Stars in Her Eyes

My mind is often filled with dialogue. I rehearse conversations that may never happen. I listen to characters yapping, telling me their stories so I might transcribe them in story or script.

But often I come across snippets that apply to my life. In my mind, the question was asked: "What do you want?"

God, Rachel, when did you last think about that!?

What do I want? I know what I don't want. But what do I want?

Some things are abstract—I want someone who appreciates my independence but doesn't use it as an excuse to put everything on me—and some are weirdly specific—I want to go to a Night Market something awful.

But as I was considering the question, I realized something amazing—I'm finally free enough to consider what I want.

Hell, yeah.

But this also made me realize—maybe someone else out there hasn't considered what they want.

Maybe you've been stuck in a rut. Maybe you've been going through the motions. Maybe you've been in a bad situation, like me.

So, take this as your sign to pause. Take a breath. And think about what you want from this life.

You're allowed to have dreams and ambitions and hopes and aspirations. And you have a right to go after the things that bring you to life.

Friday nights have become very special for me and the Littles. We started a tradition that most Fridays we go to a local restaurant after gymnastics.

It's the same place. So we see a lot of the same faces.

And I never treat a server poorly.

Look, these folks have to deal with irate customers all day—idiots blaming them for cooking problems, or the state of the bathroom, or any minute thing that pisses them off. Service folks get the brunt of the worst of humanity.

But we love our servers, and make sure they know it! Today, we had a server we'd never had before. And while she grabbed our drinks, two other servers we'd had before stopped to give us hugs and chat.

And, sure, I do tip well. I'm the daughter of a former restaurant owner.

But, my kids also carry themselves so well.

I mean, tonight Eldest was leading the others in applauding the new-to-us waitress. I saw her genuinely smile every time.

Loves, it really is so easy to be kind. To be a light. To offer some gentleness in this world to folks who know more roughness than we can imagine.

Every person you meet has a story. They have a past. A history. And they have hurt.

I can't fix everything. I can't soothe every hurt. But I can be kind.

My ex texts me all the time. Sometimes in the dead of night. Sometimes marathon texts of the most hurtful, hateful sort.

Today, there was a string of them—horrible messages that were manipulative, gaslighting, abusive, and harmful.

One of those messages stated he wanted "my engagement ring" back, because "you taking it was based on a lie anyway"...

It took me two minutes to find the ring. I held it in my hand and took a look.

I felt nothing.

Take the damn ring. Take it. I want my life back.

Growing up, I was a fucking weirdo. Yes, I can hear your faux-shock from here. "Big surprise, Rachel. You're still a fucking weirdo."

I was a member of the animé club. I taught myself to edit videos with two VCRs like a loon. I watched black-and-white musicals and kept a notebook full of X-Files episodes so I could track all the unanswered questions.

This is scratching the surface, people. You can't imagine the weirdness...

But one of my favorite weird things I did was countdowns to the return of my favorite shows each season. I'd color code them and put them in the margin of my school planner.

Every day, I knew exactly how many days there were to the 2-3 shows I was most excited to return.

Today, my new planner arrived. Yes, I still do school-year planners. Having kids, it works out just fine.

It just occurred to me—maybe I should do a countdown to when I can file for Divorce.

So, instead of thinking about how far I am from my Separation Date, maybe I think, instead, about how much closer I am to celebrating my "File for Divorce Date."

Of course, the big party will be when everything is actually finalized. But I still think it'd be lovely to shift my thinking a bit.

I've heard all of these over the years. I'm not everyone's type of person. And that used to really bother me.

I thought for sure I could learn to be like everyone else. I could mask and blend and pretend away all the pieces of me that were undesirable until someone actually liked me.

But they weren't going to like me for me, were they?

Thoughout my life, I was told that I needed to stop standing out. That I needed to be like everyone else. That I would scare people off.

Look, if me being me at my best scares them off, then what reason do I have to believe they'll be there for me at my worst? When I'm falling apart and need someone who gives a damn?

So, loves, if you've ever been told you'd be better off shedding everything that makes you unique to blend in—fuck that.

Because the world needs you uniquely as you are. And when you shine that light that only you possess, some might turn away. It might be too bright for them.

But, for others, that beam will be the lighthouse that guides them to you.

