Thursday, April 24, 2014

A Heart Can Be Broken But It Still Keeps Beating

*Sigh*

There are lots of silver linings to look forward to, but I also feel a lot of sadness, and stress. We already passed the day we had been planning to be our wedding day, and I survived.

Seriously, work and being busy has been my saving grace. Outside of that, I think therapy is really working it's magic. I hope I'm able to continue seeing someone once I am settled in my new place, new store location, and new life.

I've been trying to deal with one feeling at a time, and counter the negative with really uplifting positive thoughts. In the meanwhile, during my appointment before last, Jenny gave me a little bit of homework-- she told me to look into the book Stop Walking On Eggshells, which I've already started, and to start showing the same compassion I show others to myself.

So, today, I had my last massage with my favorite masseuse (Fallon)-- it was amazing. We met at an outside location away from the clinic I originally met her, it was an hour and a half of pure bless, and afterward she asked me to do something else kind for myself, and then she gifted me the massage asking me to take the money I would have spent on the session towards my birthday night, and the promise I'll text her.

Fallon also told me that I was looking really good. She said I looked radiant, healthy, glowing, and more happy. That really warmed my heart, especially since I've been feeling kinda negative. With all the hormone changes I've had fluctuating weight changes-- nothing I know is forever, but in the midst of moving, putting all the exercise things in boxes to be shipped, and working all the time, I've been mostly trying to eat (mostly) okay, and just be forgiving of myself and keep trucking towards my fast approaching move date.

In the meantime, I've been thinking the kindest, most compassionate thing I can do for myself at this time is start making, and reaching goals. I haven't done that since we confirmed our last loss, and I think the best way to move forward is to find normality in what my new life is going to be like.

So, until now, and the end of May I am setting the following goals for myself:
75 miles, or as many miles as possible in the next 38 days
Login to MFP, keep track of food diary
Participate in Paced breathing exercises 5 days a week
Commute by bicycle as much as possible
Get 8 hours of sleep a night
Read a book
Be positive at work, smile more, slow down breathing
4x exercise a week
supplement
Re-focus on drinking as much water as possible throughout the day

I know some of these goals I've made, and reached before in the past, and I realize that a lot of these things I do near daily as part of my lifestyle-- but, I put them on my goals list, because I want to make certain things a priority. I am out of practice, and need to get back to basics.

Plus, my sleep, keeping hydrated, working out, and monitoring my food intake and ensuring I am eating good foods are all things that I have control over, and I like taking power of the things I can control right now. It makes me feel better, and reminds me that I have power over my emotions, the way I react to them, and how I conduct myself.

I want to be happy. Even though things are still rocky here and there, I think I make that choice daily. I choose to smile, laugh and be happy.

When things are rough, I look at pictures of Jess and the kids, and my heart lightens. I get texts of love, encouragement and support every single day from Stormy, my sister's fast approaching wedding date keeps making my eyes grow light with happy anticipation, and I have so may wonderful outlets. I am blown away by all the wonderful people in my life currently-- my co-workers, Skye, the kids (I miss them so much. Working as often as I've been working the last couple weeks has made it impossible to spend time with them. But I get them a few nights to myself in a week), my wonderful mom, Deana, my dad-- the list goes on and on.

Now, all I need to do is get through the next 14 days.

I can do this.

Friday, April 11, 2014

"I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear." --Martin Luther King Jr

So, things are going.

It's hard, everything in my life is hard. Don't get me wrong, I am mostly happy, but I think that's due to how I admit how difficult things are and then I'm seemingly able to deal with whatever is challenging me in that moment, deal with it, and move on.

I think the bestie said it best yesterday when she was comparing my depression in March to the depression I felt after losing Cash in 2009. Marc's final decision woke me up, and I snapped out of it. I'm still dealing with the back-lashes of being in deep depression for so long, but for the most part I am handling it in very healthy ways; sleeping enough, eating good foods, packing, being constructive, I am setting aside time every night to practice paced breathing, I am selling things, going to therapy consistently, and making a decision as to where I want to start my new chapter of life.

I am Oregon bound.

I have a few Lestat quotes that I keep in my back pocket (damn you, Anne Rice, you brilliant bastard), and one keeps circling around in my brain from QotD, I think:


"It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give us a greater luster to our colors, a richer resonance to our words. That is if it doesn't destroy us, if it doesn't burn away the optimism and the spirit, the capacity for vision." 

This situation, though sad, I have decided to not let it ruin me. This will not burn away my optimism, I'll keep on my journey towards always wanting to be a better version of myself than I was the day before, and my spirit will only be stronger.

I feel with everything that has gone on, and with all the growing I've done, that being completely devastated over someone who chose not to be with me feels silly. The fact that Marc can look me in the eye after a planned pregnancy, knowing that I am not done miscarrying (my hCG levels are nearly to zero-- Dr. Nance is saying one more week!) dump me, then ask me back with tears in his eyes, as his phone is in his hand receiving texts from girls he has met online, speaks volumes of his mental state, and the type of human he is choosing to be. Coming to the realization doesn't remove my sadness. I am just dealing with it one step at a time, one day at a time.

