Heard on the Train - Respect for the masses

On the train this morning, a gentleman had a seizure. A grand mal/tonic clocic seizure, to be exact. He fell to the ground, of course, and people screamed and a few semi-panicked.

The woman in the seat in front of me whipped her head around to see what the commotion was, and then pretty casually said, "Oh, he's having a seizure. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself." She got up and went to him. I glanced back, saw that she was right, and went back to reading the news while somewhat monitoring the situation behind me.

One young man, maybe 30, was speaking to the conductor through the intercom. His voice was stressed, but he was clear and calm. One woman who had been standing by the man when he collapsed was bent down rubbing his back. The other woman, who'd gone down earlier, was talking to him in soothing tones. She explained that the train was stopping soon, that an ambulance was coming, that she was making sure he was okay.

The panic turned to concern. The rest of the train stayed on alert, but there was no more chatter. They were just there, listening to the young man and the woman.

When the train stopped, most people filed off to catch other modes of transportation. The two women stayed with the man even after the medics came. I left to walk the last couple of miles to work.

What struck me was that after the initial fall, no one acted poorly. No one complained about the train being held up. No one talked about the man as if he weren't there. It was a respectful silence while others handled the situation.

I hope the man is okay. The seizure was over by the time we stopped, and he seemed fine. As for everyone else? They've restored my belief in people for one more day.

ASYAD - Day 124 - Time to re-evaluate life in Portland

When I moved to Portland a little over two years ago, I promised to give myself three years before making any decisions about how long I'd stay here. I knew that moving away from my family - by blood and by choice - was going to be hard. Making friends as an adult is always difficult. I wanted to make sure that I'd given my new city every chance I could to be, you know, home.

Those three years are up at the end of June, and I keep finding myself wondering if this is where I really belong.

I moved to Portland for change, and to be near my sons. I wanted to experience a different part of the country, to live there, and to see what opportunities I could find. And I've found a multitude of differences and opportunities. My heart soars at the thought of being able to hike on the side of a mountain or along the coast with just a short drive. I love that one of the most beautiful cities in Canada can be experienced in a weekend for the cost of two tanks of gas and an AirBnB for a night. I love the culture in my new Kingdom - for the most part. I love working in downtown Portland, and being able to easily experience all it has to offer. I love how dog-friendly everywhere out here is. I love that my kids can easily call me up and ask me to do things with them.

But there are a lot of negatives to being here, too. In my two years here, I've struggled to be part of the groups I've encountered. I participate, but I feel very much the outsider. It could be argued that I've kept myself away for a lot of that time. I dated a man who didn't understand nor want to participate in a hobby that has been my life for two plus decades. My built-in social group, as it were. So I didn't join in as much as I could have.

Not that I stayed away, particularly. I became an officer within a few months of moving here, and have continued as an officer of some sort ever since. I attend at least one event a month, usually, though I've been known to skip a month here or there. I guess I count myself as still active, but not as active as I had been back in the Midwest. Some might even say that I participated a healthy amount. And I've met a number of people. I am acquainted to many, and friends to a few. But it's not the belonging that I left behind. Of course, that's hard to replicate.

These new friends have built-in social dynamics, and they don't always include the lonely, needy new woman who has shown up in their town. They're kind and I think they care, but they also don't always think to invite me, or they have limited space and I don't make the cut. I don't blame any of them, nor am I hurt or upset for the most part. It just means that I'm never sure where I fit into this social dynamic that I'm now a part of, and I think many of my friends here feel the same about me.

On top of that, while it's nice to be available for my kids, they don't reach out that often. They have their own lives, which often doesn't include Mom hanging around. I'll invite them over, but it's hit-or-miss if they can or will come. Weeks will fly by and suddenly they'll remember me. I'll get invited to do something, and for one night, things are really good. Then it'll be another several weeks where I'm home alone, waiting to be remembered. I'm not their priority.

