So Much For My Happy Ending

I think it might be time to retire this journal. I've spent several years whining in it about my confusion and frustrations. Much of it about men. Most of it about one man in particular.

While I've enjoyed being able to lay things out for myself to look back on at a more rational time, and enjoyed the connections I've made with non-flesh friends, I think I've lost a sense of privacy. And I also wonder if I've gotten so busy putting words to my feelings that I've forgotten to actually deal with those particular feelings. And is it possible I've indulged the drama queen slightly just so that I could have something to write about?

I think it's time to go silent for a spell. This is not a "me retreating to a private depression and send out the search parties" thing. It's just that I'm suddenly realizing that I've gone from one extreme (not trusting ANYONE with what goes on inside) to the other (telling EVERYTHING). I need to find the balance.

I'll still be posting in my number_30 journal. I'm still on the quest for the "best year ever". I can also still be found on myspace. And I may return later on down the road to renew my relationship with this LJ that has become a confidant and friend in the past couple of years. I guess we just have to wait and see.

Bye for now!

What do you see when you look in the mirror? Is it the same thing I see when I look at you? And if we see you differently, whose view is the warped one?

I ask this because I can't tell if it's me or my mirror to blame for my confusion.

When I look in the mirror, I see a pretty girl. Not someone striking or traffic stopping or attention-claiming, but not a hideous monster either. She's a range of random sizes, one mirror reflecting her dwarfed by the tall beauty next to her, another one showing her Amazon-size towering over the dainty pixie by her side, and still another showing her as average as average can be when it's only her face I see. She's by no means fat and yet the clothes on her body somehow seem much bigger than their size six labeling. Her reddish-blond hair always seems limp and lifeless and her pretty blue eyes hide behind droopy eyelids. She's got a friendly smile, but her teeth are crooked. And she has a hideous profile. Looking straight on to the girl in the mirror is fine, but when she turns her head, I cringe.

I've come to terms with my looks for the most part. I've accepted that I'm never going to be a supermodel, but that doesn't mean I can't find some attractive features about myself. One of the really good things about dating E was that he helped me realign my view of myself. I never saw the beautiful that he saw, but I got a whole lot closer than the the fun-house mirror I used to see.

What I don't understand is what other people see when they look at me. I especially don't understand guys. I don't think I've changed all that much from childhood other than trading my glasses for contacts and my baggy jeans and sweatshirts for frilly dresses and high heels. And yet my dealings with guys are so different now. I've been called beautiful, hot, sexy. My aunt showed my picture to a guy and he said "you didn't tell me she was gorgeous" (I wanted to say "that's because she's not supposed to lie"). E called me "drop-dead sexy" (which is part of why we can't do the friend thing). I've been hit on by guys at bars, at my work, at the mall. I've had more than one stalker. I've made married men want to cheat and gay guys even more confused about their sexual orientation.

At the end of our class last night we all wrote some things to one another sharing compliments or what we will remember about each other. I got several papers that mentioned how beautiful and lovely I am, about my smile, and about my infectious laugh. Most the class were guys.

And still I look in the mirror and wonder what they are seeing when they look at me.

I wonder if the ugly duckling had this problem; so used to seeing herself as less than beautiful that she actually didn't even recognize when she finally turned into the beautiful swan. Did she always see just a grown-up version of the ugly duck she once was and wonder why everyone else kept making such a fuss?

I've had some new guys in my life lately and because of this confusion of what I see vs. what other people see, I'm not sure about their intentions or thoughts. And because I don't want to mess any more things up, don't want to hurt anyone else by mistake, and REALLY don't want to add another heartache to my list, I'm afraid to make any assumptions or proceed in any direction. So instead I stand still and close my eyes and create all sorts of drama in my own head and miss out on my next potential great love and/or adventure. I just don't know if it's me or them, or maybe both or even neither.

We've got guy number one over here who tells me he's interested in me and it breaks my heart to tell him that it just can't happen with us. I cried for a long time after getting off the computer that night. I know how it feels to be disappointed and I hated doing it to someone else. But then two days later I hear that he is dating someone new. So, maybe I misread him and he really didn't feel anything close to what I thought he did.

Then there's guy number two. He hangs out with me for a few weeks, sends me messages on my phone, touches me a lot and finally kisses me as he's leaving my house. The next time I see him, he puts a whole room full of people between us and suddenly work is so overwhelming that he hasn't got time to hang for awhile. I'm pretty sure he at least liked me at some point because I didn't initiate the kiss. But what happened?

