Friday, I had a headache all day. I ended up falling asleep for the night at 7:30, which is a little lame but whatever. I’ve been having pretty fucked up dreams lately, and I guess that night should be no exception.
At first I wasn’t sure where I was, but it became obvious to me pretty quickly.
It was a room full of tables. Very rustic looking. Wooden tables, chairs, benches. You were there, with one of those vests that’s satiny in the back. Your hair was down, which I love. Well, let’s be honest, I love it up, too. I just love how long and blonde and curly it is. You had a satiny-backed vest. The back was purple, and I feel like the shirt you had on was dark green. Whatever it was, you had the sleeves rolled up. You came up to me with a huge smile on your face, your eyes crinkly in that beautiful way they are when you’re happy. You put your arm around me, which I suppose should have let me know that I was dreaming, since you almost never do that without me prompting you. PDA isn’t something you’ve ever been into. But you did it, with the crinkly eyes and the beautiful hair and you kissed me on the mouth and told me I looked beautiful. That you’ve done before, though still not often.
You want to know the best part about you telling me I looked beautiful? I looked down at myself, and I actually did! Or I felt like I did. I realized my hair was curly, but it’s been doing that on its own more and more lately. I was wearing a white mermaid dress, and it was all meshy and ruchy and had a sparkly belt. I must have been wearing some sort of heel, because I was closer to your height than I normally am.
I looked around and saw that I knew some of the people at the tables. They were my family, my friends. Your family, from pictures I’ve seen. Your friends.
I turned back to you, and you were trying to peel fondant off what turned out to be a styrofoam square. You kept reaching to a shelf near us, and kept picking styrofoam squares. You gave up, and told me this must not be it.
We split up, to walk around and talk to people. Despite the fact that I was obviously not my normal 5'6", I had no trouble walking. I felt amazing, and my face hurt from my smile, which is cliche, but I had obviously figured out what was going on. I remember really soft lighting, but it wasn’t difficult to see anything. I was saying hello to someone that I “knew” was your aunt, and suddenly there you were. And there was the cake. It was definitely Beauty and the Beast themed, which sounds lame, but I promise it wasn’t. I honestly don’t remember much about the cake, aside from us feeding each other and me not giving a sweet flying fuck that the cake didn’t actually taste like anything. People clapped, and then they weren’t looking at us anymore. You had your shirt unbuttoned a bit at the top, and I could see the little bit of your chest I can always see, and I leaned in and told you that I loved the cake, but it must have cost an inordinate amount of money. You kissed me cheek, smiled, and shrugged.
Then I woke up.
For my entire adult life, I have been “the type of girl” who doesn’t want a big wedding. The anxiety that blossomed in my early twenties has made it hard for me to have an entire room’s attention focused on me, and that same anxiety gives me heart palpitations thinking about all the planning and people that go into a *traditional* wedding. I have long supported the City Hall wedding, with only the necessary witnesses. I have always wanted a “cheap” wedding. In fact, I own a wedding dress that I bought on Etsy for $40, that someone made from upcycled materials. It is in no way shape or form the mermaid dress I had on in my dream.
I still don’t want an expensive wedding. I still don’t want a lot of people involved in the planning or the execution. But at that moment, I didn’t give a sweet flying fuck who was looking at me. I cared about how happy you were to be looking at me. I want that. I want to see you look at me that way, unhindered by the anxieties you yourself have.
I know you. I won’t be so bold as to say that I know you better than anyone else does, but I know you very well. We are best friends. You have told me about things that you haven’t told other people. I feel like I have seen the essence of your being. I know that if you were able to get past how much you hate yourself, and how much you think you can’t make me happy, that this dream could come true. If you were able to internalize that I am happy with you the way you are, and all I want in turn is to work with you every day for our mutual happiness, then that could be us.
When I look at you, I see my husband. Not just when I see you coming to get me in the elevator, or across the table when we’re out to dinner. Not just when you’ve carefully curated your outfit and hair. I see my husband when you’re at your computer playing your game in a hoodie with unbrushed hair. I see my husband when you sit on your chair on the balcony, smoking a cigarette and trying to “fix” your hair. I see my husband when you’re asleep, with a pillow covering your eyes and your mouth hanging open.
You think that us continuing to have sex is making the break-up harder for me. I’m obviously still sexually attracted to you, and it actually makes me feel better to know that you’re still sexually attracted to me, too. It makes me feel less crazy. It’s everything else that’s hard for me.
