You were the first to make me feel like I was me. Just a memory. It wasn’t all good, yeah, it wasn’t all pretty. Lost our grip while tryna go steady. Holding on to you like, maybe one day we’ll meet. I met you at the wrong time, didn’t wanna see. I was busy with the stars, you were looking at me. For better or for worse? I don’t know. But for what its worth I made you my whole world.

Well, well, well, back again. For a moment I didn’t think I’d have anything to say today and that bummed me out a little. Not because I like to hear the voice in my head, I actually hate that guy. It bummed me out because I’ve come to enjoy writing. While I don’t see myself progressing it does make me think differently. So while you suffer through the agony of reading these poorly written blogs, I think I’m healing. To be fair I don’t know that anyone reads but if you do, thanks for being here, it means the world. Truly.

I passed this song a few times on social media and I liked the name, so I decided to listen. Turns out the name isn’t the only thing I like. I really relate to this one. Here is where I talk about two things: 1. Never make someone your whole world. 2. I used to be a self-centered asshole, that was fueled by ego, and I’m sure it still comes around some days.

I don’t believe you could meet someone at the wrong time, I believe people come at the right time, to teach you something. If they leave, they were never meant to stay. That can be a crushing reality, especially if like me you make someone your whole world. It’s dangerous, and while you might think it’s the most romantic gesture, it’s not. It’s actually what will be used to leave you if you end up in the situation.

I started dating my ex around this time of year, 7 years ago. Back then she was not my whole world. I was looking at the stars, if the stars were other women. And she was looking at me, only me. By the times the roles reversed it was too late, she was the one looking at the stars. I don’t mean that literally I think her new boyfriends band stinks, and I’m supposed to think that.

In my case the stars weren’t just attractive women I was either working with or making drinks for. The stars were my career. I was 20, about to turn 21 and I was running my first bar program already. How could I not have an ego? Not even legal to drink and they’re trusting my palate and knowledge to make them money. I was the shit. Just kidding, I wasn’t, but I certainly thought I was. You know what I actually was? A 20 year old little shit who was way in over his head. I’ve mentioned that fucker hindsight in this blog before. Where is he when we need him?

From our very first date the chemistry was strong. Here I am with an inflated ego making more money than any 20 year old should with more responsibility than any 20 year old should have. Here she was 24, about to be 25 and so fucking cool. At least I thought so. Tattoos, hair so bleached it was silver, leather jackets, and vans. My ideal woman. Thinking back to it now I have a dumb smile on my face. Then I was trying to play it cool, but I had landed a beautiful woman. Only for me to find out; her most beautiful parts were on the inside. I don’t say that to be some cliche asshole. This girl would give anyone the shirt off her back, a genuine, loving soul. I’d love to keep you drawn in, but I already spoiled the story, I fucked it up in the end.

I was looking at the stars, but she was only looking at me. Every waking moment I didn’t spend working, which wasn’t much at the time, was spent with her. Thinking back to our first “date” is giving me a rush. Having a crush is something special, I may never get sick of that feeling. The only difference with this? I felt safe and secure immediately. I should have known, but I had my head in the sky. By the sky I of course mean my own ass. This was the first woman I’d ever felt comfortable enough to truly be me with, goofy, weird, whatever it didn’t matter, she didn’t judge. To this day I believe she at one point loved me more than anyone ever has.

It’s a really special feeling to meet someone who actually makes you feel like you. Like you’re allowed to be unfiltered. The you when you get home from work and you go to your room and it’s just you. This story is causing a feeling of uncomfortable for me, but I’ll carry on.

We met when I was young so I guess I didn’t even know who me was yet, but we spend six years together and while I didn’t know it then, I do now. It’s not thanks to life, it’s thanks to her. She was the first thing in life, the first person in life to make me feel okay being me.

I’d be lying if I said it was all good, as the song goes, and thus the story, I began to be a real piece of shit to her. Flirting with other girls, other girls sending me snapchats, I was tip toeing along the line of infidelity, and while no one deserves that, no one deserves it less than her. A few times things weren’t pretty, like when I asked for a “break” because I wasn’t sure about us. I was also sure about us but 21 year old me wasn’t sure he could be in a relationship. It’s amazing what a little female attention does to a young man, fucking idiots we are.

I’d say this relationship was for the better not the worse, then again I’m not the one who ended the engagement, all stories have two sides. Six years goes by faster than you think. As I got older I found myself making her more and more of my whole world, to the point the cold morning of October 4th 2022 when she said she didn’t want to marry me, I felt frozen. I’m sure a lot of people would in this moment, but I wasn’t frozen just because of the wedding. I was frozen because this is the person I relied on for EVERYTHING. This is the person I could be my true self with. This was the person that never made fun of me for being fast at sex even six years into it. Truthfully she should have taken it as a compliment. I found her so unreasonably attractive it was hard to control. Now this person is giving up on me?

Everyone has their breaking point, after six years of being with someone who has crippling anxiety, deals with spurts of agoraphobia, and sometimes looks at the stars, how do you not break? Her breaking sent me to what I’d consider a full blown mental breakdown.

Not eating, not sleeping, being inconsistent at work, crying all the fucking time, cutting myself, and wanting to not live anymore. I was a fucking mess and really I took something anyone would consider hard in life and made it harder for everyone involved. Telling her I wanted to die, telling her I think I need to be committed. I wasn’t doing it for attention, but whenever she came around to help I immediately felt calm again so I’d change my mind. I was hot and cold. I’ve never been more disappointed in my behavior in my life. If someone put me through that I would have lost my mind.

You can’t make someone or something your whole life, I’ve tried since. Not someone but something. I tried to go back to making my career the only thing I cared about. What happened? I worked myself into such deep panic attacks I haven’t left the fucking house in like 100 days, that’s no exaggeration. You need balance in life. You need to spend time with family, in nature, time to rest, time to reset. Time to miss people. You can’t only have one thing in life, at least I can’t. I was in a good groove for a minute of work, and family, and Jiu Jitsu, and my dog. When Presley passed away I lost myself, again. For the second time in 4 months I lost myself. I stopped going to Jiu Jitsu, eating, and sleeping. I started working as much as I could, picking up shifts. Not taking days off. Taking on a consulting gig for when I wasn’t at my primary job.

October passed me by last year. From the 4th to the 25th I don’t remember a fucking thing other than cutting myself, and wanting to die. The 25th I found Jiu Jitsu and things started to feel more together again. I was picking myself up, putting myself back together. We’re 8 days into October and this year, it’s about putting myself together. Getting out of this agoraphobic hole. Back to work. Back to Jiu Jitsu. Back to being me. I can’t rely on someone to make me be me a second time. I’m afraid it’ll back fire again.

Some day when someone does come along, I won’t be looking at the stars though.

Where the skies are gold not gray, J.