Day Thirteen: Travel somewhere new: Part III'm back!
Iceland is beautiful, even in the winter. It was freezing, Reykjavik's sidewalks were sheets of ice, but Ben and I had a blast anyway. We met a glacier. Walked on a black sand beach covered in snow (such a weird phenomenon. My brain and body were so confused). We visited waterfalls, including one that was creating snow. We walked around the city and went to a flea market, met some locals and talked to them, ate some food (yes, we had shark and whale and puffin). It was a good weekend, and I really enjoyed my time out of the country and with my friend. But it was still...weird. I was hoping to have a different reaction than the one that I had. Like I said in my previous post, this is the first time I've traveled internationally without my ex and since the breakup. Travel was "our thing." A passion we shared. I loved bouncing off ideas of where to go next and seeing how excited he would get when he was packing for a trip. I loved watching him barter for taxis and laugh with the locals in shops and bars. I loved falling asleep next to him on crowded overnight buses and experiencing the wonders of the world with him early in the morning. I didn't realize until I landed in Iceland that this was the country we had planned on going to next. We wanted to go see the northern lights, drive around the coast, go hiking...he was so excited about going somewhere colder (we tended to go to warm climate countries). He would watch the Greenland and Iceland episodes of Departures repeatedly. All of that came flooding back when I realized I was taking our trip...without him. It was also the first time since he told me he had starting dating my friend that I actually thought the words, "I miss him." It was like the shock of the entire situation had finally worn off. That it was real and now just an everyday ...thing? Nothing is going back to how it was. And I guess now that the shock wore off, my mind started yelling, "I MISS HIM." That's a really shitty feeling to have in general. It's even shittier when you're in a foreign country with one of your dearest friends on their first international trip. Don't get me wrong--I loved being in Iceland with Ben. We had a ton of fun and I really enjoyed watching his reactions to seeing so many amazing things. We laughed and explored and just enjoyed our time together somewhere new. But I still missed...him...and I carry guilt for feeling that way when I was traveling with someone new. I know Ben understands, but I feel like I was being so unfair that I couldn't always fully be in the present with him. I would find myself turning to talk to my ex, to ask him what he thought about the landscape we were watching go by on the bus. I didn't think about getting a map right away, because he would always get up early and ask reception for one. I thought about what artwork to take back to add to our collection and gallery wall. There were so many reminders of him--of our life together, and it would play on repeat in my brain. It still is at times. I had to start changing my usual travel routine and travel role. I was no longer part of the well-oiled travel machine that he and I were. I was alone. Ben helped and planned a lot (and I was super impressed by that, btw). But it was different and new and with just 3 days, I almost didn't have time to relearn and readjust. So maybe I didn't get the experience I was hoping for. While I enjoyed my time, I didn't come back feeling new and refreshed and alive. I came back feeling a little weighed down. But maybe I needed that? Maybe I needed an experience to shake off the initial shock of the situation. Maybe I needed to fully realize just how much I miss my ex-partner and that I'm still holding on to...something, even if I'm still unsure of what that something is. Hopefully I can figure that out and continue moving forward soon. Skál, Farrah ♥
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Erin's Insight: Avoiding the Honesty of It AllIn the midst of one of our daily text message exchanges, Farrah asked me to write about breakups and healing as a guest writer for her 30-Day Challenge. I was honored and excited and almost immediately jumped into writing a post that was, eh...probably about 50,000 words too long, about healing from trauma. Then I wrote another entire post that was about another 50,000 words too long about my own heartbreak and healing experiences. I didn't realize that I had so much to say! Both were relevant but didn't seem cohesive enough for her blog. The very experience of sitting down and writing about the things that have broken me apart and caused the most suffering in my life was exhausting. Even attempts to summarize what I know about trauma and healing from an academic or clinical perspective was exhausting! The computer screen quickly filled up with the thoughts and emotions I thought I had fully addressed. Really, I had only scratched the surface. Later on, the notes pages on my iPhone filled up just as fast as I struggled to get the words out of my brain so it would STFU ALREADY SO I CAN GO TO SLEEP I HAVE A 9AM APPOINTMENT, DAMMIT!! It was a struggle for me to discern exactly what I wanted to say. Did I want to offer a "safe" route and tout advice as a mental health professional? Or my experience healing as a trauma survivor? Or as someone who has caused heartbreak? As someone who has experienced heartbreak? Which perspective would be the most valuable to readers?? The reason I am taking you through my inner dialogue is because it is tantamount to what I ultimately (just now) decided what this post is about--honesty in healing. I had to experience these processes to figure out just what I wanted to say and to come to terms with the how and why. Ultimately, healing is really just about honesty—being honest with yourself and exploring not only what you want but what you need. Honesty about what you are accountable for, and what you can realistically do about it. Honesty about what you are avoiding, and why. Farrah and I are alike in the methods in which we tend to cope with our own emotional pain--we are master avoiders! As many people are. I avoided a decision about how to address this topic publicly because it is a painful one and it brought up a lot of things that I would totally love to never, ever think about again. As a therapist who works primarily with survivors of sexual assault and/or abuse, I am very comfortable sitting with other people's intense emotions and helping them be vulnerable enough to manage the good, bad, and the ugly. However, sitting with my own emotions and vulnerability is a whole 'nother story. On a very basic neurobiological level, it's human nature to avoid pain--emotional or physical--to survive; to respond to our internal alarm system. We do this without planning. A negative emotional response elicits a physical response similar to anxiety—the limbic part of your brain kicks into overdrive and your heart rate increases, your cheeks flush, you sweat, your gut feels weird...you know the feeling. It’s gross AF. In general, behaviors that avoid or command control of physical pain (see: tattoos, piercings, self-harm, adrenaline-seeking) is fairly straight-forward. However, avoiding emotional pain is something we often do without full awareness. We inherently avoid negative feelings on a spectrum ranging from the extreme (completely dissociating, gaps in time/memory) to fairly commonplace (binge-watching TV shows, mindlessly eating, losing track of time while playing Candy Crush). We do this because it works, until it doesn’t anymore. It’s not sustainable and sooner rather than later we need something else to fill that void (on an extreme level, this is how addiction works). Avoidance Avenue is where most of us live on a daily basis. While we may reside there, Avoidance Avenue isn’t a place to heal. (BRB, writing it down and avoiding on the list of “things I say to my clients that induces eye-rolling”). This is a somewhat adaptive way of functioning and a way to stay just where we are in this moment. The very definition of healing is "the process of becoming healthy again". *cue jubilant screaming* The PROCESS. Healing is a journey, not an endpoint. It's an active process that takes a lot of effort. It's easier to stay stagnant than to actually heal. Trust me, we all want a quick fix. My own therapy sessions often revolve around struggling to come to terms with my own avoidance while helping others heal. At times, I feel like a huge hypocrite. My therapist and I recently had a conversation about this and I'd like to share her (grossly) paraphrased perspective: "(Healing) is not only a process, but a lifelong process. You find different healers, different people, different methods along the way that match where you are at that point in your life and what you're dealing with. There will always be something to address, another level of self-awareness to achieve. