Category Archives: regret

oh wait

Little do you know
How I’m breaking while you fall asleep
Little do you know
I’m still haunted by the memories
Little do you know
I’m trying to pick myself up piece by piece

Little do you know
I need a little more time

Underneath it all I’m held captive by the hole inside
I’ve been holding back for the fear that you might change your mind
I’m ready to forgive you but forgetting is a harder fight

Little do you know
I need a little more time

I’ll wait, I’ll wait
I love you like you’ve never felt the pain,
I’ll wait
I promise you don’t have to be afraid,
I’ll wait
The love is here and here to stay
So lay your head on me

Little do you know
I know you’re hurting while I’m sound asleep
Little do you know
All my mistakes are slowly drowning me
Little do you know
I’m trying to make it better piece by piece

Little do you know
I, I love you ’til the sun dies

Oh wait, just wait
I love you like I’ve never felt the pain,
Just wait
I love you like I’ve never been afraid,
Just wait
Our love is here and here to stay
So lay your head on me

I’ll wait , I’ll wait
I love you like you’ve never felt the pain,
I’ll wait
I promise you don’t have to be afraid,
I’ll wait
The love is here and here to stay
So lay your head on me
Lay your head on me
So lay your head on me

‘Cause little do you know
I, I love you ’til the sun dies

_______________________________
It just never stops. Hurting.
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God will never.

I remember when this blog was halfway professional, but now it seems to just be a place I can scream without judgment. Which is a good thing, but it also makes me feel like a failure.

“God will never send you another woman’s husband.”

I saw that quote a few weeks ago and it really struck me. I’m glad it’s stuck in my head. I said it out loud to a couple of people and they just looked at me like I was crazy. Like, duh. And of course it sounds logical and Captain Obvious and all that – it always does, until you’re in the situation. Then we try to backtrack and justify and say, “We’re meant to be, we’re perfect, he/she married the wrong person the first time, it was always supposed to be us.”

But that’s just not true. Even with all of the people I know who are still married to the men/women with whom they had the affair. I can’t believe that it’s right.

I do believe that if you knew yourself and trusted yourself that maybe you would have been single when you met your “true” love, but I also know that if you’d been single you probably wouldn’t have felt that euphoric sense of belonging/appreciation/relief that you felt with the new person. Kudos to you for making it last, though.

To the married man that went too far on Saturday:

I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry for not trying harder to stop you. You will regret it forever, and I knew that. I told you that. I’m so sorry. I am broken, and now you are, too. You are good. You are STILL good. Do not let this corrode you from the inside; you are still a loving husband and father and teacher and person. Please, please, please be okay.

You didn’t have to walk me home.

I am fine on my own.

Always.

I am not stunning. You would have decided I’m not worth it, just like everyone does. So shiny, until I’m not.

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todayisokay

todayisokaytodayisokaytodayisokay.

I mean, if you’re gonna have racing, obsessive thoughts, might as well make them a positive mantra. Is “okay” even positive? I mean, if someone asks me how I am and I say, “okay,” it’s usually a bad sign, right? But today….well, okay is better than what I feel so I guess we’re going for realistic goals here.

I hate being a grownup and having my life completely determined by money. For the first time ever I’m seriously contemplating leaving New York. It’s killing me. I’m looking at my taxes and I made SO MUCH money last year! And I saved NOT A PENNY. Maybe even dipped into savings. Of course, I paid ten percent of my income into the interest on my student loans. The INTEREST, you guys. I wish I didn’t have to file taxes so that I would never see such depressing numbers. I like taxes. Taxes are good, and in NYC I see the good they are doing all of the time. I will gladly give up this much of my income so that our schools stay as great as they are and our healthcare stays as accessible and awesome as it is, even though I utilize neither of them. (Thanks, union, for taking care of my medical needs!!)

But student loans, man. And I know it’s all my fault for having them, and I wouldn’t have my career if I didn’t go to the same program, and it brought me here and I love it here.

