Today I slept in.

I feel like I have been running a marathon lately. Only it’s a marathon I have no chance of winning. I feel like everybody needs something from me and I am letting everybody down because I only have so much to give.

I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like a failure. I’m tired of being behind. I’m tired of not being on top of things.

A few weeks ago my my body decided it had been feeling well for too long and it was time to remind me not to take it for granted. I felt the pain gradually building. The first week it was was mild, an annoyance that could easily be overcome with Ibuprofen. The second week it started hitting more intense until finally I couldn’t fake like everything was fine. I was doubled over in pain. Having lived with chronic pain for most of my adult life, feeling the pain come back so strong sent me into a panic attack which, of course, only made things worse.  How long is the pain going to last? Is it back for good? Will I need surgery…for the third time? Why is my body so broken? I can’t go through this again.

The pain was worse than normal. I knew something above and beyond my normal endometriosis had to be wrong. When I went to the doctor he told me that I had an orange inside me. I looked at him quizzically. I mean, who says that? Apparently the orange he was referring to was a huge cyst on my ovary called an endometrioma.

Good news: no surgery.

Bad news: the treatment is pain management until the pain goes away in 2-4 weeks.

I hate pain pills. I hate being dependent on them. Nothing will depress me more than watching the clock, counting down the time until I can take another pill because the pain is just that intense.

That was two weeks ago.

Today I am finally doing better in the pain department. The being behind in every other way department is another story. The worst part is, I am so mentally exhausted that I can’t seem to find the drive to make myself do things. I’m behind in two of my three college classes but instead of having a productive day getting caught up, I slept in.

I slept in and I felt good about it.

Sleep. It’s a beautiful thing.  It’s the cure for mental exhaustion. When your healthy in the head, the rest of life’s challenges seem so much more achievable.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Bag full of complaints, Emotions get the best of me, Healthy shmelthy

Over the Labor day holiday weekend (which I realize was about forever ago), I decided that a broken foot was no excuse to stay home feeling sorry for myself. Instead I headed down to Flaming Gorge with my family to feel sorry for myself there.

This was during my depressed, pity party stage.

Seeing as how I couldn’t boat or float down the river, I had a lot of time to myself to just think. It was a very reflective weekend.

The reflecting started on the drive down. I’ve gone down to “The Gorge” most of my life, but never so much as when I was with my ex-husband, Derek.

Yes, I am going to go there.

Over the course of our seven years together, my ex-husband and I made the trip to and from The Gorge I about a million times. While driving down there this time I couldn’t help but be fascinated by how well I knew every turn, every rolling hill, even every diesel truck on the road. I remembered making this drive in the winter through a blizzard, through torrential rain and of course through scorching heat. I remembered driving there in my little brown stick-shift truck that I loved so much, in my green banged up Sentra, the back of a truck bed, with family, with friends, my boyfriend who eventually turned into my husband.

Back before iPods, we would rotate through our favorite CD’s and sing along because we knew them all by heart. We would talk about everything. Dreams. Fears. Sexual positions. Everything.

Most of the memories made me smile. A few made me sad.

I got divorced five years ago. I normally do not think back to that time in my life. It doesn’t even seem like my life. I feels as if it was a movie I watched about someone else. Was that naive girl really me?

Yes, yes it was.

I had a man who adored me, did his best to do everything he could to make me happy, and I ended it.

Don’t get me wrong, I have never regretted my decision, but it was hard not to think back to our young love and how intoxicated we were with each other. Two hopeless romantics without a care in the world, except for each other. It was only when the cares of the world intruded upon our playground that things fell apart. But, I dare say that he loved me more than any man ever has, or at least more than any man has ever been able to show.

When I first arrived at the cabin, the field next to it had been freshly cut and the bales of hay were still sitting there uncollected. Of course that scene took my thoughts back to my recent break-up with ED. Memories of road trips with him to help out on his families farm came flooding back. Not that memories of him are so distant – they are always around every corner.

All of this is to say that I had a  long weekend of comparisons, reflections, and creation of new standards. The most important of which is that I want a love that will fight for me.

My break-up with ED was a mutual decision. A very hard mutual decision, but mutual none the less. Even though I’ve told myself our break-up was for the best, just like every other break-up, a part of me couldn’t help but wish that he had fought for us. Tried… I don’t know, to be there? He knew what was lacking in our relationship, we both did, but our love was not enough to fight for.

