I don’t miss him in the “oh, I love him so much, I wish we could get back together” way. (For the record, I do love him, but I have no wish for us to get back together)

I miss the way he knew me. The way only someone you are in a relationship with can know you. Someone who sees you day after day. Someone you can’t hide from because you share a 700 square foot condo with them.

People don’t understand. Most people don’t feel about their pets the way I do. Michael, for seven years, saw me with The Gray. He fully understands how huge she was in my life. When I told him, I could hear him crying, but trying to hold it back for me. Despite everything, he always knew how to take care of me. He had infinite patience for me. Had.

I feel lonely in a way that friendships can’t fix. Siblings can’t fix it either. Those relationships aren’t the same; they can’t be the same.

I miss The Gray. I miss Michael. I miss things that can never be mine again and I have no idea what I am supposed to do about it.

I have no idea what to do.

*Title from The Cure for Pain by Jon Foreman

Her favorite place to sit

Did you ever wonder why I named my blog “Gray?”? When I lived with my dad, The Gray would run into a room while making a tinkling little chirp. After awhile, whenever we said “Gray?” someone would imitate that sound. I still do that now (much to my friend’s embarrassment). I am not 100% sure why I settled on that for a blog name. Probably because it always made me smile.

Today I had to put down my best friend of 15+ years. Stormi Witch Renfro is what I named her, but she ended up being known as “The Gray”. She has been with me through all the hardest parts of my life. I got her when I had just started high school, so you know that’s true. Together we moved to Connecticut, then Seattle (by way of Minnesota for her) and 4 different homes once we got there. To be honest, I am happy she won’t have to suffer through another move since she hated moving almost as much as me.

It’s funny how similar to me she is. She is the perfect example of pets looking like their owner or vice versa. We didn’t look the same, per se (I think we had similar eyes), but our personalities were a spot on match. Hard, tough exterior, but a ball of love to the right person.

I loved that cat. Loved, loved loved. I am a crazy cat lady. My world revolves around the cats. The furniture in the house is arranged to the cats. My life and when I am supposed to be home each night is based on them eating. I have not gone on trips with friends because it would be too hard on my cats. And I am fine with that. The may be “bad” and lazy, but they give me so much happiness.

I knew this day was going to come. In fact, I knew yesterday that something wasn’t right and this may be it. And it was peaceful. And I got to hold her. And she actually felt calm (vs. how she normally acts at the vet). And I know deep down I made the right choice.

I always forget that the right choice, so often, doesn’t feel very good.

_________________________________________________________

One time, during the time we were remodeling, my alarm went off, as usual, and, as usual, Gray came and snuggled right into the crook of my arm for morning love. I pet her and kissed her (and almost fell back asleep). When I finally got up and went into the bathroom, I saw that my lips were completely black.I touched them and some of the black came off on my fingertips. I started freaking out. How in the hell were my lips black? I was fucking sleeping. So, I make Michael get up to exam me.

He does and is just as perplexed as I am. He gets a wet cloth and washes it off. He asks how I am feeling. Fine. We are puzzled. Finally, I get in the shower because, what else am I going to do?

As I am getting dressed, Gray comes over and wants to play. I start to wrastle with her and soon realize the palm of my hand is black. I pick her up and Michael and I exam her. Now the black is coming from her. Once again, no idea what is going on or why. I have to get to work, so Michael agrees to bathe her.

Later that evening, I get home, still baffled by the black stuff. Landon comes over for love right away, but Gray is no where to be found. Thinking she is still mad about her morning bath, I look for her in all her warm spots. Not there. As I am wont to do, I begin to panic. I have no idea where she is. I begin to call her, begging her to come out.

Suddenly, I hear some movement. It sounds like metal clanging against itself. I look over just in time to see The Gray crawling out of the wood stove. Apparently, that was her new hangout. Since we were still remodeling, we hadn’t gotten to cleaning out the stove yet. So, all the black was soot.

Yeah. That’s how the Gray cat rolled.

Of course, mommy? Mommy made her take another bath.

_________________________________________________________

I see it in their face when I tell them. They cannot comprehend why there are tears in my eyes.

A different person, a different year, a different life . . . I would feel the same as them. I would have the same confusion as they do. It shouldn’t be that big a deal. But for me, it is. It’s soul crushing.

I was told this week that our lease would not be renewed. Nothing against us, mother-in-law, blah blah blah. The reason why doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I have to move.

