I had a whole plan for this weekend; Halloween Friday, fundraising event Sunday, all leading into my birthday week and a glorious birthday weekend next week… You know what they say about best laid plans though… The truth is I’ve spent most of my weekend pretty emotionally raw.
Friday would have been me and my ex’s 3 year anniversary. He texted me that morning wishing me a happy Halloween and I balled for an hour. I still think it was the right decision for both of us but I won’t pretend for a minute it wasn’t the hardest thing I have ever done. I spent most of the weekend walking around in a heavy mixture of guilt and nostalgia and tried my best not to let it dampen my resolve to have a good weekend. But it did anyway.
A big part of this was a date I had last Tuesday. It was the first time I made dinner for a guy who was not my ex in over 3 years. It was also the first guy I let over to my apartment since I moved in, and while I knew this, I didn’t think it was all that big of a deal. As it turned out, it was a big deal. I had been nervous and excited and yet he turned out to be one of those guys who was already looking for the next one before he’d even left my apartment. That kind of date ruins you for a little while. It’s the kind of date that tears at your self-esteem and makes you feel cheap and trashy.
But I didn’t have a lot of extra energy to let that bring me down this week. I was (am) swirling in financial issues and my end of the month deadlines and the fact that I didn’t write all week. Maybe it’s because my birthday’s next week but this pressure to be okay made me feel worse. I didn’t cry a lot but I did spend most of my weekend purposefully keeping to myself, as if this funk I’ve found myself in is contagious. I’ve noticed that a lot of my interactions with people are bright, positive, and upbeat and I didn’t feel like being any of those to anyone this weekend. I didn’t feel like putting on a slutty costume and walking around in shoes that make my feet hurt while freezing. I didn’t feel like being around friends and smiling for instagram pictures and snapchats. I just felt like quarantining myself to my bedroom and working on writing and healing and self-reflection.
I’ve also officially submitted my application to be a full-time writer at Thought Catalog. For those of you who already think I work for them, I don’t. Writing full-time has never been something I actively pursued. I love writing and always thought that if it was meant to be a career choice for me then the right opportunity would present itself, and now it has. I find myself trying not to get my hopes up too high at the possibility and yet all I can think about is how much fun I had all summer writing and working out and living life and I find myself wanting it so badly I can practically taste it.
All in all this weekend wasn’t what I thought it would be. All in all this weekend was hard, and sad, and lonely by choice rather than by circumstance. I guess you could say this last weekend of my 23rd year of life was a lot like my 23rd year of life as a whole. It’s always the best laid plans, that come undone.