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that." For me, hearing someone I trust and respect--both personally and professionally--echo the words I already know is reassuring. Having someone who knows me--and I can say anything to about how talking about rape all day every day is affecting me--and knowing that her office is a safe space for me does wonders for my own healing. Being honest with yourself is the bravest, most terrifying, and probably most helpful thing that you can do. It takes a lot of self-compassion and support at times. You may not be there right now or even know how to get there. And that is perfectly okay. Being honest with that alone, or wherever you are in the process right now is the perfect point. I am of course biased as both a therapist and a client but I always encourage people to try therapy. I don't care if you don't think you need it, or if you can handle it on your own. Just go talk to someone a few times. And be picky! Finding the right therapist who can help you explore your own avoidance (don't even roll your eyes, we ALL avoid at least once in awhile) and find your honest voice can be revolutionary. I got this heartbeat tattoo on the back of my neck several years ago as a personal reminder about healing. When you get an EKG, the QRS complex represents a regular heartbeat that dips slightly (Q), spikes up high (R), and then drops way below baseline (S). And repeats over…and over…and over...and over…and over…and over… It’s a reminder to me that without the ups and downs in life, you're dead. Quite literally. Healing works like this, too. There's no quick fix. There are going to be days where you feel like you’re dying, like you can’t control anything, like you’re worthless, like it would be easier to give up. But feelings are fleeting. The ups and downs will come, because healing is not linear. Explore what reminds you to find honesty and self-compassion and honor the changes that come. The process of writing this was a wonderful reminder for me! I am thankful Farrah trusted me to write something for her blog (hopefully she's not regretting it...) There’s a raw honesty to Farrah’s perspective on her breakup that I find absolutely beautiful. This 30-day challenge is a brilliant way to give herself a tangible way to see her healing in process. She is unabashedly herself, working on the excruciating journey that is honesty to self. She struggles with vulnerability, yet she pushes herself to grow by stepping outside of her comfort zone. I admire her and am grateful to be her fellow ENFP, social worker, and friend. I am fortunate to be on this path with her, and even more fortunate to have her on mine. Farrah, I hope I help you heal as you help me, sister brain <3 --Erin Nikki's Insight: The Relationship AFTER the Break-upHey there everyone!
I’m Nikki, I’m Farrah’s good friend and roommate from Semester at Sea. You may remember me from her blog post about Las Vegas, or the one about taking back my bar from a really crummy ex. As someone who has had a few pretty garbage breakups, Farrah asked me to write a guest piece about my experience with healing after the end of a relationship. For the past few days, I’ve really struggled with what exactly to write about. Which story I should tell? Which breakup I should talk about? The natural inclination was to write about my ex from the bar story--that breakup was extremely rough and lasted literal years, so it would be pretty easy to write a lengthy piece about the aftermath of that whole debacle. After some more thought, something in my head clicked, and I realized what I really SHOULD talk about is the breakup with the next person I was with, because I think there’s a pretty important lesson in that one. Mark* and I met while we were working together on a ranch in Colorado. At first, I did not like him. At all. I actually thought he was kind of a dick. I only liked hanging out with him when I had liquor in my system. After a few drunken evenings together, we eventually just… started dating. It was never really decided or talked about. It just happened. We fell for each other fast, he moved with me to Las Vegas, we broke up, we got back together long distance in secret, he moved back to Vegas, and we broke up again. All in the span of about eight months. Mark was a nice enough guy, at his core. He had a lot of positive qualities as a human being. However, he was not in any shape to be in a relationship. He didn’t have any money, and I wound up covering the cost of everything we did (including rent, utilities, gas for his car, etc) for which he still has not paid me back. He had some serious mental health issues that he refused to work on and that he used as a weapon against me. He never took ownership for when he made mistakes. He was irresponsible and immature. He was a project for me to work on, someone who needed me to care for them. I still believe he's a good person, he just didn't make for a good partner. The worst part of our relationship wasn’t even any of that. For all of the flaws both he and our relationship had, he wasn’t the problem. It was me. I wasn’t in any position to be in a relationship either! I didn’t even realize I wasn’t ready. I didn’t bother trying to have a conversation with myself about how I was doing mentally and emotionally. The truth is, I wasn’t completely over my ex. He still had his hooks in me. I didn’t love him or even like him anymore, but he still had this… weird, creepy, awful power over me. If he sent me a message, I felt the need to respond immediately. If he posted something on social media, I obsessed over what it meant. He and I still talked almost every day. We were still holding on to each other for some reason. It was crazy unhealthy. So, why did I date Mark? He loved me. Simple as that. I was in a place where I felt completely and totally broken, and I found someone who cared for me in a way I didn’t think was possible anymore. My ex abused me emotionally to the point that I genuinely didn’t think I was lovable or worthwhile, and here was this human who fell for me instantly. I fell head first into this relationship I was in no way ready for because I was so fucking sad and desperate to be loved. Mark was someone who couldn’t put my broken pieces back together, but it was like he went and bought the glue so I could do it myself. I dealt with Mark constantly breaking up with me and changing his mind the next day and doing overall shitty things because I didn’t want to be alone. He used me in his own ways, but I used him to feel loved and worthy again. That’s seriously fucked up. It took me a while to realize I had done that. I didn’t sit down and have a real conversation with myself to make sure I was capable of being in a relationship before I got into one with Mark. It