Tag Archive | introspection

Things I Hold Onto

After a little over three months of knowing him, Libra and I have reached a point where we care about each other, but it won’t go beyond that.

For the past week, I’ve been dealing with figuring out what I want out of this now. He wanted physical space, I gave him that plus emotional distance. I have shut off the part of my heart that felt like we could have been something special, that everything I was willing to give could and would be reciprocated.

I wish Mom was still around. All I have is a mess of boxes to show of the life I had with her, which Libra and I made a special trip to New Jersey just to get all of those boxes. Now they’re consuming the entrance to the house, this wall of boxes that keeps me from my TV and therefore my ability to play video games and just forget about life for a while.

The boxes have been an issue between Libra and I, though I’m not completely against the idea of parting with many of the things I possess. The problem is the difficulty in actually parting with things.

There’s porcelain dinnerware that I could use for special occasions… except I’d be nervous about breaking a piece or scratching it somehow. So I should sell it off and not worry about it… but I worry that I’ll accept less than what the set is worth, and the buyer will resell it and make a profit.

There are items I insisted on keeping because they were aesthetically pleasing to me… some of which I know that Mom and Grandma would have reminded me of who owned that item and how long it had been in our family. I don’t remember any of those stories. I also don’t know if I’ll ever use or need some of the things I kept.

There are collectible toys, and t-shirts, and things that I bought as retail therapy while I lived in New Jersey, because I had the money and I had no one telling me I shouldn’t have these things. And as I go through the boxes, little by little, I’m happier when I uncover something I packed from my childhood home instead of things I packed from New Jersey.

Overall, it’s emotionally overwhelming, realizing that I will have to permanently part with more than just what I’ve decided to part with, that there are some things I will never have again because… because… I can’t come up with a good enough reason. I could buy certain things again, I could get married and have a porcelain dinner set on my registry that I might enjoy more, if I even think I would use it. I could buy more Funko Pop figures, I could buy more t-shirts, I could fill my closet and my walls with things that… look good.

Well, there are some things that cannot be replaced. I found a notebook that my Mom had used to copy her diary into. I took a break from working the boxes, and spent the next hour or two reading every line. The diary mentioned my father in a few places, but most of it seemed to be about this guy named Joe. Mom was clearly in love with Joe. My Dad, however, had been an on-again, off-again guy that she dated, who seemed to be a bit more possessive and into my Mom when he started to come back into her life, though she was still more interested in Joe. And while everyone else seemed to give her cards and such for one birthday, my Dad gave her a bouquet of sweetheart roses, when he wasn’t even her main squeeze at the time.

I kept looking at the reusable shopping bag that I put Mom’s jewelry box into, and I didn’t want to deal with it until today. Most of the jewelry is costume jewelry, nothing I really want but I found a few pieces I might keep. There was also a photo of Mom with another guy, and I had an issue pulling it out of the section it had been set into because the photo was laminated. Once I lifted it free with the use of a brooch, I turned over the photo. Mom often wrote who was in the photo on the back side, usually writing the date as well. On the back was written Joe’s name along with my Mom’s name.

I can’t question why she still had a photo of an ex, as I still have physical photos of my exes. It made me wonder, however, how much time was spent wondering if she had made the right choice to marry my Dad, or if maybe things would have been better with Joe, because I don’t know how things ended between my Mom and Joe at all.

It’s strange, and yet oddly comforting. I feel like my Mom’s love life is reflected in mine right now. Libra is my Joe, the guy who seemed amazing just to talk about him, but he’s not the guy I’m going to end up with.

If there was one hard-to-swallow pill from a year ago, it would be that I should just live my life and deal with the here and now. Living in the here and now got me to living with J, which broke my heart because I hoped there was something there. Living in the here and now brought me here to live with Libra, which broke my heart because I wanted more than he wanted to give me. But living with Libra is forcing me to deal with things I didn’t want to deal with, which I seem to need to do. And if I can sell my things and make enough money, I can go where I still feel I’m meant to be.

I’m going to meet my Japanese friend.

Okay, I’m going to Japan. Meeting my Japanese friend would be a bonus, and yes I hope it happens, and that this is the fairy tale part of my tale. He’s been in my life since about a week or so after things ended with the ex fiancĂ©, and he dealt with me going insane while I was sleeping on my friend’s couch. He introduced me to Japanese entertainment that hadn’t been presented to me before, such as Downtown and Kyosuke Himuro, and to this day I listen to Himuro like it’s melodic comfort food because it’s a part of me now.

He spoke to me through songs, he wanted me taking care of myself when I was at my worst, he stayed in the background while I lived with other guys. I had to do what was best for me, and I feel like I hurt him in the process. But what have I been doing the whole time? I’ve been shopping at Asian supermarkets, buying books to understand how Japanese people think and how they handle romantic relationships, and I’ve basically been low-key preparing myself for a life with him. After all of that, I don’t want to go to Japan solely to meet my Japanese friend, I want to go because I want to go. If I don’t get the guy, maybe I’ll get someone else, or maybe I’ll just live and do what makes me happy.

