Narrow Minds Breed Hate

Hi, friends. In light of an "event" that occurred yesterday, I find myself needing a place to vent - MY space, where I can say what I want and how I feel and not get attacked for it. So please, per the usual, if I am "too liberal" or "too open" for you, you're very welcome (and encouraged) to stop reading RIGHT HERE and go on your merry way.

I don't know why I am this way, I just am. I honestly don't see anything wrong with ANY lifestyle "choices" or body modifications people decide they want to make for themselves. I use the term "choices" VERY lightly in the sense of lifestyle, because unlike a lot of right winged people, I do not believe one chooses to be gay, or bi, or even straight. I believe it's how you feel at any given time - you don't wake up one morning and say to yourself "you know...I think it's time to change it up. *poof!* Now, I'm gay." ...prettttttttttty sure it doesn't work like that. Sure, you may wake up one morning and everything clicks for you, but that's because society dictates that "YOU'RE BORN STRAIGHT AND LEARN TO BE GAY OR BI" and one day you're forced to "come out of the closet." This kind of shit pisses me right the hell off; I wish we lived in a world where you're born with  a blank slate - you're not expected to be straight, or gay, etc. etc. - you literally are a human being who is to decide what their sexual orientation is through experience and what you find attractive. I'm next to certain this world will never exist, but hey, we can all have dreams, right?

Granted, the argument I got into yesterday had nothing to do with anyone's sexual orientation, to me, it's all in the same fucked up goody bag that stereotypes, societal norms, and judging based on appearance fall into - and THAT was where the argument brewed.

Have any of you seen the picture spreading around Facebook, of the younger guy that has a TON of facial body mods - pierced and gauged cheeks, septum piercing, lip piercings, tongue split? Well, an older lady I am friends with on FB shared that pic, mostly to voice her disgust with his choices, but to also open it up to anyone else who wanted to take a virtual swing at the kid. It made me sad, pissed me right the hell off, and honestly - it discouraged me. Sometimes I think we've come so far as a community to be accepting of people's choices, but really, we're no further than they were back in the 50's and 60's when Blacks had to drink out of different water fountains than the Whites.

This is something I'm very passionate about, and it hits me right down in my core. We're ALL people. Biologically (yes, this is where Princess Science comes out to play) we are literally made up of the EXACT SAME THINGS - why does anyone's appearance have to make them more or less superior to anyone else?!?! This is something I've always struggled with, because to me - no one is different than any other due to appearances. Sure, education, jobs, etc. can set us apart from one another, but you know, I could just as easily have ended up in medical school as opposed to entering the work force (I had the grades, I just needed to be done school for a while) - and I have a LOT of tattoos. *GASP!* The horror...a woman with tattoos couldn't POSSIBLY be smart enough to be a doctor, could she?! Fucking society...

For your reading pleasure (names and faces of those being incredibly negative and MEAN have been scribbled out - I'm not here to make fun of them personally; nah, I'm here to make an example of their narrow-mindedness and how being so judgmental breeds hate):

So in case you were all wondering, according to our dear friend, "red blob" above, because I currently have 13 (or 10 depending on how you count them) tattoos, I not only am a criminal, but I've also done time in jail and am likely part of a gang. 

This kind of attitude, hate, negativity - I could go on for days with synonyms - drives me INSANE. I have not only never done anything illegal (therefore no jail time for this "delinquent"), I've never done a drug (nope, not even pot) IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. 

You, sir red blob, are what's wrong with America. How about you focus some of that hateful energy on the important things. Things like, the kids who's only meal during the day is the free lunch they get at school, or the fact that some families have to live out of their cars because they literally have no other place to go. Let's deal with the REAL issues in this country - not your hateful opinion about why this kid is obviously a nobody because he's chosen some unique modifications for his face. 

Fuck you and your shit attitude, sir red blob. 

If you've kept up until now, thanks for being my outlet :) 

Ex's and oh's,

Chelsea Leigh  

A Tale of Water Babies

   I debated for a little while as to whether or not to create this post...after mulling it over some, I decided that I'd do it - not for me, but for my "swell family" - to get the word out and show the world what we deal with day in and day out, silently (for the most part), with no one else the wiser.