wasn’t until after we broke up for good (and he moved away and we didn’t see each other) that I started the process of recognizing what I had done. I was living in a house where my roommates were never home, I didn’t have many friends, and my job as a nanny doesn’t leave a lot of adults available for conversation. I was suddenly spending a lot of nights completely by myself, learning how to be genuinely alone for the first time in years. I had to do a lot of self-reflecting and a lot of soul searching. I was so lost in my own pain that I couldn’t see the pain I might be causing another person until I got completely through the relationship. With that in mind, what’s my advice for getting through a rough breakup? Do not get into a relationship immediately. I mean, go on dates if you want. Have as much (safe, consensual) sex as you want. Meet new people. Don’t ghost anyone. However, before you get into a real relationship, HAVE THAT CONVERSATION WITH YOURSELF. Have that conversation with yourself over and over again to be truly sure that you’re not using another person as an emotional crutch. Get yourself out there, but until you are absolutely sure that you are in a safe emotional space to not rely on another human for your own happiness, do not get into a relationship. It’s genuinely unfair to the other person. It’s not okay to use someone. --Nikki Day Thirteen: Travel somewhere new: Part IWell, everyone. I'm writing this right before heading to the airport with my best friend, Ben. We're heading to Iceland for the long weekend! I can't wait!
Since This Beautiful Journey is also part travel blog, I'm sure you know that travel is a huge part of my life. Since Semester at Sea in 2011, I've been bitten with the travel bug and I can't seem to find a cure. Iceland will be country #28 for me, and I've visited a few of those countries numerous times. This will be my first time in Iceland, but I've heard wonderful things from friends who have been there already. They've told me the landscape is beautiful, and (fingers crossed) we'll have the opportunity to see the Northern Lights (one of my bucket list items!) I wanted to write a two-part post for this challenge item: a before and an after. I'm having some mixed feelings right now. Obviously, I am super excited to explore somewhere new, and I'm thrilled and honored to be taking Ben on his first international excursion. I'm grinning from ear to ear right now and have excited butterflies in my stomach. But this is also the first international trip I'm taking without my ex. Travel was "our" thing. My ex and I were the world explorers in our group of friends and our families. We've been throughout Africa, Asia, Central America, South America, and Europe together. We've climbed mountains and swam in oceans and jumped off cliffs and got lost and ate weird food and watched sunrises together. Our wedding was going to be travel-themed. Our apartment was filled with mementos from our trips, and our decor travel themed and map colors. So I'm feeling a little--weird--doing this without him. It's a little scary even. He and I had our very specific tasks when we traveled. He would navigate and negotiate with locals for buses, prices, etc. I planned how to get to the country, what our budget would be, and the "must do" places and experiences. We were a well-oiled machine, knowing who was doing what, who packed specific items, etc. Now I have to readjust. I have to reestablish how I interact and function in an international backpacker setting. I'm excited about it--don't get me wrong--but it's another "new" thing for me. Another thing to start over. Another thing to learn to do without him. Last night, I didn't sleep much. And I think it was partly because of this upcoming trip and the realization that he wouldn't be with me for the first time. His face and the sound of his laughter and the way his eyes scrunch up on the sides when he's smiling just popped into my brain. I thought about him for a minute, and my brain wanted to think about what it was like to sleep next to him in the past. What it was like to curl up next to him in a new country after an exhausting day of hiking... But I couldn't remember. I couldn't remember what his body looked like. I couldn't remember how he felt when I rested my head in his arm's crevice (that's what we called it, anyway). And I thought, "Holy shit. Maybe I'm starting to move on." I felt a sigh of relief. And then I stopped breathing. My mind shifted to pure panic. How could I forget him? How could I forget what it was like to fall asleep with who I thought was the love of my life--something I did almost every night for eight solid years? I started to go into a full-fledged mental panic attack. I wracked my brain for memories. Over and over and over and over again. Even when I could remember what he looked like, I couldn't remember the sensation. I couldn't remember what he felt like cuddled up next to me. I tried to ground myself, to calm myself. And then the images and memories of my friend, curled up next to him on the couch (something I had thought of as nothing but innocent friendship intimacy at the time) flooded my brain. I remembered how happy they looked and how they laughed together. My brain started creating what it must look like for them to be curled up in bed together in our NYC apartment, like he and I had done for two years. I ruminated on that all. damn. night. I couldn't get out of it. Every time I would calm down enough to find myself drifting back to sleep, my brain would throw that image back in the forefront and jolt me awake. Last night is a reminder that while I'm heading in a good place, I'm still struggling with letting go. The panic of not being able to remember my ex partner indicates (to me, at least), that I'm still holding on to what we had. I'm still grasping at the good memories, of the happy moments, that we shared together. And the idea of losing those moments sent me into sheer terror. Almost like if I forget those things about him and about us, it never happened and we were never in love in the first place (which is utterly ridiculous, I know that). So, today, I take a much needed break and mini-vacay to Iceland with one of the closest and kindest and funnest people in my life. I'm going to do my best to leave this shit in the USA for three days until I return on Monday. If I need to, I'll pick it back up. But three days is my goal. Three days. Travel has always been a type of therapy for me. Not just because you remove yourself from your everyday life or current situation, but also because it allows me to be completely free. It allows me to be whatever I want in this new place and to experience things I never could back home. It reminds me how to be in the moment and to enjoy everything happening around me. It reminds me of the good in people; of the wonderfulness of this world. It re-energizes and refuels me. I'm hoping that this trip allows me to kind of cleanse my soul so that I can have a clearer mindspace and focus when I return on Monday. In the meantime, I have two wonderful friends who have generously offered their time, insight, and stories for guest posts while I'm away. Erin (who was part of my girls' night out and has been my sounding board for a lot of other posts) and Nikki (who was part of my Las Vegas stories and my Semester at Sea roomie) have written posts that really speak to me, and I hope speak to you, too. Thank you, ladies; it means a lot to me that you've shared your wisdom with me (and to everyone reading this blog) in an honest and vulnerable way. I promise to post Part II early next week, and to take lots of pictures! Þangað til þá, Farrah ♥ Day Twelve: Flirt with someone new. Have fun. Feel no remorse.I've been struggling with this challenge item and this post. I feel like I continue to be torn in a few different directions.
