Leaving seems to be the hardest word

Passengers aboard flight 032909, this is your pondering captain speaking. Having finally loaded up the very last of my belongings (non-cumbersome furniture at least) from the house, I am left with a frenzy of emotions washing over me like high tide. The ex and I shared some kind parting words, although both of us with eyes swimming in tears, mine actually creating a splash zone on my face as I eventually crumpled Indian style on the floor of our bedroom. Our banter, though strained and uber-emotional, was tender and stayed true to the spirit of us, although now broken, as in between our apologies and "we'll meet up sporadically for lunch or dinner," was also small jabs at exactly why all fell down, me blaming his ocd's and my genetic inclination to some level of disorder and mess, and him pinning some of it on my penchant for living it up after dark and us not being able to maintain a good Christian marriage. Because as I have been told, the family that prays together, stays together, and as he and I were the family in which one person plays while the other sits around in fleece and watches Roseanne, well, the equation doesn't quite add up. But it was his last sentence to me before he left the casa that is what I will be thinking of into the night and each day into my futuro, "Han, until one of us re-marries, there will always be a chance that we can get this right again." On the Vegas line, I think our odds of reconciliation are significantly low to none, but it's nice to hope just a little bit regardless. I do love him after all, and as it turns out, I always will. The first book of our lives together is finished, and starting today, a second book begun. And despite being quite the writer, I have no idea how this tale is going to pan out, as I am only half the authorship of the saga. I just pray that this book contains characters who are striving to be ever better, ever stronger, ever more than anything, friends. I hope as well that the characters cry less, laugh more, and either learn to treat one another as equals and with respect, or find another on down the road to whom they will be the most significant other that they are able, and love without abandon because of the lessons learned in book numero uno.

 

Life is so uncertain, so unpredictable, but it is in its unexpected twists and turns, love and losses, that I see the truest beauty that it has to offer. Each day brings the promise of something finally clicking, that as long as you open your eyes with each passing day, are able to draw breaths, that things, regardless of the despair of the moment, the situations at hand, can turn around. And even if this second book finds itself telling the story of two people who move on, see no more of one another, create memories and plus-ones with others, then I have to believe that the niche he will always have in my heart is a place that he will forever inhabit, and that I will one day come to terms with that simple hold he has on me, and in the moments that he comes to mind, I won't feel haunted, but instead blessed, to have known him, to have grown from him, to have loved him.

 

Xoxo to all, and to all a good nite.

Nobody said it’d be easy

Passengers aboard flight 032809, this is your captain speaking. Despite twelve or so vaguely productive, vaguely calm, even vaguely "maybe I'm actually getting down the road toward the big picture" days, I find myself sitting here, wet cheeks, gray hoodie on with its sleeves covered in patches of fluid, most of them having come from my nose. For once, my breakdown tonite was not spurred into existence by alcohol, or made worse by it, but simply involved too emotional run-in's between the ex and I and then the most betraying fight of them all, between mi hermana y yo. I don't even have an ounce of the strength necessary to rehash the stories of this noche or what they, verbatim, involved, as one, I am certain nothing short of a long run is going to even begin to shake this absolute dismal spell I have fallen under, and secondly, despite my blatant honesty about the que paso'ings of most things in my life, where family is concerned, I'm tight-lipped. There still are, and always will be, some sacred aspects of my life, and even if I'm so irritated with kid sib that I cannot see straight and feel like pulling her down from the spoiled little throne I and her brother have placed her upon, that's all that will ever be said, as the details are here to haunt me and me alone. And honestly, as we all know, things always seem way worse at the time of impact than they do hours later, or after a night of dormir, and me going on a rant right now about two people whom I love more than I do myself, even though I know I would be justified in doing so, would be nothing more than self-destructing, pulling my own pin out of the grenade that I am right now. And what's even more, I am facing a taxing dia this Saturday upon us, chalk full of a trip to Indy (tal vez), work until close, and then a meet-up with one of mis mejores amigas, Lo, who is descending her beautiful, energetic, Mexicana self on Terre Haute anoche. I can only hope to keep up. So, as one might deduce from all of this, it is perhaps in my best interest to curl up into a fetal ball under my down comforter and Ralph Lauren throw and close my swollen ojos and sleep, at least for a bit, and hope that the nightmares of this evening are over, and that in respite I can find the sweet dreams that tonight's reality could not offer me. And yet, I have not lost the faith through the altercations of today, if anything, they have served as reminders that I should never be complacent, even after strings of success, as without the bitter, the pungent, the tear-inducing, one would never know the sweet, the savory, the shit-eating grin that life has to offer. But no matter, I'm hurt. From him, I expected the bullshit, we had three years of it on and off, and especially now as it all falls down, no surprise. But from her, nunca, it was like Benedict Sister shit.

