more about me than you

If I had the chance, I would ask you if I had been good to you. I would ask you if you were happy. Had been happy, once. If you got the things you most wanted out of your life, and if not, what were your regrets? Could I have done anything to make things better? Because I would have done them. Should have done them. Should should should should should should should.

These questions no longer matter -- but I'll hold on to them, and try not to make the same mistakes again.

now and then

I had a dream about you last night. You could speak again. You were back to who you were; stubborn and strong, watching all of us grow up. Careful, you told us, and we listened. You could finally understand me, and I told you everything about how I felt, and all the things that I don't regret anymore. Will you be able to listen to me now?

the things you learn

This year was about building confidence, learning to depend on people, and about coping.

I learned to be more confident in my own abilities, and to continue to do things outside my comfort zone (from things like guest lecturing to learning a new martial art). Training in karate in particular has helped immensely. I pushed through what I thought were my own physical limits by training hard and learning new skills that I thought I could never do. I taught my first karate class as a brown belt, which was a terrifying, humbling, but fun experience. Karate started as a new year's resolution to engage in more physical activity (and to be able to kick ass, let's be honest), but over the span of two years it's become an important part of who I am. It has given me confidence that has spilled over into other areas of my life, so when I think about presenting my research or confronting someone it's a lot less scary. Do something everyday that scares you, right? I've also made a lot of new friends, and it's a wonderful feeling to be able to go to the dojo and have a community to train with.

I learned to depend on someone else, and to be able to balance being independent and making space for my partner in my life. I can't imagine my life in any other way now. He makes me really breathe, he helps me believe in myself a little more everyday, and most of all he inspires me to be a better person and to go after my passions and goals. I've learned to really love someone without holding back.

I am learning to grieve. I am learning what intense feelings of regret can feel like, and how it feels to have everyone in your family break down and become more vulnerable people. I am learning about closeness and intimacy. I am learning how to support others. I am learning that people can be wonderful and lovely and incredibly supportive. I am learning how to cope when your world seems to have stopped only for you, but has kept on going for everyone else. I am learning to be a stronger person from this, and to accept what will or will not happen.

What's next? I hope to have the courage and confidence to pursue the things I want: to get my black belt in Karate and to continue to train and learn how to teach, to continue to push my physical limits by training for the half or full marathon, to get through graduate school and eventually find employment, to do things that scare me, to travel, and to learn to live as much as I can in the present. 

I know I won't be able to do all those things without you though - my family, my friends, and my partner. Thank you for being there for me -- whether we're training together, laughing over a funny story, dancing our socks off, getting coffee, or being silly -- and holding my hand for another year. I love you.

no holding back

What do you do when she's in front of you on her knees, holding on to your hands until her knuckles are white?

What do you do when he shows you the part of himself that he hates? The part of himself that he's most proud of?

What do you do when they whisper in your ear their greatest secret?

You claim them. Tear their flesh out. Devour every tendon, bone, and muscle until there's nothing left. And then you can go to sleep, full and satisfied, but lonely as hell.

I want to just be, and nothing else.

I'm through

"I'm going out again tonight 
The first time in the longest time
He holds the door and holds my hand
But doesn't feel like you

We laugh at all the people in
The restaurant across from us
He talks a lot but not too much
But doesn't sound like you

I know there'll come a time again
When everything will fit right in
And I won't have to see your face
In strangers on the street

But I would rather feel the sting
Than never to have felt a thing
I'll always know you were the one
To rip me from the ground

It's all because of you that I'm through."


This feels really close. But because it's been such a long time it's more uplifting than sad for me. Sometimes I wonder if our past relationships are a reminder to us that we can become better people.

I look at myself from 6 years ago, and she seems so foreign to me. I wouldn't be able to pick her out from a crowd. She's weak. She's scared, but not the kind that got her to actually do things. She lies to herself, all of the time.

As trite as this sounds, I've become a stronger person. I'm more assertive, I take more risks, and I do things that scare me. It took a break-up that nearly ripped me apart, a trip abroad by myself, and the realization that I was okay with being alone, to be able to see better the value I have as a person.

all the reasons why

Sometimes I think the reason we were supposed to meet was that I could become a better person -

someone who believes in herself a little more everyday
willing to swallow that feeling you get when you're doing something that makes your heart jump, your skin crawl
getting hands dirty and being okay with it
running until she can't anymore and then some more

maybe that's why we're no longer together.

you were never good with the actual follow through

You were never good with the actual follow through, were you?

One of the things I remember most clearly from that night is the dozen shot glasses lined up neatly on the kitchen counter, glinting underneath the dim kitchen light, and a heavy bass drumming over my heart. There was salt mixed with dirt tracked into the house stuck between my toes, and my fingers tasted sour from lemons that I had carefully cut on the chopping board.

You were also there. Dark eyes behind a large bottle of tequila, graceful fingers drumming impatiently around an empty glass, smoke escaping your open mouth. Your collarbones shifted underneath the cheap fabric of your shirt when you leaned on the counter top, chin unsteady on the edge of your palms - was that a sign? Then that smirk, god I fucking hate that smirk, telling me about all the things I could do for you, all the things you could do to me, if only I would just -

And then your lips are on my shoulder, my cheek, my forehead, and I don't know whether one moment really connects to the next because everything is happening too quickly and I just want to slow things down and take everything in. So I can hold your hand to my cheek for a second longer, so that you can maybe catch a glimpse of something in me that's worth it.

But then it gets quiet because everyone is outside on waiting for taxis, and it's over because you're right back where you were before, behind the glasses and the walls you set up between us.

powerless

Yesterday was one of the few times I've ever felt completely powerless.

We were at my partner's friend's house for a party, and in the ten minutes I was at the table joining a conversation, the words/phrases "who wants to be a pussy," "cocksucker," "are you going to bitch out," "do you still talk to that broad," "she's lost so much weight," "she has a great rack" came out, and one of the people at the table then proceeded to rant about the evils of affirmative action and how it's allowed a "retarded, dumb bitch" at someone's workplace to continue to be employed.

I didn't say anything. My partner didn't say anything either, until afterwards when he took me aside and we decided to go home. I was more shaken than I thought I would be - I hear these kinds of words and these kinds of things said all the time (on television, random people talking on the street), but not in such a hostile manner, and not right in my face. Did I exist at that table as he was saying these things, in his mind? Or did he just not care?

Then I became angry not at my partner for not saying anything, nor at the person who was throwing around these words, but at myself for not standing up to him. Why didn't I say anything? I think partly it was because they were my partner's friends - I wanted to try to get to know them better and I didn't want to stir things up. I'm also a non-confrontational person. But the feminist in me was raging on the inside. I stifled her though, chose to ignore what they were saying, and hoped that I could leave as soon as I could (which I could have done as well, but did not).

I felt powerless to do anything, like my jaw was wired shut and all I could do was sit there and take it, and it's probably one of the worst feelings I've felt in a long time. But this is what happens again and again - people casually tell sexist, racist and homophobic jokes (but they don't really mean them, they tell me), they use derogatory terms to describe people from different groups (but it's funny, they tell me, it's harmless, why are you making such a big deal out of this?), and I can choose to sit there quietly and ignore them, or I can stand up to them and tell them to stop. And this is what I'm going to do from now on, because I refuse to feel this way again.

I meant to hurt you

I can see myself saying those things to you - venomous, cutting you open, and I can see exactly how much you hurt (I even revel in this a little bit) - and then I don't know who I am anymore.