Last night, on Valentine's Day, I spent time with a wonderful guy in my life. He means a lot to me, and I consider him one of my best friends. He came over to my apartment and made us dinner (and cleaned the kitchen, y'all. Bonus points.) There was dancing and candles and champagne and laughter. It was truly a great night. And in the moment, I had so much fun. In the moment, I didn't feel any negative emotions. In the moment, I did exactly what my challenge item listed: I flirted with someone. I had fun. And I felt no remorse.....in that moment. Healing from a long-term relationship and then returning to the world of dating is a weird, tricky thing. I've talked before about learning to become more confident in myself and my body. But there is other stuff to consider, too. For example, the remorse piece. After eight years of being in a committed, monogamous relationship, your brain and behaviors function in a very specific way. You don't engage in intimate, romantic actions with others, right? You've hyper-focused those actions and feelings toward one person only--your partner. If you're drunk and flirt with another guy at a party, it's pretty likely that you're going to feel remorse and guilt the following day. So, here's the thing: my brain hasn't completely reconfigured to function as a single person's brain. Even though I have every right in the world to flirt or feel romantic emotions towards anyone I want, my brain kicks in and says, "What are you doing? This isn't okay. You're in a relationship with someone else." I have to retrain my brain to think differently in those moments. I have to tell it, "No, you're no longer in a committed relationship. You can feel these things. You can fully engage in these moments and have fun. You do not need to feel guilt or remorse for your actions and feelings toward this person." Sometimes, like in this case, it comes after-the-fact and I can talk myself out of it. I can remind myself of the facts: I am single. He left me. He is dating someone new. I do not answer to anyone and I am in control of my own life. At other times, it can hit me in the middle of an interaction. Because, I'd be lying to you if I said I haven't been asked out by some guys since the breakup. I'd by lying if I said I didn't flirt once in awhile. I'd be lying if I said I haven't hung out with someone and felt that spark. And sometimes, right in the middle of hanging out or texting someone, it hits me: the guilt and remorse and shame. Sometimes, what comes up instead of those "you're-still-in-a-relationship-WTF-inner-monologues", are flashbacks or intrusive thoughts about my past relationship. For example, I was hanging out with someone and we were deciding what movie to watch. He suggested "Back to the Future", which sent me straight into an episode of dissociation to combat the gut-wrenching feelings in my stomach. (It's the movie that my ex and my friend used to watch all the time--oftentimes, together, late at night...but I digress.) After I was okay and grounded and he apologized, he suggested another movie, "Office Space", that my ex and I used to watch before bed; hence, another trigger and bout of stomach pains. And then, after those feelings subsided and we found a different movie to watch, (PS I can't believe I've never seen "Love Actually" before?!) I started feeling guilty and shameful again. But this time, for a totally unrelated reason--because I had allowed myself to lose control to these intrusive, traumatic feelings in front of this guy that has been nothing but nice and supportive to me. He had to handle my reactions. And while it isn't "me at my worst", it is "me at not my best" and then I start feeling embarrassed. I start the self-shaming talk: "Why can't you just get over this shit and move on? What is wrong with you? Why aren't you stronger than this?" I am no longer anchored to the present and enjoying my time with this person. I'm gone--I'm in a different place, engaging in self-destructive thoughts. And it can prevent my ability to truly connect with someone. It builds those protective walls because you have just shown a vulnerable part of yourself to someone new. And look what the person you trusted did to you--the person who knew your best and worst qualities and your vulnerabilities; he left you in pieces. This person, who barely knows you, might likely do the same. Especially if you show them too much too quickly. Especially if what you show them is your turmoil and traumatic baggage. So you shove that all back in and add a few bricks to that perfect wall you've been building... So yeah, I am hardcore struggling with trust. And commitment issues. I never, in a million years, thought that I would struggle with trust and commitment (probably because I had such faith in my past relationship and partner). And to be honest, right after he broke up with me in November, I could confidently see myself committing to someone new in the future. Then, after he told me about him dating my friend at the beginning of January, all of that shot straight out the window. I guess the new levels of betrayal both from him and from her shattered what confidence in relationships I had left. I've spoken to my therapist about the fact that I feel as if I'm moving further away from feeling ready to commit and trust than I am moving towards being in that place. And that fact scares the living shit out of me. What if I am never in a place where I trust someone 100%? When my roommate asked me if I wanted to be on our lease, I panicked at the thought of committing to an apartment. AN APARTMENT. How the hell can I commit to another human being for the rest of my life? My therapist told me that I'm exactly where I should be in this healing process. She told me, "Farrah, if you were already trying to commit to a long-term relationship, I would be more worried than you telling me you feel like you're moving further away from it. You're healing. You're grieving the loss of not just one--but two--people in your life. By all means, date. Pursue the sparks that you feel with someone, or maybe even multiple people. Just be honest with them and yourself." That's what I'm trying to do. So, in honest, self-transparency and in the spirit of sharing those things with you, I have to admit that I'm terrified that I will never be able to commit to someone else. Because I wanted nothing more than to be a wife. I think I'd be great at it, y'all. And sharing life's ups and downs with your