   HEADS UP - this is going to get pretty personal, so consider yourself warned.

   Last week, this happened:

   Before anyone in my family, or friends circle tweaks balls - no, I am NOT pregnant. That, my dears, is what happens when I get stressed the EF out, and my body reacts in its oh-so-loving-pain-in-the-ass way and swells. In this case, my intestines did the swelling and viola! We have the "water baby" effect. The left photo was taken AFTER the episode, to show that a) I'm back to normal, and b) what normal looks like. Yes, I'm well aware I'm wearing the same clothes - that was done on purpose to enhance the comparison effect.

   So, here's what happened:
 
   Last week really tested me. Before adding in any "unnecessary" stress components, I was already PMSing like a mo-fo - on their own, periods (or the week of mood swings, eating everything in sight and exhaustion prior to) suck; add in the component that says that any sort of Estrogen flux in my system sends me straight for an HAE attack, and it goes from unpleasant to "please, just kill me, really." But I digress.

   So, we've got the PMS factor, check. Then add in work stress - I have my very first, brand new trainee, that I'm responsible for; normally this sort of thing wouldn't bother me, because until this point I usually got the new people after they've had their first few days with the supervisors...and now, that's me!

   That's PMS - check; extra work stress - check; now let's add in personal life stress. When you've known someone for a while, and then questions are asked of you that lead you to believe you're not trusted nor is your integrity taken into consideration whatsoever, not to mention something that could put your JOB and CAREER on the line...excuse me for stressing right the hell out.

   So, BAM. Three strikes, and I get to rock the "I may look pregnant, but go ahead - ask me when I'm due and see what answer you get" look...it is in no way pleasant - it hurts, it's uncomfortable - nor is having to explain how I suddenly "became" 6 months pregnant overnight to the people that I see on a daily basis anywhere near being on my bucket list.

   For those of you who are wondering - yes, I'm still taking my medication and it has been going really well. We (the members of my swell-fam) like to refer to incidents such as this as "breakthru episodes" -  meaning that even though I'm prophylactically treating my "super awesome roll of the genetic dice," I can still experience the jerk-hole swelling episodes. It usually happens when I have a WHOLE lot of stress added to my life outside of the daily bullshit I deal with. It's still better than it used to be - before my IV meds, normal day-to-day stress would cause an episode...so, at least I'm making progress.

   Now that I'm in the clear and back to normal, I'm able to look at this episode in a different light. Of course at the time I was frustrated, and got a little down - this is the first real breakthru swelling I've had since I started Cinryze treatment a year ago...I was incredibly frustrated (and still am a little) that the personal life aspect of this episode was added to the situation unnecessarily - in my opinion. My intentions (which prompted the "reaction") were the purest intentions I've ever had - NOT a common thing for me, and it was thrown back in my face. I was reminded of something I learned a long time ago, which I had lost sight of for a while - anyone who causes negativity that directly affects my life, specifically anyone who causes me so much stress that I have a physical response to it, isn't anyone I really need in my friend/partner/family circuit. I just don't. That might sound harsh to some of you, but let me put it this way - luckily the reaction I had was intestinal. It could've happened in my throat - PEOPLE HAVE DIED FROM HAE THROAT SWELLS! Sorry, but there are VERY few people I will put my life on the line for, and anyone who pulls the crap that was pulled, sure as hell doesn't make that list.

   On the up-side of this swell, there are aspects of my life that were solidified and mean more than the world to me. I posted the swollen picture by itself (originally), in my private HAE group on Facebook. Within minutes, I was receiving comments from other people who get it. They live through the same things that I do and just understand without me having to explain a thing. In any of my previous attacks, I have NEVER had that safe place to go, and having it was one of the best feelings in the world. Even days later, the members of the group are still writing to me to check in and see how I'm feeling, making sure I'm doing better and sending along words of encouragement. These are people I have never met before and know solely through a common bullshit aspect of our lives that most everyone else is oblivious to. I think if I had been able to connect with/to these people in my teenage years, I might be a completely different person - or at least have a different outlook on my medical issues; but that's a tale for another day, and things are finally lining up in my life, so I'm not going to complain.

