my happy place

Whenever I want to escape, this is where I go.
This is my happy place.
I imagine walking up the small staircase, one step at a time...
I imagine standing there...
on that landing,
overlooking the hustle and bustle of the ancient city below.

Thinking of this place brings me peace. Partly because of the sheer awesomness of all that is Rome (especially at sunset), but mostly because of the company I was blessed to share it with. I hope I get the chance to enjoy this place again.

city by the bay

The City by the Bay is/was my 2nd home. It was here that I had planned to spend the next 5 years of my life with the person I loved. This was to be the place where he would work on becoming the best surgeon he could be, and I would spend my days making our house a home. It was to be the place where, together, we would start our lives. It didn't go quite as planned.

After almost three years together, I realized he would never be able to be the person I needed/wanted him to be. He is NOT a bad person. He's just not the "right" person. He doesn't have the time or the energy to put into our relationship. Or anything other than his career, for that matter.

All I needed was to feel appreciated. For him to show me he cares. SOMETHING. ANYTHING. I know how a relationship should go, and this is not it. It shouldn't be this difficult. I can't make him care if he doesn't. So why did I let it get this far? Because I was making excuses for him. "Oh, he's stressed out from medical school...now he's stressed because of interviewing for residency...now it's because of the move...now it's because he's just started his residency". And it just so turns out, he's just...like that. How would I describe him? Well, I would NOT describe him as thoughtful, or energetic, or optimistic or even caring, for that matter. At least not towards me. His patients? Maybe. Me? Nope.

So I decided to pack up my belongings and move thousands of miles away back to my hometown. I had been here less than a month and I was already planning a trip back to the City by the Bay. Why? Well, because he wanted me to.

I thought for sure that once I was gone, he would realize how great things were, and what he needed to do to change. But what did I get instead? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He hasn't even told me he missed me. So I go to visit hoping to see some glimmer of change, and I see...nothing. Just business as usual. But apparently I'm the only one who is still hopeful. Hopeful things will change. Hopeful he will change. All this trip did was reinforce my thought that he only wants me around because he doesn't want to be alone, and he doesn't want to be the odd man out at events.

But sitting in the airport leaving the City by the Bay, I was talking to a friend and had a revelation. My "ahh ha" moment. She said something that I had heard a million times before, but for some reason it just hit me. He really, truly doesn't care. He knows that I will never leave. Even though I have moved thousands of miles away from him, I'm still here. And that is why he has done nothing work on our issues. He doesn't have to care, because I've done all the caring. I've been the only one putting any effort into this relationship.

And now I'm done.

Truth be told, I've been done for a long time, I just think I really wanted it to work because I hated the idea of having another (how many is this now? I've lost track...) failed relationship. I know what a good relationship should be like. I've had that. And like an idiot, I let it go. And I refuse to settle for anything less than the feelings I had in that relationship. Why should I? The person I was in this relationship was not the real me. I put myself aside to help him focus on his career. I let go of myself. Of my confidence, my self respect, my beliefs...and I didn't even realize it until it was too late.

So here I am. Starting over. Literally. Living with my mother after being on my own for 7 years, back in the town I said I would never live in again, to start fresh. To gain back the lost confidence, to find what makes me happy once again.

what's in a name?

My mother has a nickname for me. I used to be so embarrassed when she'd call for me using this name, and I have no idea where it came from. But for whatever reason, she decided the nickname George, or Georgie, suited me perfectly.

I remember when I was really young, maybe four or five, she would tease me by sing-songing the nursery ryhme 'Georgie Porgie':

Georgie Porgie puddin' pie,
kissed all the boys,
and made them cry.

I would get sooo upset and yell out, "I did not kiss the boys and make them cry!". I remember her wiping away my tears (while laughing, of course) and saying, "it's okay if you make them cry, just don't ever let them make you cry". And it wasn't until I grew older did I fully understand what she meant...

Yes, I am what one may call a maneater. Or so it seems. I have been in four "serious", longterm relationships, with the longest being 4 years and the shortest a little over a year, and I have ended every.single.relationship.

Just like my mother predicted, I kissed all the boys and made them cry.

The reason I bring this up is because I just recently sorta kinda we'll see what happens ended relationship number 4. And all because I didn't feel my needs where being met, and I think I just kinda knew he wasn't "The One". Some may say that I did the right thing, if it's not right, it's just not right, right? Others (such as my dumpee's) say that I am hard to please and am unwilling to accept that no relationship is perfect.

So. For once in approximately 10 years, I am putting myself first. I have packed up my life, moved cross country back to my hometown, and back in with my newly single mother (that's a totally different post...) to start over. I'm going to stop thinking about what I want my life to be like and start living it. "One day" starts today. I have no idea what's going to happen, I have no idea where to start, but I'm 25 years old and I'm going to start living my life damnit.