best friend and love sounds amazing to me. To have a home to call your own and possibly filling that home with a family--whether that be children or pets or whatever. Which got me thinking (again) about the wide-open space that is my future. All of the plans (other than my career) for the long-term had been created with someone else. And now, all of that was wiped clean. The great unknown, y'all. That's when my therapist suggested that maybe I don't need to think about those long-term dreams and goals right now, especially when it has all become so wide-open and scary and new. Maybe, she said, it is better for me to focus on some short-term things right now. Like learning to build and rebuild relationships with important people in my life. It's tough, though, when the majority of your friends and family are in long-term, committed relationships (most of whom are married) and have babies on the way or have already started their family and have houses and plans. Don't get me wrong--I couldn't be happier for them! I feel no resentment; in fact, I'm unbelievably excited. I can't wait to be Aunt Farrah and spoil the hell out of those children. I love spending time with them at their homes and sitting around fireplaces or playing with their puppies. But it's a constant reminder of what I lost and what I may never have. So here I am. I'm being honest and open with both myself and with those people I have relationships with--whether romantic or platonic. I'm not at my best self right now, but with your love and patience and support and jokes and connections, I am rebuilding the capacity to have trust and commitment in others. And you have no idea what that means to me. Thank you. A million times, THANK YOU. Learning to lower my walls with your help, Farrah ♥ Valentine's Day HealingUgh, Valentine's Day.
I know, I know. It's just another corporate holiday. But regardless of how many times I tell myself this, it doesn't really help me feel less alone today. Because today is the first time I've been single on Valentine's Day in at least the last eleven years (maybe longer). Here's the thing, I thought that I would be okay today. Truly, honestly, I wasn't dreading Valentine's Day. I don't feel resentment towards all of you wonderful people in happy relationships celebrating your love today. I'm so happy that you have someone in your life like that. I want nothing but goodness for you. So, I wasn't prepared for this whole swarm of feelings in my gut and chest when I woke up this morning. I'm still trying to sort them out, and I'm still trying to identify just exactly what I'm feeling and experiencing. I do know that it was a hella stupid idea to look at my Facebook memories today. (Duh, Farrah). I wasn't even thinking about it when I opened the Memories page and started scrolling on my phone. Then the photos of past Valentine's Days with my ex came flooding back, complete with love notes. The big kicker, my friends, is that the profile picture is updated, so while I'm seeing his past love confessions, I'm seeing a photo of him and the ex-friend happy-as-can-be together. And hear me out--I know this is stupidly illogical and irrational and I know he loved me then--but seeing that photo attached to words and actions towards me makes it feel like it was never real. Or that it never truly mattered. That it was all an act. Like I said, I'm aware this is wrong. I know he loved me--truly loved me--at some point. But it's how I'm feeling, and I have to be honest with that. Another part of me wants to be "stronger than this holiday and this pain." That's the part of me that wants to avoid the whole day and stay in bed and get drunk on champagne (because I'm classy, okay) and pretend nothing is bothering me. I am really, really great at avoiding my own personal pain and vulnerability, which is why I started this blog in the first place, and why I'm forcing myself to write about Valentine's Day even though it isn't really part of my 30 Day Challenge. My brain wants to shove this all aside and pretend like it's not happening. But the truth is, I will never have another romantic experience with the person I thought I was spending the rest of my life with. And today is a reminder of that. I'm trying not to think about what they are doing today, or this weekend, or whenever they see each other next. I'm trying not to think about whether he is saying the same things to her he used to say to me, or giving her similar gifts, or making her dinner. I am trying not to wonder if he has some sappy Facebook post about her today...(Just typing this makes it difficult for me to breathe and the knots in my stomach tighten and tears well up in my eyes.) Instead, I'm trying to focus on the love I do have in my life. I have a few really close, wonderfully amazing friends that I would literally die for. My family has always supported and loved me in every part of my life, no matter how crazy the endeavor. I love my new job and agency and I love the city I call home. I love my coworkers, some of which are the smartest, bravest, funniest ladies I have had the privilege to meet. I love my cat a stupid amount, and I'm not ashamed of how lost I would be without his silly shenanigans, crossed eyes, and morning snuggles. My life is full of love, but sometimes, even when we can see it and acknowledge and appreciate it, we still feel a little lonely. I have faith that any future Valentine's Days I may spend without a romantic partner will be a little less painful each time. And while I'm sorting through these confusing and tangled emotions, I have realized that one of them is a positive nervous energy. Because while I'm single, I do have a date tonight that I'm pretty excited about with someone who understands the place I am in and respects it (and me). And while we're both on the same page about my trust issues and that I'm not in a place to commit to anyone new for awhile, I'm looking forward to a night of feeling appreciated and finding some romantic connection with another person. So, I guess you'll need to come back tomorrow for my "Flirt with Someone New" challenge item post to find out how it goes. ♥ To anyone else feeling alone today, I feel you. I've always believed that the most difficult loneliness is the one you feel when you are surrounded by others who care about you. And while I know it's not the same as having a partner to snuggle with on the couch or share a slow dance with tonight, please know that you are not