It took me a long time to figure out what I wanted to do about this blog. After the hurtful comments and hacking, I came to doubt who I was as a writer, as a mother, as a (future) girlfriend and as a person. Who had I become to write such emotion-filled venom about my now-ex boyfriend? What had happened to me that made me think that I had any right to say what I wanted in a public forum? But the bigger question I’ve been pondering lately is this: what happened to me that I allowed people close to me and complete strangers to walk all over me, to tell me that I have no business sharing my opinion for any and all to see, that I have no right to be upset or angry, that my writings have no place in this world? When did I become such a push-over?
If people don’t like what I have to say, they have the right to tell me and they have the right to not listen. Just as I choose not to listen to extremely conservative Christians tell me that I’m going to hell because I believe in equality for all and because I divorced my husband. I do not agree, I tell them what I think when they confront me and I stop listening. That is my right. If someone doesn’t like who I am, they have the right to not be in any kind of relationship with me, acquaintance, friendship, romantic or otherwise.
While I haven’t brought back any of the posts I’d written in the past, even the ones that have nothing to do with my most recent relationship, it has been a painful two months not having the outlet to write about my life. Those who commented that I should just tell a friend clearly don’t know me. I am a writer, not just for myself but to share my experiences with others, both as an outlet for myself and as a way of letting other single moms, married moms or non-moms know that there just might be someone else who’s feeling the same way they are right now. I have never lied in any of my posts: everything I ever wrote was a brutally honest look into how my life is, how my brain and heart work and who I am as a person.
And if you don’t like who I am: I don’t care. If you don’t want to read what I have to say: don’t. If you don’t want to be a part of my life: don’t. If you really don’t like me, then all I have to say is this: why do you keep coming back?!? Every day people who are no longer a part of my life keep checking this site, keep looking for the posts I wrote that angered them, keep looking for the posts that their friend “Hacker” wrote. What the hell for? To see if I’m still upset about the end of my relationship with your friend or brother? To confirm that I am “crazy” to have loved him so much and thrown it away out of pain? To see if I’ve broken my promise and have started writing again? WHY DO YOU CARE? If I am no longer a part of your life, either by my choice or yours, because you don’t like how open I am in my life or because you think I’m a “stage five clinger,” WHY do you continue to check up on me?
If you’re still here because you love me, you like me, you care about me, you enjoy my writings, then I say thank you. I am truly grateful for the people in my life who love me no matter what. Your compassion and empathy have not gone unnoticed, though they have gone unacknowledged. Because I’m not done hurting yet. I’m still punishing myself for ruining a good thing, even though a big part of me knows that I left someone who didn’t want me as I was. I’m still angry at myself for not being able to let go, to move on, even though I’ve tried a little too hard to do so these past couple of weeks. I’m still lonely as hell when I go to bed – even though a beautiful soul posted on my Facebook timeline that I’ve already won at love after having donated a kidney and being a surrogate – that kind of love doesn’t wrap its arms around me at the end of the day, hold me close, kiss me and tell me I’m beautiful. It doesn’t soothe the pain I still have in my heart after losing not only a boyfriend but a good friend. It doesn’t change the face I dream of when I finally succumb to the exhaustion of depression.
I’m stuck in a place where I go back and forth over what I want. Some days I would scream “YES” in a heartbeat if he asked if I’d like to try again. Other days I want nothing to do with him or his friends, since I know I never really belonged with him or them in the first place. Some days I would do anything to be in a relationship with someone who loves me for me and so I look in all the right and wrong places. Other days I accept the reality that I am a 30-year-old divorcée who has a mediocre job, a mediocre face and is the mom of a 9-year-old brainiac – I can stare at the pretty men on match.com all I want, they’re still never going to talk to me.
Some friends have told me that I’ll find love after I start learning to love myself. Well, then I guess I’ll be single for a very long time. Only people with the grace of God can love me – and I’m not one of those people. The choices (and ultimately mistakes) I made in my early young adulthood have shaped who I am today and I have failed each and every time in my attempts to push past them. I know who I am, I know my limitations in life and while I’ve accepted them, it doesn’t mean I like them. And I know that I should try to change things I don’t like, but honestly? I don’t have the energy anymore.
I’m so exhausted trying explain why I can’t be what others want me to be. I’m not a scholar. I’m not a speaker. I’m not a teacher. And it seems I’m not a lover. In all of the long-term relationships I’ve had – with the exception of one – giving the other person all of me was never enough.
But all of me is all I’ve got. I can’t give more than everything without creating a black hole. That’s what happened 2 months ago and I’m still not sure how to recover.
So… if you’ll bear with me, I’m going to try writing again. My fingers ache from lack of use, my brain is so full of thought and my heart so full of emotion that they are spilling over into parts of my life where they don’t belong. I can’t promise that I won’t write about my sadness and depression since the end of my recent relationship, I just can’t make that pledge. This is where I am in my life. But I know that I will write about other things – I’m the mom of a FOURTH GRADER for goodness’ sake! A fourth grader IN G.A.T.E.!!
But I’m going to write. The only person who can stop me is me and I will no longer allow myself to be bullied by people who no longer have a vested interest in my life. And while it is selfish of me to ask, I am going to anyway: please be encouraging in your comments here. It still feels like cheating to start writing again after I said I wouldn’t, but stronger is the feeling that I am cheating on myself by not writing. But insulting and bullying comments will not make the journey to mend my heart any easier. And, really? It just shows others where YOU are in your life if you take the time out of your day to post hateful comments on a blog that belongs to someone you don’t care about anymore. I’ll try to grow up if you will.