Saturday afternoon.

It's going to be okay. Just
Take off your party dress.
Put on your t-shirt and jeans.
It doesn't matter anyway.
Wash away the make-up,
put on some sunscreen.
You didn't need to feel pretty today.
It isn't a time for sandals now.
How about those walking shoes?
The sun is still out.
You can go walking alone.
It doesn't have to ruin your day
now that he isn't coming.

Task status: In progress.

Sometimes this moving-on thing is hard work. I live in a new home. I have a new job. A new routine. Even some of my relationships are completely different. But there are still moments in time when I keep trying to reach back to familiar things that I don't need anymore. Sometimes letting go isn't just about not holding on anymore, it is about not wanting to hold on too. I wonder when I get to that place?

How can I be so happy, and still mourn a little? I love my new home. I finally know what it is like to feel safe here all the time. That panic feeling that simmered just below the surface before is gone. I love being at home. And I love my roommate.

My job is challenging and dynamic in a way that does cause me stress but it keeps me from getting bored and makes me feel satisfied that I am using a lot of my brain and effort to do things well.

My relationships are fulfilling and varied and many.

So why do I keep wanting things that I've already decided to let go of? Things I don't need. Things that are bad for me. It makes me frustrated at myself. Be happy, unhindered!

Sometimes I think I am just a great well of want that will never be satisfied. That is okay with me, as long I learn to just want things that are good for me, things like more knowledge and world travel, and healthy habits. This should be my new goal. Want good things.

Sometimes I think in status updates.

Sarah Jo is listening to Frank Sinatra sing about love while putting on her make-up.

Do you shave around the tattoo, or give up on shaving the whole leg altogether?

Have you ever had angry moments at people you haven't spoken to in a long time?

Sarah Jo is irresponsible.

Sarah Jo is an attention whore.

I got angry at myself for drinking too much water before bed.

He told me to dream of him, I failed.

I think mushy talk makes me nervous and uncomfortable.

You are the bandaid in my emotional pool! You make me feel like: Eww Eww Eww!

Sarah Jo is ready to go tell people what to do and make sure they get paid for it.

I miss you. I love you. Have fun.

Sometimes I wonder if people come into our lives just so we can learn to love them and then learn to lose them. I don't mean that they die, but going away and maybe-never-coming-back feels a whole lot like losing someone. I don't know how to make it feel any easier.

It gets easier after some time. I establish a new routine that doesn't involve said missing person. Of course, it doesn't always feel right because I keep wanting the replacement to feel as right as what is missing and it never does. But I move on. We move on. We have to. And then it only feels awful every one in a while.

Like looking at our pictures on facebook. All the things we did together. It makes me think of all the things we aren't going to do together now. And I know the people I keep losing, I am losing to bigger and better things. But I'm selfish. And I wish they could be happy and successful and near me at the same time.

But we can't keep people. Because if it isn't distance that separates us, it is time and circumstance. It is misunderstandings and lack of common ground. It is life events and relationships and so many other things. Even when relationships last, we don't keep each other. We change and that 40 year old woman isn't the teen girl you so loved. We can't keep them. They can't keep us.

So I'm going to have to get used to this losing-people-feeling. I hate it. Because with a new tattoo or an apartment fire or a broken heart, I know those things aren't going to last. I'll get over those pains, even if sometimes it feels like they might break me. But I miss you and miss you and miss you. And even if that feeling  passes, I'm going to miss missing you too. Because THAT will mean it really is over, and I don't want that.

Sometimes they are across an ocean. Sometimes they are states and states away. Sometimes only a few hours in the car. Sometimes just blocks away. And I miss them. And I hate it.

But sometimes it really does feel like people come into our lives so that we can learn to love them and then learn to lose them. Was that part of the plan?

EVERYTHING MAKES ME ANGRY!

Sometimes I have days that feel like this: EVERYTHING MAKES ME ANGRY!

Today, for example.

