Before the Worst

Mood: still alive but barely breathing


You know who you are.  Most people don't.  A handful do.  But you do.  I thought I did.  I'd like to think I still do.  But I can't be sure.  


I never thought I would do this.  This blog is about nice things I do for myself.  Not a public plea of a desperate woman with no other idea of how to get through to you. So here it is.  My nice thing:  a last ditch effort at grabbing your attention.  Of letting you know I need you.


Because...you have my heart.  I hate you for that most days.  But the thing I hate the most?  I don't want it back.  I want it to be yours.  



You tell me you are still with me...even when it doesn't seem so.  You have no idea how true this is.  You tell me you keep up with my tweets, my Facebook, my blog.  I know the latter is true or you wouldn't have been jealous about my (non) date.  You tell me you disappear.  Life is busy.  But you're still with me.  And you are.  I genuinely want you to be.  I need you to know me.  To love me.  To care...even if you can't tell me you do with words.


And I tell you it's okay.  And you tell me it's not.  On some level we're both right.  I...better than anyone...understand crawling into a hole.  Withdrawing from life.  From love.  From the people that care the most.  I understand busy. I understand family issues.



But I also understand the following:


You've played guitar for me.  You learned some Taylor Swift for Caitlyn.  You talk to my mother when you think I don't know.  And sometimes I don't.  You worry about my father.  You have more confidence in me than I do myself.  You once sent me the first conversation we ever had.  That was 2 years ago.  Our first conversation.  You know better than most people how impatient I really am.  2 years ago.  





For those of you that have continued reading when you know this isn't addressed to you...I'm sorry.  My nice thing today is a selfish act.  It's not inspiring.  It's not a tangible feel good picture worthy act.  It's simply a string of consciousness.  It's my raw, unfiltered thoughts.  It's bearing my heart.  Being vulnerable.  And if you know me well...you know my walls are always up.  


If you know me...you know I rarely cry in front of anyone besides family.  I don't talk about feelings in relationships beyond "I love you."  I am not an open person in relationships.  I guard what little left I have to give of my heart.  And even then...I'm not sure I have any left...because I gave it to you.  





I told you that YOU were The Only Exception and I meant it.  You have seen parts of me that no other human being has.  You have not seen my naked body...but you have seen me more exposed than I have ever been.  


This is not to make you feel guilty.  This is not to illicit a phone call...or an e-mail or a message.  This is not with the intent that you hop a plane and come to Iowa.  


This is simply me.  Stripped.  Telling you what I have to.  Because until I am honest with myself...and you...I can't begin to move on.  And I fear with every breath I take that this is what you want of me.  What I fear more than that is that you tell me this because you think it's what's best for me.  What's best for me is you.  And not just you in a physical sense.  You for who you are as you read this.  I don't need tomorrow.  I don't need next month.  I don't need 3 months from now.  But I need to be honest.


To tell you how you have hurt me.  And how in spite of that...I love you.  And not in the "I hope you're doing okay" way that some people feel for friends or lovers they've lost.  I love you.  


To tell you that I can't make your pain go away.  And I can't even begin to fathom the losses you have suffered in the last 3 years.  I was there.  But I wasn't.  I couldn't be.  I did what I could.  You did what you had to. 


I can't take you back "before the worst."  But I can be there.  I can stand by you when the worst happens again.  


You survived.  You're still surviving.  Stop punishing yourself.  Allow yourself to learn to live.  Know that not everything ends.  Trust it's worth it to take risks again.  You told me to..and here I am.  Taking a risk.  Trusting that somehow...even if I hear the absolute worst (or nothing at all)...I'll be happier knowing I found myself worthy enough to risk it all.  Trust me.  Trust us.  


I do.   And that's the nicest thing I've EVER done for myself.