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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.

My Big Fat Life – Prom Queen 

In Uncategorized on January 12, 2017 at 2:57 pm

Today sucks. I’ve spent a majority of my day in bed, nursing an emotional hangover of an all night marathon of crying about everything under the sun. OK mostly my life, but if I were to think about more, I’d have cried about the upcoming inauguration as well. 

Sometimes I wonder why people even have dreams about things they’d like to do or experience. I personally can’t help myself. I’m a romantic, passionate when it comes to love, and things I long to know. I don’t seem to lack any imagination or ability to desire things, I just suck at the execution, and it’s my deepest fear I will die never knowing what it’s like to have touched a lot of things I’ve always wanted. Those dreams that have carried me through some of the worst moments in my life, knowing that there are still fireflies to see and a love that doesn’t hurt, to find. 

I’ve lost my faith in a lot the past 6 years, God being one of them. I guess what I mean to say is my understanding of what my faith was in has changed. Hope has turned to cautious hope, and quietly I’m letting my dreams go. I wonder if they were even worth having; if it would be wise of me to stop wishing or hoping that I could experience or even have what other women seem to have happen so naturally. There’s days like today when the knowledge in such a shitty world that fireflies exist, used to carry me through, but the longer I go without having ever seen one, the more I wonder if I’ve been a fool the entire time, just wasting time on silly wishes. 

I really don’t want the world to hurt as much as it does today, but it does and even if I still had that fierce hope and belief that good things are coming, I’m not sure daydreams of fireflies could even pull me through. 

Today sucks.

My Big Fat Life – I’m Sorry

In Uncategorized on November 30, 2016 at 11:21 am

Tonight as I was flipping though my Facebook newsfeed, I came across a meme that was void of cats or sunsets with self empowerment words, Kermit the Frog, or some quote attributed to famous person. Such a rare thing to see, I know. Yet it resonated with me more than anything Johnny Depp ever said didn’t really say.

sorryIf you have ever spent much time talking to me, you know that is something I do excessively. I apologize for everything. I apologize for being boring, asking questions, talking, feeling, crying, having an opinion, wanting a hug, needing reassurace, asking for help, nt asking for help, wanting to do something, not wanting to do something, any perceived irritation I may have caused, and pretty much all things. It’s almost as if I have somehow tranformed the words “I’m sorry” to equate a new form of punctuation. It’s the new sentence enhancer. It’s so annoying. Of course for that, I am sorry.

People have asked me to stop, and I can’t imagine how it must make people feel when I am apologizing for things. Perahsp they feel they have done something to instigate it, or think I must have the lowest self esteem possible that I would feel I need to pardon myself at every turn, and apologize.

When I was giving birth to my eldest, I had been in labor for 20 something hours, which in labor hours translates into 100 days. The delivering physician, Dr. Davis. was a tall lanky man with thin lips, who  I believe I saw smile a total of one time. I was convinced his face muscles made it incapable of him to do much aside from speaking in his quiet, yet demanding tone. This didn’t really provide much in the bedside manner department; something that a woman screaming in pain while a human emerges, could really benefit from.

When the 100th day of labor fell upon me, I was finally eady to push. Up until that time I imagined pushing would be a rather quick action, like I had seen in every sitcom or those birthing videos where pushing was made to look like this part took nothing more than the energy of an 80s Jazzercise video. No… it took me nearly an hour. Instead of screaming at the father of the alien about to shoot out of my belly, I apologized. I apologized to the Dr. and the staff for taking so long. I apologized the Dr. for screaming, I apologized for possibly interferring with dinner or any other plans he might have had. I apologized for crying, I apologized for bleeding everywhere, and I apologized for peeing while pushing, and pretty much evety other typical action that takes place when you are tying to give birth.

Dr. Davis for the most part was quiet during this process. He stood at the end of the delivery table and commanded with a dominant presence for me to push, and breathe. Instead I took a breath and used it as force to back my next plea to just remove that baby from my body and set me free. Of course, all followed by an apology.It was probably around my 7, 567, 895th apology that Dr. Davis then said in an exasperated tone “If you say you are sorry one more time, I am leaving this room. Now push!” It’s one of those moments I look back on and laugh, because it was almost comical if it wasn’t so real and so me.

If you remove the comedy, it remains that apologizing for everything is a habit I wish I could break. I know most people don’t know why they do this, but I am both fortunate and cursed to know exactly where this comes from. I think I can even recall the exact moment it started down to the moment it was imprinted.

One day, when I was very young.. maybe 5, maybe 7.. My mom hit me in the face with a razor strap. I seriously can’t recall what led to it;chances are I said something dumb for a kid, and instead of normal parenting reaction she hit me in the face with a razor strap. If you have no idea what a razor strap is, let me tell you that it like a belt on steroids. It’s not exactly something you want to hit your face as a kid, let alone an adult. It’s just a really bitchy thing to do. I remember standing there in shock, crying, bloody and apologizing for whatever it was. That was the birth. The confirmation came when I was 12. My mom had gotten dumped by some guy she had stolen money from while he was sleeping. He woke up, saw the money gone, and my mom told him I took it. I guess she thought it was safer for her if she said one of the kids had done it, but that didnt stop him from getting out of bed and spending an hour screaming at me for stealing something. I stood there with a dumb look on my face wondering why he was flipping out, but it was only after he yelled some words at mom and stormed out that she told me what had taken place. I was forced to apologize to that man for something she had done. As I was walking upstairs to my room, my mom started yelling at me for god knows what at that point and said “He’s never going to call me again and you know why? Becasuse every person I have ever had here, hates you. You have ruined every thing in my life and everyone hates you”. I apologized and just fell to the floor in shock. I sat on that staircase for what felt like a teenager lifetime, trying to figure out why everyone hated me. Why she hated me.

It would be years before I realized my mom is just a crazy bitch. I don’t blame myself for whatever she’s done to herself any longer, because as a woman I get that she is in control of her own shit. I have no idea who she blames for what these days, but I’m guessing she’s moved on a thousand times, but it didn’t stop the habit from forming in me from a super young age. It explains why I want to fix everything and why I don’t do well when tension is going on. I just want everything fixed. I will apologize even when I know I’m not completely to blame. I will apologize because I just want life and everything to be okay. I apologize because I want to feel safe. I apologize because I’m afraid if I don’t cover all my basis I will have somehow overlooked something and be blamed. I would probably have to use the stars in the sky to count all the times I have apologized for things that were my fault, and not my fault. I can likely use my hands to count all the times I have ever been apologized to. Maybe people think it’s pointless since I am going to own all the blame, but somewhere inside me that younger version of me realizes that I need to feel safe, and I can trust those around me not to hurt me, but if they do they’re going to own it. I guess the trick for me is to just own what is mine and not worry about everything else, which I am guessing worry is a by product of, but let’s not get started on mutations of crappy childhood habits.

I don’t really hold my breath that I am somehow going to magically change this shitty habit overnight, but I have been working on it. I will own what’s mine even when it sucks and it’s humilitating (which it usually is). There is usually always something I own. My words, my tone, my reaction or any of those things that belong to me, so that isn’t where I get stuck. It’s when I am apologizing for those things that aren’t mine that just gets me every single time. I’m working on it though, and hopefully I can start ending sentences with the proper grammar. The way the grammer nazi intended.

In other news.. Trump was elected president.

For that, I am truly sorry.