Time Machine

In looking for something else, I found an essay I'd written back in the fall of 2012, months after James and I had started dating and months before we got married. It still holds true today, so I'm going to post it:

Sometimes I Feel Like I Don’t Have a Partner
November 15, 2012

“I hope you find whatever it is that you’re looking for.”

This is one of the last things that my ex-husband told me before I moved to Austin. He seemed genuinely baffled, as though I’d always been looking for something that he couldn’t give me, and maybe in a way this is true. But I’ve always known what I wanted, and I thought that I was pretty clear in communicating this to him… over and over and over for years and years. But it was apparently still a mystery to him.

This week, I went on vacation with D and James. When we got to the condo, James helped carry everything up, and when he saw that I was unpacking in my room, he went into his room to unpack. He told me, “If it were just me, I’d leave everything laying around.”

He wanted to help when I was cooking our meals. He wanted to go when D and I went to the playground to hang out. He was disappointed this morning when he learned that I’d taken the cooler down instead of letting him do it.

When we got to the trailer, he helped get everything in and helped put things away, get the laundry started, and made sure that I didn’t need anything else before he sat down to work on the computer.

I get the mess that is missed e-mail, and in our case NaNoWriMo catch-ups, and work that is now backlogged and all of that… so I never resent the need to get back to real life when vacation is over. But I didn’t realize fully how much I had missed and how nice it was to have someone to help me reacclimatize so that I could do the same.

I have, for my whole life, wanted a partner. I have wanted someone who was different enough from me that we’d have interesting conversations and be able to enjoy each other’s viewpoints, but who was willing to work with me to be a team. Andy tried to argue with me when we saw things differently. Ken was the same way. It wasn’t enough that I had an opinion or a thought that perhaps I’d very carefully considered before coming to the conclusion I had reached. I was wrong and needed to be taught how to think correctly. When I didn’t agree, there was a breakdown in community. We could never agree to disagree and then get on with life.

Ken in particular took my differences of opinion as disunity. I did not understand that. I wasn’t threatened or offended by his differences.

I was lonely, though. I wrote him letter upon letter about wanting company, about wanting someone who seemed to enjoy being around me, who liked spending time with me and would be “there” when he was there. 

This might not be something he was able to provide. It made for a lonely existence.

When Ken was with me, and later with D and me, he could be in the moment for a while, but then he would retreat into whatever reality he preferred and we were left to our own devices. This is fine now, when I expect it to be just D and me, but it was horribly sad when my expectation was that we were supposed to be in it together.

So often, it was him versus me. I never understood this. I never got why he would be so frustrated when I was happy or having a good time. This is one thing I especially appreciate about James. If I got the opportunity to spend a week in Europe with Rockapella or Weird Al or a group of girlfriends, James would be at the airport seeing me off with a big smile on his face and yelling behind me things like, “Take lots of pictures!” “Bring me back some good cheese!” “I’ll miss you!” Then he’d get on with his life that week, miss me a lot, and be very happy to see me when I returned.

What I just described sounds normal, as though of course this is what would happen. When you live with someone who isn’t your partner, though, there is a shift in reality, so that it is just slightly “off.” First of all, Ken never would have let me go to Europe without him because he would be afraid that I would do something “stupid.” If I were to go anyway, he’d sit at home all week, checking Facebook updates and pictures, and getting more and more angry with me. He might send an email message telling me to enjoy my trip because I was never going on a trip again.

When I got home, he’d have let the house get horribly messy, and he wouldn’t help me bring anything in from the car, and he would likely ignore me for a week.

This was my reality. I never went to Europe without Ken, but I was punished for being happy. I was made to feel guilty when I enjoyed life outside of my house. I was viewed with suspicion and resentment. And all that I wanted was a partner.

This is why, I believe, I fell into such deep “love” with my dearest friend after my marriage was over. My friend said that he was attracted to me, and the deep respect for and work ethic he had regarding marriage were extremely attractive to me. I thought that if the two of us got together, we could have an incredible partnership. Only it was going to cost him too much, so he backed out. The problem was that I had already fallen hard and fast for the idea of having a functional family, and all of the meals and reunions and fun outings and even the stress that goes with that.

I got caught in a repeating loop of need and wants and trying to talk someone unwilling to partner with me into doing so against his better judgment.

This time, though, things are different. I can feel it. James is an admitted introvert, and being “with people” is a challenge for him. After spending four full days in all-out family vacation mode, though, he said he didn’t feel like climbing the walls. That’s incredible. And he was in the moment the whole time, except for zoning out at dinner trying to figure out a plot device he’d used.

The point is that I never felt lonely. James wrote over 17,000 words during the days that we were on vacation, and we still spent more time together and had more conversation and hung out and played games and were genuinely together in a way that I have never experienced before. I feel like I’m heading toward something immense. And I am grateful.

All I have wanted my entire life is to have a partner, to have someone with me to share things and to show me things and to be with me. For the first time in years, I believe that this dream has a possibility of coming true.

For the first time in my life, I can watch a romantic movie and not be pensive; I can actually be happy for the lovers, and imagine how they feel. That might sound sappy and stupid, but that has never been an experience that I have had. I’ve never felt secure in any relationship that I have ever had, even the better of them.

I have always been afraid that I was one screw-up or prettier girl from losing. And I’m not scared anymore.

So I suppose that the most amazing thing about James is that I trust him. I trust him with my heart. I have given it to him completely, and I am not worried that he will be careless with it or unequal to the task.

James is a strong man, with very different experiences and views than mine. But he will make it right if he thinks I’ve misunderstood him. He will call me and say, “We’re so not breaking up over this.” He is willing to work. He has worked. He has proven himself truer in the most stressful of situations, and we continue to get stronger as a team. I love him. He loves me. We have acknowledged that neither of us is perfect, but that we are both perfect for each other.

It’s taken me half of my life, but I have a partner. Happy mid-life to me.

J + L : A long, drawn-out love story

(NOTE: I began this post in August 2017 and just finished it. So this first bit isn't entirely accurate, but it's why I started it.)

Everyone's kids are starting back to school, and I realized recently that it was exactly thirty years ago that I was gearing up to start a public high school after three years in a private junior high. The only people I knew at Van Buren High School were two girls I'd met candy-striping at St. Edwards that summer - cousins Tam Nguyen and Jan Nguyen - and a guy with whom I'd gone to elementary school, and who had moved across the river into our neighborhood over the summer.

I wish I could tell you about how the clouds parted and the sun shone down and lit up my heart the first time I laid eyes on James, but that's just not how it happened. We were in proximity for a long time before he really registered on my radar.

Our school wasn't tiny, but not nearly as big as it is today. We moved in pretty similar academic circles, and had multiple classes together. The one I remember most from sophomore years was French. James sat beside me, either in front of or behind his girlfriend. They held hands under the desks a lot, and were generally disgusting.

By the end of the year, I considered James a friend, that I know. For some reason, I wasn't really close with his girlfriend. Then in junior year, James and I had even more classes together, and by the time summer rolled around, James was no longer in a relationship. And I was interested.