And now guy number three sends me an e-mail today asking me if we can do lunch or a drink or something sometime. Now I'm not sure what to do. I don't know where he's coming from or where he's headed. I don't know his intention or his hopes. I can't even begin to guess because I obviously cannot translate boy code. If I say yes and assume it friendly and casual, I run the risk of hurting him. If I assume it a date-type thing, I run the risk of disappointing or embarrassing myself. If I flat out turn him down, I not only run the risk of hurting him, but also miss out on whatever potential there was in the experience.

So again, I ask: is it me? Do I misinterpret them because I have a warped view of myself and my interpretations are always drawn from my own understanding? Or is it them? Are they the ones who are confused, seeing what they want to see, but then realizing much too late that it's all an illusion and I'm really just the grown up ugly duck I see wearing the disguise of a swan?

Something strange is happening tonight.

It's a Friday night and I'm sitting at home alone, watching TV, playing with my scrapbooks and messing around online (that's not the strange). I'm doing a lot of thinking about things that have been going on in my life and changes that have been happening (again, not the strange). Suddenly, my phone dings (text message) and my computer bings twice (two instant messages). All boys. All cute younger guys who know how to use their words to flatter a pretty girl. I start answering the messages. My two computer friends start showering me with unwarranted flatter.

"It should be a crime for a beautiful chick to be at home on a Friday night" says one. The other one surprises me with an out of the blue "you are so hot". I'm baffled. I'm not sure where either of those comments came from and I'm stumped at how to respond.

But that's not the strangest part. There is a little part of me that's wishing that my text message would come back with a request to go out this weekend. And at the same time, there's a part of me that wants to turn off the computer and phone and revert back to the quiet of my boy-free bedroom.

I'm confused.

I'm not really sure how I feel about the text message. I'm not sure how I feel about the instant messages. I'm not sure how I feel about E and I'm not sure how I feel about guys in general. I'm not even sure how I feel about myself anymore.

I want to let go and move on from my heartbreak over E. And yet, I feel like I'm betraying my heart and giving up on my fairy tale by doing so. Was I wrong? Did my heart betray me? And if so, why do I have such a problem turning the tables on it?

And if I do move on, am I ready to try dating again? Dating means taking a chance on someone and am I ready for that yet? I want to say yes, I'm ready to move forward and try someone else, but I'm still hesitant. Is it my feeling for E that holds me back, or fear of being disappointed again? Or is it just me knowing that this isn't the right person, like with Brightside?

The text message never returns and one of my instant messages confesses his incredible attraction to me. I'm not sure what to do or how to feel. Should I be disappointed that the text message didn't come back? Am I disappointed? I'm not sure. And what about my sweet friend on the other end of the instant message? How do I give him the same lines that E has been feeding me without causing him the disappointment I know it brings? It's like Kool-Aid all over again. All through college he watched me date the wrong guys, all the while secretly hoping to get his chance. And despite the fact that he would have treated me with the respect that no other guy has felt necessary, I couldn't bring myself to see him for anything more than my favorite brother-type figure. I've always loved him dearly, but I've never been in love with him. And now I find myself faced with the same disaster.

Is this one of those times when I should learn from my mistake and try a different solution? There is the added problem of age. I RARELY date guys who are even a year or two younger, and now we're talking much, much younger. While I have no problem dating a man who is ten years my senior, I cannot fathom flowing the other way. Guess I'll never be a Cougar in my later years, that's for sure.

I wish I knew what to do. I'm not even sure I'm ready to date yet and suddenly I find myself overwhelmed. Why does it have to be so hard? I don't like being hurt and disappointed and I don't like doing the hurting and disappointing. I'll cry just as much tonight as I would if the tables had been turned.

I don't want to do this any more. I don't want to hurt anyone and I don't want to be hurt. I don't want to wait for calls that never come and reject the ones that do. I don't want to wonder what's going to happen next, or worry that I'm going to make a big mistake in choosing this or that. I don't want to pine after E anymore, but I don't want to move on either.

I wish I could erase the dating history and not have to move forward to make more. I just want to run away.

Maybe there is some kind of Christian Convent I can join....

I think I'm getting depressed again. I'm not feeling overly down or anything, but the last couple of days I've been rather listless and blah. I'm still chatty and cheery with people, but when no one is looking I just feel.... I don't know. Sad? Empty? Lost? I'm not sure exactly what it is I'm feeling but it makes me breathe a little heavier again. I haven't felt motivated to work on my scrapbooks and nothing really seems all that interesting to me: not the computer, not tv, not books. I didn't even really enjoy my extra day off this week because I felt like I pretty much slept through the whole long weekend, even though I made a point to get up, get dressed and leave the house every day.

The thing is, there is nothing particular that triggered this drop in my mood. I've been taking my medication, E and I are getting along better than ever, I'm taking on new and exciting projects and responsibilities, and work is going great. My living situation hasn't changed much even though I keep preparing for the changes and my bank account shouldn't be negative for once. I feel less worried than usual and very little guilt for things I don't understand. I'm not suicidal and I'm surrounded by friends and family. So, what's going on?

