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taylor price
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@theartofmadeline
Mike Driver
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@anonymously-diligent
Million
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Paths, but only one unfolded in this 3rd dimension.
1
Year and 3 weeks.
AUDHD is Horrific
and People Don’t Talk About It Enough
Sometimes I wish people understood what it actually feels like to live with AUDHD the combination of Autism and ADHD. It’s not quirky, it’s not “cute,” and it’s definitely not just being distracted or socially awkward. It’s a daily battle inside your own mind, and most of the world never sees the internal exhaustion behind it.
Living with AUDHD means having a brain that can’t decide whether it wants absolute structure or total chaos. One moment you’re overstimulated to the point of shutting down, and the next moment you’re stuck in a spiral of hyperactivity and racing thoughts. You crave routine but get bored of it. You want to focus but your brain refuses to cooperate. You want calm, but everything feels too loud, too bright, too fast.
People see the outside the forgetfulness, the fidgeting, the sensitivity, the intense interests and they assume it’s manageable. But they don’t see the burnout that hits without warning. They don’t feel the sensory overload that makes small things feel unbearable. They don’t experience the guilt of wanting to do things but being unable to start, or the frustration of trying your absolute best while still being labeled “lazy,” “dramatic,” or “unmotivated.”
And the worst part is the loneliness. Because AUDHD often makes you feel “too much” for everyone. Too sensitive, too emotional, too intense, too overwhelmed. So you learn to mask. You pretend you’re fine. You try to act “normal,” even when your brain is screaming.
But here’s the truth: AUDHD is not a character flaw. It’s not a choice. It’s a reality that deserves understanding, compassion, and awareness. People who live with it are fighting battles every single day and doing it quietly.
If you know someone with AUDHD, be kind. Be patient. Believe them. Support matters more than you realize.
ADHD is...
ADHD is hearing the alarm and hitting dismiss, more times than alarms I have set.
It is thinking more thoughts than seconds I should have left my biscuits on the cast iron skillet in the kitchen until Kahlo barks at me too get my attention and only then do I smell the burnt bread.
Pacing the hallway more times than I promise to walk my dog
Forgetting I was going to apply to jobs today and then remembering as I am feeling sad for myself after my boyfriend left me alone on our day off.
It's being depressed and refusing to do the dishes that piled up from meal prep. It's also refusing to take my meds and refusing to eat the meals that I meal prepped.
Crying more than planning and feeling like I can't possibly be loved because of how dysfunctional I am.
Looking at the clock that says 4pm and realizing I need to visit the pharmacy and take Kahlo out for a walk and then realizing I need to send a very important email and doing this all in the same hour.
Finally, it is the dopamine craving that leads to seek out the adventure of driving all the way to Williamsburg for an ice cream cone and almost not going because of the fear of losing my parking spot and being so happy I chose to still go out because they added a new limited time flavor called powerful and it hits the spot.
ADHD is wondering more than determining if I am on the "right" path.
And absolutely submitting more thoughts into the ether than applications.
The path is as ADHD is. It appears as I walk but sometimes it's hard to take a step or feel as if I am taking any step.
Melancholy consumes me at admitting this. Unfortunately the dessert is only temporary, as is life.
With the Waves
Some were boardwalks, bringing life; buoys, marking a steady boundary and rest stop; and lighthouses, signals of hope and guidance home, beckoning for my soul to rest. Others, simple ships in the night that just happened to dock at my port.
Things Avoided
Anything goes. Words to a page. The hardest part. Judgment free release. Romantic melodies in the background.
These fucking cramps and tension headaches distract me from what huge feelings I have. What I want to say.
I fear getting in my own way. I fear being alone. I fear rejection. I fear regret. Fear communicates my desires: to break free of inhibition, to avoid myself, to be present and content with myself, to be accepted, to find meaning with others, to live and to learn. To feel alive, vibrant, energized, wanted, appreciated, enough.
Is it possible to love someone so much. What about a stranger a neighbor? Is it possible that this love isn't enough to make things work? He loves me, he loves me not is not even the question, but will I let him love me or will I not?
