History has a way of repeating itself, until you get the lesson. I mean get the lesson. Not understand it, but embrace it and navigate your way through it. What I’m reflecting on happened quite a while ago, but getting close to the end of the year just has me thinking about who I was, who I am, and who I am becoming.

The process is not streamlined at all. I have fallen off the wagon, I have visited some of the same old towns, and have had the displeasure of licking old wounds. Some have healed. Some…not so much. I don’t think they ever will. They’re just scars that bleed a bit from time to time, and the lesson is not over for them. In any case, what happened will reek of my past in a way that might make the few who’ve weathered the storm of this blog think that I’m going back in time. Trust me–I’m not.

I look like the mothering type. Wide, pear-shaped hips, round face and a soft-ish voice. I bake things and care a bit too much from time to time. I want to love and forgive, and this is the flaw that calls the vultures to the meaty prey. See, I’m aware of my un-cuteness. I spend many nights at home, and dates/sensual encounters are very spread out. This is a constant that makes me “reliable” to former interests. So, when their problems are sky high, or the ones they really want aren’t around….”Oh hey Veronica!”

For a while, this happened about every six months. Yes, right around cuffing season, somebody’s birthday, or when everyone else higher on their list of shoulders brushed them off. I would fall for it every time, wondering why I would be so hurt, so stressed out in the end. We won’t even go into emotional abuse and yours truly feeling…off because I KNEW things weren’t right.

With all that being said, I keep talking about lessons learned. I have discussed how “when it’s over, it’s over”. This comes into conflict with forgive and forget. Don’t we want to be the bigger person and forgive whatever happened whenever? Aren’t we all adults? Can we be respectful, honest about our intentions, and not just…use people?

We would like to think that people change with time. Y’know–old tricks are put to bed, the values of life and respect are present. With this thought in mind, about two months ago I decided to unblock everyone from everything. Emails, Tumblr, Facebook. Let the past be the past! Whee! I was in a space where if people had something to say to me, we could be cool. If not, I was prepped to say nothing and respond with animated GIFs. However, the idea was to make peace. No ultimatums, no tense feelings. Let’s all love and be loved, because the world is a messed up place.

I mean, it works sometimes. I won’t sit here and write a negative sentence saying making up, forgiving/forgetting cannot be done. There can be peace–with certain people. This is the thing–when people sincerely value and respect you, the rest comes easy. If they have an ulterior motive for the greeting, shut that mess down. If they just…do something, shut it down.

Let’s just get to the meat of the story. I met a gentleman whom I had been talking to on tumblr. All went okayish, but I didn’t pump myself up. I felt like I probably bored him to death, and was doomed for the predictable list. I mean, I know I’m about as interesting as boiling ramen noodles. He was pretty interesting, and we agreed to meet up again another time. When that time came around, something happened. What he doesn’t know is that around that same time, I was feeling “less than” about myself, my worth, my looks. I had a few…items set up for the weekend. Not only to make myself feel better, but just to boost the fun meter. When he did not show up, I felt like crap. I wrote a long-ish sad girls club post about it.

Weeks pass, and I sort of am able to forget it. I post many things to push it away. I still feel like crap, but the show must go on. This is also around the time I decide to unblock people from Tumblr. I get a storm of likes, and this particular post is liked by another guy whom I called myself very interested in and invested in many moons ago. That relationship ended poorly because I felt like he was treating me like crap.

He’ll probably say he doesn’t know why, but let me put it this way–you cannot build someone up on Sunday, then dismantle them through Saturday talking about other women who want you, people who “get you much better”, and other emotionally destroying details. I mean, to the point where I was wondering why I was even a part of their world. I left them to gain my sanity back. I blocked them on everything. To make a long story short, I wanted bygones to be bygones, but the tiniest action let me know–“that was not meant to be”.

Okay, so you’re saying to yourself “dude all of this over a like?” Yes. How do you go from liking awesome, super sexy and cute pics I took time to edit and post to liking a status about one of the saddest days of a prior week? A post about being stood up.

People often say that they like posts not to convey amusement or joy over your sadness, but to say they have your back or “sorry to hear that”. To me, this moment read a lot like “ha ha you’re suffering, and I like this post about your misfortune”. In any case–despite it being a public post–I thought it was a lotta messed up for an ex on any level to be liking that post. Seeing it in my notifications just left a raw feeling in my soul-gut, while this song played.

