They Say You're Supposed To Feel.

Feel they say, allow yourself to feel.
But how do you do that when it's as though that feeling will take you whole?
When the thoughts of him come and your body tells you to run.
When you forget how to breathe and and instead of gasping for air you grasp for him.
For his familiarity.
For his love.
For what you thought was real and true and was you.
When you lose composure and control of what comes out of you and what comes of you.
And the memories fly at you faster than you can handle.
Each one tearing at your heart.
Twisting it tighter, squeezing the life out of you.
The ones where you were so new and exciting to each other.
Where he made you dinner in his brother's apartment.
And showed you the one shelf he got in the fridge.
And you saw his family's pictures and wondered if you would ever meet them.
If they knew how special this person was to you.
Where hugs were awkward because you didn't know how you fit together yet.
When you can't believe that just last week you were in his arms casually planning your weekend.
Where his body is as familiar as your bed, as comforting.
When you're so exhausted you take naps at 7:30 at night.
And when you wake up you don't see the point in getting up.
And you go through this, the motions, the feelings that you're supposed to feel and you hit them as hard as they hit you because there's nothing that can hide you from them when they are this painful. This real. There is no avoiding the suffocating, heart wrenching emotion that comes with losing your best friend and with it years of your life.
Those seconds you took for granted.
Those memories flood you and consume you until you can't remember why you broke up in the first place because those memories seem more real than the reality that you are without the person that was your reality for so long.
And as you catch your breath and your eyes run out of tears and you realize your cat has been staring at you for the whole ordeal.
You realize that you allowed yourself to feel.

The Breakup Post

I am somehow full while feeling completely empty.
My stomach will not tolerate food.
But there's a ravenous hunger in my heart.
The emotional indecisiveness is exhausting.
I feel like a contradiction.
I am frozen while I cannot stop moving.
I can't speak about what happened out of respect for my ex.
But nothing feels more natural than to write.
I feel stuffed up, like there's so much in me that when I open up to this blank screen it overtakes me.
Write about your feelings, get them out, figure them out, move on.
Do what you do Kris.
Writing used to come to easily to me, I used to feel. I used to have no fear about what you thought. What I wrote. Treatment gave me this confidence that the real world has suffocated. Having to hide what's really happening, wanting to hide what's really happening. Shame overtaking my better judgement--no I can't tell them that. No you can handle it yourself. But every time I do open up every time I tell you guys I don't know what the fuck I'm doing you open your hearts to me. And like I said my heart is empty right now.
Years of my life vanished in instants.
What mattered most to me doesn't exist anymore.
And what am i left with?
The answer is obviously me.
But I don't know who the fuck that is, I don't know what she's doing. What she's capable of. What she wants.
There are moments of excitement, I am free. This is meant to happen. This will turn out alright.
And then that shaky confidence is ripped out from under me when I am reminded of him.
The night is the worst.
My empty apartment, even though I've spent countless nights alone here, now reminds me of the hole in my life. I wake up anxious and I go to bed with a sick stomach.
Even if this was meant to be and this is right and this will make me better in the long run--it's not the long run it's the now. And the now hurts. The now lost her best friend and with it the confidence, the security, the safety of being someone's someone. Of mattering. Of being loved.
And yes I know love yourself before you love others.
But that doesn't give me peace.
It scares the shit out of me.

I am just me and right now me doesn't feel whole.

What It Feels Like

As the anger dissipates the pain takes hold.
The tears swell and my throat tightens. 
I don't want to feel this way anymore. 
I'm sick of feeling this way.
I'm sick of thinking about you.
The only thing that seems to stop the thought of you is you. 
My strength, my determination, my pride flows out of my body with the tears.
I want comfort. I want you.
The thought of laying safe in your arms, overrules all logic. 
I can feel your body next to mine.
I know it. Every curve, muscle and scar.
I was once safe, I was once yours. 
The thought is too much.
My body braces as though ready to run.
I want to run to you.
Release the emotion in movement.
I'm frozen as my heart drops and reality sets in.
I can't.
There is no you anymore.

It's impossible to move forward when you can't stop looking back. 

I'm Enough.

Hollow.
Chills.
Bend over to protect myself.
Protect what.
Actual heart ache.
Every movement slower.
Breath shallow.
Trying to not make a wrong move.
No energy anyway.
Like ice on a bare chest.
Alive.
Anxiety.
Heart race.
Can't breathe.
I don't want to.
Numb the feeling.
Please just let me be.
Exhaustion.

I'm trying things again with my boyfriend but there's a lot of hurt.
I keep trying to find signs that say what I should do.
Actually what he will do.
I hate that my existence weighs on his every word.
Will I be happy that day or sad or mean to people.
Will I have energy to workout ? To be sarcastic? To be myself (who only seems to come out when he and I are ok)?

I can't seem to shake the hollow, alone, empty feeling that is left in me without him here.
He makes me whole.
And that's romantic and all that but that's a real fucking problem.

