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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 – Empty Space

In Uncategorized on October 4, 2017 at 12:37 pm

I have a bit of writers block lately. It seems my head is busy with other things and I can’t seem to really think about anything else. Mostly it’s a crazed haze of words that make no sense to anyone else but me, and I am not even sure if I understand it all.

I’ve written at least three different paragraphs here and deleted them all. It kinda feels like looking at sink full of super dirty dishes and not really wanting to touch any of them, and not even sure which one to touch first so you can clean the damn thing. That is pretty comparable to my mind today. My mind is a dirty dish. Dear god..

Okay so I left that one as an example of where I am right now. It’s pretty lame, right? This is what I’m working with today.

Okay, let me try again..

(10 minutes later after stopping to play Tapped Out (The Simpsons game app), plugging in my phone and downloading the new iPhone update)

…..

(Got up and took laundry from dryer, started new load of wash, got a cup of water, kicked dog off bed after he started to clean himself, looked in cupboards, flipping through YouTube…)

…..

(got another cup of water, watched a few Judge Judy videos on YouTube – I don’t even watch Judge Judy, played some more Tapped Out)

Well, since I spent so much time getting this blog written, I need to go and get dinner in the oven so it’s done on time and then take a shower.

 

 

 

My Big Fat Life – The End of the World, and Zits

In Uncategorized on September 22, 2017 at 3:24 pm

Today I had to get an ultrasound to see how well behaved my ever bitchy uterus is behaving. As I carefully walked into the building with my full bladder praying I didn’t cough or sneeze, I also prayed the ultrasound tech listened to my request when I made the appointment. I have no idea why, other than the tech likes to fuck with people, but on the ceiling above the table he plays this loop of photos he took. ALL are of water. Fast rushing waterfalls, lakes, streams, you name it. Last time I asked him about it, he was offended and defensively stated they were all photos he took. I wasn’t giving my arm chair photography opinion on the photos, I just asked why he had photos of water above a table with a woman sprawled out trying not to pee all over the floor as he pressed his wand over my bladder like he’s trying to uncover a secret like f*cking Indiana Jones.

I checked in and decided not to sit down, but to lean against the wall while I waited. I couldn’t reassure myself that if I sat down that I could get up with ease. So while I was leaning against the wall, I couldn’t but help hear a family with a screaming toddler as they passed by. An attractive pregnant woman strolled over to the seats as her husband and screaming child took place next to her. I figured she was there for her pregnancy ultrasound and wrote my assumptions as I looked their way. Praying my turn would happen before I suddenly caught the worlds fastest cold and started sneezing, I continued looking at the family. Not because I am a creeper, but because in a very fast chain of events she immediately put her hands on her hubbys face as though she was examining him. Within seconds this attractive pregnant woman started popping her husbands zits on his face. In the waiting room. In front of us all. I thought perhaps he would pull back, but nope. Instead he leaned in and let her go to town. When she was done with his face, she started examining the top of his head. He leaned in further and put his head down for her as she proceeded to pick whatever it was she was picking off the top of his head in this weird zoo like fashion. When she was done with him, she turned her attention onto herself and openly popped whatever it was she could find on her arms. Suddenly sneezing was no longer my focus, but this intimate public display of bonding I had never seen before.

When the tech finally called me back, I was rescued. Seeing he didn’t have the display of photos lopping on the ceiling, I felt even more confident that perhaps my bladder wouldn’t provide my own bodily display of horrors.

I don’t know the results yet, because you know how it goes. There has to be a really long wait, followed by an entire weekend of questioning your life and resolving not to worry about things until they tell you to. I don’t think anything is really wrong, but they did find three lumps that the tech made sure to stop and take several measurements of. Again, I don’t think anything is wrong, and chalked this up to a passive shot at me for requesting the bladder explosion inducing pics not be shown during my tests (let me have this one), 

After finally being able to get up and get dressed, I emerged from the building without seeing Mr & Mrs Zit Popping Daddies and jumped into my car. On the drive home it dawned on me that tomorrow marks two things: Another “end of the world” prediction, and the anniversary of my marriage to the muse of this of this blog birth. It sorta freaked me out as I did the math quickly in my head and realized tomorrow we would have been married 8 years had it worked out. As I reflected upon that fact, I realized that if two women getting married didn’t bring an end to the world, chances are it’s going to survive tomorrow and I’ll still be morally obligated to beg the teenagers to bring me the laundry from their room before it self destructs out of depression, and the entire inventory of cups in the house. 

I don’t regret that we didn’t stay married. It was, in fact, best we had never married to begin with. We were together weeks when we did, and it was my one and only U-Haul experience. I don’t really even regret getting married to her either, because my take away didn’t require a U-Haul and I still carry those lessons with me. Some of it is baggage, I am aware. I think we all have that one box of shit left in the middle of the floor that when opened would reveal some scars. I’m still unpacking those boxes, but I figure it’s really only a major issue if I leave them in the middle of the floor and start walking around them instead of opening them up. Sorta like a zit…