alone in your feelings. I'm here with you. I see you. I believe you. And I love you. With untangled emotions, Farrah ♥ Day Eleven: Do a cliche break-up move.Here we are, friends. The cliche break-up move. I've been debating for awhile which one I wanted to do: ice cream and wine in the bath tub filled with bubbles and flowers and candles everywhere? A spa day? A new piercing or two? A tattoo? New wardrobe? Start doing yoga? While I'll likely do some (if not most) of those things, I decided to go through with the most cliche post-breakup move of all time: I changed my hairrrrrrrrr! To be fair, I haven't had a haircut in three years. Any time I walk into a salon, no one wants to touch my hair because it's so curly. It's a battle to get anyone to agree to allow me to sit in their chair, and when I finally convince them, they cut one or two strands, chirping "I'm done! How pretty!" and I get frustrated and annoyed. So, I did some research, and found a stylist who is trained in DevaCurl haircuts and highlights specifically for us human beings living with lion manes. Mary at Classic Hair & Makeup on the South Side of Pittsburgh was amazing. She's funny, witty, and puts you at ease. I'm not one to panic about my hair (I've shaved it all off once before and have seriously thought about doing it again), but I did feel pretty nervous before going into the salon today. I've talked a lot about trust and commitment issues, and as silly as it may sound, I feel like this challenge allows me to test those waters again in a very small way. If you think about it, getting your hair done requires trust in this person. You have to trust them to help shape and create the new outward appearance to reflect how the new you feels on the inside. So, I decided to push myself a little bit. I basically gave Mary free-range over my new hair. I told her I'd like to keep some length and get rid of the dead ends and that I wanted color. Mary did not disappoint. Friends, I feel fierce as hell. I now understand why this has become a go-to post-breakup move. I had no idea how desperately I needed and wanted this change! I feel fantastic. I feel like I've shed some past identity and am showing the world the new, improved, independent version of Farrah. I feel more confident. How cool is that? Especially because I have been having so much difficulty with the fact that my ex left me and started dating someone else...I have continued to compare myself to her over and over again...thinking about what she has that I don't. Changing my appearance for this next phase of my life is strangely cathartic, and definitely more than I thought it would be. Plus, I mean, let's be real: the stream of compliments don't hurt either, especially at a time where my self-esteem has been less than exemplary. It's also important for me to say that, in the past in my relationship, I probably never would have done this. Not because my ex didn't want me to or I didn't have the option. But, I wasn't going to spend the money or time on myself. I wasn't a priority in my own life. Getting my hair cut and dyed and spending the extra money to go to a specialist was an act of self-care and self-love I have neglected for years...which is why something so simple feels so damn good. This post may not be as deep and profound as some of the others. But I think that's okay--and probably needed. It's all about balance. And while those deep processing experiences are unbelievably important, so are the more "surface level", fun, easy experiences. Life shouldn't always be 100% serious. Don't forget to have fun and enjoy the ride. Even when--or especially when--you're healing. Feeling fierce AF, Farrah ♥ Day Ten: Make a list of future relationship goals.During the last few days, I've been thinking a lot about the future. My last blog post was all about writing to myself a year from now. I think that writing exercise has continued to stay with me, so I decided to allow myself to feel and think about what I want in my future. Because, to be completely honest, I've been avoiding it as hard as I possibly can. I used to look very fondly into the future. If you know me well, you know that I'm hyper goal-oriented. I often create and follow through with my Roadmaps, outlining goals for the next three months, the next year, the next five years, and for my lifetime. My dad has always bragged that no matter what it is, if I put my mind to it, I'm going to achieve it. I had a pretty good idea of what my life was going to look like. I knew I wanted to be married. I've always wanted to be a wife. I think I'd be a damn good one, and the idea of sharing life with someone who is your best friend and loves you without limits is wonderful to me. And, that's what I thought I had. I was committed to someone for a long period of time--eight years--with the idea and hope that we would be married. We both knew what we wanted to do in our work life, and after years of sacrifice and moves and school, we were both at the point where we could be working our dream jobs, putting money aside for a future home, moving back to the city full of our friends and family, and really enjoy the fact that we had made it. We were so close I could taste it. Then, he left. I'll be honest with y'all, I still thought he and I would work it out at first. We would work on the problems we had and would create a better foundation and continue onward, stronger than before. Then, he started dating one of my best friends. That's when it really hit me: He was gone. And so was the future I had built. People always talk about the grieving process of losing a long-term partner (and, in my case, an additional close friend). But sometimes we forget that we're also grieving the life that we thought we had. As an avid go-getter, this realization messed me up. Everything I had been working towards had just disappeared. Rupi Kaur has a brilliant poem in The Sun and Her Flowers that really speaks to me about this, and when I first read it after the breakup, I openly ugly cried in my office. Suddenly, I'm faced with a wide open unknown. That, my friends, is effing terrifying to me. I can jump off tall things. I can catch spiders and hold snakes. I can call out people in power when I advocate for my clients. I can head to a foreign country with no plans. But the realization that my future is no longer what I thought it would be--and that I had to basically start over--makes me want to crawl into bed and not leave it for days.
