Day Seventeen: Do a photoshoot. Change your profile pic.When I first added this item, it was because I wanted to have a really cool new profile picture for my social media. So many of my photos are with my ex-partner or my ex-friend is included in them, too. It was pretty surface level at first: I wanted to look amazing AF just for the pure purpose of looking amazing AF. Then, it shifted a little bit. (Let me be clear--that's totally fine. And I still did it for that purpose, too.) Not only did I want to look good and feel good about myself and the way I look, but there was something deeper that I wanted to achieve. You see, I have felt like I was living in my ex's shadow for a long time. Like, for a really long time. He is charismatic and the type that everyone notices. He is charming and funny and oh-so talented. (Plus, to be fair, I've always thought he was attractive: tall, dark, handsome with gorgeous eyes...) We were always together, and his personality and the way he held himself took up space. I don't do that. I don't light up a room like he does. I don't wow people with my talent. I don't turn heads. So I started to become accustomed to being the shadow and for him to be in the limelight. Doing a photoshoot where I was the only subject forced me to become more comfortable being alone. It forced me to feel myself in my own skin. It forced me to be okay with being the focus of attention. I had to shake off my insecurities and laugh about my signature awkwardness. I even tapped into my sexy side for a hot second--which I haven't felt in years. I had a bunch of people offer their photography skills for this challenge (thank you so much everyone!) My former 'boss' from my Seton Hill University Resident Assistant days and good friend, Dave, reached out, asking if I still needed a photographer. He explained to me that he had the idea of trying to capture different feelings that happen after a break-up. Things like frustration, anger, maybe some sadness...but then to shift to other things, like the weight off your shoulders that sometimes happens. Or learning how to feel comfortable and confident in your own skin. And learning who the hell the new "you"--the single "you"--even is after such a long time with someone else. I loved the idea, and so we ran with it. Dave made the whole experience fun and easy. He guided me through the process, always asked for my input, gave me freedom to experiment with how I was feeling, and asked me to tap into some deep shit. He didn't want this to just be any old photoshoot. He wanted it to be therapeutic for me. And it really was. We started with reminders of the relationship. I brought an old mug with a saying my ex-partner used to say to me all the time. I brought a copy of a photo and a note he put on my dorm room wall once. And I destroyed them. I was pretty hesitant to smash this mug at first. I didn't know if it would actually make me feel better, but I've never smashed anything before, so I wanted to try. I thought about what was behind that piece of ceramic in front of me. I thought about the betrayal and hurt. I thought about how he used to say that to me. I thought about the real reason he had bought the mug in the first place. I remembered the anger I felt when I saw my ex-partner and ex-friend together for the first time. And then I broke that mug. And I hit it again. And again. Tbh y'all, it felt pretty damn good. And I felt pretty accomplished afterwards. Burning the photo and note felt similarly. Dave asked me to think about how it felt to look at these mementos now versus before the breakup. He asked me to think about what it feels like moving forward and to leave this stuff in ashes behind me. If you look at the photos, you can see a progression of how I felt during each experience. (I thought about posting those photos here, but I've been careful to keep my ex-partner and ex-friend's identities semi-confidential for those who may be reading and don't know me personally, so I won't be posting those photos here.) Dave and I agreed that we didn't want to spend too much time on my ex-partner. We wanted to focus on moving forward. On the shaky confidence that is growing each day. On feeling good and happy and bubbly and beautiful. But I also wanted to feel like a total badass warrior queen. Dave delivered. Finding these abandoned, smashed up cars and storefront was weirdly perfect. It was empowering for me to put on a feminine lace dress, black boots, and jump on the hoods of those smashed up cars. To sit among the wreckage. To overcome this forgotten place. It felt symbolic to what has happened to me...the wreckage of my relationship. The abandonment of everything I thought my future would hold. The smashed vehicles of my partnership and friendship. I walked through it all, and I felt strong and powerful. I felt sexy and comfortable and confident. I was overcoming and rising above. It was the perfect symbolism for where I am in my healing process.
The other night, I went to Dave's house and he allowed me to look through all of the photos. He asked me, "How does it feel to look at these now?" It felt...weird. I felt vulnerable looking through all of the photos he took of me, critiquing each one, picking my favorites. But that soon gave way to me feeling really empowered and really proud of myself. I felt worthy of being in the limelight, and of owning not only my quirky and awkward beauty, but also my strength and where I am in my healing process. Thank you again, Dave, for this amazing experience. It has helped me grow, and the photos are beautiful and more than I could have imagined. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Rising above the wreckage, Farrah ♥
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Day Sixteen: Do something nice for someone else.I like to think that I tend to do something nice for others pretty regularly, both in my personal and professional life. My father instilled in me the importance of ensuring that others feel appreciated and to never take those around you for granted. He reminded me of the importance of telling people you love them, and to tell them often.
