Welcome to my happy hippie misadventures of self discovery in artistry, marriage and motherhood merrily carrying the baggage of mental health and an autoimmune disease. I promise to keep things interesting and almost always look damn good while doing it. BTW my baby ruins lives and you'll hate me for my husband. 

Bumblebees Taste like Anxiety or Our Love Story - Part One

Bumblebees Taste like Anxiety or Our Love Story - Part One

December 20th, 2014 1:23am we went communication black out. Like couples who stay away from one another days before a wedding to really revel in the anticipation. More than anything our distance not talking didn't give me any time to freak out and shut down...he didn't have the option to bail without the option to say he wasn't coming. 

I can see that now though at the time all I could think and see was bumblebees. 

Bumblebees is how Nic quickly helped me to re-percieve my anxiety. 

At the time we started talking I was existing in a total in body, high alert, survival adventure. Only a handful of weeks after I called off my wedding I got a message on Facebook from a man I was happy to never again talk to. One that had shattered my heart into a thousand pieces what felt like hundreds of times and I was already a broken mess. I was painfully in love with my ex-fiance and hating him at the same time; the last thing I wanted was a decade old spark of ex-boyfriend to ignite a fire. Nic had taken a piece of my soul and ran away around the world with it.

He scared the shit out of me. 

Sometimes I'd get off the phone with him or even think about what we'd talked about and have a panic attack set in. It was only a couple days after he sent the message and we started talking I first wanted to shut down. I told him then the aftermath of being in our world felt like suffocating. That my stomach threatened to cave in on itself and my hands get weak. 

"Because this is more than butterflies, it's bumblebees." He said to me. 

For our one year wedding anniversary while I was 7 weeks pregnant I got a bumblebee tattooed on my right thumb to remind me of the epic things that the sickening buzz I feel brings. 

I broke up with my ex-fiance September 10th and in the weeks following laid on my empty living room floor with tears pouring into my ears without needing to blink. 3 in the morning having conversations with myself. 

"Why is everyone I fall in love with an asshole? Don't I deserve better than to be hurt? Is love really supposed to hurt?" 

This is where I'd love to say some beautiful quote eloquently arrived or even a kind voice to sooth my heart ache but instead what I heard loud and clear was the only way I'd listen...

"Healthy love doesn't hurt. They aren't the problem, you are. Change the things you can Taylor Swift." 

Well goddamnit. Just me alone on my floor and my jaw dropped a little. For me to be continuously attracting assholes I've got to have some crazy bitch going on so got straight to work. I started reconnecting with ex-boyfriends to ask their side of our failed love affairs. What I had done to hurt them, how I could grow and change, what I needed to fix so that I could fix my broken love button. I've been in love 9 times; real, know it in your bones love. Nic is my lucky number 9, counting him the second time, so I had plenty of to work through. 

It was only a few days after my 28th birthday and I was in Sun Valley, ID staying with my nanny babies while their parents were in Mexico. Late one night on the phone with a friend after the kids went to bed she asked who of my ex-lovers was going to be the hardest to face...

"Nic. I have no idea what it was and it really fucked me up. I will never seek him out but if the opportunity presents itself I'll take it." 

Note that I'd just finished literally stalking down my old man ex and had he not been happy to see me could have called the cops to report me. Luckily he was, happy that is and he didn't. 

It had been months since I'd heard from him but really almost a year since we'd actually interacted as anything resembling friends. We never stayed connected. Didn't talk to one another aside from random check in messages and the nearly yearly run in. Oh that holiday time colliding that inevitably occurred almost every year. Out at the bar in the dark I'd spot him from across the room and my lungs out lock up. I needed to be near him, to taste and share his air. A hit of my favorite drug knowing all too well the withdrawal afterward would leave me a shivering in the shower mess but I always welcomed the buzz. The hesitation of knowing he'd leave and forget about me was never enough to keep me away, It's never been a choice to salivate and crave him. 

The first time he whispered in my ear I felt lightning. I was 16 years old. It was the middle of the night illuminated by glowing liquor bottles and bass pulsing through the couch I sat on. I didn't know anyone in the room and he sat on my right. Since I walked in the door we'd been inseparable. Grinding against each other and stealing away upstairs for more beers. He leaned in to ask if I wanted to go talk and his hot breath sent a charge down to the base of my spine. Like literal electricity and I was glued in unable to move away. He meant it, just the talking part I mean. I wouldn't be until 10 years later, 17 dates and 8 days into real life us dating we'd have sex. If we had before I don't think we'd have been able to escape.  

I didn't want to see Nic again. He'd left me electricuted too many times. 

But the greater Gods had bigger plans and now I understand we've been on this pathway forever. We couldn't have stayed apart if we tried. Which I did but it didn't work. 

Less than 12 hours after my friend asked "who will be the hardest?" I opened my messenger inbox to find...

I flirted a little bit and then asked, "Can you Skype?" 

To be continued....

Fuck You Hiccups or Needing Freedom