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My Big Fat Lesbian Divorce – Thank You

In 2011, AP News, attorneys, Blog, Blue Like Jazz, Break-up, C.S. Lewis, cancer, children, Choose Joy, christian, Christmas, civil unions, clothing, coat hangers, Come Here Go Away, communication, cookies, court, Crying, Current events, dating, desert, Divorce, domestic, equality, Facebook, failure, family, fashion, fast car, feelings, finances, Fleetwood Mac, Flowers, Foolish Hearts, Friend, gardening, gay marriage, get a life, God, grief, health, Henry Miller, homosexuality, Jell-O, Kiss, Laughing stars, Law, law enforcement, Lesbian, Lesbian Relationships, lgbt, Love, Marriage, minivan, Musician, Natasha Bedingfield, Netflix, New York, news, NYE, Oregon, Pain, parenting, Pears, people, pictures, Politics, Portland, portland oregon, promises, Questions, Rain, Regret, relationships, religion, same sex, school, September, single, sleep, Steve Perry, Steve Taylor, stress, Uncategorized, vehicle, vows, wedding, women, Writing on January 17, 2012 at 12:32 am

After much thought, I decided this letter belongs as the last entry under My Big Fat Lesbian Divorce heading. It’s really more of a morph (non Power Rangers style, though I’d like to be the Pink Power Ranger if I had to choose).

In saying that, I’m struggling for the words to open a good-bye letter. Saying “good-bye” has never been my strong suit. I’ve led a life of good-byes while I’ve longed for a life of “Hello”.

But you didn’t say good-bye to me or the boys, and in retrospect, neither did we to you. Rather, we’ve lived our good-bye through each day we’ve discovered our laughter and ourselves once again.

So, let me start by saying Thank You.

I didn’t know where this journey of uprooting myself and the children to move up here would lead us. Of course I had hoped it would lead us to a better level of a new chapter in our lives, and it has. Just….without you. At first I felt that was more of an ending, but in reality it’s become a beginning.

I know I cried a lot after moving up here. I had left behind open skies, the sound of crickets at night, and the quiet streets. But despite the reasons we married, I had left it all behind because I made a commitment and I wanted to see where that journey could lead us all as a family. It wasn’t easy but that was the level I believed in my keeping my word. It wasn’t what we agreed on when we decided to marry that day we went to the courthouse, but still….

I thought despite things hadn’t come into my life as I had hoped, that it could somehow grow into what I dreamed of once I moved and in time.

Maybe I didn’t see you as my partner the way I should have when we decided to marry, but I gave it my all to grow into love with you and to be your wife. Eventually I did, but by that time I had also realized that our union was in reality a business arrangement between two people for your job, and would never really be the loving relationship of two hearts discovering each other in the natural progression I had longed for. By that time though, emotions were involved so walking away became a tangled mess. I should have walked away much sooner, but I can’t question or second guess myself anymore, because things turned out exactly as they should.

Since I’ve lived here on my own, I’ve discovered my own heart, my own voice, and my own open skies once again. Perhaps meeting you was exactly what I needed to move me to this new level of my life that’s opened up new and different opportunities for the boys and I.

B is flourishing in his new school, C is mainstreamed without an aide, G is reaching new milestones and D is excelling academically. Who knows if any of that would be the case had we not moved.

I’ve made new friends, explored new opportunities, found that I’m much stronger than I’ve ever given myself credit for, and learned to trust myself once again.

I’ve also found that I know exactly what I’m longing to feel with another person and a liberty to allow myself the freedom to feel it without reserve when it comes. I’ve had opportunities to do just that, but I haven’t settled. Because I’ve heard my voice when I filed for our divorce, and I liked the sound of my own strength.

So Thank You.

I say that without malice, sarcasm or for any other reason than to simply thank you.

You were the train ride here, that held a work shop of lessons that I needed to learn, for whatever reasons I needed. I appreciate that and I’ll always thank you for that.

But now, I need to tell you Good-Bye openly with my words instead of just living it as I have. The boys have said good-bye in their own ways, so I’m not just saying this as your ex wife, but also as your ex family.

We’re good.

I wish you love, happiness and I truly hope you find the peace you’re so desperately seeking. I hope you find healing, hope and joy. I hope many good things for you. I’m pretty sure neither of us had planned for it to end as badly as it did. That’s OK.

Because I’m exactly where God has planned all along.

If you listen to this song, you’ll hear exactly where my heart is in writing this. It starts when Chris Colfer sings, and ends with my

Good-Bye.

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My Big Fat Life – Stick A Toe In It

In Uncategorized on November 3, 2018 at 10:35 pm

This evening while driving, I pulled over to just sit in my car and think. Or not think.. but that always leads to thinking. I had intended to decompress, but instead I sat there quietly with my thoughts to just allow myself to feel instead of keeping a low level of being numb with all the chaos around me. Being someone who needs and likes to feel my way through things, I often find myself allowing life to keep my mind busy enough to just hold my emotions on the other side of the door, because to deal with it sometimes feels like a chore just added to the daily grind of expectations that I feel others, and myself, lay at my feet. Not exactly healthy, because it just manifests itself in a wasteland of cookie crumbs on my shirt, but there are times it is an essential coping skill just to make it through a day.

