Archive for doubt

Love, labor, lost

Posted in New York with tags , , , on September 17, 2013 by ana

It’s been a long time since I sat down to write. I stopped writing because I started to feel like the posts I was writing were getting repetitive but also because I decided to move to New York, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about writing that down. When I realized I had to move it felt like if I wrote it I had somehow given up on Paris. So I didn’t write at all and now so many things have happened that is hard to know where to begin. So here is where I left off. During my last two months in Paris I

– finished my five weeks of pastry school.

– had a fling with a boy from LA visiting Paris. We went dancing, ate palmiers from different bakeries in the Marais for breakfast, kissed in the middle of the street late at night, and had an oyster bacchanalia.

– moved, again.

-spent a quiet, magical christmas eve with my mom.

-felt sad to be alone on New Year’s but danced until five in the morning at Rosa Boneheur with some fabulous frenchy friends.

-walked myself home in the rain from Parc Butte Chaumont to Chatelet at five in the morning on New Year’s day.

-spent afternoons in Montmarte with my friend Joey going for arepas or to the movies after buying candy from a chubby french lady who wore her hair in two braids.

-went to San Sebastian with my friend Kelly. Where I made dessert for my friends supper club and ate so much delicious food that I still think about.

-had a magical night at the Louvre watching the Marina Abramovic documentary.

-had the most perfect going away party in my friend Cleo’s insane hotel room overlooking the Tuileries with the Eiffel Tower twinkling at a distance.

I decided to move to New York as I finished my written exam for pastry school. The same voice that said I should move to Europe popped back in my head and said, what are you thinking trying to open a business in Paris there is still so much you need to learn. Grow up. Go home.

I wish I had kept up my writing because so many memories of those last month are coming back as I type this. Including how strange and comforting it felt to go to the embassy when I had to get some papers signed. How many ham and cheese galette with a bowl of cider lunches I had mourning my departure, how the sun never came out for the entire month of January and I spent 90 percent of that month completely alone walking along the seine, watching movies in my apartment, and trekking to Monoprix.

I miss Paris. I think about it almost every other day. I miss the rhythm, my friends, the supermarket. I was never a girl who dreamed of going to Paris. I was just a girl who wanted to live in Europe and in the end Paris completely stole my heart. Sometimes I can’t believe I did it. It seems like a dream. Like a movie of someone else’s life. Others I can’t believe I didn’t try harder to stay.

But as soon as I arrived in NY it felt like the right decision was made. NY welcomed me with the open arms of an old friend. She said, welcome back, pull up a chair, stay a while, stay forever perhaps.  Many times in the last seven months I wanted to write something here but didn’t. Now it feels like too many details to fill in. Within a week of being back I had a job and a great apartment. What ensued since has been intense, endurance building, at times extremely lovely and rewarding, and at others sad and maddening.

There was a boy and for a brief second I thought- wow! But in the end he had many pieces but not all the right ones. It was amateur hour on my part. I got burned. I felt foolish. And all of it by my own hand. Dealing with that part and looking at myself in both an introspective and forgiving way has proven to be a hard task.  Specially because I feel lonely and it vexes me.
I’m not sure how to make peace with the feeling and with how my choices have deposited me in them. I have chosen a career that gives me a weird schedule. I have moved many times leaving behind communities I loved and built. I can only be me but what am I doing right and what am I doing wrong. The only word I can think of that perfectly describe how I feel is abysmal. Not because I feel extremely bad. I feel simply bad but it carries a tunnel like feel to it.
Is it all the changes and transitions that have ocurred in the last two years that leave me feeling unstable? Is it my looming birthday?  My biological clock? The simple desire to share my life with someone?  This part of my life is driving me bananas in a way it never did when I was younger. And I know I have to reseign myself to it but it is incredibly hard. I felt like this around my last birthday too- a weepy, needy puddle. I have never been that girl but I feel such deep frustration at life not giving me what I think I need and it feels helpless.

One of the biggest lessons as of late has been that things are not a choice that once made just happens. Patience, discipline, commitment these are not words that once chosen one suddenly embodies. I don’t know why I always thought that and why I never believed myself capable of them. These words, these choices, along with many others occur as a constant dialogue. We don’t wake up everyday feeling these feelings but rather, often but not always, need to go looking for them within us. Sometimes they become second nature and sometimes we need to find stronger, clearer definitions of them.

