you figured it out

"so, you going to write about this?" he asked as we lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

"what?" i replied.

"are you going to write about this tomorrow in your blog?" he asked again, smirking at my surprise.

he had figured out that he was the infamous 'you.' i wasn't prepared for that.

i tried to lie. "what are you talking about? i've never written about you."

he laughed. then he pointed out a specific entry from a few years ago that was most definitely about him. there wasn't much to decode. i had used too many details. i didn't think it mattered because i never thought he'd find my blog to read it.

"okay, i wrote about you one time. i promise i won't do it tomorrow."

he laughed again, submitting to my stubbornness whilst clearly recognizing that i was lying through my teeth.

a few months later, a friend of mine insinuated that he thought the 'you' was him. i couldn't help but think of that conversation with you and laugh. i really had only written about him once. if he had actually called me out like you did, i wouldn't have needed to lie.

well, darling, you aren't always the 'you'...but you've been him more than anyone else.

a bad memory leads to bad decisions

i've never had a good memory. my mind simply can't hold on to old conversations, stories, movies or experiences.

my teachers were often disappointed in my seeming lack of retention. my parents lament the fact that i remember only a few details from our early family vacations. my friends hate that i never can remember the tears i've cried over you.

this week, as i welcomed your attention once more, two friends somberly tried to remind me of a time when i wept in their laps over you. i didn't have the heart to tell them that i couldn't remember it. i am sure that it happened. i know well enough to trust their memories over my own.

i remember clearly what caused the tears, but not the crying itself. i can imagine where my heart went in the moment. i probably questioned my worth. i probably doubted my strength. i probably desperately attempted bargaining with God to sever the ties that bound my heart to you.

it's a vicious cycle, this blissful ignorance then inevitable remembrance. because i can't remember the pain from your last leaving, i all too easily fall into your web of charm and wit when you reemerge after lying dormant for months or years. worse yet, i crave it. i invite it. i encourage it.

on most occasions, at least one of us realizes that you plus me equals trouble and we pull away before anyone (me) gets hurt. but sometimes, sometimes i let myself get a little too comfortable. i watch my phone, waiting for your next text. once again, i become the girl i swore i'd never be.

you used to tell me that i deserved better than anything you could offer me. you were right. i always knew you were right. i still know it. and yet, i can't quit. you're like an addiction. 

a year in isolation

i just survived the loneliest, most isolating year of my life.

i moved back to the small town where i was raised, from which nearly everyone i know had escaped. my friends were scattered around the continent, but i was hopeful for somewhat of a normal social life because my oldest friends were only an hour's drive away.

so what if i was moving to the middle of nowhere? i'd see my friends in the city all of the time. at least monthly, right? well, half of them have kids now. so maybe once every three months or so?

that's not exactly what happened.

about a year before my move, an old friend and i had a falling out. she made it exceedingly clear that she wanted nothing to do with me and never wanted to share space with me again. when she's the social manager for the friend group and she doesn't like you anymore, i guess your invitations suddenly get lost in the mail.

i don't blame my friends for it. they wanted to remain neutral. no taking sides, they said. i get it. still, the only time i saw most of those friends was when i came to town and organized a meal together.

i was disappointed, but i understood their situation. if she's organizing the dinners and the new years eve parties and the fun girls nights, it would be frowned upon for one of my friends to invite me along. so instead, a best friend from new york visited for new years and i called other far away friends and i cherished the time i did get to spend with the couple of nearby friends who ensured to schedule one-on-one time with me away from the group.

and i rationalized, "if you want to see them, reach out to them. you can't be upset that they aren't inviting you if you don't do the same." so when the opportunity came for me to dogsit and live in the city for a month, i took full advantage. i reached out to everyone to make plans to see each other while i was in town. despite some promises to follow up, i saw a grand total of one friend during that month. (in full disclosure, i later found out that i had outdated phone numbers for a few folks and had been calling and texting the wrong numbers nearly all year. no wonder they were disappointingly silent.)

living in small town ohio was tough, but missing my nearby friends was worse. it was isolating and painful. my empathetic brain can certainly rationalize their behavior. honestly, i can't say whether or not i would have acted any differently had i been in their shoes. out of sight, out of mind didn't become a common saying for nothing.

eventually, i quit texting or calling. i'd go to the city to go shopping or to see my family and i wouldn't tell anyone i was in town. i immersed myself in my new business and spent a lot of time searching my own soul, which started out with self-loathing and pity:

• why do they hate me? (they didn't.)
• why don't they call me? (call them if you want to talk, you idiot.)
• why did they choose her over me? (they didn't.)

next i grappled with projection and blame. then i moved on to surface level stuff. until i finally got to the meat of it all:

• as i think back on my time back home last year, i wonder if my sadness had to do with a sort of regression back to my adolescent self. i don't ever want to be that melodramatic little girl again. i've worked a lot of years to grow into a healthier, more stable being.
• and these dear, old friends. i haven't been a regular part of their lives for a lot of years. why did i think it would suddenly change, simply because i was living a little closer than before?

friendships, just like any good relationship, must be nurtured. the real reasons for my isolation had nothing to do with anything my self-declared enemy had inflicted. it was the direct result of many years of me being checked out and self-secluded.

i'm a terrible long-distance friend. i do a lot better when you're right in front of me. i know that i need to do better, and i'm taking baby steps. for example, when two friends got engaged, i wrote a card and sent it in the mail instead of simply posting my congratulations to facebook. i'm really trying to make efforts to change my attitude and behavior.

i guess the point of all of this is: don't throw stones in glass houses. you'll end up with a lot of required clean up and no one to blame but yourself.

a poem

i loved you as i've loved none other.

others held my attention.
others held my body.
others held my heart.

you held them all at once.

those who stayed

my teenage goddaughter recently started watching one tree hill. i religiously followed the show back in the day, so this of course prompted me to watch from the beginning again.

over the past couple of months, i've seen multiple tree hill weddings. first, haley and nathan, married quietly with only family present; then again, surrounded by family and friends (and a lot of extras we were never introduced to). then, peyton and lucas, again surrounded by dear friends and loved ones. 

tonight, i watched brooke and julian's wedding and i got all of the feels. 

if you know one tree hill, then you probably remember that brooke is the cool-girl, cheerleader/fashion designer who thoughtfully struggles to find her match. while i've never really related to brooke's character, there is a lot about this episode that hit me hard tonight.

one tree hill begins in high school. we follow the characters as they navigate typical (and not-so-typical) high school drama, then we fast-forward to post-college life. at the first two weddings, the focus is on the bride and groom's high school friends. the show's writers create this world where high school friends in a small north carolina town grow so closely together that they remain friends forever. you can't help but root for these friends to truly make it last.

at this point in the show, though, nearly half of the actors who played main characters have left the show to star in other tv dramas and movies. by brooke and julian's wedding in season eight, half of the high school friends are gone and most of the main characters are new to the show in the last couple seasons--coworkers, teachers, friends-of-friends, etc. brooke's self-declared best friend doesn't even make it to her wedding, and julian ends up with an eight-year-old for his best man.

i had the privilege of spending time with one of my childhood best friends today. we took pete for a walk and enjoyed lunch at a local restaurant. as we watched the field mouse search for an exit from the porch where we sat and sipped our iced tea, we talked about everything and nothing at all. she asked me if i kept in touch with some of our other friends, and we marveled at how easy it is to slip away from the people you once loved. in a way, our lives aren't really that different from a television drama whose actors' contracts end and characters disappear from scripts. 

one tree hill got some slack for the loss of main characters after season six ended, but the show introduced quality new characters and continued for three more seasons before calling it quits. while the storylines went a little crazy in the later years, the characters themselves were good. almost immediately, you cared about them because they cared about the characters you had already loved for years. you were interested to see how those relationships developed. you wanted to see them succeed.

like brooke and julian's wedding, as adults we find ourselves surrounded not necessarily by the ones who were with us at the beginning but simply with the people who renegotiated and signed contracts. the ones who stayed. 

this has been a year for the books. at thirty-one, i became a cliche and moved back home into my parents' basement. i sold everything that didn't fit into my parent's minivan and my car. i quit my stable job without a plan for what would come next. i also spent wonderful quality time with my family, explored new creative outlets, became debt free and started my own business. 

i am so thankful for friends and family who have been by my side this year. the ones who stayed. the encouragement has been overwhelming at times, and so necessary. i feel incredibly blessed to be surrounded by old and new friends who truly sustain me through the tough times and celebrate with me in victory. the random phone call, the texted prayer, the pinterest message joke, the instagram emoji or, yes, even the elusive mailed greeting card...they have fueled my fire. 

i am eternally grateful. thank you for staying.

resignation

in the days that followed the announcement of my departure from my previous employer, i received a lot of questions about why i was leaving. "why did you quit?" and "what will you do next?" and "are you okay?" and "how are you handling all of this?" top the list.

as i look around me, it seems like i am surrounded by people are resigning--from habits, from jobs, from relationships. they have given up and accepted the previously ignored necessity for radical change, the cold reality that their voices are not being heard, the desperate lie that tells them they are unlovable.

sometimes there's nothing left to do but give up, to take a phrase from the definition. sometimes the inevitable undesirable stalks us until we have nothing left to fight for. sometimes we have no fight left in us because we've fought as hard as we could and lost. sometimes we are simply tired of fighting.

folks, knowing the problem is the first step in identifying a solution.