It’s hard for me to watch you be so into your videogame.
It’s hard for me to hear you comment on the show going on in the background or something I say to you while you’re playing.
It’s hard for me to wake up in the middle of the night to you cuddling up to me and wrapping your arm around me.
It’s hard for me when you lean in to hug me and kiss me on the mouth when I leave your apartment.
It’s hard for me to look to my side and see you walking with me when we go somewhere.
It’s hard to hear the sound of your voice, especially on the phone.
It’s hard for me to talk about “issues” that we both agree on and are passionate about.
It’s hard for me to watch you sit on your stool and smoke a cigarette.
It’s hard for me to listen to you talk to your friends on the game chat.
It’s hard for me to hear you talk about going to shows together that haven’t even been announced yet.
It’s hard for me when you make dinner for me.
It’s hard for me to make dinner for you.
Bottom line: I can’t just be friends with you. Eventually, I will break, and I won’t be able to do it anymore. I love you and I am in love with you. You are life. I haven’t felt this way about someone since I was sixteen years old. Which is odd, because you actually remind me of him a lot. With you, I feel safe and respected and validated and good. I feel like I am pretty and smart and funny and worth listening to. I feel like I am worth being told things, and I am worth your time. My heart beats for you, and if there was a way for you to understand that that is ok and you deserve that, then this would work.
You told me today that you are too old to get married. You said it in a joking way, but deep down I know you are somewhat serious. There is no fucking age limit on marriage. And if there is, you haven’t reached it yet. You told me the other day about how you avoided giving money to a fake-sounding charity by blaming your “wife.” You can’t possibly imagine how much I want that title. I want you to buy one of the rings I’ve favorited on Etsy, and I want us to buy two rings of power, and I want us to be married. I love you so much, and if there is no way for you to work past the state we’re in now, then I’m going to have to go away. I don’t want to. In fact, it’s the last thing I want to do. But I can’t be friends, let alone best friends, with someone I know I belong with, but can’t have.
Sunday, October 2, 2016
Monday, August 29, 2016
For now, this is helping
Being without you is hard. I feel empty, and also heavy. I feel like my inner scaffolding is gone and I never knew what dense material I was made of and now it is threatening to crash in on itself. It is hard to breathe, and hard to get through the day without telling at least three people that I am sad. I am just so sad.
My parents were talking about older relatives at the dinner table tonight. I remembered a story you told me about “your old man” when he was little. I liked hearing about your parents and your siblings. I assumed that one day I would meet all of them, and that one day they would be my family, too.
I think I have some sort of emotional fever going on, because I keep going from hot to cold and back again. The cold is unbearable, and the hot is always accompanied by embarrassment, so I know people can see it in my face. My cheeks always betrayed me that way.
It hurts without you. I would say I didn’t realize how much of both my current and future life I had built around you, but I did. I just didn’t consider it much. I simply kept building, precisely layering each brick of my heart and our future.
You are my best friend. You tell me the same thing, and you told me when I left on Saturday that we would still be friends, still hang out, still do things. I know you said you would never lie to me, but it feels like it’s taking forever for you to want to make plans with me, even though it’s only been two days.
It was hard to leave your apartment that afternoon. If I hadn’t had to babysit, doubtless I would have stayed. If I hadn’t had to babysit, I probably would have tried to get you to say I could stay over that night, too. I am a firm believer in leaving the room when an argument is stupid and never leaving the room when a relationship might be dying.
It feels like more than the relationship is dying. It feels like I’m dying. Me being wrong about where this was going is making me question everything. I was so sure of where I stood with you. What else did I take for granted that I’m wrong about? What other relationships do I engage in that are ticking time bombs? Who else is going through the motions with me, afraid to hurt me by telling me they can’t be what I want them to be?
You said you needed time alone to get your shit together. I respect that, I really do. I know that I’m being incredibly selfish by so insistently wanting you back. I’m trying to tamp it down, I really am. I know you don’t believe me. I wish that I could help you get your shit together. You helped me so much, it only seems fair. But now I feel like I’m stuck on a jetty in high tide. I kept moving along, thinking we were in this together, and now you’re waving at me from the shore, miles and miles away.
I feel useless. Like I said, I was so sure of my use to you. What else am I wrong about? It is driving my crazy that you really do need to hang out less and talk less. You need time alone - who knew you had to actually be alone? I know, I’m just having trouble accepting it.
I keep lashing out at you when we hang out. I’m sorry. I know it’s petty and selfish, but part of me wants you to be in as much pain as I am, and I want to see it. I want to see your face reflect the way I feel.
