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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 Lesbian Divorce – My Sister, My Son and Holding Hands

In attorneys, Blog, blogging, Break-up, C.S. Lewis, cancer, children, christian, civil unions, court, Crying, Current events, current events, dating, Divorce, Facebook, family, gay, God, grief, health, Henry Miller, homosexuality, Law, Lesbian, lgbt, Love, love, Marriage, military, New York, news, Pain, parenting, people, Politics, portland oregon, Portland Oregon, relationships, Relationships, religion, single, sleep, Uncategorized, wedding, women, Writing on September 12, 2011 at 4:45 pm

Yesterday I received a call from my niece Jellybean (I gave her this nickname when she was 4 and wearing a shiny green rain slicker). She told me that my sister (her mom) is on a ventilator and being kept sedated. This sister is the only sister I have any communication with, out of 6 siblings.

Apparently she complained of shortness of breath, collapsed on the stairs and went into full respiratory failure. They’re not sure what’s going on, though they found pneumonia and believe asthma (and being a smoker) are all contributors. They also said they had an inconclusive CT of the brain, and need to do another this morning.

It’s just heart wrenching, because my sister has struggled her whole life. She seriously needs something good to happen to her.

The nurse said they’ll know more this afternoon.

My son FINALLY got his pathology reports sent from his base overseas to the hospy where he’s awaiting surgery. What the heck was the hold up? Why didn’t they send the reports with him? In the age of technology, why wasn’t this stuff stored in a file somewhere that could be accessed in a New York minute on a computer? *insert quizzical and annoyed look here*

Anyways, his (3rd) surgery will finally be this Friday.

It’s a double edged sword with the situation, because the longer they (The Military) screw around, the longer my child isn’t getting the care that’s so important to his health. On the flip side, he’s so relaxed and finally smiling again since he’s been moved from where’s he’s stationed, to where he’s awaiting treatment. It’s so nice to see that kid smile again. He actually likes the area, is having not just the body treated, but his spirit as well. It’s doing him a world of wonderful.

In the mix of concern over the things going on with my son and my sister, my personal journey is taking a few steps over some hurdles along the way as well. I should probably write it all out and get it into words, but C.S. Lewis beat me to the punch in 1960 in The Four Loves. It reads…

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

I sometimes think it would be easier to just close myself off from all opportunities of experiencing joy through companionship. It’s not easy to care for someone else, and open yourself to the knowledge that caring doesn’t always equate easy. But then Henry Miller goes on to say..

“Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such.” – Henry Miller

The truth of the matter is, caring can really suck. Actions and words hurt. They can build insecurities that can slowly tear away at a foundation, leaving it unstable enough to fall easily in the first winds of a storm. While I believe these things are repairable, and should not go uncared for, it just sucks when it happens. Because now you’re in the heart of the matter, and whether you grab your partners hand and stand strong together or walk away leaving the other vulnerable, depends on the core of who you are.

I’ve weathered a lot of storms in my life and I’ve also stood through a lot of great adventures. Most of it all, with no one holding my hand. At times by choice and other times because there was no one there. But to know that I can look to someone else, feel their hand in mine, when things come at me … well, I guess the point is that no matter how wonderful it would feel, it doesn’t come without the risk that the very person who holds your hand, will at times, be the very person that can just break your heart.

Such a reality that’s best served with chocolate.

I still believe in love though, and I believe even though our vulnerability opens us to the risk of being hurt, it also opens us to the possibility of joy. Hopefully the joy outweighs the hurt and when it does hurt, we make better choices to be good to each other, love and hold hands.

I found the perfect song for my thoughts today –