seems therapy is the only thing that inspires me to write. i suppose because it inspires me to think. about everything.
i keep thinking there's a similar skill set between therapists and producers. each session is an hour long. i go in, hafhazardly speaking and by the end it wraps up with a nice conclusion, tied in theme and cliffhanger for next time. or maybe i just have a really good therapist.
this week is all about relationships. which, the more therapy i do, the more i realize, this is really what i want help in.
i get bored. i start to hate the things i loved. i start needing something, anything else.
and then i fuck it all up and destroy people. and then i miss them.
i don't want to be like that anymore.
i guess i want an answer to one question- am i not married because i haven't found the right person, or because there is no such thing as a right person?
because i like the idea of marriage. of loving someone else so much that i want to be with them forever.
but i've never found anyone i haven't started to hate after a few years. and i'm 29. i've been in 5 very serious long term relationships. with men i still think about very fondly. and all of them, i could date again... for a few years... and then i'd get bored.
5 relationships. with wonderful men. each amazing in one aspect. and i cheated on all of them. because i couldn't leave mediocraty by myself. i needed to do something societally unforgiving to make sure there was no going back.
................
this is coming from a few minutes ago. i was looking for something i stashed in a shoebox in my closet. i pulled down the wrong one. it was Dan's. Dear men of my past, Yes, I am still 13 years old and I still keep a shoebox of stupid shit i collected while i loved you.
In Dan's box is the following:
1. An AWS nametag. He came over to my house after some work function. I remember loving how it said "Senior Manager, AWS." I remember loving how powerful his job made him in my eyes. So I stole it.
2. Four photo booth photo strips. This is from the Ace Hotel in Portland. After the fetish club. We were drunk and spent about $60 on photobooth pictures. If i die, i hope someone burns these before my parents see them.
3. A masquarade mask. His 30th birthday was a masquarade ball. I went to a party with Jason earlier that night. It was my last double header. I met LK that night. It was the first time I felt really torn between the 2.
4. A burberry tag. The first of many lavish gifts. He came back from some Vegas trip with the burberry rainboots i'd been in love with. After we broke up, I bought myself a pair of Hunter Wellies as a symbolic gesture. I will buy my own damn expensive plastic boots!
5. A backstage sign from Sassquatch. We stole it, and a golf cart from the backstage area of the mainstage that we snuck into to see NIN. Years later, while staying at a winery down the road from the gorge, we tried to ride bikes back in and find the spot, but security kicked us out. It felt ominous.
6. 10 "I love you" cards that I never sent. I've made it a habit to keep a stash of greeting cards when I'm dating someone I've fallen in love with to stick into work bags or on car windsheilds. I kept these as a reminder that I never made it through the stash.
7. A pregnancy test, the first and only I've ever taken. I kept it because I remembered how weird of a reaction I had to it. It was the first time I almost almost almost wanted it to be not negative. Having that reaction scared the shit out of me.
theres a bunch of hotel keys, poems on napkins, ticket stubs, pens, and stupid shit.
was hoping going through the list would help me understand my final conclusions on that relationship, but i'm still a mix of happy to be out and missing the good times. but i guess that's all relationships in one way or another.
i guess Regina Spektor said it best, "You love until you don't."
keepin movin i suppose.
next week should be fun. i'm supposed to make a list of pros and cons of all my exes and discuss whether they are rational deal breakers or me obsessing over flaws.
maybe i do feel better...
had dinner with my parents who just bid on a house on some island that's a 30 minute ferry ride from Seattle. Feeling... oddly comforted with the thought of having my family so close. i ran away to DC so many times during the drama that was mine and Dan's relationship. It'll be nice to run away for the cost of a ferry ticket instead of a cross country airline flight..... there was a trip I took probably 3 or 4 years ago back home. I left because he was having some party and i wasn't invited and that's how ridiculous things get sometimes.
and i was happy, watching dexter, eating deviled eggs in my pajamas when i accidentally overheard my mom talking about me to my aunt on the phone. and she was so angry at dan. and maybe more heartbroken than i was. and said something about how I had said that no one before understood me the way he did. and i really thought he might be the one..... and it was so hard to hear that in an overheard conversation. and she got protective, telling my aunt that if he ever expected to date me, he owed her and my father a big apology...
i kinda lost it. something weird about hearing your parents heartbroken because you're heartbroken. supports my theory that it's never helpful to breakdown and be your emotional irrational self in front of other people. they're affected by it too.
okay. the box is back on the shelf. i'm no closer to any answers but i do know this-
i refuse to live in a world where friending someone on facebook is more intimate than fucking someone.
the end.
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