The State of Holly.

Clap on, Paul Ryan.
Clap on, Paul Ryan.

Many years ago, there was a great blog called 2 Birds, 1 Blog, and one of the writers, Meg, used to do “State of The Meg” every so often to write about all the random things happening in her life. It was sort of like the Presidential State of the Union, only obviously way more informative. If you’re looking for a good laugh, go back and read the blog in its entirety. There hasn’t been a post in years, but you’ll laugh your ass off, and given the way 2016 has happened, my guess is you could use a good laugh.

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately (perhaps moreso than usual), and with no real plan on how to address it, I’m doing what all writers do and stealing Meg’s format. But it’s a tribute, because she is fantastic.

So anyway, I briefly mentioned that over Thanksgiving, I had a mild anxiety attack. This is not totally out-of-the-ordinary for me, but it’s been awhile since I had one. Although there are tons of things that can cause anxiety, I know I’ve been feeling stressed over a mix of things including (but not limited to) money, my job, my health, the holidays, and my car.

Well, I am really happy to say that I FINALLY got my damn Jeep fixed. After visiting four dealerships, and being on waiting lists since September, I found a place 20 miles away that fixed my car in less than two days, provided me with a rental car, and honored my Jeep warranty. Luck was definitely on my side, and I’m feeling much better now that the ordeal is over. Seriously, why do things like that have to be SO difficult?

There’s also been something else on my mind, and I’m sort of embarrassed to admit it, but who’s reading this, anyway?

In the spring, I wrote a 6-part series about a…well, I’d say relationship, but I suppose fling is the more appropriate term for what it was. Anyway, the whole thing is still just really bothering me.

The blog series really pissed this guy off, even though I still don’t understand why. I really don’t. They didn’t say anything bad about him; but I suppose he was embarrassed to have people find out that we hooked up (even though I did change his name, and others involved).

He begged for me to remove the posts, and/or stop posting them, and had a friend threaten to sue me over it. I never wrote the posts to hurt anyone, but I also couldn’t agree with him bullying me into removing them – so I never did.

And you know what? His life went on, and he is okay, and he still has a job, and owns a new house, and is probably happily in a new relationship.

In my brain, I know I didn’t do anything wrong. But everywhere else… I feel pretty messed up over the entire thing. I still feel really betrayed by what he did to me prior to me even writing the posts, and then he’d told me that if I stopped publishing the posts, we could go on being friends.

Since I didn’t do what he asked, he’s cut me out entirely. I tried reaching out to him months ago; I wasn’t ready to apologize, and I still am not sure if that’s really in my heart. But, we’d been friends for like, half our lives. Is this really the end of that?

Obviously, he ignored my call and later blocked my messages, and has blocked me on all social media. Even his friends told me he probably will never talk to me, ever.

Sure, I’ve cut people out before… but it was like… when they wanted to kill me. Is what I did really worth that type of punishment? I don’t know.

And that’s the fucked up part. It’s like, I really feel like I just nailed myself onto Karma’s bad side by blogging about what happened between us. Even though it really is what happened between us, and that’s what this blog is: my life, unedited (for the most part). I’ll be even more honest here; there were some things I purposefully left out of the blog posts because I knew they would be hurtful, and I wasn’t trying to do that.

Some days, I really wish he would reach out to me and we could just resolve this and say, hey we could all use someone to lean on and let’s just call it even and wish each other the best. But other days, I know I was just standing up for myself and sharing an experience that happened to me, and he just happened to read it, so fuck it.

But this whole feeling of “fuck it” – I’mma do me… it’s only empowering for a few seconds, because I feel like a person that spends their life saying “Do you” or “I’ll just do me”, ends up in a deserted cabin, alone in the mountains eating canned soup a la the “Dexter” series finale.

Amirite? Like obviously we can’t all just do ourselves or we’d be a globe full of loners.

And hey, part of this mass of thoughts about this situation are because it’s the holidays, and last year around the holidays, we were actually talking and spent New Year’s Eve together. So, please send cases of booze to Austin, Texas in preparation for this NYE party of 1, because I’ll be fucking miserable.

I know, I KNOW you’re saying, but Holly, just get with someone else! And sure, there are days I think of that, too. Like okay, it’s time to stop this whole bitter gig and give a little. But then I hear stories from my girlfriends about dates they’ve been on – stories of bird carcasses hidden in kitchen drawers, “hang outs” instead of actual dates, and hour-late arrivals.

And then I cut myself another slice of chocolate pie, loosen my drawstring pants, and say, “Fuck it, I’mma do ME”. Because, no.

But the truth on that matter is, I am not mentally equipped to move from guy to guy. I have done that, and it ended very poorly for me. It’s taken me years to learn that I have to give myself time, no matter how long the fling or how serious, I need time.

If I don’t allow myself time, I’ll pick a guy out of needs that aren’t fit and I’ll end up more hurt than I am now. And that’s not a place I want to be.

On the good side of things, obviously I have a future in placing my head on other people’s body in photographs, so I can probably make a career change in 2017.

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