This is why emotions get a bad rap. Understanding the messages and signals they send is messy and contradictory. Leading me astray, I fight back by avoiding the feelings. This doesn't help either.
I want so deeply to be cared for and held and fed and tucked in. I want to be inspired. Sometimes I crave an outlet for my love; see, even though I despise being expected to take a feminine role, I so tenderly adore taking this role. I want to hold my lovers heart and their fears and their hand.
I woke up last year rubbing my eyes after a vivid dream, a grandfather's promise and reminder of providence for his granddaughters future, guiding her to her best friend. I was on a college campus as he held my arm and smiled encouraging me to keep my heart open. Last week another vivid dream, another arm hug, and a smile that filled my frontal cortex. This time a promise of completion. "It is done," He said. "I am done," He assured.
His smile stuck with me, but even more so the question, " What was done?" "What does this mean?" Am I the love of my life that my grandfather was guiding me to? Was this journey to begin school only the beginning of my self exploration to discover my ADHD diagnosis and further challenge me to accept and care for myself through therapy, medication, breaking stigma for the sake of self-love and moving forward. When will I be as proud of myself as he was of me. Nothing replaces a grandfather's love.
What is next? I am open to it. Well... after a ritual of breaking soul ties, I surely will be ready. That is how I met my last lover. Intention and truth. Not just in though but in practice; reflection and release.
This was not a creative post, more so a therapeutic practice. Nonsensical in nature. An expression of grief, lostness, confusion, softness, acceptance, hormonal fluctuation, the works.
Is this medication even working!? Hard to tell when I am on my period. Frustrating that it feels like a waste of my time when I can't tell if it is doing anything. I have had somewhat more energy to accomplish little life things. Cooking, cleaning, showering, but the medication won't fix everything. My habits won't miraculously transform, I must put my newly powered prefrontal cortex to good use. To read, to make plans, to organize thoughts and to face big emotions or roadblocks.
Well, what else must I release here? I need to pee.
*pause for bio break*
Yeah this is done. Off to work on my. budget. NYC is esspensive.
The End of a Chapter
February 1, 2019
You need to know how things started. I volunteered myself to be a greeter at Celine Semaan's fashion panel at the United Nations Head Quarters organized by Slow Factory. A conversation on the Sustainable Development Goals (SDG) and the future of fashion. The event ends and I sneak in to meet the rest of our volunteers and to see where we'll celebrate the day's success. My best friend at the time introduces me to the event photographer and videographer. The photographer is tall, slender and big boned. He has smooth skin and dough eyes. The videographer is short and scrappy - from a small town he says.
After a day of standing outside of the event hall, I am eager to get off my feet, but with an extra surge of adrenaline, I travel to the after party with my best friend and the videographer; however, the videographer heads home. Upon arriving, my friend and I grab drinks and join the rest of the party on the dance floor. Lo and behold the gentleman photographer from the event. He had large electronic ear pieces wrapped around his ears, and I wondered if they were hearing aids, ear buds or some new sound cancelling technology.
Hips swaying, delightful smile on his face, living and dancing in his own world. With his back facing me and hands above his head, I tap him on the shoulder. I speak directly into his ear so he hears me over the music... he has to take out one ear piece. "I love how you dance so freely," I exclaim in to his ear. Something about him expressing himself stops time for me, inspires me to enjoy the moment. I'd think about this moment for a while after.
_________________________
March 21, 2023
We stay in touch. Our DMing occurs in waves. A check-in here, a few messages there. Neither of us in the same place at the same time again until March 21st, 2023. So you don't have to, I have done the math. That is no less than four years, one month and twenty-three days after we first met. Wild to think that life works in such mysterious ways -- granted, I had a crush on him since the moment I saw him. It was like my world stopped and the breath was taken out of my lungs for a split moment.
Now it was different, we had created a virtual friendship. We were more than two acquaintances connected by two mutuals and one event. I didn't know what that more was but wanting to know what that 'more' was, I checked in. I was living in San Diego now. He would be visiting Los Angeles soon. I flippantly offer to meat him at his work gig which just happens to be at hotel. To not be presumptuous, I pay for my hotel stay and surprise him, arriving just after 8 PM.
