It was a Makarov IJ-70. Soviet-era, heavy. She’d chosen it for the five-point star on the handle— which reminded her of her home state—and the image it evoked of a war-hardened military commander who, surely, would have fewer second thoughts than was she. She didn’t much want to admit it, but she’d also chosen it for the 16-pound trigger pull. Her brother had told her she could carry it safety-off with no trouble; she just wished she didn’t have to carry it.
When you’re hurting, I think it can be easy at times to allow your world to fade into gray. And that’s okay: sometimes, you have to do whatever it takes to get through whatever trial you’re facing.
Typically, I haven’t had the “luxury” of taking the time to process whatever grief or anger a situation has caused. This time, I made sure to go through that process. I’ll be honest, it was hard as hell and it pulled me way out of my comfort zone, but it was probably a lot healthier to allow myself to heal and gain wisdom from the experience.
There are few situations lonelier than being wanted by seemingly everybody…except the one person whose attention you crave.
You know, I get hit on every day. Sometimes it bothers me more than others, but the vast majority of the time, I prefer to be left alone. You know, treated like a human being rather than an item to be possessed. That sentiment gets infinitely more painful each time someone hits on me in “real life” or I get an overwhelming number of messages on Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, LinkedIn, Twitter, freaking Words with Friends (because yes, women get hit on EVERYWHERE), etc…and meanwhile, I am being ignored by the one man who really made me believe in the possibility of forever.
You know, the guy I dated for a couple years in college cheated on me. When I found out, I left him. On my 22nd birthday 6-7 weeks later, he let me know that he had bought my engagement ring several months before and was planning to propose that night. Asked me if I wanted to at least see it, etc.
That night, I gave myself ten seconds to cry over it. Then I promptly pulled myself together and went out to dinner with my roommates and then out on the town (without the girls, who went to bed) to dance the night away.
Perhaps that’s why it hurt so
When you left.
You had become
My guiding light
The bookends of my days
Ever the captain,
I resumed my rightful
Place at the helm
Readjusted the sails
And set course for
A paradise of my own making.
When he tries to have his cake and eat it too,
I urge you to leave the table
With whether or not he will starve.
So. I up and quit my job last month.
I had been at the company for about 13 months, a much shorter time than initially planned (given that my trajectory down the road was to step up as company Director of Communications). The funny thing is, I really loved my job.
It was incredibly demanding at times (and truthfully way too big for one person), but it also gave me a sense of purpose, I felt appreciated overall, and I felt that I was able to make a difference in my work. As the old saying goes, however, “people don’t leave jobs—they leave managers,” and that certainly held true for me.
So I’ll be the first to say that I don’t necessarily have the best luck with men (if you’ve followed my writing for very long, you can attest to this). Some of that is because I—a coach through and through—tend to see people’s potential, forgive mistakes, and assume that everyone I meet is generally trying his or her best from their own current level of consciousness.
The rain lashed at my window
Like your words at my heart.
Colder than I expected.
Little did you know
This was preferable
To the Silent void left
As you faded day by day.
December 2, 2017
You’re going to make me crazy.
It’d be so much easier
To move on
If your shadow didn’t linger
In my bed
When the throes of ecstasy