Marc and I have decided to consciously separate, meaning since I won't be completely out of our home until May 7th (and will be officially in Eugene May 9th), and he has agreed since he was the one who mainly wanted this pregnancy (and I have been unable to work the month of March) that he will help me relocate. He even agreed to certain things during a mediation the bestie held for us.

In the meantime, it's been hard and sad being here in our home still. I want to deal with everything properly, and pack things, and leave with my job intact-- but, having Marc behave the way he did/does, decide things the way he did, and then be completely miserable, because I'm unwavering in my own personal decisions hurts us both. And, makes me anxious, which can lead to poor decision making.

That's why I've been getting so much out of therapy. I feel as I make my decisions, and have so much time to discuss stuff with Jenny I have felt like I've been making the best choices I can make. It is hard turning off the part of my brain that says 'we' to 'me,' but I'm doing it. With every choice I am making I know I am deciding what will make me happier in the long-run.

Everything I have built here, everything that I have here, and everything I have become can easily transfer over to my hometown. I came for family love and support and I can still have that with my Utah family while I'm in Oregon.

I am scared, and I was preparing on moving back in 2016-- with Marc. But, I know in my heart that I can be happy, on my own, with myself.

It's a new decade (I'll be thirty on May 29th), a new city, a new life, a new me, and a new chapter.

I've decided the best way to celebrate is to make this the best summer, ever-- I am planning a lot of Oregon Adventures. 

I am trying to get excited, get things done, be happy, take care of myself, allow myself to be vulnerable, and deal with sadness. I think I'm doing okay-- I'm just putting one foot in front of the other.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

I am tenacious. Bitch.

I currently have a blog in my drafts entitled "The One With Two Steaks and an Eggplant" that I was writing for my friend, Beth, but I felt this was more pressing to get to.

Here's a conversation I had at work today:

Jenn: "How's your baby?"
Sari: "My pregnancy ended up being ectopic. I haven't really worked this last month, because of the cancer medication I was being injected with..."
Jenn: "Oh my god, Sari. How are you and your fiance handling all this?" 
Sari: "Not well. We broke up."

Marc and I are no longer together. We are both dealing with this the best way we know how. We both love eachother, and I know we are both hurting. And, before I start this (and pretty much air our laundry publicly and embarrassingly) I want to mention that I don't think Marc is a bad guy. It is just clear to me that we aren't meant to be long-term, I guess.

I know I made the right choice in sticking by this decision. I just feel that I deserve better than being dumped like trash when he decides he doesn't need his medication, and I don't want to sign up for a lifetime of repeating drama.

I have been through this before with him. He dumped me, and left me with no place to go the day after Christmas in 2011, out of nowhere. Nine days later he was committed. While in the hospital a lot of things bubbled to the surface, and I forgave him.

I forgave the cheating (with multiple partners, of both sexes, unprotected while he was still sleeping with me), the lying, and decided that I wasn't going to throw away my relationship, because I had some experience first hand in 2005 how it feels to be very, very manic. I knew in my heart that something was off, and when he was placed in the hospital due to abusing his Adderall during a pretty severe manic episode-- I stayed as faithful, and stubborn as possible.

Marc would never hurt me while in his right mind.

I cleaned his house after he spent seven days straight awake-- doing Lord only knows what, and pissing on the walls, I went and got his car and brought it back to his place, helped take care of d'Art and Fitzwilliam, and tried to be supportive and loving to him, and his family. I did all this, because I had known for months that there was something wrong and I couldn't put my finger on it. I decided to forgive him even after he told his sister I gave him cocaine (which I've never even have touched in my life), and made up a butt-ton of crazy stories.

He has a selective memory of the things that happened during that time (and has a pretty selective memory of the things going on presently), but he was so bad his parents told me at one point that he would have to be placed in a 'home'...and once he was released from the hospital he was like a scared, rabid animal.

But, Marc did what he does that makes me attracted to him in the first place. He worked hard on changing his situation, because he was unhappy. It was a slow process, but he worked hard-- for the first few months after being out of the hospital the cocktail of medication he was on made him sleep all the time, and gain weight, but after a while that tapered off, and his doctor had him on something that was working well.

I stayed his friend, and we worked really hard to repair the things that went on between us. When we got back together I made it abundantly clear that I wasn't going to be one of those couples that break up a million times, and get back together a million times. It's pathetic, white-trash, and not something I am interested in doing the rest of my life.

The 29th of March was the day we officially broke up. I begged him, not to stay with me, but to give it a week before making a decision that would potentially change both of our lives, forever. At first he agreed that he wanted to wait a week before making any permanent decisions. But, then he told me four times in a row that he couldn't be with someone he felt was 'abusive.'

After the fourth confirmation that he no-longer wanted to be together I got up and I called my parents. Eight hours later, he changed his mind-- saying; "third times a charm..." But, like Marc pointed out, he knows how I am once I set my mind to something, and I make a decision.

And, now I feel ashamed of the things I put up with just to hear someone tell me that he loves me.

Even with the medication things weren't perfect-- Marc has been caught several times trying to meet up with people, either on Craigslist, or on gay local websites. He took private pictures that I posed for, for him, and took those naked pictures and put them online without my consent, or knowledge.

