Class Project

Class Project, a photo by Gypsy Scribe on Flickr.

I am converting to Catholicism. For the reals. I am actually IN the process as we speak.

In fact, I am at the part of the process that is the most intense: Lent/Easter and my first Eucharist.

For the past 7 months D and I have been attending class on what it means to become a Catholic, and I have to say it has been surprisingly enjoyable! I love my classmates, and the education is very interesting. One would think that D would be bored as he is what they call a "Cradle Catholic" (born in to the faith), but honestly, I think he has learned just as much as I have about his church.

I am surprised at myself. I did not see conversion to ANYTHING in my future. My faith has been complete since I was a child - not always practiced, but complete nonetheless.

I guess this is what happens when contemplating how to change "my future" in to "our future".

A New Kind of Year

Steeled Soul, a photo by tielji on Flickr.

2010 was a tumultuous, sickening, exhilarating, devastating and  an all around eventful year. I was so glad to be entering 2011 with all of the pieces of my life put back where I thought they oughta be. D and I had reconciled - although we still didn't have any idea what to do with this relationship to make and keep it healthy for both of us. My kids were doing well at home and at school - although I was starting to emotionally separate from my daughter in apprehension of her "leaving me" and going to college. My relationships with my mom and dad were both intact and everyone was - for the most part- happy and healthy.  I was at poverty level financially, but felt very wealthy in terms of friends and family. 


Part of any relationship is sharing with the other those things that make one feel special and cared for - and being honest about the things that don't. Being able to say "Hey! This is not okay!" is crucial to the health of a partnership. And I am not good at it. I am good at pouting. I am good at obscure references and the silent treatment. I can drop hints and exaggerated sighs like a B2 Bomber. But the straightforward approach escapes me.

This year, when planning out holiday celebrations with various family factions, it just so happened that D will be spending New Years Eve in Kansas with his family hunting and opening presents. I, on the other hand, am childless and now boyfriend-less on this very special milestone holiday. And while my brain gets the logistics of what our situation is, the little brat inside of me is throwing a temper tantrum because I don't get my way - I don't get to dress up, party, and kiss my boyfriend at midnight. Ugh. Such a terrible plight. 


But really, it's more than that. I don't want to spend any holidays by myself.


I spent the previous week simpering and sighing every time that NYE came up in conversation (something I do before every holiday or special occasion that doesn't pan out my way). I repeated all of my finely honed poor communication skills - with the expected poor results. Finally, in an obviously-channeled-from-a-healthy-person session, I very clearly said: Hey, I have to tell you something. I have a problem. I am not okay with being alone on holidays. And you know what? It was easy! And good! It works! Did D change his plans and ruin his kids' time with their grandparents so that I could have my way on NYE? No. Thank goodness. But we were able to have a conversation about my feelings and expectations.


I was surprised to learn that NYE is not that big of a deal to my boyfriend. I count it as one of my "High Holidays". I reminded him of how special the NYE we spent in Boston was. Of how much fun we had going to see Benjamin Buttons another year - we went to the theatre in one year and came out of the theatre in another year, etc.


Yet, today when I was getting my head and heart right to be okay with being "alone" tonight, it dawned on me: when I was reminding him of the special NYE celebrations we have enjoyed over the past few years, I did not mention last year. Not one word was spoken about the transition from 2010 to 2011, even with all of it's drama and events. You know why?


I can't remember what we did. Or if we were even together. 


I will have two special gifts for myself as we go in to the new year - one is the ability to trust that I can express my wants and needs in a healthy, constructive way. The other will be a newly written reflection of 2011. I don't want to spend anymore time this year dreading things that haven't happened or might not be as bad as I think they will be. I want to celebrate and be grateful for those moments full of joy and contentment.


Happy New Year, my friends. <3


 
 

right on time

right on time, a photo by tielji on Flickr.

As Easter is rapidly approaching, I have found myself dissecting my faith.

Age and maturity (?) have brought me perspective on which issues really need to be "worked out in fear and trembling", and which ones can be fodder for theological debate but are not worth my time laboring over the validity of.

Going to mass with D has been so good for this heart that KNOWS the liturgy - but after a lifetime of indoctrination, just couldn't open up enough to embrace and believe.

It's so ironic to have been raised in a spirit-filled, nondenominational charismatic church with a rock band for a worship team, three services a week, plus Christian School Monday through Friday - and here in a staid, symbol-laden Mass is where I finally meet my God.