For the life of me, I can't remember how this happened, but at some point, I was invited to play Dungeons and Dragons at James's house several times over the summer. I'd never played before, but totally wanted to hang out, so I jumped at the chance. I also sucked really badly at it. I couldn't keep the races straight, or remember what my strengths were, or anything fun like that. I got killed every dang week, early, but I kept coming back because... well, I wasn't exactly having fun, but I enjoyed the company.

You'll have to forgive my foggy memory here. I think I discarded a lot of this to make more room in my brain during the years that history pertaining to James didn't feel like it would be important to my future life. But something happened during this time wherein James and I discussed my job at Harvest Foods (Safeway) and he had told me he'd drop in and say "hi" on this one particular day.

Oh. My. Goodness.

Although I can't recall exactly how that came about, I do remember being extremely excited and nervous. Suddenly all of the "gross" stuff I'd thought about James when he was in a relationship with someone else seemed like it'd be sweet... you know, if I were on the receiving end of it. How great a boyfriend would he be?!

My co-worker and great friend Danielle shared my excitement with me, and kept an eagle eye on the door while I bagged my groceries. She kept telling me how awesome my hair looked, and generally being my hype man.

Finally, I registered the glint in her eyes and looked over my shoulder. There he was! He walked in, kind of looked around a moment, then before he saw me, a curly-haired blonde I'd never seen before trotted in, caught up with James, and took his hand in hers.

What?

Danielle looked almost as deflated as I felt.

Once again, this memory fades into obscurity. I'm sure James and I exchanged niceties. I was just stunned. I'd never seen that girl before, never heard that there was someone James was interested in. Where had she come from?

I know now.

Apparently, James was driving home from work one day and thought he saw someone he knew at a mailbox in his neighborhood. He waved at her, then realized it was not who he thought it was. It was a new person. This girl. And that's their meet cute. (Which, as I've stated, we did not have.)

I went back to Dungeons and Dragons one time. James's new girlfriend was there, sitting in his lap, as I remember. I couldn't after that. I was done.

Right before school started, my friend and I decided that senior year would be a cool time to join the band, in which neither of us had ever played. My friend had the advantage of being able to sight-read music and play a couple of instruments. I could read rhythm charts, so I ended up in auxiliary percussion.

We started practice during the summer. Long, hot mornings in the wide open practice field. The percussion section was fun, though, and I loved it. One particular break, we were standing in line for the water fountain when James, who was right behind me with his girlfriend, said to me, "Laura, I know it gets you all excited to see me so hot and sweaty like this. I get it." I cannot for the life of me explain why I had a double-edged response to this. It was half, "Eww, get over yourself + how can your girlfriend stand you" and half, "That guy has zero confidence issues. That's appealing."

Also, it was very clear that, whatever else he might have said or done, he treated his girlfriends with overt admiration and care. Um, he also did stupid stuff that got him suspended from school for days at a time, but I wasn't aware of those things until much, much later.

At some point I started dating... well, honestly, the first of two gay guys I dated that year. He definitely had some confidence issues, as a closeted man in 1989 small-town Arkansas likely would. But one time stands out. I think we might even have broken up by then. Whatever, we were all heading over to the football stadium for a game, and for whatever reason, the band bus wasn't available. They had a van for the bigger instruments, but told us all to get a ride with people who had cars. (I'd wrecked mine, so didn't.)

I ended up in my friend Tim's vehicle, with some other guy riding shotgun, and James and me in the back seat. It was a totally forgettable 4 minutes in the car, except for what happened when we got to the field.

I got out of the car and was hauling some gear to the bandstands when my boyfriend (wink wink) marched up to me, livid. He said, "You be careful around that James Gates. He only cares about one thing." Seriously, he was shaking. I will never understand that, but... he was kind of right.

So we graduated. We were good enough friends that my mom took a picture of him receiving his diploma, an honor reserved for only about a dozen of my closest buddies. The next fall, I headed off to college near Little Rock, and James went to Kansas. By the end of the semester, we both returned "home."

James's parents had moved, so he and a friend ended up living in a "swanky" bachelor pad near the fairgrounds in Fort Smith. I was going to the community college, and maybe he was, too. At some point, we ended up hanging out again. He was single, and I, once again, was VERY INTERESTED.

Interested enough to hang out at the aforementioned anti-frat-house and listen to a bunch of self-entertained young men recite "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" in its entirety. We also went to see "Dances with Wolves" at the theater (yes, first run; we are not young people) together. James complained afterwards about the inclusion of Kevin Costner butt with no balance of lady butt. At this point, you might be wondering WHY I was so interested. I can't explain it. There was a lot more to James than his juvenile male shtick, but for some reason, that WAS a part of it. I think it still is.

And then James decided to join the Navy. He was going to go to Colorado to be with his family for a bit first, then he was enlisting. I wanted one real live date before he left, so, in my characteristically understated way, I asked him out on a legitimate date... By drawing a short comic book called "Middle-Aged Deformed Kung-Fu Lizards," about some super anti-heroes who end up trapped in a book until they successfully convince James to go on a date with me. Because I like to play things cool.

It worked, though. He agreed. I don't remember this at all, but James said that I asked him to write down everything he'd never done, so I could plan something totally new for him. Not sure he ever completed that assignment, but what I picked was a day trip down to Hot Springs to go to Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum, then lunch, then finishing off at the Midamerica Science Museum.

I picked James up and maybe 20 minutes into a three-hour drive, he fell asleep in my car. I was super irritated! Now I realize he might have been playing possum just to avoid anxiety over my frightening teenage driving habits.

Back in the day Midamerica Museum had an underground viewing room so you could see into the pond that butted up against the main building. As we stood watching the fish swim around, I told James, "When I was little, I'd stand here and pretend I lived in the water. I wanted to be able to breathe underwater so much." Quietly, James said, "I still do." I seriously felt like Cupid had just shot a freaking arrow into my heart and that I might drop dead right then and there.

Spoiler alert: I did not.

As an aside, if you ever have a chance to go to the Midamerica Science Museum, do! It's really fun. We should plan another trip there soon.

So, after a fun day out, I drove us back to northwest Arkansas. And that was it.

Except.

I'd left something at James's house. I'm thinking maybe it was lipstick? Something. Anyway. I needed to pick it up before James left town for good. The night I did so, I was going out with some girlfriends. I believe it was Danielle and Laurie. They sat in the car as I hopped out to meet James in the front yard. We said goodbye and hugged as my heart raced, hoping maybe, just maybe, he would kiss me goodbye. He did not.

When I got back into the car, Laurie said, "That was a very passionate hug." She was wrong, but it was a sweet consolation gesture.

James moved to Colorado a bit before Christmas 1991. I thought it'd be neat to make him a Christmas video, so a new friend I'd made in the local community theater and I drove all over Fort Smith and Van Buren for days, getting footage. In the end, my dad and I edited it using his work editing hardware, which allowed us to lay down a separate audio track, meaning the Christmas parades I filmed were played over Mannheim Steamroller music instead of just street noise. It sounds simple enough now, but at the time, I thought James would have to be super impressed by my technological prowess.

At the beginning of 1992, I moved to Fayetteville to attend the University of Arkansas. James headed off to basic training. We corresponded for some time. I would write him in the third person, as though the person about whom I was writing (myself) were a princess. I related everything as an allegory, rather than the actual boring recounting of going to classes, going to work, etc.