I'm not anyone's priority right now. And that's hard. It's lonely.

I've been seeing a few guys, but they're transitional. None of them are people that I really want to invest my energy into too much. They're fun in the moment, and when they're gone, they're pretty much out of my mind. They're a diversion from the loneliness, not a cure.

Moving away from everyone you know and love is hard at the best of times. When I moved out here, it was pretty much the worst of times. I've struggled for the last two years to not only find my place in this new city, but to find myself, too. That's been so damn hard. I think I'm finally coming to grips with who I am, but I've still got to find my place here.

One of the smartest people I know suggested that I make a pros and cons list about living here. Be logical in assessing if this is where I should be at this point in my life. The pros list is long and deep. I love my job, I love the terrain, I love the culture of acceptance. I love the weather, the culture, the sailing, the snow-shoeing. I love the food, the new experiences I've had (and so many more that I know are still to come). I love Portland, and its proximity to so many amazing places and things.

My cons list is short and very narrow: I'm alone and lonely. It's been a theme throughout these blog posts. I'm an extreme extrovert who needs people to fully appreciate the experiences that I have.

This is why I settled into a relationship with a guy that I knew wasn't right for me. He was someone to have experiences with, and we like a ton of the same things. That everything we experienced were on his terms for the most part didn't matter so much, because at least I wasn't left to have those experiences by myself. Because if I'm honest, for me, most of the time, having those experiences alone are barely worth having. The shared experience is what I seek.

I don't know how to appreciate solo experiences. If I can't laugh with someone else, then what's the point of a comedy? If I can't share a sunset over the ocean, then how can the beauty be truly seen? How do you cheer for a team by yourself? Who is there to argue politics with - or to share the grief with - when you're the only person in the room?

So all that Portland has to offer falls flat so often. Those pros are dimmed.

My three-year commitment isn't up until the end of June, and a lot can happen between now and then. For now, I'm holding onto the shared experiences I've already had that make Portland so amazing. And I'm hoping that in some miraculous way I'll learn to appreciate solo experiences. I miss my people, but I really do love it here. I just don't know how to love it alone.

Does anyone know where I can learn how to deal with this whole alone thing? Suggestions appreciated.

ASYAD - Day 117 - Resilience

I spent the weekend in Canada at an event that my medieval recreation group put on. The event went off well, my friend joined the knighthood, and I managed not to do much damage to myself or my dog.  After, I took a the holiday Monday and spent it with two friends that I've known online for nearly 15 years but had never met in person. We're all participants on a forum that discusses politics, history, sports, our lives, and life in general.

These two men - and their families - have been a part of my life for a very long time. They've witnessed my highs and lows for one and a half decades, all the while cheering me on from the sidelines. (To be fair, it goes both ways as one dealt with health issues and the other with employment concerns, and I've always tried to be as supportive toward them as they've been with me.) Regardless, what this means is that these two men have seen snapshots of my life for a long time. They know some of my more intimate concerns about my life, and they've actively supported me when things were truly horrendous.

They know me.

One of the men, R, and I went on a hike with our dogs when I first arrived through a gorgeous old-growth forest near his home. He showed me the massive stumps of hundreds-years-old trees that were cut down at the turn of the century, and the new trees that have taken root in the rotting carcasses of those old trees. He showed me the river his boys played in as children, and the beautiful serene cliffs on either side of it. While we walked, we talked about our families, his health, my life, and basically just enjoyed spending time talking about the things that we knew about one another, but digging a bit deeper.

In the midst of that conversation, R says to me, "I have to tell you. I've told my wife that you are easily the most resilient person that I've ever known. You take whatever is thrown at you, and you turn it around into something positive. I'm just continually impressed with how you always bounce back and up."

I stumbled a bit on the hike when he said this. Then I said, "Well, I mean, what were my options? Giving up and curling into a ball?"

He stopped and looked at me. "Well, yes. That's what plenty of other people would have done."

