The Rules of Disengagement

In November 2011 my beloved canine companion, Lita, passed away. Although most people would not understand this, this event has forever changed my life. It's so hard to lose the ones you love most.

That very same week last Novemeber an old aquaintence from high school that I've befriended via Facebook lost her fiancee of one year to a motorcycle accident. One morning he left for work, and just like that he was gone forever.

I thought of her often and thought that if only one person on this earth understood how I felt right then, it was her. Losing a friend or a family member is awful enough, but there is something different and much more awful when the person lost shares your life so intimately with you. Waking up together, eating meals together, just spending the down time together.....all these things leave what feels like huge, gaping holes in your life. No day will ever be the same because they are no longer here to live it with you. Her grief made me feel connected to someone when I felt so disconnected from the world. We all grieve the same.

Or do we?

Since that fateful day in November I have been completely fucking gutted. Nothing has quite been the same and I don't expect for it to be. Some would call me overly dramatic, overly emotional, and that's fine. It's the only way I know how to be right now. At least one person understands.

Or does she?

Last week this old high school aquaintance/Facebook friend of mine updated her Facebook status to "in a relationship". And just like that, she has moved on.

Today in the shower I wrote Lita's name in body wash on my bath loofa. Just like I do everyday since she passed away. That small, insignificant action makes me feel connected to her again, even if just for as long as the bubbles last.

And there is no Facebook status update for that.

Lita

Lita and I got off to a rocky start. I wasn't looking for a dog and she sure wasn't looking for someone else to tell her what to do. But I loved him and he loved her, and so the story goes until one chipped tooth, countless eaten cat toys, a shredded (and irreplacable, limited edition) Donna Karan bag and 6 months later, I was a proud and happy dog owner.

It was easy to fall in love with Lita, most people do. She is so sweet and so smart, she could have easily been a service dog, but that wasn't her place in this world. She belongs with me.

Over the 10 years we've spent together Lita has been my best friend, and often my only friend. She's always up for anything, a car ride, long walk, or just a cuddle and nap. I love how she seems to instinctively know when I am sad or having a bad day, and it's those times that she visits me with her puppy eyes wide, her tail wagging and so many kisses that I forget what was wrong in the first place. She has shown me such love and such loyalty that I am forever changed by her.

About a year ago Lita started to slow down. Her rear legs started to fail her and since then her health has been a downward spiral. Turns out 13 year old dogs are not good canidates for double knee surgery. While I've tried my best to keep her comfortable, there is nothing I can do to actually help her to get better. Last week Lita lost the ability to stand or walk independently and I am left with just a single tool in my toolbox. The only thing I can give her now is her freedom.

And so I must.

Tonight is her last night on this earth with me and I've tried to give her the perfect last day. Even as I type these words I feel my my heart ache. There is a Porterhouse on the grill just for her and after dinner I'm going to use every blanket and pillow in the house to turn the livingroom into a fortress just for us where we will cuddle and watch tv all night. I won't sleep a wink, I'll just lay with her all night stroking her fur and thanking her for bringing me so much love and happiness and telling her how much I will miss her face everyday.

Morning will come and the reality of the situation will hit me again like a ton of bricks. Tomorrow night my Lita will be gone and there is nothing I can do to change that. I am broken. No words can begin to express the depths of my sorrow.

The best I can hope for is that she leaves this world feeling even half as loved as she makes me feel. And that she knows I know how lucky I've been to have had her. Lita is an irreplacable, limited edition all on her own.

Goodbye my Beautiful Bear, Lita. I will always love you.

Blurry Vision

Sometimes when you look at something long enough you lose the ability to actually see it. Tolerate a fucked up situation long enough and it all seems normal to you. We tend to gravitate toward the familiar and accept things as they are. We stop striving for something better. We stop pushing for a change, believing one is impossible.

Self doubt and apprehension hold us back from doing and being something great. It holds us back from seeking out people that deserve us, and forces us to settle for people that can’t appreciate who we are, let alone see our potential. And soon, we can’t see our potential anymore either.

I’ve wasted so much time trying to be what someone else wants that I have lost myself. I’ve given in to self doubt and become a shadow of the person I used to be. I live a small life and I settle for way less than I deserve. I have allowed myself to care for people that aren’t worth my time or my worry and let them bring me misery. It is my pattern.

Today marks a new beginning for me. I will no longer push my own feelings aside to accommodate someone else’s. My own happiness is my goal and I will settle for nothing less. I will ignore the voices that tell me I am not worthy of better, even when I’m not feeling it. I need to love myself and make myself happy and stop considering others first. I need to cut out the cancer and surround myself with better people. I will no longer allow the negativity of others to affect me.

