wrong, accept it. step one.

Ok Popi, I'm gonna write it out.  I'm going to find the words to scribe to express my truest me and expel this unbearable heart break from the inner fibers of my soul.  I do not think I'll ever understand how I ended up in this spot alone on this earth.  where does that understanding really come from?

what's missing for me is closure, comprehension and the sight to truly see all the moving parts of what I'm standing on now.  standing in? standing near? engulfed by?

it is hard to breathe for large parts of the day.  just sitting and breathing takes effort, I typically take such simple things for granted.

where did I go wrong?

everything I was afraid of came to fruition.  is it self-manifested destiny or foresight?

I'm powerless.  my life has become unmanageable.  step one.

in an effort to get back to the joyful, peaceful, self loving and empowered person I was ... I have to go back to step one.

as my heart seizes, and I try to avoid becoming another pile of blubbering tears I say, "I'm powerless over... my life is unmanageable because of... "

today, I accept it is like this and like this is does suck.  it sucks being mistreated and misunderstood. it sucks being turned into a joke, or morphed into someone I'm not. I've been reinterpreted into a crazy monster, an uncaring bitch, a clingy fool and a terrible person.

but... I'm, I am, I....

I am powerless. I accept.  life is unmanageable if I keep fighting for what isn't.

why does he act with the intention to hurt me?  did I really hurt him?  is he hurt by the fact that I wanted forever? is he angry I felt I deserved something he promised me over and over?  does he feel inadequate despite the millions of times I told him he's awesome and adored unconditionally?

there is no answer.  there won't be.  I don't get to have closure or understanding.  these choices have all been made for me.  no matter how hard I endeavor to fix and change and grow, I do these things alone.  boxed in a corner, too hideous to look upon.  a blubbering mess that once smiled incessantly. sparkles traded in for washed up aged wrinkles and funny old people hairs in new places.

I've been told many times that it is none of my business what other people think of me.  it doesn't matter, I shouldn't take other people's actions personally.  there is one problem.  this is the most personal of thoughts, they are embedded on experiences that include me exclusively.  my self worth has been ripped from me.  they laugh, they taunt, they make memes and joke at my expense.  they pat him on the back for kicking me when I'm down, and they tell him he's right for escaping the clutches of the horrible person he has made me out to be.  I look in the mirror, and I do not see what he sees at all.  he fashions me to be something dark and terrible.  an unlovable hideous monster unworthy of anyone's love.

does any of that matter?

but, I am not crazy? my feelings are valid.  I know they are valid.  I've been told my feelings matter somewhere, was it a book? a story?  I am right to have an opinion.  I am allowed to have a point of view.  why does he always adamantly blame me? why does he get to be cruel, time, and time again?  I am not cruel.  I am skillful, honest and compassionate.

wait. breathe. pause.

I am powerless over....
My life is unmanageable because of....

it is painful to confess, but thoughts of wanting to disappear and become nothing swallowed me whole over and over as he ran away and chickened out on a life that was near perfectly wonderful.  and now he has fallen in love with someone else.  two weeks after he kissed me and said I make the world a better place, two weeks after he held me and told me he appreciates me and loves me... he manages to find someone else.  days after he sends me love letters and professes he still loves me.  he loves someone else.  there's a new girlfriend now.  she's better than me he says.

everything I am, everything I gave, every part of me I put into this affair becomes invalidated on one swift communication letting me know that I single handedly ruined a date with a stranger I knew nothing about.

he has a new girlfriend.  I found out in an angry email.  he's mad I want to see him and spend time with him.  he is uncomfortable that I still love him and openly share my heart with him.  me, the bane of everything bad.  me the catalyst of his pain.  me, the unfortunate mistake he's done making.

he has fallen out of love with me in a few days and in love with someone new.  someone better than me because she doesn't call him and bother him, he says.  he has determined this new person is better than me because in two weeks he's learned everything he needs to know about this new lover to identify how wonderful and perfect she is.  he calls her his new girlfriend.  he's rather spend time with his new girlfriend.  he looks forward to making an effort to spend a whole weekend with his new girlfriend.

was he even done with the one he had?

I am disposable.  I am nothing.  a filthy wet snot rag, untouchable and undesirable.  he could take it or leave it if I call.  he doesn't care.  he's fine if we don't see each other ever again. he doesn't miss me.  there's nothing to miss, he says.  I am a thought that evaporates into the ether and becomes silence.  a tear rolling down a cheek in the rain disappearing with the rest of the H2O gathering into puddles and pools of wetness at our feet.  inconsequential. a nuisance when heard.

stop.

there are things to be grateful for.  I can pick up the pieces.  I can start life over.  I can have a day one, a day two, a day three a life after all of this.

