No matter how much easier every day gets, I still catch myself repeating the same motions throughout my typical 24 hour cycle—biting my lip in order to stop it from quivering, closing my eyes, and exhaling deeply—usually in that order.
My saving grace has been my work—more so than friends, family, or pointless distractions. I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel of my waitressing days, my writing has become less frequent but more meaningful, and I’ve finally come into my own in terms of what I want to do with my life. After every project, every venture, I have more and more of my peers come up to me to tell me that my work and what I’m doing is needed and necessary—I’ve been knighted this responsibility of bringing people up and together—and I’m honored. The high usually only lasts until I lay my head on my pillow to go to bed, however.
Saturday I was shaking hands and taking business cards and people clear across the country whom I had never met before—but somehow they knew me—made sure to introduce themselves. I brought together women from all over who were telling me they were moved by the work I curated, amazed I did it all myself—and all I could think about every ten minutes was about how he didn’t call, didn’t wish me good luck, not even a text—an email—hating myself and my lack of emotional strength every time I let my mind slip.
And why should he have? I dug myself into a situation that my teary eyed apologies, a hand hold and a doomed promise of “I won’t mess up again” couldn’t fix. The combination of too many Redbull cocktails, not enough soda water in-between and my own heart that I was attempting to fool cost me the only person who knew me better than myself. The only person who really knew me at all. I forfeit a tried and true friendship because I was hurt—rightfully so—but so hurt I couldn’t see the consequences of my words and actions as they catapulted out of me.
Why is it only in our moments of solitude, we can think clearly? Why is it only then, we can admit what we can never say out loud?
I’m thankful I’m not like a lot of people that I know—I know what I’m working towards in my life and I know exactly how I’m going to achieve it. I understand the concept of time and how it can’t be wasted under any circumstances because all we have is now and now is all we have in order to build a future that turns into a comfortable and enriching present.
It’s why I won’t sleep around no matter how much it’s suggested—I tried it once and it was fun for five minutes until that five minutes turned into an hour of my mind wandering and wishing I hadn’t invited this dude over. I can’t look at pictures of The Weeknd or Lenny Kravitz anymore because this random was such a wannabe hybrid of the two. When he had the nerve to compliment me and tell me how sexy I was afterwards (I know, he was just trying to be nice) I just laughed and picked up my phone to call him an uber home. I should have made him pay for it, but I did whatever I could to get him out the fastest. There was no point in me wasting any more of his or my time. If it pains me to listen to you talk for an hour, trust that I don’t want you in my bed.
I felt guilty for a month (the month he continued to ask me to hang out again almost daily) because I knew he genuinely liked me, and I gave him false hope if even for just a night. It’s why I said what I said and did what I did that night—even though I regret it immensely—because you told me it all meant nothing and I believed you—but I was so disappointed to see you still consciously wasting your time instead of building yourself up into the man I know you could be—with or without me.
Every day simply feels like I’m slowly but surely drowning in a pool of indifference. My career is finally flourishing after two years post-grad, but I’m terrified that I can only have success or love and never both. I don’t want someone comfortable with riding my coattails and simultaneously thus far I’ve only loved men who think they can’t offer me enough—leaving me dumbfounded when all I ever asked for was love, respect and support in return. I keep saying that I’m going to lock my heart away for a while—no matter who comes along, no matter how charming, no matter how convincing. I’m trying so hard to be this cold-hearted, no nonsense bitch that I know so deeply that I am anything but.
It’s why I dyed my black hair blonde and cleaned out half my closet and bought new shoes and forced myself to be okay when I wasn’t—for months I’ve wanted to erase who I worked so hard to become because I hated admitting I never would have grown into myself without growing alongside you.
Everyone that matters—a whopping handful of 4 or so people—say it’s all going to be fine. Deep down, I believe it too. But don’t confuse a hope for making things right as me waiting.
So until I wake up after the limbo of today that turns into the eventual of tomorrow—I’ll work—I’ll write, and read and edit and produce and curate and create because with this slowly silencing pain has come a new outlook and vision for what I want to put out into the world.
I still believe we can have it all. As long as we don’t.ever.settle.