You tell me that, if it makes me feel any better, I’ll move on. You even think I might move on quickly. You promise me that “when” this happens, it will hurt you. I tell you that hopefully there is that crucial bit of overlap, where I think I’ve moved on but I haven’t, and it hurts you and you tell me. If this moment exists, we will be together. I know that this is basically the plot of half the romantic comedies out there, but whatever. I make you pinky promise me that when your shit is together, you will tell me. I tell you I know that it won’t be for a long time, but you need to promise me anyway. I think that even if I have “moved on,” I will always carry a torch for you. I think that I won’t be able to get engaged or married without checking with you in some way first. If we are not together, I need to give you every possible chance to change that.
I am sad that I am eating dinner at home tomorrow. I should be eating with you, on your couch, watching mindless TV.
I am sad that I am going home after work tomorrow. I should be going to the beach, to read in a pavilion until you get out of work.
I texted you today about something that I forgot isn’t your problem right now. You were nice about it, but when I remembered that it’s probably not super appropriate to talk to a “friend” about scary body things, I was sad. I want it to be ok to talk to you about anything and everything.
Sometimes I wish I never met you.
“I’d like to buy you dinner and get to know you better,” you said.
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” I said.
What I should have said was no. I should have been a bit less optimistic about the outcome of talking to people who were “mutual likes.” I should have somehow known that this would happen.
That’s just me being angry. I would probably do the exact same thing, even if I knew the amount of pain I’d be in. Nobody is perfect, but your imperfection is beautiful to me. I want to keep it for myself and watch it grow and bloom every day for the rest of my life.
I miss you. I miss us.
My parents were talking about older relatives at the dinner table tonight. I remembered a story you told me about “your old man” when he was little. I liked hearing about your parents and your siblings. I assumed that one day I would meet all of them, and that one day they would be my family, too.
I think I have some sort of emotional fever going on, because I keep going from hot to cold and back again. The cold is unbearable, and the hot is always accompanied by embarrassment, so I know people can see it in my face. My cheeks always betrayed me that way.
It hurts without you. I would say I didn’t realize how much of both my current and future life I had built around you, but I did. I just didn’t consider it much. I simply kept building, precisely layering each brick of my heart and our future.
You are my best friend. You tell me the same thing, and you told me when I left on Saturday that we would still be friends, still hang out, still do things. I know you said you would never lie to me, but it feels like it’s taking forever for you to want to make plans with me, even though it’s only been two days.
It was hard to leave your apartment that afternoon. If I hadn’t had to babysit, doubtless I would have stayed. If I hadn’t had to babysit, I probably would have tried to get you to say I could stay over that night, too. I am a firm believer in leaving the room when an argument is stupid and never leaving the room when a relationship might be dying.
It feels like more than the relationship is dying. It feels like I’m dying. Me being wrong about where this was going is making me question everything. I was so sure of where I stood with you. What else did I take for granted that I’m wrong about? What other relationships do I engage in that are ticking time bombs? Who else is going through the motions with me, afraid to hurt me by telling me they can’t be what I want them to be?
You said you needed time alone to get your shit together. I respect that, I really do. I know that I’m being incredibly selfish by so insistently wanting you back. I’m trying to tamp it down, I really am. I know you don’t believe me. I wish that I could help you get your shit together. You helped me so much, it only seems fair. But now I feel like I’m stuck on a jetty in high tide. I kept moving along, thinking we were in this together, and now you’re waving at me from the shore, miles and miles away.
I feel useless. Like I said, I was so sure of my use to you. What else am I wrong about? It is driving my crazy that you really do need to hang out less and talk less. You need time alone - who knew you had to actually be alone? I know, I’m just having trouble accepting it.
I keep lashing out at you when we hang out. I’m sorry. I know it’s petty and selfish, but part of me wants you to be in as much pain as I am, and I want to see it. I want to see your face reflect the way I feel.
You tell me that, if it makes me feel any better, I’ll move on. You even think I might move on quickly. You promise me that “when” this happens, it will hurt you. I tell you that hopefully there is that crucial bit of overlap, where I think I’ve moved on but I haven’t, and it hurts you and you tell me. If this moment exists, we will be together. I know that this is basically the plot of half the romantic comedies out there, but whatever. I make you pinky promise me that when your shit is together, you will tell me. I tell you I know that it won’t be for a long time, but you need to promise me anyway. I think that even if I have “moved on,” I will always carry a torch for you. I think that I won’t be able to get engaged or married without checking with you in some way first. If we are not together, I need to give you every possible chance to change that.
