2012 was the year I had a nervous breakdown. It was when I finally realized that I needed to learn things about myself I had been terrified to know. I knew that if I didn’t learn those things, I probably wouldn’t make it another year. That the one thing that scared the absolute shit out of me and shamed me would happen and in the process I would hurt all of the people who loved me.

So. I swallowed the perma-lump in my throat and went back to therapy. And I went back big.

All of this isn’t really a post about how I got enlightened or saved myself or any of that shit. It’s how I learned it’s ok to change. I changed because I couldn’t stay the person I was.

If you’ve been watching closely enough you’ve seen them. I’m no longer a pair of disembodied lips. I’m no longer what those lips imply. And I’m no longer Dysfunction Junction.

I am more than just my issues.

In a roundabout way, this is my announcement that soon Dysfunction Junction will be no more. There’s more to me than my neuroses (even if they are adorable).

Soon, this URL will direct to a new blog, a new space. A space where I’ll still talk about what’s going on inside my head but also outside of me. What I eat, what I do, what I think and hopefully, someday who I love.

Keep following, or don’t…but it’s time for the bigger picture.

I’m vulnerable. Painfully, depressingly so.

I hate even saying those words out loud, let alone typing them for the internet to see. Though, few are reading these words these days. My close friends and many of you I don’t know as well would argue with me. Sure, I’ve made it through a lot. I’ve got titanium plates to prove it. Here’s the thing, strong and weak are not the same thing as vulnerable and unsure.

I walked across the Chicago river yesterday, sun streaming through the bright fall sky and wept. I couldn’t even stop. I didn’t even try.

I’m honestly loving the work I’m doing with my psychologist. I am. But I’m examining things I never even knew existed and re-evaluating things I was sure were one thing and now I’m sure of NOTHING. He’s right and observes (correctly) that my sarcasm and wit doesn’t equate with what I’m feeling.

I’m so terrified of being invisible, of never mattering to anyone and I thought I’d learned so much from Nice Boy only to feel like I achieved nothing. And it all hurts. It drains my spirit and I find I have little energy for more than one task at a time. I’m never sure of the right action and I’m so sick of feeling like I always take the wrong one that I’m driven to embrace inaction.

I’m starting to think J.D. Salinger was onto something other than literature.

I have a Julia Child complex.

Stick with me here.

I don’t want to be famous, and I don’t particularly want to cook for a living or make television or really do any of the things she did. But I’m stumbling lately. And I’m floundering to find something I love and something I’m good at.

And let’s be honest, I’m a little odd like her. She was quirky and a little outside of the norm and goddamn if Paul Child didn’t love her. I want someone to find all of my weird shit extraordinary.

I feel like it’s not too much to ask and yet everything to ask. It’s part of the reason I’m in therapy twice a week. I’m searching on multiple fronts and I’m not yet ok with that.

At any rate, there it is. I want to be Julia Child. I said it.

a. how absent I’ve been
b. how unhappy I am

I’m doing all I can to fix both and honestly, I’m on the verge of doing something stupid, smart or in between. I know I can’t linger anymore in a state where I don’t eat, cry nearly all the time and take more anti-anxiety meds than I know what to do with.

I’m scared and feel like all I’ve done the last 7 years of my life is go from mistake to mistake. Like I’ve never made good choices and the ones I think are good choices end up not to be. Like things that I think are good never stay and after they’ve gone, they still don’t look as bad as they should.

THE MIDWEST DOES NOT SUCK.

There. I said it. Admittedly, I am from the third largest metropolis in the United States. I am not a resident of a “flyover state” nor do I live anywhere near farm land (beef, corn or otherwise). However, I am MIGHTY FUCKING DEFENSIVE of this great part of our country.

I’m sick of hearing people (mostly on the coasts) saying that the Midwest is shit and they hate it here.  THEN FUCKING LEAVE. There are great things that happen here. Chicago is a nexus of constantly changing lives and I love that. We’re just as sophisticated and urbane and frankly, Manhattan is smelly as fuck and most of the people in California are out of their damn minds.

Anyway, with all that in mind, I felt the need to re-post of “My Soul Sings the Blues” from Valentine’s Day 2011. Cause I’m sick of ya’ll talkin shit about mah man.

**Authoress’ note: no need to leave bitchy comments; most of this is all in good fun. MOST of it.**

That title sounds pretty sad doesn’t it?  I promise I don’t mean it that way.  My soul belongs to Chicago and Chicago sings the blues better than anyone else.  I am a fierce defender of my hometown and will champion it to anyone who will listen.  In light of the recent Valentine’s Day holiday, who better to receive my love letter?