So, I've been avoiding it. Because if I sit down and reevaluate...if I sit down and create new Roadmaps and allow myself to think about it...it makes it real. But today, I'm making myself face it. I'm making myself free-write and allowing myself to dream. But let me tell you, writing about what you want in your future relationships, after being left by your life partner for your close friend, is a nightmare. It has made me face my newly added trust and commitment issues head on. Because, here's the thing, I can never guarantee that my partner won't leave me. These goals are rooted not only in what I want, but also in trusting another free-thinking human being to agree and follow through with these things. And the idea of committing that kind of trust to someone is absolutely gut-wrenchingly terrifying. In my own goal-setting, I have complete control. I have control over whether or not I apply to schools for my PsyD. I have control over whether or not I get a puppy. I have control over my eating habits. I have control over auditioning for shows again. I do not have control over whether or not I will ever be married or ever have a family (if that's what I ultimately want). In the spirit of letting go, of trying to entertain the idea that I may be able to trust again one day, of dreaming just a little bit again, I am sharing some of my future relationship goals and hopes here with you: For Next Time: A Guide to Dating Me 1. I need healthy communication. I am not a yelling, screaming kind of gal. And if something is bothering me, I'm going to tell you. I need that in return. I need to know what you're thinking and feeling. If something is upsetting you, please tell me. I can't work on it or fix it if you never tell me in the first place. 2. I need my privacy. For everything that is good and holy in this world, don't go through my shit. Don't randomly "find" my journal. Or log into my accounts to dig around. And dear Lord, LEAVE MY PHONE ALONE. Just because I want some privacy does NOT mean I am cheating on you, no longer love you, or am doing "something wrong." Everyone is entitled to their privacy and to decide what and how and when to share their personal information. I promise to give you the same. 3. I want to be best friends, but I also need my own life. I want the foundation of my relationship to be friendship. Friendship before lovers. I want us to be able to hang out on the couch and binge-watch The Good Place and also go backpacking together and just love each other's company. But I also need to be able to go out with my own friends, to go to a class or something that piques my interest...without you. I need to live life on my own terms, too. Which is a lesson I really learned after this breakup. 4. I need to be a priority. One of the biggest issues in my past relationships was the fact that I felt that I wasn't a priority. Friends, work, personal interests, family...they're all absolutely 100% important. I will never argue that. What I will argue about is when I have a headache but think if I sleep a few more hours that I can join you to go to an event, and instead you leave without me...that proves to me that I am not a priority. If I am having a crisis but instead of helping me in the emergency you go with your friends to the bar...that shows me that I'm not a priority. I am not asking--nor do I want--you to give up everything for me. That's insane. If you have a family party the same day that I asked about seeing a movie, please GO TO THE FAMILY PARTY. Does this make sense, y'all? Because sometimes I swear it doesn't. 5. I need you to be able to handle and accept the fact that I have a lot of trauma, am living with PTSD, and have triggers. If you can't handle the fact that sometimes, when we're getting intimate, I have a flashback, don't call me. If you can't handle that sometimes intense movies can cause me to have nightmares for weeks and so therefore, I avoid them when I'm not in a good place, then don't bother. I understand that dating someone with as much trauma as I have experienced is not for everyone. But don't pretend it is and then tell other people that it's a problem and then take it out on me. Yes, I have a responsibility to work on these issues, and I am. Trust me, no one WANTS to experience these things. But here we are. And all I can do is work towards healing, but I need you to be patient, too. 6. I need you to understand and appreciate my career. I am a social worker. I am working with people who have been sexually exploited and trafficked. My job is to handle crisis--all day long. I love it. But it's damn hard. I will experience vicarious trauma from time to time, meaning that my clients' trauma affects my own. I have supervision and therapy to work on that, and I'm usually really good at leaving work at work and home at home. But here's the thing, just because it's difficult work, doesn't mean I will quit doing it. I have had numerous people ask me if "this is the right career for me" because of how grueling it can be. I know I'm meant for social work and I know this is what I am called to do. Don't underestimate me. Support me. Tell me you're sorry I had a bad day and buy me ice cream. Just like you would with a friend who works at a bank and had a bad day. 7. I need you to ground me. I'm a ...flighty.... person. I tend to dream big and jump at crazy ideas and just generally be spontaneous. I need you to allow me to be me, while also keeping me centered and in the present. Don't kill all of my hopes and desires, just talk me down once in awhile (when it's truly a crazy idea, otherwise, let me dream, yo). 8. I need you to be adventurous. Or, maybe not even adventurous. I need you to be willing to leave your comfort zone. Possibly on a regular basis. I live to push myself outside of my little bubble. Like I said earlier. I jump off high things and hold snakes and travel to foreign countries with one backpack and go try new things. I need you to be both willing to push yourself, as well as pushing me, too (whether that be a gentle nudge to have a tough conversation or literally pushing me out of a skydiving plane.) 9. I need our morals and values to complement one another. They don't have to be identical, but I need to know that you and I have similar belief systems (not religiously, but personally). And if we don't, that we can have conversations and respect one another's belief systems. My one non-negotiable: I need you to be social justice minded. I need to know that you're a feminist and that you will rally for LGBTQIA+ rights and believe that no person is illegal and that you agree that Black Lives Matter. This doesn't mean I expect you to be perfect. Hell, I'm definitely not perfect. I am learning everyday about my own privilege and how it affects those around me and how I can be a better activist, ally, and human being. I ask that you do the same. 10. I need you to be motivated. I am always trying to better myself in some way, and to make a better life for myself. That doesn't mean I don't appreciate and love the life I have. It just means that I have goals and dreams and I need to know you have the same. Also, I need you to be motivated in every day life...which kind of equates to just being an adult? Pay your bills and have a savings account and schedule your own appointments and such. You know? 11. I need you to date me. I don't just mean when you're first trying to get to know me and we're seeing if this would be something to pursue. If we're still together in five years, I want to still be going out on date nights. I want us to be doing little things like leaving love notes for each other around our place and putting towels in the dryer for the other so it's warm when they get out of the shower and having spontaneous nerf gun battles. Let's keep the spark alive. 12. I need you to be on the same page as me about the big things. I've dated different people who say they want one thing in order to continue the relationship, but end up resenting me in the end. I need you to know and accept and agree upon the big things, like kids, settling down somewhere, family relationships, etc. I understand that these change and flow throughout a person's life. Just be open and honest with me about it. This post was difficult to write, but I needed it. I'm glad I added it to the challenge and y'all are keeping my accountable; otherwise, I wouldn't have even touched this for months. Or maybe even ever. I challenge you to try this, too. I feel a little better after writing this all down--like I have a shape of a plan and goals to remember. It feels like I have a better understanding of my own needs, so that in the future, I may have a better chance at accepting someone's love and trusting them with my own. If they easily fit into this outline and I fit into theirs, it may be a little easier to fully commit again. Cheers to the idea of possibilities and love and open futures. With a heart full of both fear and tiny bit of hope, Farrah ♥ Day Nine: Write a letter to yourself. Open it in a year.I'm back! I had the flu all last week, and it absolutely kicked my ass. I am still coughing and not at 100% over a week later. It's awful. Get a flu shot, kids.
