Sometimes I Wonder


About that blog of yours.

A friend of mine said today after I explained why I wanted to vomit and had been crying all morning.

Nobody wants to wake up to an alarm.

But I would have happily.

Except nope.

My internal alarm went off five minutes before my alarm went off.

I had a hard time falling asleep and I used a little vibrating help to put me down, then slept all the way through until 8:25 a.m.

I looked at my phone to check the time.

I saw a few texts.

I rubbed my eyes.

I stared at the little tiny letters.



Oh fuck my life.




“Did you now your IG account links to your blog?”

“Glad you ‘gave it the old college try’.”

Oh fuck me people.

He read the blog.

He found the blog.

I am an asshole.


Cue why I should never date.

No wait.

Cue to why I should never write about other people when I am mad at myself.

I wasn’t nice to dude and dude found out.

Dude did I feel awful, I’m not excusing my actions, I’m just going to write about what’s been on my mind all day, because that’s what I do.

“You really put it all out there,” a friend of mine said once, “that’s what makes it so good to read, but you know, I get worried about you sometimes,” he said with a look.

“I mean, I can’t write about the stuff you put out there, I just can’t,” he paused, “I’m glad you do, but you sure as shit put your heart on your sleeve.”


I do.

And I was sad and mad at myself this morning, I took out my frustrations about myself and my inability to ask for what I need or to say, hey, this isn’t working for me, thanks for coming out, I’m glad to have met.”

Because part of it was a lot of fun, the texting, the flirting, it inured my little heart for a while.

My starving, foolish, idiotic heart that doesn’t want to feel all the feels, so yeah, let’s check out with a little text flirtation.

Harmless, right?

Except then I poured some gasoline on the bonfire of my vanity.

I have absolutely no leg to stand on.

I hurt someone’s feelings and I was told.


How do I get myself in scrapes like this?

I wasn’t honest.

I wasn’t up front right away.

Instead of a moment of discomfort, instead of saying, hey, you know, maybe not the best match after all, I just played along like nothing was happening, like it was all good, all fine.

I basically fucking lied.

“Oh my God, you look great,” she said to me as I bumped into her on the street heading down to the scene of the crime last night.

“I’m heading to a first date,” I said, “I’m nervous.”

“You look great! He’s not good enough for you,” she laughed, “it’s an interview, not a date! Have fun!”

Turns out I wasn’t good enough for him.

I did, however, make amends.

Oh humility, isn’t there a better way to get to thee?

I mean, yeah, there is, you’re honest right from the get go, instead of stifling it, you address it, by “you” I mean of course, “me.”

I have to change, I have to become better, I hate that I was awful to this man.

I really thought I was a better person, nope, just another asshole on a dating app.

App, if you didn’t already read yesterday’s missive, has been deleted.

I shouldn’t online date, I probably shouldn’t date at all, I keep fucking it up.

Focus on myself, focus on yoga, focus on work, recovery, my job, school.


I could also say, hey, chalk it up, you made a mistake, yes, you hurt someone, but you don’t have to do it again and I won’t.

That’s the thing, this will not happen again.

I immediately made phone calls, I checked in with my people, I wrote two separate inventories and made those phone calls.

I got one immediate answer, “you absolutely owe him an amends, you hurt his feelings, I’ll call you back in a few.”



More tears.

And a sick stomach.

I wanted to throw up.

Note to self, trust your body, if it doesn’t feel right, that’s your barometer, use it.

I drank some water, put on my kettle, made some coffee, I started to boil an egg, but I actually felt sick thinking about eating it.

I confirmed my yoga class and sat down and really wrote.

I had a great phone call back from a girl friend and she helped me hash it out.

I went to yoga and I did not die.

But fuck, I cried on the mat.

I let it go, I got into the poses, I dashed to the bathroom and honked my nose hard and cleared it and got back on the mat.

By the time the class was over I felt better.

I saw some light in the day.

I got home, intercepted a text from one of my people, took a hot shower, threw laundry in the wash, and made breakfast.

I dressed, got my scooter ready, and went to work.

I worked.

I showed up.

I cleaned and laundered and stripped beds and made food and I sat in the knowledge of what I had done and how it had affected me and this other person and what I could have done different, what I should have done instead.

I got the call back right before I was sitting down to have dinner with my instructions to the amends.

I got off the phone, but on an audio story for the boys, made sure they were set up with their dinners, kissed them both and walked into the front room to make the call.

He answered on the first ring.

Oh holy fuck.

“Hey, _____________,  I just wanted to call and let you know I realize that my actions hurt you and I apologize, it was not my intention to do so, I am sorry.”

He said thanks for calling, he accepted my apology.

I asked if there was anything else I could do, he said no, I said, again, my apologies, please take good care. And hung up.

I think that’s called “adulting.”


I didn’t want to write about it, but there it is, I don’t know how to write about anything but my fucking self, I’m my best, worst material, I am my worst enemy.

I love my little blog, but I will not use it as a mass weapon of destruction.


I got to keep it clean.

I have to keep my side of the street clean.

That’s the best I got today.

I still feel a bit rotten about it, but I also know that not forgiving myself, and oh, the insights I have gotten to see in myself today, better days come around, get better, get better, better days come around get better.

Sun, sun, sun, will come up now.

My insights, too much to put down right now because I do not want to misconstrue anyone with the idea that there was anything wrong with the other person, this shit all falls right in my lap.

I didn’t like going through it, but I have seen what I needed to see and I will be better.

I will.

I promise.

I can’t go through that again.

I just can’t.

Grateful that tomorrow is a new day for me to be a better woman.

I am going to do better.

I just am.


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