Once Upon A Time I Grew Up

I think I'm done writing silly sex entries.

Or at least, I'm going to take a break; slow down on the quips about boobs and foreplay and whatnot.  I had planned on writing an article about how I got whistled at the other day while passing a construction site, and how it was awesome and I didn't understand this whole rebellion against cat calls because every girl loves being acknowledged, whether they want to admit it or not.  Maybe I'll write it eventually but as I started to type, I got this overwhelming sense of, 'I'm too old for this'.

I mean, I'm almost 30.  It's not like I write about the scientific aspect of sex, I write about my frustrations over guys adamantly leaving their socks on in bed.  What I would like to write more about are relationships and this weird stage that I'm in where I'm officially an adult, but I still don't 100% know how to act like one.  But then I'm afraid that I'll get too personal and I'll either have to censor what I write, or people will read my entries and all they'll see is blah blah blah, me me me.

So I'm going to try my hand at a happy medium here.

For a long time I was drowning, and I finally feel like I'm starting to break the surface.  I have a nice apartment that I've turned into a home, I have a job that I love and am good at, and I'm no longer afraid to wear an outfit with a little color in it- instead of cloaking myself in black and gray and hoping I'll just blend into the background.

But up until about a month ago, I was sinking down, down, down.  It was like my pockets kept filling with rocks that dragged me under every time I tried to come up for air.  I ended that relationship that you all know about, and I came out of the other side alive.  A little battered and broken, but alive.  But then a couple of months later, he threw in a couple of rocks out of nowhere and down I went.

Then one day I started noticing some spots along my hairline that seemed a little thin.  No big deal, I thought, the weather is changing so I'm shedding a little more than usual.  But then the hair started coming out in clumps.  Big, unexplainable, tear-inducing clumps.  I had to start wrapping my hair elastic around my hair 5 times instead of the 3 that I had always done.  I found the little bald spots that maybe weren't noticeable to someone just casually walking by, but to me they were big, glaring spotlights.  My eyebrows and eyelashes soon followed.  They're not completely gone, but they're not completely there either.

More rocks in my pockets.

Little things kept happening that made it so hard for me to see the bright side.  One of my dogs was taken from me in a really cruel way.  My hair was being taken from me.   My ex's parents were taken from me and I missed them to a degree that I was not prepared for.  One morning I randomly slipped on ice and fell down a wooden staircase- taking away my mobility but throwing a pretty nifty back brace my way.  Everything hurt- physically and otherwise.

The worst moment was when I looked around at all my friends and family- every single one of them in a relationship, lots of them married with babies- and I realized that I was no one's first priority.  I had no one who, when asked who in the world they would most want to be in the same room with at that moment, would say, Alexis.

That was probably the deepest I sank.

Then one day things started to get better.  Something just switched in my brain and while I allowed myself to acknowledge that I did have valid things to be sad about if I wanted to be, I also allowed my myself to acknowledge that I deserved a break.  I was exhausted.  I was so worn down I couldn't see straight.  So I gave myself permission to feel the good and the bad.

I'll never see my beautiful, sweet, love-of-my-life dog Emmett again.  And I'm allowed to grieve over that.

I've fallen into this really great groove at work.  And I'm allowed to celebrate that.  One less rock.

I have one eyebrow that is only half the size of the other one because the rest has fallen out.  And if I cry because of this, it's ok.

I have started a new relationship, and this sweet, sweet boy makes me laugh and kisses my head and puts his arm around me in public- all of the little things I had been missing from my last relationship.  And I don't feel selfish by saying that I fucking deserve every bit of it.
Another rock gone.