I settle into my room and meet him for dinner. He knows the chef, of course, and tells me this hotel is like his home away from home. I have my classic Old Fashion and we split some oysters. Much to catch up on, we can barely catch our next thought bouncing off of each other like pickle ball. 90 minutes for each year since we last saw each other, we spent six hours eating and talking. He convinces me to have a few bites of pastry and then I am about ready to sleep.
Nosey as I am, I ask what his plans are for the morning, now only six hours away. He will go for a run, then to his favorite breakfast spot in Venice. I invite myself again. I wouldn't typically be this forward, but I figure I might as well offer him company. Remember I have a slight crush and may be a bit obsessed... and recovering from my breakup with T. Speck. After all, we are both alone, and I don't need to explain myself.
Breakfast is not important, what you need to know is that we go for a lovely walk afterwards, on the boardwalk and on the sand. He takes a few photos of me that I will cherish forever. He truly has a gift with capturing the light just so. I am freezing so we don't stay long but the waves just have no mercy on my soul. Our two days together and the weeks after are like the rising tide... for hours, the small waves roll in, unassuming, calm, rhythmic. Then all of a sudden the wave grows tall and wide. It crashes against the cliff. Over and over again the seemingly gentle glimmering blue sea turns a dark navy with sea foam raging, rolling in and out.
We head back to the hotel to shower and get ready for the event he is working that night. I hadn't planned on staying another night and checked out of my room. He let me leave my stuff in his room while we were at breakfast and until I had decided to stay for the event that evening. Now I napped in his bed while he showered and got ready. A light nap, one that allowed me to hear him call for a towel when he finished rinsing. I got up and handed him one without peaking to closely at his body. I think you know where this is going now. I can see the droplets on his body through the sliver of the cracked bathroom door.
He left early to set up as event photographer in the hotel and I rested a bit before beginning my shower and dressing.
The event took place throughout the hotel. Different floors, the bar and restaurant on one floor, a dance floor, bar and patio on another and a tattoo artists and cozy lounge space on another. Tours of model hotel rooms took place and family of the hotel staff were welcome to any libations offered. Throughout the night we crossed paths a few times. I could tell he was impressed when we first made eye contact on the dance floor. It was quiet and slow to start, the sun was still setting and the party just starting. He danced in front of me -- like the first time we had met.
I had my drink and went off to see the rest of the event offerings.
Later we'd cross paths again on the lounge floor where he would sneak up behind me in the tattoo line and compliment my dress and profile. The sexual tension beginning to rise, I press myself into the tattoo room, out of his line of sight and to cool down a bit. Turns out, I was just two people too late of getting on the tattoo schedule for the night. I watched for a minute and decided to try the restaurant and bar on the ground level. I grab a drink and a few delicious pigs in a blanket and finally plop myself onto a comfy chair. Not long after a couple asks to sit across from me in the lobby. I am tipsy and do not care - I kindly say " Yes, of course," before my photographer finds me again and sits right beside me on the arm of the chair. I tell him I have had too much to drink and that he must help me finish my mescal shot.
To my surprise he pretends we are glued at the hip and that he can no longer get up to finish the end of the night. We soak in the loud music, happy mood and serendipity of the last two nights. Then, like an electrical pulse through a wire, we lean together and kiss. I get so hot and can't tell if I have had too much to drink with the blood rushing all over my body and to my face or if I was just aroused. He has another 30 minutes of closing out his work and I slip up to the room to get cozy. I want him now but I also want sleep! I wait a while to see if he will join me in the room. Then finally, I can't wait any longer.
Just as I am slipping out of my strapless, off-white wool dress, he enters the room. Dress at my feet in only a nude thong and my hands wrapped around my breasts, he blurts out, "Sorry," as he returns to the hallway and shuts the door. I call for him to, "Come in," it's fine. He meets me at the foot of the bed and asks me to put my dress back on before he caresses me from behind. I bed over the bed and he massages my back, hips and thighs. Being the snob that I am, I can't bare the thought of my dress being ruined and so I insist on stripping down again.