Go figure.

I hope this Easter season has blessed you as much as it has me.

If you remember correctly, BF and I gave up alcohol for Lent. I am telling you right now - I have never been so excited for Easter Sunday in my life! I am planning to have Screwdrivers with my breakfast. Not kidding you. Or maybe Bloody Mary's first thing after midnight.

Come on over. I promise not to try and convert you whilst I pour mixed drinks with reckless abandon.

Houston, we have a...ummm...an issue.

Honestly, I just want to be healthy. I want to be sane and to have productive, enjoyable relationships with other human beings. Plus I want a soul mate and for someone to think that I am amazing. I also want a new Ford Edge. Used will be fine, also. Plus a gift certificate to a particular Castle Rock Boutique where there is the CUTEST little black dress that screaaams my name. 


Never mind my wish list - let's go back to being healthy and having productive, enjoyable relationships with other human beings. 


I have been struggling with whether or not I am doing the right thing by going back to D and performing all of the gf/office manager duties and thrills with only the office manager title. 


My gut (and my dad. and my mom.) says no.


So I decided to go look for a label to put on this little dance I am doing. I, of course, Googled my symptoms. Google is frightfully wonderful.


 It labeled me within three seconds: Codependent Relationship Addict. 


(Omfg)


Now, don't worry, I know that it's easy to diagnose and to assume all of the symptoms of whatever you are reading about - such as what second year med students experience. Or what I went through during Psych 101 when I wondered if I, too, was schizophrenic. ( I'm not. Neither am I.)


I am bringing one professional's symptom list to the board, and we can go through them together.


They are as follows:

• Constantly seeking a sexual partner, new romance or significant other (ummm...no. Not so much. I tried dating this summer, and if you remember, that didn't turn out well for me. For evidence I submit that I am blogging on a Saturday night whilst D is in KS.)

• An inability or difficulty in being alone  (But I am getting better...)

• Consistently choosing partners who are abusive or emotionally unavailable (I dunno if I do this or not. I know that the last three men who intrigued me were all off limits to me, and D does indeed seem to be emotionally unavailable. So yes?) 

• Using sex, seduction and intrigue to "hook" or hold onto a partner (Not on purpose. I am not the one instigating now that I am not the GF...but I don't say no before I become the overly eager partner in crime)

• Using sex or romantic intensity to tolerate difficult experiences or emotions (guilty)

• Missing out on important family, career or social experiences in order to maintain a sexual high or romantic relationship (Ohhhh yeah. Blown off lotsa friends, family - even a ten year class reunion - just to be with him)

• When in a relationship, being detached or unhappy, when out of a relationship, feeling desperate and alone (yes)

• Avoiding sex or relationships for long periods of time to "solve the problem". (Well, I tried to avoid him for awhile...that didn't turn out well. However, I don't think this applies.)

• An inability to leave unhealthy relationships despite repeated promises to self or others  (If we are deciding that this is an unhealthy relationship, than yes, I guess so - but I do have very clear boundaries of what I will tolerate. And this relationship is not abusive. Just painful.) 

• Returning to previously unmanageable or painful relationships despite promises to self or others (Yes, this seems to be tied in with the previous statement)

• Mistaking sexual experiences and romantic intensity for love (I don't equate sex with love, but I sure do feel loved when the romance is intense!)

• Attempting to meld identity with partner - making their world yours (yes...yes.*sigh*)

• Being satisfied with goals that partner has reached, foregoing or abandoning own. (For pete's sake - this one startled me. Yes.)

My score is 9/12. Those aren't great odds.

I wonder why Drinking one more beer to quiet the head so you will stop obsessing about why he isn't texting you back isn't on the list.

Idealism down, Idealism down

I really should have a breathalyzer for my blog. I should have to prove that I am in my right head and of sound mind before I can operate the key board.

That last post? Criminy. Yes, those things are true. Should I have made them a permanent fixture of my blogging record? No. Was there fallout across the board - from friends, family and even people I have never met (but hoped to meet in the future!)? Yes, oh yes there was.

It is what it is.

I am indeed safely ensconced in D's arms this week - fully vulnerable and emotionally naked.

The risk is huge. I cannot survive another recurrence of the previous months' heartache. I can't. 

But on the other hand, don't we all take huge risks when we are truly involved with someone? How far did I really get playing it safe all of the time? How huge will the payoff be if I am making the right choice? How rewarding will it be to give all of me and not be worried so much about keeping things congruent? 

