There are days I contemplate writing an auto-biography one day because I get so many "how did you do x or get through z" questions and it gets monotonous to re-word the same answers.

I'm not by any stretch of the imagination implying I'm somehow better than someone else or any group of persons on this planet because I deal with some issues more calmly than others, I'm not narcissistic and I'm not exactly self-loving enough to give such credit. At the same time it still sort of amazes me when I'm asked "how did you handle that?" as though there was any way to (successfully) handle it other than how I did.

Take, for example and the sake of making this LDR-related, the communication or lack thereof within my relationship that has been on a steady decline since roughly May of last year. Anybody that reads my posts or stalks me or whatever you do knows by now I make no secret that I am lucky to get a "hello" once a week and that it's been that way a good long time. I suppose after a while it sounds like bragging? I wouldn't brag about stuff like that, it's just how it is. Hattie, the poor soul, has always worked long hours and gone weeks without a single day off since he started working for Disney, just as he started climbing the corporate ladder within that particular field the hours became longer, the work became more demanding, and the days off became fewer and more often spent in bed sick from fever brought on by work. He was promoted into management last May and that combined with the atypical summer influx at the park, pretty much spelled the beginning of what many could and would call "the end".

I try to be an understanding person, I am well aware there are two or more sides to every story and that many stupid stupid things can be explained rationally with the truth. One could see it as excuse making after some point, but you know we all do some dumb shit in our lives that when put under a microscope by a third party just looks worse than what the bare bone facts tell you. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, basically. By the time the time between our conversations began dwindling noticeably I was already a member here so being bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and brand new off the lot of members I spent my time posting and kept myself busy and ignoring the fact I was missing not only my beau, but a damn good conversationalist. At one point in July I did do what a lot of people do when contact's been completely shut down, that is assume the worst in whatever fashion your brain decides is best and either panic, get mad, or both and watch from the field the stadium around you burn to the ground because of a match you lit. I learned hardcore from that.

Flat out, I don't like resigning myself to stunted text conversations here and there, the rare online conversation, and the almost nonexistent phone call, much less webcam. But really, what good does it do anybody involved or not for you to sit and cry and bitch and moan and pine and act like you got a root canal without the mouth-deadening drugs? Nobody. Making yourself miserable over one person, I don't care how much you love them and wanna be in their arms, is about as smart as letting your friend run over your foot with their car to test tire pressure. I spent 20 years of my life alone without a boyfriend and for about 8 years I was actually asexual, meaning I was about as interested in sex and dating as the man on the moon. I got through those years just fine so despite missing him and wishing the circumstances were different I had to carry on not only for myself, but for him. Who wants to learn that their loved one is beating their head against the wall in misery because you can't help the hours you work?

You just have to deal with it. Even if you're all alone in the world, no friends, no family (or family that shuns you in my case), no direct distractions because of whatever, that's not really an excuse to sit down and cry. As they say, just lie back and think of England. It has to get worse before it gets better.

But, you know, that's me. I'm not the average female, I'm not a part of the wallpaper, I'm a Row Row Fight The Power brand of canned Bitch sort of girl. I'm a cynic, I see the glass as half empty but at the same time I still know there's something in the glass. I just don't see the point of letting yourself go to pot over one person, or at least not letting it continue on for any extended period of time. Because come on, we all need a good cry sometimes, right? Just don't KEEP crying.

Hopefully some of this rambling made sense, I'm half-asleep and developing an optical migraine.