He agrees and I slowly slide it back down past my breasts, waist, belly button, hips, cheeks, thighs, knees, shins, ankles, feet and toes. Bare, I press him into the chair and straddle on top of him. He holds me, standing up and walks me to the bed where we get under the covers and begin to warm up. Kissing, rubbing, and expressing our surprise at how we ended up at this moment.
We spent all night making love. He shared his childhood, teenage years, recorded music, his marriage and divorce, his father passing. We talk about it all and then back at it again until he fell asleep inside me. My favorite way to cuddle. Flexing around his member and pleasuring myself while he consensually dozed off.
As the sun rose, so did I and then time to leave. He ordered my two breakfasts to go, remembering my dairy and egg intolerances. I left feeling exhausted but over the moon with how spontaneous and affectionate our night had been. I wondered when we would meet again.
_________________________
To be continued...
Pieces' Two Truths and a Lie
The night began like any other-meeting friends for a drink at a bar on a warmish night. Summer was ending, fall beginning, and the. PR events for alcohol unfazed by the weather. Glenlivet was hosting a tartan themed party at The Corner Store where Igee and Brandon sipped on their special menu mixed drinks as I walked through the door after getting my ID checked at the door.
I greeted them hello before checking my coat and heading to the bar. There, barred on all sides by different groups of beautiful people, I waited my turn for the bartender to look over and smile cheekily awaiting my order. A gorgeous blonde with brown-bronze skin stood beside me in a simple and flattering cut out dress with jewelry that accentuated her beauty.
The bartender looked over to us and began to tend to me but I quickly stopped him by pointing out how Tara was before me. She. gave me a shy smile and thanked me. I don't understand why someone would rush for a free drink at a party especially if it meant cutting some else- not to mention a pretty someone else - in line.
I brought Tara back to the small front table to meet the boys and we quickly made our way back to the bar and dance floor to see where all the action was. Soon after, it was time for the boys second drink and as they stood much taller than me talking to one another I just happened to be iced out. I stood for a second looking around at who else I could engage with. A gentleman waited at the bar for his chance to order and as our eyes met, I quickly asked what he planned to order and he asked if I had cut him in line. I was just holding the drink I had ordered 10 minutes earlier. We started a banter with lots of giggling and chuckling.
He was smooth and it turned out this was his event too. He was the experiential marketing director that thought up the idea of the Tartan theme. I wasn't impressed, more so charmed. I am never surprised to meet an accomplished attractive man in Manhattan, this place is the big pond for big fish and everyone is someone. He was easy to talk to and seemed to be interested in getting to know everything about me in the first 10 minutes of meeting. Was I being love bombed? Either way, I enjoyed the unexpected attention and conversation. He needed to break for work and I escaped to the dance floor, finally a second to breathe and process what had just happened.
I watched out for him from the floor. He came around looking for me but withe everyone surrounding us, he could find me. I was flattered. I danced a bit more enjoying all the detailed appetizers and gifts. They had tartan printed jello shots which I was advised to leave alone since I had already had two drinks and planned to drive back home. Matchsticks lined the bar and around the dancing room were stacks of postcards with a special design made especially for the event, Glenlivet x The Corner Store.
I grabbed two complimentary postcards and a tartan pen, eager to go find him and invite him to snail mail each other before it was time to leave. When I circled back around to find him, he was busy talking to co workers so I waited in the booth beside his group. He noticed and when he had the chance, he came right over and asked to scooch in next to me.
Eyes glimmering, smile electric, he asked,
"Were you waiting for me?"
"Yes," I responded confidently. I had nothing to hide and I was confident he would be flattered. I looked down noticing his corduroy now that he was closer up and the dim light barely revealed the textured pants under the wooden booth table. Pleased I lightly brushed the soft ridges around his upper thigh. He smiled big again, and I quickly explained how much I appreciated his style.