   And then, there is Eric. He supported me through this to the best of his ability, it being his rookie HAE attack with me, and he did a fantastic job. Whether we're at work, or in our own separate homes, we're constantly at least an hour from the other - unless it's a planned date or weekend adventure...but he did everything he could to make it feel like he was right there with me, and that feeling is one that I cherish more than most things in life. To know that I'm being cared for, even from a distance, by someone who still has a very loose handle on what was actually happening to me, and only cared about my well being...I have no words to describe it. Every day, I am grateful, baffled, and thank my lucky stars that he walked into my life the day that he did.

   If you've stayed with me thus far and made it through my pseudo-pregnant, angry, mushy mess of a post, then I commend you. Now knowing a lot more about me than you probably had bargained for, I'm finally calling it quits on this entry ;) Happy holidays, and stay safe everyone!!

   ~*Chelsea Leigh*~

Music Speaks

I read a quote today that simply said:

"I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say."

At the moment that I read the quote, I have never felt so understood in my entire life - clearly, someone somewhere operates in a very similar manner to me, and in a way it was comforting to know that "I'm not alone" in my world of weird quirks. 

Life has been throwing some pretty hell-bent curves at me lately that have been seriously testing my ability to pick myself up, dust off the dirt and keep on trucking. But here I am, standing up, a little bruised and a little beaten, but I'm here nonetheless and I don't intend to let anything defeat me. 

Next to writing to get my thoughts in order, I listen to music like it's my job. All kinds of music - from Avicii, to Luke Bryan, to Five Finger Death Punch, to Taylor Swift (*cringe* I know), to My Darkest Days...the list goes on - and an eclectic list it is, I'm well aware. So in order to write so that I can know what I'm thinking after reading what I say, I combined my two favorite outlets and wrote using song lyrics from some of the songs I've been leaning on the most recently. 

Enjoy, folks. 

I can’t tell you where the journey will end

But I know where to start

We can live like Jack and Sally if we want

Where you can always find me

We’ll have Halloween on Christmas

And in the night we’ll wish this never ends

Holding on, the days drag on

Stupid girl, I should have known, *I should have known*

Wish I could stay forever this young

Not afraid to close my eyes

Life’s a game made for everyone

And love is the prize

Hey brother, there’s an endless road to re-discover

Oh if the sky comes falling down, for you, there’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do

I’ll shut down the city lights

I’ll lie, cheat, I’ll beg and bribe

To make you well, to make you well

They tell me I’m too young to understand

They say I’m caught up in a dream

Settle down, it’ll all be clear

Don’t pay no mind to the demons

They fill you with fear

I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight

I need somebody and always

Just know you’re not alone

Cause I’m gonna make this place your home

Give me reasons to believe

That you would do the same for me

This sick strange darkness

Comes creeping on so haunting every time

I’m sorry for the demon I’ve become

You should be sorry for the angel you are not

I apologize for the cruel things that I did

But I don’t regret one single word I said

Don’t waste your time on me

You’re already the voice inside my head (I miss you)

So wake me up when it’s all over

When I’m wiser and I’m older

All this time I was finding myself

And I didn’t know I was lost

…I didn’t know I was lost… 

I thought he would be you

I thought it was you...

How many times did we need to see
That I wasn't for you, and you not for me?
Too much behind us, HAUNTING our past
No matter the effort, we couldn't make it last

I thought it was you...

Now I'm left all alone
In the shell of what was supposed to be our home
What am I supposed to do?
Go on and build a whole new life without you?

I thought it was you...

Why did you run all of those times before?
All you had to do was try just a little bit more...
Wasn't I what you wanted, your dream, enough?
Apparently that's not true - things wouldn't have been so tough

I thought it was you...

So now, I'm supposed to honorably walk away
And find the man I'm meant to marry one day...
On that day we will finally wake up to see
A world of me without you, and you without me

I thought it was you...