I am sad that I am eating dinner at home tomorrow. I should be eating with you, on your couch, watching mindless TV.
I am sad that I am going home after work tomorrow. I should be going to the beach, to read in a pavilion until you get out of work.
I texted you today about something that I forgot isn’t your problem right now. You were nice about it, but when I remembered that it’s probably not super appropriate to talk to a “friend” about scary body things, I was sad. I want it to be ok to talk to you about anything and everything.
Sometimes I wish I never met you.
“I’d like to buy you dinner and get to know you better,” you said.
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” I said.
What I should have said was no. I should have been a bit less optimistic about the outcome of talking to people who were “mutual likes.” I should have somehow known that this would happen.
That’s just me being angry. I would probably do the exact same thing, even if I knew the amount of pain I’d be in. Nobody is perfect, but your imperfection is beautiful to me. I want to keep it for myself and watch it grow and bloom every day for the rest of my life.
I miss you. I miss us.
Sunday, August 28, 2016
Long time, no post
Quick update: my boyfriend broke up with me almost two weeks ago. Our anniversary would have been September 7th. I'm pretty messed up about it. Maybe this will help. I feel confident enough posting this because he didn't read my blog when we were together, so I doubt he'll read it now.
This is the first Sunday we haven’t hung out, besides last Sunday when you were home. It’s weird. I miss you, but I know that if I tell you that you’ll only feel more guilty and it will drive you further away.
We’ve been broken up for 12 days. I don’t like it. I feel the tiniest bit better, but on the whole I still feel like shit. I didn’t see it coming at all.
I didn’t realize how much of my decisions were made with you in mind. Every time I think about pretty much anything I think about you, and it hurts. I used to wonder what you would think of a new shirt I bought, and now it just makes me sad because you don’t care. You might not even ever see it.
I felt safe with you. I felt like you could and would protect me from anything I couldn’t handle on my own. Now I feel vulnerable. When I drive to your apartment, I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t belong there anymore. The lump in my throat grows as I drive closer and closer, because now I feel like an intruder. I feel like one day I’ll come over and you’ll tell me to go away. I’m afraid that you’ll want to take away my parking lot key. I truly am afraid that you will never text me again, let alone ask me to hang out.
I desperately want there to be something I can do to make you as happy with me as I was with you. I hope that someday you’ll wake up and miss me, and I hope that if that happens, it isn’t too late.
I could see a life with you so clearly. Maybe that’s why I feel like I don’t belong in the space near your apartment. I used to think that eventually it would be my apartment (or that we’d have a different, bigger apartment in the same building). You were so nice and supportive. You told your friends and your family about me, you were going to let me meet your mom if she came out, you let me stay over all the time...and I don’t know why you say that you told me it made you uncomfortable that I left things at your house. You said that you didn’t want me to bring my board games over because you had enough “extra” stuff in your apartment already. Which is fair, and to be hurtful I almost told you that is was fine, because it would only be more stuff I had to pack when we broke up.
But I didn’t seriously think we would break up. Hell, when you first moved, you were going to try to get me my own key. I know it was mostly so you didn’t have to come down the elevator to get me every time, but a key is a big step in the seriousness of a relationship, and you were acting like it was a totally natural thing for me to have a key to your apartment. And you didn’t react negatively when I told you I’d go to Ohio with you if you wanted. You were using that as an excuse for why our relationship couldn’t be serious, and then you said, “Ok, good to know,” and from then on you seemed much more into the relationship.
I feel foolish for trusting you. I wish you had broken up with me earlier, because you’re right, I did spend the whole relationship developing more and more feelings for you. I just couldn’t fathom that you weren’t doing the same thing. I’m desperately, desperately hoping that once you feel better about yourself/your life, you’ll want to be with me again.
I’m sorry that I put pressure on you to be together in a permanent way. I tried so hard to be patient with you, because I honestly thought that you cared for me as much as I cared for you, but that you were having trouble coming to terms with it. I didn’t want to scare you away, or make you feel like I forced you into anything. I thought you just needed time and support, and I tried to give it to you. I know I got impatient, and it had nothing to do with you or the way you acted toward me. It had to do with the underlying anxiety I have about everything. I need constant reassurance from everyone that they actually do like me and aren’t for some reason just pretending to. I am terrified that everyone around me secretly hates me and is waiting for the perfect time to pull a humiliating, painful prank on me.
