I’m too much.

My entire life I’ve been “too much”. I’m too passionate, I care too much, I feel too much. I’m crazy, or insane.

I’ve fought the war against my empathy for so long, I’m exhausted. So I am learning to accept it. To embrace it and cherish it…for at least I can feel. There are many who cannot. And the feelings of love and care and joy that have come into my life are unforgettable and I am forever grateful for them. But when times are difficult, they truly are. My body can be racked with a sadness so thick and powerful it feels like the earth stands still. A crippling depression that leaves me wondering if I want to be a part of this world anymore. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that someday, I will be able to be happy for a long time. When I quit fighting my emotions and the way I am.

I love deeply and passionately. I care deeply and with my entire being. I cry when I see others cry, I glow when I see beautiful things. I appreciate kindness and like minded souls more than anyone would ever know. As K. Flay would say, beauty has a way of crushing me.

Sometimes I do wish there was a way to turn it all off. The sadness, the happiness, the overthinking and anxiety. But just for a little while. What was once my curse needs to become my full-time blessing.

No one wants to be alone. Everyone deserves to feel the type of love they’d move mountains for. The type of connection that makes life worth living. The trust in another human that magically makes you feel like a different person yourself. I want that. And I can’t lose hope that someday, somewhere, I will meet a man who doesn’t tell me I’m “too much.” I am just enough and a little more.

Someday soon.

I’ve been feeling so strong lately. I no longer feel disappointment when I think of him. I just don’t really feel anything. Apathy. I was hoping this would happen. What helps is that I haven’t seen him in a few weeks. He seems to be staying away from the gym we both frequent, which has been truly great. When I was younger I’d be dumb enough to, deep down, want to see him. But where I’m at in my life right now I could never see him again for the rest of my life and I’d be completely fine with that.

But that’s not how life works. I’m sure he’s lying low right now, letting things calm down. Maybe he thinks I’ll make a scene if I ever see him at the gym. Just goes to show how little he knows about me. That gym is my safe place. It’s my therapy room. It’s where I go to feel powerful and strong and healthy. I love the patrons, the sweat and the hard work. I’d never cause a scene. I am already upset with myself that I let Greg* into my life and it tainted the gym in a way. I know I will see him. And when I do, my heart will skip a beat. My stomach will drop. But as quickly as that happens, I’ll get it together and just keep on keeping on. Deep down though, all the feelings, the memories, the love I felt…will come back. Rushing over the walls of the dam I built to keep it all down.

And the 10 steps forward I’ve taken will be downgraded to 5. But it’s okay. This is a part of life. And we live so close to one another it’s inevitable.

He is the epitome of what could have been. What I wanted it to be. A true love. Someone I could finally and truly love and care for. I wanted endless nights of cuddles and kisses and sex. I wanted to wake up to him in the morning. I wanted to feel his smooth skin beneath my hands whenever I want. I wanted to smell him each day and have it feel like home. I wanted…so badly to be loved. and to love.

And I’m a broken soul right now. But it’s healing.

To Him.

I was once told by a therapist when I was younger that it was therapeutic to write a letter to someone who has hurt you, even though you’ll never give it to them. I was at said therapist because I’d just gone through a terrible break-up with someone that was extremely toxic and emotionally abusive. I wrote the letter and it felt amazing. It offered me a sense of closure, even though I knew he’d never read it. So I thought I’d do this now. And what better place than on here. You may find it boring, and I don’t expect you to read the entire thing, but perhaps it might help you understand feelings of your own. Or make you feel validated in feeling the way you have or do about someone in your life.

To him:

The day we met was a strange day for me. I was so used to putting my headphones on in the gym, turning my music up and speaking to no one. So when you came up to me and asked me if you could “work in” on the leg press I was taken aback. I thought “Why is this guy asking to work in with me? He can lift twice the weight as me.” My female brain put 2 and 2 together and realized you were most likely finding a reason to introduce yourself to me, even though you’d never admit it. So we worked in together. I felt a bit awkward and strange as I tend to in daily life. I did notice how strong and muscular your legs were. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t extremely attracted to you. The way you walked through the gym like a peacock, shaking everyone’s hand, saying hello. Were you just friendly? Or insecure? I was amused, and also intrigued. I have a type…and you fit the bill. From the day we met and you proceeded to follow me around the gym to all the leg equipment, I found myself looking for you. I’d occasionally see you and we’d chat, but it was never anything more than that because I’d cut it short. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing. It was about 3 weeks into us meeting that we stood by the free weights and the conversation flowed. For 45 minutes we chatted and connected and you finally asked for my number. You were no longer the unattractive guy at the gym with the rocking body, I was starting to notice small details about you that I was growing to like and your mind was fascinating to me. I appreciated your straight white teeth and greenish/blue eyes. The way you carried yourself I found particularly attractive. You asked when it would be a good time to call me, which I thought was strange as in this day and age people typically just text. I said anytime after 5 on the weekdays and weekends I was open. It was about 2 days later on a Thursday night I noticed a missed call on my phone. I googled the number and saw your name and called it back. This would be the first of many times we’d talk on the phone for over an hour and I’d hang up feeling like a high school girl with butterflies again. I never thought I’d feel that way again, but there it was. The next night we went out on a date. You took me to a beautiful restaurant I’d always wanted to try. We had dinner and shared conversation. It was amazing to have an intellectual conversation with someone. It was something I’d been missing for a very long time. I especially loved it when you’d smile at me after I said something. After that we went for a walk in the park and you held my hand. We talked, that’s what we did. The conversation never went stale between you and I. We decided we’d go back to your house right up the street so you could give me a tour. It was in an amazing neighborhood I loved. This was where I should have stopped. You see, it was here that I got my tour and then the beginning of the end began. As soon as you asked if you could kiss me there was no going back. “I feel a lot of chemistry, can I please kiss you?” Sure, I’d say. I would like that. And I did. It was like the first kiss I ever had. Surprising and pleasant and everything I’d hoped it would be. And we kissed more and more and you asked me, “Please stay with me tonight, Angel.” And I said I really like you and hope moving too fast won’t change anything. And you assured me it most certainly would not. So like a naive young girl would do, I stayed with you. And we made love. And it was passionate and amazing. And we did it again, and again that night. And I couldn’t sleep afterwards because you were snoring so very gently and it was so very quiet in your house. So I moved into the living room and slept on the couch.

And in the morning I woke up and asked if it would keep you awake if I watched your television. And you grabbed me and held me and asked me to just lay in your bed with you. And I did. And we cuddled and talked and you kissed my forehead and played with my hair and I never wanted it to end. I never wanted to stop feeling the warmth of your body next to mine and under my hands. And I never wanted the smell of you to escape from my nostrils. And for the first time in a long time I felt so extremely lucky that maybe this could be it, maybe it was my turn to get something good in my life. Maybe my days of being hurt and used were over. And you told me you could see us going far, that you wouldn’t jump ship because you’re older now and no longer a stupid young man. And I felt so at ease, because I believed you. And you had to work for a few hours so you took me home and I felt sad all day. Because I knew you wouldn’t call me. And you didn’t, not until later that night. I didn’t hear from you all day. And when you finally called my heart lit up because that meant it wasn’t all a giant mistake. And I went over to your house again and we cuddled and we had more sex and it was passionate and amazing and I was falling even more not only for you, but the words you said and the hope you gave me. I didn’t realize the reality. That you hadn’t, in fact, changed very much from when you were younger.

I didn’t hear from you after that for an entire day. No texts or anything. So I broke and I texted you. And you said you weren’t a big texter. And you said you were very busy with work. And I knew that this was a sign. I knew that when someone wants you they make time for you. And you weren’t making time for me. And I didn’t see you for a few days, and we spoke sporadically on the phone, long conversations that connected me to you all over again. And I’d go over but we wouldn’t have sex because we both didn’t want kids and you didn’t like condoms and we were going to start taking it slow and I’d get an IUD and you’d get a vasectomy and then we’d be good. So we both made our appointments. And still, I was falling, past all the red flags. But each time you kissed me it was like the red flags disappeared.

And I communicated and voiced my opinions. I needed more. I needed a periodic text, I needed to know you were in this as much as me. And you did try a little harder. I’d get a text in the morning and then wouldn’t hear from you until that night, late, and we’d talk on the phone, usually, not always. And I started to not feel like a priority. I didn’t want to be crazy about you if you weren’t crazy about me, too. And I felt the distance starting. And the more I vocalized what I needed from you, which wasn’t a lot, you started with the friend talk. Let’s be friends, let’s see what the future holds and just take this slow. Then you’d call me babe, and baby and you’d kiss me. I wonder, do you kiss all your friends like that? And my first instinct was to run but I was in so deep. I’d fallen in love with the idea of you. You said you’d make time for me in your life but you’d rather go hangout with your parents on Friday and Saturday night than with me. And I started to realize what was going on. And for some reason, even though I love myself, I started to feel like it was me. That I was being rejected because I wasn’t enough.