I have to really move. I have to leave the little community I’ve called home for 7 years. I have to give up walking to work. No more big freezer (the 24 hour grocery store 50 feet from my door).

When Michael and I broke up, I got “custody” of our community. I left our condo, but I refused to leave the location. When I first moved in, it felt like destiny. I found this place. It was mine. Moving out of our condo was made so much easier because I didn’t have to leave the community. It was infinitely easier on my heart.

It’s too much. The last 9 months are too much. Too much loss. Too much change. Too much pain.

I just want to stand still for a minute.

I want to feel a moment of comfort or safety or security.

I am exhausted. Bone weary. Every time I start to feel OK, something else changes, someone else leaves, everything breaks.

I miss the days when I could say to people “Nothing new. I’m boring. Same ole, same ole”

Every year I think “Finally. Finally there will be a year of calm, a year of happy” and every year (for YEARS now) I’m wrong.

I’m wrong.

I’m tired.

I’m homeless.

I’m back at the beginning. Again.

I have desperately tried to find the words to describe my year. It’s been quite a year. I have been disappointed in myself for being unable to find my words. There is so much to say, so much that has happened. Yet, I have no words.

I finally decided I have to forgive myself and let it go. Because maybe I’m just not that girl anymore. After this year, I’m not a lot of things I thought I was. Writing that last sentence just made me cry. That’s one example of the changes I’ve been through.

Right here. Here is where I always get stuck. I may have realized that it has less to do with words and more to do with what happens when my mind begins to wander over the events of the last 12 months. It’s all so overwhelming. Such a hopeful start I had. I feel sick reading that. I miss her. I miss what I thought 2011 was going to be.

Next Wednesday I have my first therapy of 2012, followed by friend-date night with Kristen. We’re going to work on shaping what we want our 2012 to look like.

Maybe I’ll find some hope again. Maybe this time it won’t be lost.

This is very weird to me, because I always say birthdays don’t really matter to me. I say I don’t want a party or a present or a dinner or some sort of public display. And I don’t. I truly do not want any of that.

However, I am beginning to realize that birthdays do matter to me in some ways. I guess I realized that I feel like my birthday is my only day I am allowed to be selfish. The only day people only want to talk about me and what I am doing. No one tells me their problems-cause it’s my birthday. They don’t want to ruin my day. They all call me and for a few minutes, it’s all about me. And I can pick the music we listen to while playing a game. I can chose what we have for dinner. I don’t have to work. Everything is about me and everyone is delightful.

And that’s all I want from anyone. A call. To tell me I am important. A text. Some sort of “What up! You old! I love you!”. Then, when someone doesn’t give me that, I lose it. After all I try to do for others all the time, I wasn’t important to them, even on MY day. They have failed a test they didn’t know they were taking.

Therein lies my biggest issue in life and how I relate to others. Everyone fails because they never know when something is a test with me. I say birthdays aren’t a big deal, but when you don’t call, I can never trust you again. You’ve let me down, just like everyone else. And now, I must push you away.

It’s impossible to win with me. I make it so damn hard. I set everyone up for failure. I never let anyone in, I never allow anyone to take care of me in any way, yet when something comes up and am bowled over, I don’t understand why no one helps me up. Duh. I’ve trained them that way, then tested them on opposite material.

Everyone fails. Even me.

Birthdays are important to me, I guess. Maybe not in the same way as some people, but they are important. I guess I should start telling people that.

As you can imagine, all the change that 2011 has wrought has not been good for me. And actually, I have done a pretty good job handling it all. Losing the love I thought was “forever” love, losing my home, losing who I thought I was, who I thought I would be. I’ve done OK. It hasn’t been easy and I have definitely had my moments (and I will have more), but I have done better than I ever would have predicted.

I always said that when you break-up with someone (especially a marriage or someone you lived with), the hardest part is losing that friendship. Michael is a person I saw everyday. I told him my stories. He got to hear my daily wins and my daily struggles. We always had plans together, basically every night. I could always count on him to go to any concert with me and he always knew I would take him to the casino and be his designated driver. It hurts to lose that friendship. There are so many things that just he and I shared. There are so many things that happen everyday that I find myself saying “I wish I could tell Michael about that”. But I can’t. I lost my “forever” love and I lost my best friend.

Though, like I said, I have been doing OK with that.

However. Yes, there is a however.

However, this next big change in my life, this next loss . . . I am not sure I can survive it.

