JULY

My First Oil Painting, First Painting In Far Too Long...

I cannot quite express how I felt at this time…I was thrilled, motivated, rejuvenated, excited, hopeful…HAPPY, for the first time in so long I had almost forgotten how it felt. I knew I had made the right decision, the best decision, and there was a peace in that knowledge. I must admit there was a certain level of shame in breaking the engagement. I knew from the beginning that we were facing incredible odds being so young–20, and 24–and that came with a certain amount of skepticism from others. Yet, would I be young (or human) if I didn’t fall prey to the classic belief that I was different, he was different, we were different? So yes, pride took a beating when those who doubted were proven right.

Honestly, we could have made it work, if the change hadn’t happened. But it did, and I thank God that I found that out before marrying him. Marriage is a serious business, and I’m the one-partner sort. At first, my ex was a jerk about the whole thing. Making snide remarks, and hanging out with his ex every weekend, starting right after I broke up with him. I know nothing happened between them, and quite frankly wouldn’t have cared if it had, but it’s the principle of the thing.

I was learning that being single was as incredible as it was terrible. I also found out that guys would be even more bothersome since it became public knowledge that I was single. Seriously. They didn’t wait until the corpse of my last relationship was cold before trying to Casanova their way into my heart–granted my relationship had been kind of a zombie, but still. What irritated me the most was when some of my best guy friends, some my ex and I have in common, started trying to wreck the dynamic. Suddenly going out to lunch took on a whole new meaning. This I learned when one of my best friends tried to weasel date me. Um, not cool.

The change in dynamics caused me some distress when several of my best friends came forward. I love my friends, but I’m not in love with them. Even so, July was a good month for me. I worked even more on my main novel project, focused on my art, and didn’t fret about guys. Funny how when I went cold, Mr. Hot ’n’ Cold tried to spark something. Too late. Yet I learned there were some aspects of a relationship I missed:

1) Having someone to turn to.
2) Someone believe in me.
3) Holding and being held.
4) Someone to laugh and share with.
5) Someone to witness my life.

I knew that while Mr. Hot ‘n’ Cold might be good for, well, a good time. He couldn’t give me even one of those things…And you know what? I am finished compromising.
Then, at the end of the month, I met Boston…

JUNE

Our relationship had traveled full-circle. When I first met my ex when I was 14 years old, I didn’t like him. Not even a little bit. Now, 20 years old, engaged to be married to him on September 19, 2009 I realized I didn’t like him.

When we met, he was a friend of my cousin/best friend (at the time) L. She had a crush on him, and when he didn’t return the feelings, she told me he had said horribly nasty things to her, so I–her attack dog–went off on him. Thus started our year of back-and-forth arguing. I was an almost 15 year old brat, he was and almost 17 year old oddball. It was a match made…nope, not in heaven. By the time L admitted her deceit, I had realized what a good friend he would have made. And she’d had about 800 more crushes.

My MSN messenger stopped working suddenly, and as my main mode of communication at the time, it was tragic. However, every tragedy had it’s plus side, and mine was getting away from those who would have been very bad influences when I most needed to focus on myself. When it randomly started working again a year later guess who was online? Yep. HIM. I felt bad over how I had treated the guy, so I risked a bitch out, being ignored, or being told just where to stick my comments and apologized.

He accepted, and from that moment on, we were friends. He quickly became my best when my family had a series of hard-knocks, which included a family hoopla that resulted in L back-stabbing me for the last time. Essentially, I grew up with him. When I graduated high school when I was 16, and didn’t feel ready for the university life, I started locally with him at 17 years old. By that time, my feelings for him had changed to the point I realized it was time to end my then-current relationship that had been for the most part long-distance. He promised to help me with my transition to college life, and told me that he would be like my “big brother.” “Big brother” was that last thing I wanted to call him.

So in May of 2006, I told him how I felt, quite grudgingly. It was very much a Rorydean moment (Yes, “Gilmore Girls” reference). I didn’t end the confession with “idiot,” but I wasn’t too happy about putting our friendship on the line. He felt the same, and thus started our then-storybook relationship. It was amazing, he was amazing. It was like living on Cloud 9, but the last year or so was like living on a storm cloud. He changed. Classic story, cliché even, but true. He went from being sweet, thoughtful, kind, and romantic to being cruel, distance, cold, and callous. Rarely was he guy I had fallen in love with, but embarrassingly and pathetically, I lived for the moments he was.

I was so dedicated to Us, to making it work. I thought if only I did everything I could he would love me like I loved him. I just watched myself diminish even more and more. He chipped away at everything. My happiness, our relationship, and my love. I was going through a lot at home, and I think that made me all the more determined to make it work. Then I woke up one morning, and realized not only was I miserable, but he was the reason. So I showered, dressed, went to see him. And told him. He acted like it was fine. That hurt a little, but I realized I was fine too.

