The Ocean Is Before Me and Its Smell Is Sweet - Pt. II

Upon reading Pt. I, I realise that Lauren isn't "my" Lauren anymore.  I don't think of her that way and it wasn't until I stumbled upon the many uses of "my" that I realised this. All feelings of personal possession have vanished; she isn't mine to hold in my heart anymore. I think the freedom I'm feeling  at the moment is due in part because of this relinquishment and in turn, the relinquishment has occurred because of the lack of unconscious possession towards her within myself.  I didn't even know I had been saving real estate for her in my heart until I wasn't anymore.  As I made my way through the words of the post, my use of such a possessive pronoun struck me as awkward, and I was tempted to edit it out. I wondered if I should, but I opted to maintain the entry as it is because after all, it is entry - a piece of my past, an artifact in the present and something to take care of for the future; editing it would just be rude.  I wanted to change "my" to "    ". And yes, that is a bunch of Nothing between those quotations marks because try as I might, I just couldn't recreate a  single sense of whatever it was that had inspired me to use the pronoun "my" in the first place.  Instead, all I feel is this wonderful emptiness - free emptiness -  in place of whatever the need for that "my" was that had taken up space for so long. Gone is any sense of possession, one once reciprocated for an era, and then rescinded for another. The newly excavated space in my heart practically tingles with potential energy at the thought of what I might hold there now.

I must say, Time is a wonderful thing; it does such a lovely job of clearing out those dusty, broken bits of yourself that were swept to the far corners of your headspace.  Such a good job, in fact,  that you don't even know it has happened until a spark of remembrance brings its location to your attention again. And wouldn't you know it?  There's suddenly nothing there to be attentive to. 

 So you breathe.   

The New LDS Policy on Baptism: Yes, thanks for asking, I am in fact ashamed of this new policy of their's.

Preface: I used to be a Mormon.  I was raised with Mormon doctrine and was expected to carry out a Mormon lifestyle. I believe in equality, now, however, among other things, and as a result, could not continue to surround myself with the religious doctrine of this church.  Leaving the church and the thought habits I was raised within

Mormons, or, the LDS, address and celebrate emotional and spiritual progression through the act of Baptism. For a member of the LDS church, this baptism, marks a key step in coming to terms with particular aspects of the community's shared beliefs of reality. This singular event in one's religious growth acts as an access point to which greater bodies of knowledge and social experience become available.

Until now, for children reared within this faith, this opportunity for communal and emotional growth has never been restiricted to anyone over the especially appointed age of 8, An age, might I add, that has been the norm on account of God specifying it in the doctrinal blueprints he gave to Joseph Smith in the 1800's, during one of their Chats*. In fact, Baptisms are generally timed to coincide with the child's birthday, as it is quite a substantial event in the life of a Mormon child. Trust me, I once was one.

*https://www.lds.org/friend/2000/02/the-age-of-accountability-why-am-i-baptized-when-i-am-eight-years-old?lang=eng

A very recent and, might I add, clever interpretation of sacred doctrine, however, has just announced that unless you're a man having sex with a woman, and unless you're a woman having sex with a man, you are not, I repeat, ARE NOT allowed to involve your offspring in the same spritually inaugoral event as the offspring of those female/male combination-type parents. Why? Because clearly, with you same-gendered parents rainsing the child, the child cannot possibly learn the right values and understandings that they would undoubtedly have learned from all the mult-gendered parents; Multi-gendered parents have been getting it right for years, clearly.

The result of this genderist, ability-judgement festival, is that children aged 8 BUT who belong to same-gendered parents, aren't welcome to traditional Baptism anymore, unlike the boring, multi-gendered parent-style kids.  They now get to wait until they are adults, as, hilariously enough, adults have a more cognititvely developed method of informed decision making. Hm. Uuntil now, children at the age of 8 were deemed responsible enough to make the informed choice to be baptized, as they are assumed to understand that "baptsim washes away all of your sins", amongsts other things, generally.

 I will never pretend to, for the sake of religious respect, pasively accept such a blatant display of disrespect for felllow human beings as the Mormon church is displaying presently.  Selectively enforced exclusion in matters of individual growth and community acceptance is an expression of intolerance and reflects a severe lack of education with regards to the rearing of children by same-genderd parents. While I myself disagree with the notions of holiness associated with this baptismal ristual, but I understand that for those who don't, it's a crucial and  joyfully anticipated time. I am outraged that the church has sunk so far as to segregate the rights of children in the care of loving, parents purely for the sake of their reproductive organs not lining up like they would like them to.

