I love a guy.

You know the saying about love?

Our first love is young. 

Our second love is hard. 

Our third love we don’t see coming. 

I guess I’m in between love one and two. But I still love a guy. What’s funny is, I’m 99.8% sure that we won’t be together and we may not remain friends. And it has taken a year to come to terms with that, but I think I’m finding comfort in knowing that that is probably healthy and best.

I still write about him. I still think about him. And most days, I’m not sure if I am in love with him. Or I simply possess a deep love FOR him. Our ability to differentiate the two is imperative. Love is unconditional. It keeps no record of wrong. It is humble and selfless and to quite honest it is uncomfortable and unnatural. Most people give conditional though. Though the conditions may be broad, when pushed to the limit, a limit is found.

This idea of unconditional love bothers me. Let me rephrase, its agitates my normal behavior. You make me sad, I love you less. You disrespect me, you get boundaries of my love. I know, there seems to be nothing wrong with that, but if love isn’t free…is it love? Whats the price of love? A ring? A wedding? A child? Can it ever be paid for?

I love a man. And he may not even love me back. And that makes me even more confident about my love for him. He’s made me sad. He’s offended me. Never disrespect, never intentional harm, never unapologetic. And I love him.

Some days I feel like proclaiming this love, because it is evidence that divorce and heartbreak, and failed relationships did not crush me. They didn’t steal my capacity to love and to give without expectation. And that is a miracle. That’s evidence of the God I serve. One who can heal and transform and restore.

Back to love. Family. I love them unconditionally. Friends…my friends. I love them unconditionally and even the healthy boundaries I establish for them are not barriers to my love.

My students. I love them unconditionally. And they need that love. They need to feel and see that love. They need to know that that love is…real love. So as they grow and experience life, they can be prepared to give and receive the love that covers all.

I still love a guy.

 

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Cramping so you know it’s real

I said I’d post daily and it’s 1am, so I’ve already failed. Let’s technically call this yesterday’s post.

Monday I felt like a mad woman and I knew “aunt flow” was coming. My emotions, hormones, attitude, and “feelings” were high. Today it was confirmed that I’m not crazy, I’m just a woman.

“Just a woman”. Ha! Oxymoron. This evening I cried. My laptop almost died while I was on an online interview after my laptop mouse failed to work properly and I … I remembered that I’m single and no one could sneak me my charger. I have friends and “people”. I have help and support. Yet, at that moment the reality of my singleness stung. I almost cried into the screen.

I hadn’t planned to be 30, divorced, and single. There was a time when I was 24, married, and hopeful. Then I was 25, married, and alone. That shift happened quickly and tonight I cried. I mourned my marriage. My heart broke again for the loss of a husband, once a friend. I retold and reread my story again. And say with the reality that I was always have “been married”. I’d love to be a big person and say I’m thankful for the lessons marriage taught me but so much of it was hard and sad and draining that  I can only really say, dating was fun and my marriage was supposed to be a good thing.

I don’t assign too much blame. I played a role, he played a role. One of us is a husband, a father…

One of us is single and healing…

Maybe both of us are free.

Podcast: https://anchor.fm/cassandra-bruington/episodes/Division-of-a-marriage-e1h7sn

 

 

 

 

 

Mourning Divorce

I knew this would be a process, but geez! A week ago I had another dream. I have reconciliation dreams. Dreams where he comes back or he stays…or we are together. They are never beautiful. I always wake up with a feeling like “why can’t I stop dreaming this nonsense”. I’ll do a better job of capturing the feeling next time.

Its like an annoying reminder that we could have pushed through, could have made it, but…he wasn’t cut out for the struggle. And honestly, he wasn’t built for me. I’m a fighter, I’m tenacious, I’m a handful of love and energy and adventure…! I have my flaws and they are the same things that make me beautifully fearless and unique and strong.

I just finished a sermon series on relationships and I’m taking away a newfound appreciation for my singleness. (Its great for EVERYONE- single, married, divorced, dating, engaged)

Click and enjoy: https://youtu.be/H7h5BHax06c

For the past several months, I’ve been flirting with the concept of contentment in this stage, but its solid now. I go as I please, I travel solo dolo, I have friends visit, and I really just pursue purpose on my own terms. God is in the driver’s seat and I am learning to trust Him fully. I still mess up and start trusting myself and my own understanding, but I have taken Proverbs 3:5-6 to heart:

Proverbs 3:5 King James Version (KJV)

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

 

 

Notarized.