I kind of feel like that’s what happened here. I know you said you never lied to me, but I wish that these hesitations you had could have bubbled up to the surface one of the million times I asked for reassurance about the status of our relationship. You said you’d been thinking about this for a while, but you never told me you were having second thoughts. You always told me “yes” and “ok” when I asked if I could keep things at your apartment, if I could come over, if I could stay over, if I could shower. You should have said no. You should have had conversations with me about how I was overwhelming you. If you’re going to say that you tried and I didn’t listen, then you should have tried harder.
I had fully incorporated you into my life and my future plans because I thought I could. You made me feel like I could let my guard down and be who I really was. You made me so happy, and it makes me so profoundly sad to know that I didn’t do the same for you.
I also feel foolish for doing so many sexual things with you that I normally wouldn’t have done. I figured, given the way you are in every other area of your life, that you wouldn’t let me go out of my comfort zone unless it was going to pay off. Now I feel like you have dirt on me, and can come back and make fun of me for the things I did later. I feel like you can make fun of me to other girls you date/sleep with. I don’t like feeling vulnerable in this way.
You are my best friend, and I feel like I am going to lose you for good. Everything feels hollow and meaningless now. I unpaused my okCupid profile, because I know you want me to get back out there and forget about you, but I just don’t have the heart to use it. It’s too soon. I don’t know how long it’ll be too soon, but I thought you were going to be the only man I was with for the rest of my life, so it makes me feel sick to think about going out with someone else.
I am frustrated for many reasons, but one reason is that I keep thinking of things for us to do together. Then I remember that you don’t want to do things together. I don’t know how I could have been so sure that this was going well when clearly, I was wrong.
I guess I feel like I don’t know you, if I wasn’t in tune with you enough to see this coming. On the other hand, I still really want to have the you I know back. I’m still really all over the place with this whole thing, and I’m hoping that I get myself sorted out soon.
This is the first Sunday we haven’t hung out, besides last Sunday when you were home. It’s weird. I miss you, but I know that if I tell you that you’ll only feel more guilty and it will drive you further away.
We’ve been broken up for 12 days. I don’t like it. I feel the tiniest bit better, but on the whole I still feel like shit. I didn’t see it coming at all.
I didn’t realize how much of my decisions were made with you in mind. Every time I think about pretty much anything I think about you, and it hurts. I used to wonder what you would think of a new shirt I bought, and now it just makes me sad because you don’t care. You might not even ever see it.
I felt safe with you. I felt like you could and would protect me from anything I couldn’t handle on my own. Now I feel vulnerable. When I drive to your apartment, I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t belong there anymore. The lump in my throat grows as I drive closer and closer, because now I feel like an intruder. I feel like one day I’ll come over and you’ll tell me to go away. I’m afraid that you’ll want to take away my parking lot key. I truly am afraid that you will never text me again, let alone ask me to hang out.
I desperately want there to be something I can do to make you as happy with me as I was with you. I hope that someday you’ll wake up and miss me, and I hope that if that happens, it isn’t too late.
I could see a life with you so clearly. Maybe that’s why I feel like I don’t belong in the space near your apartment. I used to think that eventually it would be my apartment (or that we’d have a different, bigger apartment in the same building). You were so nice and supportive. You told your friends and your family about me, you were going to let me meet your mom if she came out, you let me stay over all the time...and I don’t know why you say that you told me it made you uncomfortable that I left things at your house. You said that you didn’t want me to bring my board games over because you had enough “extra” stuff in your apartment already. Which is fair, and to be hurtful I almost told you that is was fine, because it would only be more stuff I had to pack when we broke up.
But I didn’t seriously think we would break up. Hell, when you first moved, you were going to try to get me my own key. I know it was mostly so you didn’t have to come down the elevator to get me every time, but a key is a big step in the seriousness of a relationship, and you were acting like it was a totally natural thing for me to have a key to your apartment. And you didn’t react negatively when I told you I’d go to Ohio with you if you wanted. You were using that as an excuse for why our relationship couldn’t be serious, and then you said, “Ok, good to know,” and from then on you seemed much more into the relationship.
I feel foolish for trusting you. I wish you had broken up with me earlier, because you’re right, I did spend the whole relationship developing more and more feelings for you. I just couldn’t fathom that you weren’t doing the same thing. I’m desperately, desperately hoping that once you feel better about yourself/your life, you’ll want to be with me again.
