Now is the Time

Implemental Slumber, a photo by tielji on Flickr.

In my mind, I am a terribly wonderful friend to have. Sweet, giving, understanding, easy to get along with and lots of fun to hang out with.

And I am. Some of the time.

But I also seem to have another person living in me. Another person who can make a guest appearance at any given, random time. This person is nasty, peevish, cruel, judgmental, ruuuuude, and irrational to say the least.

I shouldn't say that this person shows up randomly - it really isn't as random as I would like. She can show up any random time I am drinking.

I have spent the last 15 years trying to decipher her code, trying to ward off her appearance and to somehow predict her pattern. She just does so much damage all the while using my name and my mouth.

Maybe she only comes when I don't eat enough before I drink. Or maybe I shouldn't drink cheap(er) alcohol. Maybe I was just out of my element this time, giving her a foot in the door. Perhaps I was really emotional this time drinking and that brought her around. Maybe I just don't metabolize alcohol the same since I quit smoking, and my body will come back in to balance with time. Maybe it was because I was hormonal. Or maybe I shouldn't mix my alcohols. Maybe I should only drink wine. Or beer. Or blahblahblah ad nauseum..

It is sad how much time and effort I have had to put in to repairing damage caused in my personal life (and maybe my professional life if I am honest about it). I have hurt people that I care about so very much, I have embarrassed the man that I love with my whole heart, and have made my family come to me with their concerns more than once.

Why would I continue down this road? I obviously have failed to figure out how to drink without having it turn out badly every so often. In fact, this game of Russian Roulette has more live rounds in the gun than it does blanks - more sorrowful Saturday mornings trying to piece together what chaos I have wreaked upon my loved ones than not.

The only way to guarantee victory over this particularly damaging part of my life is this:

I admit that I have a problem with alcohol. And I am committed to living my life alcohol-free from this day forth.

Not because I think it will make my life better, or fix any problem that I have right now - I just know that if I drink anymore it will make my life exponentially worse. And I am tired of hurting myself by destroying relationships and opportunities just because I haven't figured out the "right formula".

And I know that there will be many people in my world who will doubt that I can follow through on this intention - and that is okay. If I focus on what everyone else expects of me, I am sure to fail. And I may fail anyway - who knows?

But I have to say that the joy and freedom that comes to me through this decision (Yay! "She's" never coming back to hurt me or anyone else!) is liberating.

I feel free. And hopeful. And ambitious. And ...well, I feel good. Something I haven't felt in a long time.

Merry Christmas to you and me! <3

ROBQUIT

robquit and tielji, a photo by tielji on Flickr.

You all know (well, some of you know) that I quit smoking using the Quitnet.com.

Internet-ANYthing is such a great sociological experiment, but an internet support system for kicking an addiction is another animal altogether. It is very intense. I think it is due to the power of the written word, but also because of the (sometimes false) sense of knowing other people very intimately because you communicate so often.

I have met the finest people on the world wide web. And most of them I met on the Q.

Often the Q will have a huge get-together where people from all over the world will come meet each other in person. These days, meetings like this are called conventions and are not very out of the ordinary. But 4 years ago it was still pretty shaky. Our friends and family were nervous for our safety and questioning our sanity. I mean, really! Who flies (or drives) thousands of miles to hang out with total strangers for the weekend for no other reason except to connect a face to a screen name?

At one such get-together, we all gathered in Chicago. (What a wonderful place!) I road-tripped with my Q-Bud Taceon, stayed in NE with another Q-Bud Courtne, and saw all of Chicago's finest tourist spots with Brnhiker and Spmozart - all people that I would have never known if not for the Q.

And amongst the 100 or so beloved strangers I was blessed to meet, there was RobQuit. Yes, I got to meet RobQuit in Chicago.

What a handsome devil. What a Q legend. What an amazing man, husband and father. What a fabulous friend.

He became my most precious penpal and support from afar - through my divorce, through my dating, through my life ills, and child raising disasters - he was there.

But now he isn't.

And he won't ever be there again.

Rob passed away this morning. From cancer.

It isn't fair.

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.

Blue and other variations

I finally opened up my blinds. Good thing, too. It is beautiful outside!

The fall colors, the blue sky (I should find a descriptive word for the color other than blue - but I don't want to), the way the sunshine is slanting this time of year - it really shouldn't be missed.

This time of year is when the majority of my biggest events happened. I was married, my grandmother AND great grandmother died, my mother moved far, far away,  we lost a child, I was divorced, all three of my accidents were in October, and I met D. Not a very good month for me, I guess. Ha!

But it's gonna be okay.

As soon as I crawled out of bed for the first time in two days and opened up the blinds, I became very aware of some of the answers as to why things are the way they are.

And once you know why things are going wrong, you have a chance to right yourself.  

I don't have any goals, or real dreams. I just take every day as it comes. Mourning those days that don't turn out to be spectacular and being a kid in a candy store when they do. I don't know if that is a good or bad thing - but it sure doesn't give you an anchor to reality when you need one.

I need an anchor. Right now.

I want next October to be the one where I look back and say " Hey - look what I accomplished this year! Isn't that awesome?".

(Does anyone else struggle with this, or is it unique to just me?)

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.

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.

Emergence

Emergence
Originally uploaded by tielji

What an unusual day. What a fantastical, magical, unusual and wonderful day.

Everything is just as it should be. I am overwhelmed by a profound sense of gratitude. Not sure how long it will last or how the intensity can sustain itself, but ohmygawd, I will take it!

My neighbor next door is a shaman of sorts. Maybe not a shaman - but definitely a strong woman of medicine and spirit. Her knowledge of herbs, meditation, spiritual access, reflexology and physical/emotional relations is astounding. I am in awe of her - and sometimes intimidated.

But not yesterday. Yesterday, my neighbor took me in to her home. She brought me into a room of muted purples and greens with soft music and fabrics and smells and a carefully prepared environment for ministering to my body. My poor, sad, ravaged and heart broken body.

As I climbed under the sheet on the table, feeling uncharacteristically comfortable with being naked, I marveled at the level of vulnerability that I was willing to achieve just to feel anything differently than how I have been feeling.

Before she even laid her hands on me, I started to weep. Silent tears streaming down both sides of my head, dampening the the hair at my temples and the lilac sheet I rested on. Searching for words to explain the tears (in case I needed to explain), I realized that these were not tears of pain or loneliness or heartbreak. These were tears of gratitude. Gratitude for the kindness I was being shown. Gratitude that I was safe and being cared for. Gratitude that I am going to be okay...

She massaged and kneaded and coaxed the muscles in my body for over two hours. Lingering on those places that seemed to want to hold on to hurt. Persistent with those areas that tried to hide the poisons that want to infiltrate the quiet places of the heart and mind.

It was wonderful.

She called me last night to check on me - sometimes breaking all of that loose can cause severe reactions in a person. But it seems that she took the brunt of it, as I had a wonderful and productive evening, and she ended up taking a three hour nap that left her disoriented and shook up upon awakening. Somehow, she took all of my "yuckiness"...

I don't know how all of that works, but she assures me that it happened just the way it is supposed to. This is her ministry. This is her gift. To me.

I feel like a brand new person. And I am so VERY grateful. :)

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.

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...