This train of thought has stuck with me for over a month now to the point where it has turned sadness into anger and yes, resentment.

Two nights ago ED told me he wanted to fight for us. It was as if he had read my diary. Only he read it entirely too late. Instead of having the movie scene where we ran to each other, embraced and said, “let’s never be apart!”, I turned furious at him. As in, how dare he come into my life three months later and tell me what he should have told me to begin with? How dare he figure this out too late? If he knew what I needed all along, why didn’t he do it back then? What in the world gave him the right to waltz in and set my emotional healing back when I have come so far? Where was he when I needed him? How dare he love me now?

I realize that all might sound harsh, believe me, the words felt harsh as they came out of my mouth.

I don’t regret them.

As hard as it was to say them, I know my worth and I will never again live my life for someone else, putting my needs/wants/desires second. My life is on my terms and I deserve someone who will adore me and fight for me.

I know he is out there somewhere… but even if he is not, as my father says, there are worse things than being alone.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Anklegate, Emotions get the best of me, TMI Friday

I keep thinking if I run fast enough, occupy my life and mind with enough activities, then the reality won’t be true. The moment I slow down I am overwhelmed by emotions and the next thing I know I’m driving 75 with blurred vision.

“You know Summer, you can’t do this forever. You need to deal with this, have a break down. It’s not healthy to do what you are doing.” Caring words I know to be true, spoken by a loved one.

“Maybe tomorrow,” is all I reply. 

Today is tomorrow.

You’d think with as many break-ups as I’ve been through I’d be a pro at going through them. Which, maybe I am. Only this time it’s so much harder because it wasn’t a two month let’s try this out sort of relationship. This was a you’re the one I am going to spend the rest of my life with kind of relationship.

Cue the water works.

Rather than publicly hash out the details of our break-up I wanted to write about all the ways I have NOT been dealing with it over the past week. You see, when you are in a relationship you get used to always checking in with your significant other. Not in a controlling way, more in a how was your day way. Now that I have no one to check in with, I thought I’d just check in with you, Internet.

ED and I broke up on a Monday night. It still seems so weird to say.

Tuesday I took a half day off work (which was a life saver because I couldn’t stop crying, nor could I concentrate to save my life) and went boating with my parents, Karina the Russian, and our Russian children.

Being at the lake was theraputic for me. I have gone boating every summer since I can remember. There is a bit of magic in the mountain water and for brief moments of time I was able to forget that my life had just been drastically altered. 

Wednesday I made it through an entire day of work, went to class, and went to the 311 concert with Karina the Russian and my sister Staci.

I drove seperately. I said it was because I had to work early the next day – which I did – but it was also because I knew I wouldn’t be able to fake happy all night long, especially since the last time I saw 311 in concert was with ED. 

I called up my friend Sarah on the drive home to talk me off of a ledge.

Thursday I went to dinner and then to the Twilight Concert (a free outdoor concert put on every Thursday during the summer) with some co-workers and Karina the Russian. It got done fairly early and despite my co-worker taunting me that I don’t know how to let go and just have fun, I decided to go home. Only I didn’t. The thought of going home to an empty house was too much so I deviated my course into the arms of my wonderful friend Susan who opened the door with a large glass of wine in hand for me. She let me cry until the wine dried up the tears.

Friday I went back up to the lake with my family for some more water therapy.

Friday night was my cousin’s birthday (Happy Birthday Emmie!). The day before she had text to invite ED and I to come out for her birthday. I had a minor break down at the realization of how many people have known us as a package deal and how many people I am going to have to tell that we broke up. But I digress.

I met Emmie, my sister Staci and a group of Emmie’s friends for a few drinks. Can I just say that I was soooo not ready to be at a popular bar downtown on a Friday night? Within the first ten minutes of arriving I saw three people who I had previously dated. Obviously Salt Lake City is too small of a town. Luckily I had my sister watching over me and survived without being auctioned off at the meat market. I spent that night curled up next to her in bed, again not wanting to be home alone.

Saturday I did laundry and looked for a new place to live (more on that later this week). Then I went to my parents house for a BBQ and to light fireworks. For those of you reading this who are not from Utah, the 24th of July is Pioneer Day. It’s celebrated like a second 4th of July only we are lighting fireworks to celebrate our state being settled by the Mormon pioneers instead of the nations independence.

Saturday night I went home alone, in bed by 10 and completely sober.

