One day

**If you're my parents - read at your own risk**

We just have so many days in our lives. And we're never going to know how many that is. I just told my mom today, "you only get one day at a time, you can't take them all together." And that is the truth. But we plan our lives in chunks. We plan that we're suppose to get married and then we'll have kids and then we'll buy houses and redecorate them and buy new cars and a lawn mower. But we never really know what to expect. And yet we all get disappointed at some point or another when things don't "work out" the way we expected our LIVES to go. So I've been nibbling a little at this notion of days. And it kinda feels good.

The truth is - it feels kinda good to be bad. And tomorrow I'm going to take 1 day out of my life to spend with my ex. To have sex. And rather than imagining the days of turmoil that it may cause after, all I can think about is that moment in time. And yes, it might not be the healthiest thing I could do - but I have certainty, something fierce, that it's the right thing to do. And since I've been thinking about it, I have managed to feel more alive and in the moment for a whole 24 hours longer than I can remember. Suddenly I'm living my life day by day. Who knows what's going to happen?! (Don't say it -The bliss of hormones and adrenaline is just what this body needs to create temporary amnesia (or insanity) of what "could" happen after our rendez-vouz.) I swear to god it's love addiction. It's true. Love is addicting. It makes me feel like anything is possible and life is grande. Lines blur and nothing exists but today.

Crazy or love obsessed or not - I'm holding on to my day to day revelation and letting it all in as much as possible before my brain gets chunked back into the grind of our social outlines - or my heart is crushed into a million pieces when endorphines subside and that asshole turns back into the pumpkin he is. I'm getting fucked damn it and then life goes on.

I'm amazing...boo hoo

I can't keep doing this to myself. My mind goes down this path of past relationships, innocently enough. And then I catch myself thinking about them and think, I wonder if they ever think about us? and then I quickly stop myself and think probably not, because they are now in happy healthy relationships and the only reason I'm thinking about this is because I'm not and so I have time to "think back" and reminisce...And then I compare my old relationships to my last relationship and think What did I do wrong?? It must be some inability to make someone happy, maybe I'm too demanding, maybe I'm too this or too that and a shame spiral swirls in my brain.

I just get so angry about it - well, a bit angry. It even happens when I'm giving myself accolades - I'm excited to think that I could possibly buy my own house within the next couple of years and then my mind says I bet your parents are so excited, they probably never thought you could do it by yourself - or would have to do it by yourself - or you thought you would do it by yourself. And then I think Wow! You're going to buy a house BY YOURSELF and how sad that is.....

Oh WAH Kyla! Honestly. You are so privileged in so many ways that you have to sit here and have a pity party for yourself about it.

My sister keeps telling me, I could be married if I wanted to be. Like it's my choice to be single. And to some degree it is, I'll give her that. I could live in Australia and be married - and without my family and unhappy. Or I could be married to a stranger and just "see how it goes" or I could be married to a man who doesn't want children and therefore wouldn't have children. So, in a way, yes, it is my "choice" to be single - because I want more than what those options can afford. And it is my "choice" to buy a house as a single woman. I mean, technically, I could save my money and keep renting until I got married - but who wants to rent until they're 108 years old? I won't let my tax filing status get in the way of what I want for my life right now.

And who cares about a few people you aren't compatible with compared to the tons of wonderful people in your life who love the shit out of you.

Living the dream

I did it. I'm totally fucking sleep deprived, but I did it. I have just completed the first portion AND WAS PAID FOR an interior design job. I started out on this little journey of mine when I was 16. It was the first time I had seen Sally Fields prattle off a list of furniture specs for a hotel project on Mrs. Doubtfire when I realized I wanted to be an interior designer. I'm not sure if it was the combination of history and art or the ability to create space so fluidly from her mind but I was like, that's what I want to do. And today, 13 years later, I can say, I did it!

I went to college and got my bachelor's in Interior Design, ya ya ya, but that is school. They teach you how to create design presentations and source material. What they don't teach you is - how to ask for what you're worth, and how to create a contract or why it's important, or how to know what someone is really asking for or how to deal with it when someone says, that's not what I was thinking. Fortunately for me, today, my client LOVED everything I selected. We shared moments where she was like, I LOVE that rug! And I was like, I KNEW you would love that rug. Ah. Those are the good moments when I feel like I was made to do this.