My sweet city of Broad Shoulders,

Your bright sun in the sweltering summer and blinding winter white stuns me.  Your beauty is unrivaled in my mind.  I have been to both edges of this country: to the ocean at South Beach and the mountains of Colorado.  Your very nature always pulls me home.

I love you for your clanking, rickety El.  For the terrifying screech as it comes around the corner towards the Randolph/Wabash stop.  For its frequent inefficiency, for the heat on in the summertime and air conditioning in the winter.  For your stubborn refusal to expand outward, to bring in commuters from the suburbs.  Not you, you don’t need anyone else.

That you inspire a group of intelligent twenty somethings to debate not politics, not world events — but hot dogs.

While other cities are considered unfriendly or (the horror) TOO friendly, you’re just right.  We’ll hold close the dirty little secret that while we’re friendly, we don’t trust strangers too much (saucy minx!).  Are you a stranger to us?  Who do we know who knows you?  All newcomers are met with a skeptical eye.

I love you for creating a President.  That is enough.

I love you for rewarding my recovery from surgery with a STANLEY CUP!!

Your sense of humor is unmatched.  You make me, and so many others, smile.  A New Yorker may have meant to insult you, but as the Second City you’ve been home to some of the funniest people on earth.

When you love, you love hard.  My love is not a city for lightweights.  You must prove your worth to my love.  If you can’t make it through a winter here, we don’t want you anyway.

Your beauty is not lost on me during awful, gray, rainy spring days.  I know that soon you will have a breeze off the lake.  A breeze that erases all ills.

I love you more and more each day and while I may have dalliances with other cities, it is you that welcomes me home with the smell of chocolate.

Let’s snuggle,

DJ

I think I started watching this video even before we split. This, plus “Video Games” by Lana Del Rey became a bit of a ritual for me; it still is. I didn’t quite understand why I was so drawn to it. I thought, “This is ridiculous, you have NB. You don’t identify with this song.” And it was true to a point. I didn’t. I’d pushed all the crappy ex shit far away. I’d let my new happiness flood in like I was flooding the damn Coliseum.

I couldn’t understand why it had just grabbed me. I was definitely in the other “it’s all for you” camp.

Then I listened again. More. Harder. I put myself in the words and finally realized it. I realized that I was worried that I’d be just “a girl I dated”. If there’s one thing that connects my past few relationships it’s the awful sinking feeling afterward of “it never even happened.”

That I never made an impact on anyone’s life. That they pursued their lives and their choices completely without a thought to me. That there is only ONE photo of the two of us together. (Yes, some of that may be attributed to the fact that I don’t love having my picture taken.)

No parties, no excuses for random photos of us. No anniversaries and only one vacation taken. No documentation that we ever existed. And that I felt like once it was done, it was erased like someone shook an enormous Etch-A-Sketch. Melted down. Cleared away and made clean to start again.

So that the life that I thought I had could be lived by someone else. To become nothing, barely a memory.

Just somebody that he used to know.

Well, that up and did it.

This post from Overflowing Brain is the proverbial straw that broke the poor, tired, sad camel’s back. Sure, I’ll be the camel in this analogy.

Here’s the thing: I really, really didn’t want to write another break up post. You’ve read them, I’ve read them. We’ve all rolled our eyes at them. I’m not going to proclaim that I am a “singular creature” and “one day I’ll find someone who values me” and blar di blah blah blah.  I know all of that already.  My self esteem is not an issue in this.  The Witz recommended that I “be kind to myself” which I later wondered aloud to The Moms, “when was I ever NOT being kind to myself”?

My very nature is to put myself first. I’m an only child, and it’s ingrained in my DNA. In fact, part of my therapy was in learning how to be in a relationship and actually be ok with caring for someone else as well as myself.

So why the post? Oh, who knows? After reading Katie’s post I sobbed; but that’s not unusual at this point. If I have a day where I only sob once I’m shocked. Yes, I’ve been crying every day, multiple times a day ever since things ended. Believe it or not, it took The Witz saying “YOU’RE DEPRESSED” several times yesterday before I admitted to myself that it’s ok to be weeping several times a day. As it turns out, I’m supposed to be doing that.  Which, yeah, I’d like to fast forward through this part. The thought that it could take 4 months or so to get over all of this makes my stomach roil. I’ve barely handled three or so weeks sane.

