A Long Hiatus, but Back because Reminded

I saw my best friend Megan this last week because it was her sister Erin's wedding (wonderful wedding, wonderful people!) and she mentioned that I hadn't updated my blog in a long time. Well, that's mostly because of two things: a) dance and school and work (yes, I got into grad school at Weber State and got hired there as an adjunct to teach English 1010) and b) I utilize wordpress now more than anything, and I have a craft blog where I do my updates for that. So I haven't even thought to update anything. But there have been several big things that I feel like I want to say, but that I hate to say very publicly (as in FB) because there are people that would feel bad or hurt about it.

But first: goals update.

1: I've been trying to communicate with people better, especially when it's pertinent. The problem has become for me, is there any way to determine the best time to communicate the things that are pertinent? More on this in a minute.

2: Because I'm in graduate school, the idea is to get something, or actually somethings, published and so you look good for PhD programs when you're finished with graduate school. So, this semester I'm trying to write a killer paper to get into a conference, and I'm also going to be writing a book review to hopefully get published. We'll see how it goes.

3: My job isn't full time, really, but I'm teaching in college. And it's paying for my college. And paying me on top of that. Can I ask for better right now, really?

4: I read one philosophy book off my list and bought a few more, but Randall Munroe's What If book is currently taking up all my time. He's the guy who writes XKCD, in case you didn't know.

5: HAHAHAHAHA I'm never going to be good at exercising.

Now, onto the rest.

Some of you know I was dating someone semi-seriously. His name is Jeremy. You may have noticed the was. This is why I asked the question I asked about #1. He had been pretty aloof, and then one night I went to kiss him goodbye and he pushed me away, then asked me to call him when I got home. I told him, "Well, thanks for the good times," because I knew he was going to break up with me there, or end things, or whatever you want to call it, but he said, "Won't there be more good times?" Instead of confronting him right there and making him communicate with me, I went home crying. Then I called him before I got home to talk, and that's when he decided to tell me he was no longer interested and that I shouldn't be upset because we were never exclusive, and that the reason he was leaving was because he wasn't happy with me (and hadn't been for months, apparently) and because I obviously had too much skin in the game.

I was distraught, and then told him a bunch of things I thought and had thought. I spent the next few days crying and angry, and then told him we couldn't be friends (which hasn't really worked out the way I thought because I still see him all the time at dances and I decided to work with him to create a blues dance lesson series, which is more of a business relationship, but one he takes advantage of for friendship, and me too on occasion, if I'm being honest), and it caught him off guard, because he thought it could just go back to the way it was before I'd been his girl. When he keeps trying to break ground rules I've set, it leaves me sad. Also, wondering why it is that he couldn't just be straightforward and break up with me in person. Am I really that scary that he has to make sure I'm miles away before he tells me?

Today was his birthday. I couldn't help myself: I made him a card and some roasted pumpkin seeds and thought I'd ask him if he wanted to grab dessert for his birthday so I could give them to him. He said thanks, but that he had already met with [insert girl's name here] for lunch and he probably didn't want to. But thanks anyways. So I was hurt. I wasn't important enough to want to spend time with. But he had to meet me on my birthday and by me dessert and make me work on an image I didn't want to work on and be with someone I didn't want to be with on my birthday because I had certain expectations for how we would spend my birthday and those weren't going to happen now. But no, he gets to say no to me because it all has to work the way he wants it. So it leads me back to the same hurtful questions:

1. If he wasn't happy with me, how much of the relationship is a lie because I was happy and he was faking?
2. If he was never romantically involved with me (in his mind) then why did he decide to lead me on by doing all those romantic things with me?
3. Was I, and have I always been, just someone he saw as useful and figured it would be good to get me personally invested so I'd stick around?
4. Does he just not see how much his actions continually hurt me?

And I want to ask him these questions all the time. But the couple of times I've tried to ask him he skirts around the questions with the answer of: "Me telling you why this relationship, which wasn't even exclusive, is no longer working for me isn't going to change anything. You trying to talk about this isn't going to fix it. I can't give you any closure, because I don't see that this is a permanent thing, and just because it's ending now doesn't mean it won't pick back up in the future." Which is essentially him telling me, in my mind, I want to try out another girl right now, but when it doesn't work, I'll come pick you up off that shelf I put you on just now, so don't go anywhere. I might want you again as a rebound.

And it makes me feel worthless and sick. Sick because I felt happy for the last year and a half with him. Sick because I had healing moments with him that now I feel like could have easily meant nothing to him. Sick because I question the legitimacy of those healing moments now. Sick because I shared intimate things with him I haven't shared with anyone and now he has that as ammunition if he really wanted (although my rational mind knows he wouldn't do that). Sick because the last year of my life is possibly a lie. Sick because the first man I've ever felt like I could truly say loved me actually didn't have any feelings for me. Sick because I told that man I loved him and it was really scary, and it turned out he didn't care. Sick because it's been a month since he did this to me and I still cry at least once a week over it.

I've been trying to stay busy with a lot of things to keep happy, but it's the hours I'm alone that it makes me sad. Want to see what I wrote in the birthday card? I thought a lot about it, and I heard two Doctor Who quotes from this latest season that really fit what I wanted to say to him, so I just used them:

Jeremy, 

I know I’m breaking my own rules, but since you’re never finished with anyone while they can still make you angry, I guess I figured we’ve got some more interacting to do. I mean, hatred is too strong an emotion to waste on someone you don’t like, right? So, here’s to seeing what another year of interaction brings. And for God’s sake, don’t stop dressing well just because I’m not around to choose what looks best on you. Happy birthday. We’re still not dancing.