I've been at the lowest point in my life in the last few months. It has felt like absolute rock bottom down here. I know I haven't done my best at ensuring that the people around me feel loved. I have taken a lot from others during this--time, energy, love, support...and in large quantities or in many visits. And they haven't asked anything in return from me. They have sat with me for hours when I cry or yell or just can't be alone and have "shushed" me when I try to thank them or ask them what I can do for them. They have been selfless and I am forever grateful. Most of these generous people have been in my life for a long time: Nate, Sarah, Jesse, Steven, Courtney, Nikki, Ben... I can't thank y'all enough for all that you've done for me during what has been the most traumatic experience of my life thus far. I love you to pieces. Thank you for continuing to love and support me. Thank you for your unending friendship and patience. Thank you for continuing to show up for me and proving me wrong when I say "I can't trust anyone in my life anymore." You give me hope that I can learn to love and trust again. And then there are four ladies that haven't been in my life for very long: Caitlin, Erin, Abby, and Marisa. These ladies are my coworkers and therapists at PAAR. And I wanted to do something nice for them specifically. You see, these ladies came into my life on October 30--my first day of work at PAAR. My ex broke up with me on November 11. I think I mentioned this before, but at first, I didn't tell anyone in my life that my ex had left me. I didn't want to be pitied. I didn't want to explain everything a million times. But mostly, if I told the important people in my life that my ex had left me, it would make it real. So, a few days after it happened, I needed to tell someone, but I didn't want to tell my friends or family or Facebook. Instead, I blurted it out to these ladies. They barely knew my name or where my office was located. We had literally known one other for two weeks. But, it didn't matter. They listened and held space for me to grieve. They gave hugs and asked how I was doing regularly. They tricked me into getting out of the office (french fries, Erin?) or to go on walks (post office runs definitely need two people). They gave me coffee or smelly things or stress putty or fluffy llama pillows to ground me at work. Then my ex told me he was dating my close friend. I spiraled. Again, they stepped up. They got me out for dinner or lunch or drinks. They were awake at 3am when I was ruminating and thought I was going crazy. When I complained about not wanting to go to therapy (p.s. if you don't want to go that means you definitely need to go), they would encourage me to get my ass out the door. They sent me funny gifs. We went to events and chatted about books and I met their pets. We laughed a lot and they let me cry a lot. They provided the kind of insight and non-judgment that comes with having therapist friends. To most people, this sounds like a normal friendship. And you're right--it is. But it's additionally special to me because none of them had to do this for me. Not one of these beautiful ladies knew anything about me. We didn't have that foundation of similar interests and fun excursions and years of hanging out. But that didn't matter. All four of them embraced me in ways that I never imagined would happen. They did all the things that a lifelong bestie does--without any of that history. And they still haven't left. They never get annoyed when I talk about the breakup or how I'm feeling. They still want to hang out with me. They remind me of my strength and resiliency on a daily basis. Their wit and confidence and insight make my life richer. I had no idea that when I accepted my job at PAAR that I would find friendships like these. So, to honor these ladies and our new (but somehow crazy strong) friendships, I gifted them with what I like to call "grownup friendship bracelets." Each of them have the coordinates of where our tribe began: PAAR. At a time where I felt like I was floating and learning how I fit into all of my old friend groups, I also found a new group: one that has never known me with my ex. And there is something powerful in that. Thank you again to everyone who has been supporting me through my healing. I promise to be there for you if you ever need anything, and I promise to do better at showing you just how grateful I am for you. Always, Farrah ♥ Seeing My Ex-partner and Ex-friend Again.Yesterday, one of my best friends passed his dissertation defense and is now a doctor. (Congrats, again! I'm so excited for you and proud of all your accomplishments!) To celebrate, a bunch of his friends met up at a restaurant to get him well-drunk (the guy deserves it). There were about 20 of us there...including my ex-partner and his girlfriend, my ex-close friend.