I have worked harder these last months than I ever have in my life. I have never been poorer. And I have come to the realization that it makes sense (somewhat) that people in kitchens make so little. It’s a test of endurance and love.
Right now, as I write this, I feel such deep sadness and loneliness. Maybe it’s because I can’t stop thinking of my sister who is in rehab, and I feel such sorrow, confusion, anger, and despair that I can barely talk about it. Or maybe it’s because I started a new job, and like any new job, it’s not exactly how I envisioned and I hoped it would be.
Right now, and for the last few weeks, there is a darkness that I can not seem to shake. I’m tired of these moments but know there is nothing to do but live them. I think this is a test of surrender. To just have faith, to will myself to have faith, that I will fall in love again, that I will find a life and community in NY, that I won’t always be broke or feel lost.  I am longing to weather these storms and feel a sense of triumph and accomplishment but all I can do right now is put my head down and work.

jet-lag, thunderstorms & Burgundy

Posted in Los Angeles, paris with tags , , on June 25, 2012 by ana

I’m back in Paris. I had the worst jet-lag when I returned and couldn’t fall asleep until 5 or 6 in the morning for most of the week. During one of those sleepless nights there was a beautiful, raging thunderstorm. I sat by the kitchen window watching the sky light up and sound as if it was cracking open. The storm made me excited about the summer. I love thunderstorms.

My trip to LA was both lovely and hard. It felt like I hit true rock-bottom after a year and a half of banging myself against things. It felt horrible but in the end something about it felt very grounding, like I was finally touching firm ground not some ledge on the way down. For the past month in Paris I had been dancing with my demons, and when I got to LA it became a full on brawl. I felt like my confidence was full of holes. I felt extremely vulnerable and shy, and then on the other side of that I kept beating myself up about it.

I drove around asking the same questions I had been asking myself in Paris. Was I so lost that I had to loose myself even more to find myself? What had I done moving so far from home! There were moments in LA were I felt desperate to find some answers. Moments when I felt old and like I had strayed from my path. There were also lots of moments where it was wonderful to be there. To see the people I love. To witness my best friends get married and see all our old New York friends at their wedding.

At some point towards the end of my trip when I was feeling lower than low something clicked. I thought- you are such a shit. You are surrounded by so much love. You have such good friends. You live in Paris. Why are you looking at all you don’t have and not celebrating all you do have. You are the only one that is judging yourself. And as soon as I thought that something switched, and I thought, what if everything is happening exactly as it needs to. What if everything is perfect just as it is. I don’t think I have ever internalized that thought as I did at that moment.


The whole time I’ve been in Paris my friend Karina’s words have rang through me. When we were 23 she said to me two things that I still think about all the time. One was, never forget who you are. The other, I think the key word right now is perseverance. For as much as I think about her words I forgot, for a moment, who I was but in forgetting I found a clearer version of myself.

I got on the plane with a plan and a Kinfolk magazine. My plan was to do a French intensive for the month of July, look for work as soon as that was done, and then go to the Cordon Bleu in November. On the plane I read my magazine. After reading an essay about an American woman who had moved to Burgundy and opened a cooking school I decided to email her. I told her I had been inspired by her story and asked her for work.

I got back to Paris with a renewed sense of self, with my curiosity back at it’s normal level, and feeling excited about this here adventure that I am on. Somewhere in the past week I remembered just why I had decided to move to Europe. I felt that feeling in my gut again that pushed me to it. I started to rejoice about being in Paris. It started to hit me that I live here.

Then I heard back from the school in Burgundy, and so it is that I now find myself packing to go there tomorrow. I will be there for the next five weeks cooking, gardening and being, as Brie put it, the all around kitchen au pair. I will be their intern in exchange for my own apartment, meals, and a bicycle to ride to work. I am beyond excited. Who knows what will happen next. The French intensive is still a priority but it will have to wait. Off I go! Small town, country roads, vegetable patches-I have been craving thee!




the ties that bind

Posted in 38, family with tags , , , on November 30, 2011 by ana

Over the long weekend I went to Virginia to visit my cousin Carolina. Going to Virginia always feels like going home. Every summer growing up I stayed at least a month with either my grandmother or my aunt and uncle. Every corner of the house Carolina grew up in is filled with memories. Every time I walk past the guest bathroom, which still has shimmery seventies wallpaper, I remember running in, from a savage game of war with my cousins in the front yard, to fill up water balloons in the sink, and the trouble I got in when I accidentally dropped one on the wood floor. Every time I pass the door to the basement I remember a game of cops and robbers that left me handcuffed to the basement staircase when one of my boy cousins lost the key. In a way, in Virginia, I got to have a kind of suburban life that I never had in Puerto Rico. One where we rode our bikes to the local pool and ran around outside until the sun set late into the night.

