To Thine Own Self


Be true.

That’s what it says on the metal coin I was handed this evening.

I like that.

I spent a lot of time doing that today in small ways.

I slept in.

I ate my favorite breakfast.

I read some things and said some things and asked for another 24 hours of sobriety.

I meditated.

Outside, in the sun, fourteen minutes.

I had set the timer for twenty minutes, but a neighbor started having a very loud argument with someone on the phone about how she was going to “fuck them up” and that sort of disrupted the meditation.

However, it was really nice to sit, to be still, to let the feelings come.

I had more feelings today than I did yesterday.

I was so busy yesterday being busy that not too many of them managed to sneak in.  I did, however, realize they were there, although I tried to keep a cap on the lid.

I am not very good at suppressing my emotions though, they tend to flow over and that’s alright, they are allowed.

I received some very sweet messages, texts, phone calls, and e-mails regarding my relationship status returning to single this morning and that sort of brought on the waterworks for a moment, but then passed.

Which, fyi, I am grateful did not get blasted all over Face Book.  I remember quite well the last time I was in a relationship and then turned it back to single and everybody in the entire world chimed in.

There was not a peep when I went back to single.

Just maybe a few sad squawks in my heart.

I deleted the photos, took him off my news feed, and deleted our text message history.

Which in the moment was easy and now, well, now I wish I had read them one last time.  There were some extraordinary messages he sent me that I wouldn’t have minded perusing another minute or two.

But that just prolongs it, I know that it does, so it was best.

I have to delete the messages on Face Book as well, but for whatever reason seem unable to do so.  Although I was able to remove him from my instant message feed and to not look at his page at all.

I have to stay away and let the feelings run their course.

I also got to be true to myself by taking out my scooter, starting her up, and going for a ride to the Castro where I had a meeting with someone near and dear to me for an hour and a half.

We’re not suppose to meet that long, but he made me talk, and talk I did, and acknowledge that I was walled up and tight and did not want to open up.

I knew I would be crying at some point today, that’s what I do, so I wore no eyeliner, but I had some mascara on and despite it being waterproof it still flaked off onto the tops of my cheeks.

I got to be present and sit and talk it out and then do some reading and talk some more and let myself get talked into staying in the Castro–I had parked my scooter next to Most Holy Redeemer and knew I needed to stay put.

Really.

It was the best thing a heterosexual girl going through a break up could do.

I was safe, I knew I  could just wander around and look at pretty things in pretty stores and window shop and eventually I got a book at Books Inc and then sat in a coffee shop with a big cup of tea and read for a few hours.

I cannot remember the last time I did that.

I kicked through a good portion of the newish Stephen King novel, “Doctor Sleep.”

I love me some Stephen King.

I also bought my best friend in Wisconsin a Valentines Day card.

We exchange those and I saw one that reminded me of her and then I got walloped with emotion.

Valentines Day.

No.

No.

No.

I don’t want to think about Valentines Day.

Argh.

And then a quiet voice, a still voice, the voice of reason, was like, sweet child, stop.  Get in the moment, you’re in a bookstore, one of your favorite places to be, enjoy it.

So I did.

I walked around and browsed and smelled the good smell of new books and I got the card and the new novel and left feeling quite happy about getting back into a book.

It made me realize that there were a few things that fell away when I got involved in this relationship.

First, the blogging, then the reading, then my voice, then I got small.

“You sort of disappeared,” my friend texted me last night.

“You got so quiet,” another observed.

“You were mute,” he said to me across the table, “and then you weren’t.”

And then I wasn’t.

Things happened exactly how they are supposed to and I won’t stop being grateful for that.

But I did have some other feelings come up.

Anger.

That surprised me.

I realized I was mad, that I had wanted the ex to work harder at the relationship, that I, oh.

There it is.

I.

I want.

I need.

Do it my way.

Nope.

I got to bring it right back to me and see where I was in the wrong, where I wasn’t vocal about some things, and where I get to have a voice in my next relationship.

There will be another.

I am getting back on the horse.

“What I noticed with __________ and also with _________ (the man I dated a few times before hooking up with my ex) is that although you approached them, they ran with it really fast, I mean, really fast.”

Yup.

I need to slow the roll.

I do have the disease of faster, faster, more, more; but it has to be tempered and slowed down.

So.

Coffee dates.

And walking dates and lunch dates and getting to know the person and keeping my autonomy and being me and being fabulous.

That was the other thing that was nice about being in the Castro today, feeling fabulous, yes subdued, but still fabulous, in my red lipstick and curly pony tails and red leather vintage letter man’s jacket.

“I know you from somewhere,” she said to me as she was walking out of the gated entrance to a walk up on Castro Street.  “Are you a drag queen?”

No.

But I play one on tv.

I might be too much for the average boy.

But I am just perfect for me.

To thine own self be true.

Indeed.

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