I'm just going to say it. I'm suffering from a broken heart. Suffering being the operative term, and that translates to a kink in my I-Must-Write-for-the-Masses gene, so apologies for being MIA. In fact, I wasn't going to write about this at all, but heartache is universal, right? Plus this is my story and I get to post whatever the hell I want on my blog, and god knows (in his infinite imaginary wisdom) it is the one thing that actually does belong to me.
Of course, it's not finished, but the facts remain. I'm much like a water faucet these days because the complications surrounding my broken heart are, well, complicated. My reliable companions are Sara Bareilles, John Mayer, and Jason Mraz cuz their sappy lyrics and well-timed crescendos really get me, though I confess, right now even "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk" chokes me up. As does brushing my teeth. And peeling a mandarin. And getting dressed. Getting undressed is arguably worse, for reasons as inexplicable as why I can't put on mascara with my mouth closed. No, I can't. Don't even try to argue with me right now.
Add to that, this past weekend I moved into my new digs and ran smack-dab into my past. Nostalgia in the bottom of boxes undisturbed for almost two years. Like a live CD of my baby sister (gone now for three years) crooning with her band; a sentimental scrapbook from 25 WriterGrrls who sent me off to Florida feeling valued and uplifted; and handwritten love letters that make me wonder if I'll ever again be someone's first and only choice. Yeah, waterworks.
I also unearthed some treasures that made me smile, like a ceramic rooster with its butt in the air, a shiny aqua bag the size of a Rubik's cube with boa feathers, and a charming "little" sum'n-sum'n in need of new batteries. Actually, I wept about that one too, but those were tears of joy. Obviously.
I'm now resorting to soothing my big tittybabyness with nightly Spartacus marathons. It's rough, but a girl's gotta do . . . stuff. And naked gladiators are quite the distraction, even without the requisite glass or three of wine and gobs of Tostitos stuck in icy blobs of Schweddy Balls, which is like having my own little sailboats in a bowl of Arctic debris. Who can resist diving in and stabbing and twisting the hell out of them with a spoon?
Anywho, the blogging herewith resumes at Fragrant Liar, and I'll be around to see you all as soon as I can. Meantime, I'm open to suggestions on where one can buy some long-lasting D's. In bulk, yo.
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February 28, 2012
It's My Story and I'll Cry If I Want To
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30 comments:
I know of what you speak, sister. Cry away. Hard and often. It's cleansing.
You can't have the rainbow without the rain.
xxoo
Get a battery charger...saves money and you always have a fresh pair ready...
wishing you all the best if you were in the hood I would offer a glass of the red stuff...
cheers, Sausage.
Sailing with schweddy. Here's to calming seas, my friend.
xo
I am recently herewith resumed myself. Onward and upward with our awesome mascara'd selves, babe - I'm delighted to see you around!
Oh no, so sorry.
But you know what ? I don't even remember the last time I had a broken heart...because I don't remember the last time I was in love.
NOT going to add a stupid cliché here though...like you say, it's your party.
Much strength though
xo
Oy. So so sorry to hear this. Geez that's the worst kind of pain. I went with a guy for nearly three years, and a couple of months before our third "anniverary" of being together he dumped me for another woman. Just like that. I was deeply, madly, truly in love with this guy. It was 10 years ago and I remember with painful clarity the shock and pain of that moment, where you feel the breath is sucked out of your lungs. I spent 3 days in bed, crying until I hiccuped. Falling asleep, and waking up and the pain slamming into my brain and body again. Ugh. Hang in there, because this too, shall pass. Takes time. Lots of time. And lots of wine. And while you'll never forget it, distance makes it bearable. Take it one day at a time, one step at a time, one hour at a time, if necessary. Hugs.
p.s. D batteries in bulk at Costco. I've been single for over two years from the last breakup, which is another story for another day. So I definitely know where the best deal on D's are. Just sayin'. :)
Not sure how to link up my email address, but it's oceanlover821 gmail com. :)
I'm sorry you're hurting. Your fine sense of humour hasn't taken too many blows though. Hang in there.
10 years ago my last "only true" love and I broke up. I'm still not over him although my life has gone on. It's made it really hard for me to commit again though because...
...you know.
Keep those batteries rotating, grrl. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.
It will get better. It will.
Raising a big glass to you. Crying is good. And so is writing. Come back.
Pearl
Sorry to hear this. Do cry, and yell, and whatever it takes, and one day you'll notice that it hasn't hurt quite as much lately. Wishing you some comfort.
Heart breaks I know so very well. Maybe unearthing the memories will eventually bring healing to those tears. Take care of yourself and don't feel the least bit bad about crying those tears.
Heart break hurts like hell. Then the stress of moving and all that goes into that. No wonder you have turned to that gorgeous man/men for distraction. Keep pushing forward! Write whatever the heck you want, but keep writing. It helps.
Oh Honey, I'm sorry. That just sucks! I open my mouth to put on mascara too. Why ask why?
One suggestion. Go buy some shoes. You'll feel like a new woman in no time. Also, cry and carry on as much as you want. Then close the chapter and start a new one.
xxooxx
I'm sorry you have a broken heart, but at least your cat didn't die. I was afraid that was the case when I saw that photo. Men come and go, but a good cat is hard to find. Hugs, my friend.
ouch. sending a virtual glass of wine your way... and a recommendation to invest in a really nice electronic friend. the kind that is rechargable. and comes with a guarantee that it won't stomp on your heart...
Oh jeez.
What happened to your cat?
Cry, scream, swear, write, whatever it takes.
You cry girl...as loud and as long as you want.
Hugging you
SueAnn
Television movies will be your best friend.
Try getting into True Blood.
What an amazing, creative person you are. Even your saddest blog can't help but contain things to make me laugh. Any man who would not want to choose you for a one and only would be nuts. I'd certainly choose you if I didn't already have one. A one and only, that is. Besides, having an overweight, old fart who is losing testosterone by the hour would only make you laugh.
hope you are ok???? heartache and tears hurt so much, but i feel like the tears are poison that you just have to let out before you can heal. hang in there, and cling to those things that make you tear up with happiness. those are the best.
wow...yeah john mayer will def do that...esp the battlestations cd...if you run out i am sure you could run jumper cable from the car battery...on second thought...
hugs.
hope peace finds you soon.
I'm so sorry you're heartbroken. That's the worst feeling ever. The only advice I have is VODKA. And lots of it.
And, I second what Christine said, "Cry away. Hard and often. It's cleansing. You can't have the rainbow without the rain."
BIG. FAT. HUGS.
Hush. We've all been there, perhaps there is nothing more terrible, more painful in this world than a breaking heart.
I feel for you. Hug
Kane
Sucks. But take care of yourself, your body, and your smart creative mind. Go within, and remember that you'll never be able to depend on anyone more than you can depend on yourself. Take this time to enjoy YOU!
Sending oceans of love ......
I wasn't around to see this originally. Sorry I am late....
A broken heart is terrible. It has been three years for me. Sucks !
I hear hanging a new shower curtain helps ;-)
Hugs!!!!
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