As of next Saturday, Heidi is leaving Seattle to move back to Boise. Once again, I am losing my best friend (who knew that could happen twice in 1 year?)

It’s not that I haven’t known this was coming. Heidi and I have talked for well over a year about her moving back there. I have just avoided thinking of what it would mean to me when it actually happened.

Now it’s actually happening.

The thing is . . . I really have no other friends. Sure, I have interested parties. People I see at concerts or an occasional blogger meet-up. My oldest Seattle friend, Tim is here, but we don’t really hang out as much since we started working together again. And yes, my brothers live here and I love it, I really, really do. But it isn’t the same.

I have no one to go get pedicures with.

I have no one that would love to just come over, sit on my couch and watch Sex and The City for hours on end, while my cats snuggle up against them.

I have no one to listen to records with and make jokes with about calling a phone number that is over 30 years old.

I have no one I trust enough to cry in front of.

I have no one who knows me well enough to know that sometimes, I need a little space and it’s OK

I have no one to surprise me at how well she knows me . . .knows things about me I didn’t know about myself

I know, I know. Heidi isn’t dying, she’s moving. But I’ve moved. It’s different. It changes everything. When I am having a bad day, I can’t just take a break and see her in 5 minutes. The distance changes things. Sometimes, it makes things stronger. Dawn and I got so much closer after I moved away from New Mexico. I am just afraid, that, at this point in our lives, it’s not going to work that way.

She and I have been through so much. We sometimes feel like 2 friends that have been through a war together. Only her and I know what it was really like. It’s impossible to find another friend like her. It’s impossible to find anything close.

And I don’t have to replicate the friendship, but it would be nice to have some facsimile of it. It’s so exhausting being so lonely. Part of the reason I have been able to deal with the changes this year is because I had Heidi. We are past the point of getting to know each other. We can sit there and just be. We can lay on the couch, not say a word to each other and listen to Kris Orlowski sing “Waiting” over 30 times in a row (seriously, we did that). Starting over feels impossible. Especially at this point, where I feel too guarded. Because I feel I have to be guarded, I have to protect my very vulnerable, overly sensitive heart.

I am just so scared of being alone. And I feel really, really alone right now.

*Duh. Kris Orlowski lyrics. My favorite song.

The worst part of it is, it’s my family that’s hurting me the most. I always thought I was a good sister. I thought that I showed up for them when they needed me to. I have fought their fights like they were my own. I have cried their tears like they were my heart breaks.

Of course, that’s not to say I haven’t made mistakes. Of course I have. I have made a ton of mistakes. And I have tried so hard to learn from them. I have tired to step back from their lives and let them make their own choices, I have tried to be less controlling and take things less personally. I haven’t always been successful, but I have tried.

Up until the break-up, things had been relatively good for me. The main problem I have had in the last 4 years was Joe not talking to me and both Ed and Dawn put in their time listening to me die over and over again over  it. Other than that, though, my problems have been small ones. Nothing too big. Until the break-up.

And the break-up through me into disarray. I don’t know myself. I don’t know my life. I feel like I have lost 7 years because of my stubborn stupidity and I don’t know how to get over it. I don’t want to get over him. The funny thing is, these last 2 weeks, it’s HIM who has been there for me. He has listened to me. Not that we are getting back together or anything, but he was (maybe is) my best friend and I still find comfort in him.

I feel like none of my siblings have really been there for me. Sure, Joe has physically been here. It’s not the same thing. Every time I turn around one of them is causing me more problems and more heartache. And the worst part is, they don’t seem to care. It’s like I am just supposed to let them hurt me over and over and then instantly forgive them when they say sorry. I don’t know, maybe I am.

Is it so much to ask that they hold me up? That they realize that now it’s ME who needs THEM? That I can barely handle my own life and they are just hurting me more and more. Because right now? Right now it seems like it IS too much to ask. Maybe it always was too much to ask.

From the awesome, Stuff No One Told Me (but I learned anyway)

Every day I think to myself: I just need to stop caring so much about them and their life. That their problems aren’t my problems. But I don’t know how. I just don’t know how.

_____________________________________________________________________

This is my theme song right now.

If you don’t know Kris Orlowski, you should. His music is on constant loop right now, giving me something to cling to.

