Friday, May 28, 2010

Ke$ha, love really is a drug

Well, I've been tossing around the idea of writing on my blog again. A wonderful girl named Nicole who writes The Girl Mama inspires me daily with her candid yet concise words on life. Though she lives a much different life than me, her words find a way to echo inside of me no matter the topic. So, today I'm writing and maybe I won't write tomorrow, but I think the point is to just do it.

I recently ended a four year relationship. It's all of the things you expect. Heartbreaking, angering and devastating. I feel like a walking bruise most of the time, like my emotions are dangling from the tip of my nose. The relationship and the reason that it ended could fill a lengthy and angsty blog all on their own. But what I've found so intriguing about this whole process is that I feel wonderfully alive.

Relationships, or maybe just the ones that I've been in, help to soothe and sometimes numb me. My life has always had its share of drama. Being the daughter of an alcoholic/addict predisposes me to it. So I've learned ways to cope, as all humans do I'm sure. My most precious coping tool is my music. Hands down the best gift I've ever received is my ability to write and play music. So I use my piano to play through a lot of tough stuff. Writing is another one of my ways. But a more troublesome mechanism that I found is love. The first time I really learned of my dad's addiction was when I was 15. You know, just a slightly formative time in a girl's life. And that event also coincided with my first relationship and first love. It was so blissful, as first loves go, but I think it also started a pattern for me. Love is a drug. Love is a crutch. Love is food. Kind of like that Ke$ha song.

I definitely lean on a relationship when I have one. And I'm learning that I lean too much sometimes, when really I could power through a tough emotion alone, if I let it happen. Which brings me to the current moment. Me, boyfriend-less. Father-less (he's in jail for a bit, and more or less out of my life which brings it's own special brand of grief). And I'm at home with all the pain and anger and sadness. Just sitting. Just feeling. It's the most alive I've ever felt. I wake up slightly in awe that I'm still breathing. I wake up feeling like I'm in survival mode. And I'm fully aware, that this is an incredible life period for me. There's clarity in the sense that all I can do is focus on myself. I am my most important project right now. Forced selfishness.

And my next question will be, once I'm mended enough to think about the L word again, is how do I stay with myself, even when I'm with someone. Because as awful as some of these emotions feel, they are so precious and invigorating. I don't know who has the answer or if there's a true "how to" out there. I think there is an awareness that maybe I'm acquiring that I can take into my next foray into the battlefield of boyfriends.

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