Carolina and her husband live in the apartment where my grandmother used to live. This is the apartment where Carolina and I went into the guest bathroom as brunettes one afternoon and emerged a light shade of peroxide copper a half hour later thanks to a bottle of Sun-in we conned someone into buying for us. Across the street from that apartment there used to be a movie theater where I watched E.T. nine times, Annie six, and the first of the Batman movies at least twice. If I stand still long enough I can almost see my grandparents in their bedroom or in the kitchen. Thankfully, the incredibly awkward 8×10 fifth-grade portrait, where I’m wearing a mint green denim vest with a baby pink t-shirt, has been taken down from the wall, and hopefully burned.

Carolina is a year and half older than me.  When we were little we would make our moms buy us the same outfits so we could pretend we were twins but in reality she’s rosy-colored and I’m olive. Her hair is straight and mine is wavy. She’s a skinny-minnie and I’m curvy. And our politics are at opposite ends of the spectrum. When I was little my heart did cartwheels whenever she was around. It still does actually. Sometimes there is nothing lovelier than time spent with someone that has known you your entire life, who knows you through and through, and completely understand the ins and outs of your specific family. And it was wonderful and truly inspiring to see how sweetly her marriage has bonded and evolved as it has navigated hardships and obstacles.

On Sunday we went to see  Gabriela, the daughter of a friend of my mom’s, in an Arthur Miller play. She was intensely good, and I kept thinking of how deep one must dig to unearth something compelling and how much one also has to surrender.

On Monday I went to the zoo in DC by myself and wandered around looking at the elephants, silverback gorillas, and tigers with that mixture of sadness and awe that zoos tend to inspire. I rode the metro and the vertigo inducing escalator of the Adams Morgan station with my fantasies and longing firmly planted across several countries and an ocean, where I have been pretending, somewhat foolishly since the summer, to remember and forget them.

I returned to LA happy and with new shoes but also arguing with my heart. Telling it it was a sucker and a nit-wit for harboring the desire to date someone who wasn’t present and available, for liking someone that feels impossible. I woke up knowing, AGAIN, that is easier to pretend that I don’t like him. It’s just easier to tell myself- let it go- every time I think of him than it is to pine for him. It is better to just hold him in my heart as a catalyst because when we correspond my lust and my ego go crazy, and all I want to hear is, I guess what any girl wants to hear from the guy she likes, that he will do anything to try to be with me because he doesn’t want to be with out me.

All of this has got me thinking about what is solid and grounded. How amazing and guiding it feels to have  fallen in love with my own creative path, for one, and seeing how all the things that interest me begin to combine. Everything in my life is really great right now, really good things are happening. I need to be grateful and not let my inner Veruca Salt tell me otherwise. I struggle to be present but when I’m not I miss the feelings of security, stability, and sensuality that noticing the richness and the details of the moment, and distilling its guiding whispers bring me.





Speaking of feet on the ground and flipping yourself upside down.

Posted in 37 with tags , , on September 21, 2011 by ana

Cleo was in town for work. We met for dinner and had a meal of grilled oysters, pickled vegetables, house-cured ham and a burger at my old co-workers very meaty and very popular restaurant, Salt’s Cure. After we went back to her hotel room, which was bigger than any apartment either one of us has ever lived in, and sat in the kitchen drinking wine, sharing a piece of chocolate cake, and talking about love.

While sorting through and old box of journals I’d found a letter an old boyfriend had written me fifteen years ago. It was heartfelt and seductive. Written in thin almost translucent paper, typed on a typewriter late at night, it reached out to me with risk and hope. I read it to Cleo. She asked me if I thought that was the kind of letter one only writes when one is young? “I don’t know,” I said, “but you are probably right.”