When you stop pretending, that's when you find your people. When you're unapologetically yourself.

Me? I still scare off some people. I know I do. But the folks who are left? Those are my ride-or-die.

I've dealt with anxiety my entire life. It fucking sucks. But it took me a long time to realize that my anxiety doesn't make me weak or somehow less-than.

I'm not going to say some bullshit like, "anxiety is a super power". No. But it also shouldn't be seen as a stigma.

My body metabolizes medicine weirdly, so testing out medications to handle my anxiety is risky. I'd need so many things I don't have to make it a smart idea.

So, I muscle through. I do my best to practice self-care and invest in my mental health.

But even with all of that, sometimes attacks break through.

Last night, I woke at 4AM to an anxiety attack related to the unfinished insullation job in my attic and a non-functioning attic fan. It struck me hard.

The worst part about me is my rational mind is sitting there going, "what the fuck are you freaking out about?" fully aware none of this is my fault. At the same time, my emotions scream that it is.

So, it took a good 90 minutes for my rational self to wrestle control of my anxiety from my emotional self.

All this to say—if you're living with anxiety, I want you to know that it doesn't make you weak. It doesn't make you a lesser person.

You are doing the best you can. And if that means taking Mental Health Walks or taking medication or giving yourself breaks or going to therapy or working out... whatever you have to do—you are fucking mighty.

Looking back at my life, there's a lot of hurt. There are a lot of times I should have been met with something bright and instead found darkness dragging me down, down, down.

But, here's the thing—I wouldn't still be here without those who shone a light.

Whether it was the spark of a lighter burning down the bridge, the glow of a lamplight guiding me forward, or the ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds... those lights kept me going.

And so many of you helped me at different points with different things without ever knowing.

Just by being yourself, you helped me piece myself together.

I couldn't see well enough to collect myself in the dark, and while now I see all those scars, I no longer see the gaping holes from wounds inflicted by those who were supposed to love me.

So, thank you. Thank you for being you.

You don't know the impact you're having on another person. You truly don't.

Sitting at LAX waiting for my plane, I was struck by how much I have to be thankful for. So, if I haven't thanked you individually, yet, please know how much I appreciate you.

Every person who Liked a post, who Commented, who shared their love of a Ship, who offered an encouraging word. Who inspired me with how they lived their own lives, how they loved, how they treated others.

You all kept me going when I might've given up. I had the strength to get out because of you. I'm still here because of you.

I have several friends who upon getting out of a long-term relationship immediately jumped into another. That's just not me.

In fact, when I ended things with my high school boyfriend—a nice guy, but just the wrong guy for me—I wanted to take the summer to figure myself out because I'd been jumping from relationship to relationship for a few years.

But that's when I met my ex-husband—right as that relationship was ending. And while I told him about my Summer plans, looking back I see he didn't respect them at all.

He was constantly calling. He was constantly emailing. He was constantly AIMing. He was constantly trying to invite me out.

And what I really needed was some time to figure out me.

Now, I have that time. I'm getting out there and creating core memories that don't involve him. And for someone like me, that is extremely healthy.

Some of us need space after getting out of something long-term before jumping into something else. There's nothing wrong with that.

I think it's all just a part of the discovery of self. I met my ex just before my 19th birthday. So much of figuring out who I was happened within an abusive relationship.

And I'm not saying you have to have been in an abusive relationship to need this reset. Some of us are just wired this way. We need to spend some time learning to love ourselves without another person.

Honestly, I think that leaves us more ready to love someone else—when we first learn to love ourselves on our own.

Because if I do give this relationship thing another go, I'll be doing it as a version of me who doesn't need the validation of another person to love myself, to be proud of myself, to feel assured of my choices.

I'll be looking for a person to partner with me in this life—for us to uplift one another and hold one another accountable and build a life together, sure.

So, loves, if you're like me and working on that reset of learning to love yourself on your own after ending something long-term—I see you. I love you. You're doing brilliantly.

Do you ever have one of those days that sucks you dry? That steals all the sunshine you've stored for a rainy day before the clouds even had a chance to gather?

There are nights the loneliness crawls inside of me and stretches, long claws dragging down, tearing pieces of me apart.

The people who understand me best are miles and miles away. So when the ache starts to burn, starts to slice, starts to SCREAM... I'm alone.