It seems there is nothing emotionally wrong and yet I hear myself sighing those long, lonely, sad sighs. I haven't yet reached the stage of tears and I'm not sure whether to expect them or not. Maybe it's just one of those weekends that even though I left my house, I just didn't spend enough time in the sunlight. Or maybe it's "that time of month". Or maybe no matter how long I take the meds and how often I talk to my counselor, there is always going to be this little part of me that will be depressed and sad. And maybe that is something I will have to just accept about myself. Nothing and no one will be able to correct that about me and so whoever loves me will just have to accept it.

And maybe that is the reason no one chooses to love me through sickness and health.

"And I guess that's why they call it the blues....."

I hung out with E the other day. We did a movie and a snack after. He paid for everything. And I was left wondering what it is that makes this not a date. What makes the difference between “dating” and “hanging out”? What is it that sets one person apart from another? And if “dating” and “hanging out” look exactly the same, how is anyone supposed to feel secure in a relationship with him? Or with anyone else for that matter.

Is it intention? Is it physical interest and activity? Is it whether or not there is a kiss at the end?

What about those “dates” that do not end with kisses? Or those “hanging out” times that get frisky and playful and sexually charged? What about those random days when you just want to kiss whatever cute guy comes along? What does that become?

I’ve had very few what I would call “dates” in my life, almost all with guys I had just met who did the official “can I take you out to dinner” thing. Only once was it a dress-up-and-get-picked-up-at-my-home affair. None included flowers.

My most romantic date ever was not even really a date. It was me visiting a friend who was working at a hotel out of state. He was lonely and I wanted to get out of town and play at the beach. So I went to visit. We had dinner at a lovely restaurant on the beach. The restaurant was on the fancier side, the kind with linen napkins and several forks beside the plates and a dress code required. No shorts and tank tops here. We sat at a table next to a large window that looked out onto the ocean and he let me sit so that I was facing the window. I watched as the sky darkened over the water (I was on the east coast so I didn't get to see the sun set into the water like I do here). After dinner we walked back to our hotel by way of the beach. We took off our shoes and walked through the soft sand and chatted about life.

But it wasn't a date. Or was it?

My boyfriends have always been guys I hang out with and eventually discover that we hang out together more than with other people. There is relatively very little difference in our pre-dating and dating activities. As far as E is concerned, our post-dating activities remain the same still.

So, how do we know when we are dating someone? And how do we move on from a relationship when it looks exactly the same whether we are “dating” or not?

Tonight we close another year. So now is a good time to look back over the past year and see where I’ve succeeded and where I failed with last year’s resolutions:

Resolution #1 -“Be faithful in my counseling and meds, working to be happy and mentally healthy”:
I think I did pretty good with this one. I attended all my counseling appointments, I’ve stayed fairly regular about my meds and I’ve learned to pay attention to my moods and lines of thinking. I still need to work on not letting my thinking even begin the downward spiral, but at least I’m learning to recognize when it is and ways to stop it once it starts.

Resolution #2 - “Accept that I have no control over anyone’s decisions except my own. Let go of E and move on”:
This one only got about halfway completed. This year I’ve begun the process of the acceptance part. The letting go still needs work. I guess that’s going to stay on the list for next year.

Resolution #3 – “Learn to let myself make mistakes”:
Have I done very good with that? I’m not sure. I’ve done okay, I’ve learned to allow myself to not be ideal and to adjust when my plans don’t pan out exactly as I had hoped. But I think I still have the tendency to believe “less than perfect” = “failure”. Although I do recognize that I’m a lot better than I used to be.

Resolution #4 – “Find out what I’ve been missing in not having a sister”:
In the literal sense, this was a failure. But I’m not completely to blame. There were circumstances outside of my control and thanks to resolution #2, I take no responsibility in the decisions of the others involved. I’m sad that the sister thing didn’t work out as I had hoped, but on the plus side, I have found myself building relations with other women in my life. I’ve been spending more time with my one cousin and my other cousin and I are working on rebuilding the closeness we shared as small children. I accepted the challenge of a new roommate this year (which I had once swore I would never do again). And I’ve been redefining my friendship with my jr high school buddy, this time as adults. So, maybe I failed with the family title “sister” but I think I’ve been doing pretty good with the other “sisters” in my life.

Resolution #5 – “Get re-involved with my church. Find somewhere that I can serve”:
This is another half-and-half success. I have found a place to serve, a place that I really enjoy working and that I excel at. However, I’ve remained somewhat casual about my weekly attendance. The only weeks I’m sure to be there are the weeks when I’m serving in the nursery. But I did sit in service yesterday and I really enjoyed the sermon. I think succeeding in the one half will help me succeed this year in the other half.