I also may have been tempting and teasing him but that is neither here nor there. Looking at me, under his breath he calls me out," You are trouble. I like you." This wasn't the first I had been called trouble and it wouldn't be the last. He assures me throughout the night that he likes me: When we met, when I was sharing fun facts with him, when we sat together in the booth, and when it was nearly time to leave. Disappointed, he asks me to stay but I have no business making out with a stranger while he closes a big event. I scoot out the other side of the booth and meet my friends after picking up my coat.
Now standing on the sidewalk with Igees arm around my shoulder as we say goodbyes to some of his friends, Pieces sneaks up behind me, asking, " When will I see you again?"
"Soon," I answer with a longing smile. and his hand glides off my back. Would I ever see him again? I wondered while with minor contempt, hoping not. I felt that pit in my stomach that beyond better judgement seemed like nothing.
Would I see him again?
To be continued...
The Chapters: Cowboy Kush Explodes
Cowboy Kush, the man, the candle.
I drove off the highway turning right, left and then right again onto Hope St. My silver Prius blending in with the whitish-grey sky only split apart by the drizzly drops on my window as I peek out onto the busy sidewalk. Seven-ten on a Saturday evening and the rain doesn't stop the Williamsburg crowds from strolling down the streets with their friends and lovers; bar hopping, dining, cozying up in their living rooms. That's what I was doing two weeks ago, with Cowboy Kush, watching the opening F1 race.
Not today, today I drive down the street aching for a bite of brisket from The Commodore. I can't tell what I crave more, a bite of brisket dipped in jus or a moment more with his bright eyes taking in the photons that reflect off my rosy cheeks.
The Brisket dip sandwich has been on my mind since our last night together. Only after I turned onto Hope St did I realize that was exactly what I was holding onto -- hope. Hope that I would move on and find love, hope that maybe I would run into him and he'd cheerfully ask me to come over, hope that this sandwich would quench my thirst.
Be-. I mean, Cowboy Kush, was the type of person that sews his own silver lining, paints his own love, and this drew me in. His acceptance is that which I worked to give myself. Was his self-love a product of overcoming trial and hardship? Or was it from healthy family dynamics? It could not have been the latter as he alluded to parents who bickered and a brother with Bipolar Disorder. BPSD is more common than I had realized. To be not alone in experiencing a loved one go through this is comforting.
Beyond a family member with mood swings we also both loved wine, cooking, eating, we had both dabbled in clothing design and sustainable fashion, as well as sports. Seems like the typical things people enjoy and share in common as food is what keeps us alive and clothes is what keeps out bodies safe. I wish we could explore this with each other more.
It ended faster than a lap of professional race car drivers could run a lap. Without warning, the energy dissipated and being in each other's company began to feel awkward. An all-too familiar pattern, I knew what came next. The "sorry, work is busy this week" and " I am super tired this weekend" with no plans for the future. Three weeks of glorious, casual sex went by and how did it end you ask? After a viewing of Anora. You know the film where a European millionaire son marries a sex worker only two abandon her to be taken back to Europe to work for his family. Did he ever care about his new wife? Was he only looking for a short-term casual relationship? My head exploded with confusion. Why were we going on a date and why did we watch Anora on our first date? Either way we walked back to the apartment silently and in discomfort I wondered what this all meant? Was he trying to communicate to me that he no longer wanted to see me or that I was a mere 2-week long escapade, like a sex-worker wife in his life? I was lost for words... so much so I must have seemed like the most boring person on earth. What was I supposed to say after that? I had critiques of the film but my emotions took center stage.
We got back to his apartment and ordered food -- that is when I tried the Brisket Sandwich for the first time -- and I loved stuffing my face, naked on his couch with our makeshift tv dinner set up watching the first race of the season. He shared so much of himself with me, I got invited into his apartment and his world. There was never really room for me except for my bits, casually.
