Moving On, Saving Lives, and Crying About My Wasted Youth...

Death Cab For Cutie ~ Your New Twin Sized Bed

I had the most unbelievably brilliant day today! ...

Well, it started out kinda slow and unproductive and I felt bad about not making it to the post office this morning, but there's always tomorrow. Then I made it to my appointment early, struggled to follow the instructions (bite lip and look sheepish here), but was set up to the centrifuge before I knew it. This was my first time donating plasma, and the nurse was extremely helpful, supportive and made me feel great about saving so many lives with a mere ninety minutes out of my day.

As I watched the blood flow up through the tubes and the yellow liquid flow from the centrifuge to the collection bag, I answered the nurse's questions about what I do. "I'm a writer," I said. That was the first time I could honestly say that that was how I'm making a living! She was so excited about it, and I hated to tell her that I was just starting out. I did mention that the money wasn't everything everybody hoped for...

Then I met a friend for lunch (which is becoming a common occurrence as the holidays get closer and closer). We caught up and chatted long after our food was devoured. It ended with a great conversation about vegetarianism, eating animals, making nice with family, and a short reading from Jonathon Safran Foer's book that I currently tote around with me... It felt so good to have an honest, intellectual conversation about the social dilemnas of eating (or not eating) something that you morally disagree with.

And then I made some money. It was fun! I got to hang out with some pretty awesome people and even, hopefully, made somebody else feel better about his own quarter-life crisis. On my break, I read a bit about a personal issue I'm struggling with right now, but maintained my fantastic mood all the way home. I even stopped at my favourite house to enjoy the spectacle it has become with the decorated evergreen outside. Nothing, I felt could get me down...

As I turned the corner to the street my building is on, I began to think about music as a drug. Its ability to uplift us is so powerful...as is its ability to bring us down as well.

This song came on my iPod the other night, when I was going out and stoked for what was about to happen... Then, suddenly, my pace changed...my smile disappeared as I listened to this soft tune about broken hearts.

Life is pretty amazing. We have ultimate control over how to react to a situation, and basically how to feel. Sometimes, though, it's ok to let your emotions seep into this world you want so badly to control, and just run with it. It's ok to cry about your past even when you're so excited about your future... And Death Cab is probably the best band to cry to when you need to.

Still...I had an AMAZING day...and can't wait to do it all over again - everything! ;-)

Breaking Hearts

With red eyes, she quietly whispered confessions of a broken heart.

Part of 'figuring this whole thing out' is getting your heart stomped on a few times. This process does not always require the involvement of other people, but the healing process normally involves blaming them...



"you give until you've given up and you are sure to find the perfect man"

A few nights ago I was talking about my romantic past. "I've had my heart broken a few times," I admitted, "but I've never broken anybody's heart." The statement rolled out of my head, as many statements do, before I had ever consciously conceived the idea. And so began me analysis of it.

Have I really never broken somebody's heart? The first few times my heart was broken, I know that I was hurt while the other parties were left unharmed. I was young, and naive - without a layer of ice permanently surrounding my emotional centre. Like tumble weeds, those people blew out of my life, and I eventually got over it. But then came the bigger breaks...

The first time I may have broken somebody's heart is something I have refused to take ownership of. I was older, but no less naive...and my innocence hurt me more than he led on it hurting him. When it ended, I was sick, both physically and emotionally, and I've always blamed him for that. I've only recently began to forgive him for everything that's happened. And taken some responsibility for creating an environment where I could get hurt. The strangest thing is that we've both left a channel open for forgiveness to flow through. Which makes me wonder about his emotions...

I thrive on analyzing relationships, the behaviour of my peers and even their emotions. It fascinates me, and I also feel I have a lot to learn from others. Educated as a social scientist, I will never be able to turn the analysis off. A colleague told me the other day that the analysis makes life worse for me. Analyzing these things keeps it ever-present in my mind, which inevitably leads to me being attached and getting hurt.



This video is truly incredible and worth watching. If the video isn't working, go here:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wigqKfLWjvM


The last time my heart was broken, I was told to sever all ties with the individual involved in the breaking of it. "Don't agree to be friends," my good friend instructed me, "because no matter what happens, you'll always have this hope that the friendship will become something more than that." That hope, as I have learned, is toxic. Logically, it makes sense that this hope runs both ways. If I cling to a friendship wishing that it might one day become more than that, does it not make sense that the other individual is doing the same? Likewise, if I cling to the friendship because the hope of it makes the pain of the heartbreak less severe, could he not be suffering from the same pain?

Somewhere, somehow, Greg Bernhardt and many other romantic advisors to women are clasping their heads in agony. Has my broken heart - now mended and encased in ice for safe protection - still managed to turn me into a desperate woman looking for a man to love? Or, is it worse than that? Has my ego created this person who thinks her strength of love demands to be returned? Or, merely, have I become sympathetic enough to realize that those "jerks" out there who break my heart have feelings of their own?

This morning I woke up looking into the amber eyes of a male who will never break my heart. Well, at least until he passes away, which is merely a fact of life. It's the best relationship I've ever had, and it will last the length of his life. Not all love is romantic in nature. It's a bit like being a mother... In fact, I've been his surrogate mother since the day we met - and there's no Oedipal complex with that. We fight, we play, I care for him and he cuddles with me when I'm mending my broken heart. Maybe I am "that" lady, but it's ok. I have a lot of love to give...and Jito soaks all of it up, when he wants to.

And that may be the greatest lesson of love out there. You can't force it. Even when you find it, you can't cling to it. You can't control the breaking of a heart - whether it's yours or anybody else's. The only thing you ever control is yourself...and how you mend your emotional wounds...