I am powerless over.... my life is unmanageable because of ....

it is not my fault I have scars, bumps and bruises.  my intentions were forever and always for love.

I love fully, openly and without abandon.  I fall deeply, care unconditionally and effort to be kind, graceful, compassionate and honest.  each day, I gave all I had.  I committed to the process and offered all of me.

everything I was afraid of from the day we met came true.
I've been abandoned when I was most vulnerable.  I believed there were two people here.  there is only one, me, alone.

now, I need to love me the way I loved him.  I need to care for me the way I was concerned for his well being.  today, I promise to treat myself as I treat everyone but me.  I gotta fall back in love with me.  it's the only way I'll ever break through and out of this broken place.

right now, I need to just accept that it is like this.  it sucks.  he loves someone new.  accept it dumb ass.  he is done with me, I'm a wretch, unlovable and no, that's not what I say...

I have to care for me as though I am my own best friend.  someone can find me lovable, I can love me first.  so much easier to spew through written word than to believe in my heart.

today was day two.  almost there... I can do this right?

everything happens for a reason

Over the course of this past weekend, I had several conversations that seemed to lead me back to one of my least favorite phrases, "Everything happens for a reason."  Man I hate that expression.  Really, everything?  I think if you're evolved enough, you can easily find lessons in EVERYTHING that happens in life.

I do believe that events happen as a combination of fate and free-will.  While I don't believe that there is a puppet master pulling strings trying to guide our experiences, I do recognize the intricate web all of our karma creates weaving experiences together in what feels something like fate.

Many people say that we come together with other people for a reason, that there is a destiny that can justify how people meet.  I wish I could believe that the people in my life have placement in my world because of this romantic notion that we were meant to meet.  Unfortunately, I just can't fully get on board with the idea that each and every person in my life has an intrinsic purpose and a part to play and that it was pre-destined that we'd meet.

None the less... I took a good look at the people in my life this weekend... going back in time, wandering the streets of the neighborhoods where I lived, worked, made impressions and created connections with hosts of people, wandering by old apartments, bars I drank in, shops I shopped in, places I rolled my son in his stroller, my old Urban Monster store front and the vacant space where our favorite coffee once was...  I could see details that continue to remain a constant and the changes.  I was able to identify how I have made a mark on people in a time line that makes up my life with the symbolism of architectural details which remain and the things that were new and different. 

Soaking in nostalgic feelings of a lifetime behind me and seeing old friends with whom I shared a sense of community at one point highlighted snapshots of a lifetime's journey behind me.  I have met so many people in my almost forty-two years of life.   At different points, many of them have had a purpose for why they entered my life.  Each of them connects me and anchors me to humanity in someway or another.  In the mix of people I saw over the weekend... there were people I am close to, people I used to be close to, and some people with whom I am no longer friends.  Time changes, and each of these people have taught me something, even if the thing they presented me was merely that feeling of community and human connection.  There's something really great as an alien like freak to have that feeling of being able to connect with someone else on any level.

One thing I'm super grateful for right now are the people with whom I am closest to right now.  I have a small circle of friends in my life right now with whom I'd say I have deep connections with.  Everyone in my life right at this moment has a purpose, because the people in my life today mirror a more authentic version of myself than I've ever portrayed before.  As I continue to evolve and grow, I'm attracting new people into my life who provide me with a new sense of connection and deeper level of understanding and support.

You see, it isn't the universe or a puppeteer who brings this love into my life... it is me.  My action, my change, my evolution isn't so different from the store fronts of Smith Street.  There is change and there are constants, it won't stop the gentrification of the neighborhood.  It may make some people sad to see a shop close... but it only makes room for something new to take it's place.  And honestly, if you don't like it, you can do like I did, and MOVE up and out all together.  

there is always room for forgiveness, healing and change

ten years ago, I was heading for the zenith of my PR career.
ten years ago, I was engaged and then married.
ten years ago, I was super skinny.
ten years ago, my father and I were estranged for more than a decade.
ten years ago, I found my Dad......

It was March 2000, and there was only a month left until the wedding.  I was a pretty chill bridezilla, as a seasoned event planner, I had pulled the details together quickly and seamlessly, the guest list was small (under 70 including dates) the scene was set.  Everything with the wedding was 'perfect', and I was pretty excited how well things fell into place.

But there was something missing.  There was an empty void inside of me, the pain of feeling like I wasn't worthy ... a disconnect that felt unfixable.