James told me that he would spend hours every night writing letters to people, after days full of working out and studying. He was only getting about two hours of sleep per night, according to his recollections.

Our correspondence died off in time, as we both got busy with separate lives. Somehow, though, over the years, we managed to keep up, even before the internet was much of a "thing." James got out of the Navy fairly quickly. If you know him, you know that the kind of structure and authoritarian nature of the military is just not a great fit for my husband.

The next time we really connected, he was living in Stillwater, Oklahoma, and I was in Las Vegas. As we exchanged a couple of letters, I met D's dad. I wrote James: "To be perfectly honest, I got in touch with you to see if the time was right for us to try to get together. But now I've met someone and we're engaged." James's characteristic response to that news was, "That's nice. But what does your engagement have to do with us?" It was comforting to know that his charm had remained so consistent across the span of time.

We still managed to keep up, exchanging updates every few years, until we connected on Facebook in maybe 2009 or so. James was never extremely active on Facebook, but I caught him online every once in a while, and we chatted. After my divorce in 2011, we started talking a lot. For once, I wasn't interested in him romantically. We were both trying to date people, and we'd commiserate about the frustrating stuff.

In October 2011, I went up to Tulsa for the Oklahoma Sugar Arts Festival and saw James at a contra dance to which he'd invited me. He was there with a girl he was dating, and I didn't realize it at the time, but they were in the process of breaking up. It was the first time I'd seen James in person in twenty years. He hardly looked different; his hair was longer, but that was about it.

In time, I learned that James and this girl weren't seeing each other anymore. He seemed a little less communicative than usual, so a couple of times, I invited him to come down to Dallas on one of the weekends I didn't have D. On one of those occasions, he said, "That sounds like fun. A lot more fun than watching my dad die."

James had gotten laid off of his job just in time for his family to contact him and tell him that his dad was very ill and he needed to get there as soon as possible. James spent about six weeks in a hotel with his stepmom as his father received whatever care they were able to administer, then he passed away.

I agonized over attending the funeral. I tried to figure out a way to make it work. I calculated driving up to Kansas the day of the funeral and driving back immediately afterward. I couldn't make it work.

Then James disappeared.

Months later, I happened to see him online when I was down in Temple for an insurance thing. I told him I'd be home over the weekend and asked if he wanted to visit. He said he had no means to get there, so I offered to come see him. I asked him his address. He wrote back something to the extent of "Listen, I wish I could be what you need for me to be right now, but I can't." I said, "I'm coming to Tulsa. You can send me your address, if you want." For some reason, that broke through some wall, and he said, "I suppose I could hock a guitar for gas money." I told him no need; I'd just head up to Tulsa after driving home, feeding the cats, and repacking.

I didn't actually get a response from him until after I'd gotten home, regrouped, and headed north supposing I could enjoy the city if I didn't hear back from him. I did. He warned me to stay in my car until I saw him, because he lived in a dangerous apartment complex. He also warned me that his place looked like a train hit both a bookstore and a liquor store. He wasn't kidding.

My first thought, when I saw James come around the corner of the building was, "He looks like a little kid." He'd lost a significant amount of weight since I'd seen him the previous year. I'd been worried that James was depressed, and I think he was. But he genuinely likes a "pleasantly" cluttered space. His apartment was that on steroids. Plus, his complex had bedbugs. And roaches. And... you get the idea. I had no idea how to make sure he was going to take better care of himself.

We went out to dinner to catch up. The next day, James took me to the Philbrook Museum of Art, where we rescued a bright blue and green lizard. Then we went to the grocery store and I bought stuff to make beef and broccoli, brownies, and several other dishes he could freeze to eat later.

While we cooked (at my hotel, as his counters were covered with dishes, boxes, paperwork, etc.), we showed each other videos that were meaningful to us. We talked about politics. About religion. About friends. About what we were doing.

It was a great weekend, and I returned home hopeful that he'd been cheered up at least a little bit. For once, I wasn't hoping anything. I hadn't had ulterior motives in visiting. I had no expectations. But James was already messaging me when I returned. He knew I was planning to move to Austin and wanted to see me again before I left, if that wasn't too much to ask.

And, I don't know, we ended up falling in love.

There was a lot more to it. Like, I helped hook him up with a job in Dallas, and he moved there several weeks before I moved to Austin. Yes, I could have changed my plans. But I'd learned from a previous experience not to change my life's trajectory because of a new relationship, no matter how promising it seemed.

Then I moved to Austin while he worked in Dallas, from August until February. The long distance thing sucked. But when he moved to Austin and got a job here, it was worse. At least we'd spent weekends together when we were in separate towns. Once he lived in town ,we'd manage an hour or two here and there, but he was otherwise exhausted from the new grind, or I had things going on with D.

It was wearing on me and putting strain on our relationship when one night in the middle of March, James had come over for dinner and said, "I think we should get married on April 1. That seems appropriate."

The rest, as they say, is history.

I'm going to tell you the truth: James and I were both super hot messes when we got together. We were both 40ish, but when I think back to some of the things we were doing or thinking or saying to each other, I feel like we were still babies. The fact is, we were both still reeling from a lot of emotional damage. We probably should have waited longer before pursuing a relationship.

On the other hand, we've both been very, very good for each other. I think we balance each other out in so many ways. I've never been as content, hopeful, and secure with myself and my life as I am with James. I think he gets something good out of this, too... Like the fact that I check the mail and make sure bills get paid and minutiae like that.

James has also made me a better parent, also because of the balancing factor. He's chill and has perspective and patience when I'm freaking out. He also provides for us so I can stay home with both kiddos, even the one who doesn't really need me too much anymore (sniff... but not really).

I have told James, and continue to believe, that whatever I might have fantasized being in a relationship with him might be like, the reality has surpassed it.

A funny side product of this is that things I used to LLLLUUUUUHHHHHHHHVVVVVVE, I now still enjoy, but not nearly as much, because my actual life is so enjoyable. Examples: Back when Rockapella was verboten (don't ask; I couldn't explain it), I extracted so much happiness from their music and seeing them perform. When they came to Austin a few years ago, James and D went with me to the concert. And it was so good. But it wasn't the super-bright mark in a pretty dark existence that it had been in the past.

Another one: We just got back from vacation, and we had a lot of fun and delicious meals while we were there. In the past, I would have poured over menus ahead of the trip, and decided on what to order long in advance. I deprived myself of so many foods that I loved, except on special occasions, that I was just obsessed with meal planning, especially on vacation. Now, I eat what I want when I want whenever it's available. So I had fun getting "free" food on vacation, and things I don't normally eat because we don't eat out a whole lot. But it wasn't the luxurious break from a monotonous relationship with food that I've had in the past.

This is, of course, a vast improvement over what my life was before. When your life is so pleasant that it's hard to make it MORE pleasant, that's pretty amazing. And James has given me that. Finally. (!!!!)

Romance vs. Reality, Halloween Edition

Lots of people have been posting their pumpkin-carving pictures (at first I didn't hyphenate that, and the thought "pumpkin carving" pictures is interesting and marginally terrifying to me) on social media. James actually got a pumpkin from his office last Friday, but we've been waiting to carve it until tonight, the evening before his work Halloween party.