I then started thinking about my other siblings and if they had something similar-something that defined them. I immediately thought what it was for each of them. Again, not flattering. I had the thought that this is what year’s of therapy is for. Figuring out that one thing that defines you that’s fundamentally wrong somehow and fixing it. At the very least, being aware of it and how you let it affect your life.

So, of course, I had to figure out what my thing was. At first, I thought it was one thing, but soon I realized that was a symptom of a bigger issue.

I need to be needed.

This is my whole life. This is every relationship I have-I need these people to need me. I need my dad to call me and give me little projects. I need Ed have me proof-read his papers and run his decisions past me. I need my boss to tell me that he doesn’t know what he’d do without me. I need Heidi to come to me for advice. I needed Michael to be un-organized and clueless without me.

I have a hard time connecting with people who DON’T need me. That’s sick.

Of course this is the case. If people need me, they are less likely to abandon me, which is what I think everyone is going to do. It doesn’t help that this IS what so many people have actually done-especially men. Apparently, they needed me-but not enough. In fact, the only 2 that ever came back after leaving me for dead were blood related, so really, I have to wonder if they would have ever bothered to come back if it weren’t for that.

So really, I have to wonder why am I so easy to walk away from. Really, what is all this making people need me crap getting me? They all still walk away.

And yet . . .yet I know myself. I know that I am going to still need people to need me. It’s as much apart of me as my big feet and biting sarcasm.

I guess I’ll just have to rely on something else to make people stick around. Who knows what that is. . . .

“I don’t love you anymore. Goodbye.”

I guess there was nothing else to say. He couldn’t take back the truth. His truth.

I always loved him more than he loved me. Always. From the very beginning. It was my love for him that blinded me. Part of me feels like he tricked me; like he sold me some magic beans. But then, I can’t lay all the blame at his feet. I am not perfect. I am not an easy person to love. Clearly. Look at at all the problems with friends and family I have had the last few years. I can’t pretend I didn’t play a part.

But I do love him. I believed him when he said forever. We built a home and a life and I thought it was forever. I wouldn’t have ever left him. Ever. He knows that.

“Just because I’m hurting, doesn’t mean I’m hurt; doesn’t mean I didn’t get what I deserved. No better and no worse”

What did I expect? He was married. I didn’t “steal” him, but I didn’t help. And I believe the seeds you plant grow into something-good and bad. Did I really think I would come out of it on top, unscathed? Life doesn’t work that way.

There was a moment. His divorce was almost final and his friend wanted to set him up. I had been sleeping with him for almost 2 years at that point, but I was so done. I had been done 6 months before, but my love (stupid, stupid love) kept me there. I told him he could date, but not me. I wasn’t going to wait around while he played house with me and dated other women. We were done. We didn’t call, email, see each other-no communication. I wasn’t happy, but I was glad I put my foot down. I stood up for myself and I had to figure it out.

And then he called me, about a month later. He said he loved me. He told me there was no one else out there like me. He said he wanted to be with me and only me.

I believed him.

3 months later we moved in together.

And I feel like I will never know if he ever really loved me or if he just made an easy choice. I will never understand how he could be so cavalier with my life. Because, for all my faults (and there are many. Oh so many), I could never do that.

I am so scared for me. I can’t imagine ever loving again. I know people say that, but I truly don’t know how I can trust someone. As I already said: every man I have ever loved has left me. That’s not an exaggeration. I wish I could say it was.

How will I ever get over that?

I make good money. I can easily support myself (and my 3 grays). Money has never meant much to me either. I am glad I have a little. I am glad I can support myself. However, I don’t need jewelry or Coach bags to make me feel OK (No, seriously).

No, what kills me, what eats me up inside, is losing my best friend. My partner. A man I loved more than anything. A man who made me care about relationships. A man I wanted to live with forever. A man I built a life with-brick by brick. A man I let in to my life whole-heartedly and without shame. A man who my family embraced and my friends loved. The only one I let see me cry.

I never wanted marriage. That’s just not me. I didn’t play wedding when I was a little girl. I never sat around with my friends imagining what kind of guy we’d marry. I never made a list of things I wanted in a husband. But if I had . . . Michael would have fit the bill perfectly. If I had, he would have been older, blonde, curly hair, blue eyes and gayest straight man I have ever met.

I am only 29. I’ve always been so much older than my age, though. So, I guess it’s fitting that my life resembles that of a 43 year old whose husband left her after 20 years of marriage without warning or reason. Except, I guess I know the reason.

It doesn’t make it any easier.