell in love with it. It sparkled in the sun the way my pond does on a very sunny day.  It was bright and light, and made me feel like the happiest girl in the world. 

However, after arguing on the phone and being made to feel like I was a silly child, I started to see the ring in a different light. It felt like it was my reward for listening and following direction.  Did I really want to do that? Was I really willing to give up my thoughts and opinions for a ring?  Did I really want to become a Mrs. after I had so long defended my want of keeping my last name? Is this really wanted?

The answer, truthfully was no.  However, I didn't realize it at the time.

Yet, I did not break off the engagement. Instead, I trudged along, planning a wedding for October; buying flowers, talking to a caterer, planning to move to North Carolina.  Maj called it off in true Maj (or is it man) fashion. 

I took my pretty ring off and placed it in the box on my vanity.  And there it sat, for nearly 3 weeks.  I refused to really notice it's presence among my other jewelry boxes.  I didn't want to think about it. I had many other things that were making my emotions feel mangled, that the ring was the last thing on my mind.

I spoke with Maj, who expressed the sentiment that he felt as thought he would never receive the rings back from me so that he could return them to the jewelers in North Carolina.  Grudgingly, I made the effort to look at the box. Then, to open the box. Next, to look at my ring one last time. 

I pulled it out and slipped it on my finger.  It had lost it. The spark, the beauty, the splendor of emotion that I had felt only 3 weeks previous had vanished from the rock.  It looked dull and lifeless. Dead. Was this the same ring, I wondered. 

It was then that I knew, I had to send it back to him. No sense paying for a ring that neither of us wanted. No sense holding on to the thought of a life that neither of us really wanted either.  Yes, we had dreamed and hoped about being married, but when reality struck, when the fantasy was gone, it was true that neither one of us wanted that life together. 

So I mailed the once beautiful and whole ring back to his North Carolina P.O Box.  I bawled my eyes out the entire way to the post office.  I believe it was the shattering reality of lost dreams and lost love that led me to cry those tears.  Or perhaps it was the loss of Maj in my life forever.  The sweeping him into my past.

Maj Understood

"This is my favorite picture of you," Maj said as he showed me on his phone.  It was a picture of me, standing in front of the memorial for Southern soldiers from the Civil War. 

"Why?" I asked.  You couldn't see my face. My back was to the camera.

"Because this is what you love," he replied.

No one had ever understood me in that way.  No one had even shown interest in what I was truly devoted to uncovering.  But he was. This wasn't the first time Maj had been introduced to it either.

Not too long into our relationship, I sent Maj a copy of my senior thesis, because he said he was interested in reading it. 

A few months in, we were driving around Augusta and I saw a memorial in the center median of Broad St.  I wanted to stop, but I didn't outright express that. But Maj could tell I really wanted to look at it, so he insisted that we stop so I could take pictures and examine it closely.  I was ecstatic! I was so giddy at discovering this. And I was so happy that he let me explore this opportunity.

When his favorite picture of me was taken we were drive back to North Carolina from Augusta.  We were stopping in Camden, SC because we thought it would be fun to see the Revolutionary War museum.  Maj was driving down the street when he pulled off near a park, because he had spotted what he thought was another memorial for me to explore. 

When I asked him why he had stopped, he told me it was because he knew I would ultimately want to see it.  Maj had done it for me. 

Carrie from Sex and the City loves the Love Letters from Famous Men, Vol. 1 in the movie.  Mr.Big types them up and e-mails them to her.  You need someone who understands what you care about.

I began to wonder.  Maj understood what I cared about, what made me who I was.  But did I understand what he really cared about? Was that part of our downfall? 

Uncle Fredrick

I have dealt with many types of heartbreak since the age of 15.  I have had the serious boyfriends who gave me pretty rings. I have had the guys I was crazy about, but didn't warrant such affection. The ones I was ambivalent about. Those who stroked my ego, only to break every fiber of it down when they left. Boyfriends who said hurtful things. The ones who never called back.  The guys who tried to breakup in the least hurtful way.

During my junior year of college I suffered from one of the most crushing of breakups. It took a long time to sort out and it had me ignoring my pride and asking for help.  After many tearful sessions and weeks of barely eating, I came up with a way to help reestablish my confidence.