I pulled over and looked out over the horizon. The remains of the sunset layered the sky in purple and pinks that looked more intentional than some weather related situation, that I found a beautiful justification to ignore the loud knocking at my door of emotional acknowledgement, but at least it wasn’t the laundry or dishes, so I took a few more moments to just look.

After a  bit I turned my head and stared at the parked car in front of me. I really had no where to mentally hide at that moment, and so I just sat there and allowed myself to acknowledge the cluster fuck of emotions about to emerge, and so I lsat there until I could listen to myself. Isn’t it funny how we listen to others all day long, chattering in the store aisles as we walk by, or the distant conversations of people, but the hardest person to listen to is ourselves? Why is that? Is it we just don’t like the things we say to ourselves, or that we might be right and then be obliged to act upon our own advice? Why are we so afraid of what we might say?

It’s been almost a year since my break up. My life is beautifully full. I have a grandchild now, my children are older, I am older… I have had a lot of transitions this past year. I have embarked on some new adventures, I have a new side gig, made new friends, have moved into a new place, and I am generally pretty happy for the most part. But I am terribly lonely.

Now.. the very idea of dating isn’t something I am looking at right now, because .. well.. it scares the shit out of me. While I am 99.9 percent over the past, there is that one last little bit that has made me terrified to trust again, enough to build dreams on. Maybe that is wisdom, or maybe it is self sabotaging.. who knows.. I just know 11 months ago that would have held me back. Now.. I’m not certain if I should, even though if I were to paint a visual, I would liken it to not knowing if that body of water was warm or cold, but being too afraid to dip a toe into it to find out, and having more than enough other things I could stick a toe in that I could count on. Like, my dishes or my laundry. Do I really want to be that woman who sticks her foot into the laundry jut because it’s safe to bet that yep.. that’s laundry?

When I say I am lonely, I don’t mean I don’t have enough things to keep my mind occupied that I have this crazy amount of time to fill to keep myself engaged. Not at all. I feel complete on many levels. When I say lonely, I mean that as an umbrella to what it means to be a woman, not all those other roles I play in life. At the end of the day, I am still me, with a name, and a woman. I love that there are people around me who seem to have found that human who keep them from sticking their foot into the laundry. I am genuinely happy for them. I am also wondering why this hasn’t been the case for me. I want to know what it is like to hold hands and laugh, then go home, snuggle and make passionate love, and share things in a way only overs do.  I long for romantic, and passionate intimacy The kind they write songs, and verse about. The kind that has you listening to the rain together, tangled up with each other, and freely express yourself without reservation, but as a team. I am not talking about just sex, because while yes I do miss sex, tremendously, I want more than just that. I want something to build on, that has a hope to be something more and you are both actively building on it.

I guess in my crazy busy life, the knock on my door is telling me I feel stagnant as a woman. The thing that runs through my mid when I have to listen to myself ramble on about it, is I question that perhaps it just wasn’t mean to be for me, and if I accept that then I never have to answer that door again. On the other hand, I wonder why I feel so deeply and I am so full of desire to share my life with someone and build on it, if it’s just to be one of those things that never comes ot pass for me. Do I remain hopeful? Do I just go around sticking my toe into my laundry, forbid my dishes, and settle for what I can count on? I don’t know. The parked car in front of me didn’t offer me any answers, and the clouds were just a pretty diversion, but for now what I have is this open door and I don’t know whether to kindly take the pamphlet with a patronizing smile, or slam it shut and go back to looking for the missing sock.

 

 

 

My Big Fat Life – Arthur the Dawg

In Uncategorized on September 3, 2018 at 12:10 pm

This past week I got some pretty crappy news about my dog, Arthur. Someone was generous enough to make a GoFundMe to help raise the money we need, so I thought I would share it here. He’s only 5, and has been a pretty big part of my family. He’s been with me through so much, and made this journey a bit easier for us all. If you could please share it, I would really appreciate all the help. We’re VERY close to raising enough to schedule his surgery, like only 182.00 is left needed.

Typically I wouldn’t ask this, but I feel a mix between desperate and encouraged that this is SO close, so here is the link:    https://www.gofundme.com/fxkn2t-arthur

Ignore the boxes.. this was shortly after our recent move. I wish I could say they are all unpacked, but ya know, life.. pizza.. Netflix binges.. This is Arthur with his bear, which he packs around everywhere with him. It’s not only adorable, it makes me wish I had a bear to pack around with me everywhere too, without the social stigma of being the adult woman who packs a bear around with her everywhere.

 

Arthur & his bear.jpg