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We were friends in high school. Our circles often intersected and I thought he was cute but I thought other boys were too. He liked my friend, I liked his friend until we changed our minds and found other circles. High school.

When you turn 21 and don't leave the town you grew up in, going to the neighborhood bars becomes like a high school reunion. That was true for us anyway.

The tavern was next to the restaurant I worked in so it was easy to finish a shift and go next door to spend my tips. Many a night was spent there, playing pool with friends and singing along to shitty 90s music on the jukebox. I lived around the corner so I was often hosting after hours parties. I was pretty social. 

When he walked into the tavern, I noticed him immediately. He looked the same, but different too. Wiser somehow.  People I'd gone to school with were often popping in and out of our regular haunt so I wasn't too surprised. But I was definitely interested.

We ran into each other a few times. We drank, played pool. He lit my cigarettes, making me feel like a lady. We flirted but I didn't let myself feel too hopeful. I thought he was beautiful and the more I got to know him as a girl in her 20s instead of a girl in high school, the more I knew it. I felt my hope rise.

One night, he'd had more drinks than he usually did. The bar was loud. smoky. so we went outside to get some air. Air turned into kissing pretty quickly.  I didn't expect it. I had hoped, if I was being honest with myself, but I didn't expect it. It was perfect. I can still see his face. His eyes were intense, serious and pure.

He told me that night he'd always had feelings for me. All through school, after graduation and throughout the four years he was in the military. I felt like I was in a movie. I thought it couldn't be possible-for me to 'get the guy'. I was always the friend, the one that was safe to flirt with. Suddenly,  we had just moved into the 'more than friend' category. Standing in the cool summer night, I felt myself believe in romance, maybe even love, for the first time in a long time.

We spent a lot of time together after that. He was often waiting at my door when I got home, as eager to be with me as I was him. We pushed and teased and pulled and breathed into each other intensely, deeply, but never anything more. I was drunk with him.

One night he and I were in bed not sleeping when I realized I was ready to be with him completely. He felt the same and I told him what I wanted. He paused. I paused. We had nothing to be safe with and so...we didn't. Instead we lay next to each other, fully clothed, listening to each other breathing. Our hands stayed linked and eventually, we slept. It was both the longest and the shortest night.

He took me to work the next morning, kissed me goodbye and drove away. I never saw him again.

He didn't die or go back into the military. He abandoned my hope.

I tried calling him, he ignored the calls. This was before cell phones and pagers. This was leave a message after the beep, a message with my roommate, maybe try emailing me. And I did all of those things. He never returned my messages. I wrote an actual letter but that too, went unanswered. Time kept going and my heart stayed broken for a long time. I had so many questions but more than needing an answer, I needed the hurt to stop. I felt rejected, abandoned, betrayed. I had offered all of me and he ran.

Eventually, a friend told me they'd seen him with someone. She was an old girlfriend he'd once told me about. They were married soon after and are together still.

I know this because we're social media friends. Enough time had passed by the time all of that came around that when he requested, I clicked confirm. He doesn't post much. Mostly photos of beer. Occasionally an awkward selfie with the wife. He looks happy and I'm glad.

For other reasons too. The most recent picture I've seen was of his face. It didn't look the same. Older, not wiser now. And drunk. One of his eye lids drooped slightly, his once beautiful brown eyes bloodshot and bleary. For a moment I let myself wonder what if and then quickly realized I was glad they didn't.

The pain I felt when he left was heartbreaking. It took me a long time to realize that I hadn't done anything wrong and that he chose to leave for his own reasons, not because of who I was. I was deeply affected by his actions and the hurt left behind.

But I wouldn't change a thing.  I have learned who I am since then and that who I am will be right for the right person. Not just the person that's right there.

Being in your early 20s isn't that much different than high school really and I graduated a long time ago.

Emotional Girl

I get mushy. I tell people what I'm feeling when I'm feeling it. I do nice things for others because I genuinely enjoy making others happy. I cry when the underdog wins. I think about how others might respond to my words, or  my actions. I put myself in other people's shoes, walk around in them for miles and then back again. I am sensitive. I am thoughtful and caring. I am an emotional girl. I know this.

But tonight, I didn't trust it.

It wasn't the first time.

The Fella is in the next room, online with some of his friends. His laughter drifts from the open doorway and into the room I'm in. It's a great sound. When he laughs, my heart swells like the Grinch's at Christmas. I fall in love with him every time I hear it. My heart wants to tell him all of these things and before I can think of how to, my mind interrupts.

He doesn't care. If you told him all that, he would think you're 'over the top', 'too much', 'ridiculous'. That's what the others said.

My heart knows better. It really does. It knows that he loves me and would never say those things. But my mind, linked to the past so strongly, sometimes lies.

Once, in a conversation, the other person said, "I don't need people to like me, you know?"

My mind screamed, "She's talking about YOU!" It reached into my memories, gathered another comment from another time. "You're so fake. You're needy."

