Down Under

I guess there’s a moment after a few years that hits you and makes you need to start writing again. That moment is right now. It’s been a while, guys- I know. Where did I even last leave you. My ex fiancé baby daddy and I breaking apart and my trying to move on two years ago? Well in that two years I met a new and beautiful love but unfortunately lost him to the heavens; may he be resting in eternal peace at last and rocking out like the badass he was. But I guess that is an entirely different blog post. I learned a hell of a lot from being with him and it’s been a crazy ride. But this post is because I got the writing bug after meeting this dude at a show on Friday who changed my world. Doesn’t that sound crazy? Because it is. I’m so crazy. It’s called being overly emotional, sensitive, a hopeless romantic and all of the above…but if you’ve followed my posts in the past (if not, get to looking) you will know this is nothing new from me!

Anyways- I met this guy. I’m at a Circa Survive show in Providence, Rhode Island…mostly to see Hail the Sun with my (late) boyfriend’s sister cause we have emotional ties to the band and she’s an entirely other love of my life. The crowd is crazy, Circa comes on, the pit gets going- Jess is a little badass moshing around. This guy and I keep bumping into each other; there were occasional spills and falls taken and the three of us scream/talked at one another and sang really loud- all the while I could barely understand him with the music amplified and maybe some drinks in me. He continued to turn around and say things to the point where I had to stop him and ask, “DO YOU HAVE AN ACCENT?!” Because I’m rude and just couldn’t hear or understand anything he was saying into my face. He goes, “YA IM AUSTRALIAN!” And it all made sense. I think I smirked to myself cause I’ve been waiting 30 years to meet a cute Australian man and I tried to yell back, “WELL I CAN’T HEAR YOU, WE’LL TALK AFTER THE SHOW!” With a strange boost of confidence as if he’d still be around after the show to talk to.

The encore came on, people started scrambling around and Jess emerged out of the pit and said suggested bouncing to a bar to get a drink; the night was still young. Sometimes, like I said, I get random boosts of confidence- and just began typing my number on my phone screen and told him to copy it down so I could somehow prevent the night from ending with him- as if we were having a night together. He handed me his phone, had my type in my number and called it so I had his. PROGRESS. Saved as Elena Circa. At that point I didn’t know a single thing about him. I didn’t register that an accent in America probably means he doesn’t live here permanently. But one can dream. We are all walking out and some random group a people catches up with him and asks if he wants to go to a bar and I’m thinking these must be his friends or the people he came with- maybe he’s studying abroad or something and like 20 years old and I’m a cougar- who knows! We get to a bar and discover he’s just met them too so I’m with my friend and he’s alone. He’s just some beautiful traveling wanderer that came to a Circa show because he owes them his life (in so many words) and he’s been making his way throughout the states.

We do a round of Irish car bombs that transports me back to my college days some 838292 years ago and eat some food. I am humbled at the opportunity to be surrounded by new people, new experience and whatever comes next. I learn the four other friends are from Connecticut- and we quickly exchange social media accounts. Around 12:45am, they decide to head out leaving Jess, the Aussie and myself wondering what to do after a trip to the car lot.

In a crazy, drunken series of conversational events, we end up driving to Boston (home) in hopes of finding an after party to attend. The Aus (is that rude to say?) was down for whatever, him and my friend were chatting it up about getting us on a boat to Croatia come July- and I was DD. So why not. Live a little. He was sweet, had plenty of stories and conversation, and was down for the ride from Hell that turned into a trip to Boston- ending up stuck in an IHOP parking lot- and driving back to Rhode Island to catch a flight at 6am.

But of course it’s those little things, right? Cause I’m a silly girl who looked at all the simply beautiful gestures and fell head over heels for a guy I’d never see again. Okay- that’s a total reach and way too dramatic but you get what I mean. I was intrigued and interested. And I never am. It was how sweet he was to my friend, how he went into IHOP to get me a water and came out with steak and eggs and funfetti pancakes that we ate while surrounded by police cars because a fight broke out and we were trapped in the parking lot. A meal that ended in snorting laughter and food fights. A drive at 3am back to Providence filled with ample music, singing, lengthy conversation about life and death, more laughing and occasional solemn stare. We talked about our past, our present- hopes for the future. We each had a story. We know we came from things that broke us and there was so much more to learn, question, explore and say.

This dude picked up on things I would do- my “isms”- that it takes anyone forever to learn or notice about me. He knew when I was uncomfortable, he knew when I was using humor to hide behind something, he appreciated my snark but knew I was probably just a troubled introvert looking for true connection. Whatever it was, it worked. And I felt something I rarely do. The things I only feel once in a while. The thing I felt for my late boyfriend and for my ex fiancé. That thing you think you’ll never have again after you lose it- that makes you get crazy and ahead of yourself wondering if the other person feels it too.