 

But who am I to talk? If I had a tear for every tiempo I've let someone important down in my life, if only for a split second, because of a misunderstanding, or from a well-thought out or thoughtless fuck-up, I would have enough saltwater to fill up a lake and drown myself in it. And I'm 25 and still occasionally making the kinds of decisions that cause others pain, not quince anos like she is. She's just a child, what the hell is my excuse?

 

And now, as I feel like the 60-40 is going to be helpful to me in the fact that I'll have to think of six positive things in my life ahorita, bombs away…

1. Good- I have 6 of the 8 march madness teams left on my bracket, and by a small miracle, can still have a correct final 4, championship game, and champion. Woo hoo MSU Spartans, my sleeper pick for the final cuatro.
   
2. Bad- It might not even matter if I have all the rest of those games correct because the first few rounds of my bracket look like bombs over Baghdad. Wrong sleeper picks here, BOOM!!! Too much faith in other teams there, BOOM!!!
   
3. Good- I am going to Indy in about six hours to watch a couple IHSAA boy's high school basketball state championship games and even though I have no real personal ties to any of the teams, I am such a pure hoops fan at heart, that it won't matter, and I'll still be mesmerized the entire time and fall in love with the game all over again.
   
4. Good- Actually, not going to lie, it's the ridiculous amount of shopping that I'm going to do tomorrow that is what has my little corazon all aflutter, not just hoop dreams. Hip-hop-hooray for the northside of 'Nap and all it has to offer my wallet.
   
5. Bad- Once again, bills are going to be put on the back burner for high end makeup and form-fitting jeans. Priorities? Yeah, that's a day-to-day struggle.
   
6. Bad- I have a tension headache starting to mount on me like someone has a vice grip on the back of my cabeza. I would liken it to the way it seems like to me that it feels when a mother cat carries her kittens by their necks, but then again, they don't ever really complain, so it can't hurt that bad, and this, has got me limp.
   
7. Good- Everything always seems a little bit better after some sleep right? Sleep dulls a person's pain receptors right?
   
8. Bad- Who am I kidding? Until mini-me and I mend things, and after tonite, it could honestly be awhile, I will inwardly be just a bit dead.
   
9. Good- My crush who is still outta the states for about another 16 dias, called me outta nowhere a couple noches ago. Really, really, really caught me off guard.
   
10. Good- Life goes on. And even when you're tapped out in death, life goes on. It's reassuring if you ask me.
    

Xoxo to all, and to all a better night than mine.

And I’m feeling gooooood…

Passengers aboard flight 032409, this is your captain speaking. I have started this week off on the relatively right foot, making it to class, running the past couple days, and banking at work tonite, Ka-ching! I continue to pass through each day with a renewed sense of hope and drive and calm, and I love it. Don't get me wrong, I'm so far from all together and right that it's not even graciosa, but cada noche I put my head on a pillow and fall asleep because I am thoroughly cashed out from the day's proceedings, and each morning I wake up, having actually taken my contacts out, my hair not reeking of bar smoke, and my liver not having come up out of my throat. Es una vida hermosa.