Until that day comes I'll spend most of my time
Putting things back together like a well planned out rhyme
Manipulating the pieces so that they fit together just right
Dreaming of the man who will come and hold me at night

I thought he was you...

I know this man is out there waiting for me
Patience and timing have always been key
When it's our time, he'll show his face
And hold me in love's long lasting embrace

I know he's not you...

Then will come a day when I'll be able to say your name
Without feeling like I'm going absolutely insane.
Your spot in my heart will never be replaced,
The years spent with you cannot be erased.

He is not you...

I thought it would be you.
My love and feelings were so very true,
But sometimes love just isn't enough
So now it's time to truly be tough

He was never supposed to be you...

...close the door, nail.it.shut.
say goodbye no matter what.

Life Update

  After a few months of not posting, I decided it was time to update those of you who actually keep tabs on me.

   A lot of things have happened and changed for me in the past few months. Mostly, all of the changes have been good...a couple of things have really tested my limits, but even with the dark reality that they've brought, the positive aspect is that they've reassured me that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

   Things are going very well with my infusions; some days (like today) I end up with little blood spots under the skin where my needle was, or a few days later I get a rockin' bruise at my infusion site. Compared to the alternative, though, bruises are a walk in the metaphorical park; the meds are keeping me swell-free (which my swell family knows is a very rare, and blessed occurrence), allowing me to live my life the way any 25 year old should - sans restrictions due to health issues. I bought myself a motorcycle this spring (something I've wanted to do for a number of years now), and although it wasn't the greatest year for riding, I got some of the basics under my belt and hope to put in a lot more miles in the coming years. It may not seem like much to most people, but two years ago, I couldn't even ride as the passenger on a bike without risking my hands (and/or other places we won't discuss) swelling up like balloons thanks to the vibrations of the engine. There are no words to express how thankful and lucky I am to have the medication available to me that allow me to live a "normal" life...or at least as "normal" as I'm ever going to be. [Really, who likes being legit *normal* anyway? ;)

   Recently, I've found myself looking back on the "adventures" that were the past 9 months of this year fairly often. Although this is exactly where I wanted to be at the beginning of this year, had someone asked me 6 months ago if this is where I thought I might be, my answer would've been, "are you fuckin' kidding me?! HELL no. Even if my life depended on it, there is ZERO chance of that even coming close to fruition." ...yet, here I am; tongue bitten, foot inserted into mouth, all of those witty metaphors. And you know what? This is one instance where I'm more than okay with admitting that I was wrong.

   I've learned more than my fair share of life lessons in this past year. Sometimes, you don't even realize you're taking something for granted until it's ripped out from underneath you faster than you can blink your eyes. With all of my medical issues, health is not something I EVER take for granted...or so I thought. I realized that although I never took my own *good* health for granted...I did take the health of people I love for granted.

   I had to learn the harsh lesson that is watching someone I care about immensely be thrown through the medical diagnostic gauntlet, hoping for the best, but knowing deep down that despite "having faith" and "being optimistic," all signs were pointing toward SOMETHING being wrong. I had to learn how to feel helpless yet hopeful, and understand that I cannot control this situation, EVER. Never ever, ever. I didn't take it well. I still don't. I'm not sure I ever will. I've always been the one that people had to watch be sick from the outside...I'm the one that's "broken," and I'm okay with it, it's how it's always been...it was an ugly, serious reality check when I ended up on the other side of the glass this time.

   I think having been through what I've been through with my "genetic defect" as I like to refer to it, allows me to be understanding in a way that some people aren't capable of - not because they don't want to be, but because they could just never GET IT without physically experiencing it themselves. One of the hardest things for me was knowing some of the struggles this person was going to be going through - dealing with accepting this shit-card they were dealt, adapting to a new way of life, having to rely on medication to live the most "normal" life (s)he is capable of - and not being able to do a damned thing about it. I try to nurture too much, and feel the NEED to take care of people, and protect them...not an easy place to be when what that person really needs is just someone to "know" what they're going through, and let them do it on their own.