I’m sure you know where this story is going. I felt all these things. Thought all these things. We had an amazing night together that was just a further continuation of all of those miraculous moments that made me realize how rare these men are and how hard I try to hold on to them. Laying in his hotel bed listening to his world travels and hearing him tell me that I was beautiful? You’ve got to be kidding. Holding me tight, making sure I was comfortable, grabbing me closer whenever I moved to readjust from the heat- the things you picture doing with someone you enjoy forever. How can you not start imagining more days like this. More nights.

The next morning was just a continuation. Wishing he could delay his flight or see how close to the very last minute we could get to drop him off at the airport. But it was all coming to an end and the only hope I had to cling on to was that we had each other’s number and he will be visiting Boston the following week as part of his travels. I immediately started thinking about getting to talk with him until then and how excited I would be to see him again- the anticipation almost unruly. I ran away with it in my mind. All the way until I pulled up to the airline and he went to get out of the car.

There was no kiss goodbye. I thought maybe reality had sunk in or he woke up after drinking the night before with a completely different perspective of how things happened. That tends to be my thing. I am usually sober and contemplative. I take so much of everything in and remember everything; I appreciate each thing usually the other person doesn’t remember or was barely (mentally) present for. I guess I needed this hit on the head for how silly I was being. Thinking there was a future or romanticized notion of something more to come with someone who doesn’t live here, won’t be here, can’t be here and is always on the go. But oh- it was such a nice notion, you guys. He chatted with me throughout the day before and after his flight to Hotlanta and off to Florida. He continued to be adorable, sweet and I could hear his voice in every word he sent.

Until it abruptly stopped.

I figure he met up with his family. He’s busy. He is used to meeting people, having these experiences weekly or nightly. It’s all routine. I am not.

He’s also not crazy like me and thinking all one million of these things like I am! Which brings me to why I decided to pick up the…cursor…and write again. Because my mind was going in circles. I am used to this. I really am. I dwell, I think too much, I over analyze- throw in some self loathing and emo music and call it a day. But the importance of my writing this, ever so simply now, is because this was the first time I needed to get it out of my head. It’s been the same story with the same guys for me for the past few years. I can process and dwell on that shit in my own head all the time without writing it down. But this time, I met someone who was new and different. Someone who showed me maybe I could have it all. Someone who showed me what I deserve and what I like. There is sometimes a level of unmatched and unparalleled comfort with someone- you don’t know where it manifests or why it is happening but it is there. It’s like you’ve known the person for years and you’re in a place it takes others long to get to. That’s what it felt like with him. I could be myself. He was himself. There was a weird, uncanny but comfortable connection. And it was just beautiful. (It’s rare for me. I’ve had it the only other times I’ve mentioned.) I wish I had the chance to talk to him more. I feel like I could ask him a million questions, go a million places with him and explore so many things.

But it is like they say- sometimes he’s just not that into you. And you know I already premised this story with what an irrational, romanticized, dramatic brain I have. And maybe that’s why I needed to start writing again, too. Because I don’t care if I’m like this. I don’t care how many people I asked and bothered about my one night love affair that I couldn’t get out of my head. I don’t care if I still believe in love- like that gross annoying soulmate love. All I was thinking about was getting to see him again next week (until I think he made it clear that just wasn’t how this was going)- Because my perception of reality is clearly never the same as the mans.

But hey, it’s cool. It’s cool to have a romantic heart that aches like mine. Some day, guys. It’ll happen.

Everything I wanted to say 

You began the phone call with “after this phone call, do not call or text me ever again…I will not respond.”
In that moment, I knew we were over forever. Everyone warned me of this moment, and deep down, I knew it was coming too. I spent the past six months living off a sliver of hope for “us”, perpetuated by intimacy and conversations whose true roots were indiscernible and complicated, to say in the least.

My breathing and heartbeats slowed to a pace that I wasn’t sure how would keep me alive and then it hit me…you were about to break my heart.

“I do not want you, there is no us. You need to move on”

Each sentence broke me and I all I could ask was “is this real”; which was accompanied with your affirming and stern yes. I was paralyzed, and couldn’t even fight because I knew I would lose, but all I wanted to know was “what am I supposed to do without you?”

Days later, the shock has worn off, and now I can say everything that I wanted to tell you when you broke my heart.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being difficult. I’m sorry that our time together was mostly spent emotional roller coaster when all you wanted and needed was stability.