I've crashed and burned the past couple days on the whole, "I'm going to cut out bad carbs" thing. Mama made spaghetti on Lunes, and turns out, if I'm at work, I'm going to eat rice. It's that simple—it's right in my face, I get hungry, and turns out my half Asian side makes me genetically inclined to like the little guys. Oh, and I'm four chapters into the book of Matthew. I know, not much, especially from a fast reader such as myself, but even though the Bible trumps well, every literary work EVER, I'm only being graded on the short term on my knowledge of obscure brit lit and audio production techniques. But on the long-term grading scale, I should probably dig in further into God's written word, as it's the only thing I've ever read that has never changed, and has impacted me at the most unexpected and desperate tiempos, makes me feel something. Because of my constant sewing of wild oats, only those close or somewhat familiar with mi vida know that I'm a pastor's daughter, and the older I get, the more I despise the "well you know what they say about pastor's kids" line, because honestly, I don't act out or against what I've been taught and at the core I believe because my dad kept me under some lock and key, but more because I'm just a bit loca, spontaneous, and have an addictive personality. But enough about me fighting my God-shaped void all the live long day…

Things are looking up, up, up. I have six weeks of this semester left (even though I'm going to take summer classes), miles to go (but 18 under my feet), friends near (and those who are far but dear to me and feel likewise actually keep in touch), a familia that is supportive (but still keeps me on my toes, pushes me to my limits), and God in my heart (although sometimes tucked away so far that nobody knows it but me). I hate sometimes that I have to keep being burned to the ground, with a great deal of my trials by fire being of my own arsonist tendencies, to try and rise from my ashes yet again and resculpt myself into some semblance of contentedness and fulfillment of my dreams, but maybe this is my destiny. As a child or even a high school senior, I would have said at vente cinco anos that I would be married, wrapping up med school for orthopedic surgery, have a child, and be zipping around in a high line import. And instead, at 25, I am divorced, without little ones, living at home, still working toward a degree, and driving my gramma's car around that has a fiercely shattered windshield that looks like a freaky spiderweb, and yet, here I stand. Unafraid of failure, because turns out, been there, done that. Full of hope for success, because despite my slow-jacking through the educational system, I've always known who I am deep down and of what I'm capable, as greatness becomes me. Heart broken in several places, and yet not jaded, because I will always be a hopeless romantic, capable of giving another my best, and having them love me, unconditionally, for my ups as well as my downs, for the things that I believe to be flaws, and the things they find only to be indicative of me and my unique nature. Although just an exoskeleton of who I can and will be, one day I will look back on all of this, and appreciate the opportunities, the accomplishments more, not bend under pressure like those around me that I know who have lived silver-spooned lives, have yet to be tested. I am me now.

And me now, is tired, has a test to study for and a paper to write. So, as is standard…

Xoxo to all, and to all a good night.

one week deep

Passengers aboard flight 032209, this is el capitan speaking. I am one week deep into my bMp and all things considered, it was a decently productive outing. Out of the five goals I outlined earlier, I adhered to them quite well, in attending church esta noche, running five days for a total of 13 miles, only missing dos clases on Monday morning after I'd been up all night last Sunday puking, and eating pretty decently. I did only go out once this week as well, but drank twice, and although not extremely heavily on those two days, definitely more than I had anticipated. So, with that said, I am upping the ante this week on the bettering and healing of Han, and adding increased mileage, at least tres 2-a-dia workouts, the subtraction of any white carbs (whole grains are fine), and reading my Biblia at least a chapter each day. It was amazing what a simple week of slight changes in my lifestyle made, as the night that I went out, I heard more positive compliments than I have in quite a while (and no, by compliments, I don't mean drunks going "Hey you, nice legs, wanna fuck?") Friends of mine just stated that I seemed better, looked better, was starting to radiate something positive from inside again. Those things were all I needed to hear to keep staying this course and even take it to increased levels. And aside from this, even though an it was an obviously gut-and-heart-wrenching occurrence, beginning to move my things from my former space was as therapeutic as any number of organic apples, feet of pavement pounded, or lectures actually listened to. I'm going to miss him...I already do...but no matter if he's ever to be with me again in the future, or assume a completely different or non-existent role one day...this...this, is right. Tear invoking? check. Doubting the divorce constantly? check. Finding myself and revolutionizing me through the pain? check. And drumroll por favor, the sesenta/cuarenta...oooo, that rhymes, me gusta mucho.