Segregation is bigger than religion and it needs to come to an absolute end.

Honesty and Food

I need to start being honest with myself.  or the first time.  Yea, that's right.  Because up 'till now I've been basically living like an actor.  An actor in my own life.  How pathetic. 

One of the main focuses of my current meta-musings have been my relationship with food.  Honestly, I  could eat everything at any one time.  When I don't feel like eating, I still know I do deep down, It's actually something else that overruns my desire not to eat and makes it into that.  I probably DO want to eat.  Eating isn't something stress naturally impacts.  I'm not naturally inclined to have disordered eating.  I'm making myself have disordered eating...unless that's what defines it in its essence? Perhaps people who become seriously entrenched in their disorders are lacking a certain amount of self-awareness? Maybe I'm too-aware to get hospitalised. 

I need to see food not as an event.  But merely as an enjoyable necessity for basic physical and mental functionality.  There is nothing within the food that I need to read into, over-indulge in or otherwise. Looking at it longingly, even when I don't see it that way is what perpetuates the struggle. I just need to see it and do what I want with it, whether that's ignore it or eat it. I won't think. I can't.

The Ocean Is Before Me and Its Smell Is Sweet

It happened.  It finally happened and I can tell you I was not expecting it to be this way in the slightest.  After delivering my apology to her ...letterbox....it was the biggest weight lifted off my shoulders.  Like I'd had a cement truck slowly pouring cement on me for 5 long years, getting heavier and heavier all the time but I always managed to build up just enough strength to keep my chest from caving in.  I had no idea just how much cement had gathered, however, until I finally backed the truck up and took a shower.   It was glorious.  Walking down the sidewalk from her house, it was just beginning to drizzle and the air smelled fresh and I couldn't help but liken it to my own internal Spring Cleaning.  If my emotional insides had a smell at that particular moment of soul freedom, it would be rain, wet sidewalk and sprouting greenery.

I sent her a Facebook message directly afterwards telling her that she had a "note" *cough* 7 page mini series *cough* waiting for her.  I never heard back,not for 10 days.  Pretending like I didn't go a little mad throughout that 10 days would be a lie because I started imagining situations in which she never actually received it.  My biggest most irrational fear was of her dad getting to it first, opening it up, reading it and deeming it too difficult for his daughter to handle and throwing it away without another word, safe from her ever finding it. Of course this never happened.  The other side to my nigh on insanity bout was that I held onto an altogether too optimistic future of possibilities regarding the letter's reception and subsequent reaction. Some part of me wanted to keep me mentally sounds, however, because I never let myself fully imagine what might happen.  Half formed and blurry thoughts would fleetingly pass through my mind, providing nothing but wordless fuel for the strange optimism I felt. I never let myself get too hopeful, though.  Give me a break; I'm not that reckless.

But today she finally replied.  After sending her a blunt, almost rude, "yea....so did you get it?" via Facebook once again, she replied with probably the most crushing response I, thank God, couldn't never have imagined on my own. 

It's good you can get that off your chest
And I hope you can move forward.
I don't hold any resentment towards you anymore.
I've been over that whole situation for years and haven't thought about it in ages. so I really am the Sad One out of the two of us. Nice to have that confirmed.
The person you remember doesn't exist anymore. I'd like to vomit, now, thanks.
I've changed a lot and moved on with my life   
And hopefully now you can too.
I just hope you realize I still won't ever be able to be friends with you. yep. definitely time to vomit. everywhere and perpetually.
But I do not wish you any harm and hope you can live a
Happy and full life.  why even say this? You may as well find the nearest sledge hammer and bash my ankles in with it for all the happiness I'll feel after this blow. Stop being nice.  It isn't what I want to hear.  I want you to hate me.  That, or you physically poking me in the eye balls for half an hour with Miley Cyrus wailing in the background.  Anything would be infinitely better than THIS. Anything but this.  Please.

But then he spoke to me. And I listened.  And I spoke back and he remained.  Listening.

