letting go. let it go.

Earlier this year, I met someone with whom I instantly connected. I thought Person X and I were so very similar. We had some of the same household goods, and fashion products, and subscribe to similar eco-friendly companies. It's been a very interesting but more so draining experience to learn that X is not at all what X showcases to the world.

I have a problem with letting go. Anxiety usually has me gripped on some level, and if I felt I've been wronged, watch out. Harboring resentment must have been inherited or something. My husband and father are two shining examples of human beings further emotionally evolved than me.

At the same time, neither of them have this dumb nurturing desire to take care of people. My 29 years have been full of helping others more than I help myself. That's kinda cool, mostly, but not when it's at a disservice to myself. Now that I've come face to face with the most selfish individual I've ever known, I don't think I can do it anymore. Not only have my kindnesses been abused, but my 6th sense is telling me that my name is being bashed by the same person I spent countless nights consoling, feeding, and sometimes holding as tears made both our torsos damp.

You know what's most amusing? Every time I notice any shared bit of information thanks to stupid Facebook from this Person, it's an obvious ploy for attention. Like, so obvious and obnoxious I've wanted to defriend X for months now, but I just can't do it. In part, it's for fear that X will say awful things about me on a public forum. It's not pleasant to roll my eyes every time I see some asinine tidbit that relatively sucks. Well, objectively it sucks, but that's the funny thing with social media: really lame people have ways of making themselves seem really cool and as if they are people of substance.

I will content myself in the truth, for it always has a way of being known. Person X can try to get in good with people who are in my life in whatever form, but the person I am, and the nature of my character, is pretty undeniable. If behaviors are repeated, and I think anyone reading this knows they are, X will burn whatever bridges X is scrambling to build now. And I know this.

If only I could let it go.

I will let it go.

After one last thing: If someone tells you they hate me and doesn't have a single good reason why and instead gets defensive OR someone gets REALLY quiet when you ask them to hang out with me, in a group, and doesn't respond, it's probably because someone knows I know him/her for what he/she truly is and does not want to be exposed.

Good heart?

So, the government is shut down. I guess?

It's interesting how different my life with no television and cable is than those who subscribe to different media outlets.

I'm not proud of this, but the bulk of my info comes from social media. At the same time, it's an instant cross-reference from resources that range from people I knew in elementary school to public figures I've learned to respect through various careers and modes of learning.

A sweet friend of mine posted that the on base commissary will be closed after 8 pm tonight and there is a "huge sale" on all perishable foods.

My father buys most of his groceries from that place, as he is a military vet. I thought of him and wondered if he did his weekly shopping yet.

Then I started to think more... My mom bagged groceries there when I was in middle school. She always had odd jobs, as we were always just above the poverty line. After my father retired from the military, he also stocked some perishable food products and worked in the meat department. Not only did we depend on this institutionally run store for our food, but my parents earned the money with which we purchased this food at the same place. How difficult would this furlough have been to my 12 year old self? My hard-working parents who always barely made ends meet?

I called my dad to inform him of these developments. He was sitting down and paying bills and wasn't aware of the shut down, which is weird, because he has a TV and a Facebook account. Anyway, we start talking about it, why the shutdown even occurred, what affordable healthcare means and should mean, and then I brought up our shared past.

He could tell by the tremble in my voice that I was getting upset and asked me not to. "This doesn't have anything to do with you, Angie," he said, in vain attempt to comfort me. But it DOES. It has everything to do with me. I could be the kid with overworked overstressed underpaid parents in the shit town just outside the army base. I know that kid. I was that kid. My best friend now teaches those kids in the same halls of the middle school we once attended.

So I cried. And we talked some more. And my dad kept saying he knows I have a good heart, but I shouldn't let this stress me out because I have my own stresses.

I don't mind feeling the pain of others. That's fine by me. I'd rather feel it than be numb to it like most others.

Engagement Announcement - how it went down

You don’t need an online community of women to help and support you as you plan your “big day.” No one does.

Based on some of the information gleaned from friends who did buy into various websites that host estrogen-fueled bickering, I’m glad I did not succumb to advertisers’ temptations ever present on the periphery of my Facebook wall from the first day I changed my relationship status to “engaged.”

Maybe my situation is a lot different from other people. My mother’s cancer came back some months before my engagement and such news forced me to consider my own mortality, as well as the desire to make her happy by witnessing my vows to the man she trusted would be my partner throughout the rest of my days.

He didn’t propose in any flagrantly romantic fashion. We happened to find a bench overlooking Central Park because he had an appointment with the doctor that 4 years ago surgically removed his cancer. I was having a hypoglycemic fit and felt he was acting strange. I wanted to sit and eat my pastry and drink my damn diner coffee in the chill of the early January afternoon. When my sugar levels normalized and I realized that he was cancer free for a 4^th year in a row (they say 5 years with no signs of return greatly increase the percentage of never having the same form of carcinoma again), I started to kiss his face. The sweet nothings I’m prone to spew started flowing as I found immense joy in knowing that my love was clear of cancer for another year.