The alarm went off. Why are you waking me up?! Can't you see I want to sleep?! 
And then the sun was so freaking bright. Too bright. Obnoxiously bright. Stop SHINING on me!
I ran out of time and couldn't get my usual iced latte from the coffee shop. Why?!?!
And two of my employees showed up late. Where the heck ARE they?
And then there were SO MANY CUSTOMERS! Where are you people coming from? Don't you have other things to do on a Tuesday? 
The rest of the day continued in much the same manner.

Stupid, irrational, angry feelings.

The things people say to me:

Your phone voice is so pleasant. It's like butter melts in your mouth!
You have a nice voice; you could work at a phone service.
If I was into girls,  I would be ALL over you right now.
Sarah Jo, you just seem like you have the greatest life ever since you moved out.
You have such a nice smile!
Your hair is so freaking cute. Can I pull one of your curls?
You are the exciting one in our group.
These attributes you picked are wrong. You are outgoing, articulate, genuine, and passionate.
You sing well. You should join the karaoke league!

Thats all I can remember right now. But I think about these things when I have insecure moments. Thanks for saying them.

"Flit" is a fun word.

Remember when we were friends? I'm not sure if we each changed or if we didn't see each other at all.

I can't look back on the memories without fondness, but I can't bring myself to want to see you again. Maybe it will always be like this. Maybe we are meant to flit through each others lives and leave only the briefest impressions. What are a couple years of memories we can't hold on to?

I'm so grateful for the person you taught me to be, but I'm equally grateful that I don't need you for that anymore. Sometimes the pain we cause each other isn't worth the reward. That is where we ended up.

So, I'm sorry for the bad things. I'm grateful for the good ones. I hope you look back with fondness too, and that you don't get too tangled up in the negatives.

Is it really so hard to just ask permission?

I went to do karaoke with a friend at a bar. Two guys were hitting on us but I thought I was giving pretty clear "I'm not interested" signals.
Do I come here often? Not really.
Do I want to dance? No.
Can he buy me a drink? No.
What was I drinking? If you buy me a drink, it will sit right there on the table all night.
Where am I going after this? Home. I just came to sing.

Eventually, he left. Or I thought he did. I was talking to Jaylene when he came back from behind me, grabbed me by the head, and kissed me. His lips were mashed against mine and his tongue tried to pry my lips open. I made some noise meant to convey my extreme displeasure at the situation and pushed him away by the face.

I feel so gross. I feel so angry. I have now been kissed three times. I'm not happy about any of them. Great.

I have a lot to say.

I write more when I'm upset about something. I think it makes this blog look like I'm always upset about things. But when I'm happy and busy and content, I don't need the therapy that writing gives me. So I don't do it. But today, I need that. So please allow me this.

I finally moved out of my parents house. I have been free of them since July 25th. Despite all of the struggles and pain that followed, I have been free of their poison for weeks and weeks.

They taught me untrue things about myself. They reacted to me like I was the most unreasonable, demanding, judgmental, cold, uncaring, selfish, spoiled, cruel person they had yet come in contact with. They made me feel that no one else knew these things about me because they didn't have to live with me. They made me believe the lies. I am a bitch. I am hard to get along with. I do ask for too much. I am too cold and uncaring. I am demanding and selfish and spoiled and all kinds of other things.

But no more.

I have flaws. Certainly. But if I am the awful person they painted me to be, then I have exceptionally patient, kind, and forgiving friends. And lots of them.
It must not be all true.

So now that I'm working on un-believing all these lies, I have a hard time putting up with the same behavior from other people.

I am a person worth love and respect. Worth consideration.

Right now, I am angry, hurt, disappointed, and disillusioned. I have been treated with a complete lack of respect or consideration. I have been disregarded. I have been treated like I have no value, no worth at all. And I don't need to keep relationships with people that make me feel this way over and over again.

Because I DO have worth. And I DO deserve respect. And I deserve to be cherished and valued and LOVED by the people that claim to be my friends.

I don't need anything less than that. No one does.

I think I feel a little better now.

I tell you what I need, you call me needy.

You've seen me in pretty dresses. With my hair just right and my make-up defining my eyes in the evening light. Confident and happy and secure.

You've seen me in my hiking boots. Half covered in mud and pieces of trees. Skin shining with sweat and sunscreen. My face red with exertion and my breath coming fast and loud.