I knew ahead of time that they would be there. A few people asked me why I would go if I knew they would be there or how this even happened. So, first, here's how it happened: 1. I read the Facebook invite. Saw that my ex had RSVP'd as "yes." 2. I started crying and shaking. 3. I realized just how important it was for me to be there for my best friend during one of the biggest accomplishments of his life. 4. I RSVP'd "yes." 5. I vomited. And here is why I decided to go, regardless of how many people (including myself) thought it was too soon (my partner broke up with me November 11 and became FB official with my friend January 1): I decided that my ex-partner and ex-friend would stop influencing my decisions to go to events that they would also be attending. (Of course, they aren't telling me not to go or trying to control my actions, but it is likely easier for them to go to events as a happy couple than it is for me to show up and see my exes happy together while I'm alone and still in pain.) Also, this is about my best friend, not about me and my shit. I want to be there for him, just like he has been there for me through so many happy and devastating times in my life. I was terrified, and I had no idea what was going to happen. So, I came up with a plan. I'm a social worker, so I understand the importance of preparing for a difficult meeting, and I wasn't going to kid myself here: I was putting myself in an emotionally charged situation and I needed to be ready for it. So, I safety planned for myself: 1. I would arrive with someone else (thanks, Jesse!). This way, I had support for the minute that I saw the two of them and would feel less vulnerable than standing there alone. 2. I would have a designated person to be my support for the night. Jesse was ready to leave if I needed to do so, walk outside with me if I needed fresh air, talk with me if I was upset, and just generally check in with me throughout the night. 3. I would limit my drinks to one per hour. I didn't want to cope with difficult feelings with alcohol, plus I didn't want to get drunk and have a meltdown or say something stupid and feel more shame/guilt the next day. 4. I wouldn't spend the night afterwards alone. If you've read some of my past blog posts, my empty bed and apartment can trigger some serious spirals for me. I didn't know what was going to happen, and I didn't think it was a good idea for me to go home and sit with only my thoughts for hours upon hours. So, I showed up. I had been shaking all day. I couldn't eat and I didn't sleep well the night before. But I showed up. And y'all, it went much better than I thought it would. The initial shock of seeing them when I first walked in was--difficult. I remember my ex nodding towards me, but I truly don't remember what I did in response. Probably froze and then walked away, to be completely honest. (Smooth, right?) Throughout the night, I caught glimpses of the both of them. At first, it shot panic through my body, but by the end of the night, I didn't feel much of anything. Everyone at the celebration was supportive. Everyone came over to talk to me and see how I was doing, tell me they thought it was awesome that I had worked up the courage to be there, and to catch up. And, honestly, it felt--normal? Is that the word? Of course, at the beginning of most conversations, the person asked how I was holding up, but after a few sentences, we had moved on to everyday, general life things: engagements, the baby at the party, auditions in the community, work problems, new board games, past inside jokes... It felt good to feel a part of a group again. I have been struggling with where I fit for the last few months. It's not that my friends were intentionally leaving me out or anything, but I have been attempting to figure out how I function and interact with others again as a single person. And, to be honest, our friend group has changed. It has shifted and evolved and it's no longer the same as it used to be. So trying to figure out where and how I fit in with the people I love and care about has been a new challenge for me, but I feel like I'm starting to figure that out. I'm learning who "my people" are (not that I'm asking anyone to choose sides or anything!) and that feels good. I feel less alone after last night's event. Don't get me wrong--it was still really, really hard to see him kiss her forehead. Or to see her looking up at him so happily. Or him touch her face. But I held my own last night. I stood confident in myself. I didn't crumble; instead, I held my head high. I'm so glad that I pushed myself to go. Not only for myself, but so I could celebrate my best friend's accomplishment. It meant a lot to me to be there. Healing is linear, and last night was a high point. Finally. Standing tall (with your unending support), Farrah ♥ Day Fifteen: Burn, Purge, Donate, Cleanse.Last night, I went through what are some of the last boxes my ex has sent me of ...stuff. I would say my stuff, but in reality, most of it was "our" stuff.
I've looked through at least a dozen boxes in the last two months. And while it sounds like there may be a few more on their way, I've gotten through the majority of it. Y'all. This part effing sucks. It feels like torture. I have sorted through the dishes we picked out together after our engagement. I've had to look through boxes of photos. Gifts that we made for each other. Reminders of trips together and weekends away and just every day life as a couple. You have to remember: we spent our entire adult life together. So everything that filled our apartment was bought together. Almost everything holds a memory. It took some time, but I have sorted everything into three categories: Save, Donate, and Burn. I'm saving things that don't trigger any immediate or overwhelming memories. Things like art supplies, furniture, kitchen knives, etc. Yes, if I think about it too much, I can remember when we bought them or a memory of us making Thanksgiving dinner, but it isn't an automatic emotional response. These things are also more practical items that I can replace over time if I need to, but are kind of needed to be a functioning adult. I'm donating things that have emotional attachments, but someone else could benefit from, rather than burning it all to a crisp. Some of these things are t-shirts of places we went or that I slept in, a few mugs, blankets/sheets/towels, books, etc. I no longer want these things around me, but I also feel like an asshole if I destroy them when I know there are other people who could use these things. I'm burning things