On being happy. Or confused. Or something.
Sixteen months ago I stood outside of Underground Lounge, crying, and told him I may never see him again. He said that was ridiculous. But, to me, it was a strong possibility.
Part of the reason I wanted to travel was to get over him.
I started planning my round the world trip sometime during a two-year stretch where he had decided to cut me out of his life. I still loved him. I still thought about him way too much. And I knew that I had to do something drastic to finally, once and for all, move on. And I knew I had to do something drastic to finally, once and for all, start living life on my terms, and not for anyone else.
And so I planned a year of travel.
And so, even though he came back into my life for the two years before I left, I still left.
When I did, a part of me thought that I, truly, might never see him again.
After I left we still talked through email all of the time. I was having a hard time, I needed someone. But after a few months I stopped. I was happy. I was living. I wasn’t thinking about him. I went months in between contacting him, which was the longest stretch of self-employed silence I’d had with him in 12 years. Sure there were years when he ignored me, but never have there been that long of time where I didn’t reach out to him.
Sixteen months later I returned to Underground to see the same boy.
We ended up getting lunch my second day home. And then I went to see his free improv show with Heather and Chelsa. And then I went again the next week and afterwards we played pool and I showed off my newfound skills. (P.S. It’s totally easier to play on a table the doesn’t lean to one side.)
And you know what? It was nice. It was nice because, for the first time ever, all I wanted was to hang out. I had no looming expectations. I had no unrequited feelings. I was over it. I had moved on. I was, finally, actually, ready to just be friends.
I suppose I could have cut him out completely, not let him know I was home, not said OK when he suggested lunch. But I didn’t want to. Because he is a good friend. He is someone I get along with well. He’s someone who knows me on a different level that anyone else in the world does. And sometimes I need that.
I know I’ve been kind of down lately. The fact that I spent my first two weeks home in pain didn’t help with the back to reality depression that hit me here and there. The fact that the expectations I had in my head, building up for months, were a far cry from what came to be didn’t help. And the fact that I know there are people who are judging me, who read my blog and think I’m a slut or privileged or a privileged slut doesn’t help either.
I’ve said once before, long ago, that I seem to be able to capture my emotions in blog form when I’m having bad days but when I’m happy I tend to neglect doing that. I just throw up pictures and call it a day. And I know that I still have the problem where I focus on the one little stupid thing that is wrong instead of everything that is right. It’s still something I am working on.
The truth is, no matter what the little things are that have been plaguing me lately, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Really. I swear. In fact, several of my friends have commented that I seem happier than they’ve ever seen me. I know my life over the last year and a half has been pretty amazing. And I know I will continue to try to continue living the life I’ve always wanted to live, whatever direction that may be. I just feel a little displaced right now. And am no longer sure what I want. And I can’t solve my problems right now by skipping town.
And I do love Chicago. And I love being here. And I love being amongst my friends again. And have come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably be here a little longer than I hoped or expected. (oh, right, did I mention that? My financial panther told me I’d be charged a fee for taking money out of my mutual fund account…even though I swear I’ve taken money out before without one. Plus he seems to think I should find a way to bring in money before I leave again. Plus that whole being out of commission for two weeks thing really put me behind in doing anything, I am so not prepared to leave yet.)
And, I suppose, I’m just rambling again, and not making any sort of point.