I think my idealism has taken a fatal hit right in the gut.

Sometimes things don't turn out the way I think they should. Sometimes they turn out so much better.

OMG WTF?

...and I am done with it. I think I overdosed on my own drama and made myself sick.


Nobody is worth that.


I don't want to think about it, talk about it, or cry about it anymore.


Let's go have a drink.

I Understand

I say "I understand" or "I get that" a lot. I try to make sure I know where the other person is coming from.


But I really get it this time.


Now I understand why people take too many pills, or leave the car running in the garage, or slit their wrists when they are in emotonial pain.


It's to make it just stop...stop for just one second even...


I understand. I can't take even one second more. Please make it stop.

Copper and Gray

It is here - finally - the day that I leave to go see my mom in NH!

The last time I went to visit my mom by myself  ('07) ended very painfully...she was so disturbed by my apparent lack of presence in my own life that she felt like she needed to set me straight. It was horrific. For us both. It was doubly painful to be served with divorce papers as soon as I got home. Especially because I didn't feel like I could turn to either of my parents for support because I erroneously felt that I had let them down too much already. 



...so glad to have us all in a different space now. 


It will also be a bit challenging to go knowing that the last time I was there was with Darin - taking someone you love home with you gives everything a different flavor when you return by yourself. 

Perhaps that is why he didn't take me to HIS home but very rarely. Maybe. Who knows? I guess it doesn't matter much anymore, huh? 


Anyway. 

Labor Day Weekend! Wowwww...what a great time! The kids and I went and stayed at a lake house with a large family and all of their friends. There was boating and tubing and fire pits and cajun boils and kegs and bonfires and smores and skinny dipping (not by me or mine!) and dancing and laughing and napping in the sun and golf cart racing and midnight walks on the beach ... I could not have dreamed up a better vacation.  


I spent my time hanging with the "Lost Boys of Summer" (so dubbed by me as they were all in their early to mid thirties but were still partying on their parents dime like they were in high school) and thoroughly enjoyed myself - especially because I was the only girl amongst them. They were, every one of them, a gentleman - and exactly what I needed. I came away feeling so full of life and...well...beautiful! I haven't felt beautiful in a very long time. I hadn't even realized it until the void was filled. Filled without even exchanging a single kiss or touch. Amazing. 

I am so thankful to have been able to experience that time, and also to have had my children present - what great memories for all of us. 

How did YOU spend your weekend?

Hainke Painke

I have started dating again. 

It is strange to date when you still love another. It, in fact, feels like you are cheating. 

It is even stranger to have to tell the one you love that you are going out with another man. 

To his credit, he said he was jealous - which was very confusing to me! I never considered that to be a possibility! Reeling, I made the mistake of responding that I wished it was him and I going instead. It took me a few minutes to realize that I didn't really mean that...

I really have to stop saying those kinds of things.

My first date (Sunday Man) pulled up in an old beat up jalopy ... with a door that had to be opened from the inside only. He was fun, but not enough for me to overlook his 39 years of backwards upbringing. I requested a return trip home due to an early morning at work. 

My second date (Thursday Man) turned out to be a little easier to manage as I had become smarter over the previous three days and learned to arrange a meeting place. He was a full decade older than me, very nice, handsome for an older man - and totally uninteresting to me. I felt very mean as he hugged me goodbye and asked for a second date. I knew there would not be another. And I did not say so. 

My third date (Friday Man) I also met on location - although on the way there, I was followed by a car that housed a man that vaguely fit my date's description. But not in a good way. I prayed so hard that it was NOT my date - and breathed a sigh of relief when he turned left and I turned right. My date turned out to be pleasant, handsome, well educated, well traveled, interesting - and a long-winded braggart. I truly did not get to say four words in about 3 hours while I listened to scores of anecdotes relating to his travel, his riches, his possessions...and then to top it all off, he took me up on my offer to pay half for our meal! Ha! When he hugged me goodbye, he assured me that he would be in touch. I am not sure I will be reachable...we will see.