Quotes.

They were quotes from breakup books, songs, and my favorite heroines. While it may seem obvious that everything happens for a reason, when faced with low confidence, seemingly perpetual sadness, and the on campus/on Facebook sightings of my ex, I needed all the reinforcement I could get.  I placed them all over my desk. I put a "Feel Beautiful" magazine cut out beside my mirror.  I surrounded myself with my favorite books, to help remind me what made me special and unique. 

A pine tree cutout that is covered in compliments from my sisters that is taped to my mirror.  I have a quote from Eat Pray Love on the wall beside my bed.  FEARLESS is written in bold letters on my shelf. I have a saying from Jillian Harris, the Bachelorette who I heavily identified with ["You have to slay a few dragons before you find your Prince"].

My favorite however is a quote from Portrait in Sepia, by Isabelle Allende.  The protagonist's name is Aurora del Valle.  She goes through a terrible heartbreak during her marriage, yet does love again, after she has taken time to heal. 

"Life is long, Aurora.  At this moment everything looks black, but time heals and erases nearly all things. This stage is like walking blindly through a tunnel; it seems to you there is no way, but I promise there is. Keep going, child."

I will keep going as Uncle Fredrick as advised. 

Artifacts

There is a box that sits on my vanity. There is a box stuffed in the back of my closet. There are folders and movies that I will not even look at.  There are journal entries I do not so much as glance at.  These are the artifacts of lost love. 


Archeologists dig in the dirt. They sift through layers and layers, in the search for a relic of someone's past life.  Shards of pottery that are elaborately decorated, tools, arrowheads, sometimes even clothing.  Through the discovery of such small items, archelogists have been able to understand ancient civilizations and their way of life. What would an archeologist find out about me if he sifted through the artifacts of my lost love?


In the journal entries, he would see that I was a worrier.  He would regard me from the lists I made in my entries about what to do with my life, as someone who was indecisive at points in her life.  He would seem my happy reminisings about spending time with my sisters in college and see the pain of separating from an old boyfriend.  He would see the joy, the worry, the tears, and the happiness that my next would bring. 


In the folders he would see magazine clipings, stickers, and photographs.  He would see "love" quotes that I tried to find when I felt like my words were not enough to express how I truely felt. He would see scrapbook pages that I had made of happy times.


In the box in the closet he would find photographs from 2 weeks of absolute love bliss. He would find 5 letters in their envelopes. Letters that I read over and over again to keep me sane while I was at basic training.  He would find a poem that was written just for me. He would find a bird dog, an Irish teddy bear, and a duck.


In the box on my vanity he would find rings. He would see a beautiful diamond ring that resembled my grandmother's. He would see two matching bands. 


What conclusion would the archeologist come to? Would he assume that I was one of the fortunate ones who found their soulmate during my lifetime? That I became wife, mother,and grandmother? Would he presume that I waited for my soldier's return with no avail?


Would the artifacts of my past properly reveal my life's conclusion to an archeologist?

Hard to Handle

I went to my friend Kim's the other day. On her coffee table was a souvenir from a bachelorette party she had recently participated in. It was a hot pink Mardi Gras beaded necklace with a badge/sticker attached to it that read "Hard to Handle."  I laughed and told her that perfectly described her.

Dierks Bentley, one of my favorite country singers has a song entitled "Lot of Leavin' Left To Do." In this fabulous song is a line that cries, "I guess the Lord made me hard to handle/ So lovin' me might be a long shot gamble."

In many of our single days, Kim and I would tote around this song & lyric as a badge of honor. I'm far too hard for you to handle. You're not man enough. I'm too good for you.  It made us feel sexy and confident in our singlehood when we hit the bars.

However, it wasn't until one summer when it was used against me.  My ex-boyfriend Zach sent me a message, weeks after breaking up with me, that in sum said "you're too hard to handle." 

I was floored. I was too hard to handle?  How was that possible? I did everything I could to be a "good" girlfriend. I made dinner for him. I didn't pick fights over silly little things.  I didn't text or call constantly.  I thought I gave him enough space. How could he justify saying that to me?