Right out of college I had my first "freelance job". I think I asked for about $10 over minimum wage. It was BEYOND apparent I had no real "residential" or freelance experience. We selected paint color - she ended up buying (and painting the room) an off variation of what I suggested. She got the sofa, and drapery I suggested, but slightly different. In fact, everything was slightly different than what I suggested. But, looking back, she did everything I suggested, I just had no idea what I was doing. I thought after that experience (when I was 22) I could never do that again. I was suppose to design restaurants and hotels! right?

Well, I don't know how many lily pads I hopped from, but at the ripe ole age of 29 I finally had - not just a freelance customer - but a client for my OWN business. It was the family room head to toe and not only did I select the wall color and every piece of furniture in that room, but I laid out the furniture, made the invoices and created all the drawings for the space - and she LOVED IT.

And, I got paid for it.

Next step is ordering the furniture and getting everything in there. That is a whole different animal in itself. When that is complete I will have a new revelation on finishing a project but for today, I can say, I designed a room, head to toe, presented it, had the client LOVE it and then got paid for it. It felt pretty fucking good.

thank you to everyone of my friends and family for asking/allowing me to help them with their house projects and keeping me motivated and practicing interior design. It's just something that I love to do and now, it's something I get paid to do. It's called, living the dream. Amen.

Making it

a lot of my friends are happily settling in with their significant others. If they're not married already, they are engaged or quickly approaching, counting the years of courtship on a whole hand if not more. Some have children while some are still energetic about the wedding bells ringing. My older sister who is one year older than me has two children, both of them needing both hands to count their age, 8 and 10. My older sister has been married for 11 years, she just graduated college, got a brand new car, a full time job teaching and just bought the house of her dreams. She told me recently that when she moves into her new home, she will have finally made it. I quickly asked, "if you've made it - then where the fuck am I?"

Just seconds ago, I read a facebook post by another friend who said the next four years was going to be great - she is buying a house and traveling and getting new ink and dying her hair pink again. Once she moves in, she'll be volunteering and walking her dogs everywhere.

I tried to gleam some of this optimism and started to post my status update of things I will be looking forward to within the next few years. But I stopped when I realized, I was writing a blog post - not a status update (woops). Oh, that and I got kinda pissed about the fact that I have of late, felt a little slapped around with this idea of "making it". And, how it could have something to do with having a partner. Period. I suppose that is my idea of "making it." Because when you have a partner - come what may, you have that knowing smile to come home to. That person that knows whether you've made it home or not. That person to split bills with or have them cook dinner when you've had a hard day and the last thing you can do is take care of yourself.

And it's not just because I'm going to be 30 and the thought of that number next to single knocks the wind out of me and involuntarily makes my eyes a bit leaky. No one knows what to do with 30 (who isn't 30 already) and it would just be nice to have someone to not know with. Josie totes doesn't count because she knows everything and mocks me with her secrecy.

So I need to change this idea of "making it". Like, right now. Because, I am making it. I have a fucking awesome job, and a free lance DESIGN client who I'm designing a family room for-- a PAYING client. I have a personal trainer, friends in Palm springs and New York and Japan asking me to visit. I don't have to have roommates, I own my car and in 6 months (if I can just stay on the wagon) I'll be credit card debt free! I have awesome friends, fabulous sisters, the best nephews this Auntie could ask for. Plus, I live in Portland. I'd say...I'm making it. In order to have "made it" my ultimate goals now are buying a house. A very very similar goal to my older sister. I guess timing is everything.

It's just facebook anyway.

Fear, Fun, Fate, Free massages and the Goodfoot

So lucky that I ran right into him, on a Friday night. He walked out of the gym as I was quickly approaching the front doors. It's always surreal to see an ex when you don't expect it. It happens in Milli seconds that move in slow motion, like running in water. Initial excitement drenched in pain. I suppose the gym was the best place to have a chance encounter, I could go sweat it out shortly thereafter.