I half-laughed and said, "I'm too stubborn for that. And I don't have time to give up."

He smiled and said, "Well, I'm impressed by you. I wanted you to know."

We continued on our hike, but I couldn't shake what he said. This is an accomplished man, regularly voted one of the top lawyers in Vancouver. He does amazing corporate work, and offsets that with meaningful pro bono work. He's extraordinarily intelligent, kind, and generous to a fault. A bit pompous - he's Canadian after all *wink* - but someone that I've always looked up to as The Guy to Be. And he looks up to me. He finds me extraordinary. He's so impressed by me that he tells his wife how exceptional he thinks that I am.

Not because of my accomplishments, but because of my accomplishments after my failures. Not because my life is genteel and lovely, but because of how hard-scrabble it's been, and yet I've achieved many things. He respects me because I never gave up when so many others would have.

We returned to his house, showered, and headed off to lunch with our other friend, J, and his family. J and R have delightful wives, both marrying well the first time. They chose exceptional life partners, and I enjoyed getting to know them as well as spending time with the guys. In the midst of lunch, J says to me, "You know, M, I just have to tell you how remarkable I think you are. I just can't believe all that you've done given what you've been through. It is truly impressive."

I blink and slightly shake my head. "Thank you, but honestly, I mean...."

R jumped in, "She's going to brush you off. I was telling her the same thing. It's really incredible."

J says, "Yeah, seriously. I don't know how you've done it. I mean, you taught yourself your current career, and you're succeeding brilliantly! That's so remarkable!"

R then turns to me and says, "One day, maybe in a few years, you're going to look back at this time and think, 'Yeah, I really did some great things despite it all.' Just watch. You taught yourself an entirely new world at an age when I'm convinced I couldn't learn how to play a new game. You have to see how amazing that is."

When I think about my life - the highs, the lows, the meadows in between - I don't think about the grit that it's taken to keep getting up and to keep moving on. These men have heard the stories about my dad, about my ex-husband(s), and about my career woes. They were there when I was fired from an $11 an hour receptionist job, laid off from a toffee shop, and so many other job disappointments. They cheered me on when I took on the task of learning new skills so that I could land a career instead of just another low-paying job. I didn't realize they thought all of that was so amazing. I just got tired of being broke, and did what I needed to get out of that situation.

I never saw myself through their eyes. Until yesterday.

My Midwestern roots taught me that one doesn't crow about our accomplishments. We are self-deprecating to a fault, and we never say thank you when given a compliment. We, instead, brush it aside. We remember the failures and ignore the successes. We share what we've learned due to our mistakes, but not from our accomplishments. Lessons are learned the hard way or not learned at all.

And this has led me to struggle with seeing my own strength, my grit, and my determination to succeed when others would not have done so. Looking back now at the mountains that I've climbed, the fears that I've conquered, and the successes that I've created for myself out of whole cloth, I feel... proud. It wars with my Midwestern upbringing, but still, it's there.

J and R are two men that I've respected for more than half of my adult life. They are brilliant men who've built up lives to be envied. And both men hold me up as an example of what success looks life against all odds.

So I'm looking at those accomplishments differently today. I'm looking at my career - on an upward trajectory - and my life - full and filled with more joy than sadness - and I realize that I made this for myself. Like the old-growth forest in the park by R's home, I planted new saplings - now full-grown trees - on the stumps of old life. I'm taking the nutrients - the lessons and love - and building newer, more healthy growth.

I'm proud of who I am today. I don't love what I went through to get here - and I'll be honest, I'll never say I'm grateful for any of it - but I am proud of where I am now. Where there was rot there is now life-saving, oxygen-giving leaves. The pride won't last - I'll cover it with memories of failures soon enough - but maybe I'll see even those as obstacles to overcome rather than mistakes to forget. Maybe, just maybe, my time with these two men have given me a new way to view myself and my life.