The last few days I’ve sat at Intelligentsia drinking coffee and writing in my journal. When I was younger, around the time of the boyfriend with the typewriter, I did that every day. Recently, I read some of those old journals. They were celebratory and restless, full of wonderment but also of frustration, of reaching for things and wanting them desperately to be a certain way. From reading my scribbles I can describe the entire decade of my twenties as plucky, hopeful, tentative, and full of doubt. Now I’m just grown up versions of those words.  Over and over I have been plagued by the idea that if I make a mistake I am bad person. That if I don’t get something right away it is worthless, I am worthless. In there lies the seed of my current fears.

Let me just write it one more time in hopes that it will somehow go away. I’m scared to move to Paris. (I am also terribly excited but somehow that is playing second fiddle these days.) It took me a really long time to get a sense of community in Los Angeles, much longer than in New York.  In one city you are moving in your little pod from point A to point B, in the other you are pressed up against strangers everywhere you go. I’m scared that I’m making a mistake by giving up what I have built here.

The other day I sat in my car thinking of something Nicki said.  “If you sit with the emptiness long enough you begin to see it really isn’t empty after all.”  Parked outside of work I tried to feel the emptiness. To get a sense of it without attaching any other emotion to it, without saying it is good or it is bad. What I found, after a while, was that I was hungry. It was something I had never felt before. While getting ready for service at the restaurant I thought, hunger is the proactive version of restless. It is a  compass that has lurked asleep in me somewhere. Hunger is why I have always taken a million classes and workshops. It is why I’m moving. It is why I asked my boss if I could learn to make desserts at the restaurant.

I have done so much work on myself. I just need to trust that everything is exactly as it needs to be. I have to let things happen. Feral attachment to one specific idea has never served me. In the past I have always said, this who I want to be as opposed to looking around me and seeing the beautiful tapestry of things that are already there. Everyday I remind myself to let go of attachment to outcome.

In my dance class all the other girls are fast-flying tinkerbells but somehow I can’t do any of the crazy tricks. The instructor said, “you are very grounded that is why you can’t take flight. It’s a very good thing to be grounded. Just think light.” The other day Stevie, who hates my pole dancing classes but gets why I love them said, “that is why you are still here. You have to flip yourself upside down.” I have always been afraid of handstands and cartwheels. I could never even let go enough to dive in to a pool. She is right. I need to turn things upside down and learn once and for all that my own strength will catch me.


kissing cousins

Posted in 37 with tags on September 12, 2011 by ana

The end of summer has often been a melancholic, unstrung time of year for me, specially if it has been a good summer, which means lots of pleasure, lots of adventure, and lots of laughter.  The sleepiness between summer and fall leaves me wanting to climb walls, wanting to paint the town red but my usual tricks- dancing, running, drinking wine with good friends have not quite been enough.

Seven years ago last Sunday Leo and I went on our first date. The next day, Labor Day, he called to see if I wanted to go with him to a bbq. From that moment on until last fall we were together. We always celebrated our anniversary on Labor Day, usually at Cafe Stella with a few friends. Cleo was often in town and it just made sense to turn the whole thing into a dinner party. We did that a lot- dinner parties, celebrations, after-parties in our little closet of an apartment after the Hollywood Bowl. We both really liked to entertain, to host, to pour wine for our favorite people and feed them.  I miss that.

All weekend long I felt lonely; the kind of lonely where you feel more alone when you are with people than by yourself. I cried on the phone with my mom. She said, “What you are feeling is loss.”

Maybe she’s right but it doesn’t feel intrinsically connected to heartache anymore, more like a bi-product, more like the I-thought-my-life-was-going-this-way-but-it-isn’t-anymore blues. Am I having yet another crisis of faith? I really don’t know what is going to happen in my life? Does anyone? Why can’t I just trust? Why am I paralyzed at the corner of uncertain and scared shitless instead of feeling exhilarated? A mild but constant anxiety buzzes through me no matter what I do. The more I try to live my life away from fantasy, the scarier it becomes. Fantasy has been my security blanket. It disguised itself as faith and hope and always let me down. I need to believe in myself with my feet on the ground.

I went to therapy, again. I have seen Nicki four times in the last three weeks. That is a lot for me. I used to go about once a month. Towards the end of our session she said, ” you need to live each day to it’s fullest. Find the beauty in everyday. Love yourself. You have everything you need.”

Stevie said something similar last week. “Time to let go of the training wheels.”

I know this but I’m scared. The fear is keeping me from feeling excited. I know the two are kissing cousins. I just have to figure out how to flip them.

The fact that I’m scared shitless is exactly why I have to do it.

