In a perfect world, I would always take care of myself and do what’s right for me. However, I have a self-destructive nature, and I thrive on chaos. Perhaps “thrive” is not the right word because I certainly haven’t been thriving over the past few weeks, but I have a deep-seated need to create chaos in my life so that I will always have a problem to solve. Oddly enough, I don’t usually solve these problems that I make for myself. I stress about them, complain to my friends, worry my family, and let them fester until I end up using maladaptive coping skills and then—what do you know!—I have more problems.
I’m trying to break the cycle.
Recently, Christin and I broke up, and it’s been hard for me. I’ve never had a breakup in which I wasn’t desperate to get out of what was left of a relationship I’d destroyed or that was just not healthy for me. This was different. We parted ways on good terms and are trying to stay friends. We’ve been as open as we can with each other about how we’re doing post-breakup, and we still care about each other, as friends should.
Two days after we broke up, I had a really bad day. I was sad about the breakup, mired in PMS, and did not want anything to do with any sort of positivity. I snapped at my parents, sat on my best friend Colette’s porch and cried to her and her boyfriend (who happens to be Christin’s best friend), and screamed along to my favorite Sleater-Kinney album in my backyard. While I was in the backyard, I received a text from my dad that was intended for my mom. The text said something about how my singing was going to distress our neighbors. My dad was probably right because Sleater-Kinney (like all Riot Grrrl bands) is a cacophonous mess of female shrieking and feedback-ridden guitar wails, and I am quite loud. I angrily texted my dad back informing him that the music made me feel better, and said that maybe next time I’d just do something unhealthy and impulsive to make myself feel better. My dad came into the backyard to say he was sorry, and I took great satisfaction in saying, “You’re only sorry you got caught,” a line that has frequently been directed at me.
However, my dad is a patient, kind, loving man, and he didn’t blow up at me like I was doing towards him. He continued to apologize and said that he and I need to “mend our fences,” because we’ve been distant lately, and when we do talk, I can be a bit of a bitch to him, which is (usually) not deserved, and doesn’t make either of us feel good. He said he loved me, something everyone in my family tells each other frequently, but I started to cry, and he hugged me and said it was okay. We ended up having a really good conversation about my future, school, our relationship, and our family. I love my dad, and I know he loves me. I just don’t show it all the time.
Colette says love is something you practice, not something you have. I am trying to walk in love these days. It is easy for me to tell myself that no one loves me and that I will never be loved, but that is simply not true, and quite melodramatic, I might add.
It’s not just my dad who loves me. I have my brother who took me out for ice cream and compared notes with me on both of our recent breakups. I have my mom who has given me so much good advice in the past week, and is always there for me.

And then there’s Kerry. Everyone needs a gay best friend (or GBFF), and Kerry is mine. On Sunday, I slept in, and my mom woke me up by saying, “Aren’t you going to Blue Springs with Kerry today?”
“No. Why?” I responded sleepily.
“Because Kerry’s downstairs,” my mom answered.
“Oooooh nooooo!” I groaned as I rolled out of bed in my underwear and sought my bathing suit. I suddenly remembered that as I was falling asleep the night before, I’d gotten several messages asking what time I was free to go to the springs, but I’d been too sleepy to comprehend them. I checked my phone and realized that all the calls I’d been ignoring were not in fact from work, but from Kerry and the rest of the gang wanting to know if I was coming on the day’s adventure.
I am so grateful to have friends who go to any lengths to include me in their fun. Kerry is an awesome friend who listens and makes me laugh. At the springs, I happily took in the view of the water and the girls in bikinis, and I was perfectly comfortable (albeit a bit cold) in my bathing suit. I even ate a peanut butter sandwich someone else had made. Peanut butter was once my biggest fear food, but now I just enjoy the protein and delicious flavor it has to offer. No, no one is going to give me a scholarship or a medal for eating a PBJ, but it was a huge accomplishment for me, and I have every right to celebrate it.
After we finished swimming at the springs, we went to a pizza joint, where I devoured tasty pizza and fried ravioli. I didn’t count how many slices of pizza I ate, nor do I care. It tasted good, so I ate it. Eating the pizza was part of the experience of having fun with my friends on a day off from work.

Breaking up is not fun or easy. But Christin and I needed to do what was right for each other and for ourselves. Things are different now, and I have no choice but to accept them. Once I adjust to the changes, I think I will find that things are better. I’d rather not be in a romantic relationship at all than be in one that’s not working. But that’s not to say I don’t have relationships. I have awesome friends, my family, and my internet friends from summer camp who call me their Big Gay Mama. I’m trying to stay positive, and it’s getting easier every day. I’m making a conscious effort to reframe negative thoughts, and to stay busy. I keep telling myself I’ll be okay, and for once, I’m actually right about something.