I was missing my Dad.  He had been out of my life for over ten years, and the pain of that was devastating.  I did all sorts of work around it, from joining Lifespring, therapy, counseling, support groups, heavy drugs, and adopting friends Dad's as father figures.  Each of the outlets provided me some comfort, but none of them answered the questions for me that played on a continuous loop in my head that started with the word 'Why'.

I was never Daddy's Girl, that spot was reserved for my sister.  But he loved me, and would tell me things you want a Dad to say, like, "you're way prettier than your sister."  Ok, not healthy but ... I loved and love that he tells me this.  Sick, yes, I am.

The month before the wedding, March 2000, my mother and I were on the phone.  She had let me know that she had seen Harvey, an old friend of Dad's, in her neighborhood walking his dogs.  She mentioned this to me a few times over a couple of weeks.  So one night, I dial 411 and get his number.  With my fiancee at my side, I dialed Harvey.

"Hi Harvey, I'm not sure if you remember me, I'm Elissa, Bob's daughter.  You haven't seen or heard from me in a long time.  My mom had said she had seen you around her neighborhood, and I was hoping you might know where my Dad is."

Harvey responded, "Of course I remember you.  Yes, I can put you in touch with your Dad, are you sure you really want to talk with him?"

"Oh yes, if it's not too much trouble, I have a pen and paper, could I get his number," shaking, I'm waiting for the information.

"Elissa, I can put you in touch with him," he repeated, "but, are you sure you want to speak with him?"

"Yes, really, I do," nervous but sure, I responded.

"How about I put him on the phone now," I could hear Harvey smiling through the receiver, "He's sitting right here.  I haven't seen him in years, and he's visiting with me right now!"

My father got on the phone and within minutes we had orchestrated a plan to meet downtown at Temple Bar for a martini.  Our reunion was six martini's deep, and by the end, I realized that all the therapy, counseling, drugs and support groups were bullshit, I really just needed to see my dad and get that sort of affirmation that only could come from him.

I did ask him the big question, 'Why."  His answer was, "I really don't know, but I'm sorry."

In that moment, I surrendered to realizing that was enough, that he was a suffering human being, who made a lot of bad choices.  He shared that he thought of calling me, but each time, he felt worse that more time had passed.

From there.... things changed.  He was back in my life.  He still wasn't invited to the wedding, my mom and sister put the kybosh to that.  I wish I had stood my ground, and it saddens me he wasn't there but... clearly, there will be a next one.  Well, I can hope.

After 9/11, I convinced my mother and sister to invite him to Thanksgiving, and from that point on, our dysfunctional wacky family was reunited.  At that holiday dinner, I refused the champagne, and announced that I was pregnant.  He might of missed the wedding, but he hasn't missed a day of my son's life.   The first people to meet the Zbot after his Dad, was my mom and MY DAD.  In fact, it was my father who handed Zoren to me the first time I finally got to hold him in my arms.


After the torture of the worst divorce in history, my parents made the 'War of the Roses' look like a side show at the Big Apple Circus .... years and years apart, my parents are friends, good friends.  Dad has been making amends to each of us.  He has taken care of my mom during her stroke, cancer and other emergency visits to the hospital.  He visits my sister in Boston.  My father is back in my life, and ... we have had some BIG breakthroughs in our relationship, particularly this year.  I took a stand and made amends to him for my part in the difficulties of our relationship over matzoh ball soup at Passover dinner at my mom's.  And ... most recently, he took a stand and stood up for ME with my family when I needed him to.  After years of crying that my Dad doesn't get my back, I got to see that he really does.

Today he turned 68, although, he would prefer if you would just say 59.  He just went through a couple of years of pain and surgery and I am seeing the impermanence of life unfolding before me.  He's not the tough, heartless, ruthless business man of his past... he too has been broken by his own suffering.  Where I once felt disdain and resentment, I feel genuine love and compassion.  The night we were reunited at the Temple Bar, I discovered my father was a broken man.  I forgave him easily, but it certainly hasn't been easy and smooth between us these past ten years.  Both of us have worked on it, and while our relationship may not be the example of ideal, it ain't bad.  I have a dad, and my son has a very close relationship with his grandfather. 


I'm so grateful to have my Dad in my life.  I know that something strange and mysterious was at work the day I found him at Harvey's apartment.  In these times where I struggle with a continuous crisis of faith, I have to acknowledge that something must have been at work that I was able to find him in one phone call.

So Dad, Happy Birthday.  Thanks for being in my life, and for teaching me that there is always room for forgiveness, healing and change.  I love you very much.