Resolution #6 – “Stop listening to the critic within”:
Whether because I no longer give him a voice or because I no longer give him my undivided attention, I’ve noticed that the critic in my head is more silent than he ever has been before. Maybe I’m not listening or maybe he’s not speaking. Either way, I count this as a success I will have to remain diligent about.

Resolution #7 – “Speak up”:
Still struggling with this one. But getting better. I know I’ve said some things this year that were hard for me to say and I’m glad that I did. Not that they made any difference other than to me. But that’s what it’s all about anyway, right?

I can’t believe it’s already been a year since I set these goals for myself. And for once, I’m proud to say that for the most part, I have at least laid the foundation for these resolutions to be my final success. And that makes me feel very happy and proud of myself.

All my hard work gone, down the drain, up in smoke, or whatever other colorful description someone can think of. And why? All because he couldn't keep his hands off of me and I don't know when to keep questions to myself.

Aahh, the tears. It seems so long ago. At least this time I managed to confine them to the bathroom only.

I'm confused and hurt. I don't understand what it is about me that men don't want. I'm fun and funny and have a great sense of humor and unique outlook on the world around me. I'm also very cute, dress extremely well, and know how to turn on the sexy charm. Therefore, it seems I either make a great "buddy" or a hot "object", but whatever it is in the middle that makes a girl "marriageable" seems to be missing from my person. It's so sad.

Even sadder is the fact that the one person I love more than anything feels both ends of the spectrum for me, but completely void of the part I desire him to feel.

Men stink. Love stinks. This whole situation stinks.

But I really have no one to blame but myself. He never asked me to love him. He didn't ask me to hang out today. And he didn't offer any information that I didn't ask for. All the blame for the pain tonight belongs to me alone.

How does one go about turning off the heart and moving away from the feelings you always desired and imagined? How do I redo all the positive progress that took me half a day to completely unravel? What am I supposed to do with the information I gained and wish I could unlearn?

Why is the sad Cebu sad?

Boys are icky. I should just stay away from that cootie-ridden species. Yuck!

On the plus side, I feel so ashamed with myself and hurt by him that I have no desire to initiate next contact, and since he's not proved himself to be terribly aware of my absence (completed by the fact that I will be out of town next Sunday), chances are I will have plenty of time to reestablish my good habit of pretending he's not in here. Maybe this time it will stick.

And with that, I return to the life of "Happy Deema"....

I have come to realize that there is a bit of internal dissonance when it comes to my desires and my ambition. It seems I desire that which I am unwilling to work for. I worry because my life does not look anything like what I hoped it would at this stage, and yet I make no effort to make the changes required to accomplish that ideal.

Perhaps it comes from my idea of what each stage in my life would be like without regard of the preparation it takes prior to the moment I cross into that stage. It all made so much sense in theory: childhood - carefree and happy, teen years - rebellious and exciting, 20's - full of discovery, 30's - career, marriage, organization and responsibility, 40's - mini van driving soccer mom-type, and eventually on into a happy retirement with my husband.

But it seems that the execution takes more planning and preparation than I thought. Which I guess makes sense. I mean, what did I think? I would go to sleep one night an impulsive, creative, slightly spontaneous twenty-something and wake up the next morning a responsible, organized and totally together thirty-something?

And now I am sitting here at the eve of the new stage and wondering how on earth I can make my life look acceptable in a few short weeks. Each day I think "hmmm... I could do this or that to at least take a step closer. Or I could ignore the 'shoulds' and do nothing productive at all... Hooray for being a slacker!" It's procrastination at it's finest.

I really do want to make some changes in my life and lifestyle, but I really don't want to put the effort into the actual change. It's a frustrating place to be sitting and the worst part is, I'm not yet frustrated enough to do anything about it.

My birthday is quickly approaching. Everywhere I turn, it seems like someone is asking me the inevitable question: "So, what do you want for your birthday?"

As if inexpensive material gain could make up for the fact that I am about to begin yet another year of searching for things I have no control over. As if "stuff" could replace "the life". As if anyone really could give me what my heart desires anyway.

But I keep my skepticism to myself. I politely smile and give the "I don't really need anything" answer instead of saying what really runs through my head. Because everyone who asks already knows the real answer. But they ask anyway.

Sometimes, late at night, I pretend that someone does have the power to give me what I really want, and I let myself daydream of what that "gift" would look like:

Me, in my beautiful silver and black dress, standing in the room full of friends and twinkling white lights. The lights are dim enough to give "atmosphere", there is music playing, and a dance floor just calling to be used. A slower, older song begins, causing snickers from the crowd because it's such an odd song for a party of my age, but I don't care because it's my favorite song ever. I smile when I hear it and look up to see Him standing in front of me, offering the dance that I was promised months ago. As we dance, he holds me tightly and looks into my eyes. We have a moment. But the real moment must wait. Wait until the end of the night, after the party, when he takes me home. We stand outside and talk because it's been so long. And he misses me. So much. He's been so stupid, so childish, so selfish and scared. Can I ever forgive him?