   Life is good at testing me; but I think I've finally learned how to pass the tests without screwing up too terribly. I know I still have a boatload of challenges ahead of me, but I feel pretty confident that I've got the best partner in crime that I could ever dream of to face those battles with me.

   Cheers to the future and everything it has in store for us all :)

   ~Chelsea Leigh

Sorry, I'm not sorry.

   Allow me to get this entry started with - sorry, I'm not sorry. I'm drowning with the thoughts in my head and need to get them out, which I do best when I can write. So, here I am. I'm probably going to offend someone with my viewpoints, and I'm ok with it because this is my space. If you don't like it, feel free to push that little "X" up in the corner of your screen and peace the F out.

   H'ok. For those of you who are still with me and my bitchy mood, hold tight, things may get bumpy and a little hasty.

   As you're likely well aware, I was born with what I like to call my "genetic retardation" (oops, less than 50 words in and I've likely offended 3.4 of you); it's something I've known would be a part of my life since day numero uno. Sure, medical advancements have made living with being "genetically touched" much easier and more manageable over the past 20 or 30 years, but at the end of the day, not being "normal" still plain sucks.

   I have triggers, I have boundaries, I have a list of "I wish I could, but can't"s. I'm aware of it all. I've spent literally my entire life tailoring my being around my limitations. Yes, I'm currently taking a medication that has made my life about a billion times better than it was up until six months ago; however, taking a medication that is delivered via self administered intravenous injections once every three days brings along its own giant closet of proverbial skeletons.

   Some of you who interact with me on a semi-regular basis may wonder why I do some of the things I do...things like carry around a calendar that is literally the size of a MEAD 5 Star notebook - the "Super Schedule" as Luke has so lovingly dubbed it - which contains a year's worth of my life at a time, color coded down to when my bills are due; green for when I work, yellow for anything to do with Luke (work, appointments), blue for my appointments and weekend fun things (basically places I need to be that don't involve work), orange for bills, and pink for birthdays. Or, when I'm at work - I like to arrange specimens in the walk-in refrigerator by size and sample type...everything has a workable pattern. I like my plates (the agar media we plant specimens to in an attempt to grow any bacteria that may be there) to always be in the same, specific order.

   Some people refer to my tendencies as obsessive, which I am the first to admit and will never deny. However, the bigger piece that took me going to a very expensive therapist to realize, understand, and come to terms with - I do these things because I can control them. I'M in charge of the pattern specimens end up in; I'M in charge of arranging the Super Schedule to MY liking, so that the information I need is visually accessible to ME in the best way possible; I constantly plan out my life, and have a hard time adjusting to a change in said plan if I've been looking forward to it, because it's something I AM IN CONTROL OF.

   I have zero control over my HAE. None. I have control over making sure I give myself my medication when I'm supposed to, but I have NO control over how my body will react to any triggers, whether the meds will be enough to counteract the issue, or if I will have an episode of mega uncomfortable swelling due to some asshole trigger my body couldn't handle. I never have had control over it, and I never, ever will. So, I control the aspects of my life that I'm able to in order to compensate and feel like I'm running my life...not some bullshit genetic defect that I was handed when it was my turn to roll the genetic dice.

   People wonder why I'm not religious, why I don't "have faith" in God; I should "lean on God's shoulder, especially given my "situation" and He will guide me through it; He doesn't give you anything you can't handle" - here's where things are gonna get dicey folks, hang tight or feel free to use the aforementioned "X" easy out. A) I was handed a "not-normal" card at day one IN UTERO - which we've covered extensively throughout this post so far, time to get on to the other "fun stuff"; B) I'm a scientist, I'm wired like a scientist, things need to make sense to me in order for me to believe them; C) I'm supposed to believe that there is a single "higher being" that has humanity's best interest at heart - so long as you're a good person in your community, help others, blah blah blah, you'll be rewarded for such..right? Then explain HAE. Explain cancer. Explain MS. Explain the death of my best friend who was the absolute BEST human on the face of the planet.