I'm working towards values and appreciating myself everyday and writing down what I like, to try and find me inside of me but it's lonely in here.
A dark, empty space, never ending.

I want to feel ok. I want my comfort back. I want what we had. Easy. Trust. Love.
It's gone and I'm left with pathetic memories and remember whens.
I'm holding all the pieces in my hands and forcing, coaxing, praying them together.
It doesn't seem to want to fit.

I can't give up.
I don't want to give up.
It can't be the end just like that.
With just a mistake--but it's not a mistake it is real and it fucking happened and shit changed.

I feel so demoralized and helpless.

I cannot do anything but keep working on myself and to fill this hollow space myself. And even as I type that I don't want to accept it and that's ok in this space I am not able to. And hope he comes back to me. And that is so scary to let go like that.

I wish I could just wake up out of this.
But that sounds like a bunch of bull shit.
Wishing never did anything for me.
I've got to do some serious work.
And I am doing that.
I know I'm capable of it.
After all the shit I've been through.
Come on now girl.
This feeling will pass, I'm feeling stronger with each word.
The only person who can get me through this is me.
And I'm enough.

Snotty Yoga.

I am so tired so I may use the wrong there and half of you honestly probably wouldn't notice but that's my disclaimer.

I write best when I'm in the shit so I want to get this out now.
In this case 'the shit' means my emotions.
Which are not shit mind you.

Listening to Florence The Machine - Shake It Out which I'm sure all of you know but play it if you want the full effect.

So I'm going through a major--I don't even know what you'd call it--of myself. I'm looking at me. The way I live, the choices I make, how I act, my values and I'm trying to figure which way is up and left from right all while going through the biggest breakup I've ever had. And I'm unemployed. I'm just a mess--or am I where I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be?

I pulled out one of my seemingly hundreds of journals after pissing off a friend and just wrote. Free flowing just my paper and my pen but mostly I just like to think of it being just me.

"I feel sad. The fear of returning to who I was is real. The anxiety works against me. It's all so overwhelming. All of this does. This life is too much. It's always been too much. No wonder I numb. No wonder I get confused and mixed up and frustrated. I'm working so hard to figure me out that I'm losing myself.

And I'm tired and lonely and listening to sad fucking music (this was before Florence came on). All of this, this life is the hardest thing. Fighting against myself. I feel a fleeting feeling. I'm losing the calm I've had these past days. The sad slow calm. Desperate. I need it back. Don't leave. I'll do anything. Force. Will. Think. Do. Come back. Peace. I want peace. I see myself doing and thinking and anxious and I feel like if I could do different I would This is the spiral. I'm spiraling. The hopeless. The confusion.

But if I want something different I have to do something different.

Enter Florence.

I'm just not sure what that is. Trying to remember coping skills. Something to numb in a healthy way.

No feel. Feel. Just feel it.

*Pause for yoga attempt while crying so much snot to head* And I feel it I feel the pain and the sadness and the loneliness and it doesn't kill me. And suddenly I can breathe again. And each movement gets easier and the music somehow gets clearer. And my heart gets lighter.

I finish and I write...

This peace I'm constantly seeking isn't not having emotions it's having peace with having emotions.

And then I get so excited and want to tell you guys and I do.

Gratitude list:

1. I ate the 'scary' sandwich at the M's game
2. I just fucking did that shit that I just did.
3. I did so much laundry today
4. I am not quitting.
5. Watching my impulsiveness
6. My friends. Oh my goodness they are so amazing.

Getting Over You.

Last night I broke down around midnight asking my very recent ex to talk to me tomorrow. Our first conversation since I told him everything.

He said he would.

I realized with a breathtaking flutter of my heart that if he had wanted to talk to me earlier, if he wanted me back he would have simply contacted me. And that yes this is actually over.

I started to gasp for air. I couldn't breathe. I felt as though I couldn't physically take this reality.

My mind miraculously—no give myself credit—because of my time in recovery my mind went back to my earliest treatment days. To the I am a tree grounding technique. 

I pictured myself at Paradiso (a music festival here in the Pacific Northwest—my happy place).

My roots growing into the ground.

The sun on my face.

My arms wide.

Absorbing the energy.

Breathing freely.

And that helped put me to sleep.

This morning I wrote this while listening to Beat Organ (Original Mix) by 16 Bit Lolitas.

This is the first morning I actually wanted to wake up.

“I am a tree.

My roots need soft soil with nutrients to grow.

I cannot force my roots to grow in a hard, toxic, unhealthy environment or where they are not wanted.

There can be no conflicting energies deep down in my roots.

They are made up of my values: peace, love, unity and respect. 

I pull from Mother Earth to strengthen my roots and give me guidance.
My trunk is supported by my friends and family.

They help keep me stable when the weather comes down hard and appreciate the sunlight.

They are my forever supporters.

Because of my values and my support system I am able to reach tall and wide and blossom.