They're having a costume contest (adult and kid divisions), pumpkin carving contest, Halloween-themed treat contest, and a trivia game. There are prizes in each division, and I had a great idea for the treat contest, the prize for which is a cooking class at Whole Foods!

I had big plans for our entries and for our evening. Our first family Halloween activity! (Last year, we were too tired.)

My first idea was to make a Hello Kitty cake. It'd have white fondant, I'd pipe Hello Kitty on the top, and write, "Hello Kitty," then surround the cake with red frosting stars to match the kitty's bow. People would see it and think, "Well, okay. It's cute, but not really Halloween-themed." Then when it was time to eat, I'd cut the first piece and it would start "bleeding." I'd act like it wasn't supposed to do that, and try to staunch the "blood" with my hands, continually touching the cake so that the white fondant would end up covered in "bloody" fingerprints. Then after I'd cut the piece out, all that would be left of the writing would be "Hell Kitty."

GENIUS, right?! Well, except that when I moved the cake (it depanned fine), it cracked. I thought, hoping against hope, that if I used a thick enough coating of frosting, maybe I could make an escape-proof container for the blood. A lot of examples I saw online used plastic bags, but I really didn't want to put a plastic bag in my cake. Now I see why they did. Because it was fine... I poured the blood in and topped the cake. It held. But when I plopped the frosting down on the top, I guess that did it. The crack separated and... Well, the effect was pretty awesome.

So I immediately decided for Plan B, I'd make the cute "candy corn" fruit cups I'd put together a few weeks ago for Rework.

Probably wouldn't win a prize, but would be a cute entry. I didn't have time to go to the store, so I ordered from Instacart. Then I missed the shopper's call and got her voice mail when I called back. The store didn't have any ghost Peeps. Whatever. But she said she needed to replace the pineapple tidbits with crushed pineapple. I told her that wouldn't work and I would rather have chunks than crushed (I used chunks in the above example), but I guess she didn't get the message in time. We were in the middle of carving the pumpkin when the delivery guy came, and I realized then that I had 8 (8!!!) tiny cans of crushed pineapple. They made it right before I caught it, refunding the money for all of them. However... they also didn't get clear cups like I asked. They got those cheap plastic translucent cups. I will use all of it because I don't have the time to go to the store to get what I need (or I would have done that in the first place) and I hate to throw bad money after good. So, grr on that. Whatever.

As for our super fun family activity, we converged on the patio. Once James had taken the top off of the pumpkin, the two of us dug in. Daphne would only reach in wearing foodservice gloves, and Mal was having none of it. When D was his age, she at least went for it a couple of times.

Slimy...

...Yet Satisfying.

Good grief, that was more than 13 years ago. Anyhoo... Not Mal. He stood on the goo and slipped around. He tried to stir our pumpkin seed cache with his sand box tools. But no hand go in.

Yeah... no.

While we were doing this, I realized that Mal had a dirty diaper. Like, it-has-to-be-changed-now-or-else dirty, so I carried him in... carefully. I didn't hold him to me or put any pressure on his backside because, eww. I realized as I was lying him on his changing pad that my left hand was still covered with pumpkin guts. Oh well. I cleaned him up as best I could while he cried, miffed that I'd taken him away from the fun, and he ran back outside before I could get the diaper on. Daphne was not amused, making it a point to look away.

She drew the eyes and mouth for us, then James decided to get his drill out to make removing the face holes a little easier.

Daphne went inside at this point to do something, and Mal retreated to the other side of the patio. He does that when I vacuum or use the blender sometimes, too, so I wasn't concerned... Until a few moments later, he kind of approached me and I could see that his bottom lip was quivering and he was terrified. I put my arms around him and held him, and he started crying for real. The drill was traumatic for him. I put his head against my shoulder to cover one ear, and covered the other with my hand. I assured him that it was okay, but he was so so sad. I decided to bring him in for a quick bath while James finished up with the power tools.

D asked if she could stay inside until we went back out, but I asked her to see if James needed any help. Mal was distracted during his bath. I tried to keep the water on pretty full blast, but he could still hear the drill and was torn between being scared and wanting to climb out of the tub, I suppose to help save his dad.

After Mal's bath, we went out to finish decorating the pumpkin. My idea had been to use candy corn for teeth, and I was hoping to find these gummy eyeballs that Daphne got one year for Halloween.

Two days before this sweetie turned 5.

But, no. We couldn't find those. So, once again, we had a Plan B. But we hadn't counted on the dang candy corn being so picky and splitting when we tried to impale them on the toothpicks. And our idea to use drill holes for the Red Vines hair didn't really pan out, either. Daphne had a headache or something, so I eventually cut her loose. And Mal wanted to eat a lot of candy corn, but I cut him off after two pieces, not just because he seemed to think it was fun to chew but then just spit it out on the patio. I told James that, in hindsight, the pumpkin carving might have been something to do after Mal was in bed. Except for the drill part. That will likely give him nightmares as it is.

So, anyway, we ended up with a janky Rastafarian pumpkin. I know someone's going to have like a 3D rendering of Ron Burgandy or something, and we don't have a chance of winning either of the contests now, but whatever. All of you people with Pinterest-worthy posts... good for you. I guess that's just not how we roll here at Team Dave's. Even if we wanted to.

Terrifying on so many levels.

Our anniversary!

This week was James' and my second anniversary. We got married on April 1, James said because it'd make a good joke. I think that's only partially true. I also think that he wanted to be sure he remembered our anniversary for the rest of our lives.

We have a tradition of not doing anything "special" on holidays so they don't feel like duties, but he did actually plan a family outing and took us to The Salt Lick.

I don't know whether you've ever been to The Salt Lick, but there's typically a two-hour wait. We got there 10 minutes before they opened at 11, and we got right in (after playing on campus a bit; it is beautiful! There are even a couple of playgrounds for the kiddies) and had a magnificent feast, then were done (stuffffed) by noon!

And while that's all well and good, I wanted most to share this (understand, I'd like to share more, but the baby's only temporarily asleep in his car seat and I'm boiling eggs hoping to make them deviled soon and we need to leave for a group lunch in half an hour, so... life). It's something I've realized over the past few months, and it's the thing I appreciate most about my husband and our life together:

James loves me. He loves all of me. He loves my flaws (or tries to) and quirks and everything about me. That might be a "duh" thing for some people, but I can honestly tell you that, except for my parents, I have never had someone who absolutely and unconditionally adored me. I can't be too loud or too big or too much or too passionate about stupid things. I can't embarrass James. I never feel self-conscious around him. He makes me know I'm loved all of the time no matter what.

And he's seen me at my worst, with the back injury and again in the past few months when I've reached the end of my rope parenting a newborn. He's seen me at my worst and still looks at me like I'm the best. All of the time.

I don't worry that my skirt is too bright or weird or age-inappropriate. I am not concerned that I haven't managed to shower in two days when he leans in and rubs my leg. I'm not self-conscious about the fact that I just a few minutes ago was talking about trying to eat less to get ready for weaning but now I'm shoving a Tiffwich into my face... probably because he's the one who bought it for me! I don't feel embarrassed when I yell something in public before I really think about what's going on. Or if I get so excited that I run or skip or dance on the sidewalk.