Midwestern girl or no, I've achieved great things in the midst of chaos and pain. I need to remember this. I need to hold this tight.

I need to keep seeing myself the way these two men that I respect so much see me. 

ASYAD - Day 112 - Turning a Corner

Over the past few months, I've made a lot of changes in my life. I've changed my diet and exercise in order to lose the 20 pounds I gained while with S (as well as another 30) and to finally get my waistline at a healthy place. I am living alone for the first time in my life. I'm taking steps to move up in my career.

My life, for the most part, is good. I'm healthier than I've been in 25 years. (Okay, and hungrier, but we'll let that pass for now.) I can do everything that I want to do - on my own - with minimal complications. I've gone kayaking, hiking, and camping on my own. My apartment is lovely and clean, and I can run around naked anytime I want and not worry about who may walk in. (Gasp! I love to run around naked in my home!)

I miss S daily still. Or rather, I miss what I hoped we'd have. But it's a dull ache now. An acceptance ache. The kind of sore tooth that you know is there so you put your tongue on it occasionally, but you're not calling the dentist every five minutes anymore.(Forgive me the analogy; I just had a root canal.) We still talk regularly, but the urgency to have his love is mostly gone. I'm not looking to "make" him take me back. I'm just enjoying the time I do spend with him as my friend. He's a wonderful person, and I'm grateful that he's still in my life.

Somewhere in all of this, I've turned a corner of sorts. I'm finally looking to myself first. It's not evoking the relief or extreme joy that I thought it would, but it is a sort of peace that I didn't know I could feel.

Once, a few years ago, one of the most amazing men I've known saw the sadness in my eyes and said, "I'm not going to wish you happiness. That's fleeting and ephemeral. I'm wishing you peace, because that's what we all really need in our souls. Simply, peace." I lost that dear, sweet man not long after, and I feel that loss now more than ever. His kind, generous spirit understood humanity and humans in a way that made life easier.

I feel like I should be honest with all of you. When this started, my goal was to be single for a year and a day - and for myself, I included no casual dating and absolute celibacy in that. I had it in my head that I wasn't capable of casually dating anyone; that I am an all-or-nothing kind of girl. But as time has marched on, I've done some serious soul searching. The truth is, I had no idea what casually dating was like for me anymore. It has been more than 25 years since I've done it, so how could I possibly know how I'd respond to that kind of thing? And, to probably be more frank than any of you want to know, I really missed the physical joy of being with another person. It has been a very, very long time since I've truly enjoyed that. My recent-past relationships weren't stellar in that department.

So, I reached out into the ether to see what dating was like right now. And to my utter shock, I was overwhelmed with offers for dates. Men from 18 (what the bloody hell??) to 64 were interested in taking me out. I went out on a few dates, and I've met some really decent guys. In case you were curious, no, I absolutely did not go out with the child of 18, but I did go out with a 25-year-old man just to see what that would be like. It lasted as long as it took me to drink my beer. My bottom limit is now 30. I've winnowed the field down to a handful of guys that I enjoy spending time with, and we're keeping things so casual as to be barely seeing each other. It's perfect. I have maybe one or two dates a week, they tell me that I'm sexy and beautiful, I get out of the apartment and do new things with these new people, and then I go home and love my life with my dog.

I don't know how healthy that is. Does it feed my need for external validation? Absolutely. These men think that I'm amazing, special, and beautiful. It's been so long since I've been told those things by men not married, or related to me. Both M and S were ridiculously frugal with compliments to me, and I thrive under those compliments. Again, I have no idea how healthy or unhealthy that is, but it's pretty much integral to who I am at this point. And it's helping me rebuild my self-esteem. So I'm going to take it. I'm going to enjoy it for what it is. These guys aren't telling me these things for any reason other than they think and feel it in the moment they say it. And that's so heady.