Do I need to mention the kiss? Or the fact that the story ends with "happily ever after"?

I try not to indulge in the silly daydream very often or for very long. As warm as it makes my insides feel to imagine such a moment, I won't fool myself into believing that "it could happen". Dreams may be a wish your heart makes, but that doesn't make the wish come true. And as Dumbledore once wisely reminded Harry, "it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

And so, I continue to smile politely and not honestly answer the question that everyone already know the answer to.

When I was little, I would imagine what it would be like when I finally fell in love....

I could watch all the movies and TV shows, read all the books, and listen to all the songs in the world, but I knew that my "idea" of true love could never actually compare to finally feeling it. Words could never describe the intensity and purity of the emotion.

Oh, those days when I was so young and innocent, that I believed that love could be that simple and easy.

In my mind, when I finally did fall in love, it would be soft and fierce at the same time. It would be hard work with rich rewards. I would be completely devoted and eternally loyal. Nothing and no one could tempt me away from my beloved because what I would feel for him would be more than anything else could dare compare. I would stick through the rough times and the sad times and the unbearably long and painful times, and if he was to pass on before me, whether suddenly or after many long years together, I would simply waste away behind him because going on without him would never be an option. It would be wonderful and painful and scary and the most amazing feeling in the world. Because that's what love looked like in my mind: the good, the bad, the hard, and the soft.

And most importantly, I always figured when I finally truly fell in love, it would be with a man who felt the same way about me.

I was never prepared for the truth.

I was surprised to realize that it is harder to determine the actual level of feelings than originally anticipated. Attraction, infatuation, crushes, devotion, loyalty, fondness, comfort, concern, trust.... while all these are parts that make up the whole that is love, no ONE can be a substitute for the rest. And over the years, I have found myself mixed up in these varying degrees of "love pieces". But never were they the eternally enduring whole that I have waited for. Always there comes a time when I can let go and move on.

Except for the one that won't go away. The feelings are different and I can't get him out of my head or heart, no matter how hard I try. It's still his face I see at the end of the aisle in my white dressed fantasy. It's still his eyes I see looking at me from the face of my future children. And despite all the pain he's caused for me, I still want nothing more than to be able to make up for any and all hurt he has ever experienced. I don't know if I'm confusing parts for the whole or if I am afraid of what else is out there or if this really is the real feeling and I was wrong in believing that it would be reciprocal. I'm confused and frustrated and not sure what to do with myself.

Part of me hopes I will never feel this way again because the pain is worse than I ever imagined, but another part of me hopes I can lose this and still have the chance to feel love the way I always hoped it would be.

The eternally hopeful optimist and the jaded, cynical pessimist are at war. And I'm interested to see what "falling in love" actually did to me in the long run....

I really am starting to miss my church. I've started to volunteer in the nursery two Sundays a month and I really enjoy being there and playing with the babies. But the last couple of months I've skipped the Sundays that I was not working in the nursery. Not because I feel less spiritual or unhappy with the church. But because I am afraid that I will not be able to get out of there without seeing E. I'm doing really good not having any contact with him these days, but some days I feel weaker than others and if he so much as enters my line of sight, I'm a helpless mass of jello. I love him and I hate him. And it makes me afraid of the place I probably need the most.

My roomie suggested another church, but that will not work. I love my church; it's definitely the right one for me. She also suggested a different service time, which I don't like, but I might have to give in...

I miss him, but I really like who I am these days. I miss my church. I need to figure something out.

Next week is nursery week, so I will have to show up. And I will make it out of the building without falling apart.

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.... I know I have to.

A short time ago, I decided to create a music playlist that would invoke a sense of nostalgia in my newly controlled mind. I dug through the wreckage of my mangled childhood memories and retrieved pieces of music that I remember enjoying in those years of pigtailed ignorance. I let the faded pictures of car radios, old fashioned record players, and ultra-hip walkman tape players float in and out of my head. Scenes I had long ago forgotten flitted through just enough to remind me of a time before I knew what the pain meant, but not sticking around long enough to drag in the adult-sized understanding of the rest of the story.

As a small child, I was drawn to the sound of the melody that carried the song. I loved haunting melodies and songs that experimented with interesting notes. If I thought it had a pleasant or catchy tune, I would sing along, but most of the time, I never realized what the story that the words riding that melody would be telling. Listening once again, this time as a grown up adult who has experienced a little of life and lost the innocence of a well protected mind, I noticed a pattern to my song choices.