In short, I am allowed to be me. Without fear.

Don't get me wrong: James will tell me the truth. Some of the painful things he's said to me (and, man, after two years, they're very few and far between) include: "Honey, I'd love to make you happy right now, but you're being completely irrational" and "No, sweetie, you're not a bitch. You're just bitchy sometimes." And he was right both times. The first one was harder to hear. I can't argue with the second one. Well, I really couldn't with the first, either; I wanted two things that were mutually exclusive.

BUT... He loves me. I know that he does. I don't fear losing him. I don't worry about alienating him. And I DO NOT take that for granted. The security that comes with the absolute surety that I am cared for and appreciated actually makes me MORE desirous to repay him with all of my heart and all of my life. 

I love my James. I cannot wait to see what the next two years bring. Then the next four. Then eight. Then 16. (I could go on all day; he's been playing a lot of 2048 lately, so I have the multiples down pretty good.) <3

Procrastination of the most romantic sort

In August 2013, I came up with some lyrics to a love song I thought it'd be neat to produce for James for our first anniversary. Well, guess what? I never did it. BUT I found the lyrics when I was looking for something else, and I thought I'd share them with you, because, trust me, you need this kind of thing in your life. Get some tissues ready.

Bee tee dubs, this was in response to the phrase, "I love you to the moon and back," which I have since learned is from a book, and I read that book, and in context, it's touching enough, but come on with the competitiveness, mom! (If I'm remembering correctly.)

And now, the song:

VERSE 1
Some people love to the moon and back
But that's not good enough
A lunar love will never do
Our love has the right stuff

To boldly go where none has gone
To strange new worlds and such
So when I tell you of my love
You need to know how much

CHORUS
I love you to Uranus
And we're never coming back
We'll hold our love together
Even if it starts to crack

A black hole's pull is not enough
To stop us or contain us
We're both in this together
And I love you to Uranus

VERSE 2
Our love is no mere gas giant
As anyone can see
I'll hold you 'till forever
They can't take the sky from me

And Milky Ways are tasty
But they're here and then they're gone
Well, even after supernova
You and I go on

CHORUS
Yes, I love you to Uranus
And we're never coming back
We'll hold our love together
Even if it starts to crack

A black hole's pull is not enough
To stop us or contain us
We're both in this together
And I love you to Uranus

BRIDGE
We're closer that Luke and Leia
We're closer than Leia and Han
We're closer than Han and Chewy
Our love goes on and on
(19.2 Atronomical Units, to be precise)

CHORUS 2
I love you to Uranus
Uranus is the place for me
We'll orbit side-by-side
'Cause that's the way that it should be

I'll never leave you blue
I'll not revoke your planethood
I love you to Uranus
Where our love is always good

2013 Year in Review

You can ask anyone who's known me for a while: I don't make a big to-do about New Year's Eve. I don't "do" resolutions. I'm typically at home by 7:00 PM on NYE because drunk drivers aren't my favorite. During the decade I spent in Las Vegas, I whiled away precisely one New Year's Eve on the Strip, and that thing is rife with stories, only because they were so awful and exhausting and weird.

Typically, if I make plans to attend a New Year's Eve function, unless it starts by 8:00, I'm probably going to decide at around 8:15 that I'm nice and warm and getting a little sleepy, anyway, and skip it. I had friends of friends invite my family to a really cool ranch party in Las Vegas three or four years in a row, but the party didn't start until 10:00 PM, and by then, if I haven't already started amping up, I'm winding down in a big way.

As far as resolutions, I subscribe to the philosophy that any day is a great day to start a good new habit or to ditch a bad old one. I never want to be among the full parking lot at the gym on January 2. If I ever resolve to do something, I don't want to take it so lightly. And I don't want to wait for a magic date.

For me, January 1 is the next day on the continuum after December 31. You wake up, and nothing is substantially different. So, while I like any excuse to celebrate, this isn't one of "my" holidays.

That said, this year, I am looking back over the past twelve months and am more than a little awed about everything that has happened. This time last year, I was in a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend of six months; I was one month into what would be a full-on half-year battle with chronic pain; I was living in an RV, my home for nearly two years, on the east side of Austin... And there's so much more.

So, in no particular order, here's my 2013:

1. I got married! James moved to Austin in early February. He said that he wanted to be in town for at least a month to see if we could live in the same place without driving each other crazy. I might have been driven a little crazy. I was concerned that he might fall in love with downtown Austin and the lifestyle and not be in any hurry to "make it official." But at the end of February, when he'd come over for dinner, he mentioned off-handedly, "I was thinking about when we should get married, and April 1st seems like a good date." If you haven't seen our wedding video, here:



While I think this is the most raw and sincere expression of a love that leaves my man absolutely speechless, our officiant told James that he might want to write "actual" vows. He said that, no matter how "cool" I was, women want something different (maybe "normal"?) for their wedding. I'm so glad James didn't listen to him! James knows me. I knew exactly what he meant. He told me later that he knew I'd write something poignant (and, likely, verbose) and that he wasn't about to try to "compete" with that, so he went his own direction. I love his direction.

As to people who think this is just another weird Austin thing or that we're mocking marriage... Lots of people have fun at their weddings. This wedding was "us." My husband has never been married before because he never met anyone else he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He was very serious. I was very serious. But we can be serious in our intent and still have a good time carrying it out. In fact, this is how we live our lives.

Photo credit Alec Hilliard

The past nine months of marriage have been like nothing I could ever have imagined. James and I love and appreciate each other. He makes my life so much brighter, and I try to employ Dr. Laura's advice constantly: "When you wake up in the morning, ask yourself, 'What can I do to make him happy that he's alive? And what can I do to make him happy that he married me?'"

My best friend lives in the same house with me. His company is a pleasure, and loving him is easy. I am blessed, and sometimes challenged, and head-over-heels in love.

2. Chronic pain defined the first half of 2013. The process of trying to treat my back pain (chiropractic, my first involvement with acupuncture, lots and lots of NSAIDS), then getting a diagnosis (thanks to the Volunteer Health Clinic) including my first (and scary!) MRI, to the hopelessness of months of only two hours of sleep at a time, to feeling very much like I was going crazy even to the point of giving my then-fiance an out... I have a much more compassionate view of people who deal with their bodies' unrelenting attack on themselves. It is honestly the worst thing that I have ever experienced, and I'm very sad that it colored so much of both of James' family's visits (for his birthday in December 2012, when it was first starting, and then our wedding weekend). I hate that my daughter woke up so many nights to my crying and felt like she needed to check on me, even though there was nothing to be done for it. But I absolutely adore my family's patience and long-suffering with me. I hope I didn't make it too awful for them; I tried not to. I felt so respected and "heard" by the entirely volunteer staff at the health clinic that it was a blessing to interact with them.