My fourth date (Saturday Man) was the one I was really looking forward to. A manicure and pedicure, a new pair of shoes, and a new flush in my cheeks meant that we were to have a great evening! I had talked to him a few times on the phone, and enjoyed his repartee tremendously. The only red flag that I could see was his sudden and deep penetration into my social media life...he knew my personal email addresses, found my facebook page, my blog - it just felt a bit strange. As the time approached for me to leave to meet him in Denver, I received an odd text: " Looking forward to seeing you - don't come too late." To which I queried playfully what exactly too late would be. As texts went back and forth a few more times it became clear that he and I had different ideas of what our date was going to look like, and he was frustrated. And then - he stopped responding all together when I asked if maybe we shouldn't call the whole thing off! Twice I texted, twice I called, and then, remembering what D used to say about giving the non-responding party the benefit of the doubt (noone can be on their phones as much as I need them to be!), I kept our arrangement plans and assured myself that there would be a good explanation.

There wasn't. 

There was, however, an email that arrived on my phone an hour later. The part that stands out the most to me: "I am sorry that you came to Denver - you shouldn't have. If I had wanted you to, I would have called you back."

I am so very blessed that my God looks out for me. I am so grateful that this guy showed his character so early. I had no idea that I was dealing with that kind of personality. 


I did respond, though...just a short note, letting him know that I was glad that it wasn't because something horrible happened and that had kept him from answering his phone. (I honestly thought maybe his ailing dog had suffered an episode, as that is what he had been dealing with all week.)


His response? "Are you being sarcastic? I didn't know that Christian Republicans were smart enough for that?"


After my friends and I laughed at his ridiculousness, I privately took great pleasure in the fact that I held myself back from retorting that maybe we weren't smart enough for sarcasm, but we sure as HELL know that you don't end a statement with a question mark.

D never told me that dating was this...this...weird. I hope it gets better.

Sellur's Market

I have been doing crazy things to my phone lately. It is almost as if it senses my imbalance and translates all of my negative energy into random internal commands. 

For two weeks I tried unsuccessfully to reach my mother. I was so desperate to talk to her, so needy, and so distraught that my poor little phone freaked out. Twice, instead of calling my mom, it called D's mom! Very awkward...especially when sobbing. Three times it disconnected as soon as someone answered on the other end. One time it just refused to dial the number at all. (Are phones allowed to be that disobedient??) Finally, my mom called ME. 

And as soon as I heard her voice the tears started. 

Now, I don't get to talk to my mother a whole lot - I would like to say that we are the kind of family that calls each other once or twice a day or even a week - but the truth is, we aren't. I have gone for months without talking to my mom or dad. (Determined to change that, by the way...) So I am sure that it was a bit bewildering to have me launch into a full blown sob with sniffles and garbled words. Like a trooper, she listened until I was all done, asked a few pertinent questions, and did the only right thing to do in such a situation: she went online and procured a plane ticket for her crazy daughter to come visit her little piece of heaven in NH. 

I am going to see my mom in early Sept. YAY! :) 


Let's all say it together one. More. Time -  It's going to be okay. 


...right?

Stupid Girl

That's right. I said it.

Dumb, dumb, dumb, stupid girl.

I didn't make it over the last hurdle without falling flat on my face. The skinned elbows and knees pale in comparison to the gouges I caused on the inside.

You know, I wanted to break up because I didn't want either one of us to settle for less.

Instead, I became worse than less. I became the proverbial "booty call". 

Willingly. Over and over.

I am so ashamed. 

I am not as healthy now as I was even three years ago. 

I am less respectable today than I was three years ago, too.

...stupid girl.

Big Sunglasses and Waterproof Mascara

So. Beginning of August, ah? Wow. Time seems to be speeding up as I get older...seems unfair! The kids are registered for school, my lawn is starting to green up again after the brutal heat of July, and I am doing things during the day other than floating around in the pool for relief. I better pay attention or the next post will be about how I am shoveling snow off of my front porch!

Things are getting easier...better...clearer. I am not struggling to breathe anymore, and honestly, I am saddened to know that some people live with that overdose of adrenaline every day. I can't even imagine. That pit in the belly, that clenching of the guts, that winded feeling from just a thought - what a killer. I read somewhere that our minds grant us the gift of amnesia when our hearts are broken so that we are willing to take a chance on love again in the future, to risk going through all of that dreadfulness.

 I am not there yet.

Just to be very clear - D did nothing to break my heart. There was just something missing inside of him - or a wall that needed some dynamite - and it kept him from being able to create a future with me. He was always a great boyfriend, and he kept me safe from myself when I was so destructive (especially after my divorce), and I am so very grateful to have had him while it was our time. And now it isn't our time anymore.

My next big hurdle will be to figure out how to keep us from landing in bed together - in that tangled, delicious heap of frenzy - every time I see him...