1. Good- My skin, which has been que paso'ing between hell and high water the past six months actually started to calm down this week. I don't know if it was the "green" foods I was occasionally consuming, or the workouts, or the fact that I was making decisions every day that didn't make me feel like a complete blob and waste of space, but breakouts were minimal, and for that, gracias skin Gods.
2. Good- Although I began to gut the home that Red and I had created together over the past tres anos this week, he and I continue to remain as committed to one another as we are emotionally able to through the stranglehold of grief and divorce, and even did dinner today with kid sis, having baby bro as our server. Muy interesante.
3. Bad- One of bro's best friends, Bern, after joining us toward the end of dinner, said to me after the ex departed, "You know there's still love there right?," which only serves to reiterate a notion that I both embrace and fight with each passing day-- that of the fact that I screwed up my life in divorcing him, and that one of the better parts of me is eventually going to be gone.
4. Good- I have been watching March Madness games all weekend. For any real sports fan who tears up when the seniors on losing teams start crying, or gets goosebumps, or screams really insanely when teams they don't even care about hit clutch game-winners, enough said.
5. Bad- My bracket, which thank God I only paid ten dolares to be in one pool, is royally fucked, or at least I feel like it is. Just about every upset I thought would go down, didn't, and well, I guess I'm not surprised. My extensive sports knowledge causes me to over analyze lineups and match ups and conferences and statistics every damn year, and therefore, I don't just pick teams based on initial gut reactions and a bit of luck like I should.
6. Good- My bracket was a sea of "x's" last year at the sweet 16 mark and I still went on to win both pools I was in because I had the proper final four, championship game, and overall winner. So, who freaking knows.
7. Bad- I have another ridiculously busy week looming over me and I'm certain I'll be falling asleep in some of my classes and in bed before 1 a.M. most evenings this semana.
8. Good- I'll be so busy drinking won't even be an option, and honestly, solid hours of sleep never did anything but help a person. And I'm talking about solid, sober sleep here, not the hungover 12 plus hours varietal that I used to typically subject myself to.
9. Bad- I have a paper to write before my 9 A.m. class.
10. Good- Turns out, I'm sort of a badass little paper-cranker-outer when I actually sit down to do so. Just ask well, anybody I know that's graduated or is in the process of doing so. I would have graduated years ago with 3 or more degrees if I could net the ones I've helped make happen. But hey, I love you guys.

xoxo to all, and to all, a great nite.

three years in boxes

passengers aboard flight 032109, this is your captain speaking. I just completed a 2 miler with baby sibster (and yes, it's 1:30 a.M.), but I am on my dia cinco of the bMp and that's just what I had to do. I am as tired as ever, and as there is no rest for the blessed, or so I've been told, today will be just as long, as I will go be a support system around noon to one of my bests (Diggy) as she lays her gramma to rest, work until people stop wanting sushi after, and then hit the treadmill or road again despues. And then on Sunday, still no sleeping in, because I've got my first broadcasting gig for state's softball squad and church and a paper to write. Sigh, elongated sigh. But enough about the trivial, mundane shit in my vida, and on the raw, the stuff that keeps you reading, keeps you interested and/or worried about me.

Yesterday was one of the hardest, most emotionally draining days I have ever endured. Although Gram's passing about a month ago was like slamming into a brick wall, I felt much of the same ayer, as packing my things up out of my former home with the ex felt like a death in and of itself. Right alongside books and clothes and knick-knacks went pics of Red and I in moments of both pure and staged happiness, anniversary and birthday cards to one another, home furnishings that we chose together. Three anos of day in and day out with another, all reduced to sacks and cardboard boxes, jammed like sardines into the trunk and backseat of my car, like I was 18 years old all over again, moving my things to and from my dorm at I.U. Deja vu really, as my freshman year of college ended up an academic disaster and now, seven years later, my marriage just the same. I had already been tearing up sporadically as I packed without anyone there, and of course, the day just couldn't be complete without the ex unexpectedly showing up during my boxing, tenderly laying his hand on my shoulder while I was hunched over a bunch of magazines in our study, not speaking for the longest time just soaking it all in. We've officially been divorced since January, but done since the fall, and honestly, until yesterday, the gravity of it had yet to hit either of us I think. It will still be a solid few weeks until I get all my big furniture out of there, and I've got one more carload to bring home later today, and then that will be it. I will have no reason to stay at the house anymore, see him randomly through the week, in passing or on purpose, and it's so heartbreaking I could almost die. I'm thoroughly drained, even by the re-telling of this occurence, and I need dormir in the worst way. As I can hardly see this screen anymore because of blurred and filled-up ojos, I am signing off.