Posted in 37 with tags , , , , on August 30, 2011 by ana

Last night I had an anxiety-ridden dream or maybe I woke up in the middle of the night had a mini panic attack and fell promptly back to sleep. Either way at some point in the middle of the night, awake or not, I freaked out. It was really strange. I can’t say anything like that has ever happened to me before. Basically, I started thinking about Paris- how I only know 2.5 people there, how I don’t really speak the language, how it’s going to be winter when I get there. And that turned into- you are insane. You have completely lost it. This is all going to explode in your face and you are going to feel more lost, more alone, more distraught than ever. Are you crazy? What are you thinking?!! I don’t ever talk to myself that way. The decision is pushing buttons and stirring things up.

Some of the fear comes from the voices in my head that say you are too old to be picking up your things and moving, your time to have babies is running out, you are always chasing something, settle down. Those voices are cultural and relate to my family as an entity, how I was raised, and what is expected or hoped for for me. These voices are not so much my parents but my large, opinionated, loving, and conservative puertorican family.

There is also the voice that wishes she lived closer to her family and worries that every decision I’ve made since I left Puerto Rico has physically moved me further away from them. And the voice that wants to settle down, on her own terms, but settle down no less. That voice wonders if I’m walking towards or further away from all I want.

All those voices make the voice that made the decision to take a leap feel small. That voice was strong and clear when I made my decision but all the doubting ones have made it cower. It’s as if the woman I have become, who is confident and centered, passion-filled and inspired, excited and present is having a fist fight with the girl that often feels awkward in her skin, who feels nothing quite works out her way. The part of me that knows that she can do this, that knows she must do it, has gone to take a nap until the confident one has put the awkward one in her place. And it might take a minute because the girl has been around for a long time but the woman has only been around for a bit.

This morning I cried while I was meditating. Lately that seems to happen when I try to meditate. I say try because I struggle every single day when I sit down to do it. Today I asked myself why I was crying. What the deep sadness inside of me was about. And the response I got was the feeling of how intensely the breakup with Leo had rocked me to my core. That feeling brought on more tears but also a feeling of pride and of strength and a deepening of the knowledge that the person I have become was born out of our parting ways.

The one where I take out the riding crop and whip myself repeatedly

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on April 13, 2011 by ana

Today was super shitty. It was full of self-loathing and self-pitty. I think it all started with a package waiting for me by the door when I went out to deposit my tips at the bank. It was from Leo.

How many times can I possibly say I miss him while I continue to put one foot in front of the other?

I open the package. It has the mail that somehow never gets fowarded. There is a letter from the bank saying that I bounced a check, some catalogs for fancy housewares and a letter from my credit card telling me how I can lower my balance. The combination of all these things and the fact that they arrived from my old home, my home no more, just send me spinning.

I’m so broke. This year is flying by. Summer is just around the corner. What am I going to do next? Nothing ever works out the way I want it to. I’m so mediocre.

I decide to meditate but find it nearly impossible to quiet my mind.

I can’t meditate. What am I doing with my life?
I’m thirty-seven. Before I know it I will be thirty-eight. Focus on your breathing. Focus on your breathing.

It’s almost time for work but I want to do some reading.

Why do I always read so many books at once?
This is so overwhelming. My mom is always overwhelmed. I must get that from her.
I have to finish reading all the books I’m half reading. I’ll never get it done.
I read so much more in NY.

I can’t sit still and start getting ready.

What I’m going to do with myself. What is my next job going to be? I don’t want to live hand to mouth anymore. I don’t want to consume as much anymore.
Why do I always rely on pretty clothes and baubles to give my life meaning.
Liking beautiful things is not terrible. Buying things that I find stirring makes me feel inspired. Buying things makes me feel less creative.

I’ll never meet anyone.
I wish I had someone to distract me. I should put myself out there.
What does that mean? How do I do that? It’s really hard to meet people in LA.
I work at a restaurant. I meet lots of people everyday. I don’t have any single friends to go out with.

I walk down the long hotel-like hallways of my building.

Be present.
Come on stay present. Left foot, right foot. I’m a failure.
I never finish things. Nothing is going to change if I move.
I have to figure out what the hell I’m going to do with my life.

I call my mom while driving to work.

“I feel so lost,” I tell her.

“I remember feeling how you felt but I don’t know what to say to you,” she says.
“I’m consumed by my own sorrow.”

What am I going to do with my life?
What am I going to do with my life? What am I going to do with my life?