But that was absolutely ridiculous, and now that I can see everything from an outsiders perspective, I see it how it was. No longer am I the bawling mess in my bed listening to sad music feeling sorry for myself. I am outside of it all now. Above it all and seeing it from a different perspective. YOU are a user. YOU are a master manipulator. You play the game well sir, I will give you that. You took a STRONG woman and you brought her to her knees. You took a KIND woman with so much to offer and you USED her. And YOU ain’t shit. As they say. You are a sad, lonely, insecure person. And no longer will I let any man make me feel like I’m not enough. And I may have to see you at the gym every now and then, but perhaps you’ll fuck off like you should and go to the one down the street.

I’m done. With you. With the memories. As they slowly fade, I’ll let them. Good riddance. It’s tough to know there are men out there in the world like you. But when I think of you, and picture your face I feel sorry for you. Living the life you do. Thinking you have a lot of friends when you have a few acquaintances. You let a wonderful woman go. One so full of kindness and love. I feel sorry for you that you lost me, that you treated me the way you did. I don’t wish the best for you. I just don’t care. It’s simple.

Goodbye.

I fell apart.

My falling apart wasn’t beautiful, or glorious. It was difficult and ugly. It involved alcohol and 1.5 muscle relaxers. These contributed to my falling apart. I did things and said things I normally wouldn’t have. I became vulnerable, needed someone. And the only person I wanted was the one in the world that doesn’t want me. But the truth is, he doesn’t want himself. How I can expect to love someone who doesn’t love themselves? I loved the idea of him, I really did. And my heart makes me come off as being crazy. Because expressing your emotions and sharing them with someone passionately makes people crazy, right?

Honestly, my falling apart was a chance for me to come together again. And finally, after a month of depression, self doubt and dark thoughts, I feel like I’m getting back to myself. I feel stronger. I feel a new love for myself that wasn’t this strong before. I am beautiful. I am healthy. I am kind. I just need to protect my heart better. And I will.

My falling apart was a new beginning and I am ready for what’s to come.

I need a break.

I am a mess tonight. All the power I had is gone. I indulged in a bottle of wine and some beer with some new friends and my inhibitions were lowered. I sent texts I shouldn’t have. Made calls I shouldn’t have. And I sit and wonder what my next course of action is. For the first time in a long time I feel like an absolute mess. With alcohol coursing through my veins he’s the only one I want to see, or talk to. But he doesn’t answer, the texts or the calls. And I know I need to sleep and it’s the best course of action but I am instead writing on here. Pouring it all out. I can man up. I can be strong. I have been strong for a long time. And I know I sound crazy. I think that is what a strong, reckless heart makes me. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. Because I love and feel too fiercely. I am too vulnerable. I think one of the biggest challenges in life is accepting this. I just want to be held. I want to feel cared about.

Bad thoughts are running through my mind but I still see the rainbow on the other side so I won’t go through with it. Why is life this difficult? Why is love so complicated? Jesus, I really need you to take the wheel on this one.

I need a fucking break. I need some fucking help. Why am I such a fucking mess? What would I say if he even called me back? I am going to take a pill that will mix with the alcohol just right so I might not remember how fucked this night got.

Why do I always fuck everything up? Will I ever stop?

You felt right.

Lately I’ve been waking up with puffy eyes and a headache. I make it through the day just fine but it seems like when I get home the weight of life just comes crashing down. Working full-time, making it to the gym (my therapy) 5 days a week and getting my coursework done is difficult in itself. Add a heartbreak on top of that and I suppose it’s easy to see why life feels so heavy lately. It reminds me of this song by K Flay that I’ve been listening to a lot lately, “You felt right to me.”

I hadn’t had a good thing in a long time
Moving in the fast lane with the wrong guy
I don’t really know why
But you felt right to me

I guess I am just left wondering why the universe felt the need to bring Greg* into my life. When it was just going to end the way it did. So abruptly and without good reason. I suppose further down the line I might find out what lesson I needed to learn from it all but right now it just seems pointless. I didn’t need another heartbreak. Perhaps this was supposed to show me how terrible I am at protecting my heart and that I need to stop recklessly letting people into it before I truly know them. I know there are shit people out in the world, I have met many of them, I certainly didn’t need to meet another, especially of the male gender.

As each day goes on I feel better. Perhaps tonight I won’t feel like listening to sad songs and crying. Maybe I’ll feel stronger tonight. I am taking the rest of the week off from the gym. I’m not ready to see him BUT, that’s my gym and I WILL be back on Saturday. I will just focus on yoga and meditation this week. Deload.

What’s another scar.

