Everyday.

I read an article the other day about breakups and letting go. It said that we don't miss the people we were with rather who we were when we were with them. It challenged the reader to think back to the times you miss them so you can see it's not about the love you have for them but the love you have for your ego. It went on to say we only miss them when we're lonely. Bullshit. Fuck you. I stopped reading it immediately.

I miss Lullabies. I miss the way he smelled, his goofy big tooth grinned, his stupid laugh, his cheesy t shirts, the way he chomped his teeth when he was drinking a new beer, I miss sitting next to him on the sofa watching shows on my iPad while he played PlayStation. I miss laying in bed, in the dark, laughing until we cried and talking for hours. I miss the way he looked at me when he thought I didn't notice. The way he'd hold my hand in the car. How he touched my face when we kissed. I miss the way his beard felt on my neck. I miss the beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breath while I slept on his chest. I miss how he always had to touch me while he slept and how he felt in my arms. I miss how we would laugh during sex. I miss how he knew what I was thinking and feeling...even if we weren't in the same room. We truly enjoyed each other. I never had so much fun doing absolutely nothing with anyone like I did with him. But it's when I'm happy on a perfect day that I miss him the most.

I miss him when I see a funny meme. On my birthday. When I close a big deal. I still catch myself looking for him when I say something that cracks everyone in the room up. I still listen for his laugh. I still find myself reaching for him in my sleep. We broke up on April 6th and there are mornings when I wake up  hoping, praying, that it was all a nightmare and that I'm safe in bed next to him.

When does it end?

He was made for me.

We were supposed to live happily ever after.

I'm supposed to be Mrs. Lullabies.

I should be thinking about what to make him for dinner tonight.

I should be shopping for a sexy costume to wear on his birthday.

But I'm not.

It was love. Where did it go?

How do I live in a world where he exists but isn't with me?

When will I be able to breathe again?


Peace, Love & Baseball,

...It's Time

Fucking Guero, my older son. So stupid, yet so insightful when it comes to me.

When he was 13 and I was losing my shit over Fuckface, he calmly looked at me and said, "Mom. He's playing you. Why do you let him do that to you?" How fucked up is that? How shitty is it when your 13 year old son knows you're being played...and you can't? At that moment I realized that kids know you just as well as you know them. Now if only he can get his shit together and move the fuck up out of my house.

When I decided it was time for Guero to meet Lullabies, I asked him how he felt about it. He told me that he didn't want to meet him. I was shocked. He's never really cared about who I date. He's not protective of me like my younger son, Sir Shits A Lot. SSAL, is CRAZY protective of me. HE'S the one I worry about introducing to new men in my life. Anyhow, when I asked Guero why he didn't want to meet Lullabies, a man that I really thought I was going to marry, he told me, "I don't want to meet another guy who's going to fuck you over and make you cry. I don't need to be able to picture the face of the man that broke my mom's heart. No thanks." 

At first I was offended. Then flattered. Then dismissive. I was sure that Lullabies and I were the real thing. Little did I know. 

My mom is a Jehovah's Witness. As a kid I wasn't allowed to celebrate holidays. Now that I'm an adult certain holidays are a big fucking deal to me. St. Patrick's Day, Halloween, the 4th of July, my birthday. Yes. Yes,  I do consider my birthday a fucking holiday. Get over it.

I am KNOWN to randomly text people a count down to my birthday. You can count on me to let anyone and everyone willing to listen know it's my birthday. I'm like a 4 year every fucking year. Except this year.

This year, I thought I was going to have a boyfriend. This year I thought I was going to have Lullabies. So fucking stupid of me to think. 

I'm going to be 38 this year. I've never struggled with getting older. In fact it's been the opposite. I couldn't wait to get older. I couldn't wait for the people I work with to stop dismissing me as a child in the work place. 

But as my birthday is rapidly approaching, I can' help but to wonder where in the hell has my life gone. I've worked hard making my career. I've made a lot money in my life time. I've hit milestones that many people older than me haven't. I've partied my ass off. I've been adored by men. I've had the time of my life so why am I reflecting and wondering what the fuck happened to me. 

Easy. While I am adored by many, I am not loved by one. I've had so many men propose to me over the years. Good men at that. In my 20's, I thought I had time to settle down later in life. In my early 30's, I came to the conclusion that I would never find a man that would ever love me for who I am. That my life would be a string of affairs that suited my life at that particular moment. I was fine with that reality. Then HE came along. Fucking Lullabies. And now, now that I no longer have him loving me, I feel empty. 

I know he's not the one for me. I know the one that is meant for me won't leave me. I even know that if he came back, I would' take him back but that doesn't stop me from missing him...ok, honestly? Obsessing, it doesn't stop me from obsessing over him. I know he will always have a special place in my heart. I know he and I will always be friends. But I know I can't be that now. It just hurts so fucking much. 

So I made the decision tonight that he can't have my 38th year. I won't let him make me sad. I won't let him make me cry. I won't allow myself to secretly hold on to the hope that I bury, and even hide from myself, deep down in me. So I told him tonight that I hope he finds his happiness, that I wish him nothing but the best, that no one has ever made me laugh the way he did and I blocked him. 

I know it's for the best. I know it is because it hurts. But I guess it's better to take my hurt in one lump sum and get it over with than to take it in pieces over the next whoever knows how many years it'll take me to let go of him.

Leaving someone I love is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. And after my ex husband, I never thought I'd ever have to do this again. 

I wish I could say 'fuck love' but I know love is the one thing I really want, so I won't.

Peace, Love & Baseball,