I left. On the drive home, I stared at my ring. He hadn’t wanted it back, and I didn’t want to wear it. I took it off, and there were no tears. Just relief. So what did I do? Three days later went cliff jumping–20 feet into 15 foot waters, not extremely high, but it was my first time–with someone. Not just anyone. He and I had always had chemistry, but I wasn’t going to jump that quickly. I might be a serial monogamist, but I’m not cruel or stupid. He and I already had plans to hang out before I ended things with my fiance, because we had realized we never really got to know each other. My ex and I had had the kind of relationship where trust wasn’t an issue, so my hanging out with the gorgeous guy with blond curls and blue eyes wouldn’t have been an issue. I took my sister along, so that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea, even, so I’m not all bad. See?

Anyway, I have to admit he was almost my rebound guy, but his hot-and-coldness, just like that Katy Perry song, was a major turn off, so that fizzled before I did anything stupid.

By the time I broke up with my ex, I had been working my dream job for almost a month. It was an answer to a prayer, literally. I had been feeling frustrated with not being able to find a job (thank you, economy crisis) when out of nowhere I received a message from a guy I had class with two years ago. He, his girlfriend, and I are all friendly acquaintances, but hadn’t talked in a long time. In the message, he told me how he was a supervisor at the local children’s shelter, and that he had remembered I was interested in social work, and psychology, so he wanted to know if I would like to come in and apply.

Okay, I admit it. That message had me doing a geeky little dance. A job. But not just ANY job. My DREAM JOB. I got the job the same day I applied…

Coming next…JULY, obviously.

11 Reasons Why I Love Being Single (That I Forgot).

I realized several things after I ended my relationship with, and engagement to, my ex…

1. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been single for a substantial amount of time. I estimate the last time I was truly single was when I was 14. Then I was in my first ‘relationship’ of 8 months, followed by a relationship of 2 years, followed by a relationship of 3 years (my ex). That’s only counting what I consider “relationships” even in the most basic sense.
2. I was a serial monogamist, but that doesn’t excuse my guy craziness (stories for another, or a few other, blogs) this summer…
3. I wasn’t the least bit sad. In fact, I was happy, and felt more like myself than I had in years.
4. My Dark Age came to an end almost as soon as I ended things with my ex. Now I will not completely blame him for this–because I should have ended it a year and a half ago–but it is a major correlation. I hadn’t written, painted, drawn, or created anything of real value for nearly 2 years. The day I ended things with my ex, I painted, and it felt INCREDIBLE. Soon after, I started working on my photography, jewelry-making, digital media, drawing, and WRITING. Writing was my first love, and I missed it so much. I went from no desire or inspiration to having 8 novel ideas, and actively working on 2 of them (14 chapters into the first!)
5. I felt happy, energetic, ALIVE. And I couldn’t remember the last time I had been any of those things.
6. I liked my cell phone again. Before it was a game of waiting for him to reply to the simplest text, feeling anxious as I waited, excited when he did respond,  and embarrassed at my reactions. Now I wish he would STOP texting.
7. Freedom. Freedom to think about me without feeling guilty. Freedom to decide what is best for me. Freedom to do what I want, when I want. I had Stockholm Syndrome during my relationship, but as soon as I woke up to reality, I literally felt like I could fly.
8. My problems aren’t multiplied by 2 anymore. It’s nice to have half the problems that I used to.
9. Time. I don’t have to share it unless I want to. I even have ALONE time now. How cool is that?
10. The holidays. I don’t have to plot and plan how we both get to see and do who and what we want.
11. Stress. There is a serious lack of stress now, except in school, but that is to be expected with Homeric and Sophoclean midterms tomorrow.

So there you have it: 11 reasons why I love being single.

My Odyssey…

I’m on odyssey all my own. This summer I ended things with my fiance, acquired my dream job, found my happiness, rediscovered my creativity, started writing and working on my art again, started dating, and learned quite a bit about myself. I am in a transitional period, and having a not-so-midlife crisis. And you know what? I am enjoying every minute of it.

This blog will be dedicated to recounting my summer, and sharing my journey as a newly single girl on the road to self-discovery. Sounds like a bad Lifetime movie? Then stop reading.

 

So, I suppose I should introduce myself…

I’m Kaitlin, but I prefer Kai.
I’m the girl who can laugh at herself, believes anything is possible, and desires to be better…
I’m 20 years old.
I’m a daughter,
a sister,
a friend.
I’m a Christian and God is everything to me.
I’m a youth care worker at a at-risk children’s shelter–a dream realized, a prayer answered–and love every minute of it, so if I talk about “my kids,” I am referring to the eight teenagers in my care, not beings I have actually produced.
I am happiest when I am working on my art, witnessing an incredible storm or sunset, engaging in good conversation, and helping others.
I love art, storms, new experiences, and traveling.
I hate liars, seafood, and politicians.
I fear spiders and Lady GaGa.
I might seem like a person of extremes, a contradiction even, but I have never been an “either/or” type, and too eclectic for any one label.
I love the outdoors…Hiking, biking, cliff jumping, anything.
I am childlike, not to be confused with childish, enjoying fireworks and swinging at the park.
I suppose that is enough for now…