The were all sad. Songs of heartbreak, of unspoken or unrequited love, of love lost and longed for. Songs about how lonely it was when that other person was no longer with you, or was leaving, or never knew....

At a time when my mother was teaching me of happily ever afters, I was picking up on the reality that no such thing actually exists. Somehow, in my child's mind, I came up with the idea that for love to really be love, it had to hurt. It had to be dramatic and painful and enduring for all the lonesome days that were sure to follow.

It made me wonder: did my music choices as a young child with little understanding foreshadow the life that I was to inevitably lead as an adult? Was I doomed from the very beginning to be lonely, sad, and forever tormented by the love that I would never really receive from the one I ached for and prepped at an early age for such a life?

Or was I conditioned into believing that love that was easy, that had no strings attached, that was given freely and without drama, that "lasted forever" could never be the real thing? Maybe I inadvertently set myself up for eternal failure by allowing those songs to form my early ideas of romance.

I guess it's possible to change that. I recognize it and now I understand that for me to finally be successful, I have to look in areas I'm not familiar with. Instead of sitting comfortably in the pain and tears of one-sided love like the artists of my childhood soundtrack, it's time for me to move forward and hold out for the all consuming, fairytale (ish) two-open-hearts kind of love that the heroines of my mother's fairy tales always managed to find in the end.

I'll be honest, I'm pretty sure it won't be easy. Looking back on my past "mistakes" I see that my dating history very accurately mirrors the playlist of my childhood. At the age of twenty-something-but-not-for-long, behavioral pattern changes are going to be a lot of work. But I think I'm finally up to the challenge.

So, bring it on, guys!

It's been over two months since I've put anything on here. And over three since I've made it worth my while. I don't know if I should go back and recount the happenings of the last few months or just start with right now, as if what has been in my head lately is of little consequence to the next stage of my life.

Suffice to say: I'm not dead. And I am no longer in danger of harming myself.

I guess as far as "catch up" is concerned that's the main thing. There are other variables that figure into the last half of that happy statement, things like the acquisition of a new roommate to help with the financial burden I always feel under, and that second "break-up" with Mr. E, the one I instigated when I told him that "friends" did not work for me and since both of us couldn't get what we want, then the next best compromise was for neither of us to have it. Not that he's out of my life completely. I still stumble across him at church every week, but my moments are much shorter and less all-consuming. The roommate brought with her a mini pooch and he finds great pleasure in entertaining her by chasing my cat around the house whenever Roomie walks into the room. Despite that, I'm growing somewhat fond of the little creature and I think my Princess Kitty is putting up with him fairly well. And Pooch seems to have accepted that I belong in the house too and, while I might not be HIS person, I'm a tolerable substitute until she gets back home.

All in all, everything in my life seems to be similar to my living situation: messy, a tiny bit crowded, very disorganized, but comfortable enough and learning to co-exist.

I guess I can't really ask for more. I'm happy, healthy, surrounded by friends and animals that I love, working at a job I enjoy, and doing my part to make a difference in someone else's world.

Maybe that's the key: enjoying where we are at the moment, no matter how far from our idea of "ideal", accepting that perfection is beyond our reach and making do with what we have. Maybe "happiness" is just a code we use for a mixture of contentment, pleasurable moments, acceptance, realism, and just a splash of hopeful planning for tomorrow.

Maybe, for once in my life, I have finally accomplished a New Year's resolution and I have figured out that "less than perfect" does not equal "failure". And maybe that was the switch I needed to understand how people live life one day at a time.

I had a really strange dream the other night:

I dreamed that I was driving my car along this road that twisted and turned like the drive to mom’s house, but it was up high and ran along a cliff. As I took one bend, I realized I was going too fast and my car slid over the edge of the cliff. My breath caught in my throat and my heart skipped a beat. I knew that I had made a mistake and this was it. There was no backing up and trying again. I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I was in my bed surrounded by darkness.

The thing that creeped me out the most is that I didn’t panic, I didn’t cry, I didn’t worry about the fact that I was going to die. I accepted it and started praying. Not the “please save me” kind of prayer, but rather “thank you for the life I’ve lived and thank you for finally taking me home.” It seems that death does not scare me like it should. And honestly, that scared me more than the thought that I was going to die.

That’s not the first time I dreamed about my car going over the edge of a cliff. It’s just the first time that I realized that my reaction is not what would be expected.

Creepy.

Only a really good friend could risk it and call at midnight to say, "I just read something in the bible about having friends and I wanted to call you."

Just to listen to a friend whine and cry about her petty problems that aren't real anyway. Just to quietly listen to the made-up monsters in her friend's mind.