I stayed the night after a few rounds of being in the saddle. He said the bed was for sleeping and thought he may have been joking I took those orders seriously. Despite my horniness I forced myself to lay there, eyes shut, tossing and turning. Was I more disturbed by the throbbing or my confused heart. Did he like me? I surely liked him! I was at least having fun. He was kind, playful, light-hearted, and he was open to sharing himself freely. I half slept through the night after giving him an arm massage which he didn't feel he had dissolved. He was right. But that's the thing about me. I am a lover, I am generous with my gentle touch and I craved his skin and his affection, but rather than ask for it, I figured to give was just as rewarding.
In the morning I woke from a light nap and Ben grabbed me water asking what else he could do to help me get ready to leave. I asked him for... him. He wondered why I had waited all night for some loving and I honestly wondered as well. He was quick and careless with it but it was still so nice. He made me cum several times that morning. Little did I know it would be the last time he gifted me such pleasures.
The first time I met him, he was energetic, but sat at a distance on the couch. Almost nervous-like, he kept space between us, It wasn't until we started talking about middle eastern cuisine that we got close on the couch to share a phone screen as we googled. As soon as I nestled my head on his shoulder POW! Something had exploded. It took us a moment to realize what had happened; we looked over to the dining table where a candle had been left burning and now a flame flickered on a coaster, unbothered by the dark brown glass pieces shattered around the light. What sustained the flame was beyond me. We sprung up to put out the light and clean up. Thank fully we caught it before it caught onto the wood table or worse, the fabric on the corner booth seating. Shortly after cleaning up the candle mishap, the books in the kitchen flopped off the shelf and onto the counter making a loud bang. Was it a sign of the energy between us or a warning to stop? I was unfazed and wanted to see things through.
Kisses, cuddles and lots of grinding later, I excused myself and hoped to see him again, when I wasn't menstruating. I think it helped to build up the excitement, but I wanted him badly! Our second fling, I hardly remember but I believe it started with chatting, sushi and me spilling soy sauce which I freaked out about while he laughed and cheerfully cleaned up the spill. Reminders that all work out and that I shouldn't worry about the trivial things. Our date of course ended after hours of sex and making out. Not to mention him picking me up while I straddled his chest and thrusting into me as he stood up. Fun, hot, unexpected. A adrenaline rush that ended with him offering to clean my glasses which had gotten a bit smudged before I had a chance to take them off that evening. We knew we wanted to see each other again.
You know that phrase, "Third time's the charm?" Well, it wasn't. It was the last strike. He had decided that I simply didn't add to his life in the way he wanted. It is hard to say if it was the texting we did leading up to the third date or the third date itself but somewhere along the week the bubbles fizzled out and the only thing keeping us together was the Cosmos. He claimed to be really stressed at work and just not as excited as he had been in the beginning. His honesty and transparency was intoxicating. You know how easy it is to move on from a guy who sucks and is immature? Well Cowboy Kush wasn't that guy. He was incredibly sweet and it's the kind of sweetness that makes you teeth hurt.
I didn't get to see his tulips, or borrow his sewing machine. All the ideas for cooking together, shot! He didn't even get to see my weird side. I am not sure what I was expecting but I hoped for more. When someone isn't attracted to you, you shouldn't be attracted to them, right? Why want someone who doesn't have an interest in you? I aspire to get up and walk away as quick as I fall. I do move on quickly, physically, but emotionally, I experience heavy grief. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, depression and acceptance. All of it. But mostly, sitting with all the things I miss and wished we could have done, like talking about aliens and space, making pasta and sushi, sharing our art, building and herbarium, simply fucking some more, drink wine, paint with the color yellow, fasting processed sugars.
Mostly, I miss having someone to experience the pleasures and fun of life with. Cowboy Kush was gone with the wind, ironically. We were both air signs, Geminis and ruled by air, we truly do change moods and interest with the wind. That is all it was. A ruling made in the heavens.
Like the Big Bang, like the candle exploding, and like an Alien abduction. A process of energy, space and time.
C'est fini.
Time; Subject to the Narrative
It's just the memory of him that dings in my mind like an old grandfather clock I imagine us sitting together in the living room, growing old together diiiiinggggg dawngggggg We'd have settled down somewhere canny, had a great deal of laughs, and started a family.