I paused a Netflix movie to post this. So…you know its real.

Today, I scrambled to get documents notarized for my Work Visa. I’m about to leave the US in a matter of months to pursue a job abroad. I will be teaching 4th grade all subjects in Costa Rica! Excited is an understatement. I didn’t realize how much paperwork signing/applying/verifying would be required. I still don’t even understand if I sent everything perfectly. And being born abroad doesn’t make the process any simpler. Its confusing and annoying and very systematic even though no human being can explain the process considering my rare circumstances.

The notary at the bank (my shared branch because I still bank with an out of state credit union) did all my paperwork for free. He didn’t have to, but I am so appreciative. I saved $25. Then spent $20 for a document I forgot to have notarized by him and later paid for at a postal store that probably overcharged me.

Anyways…I sat at his desk and remembered the last time I had paperwork notarized at a bank. It was January of 2014. Divorce papers. I cried as I signed each page. I had gotten there at 4:59pm, right before closing after my ex kept asking when I would sign. He left me January 4th and the papers had January 10th on them. This had to be mid January. It was heartbreaking and I’m sure super awkward for the notary (a woman who kept her composure). I cried loud and deeply as I signed all thousand lines requiring my signature. I felt defeated. I was a little embarrassed. Not that I was crying- I needed that. I was embarrassed that my marriage had failed and this document was the proof.

So…as I sat in the office today. I almost cried again. Just in remembrance. Of a marriage I mourned and laid to rest. Divorce is a tragedy. I survived a tragedy. I overcame and rose above a tragedy. And 3 years later, I signed documents which I’d like to refer to as freedom papers. I’m leaving the US. I’m leaving (dis)comfort. I’m leaving what has been familiar. And I am so excited that now I understand the foreshadowing. At a bank alone. In an office with a stranger. Making a life changing written declaration. My life is changing.

I can never ever say I won’t survive. Or things won’t get better. Or I may not make it. Those statements are simply untrue. I will rise. I have been Notarized.

https://www.thebalance.com/what-is-a-notarized-document-315434

A notarized document is a document that has been marked with a stamp (or “seal”), which indicates that the signature on the document is legitimate. A notary watches you sign and then places the stamp near your signature (along with information which allows others to track down records related to the signature).

I can get it WHEREVER…and I should

This is about to be a 6 minute butt load of randomness. I am at work and this is not designated blog time. But I need to “journal” and this is my digital release.

 

I’ve been waking up tired and uninterested in beginning my day lately. I am not used to this. I went from waking up at 430am at the beginning of the year, to not getting sleep, to waking at 530 to a random 515 to now turning my alarm off and today staying in bed until 615 while I listened in on my 6am prayer call. Its taken me 53 days to figure out that I need to get consistent with my sleep and routines (especially before and after bed).

 

I can not do what I want when I want how I want because it causes a chain reaction of tired attitude needing pumpingupness. And I am not here for it. My family, friends, students, and I suffer when I don’t give myself what I know I need. Sleep. Rest. Time. Energy. God.

So, let me just get my life together on here:

Wednesday:

430: eye apt

530: gym (strong MAYBE) OR paper purge (more necessary…maybe I can do both)

My gym is too packed. It irritates me and to workout at my complex gym is a JOKE. I’ll get the paper together tonight and gym it up tomorrow (MAYBE).

700: eat

800 clean and bed prep (listening prayer, meditation, rest IN BED)

I got distracted and my time is up…

 

Oh and yesterday I did the hard work of letting someone I love know that our relationship is going to need to look differently because its what’s best for me and for him. I have NEVER done that in my own strength. I’ve always been abandoned or “forced” to let go. How freeing to make a conscious and mature decision to guard my heart and obey God. Freedom: absence of fear. I’ll let him go and if he doesn’t fly out of the cage I created for him, we may both be able to soar on the outside. “Let’s see what happens…”

Why I keep falling in love with guys that CANNOT love me back

I’m ill. Not based on the title. Based on the message.