Starting in mid-June and proceeding on to the end of summer, the pain started abating. There are still ways my body tells me not to sit for a long time, but it tells me in soreness and stiffness, not shooting, searing pain. The last time I hurt myself was playing laser tag a couple of months ago, when I accidentally bent over with my left leg hyper-extended. However, a few weeks ago, when I flipped my head over to dry my hair, I noticed that my left leg didn't automatically kick out behind me or fold into my right leg. Testing, I was able to touch my toes keeping my leg mostly straight (it's a little rickety from non-use). Although my disc will always be ruptured, I consider myself "healed" from this episode right now. I am at about 90% of where I used to be, and could probably be closer to 98% if I pushed myself... but having pushed myself on the front end, trying to do push-ups and sit-ups and "bicycles" while I bawled in the floor, and probably making the problem worse... I'm not pushing myself. I'm being grateful for the slow advances in recovery. Unspeakably grateful.

3. The Nuthaus. Living this close to downtown has opened up so many opportunities. First of all, I can either walk or bike almost everywhere. If I run out of eggs or butter or just need an emergency cheap soda, they're all right up the road. If I want nice flip-flops, or fro-yo, or bubble tea, or kitschy Austin weird-wear: can walk. If I want to see what's going on at the Capitol, or enjoy one of the best Indian restaurants in Las Vegas, or have sushi or an incredible pear cider on tap: boom. Done. I can ride my bike to the library, to get the fancy cat food that we have to feed all of the cats because Aish only gets the best but she will eat garbage if that's what the other cats are eating. I rode my bike to the courthouse to file my name change request. I've ridden to book group, to church, mystery shops. We walk to meals, to sight-see, and to run errands.

But there's something else: If you've been paying attention, you know that we see a lot of super eccentric stuff around here. Beyond that, though, living this close to an urban center has given me the opportunity to get to know some of "those people" you might pass in a car and feel sorry for, but not be able to connect with. (Yes, I just ended a sentence in a preposition. To do otherwise sounded awkward.)

Yes, there are the people who have touched us and passed by, like Vanessa and Kenneth, the expecting couple James met when he first moved in. There is the guy playing guitar to whom James stopped to listen, and genuinely chat up, before offering him and his friends dinner. I have to say that in this regard, James is such an example and so convicting to me. He does not see the street people as a group of down-on-their-luck people. He sees them as individuals. People he'd probably like if he got to know them. And he's interested in them and their stories. He's concerned.

We have spent great chunks of time talking to the vendors on 23rd Street. There have been people who want to tell us their stories, even if they aren't asking for help. Our porch is a comfortable invitation, a place to rest. But there are people resting on the steps of the churches on Guadalupe, too, and they want to be heard. Just last night, Daphne and I talked to a couple who said they were in danger of homelessness. The wife had all of the work receipts that her husband had from working for a day labor service. There was one man who told me that the meal from Potbelly and the chat was worth so much more than when people just give him money.

People like that come and go, and it's incredible to get to interact with them on a minuscule level. But there are others we see more frequently.

There's "Grandpa," the man who looks barely older than my own dad, and sometimes not much rougher (though yesterday when I saw him, he had a great bruise over his left eye, as though someone had kicked him when he was sleeping). I know where he usually sleeps, and in the morning, he walks past the Nuthaus to Taco Cabana. He sits in the dining room and drinks a water, then he makes himself a lemonade. I have chatted with him once, and he is mostly "there." He just has that lost look of someone who doesn't have an anchor.

There's another man we call alternately "our neighbor" and "crazy guy," because he has two different personalities. When he's lucid, he's friendly and wishes us well. He will say, "Jesus loves you," and if you say, "Thanks," he'll usually stop and say, "Seriously. I mean it. He really does." He doesn't think we're taking it seriously enough. Other times, he's back in the alley, swearing at someone we can't see. Or at life. Who knows? Recently, he seems to have acquired a wheel-chair bound friend. Now, sometimes he'll be hollering and cursing, but still carefully pushing his friend.

And there's also a very sweet old lady who isn't homeless. She lives somewhere down the street from us, though I don't know exactly where. But she walks all the time. She has a walker, and her hair is always in a perfect bun. It might be 49 degrees outside, windy, and sprinkling, and she'll have on her shawl and plastic rain hat, walking with her walker. I officially met her about a week after James moved in, when I was working at the Nuthaus and saw her standing on the sidewalk, looking at the house. She said that she was so glad to see people living in these long-vacant properties. We haven't had a chance to chat again, but every time I see her, I feel like we're... well, neighbors.

Sometimes it's heart-breaking to see life as up-close as we get to see it living here. But I love it. I don't want to be blind. I want to know. And, if I can, I want to help. Even if that just means sitting on the curb with my arm around a girl I don't know, while she works through a panic attack. I love the Nuthaus.

4. The Pregnancy. Almost immediately after James and I got married, I got pregnant. Obviously, it didn't result in our having a baby, but I credit the pregnancy hormones with pushing forward my pain diminishing. When I found out that I was pregnant, I weaned off of the Gabapentin and Naprosyn as quickly as I felt was safe. And even though I'd found both to be a miracle for which I'd been desperate a mere two or three weeks earlier, I didn't need them anymore. When I was pregnant with Daphne, and again this time, my asthma abated. My mom has a friend whose intense rheumatoid arthritis goes away when she's carrying a baby. I am certain that I was pushed forward months of recovery time due to the brief influx of hormones.

5. Four Awesome Organizations. This year, I had the privilege of bumping up against four organizations whose work I so earnestly believe in that I'm trying to help in the small ways I have available to me. I want to share what they do with others, too, in case anyone else is moved to pitch in. These are also in no particular order:

Help One Now
James and I traveled to Haiti with Help One Now, and I can't even begin to describe what an eye- and heart-opening trip that was for us. Help One Now has been working in Uganda, Haiti, and Zimbabwe for some time, and they're just kicking off work in Ethiopia. The cool thing about Help One Now is that they don't go in and try to assert their presence or their way of "fixing" local issues. They work with established leadership, people who live in the countries, and who are already doing their part to tackle a problem that they see.

In Haiti specifically, we got to meet three such leaders. The first was Jean Alix Paul, a pastor/businessman at whose home we stayed. An orphanage, a school, a children's home, and a business incubation program are all under his supervision... and I think he probably does a lot of other stuff about which I have no idea. Also, he and his family and household graciously host visitors to Haiti. In 2014, the visiting teams will stay in a guest house closer to work sites, a project Jean Alix has also overseen.

The second was Pastor St. Cyr, who had a church and school in the urban city of Port au Prince before the 2010 earthquake. After that disaster struck, he planted a church in the biggest tent city, a place of otherwise darkness, where children were at risk for trafficking, where the was violence and desperation. He made it his goal to hold worship services every single day, to have some hope and singing and light in the makeshift neighborhood. Since then, he has build a much safer church building than the one damaged in the earthquake, and has been able to move the school there. They are very close to opening a medical clinic in the same building.

The third pastor we met was Gaetan Alcegaire. He moved back to Haiti (having come to the US with very many opportunities to work) specifically to start an orphanage on some family land. Immediately, the children came. For a long time, every day, all day, his goal was to find enough food to feed his kids. After the earthquake, things became even more desperate, and American groups would come, promise help, and disappear. Through a partnership with Help One Now, Pastor Gaetan has built dorms for his children, with whom he was sleeping outside under tarps because he explained that a shepherd doesn't leave his sheep. He has built a two-story school building that now houses 400 children, including all of the kids in his home as well as children from the surrounding area, many of whom cannot pay the $25 a year fee to attend. They are not turned away.