And finally be the one that makes sense. The one that says something that even the lowest of self-pitying mind-games can't argue with or deny.

The only one who can say "get over it" without being insensitive and "I completely hear what you are saying and feel your pain" without coddling. And to manage it in the same phone call...that's what a really good friend does.

Yet another late night for me tonight, but this time it's not because I'm being tormented by lies and hate floating though my disquieted braincells. Tonight it's because I was spending time with friends, celebrating the things in my life that make it worth it.

The things that don't require anyone's approval for me to know I have something worth having and giving and sharing and being.

One day at a time. That's all I can do for now. And so far, this one worked fine.

This morning, I woke up fairly less than gloomy. I actually got ready and out of the house at a decent time and managed to be on time to work. That, added to the fact that it was another abbreviated work day for me, set me up for what appeared to be a very pleasant day.

Then, in the middle of all the work information popping up on my e-mail, I got a message from someone I didn't know. It was some girl in the church singles group and she was sending out an invitation for people to join her to see the new Harry Potter movie.

I've gotten pretty good at ignoring all the e-mails popping up inviting "everyone" to do this activity or that activity. It makes no difference whether or not I'm interested; I can't go because HE is likely to be there and I'm not supposed to be around HIM. Normally, I just delete the messages without reading about the event. But this one caught my eye because I didn't recognize the e-mail address.

The bitch had the nerve to AND him. "The new Harry Potter movie has finally arrived and 'E' and I can't wait to see it..." SHE "AND" HIM IN FRONT OF ME! I know that it was most likely nothing but the jealous, hurt ex-girlfriend side of me couldn't take it.

I started to cry. Again.

I hate him. And now I hate some girl at the church who I don't even know, simply because she innocently linked her name to his with an "and". I hate another girl simply because I "suspect" that she and him have become friendly. I even have reserved feelings for a good friend of mine simply because she is also good friends with him.

I don't like the way I feel about myself whenever I talk to him or am around him. I end up feeling like I'm not good enough, like I'm less than worthy to be loved by anyone, like I'm never going to be able to be anything more than just.....

My couselor has made me frustrated and upset. I thought she was supposed to help, but instead I'm feeling resentful toward her and less inclined to talk. She tells me that I need to be satisfied with myself; be whole and complete just as I am, while I'm still single, before I will be able give anything to anyone else. But I don't get it.

How am I supposed to be "whole" and "complete" when I'm missing something so important to me? How am I supposed to be "satisfied" with being single without resigning myself to the fate? Isn't striving for more or better or "something in your dreams" what it's all about? Isn't that what makes people great, what makes people make a different, and what makes us keep going?

Except I keep getting told that I have to be content. She tells me that I have to be okay if single is what I have to be. She told me that as much as she loves being married, if she was to find herself "single" again, she would be able to be okay with that.

Of course she can say that. Because she's NOT single. Her "what if" is nothing like mine. She's saying "what if my life changes?" and I'm saying "what if mine doesn't?" The answers are infinitely different.

But can I express that to her? No. Because she doesn't really listen. No one does. Grown-ups forget what being a kid is like when childhood is over, working people forget what being hungry is like when they have food everyday, and couples forget what being alone is like when they have each other. Suddenly, they can say things like "it will get better" or "just be patient". It's amazing how you forget how hopeless it feels when you are no longer waiting.

Bleh...I'm out. Dried up and worn down. Now it's time to see if I can coerece the sleep that has eluded me all week to come and take me away from the torment for a few short hours before starting all over again as the morning sunlight breaks forth.

I just finished my first attempt at some kind of memoir. It was for a Creative Writing class, and as much as I like to wax eloquently about myself, it was not an easy task.

It seems that I have very few memories that I can look back upon with fondness. What few memories I have that don't segue into a less positive recollection, end up being just snapshots of moments. It was really hard for me to find something that didn't end with tears or heartache

But I managed to do it. I sat down and quickly punched out several pages of "a story of me". And reading back over what I wrote, I have to admit, I kind of like it.

And that's when I realized something: I could write a memoir about my existence, a story about the girl in my skin and how she came to be who she is, and then there would be lasting proof that I was actually here.

I'm getting to the stage in my life where I feel I'm running out of time to make a difference. I fear that there will be no children to pass my stories on to, that when I write my memoirs I will have to leave them to my nephew (and hopefully eventually a niece). My scrapbooks and my stories will be the only thing to show that there was once a girl on this planet named Deema. The lessons I learn will be wasted without someone to learn from them, so if I put them in a book, perhaps there will come a time when some distant relative can gain wisdom from my experiences.

At least then I would feel like I was leaving some kind of a mark....

I’m feeling weak today.