There's no one on the other end of the line if I called. There's no one who's own plate is empty enough to take on listening for a while as I try to gather the scattered pieces of who I am into that funny, sunny girl I am.

The sunshine's still in there. I can feel it.

But on a night like tonight, it's battling against the beast of emptiness where sunlight cannot touch.

It's just a tough night. It'll pass.

But sometimes if I write it out, it frees me. It releases me.

A few months back, I wrote about re-finding the fortune I'd stuck in the back of my phone in November and promptly forgotten. It read "There is only one success—to be able to live your life in your own way".

I loved that message, and I wanted to hold onto it.

While out in Los Angeles, I got my first fortune cookie since. When I opened it, I started laughing aloud, to the curiosity of my friend.

It read:

Look, I know better than to look at Signs from the Universe and whatnot. But we've talked a bit about my concept of "What if?" where I try to keep my mind and heart open to possibility.

To me, success very much is what my first fortune I saved said—to live life the way I want.

And in less than two months, I'll be able to file for Divorce—at last. Yes, I'll have to navigate co-parenting and whatnot with that man.

But all the big parts of separating our lives—and finally getting his stuff out of this house—can then move forward. The kids and I can move forward.

So, thanks, Universe, for something that made me laugh and reminded me of how far I've come. This is my eleventh month of Separation.

Of course I know it's Pride Month, so today I decided to wear my earrings I got from The Peculiarity Shop in honor of my demisexuality. I was stoked to quietly represent at the office.

Then, I caught a glimpse of my outfit in the mirror and started cackling with laughter. Guess who dressed as a whole damn flag?

Figuring out I was Demisexual/Ace was a gamechanger for me. Suddenly everything I'd been told by the church that was "wrong" and "broken" in me made sense.

So, Happy Pride, loves. May you be boldly able to be yourself.

I have a client I've worked for almost 8 years, and I love when I get to come to town and get face-time with the team.

There are two companies run by about five people, and it's an intimate little team that I love to be a part of. My Los Angeles trip definitely had to include them.

One of the team members and I became friends over the years, and his wife is so wonderful. I get excited whenever he works from home and I can wave to her on the Zoom call.

Today, he apologized to me when he got worked up while we were talking about my ex and the whole situation.

"It's okay," I told him. "You don't know how much it helps me."

Because for so long, the only people I told about my situation either said there was no solution or blamed me for everything that went wrong in my marriage.

Having people in my life hear only snippets of the truth I witheld for so long and get upset means the world to me. Because I finally can share what I've endured, and having people react the way they do validates my choice to leave.

It really was that bad. It really still sucks.

On the flipside—I know what it is to apologize when I don't need to. I'm a champion at apologizing because in my old life everything was always my fault.

My friends Friday night kept reminding me that I didn't need to apologize all the time. It's just second nature. I'm working on releasing myself from a truly harmful habit.

So, maybe we should all do a little less apologizing when we've not done anything wrong.

Look, I am all for people apologizing for the stuff they fuck up. I apologize when I fuck up. That's about taking ownership of your fuckup, apologizing for said fuckup, and trying to do better.

That's how a human being grows. We fuck up, own it, apologize, and do better.

But when we apologize for something we didn't do, or apologize when nothing's been done wrong, we're taking ownership of someone else's fuckup, or for a fuckup that didn't exist in the first place.

Who wants to take ownership of imaginary fuckups?

So, loves, yes, apologize when you should. But release yourself from apologizing when it's not needed.

My therapist called me out on something a few weeks ago—I still say "we" sometimes when I talk about the things I've done or accomplished.

It's habit. It's part of the whole "we're a unit" bullshit that defined my life for so long where I wasn't allowed to be autonomous and I had to give credit to both of us, even if I was the only one actually doing anything.

I'm trying to get better about giving myself credit for things, just as I'm trying to get better about doing what I want without feeling guilty for it.

That shit goes deep into my childhood trauma that transitioned easily into my marital trauma. So, it's a lot to unpack and course correct.

This trip to LA was 100% something I wanted just for me. I wanted to come out here and finally meet my mentor in-person, to hug on lovely friends, to go out with my cousins.

I wanted to connect with my main clients face-to-face for the first time in six years, and to schedule time for myself, too.

