Somehow life still manages to leave me breathless.
I’m not exactly sure how, but I accept that it does.
The last few weeks have been both some of the hardest and some of the best. Like a walking contradiction, just searching the stars, looking for answers. Trusting that the universe will guide me to where I’m meant to be.
I went to bed with a plan, I was going to do a deep clean today, purge any residual negative energy lingering in Apartment Hell. Some people like to spring clean, I like to do a fall purge, and a breakup purge, and a my life is better than this purge, and an I’m better than this purge, and a it’s time for new color or rearranging shit purge. Writing this is my attempt at getting in the mood, by the way. Because it sounds less than thrilling at the moment, but I’m a woman of my word and I promised myself this was happening this weekend. I’m all about keeping promises to myself.
I started therapy and if you’ve been on this journey with me over the years, you know it’s not always been awesome. But I want nothing more than to be the best version of me. This is part of the process. It’s terrifying to face this shit but I know it’s the right thing for me to do. I started to take medication for PTSD as well. When the doctor suggested it, part of me broke down because maybe I really was broken. There is part of my brain that does it’s own thing all the time. I always assumed that was just how everyone’s brains worked. I’ve only just learned, that my jumbled brain is PTSD. I knew that I suffered from it, I just didn’t understand the extent of the symptoms.
But here’s the thing, I’m NOT broken. I’m the best version of me I’ve ever been. My brain might be a little jumbled up sometimes but that doesn’t mean I’m broken. I’d like to think that I’m not afraid to ask for help. But if I’m honest with you and myself, I’m terrified to do so. But I refuse to let my life be held hostage by fear. Courage isn’t the absence of fear, it’s recognizing that someone or something is more important than your fear and doing it anyway.
The doctor told me that I should feel substantial differences over the next six weeks and then I started to sob. Because I’ve spent years afraid of asking for help, of knowing I should talk about this stuff and the way my brain jumbles… and she told me that in six weeks I could feel different. It didn’t have to be this way anymore. That is the best feeling in the whole world. It gave me hope and courage to do other scary things, like breaking up with the man I’d been seeing because I deserved more.
I’ve always romanticized love. I can’t help it, I think it should be this amazing once-in-a-lifetime amazing feeling. That when you meet that person, the whole world melts away. The universe brings you together despite all odds and it’s like you’ve been made for one another. Thing is… that’s never been my experience.
Like here is a list of romantic fails:
- New Years Midnight Kisses- Yes, I’ve been with someone through this holiday, he was just “busy.” I’ve had pleanty of New Years kisses, just not a one was romantic or swoon worthy.
- Bieng Kissed in The Rain – I live in Washington, I know this should have been a given a decade ago. But alas, I think sometimes I alone like to dance in the rain.
- A thoughtful Birthday or Christmas gift – Like one year I got heated socks? He gave his coworker a pair of heated gloves that year. When I told this story to my friend, she goes, “Did he split the set?!”
- A Valentiens date – again, yes I’ve been taken on this holiday. Only netiher thought it was worth even bringing up.
- Flowers – Never once.
- I’ve never dated a man who called me beautiful.
- Or a man who cared enough to take the time and read the things I write. Where my heart is woven between words that have so delectly left a peice of me on paper.
None of this is meant as a bitch list. I’ve had lots of good experiences too. Wonderful ones. Instead, it’s been this slow realization of what I deserve. I’d just assumed that all of that was bullshit and that life was never really like that. Love like that didn’t exist and if it did, it wasn’t for me. I lived in the real world where compromise was the name of the game. Where friendship is the important part. Don’t get me wrong, it still is, but there should be more. Respect, true emotional intimacy, and a spark of something greater than me. Like the universe had a say and above all other things, this was meant to be. I don’t know. Maybe I’m living in a dream world, and if that’s the case I’m okay with it for now. I’m tired of settling. I deserve so much more from a lover than what I’ve experienced. And not just these small things, but communication, vulnerability, and trust. I want the real deal and I’m just not going to settle for anything less.
Work is going well. The book still sells and I’m so very thankful to every person who stumbles upon it and gives me those hours of their life. I value the chance that’s taken on me. Soon, oh so soon, there will be an audiobook. The narrator is Teddy Martin, an incredibly talented voice actor. I can’t begin to speak of well enough of him. He took a chance on my little book and he’s given me so much more than I can possibly give back. I couldn’t hardly read the pages anymore after thousands of edits and he’s brought it to life. He made it new for me again. I am so excited for you all to hear the hours and hours of work he’s put in. I get to say that he read my book first and I’m confident he’ll have an illustrious career.
I can’t believe the holidays are here and the new year is just around the corner. 2022 is just a blip away. I’ve been thinking a lot about where I want to see my life next year. Goals and milestones to checkboxes to cross. I like having goals and things to work toward. Next year I want to publish my second novel. I’ve started writing something brand new as well and I want to see where that takes me.
While my Kickstarter failed, I am not giving up. I just need to rethink my plan of attack for a minute. But it’s not the last you’ve seen of Living Color Tarot. Plus, I totes sell my art on Etsy, if you’re ever curious.
I think I need to finally leave Apartment Hell (that is what I long ago named this place) in 2022. It’s been a bit of a nightmare, but I’m thankful to say it finally has some lovely memories attached. It will be bittersweet, to say the least. More sweet than bitter though. For sure, sweeter. While the move process is daunting, I am looking forward to a place not quite so haunted by tenants of past. Or the single pained windows that don’t shut. Or the stabby stabby dudes who try to break in. Or flooding. Or the apartment asshole above me who is trying to learn the drums poorly and leaves his tub running out over the floor and into my apartment. More than once. More than twenty times in fact. But I did make some good friends, and in its weird and hellish way, this is home.
Anyway. I think I’ve blabbed into the void long enough today. Tomorrow I will purge. Until next time.