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Font over diary text - Better Sorry Than Safe

SoML: Better Sorry Than Safe

“Better safe than sorry” – it might be good advice for packing or obeying traffic laws, but Lzzy Hale would argue it should not be applied to romantic relationships. And I agree. Safe isn’t bad. Safe is comfortable. There is nothing wrong with comfortable … unless that comfort is kept out of fear and you’re struggling to keep your own fire stoked.

There was a week in February where I didn’t sleep. I mean, obviously, I slept because I probably would have gone completely nuts if I went an entire week without sleep. But I would only get a few hours into the night at best and then I’d lay awake. Usually when I can’t sleep, I wake up feeling like I ran a marathon or my mind is going a thousand miles an hour. This time, my body wasn’t fidgety or uncomfortable and my mind wasn’t racing. I just could not sleep. I would lay in bed, tired but not drowsy, until light started to creep through the curtains.

I can’t even think of one good reason
Why I’m always thinkin’ about leavin’
It’s not like everything’s so horrible
We’ve been together for a few years now
And you know all my ins and outs
But everything is way too comfortable
From the moment I wake
I plan my escape

I had realized that I needed to break away from the “safety” of my current relationship. Things weren’t horrible but they weren’t right. I wasn’t getting what I needed and I was staying out of fear. Paying rent alone, living alone, giving up on a decent guy and ending up with no one at all. The prospect of returning to the single life was scary… until it wasn’t.

I’m not scared
‘Cause I know there’s something out there waiting for me
And I swear
That I’ll find it someday, just wait and see
I don’t care
That you call me crazy
I can’t stay ’cause I need room to breathe
There’s nothing left to say
Better sorry than safe

I struggled with when and how to tell Dave. I was worried that my exhaustion had clouded my mind. But at the end of that sleepless week, I was more certain, not less. It felt unfair to keep it from him any longer. It came tumbling out in fragments late Friday night. I did my best to be honest and kind. I didn’t bear him any ill will but I couldn’t leave any doubt. It had to be over.

There is a funny thing that comes from letting out the thing I’ve been holding back. From accepting that this change is necessary and inevitable. While I’d been upset and wracked with sadness many times that week, I was calm when I told him that I needed to end it. It happened during my divorce as well. I was upset, terrified, a complete mess when we were trying to decide what to do. When the decision was certain, a weight lifted and my emotional turmoil disappeared. I’m not saying I stopped feelings things on either occasion. But my emotions no longer had control over me. I could feel them, recognize them, and move beyond them. The fear shrank and disappeared into the background, became something I noticed in the hard moments but largely left behind.

In both cases, it was off-putting to my partner. An emotional person, someone who’s fought fiercely for the relationship in the past, now calmly and rationally going through the steps of parting ways. It probably looked as though I had flipped a switch and turned off my feelings for them.

To casual acquaintances, I might have seemed glib or a bit cold with how quickly my mood changed. To friends and family, it was mostly my relief that stood out. One of my Jiu Jitsu girlfriends, Lara, told me that I had the look of someone beginning something, not ending something. And I supposed that is true.

One of the things that became clear to me this time around was that I needed to live as a single person. Preferably alone but simply as a single person who wasn’t living with a spouse or parents. I had totaled up how long I’d lived that way as an adult – 2 weeks. Specifically, the 2 weeks before I met Dave. That’s it. 2 weeks. Such an insanely small number for a woman in her late 30s. Especially for an independent woman like me.

It’s time to take a chance and give you up
In the morning I’ll wake
And make my escape

It’s been a few months since my split. Things are not safe, but they aren’t scary either. I am discovering what life is like alone. Figuring out where I falter and where I am strong.

I am not safe, but I’m not sorry either.

SoML: Two Girls

A few months back I saw Paranoid Social Club live for the first time in a long time and was reminded of how much I love this song. PSC’s songs tend to be on the upbeat and playful side of my alt-spectrum. They are an ass-shaking, head-banging good time. But this one goes a little further.

What is Two Girls? It’s Ludacris’s “lady in the street but a freak in the bed” concept expanded upon in glorious and catchy detail. It lays out the dichotomy of what men desire in a woman with a sweet surprise at the end. (I also believe you could flip the gender roles and it’d still ring true.)

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SoML: Scars

When I talked about breaking my leg, I eluded to being very sensitive. When I woke up from my 1st surgery, my body was screaming from the intrusion and the normal, cautious increases in dosage dictated by protocol took two days to reach a level and combination that finally controlled my pain. I actually had someone ask me if I abused painkillers – he had in the past but the cocktail I was on after surgery still would have put him on his ass.

It isn’t that I have a high drug tolerance or that I’m “sensitive to pain” – it’s that I feel everything, for better or worse. In the ambulance on the way to the ER, I felt the coolness of the saline flush in my IV. The EMT was astonished because he’d never had anyone notice it before. I had a second surgery in December because I could feel the plate and 7 screws in my leg, despite reassurances from friends that they barely ever noticed their metal implants. Continue reading SoML: Scars

SoML: Odd One

I’ve had anthems of strength, empowerment, defiance and even a little sugary pop. But what about a song for the awkward, the misfits, the outcasts? Enter Odd One…

Odd one, I wish I was you

You’re never concerned with acceptance
We are all desperately seeking out
And fitting in with anyone who will accept us
But not you, odd one

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SoML: Single Ladies

So I’m not posting a video or lyrics to this one, everyone knows it. If you don’t, you may want to get out from under that rock. And this song is not the soundtrack of my life in the way you expect.

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Soundtrack of My Life: I Dare You

I’ve always been interested in and connected to music. I usually don’t subject people to my singing, but if you’ve been near me when music is playing, you’ve probably seen some moves. My parents like to say that as soon as I started walking, I started dancing. My proclivity for moving to the music wherever, whenever earned me nicknames in college and may have landed me a rolling nickname at the gym.

Continue reading Soundtrack of My Life: I Dare You