It's just the fantasy of him that ticks in my mind like a new wrist watch I imagine us full of life running around, dancing. Time flies they say. tic-toc tic-toc tic-toc We were young and silly, in love and full of hope for the crackling of our kindling turned to flame quickly. Little did we know it's turn just as quick to ember in a dying fire.
It's the mourning of him that silently phases in and out like a sun-dial shadow. I imagine many versions of our life, yet none reverse the dial. You are gone. windchimes I am alone.
It was all an illusion of sound and light. The time does not depend on instruments to exist- it can never fully be measured. Like our love, was it energy existing in only one small moment of space time or does it exist forever on the entirety of a continuum? Is the continuum altered if love is unrequited?
15 October: Are Time and Space the Same?
In outer space, time is space. Space is time. For one year, I hoped the time would bring me healing? Friends told me… it just takes time to heal. The feelings might not go away but you learn to process them and they become less overwhelming.
Little did I realize that being in close proximity with T, sharing the same space was the equivalent of time standing still. It’s as if time did not pass in our relationship. Things stayed the same, I stayed close and my heart? It stayed broken.
Though a year had passed, I felt my wound constantly irritated by our friendly encounters. I wanted two things at once. I wanted to honor my word and be a good friend, after all we started as friends and had so much in common. Yet, my heart wanted more. A year has passed and I wonder if my feelings are stronger. Either way our friendship was not true and I was not honoring my feelings.
I thought feelings were optional… oh that? Yeah no I don’t feel that way really. I don’t have to think about those feelings. Lesson learned… you can ignore and discredit feelings, but it will hurt eventually. Space-time has a different plan. The best decision I could make is the decision to move on.
Have You Ever Taken a Chance on Fate?
Up until this second meeting, we were living by fate. Alas, Trysten would make a move and ask for my number. After interviewing me on the line, we both felt an interest in the other. Or at least it felt this way.
I had never had someone take an interest in me this way and be impressed with my story. He was humble, curious, and inquisitive. I was happy to give him my number and received a text from him after a few moments. This way we could plan to meet rather than show up at the park and hope to run into one another.
Poppa- my step-grandfather- drove by the park and spotted us. He had been teasing that I couldn't actually balance and wanted to see for himself. I was eager to prove him wrong and show off my newfound friend and reignited hobby. He jokingly suggested that we'd not be so good after some wine...
This made me think! A wine and picnic date at the park the next time we met to slackline.
The next time we met with a bottle of Fat Cat Pinot Noir. The design on the bottle caught my eye with the cat's jazzy style, playing piano and wearing dark shades. Trysten played piano and we both shared a love for jazz. The picnic charcuterie board comprised dried fruit, nuts, hummus, and grape leaves. Odds and ends that would nourish our bodies and express my love for hospitality.
So far I was falling head over heels, already set in my excitement yet reluctant t accept our friendly hangouts as dates. I was not ready to date... I was avoidant and not interested in getting out there again. I was anxious and nervous and excited all at the same time. I refused to admit any of it. I wanted my time, I wanted to get to know him without giving up any f my autonomy and daily routine but it wasn't possible. I had to see things through. Why did T come into my and what was I to do???
5 October: My Clarity Returns
Today, there isn't much of the emotional pain I felt last week. Was it PMS? I really hope that I can begin to move on.
After watching multiple therapy videos from a series on Acceptance and Commitment Therapy and then a comedy show today, this feels like the path to recovery. I laughed and only cried a few tears this morning but the overwhelming emotions are kept at bay for now.
Feelings of gratitude for Kahlo, my six-month-old Husky Shephard Pit are what have gotten me through the last couple of days. She had endless support when I needed it most.
Tomorrow is a new day and we shall see what it brings.
I Guess I'll See You Around
Complete. Cool. Vibes. My heart nearly beating out of my chest, throat dry, palms sweaty, but on the outside, collected. I waited to be noticed.
Finally, the guy on the slackline nods to the other whose back is towards me. T turns around, spacey yet present in this very relaxed way that he always presents. Eyebrows raised, big still, brown eyes and jaw agape, he answers, " Yeah. Uh."
