are you there god? it's me, kathleen.

Yesterday was the perfect day to lie to my family and tell them I had to work in order to have brunch with Erin and then go to Starbucks for a nonfat green tea latte and walk around downtown. So that is exactly what I did.

I was walking down the battery just like a million times before and was thinking back to the kind of person I was when I first arrived, and the emotions that came as a result were incredibly conflicted. When I look back at those first few months--before MUSC, before meeting any guys who complicated the uncomplicated, before I felt like I was settling in--all I remember was a constant feeling of euphoria. I was on top of the world. I would bound out of bed every day and stroll through the chill to my job, a mere 20 minutes walking distance. I worked with people that I loved, and had a platonic male friend with whom I did everything--like a relationship without the complications of sex and doomed attempts on his part at monogamy. I was trying new things--a new band, rock climbing, kayaking, helmet-less motorcycle rides, beach bonfires, all of the activities that people put on their "things to do before I die" list. I don't remember a time when I have been more content and happy at the same time. It was heaven.

I don't understand exactly what has happened between then and now to make me feel so incredibly different, but when I break it down I am horrified to discover that the majority (it's too embarrassing to say "all") of my drama and sadness and anger since that time has been caused exclusively by the guys I have dated. The first shouldn't have been more than a blip but somehow managed to leave a significant scar on my ego. The second should have been ended around 3 days after it started but lasted 8 months. And the third is one that I'm not even embarrassed to admit I wish had lasted, and I am still tempted to call almost every day but don't. Three very distinct types of pain, all piled on in a space of around 18 months.

Perhaps I should be grateful. Some people have to suffer for years before having this many bad experiences, so I might just be really lucky to get all of the bad firsts out of the way in such a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am style. It still sucks, but in the infinitely wise words of Aunt Sarah, "life sucks."

All this angst aside, the one thing I can take much comfort in is my level of general contentment with my life. Even at my lowest point, there was never a time when I doubted that things would get better, and there was never a time when I wasn't grateful for all of the good things in my life. And when all is said and done, I have never been unhappy alone. Ever.

That may or may not have read like a Judy Blume novel, but whatever. I know that the people who read this will love me anyway. Which, by the way, is something else I am grateful for.