Breakups, they never stop hurting.

“How cruel for someone to enter your life to awaken you for love and then gradually knocks you out with demonstrations of indifference and detachment.” – unknown

See, someone had woken me for love, over this past eight months. But it was his demonstrations of distance, silence, and unknown that knocked me out. While he may not have forced me to feel the ways I did, his actions created insecurities in me, from past relationships. This is a flaw, that I recognize, and I have owned my mistakes. In a reaction, I have said awful things that I may not have meant, but felt.

Here’s the thing though. I am still, and have not changed from being kind, sweet, thoughtful, caring, deep, passionate, weird, open, and with so much love in my heart to give. I never lied or cheated, and I was still authentically and genuinely myself. I know who I am, and I desired time, and care.

Sometimes, what hurts the most is not being given a REAL chance… a shot at something. Especially when you knew that there was something really special and pure, that it could have been really good. Knowing you’re damaged goods, from past experiences, they hold you back and make you act irrationally because it’s just how people can be… it’s how I can be.

All that being said, I was vulnerable, and in need of a person who I thought cared about me. I didn’t deserve to be gaslit, led on, ignored, or abandoned.

There was a perfectly gorgeous storm brewing overhead this last couple weeks. There’s a list that has no business being listed anymore, it’s lost importance. But this storm tore me apart, mentally and physically, in the worst of ways. I wasn’t myself. I felt out of control, I couldn’t grasp onto anything.

Time and time again, I’ve heard these really beautiful sentences and words put together, but he never listened to me. And he would constantly tell me what I wanted to hear and never follow through or show up. What kind of person does that?

When you begin to heal, and you aren’t ill anymore, your body and mind balances out. We find and see clarity in things, and it helps us make the right choices. Mine was letting go of an ugly pattern that just made me feel worn down.

With love,
C.

Apologies.

The last four months of our lives have been unfair. We’ve experienced what dramatically feels like the absolute, most horrendous and unrealistic feeling in the entire universe. It may as well be equivalent to death. Families and friends have had their worlds attacked suddenly. Like we went to war with ourselves and inevitably lost. Individuals we loved so dearly were ripped from our hearts and our arms. They were stolen…

No one in their sanity would have willingly given them up. And yet the lives given and lived were so quickly lost to a simple unknown. Not knowing how much is too much. Not knowing what our body is actually consuming or intaking. Not knowing our right mind from the wrong one, and allowing temptation and addiction to overpower us. Not knowing the next hour our heart would flatline silently, and our brains departed from destination. Not knowing tomorrow, in reality would not arrive. Not knowing all of what would be our ‘lasts.’ The memorable unknown true impact they’d leave on us. 

For every person who doesn’t understand. For all the trigger words and language you all use. For the bastards who sell and distribute. For the jokes and the giant social gatherings that cause me undoubted anxiety before it even begins. For the damn sleep medicine I’ve learned to rely on. For being told what I need or what I should do. For attempting to let my guard down and ask for what I need. For being told how to act or treat others. For being a f*cking sponge! For ‘mothering’ and putting all my problems aside for everyone else. For doing what I think I need. For the “pretend” happiness and appearance of doing well. For all of the common “I’m sorry for your loss.” and the “Everyone grieves in their own way and in their own time.” And for the “They live on in your heart and memories.” For every frustrating, wise and cliche word muttered from your mouths. Thank you, truly, for now and in the future.

Because it is all of these little things that have made me realize I don’t have to be sorry for my behavior. I don’t have to be sorry for my decisions made irrationally, because irrational has boarded up, locked, and welded the door shut from rational ever making an appearance.

Sadly,
c.

Figs.

I made a cake. It’s been a minute…
It was a gluten-free earl grey cake, with a honey cream cheese frosting, topped with figs.
I cried immediately after, and that’s an understatement. I actually lost my sh*t.

Kept thinking of how much you liked figs, and how we’d obsess over figs especially when mom was visiting, as if it was some new delicacy of a fruit. That time you and mom ate all the dried figs and didn’t save me any and I was so annoyed at you for it, so annoyed in fact, you guys went to the market again later that week and bought another bag for me.