Love, 

Chelsea

Not dancing is one of my rules that's probably going to have to stay for a long time. I cry after every time I dance with him. Which is bad if you're driving home at night. Or driving period. And I can't say I don't feel hate almost every day I think of my favorite memories and realize that he probably didn't feel anything like what I was feeling. 

I don't know. Should I feel angry and upset? Or should I just take the moments as what I felt and be happy I actually, for the first time since I got divorced, was able to open up to someone and enjoy life in love for a year and a half? Probably the last one, and maybe eventually I'll get there. I'm just really upset now. So you may see me post memories or frustrations or random things and thoughts here as I progress through this. It seems to be what I did here for my divorce, so why not just continue to post life realizations here? Don't see why not. Then I'll have THREE BLOGS! My blues dance blog, my craft blog, and this. Guess it's not too crazy, right?

Also, a parting thought from Doctor Who: “You only find out what someone thinks of you when you find out what lies they’ve told you.”

Different

My parents were often frowned upon because they only had two kids despite the high income level they live at.  Still, I know there was a reason my mom didn't adopt any kids or have any more than she had.  I'm bringing this up because my mom is downstairs watching the health channel about Bipolar mysteries involving toddlers.  My brother was born with Aspergers and Panic Disorder.  He didn't talk until he was four years old, and started school when he was three.  The developmental school came into the home and thought that it was due to parenting problems that my brother was the way he was.  They found out the contrary.

My mom worked around the clock with my brother, and I was often left in waiting rooms or home alone until my father came home from work.  One of my very first memories is sitting in a waiting room with my hands over my ears, trying to block out my screaming brother in the back of the building.  With all my brother's doctors visits, extra schooling, language and development problems (the left side of his brain didn't develop fully, causing the language problems), my mother could barely handle parenting him, let alone me.

People would make rude comments upon my mom's problems with my brother, and even her family refused to help her take care of him when she needed a break.  This all went on right after she had taken care of her mother in law, who has schizophrenia, bipolar and anorexia.  Needless to say my mom didn't appreciate the comments made to her that condemned her as a terrible parent.  The frustration of it all was often taken out on my father.  Every night some weeks I would hear them arguing about me, and my brother when they thought we were asleep.  Those nights I cried myself to sleep.  Throughout those years I always worried my parents were going to get divorced, and one night at family home evening/council I told them so, because I never saw them happy together, only fighting and angry.  They tried to change after that.

Over the years my mom and I never got along.  I would say hello in the wrong way and she would pin me in the corner and yell at me for hours.  Every day I would be scared to say or do the wrong thing around my mom, so I would try to stay around my dad.  Given, I wasn't the perfect child; telling my mom that I didn't have to do what she told me to at age four shows that perfectly.  Still, I felt like I got yelled at for longer periods of time and more often than most children.  The first time I overheard her tell my father how much she hated me I was completely heartbroken.  From that point on I became a perfectionist.  I didn't realize that she was saying those things because of all the stress of having a child with what is called "high functioning autism."

Hindsight is twenty twenty, so I understand now what I didn't throughout most of my life up until four years ago.  Nobody takes the time to understand how hard it is to have a child with a mental disability, because they can't see it.  Growing up I had very few friends, because I had a brother that was labeled a "freak."  Having a brother that was different exposed my family to ridicule in many ways; for me, this was both physical and verbal.  I would worry when I walked across the road in elementary because people, many who were in my home ward, would line up on the other side and throw rocks at me.  It stung more than just physically with each stone that hit me.  The ones that hit my head would always be the worst.  Even when I switched schools I was alienated, because I was friends with a kid at school who was disliked for his mental disorder.  No one "normal" likes the person who sticks their head out for the ones who are different, at least when it comes to a mental disorder.  Looking on that, it makes me realize that my mom went through the same thing, just with adults.  Now, my mom worries that I don't have any good childhood memories, that they are all sad and about people being mean to me.  She's not 100 percent wrong to be worried, as I can firmly say that over half of my childhood memories are of how mean kids were to me because I had a brother that was different and a mother who yelled a lot because she didn't know what to do about it.  However, the other 40 percent are some of the best memories I have, and I wouldn't trade them for 100 percent of decently happy memories.

Having few friends made me fall in love with books and learning.  My imagination flourished while I was in my room and with my best friends, Erin and Megan Moulding.  I was always the best in my class, because I worried that if I wasn't the best my parents would be disappointed in me.  I felt like I had to compensate for the trials my parents went through by being perfect.  The few times I've disappointed my father are the worst memories of my life.  The mentality of having to be perfect still sticks with me today, and that, I have decided, is a huge reason why I don't think I'm good enough for anyone, particularly guys that I would like to date.  It probably has a lot to do with why I think everyone has ulterior motives for wanting to be friends with me, or why I think that people are just pretending to be nice to me.  Most of these people don't even know my brother or his past, but old habits die hard.

Overall, I think that having a brother with a mental disability was just as tough as growing up in a large family that was hard on money.  If my mom had had more kids than just two, I don't think things would have gone so smooth, and they went bumpy at best with two; not even close to half of what we went through is mentioned in this post.  Between all the screaming and the fighting and the not knowing what to do with my brother, I somehow bonded with my family.  I may rant and rave about how angry I get with them sometimes and say that I want to get away from them, but I always find myself coming back to them, because they are the only ones who know what I went through growing up with a brother that was different, and I know I won't be judged by them.