I have a strange relationship with relationships. I'm not the
Does that mean that I don't dig companionship? By no means. I love love. I love being in love. I love it when I'm in love. When I'm not, don't expect me to mope...that's all I'm saying. Still, from time to time I get to waxin' nostalgic & start flipping through past journals. I've been journaling since at least the age of 12 so I have a great deal to run through. I didn't go back as far as my
All I have to say is DAYUM!! That's the word I'm going with to describe where I was emotionally. 2005 was the end of plenty & the beginning of much more. A veritable cornucopia of emotional transitions. My neck should really still be in a brace. Well, in the midst of the mash-up I apparently went to go holla at 1 of my teachers. If you knew me in the days when I returned to school you'll remember that I was 'bout that bidness. I went to class & took it on back to the stable to avoid the shenanigans going on in the 13th grade. #Iainthavetime.
I don't believe in coincidence. My life simply doesn't allow it. So, I'm clear that it was NOT fluke that I managed to get in both sections of a math class being taught by the most sought after math teacher on campus who was only teaching it that year as a favor to a sick colleague. Sorry the colleague was sick but I am NOT sorry that I got to experience this woman's genius. Never ever have I cared about math in the way that I did while in her class. 2 years later, I'm heading toward home stretch in my time there, degree hanging out under the plexiglass under the bright light a little further down the way. Amped. I went to see her for reasons I couldn't quite identify at the time. I found her listening to jazz & talking to another math teacher. She saw me & shooed the woman right on out. I was greeted with the warmest of hugs & inquiries into my success, because based on her memory of me there was nothing else I could have possibly been but successful. Somehow she read deeper into my confirmations of my success that something else was afoot. We talked about the tragic relationship ending I'd just experienced & the wild state of mind I was in. Talk about waterlogged.
Dr. B.E. broke me off with the following advice when discussing the loss of The Boy:
--If He is meant for you, nothing in the world can keep you apart. If it isn't meant to be, there's not a thing you can do to bring it back together.
--Hold onto your faith but take care of yourself first. If interacting with Him leaves you bankrupt, let him go.
--Don't practice the Donut Theory, focusing more on the hole than the ring of goodness around it.
The advice itself isn't radical. The point I'm making is that I believe this woman was in my life less to be my math teacher but to be poised & ready to hand me a message I wasn't receiving prior to that in words that I clearly identified with. She spoke to me in my language & that's usually helpful in being able to hear & understand.
I wrote the advice down in my journal & I'm glad. I've found that re-reading the events that occurred in my life make it easier to avoid certain repeat situations. The day I was reading through my old journals I was feeling nostalgic about being in a relationship at all. I was missing the joys of companionship. Of course that line of thinking pulls up memories with individuals. It's a dangerous path to walk. Suddenly your memories get all rose-tinted. Having good memories isn't a problem either but the rose-tinted part is. It's necessary to remember things accurately lest ye make a poor judgment call when a similar scenario, if not the same 1, presents itself.
The script I've been reading is greatly different from any others I've read before. I'm enjoying the subtle & not so subtle surprises. I'm excited just to be reading again. As I flip through these pages, I'm taking notes. I need to be able to look back at my thoughts, like the journals, to remind myself of my perspective so those rose colored glasses don't have me out here viewing the sky like it's dawn when it's really dusk.
Note to self—avoid pink eyeglasses & donuts. & if being with him or wanting to be with him turns my Emotional Credit Score casket fresh (read: kills it)...it's time to roll.
I should shoot Dr. B.E. an email. I miss her.
Watch me move.