i thought being a grown up meant ice cream for dinner

but sometimes it means swallowing your soul.

me: i have a letter for you to review.  cara already reviewed it, but here it is.

her: it only has half an address on it.  are you going to put the rest of the address on it?

me:

her: it won’t get to him if you don’t have his title.

me: (thinking i had the wrong address)  oh.  i got that from his last correspondence.

her: but it’s handwritten!  where’s the letterhead.  give me the file.  no, not the whole file.  just the file.

me: (hands her what i think is the part of the file she wants)

her: here.  here’s the address.

it’s the same address i have.  but she put several lines of what office he was with and his title.

thanks for that.

I feel like an idiot. I hate feeling like an idiot. I know I’m not. Technically. But this self doubt is killing me. It doesn’t matter what I do, what guess I make, it’s wrong. This is totally unhealthy.

Is today “Second guess everything I do” Day? Because I didn’t get the memo! ~ Walter Bishop

totally grounded

i had a dream last night.  well.  i mean, whoa, stop the presses I HAD A DREAM LAST NIGHT.

uh.  what was i saying?  dream.  yes.  that.

i was living with my boyfriend (of which, i don’t have at the moment).  our bedroom was a mess (when is mine not?) full of clothes, unmade bed, the usual.  he was in the shower.  we had plans to meet people?  go to dinner?  i don’t know.  i was putting clothes away and realized what time it was.  i put the clothes i was wearing (was it morning?  afternoon?) in the hamper.  what i’m saying is i was na.ked.  which is what people do before they get in the shower.

there was a knock on our bedroom door.  we had roommates?  the neighbor?  and then the door opened.  neighbor.  i hid behind the bathroom door and the neighbor gestured to people in the hallway.  he said, “here she is,” to them, and they walked toward the door.

it was ginger.  followed by my dad and then my mom.

i froze.  my parents?  OHMYGOD.  i was naked and going into the bathroom!  with a man who was also naked!  THEY’LL KNOW I SAW A NAKED MAN!  they couldn’t come in.  ohmygod.

they asked to come in.  they asked what i was doing.  not in the “HEY, WE’VE BEEN GONE FOR SO LONG, HOW ARE YOU?” kind of way.  in the way that, hey, maybe we were meeting them for dinner and what the hay is taking so long.

i stalled them.  steam was curling around the door like a traitor whispering my secret.  “i’ll be out in a minute.”  and closed the door behind me.

boyfriend got out of the shower.  i whispered over the running water, “my parents are here!”  “i thought they were dead,” he said.  “yeah, me too,” i replied lamely.  “but they’re here now and they don’t know about–”

my dad walked in.  boyfriend had just pulled on a pair of boxers.  i was hiding behind some cabinets.  praying my dad wouldn’t see me in there and know that i had seen a grown man naked.

he shook my boyfriend’s hand and said, “you really should have put some pants on to meet us.”  i stood frozen, my arms covering my boobs, hoping my dad wouldn’t turn around.

they made small talk.  something about dinner.  my dad turned to me and said something about boyfriend being well endowed.  i felt my face rise in color.  oh god, let it be over soon.

before he left the bathroom, my dad said “he’s very good looking.”  i smiled and said “i know.”

resigned

I dropped my heart today. It spilled on the doormat as I walked in. It rubbed off on you when we hugged. There’s a smudge on your dining room table where I plopped my purse. Smears of it are in the pages of the paddling book I pretended to read.

You might find parts of my heart dribbled on the ratty tennis ball I threw with your puppy. I’m sure your kitten has bits of it in her paws from crawling up my chest. And curled in her teeth and whiskers from wrapping herself in my hair.

It spilled on the floor as I started to weep. It dribbled over my hand as I tried to muffle my growing sobs.

It bounced off your walls as I begged for answers. It slid down the floor as it met silence.

It finally fell in a thousand tiny bits as my decision was forced on me. Final. I raised my hand and whispered my decision. My heart flowed out of my mouth. It splashed on my feet and to the floor.

I gathered the tiny shards left over and clutched them to my chest. I gathered my flip flops and hugged them to me, protecting my few and fragile bits.

I stumbled over feet and between furniture. Flailing for safety. Smearing my heart on your couch and coffee table.

I saw the pain in your eyes. Red. Full. You asked if I was sure. I murmured something like thank you and “I’m done.”

Pieces slipped out of my arms and dropped back to the table. I rustled through my bag as conversations continued.

You reached for me as I left. A pat on the back? A slipped grab of my arm. I went back to you and we embraced. My heart smeared on your shoulder and down your chest.

I walked. Three or five steps. Smearing my heart across your floor, on the doorknob, hearing the murmur of conversation continue and knowing no one was chasing after me to bring me back; to convince me otherwise.

The screen door slipped closed behind me. My heart was trapped between the door and my chest.

I pulled it along behind me, convinced i wouldn’t go one step back and it would eventually return to where it belonged. I turned and tugged it gently toward me. It thudded softly and the screen door scraped it as it closed fully. I flung it dirty and bruised through the air and over my shoulder.

It hurt to breathe with my shards of heart scattered recently. Fully and completely. Without question. Painfully. But I know no other way.

I left pieces of my heart with you. And I trust you with them.

I know you will cherish and protect these bits of my heart. I leave them with you knowing I’ll see you soon and the pieces will be bigger, fuller, brighter from having been with you.

I see these tiny pieces going home with you. Tucked away in a pocket with tear stained tissues, smeared on your hands and clothes as you comforted me and embraced me.

I know some of you do not understand how love and commitment work. I leave the pieces for you to examine and learn from. Dissect them. Put them under a microscope. Leave them on a shelf to gather dust. Someone will see them and learn. And know.

Pieces of my shattered heart have found their way home with you, smeared on the bottom of your shoes. Wrapped in whispered conversations.

You’ll wonder where some thoughts or decisions might come from; they won’t be something you would have normally thought of.

Pieces of my shattered heart were smeared on your own and took root.

You’ll have learned to love. And it will have been my shattered fault.

fierce

i see you in my dreams.  your face, i hear your words, syrupy and thick.

i argue with you.  you’re wrong.

you smirk.  in that way.  your words curve around the room.  their zombie faces register no feelings.

we’re in the garage where i told everyone i was leaving.

i stand firm, tall.  one foot in front of the other, as though i will pounce; or shoulder length apart.  i feel my feet on the ground.  rooted.  my legs sometimes burn with anger.

my hands are sometimes hardened into fists.  sometimes they’re palms open, facing you, pushing your energy back.  not allowing you.

you are not allowed.

in every dream you’re telling me i’m wrong wrong wrong.

in every dream, i know i’m right.  i tell you  no.  firmly.

i wake up out of breath.  my body still tense from the stand off.  sometimes my eyes are wet from angry tears.

i don’t wake up angry at you.  i wake up proud of myself.  sometimes i whisper (voice raspy from sleep)

fuck you.

and i smile in the dark.