Dang! My mind racing with social anxiety, I could tell we were both nearly at an impasse trying to start up a convo as strangers... especially in Covid Times. What do I say next?
I knew what a slackline was and felt silly for asking. The guy didn't even invite me to try so I feel like even more of an intruder. However, I wouldn't leave now after such progress!
"Can I try...?"
"Uh... Yeah... Sure."
The two continued their conversation as I tied up Garnet and jumped on. slowly my feet remembered the wobble and by the end of the night, I had made it halfway across without buckling. I finally admitted to having some experience. I thanked the two and asked if they were out here often. The line owner planned on being in the park often and the other was visiting from out of town. Since I walked the dog at least twice a week I mentioned that I'd be around and hoped to see him again.
There was no exchange of numbers or Instagram handles. Just the old school, unofficial plan with the neighbor that felt so easy and natural. If we met again, cool! Regardless, it was a great experience. It reminded me of my childhood. No one in the cul-de-sac ever planned to meet up and play. One just went outside and hoped someone else was out there. There was anticipation and excitement when someone was and we'd play until dark.
This is how it felt with T.
29September: Over It
The way I’ve been reframing my feelings about “you”. Sometimes I miss what once was, but I understand that it’s a shadow, a ghost- it doesn’t exist except as a memory living in my head. These memories remind me of things that I liked and things that I look for in a partner as well as some things that I don’t like. I recognize that my feelings for “you” are just alive in a dream of a person who isn’t you in the present moment.
When I say I love you now it’s I love you as a friend and as someone who is growing and changing in his own element. The romantic feelings that come up may just be of lust or nostalgia, but I’m learning it’s not for the current you. It’s for a you that doesn’t exist anymore. Only in my memory. It’s romantic feelings for T. Speck, not you. I guess subconsciously, I was allowing myself to confuse the two. So it’s not about you. Sometimes I get glimpses of the T. Speck I remember and I confuse you with him.
I’m still working to reframe but it seems like the reminders of what we had are prevalent and much stronger than my will to be friends. The reminders of what I will never have again may be a little too painful. I wish my determination could withstand the emotional assault of my own doing. Is this even something that can be reframed and why now? Why do I desire more now? Best if we part ways. At least then I’ll have hope for moving on.
Wish I Never Walked the Dog
I wish I never walked the dog. It’s my way of saying, I wish we never met that warmish day in spring at the park. I wish I didn’t have the guts to step out of my comfort zone and approach him. Granted I was initially lured in by the red slackline, but I can’t deny the two were a sight for sore eyes. Their built physiques, tatoos, and casually compy style.
The conformation-trained papillon knew our route and we were on our way home when something in my gut pulled me close, almost like an incessant finger tapping on my shoulder to turn around- Go talk to the slackline guys.
I hadn’t made a friend in over a year. It was March of 2021 a year after the shutdown of the states due to Covid-19, and I was begrudgingly struggling through my depression and trauma. I wasn’t special- some people had experienced worse things. Anyway, back to my story. I knew I had to make any effort- this was my window afterall. Having slacklined in college I knew what it was but as the nerves built up, all I could muster was, “ Hey! ... Is this a slackline?” The guy with his back facing me turned around to answer, “ Yeah.”
I had just happened to pass two guys my age and after having nearly zero interactions with friends in the last 12 months I was desperate for the connection. Let alone the opportunity to revisit one of my favorite past-times. I needed to do something bold in order to get out of the rut I had been in the last year. I wouldn’t settle for the voice in my head that told me to run away and continue being shy and quiet. I wouldn’t settle for his one-worded response.
Again, I got real bold this time and after what felt like 10 minutes of silence (really only 30 seconds), I asked, “ Can I try?”...
No Better Time Than Today
Returning to the sharp little letters and this visual representation of my jumbled thoughts and feelings. Back to begin writing and expressing myself freely and I expect to do so in privacy because who even uses Tumblr anymore!!???
Challenging myself to be more honest, expressive, bold and curious with self-exploration and this blog... Stay tuned.