You've seen me in my pajamas. All twisted around the wrong way from tossing in my sleep. Red lines on my face from the pillow and crazy, crazy hair. Crusty bits in my eyes and my voice husky from sleep.

You've seen me after too much caffeine. Fidgeting in the seat next to you and talking much too fast. Smiling until it hurts.

And you've seen my fighting sleep. Trying to stay up that extra hour or two just to be with you. Losing the battle until I'm sleeping and you're watching the movie alone.

And even times when my shirt is wet with tears. Snot leaking out of my nose and words almost indecipherable between the hiccups and the shudders.

You've seen me full of joy. Dancing and laughing and joking in jeans and a t-shirt.

Or after too much alcohol. When I tell you all my secrets and giggle as the room sways.

You've seen me full of anger and hurt. Raising my voice and telling you how awful everyone else is until the moment I deflate and apologize for the rant.

You've seen me cry because of you. When I cling to you and don't want the hug to end, even though I am hurt and you did it.

And you've seen my quiet and content. Reading or singing or watching a movie and just smiling because I'm happy, and not because anyone is watching.

You've seen so much more.

After all that, why can't you tell me you love me?

Things I don't think to want when I'm awake:

I dreamed I got married. I didn't have to do anything but show up.Someone else did all the planning and everyone kept telling me how beautiful I looked and complimented my hair and everything was so perfect, except I never saw the groom. The dream kept cutting to before and after the most important parts.

I had a dream I owned my own business. It was in a beautiful little building that we bought and all it needed was a little love and organization, which I was definitely willing and able to give. It was successful with people standing outside waiting for us to open. With employees who were happy and capable, if not so very independent.It was perfect except I don't know what kind of business it was.

I dreamed I was going to buy a house. I was shopping for this house on my bicycle, to make sure it was a bike friendly area. I found the perfect little house. It was small and just a little funky looking and a really great price because people don't seem to like funky looking and there was no landscaping. But it was right down the street from everything that mattered and I was going to buy it.

I had a dream I went to a clothing store with my friends. I wasn't going to buy anything because I just hate shopping with girls. Then I saw this dress that was so ridiculous I wanted to try it on for a joke. But it looked good on me. Even if I have never reached my goal weight. And I liked the way I looked. And I felt confident and beautiful and sexy.

Usually I have dreams that seem to twist and bend all the worries and frustrations I have throughout the day into horrible, long, awful stories. I really appreciate the dreams I had last night. It makes me wonder if I am, for the first time, the kind of happy that I don't even have to choose. The kind of happy that just occurs all by itself because everything actually is going better than I hoped for.

I can't wait to see what happens next.

That was surprising.

Johnna asked me to go with her to get her septum pierced. Of course I went. Going to the tattoo shop makes me want a tattoo, but I go to live vicariously.

Apparently, piercings really disturb me. I don't have any myself. As I watched the man prepare all the tools and put the clamp in her nose and swab things down, my heart starting racing. Her eyes were watering. Then the needle. Oh god, the needle. But it was over soon. Not so bad. For me anyway.

I realized I was squeezing Johnna's arm. I let go. I felt like I couldn't get enough air. Like I used to feel when I tried to go to sleep at night when I weighed over a hundred pounds more. It frightened me. Was my dress too tight? I breathed in and out and it wasn't working. I clutched the wall because suddenly I felt very much like I was going to throw up. Right there in the tattoo shop.

Johnna notices my face. Am I okay? I'm not sure because I've started to feel dizzy and her voice sounds too quiet. Hot and cold prickles are crawling up my skin. She asks if I want to sit down. Yes, yes I do. I'll go back out to the waiting area. My purse is on the floor and I can't pick it up or I'll fall over. I feel like I've had too much to drink, minus the feeling of not caring. I might fall over and I care very, very much.

The piercing artist pulls over a chair for me instead. He says something but I don't know what because his voice is so small and so far away. I sit. The room tilts and wobbles. My ears ring and roar at the same time. I must be sweating. I must be shivering. I might throw up. Johnna is looking at me with concern as her new jewelery glints in her nose. She promises it will pass in a moment.