Xoxo to all, and to all a good night.

Eyes wide open

Passengers aboard flight 031809, a lo siento of sorts from your captain, Ms. Hap. I have been menos an internet connection for the past couple days and although it is no good excuse, my life three days into the better Me project has been all that I imagined it to be—busy, frenetic, productive, and completely wearisome. I have fallen asleep the past two noches before 12:30 A.M., no small feat for those familiar with me, both lethargic and on-the-go, and not because I felt it would be to my best advantage to bed down early, but because I could not keep my ojos open. I have spent the start of this week at work, in class, over homework, running, and stocking up on organics from Bloomingfoods. Yes, organics, as in hippie-healthy fruit, steel cut outs, and even graham crackers. Dear Dios, who am I right now? But oh, dear God, I needn't even await your reply, because I know who I am ahorita, I am scratching the surface of the girl I was around this time last year, the healthy eating, at least 85% of the time, workout bulimic, to-do list dominatrix, and it feels like gold. Tired, melted down, fools gold maybe, but gold nonetheless. I was reminiscent of one of those tacky little dogs that sit up on trashy people's dashboards whose heads bob up and down and up and down today in fit for life lab, but at least I was in class. And in both classes previous to that one as well, and I'll be heading back to campus in under an hora to round out my busy miercoles. Despite a meeting with one of my profs tomorrow to discuss my attendance, I am ready to face him with eyes wide open, at least to this final stretch of spring semester and genuinely hope to convey to him that I'm ready to turn this around, that I'm building up the walls of my life and not ripping them down with rapidity and furor as I have been. And just for the record, I even skipped out on St. Patricks Day celebrations last nite, trading green drafts for "green" food. Mi vida is thick with change. But on to the 60-40 because I'm 40 minutos away from class time…

 

1. Good- I am taking a yoga class with kid sib tonight and I haven't done a downward dog for I don't even know how long. I am competitive to a fault and I know I'll overexert my lack of flexibility trying to out bend mi hermana and others in the class, but I'm looking forward to it regardless.
   
2. Good- I had the most amazing kiwi fruit last night and I'm so triste because I only bought two.
   
3. Bad- A girl that I met a month or so ago that I spent a fun night hanging out with is heading back from her temporary job here back home to Texas, and then off to another training stint in Ohio. I didn't even really get to know her much at all, but she was a kind soul and now, for the millionth time in my life, one of my good girl friends, or in this case, a potential, is out of town again. Best wishes E.
   
4. Good- I still have nothing but amor for my dearest amigas, some in Indy (Tt, Lo, Als, and Kiki) and one guy friend that I love as much any of my estrogen-packed counterparts in Washington D.C. (Bobblehead). And after unexpectedly hearing from Lo last night, I just felt one of life's great truths confirmed within me, relationships and absence are like fire and wind. If the fire is pequeno, any level of wind will blow it out over time. But if the fire burns bright enough, a gust of wind simply stirs it up even higher and hotter. And as for these friends, we are all en fuego. I love and miss you guys…
   
5. Bad- I have to work on Friday night which will mean that I will miss some of the opening round games of march madness, and honestly, as this tournament is sorta-kinda one of my life forces, ugh, that sucks.
   
6. Good- I have Thursday night off, sweeeeeet, and a bracket that I hope is insightful and dashed with just the right mixture of luck and college basketball knowledge and expertise to help me win my couple of bracket challenges that I'm in. Bring it on boys.
   
7. Bad- I wanted to take a nap, probably needed to take a nap during my two hours in between classes, but I watched dvR'ed Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill and The City instead.
   
8. Bad- I am overwhelmed with sadness at the thought of starting to move all my things out of the house that Red and I inhabited together for the past couple years.
   