The dating thing is nice, but for the first time, it's an addendum to my life, not the focus of it. My life revolves around me, my dog, and my art. My life revolves around building my career, living out loud, and being myself. My life is about me, and I am near tears with the joy of being able to say that honestly.

I still ache for what could have been. I still miss being in a relationship. But it's easier to set that aside now. It's easier to keep the focus where it's supposed to be.

ASYAD - Day 100 - What I've learned so far

One hundred days ago, I started on a journey of self-discovery. I wish that I could say that I've had some major epiphanies and life-altering understandings, but I'm not sure that I have.

Things I have learned about myself:

• I make things easy for people to do things with me in the hopes that people will want to do things with me.
• I don't trust people to care for me as I am.
• My fear of being forgotten stems from the two points above.

Also:

• My belief in who I am is stronger than those fears and insecurities.
• I will fight for myself when a guy isn't in the picture.
• When a guy is in the picture, the top three points take over.

So here's the problem. I can know these things, and have for a while now, but unless I'm willing to make real changes based on this knowledge, it's useless. To date, I've not done so. I've focused too much on how I'm feeling and not nearly enough on what I'm doing.

Habits created over a lifetime don't dislodge because I figured out that I'm doing them. For decades, I've adjusted my life to make it easier for people to love me. That's not going to disappear overnight. Hell, that's not even going to disappear over a month. Especially if I haven't worked up some way to make those changes. 

Conscientious living takes a lot of energy. A lot of energy. But it's the only way that I'm going to break these habits, and I have got to break them. I have to. My heart can't take these kinds of relationships anymore. My faith in humanity is suffering every time I give so much of myself - however misguided - and get so little in return. Because however much I fought the idea that I deserve more love than I've been given, however immodest I believe it to be, it's true. I absolutely do. But I'll never get it unless I demand it.

We, as a society, give little value to things freely given. We buy into the hype that it's worthless unless we've paid some price for it. I've devalued myself immensely by freely giving love, time, and energy. My love is taken with no return because they didn't invest anything to begin with. There was no need. 

There are memes and stories and beautiful poems told about women who love freely. It's a point of pride, if you believe them. You hear people say things like, "Don't let that heartache take away your ability to love freely." I was this many years old when I realized what that actually meant. 

It doesn't mean to love enough for you both. It doesn't mean to give up everything for them. It doesn't mean to check your own needs and wants at the door. That's codependency. No, what it means is once someone has earned your trust and respect, then love them freely. Then give them your whole heart. Then, and only then, do you love them with abandon.

That's the piece that I was missing. Making them earn the right to my absolute love. Such a small piece, and yet it's everything. 

Decades old habits don't change overnight. My belief that deserving love is immodest won't change because I recognize that's wrong thinking. Deprogramming childhood training will never be easy. This is a hard path I'm on.

Three months and a few days in - 100 days after a starlit night - I still hurt. I still don't fully understand how a person can do the things the men in my life have done to someone who loved them freely. But I have a path now. I know what I need to do. 

It starts with trusting and respecting myself. That's my first and only goal right now. And it's hard. Oh so goddamn hard. It's fighting a lifetime of hearing my father's voice in my head. Of watching my family move on without me, never really fitting in. Always being the "off" one. 

But here's the thing. I have absolutely no problem doing that in a professional setting. I demand respect for my knowledge, my skills, and my leadership. I refuse to be devalued by anyone, be it in my job or my hobby. I only have this problem with relationships with men. 

I don't have an answer to this. I'm not sure how to fix it. But I have to somehow. I've got another 265 days to figure it out before I'm back out there. 

Right now, I can't imagine that another 2650 days will get me there, but 100 days ago I didn't think that I could sit on my couch by myself in an empty apartment and feel comfort in that, either. But I did exactly that last night. 

So there's hope. I'm 100 days in, and I finally feel... hope.