Sunday… my day to deal with things. I spent my morning cleaning, writing and reflecting then took a mid-day break for lunch and shopping with Sarah. My evening was spent with vodka and sappy movies.

What? We all cope differently.

From this post I am sure you can see that I have the worlds greatest friends and family. They have been in a constant rotation of checking on me to make sure I have enough alcohol and moral support. I feel so fortunate that they are in my life. I would be a wreck without them.

One week down, forever to go.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating, ED is not Emotionally Disturbed, Emotions get the best of me, Loved One(s), NOT light and fluffy, Out and About

This week on Post Secret there was two conflicting messages that spoke to me. I quickly jotted them down to come back to when I had more time to digest exactly what they spoke to me.

The first said:

“I have found the love that makes me forget.”

Followed by:

“I’m searching for the love that will make it OK for me to remember.”

Forgetting and remembering, such an interesting conundrum.

***
Over the past two years, I have shared a lot of personal information about myself, but some experiences are not meant to be shared on blogs. Some experiences are only meant to be shared in the comfort of a paid professionals’ office, while curled up on their couch with a blanket.

These particular experiences take time to accept that they really did happen to you, it wasn’t just a bad dream, and it will never be undone.

After certain experiences you let life stop. You spend a lot of time just breathing in, and breathing out. You take baby steps forward until one day you find someone patient and warm who will never really know, but just accepts that something happened, and you are a little more fragile because of it. They don’t ask. They just love you anyway.

I don’t want a love who makes me forget. My trials have helped make me the strong woman I am today.

I don’t want a love to grant me permission to remember. Only I can make it OK for me to remember, on my own terms, should I ever find a reason.

Everyone’s experiences are different, and everyone copes differently. I do not pretend to know the circumstances of the anonymous submitters on Post Secret. I just know that sometimes you come across something unexpected that takes you back to when you let life stop, and for once, it was not as painful to go back to.

One deep breath and life continued on. I have such a grateful heart for the growth I have gained from my experiences and for finding a love who doesn’t fully know, but never asks.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Emotions get the best of me, TMI Friday

I hurt.

I hate when I hurt.

It sends me into all sorts of upsetness.

Back in December I started researching a new nutrition plan to help with my Endometriosis. I began working it into my everyday life, little by little, in the hopes that a holistic approach to my condition would be the answer. Right now I’m buying organic everything, which, holy shit is expensive! I’ve cut out all the “bad” foods (well most of them anyway) and I am making an honest go at it.

I mean, last week I turned down a FREE asiago cheese bagel for chrissake!

Truth be told, I’ve felt really good for the most part. But right now, I feel like there are multiple knives shoved in my lower abdomen and each knife is getting twisted at a regular interval just so I don’t forget they are there. I don’t even know if that makes sense. I JUST EFFING HURT!

Why do I hurt? I mean, outside of the obvious endometriosis thing.

I can’t say entirely for sure, but I think it has to due with the fact I went to see the Utah JAZZ play.

You heard me.

The tickets were amazing! We were in a suite catered with yummy food which was entirely NOT on my nutrition plan. I ate it anyway.  I washed it down with two glasses of “non-approved” wine too.

Pain woke me up the next morning.

Is that really it? Is my body–after less than a month of mostly clean eating–so upset that I dared eat a meatball and some cheesy artichoke dip, that it would cause me this much pain? Really?

I know I am giving myself a bit of a pity party, but that? That is pure BULLSHIT!

I’m sorry, but as I sit here, waiting for the pain pills to kick in and pounding out my frustrations on the key board, I can’t help but feel the way I do. Anyone who has read this blog will know I try to stay positive for the most part, but right now I am tired. I am flat out tired of feeling this way. And what’s worse is I know I am exacerbating my symptoms by getting upset about them. Stress is another trigger. So is working out, which I totally did.

I hate this. I feel like I just can’t win.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Emotions get the best of me, Healthy shmelthy, Just me, NOT light and fluffy

***“TMI Friday” (Too Much Information Friday) is a weekly feature on Blogfully Yours where I hover the line of “over-sharing”. It’s like therapy for me, without the expense.***

Jealousy…

I’m going to start by saying I hate that I am even writing this. I hate that I am even feeling this messed up feeling in the first place. Like, who am I? I have never been the jealous type. Ever.

Seriously.

But for some crazy ass reason–which mind you , I KNOW is not logical, rational, or based on any sort of realistic anything–I. Get. Jealous!

Like, “cut-a-bitch” jealous.

