Dump City

This hasn't been the greatest of weeks. 

It also hasn't been the worse. 


I remember over five years ago sitting on the floor in my Seattle apartment, devastated because I went from being loved to being dumped.  Not only being dumped, but being "you were never important to me" type of dumped.  Not one of those amicable "this just isn't working" kind of dumps, but one of those "I need to erase you from my life now" dumps. 

And when you've gone through something like that, you learn very quickly to adapt, to survive, and to never let that happen again. 

Because, dammit, not only does it hurt like hell, but it causes you to start questioning yourself.


Never, ever question yourself.  Get yourself to the point where you trust your inner person more than anything. 


So, I cried for a little while, and then I gathered everything I had of his and threw it in the dumpster outside my Seattle apartment.  I knew that I could do some desperate things in that hour, but climbing in the green dumpster to grab some crappy memento from our relationship was not one of them. 



Sometimes, you have to just let go of things--a boy, a friend, a dream that isn't working out the way you thought--and start completely over.  Yes, you'll be hurting and you'll try to go back, but you'll find something better if you're patient.

And, you'll learn something about yourself in the process. 

Like I said, this week was crappy.  Not as crappy as the dumpster day, but that's because I'm a little hardened now.   A little more reserved.  And, also a little content because he has a beard and is fat now. 

Still, I mourned.  Like you do in the best break-ups, I removed old pictures and put up new ones.  I sat in my pajamas and ate pizza rolls on the couch, while watching girly movies, crying to myself, "Why can't they be like those girlfriends?" and threw away those stupid mementos that don't have meaning anymore. 


Then comes the part where you're rejuvenated and remember who you were before.  Usually, you get a cute new haircut, but I'm getting married soon and don't want to regret bangs.  So, instead I bought a Beyonce album and cleaned the basement, pretending I was really fierce and bootylicious. Well, not pretending. 


And then, this happens.

Even during the crappy weeks, I am reminded that I am loved 3000 miles away.  I have friends who love me out of the blue for no reason.  Instead of crying on the couch and having a stomach ache from too many pizza rolls, I will snack on Swedish fish and pour over a book about fly fishing.  Because I don't need to waste my time on people who didn't even know I played tennis or the piano (!!!!).  I'll spend my time with people who know me without me having to remind them.

Applewood BBQ smoker chips? Mad Men literature?  Pink crinkle paper? Wrapping paper with winking owls? Blocks of paper with words that I needed to be reminded of? Magazines of the city that I left my heart in?  

How did you know so well? 



Thank you for reading between the lines Koviaks. 



So, I'm beyond grieving.  I'm onto celebrating again.  I might even throw some pink crinkle paper in the air and do a happy dance while I practice my wind-up with my pretend fishing rod. 


Besides, I was able to finish the photo wall, so there's that.  

Never fight with idiots. They'll defeat you by bringing you down to their level, and beating you with experience. --Dad