“We are going to be healthy and happy and I will make sure we eat well so that your body is in great condition and do you know you’re really handsome? Why are you so good-looking? I want to kiss your face all the time! Like, every day I want to kiss it until both of us can’t breathe.”

::kisskisskiss::

Mind you, he is sitting on the bench completely quiet and I was smothering him a little, because that’s what I do… it’s kinda cute, though, OKAY?! My praises prattle on for what seems like several minutes and then, in a very normal manner, he spoke,  “So, will you marry me?”

The casual tone with which he asked, the sudden break in my logorrhea of love, the entire situation seemed to halt for an awkward moment as my brain tried to make sense of the bauble in his hand, down near our laps. Sally, the glorious little jewel that stole my heart at the elusive Philadelphian jeweler’s, which boasts no signage or public access aside from ringing a doorbell and being buzzed in, was in front of me, but it didn’t make sense!

He wasn’t on one knee. The ring wasn’t in a box. We had just walked all around Manhattan, including a visit to Tiffany’s, where I left stating that, though there seemed Sally-esque rings, there was none comparable to Sally’s intricate filigree and rich tones. Also, how the hell did he have Sally? I went back to the jeweler in search of her months before, only to be told she sold shortly after we first laid eyes on her.

Once it occurred to me that Sally was literally in my reach, I grabbed her and placed her on my finger. She was huge! She was beautiful. It was cold, which made my now bare hand pained in the crisp air, but I didn’t care and my face flooded with tears and I could not control myself. Bitter was the Christmas season that just passed, full of strife caused in part by a step-mother-in-law and a sickly mother both with propensities for drama and a demanding retail work schedule that left me little energy for much else. Added to the stress was the utter disappointment I felt that I did not enter into the New Year with a new ring and a new promise.

News of this development was only shared to closest friends and family via text message. Well, pictures sent via text message. I wanted to be alone with Nick but I also wanted to share the information, though minimally. The only persons I actually bothered to call were my parents. It was quite interesting to see the people who were offended that I chose such an informal way of notifying them. (Weddings make people act very strange.)

Social media networks are great for keeping in touch with people from past lives and careers, but the invasive nature of sites like Facebook have turned me off for years. I did not plan to share this information with that community any time soon because it was so very special and intimate and I wanted to savor in this very new thing with my love, alone.

Imagine my surprise the following morning when I awoke to 40+ notifications on Facebook. My early morning mind did not realize that it could at all be associated with this very private new life event, especially since I did not alert anyone aside from text or phone call. But, people congratulated me online. Individuals who are not even “friends” with my brother were able to see and comment on an embarrassing post and it was perplexing. Did Facebook just change its privacy policy for me to be mortified? The following is exactly what my brother wrote:

My little sister, __________, got engaged! Congratulations are due, for sure. Also, to all of my friends that wanted to bang her: RIP.

In addition to this undesired public announcement, he actually tagged 12 individuals who previously expressed interest in me. So! Since half of those people are in a completely different time zone, I woke up to the havoc of woe and well-wishing from various different communities. Livid is a good word to describe how I felt. Betrayed and robbed work, too. I wanted to be the one to tell people; in my own way and in my own time. Things don’t always work out like that, though.

Today is September 12th, and I have been publicly married for 11 days. (My partner and I were married on paper earlier this summer because I was scared about my health and paranoid that something would happen to me before the "big day," preventing us from having funds with which to put on any sort of shindig, so we filed for a Quaker marriage, which was really cool, because we united ourselves and had two special friends sign as our witnesses.) I anticipated that individuals would ask us the inane questions customary to newlyweds. "Does it feel different? Has anything changed?" I wanted to retort with a short, "Of course not!." Although, after giving it some thought, I realize that something has actually altered.

We lived together very soon after meeting. Our relationship was intense in that we spent every day together immediately. I knew after a number of months that  he would not give up on me, nor I on him, and we were IN THIS. Therefore, I could not fathom what might change after we exchanged vows we wrote in front of our closest friends and family.

Here's the thing: we are happier. A smile means even more to us now. Shortly before the wedding, we suffered two huge losses of life and I was not at all certain I'd be able to celebrate anything for fear that grief would grip me and not let go.

My mom battled breast cancer for 2 years but it won at the end of July. Then, our sweet, sweet pitmix baby love, who developed a mysterious lump in the back of his throat earlier in the year, a mass which biopsied as non-cancerous but would not yield to any kind of treatment, left us also. We have commemorated him in our own ways but the house seems a little empty without his dainty paws and soulful eyes peering at me from across the room.

Neither of those things could I have endured without the strength of my partner, my husband, the love of my life.

I've yet to give myself the time I need to grieve my mother's passing, but I intend to do just that, sooner than later. Right now, actually.

Here's to blogging! May it provide some catharsis and be a healthy outlet for any verbal creativity which my brain may decide to expound.