Of course I don’t “cut-a-bitch”. Because I am not a crazy person. Plus I don’t carry knives on me. But when I am working out at the gym where ED trains, and he has his hands guiding some young flirty girls form? I have to start counting backwards from 10… sometimes 20.

I know. I know!

He is a personal trainer… it is his job… he loves me and would never do anything to hurt me. I KNOW!

But does it make me not see red? Does it make me not feel the way I feel?

No.

What it does do,  is help me to keep my cool and let it go. I fully recognize that it is MY issue. It’s not ED’s fault. It’s not his client(s) fault. This one is all on me. Working out at the same gym where ED trains people is a new thing. I think I just need a little time to get used to it is all.

The last thing I want to do is drive away ED’s clients because they are uncomfortable with the crazy chick in the corner giving them the death-stare.

At least, I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing I want…

*sigh*

Jealousy? She’s a major bitch.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating, Emotions get the best of me, TMI Friday, Uncategorized

However, for me, January has traditionally been the harder month.

You see, I really like my relationship and I don’t want to run from it. I also don’t want to screw it up. So when I felt my darling ED pulling away for unbeknown reasons (at least unbeknown to me), I fought every instinct in my body not to do the same. I wanted to play the stubborn, immature card and not call or text or be “unavailable” to hang out. I wanted to protect myself from getting hurt, even though I knew ED was not trying to do so.

The holidays are just rough. They effect all of us in different ways. I GET THAT. But sometimes I am irrational and think I am the only one allowed to have a hard time. It somehow escaped my realm of reasoning that ED could be having a hard time, and it had absolutely nothing to do with me.

Very mature, right? Go me!

When we finally had a night away from obligations and parties, we sat down and had a real heart to heart. He talked, I cried. But most importantly, we communicated our feelings instead of making assumptions or pulling away.

In short, I didn’t run.

ED and I are far from perfect, but this is relationship of ours is quite possibly the most grown-up relationship I have ever been in and tomorrow night, we are celebrating our one year anniversary.

Guess we must be doing something right.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Emotions get the best of me, TMI Friday

“Summer, this is Jennifer, Zach’s mom. I don’t know quite how to say this… but Zach passed away. They found him yesterday morning. He died the same way his sister died. I found your number in his phone and I knew you would want to know. I know how much he cared about you…”

***

I met Zach my sophomore year of high school at the first “sock hop” social event. His bright eyes, playful smile and sweet personality lured me in and instantly I knew we would be friends.

That was 14 years ago.

Zach picking me up for "Spring Formal". It was girls choice, but I was only 15 and couldn't drive.

He is so adorably young here.

Zachary Hall, my oldest and dearest friend, passed away Friday, November 6, 2009.

I got the phone call 30 minutes before I was supposed to run my first 5k.

His passing has been one of the hardest thing I have ever had to face. I can not tell you just how bad my heart is aching right now. I have lost one of my closest friends, a man who has been there for me through thick and thin, a man who has always been “just a friend” but who loved me, and would literally do anything for me. I know this not only from countless examples of his actions, but because he never failed to tell me so.

I am at a loss for what to write. I’ve started this post several times but my words never seem adequate to express my joy for having him in my life; my anger with him for leaving so soon; my sorrow for not getting to say goodbye; my tribute to him for all that he was to me.

I have so many fond memories of him. In high school, besides going to Spring Formal with me, he took me to my first ever formal dance. It was called “Spartonian Ball”.

I'm in flats and he wore his hair 3" taller.

I thought the dance was more formal than it actually was and told him to get a tuxedo. He was the only guy at the dance, outside of the wait staff, wearing one. I was so embarrassed, but he just laughed about it and told me not to worry.

I see this picture and I want so bad to call him and laugh about his hair and baby face, my black nylons and ugly shoes. I want to reminisce and see if he remembers how his mom had to pin the boutonniere on for me or where we went to dinner or if we did an activity after the dance. I want to tell him thank you for wearing a tux because I asked him to – we were 16 and I know neither of us had money.

But I can’t…

I can’t call him because he is gone. He is gone and there is nothing I can do about it. I feel so helpless. I know people will say to just hold on to the memories, and believe me, I am trying. But he is gone, and my heart hurts! Just saying “he is gone” sounds so absurd to me. Why am I even writing this post? Zachs not gone. He can’t be. He is my Zach. How could he let drugs take him from me? How many times did I yell at him? How many times did I tell him that he was worrying me? How many times did he tell me not to worry? This isn’t right. Nothing feels right about it. It’s all wrong! We were supposed to go to lunch together. I missed his call. Why did I miss his call? Why didn’t he answer when I called him back? Why didn’t I try him again? How can he be gone? Why can’t I just call him?