It rubbed my rhubarb the wrong way. Plain and simple. I know he can read. I know I was feeling very hurt when I posted that status. I also regretted it, because it just opened me up looking like I was all in love with this dude. I mean, he’s cool but I wasn’t catching major feelings. However, the idea that your ex…whatever is liking a post to the tune of your being stood up? Not exactly what I call starting out on a good foot. I didn’t care what he wanted. Didn’t want to say hello back to his message on another site. When I saw that like, I remembered how everything always started with hello, with “just being friends”, and the next thing I know, we’re back at him explaining to me why he’s changed his mind about coming to visit me.

Maybe my head was very inflated at the idea he even cared that much, but I didn’t want things to take another step. The liking of the post ignited the flame, and the realization that he probably didn’t want anything but to waste my time set the entire idea ablaze–the past needed to stay where it was, because it wasn’t bringing anything new to the table.

Had this been a younger me, I feel like I probably would have completely engaged myself in conversation. Asking why he liked it, or just flat out saying hi, getting invested in him, and forgetting all about it. For what? Just to get emotionally manipulated again? Don’t I have enough going on? Living in a new town, looking for another job on top of my part-time job, saving to pay off student loans, AND finding a space to combat my weight and stress issues? And I’m just going to forgive and forget the one person whom I think is WORSE than my first boyfriend?


I nipped it in the bud. I gained 40 horrible pounds letting him get to me when I left. I made the vow never to speak to him again, because he’s trouble. Handsome face, pretty good job, magnetic as get-all, but emotionally damaging in a way that he “never” seems to realize. That’s so unhealthy, and I deserve a lot better from someone who actually cares about me, wants to be with me, and sees me as a respected equal–not somebody’s emotional plaything when the seas of life have no one else for them. I wasn’t selfish nor careless to his issues–I cared a great deal, and he’d always say “oh it’s nothing.” How do I navigate through that? I was not put on this Earth to cater to mixed signals and selfishness.

So yes, I had to trip a bit….a LOT to see that you can’t always heal the things all the time. There are things I’d like to heal and fix, but they don’t work out that way. There are so many other things in this world seeking the kind of love I have inside of me, and it’s not supposed to hurt so much that I doubt myself and my worth. That isn’t love. When I think of love, I think of what Maya Angelou said.

Love liberates. “It doesn’t just hold. That’s ego.” It doesn’t bind. I know it’s not perfect–never is. But I think with all my flaws, I oughta be lovable to someone out there. Not as a prospect, not as a piece to be used for their good alone–but as someone of value. Seek my solace and attention because you genuinely feel that you want it. If you want to step above and say you need it, okay. You say you need it. Seek my solace and attention as nourishment eternal–not an in-between fix between lovers or between that time you and the truly desired person is pissed off by the same crap you think I’m going to put up with, because I have nobody. Do not bind me with falseness. Don’t stir my investment if your plan is to flush me or tarnish the waters of my soul with news to scorch my pot.

I wanted to ask him, back then, what the purpose was of telling me about the people, the lusty poet who wanted him, and the understanding. I wanted to ask him, because in every breath he was always feeling terrible and bad. In every breath of mine, I imperfectly tried to help him. First, fix him. That was a mistake. I corrected it. So I wanted to help him to show him I cared. I wasn’t indifferent and careless to potential depression because I had my own battles to face. But I felt constantly pushed out, alienated by the things he said to me. I voiced them, I got very pissed off about them–I decided to step back, because it was not love.

So that’s also when I realized he probably never loved me. Maybe liked me, maybe thought I was interesting, but never loved me. And I was sure I loved him, broken as I was. Was sure that I would be wife and mother, aligning myself right with his immediate family. I invested a lot of myself into him, whether he knows it or not. The few pennies I had, I got close to the red to send him what I could, when I could. I expected a little something more than I got, and none of it had a price. I only wanted him.

In this current state, all of this is met not with hatred. Nor with anger, and certainly not animosity. Life is too short. I’m just over it. I’m not interested because there is nothing on the table for me. I nipped it, weeks ago. I wanted to say hi, and it’s funny that the app I was using wouldn’t let me say hi.

I think a part of me sort of knew, but as the old habit goes, I wanted to prove that feeling wrong. I didn’t need to. Why?

There is a great big world out there with many people I will love for the rest of my life. We need liberation, purpose, value, respect. We need to accept flaws and cast ulterior motives aside. I need to be in a space where I can be vulnerable, and not have it used against me.

They say love hurts, and yes sometimes it HURTS. But not the kind of hurt that leaves you wondering about your worth as a person as you live and breathe. That is not love.

My muse told me to write this, so I did. That’s all.