You know what I hate the most about it...I feel nothing when I hug him. I think that is what makes the me saddest. I can't tell if my guard is up and I am physiologically frozen with emotion when we embrace, a protection reflex, or worse, apathy? The latter makes me sad to think that there could have been so much and then nothing. The first thought makes me sad because I can close my eyes and feel the warmth of him embrace and yet when I am holding him, much like the reality I find myself in, I cannot have him.

Gawd, there are so many other things I want to write about. Fear. Fear of the unknown. My process of learning how to find answers rather than get stuck in fear, get stuck behind the giant rock in front of me. I am so tired of people putting limitations on themselves, me included. Thank god for quality television programming like America's Next Top Model and The Voice and all those other competition shows, for showing me how many people get so close to their potential and yet still feel unworthy and under qualified. And for letting me see, within myself, and outside of their "reality" situations, that the best way to get through the fuss and fear is to have fun. And love. Fun and love.

I also wanted to give a shout out to gym member appreciation day's free 15 minute massages and fate. Thank you random woman for insisting I schedule myself for the last 15 minute massage, so that Dr. Wonder-hands could work my back like no body's business while speaking leaned-in close to my ear. Oh girrrllll......I need to get insurance! Order up!

............There is still a nugget of turmoil inside of me from running into him tonight, like crashing waves. So, for my imagery therapy this evening, I am focusing on that area where the water collides. I am holding it, without judgement and loving it. I am slowly changing the tousling ocean into something smaller. A washing machine. The water still churns....it slows down. I'm trying to get it to the spin cycle. Less slushing.

My music is loud and Josie is purring in my lap. In 8 minutes I'm heading to the Goodfoot. I suppose tonight is not a night for holding still. Round 2 - I'll see you on the dance floor.

Addiction

Today was a low, low day. My fantasies took over and he and I were a magnificent couple. We laughed about everything, our lips were made to lock onto each other's, our bodies touch was electric. There was nothing imperfect about us. It wasn't just lust, our friendship was solid. I wanted to tell him I couldn't stop finding coconut oil every time I went to the grocery store. Something we had an argument about at one point and laughed about later. I wanted to tell him about my design project and get his approval, his praise, his affection, his love.

A low, low day.

I even convinced myself on the drive home that I could call him and have him spend the night tonight. I could. I would feel TERRIBLE the next day, a rung out scrap of terrycloth afterwards. But I could. It would feel magnificent. To connect. To have that essence of us, shared and understood.

I keep getting caught in that net. That high. That gloriousness. And it was. It was.

I can't keep going there, and then worse yet, trying to slam the door on it. The fantasy has outweighed reality today. It's pressure is passionate. It grips me. I am consumed by it. I cannot shake it. Oh lord, I have tried. I went straight to dance class, and on the way to watch a movie with my girlfriends right after, I stopped by my Father's for some perspective. I convinced myself if I told someone, told EVERYONE that I was having these thoughts there would be some accountability. Tears came, a mere side affect. I know better than to try and shut it out, to turn it off. It only breaks into a million swarming bees with my head in it's hive. So how to face this thunderous knock at my heart? This insatiable cat's tongue in my chest, as I explained it to my step mother tonight.

Hold it dearly, she said. Give it the attention it asks for. Love is the answer. When it's clawing to get out, cradle it gently and bask it in my love. No judgements, no answers, just time.

I drove to his house after the movie with my girlfriends. I was right there.

I parked across from his car, his porch light was on. The house was dark.

I felt nothing.

Surprised that I didn't instinctively attempt to get out of my car, I tried to remember. I turned the screw and thought of every memory I had on that porch, and in that kitchen, at that table, on that couch. Nothing. Just memories. And so I left.

The farther I got from his house, the more emotion came. I thought, 'should I go back and walk up to the door and see what happens? Should I have sat on the porch?' And my heart began to race. But not when I was there. Because that house was not a part of the fantasy, it was the truth. And so is he and so am I. And I do love him and we had good times.

Right?