Zach and me camping, Memorial Day 2008. Our last photo together.

I’m sorry this post is all over the place. Maybe it is too soon to have tried to write this. I had planned to tell so many great stories; driving his dad’s fork lift in his shop, drinking vodka in his garage with my sister until we puked and he had to carry us home wrapped in his blanket, his confession about why he really could not take me to Sr. Ball (ten years after the fact!), our failed attempt at community college together, moving me out of a very bad situation after I hadn’t talked to him in six months, and how he was such a loyal selfless friend.

Maybe I’ll write those stories another day… in my hand written journal. I’ll place it on the shelf next to my high school journal, or better yet, next to the entry where I first mention meeting Zach… at the Sock Hop.

Zachary Hall I am going to miss you!

Blogfully yours,

Summer

PS – in case you were wondering, I ran the race. It was incredibly hard and if ED hadn’t of been there I would have been hyperventilating, sobbing uncontrollably in the bushes 1/4 mile in. As it was, I finished with a time of 31:36 and saved my sob fest until I got to my sister’s, 15 minutes after the race.

Emotions get the best of me, Loved One(s), NOT light and fluffy

I just did…

Blue eyes, full pouty lips and red hair!

In December of 97, my aunt passed away due to a horrible car accident. She left behind one daughter, my cousin Steph.

Since Steph’s father was never in the picture, she came to live with my family. She was only 12 years old.

As I am sure you can imagine, coming to live with a new family after just loosing your mother was not easy. My sisters and I did our best to include her, even calling her our “kiss-tor” (cousin + sister somehow equals “kiss-tor”).

Through the years we have had our shares of ups and downs and even though we are coming out of a 2+ year down, I have always loved her and wanted the best for her.

Sunday night Steph came over to my parents house and brought along her two beautiful kids. It was the first time I got to meet the adorable 3 month old Treyson.

I will have to get a picture of baby and momma together because it is actually quite comical. You see, Steph is half African American but her children are as white as can be! She laughs and say when she is at the store people think she is their babysitter – not their mother and that apparently she makes a great incubator for children to look exactly like their father!

Man I have missed her and her sense of humor! Here’s hoping I don’t go another 2 years before seeing them again! I hate that I’ve missed so much of my nephews lives.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Emotions get the best of me, Loved One(s)

Today is my boyfriend ED’s birthday. Today he turns the ripe ol’ age of 30.

That’s right, Dirty Thirty.

Having been his girlfriend for the past seven months I know the very last thing in the world he would want for me to do is to gush any personal information about him. He is a very private person and I am, well I am a blogger.

Nuff said?

However, because it is his birthday I can not do nothing. It is my duty as a blogging girlfriend to either gush about him or embarass him. Luckily, by gushing I am able to accomplish both.

Things I love about ED:

- His 15 year old sense of humor. Sadly we are a lot alike in this area. Although recently I did have ask him to limit the amount of “your mom” jokes to under 10 per day.

- His old fashion values. ED is a country boy and he is chalk full of country boy values. He is chivalrous but believes men and women are equals. He always open the door for me and if he saw a stranded motorist, he would be the guy who would stop.

- The way he encourages and believes in me even when I don’t believe in myself. If it was not for him I may never have pushed myself any harder or further with my college education than an associates degree.

- How he likes to take care of me – mentally and physically. He listens to my rambling stories and patiently waits for me to get to the point in my long round about way and he hugs me when I cry. He keeps me healthy and active and I never go hungry when we are together.

- He has accepted me, along with all my quirks and emotional baggage, and loves me a surprisingly large amount. Sometimes I am shocked by the abnormally sweet things he does and he will ask me, “when are you going to realize just how much I love you?”

- Lastly, I love who I am with him. We have all been in those relationships where you feel like you lose yourself or you don’t like the person you are becoming. With ED I feel like I am me… but the best version of me I have yet to know.

Happy birthday baby! Here’s to being together and loving each other for a very long time, and by a very long time I mean “as far into the foreseeable future as possible”… which means forever.

Blogfully yours,

Summer

Dating debating, Emotions get the best of me, Loved One(s), Uncategorized