Any time I’d bake something and post it on social media, you’d ask me to save you some… freeze it. And I wouldn’t, I was so focused on bringing as many as I could to work or for other people, because I kept thinking I had all the time to make you something. I should have. Every single time, there should have been no question or doubt, I should have froze one for you and I should have baked for you more often. You would always ask for Key lime pie or Lemon meringue. It wasn’t that I didn’t have time or that I didn’t get the chance, it was that I did not give you time.

All I want more than anything in this whole world is for just a f*cking minute. I’d give up absolutely anything and everything for a minute of your time.

Cake was surprisingly representative. It fell apart quickly.

Still, with what I’ve got,
c.

They say time.

“Peoples grief is not rational, and not the same.” – S.C.

I remember that day… Mom was in town visiting, it was a gorgeous sunny Seattle day. We took mom to the dispensary on Aurora, for the first time, as well as the “Purple store”, which we sh*t on later because of their lack of unique purple products, ha. We got beer flights at Pike place, took selfies, and bought apple chips from the local stand. As we were leaving the city, we got into the biggest fight. It had been so long since we’d yelled at each other like that. We said awful things to one another… I hate that memory of our fight, however I would give anything to fight with you again just to be able to hug you and say that I am sorry. I would give anything, absolutely anything, to spend another minute with you. People want so much in life… they say “Is it so much to ask…” for this or that, that seems so minimal, and for me, all I can think is “Is it so much to ask to have just one more minute of your time, just one?”  

Tragedy inevitably causes us to have a different outlook on life. It forces us to see the good, the better, to love harder, and not sweat the small stuff. It reminds us that we should be true and honest with those in our lives, by letting them know how we really feel about them. I’ve been told that I now have a new perspective on life, but that’s not true, it’s not new. I have thought this way, I’d just gotten lost by influence; why do we complain and whine about the slightest things, why do we think the worst of others first, and trash talk those we don’t know? We let frustrations of what we can’t control get the best of us.

Some days, I have acceptance. And more often, denial is what I face. I expect to hear from you on Sundays. I lie in bed in the morning and wonder when your text will come through. Asked you to come by and do laundry, and we could drink those two specialty beers sitting in my fridge… I’ve been talking to you more. The bad days have been frequent. It’s difficult to ask for what you need. It’s difficult for me to ask for what I need, and that’s just who I am. I let it build up and lash out on those I love the most. Those that I need the most. My brain is somehow telling me to push people away; irrational. I’ve been too busy soaking up the feelings of other’s, and that’s because I’m a sponge in the f*cking  Pacific.

I haven’t been sleeping well, my apartment is a mess, I’ve become a total flake, bailing on plans I make. I binge eat junk food. Sometimes I don’t eat at all. I drink early, I drink late. I’ve shut people out. I call out of work. I have been getting into bed earlier and earlier every single night. As soon as I wake up in the morning, my first thought is “I can’t wait to get off work and go home to crawl back into bed.” I’ve been mad at everyone for nothing they have done. There are trigger words that I’m irritably sensitive to, and those around me unknowingly say things that make me want to scream. Understand my desire for wanting to shut the world out, for this precise reason.

When I think about it too long, I drive myself mad, crying so hysterically until I make myself sick to my stomach. I didn’t know I was capable of this reaction. To panic, and cry until you can’t breathe, your chest aches up to your throat and all you feel like doing is throwing up.

I’ve desperately been searching for a balance. Forcing myself to do. My brain decides at the last minute whether the answer is yes or no. Whether to get up or shut down. Mentioning the future and holiday’s impulsively brings tears to my eyes. This is my life now, without you. This is my life now…

With what I can give,
c.

Looking for home.

Darlings,

Newly twenty-six, it seemed like a very appropriate time to put this into words. Many of you are aware that this last weekend was a big weekend. I made my first 3 tiered, roughly 75 serving cake! For perspective, it was equivalent to 9 dozen cupcakes! Alas, it was successful. There were obviously little details that only I saw, and know to learn from. None the less, a lovely wedding. Huge thank you to each and every one of you who had a hand in getting me through it all. My Mac & Dan rescue me yet again, another cake, another year.