There is a saying: “Do what you’ve always done and you’ll get what you’ve always gotten.”. I’m so tired of this fucked up situation feeling normal to me when I know it’s not. I’m ready to push for change. I want to do something else and get something better.

Look out world.

Homeless

For over 10 years he was my lover, my closest friend, my confidant, my…home. No matter what the problem or how bad the day I could always find solace in his words and in his arms. It was an unusual but very special relationship, the kind of connection I think few people ever find in a lifetime. But I found it.

At times over the years, we both had relationships with other people, but they always seemed so insignificant. Our bond was special and could not be broken. No matter what happened or who came and went, we always ended up back together with each other. We promised each other forever and I believed we both meant it. He was the one constant in my life.

It’s been three months since I saw the picture. The picture taken and posted by his “estranged” wife. She had fallen in love with someone else and had ended their marriage. She was looking for her own apartment, and he was hoping for an amicable divorce from the mistake he had made, or so I had been led to believe. He claimed they were really just friends, and that a serious health scare and her ability to provide a spouse with health insurance were the only reasons the hasty, loveless, mistake of a marriage ever occurred.

But the picture told another story. It told the story of a greedy man. A man that was working on both a marriage and a mistress, expecting their paths would never cross. But they did cross, the day I saw the picture.

All the suspicions I had buried were now floating on the surface of my heart. The fake marriage wasn’t so fake after all. The pending divorce was not pending. My head spun at the amount of lying and scheming someone I held so dear to me was capable of. How could he trample on the feelings of someone he claimed to care for so much? It’s still a mystery to me.

And although I had been living my life under a veil of deceit and misconception, she doubted me and forgave the bastard. I suppose that she, much like me, wanted to believe him so desperately that she allowed the red flags that waved to be explained away. She wants to believe him. She needs to believe him. Because if she ever allowed the real truth of the matter to creep in, she would be forced to accept the fact that I am not the only fool in this situation, that I am not the only one that was played, that I am not the enemy, but just another victim.

I still find it amazing how a single picture could change my life so much, and leave me… homeless…

I was so drunk I thought I was bilingual

Several years ago, a girlfriend and I took a vacation to the Bahamas. Normally I am not much of a drinker, but while on vacation, all rules are invalid, and I really lush it up. This vacation was no different. My friend and I planned to go check out the casino/nightclub inside the hotel one night after dinner. We had several drinks with dinner and decided to take the outside route to the casino so we could enjoy the scenery and get some fresh air.

When we arrived at the casino/nightclub it was a bit of a joke. It was filled with really creepy old men looking at us like we were the hired entertainment. Inevitably, here came about a bazillion free drinks from creepy old dudes. Which I don’t mind much because free drinks taste so much better! So we pounded 7&7s at an Olympic rate, ordering two at a time, trying to squeeze as many free drinks in as we possibly could before the vultures started to circle. It didn’t take long, but by then I had chugged quite a few drinks and when I stood up I got really dizzy. I told my girlfriend it was time to dump the fossils and go gamble. She agreed and off we went.

I was still dizzy and the lights and the sounds of the casino were making it worse. We sat at two slot machines and each put in a $20. After two pulls of the handle, my world was spinning and I knew vomiting was imminent. I had to leave RIGHT NOW. I cashed out and told my friend we had to go NOW. She was so drunk she couldn’t figure out how to cash out and get the rest of her money back, and I was too dizzy to help her. My only focus was to either make it back to our suite or to a ladies room before I vomited in public. In my sick and drunken state, I just left her behind.

As I walked down the endless hallway I wondered why nothing looked familiar, then I realized we took the outside route and that I was completely lost. I guess this was obvious, because a local man came up to me and asked if he could help. I was so thankful! He held onto me so I wouldn’t stumble as much and he was going to help me find my room – what a relief! Just about then, I sobered up enough to realize that this guy was a grifter, and I was his mark, and unless I figured a way out of this quick I was going to end up raped, robbed, or possibly both.

It was then I saw a young couple about 30 feet ahead of us. I had never seen them before. I yelled to them “Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyy you two! Where in the hell have you been?!” I abruptly dumped the grifter, saying I found my friends, so thanks for the help but no thanks, and I ran up to these strangers. They just stood there silently staring at me as I drunkenly rambled on for about 5 minutes (in my heavy NJ accent) about my whole ordeal. I told them I was lost, in NO shape to be in public alone, and begged for their help in finding my room.