The children at Yahve Shemma, Pastor Gaetan's home. They had never
had pizza before and weren't sure what to do with it. Also, they are taught
not to eat with their hands, but to use utensils. Whoops! We meant well. :)

These three men all work in and around Port au Prince, Petionville, Guibert, and Kenscoff. There is a newer initiative in Ferrier, an anti-trafficking house where children who are basically caught at the border, as they're being attempted-smuggled out of the country. We sponsor a beautiful 8-year-old girl who was a house slave, and has probably lived a harder life in her 8 years than I have in my 40. It is my hope that they can find her family, and that she is able to get an education and grow up knowing the love and security that kids deserve. If you're interested in helping sponsor an orphan or at-risk child, or a teacher (remember those kids who don't have the ability to pay the fee for their schooling?) you can find out how here.

Homes 4 Vets
We first encountered Homes 4 Vets at a re-enactment event at Camp Mabry. This group seeks to provide housing and job/life training for homeless veterans. The details of the program are on their website. They have just submitted the paperwork to become a 501(c)3 charitable organization, and need $6 million to start on the rec center and infrastructure. They need $23 million to build out the whole community and to put all of the program into place.

They chose the dome shape for the single-family properties because of the durability of such structures. After the rec center and single-family domes go up, they have plans for family housing, four sets of townhouses each with a common courtyard and playground accessible only to the residents from those houses.

The residents will have two years to complete job training and life skills training, and the board plans to use their contacts to help them find employment.

It's an ambitious plan, and it's been started and is spearheaded by a retired dual-service Veteran, a young architect who caught the Veteran's dream, and the owner of a construction company. Since that time, a CPA has joined the board, and these four men are pushing forward this ambitious program. I'm excited to see what happens! If you know anyone in central Texas who has land they'd like to donate, or if you'd like to donate funds or time, let me know and I can pass your information along to them.

Rework Project

The Rework Project is also a local service to the homeless and those transitioning out of homelessness. The "Reworkers" learn wood-working skills by building and selling five awesome products: bird-houses, tree swings, huge tabletop Jenga-style games, bean-bag toss/cornhole games, and my favorite, picnic tables. They will personalize these to your specifications, and even with customization, they are incredibly affordable. Especially the picnic table!

The Reworkers learn how to and then build these products, then they are able to keep the majority of the profits for themselves. If you'd like to read one of their success stories that it near and dear to my heart, go here, and scroll down (better yet, just read it all) to the part about Anthony. Anthony isn't just the guy who lives in the same RV spot where I used to live. He's in our small group, and I consider him to be my friend. I'm so proud of Allison and of him and of this entire program.

Having lost 100% of their funding for 2014, Allison had to decide whether to pack it up or try to raise the $40k that Rework needs herself. In under a month, they've already gotten $36,000. If you can help, either in a one-time gift or a monthly contribution, go to here.

Mobile Loaves and Fishes
When I lived in the RV park, I saw Mobile Loaves and Fishes trailers. They also sponsored one community barbecue. Other than that, I didn't really know much about them until this year. They serve the street community extensively, with food, clothes, and shelter. Their most recent project here in Austin is best explained in this video.



Included in that video is a gentleman named Glenn who is familiar to me from church and Rework, too. Also, Anthony (mentioned above) has been doing a lot of work at the garden (included being stung right in the face by a bee; I guess that's part of it: beekeeping) and learning to can to use any bounty from the garden.

When James and I got married, we donated the RV to Mobile Loaves and Fishes. I hope it's going to be used in this community! Also, I did a dunder-headed thing and never got the trailer re-titled in my name, so they're having to do all of that, and they're so gracious about the whole thing.

So, basically, my life has been enriched a great deal by knowing that these four organizations exist. I mentioned Volunteer Health Clinic above, and that's one that actually benefited ME. I couldn't have afforded the MRI I got on my own. It's awesome to me to know that there are people who care, and who are out there doing the stuff, and who love and want to bring the marginalized into the circle of light most of us occupy.

I will say that being Facebook friends with some of our new Haitian friends is a little surreal. The other day when one of the pastors "liked" my post about the entire Firefly collection being on sale for $5 on Amazon.com, I felt like I needed to explain that I hadn't bought it myself... But then maybe he's a Firefly fan. I have no idea. But sometimes, it throws into stark relief the contrast between what occupies our day-to-day lives. And yet, because of Help One Now, we are friends. He can message me when he needs prayer for something. I am honored to be on the fringes of his life and the lives of others I admire. It is an inspiration to be in the orbit of these people who are serving orphans, and the homeless, and Veterans. It is an honor.

6. Life as Usual. Then there's the every day stuff, and that's just about as incredible as the extra-ordinary stuff, too.

First there's my job. Yes, I'm an insurance agent (with Hejny Insurance Agency). Yes, I find that every bit as funny as when I was a property manager. No, I don't think I'm awesome at it, but I can administrate stuff, and people seem to like to talk to me on the phone. Moses and Lisa offered me a job, and a spare office for my daughter to do school, at a time when I desperately needed an income, and was trying to figure out how to keep from sending Daphne to school (I don't think that there's anything wrong with school, and it might be an option in the future; but I didn't want my divorce and financial issues to force my hand). THEN when I wanted to move to Austin, they let me stay with them, working remotely... even though, technically, my job was, um, reception. So. I'm continually grateful for how they've accommodated my "special needs" time and again.

Then there's my daughter. As she matures, I see her becoming this young woman who both amazes and terrifies me. I think that it's probably normal to feel like you're "losing" your kid sometimes. And I am. She doesn't think what I think just because I think it and wish she did. She's becoming this person who is totally separate from me, and I am excited to see what she does with her life. She is clever and talented. She is a born leader. She is so much more secure than I was at her age. I love her with everything that I am. (And, yes, there's also an "everything" for my husband. Love is pretty awesome like that.)

And also, there is a group of  friends from church who have really lived out what it means to be community to me this year. We've had game nights, and shared meals, and evenings out, and birthday parties. We've laughed and cried together. We've shared concerns and hopes and ideas and pop culture. I've been confronted and counseled and supported and encouraged... and it's been fun and hard and purposeful. It's what this is supposed to be like.

D and I re-started BSF this year, and she's already made a new friend we're supposed to get together with this week. I'm still doing mystery shopping, and we've gotten to putt at a sports club, play laser tag, go bowling, see movies, eat at an awesome local sports bar a whole lot, and have all sorts of fun in exchange for paperwork. I'm comfortably settling back into Astro-owning. And all of the "normalcy" is pretty great.

Suffice it to say, 2013 has easily been the best year of my life. I'm eagerly looking forward to 2014. Hope you are, too.

My Best Friend

It's taken me a while to get this all settled, but it's finally happened: I have the world's greatest best friend, and he happens to live with me... AND that will be true forever. I cannot even describe what that's like, coming off of four decades of wanting this exact thing, and finally getting it. It's incredible.

My best friend might not be perfect, but he is absolutely perfect for me. He knows just how to be with me when I am experiencing big emotions. He doesn't ask, "What's wrong?" or force me to name feelings I don't recognize yet. Also, he doesn't run away. He sits with me. He is patient. He is quiet. He waits. And eventually, I am able to pinpoint what I'm feeling, and then I want to tell him. I want to share everything with him. Even though it's sometimes silly or baseless or overwhelming or just wrong, he wants to know.