One Week Long

We had some exciting new changes in our house this week. Taylor got her permit & a grown up bank account of her very own. She also is working as a hostess at my place, so I have had the privilege of seeing her many, many times even during the week that they weren't "mine". 

...and it appears that, as of tonight, I will have them ALL of the time. Things broke bad at their dad's house - really bad. His reaction? He packed them up and brought them to my house. And dumped them with all of their belongings on my front lawn. My kids look like little refugees with their confused faces and tear stains down their cheeks.

Fortunately for us all, I was in town. And sober. 

So here we all are - broken and sad and clinging to each other, mourning the way things used to be. 

I know that they need me to be very strong and be their safe place to land (and I will be!), but honestly, I am a wreck. I tried very hard this week to play and keep my mind off of missing D - but there just isn't enough alcohol in the world to make the pain stop. And the only way that I can keep my anxiety level at a manageable state is to call him and hear his voice (I am still working in his office, so there is a reason most of the time), but I can't keep doing that forever.  

I know that broken hearts heal and that we will both be just fine, but my body doesn't seem to understand that. And my brain is making up all sorts of fantastic stories about what he is doing now and who he is doing it with, blahblahblah.  And boy am I creative. Ugh. 


I think the most amazing thing is that I am a completely different person than I was one week and one day ago. 


God, please make week 2 turn me into a princess again, and send some extra magic for my children. 

They are also different people than they were a week ago...

Heart Noises

I wish it were possible for my fingers to type for you the noises that I am feeling. The noises would sound like snuffles and whimpers and "aaaaagh" and sighs and all of the rough and uncomfortable sounds that a freshly broken heart makes.

Do I have a broken heart? Oh, yes I do. I didn't even know it was possible to feel it physically. I thought it was an "inyourhead" experience...but no. My lungs are gasping, my tummy is twirling, my head is pounding, my eyes are blurring and burning, and my hands are trembly - I am a mess.

I love him. Plain and simple. I love him. And our conversation was supposed to be a simple clearing of the air. An explanation session, a defining of occurrences and odd behaviour.

I had my words ready...they were finely honed, crafted to not cause anxiety or defensiveness. I also had my attitude in check, because I wanted him to know that I could hold myself accountable for my own actions. I wanted him to know that I was willing to do whatever it would take to make our relationship whole again.

But, alas - we never even got to the sorting out phase of the conversation. We only got to the part where I said, "I love you, and I want to grow old with you. I want to build a future together. And I want to work out these little things that are getting in our way...okay?".

And then there was only silence. Because he can't say "I love you" to me. He shows it in a million ways, but he can't say it. And he doesn't see me in his future, because he doesn't see his future at all. Brutally honest, him. But I guess I started it. 

I realized right then that if I hadn't yet inspired my man to see me in his long term future after 2 and 3/4 years, it simply wasn't going to happen.

And there was no reason to sort anything else out...there was nothing there to keep together.

I went to the kitchen, poured some wine, and invited my boyfriend to go watch movies with me. We watched two comedies...I cried through both of them. You know, the silent river of tears that leaves salt burns on your cheeks.

Then I took him to bed. Yes, knowing full well it would be the last of many things. The last night pouring oil on his back and shoulders and massaging out all of the ills of the day. The last time I would snuggle up next to him and smell his neck while he wrapped his arms around me. The last time he would reach his face down to kiss me gently. And then again, but not so gentle. The last time we would lose ourselves in a delicious frenzy of touch and smells and sounds and bodies meeting each other again like it was the very first time.

But it wasn't the first time. It was the last time.

I finally cried myself to sleep after I heard the safety of his snoring. Only to wake back up a couple of hours later, disoriented, exhausted, and ohsosad to have reality come flooding back. 

We had our coffee this morning together. Made small talk, did normal morning things, even smiled a couple of times. He packed up his bag to go to KS while I tried to organize my day in my head. My first day alone without Darin. (Gawd. How do people do this?) I tried really hard to keep myself together.

But then came the final moment - the GoodBye Hug and kiss.

And I panicked. What if I made the wrong decision? What if I am being unreasonable? Why can't I just be happy with the way things are???

But it was too late - what was done was done. Sobbing, I kissed him twice with my arms wrapped around him for dear life. He very gently kissed me one more time on my forehead, turned around and walked out the door.

I love him. I do.

...and I know I always will.

The End.