Even though I wasn't very mobile and I felt shitty all week, a lot still happened for me as far as my post-breakup-healing process. My friend, Courtney, and I have talked about this before, but this week drove it home: It sucks to be single and be sick. All you want is someone to make you food and snuggle and force you to take medicine even if you don't want to. No one wants to get out of bed when they're sick...but when you're single, that's almost not an option anymore. So, not only do you have to find the damn energy to get out of bed because you forgot the tea sitting on the counter that you got up for in the first damn place, but you have to heal without the comfort of someone else. To be fair, I had a few people offer their time and energy to bring me medicine or spend time on the couch with me. But if you've been following these posts, you know just how damn difficult it is for me to accept help. I told them I was "fine" and that I could "make it on my own" and I had all the meds and cough drops and garbage tv I could need. Which was true. What I was craving was the comfort from someone I love. From a person who loves without qualifiers and who thinks that even the crappy-tshirt-and-high-school-sweats, lion-maned, no-makeup-and-red-nosed Farrah wrapped in a million blankets coughing her lungs out and crying about literally nothing is still somehow beautiful and without a doubt, the life partner they have always and will always want. When you're sick, you're vulnerable--biologically speaking, yes, but also emotionally. Which is why it was so easy for me to indulge in some self-hate last week. I know it wasn't helpful to watch "Say Yes to the Dress" while also trying to figure out how to sell my own unused wedding dress online and feeling deathly ill. But I needed it. In that moment, I needed to feel all of my sadness and hatred and anger and tears and illness. Because damn, does being sick really drive home that you're alone. After my self-hate binge, I decided I needed some...hope. It had been exactly a month since my ex told me he was dating my best friend. And that realization triggered even more feelings deep inside me that I thought I was handling pretty well. But the realization that they have started having anniversaries (regardless of how small), made me nauseous. I was feeling so adamant that no one else could see me this sick and that I could "do it alone" (ugh, I know, friends. I know), that I decided I was going to create my own hope for this situation and for myself. I began writing the letter to myself, with the idea that I will open it again in a year. I did this exercise in graduate school: our advisers had us write a letter at the beginning of our first year--scared to death of field placements and being at an ivy league school--to our end of year selves. I remember opening that letter again and crying. I was so proud of myself and my accomplishments. It was a reminder to me that fear is not permanent. It will pass, and with it, will come strength. When I sat down to write today's letter, I wasn't sure where I was going with it. I just let it flow out of me. It felt damn good, y'all. There is something cathartic about talking to the future you, to the person who will have made it through all the hardships and bullshit you're handling at this moment. I decided to send 2019 Farrah some wishes that I want to share with you. Especially to those of you who may be going through similar experiences or difficult times, I want you to know that I wish these for you too. 1. You've learned to trust again. Even just one person. Maybe even yourself. 2. You've discovered and embraced just how goddamn beautifully fierce you are. YOU ARE A DAMN QUEEN. Weak boys are not welcome here. 3. You've let go. I don't mean forgotten or even forgiven. But you've tried to stop replaying the relationship(s) over in your mind. Your intrusive thoughts are less. 4. You're comfortable alone. Really. Not this fake alone shit where you spend all your time with other people so as not to have to spend it with yourself. Really, truly comfortable in your own skin and living on your own terms and your own schedule. 5. You've forgiven yourself. This wasn't your fault. You're not perfect, of course, but they made these decisions. The consequences are their responsibility, not yours. THIS IS NOT YOURS TO BEAR. 6. Maybe you're dating again. Maybe you're committed. Maybe you're not. Just remember that YOUR WORTH IS NOT EQUAL TO YOUR RELATIONSHIP STATUS. 7. You've stopped allowing them to have power over you. I hope you've retaken control of your life. That you can go back to places where you have memories of them, or know that they spend their time at, or whatever. You can finish "Stranger Things" without remembering that you were supposed to watch it together or you can hear a Killers song without being reminded that they went to that concert together. You have taken back power over all aspects of your life, and you're living it to the fullest without anything--including the ghosts of your ex fiance and ex best friend--holding you back. These are my hopes, wishes, goals, dreams for 2019 Farrah and for all of you. I hope that in a year, I can come back to this letter and to this blog and know that I'm a mountain of strength within myself, and that we're all mountains standing tall together. I'm also encouraging everyone--whether heartbroken or happily married--to try writing a letter for their future selves. I would love to hear how it feels for you, and compare again next year. Looking hopeful into the future, Farrah ♥ |
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