I’m sorry I stabbed you with the venom of my words when I was mad, when all I should have done was uplift you, and us. I’m sorry I broke your trust, I’m sorry that things turned out this way… But I’m most sorry that you broke me.

Thank you for showing me that I can find love in the least expecting people and places. Thank you for unlocking parts of my heart that I didn’t know I would be able to feel. Thank you for pushing me, thank you for allowing me to share my secrets with you, and some of yours with me.

It kills me that you have no hope for a friendship or a future. It kills me that I must relinquish the fact that we will never speak again. It kills me that I am looking at the pieces of my heart on the floor while you are living your life.

I accept my fault, and I hope that you accept yours, and I hope that nobody breaks your heart the way that you broke mine

I will never do it again. 

I cannot live in the same world or breathe the same air where a person is being praised for his service of others and entering the mental health professional after how he just made me feel at what is supposed to be a public place of serenity and recovery. 

Being kicked out of a meeting, told I am crazy, told there is ownership of a public meeting space, told to never be seen again and having to take my friends in recovery with me to leave in tears is not okay. 

I cannot live in a world where people like this get everything they want in life and enjoy watching those they claimed to have loved be destroyed. Blaming and blaming them for every single thing. 

I cannot live in a world where I am punished for being the only one who truly knows someone. Ostracized and alienated. For being the only one to stick around throughout every true color and every mask and then be pushed completely away when things weren’t easy. 

This person wants to live a life or helping others. I have never been more ruined by one person in my entire life, just because I loved him. 

Just because I had some silly thought they we had a future. That the man who said he truly loved me would stick around through the good and the bad as I would do for him in a heartbeat. 

And the audacity to assume it’s so simple to move on- when I thought I was going to have a life and a family with this person. 

Even with all the animosity, resentment and anger, I could never think so hurtfully low of a person as he thinks, and tells, me. And to think I wanted to stand by his side for the rest of my life. Stand up for him. Support him in all he does. 

I am broken. 

I am ruined. 

I have relapsed. 

I am jaded. 

You can have your meetings back. You can have your friends back. You can have your family back. You can have your house back. You can have your memories back. You can have your entire state back.

I am done. 

I need to leave. 

I just loved you. And I promise I will never do it again. 

To the new girl revised 

I used to hate you when I had no reason to. I hated you because you became the new me.
You filled the void I left in his heart. You took my place in his life. You were lying next to him in bed and receiving his hand written love notes. You were holding his hand on long drives down the back roads. You were standing in his kitchen talking to his family, laughing with them over dinner. 

You were everything I once was, maybe even more. You might not have replaced me completely, but he’s not alone.

I told myself you weren’t as pretty as me. I told myself you weren’t as good for him as I was. I told myself you weren’t capable of loving him like I did. I told myself everything I could think of to try to make myself feel better about losing him to you. I said every horrible thing I could think of because somehow I felt that was going to make me feel better, even though I knew it wasn’t going to change anything. I placed bets with my friends on how long your rebound would last.

Because that’s what it was right? It was just a rebound.

We just broke up, how could he possibly love you? Maybe not love, but how could he kiss you? How could he talk to you the way he talked to me?

How could he go from being as comfortable as we were together to starting over and learning your flaws?

Learning your strengths and weaknesses? Learning what keeps you up at night and what makes your heart ache?

How could he do that?

I couldn’t move from bed. I couldn’t eat dinner. I couldn’t look at my family in the face. I didn’t want to be around anyone. I didn’t want to do anything.

I hated myself because he went to you. He turned to you in a time when I would have turned to him.

But you were comforting him now, while I had no one.

He turned to you over our evaporating love story. I know he did, because I was that girl for him when he broke up with the girl he loved before he loved me.

I hated myself for that. I hated myself for doing that to his ex before me. Now I understand the misery she must have been feeling when she started seeing pictures of him and I together. When she started hearing my name associated with his because now I’m at the other end of the spectrum now.

Life has an interesting, twisted way of putting us through the epitome of karma; of showing us the hurt we put unto others will soon enough be the pain inflicted unto ourselves.

I think I started hating him for that. How could he do that again? He went from his ex, to me, to you almost as if it was a continuous chain reaction. He went one to the other, with no time to live life on his own, to figure out what he really needed.

Now time has passed. My wounds aren’t as deep; they’ve merely healed themselves completely over time. I don’t hate you anymore, I don’t think you’re ugly and I don’t think I’m better for him than you.

Because I’m not.

I’m not the same girl he fell in love with anymore.