I literally couldn’t get out of my shower quick enough. Minus the cheap black soap that I’m not sure does the trick…this topic, these words, this concept was bugging me out of the waterfall I call “shower”.

Its a topic and title I couldn’t not write. I couldn’t not post. And I cannot not share. Hello, my name is Cassandra and I am a recovering fallinloveaholic. I almost gave first middle and last name, so you know its real. But that would have been extra and if you’re that interested in finding out my first middle and last name, I’m sure Google will be happy to assist you. Or facebook. Or they led you here and you already know it.

I’m rushing to tap this. Because its irritating to meditate on and I’m on the floor in an apartment I’ve tried cleaning since 530pm. For an event I’m hosting tomorrow at 630pm. Also I’m supposed to leave the house in 25 minutes for girl time I’ve been craving for like two weeks. This. Is. Life.

Okay, here goes. I fall in love with guys that cannot love me back. And its sad and I’m over it. And here, pretty soon…like with the next guy I could potential love that will not love me back (because he can’t), I’m going to choose  not to fall in love with him. I’m utterly over it.

I’m high school sweethoe…I mean sweetheart over it. He wasn’t a hoe, I just still don’t like him. Oh, and we weren’t in love. I just “fell in love” with him.

I’m junior year love of my life over it. I’m summer crush turned bae before bae was a thing over it. I’m college boyfriend, college crush, college safe crush who liked me back, college boo who never was boo, and I’m ex-husband who I didn’t even know didn’t love me back

O

VER

IT.

Oh there’s more. I’m post-divorce bad decisions to even entertain the idea of you over it. I’m Tinder over it. I’m church crush over it. I’m Tinder turned friend but you still ain’t ready OVER ALL OF IT.

Its exhausting to love someone and two wives, 5 kids, 12 years, 1.5 billion opportunities to get it right and be ready but you still ain’t right nor ready realize HE AINT NEVA GON GET READY.

I could scream. For 13 year old me, and 15 year old me, and 17-29 year old me. Girl, let’s stop the foolishness.

When you know good and darn well he cannot love you, let him.

Let him not love you from a distance. Let him not call. Let him not check on you. Let him not be that into you. Let his girlfriend come first. His wife come first. His kids come first. Let his homies come first. Let it go, Elsa!

Sheesh…and I’m realizing the problem is me. I am impatient. And that’s a shame that I would be so impatient that I would love a man who cheats, who pressures me to have sex, who lies about how God told him…some stuff God ain’t told him. So impatient that I’d entertain a disgusting dude (forget a bad boy- I went BIG), entertain a scared boy disguised as a wealthy and confident man, that I’d go on dates with dudes who I found to be a 7 on a 10 scale (when I feel like I’m a 10 on a 10 scale). I’m not desperate or insane, blind or suffering from low self-esteem. I am impatient. And because I’m also Christian that means I don’t trust God’s timing. I’m uninterested in His timeline because I have deadlines.

Married by…23 I think it was. Now I’m divorced. Yeah, that was basically my only age deadline…that mess is enough to stop you in your tracks and make you burn every DEADline you ever thought you had.

I’m learning to dream again, to set ambitious goals, to live my life without apologies or permission-asking. I’m grown, I pay whole bills. I have whole debt that I’m working my way out of. I ask for advice from SOME. Permission from one, “God, is it okay if I…”. And I only ask sometimes when I don’t already have a plan. I’m working on that.

But one thing is crystal clear to me. I am SO OVER falling in love with guys who cannot love me. Its stupid. I know why I do it. And thats stupid too. I’d rather be in love WITH someone then FALL in love with them. So, the next guy I want to save at the expense of spending myself, I totally WILL NOT. And y’all can check me on that.

Final thought: falling in love…(which doesn’t even feel THAT good- okay I lied, it feels amazing) is like I was going to reference throwing up, but in an attempt not to offend or gross anyone out I will refrain. Its just like making yourself do something that isn’t good for you. That your natural body is eventually going to reject. Something that smells and looks nasty. Something you’ll regret…especially if you prefer standing over falling.

I’m well.