Creating Value By Choosing -Satre

He’s got it easier than me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining and am not implying that he doesn’t miss me like I miss him- I am just being factual about the circumstances. On July 3rd I returned home to my apartment after a lonely drive from the westisde of Washington with barely enough time to do laundry for work the next day. I said goodbye to him this day for the second time, the more official time, just as he was about to embark on his new life in Oregon. When he moved back home at the close of his two internships in Pullman there were many tears for that first goodbye, but the second goodbye just felt different. It hurt worse. And as a result, when I returned to my apartment, he was everywhere. In lamest terms it felt like an abrupt breakup without any logic or that he had died. I still held my feelings for him staring at our pictures on my wall but yet here I was- a blubbering pathetic mess. And I use the word pathetic intentionally because that was exactly what it was. Haha!

And yes. He was everywhere. 

For hours I was confused about how my toilet paper had multiplied underneath my bathroom sink until I remembered the groceries that were in my car. Not only had he unloaded my car for me but he also must have put it all away! There were coins on my floor; coins which must have belonged to him. I am still picking up these coins daily as they enjoy hiding in my 70’s style light puke green shag carpet. Little reminders of him. I even observed how my desk chair was swiveled towards the kitchen; the direction away from my desk, one which I never sit and face. Clear as day, I saw him sitting in my desk chair talking to me while I was in the kitchen making us turkey sandwiches for the drive to the westside. I remember how I was slicing the cheddar, chuckling at my own story as I tried to verbatimly retell the incident talking to him over my right shoulder. I’m almost positive I concluded that obnoxiously long tid-bit with my usual phrase,

“Okay, now you tell a story” as a bashfully pretend like I didn’t ramble for an obnoxious amount of time. I can literally see him try to smile at my silliness as he munches away at the cookies my mom had given him that day.

But see what I mean about the dead person thing?

I miss him. And he does have it easier. He's off in new places doing exciting new things without the ghost of me bringing up old memories in familiar places.

It’s a crazy thing, this life. So much to experience, to live through, to process. And sometimes it’s wasy too tiring. I feel like that is all I’ve been doing lately. All this summer. Just processing.

Processing my undergraduate degree journey- where I’ve come, where I’m going. Processing working a full-time job- thankful I have one but greedy of my days off. Processing my worth- how I am treated and why I let people pull me down. Processing my lifestyle habbits- finding something stable and giving myself enough “me time.” Processing the long distance relationship lurking in the future without knowing when where or how.

It’s all a transition, or a constant process. And at the beginning of the summer I was not okay with this limbo, this gray area. I found myself destructive with negative thoughts as I was anxious of the summer zooming by.

Ah, but the processing has ended and the transition has passed. My boyfriend is now safely a resident of Oregon, my jobs are more laid out, and my fall schedule has lightened a bit… I am finally at ease. I started to worry about myself as my codependence on How I Met Your Mother grew stronger and stronger each day as I cried with Lilly left Marshal, when Ted was left at the alter, when Marshal’s dad died, and when Barney dumped Nora for Robin and how Robin was supposed to dump her boyfriend for Barney but didn’t and….. well anyway. You get the picture. I was living bicariously through Marshal and Lilly’s relationship. Do note, I started watching HIMYM after the Tony’s this year (because Neill Patrick Harris is a beast) and yesterday I watched the last episode of Season 7. Yeah, like I said PATHETIC and quite frankly, I don’t mess around. (I may or may not have stolen Lilly’s idea of putting Marshal’s shirt over a body pillow… but I’m not talking to it haha.)

After all this processing and getting over the stage of hating all couples who do live in the same area code and completely take it for granted, I was able to sit down and knock out some positives. During those four days when I felt like the world would not go on as it did when he lived 8 miles away- I discovered all of the perks to these 281 miles lying between us.

1. I don’t have to shave my legs--- ever.

2. No makeup, less blemish potentials.

3. Yoga pants for days. (Never knew I could wear yoga pants to the bar and still get hit on, but hey! That’s Moscow for ya…)

4. Fun packages via snail mail…

5. Snapchat for days. Best invention ever. We can send goofy faces and what he ate that day without racking up my telephone bill.

6. The obvious: More time to myself.

7. Less sweet temptations. (Yes, Ian- you have one of the sweetest sweet tooths I have ever seen!)

8. Working more: Whether it is at Bclub, RTOP, at the gym, writing… there’s more productivity going on.

9. I’m officially dating not only an educated man but also am employed Account Executive! (Insert picture of Marshal in his suit here)

10. No matter how many visits we will have to have over the days to come, I will consistently get the “sparkle stage” butterflies in my stomach every time I am about to see him again. It’s inevitable.

And the best part?

We didn’t need this long distance to make us magically realize how much we mean to each other. So after all my venting ultimately… this long distance really has got nothing on us. We have equal chase-age and whiney texts of “pay attention to me” and plenty of random pictures send to one another to make even the hopeless romantic super nausea from cuteness. So even thought this ghost of Ian lives in my apartment making this long distance harder on me- I’d still choose him. I’d still choose him over all the other Barneys on the street. (ha, see what I did there?)

Love you.

Disclaimer: Ian loves it when I write and jokingly pokes “when are you going to write something about me?” In the past the only thing I’ve really written about him involved a lengthy description about how he devours his food. Yeah, not too glamorous. At least he still likes me! So in honor of his birthday this Saturday I wanted to blog this journal entry for him, one I written at the beginning of the summer.