“You just have to be more provocative in your writing, in your acting,” she says.

I’m so mediocre. I’m such a loser.
I’m such a failure.

“Just ask yourself what am I trying to say here that has never been said in this way. I can see what you have to do but I’m not quite sure how to tell you to do it.”

“I know what you mean,” I say. “Sometimes that happens to me with Lela. It’s just if I knew what I had to change I would change it. Carolina gave me a great idea about contacting everyone I know in NY about work.”

“I don’t want to stress you out in anyway but if you are going to go to New York you can’t just go there to see what happens. You have to go there with a concrete plan. You have to go there with interviews and meetings set up.”

I’m not good enough. I have no skills. I’m such a fraud.

I get to work and feel like crying. I continue to berate myself all night long. At the end of the night I drink an ube milkshake we had as a desert special and go home. I feel fat. My feet hurt. I whip myself over eating sugar when I said I wouldn’t get my fix at work then I try to put the riding crop away.

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on January 19, 2011 by ana

Slightly exhausted after a night of oysters. Champagne, you are a treacherous friend!

Now that the dust has settled on my move and all the hoopla of the holidays is gone life returns to some kind of routine and in that routine lives a lot of restlessness and doubt. I have to remind myself that I don’t have to solve my life in one day. I have given myself six months to decide where I want to go or if I want to stay, and whenever that question pops in my head anxiety ensues.

Then there are all the projects I was so excited about two weeks ago that I now seem not motivated to sit down and do. My number one enemy is follow through. I never go the distance. I never expand my capacity as a writer, as an actor, as an artist. I don’t commit. I jump but then don’t have the courage to stretch beyond my comfort zone. I don’t want to be this way way anymore. I want to push against the glass walls that surround me. I want to expand creatively. I want to grow my gifts. There is a language out there that is all my own, and I need to truly know it. I need to find it, rely on it, and own it.

Trouble is I’m not sure how. I know that it is partially just showing up and putting in the time on the work, the practice of it all. I often feel inadequate when I try doing this but I think that is one of those fear that you have to ignore. In the showing up lies the breakthrough, I think. The learning curve is in the perseverance.

The thing that is so frustrating is that when I sit to do some work I freeze. For instance, I have been trying to take some pages from a novel I was working on a long time ago and do a visual project with them but when it comes time to do it I just loose interest no matter how excited I am about the work. It is then not a lack of interest but a judgement of the work and a fear and if they ever served me they no longer do.

round and round

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on January 14, 2011 by ana

That crazy energy is still cursing through me. I panic that nothing will happen. That nothing will change but everything already has.

It is a beautiful, warm day here in LA. It is a beautiful, warm January day. I’m feeling restless but also pleased. This right now is really as good as it gets. Not when something happens, not when goals are met but right now as I make my way there.

I have been trying to meditate every morning to no avail. I’m not kidding when I say I’m restless. There are so many possiblities now that did not exist before. An underlying sense that everythng is going to work out fills me up and leaves me too excited for words.

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , on November 29, 2010 by ana

I feel that I have lost my compass. My routines have changed so drastically I am no longer sure what I’m tethered to day to day. There was a time when I used to feel overwhelmed by all the things in my life but once I began taking acting classes I began to feel settled. My creative endeavors didn’t seem as daunting, even if so many questions about who I am and what my purpose is remained unanswered. I felt more grounded.

I have always been a morning person but now I can’t get up before 10:30 or 11. I don’t want to exercise. I don’t want to go to acting class. I haven’t read in weeks. I just want to watch TV until I fall asleep at three or four in the morning. This new set of habits make me feel cozy but lost. It feels like I have lost my way, like I’ve stopped trying. This may not be a bad thing. I may just need to lay low. The thing that I don’t like is that it brings the question of what am I doing with my life back with a vengeance.

What is my purpose? What is my bliss and how do I follow it? All those doubts were there before the break up but being in love kept them at bay. We had purpose together. We wrote screenplays together. I feel that I’m at sea longing to reach the shore. To some degree I have always felt that way. I have always longed to find a place to build myself and my home.

I have never felt quite at home, quite like I fit in, completely comfortable in my skin. My relationship grounded me in that way. Made me feel that for the first time. I defined myself by it, by how good it was, by how cute we were, by the sweet notes we left each other, by the romance, by how good we looked together when we went out.
None of that matters now.