Whatever happens, I now have a diary of my own, where I talk about the guys who had my heart and what became of them.

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Doing it Casual

I was lacing up my boots this morning, the green and black Renaissance faire boots I’ve been wearing in my daily life more so than when I first bought them. I was also sassing Libra at the time, playfully causing trouble.

He grabbed an empty beer can from the end table near the couch, and since I turned my head, he backed off but had a mischievous grin nonetheless. I turned back around, but turned again in time to see him throw the can in my direction. It didn’t hurt, but I felt a few droplets of moisture on my arm and shirt, and could faintly smell the remains of the brewed concoction.

I was mildly annoyed, as I had only been wearing that shirt for an hour, if that. I removed the shirt and tossed it into the hamper, disappointed that I had to change out of my Super Smash Bros shirt for the day. I grabbed my KISS Creatures Of The Night shirt and put that on, but not before Libra walked by me to pick up the can that he tossed at me.

He commented about the perfume I was wearing, which was a change from the mixed bottle of body spray I had been using, and he did say that it was better.

“Yeah,” I said. “Eau de Yuengling.”

He laughed, and it was as if I was a stand-up commedian who just reached the punchline. I tried to hold it back, but I was laughing just as much as he was, though I wanted to play the angered girl a little while longer.

I can do casual. I wear t-shirts and jeans to work every day, by choice since I can wear almost anything.

But to be honest, I want to dress up more often.

Like, I want to wear my dresses. I don’t particularly want to wear them to work, though.

I want to go on dates. I want a reason to get dressed up. But Libra and I are doing the casual thing, and then we’ve taken a step back from that.

And I hate it.

But it’s all I can ask for from him, he is only interested in casual stuff at the moment.

What else is out there for me?

I’ve been talking to my Japanese friend a bit more. He was wondering about how things have been, especially since hearing that I was moving yet again. He’s in awe at my ability to recall things he’s mentioned in conversation, but for me it’s just how my mind works at times.

To be fair, though, I’m not the best at recalling every detail, and I swear I learned a coworker’s name just today. He’s starting to do like another coworker did before I got his phone number, so I’m guessing that I’ll soon get this newer person’s number as well, in time. In the right light, it seems like he’s trying to get to know me and learn what I’m into, but it could just be to make conversation.

I feel like giving up on Libra at times, though, as if I’d be saving time and just getting out before I’m blindsided again by a break-up. I feel like I could remain loyal to him, do my best to be the me that makes him happy, and he would still put me second on some list.

No, I don’t want that.

I deserve to be the girl that a guy wants to come home to, in the sense that I deserve a guy who appreciates me.

I already appreciate having Libra in my life, even if I don’t always show it. I whine and complain, but who else has cared about my less-than-stellar motivation at times, or my poor dietary choices?

Who has actually asked me to live with them because they wanted me there and knew they were doing me a favor, instead of taking me in because I was desperate for a roof over my head? Who has been willing to help me move my stuff, not just to store it but to physically carry it and even transport it all?

The only things that my Japanese friend and my coworker have going for them are the fun I could have in their presence, and possibly any lust that’s there.

Libra is worth keeping around, at least to me.

Three transport trips down. I always considered myself to be an assistant on these trips, helping when I can. He thought they were fun, and they are to me because I get to see places in the state I’ve never seen before or in a while.

But I want to get dolled up for someone, I want to wear a dress and nice shoes, I want to wear dangly earrings that sparkle behind the strands of hair that I might have styled somehow. I want to pick out a bottle of nail polish that I haven’t worn in a while, then not paint my nails because other things were a priority in getting ready.

I don’t want to do casual.

I want to do unforgettable.

I want to do amazing.

I want to do that feeling when letting go doesn’t just hurt, it feels like a part of you has gone as well. Just the same, I want to be the one who fills that void in another, so when they look back at what they had, they wish that person was even remotely like me.

I want to make it so a person can’t look at the moon without thinking of me and wondering how I’m doing.

I want something where a person is trying their damnedest to make me dress up, as if the extra effort on my part is their reward, though I’ll certainly appreciate the effort they put in as well.

I want someone to go all-in, no regrets.

I don’t want to do casual, because it’s not a matter of if I have feelings. I will have feelings. I’m confident enough in myself that I’m aware of that, and I’m willing to face the heartache. If I’m into a person, I’m willing to risk the time I’m spending with them instead of finding someone else.

I want to be bitter later.

I want to complain about all the things they couldn’t do.

I want to go to the store and buy all the things they wouldn’t allow in the house.

I want to live, to feel, to laugh, to cry.

I’m not a casual person. I just dress casually.

But my heart, I take seriously.

Missing Persons

And so we close out the month of May on an introspective note.

I had a family get-together on Sunday. Leading up to that, I had to consider what I wanted to bring for food, what I might wear, what I would discuss with my extended family, and what I would do if my brother showed up.