My branches are extensions of my learnings, my failures and my triumphs.

They open my heart wide for love and acceptance.

They create a beauty all their own.

I am a tree.”

How PLUR Is Helping Me Find Me

I do not think I have ever hurt this much.
I have never been this far in recovery either.
I am determined to not numb out with food or booze or drugs or hurting myself.

I had him and I lost him.

I can barely breathe it hurts so badly.

My life changed in an instant.

It is hard to explain without re traumatizing myself.

I am so incredibly tired. Everything hurts. I wake up and my heart drops into my stomach. I'm cold. I shake. I reach out for him and he's not there. He will never be there again. I clutch the stuffed animal he gave me telling him how much I miss him and how sorry I am. I can barely get the tears out.I squeeze it harder trying to feel something other than this. Do I let go? Do I fight?

I let alcohol and my lack of self respect take away the love of my life.

In the moment I had no idea what would happen. I thought I was being brave and going out of my comfort zone. Being social and that these men were actually interested in ME. I made it clear I had a boyfriend. I made it clear I would go home after one drink. I made it clear I did not want to take those shots. It did not matter. And now it does not matter.

I am tempted to feel as though I am back to where I was with men. Feeling they will leave me when it is hard. That they cannot be trusted. I wince when they touch me. When they look at me. Or then there is a rage that comes out when I am called at. All of that work I did. All of the recovery. Gone in a night. In a night I do not remember. A night I did not consent to.

But that is not true. My years of work from my first  incident to what occurred most recently is not gone. In fact if I keep working the way I have my recovery can be more reinforced. I am sacred, I am beautiful and I am me. I am not for you to do with what you please. And I can no longer look for my joy and my confidence and my self worth from you.

From you or him or them or likes or ass grabs and phone numbers and compliments. From jobs and raises and money. From clothing and area codes and cars.

Because I am finding out, from the hardest way possible that when you do not have any income, when you do not have a job and when you do not have a significant other that what you are left with is you.

And right now being left with just me is lonely. It's sad. It's empty. There is nothing to me it seems.

But this self destructive thinking will only get me back to wanting attention anywhere I can get it. And so I have been working on my values.

And I have gotten them from the EDM community.

Peace
Love
Unity
Respect

And I define them slightly differently for myself depending on what I'm working on that day. I've been writing them in a journal in the morning, writing out goals and checking in with them at night.

Peace in my mind and with others. I am not a bad person for what happened or mistakes I made. And I repeat that over and over again. And not all people are out to get me or will judge me for what I have done.

Love stands for acts and feelings of goodwill towards myself and others. Love for and from my friends right now especially during this time.

Unity with food and my body.

Respect means focusing on showing regard for the feelings of others through their actions and inaction. While also of course having respect for myself and my environment. Also in his wishes to leave him alone.

And it's scary to look at myself and I really just do not want to. I have not yet had the guts to say what I do like about myself because I feel after what happened that I am not deserving of praise or anything good. But my friends have been here every hour of every day bringing me up, and that must mean I'm worth something. I'm just not sure what that is yet.

Story Book Ending My Ass

I don't think there is such thing as a "Mister Right." At least for me. There seems to be a right now, right at the time ... dude and then he leaves ... gets uninterested or I do.

"People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.

When you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do."

I agree with the first part but the second just pissed me right off. When you figure it out. OH OK. Let me just have all the answers. That's where He comes in. And in hindsight you understand how things work but in the moment I feel lost, stupid and stumble. Like grasping in the dark, scared of what I will touch but even more scared to not try to find the light.

I don't understand why guys do what they do. One second they are all over you texting, dates, calling you saying stupid things that make me blush and smile. Then a week later I'm second guessing myself. Why did he stop talking to me? What did I do? It's so fucking annoying. I wish I didn't care. And I've learned to not cater my actions or happiness around them. I just don't even get my hopes up anymore, as much as I can, I'm only human…or only a chick. I act like I don't care and tell myself that I'm in a relationship with myself. I am selfish. I do what I want when I want and I like it. Which is true. I'm too crazy to have anyone in my life but sometimes I just want to cuddle damnit. I want someone to tell me I'm beautiful and believe them. I'm not sure if it's for the reassurance or just that I've got a lot of love to give and want to make someone feel special.

So that brings me back to my intro. There are guys that make me feel that way atm, that month or two, and then they're gone. They come when I'm not looking and leave when I'm not expecting it. After seeing my parent's marriage and the way guys treat my friends sometimes, I'm just over the mind games they play or shoot that I play on myself.

Living happily ever after sounds lovely. Having someone that was meant for you and that you can't live without. I thought I had that but look at me I'm still alive and kickin' without him. So I was wrong, or had him for that 'season' if you will. I change so much that there's no way some dude can keep up with me, nor do I want to slow down / change for someone else.

And I'm ok with this. But I just had to write it out.

Let me know what you think. Fairy tales are only produced by Disney?

Kris.