Because i don't sleep anymore...

I'm not sure what the anticipated time for frequency of blogging is, but it's mine. I guess I'm setting my own rules and assume that there is no blog etiquette, only artist's discretion. I started reading my friend Meredith's blog in Africa which is full of heart, humor, and tender insight. I was never great at writing about my travels on a consistent basis, but apparently I should have been because...well, I'm white (http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2009/01/11/120-taking-a-year-off/).

My year of travel has ended and I've relocated back to SF/BayArea, namely Oakland, more exactly, Rockridge. My house is a wonderful contrast of big and beautiful, dark and empty, tenanted and lonely. I've spent the better part of the past month sharing beds and couches in my friends' and parents' homes. I have also started my job search and was disappointed to not receive overwhelming enthusiasm with job offers pouring in when performance anxiety left the interview panelists with only mediocre to bad impressions of me. I will get something eventually if I pay attention to what I really want. I think if nothing else, this month will make me better at interviewing.

My greatest obstacle, however, is not my move or my job search, but my broken heart. So, in my last post I mentioned that I was "exploring" my relationship, no name, no detail given. Well, truth is, that has been a significant factor in all that has happened to me in the past 2 years, entangling my life direction and goals with my deep love for another person who was on his own path, managing his own life, and unable or unwilling to share the same feelings. I am lucky to have supportive friends and family, but I forgot how incredibly shaken and life-shattering it feels to be hopelessly desperate for someone to love you. I listen to music and watch movies with utter compassion and bitter disdain. I wake up writhing in tears and twisted stomach pains every night for two hours, never sleeping more than 4 consecutively. I find myself cursing and repeating variations of "why..." questions over and over. My mantra changes from "f* you f* you" to "it will be ok." I'm fine for a day or a couple hours, and I feel like the seas of parted, and then it descends again. It all sounds so dramatic when I write it in my journal, say it out loud to friends. The final axe fell when I left for California, splintering our ties, but leaving a few shreds to continue a little flirting banter and tearful rehashing over the phone from time to time. I regularly comb through memories and months for closure, understanding and ironically windows of hope for a future together.

I realize that love comes with so many soulmates and alter egos (And if you use the Oxford American Thesaurus for 'friend' you will be pleased to find 'homeboy' listed toward the bottom). When considering (or being overtaken by) love, there are so many factors. Where are you in your life metaphysically, emotionally, financially, career-wise, socially, physically, geographically? Where have you been (repeat insertion of categories here)/what's your past? What's your temperament? How willing are you to commit and invest emotionally energy and time into this relationship based on your past and present? How do you define commitment? What do you want right now? What have you wanted before? What are you not willing to compromise and are you compromising it anyway? And, in the end, when you get to the why question, someone I love dearly said to me, "The heart doesn't ask permission."

What I have come up with is that (#1) I am not alone in having this experience of loss/heartbreak; (#2) I am not willing to settle for only half of someone's heart; (#3) I really believe that you can make relationships work and I want to; (#4) I would like to be married (and hope that all people regardless of sex are able to soon--as this feels a little self-serving without others permitted to consider this an option), and finally (#5) if I fall in love, it is worth it to pursue it until I know the other person's not willing to try anymore. If you're keen, you'll notices the overlapping discrepancies here, which leads me to the painful final understanding that I don't want to dignify with a number point: I can't make someone love me if they don't. I know, Bonnie Raitt, beat me to it.

I know there will be someone else out there--people, myself included, love to give this advice. Usually advice is unnecessary and unwanted, but when it comes to feeling lost and alone and anxious, people both love to give it and receive it. Returning to a child development course I took, it reminds me of the experience of a new mother expecting a first baby--everyone's got something to say and she sort of listens to all of it, deciding what fits bests.

A certain someone told me I wasn't romantic, but I'm not sure what romanticism is. If it's giving gifts, making surprises for someone, being spontaneous, I can and have done that. If it's adhering to this notion of finding that one person, of many possibilities, someone who fits your life, who you love despite your differences and irritations, who you are willing to change your life for, pursue and cherish, support and have all of it reciprocated, then ok, I like that too. Really though, I think romantic love is one thing. Romantic Thoreau pond watching is another. I guess, if I can pretend to be ideal and affirm that I believe this in this moment if in none other, to me romance is: Living passionately with your heart open to embrace all that is. This includes romantic love, fiery passion, security in life-long partnership, companionship, connection, humor, intellectual challenge, self-love, identification with nature--the little self and the big Self.

For once, this doesn't end up in my journal but on the w.w.w., still sorting out how I feel about that. My own insecurity and need for humility pushes me to say that I sort of hope no one reads this and if they do and they get it and feel it that they know that it is not for any part of my ego. In fact, the thing about desperate heartache is that it leaves that ego we normally like to hide and protect raw and exposed. My feelings speak for themselves--crying in public, groveling for ways to be loved, yep, dunnit. I don't need a response, even though I do need a hug. I'm not looking for anything besides my own sense of inner peace, and well, as stated, eventually that kind of LOVE with one person that is fulfilling and pure. I think the latter will come as a result of the former.

And so I changed the title of my blog. "Sin un borrador," literally, without an eraser or without a draft. Life continues without a draft, no time to edit. I never write in my journal with a pencil, because if you have an eraser (or a delete button), you use it. I know time will heal and life goes on around me even if it feels like a hard, sad struggle for a bit. I have lots of tomorrows to look forward to and no means for erasing or correcting my yesterdays. I googled Thoreau while writing and found his quote appropriate:'How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.' Ok, time to start my day and those that follow. While I don't yet feel grateful for the pain in my heart, I am grateful for all the resources that surround me. Thank you all my wonderful friends and family. From me to you, love, Elaine.