When they started talking to me, I realized they were from England and both had very heavy English accents. It was at this point that Drunken Stupid Shannon took over. I was so drunk that I honestly thought that their English accents were a whole other language and luckily for me I spoke it! I started using this totally cheesy fake English accent when speaking to them. I wasn’t making fun of them at all; I was just in such a zone that I thought I HAD to talk like that for them to understand me.

They were great people and happily helped me. So we started walking around looking for my suite. They asked me questions, and I responded using my fake accent – how else would they have understood me?! It took us about an hour and many elevator rides before I sobered up enough to remember my suite was on the ground level. They finally got me back to my room safely and I hugged them both goodbye and told them I loved them. As they walked down the hall away from my room I even yelled down the hall to them “Cheerio!”

I spent the rest of that vacation trying to remember what they looked like so I would never run into them again. Ah, good times.

Cheap Sunglasses

As soon as I started driving I was blinded by the glare, and I reached for my sunglasses. They are cheap ones. Sure, I could wear the expensive kind, but then I’d just be twice as mad when I lose them (which is often). Ahhhhhhh…I felt instant relief as I put them on. And suddenly I realized; it’s been far too long since I last wore my sunglasses for their intended purpose: to simply keep the sun out of my eyes.

I wear my sunglasses for lots of reasons.

Some days I wear them because I need coffee before I attempt a shower.

Some days I wear them to hide the bags under my eyes from another restless night spent worrying about the things I cannot change.

Some days I wear them to shield myself from the world. I foolishly believe in some strange way that thin layer of plastic can somehow provide me some privacy.

Some days I wear them to hide the tears I cannot hold back.

But today, I wear them only for shade. Today they are merely protective eyewear. Not a shield, a mask, or a plastic tissue. Today they are just sunglasses.

It doesn’t matter how much they cost. Good sunglasses keep the sun out of your eyes but never off your face.

Right and Left

We had only been talking for about a week when he insisted we hang out together. I thought it was too soon. Sure, we knew each other 20 years ago, but a lot can change in 20 years. I’ve changed a lot and I didn’t feel the need to explain the differences in me to him or here. I’m just me. Like I said, I thought it was way too soon - and I was right.

To actually date him would be to break my cardinal rule to never date a man with multiple children with multiple women. I think that pattern is a red flag. I know there must be a few exceptions out there, but for me it usually indicates a lack of maturity and commitment. Two children, two baby mommas and single is not what women look for in a man. It makes a man seen very unstable – and I was right.

Despite my cold feet, I reluctantly agreed to meet and hang out with him. Even though I felt like a few more weeks of texting and phone calls would have allowed us to get to know each other better and feel more comfortable with one another. It would have given us the time to think of both important and silly questions that help you click (or not) with someone and learn about their life and personality. I’ve always thought when someone pushes too hard too soon, it’s a good indication that they are not what they seem to be. And in this case - I was right.

As I got showered and ready to go to his apartment, a voice inside my head told me not to go. I felt flustered and nervous, and not in a good way. I sensed something was up, something bad. I didn’t know him well enough to feel comfortable and his sense of urgency made me uneasy. I called and told him I don’t think I am the girl for him and I don’t think who I actually am is what he is looking for. I am not 19 anymore, and I sure as hell don’t look like I did then. Although he denied it all and reassured me that it was my personality and my ability to make him smile that he was attracted to, I still felt uneasy – and I was right.

Fast forward my 2 hour drive to when he approached my car. As soon as he looked at me I felt beyond self conscious. I could see the disappointment in his eyes and he made no attempt to disguise it. I have never elicited this reaction from anyone in my life. Ever. Perhaps he was expecting Holly Madison?

Anyway, as I entered his little dump of an apartment that smelled of stale cigarettes, cheap incense, and desperation I knew it was all a big mistake. Despite his cold reception, I was cordial, and after pounding a few beers (that I brought, of course) I was even friendly, trying to make the best of a bad situation. But he remained cold and distant. He acted like a prick, just like I knew he would. I was right.

I laughed to myself at being rejected by someone who didn’t stand a chance at ever being with me. I was baffled by his immaturity and his inability to make the best of it and try to make me feel comfortable. And finally I thought I should have worn flat shoes because this guy isn’t much taller then me and my heels weren’t helping matters. But being 5’6” isn’t what made him a small man, it was his actions that did. And I was right about him all along.

And then I left.