Thursday, August 25, 2016

That Feeling I Get When He Texts Me


I don't know how to sew. If you lose a button and need my help, I'll just find you a new shirt. If there's a hole, I'll grab a cardigan or change that out too. But I do know what it feels like to be sewn up and then, with the clip of a scissors, slowly torn apart.

For the last week I keep having this image in my head of hands lightly piecing together a white scrap of cloth. I'm not sure if it was being mended or built, and that's what I've been trying to figure out. Am I in the process of mending myself or rebuilding myself? Is it the same thing? Some would argue that it is, I'm going to be a bit dramatic and say it isn't.

If I was merely mending myself, my goal would be to become the same as before. But I don't want to be that person. I wasn't happy enough or successful enough. I was putting too much energy into another person that wasn't giving me what I deserved back. Instead, I'm using this image that some force keeps dropping into my head as a reminder that this time of my life is meant for rebuilding.

My friends notice it. They've seen a spark lit that I didn't know could exist at all let alone again. And that spark has also ignited feelings that I didn't know I had in me. Pure and strong, some are good and some are bad and some make me want to vomit and roll my eyes and hug strangers and tell them everything about my day. And sometimes those emotions come with a simple text; I've noticed this as well.

It's just so lame. That when a certain someone texts you, your entire day can be lifted or totally sunk. But it's also the truth. For me though, depending on the he, depends on the feelings that come tumbling in. I thought about this more than necessary so bear with me.

When he texts me I get scared. I'm immediately on high alert, my hands shake, the bitterness starts to seep out of my pores and my guard goes up.

When he texts me I get giddy and weird. Giddy because I've been waiting for the hello and weird because I should not feel that way about someone who is so hot and cold.

When he texts me I get shy. He's forward and ready to jump right in. But it's also not the right move for me. It's still fun to go back and forth with him though.

When he texts me I get envious. I know he'd bend over backwards for me if he was in a position to do so. He's become the ultimate "what if" daydream.

When he texts me I get confused. He challenges me. I'm not used to anyone who challenges me.

When he texts me I get comfort. There aren't many that know me as well as he. There also aren't many that see me in such a positive light.

When he texts me I get queasy. I shouldn't still have these feelings lingering. And he shouldn't sporadically text, "I love you," either.

All of these experiences with new and old men are helping to sew me new. These conversations are helping me figure out what kind of woman I am in this world. A world where I am no one's girlfriend, fiancé or wife, which is practically all that I know. Instead, I am rebuilding myself into a woman that is ready.

...

Also, to the men that text me, I'm fully aware that I may never hear from you again because you're scared that you'll end up in a blog post. Don't be scared, I can reassure you that you've probably already been written about. And for those that are scared for another reason, could you get over it and say hello again? I probably miss talking to you for one reason or another.

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