I hope you love him, because one of us has to,

and I’m too far gone for him now. 


I hate how much I value one persons opinion. 

I went home for Christmas and the most meaningful thing anyone could have said to me was, “it’s nice to have you back.” I knew exactly what my mother meant. After a year of being drugged up, depressed, anxious, non functioning and an all around mess- she was happy to have her daughter back. It meant everything to hear that. My friends were telling me the same thing. My family. Even I could believe it myself. I knew I had worked hard. And I am working hard. 

I even started talking to my ex again. I was very confident in talking to him. Maybe that was my mistake. But when it all went south, again, and he told me nothing had changed- that’s what hurt the most. That’s what opinion mattered the most. I don’t know why. Maybe because I used to see a life and future with this man and I was so excited for him to get some of the best of me instead of just the worst all the time. But he said I was the same. Everything was the same. He shut me out. Blamed me for everything. Ended things again. And I broke down. For someone who wants to keep the negative out of his life, he seems to only focus on my negatives at all times. 

I think I broke down for his expectations. I guess he’s right and I am not strong enough. Maybe nothing has changed. I self harmed for the first time in seven months. After being lifted up by other’s words of encouragement on how well I was doing and believing it myself- and then having the one person whose opinion, for some reason matters most, tell me nothing has changed…all I could do was give him what was expected. 

He’s already moved on again. After believing him. After he said he didn’t want it to end. 

He has a girlfriend now. A girlfriend.  It’s all my fault again. And he’s gotten everything he wants again. 

I remember when we first broke up and he asked if would still travel to Hawaii with him even if we weren’t together. I said I would but what if he was already with someone else by then (March). And his reply was almost shock. Shock that he or I would be with anyone else seriously by then. I tried to take comfort in this, but I guess he got me good with that one. 

I was so excited to have him in my life again. To have fun with him. Be myself around him. My best self. Have him be himself around me. His goofy, loving, temperamental self. Remind him that I don’t think anyone can love him as much as I can. Hopefully get to show him a healthy relationship between the two of us. But he doesn’t want any of that from me. I don’t think he ever really has. I don’t think I’ve ever been a good enough option for him to choose. He’s made that clear. 

Any notion of rebuilding, hah. I am his biggest fool. I do know that. 

I forget what it’s like 

I used to think I couldn’t go a day without your smile. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back. Then, that day arrived and it was so damn hard but the next was harder. And I knew with a sinking feeling it was going to get worse and I wasn’t going to be okay for a very long time. Because losing someone isn’t an occasion or an event. It doesn’t just happen once. It happens over and over again. I Lose you every time I pick up your favorite movie; whenever that one song plays on the radio, or when I discover your old t-shirt at the bottom of my laundry pile.
I lose you every time I think of kissing you, holding you, or wanting you. I go to bed at night and lose you, when I wish I could tell you about my day. And in the morning, when I wake and reach for the empty space across the sheets, I begin to lose you all over again.

Leaving town 

I’m moving. I’m really scared about it. But I know it’s the right decision. I welcome the fear and challenge. After this past year, I know I can take on anything. It’s time a gave myself some credit. I did not fall apart this time. I did not crumble. I have held my jobs. I have held my relationships. I have made more efforts in recovery. I will stay strong in my recovery and make new friends along the way. The things we lose really are there to teach us lessons. It took me a while to see the lesson because I wanted to see what I wanted to see. But as much as the hurt ebbs and flows, I have learned my lesson. I know I’m crazy. I’ve always been crazy when it’s come to my heart. I wear my emotions on my sleeve. And I’m done apologizing for all my insecurities. I deserve happiness. I deserve adventure. I deserve a love as passionate as I feel. I deserve someone who loves me in spite of all my isms, as I do them. I know now that is not in this state. It is not in this city. In this place. I so thought it was and I was so excited for it to be. But it’s time I faced the truth. Sometimes I truly think this was my chance. And I blew it. And I’m almost okay with that. Because I know how I feel and I know what I did. I do believe in soulmates. And I think I found mine, whatever that means. And it’s okay that it didn’t work out. But I also can’t lie to myself and pretend I want to be with anyone else, at least not for a long time. It just doesn’t feel right to me. I just want to be of service to others in any way that I can. I need to fill my time with giving back and helping others. Part of being a highly sensitive person is taking on the burdens of the world and wanting to fix everything. I know I cannot fix everything but I know I can do more than what I’ve done. Be better than who I was yesterday. Continue to grow and learn. Continue to feel. Continue to cry. Continue to laugh. Continue to live. 

En-lighting the Corridor: an ignition of spiritual consciousness