i haven't blogged in, approximately, FOREVER. it's not for lack of trying, per se... i've even had a handful of posts written and ready to go and then, when the time came to hit "publish post" i just couldn't pull the trigger. probably because they were giant rants about BD driving me crazy and used words like "FUCK" and "ASSFACE" a lot. and they were so ragey that i just couldn't do it.

but in all honesty, the past (nearly) 2 months have been a shitstorm. when it rains, it pours... right? well, it's been a fucking monsoon and i'm about ready for some dry weather and a long nap. here's the short version:

end of may:

• 24 hour flight(s) home from NYC that included sleeping on the floor of LAX. fuck you, American Airlines.
• my 26th birthday.

beginning of june:

• find out one of my best friends has received a terminal diagnosis after her 4+ year battle with cancer
• cry. a lot
• BD does random shit to drive me crazy and gets the wrath-o-leanne (he really has terrible timing).

middle of june:

• said friend dies.
• FUCK YOU, cancer.
• cry. more.
• pretend to know how to manage parenting, work, and grief. fail miserably.

end of june:

• spend week preparing for HUGE work event. attempt to make up for time spent away from office due to grieving. 
• HUGE work event. mostly good, with a side of shit show.
• don't sleep, due to said shit show.
• stupid, stupid boy dramz. like, really stupid.
• get ridiculously ill. miss more work.

beginning of july:

• still ill. miss even more work. chug nyquil from the bottle.
• go back to work. try to make up for lost time. fail miserably.
• insomnia. hence the 2 am blog posting.

so, while i kind of wish i'd been blogging about it all, i honestly just didn't have the energy. the one thing i have longed for most desperately these past 2 months is a bubble. a sound, and world, proof bubble. i just want to crawl inside (it's comfy, this imaginary bubble...) and curl up into a ball and just be for a little while. sadly, however, i can't make it all stop. i have to keep being a grown-up and keep going to work and keep making tabor's lunch and keep fighting with him about bedtime and keep paying my bills and keep trying to stay one step ahead while i inevitably fall 2 steps behind.

and that, my friends, is my last 2 months in a nutshell. any questions?

Every now and again.

Tabor loves his daddy. Of course he does... And I am happy about that, truly happy. Because they have a good relationship and tabor needs that.

BUT. but.

Because he loves his daddy, he likes to talk about him. A lot. So I plaster a smile on my face and talk to my son ALL about BD. It's not terrible, actually. I'm usually pretty good at separating conversations I have with tabor about his dad from the negative feelings I have about BD. I don't say anything negative to influence tabor's opinion of him. I'm good. I swear.

It does, however, get tough when tabor wants to see pictures of his dad. So I get out my iPhone and pull up the few pictures I took during Relationship 2.0 and let tabor look at them. Because I'm a good mom, dammit. But it still sucks. And makes me a little sad. Because, hey! Look at these pictures of your family that only existed for a fleeting moment in time! And smile! Because it's the right thing to do, if I want to be a good mom.

So. There's that.

mother's day.

"making the decision to have a child is momentous. it is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." -elizabeth stone

in honor of mother's day, here's a little photo montage (in no particular order!) of my life as a mommy. tabor and i don't actually have all that many pictures together... that's one of the downsides of being a single mom, you're always the one behind the camera. nevertheless, i know you all love to see him, so i'm putting them up, even the ones where i look really ridiculous. and a select few of other people who have helped me be the great mommy i've become. then i'm taking my little boy shopping for "flip-flop shoes"... because it's mother's day and that's what my son wants to do.

for reference... i was graduating from college 4 years ago today.

TRUTH: day 4.

Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.

yikes. i have been putting off this post for... i don't even know how long. because i know EXACTLY what i need to write but it is SO HARD. and putting it all down in words kind of makes me feel like i actually have to DO it... forgive him, that is.

fortunately for me, i mentioned that to my therapist and he was all, "no... just because you talk about it doesn't mean you have to forgive him for it! he did lots of things that were incredibly hurtful, you have every right in the world to be really mad at him. and you don't have to stop being mad until you decide you're ready. and, frankly, he hasn't done anything to deserve your forgiveness, so you don't have to give it until you're good and ready."