By degrees, it gets better. Slowly, I feel normal again.

What on earth happened? I ask Johnna. It happens to some people, she assures me.
I can't believe I got dizzy from just WATCHING.
I don't think I'll ever get anything pierced.
And don't ask me to go with you.
Eww.

You moving away

You moving away was kind of like getting a new tattoo. It hurt a lot at first. Not just when it happened, but for awhile afterwards. It was a tender spot to be avoided but not forgotten. I didn't want to hide it, though. I wanted to tell and show everyone.

Then I would forget about it for short periods of time. For moments and hours and maybe even a day I would forget that you were further away now. That you aren't coming back. And, like the tattoo, I would be shocked when I noticed it again. How did I forget? After everything. All the attention and worry and thought?

Eventually, it became normal. Like the ink beneath the skin on my legs. Part of everything, part of my life. I have an ax on my leg. You live really far away. No surprises there. This is how it is.

And some changes in my life because of it. I can't wear capris or skirts at work. I can't spend my day off with you. I have to put sunscreen over my tattoos. I have to drive hours and hours to see you. And so I buy long skirts for work. And I try my best not to want to see you or talk to you. Because then I don't have to be upset that I can't.

But I like short skirts. And I do miss you.

One day I'll look back and say:

That was the summer we played pianos in Cincinnati. The summer my dad got arrested while we test drove the Smartcar in Columbus. That was the summer we went to Chicago. It was the summer you moved away from me. That was the summer I turned 24 and you made me a gorgeous mocha cake and then we played laser tag. It was the summer my apartment burned. That was the summer we did our second fifty-mile bike ride. That was the year I got my first kiss. The summer we hiked too long and got stuck in a state park after dark and the park rangers drove us back to your car. It was the summer we built that book mosaic and you won all that money. The summer we joined a trivia league. The summer I decided that I will always, always love you, no matter how far away you are. The summer I got promoted to office manager and finally moved out and got a roommate. The summer I lived in that temporary apartment for weeks. That was the summer I learned just how many people love and care about me. It was the year I visited Heather in Kentucky and Sarah in Columbus and Jeremy in Salem. It was the summer I felt like my whole life was falling apart. The summer it all started coming together. 

I forgot things! What else did I miss?

Are you moving out because I accidentally started a fire?

Remember that time Dad passed out in the middle of the kitchen and fell off the stool and we couldn't wake him up?
Remember that time I took you to the ER for an overdose because Dad left you and went to work anyway?
Remember all those times you passed out on the toilet or standing up against the counter or sitting up in your bed or even driving?
Remember when you used to steal my things and sell them at pawn shops for money to buy pills, and then I got a  lock for my bedroom door?
Remember when we were homeless and lived in a dirty motel?
Remember when I picked you up from jail? When I bailed dad out of jail? When I picked you up from jail AGAIN?
Remember when the cops came to the house looking for you and you ran out the back door, barefoot, into the snow?
Remember how you and Dad fight and scream and throw things at each other?
Remember all those times the electricity or water or rent didn't get paid for weeks at a time but you guys still got high? Remember when it was so bad I couldn't come home? Remember how I paid all those things with my credit cards and I'm STILL paying for them?
Remember when you stole money from my bank account? Again and again?
Remember when I realized that your "tired" wasn't like other peoples tired?
Remember when I discovered that everyone else I know doesn't call me a bitch, selfish, cruel, judgmental, uncaring, or all those other things you claim I am?
Remember when we got robbed by your "friends"? Remember when it happened again?
Remember when your "friends" started calling my cell phone and harassing me about where you are and where their money is? Remember when they would come to our home?
Remember when you got arrested for shoplifting?
Remember when my brother started being just like you?
Remember that time I wouldn't take you to your dealers and you grabbed the steering wheel and told me I might as well drive us into a tree? Remember how I parked at the grocery store and ran inside because I was afraid of you?
Remember all those times you didn't know who I was? Who anyone was?
Remember how you taught me things I'm trying to unlearn?

But you're right. The fire is the only reason I'm leaving.