Marbles in my Head, Marbles on the Floor

(image found at sweetalyce.blogspot.com)

Falling in love with you means fulfilling your requirement for complete openness and vulnerability. 

I am so very awkward at that. So clumsy. 100% effort, and no grace. Like learning to dance on roller skates when you don't even know HOW to roller skate. 

You do not require the same openness and vulnerability of yourself. It has the same effect as dumping marbles on my rollerskating rink - I trip, fall down, bust open a knee, a lip, a heart...

Have mercy on me, please. Come pick me up off of the floor just one more time. Put your arms around me and lets do this open and vulnerable dance together. 

I promise I will be worth your effort. 

Casting Call for Swift Kicks

(picture found at www.with1eye.com)

Ah - yes! This is what I do! I create something, invite everyone to look at it, promise upcoming features if they will just continue to come back to look at it, stop creating, and then hide until everyone is gone.
God, I suck.

I am weary of me. And I don't even have to act like I am just a little down so that my readers, friends and family won't tire of my whining. I sent them all to look at a DIFFERENT version of me! Ha! Ugh....

So. Let's get down to brass tacks. I am:

• Unemployed
• Divorced
• 40
• Depressed beyond all reasonable doubt

I am alienating my boyfriend...he thinks he can't do anything right. How sad. I make him feel that way when I tell him how once again he has made me feel bad about myself. Why do I do that? Me - of all people- the one who used to preach about how we are responsible for our own feelings and reactions, now making a perfectly wonderful man miserable with my unhappiness. WTF? (Sorry, Mom.)

I keep reading about infinite possibilities and positive thinking and how we are all in control of our future if we can get our thought life under control. I read amazingly inspirational books written by amazingly inspirational people and experience profound paradigm shifts - only to forget whatever insight I gained the very.next.morning. What a waste.

I am at a critical point, folks. I do not have many options for success or fresh starts left - and yet, I am still walking around in dream state. This isn't going to work.

What kind of proverbial kick in the pants is it going to take to get me back on track? What is my track, anyway?

OMG. I am scared. And lost. And ridiculous.

Alcohol Malfunction

I drank tequila last night.

It was supposed to be an innocuous drink. A sangria swirl, if you will. Frozen sangria and a frozen margarita in one luscious goblet served with a straw.

It had tequila in it.

I spent what was supposed to be a beautiful night with my sweetheart laying away from him on the very farthest corner of the bed, listening to him snore. Fitfully snore. Randomly, he would even make that sound where the snore has plugged up his nose and is suffocating him to death. I stared at the ceiling, the wall, the pillow, and his nose (willing it to stop making those awful noises) for four and 1/2 hours.

And it was all my fault.

I drank tequila and unleashed my tongue.

Gah.

Signs of Life

I am here! I am alive! I am happy and healthy and blah, blah, blah...

I was looking through my past blogging history and noting my ups and downs...particularly those times when I hermitize and/or start a whole new blog. It's as if I can't even bother to try to find the words that describe where I am or who I am at that moment, so I will either ditch and burn or hide and watch.

Anyway. There isn't any ditching and burning today, and I have been hiding and watching for so long that my default blog setting doesn't even go to my own blog anymore. HA!

I am getting ready to take my beloved children to D's house to have a fish fry with his beloved children. And I don't like fish fry's. But I do like D. And our children.

...I am taking mustard. And a camera.

Hiding Under the Carpet with My Words

My mom and her husband came to visit me from NH for a week. Yeah - the same mom that gave me the intervention the week before I got served with divorce papers. Same mom. Turns out she loves me. (The ex-husband did not. Who would'a guessed?!)

Anyway - she and Bob stayed with the kids and I, and oh MAN did we ever have fun! Lots of laughing and games and even a really long hike up in Rocky Mountain National Park. Good for the soul, moms are.

But that isn't the only reason why you haven't seen me for awhile. There are a few more, such as the fact that I have been reading so many other people's blogs that there simply isn't time for my own! Besides that, aren't we all getting tired of my "I'm so happy and life is amazing/my heart is broken and life is nothing but mud puddles" circle of life? I wanted to go ride on other people's roller coasters. Oh my heavens, I have learned so much. So much about things that I will never experience - and in most cases, that is just fine. I can do the vicarious experience forever with no qualms.

Why am I writing in my own blog tonight?

Ugh.

Well.

I am avoiding an issue.