(damn, i love that guy. my therapist, that is).

or maybe it's like the dixie chicks (remember them?!) said:

forgive sounds good
forget, i'm not sure i could
they say time heals everything but i'm still waiting...

alright then, on with the show.

BD, i need to forgive you for:

• being a complete and total coward.
• having sex with me the night before we broke up and not getting me off. poor form.
• telling me over and over what a mess she was. and what a failure your relationship with her was. yet, somehow, you couldn't get yourself out of that mess and fully away from that relationship.
• taking the easy way out instead of fighting for our family.
• refusing to be the man i know you have the capability of being, the man who you briefly were.
• going into our relationship expecting to fail when you knew i was going into it expecting it to succeed.
• talking about forever with me.
• asking me to grow old with you.
• sending me pictures of our perfect house and telling me, "this is the one."
• talking about moving in together.
• asking me for boxes when you were trying to get her moved out of your house.
• telling me everything would be ok.
• saying that my insecurities were unfounded (hah!)
• playing house with me and tabor.
• 6 weeks. 6 fucking weeks.
• being reckless with my heart.
• only thinking of yourself.
• telling me how supportive your family was of your decision to get back together with me, then never making an effort to get us all together.
• asking "are you ok?" when i opened the door and had clearly been crying post-break up.
• having the nerve to suggest that everything was my fault when you started getting cold feet.
• being too scared to be with a confident, independent, successful woman and instead running back to that purple-haired hot mess of a girl.
• refusing to see the broader impact that your words and actions have on those around you.
• saying "that's the best you can do?" when i added literally hundreds of extra hours to our parenting plan for you to spend with tabor.
• going to couples counseling with me and using it as an excuse to behave like a total jackass.
• being incapable of taking our relationship to a friends level before you jumped right back into a relationship and promised me the world.
• asking me to buy goodies to spice up our sex life a week before you decided you "might have made a big mistake."
• telling me you "might have made a big mistake."
• thinking i'd be ok with the fact that you "might have made a big mistake."
• not leaving well enough alone.
• putting me in a position where i have to protect myself from you.
• thinking i would want to be friends with you after break up 2.0.
• making my pregnancy and first year of motherhood incredibly painful.
• changing your mind about everything ALL. THE. TIME.
• being incapable of being alone.
• thinking that you are the greatest thing in the entire world.
• letting me give so much of myself to you without giving any of yourself to me.
• falling so far short of the expectations that we set when we got back together.
• being so self-involved that you have no comprehension of anyone else's feelings.
• wanting to watch all 82 blazers games and setting that as a higher priority than things like your son's bedtime.
• suggesting we take family pictures together.
• never saying thank you for everything i did for you.
• making me believe i wouldn't have to be a single mom anymore.
• somehow managing to put me in the position of having to walk away because you were too scared to say what needed to be said.

there's a lot to forgive and i don't know when (or if) it will all happen... sadly, this list is just the tip of the ice berg. i think the best way to sum it up is to say that i've never been as disappointed in someone as i am in him.

tuesday tunes: someone like you

i kind of can't believe i haven't done tuesday tunes before... carrie does them all the time and i love listening to her song of the week. plus... music is huge in my life and you KNOW when i find a good song that bad boy is on repeat for, like, days.

such is the case with 21, the new album from Adele. seriously, i listen to every single song and it's like she's in my head, singing about exactly how i feel. which... helps and hurts. because some of the songs take me back to a darker, sadder place. and some of them make me feel like, "yeah, fuck you! i'm so much better than this." and some of them are just bittersweet.

like this one: "someone like you." not only is it just a gorgeous song, but it has some incredible lyrics (not a difficult task for Adele... she is talented beyond belief.