Why is this my life, though? Why am I this age and still living paycheck to paycheck? Kind of for the first time, actually. I mean, after my divorce I literally relied on the generosity of friends. There have been a few times in life when that was the only way I could eat. (God bless Easy Mac).

But like. Here I am again. On an Easy Mac diet. And my friends are building their own houses.

I don’t want that, because I don’t want to be there.

But I always thought that it was an option for me, if I decided I wanted that. If a parent gets sick or something, and I have to move, I would buy a house. I can’t move to that place and live in an apartment. But wait, like, I actually can’t. I can’t afford to move.

My coworker says, “listen. You’re in NYC. EVERYONE is in debt, EVERYONE is living paycheck to paycheck. It’s just a part of life here.”

In social work we talk about global stressors. For the first time, money has become a constant, global, black-cloud stressor I carry with me everywhere. I used to say, “if I need it, I’ll have it. If I don’t have it, I don’t need it.” About money, things, etc.

Where did that attitude go?

Today is okay.

Even though there are 3 gas leaks in my building and we have no hot water, and the L train isn’t running and I am working a double shift (midnight to 4 PM) Sunday that will kick of 12 days in a row of work, and Purdue ruined my bracket, and my deodorant doesn’t work, and my dry cleaner didn’t actually dry clean my clothes they just hung them on hangers.

I still have a building. And a job. And clothes. And family that fills out NCAA brackets. And technically, I have deodorant. 

This was NOT supposed to be a post about money.

But see? It’s always there. Always.

Well, I mean, it’s always never there.

Also.

WHY AREN’T WEDDINGS A TAX WRITE-OFF. Not your own wedding, you shoulda saved up for that. Other people’s weddings.

Todayisokay.

The end.

 

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i’m not ready.

I couldn’t digest that he could fall in love with someone else while I still loved him. At that point, I didn’t understand love could be one-sided like that. I couldn’t imagine he told her the things he told me, or looked at her the same way.

In my deluded state, I actually felt sorry for her. This poor girl’s boyfriend is in love with his ex, I thought. It’s funny how easy it is to believe the unbelievable when it hurts less.

When do you fall out of love with your ex, when you break up because of reason and not because you don’t love each other? Which of you gets to move on first, and when it happens, does it mean the love has gone or just that we’ve chosen to go forward and hope it fades away completely?

The internet told me a lot about her. It told me she was beautiful and smart. It told me she was social and her smile made her seem kind. I wanted to hate her, but I couldn’t.

She took pictures with children and smiled wholeheartedly in photos. She laughed in a way that seemed authentic. She looked like the kind of girl who didn’t take long to get ready.

She’s perfect.  Probably not perfect, I mean, but people love her and it seems like they should. The same people who love me love her, so she must be special.

I noticed when she became friends with his sisters and took a photo with his mother. I saw him wearing the watch I bought him as he stood next to her on a vacation they took together. I saw them driving in the car we kissed in — the car we broke up in.

I saw their relationship go the places ours had gone and to places it had not.

I’m not ready for the places it has not.

A beautiful, tortuous essay, published on Buzzfeed of all places. Read the full, painful post here: I watched my ex fall in love with someone else on Facebook.

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one’s in the grave and the other should be.

You rock back and forth as the seasons
Change just like your mind in the dark
And the nights you sleep, you dream of me
And the love you let die

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I want to be adored.  Others have adored me, but they have not seen me.  I believed if they saw me, they wouldn’t love me.  But I still craved being seen, being known.  Others have not had beautiful voices.  But they have sung me to sleep, left voicemails with snippets of songs that reminded them of me.  You have the most beautiful voice.  But you do not sing for me.  You sing for thousands of others, you sing for your friends and your family.  But not for me. You saw me, and you loved me.  You don’t see me now.  I crave being known, and you do not know me. I crave being adored, but you overlook me.

Lucy.

Sometimes when you’ve made so many wrong decisions that you’d rather kill yourself than live one more minute being unable to change the past.

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