Heartbreak Hotel: The Demolition

Lately I’ve been mostly posting things I’ve written for the Gazette. This is for two reasons: 1. I have been so busy, it’s ridiculous and 2. I’ve wanted to write about how I feel, but every time I do I either a.) get yelled at b.) get asked to take the post down or c.) am told that I can’t possibly feel the way I do.

Well, today I am going to write about how I feel because I have some free time. The sun is out and shining on my face and this is the point where I know that if I don’t get it all out now, I might explode.

I am telling everyone now that:
1. If you yell at me I am either going to ignore you, walk away from you, or hang up on you (depending on your yelling method).
2. I am not taking the post down. The end. End of story. Don’t ask, it’s not happening.
3. I feel the way I feel and no one is in any position to tell me differently. I know how I feel and whether or not you feel it’s justified is your own personal opinion and I would appreciate it if you would keep it to yourself.
4. If you think some of the references in this blog are about you, you’re more than likely wrong. It targets no one that I know to read it. Stop being so vain.

Now, where do i begin…?

Those of you who know me probably understand that I’m really sensitive. Not in the wussy kind of way but in the sense that I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, care more about people than they care about me, and generally inadvertently set myself up for heartache.

Well, about 5 months ago I got my heartbroken. Literally blindsided by the event I’m pretty sure that my metaphorical “heart” got put through a food-processor set on “high pulse.” I’ve written about this before so I won’t rehash the details. All I will say is that it hurt. It sucked. It was one of the hardest things I had to go through especially because when it happened, my life as I knew it was falling apart and I felt like Mr. Heartbreaker just quit on me instead of trying to help me.

Since then I feel as if I’ve grown as a person. Everything started to come back together. I won a very important battle, I got terrific internships (that pay), I got an awesome editing job for the fall, as well as a good start on my thesis, AND I went home for the summer, which despite missing my friends at school, has been a much needed salvation for my brain and my emotions.

Recently, however, it’s come to my attention that for a few people in my life I am nothing but a back-up plan. I thought these people cared about me, and you know, they probably do, they just care about themselves more. Which, at this point, is not cool with me. I would have been okay with it 5 months ago when i didn’t know better, but now I know that I deserve so much more.

I don’t deserve to be the “other woman” or someone’s secret. I don’t deserve to be told I’m loved just so that certain people I dated in high school can try to get in my pants again. I don’t and I won’t.

I know I’m repeating myself, but every time that I’ve gotten to this point previously I have fallen back into my old ways, but this time I won’t. I can’t. I refuse.

Because, I never noticed this before, but I really am a strong person. I always thought I was weak because of my issues with anxiety, but the more I look back on the things I’ve been through (especially during the past year) I realize that if I wasn’t a strong person, I might not be sitting here today, with the sun shining on my face, typing voraciously into an Internet blog.

I guess, what I want to do now is just recognize the things and people that have gotten me through those times…because I’m not good with being verbal. I write…and I want those people who helped me the most to know how much of an impact they’ve had on keeping me from going over the deep-end when I thought all hope was lost. They are:
-Karen Tremblay (my mom)
-Danielle Tremblay (my sister)
-Mary Tremblay (my god mother)
Mairghread Ryan (my other half)
-This blog
The Daily Gazette
Radiohead
Rolling Stone
-many other whom I can’t think of at the moment.

I suppose what I’m getting at is that if you’re in my life either daily or sporadically, you’ve helped me so much that I cannot even begin to thank you.

Now, I am going to sit here, with my Rolling Stone magazine, my pile of books for my thesis, and let the sun seep through my body…because it’s summer, and I’m happy with my life, and this is all I need.

Caitlin, out.

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