i heard that you're settled down

that you've found a girl and you're married now

i heard that your dreams came true

guess she gave you things i didn't give to you

nevermind i'll find someone like you

i wish nothing but the best for you two

don't forget me, i beg

i remember you said

sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead

the fall out of falling out.

so there i was, waxing poetic about falling out of love. and how i was ok with it. and blah blah blah.

i'm still ok with it, i suppose. i mean, it's not like i want to be back in love with BD. no no. not at all. it's just... i don't really know what to do with all this... empty.

this morning, tabor was laying in bed with me, playing with my iPhone. he picked it up, put it to his ear and said, "tay tay call bitt-ney!"

(that is the ex).

(i know, right? quit fucking with me. go get a job or a degree or something).

(courtesy google images)

the weird part was that, when tabor made the comment, my stomach didn't sink like it used to. my breath didn't catch in my throat, i didn't start crying, i didn't get all bent out of shape. and aside from wanting to puke in my mouth a little bit, completely on principle because SERIOUSLY who dies their hair pink or blue or purple when they aren't 12 years old... i didn't do much of anything. i didn't feel much of anything at all.

last night i started thinking about how i feel about not being in love with BD anymore. what it comes down to is that it's actually kind of a tricky place to be in, at least for me. i am so used to being IN LOVE with him that i kind of don't know how to handle all this lack of emotion.

sounds ridiculous, right?

but here's the thing: no longer do i have an explanation and crutch (being perfectly honest) for the cacophony of thoughts and feelings that run through my head every day. before, i could blame love. i could reason that i was angry because he refused to let himself return that love. i was hurt because my heart was broken. and i still cared because i loved him.

but not anymore. now i just feel like a shell of my former overflowing-with-love self. there is nothing to rely on when i need an explanation for why my face burns when i open my front door and he is standing on my porch. it's just as unsatisfying as it was before, but in a different way. it doesn't hurt like it did, which is obviously good. i'm having trouble putting it accurately into words. i guess the best was to describe it is to say it's an uncomfortable nothing.


i'll get used to it, at some point. there will come a time when i don't even think about it. or at least think about it far less than i used to, thank god. and after that will come the moving on and growing and changing, ad nauseum, etcetera.


but for now i'm wrestling with what exactly it means to fall so completely out of love with the man that my heart belonged to for 2 1/2 years. does it mean that my love for him wasn't as real as i thought it was? does it mean that i'm losing one of the things i treasure most in myself... my heart's pure and unwavering ability to really love someone? am i becoming jaded and bitter and closed off and unfeeling?


no. no. and... eh, maybe. just a little bit.

(someecards.com)

i think what it means is that his version of forever those 6 weeks weren't actually the start of something incredible for us. obviously not. rather, they were just the final nails in the coffin; a reminder and affirmation that he is, in fact, completely incapable of caring about anyone other than himself. that he is irresponsible and reckless and bull-headed and narcissistic and blind to any truth other than the one he creates for himself. and i had to be put back in the situation of hoping and expecting and anticipating to see, once again, that he is only capable of letting me down. i needed a reminder... rather, a confirmation... that i would never, ever come first with him, no matter what he told me.


i got that reminder. i got it loud and clear. and that was the last thing i needed to be able to stop loving him.

falling out.

i've been in love twice. i've also fallen out of love twice. let me start at the beginning:

a long time ago, i was engaged. and by "a long time ago" i mean, when i was in college. like, 5 years ago. i was engaged to my college sweetheart, who was a really nice guy.*

*note: this may explain why i have such a strong inclination toward douchebags these days.

anyway, my fiance was nice. but being nice is not enough to sustain an entire relationship. and we had problems that i won't get into right now, because they are frankly irrelevant. i will, however, say that when i started feeling like we shouldn't get married and expressed those sentiments to him, my fiance was not pleased. (understandable). i'm paraphrasing slightly here, but his response was "don't leave me. i can't live without you."