ASYD - Day 95 - Learning from Jane

It's been a while. So long, in fact, that a friend reached out to me to see if I was okay. I am. Okay, I mean. Still processing a lot, still spending way too much time in my own head. Still wishing I had someone to love me - to truly cherish me.

The last couple of weeks, I've been binge watching Jane the Virgin. It's a love story. Well, actually, it's multiple love stories, and I thought it would be so hard - too hard - to watch. I'm fighting hard to be okay being single, but at the same time, I'm still wishing so much to have someone cherish me, to come home to that is just happy that I'm there, that wants to make my bad day better. Someone who will go out of their way for me like I do for others. Make me a priority. And here's this grand love story - series of grand love stories - how could I watch it?

Easily. Because I got something else entirely from the show. I learned from Jane the Virgin - from Jane, the Virgin - how to have an adult relationship. How to think about what I want first, and then think about the other person. Jane does an exceptional job of making sure that she's treated right. She refuses to compromise herself to do the easy thing.

If you've never seen the show, you should. The whole thing - all five years - are on Netflix right now. Go watch it. There are four strong, independent, capable women who move through their days, learning from and living with one another. And most importantly, loving each other. I mean, sure, there are guys in the show, too, and they're important. But they're not the story for me. The story for me is about those women knowing who they are, what they want, and who they want in their lives. And fighting to make sure that they each take care of themselves. Through it all, they have each other. The men flow through their lives, coming and going, but the women have each others' backs from beginning to end.

I want a partner in my life. I want a guy to come home to who will take one look at me and know that I need to sit down, have a glass of wine, and be coddled and cared for. Who will be there, who will fight for our relationship, who chooses me every day. But... I want that sisterhood, too.

I'm incredibly blessed in that I count four amazing women as my sisters, one by blood and three by heart. They are every bit as strong, resilient, silly, and amazing as the Villanueva women (and Petra). They hold me up, keep me grounded, and make me laugh at the absolute best times. I hope that I am as good to them as they are to me. I try to be.

Why has it taken so long to write here? Because I didn't like how I felt, or what I kept thinking in my head. I kept rewriting my relationship with S into what I wanted it to be, instead of what it was. He and I work so well together on paper. We have a lot in common, and we get along incredibly well. At the end of the day, we have so much joy when we're together. But...

Come on. You knew there was a but because otherwise we'd be together and I wouldn't be on this bizarre teenager's journey at nearly 50. So, but...

... he doesn't love me. Not the way that I need. Not the way that I deserve. Not the way that he wants to love me, either. And if I've learned nothing else from Jane the Virgin, it's that I do deserve to be cherished. It's what I want, and I can't settle for less. It hurts that he doesn't - and probably can't - love me that way, but I do know that it's okay. I can wait for the guy who can. Whose life fits mine just as well, and who loves me. Someone who will make some grand gesture, who will fight every day to make sure that I know that I'm loved.

I should feel good about that, but I don't. I just feel tired. Worn out. I'm three months into this journey, and I'm already so done. I'm looking for that Happily Ever After, and wondering if it will ever come. And wondering if I'll be okay if it doesn't. Because I won't settle again for anything less. So, I guess I'll have to be. Right?

Right.

ASYD - Day 63 - "You deserve better"

When someone breaks up with their partner - by choice or no - it is inevitable that someone will say, "You deserve so much better than them." It's happened at least a dozen times since this latest break up, and even more with my ex-husband. And every single time, I cringe. Often, visibly.

"You deserve better." 

So much weight in that statement. So many assumptions, so many judgments. 

I used to think that my friends said this as a way to say that I was better than my ex. I deserved better than that lousy so-and-so. And there's no question that several of my friends meant exactly that. There are other friends, however, who meant something entirely different. They didn't mean that I was better than my ex. Rather, they meant that I deserved better than that relationship. I deserved to be loved wholly, completely, and with abandon by my partner, something that I've never experienced. Something that I'm not sure I believe is even possible. 