   I'm a scientist. Science makes sense to me - "I think this, I'm going to show you via this and that, and ta-da! Proof that my thoughts were correct." That's how it works, and to me, it makes sense. You have a thought, you prove it. Bada-bing, bada-boom. Done and done. If you can't prove it, or at least come damned close, I'm gonna have a hard time believing you and your "theories". Show me proof of God, and I'll be the first in line to jump on that band wagon. But...no one can. Sure, there's "The Bible"...I'm sorry, where did this thing come from? Supposedly, this book was formed by all of these guys back around the time ish of Jesus, son of God, who told stories of his life and all that jazz. Ok, cool. This book has been translated HOW many times? And it's a book of what...? Stories, right? Ok. Stories. STORIES. You want me to believe that this is the ONLY book that exists which substantiates all of this "proof" of Jesus and God? ...sorry, I don't buy it. You can't SHOW me God, or even something close to it. Church exists where a single man or woman preaches to you "the word of God" as if they are privy to an understanding only given to select few. Ok, cool. God spoke to you and put you on the life path you're on? Congratulations. Do you know what happens to people who claim they're hearing voices that no one else can? They're put on a psych hold in the hospital and deemed "crazy"...but when it's religious in nature, that makes it a whole other ball game. Why? WHY????

   Putting all of the previous paragraph's rant aside, if God is so wonderful and giving...explain cancer, chronic diseases, and early deaths of people who have done nothing but good in their lives. Explain to me why I have to deal with this genetic condition my whole life, limiting the things I'm physically capable of doing, but some dirtball who beats his wife and kids and is a menace to society gets away with a "normal card" and knows nothing of physical struggle and limitations. Doesn't seem wonderful and loving to me. I don't buy it. It makes zero sense to me, and I just can't wrap my head around it.

   I do need to say this though - IF you are religious and have a healthy relationship with God, I'm honestly truly happy for you. I know plenty of people who's lives are in a much better place because of their faith; I also know people who are still alive today because they have their faith and church to hang on to when times are rough. I will NEVER tell someone they're wrong for being religious and I will never push my lack of belief on to someone else; I just ask that no one try to push their God into my life or tell me I'm wrong for not believing - it won't go over well for you, trust me.

  My thoughts and feelings on the religious matter are my own, and I needed to express my annoyance with the lack of understanding/acceptance I often get when I say "no, I'm not religious, but it's cool on my end if you are."

   I've been handed another uncontrollable addition to my life, and it's really putting my ability to maintain stable to the test. Another aspect of my NEED to control, is a NEED to understand. I can handle most anything, so long as I can have at least a minimal understanding of whatever the situation may be. Some people (like my boyfriend) may not need me to understand an aspect of their life or feelings, but I do. It's how I'm wired, it's how I function, and deal with life.

   Everything has an explanation, a reason. I function best when I can talk and/or write things out - as those of you who have held steady through to this point are witness to. Some people are NOT wired this way in the least little bit...I am. I think a lot of it has to do with how I was raised - my parents always told me that I could tell them anything, and so I did. I've learned that most misunderstandings are just mis-communication, or a lack of explanation. I've also learned that with an explanation, I'm able to understand things, wrap my head around them, make a plan to continue forward, and by killing two birds with one stone, have at least a little control in an otherwise uncontrolled situation.

   Sorry for the short novel tonight, folks...but really, I'm not sorry at all ;)

~Somewhere between always and forever, Chelsea Leigh

The "Letting Go"

[This was written a little while ago; I happened to be going through my Google docs, found it and decided, what the hell? So, here is it for your reading pleasure.]

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“Why can't we see that there's/more to love than we'll ever know/Sometimes you're closer when you're/letting go” -Emerson Hart

I constantly struggle with the “letting go” part of relationships. After losing people that meant the world to me, without any say in it whatsoever, actually “choosing” to let someone go is something I will struggle with until the day I die. I just can’t wrap my head around the idea of permanently shutting a door on someone and never ever contacting said person again. It’s sad, it’s heartbreaking, and it’s just not...me.