I doubt myself, my actions, my empathy. Am I really just an emotional girl? Or am I desperate, needy, aching for attention I haven't always had? I go so far into my thoughts I get lost. I hear things from my past. I feel them.

And I hesitate. I worry that what I want to say will be too much.

Sometimes.

I can also be strong. I can remember that I don't know how much time I have, how much anyone has. So why not share the thoughts? When I'm strong, I don't ignore the screaming past. Instead, I gently acknowledge it and mourn it healthily before moving on. I learn from it, and I listen. I don't have a choice sometimes.

Maybe I am over the top, too much, ridiculous. But not for those that count. Maybe not for me.

Copy/Paste

Crave 
and need predictability.
Needs met consistently 
to feel safe 
and develop secure attachments. 

This didn’t happen.

Blame yourself 
and feel crazy 
because your experiences didn’t line up  

Stress levels through the roof
overt tension 
and conflict.
Sensed all the tension.

You never knew 
what mood they’d be in.

Highly sensitive to criticism 
and conflict.
Work hard
prove your worth 
make others happy.

Because life felt out of control 
and unpredictable.
Try to control everyone 
and everything 
feels out of control.

Transitions 
and changes 
Sudden change of plans 
anything 
out of control 
trigger
anxiety
and anger. 

Routine 
and predictability
These things help you to feel safe.

People have let you down 
and hurt you.

You’re bad
or wrong
and unworthy of love. 

There is something awful about you. 
You’ll be judged 
and cast away. 
Unworthy 
Can’t love yourself 
can’t let others love you either.

You’re unlovable 

Internalized. 

Hard on yourself. 
Struggle to forgive
or love yourself.

Be perfect. 
Avoid criticism 
internal 
and external 

Prove your worth 
Perfectionism 
and low self-esteem. 

Strong need to be liked 
and accepted.

Rejection
Blame
Neglect
in your core

People-pleasing in an effort 
to avoid conflict.

Sensitive to criticism
Highly compassionate 
Caring person.

Took on responsibilities
practical or emotional.
Continue 
to take responsibility
other people’s feelings 
problems that you didn’t cause.

Hyper vigilant state
Problems when 
there aren’t any.

Anxiety keeps you trapped.

Coping strategies
and personality traits 
to deal with dysfunction.

Common

You aren’t alone

Healing can start.

Treat

I don't remember how old I was, just that I was small.  It was just me and mom-dad was gone for the summer. It was hot and mom had been drinking. I don't remember what kind of glass she used, like I can with my first boss--he used a coffee cup for his wine. But I can tell you how it smelled. How her words slurred when she drank it. She either got sleepy or giggly. I don't think she knew I knew and it would be hard to tell if you didn't. But I knew.  Burgundy wine in a jug by Carlo Rossi-- hidden under the bed, next to the couch, on the window sill behind the fridge.

I liked getting treats so when she asked me if I wanted to go get one, I leapt at the chance. We got into her giant '76 Catalina and headed to the local Dairy Queen. It's funny, what you remember. The smell of the restaurant-fries and something sweet-sticky floors and crowded booths. Hot summer night. No, evening-there was still light in the sky. A feeling of excitement-almost as though we breaking the rules a little bit and I suppose we were.

She paid for our ice cream and we headed back out the car. I remember my flip flops on the sidewalk-a cheap pair with an uncomfortable plastic piece between my toes. They were wearing thin and I could feel the tiny pebbles in the gravel of the parking lot. Balancing my ice cream carefully, I pulled open the car door and slid into the front seat. The window was down and as we headed back to the house, the wind carried my hair outside and into the summer air.  I held my plastic red spoon with the little swirled cone on the end, waiting patiently to get back home so I could eat my treat.

I wasn't really paying attention but it seemed like all of a sudden the cars on the side of the road were very close to me. And soon, they were closer still. We hit the parked car, crunching the passenger side fender to the wheel. Mom quickly corrected our car and then pulled into a nearby parking lot so she could find the owner. Before I could process what happened, she was ordering me out of the car. She made me leave my ice cream on the dash.

Holding her hand, I went with her into the store the car was parked in front of and watched adults talk. I wasn't hurt at all. I was bored and I wanted my treat.

After the adults were done, we went back to the car. I was excited to get home, to eat my ice cream. I climbed into the car and noticed right away it was gone. Someone had stolen my treat. They'd reached in the open windows and taken it from the dashboard.

That's when I cried. Not because of the accident, or because I was hurt. Because my ice cream was gone.

It wasn't until years later that it even clicked with me that mom had been drinking when she hit the car. I was so young that I barely remembered it being wrecked. It seemed like one day there was a big hole in the car, the next day it was fine.

Time doesn't mean the same when you're a child.

I enjoy treats now quickly. as much as I can--it's part of why I'm not a thin person. I don't know if this particular circumstance made me such a fan of instant gratification but the other day I told this story and knew I needed to write about it. I started writing it two days ago and couldn't figure out how I wanted to end it. I just skimmed it--didn't even edit so there are probably some bumps to the flow of my words but I'm done writing about that summer night.

I don't need the treat.