I’m sorry that I put pressure on you to be together in a permanent way. I tried so hard to be patient with you, because I honestly thought that you cared for me as much as I cared for you, but that you were having trouble coming to terms with it. I didn’t want to scare you away, or make you feel like I forced you into anything. I thought you just needed time and support, and I tried to give it to you. I know I got impatient, and it had nothing to do with you or the way you acted toward me. It had to do with the underlying anxiety I have about everything. I need constant reassurance from everyone that they actually do like me and aren’t for some reason just pretending to. I am terrified that everyone around me secretly hates me and is waiting for the perfect time to pull a humiliating, painful prank on me.
I kind of feel like that’s what happened here. I know you said you never lied to me, but I wish that these hesitations you had could have bubbled up to the surface one of the million times I asked for reassurance about the status of our relationship. You said you’d been thinking about this for a while, but you never told me you were having second thoughts. You always told me “yes” and “ok” when I asked if I could keep things at your apartment, if I could come over, if I could stay over, if I could shower. You should have said no. You should have had conversations with me about how I was overwhelming you. If you’re going to say that you tried and I didn’t listen, then you should have tried harder.
I had fully incorporated you into my life and my future plans because I thought I could. You made me feel like I could let my guard down and be who I really was. You made me so happy, and it makes me so profoundly sad to know that I didn’t do the same for you.
I also feel foolish for doing so many sexual things with you that I normally wouldn’t have done. I figured, given the way you are in every other area of your life, that you wouldn’t let me go out of my comfort zone unless it was going to pay off. Now I feel like you have dirt on me, and can come back and make fun of me for the things I did later. I feel like you can make fun of me to other girls you date/sleep with. I don’t like feeling vulnerable in this way.
You are my best friend, and I feel like I am going to lose you for good. Everything feels hollow and meaningless now. I unpaused my okCupid profile, because I know you want me to get back out there and forget about you, but I just don’t have the heart to use it. It’s too soon. I don’t know how long it’ll be too soon, but I thought you were going to be the only man I was with for the rest of my life, so it makes me feel sick to think about going out with someone else.
I am frustrated for many reasons, but one reason is that I keep thinking of things for us to do together. Then I remember that you don’t want to do things together. I don’t know how I could have been so sure that this was going well when clearly, I was wrong.
I guess I feel like I don’t know you, if I wasn’t in tune with you enough to see this coming. On the other hand, I still really want to have the you I know back. I’m still really all over the place with this whole thing, and I’m hoping that I get myself sorted out soon.
Friday, January 1, 2016
Good-bye, 2015!
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| Front view of the jar |
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| Side view of the jar |
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| Back view of the jar |
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| Other side view of the jar |
So I think I’ve mentioned this on here before, but last year I saw something on Facebook that offered an alternative to making resolutions. I’ve never been the type to make resolutions anyway, but I decided to check it out. It said to take a jar, decorate it, and every time something good happens, write it down on a piece of paper and put it in the jar. At the end of the year, you’ll have a bunch of positive things to look back on instead of possibly unmet resolutions. I did not decorate my jar, as I am lazy. And I think I slacked at the beginning of the year. But once I got the hang of it, it was cool to sit down and think about good stuff so I could write it down and put it in the jar. Here are some of the winners (not in chronological order):
- Sweet notes from parent in Christmas cards
- My boss wrote me a note thanking me for being flexible
- Went to Dave and Buster’s for Halloween
- My boss messed up my time clock hours one week, and apologized when I called her on it
- Harvard Square has a store that is both a jewelry store and a candy store
- Went to Salem a bunch
- Went to Star Wars night at the Zoo Lights
- Got meds
- Started going to therapy
- Met J
- I fit into size 8 jeans
- S drove me home from work when I got sick, didn’t have a car, and no one else was around to pick me up
- My first Teacher Appreciation Week as a teacher
- S’s daughter calls me “A-Da”
- I had to essentially buy all new clothes (and give pretty much all the old ones away) because I lost so much weight (50 pounds)
- S asked me to be her daughter’s godmother
- I had a bad break up, and everyone was really nice about it
- Discovered Lush
- Cooked a dinner that actually tasted good
- Saw Star Wars Episode VII opening weekend
- Had my first sleepover with J
- Started allergy shots
- Saw Goosebumps
- Saw Inside Out
- Rode a camel at the Zoo Lights
- Went to Seattle
All in all, I had 224 things in the jar. I’d say that’s a pretty good year. And I already have 3 things in the jar this year...
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