I made a macaroni salad, which in my case isn’t quite like anything you could get from the supermarket. I mixed everything together; a pound box of pasta, a can of tuna, some frozen sweet peas, a few hard-boiled eggs, and my secret condiment combination. When I tasted it once everything was mixed together, it didn’t taste right. Something was missing.

Mom. Mom was missing. The macaroni salad was fine.

I thought about how Mom would have been stressed while getting ready to leave for the get-together. Then again, I’m not sure if her mood could be described as stressed. Dad would have one of two moods: either he would sigh and say, “you know your mother gets like this when we get together with the family,” or he would be angry and firmly tell me not to upset Mom any further. But Mom would usually look for certain things on the day of the get-together, not have them ready to go beforehand. Things had to be “just so,” even though she wasn’t a perfectionist, but she did have a certain way of doing things.

I rolled out of bed, if you want to call it rolling and you want to call the couch a bed, and had a bit of a stiff back from how I slept. I took a hot shower, trying to relieve the stiffness of the muscles in my lower back. I found my shirt that has an American flag design printed on an electric guitar and wore that with a pair of jeans and my leather Ren faire boots. I really didn’t leave until the get-together was supposed to start, mainly because punctuality wasn’t as important as being there.

I walked in and was greeted by relatives who seemed surprised to see me, but some of them hadn’t seen me in over a year. I had been asked if I had spoken to my brother, to which I honestly replied that I haven’t spoken to him since Easter when I left his place crying after an argument. One of my cousins, the hostess of the party, mentioned an incident involving some photos being given to my brother, and my brother removing family members from Facebook in return. I vaguely remembered him telling me his side of things, and all I can say is that there was a misunderstanding.

I sat down and ate my plate of food while talking with other family members about life and such. The more I thought about my brother’s reactions to things, the more I realized that he wouldn’t be coming, that I wouldn’t see him at all. And he never did show up.

I needed a moment of zen, so I went back to my car and took out one of two kites I had in my backseat. I managed to get some wind, and had the kite up in the air a couple of times before the line knotted up as I was reeling it in after the kite came down. I sat down at a picnic table to fix the knot, but this picnic table was away from most of the people and close to the river that ran near the house. It was a nice day, only partially cloudy and not too cold outside, and the view near the river was quite peaceful and lovely. So I stopped flying the kite for a little while, and enjoyed the scenery. That, and another cousin’s daughter was quickly becoming a spectacle in a canoe, and a few of us were watching her to see if she would make it back to shore. I managed another flight of the kite as I headed back towards the house, but yet another cousin started singing a song lyric that went something like, “what goes up, must come down” and my kite inevitably landed in the bushes that time.

As I was packing the kite into its box, I had a few people talk to me about the kite and watching me fly it. It made me feel a little better, not that I was looking for attention from flying the kite. I just never had the opportunity to fly the kite since I bought it, so it was nice that it wasn’t too complicated (it is a little more advanced than the plastic kites I grew up using) and I didn’t get frustrated as a result. But it was easier to talk about a kite with my family than some of my other interests, and I wasn’t talking about my brother either.

So what is it with my brother? Well, he’s adopted. (Mom: “He’s still your brother!”) I know, I know. But a lot of things factor into his personality, and I think that’s one of the major things.

You see, his adoption has been on his mind a lot, especially since Mom passed. He actually mentioned to me that his records are apparently locked even to him, and while I knew his records were locked, I never thought about who could and couldn’t access them. When I thought about him saying that, it said to me that he was actually looking for his birth mother, that he probably had questions and was trying to understand his origins.

After Easter, something on Facebook prompted me to look up “toxic narcissism.” Sadly, everything I was reading was describing my brother. One part of it basically said that it came from issues with his mother, and maybe I’m being nice to my own birth mother by pointing the finger at his birth mother.

Think about it, though: he probably feels abandoned by his birth mother, unwanted, unloved. Maybe he resents her, I don’t know. I want to think that she didn’t want to get pregnant in the first place, that maybe something about her situation wouldn’t have allowed for her to care for a child at that time. She didn’t get an abortion, and maybe she could have, or maybe she didn’t realize she was pregnant until it was too late to abort. Maybe she assumed she wasn’t going to become pregnant.

Regardless, she did give birth to him, and then put him up for adoption sometime after that. I don’t know how soon after, maybe she tried to raise him but realized a month later that babies are too much work. Whatever happened, she figured that someone else might be able to raise him better than she could, and she wanted him to have a life that she couldn’t give to him.

But I can’t tell that to my brother. We don’t have the warm and fuzzy relationship between us, so I can’t be all heartwarming around him.

He is quick to anger, and not really one to look at more than his side of an argument. So that misunderstanding over photographs? He probably won’t try to understand that the family meant nothing by it, and if they really didn’t want to look at our faces, the photos could have gone in the garbage.

The family enjoyed seeing my face this weekend, and it was nice to let everyone know what I was doing with my life. They don’t know everything, but they didn’t seem too concerned for me, so I’ll just let them be satisfied knowing I’m nearby and doing relatively fine. I can only speak for myself, but that should be enough.

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