Is being alone for the rest of my life the worst thing? Should I stress about it? I shouldn’t, truly. But I do. Throughout the years I’ve had small tastes of compassion and love. I’ve been held, but never for a long time. Never long enough. I’ve been kissed and finally felt butterflies after years of them being absent. And these small tastes have left me wanting more…so much more. What is a life without these things? Without someone to wake up next to. Without someone to share everything with, including myself. What is life without hugs and passion, and cuddles and the warmth of another’s hand in yours?

I didn’t beg him to stay in my life. I didn’t have to. He wanted me in his still, so that he wouldn’t be the bad guy. The bad guy for taking advantage of my kindness. You see, he didn’t see himself in a healthy way. And the way others saw him was more important to him than the way he saw himself. And so he would strive not to be the bad guy. Unfortunately for him I know my worth. Never will I allow a man to string me along to feel better about himself. To boost his confidence. I know what I want. I know what I’m worth. You either want me and put in the effort, or you don’t. It’s simple.

That still doesn’t mean my hearts not broken. It doesn’t mean that I don’t randomly stop what I’m doing sometimes and think back to a painful memory of what it felt like to be held by him. How it felt to hold his hand, or that first kiss. Or the 100th kiss. Laying in bed laughing together and feeling like I’d never want to be anywhere else. And I sigh, and I move on and with each time this happens I feel further and further away from it.

But it still hurts. It’s still painful. But what’s another scar on my heart? Smaller than the others but visible all the same.

Over.

I did it. I said my peace. I sent a text and told him how I felt. All the feelings I’d been keeping inside for fear of sounding crazy. And I told him, you’re going to think I am crazy, but I am not. I am just someone with a very large heart that I am terrible at protecting. I am a kind person and I am actively working on protecting myself better. I told him it is NOT okay to use people. And quite frankly I feel very used. He got what he wanted out of me physically and then dropped me like I was nothing…stopped trying. I told him I wish the best for any women in the future that fall prey to his charm and his words, but actions speak so much louder than words. He lead me on, made me believe he wanted to make a spot in his life for me.

And after I sent it I blocked him. And he cannot contact me. And if I see him at the gym we both frequent I will just have to take it as it comes. No communication. I must move on.

And I am broken and sad but also feeling stronger than I’ve felt in a while. It’s so difficult to overcome being used. So disappointing when you believe the smooth words of a man that makes promises and says sweet nothings that turn out to be just that.

Time heals, thankfully. No longer will I fall so quickly. The nights we spent together were memorable. I don’t know how a man can hold a woman so fiercely, so passionately. Can laugh with a woman so fully and connect with her so deeply, and then just change his mind. How is it so simple to hold hands and cuddle, to laugh and to love and to enjoy the connection…and then just stop. How simple it is for some and how difficult it is for the unfortunate victim.

Red wine and cigarettes.

It’s been a long time since I had the urge to buy a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes. Little reminders of my old life…nostalgic in nature. But tonight I welcome the darkness. It is better than the constant over thinking. The constant anxiety. When will it be my turn? If I could turn back time I’d go back a month. Go back to before I met him. Before something in my heart drew me to him. I’d go back and erase the memories. The passionate sex. The smell of him that still lingers in my senses even though I haven’t felt his body in days.

I did nothing wrong. I simply hoped and dreamed that perhaps this was my time. Perhaps this beautiful and amazing man would be the one I could spend many tomorrow’s with. I thought…I hoped…I wanted. And now here I am, drowning my overactive and pathetic mind in the throws of alcohol. Sitting at my laptop on a Friday night, alone, drinking wine from a dollar store glass.

My heart loves too easily. It has too much to give. And I finally thought I found someone worthy of this love. This compassion. This KINDNESS inside of me. But he knew from the beginning. I know he did. To fill my mind with lies and hopes. To keep me going. Each word said to me is like a piece of bait, reeling me in but stopping right before the catch.

I’m supposed to be the main character in my life. I need to make that happen.

Alone and slightly lonely.

Where do I go from here? At such a rapid pace I went from being alone and slightly lonely, to confused and extremely lonely. And the fact that I’m more lonely with you in my life should be a sign. A sign that I should move on, but that’s easier said than done. I am not begging you to stay in my life, in fact it was almost the other way around. But are you keeping me on a string that’s tied to your pocket? One you could so easily cut when you’ve no use for me anymore?

You once told me we would go far. That you’d never jump ship. I believed you. And you haven’t. No, you only just sat on the bow and kept one foot inside.

Let’s try this your way. Let’s take this slow.

I hope my reckless heart can match your pace.