And, the worst part was taking himself off his medication without anyone's knowledge in November, continuing to take his mother's money she was giving us for his prescription, and then deciding to tell me after the fact.

I got him to go in to see a doctor, and his doctor said he was willing to see how he would do without the medication, and it's become abundantly clear to me that he is not doing well.

A few days prior to our breakup I started having a really bad, sinking feeling. I couldn't put my finger on it, and since I've pretty much been bed ridden for the month of March I just continued trying to express my feelings to Marc, to facebook, hell to anyone who would fucking listen (I should have just called Jess from the get-go).

During this miscarriage, and the experience of having an ectopic pregnancy Marc was really distant (he tried couple times to be comforting, but this was pretty short-lived. I just kept trying to look on the positive side of things). I chalked it up to him grieving. But, when I told him that I felt so depressed that I was having suicidal thoughts, and that I felt lonely, and like I needed him, he told me that I had become too sad for him to be around. He made me walk home from most of my appointments at the U (I could have gotten on the bus, but after each of my appointments, I was bawling, and crying on in front of strangers on public transportation is NOT my idea of a good time), and started staying up all night, maybe only getting four hours of sleep a night.

And, the catalyst that set it all off? On Thursday morning (the 27th), it was my second day back to work, and I asked Marc if he could give me a ride that morning to Old Navy, he told me no, saying he had a meeting and that he was anxious to get to work early before the meeting. That evening I ended up finding out that he ran off to have coffee with a girl that Jess is good friends with, and once more he also told me that he was staying up all night talking to her.

When I told him I found it weird that he was hiding this new friendship, that turned into me trying to 'control' who he can be friends with-- throwing the fact that I don't let him hang out with his friend Tom in my face, and that he was unaware that he couldn't have friends. Tom is an old friend of his that was convicted for child pornography, and I have fought him tooth and nail to not have him in our home, because 1) that's gross, 2) I was raped repeatedly as a child by an older cousin, and I don't want convicted sex felons around me, and 3) Kieran, Liam, and Violet are in our home a lot, and I would kill Tom (even though I don't know him) before he would be allowed to so much as look at those kids.

And as far as his new friend, Darcy, I found it odd that he couldn't take me to work, or be there for me in during my sad and dark time, but he had the time to invest with her.

Our fight that night consisted of some pretty epic screaming from me. He basically was live-tweeting our argument to Darcy while it was going on in front of me, instead of actually speaking to me. He started telling people that I hit him-- his mom, his sisters, my best friend, her husband, and Lord knows who else. Which has been incredibly triggering, because of my past abuse I endured from Josh beating me, raping me, controlling me, telling me I am not lovable, and from the things I experienced from my biological mother's mental health.

I sob every time I think of laying my hands on him, because I don't have that in me (regardless of the raging part of me that's from Springfield), and I know he's saying those things, because he is going through some pretty heavy shit, but to me it is inexcusable.

When I spoke to my dad about this particular part of our fight my Pops told me not to let Marc define me. I am not, nor will I ever be my mother, and I will never be in a million years be anything like Josh. And, I am not abusive.

Now, it's the hard part. I kept feeling with this miscarriage that things couldn't get worse-- but, they did. However, it's my experience once you've hit rock bottom there is nowhere else to go but up..."and still I rise."

I made a doctor's appointment with a therapist named Jenny Vasquez for Friday to get me support for my grief. And, because I have no money because I have been spending my money on an elopement that's never going to happen, my friend, Samantha, found someone to buy my hoopcamp ticket off of me. I put my elliptical on KSL, I've been staying the last few night's at Jess' just because a baby can heal a broken heart, and children's laughter is like medicine to sadness. I have to sell a bunch of my things, because I don't have the means to keep them, and I am trying to figure out what my next move will be.

I can stay in Utah near my kids, and my Jess and Ian, or I can move back home. I have Noni offering to open her home to me, and I have a friend from High School that offered me a spare room in his home.

I know Utah isn't my forever home-- I've always known that, and part of me wanting to move back to Oregon so bad is because I dislike so many things here, and when I got pregnant last Fall I physically ached at the idea of raising a child here. I wanted to move to Oregon with Marc, because I felt like that was the place for us, and our someday family. Plus, I love it there. It is beautiful, clean, mysterious, has great greens, and my roots feel embedded there.

In the same breath, I don't want to see my mom in Oregon, ever. All of my family is now scattered everywhere (a sister and niece in Montana, a brother and sister-in-law in North Dakota, three sisters in Illinois, and my parents, grandma, and two of my brothers are in South Carolina), and the main reason to stay here is Jessie and the kids.

The idea of losing three kids again kills me (it makes me think of not seeing, or speaking to Alex, Ryan, or Nicole), and in the five years I've had The Compound as my home I have really felt like it was MY HOME too. A place where I can totally be myself, and everyone still loves me. A place where I feel valued, and like I'm part of a family.

In the meantime, I've been watching this a lot and it helps tremendously each time I see it. As Momma-Deana said once; "Preach it, Meada!"