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


My Big Fat Life – Home Is Where

In Uncategorized on November 12, 2015 at 9:40 am

I have at least 10 entries started, and I haven’t finished a one. I get started on a thought, and then something distracts me to the point of no completion. So here I am, again, and hoping I follow through this time.

LIfe seems to be on a stall right now. It’s pretty maddening. Gabriel needs another surgery that has been postponed three times now due to illness. Cold and flu season really is a stupid time to try this, but the Dr. think he needs it sooner than later, and of course I’m never prepared for this. I’m hoping we have a health streak around here long enough to get him what he needs. I’m somewhat tempted to  stand at the doors of the school and ask parents what the hell they are thinking sending their kids to school to cough all over everyone else. I could tell them I am from the health department, cracking down on parents who refuse to adhere to school policy on infectious illness. I wonder how well that would go down.

I would just like to be over this, and have the stress and worry be behind us. Once he has the surgery, he can start to do all the things he misses doing, and being well is one of those things. He’s pretty tired of being sick. While he hasn’t had a flare since they upped his dose of prednisone, it’s still pretty hard to see him not be able to do all the things he used to love doing.

Speaking of Gabriel, something weird happened not too long ago. Some kids contacted my son on FB and presented himself to be a 15yr old heart patient. He started asking Gabriel some weird questions and so my son handed the computer over to me. I read over the conversation and thought it seemed weird myself. This kid was asking Gabe where he lived, moved to, what his Mom did for work.. all kinds of very fixated questions, so I started talking to this kid as though I was Gabriel. I asked the kid if I could call him, and he said that I wasn’t allowed to because it was his grandmothers phone (he claimed his mom had just died and his dad ran off), but if I texted him that his grandma might let him call me (assuming I Was Gabriel). So I got he number, handed it to someone who used his resources(won’t name who to protect their privacy) and within minutes we found out that the “kid was in fact Davids sister. I think she is either in her late 30s or early 40s now, but a grown ass woman pretended to me a teen boy to coerce information out of my minor child. Can you say breaking more laws than you realize? Holy crap.. Not to mention the ex isn’t even supposed to know where we live, so she gets to add attempting to give him that information to the list of laws she was trying to break. Thankfully a lot of people are watching her now, and agencies are aware of her and she’s in their sight. That feels pretty good to know, but still. So weird.

As for life being stalled right now, I have a lot of plans and things I would like to get involved in. I kind of feel like life is a bit stalled. While I like where I moved to, I still feel like I am not living at “home”. I think it’s the place i moved into. It’s really cute, and I do like it.. it just doesn’t feel like this is my forever home. I still have boxes I haven’t unpacked completely and some boxes with pictures I should hang on the wall, are still there, That’s usually a sign to me that I haven’t landed where I want to be completely just yet. The area is new to me, and it’s really awesome. Just.. I think it’s the space. There is nothing really wrong with it, and I don’t hate it. It just doesn’t feel like home. I sort of feel like I’m visiting on a daily basis, and when I walk through the doors I feel like something is missing. It’s nothing unbearable; I do look forward to finding a space to land though. While life seems pretty awesome right now in other ways, I do look forward to feeling like I can walk through the door and I’m home.

My Big Fat Life – #WhyIWrite

In Uncategorized on October 20, 2015 at 11:42 pm

Today was national Why I Write Day. I missed the boat.

For me, today was supposed to be about something else. A diversion in plans instead finds me at home, sitting at the table, the kids in bed, and no noise other than the sound of the keys clicking as I type. When I saw that today was a day that writers were encouraged to share why they write, I decided that I had missed the boat and contributing to the movement would probably be a moment lost, but then all the times I had told myself that I had missed a moment and let things go were moments I couldn’t get back, I thought.. what the hell.

My earliest memory of my love for words takes me back to the time I was about 9. My first attempt at writing a book was a story about a dragon who lived in a cave and could only be seen by those who believed in him enough to venture into the cave where he dwelled. These courageous believers overcame their fears to walk into places where lights didn’t exist. Their hopes of meeting the kindly dragon was the only thing guiding them on their journey. Those who were lucky enough to overcome their fear of stepping into the unknown, were rewarded with meeting the kind and gentle dragon who was timid and afraid of the unknown on the other side. Both the dragon and the children had their own fears of the unknown to overcome, and realizing fear was the only thing separating the two from something wonderful on the other side. I wrote this out with a pencil that was probably a stub, a bit eraser, and on some school paper I had stapled together. The illustrations were rough, but in my young eyes were less concerned with perfection and more about how I saw the dragon in my mind. I remember when I finished the book I took it to my Mom and asked her if she liked it. When she didn’t answer, I felt beyond rejected, and tore it up into a million pieces, which in reality more like 5. To this day I wish I had that book, but it lives on in memory.

Those who know me now, would probably never believe me if I told them that while I was a chatty kid I really had a hard time talking to people. I bounced back and forth between my mom’s house where we were rarely acknowledged, to my grandparents home where children had the role to obey and nothing more. I don’t blame my grandparents, they were doing the best they could for raising my moms children, but left a lot of confusion on how I was supposed to talk to people. Any trace of emotion found us sitting on the step of the garage entryway, and with no allowance to return the house until the moment had passed. It was on that step that I escaped into my imagination and wrote numerous stories where I was a child living a typical childhood. Nothing grand, nothing courageous, just a kid who lived in a home where things were functional and I felt loved. Nothing grand, no heroes, no big conquest… just a kid who went to bed unafraid of monsters under my bed and a comforting sense of peace.  I’ve cursed the suppression of that step in the entryway many times since, and the lesson of keeping things inside that it taught me yet some of the most grand escapes in my imagination happened on that very step.

It would be years before I would learn to talk to people and not have a panic attack at the same time. Sometimes I still fall victim to questioning the sound of my own voice, and often I retreat to writing it out before I say it. There have been so many times I had wished I could just write things out instead of talking to people, but I know how powerful it has become for me to learn how to talk when I would rather just retreat, and so I force myself to take the anxiety on as I hear the sound of  words coming from my mouth.

Why I write, well.. I guess it’s because I don’t feel so awkward when I am here. I don’t struggle for the words to come out of my mouth, and I don’t worry if I am writing the wrong thing because I can always hit the delete button and that isn’t something we can do once the words fall from our face. I write because if I don’t, I just become a prisoner of the things I want to say, and just can’t seem to otherwise. I write because I’m afraid. I write because I am alive. I write because I don’t want to forget and because I don’t want to remember.

I write because the written word has helped me live an audible life.

I write because it’s saved my life.