I desperately sought to understand myself and how I was hard to handle. Break up, after break up, I find myself being told in some capacity that I am hard to handle. That something about me is difficult to handle....but what exactly about me is hard to handle?

That question still has yet to be answered in a capacity that an educated woman feels is adequate.  I get 3rd grade boy responses; boys who have yet to discover that a human being can think critically. "Because you are." "You just are, ok?"

Apparently a complete, complex thought and argument is too much for them to handle as well.  

If that is the case, then I will, once again, try to relish in my hard to handle-ness. I need a man who understands that my hard to handle-ness is a wonderful part of me; if it is even a true facet of my personality.

What Hurts the Most

"What Hurts the Most" is a song sung by Rascal Flatts that came out in 2005. I remember it semi-perfectly as it conjured up memories of one of my high school friends, Dale, who passed away a week before prom and a month before our high school graduation.  Dale had a girlfriend at a time and I remember getting ready in my dorm room freshman year, TV on CMT, and the video coming on. If you've ever seen the video, you might understand how it would remind me of Dale and Amanda.

However, in my case, what hurts the most was not the fact that he walked away, when we had so much to say.  Rather, what hurts the most is the fact that he stopped believing me and what I had to say. 

It is awfully heartbreaking when anyone who is close to you stops believing you and trusting you. You wonder how to get your friend's trust back, and if you're lucky you succeed. Depending on the damage that has been done, your friendship can be repaired and restored like a 1964 GTO.

But then, there are those others who do not feel that they will ever believe you. Who say to you, "I will probably live the rest of my life thinking that you were lying to me."

What hurts the most is knowing that he doesn't even want me to try to repair the "damage." He doesn't care any longer and he appears content with believing that he will always think I was lying to him.

It's like trying to repair a damaged high school reputation when you are in grad school.  Seems pretty impossible. And you wonder if it is even worth it to try to change their mind. 

Really Relieved

I received a text from my ex-fiance, Maj last night: "Did you get back in?"

Maj was referring to my attempt to re-enroll in grad school after he had, 2 days previous, convinced me to withdraw from the semester so that after our October 2nd wedding I could move to North Carolina to be with him. 

When I did respond that I had in fact been able to work the whole grad school issue out, he replied with: "Good I'm really relieved."

You're really relieved?! Well, good, that was my hope. I'm glad that you are relieved that while you may have hurt me, you did not in fact get in the way of me wasting the entire fall semester.  I'm glad that your guilt ridden conscious can be satisfied in knowing that you didn't mess up my education any further.

This was not about you. This was about me & my education & my future.

Had you wanted to reply a better response could have been: "Good. I know how much your education means to you." "Great to hear! Happy for you!"

Next time, relieve yourself elsewhere.

My Gut

I had a feeling that he would leave.

This gut feeling that knawed at me throughout the entire deployment. Yet, I stayed. I was sincerely devoted to Maj and being there for him as he went on his nightly missions. I cried myself to sleep some nights, wondering how I could do this to myself. How could I have fallen in love with a guy who was thousands of miles away? How could I believe that he was sincere in his feelings when he had spent such little time together? Did I really believe that things would be wonderful between the two of us when he was finally safe and in the same country? Maybe it was silly of me, but I did...

My gut knew that when I got the phone call in August that he was breaking up with me, after I drove to North Carolina to see him. My gut knew that when he called in September that he was calling off the engagement. My gut knew that although this is what I wanted, it didn't feel right. It wasn't the way it was supposed to be. 

I knew back in September of 2007 that Maj would not be the guy for me. I knew that a long distance relationship between this then-fraternity boy would only end in heartbreak for me because of the lack of commitment (and possibly feelings) he had for me. 

So the moral of the story: When your gut is telling you that this isn't going to work, listen. When your gut is breaking your heart and your dreams, still listen.  Your gut knows the truth and it seeks the truth that your heart wants to ignore. Your heart wants a happy ending. It wants the lace, the fancy cake, and vows. But your gut wants you to be safe. It doesn't want you to know anymore heartbreak than you need to feel. 

According to my best friend Carina, it takes a strong woman to listen to her gut when happily ever after is at your doorstep.