that have a strong trigger response for me. I'm burning photos, our bucket list photo album, a sweatshirt, our "be in our wedding party" boxes, the painting with a personal note on the back, etc. Things that, if I see them one more time, I will explode into a million emotions. So, last night, I took the box of items to burn to a friends' house. I took a few shots of vodka, played some music, and started throwing things one by one on the fire. I chose what I wanted to burn in a very strategic order. The least emotionally attached objects were first. I didn't really feel much when I watched those items catch on fire. I felt--numb. Like it was just another task on my to-do list for the day. That continued until I got to the bottom of the box, to the three things I knew were the most emotionally charged: framed photos of us together, a "Come What May" painting he had done for me, and the stuffed bear that he had won from a claw machine on one of our first dates. I started at those things in the box for a good, long time. I could feel the anger rushing through me. How could he have thrown this all away? How could he do this to me--to us--after all these years? How could he go from kissing me and cuddling me in bed to not even wanting to hold my hand the very next day? What did I do to deserve this? Why is life so unfair? How did I draw the short stick of life--the one with numerous traumatic experiences, abusive relationships, a mother who abandoned me, and now a broken engagement and betrayed friendship? I grabbed the framed photographs of us smiling at one another and threw them on the fire. I watched the glass bubble. I watched our faces melt away. I quickly grabbed the painting, and tossed it on the flames. A friend asked, "How does it feel?" And I blurted out, "I'm going to cry." And I did. I cried and cried. I watched the words that used to mean so much to me fall away into nothing. I cried so hard that I couldn't talk. I stared into the light for a really, really long time before I picked up that stuffed bear. I thought about how happy I was when he gave it to me. I remembered our laughter as he won it from the claw machine. I remembered sleeping with it every night, especially on those nights when he wasn't there with me. I remembered moving it to every new dorm room, every new apartment or house... It was the reminder of how our friendship and relationship and partnership began. I thought about keeping it. And when that thought crossed my mind, I tossed it. I watched it disappear as I cried even more, surrounded be friends on both sides of me, supporting me as I watched the most symbolic item of the last eight years of my life fade away. That was not the response I expected. I thought I would feel empowered or that it would feel good to get rid of all of these reminders. But instead, I felt pain. I felt empty. I talked to my friend, Jesse, about it, and he told me this: "Yes, it can be easier to let go of some things when you pack it away in a box. You don't think about it, but there is a comfort in knowing that they are still there. That you can always go back and look at it. But by completely getting rid of these few things, you're going to cleanse your space. There is something...spiritual...about it. And while it may not feel like it right away, soon it will feel almost like you're free from it all. Nothing is holding you back and you're letting go." I'm thinking about that a lot today. Emerging from the flames, Farrah ♥ Day Fourteen: Create something. Start a new project.I love painting. If you know me, you know that any time someone asks, "If you could have any skill in the world, what would it be?" I always answer that I wish I could paint (sometimes I answer with the skill to be fluent in numerous languages, but I digress...) I have been wanting to do Painting with a Twist for a long time now (years, actually), but never had the opportunity. Or, a more honest answer is that I never made it a priority and no one was really interested in going with me. So when I asked my coworker friends (Abby, Erin, and Marisa from front to back in the photo) if they would be interested, I was excited when they loved the idea and signed up with me immediately. I didn't realize just how badly I needed that creative space. All of my art supplies are still in NYC, so I haven't had the opportunity to really create any kind of art since I moved to Pittsburgh in October. Sitting down with a paint brush and just going with the flow felt almost...freeing? I was in a judgement-free zone, with an instructor that would give me helpful feedback and next steps, singing to music and acting silly with my friends. I clearly remember the feeling of picking up the paint brush and starting the blue/green background of my painting. Mixing the paint, swirling it on the canvas, tapping to create texture...it felt good. I remember looking over at Erin and saying, "I had no idea just how badly I needed this." For two hours I focused on my creative process and enjoying that time with my friends. My ex and my crazy life situation (it has been a super rough two weeks, y'all) all kind of melted away and I was fully in the present. I was being mindful for the first time in a long time. Without knowing it, I focused on the feel of the brush in my hand, the sound of the music and the laughter of my ladies, the brightness of the colors in front of me... I was fully in the moment; I was breathing; I was enjoying myself; I was fully me. The last few weeks, I have not been present in my life. I have had a lot of crisis on top of trying to heal from this breakup and the loss of a friend. I know that my mind has been other places, including when I was in Iceland, and it has been very difficult for me to bring it back to the present. I am a dissociater, and usually I am pretty good at being aware of when my brain is pulling me into a dissociative state. However, recently, I haven't even noticed slipping into these states until a friend or coworker snaps me back to reality.
Creating this Happy Sloth painting was grounding for me. And I needed it more than I realized. I felt peace for the first time in a long time. Sometimes, going back to those old passions--the ones that you gave up for someone else or because you were too busy or because you thought you weren't good enough--is the thing that can remind you of your roots. It can remind you of who you are. Apparently, for me, I'm a smiling sloth with a flower crown. And I'm not mad about it. With hands and heart covered in paint, Farrah ♥ |
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