I am supposed to be writing an email explaining what exactly happened last Saturday night. It is my homework to sort it out in writing (because he knows I can't talk in words...I have to use my fingers on a keyboard to say what I really mean)and to share with D what my experience was so that he can possibly prevent a rerun.

No, I didn't cause a scene. No, I didn't reproach, whine, wheedle, nag, or punish anyone for anything.

But I did watch him and another girl sharing very intimate moments at a friend's birthday party - strange for two people who were only supposed to know each other through the neighbor. Hands brushing, knees leaning casually on thighs, heads too close and the whispering too soft for birthday party conversation. Lingering eyes on one another as one walked through the door to the adjoining room. All of my alarm bells were clanging - I mistook them for the sound of dangerously accelerating blood pressure in my ears.

It reminded me of the final days of my marriage - watching another scene much the same, only with my husband and a friend. So uncomfortable. So awkward. I wanted to crawl under the carpet, behind a door, or anywhere that would keep them from seeing my face heat up and my eyes blinking back the tears of shame and betrayal. I felt like I should remove myself from the room - as if I were an intruder on an intimate moment between rightful lovers.

Which is what I did.

In both cases.

Which went unnoticed in both cases.

However, this time, in the very wee hours of the morning, I was discovered sorting it out with my face in the pillow and my arms wrapped around my middle so as to not to make a sound.

I didn't tell him anything of what I had seen. I couldn't. The words would not appear.

Mercifully, he allowed me to be silent while he held me close and dried my face with his hands. He murmured soothing sounds over and through the roaring in my ears...and I let him lull me to sleep.

We didn't speak of it again - and I thought the matter was dropped, and I also assumed that he would prefer it that way! Until I got the email this morning from him asking for an explanation for the tears. He said that he knew I communicated best with my writing. That he had waited until I could write from the comfort and safety of my own home. And that he knew we could untangle this mess, just like we had untangled all the others ... through prose and carefully metered dialogue.

But I can't. I can't say the words, I can't write the words, I can't even mouth the words!

I am running away. I have been given the opportunity to have the correct response to a painful situation, and I am going to mess it up this time, too.


I wonder how long he will wait for me to answer...

The Holy Six-Pack

I am not a blasphemous person.

I am a preacher's daughter. My mother, although well versed in how to destroy a haughty, holier-than-thou evangelist using the Holy Bible as a Two-Edged Sword, taught me to to have reverence and respect for my God.

I was raised nondenominational charismatic (which has since become a denomination. Crazy huh?). D is Catholic. His ex, the Beauty Queen converted to Catholicism, his mom and dad and brother are Catholic - hell, his whole childhood town in Kansas is Catholic. I defer out of sheer outnumberedness. And also because I don't really care what denomination a congregation is. My God is still there.

We usually go to Mass with his children on the Sundays that I have to take my children to their father's house. I drive like a bat out of hell to make it on time, fully dressed and ready to attend Mass.

Well, at least my outer clothes are appropriate for Mass...my underclothes are anticipating a whole different scenario. But I digress.

Invariably, it has been a whole week to ten days since I have last had any physical contact by the time I get there, so I am a bit starved. Okay - a lot starved! Sometimes I am afraid people can hear my body beg them to touch me. And at Mass, this is inappropriate behavior. Also, it is inappropriate thinking. Not that it is appropriate behavior or thinking at the supermarket, either, but you know what I mean.

During the communion that I am not allowed to partake in (because I am not Catholic), I found my mind wandering and my eyes roving through the congregation. What a wonderful cross-section of humanity a church is!
Trying to keep my thoughts pure and my body from shouting, I focused on family structures and the recognizable dynamics of proper two parent/wonderful children units.

I swear I wasn't looking at the Tall Smoldering Dark and Handsome with the bicep tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. I promise that I wasn't gazing back into BlueEyed, CleanCut, All American's steady gaze. I was at Mass with my boyfriend and his children for gawds sake! LITERALLY!

Directing my point of view back to the pulpit and pageantry was a difficult and necessary task - and also where I decided that I could never, ever enter a confession booth, because the penalty for my next thought would surely be too high.

As I glanced up at the Statue of Christ on His Cross, I heard myself muse,"Huh. Wow. Those are some great abs. I didn't even know He worked out..."

Please don't be angry with me, friends - blasphemy and disrespect was not my intent.

As punishment, God did not allow me to have any alone time with D whatsoever for the entire night, and here I am on Monday. Alone. Skin starving. Body shouting. And doing penance as dutifully as I can.