To be perfectly frank, I didn't know that I really deserved that kind of love. My friends are great, but they don't know the things that I've done in my life, the people that I've hurt. There are people to this day who despise me for the things that I did in college. Hell, I despise many of the things that I did in college. I'm still horribly ashamed of how I left my first husband, and that was 18 years ago. 

I'm a nice person now, but I wasn't always. I am still haunted by who I was then, and I work very hard to avoid becoming her again. 

My hero and constant cheerleader sent me a video today of a guy talking about how we love ourselves, or rather don't. The comedian said that if we love ourselves only 20%, when someone comes along and loves us just 30%, we're over the moon! Look at how much they love me! But if we loved ourselves 100% - loved ourselves fully - someone else would have to really go above and beyond to show their love for us in a way that we would recognize as worthy of us. 

This struck me right between the eyes. 

Can you imagine loving yourself so much that you don't just take the next person that shows an interest that's also mildly interesting? Wait, and get this... instead of accepting the occasional scraps of attention and love offered on their limited schedule, you expect - EXPECT - to be a priority in your partner's life. AND THEY LOVE YOU ENOUGH TO DO IT.

Mind. BLOWN.

Okay, so typing this up, I'm already feeling gross for thinking like this. How horribly selfish. So many other things are more important than I am: parents, children, careers, education, pets, gaming, the lawn, that annoying hangnail. But Christ, I'm so tired of being last on that stupid list. I'm tired of my wants and needs being merely a blip on the screen of their life, while I will rearrange my entire life for them. Only my kids have taken precedence in my life, and they're all adults now. 

Most of my relationships, I've gone along just hoping that one day they would make the choices that I did for them without my having to ask. They didn't have to ask me, after all. I showered my love via my actions and choices (and often, my wallet) without them having to so much as look my direction. They mention a need or desire, and I jump to meet it. A casual comment has resulted in my spending bill money on a gas grill, or money I'd saved for a dress on a pool cue. 

Because if I did, they would love me, and maybe, just maybe, they would one day wake up and do the same for me. Never mind that there's a ridiculous amount of broken that caused me to do the things that I did. That's part of the co-dependency thing. Trying to buy love, to manipulate a person into loving me. And I was crushed - absolutely crushed - when not one of the men I've dated responded in kind.

Wait, that's actually not true. There was one guy who did respond in kind. Within four months, I realized how not okay this was and walked away. And two months later, I got a restraining order against him.

Dear Lord, I really need to do a better job of actually looking at my life. *headdesk*

I'm still trying to wrap my brain around what a healthy relationship should look like - with myself as well as with someone else. What do I want it to look like? Who do I want me to be both in and out of any relationship? It's tough, and I spend a lot of time arguing with myself about this. I do know what I don't want it to look like, though. 

Some time ago, I told S that he and I did a very good job of living his life, and I needed us to at the very least cross over to living our life. It didn't happen. I recognized the issues but chose not to act because at least I wasn't alone. I settled for 30%.

I see growth now. Three months ago, I wouldn't have even been able to imagine being "selfish" enough to love myself 100% first. To expect to be made a priority with the intention of not settling for less. I'm still leery of how I could do such a thing, but it's not completely alien. It seems... possible. Maybe not plausible - who would love me like that? - but possible that I could refuse a relationship that didn't. 

For once, I'm focusing on what I'm willing to accept instead of what someone else is willing to give. This is huge for me. It's a step toward buying into the idea that I deserve better. That it's better to have no one's love than merely 30% of someone's, and that stems from having 100% of my own. That's a lot of numbers, and I hate numbers. Let me restate this better.

I can't settle for 30% of someone else's love anymore. I can't even settle for 80%. I deserve to be the highest priority in my partner's life with the sole exception of his children and himself. I deserve to be loved wholly, completely, and with abandon. I deserve to be put first in my own life, and I deserve to be put at the top of someone else's.