9. Good- I need a change of venue, a place to call home, if only for a bit, where I don't walk in and have to face the demons of relationship past, see the ghosts of memories and hear the conversations of old about forever after, and children, and commitment. This house is haunted, and until I exorcise myself from it, he and I both will continue to suffer from nightmares.
   
10. Good- Did I mention March Madness starts tomorrow? Are you kidding me people, this is the most pure, exhilarating time of the ano, and although the tourney is a bit sad without curry and Davidson, it will create its own new heroes, and I will still cry during "one shining moment."
    

Xoxo to all, and to all a blessed day.

b.M.p.

Passengers aboard flight 031609, this is your extremely ill and fatigued captain speaking. I had marathon puking sessions intermittently over the course of today, which have left me subsequently exhausted and I have class in t minus cinco hours and I can't fall asleep. No bueno. Manana is shaping up to be extremely loaded, full of errands, escuela, and the start of the bMp, or the Better Me Project. I have enlisted kid sister as my Made coach for the next month, in which she and I have outlined five main goals to be achieved by mid-April. It is our hope that the bMp will jumpstart my life back on the inside track and help me stay on the road to recovery and redemption. 1. I have to attend church once a week. 2. I am only to go out once a weekend and if I drink it should be extremely minimal in nature. 3. I am to run/workout 5 days a week and complete a mini-marathon in either April or May. 4. No skipped classes for the remainder of the semester. 5. Complete my room renovation at my parent's house and get moved in finally. I am at such a worn-down and weary place in my vida right now and I'm honestly very excited to get back on the wagon and down the Oregon trail. I feel sometimes that I am one slip-up away from totally face planting and the thought of making good choices and having to be accountable about them to someone other than myself is as reassuring as it is daunting. I'm crossing my fingers that I feel better after a bit of sleep than I do right now because I'd rather not have to step out of zumba tomorrow because I have to throw up or pull my car over like I did today. And now on to the 60/40 because I need to lay down whether or not I feel like it, sleep becomes me…

 

1. Good- This week is going to be go-go-go, but in having to be aqui, there, and everywhere, it leaves me very little idle time, which I found out over the course of a basically responsibility free spring break week, is the devil, the absolute devil.
   
2. Good- The Texan told me the other night that he has a week off work in May and that he is pondering coming here to see me.
   
3. Bad- My crush is off to another country for an entire month tomorrow and I didn't get to see him at all last week. Which, I'm certain he made sure of on purpose. But actually, this might be a good thing, his exeunt from los estados unidos, because in case you hadn't heard, out of sight, out of mind.
   
4. Bad- I spent a decent amount of tiempo today with my cabeza on my toilet. And for those of you who really know me, I'm not an easy puker. In fact, I can't even recall how many times I've wanted the contents of my stomach to come spilling out and either had to play like a bulimic or just get over it. But not today.
   
5. Good- I'm itching to throw my asics on with regularity again and hear "You must be a runner" again. Oh, and turns out running will help me miscarry the beer baby I've been lugging around lately.
   
6. Good- A friend of mine let me know that he's sort of a tennis guru and I'm going to start playing with him when it warms up. So exciting and turns out, I have the perfect outfits already. Pink lacoste polo and short skirts? Ummmmm, thank you.
   
7. Bad- I have a splendiferous amount of bills to attend to this month.
   
8. Bad- I watched on and off "The story of us" on lifetime tonite which was basically the portrait of red and I's marriage, minus the kids they had and the fact they had been married fifteen years and I teared up numerous times, and at the end when they kept it together, I was left with this sinking feeling that we just gave up without a fight, without really trying, and that in itself is the real tragedy to me, not the divorce itself. Live and learn.
   
9. Good-Despite the divorce, the ex and I have maintained a relationship with one another, which, I don't know of with many other people I know or have heard of having split. I hope to maintain him as a friend all my life. Which, I know of the dynamics of ours will change with the passing days, new relationships, and when I finally completely move out of his house, but for now, I cherish and value what it is that we are able to accomplish.
   
10. Good-I am doing color commentary for my first sports broadcasting gig (isu women's softball) this Sunday. I'm nervous as shit but so ready. I was born for this.
    

Xoxo to all, and to all a good night.