So, a buddy of mine has been giving me grief every time I come to town for not giving him a headsup so we can hang out and go hiking.

Three months ago—when I booked the flights—he was my first message. At first, he was stoked but every time I reached out in the months since to nail down plans, he ghosted me.

So I took my damn self hiking.

Yes, that is my actual face color in that photo. I don't temperature regulate. I have to splash water on myself every so often to simulate the relief others get from sweating.

Since the October Slide, I haven't even attempted anything this strenuous because my lungs just couldn't handle it. But even if I had to go alone, I was gonna do it.

So, yeah, I took more breaks on the ascent than I would've liked. But I had a beautiful time hiking in Studio City, where I've never been. The Farmer's Market was cute, too!

I'm doing things for me and not feeling guilty. That is huge and I knew that this trip would be important for my healing process.

Loves, I know it's scary to leave. I know it's damn hard.

But I also know it's incredible on the other side.

I'm used to shrinking and hiding, making myself small. So, learning to take up space has been a journey.

And as I sat on the porch swing hanging from the giant tree outside my hosts' home, I realized how different my last visit was with this one.

I was stranded in Los Angeles due to snowstorms back home shutting down the airlines. I had to check every day to see if I'd be able to get a flight home.

I didn't want to upset my hosts—who are also friends and also clients—by making plans, so I ended up sitting with them watching television for hours.

For them, this is incredibly relaxing. It isn't always for me.

But I didn't even attempt to make plans of my own because I was so afraid of offending.

This time, I've had so. many. plans.

Dinners out. Lunches out. Coffee dates. Seeing friends, family, and even my mentor!

Even out with these incredible, powerhouse women, I feel less self-conscious.

Yes, I did apologize a little more than I needed to with Tilly and Susan—and they rightfully told me I didn't need to. And, yes, I was worried that I was annoying my mentor because I'm such a little weirdo.

But I'm learning how to take up space. I'm learning not to be afraid of offending people with my existence.

It's been a journey, but I am so glad I planned this trip and gave myself the space to take up space. I'm pretty damn proud of me.

Because, y'all, it has been a day.

It started off well enough—made it to the airport and there was no line at TSA. I got through in minutes and was way early. Didn't even have to take off my shoes or unpack my bag!

Plane was running a little late, but it wasn't a full plane, so they moved us around and I ended up with a window seat and nobody directly next to me.

Oh! And a dragonfly skimmed the wing and flew on as we were taxiing for takeoff. Good sign, right?

My connecting flight was parked at the gate when a luggage cart rammed into it and apparently caused electrical damage to the damn plane. Two hours later, we finally boarded.

We were taxiing to takeoff... when the Captain came on over the loudspeaker—no flights were making it out of the airport due to weather concerns.

We spent an hour waiting on the tarmac, putting me arriving just before 9PM instead of just before 6PM local time.

But... I'm here.

I'm being hosted by my clients who also happen to be dear friends. The husband picked me up and the wife had a dinner of salmon and asparagus with fresh fruit on the side waiting when I arrived.

She dashed off to bed because she has an early call time, and I hopped in a hot shower and did a room walk to loosen my hips.

Going to try slumbering soon, but I'm in an incredible mood because... I made it. I'm here.

I've always loved to travel. I like to see new places and try new things. I want to go where the locals go, and intermix some of the classic touristy things along the way.

I'm Los Angeles bound. And I'm ecstatic.

I have cousins out in Los Angeles who I'm meeting for dinner, lunch with my mentor, coffee with old friends whose parenting situation closely resembles mine—though they're a few years ahead—and little meet ups througout.

Staying with clients, so I'll definitely still be doing some working, but this is my birthday gift to me.

I used to make sure to go someplace new every year. Not necessarily another country—though I have done some travel abroad—but more to see different communities and different places.

I've sipped from a coconut on St. John and marveled at the beauty of Florence. I've watched warm rains fall outside Mexico City and sipped tea in Glasgow.

But I've also hiked the Blue Ridge Mountains, watched the sunrise over the ocean at Virginia Beach, and eaten beignets in the French Quarter.

Life is meant to be lived. And I've been on pause long enough.

The adventure of living is best experienced when you get out there, try new things, adventure as much as possible. And that's exactly what I intend to do.