that habit? it was unhealthy.
that job? it was unhealthy.
that relationship? it was unhealthy too.

so, we start in a place of resignation. it's natural to be sad. to mourn the loss of what was and the hope of what could have been. and mourning is a process that takes time. sometimes it takes a long time. let yourself feel it. truly feel the sadness and the loss.

but...one night, when you're ready...instead of focusing on the darkness, your eyes will wander up to notice the stars in the sky again.

please don't miss it. don't dismiss it.

you don't have to see the full galaxy, but don't miss the star twinkling out there to remind you that it's time to move past the resignation and start fighting for a new dream.

fight for a new way of living. one that is good and healthy for your body, mind and spirit.
fight for a new way of working. one that progresses your calling and promotes good in the world.
fight for a new way of loving. one that starts with loving yourself and extends to bring in someone worthy of your tremendous heart.

so, how am i, you ask? i feel a true sense of resignation. i have faith in the choice i made. i am at peace.

...and i'm listening to the One who made me and starting to find my fight again.

i wept.

like a tsunami, the feeling rushed over me leaving nothing but agony and confusion in its wake. the waves of fear and doubt pulled me down to the depths of hell, laughing as they pinned me to the ocean floor. they knew they could hold me there. they knew i wouldn't fight it.

i let the exhaustion sink in fully. i shrunk into myself and let go of the facade that had told everyone else i was holding it together. i could no longer believe the lie myself. 

and then... i wept.

Jesus did that (at least) once. Jesus wept. shortest verse in the bible, "Jesus wept."

many men and women much smarter than me have studied the theological significance of that sentence; but as i try to find the words to describe what happened tonight as i sat in my car, alone in the target parking lot...all i can come up with is a simple sentence. all the words in the english language can't paint the picture more accurately.

i wept.

and the waves that had threatened to bury me beneath the ocean floor poured out as tears flooding down my cheeks and neck, drenching my scarf as if i had danced outside in a rainstorm.

but my mascara didn't run. because instead of investing in my spirit these days, i purchase high-end products that will effectively protect the mask i still wear despite the growing evidence that it just isn't worth it anymore.

maybe it never was.

thankful

sometimes, when the world is swallowing you whole and you can't quite even make out the lines of your own hands in the darkness, you need a reminder that you're not alone.

sometimes you just need a best friend.

needless to say, it's been a pretty rough couple of weeks. just when i didn't think it could get any darker, another bomb would drop. i kept telling myself that it'd be fine, it would all be fine. except it wasn't.

i kept telling myself that i'd make it through, i would make it through somehow. except i wasn't.

i was standing still, feet planted in the sinking sand below me, foolishly believing that if i smiled just right and held it together just so that somehow the sand would turn to solid ground again.

today, as my head hit my hands and my tears hit the table, i had a friend who offered a listening heart, reassuring wisdom and even a bit of humor to keep me going.

esse quam videri, my friend.
so thankful for a friend who lets me reveal my true self and loves me through the tough stuff.
i simply wouldn't make it through this life without you.

A photo posted by Havaleh Havelka (@havaleh) on Aug 8, 2013 at 11:25am PDT

bliss list #2: baking

i love to bake. there's just something beautiful about taking raw ingredients and making something useful.

tonight i made cookies. not just any cookies--my great grandmother's chocolate chip cookie recipe. they are, by far, my favorite.

think about the ingredients...

• flour, salt and baking soda: essential, but no one wants to eat a spoonful alone.
• vanilla, sugar and brown sugar: sweet, but who wants to eat a spoonful of those either?
• eggs: eating them raw could kill you. seriously.
• butter: eating two sticks of that could probably kill you too. over time, at least.
• and then you have the semi-sweet chocolate chips: they certainly don't taste like a chocolate bar. they are far more bitter than sweet.

none of those ingredients alone would taste nearly as delicious as they do when combined to make great grandma's chocolate chip cookies.

i bake to be reminded that i'm not alone, thank God. i bake to remember that i am but one ingredient in the larger mixing bowl of life, and that thankfully i am mixed together with some pretty awesome people. and with them, i'm part of something delicious too.

bliss list #1: the symphony of a storm

i lie down and open up my newest library rental, meg wolitzer's "the interestings". i suppose page one is a good place to start. pete is curled up at my feet and mr. darcy is purring, cuddling my arm. i'm already relishing in the awesomeness of my life when it begins.

there is no warning, no build up, no intro, no climb. the rain simply begins pouring, thumping against the roof in forceful persistence.

the beat is steady. not necessarily fast; it's more than that. fuller. it's constant. not like a heartbeat. more like a line of a thousand little drummer boys, beating to the rhythm of their fears.

i love the sound of rain. it is a tangible reminder that dry grass can be green again, that what once appeared dead can be given life once more. tonight, it is my lullaby.