well. that was scary. and a whole lot of pressure.

so i stayed. i stayed for 4 months longer than i should have, longer than i wanted to, longer than was healthy for either of us. but... you know... that's how relationships go. i was trying, i was giving it my best, and i was brutally unhappy. in january of 2007, after a full-blown mental breakdown that included my step-dad carrying me, crying hysterically, out of the China Buffet, i finally got the balls realized it was a matter of my sanity and i broke up with him.

at this juncture, i would like to fully acknowledge that my behavior following our breakup fell wildly short of classy. i was suffering, i was in a bad mental place, and i went from one extreme to another. what i said and did (partying all night, jumping into bed with a new guy a week post-breakup (and handing over my V-card, no less), blah blah blah). things he said and did hurt me, too, but i don't want to make excuses. my actions were my choice and they were less than noble.

about 2 weeks after the breakup, i got a call from my now ex-fiance at 6:30 in the morning. he said he was calling from the ER, where he'd had to go after attempting to hurt himself. aka: the cutting. of the wrists. in my opinion (long after the fact), it was a cry for help. pure and simple. it wasn't enough damage to actually take his life. HOWEVER. it was still an attempt. and, in the moment, i totally panicked and jumped right back into the same "saving him" mode i'd been in for our entire relationship. it just so happened to be the day of a giant snowstorm and on my way to the hospital i managed to spin across 4 lanes of freeway traffic and come to a stop, facing the wrong way, about 10 feet from a semi-truck.

so i was doing pretty great when i showed up at the ER.

the doctor who spoke with me either a) didn't understand the situation at all or b) was smoking crack because, after detailing for me what my ex-fiance had done to himself, asked me to take him home. and keep an eye on him. and be his support system through this "rough time."

my response to the crack-doctor went something like this: umm, i'm sorry, no. do you understand that i just broke off our engagement and that is why he decided to harm himself? because he thinks he can't live without me? that we are both in extremely fragile mental states right now? so why on earth would you ask me to take care of him at this point in time? call his mom. call his brother. call a psychiatrist. but i am the last person in the world who should be responsible for his care. it's no good for him and it's no good for me. i'm sorry. just... no.

seem harsh? yeah, maybe. but, i swear to god, it was the only thing i could do. at that precise moment in time, i had to cut all ties. i had to relinquish responsibility. i had to separate our happiness from one another so he could live his life and i could live mine.

and... i had to stop loving him. i remember it so clearly: it was this crazy, out-of-body experience where i literally looked at myself and said, "self, this is it. you have to make a decision and you can't sacrifice yourself for him any longer. it's your sanity or his." obviously, in a situation like that, you pick yourself. so i literally just made myself stop loving him. RIGHT THEN.

(it helped, by the way. with my recovery. and maybe with his. but it's easier to move on when you don't love someone anymore).

all of this is a very long-winded way of leading up to my next point:

i don't love BD anymore.

i know, right? didn't see that one coming. especially since, in my little "i'm done" speech to BD i said something along the lines of, "i love you and i'll always love you." well, guess what, i lied. really... it was my turn for a lie. i've listened to enough of them, i think i am long overdue to be on the delivering end for once.

(courtesy of Google Images)

it wasn't a conscious decision, like it was with my ex-fiance. rather, it just sort of happened. like, one day this week i woke up and went, "huh. i guess i don't love him anymore. weird."

so now there's this little space of empty in my heart that he occupied for 2 1/2 years. this little space that used to be filled with longing and affection and every feeling possible for the man who is the father of my child and the breaker of my heart and the ruiner of all things good and holy. this little space that just sits there and waits, knowing that it will be filled someday, by someone who deserves the love and affection that i have to offer. someday.

and, weirdly, i'm ok with it.

so here's to falling out of love. as tabor always says, recklessly clanking his plastic sippy against my ikea wine glass,

"cheers, mama! cheers."