HE and I have said “good bye” multiple times now. Yet, we always end up having to communicate for business-type reasons (my freezer, the vet, etc. ) and once that line of communication is open, we spend the rest of the day reminiscing and going round and round in circles of “I wish I could’ve”s and “you will always”s...things are said that mean more to the other than the rest of the world could possibly ever understand, and they make me wonder where in the hell everything went so terribly wrong.

We were in love. Like, the kind of love that most people only ever dream about.

Sure, we had a really screwed up beginning; but you know, looking back on it now, he wasn’t the only one that could’ve/should’ve done things differently. Yes, he should’ve been more upfront with the things going on between him and HER, but I also should’ve put my foot down and demanded commitment or nothing at all and stuck to my word. Part of our continual back and forth was more than my fault, because I was so petrified to not have him as part of my life, despite the fact that the pieces of him that I had at that point in time were not the pieces I deserved. I should have demanded the respect I deserved then, and I should have walked away without looking back when it wasn’t given to me. That was my fault. I see that now and I fully accept responsibility for that part.

Then, we made amends. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, doubt was seeded between us and it was a downhill catastrophe until the very end. I doubted his ability to be faithful and true, and he doubted my ability to be trusted and to stick it out through the hard times. We both wanted to be “right” and we were both stubborn (see - stupid) enough to fight for that right-ness; the unfortunate part is that what we were really doing was destroying every little bit of the other that we had at one point cared so much about; our heads were so inflated with our own “self righteousness” that it wasn’t until we were more broken than a shattered mirror that we realized: somewhere along the way we had lost each other and done things, on both ends, that hurt the other deeply.

Hurt can be demonstrated in monumentally different ways; everyone shows and deals with their pain differently - this key fact is what ended up being the final nail in the coffin of our love story. He was hurting on the inside from my lack of trust in him - which, yes, was more than “deserved”, but he needed me to give more than I was able to - and sought some “feel goods” that undoubtedly were a terrible place to seek them from. At the time, it dulled the pain and seemed okay because it was essentially harmless - no physical action was taken. Sometimes though, in trying to dull our own pains, we destroy the ones we love the most, in ways we never conceived possible.

I was struggling to hold on for the last few months of our relationship. I felt distanced from him, I felt pain and anger; I felt like a roommate just sharing a mutual space with this man who I thought I was going to marry. We failed at communicating well with each other and that fueled our downward spiral. In the end, I chose to leave and say “enough is enough” because neither one of us could take any more of the destructive patterns we were part of. Sometimes, when you love someone, you have to know when to walk away. Granted, I tried everything I possibly could to stay by his side and work through the bad with him; but I also had to take care of myself and make sure I was doing the absolute best for me that I could. In the end, walking away and leaving the pieces behind were what I deemed best not only for me, but for him too. I know he doesn’t understand it; but the way I see it...we were killing each other. We weren’t working. Someone needed to acknowledge that and put a stop to the pain we were causing each other, regardless of what form that pain came in.

It doesn’t take much intuition to know when your partner isn’t happy, isn’t satisfied, isn’t in love with you anymore. Sure, we LOVED each other; but we had lost that spark - you know, the one that makes you smile all day long just thinking about the other person...the one that makes you want to call in “sick” to work so you can spend the day in bed with the other. It just wasn’t there anymore; amidst all of the garbage that was going on, our spark burned out, and we suffered greatly from it.

So how am I supposed to let go of all that “work” and passion, tears and effort, that I put into him and us? Am I really supposed to just stop thinking about him, stop trying to pinpoint where our switch flipped from madly in love with each other, unable to get enough of one another, to survival mode and just trying to trudge on through to any sort of higher ground? My mind doesn’t work like that; I’m a scientist. I solve problems systematically by piecing things together in a very meticulous, chronologic fashion. I don’t just forget about things; I don’t just let things go. Especially people. More especially people I love(d). Even more especially a man, the only man, that I have ever truly thought I was going to spend forever with.

I don’t know how. I know I need to; I know he needs me to. I just...haven’t learned that part yet, and will continue to struggle until I do.

...I miss him, and he’ll never know.

~Somewhere between forever and always, Chelsea Leigh