I’ve done very good for the last couple of weeks. I haven’t spoken to E since the birthday party, with the exception of the one e-mail I sent asking him to please take me off his “friends” distribution list. Every now and then, there has been the slight twinge of sadness that I am really doing this, but it’s been overridden by the pride in realizing that I am stronger than I was giving myself credit for. I had even determined that I am finally ready to give someone else a real chance.

My mom says it takes a month to create a habit. I’m about a week away, give or take a few days.

And after three weeks of silence, and not hearing from “someone else” for about a week, I feel like I’m losing my drive. It only took a few days of silence from “someone else” for me to realize that maybe I’m not ready to put heart out there again and change my mind about giving a chance. And apparently three weeks is what it takes for me to decide that I’d rather be mistreated than forgotten.

I don’t understand. I’ve been feeling good lately. I’ve been hanging out with friends, creating beautiful pages of pictures of things that make me happy for my scrapbook, working hard at my job... I’ve worked out an acceptable solution to my financial situation and I’m ready to return to my church on Sundays again. I have cute clothes, good friends, creative moments, a loving family, a perfectly well-behaved cat, a spacious apartment, a great job, and a new car.

So, why do I feel like it’s not enough if there is not a guy around? Why would I rather be unhappy with a guy than happy without one?

I think the problem is that I had a dream about him this weekend. It was very sad: I went to his house to drop something off and saw through the window that the one I'm afraid is my replacement was there at the kitchen table with him. I knocked on the door and he opened it and stepped outside, as if he didn't want me or her to be seen. He didn't smile his usual "so happy to see you" grin. Instead, I got the distinct feeling that I was intruding into his world. Again.

And it’s taking all the willpower I have left to not e-mail him today...

I just want a hug and to hear that I'm missed. Even if I'm not really.

I had plans every night this week. From Monday to Saturday, my days were going to be occupied by friends and family. There would be no time for me to sit around and dwell on unhappy thoughts.

On Monday, I needed my friends. I had finally made the request to E to please not include me on his “friends” e-mail lists. It’s the one time I know he will follow my wishes. He only writes when he’s collecting “friends” (or “his girls” as it seems to end up being). I know it was the right thing to do, but it hurt none the less. And I needed someone to encourage and support me. I called my friend who I was supposed to go out with that evening. As usual, some things came up and she had to cancel on me. So, I spent the evening eating cookie dough and watching TV.

Tuesday I moved a little sluggishly. I hadn’t slept all that well, the lingering effects of what my counselor calls “the second hardest stage of grieving” (the giving up hope of a reunion) clouded my mood slightly, and I just wanted a quiet distraction. My Tuesday plans forgot me. So I spent the evening watching a movie and eating pizza.

Today, my Friday plans called and cancelled with me. I’m not needed. So far, in three days, I’ve been ditched three times. I’m on a roll.

And this is why I rarely make confirmed plans. This is why “maybe” is my best answer.

Sometimes I feel a little like a balloon, being passed from one event to another, enjoyed for a moment and then forgotten after being passed to the next person. “Out of sight, out of mind” seems to be my magical power. And then one day, someone accidentally lets go of the string and I float away and no one really notices because they forgot it was their turn to have the brightly colored ball of air around.

Blah, listen to me. I’m just being full of self-pity.

There’s still hope. It seems that my Wednesday plans are still on. I even confirmed this morning, just out of paranoia.

I’m finding it hard to give another chance to people who disappoint me. Thanks to E, I fear that it’s a pattern of behavior rather than an accidental exception. I can identify the distorted thought pattern I’m using and am supposed to be breaking in this line of thinking. I even know the proper name for it. Now, how to avoid punishing others for one man’s selfish mistakes?

I need to knock it off and focus on the other stuff. Like the fact that I took that very difficult step that I had been avoiding (my counselor thinks I still put myself in the role of “victim” in my way of doing it, and I should consider making a more self-confident statement of separation, but she is happy with the direction I am finally moving in). And my Thursday plans won’t be cancelled. If no one else ever does, my grandparents will always look forward to my company. And Saturday plans with the girls is not going to be cancelled. And preparing for that is what’s kept me busy and distracted so far. Focus on that and I’ll be fine…

I was a few minutes late to work today. Again. This time it was due to the fact that my cat decided that she wanted to sit on my lap this morning. I was trying to get ready and she climbed up and starting purring. And who am I to turn down the one creature who wants to show me affection?

I especially needed it today. I'm not sure what happened, but I'm feeling very sad and lonely. I had a strange dream last night and the awkward feeling seems to be lingering.

As I left the house, I turned and told my cat (as I do every morning) good-bye and that I had nothing going on tonight, so I'd be home around 5:30. Like she cares. Or even understands.

I guess I like pretending that someone cares where I am and when I'll be returning, that someone will be waiting for me when I get home....