Having said that, I want to make it very clear right now that I am not in business. Dramabakes is not taking on business or requests. I wasn’t clear before. I straddled this line of “kind of doing business, kind of on pause.” It won’t be forever, but until I give the word that I’m back, I am definitely out of business.  I appreciate and thank you all so much for being so interested and supportive of me and my passion and my baking, but to be completely transparent… I‘m stuck. As much as I don’t want to admit that publicly, I’m so very… stuck.

See, sometime in 2015, I went on a journey, took a little detour, and I ran into a few troubles. I’ve tried to fix it, but keep getting further from home. I’ve been allowing others to believe that I don’t need help. But instead, I hit this fog, and I’m in it. I’ve been lost in this fog for so long that I’m starting to become comfortable with it. Rather than looking for my way out of it to return, I’m kind of sitting there as if I’ve already been defeated.

In regards to my love, it’s not about business, money, or getting my name out there. I’ve said this time and time again, that I want to work on myself, and find myself. To which people keep telling me that ‘you’ll spend the rest of your life discovering who you are’, and I do believe that to an extent. But I also know that I lost parts of a woman I used to be a year ago, and I want her back. I feel a fading connection with my love, and I want that back as well. So, that means I am DONE with business and getting back to focusing on my relationship with my passion and myself.

Someone incredibly important and dear to me reminded me today that I have amazing abilities, and strong will. That I stand up for myself when I feel it’s warranted. I’ve lost positive light. I have an open and caring heart, and I used to dust myself off whenever an issue happened. I could realign. I was once in touch with flexing my muscles, picking myself up and trying. If they told me to believe in myself, I would try. 

A little bit of surprise came over me. That used to be a part of me, and I can’t find that same person. Instead, I’ve been pretending to be her. I’ve been more critical of my passion than ever before, I’ve lost so much will to fight these days, when something goes wrong, it’s like my world’s falling apart.

I had this unrealistic expectation that the fog would clear after the stresses of June were over, and in actuality, it didn’t fix anything. I was down, thinking I’d be up, but I’m down. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried. I’ve been trying, and trying but I’ve also been defeated, and giving up, and giving up.

I needed this eye opener. I’m not going to be defeated anymore. I’m not going to give up, I’m going to fight for that part of me again. I’m not going to try and fill voids, and pretend that everything is getting better. I’m going to admit and accept that I’m lost in a fog and I’m trying to find my way.

I’m coming home.

yours truly,
c.

Semi.

Needless to say, feelings are such a complex and tricky thing.

It’s as simple or complicated as someone disappearing for six months of your life, and suddenly they’re back in it. It’s as simple or complicated as one word, one text, one call, one email, one encounter.

What do you do when a simple thing happens, and it sends your world spinning? What do you do when someone you expected to never hear from is suddenly semi-part of your life again? You’re playing it cool, pretending that you don’t care if they disappear again at any moment, but deep down you’re panicking. Wondering when and if that person is going to leave. Hoping and begging that they don’t. You’re terrified…

Since when do we so easily allow another to cause chaos in our hearts? 

Yet, the question remains, what do you do? Expect the expected? Because even when you set the worst expectation, you will be destroyed when something goes wrong again. It’s inevitable, no matter how much you tell yourself you don’t give two sh*ts, or however many times you tell yourself “they’re going to disappear like they do, I know it.” In your fibers, you know you are praying to some sort of god, whether you believe in one or not, that this person stays in your life, that they prove they were “sorry” and that you can trust them.

You’re not even mad, or upset with this person for what they did. You secretly were more excited that they were even sorry at all, that they even said anything to you. Your heart started pumping faster, and your palms got all cold and sweaty like they used to.

I’d slap you across your foolish f*cking face and say
“sure, whatever… you do that, you keep on playing it ‘cool’, babe…”

yours truly,
c.