The real ones

I went out with 2 of my best guy friends in the whole world tonight. Both polar opposites of each other. Both outed me tonight on making out with both of them. Both of them, none suspecting. Oy vey! Ions ago. Both make out sessions (at different times) right after throwing up from major intoxication. There was a point in my life where I thought my vomit was an aphrodisiac. Maybe it was just because I tend to get really nice/vulnerable when I'm puking my guts out. Who knows?

I love these guys. They are the angel and demon in my life and sometimes it's nice to take them both out for a drink - or two.

One of them is getting married....the "demon". Of course. All the "demons" in my life seem to get married, shortly after a barrage of mockery in my general direction about my philandering sentiments about matrimony and commitment. But that is for a different blog. Tonight, amongst the cheersing and eye rolling, I had a small come to Jesus about the branches of my dating life, which quickly spiraled into the branches of my many exes.

Just before happy hour, I had a happy hello from a mister Isle of Man, circa 2007 pop up on my facebook messenger. 'What's going on in the world of Kyla?' was his opening line (about three years since his last hello) What's going on with me? Let me sum it up in one word, single. He - married. The man whose definition of change is getting a gold fish. Skips completely over his wife and goes to, "I got a gold fish". Wow. That and he's getting ready to sell his apartment to get a house - he wants a garage. He was a great ex. He was an out of town ex. A friend of a friend from the Isle of Man who I met and him ending up doing the worst thing imaginable - ditching his friends to spend the weekend at the beach with me. A giant, all muscle, rugby man with the cutest accent and arms for days. I couldn't help but fall back into my little pocket of him tonight. I have this video I took of him the morning I drove him to the airport, believing I would see him again and our future was possible. It is one of my favorite videos because his sincerity was as warm as the heater blanket I wrap myself up in every night (and avoid at all cost leaving in the morning). We were in my kitchen, the first apartment I lived in alone. I said, "say something" and he begins to speak at which point I say, "or do a dance" at which point he begins to dance about. Behind the camera I am a nervous director, waiting to see what I will capture, so I continue to instruct and he obediently follows along, kissing the camera lens and telling me he will miss me and see me as soon as possible. The scene ends with a pause where I shut the fuck up and he has a moment to pull out of himself and his beautiful "British" lips - "I'm gonna miss ya baby". Oh....swoon.

And I know he's married and I know he's gone, but I still sent that video to him tonight because no one - in this world - could appreciate that moment outside of us. Ya, ya, I thought about his wife and marriage and blah blah blah but that moment existed and still does in both of us. And I'm a million miles away and a thousand years from then, and still single.

But even tonight, with my "demon" whose getting married, there was something I felt like I couldn't talk about. That being the fact that I wasn't sure if I could make his wedding - in Brooklyn. It just felt so annoying that you can't even tell your bestie that you're conflicted because you are trying to save money (to buy a house) and then there's your friends "life" putting itself right in front of yours. Clearly I ended up spilling my guts all over the table about it. I mean I held it in for a good 2 weeks and that was all I had - or else I would have just had to forfeit our friendship all together to avoid talking about what was really on my mind. It just felt weird to suddenly make his wedding about my fear of not being able to afford it. I believe the etiquette is to nod and smile at the bride and groom and bitch to your "friends" but what if the groom is your friend. You get drunk at sushi and let it fly. It started out awkward, a little bit like a chewed off finger nail, you could see the "angel" getting nervous. I tried not to make eye contact with either of them. More awkwardness and explaining and scowling and explaining and head shaking and lots of gesticulating and almost knocking over beers and then a forced awkward hug followed by an awkward back scratch. The "angel" had enough and left for a potty break and I sat next to my "demon" trying to collect myself (and finish my beer). The "angel" returned and naturally, I leaned in and hugged my little goose "demon" and we were fine again.

That's the best thing about friends - real ones - they love the shitty parts of you, as much as the good parts, which they only mention when you are in a really bad place, (not to give you a big head.) God I love those guys.

I also learned tonight that to men, it's not just the size of junk, but how far/hard they can "shoot" it. Guess who brought that up, and who concurred. What would I do without them?