It's a kind of closure I've never felt before.  Up until now, I have never been able to  truly have it, not really. I'm almost certain it has everything to do with the fact that it isn't in my control anymore.  Not even slightly.  Lauren is who I hurt, and as such she had every right to set the terms for our afterlives. If this is what she needs, then so be it.  I accept. I will fight no longer. I will dream no longer. I am done. I am at peace.

And I understood the meaning of bittersweet.

The sweetness is brought on by what I'm starting to realize is my new Lauren.  A better one, if that's even possible.  The term "Lauren" is no longer a proper noun to me.  I am dead to her and that's what I needed. Lauren is now a common noun, a personal synonym of Love.  It took losing my first to realize just what it was I would be looking for in another, later on.  It isn't romantic, it isn't dramatic, it is merely the complete opening of my Self and soul to another, and in turn not being afraid, not even in the slightest.  The absence of fear is where love has found its roost.  Lauren needed to let me let go of her.  I needed her to rip off my water wings and pop them with pins before I could trust myself to not only float, but to swim.  

And so I dove.

Another Realization..I'm on a roll, apparently.

I need people in my life, that one's for sure.  And with that out of the way, I can now safely cross off Emotional Island Dweller from my list of future career aspirations. The trouble still remains of how to deal with them, though.  I feel so ungrateful for the one's I have when I have them because when I don't have them, I'm miserable, and when I do have them I seem to thrive off taking them for granted. I ditch people because I can, I hold off answering texts right away because it makes me feel like I'm taking control of my life when I pretend like I'm busy enough to have "things to do" before I can respond. So, as it seems, I know I need relationships to keep me sane, yet  can't seem to keep them functional because my chronic granted-taking leeches dysfunction into them. What in all hell am I supposed to? To top it all off, I've finally realized what it means  to want romantic company versus plain ol' regular friendship-company.  Normally I'd be bouncing off most hard surfaces at the onset of this understanding, but instead all it does is increase the potential for types of loneliness I can experience. There's no winning in getting to know yourself, just more real life to have to adjust to and cope with.

The End Maybe This Time for Real

I thought I had it so under control earlier today.  But that was before I remembered that night time is where real life happens and when real heartache kicks in.  Even though I'm completely fine - more than completely - I'm finding it harder and harder to stay in the mindset that had me wanting to break up with him in the first place! I think about it and I'm still convinced I made the right choice.  But since the time has come to settle down into the single life, I'm finding myself irrationally lonely. Better yet, Jarrett and Isaiah came over to say a quick hello and they told me they were headed to a movie later...with "a group." Took me a whole 8 seconds to deduce that "group" really means Lauren.  Yet another slap in the face of loneliness for you.  Can't I ever just 'be' the way I did when I was a kid and friendless purely because I hadn't met any yet?? I'm asking for paint supplies for my half birthday (medium story; I'll explain in a later post) in what was a slow creeping and suddenly all-at-once wave of motivation towards the art life again.  I was hoping that this was the first sign of what I've been trying to rekindle inside me for all these years.  Yet this evening has been killing me and whatever desire I had for anything else up until this point.  I thought breaking up with him was going to free up my mental space for all this new motivation but it hasn't.  I should have gone out tonight.  I need the distraction from my own thoughts that I'd normally rely on a best friend for but seeing as I haven't got one of those and I just dumped the closest equivalent a mere 6 hours ago, I'm rather at a loss.

Upon further thought, I'm lead to believe (by the not-so-gentle hand of my inner self, that is) that perhaps what I'm feeling is merely a crave for the social interaction I'm naturally inclined towards. For years I've learned and adapted to a life of social seclusion ever since the traumatic demise of the single most meaningful relationship I've ever had; Lauren. What if the loneliness isn't uniquely as a result of my break off with Kirk... What if it is really just that same old social butterfly I've held caged for so long finally trying to break free and this is how it communicates that need for freedom.

A Blerch Alternative is What I Need.

I read about "the Blurch" on The Oatmeal once upon a time. It's this guy's cartoon cumulative image of his innate and inner fat self. I have one too, only instead of helping me procrastinate and be lazy, mine keeps me eating long after I should have stopped. I need something to stop it, an inner self that can tell the blerch side to shut the hell up and close that mountain-consuming trap. She's the one who needs to take control, these days.