He never makes me feel like I'm broken for the things that I think or the feelings that I have. He might be flummoxed. He might disagree. He might even offer me an opposite viewpoint. But then he puts his arms around me and assures me that we are a team and that I am loved and that he is mine.

Sometimes, I am concerned that the cost is too high; that I am exhausting and eventually he will tire and I will lose him, even if not physically... that he will just spiritually drift away, and I'll be all alone again. But then, the way he looks at me... I know that this is real and this is forever and, God bless him, he feels like he's getting something out of this, too.

I hope that he is. Lord knows that I love him more than I love my own life, and I would do anything to help him, to please him, to serve him. I try every day. And I do it happily. It is an honor. I am so fortunate to have the greatest friend ever right here, that nothing feels like a chore. It all just feels like happiness.

Radio Breakdown

A strange thing happened on the way to a play date today. Daphne and I were driving up Mopac when a two-year-old song came on the radio. Maybe you've heard this little ditty. It's called "Titanium." Daphne and I have listened to that song a lot, and its release in early August of 2011, during which time I was going through Round Two of what I consider three rounds of craziness surrounding my personal life, made it my anthem at the time.

Since it's not a brand-spanking new song anymore, the song doesn't see as much radio time as it used to. For some reason, as I processed the lyrics, I found myself with tears streaming down my face. I could picture myself, standing, with arms open, during the chorus... something I used to play over and over again in my brain in order to steel myself against my reality.

In case you haven't heard it, or you just weren't paying attention to the lyrics, here they are:

You shout it out,
But I can't hear a word you say
I'm talking loud not saying much
I'm criticized but all your bullets ricochet
You shoot me down, but I get up

I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose
Fire away, fire away
Ricochet, you take your aim
Fire away, fire away
You shoot me down but I won't fall
I am titanium

Cut me down
But it's you who'll have further to fall
Ghost town and haunted love
Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones
I'm talking loud not saying much

I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose
Fire away, fire away
Ricochet, you take your aim
Fire away, fire away
You shoot me down but I won't fall
I am titanium

Stone-hard, machine gun
Firing at the ones who run
Stone-hard as bulletproof glass

You shoot me down but I won't fall
I am titanium
You shoot me down but I won't fall
I am titanium
I am titanium

Why did I cry so much? Why did it hit me on this day?

There were several things:

1) Titanium is hard. It is very strong and not easily worn down. For years, I lost myself under layers of protection. I got to the point that nothing could hurt my feelings. I had to in order not to have a breakdown. I think about how vulnerable I am privileged to be with James, and it makes me sad for that person who existed for about a decade. It kind of also makes me sad that James sometimes has to navigate a minefield that might still be lurking, but just last night, I was able to talk to James about something that was bothering me in a way that I would not have felt safe confiding several years ago. And he listened. He might not even have agreed with me, or thought that I had a point. In fact, a lot of times, he probably thinks that I am absolutely ridiculous. But there is the safety here to express my true self and not be mocked or reprimanded or resented.

2) When the person who is supposed to love you the most doesn't trust you and you can't trust them, then it skews your view of the whole world. A few years ago, I felt very much on my own except for my child, and she's a child, so I never leaned on her for emotional support. I came to a point of hopeless desperation where it seemed to me that, if I were ever to have a chance at emotional well-being again, I was going to have to seek it out for myself.

Because of my circumstances and my own weakness, I did not believe that I could trust anyone. Honestly, I probably didn't think that I could trust God at that point. I felt like, if the situation stayed the way that it was, I would be better off just dying, but... I have a kid and I love her very much. However, so many very well-meaning people tried to pour into me the prudent advice to avoid the appearance of sin, and I felt a lot like the time that a friend's brother's wife tried to physically accost me, I said, "I'm going to get the *eff* out of this house," and the elderly mother told me not to swear. I was incredulous. "She can threaten me physically, but the 'f' word is unacceptable?"

I don't know how to explain what was happening to me except that I had been in a deep, dark hole for years and years, and I was finally in possession of the strength to climb out, and once I hit the light, the people standing outside of the hole were yelling at me that my clothes were inappropriate, and trying to shove me back into the hole until I could find something suitable to wear.

This all made me very, very angry and very, very hesitant to trust anyone with the full details about what was going on. Consequently, if you were involved in my life at that time, I owe you an apology. If you tried to give me advice, I most likely did not listen. If you asked me how I was doing or what was going on, I probably lied to you. I was extremely open about my life and my struggles up to a point. Then a couple of things happened: Even though I told the absolute truth, I was treated as though I were guilty. After that, other people started telling their own versions of what was going on. And a lot of people believed a lot of lies, and I'll admit that I did NOTHING to dispel any of the rumors because, after years of sacrificing relationships and trying literally everything that I could think of, I was DONE.

I am not making excuses for the way I conducted myself; lots of it was rebellious and wrong. I'm just explaining that there is a survival mechanism that kicks in after years of being undermined and betrayed by the person who is supposed to be your most trusted companion, and it skews one's view of how much to let anyone else in, and how much to let anyone else speak into your life or demand answers of you. Two years ago, I was very much in the, "Screw you; I'm just trying to survive here" mode. And I truly am sorry.

3) My sister knows a lot of stuff about me. She grew up with me, true, but over the years, as we've led separate grown-up lives, I've also told her just about everything. She is, I believe, a "safe" person in whom I can confide. Now, if she ever got mad at me, and if she were mentally disturbed in some way so that it became her goal to manipulate me into a certain outcome by threatening to air my dirty laundry AND to add some of her own embellishments to the stories in order to curry favor or turn people against me, it would come as a huge shock and pull the whole "trust" rug out from under me. This happened to me TWICE in just a couple of years. Two people with whom I'd been close did not like the path I was taking, and took it upon themselves to contact people we knew in common with information both real and imagined in order to... I don't know? Shame me? Cut me off from everyone else so that that person was the only one left who would still talk to me? I will never understand this. I have  been plenty pissed at plenty of people, but I cannot imagine trying to ruin someone's friendships, reputation, etc. by spreading gossip.

That's the worst thing ever: When someone you've loved and trusted enough to be open about your faults and fears takes those things and twists them around to use against you. The second worst thing is when people who weren't as close, but whom you also admired and respected believe the stories and/or distance themselves from you.

When all of that was happening, I had to bow myself up against the constant pain of people I thought knew me better falling away from me. I had to convince myself that I was bulletproof. Otherwise, I was going to be ripped to shreds.

In the end, I could not fight anymore. It's the main reason I moved to Austin. Well, that and Austin is just an awesome town. :)

There is so much healing that has happened over the past year or so that I can barely even fathom it. It's my nature to want to "fix" and I hate leaving messes in my wake. But sometimes, you have to give up and walk away. 

My heart is so much softer now than it was for a long time. I am grateful to James for his patience and for his creating an environment where I am free to be who I am, to have the feelings that I have (whether they make sense or not), to express myself, and to explore my passions. And I can do it as myself, not as a fake version of me that I've had to build up to protect myself.

Now, this is more the speed of my heart: