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I Know It's Over

What's Wrong With Me?

The Winter is Back

I feel bad I haven't written anything in quite some time. And now that I am it just seems like too much has happened for me to write about it.

I ended a seven year relationship this past summer. What can I say about that? When it was happening, when I finally made the decision to leave, there was this energy about me that was unusual. I felt moved to finally do something. I felt the slightest glimmer of hope that I had a future after all. That I could start over. That I could be my own person. That I could be...happy. This was of course accompanied by an enormous amount of anxiety and guilt and sadness. How could I leave after all this time? He was like an extension of myself. It took me so long to believe that he loved me. It was only in recent years that I truly did believe that his love for me was unconditional. But when I finally realized that it didn't matter.

I was in love with him once.

When I was packing up my life, I read back on cards and notes I wrote for him and realized I had forgotten how it used to feel. But those feelings went away, either chased out by the the chill in my heart left by My Monster D, or it was worn away by the tide of time and the mundanity of life. At 34 years old, I can't help but feel that my heart isn't capable of love anymore. It's been used too many times. I've been in love and out of love too many times. Maybe you only get so many tries before your turn is over.

Since I've moved out, the energy that made it possible to leave him has dissipated and along with it, hope. I feel trapped once again, but this time, I can't blame it on my relationship, I can only blame myself.

I'm the only one that's here.

Let The Pieces Fall...

I wrote this post before all Hell broke loose. But I'm posting it now anyways:

No matter what I choose, I hurt someone. No matter what I do, it will be unfair to one of us. I think I know what's right. But how can I bring myself to sever the tie that has kept us together for seven years?

I knew from the beginning that it wasn't going to work. I knew that. But I let others make the decision for me. Because I couldn't. Or wouldn't. Maybe I didn't want the responsibility of making the wrong choice, so I left it up to somebody else, so that when it didn't work out, it would be their fault, not mine.

Or maybe it was simply easier to fall in to another relationship. Easier than being alone at a time when my depression had reached an all time low, or high depending on your point of view.

Or maybe it was guilt, for having led him so far only to let him go. Maybe I felt obligated to follow through, once realizing his feelings for me were not as casual as I had presumed them to be. Nobody likes to be the bad guy.

Nobody (I hope) likes to hurt someone they care about. But they make the tough decisions anyways, because it's right. Because it's necessary. Because that's life. Why am I always stuck in quicksand? Paralyzed with an inability to choose. To choose life over this slow death. But there's always consequences.

Why do I feel responsible for other people's lives and decisions? He's chosen to stay in an unhappy relationship with someone he knows doesn't love him, not the way he loves. Why hasn't he chosen another path to happiness? He must know that this one has grown over with thorns and dead trees.

But it's my responsibility because I'm the one whose feelings have grown cold. Right? Why am I so afraid to hurt someone when I know it's what's best for us both?

Crossroads

I've been feeling like I'm approaching a crossroads for a while, and I keep bouncing from hopeful feelings, to feelings of despair. I'm not entirely sure how I got here, to this point in the road, but I wish to God I could turn around and go back. Take a different route, find out where that takes me. But of course, I can't. I'm stuck here, in this time, in this reality, on this dirt fork in the road, where one direction leads to light and happiness and the other to dark and despair, a place where I don't have enough sense to pick the right path.

Why should I even consider it a choice? Is it because I've already decided that my life is over? That the me that existed once upon time, the me that had hope for a future, that wanted nothing more than to help people, to make a difference in this sorry world, the me that thought it would get better, is already dead?

I can't shake the feeling. I want to straighten out my life. I do. But I'm afraid of what will be left when those obstacles to happiness are gone. What will be left but me?

Running Through April

So I have no idea what happened to April. I must have done something, right? My family did not come visit me at Easter, because my brother-in-law's father found out he had a cancerous growth the size of a baseball on one of his kidneys.

I heard the surgery to remove his kidney went well. It's so frightening how common cancer is becoming. And sometimes, it doesn't seem to make a difference what you do. My brother-in-law's father is a very healthy and postive person. He's not a drinker, he doesn't smoke, he eats well, he's very lean and he's a runner. His downfall? He apparently smoked some 30 years ago. So he's being punished for something he did all those years ago? I have a cousin (he's around the age of 60) who was diagnosed with colon cancer. He is also an otherwise very healthy and postive man. But apparently, one of his aunt's died of the same disease many many years ago, and now it seems it's out to get him too.

I hate this topic. But it's always in the back of my mind, you know?

I've continued with the running program, which still surprises me. I have had some problems with my leg muscles/tendons/bones. I should probably get a doctor to check it out, but I hate doctors, and I don't remember the last time I was given any real answers from a doctor, so I've been putting that one off. I was hoping it would go away as my body adjusted to running, but it's been six and half weeks now, and still pain. It seems more bearable now, or perhaps I'm just getting used to it.

Regardless, the last three runs I've been on, have been pretty fantastic, I must admit. I especially enjoy running this one twisty pedestrian bridge. It is away from traffic, has a great view of the river valley, and I actually enjoy, yes, enjoy the climb up the twisty little ramp thingy. Also, it's blue. It's a bright blue bridge. And damn it all if I don't love alliteration. (Try saying that fast several times over. Bright blue bridge, bright blue bridge, bright blue bridge...Yeah, I'm bored).

I am glad I decided to take up running through an actual program, rather than just going for it myself. I like having some structure to this, so it's a project, rather than just an aimless activity. We run in intervals, so every time I go up another level, it's a sense of accomplishment and a sense that yes, I am making progress.

Yes, running was a good choice.