But here’s the really crazy part:

I’m going to “fight” for it. That’s right; I’m doing what every modern female bone in my body says not to do. Not because I think anything will change; I’m fairly certain that no matter how nice Nice Boy is (and it is IS) he’s not ready to be in the kind of relationship I need.

But, I will email him (date already determined for maximum emotional strength).  I will tell him that I want to talk. I will say that I don’t understand why we couldn’t try to make things better. I will say that I know it’s not easy, but I loved our life as it was. I will say that I need to know EXACTLY what it is that wasn’t working for him.

I’m “fighting” because I’ve never fought before. I’ve never cared enough to say, “this doesn’t make sense…why are you running from something that is good, even if it’s terrifying right now”. I’m fighting for me.

So that I can look back and know that I did everything within my power to ensure my own happiness.

I’d love to say something like “Oh hello! I forgot ALL ABOUT you little blog.”  Truth is I haven’t forgotten; hell I just paid the hosting fee. I’m struggling with a way to come back. Struggling with what has transpired over the last few weeks and maybe even months.

I’m not sure I’m ready to put it all out there. Makes it kinda final, don’t you think?  I just sit here and anxiously pick at my fingers, wondering how I’ll tell it all. Wondering how it will all look and sound.

So if there are any of you still out there, just know that I am thinking about this little home of mine. Staring at a blank post wondering what it is I have to say.

All week long people have been asking me if I’m excited.  I am, truly.  But there’s been something holding me back from sheer glee and I haven’t exactly figured out what it is.  Sure, I’m a little nervous about visiting places where my barely passable French might be used; but like I said, it’s more than just that.

This trip has meant something since the start.  I knew I wanted to take a trip outside the U.S. and I wanted to go by myself.  I hadn’t been able to really pin down why until today.  I found myself watching the “Holocene” video again (as I’ve done eleventy billion other times) and crying (like I’ve done eleventy billion other times).

There is a sense of peace in this video.  Freedom and exploration are written on that kid’s face.  Like you could just go to where he is and breathe.  Breathe in and out and just KNOW who you are.

BON IVER “Holocene” from nabil elderkin on Vimeo.

I realized today this trip is the culmination of a journey I’ve been on for years now.  A journey that has had heartbreak, nervous breakdowns, surgeries and countless other things.  I’ve been on a journey to redefine myself.  To stop beating myself up for not being who I thought at twenty who I was supposed to be.  To trust myself and find a new me.  To redefine the image and scope of my adult life.

I’d been wanting this trip to be a representative of something I was unsure of.  I realized it today.  This trip is about MY Common Era.  This trip is a shift in the tectonic plates of my life; a demarcation of the behind and of the ahead.

I look behind me to see fear, unhappiness, doubt and hurt.  I look ahead to see who I am, not just who I wanted to be.  I’ve never known how to combine the two.  I look forward to see someone I care for.  But it’s someone who I will never care more about than myself, and that’s good.  I see a life where genuine happiness is possible.  Where I can have all the things I need and know how to work to get what I want.

I plan to leave as much as I can of that old life in Europe.  Leave coils of my scarred & battle tested former self.  I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.

I’m not saying everything will be perfect and rose colored from here on out.  In fact, I’m hoping it isn’t.  Because now I know how to handle it.  I had an old set of armor, all dinged & pockmarked because I’d been wearing it for so damn long.  I’ve a shiny new set now.  I choose now when to wear it.  And it’s far superior to that heavy, awful set.

And so, off I go to find myself.  Though “finding” makes it sound as though I have been lost.

Really, it’s losing my old self so that the found me can take its place.

I’ve been such a slacker.  You all left some great comments and I’ve just been so absentee over here.  I’m sorry about not responding.

For those who are interested, it’s bicycling.  It’s nowhere near my favorite thing to do, but in working things through with The Witz, I’ve come to some realizations:

I don’t handle doing things I don’t like very well.  It’s a deep rooted coping mechanism and trying to put it into words with Nice Boy is pretty damn hard.

Also, I will be getting on a damn bike.  HARUMPH.  Nowhere near cars though, I’ve made that really fucking clear.

SO!  Now that’s been covered, I’m here to say, I won’t be here for a few weeks.

I leave for my big “self recovery/discovery trip” on Friday.  I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was a little bit nervous.  But that’s also my way, so it’s alright.

(I’ll likely be Tweeting since I’m bringing Nice Boy’s iPad, but the full length blogs will have to wait.)

à bientôt!!
Tot ziens!! (they tell me that’s Dutch for “see you soon”)