Wednesday, December 24, 2008

I Miss Rob

I remember his laugh. He used to have this hooting laugh. Especially when Matt and Richy were around. And Jeff and Clyde.

One summer we laid in the grass in the Crested Butte town park and ate fresh tangerines from the farmer's market. I remember the first Christmas I spent as his wife. We cooked cornish game hens and ate mashed potatoes. We opened gifts under our little tree and spent the day with each other. He was my family.

And then there was the time he left his bivy sack buck naked. He walked slowly across the snow in his bare feet to grab the NutriGrain bar I threw him. He slowly peeled it open and nibble by nibble finished off his breakfast, tiptoed back to his bivy sack, and went back to sleep. All this charade just to prove that I had no business telling him what to do.

When I first met his Grandmother, his mom, and his brother, we played guitar for them. I made the chords and he strummed. He would sing at the top of his lungs. And that used to drive me nuts. But I would listen to it again if I could.

When we lived in Gunny, we kept our icecream on the roof. Our freezer was much too small. And he would have to get up at 2:00 in the morning in bitter negative temperatures to let our car engine run so that it would start when we left for school in the morning. One time he called the police because Mitch and Clyde were stomping around on our roof trying to scare me.

I remember when he was dissecting a mouse next to me while I was eating dinner and some of the brains squirted into my food. And then I let his roommate eat it.

We had a very short married life.

After he got sick, we were hardly married at all. But I remember watching him 'shave' as he rubbed a washcloth over his chin... watching his whiskers fall to the shower floor. Sitting with him as he got whatever treatment was next... platelets, blood, chemo, radiation. Scheming with him to devise our next practical joke to play on the nurses. Learning how to hand-stitch a quilt with him - he would have punched me if I had said I did it myself.

He made the best chili. I was always jealous of how he could open the fridge and make the best meal from hardly anything. He would always make yummy breakfast burritos. And he taught me to make tuna melts. I would love to hear his voice again. He loved Seinfeld and the Simpsons and those terrible movies by Wes Anderson. You know, he stepped his climbing down a few notches so that we could be partners. That makes me sad. I could have gotten better if I had tried. He really loved me. So much.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Resolve

So, New Year's Resolutions.... let's think... what sickens me about my own life? About how I conduct my daily goings-on? There's not much, really. But here is something I absolutely hate about myself: my tendency to procrastinate on things like bills. I do this because my life just goes on day to day and suddenly I find that I have not paid bills. I know they sit in my mailbox waiting for me. But I refuse to check the box because then that means I have a responsibility to open them and pay them. I typically have the money to pay them. I just don't do it. It's disgustingly irresponsible.

Dictionary.com says that resolve means to determine or to come to an earnest decision about. To convert or transform. To deal with or to settle. Musically, it indicates the movement from a state of dissonance into a state of consonance, or agreement. I am sick of this way of functioning. I need to deal with it... to transform it so that all the parts of my life come into agreement.

I know if I continue to let my life whizz by me without really being deliberate about things like paying bills and keeping my car in good condition, I will live in this perpetual state of stress. I can't do that anymore. So, I hereby resolve to change this terrible slacking behavior of mine. I resolve to pay bills on time and to develop a system in order to be productive in the mundane tasks of life that continue to drag me down.

I realize this is going to require me to become a little less laid-back and more anal about getting things done. I can't make excuses. I can't delay or postpone anymore. I've got to just get it done. I wonder how long I can endure.

Monday, December 22, 2008

Quasi

So, quasi-dating makes sense to me... sometimes. For the first month or so. Right? You go on a few dates... hang out... decide if you want to take the next step or not.

I'm seeing someone now that is super fun. So polite. Funny. Sweet. A VERY good date. The perfect quasi-date. Not really sure if we are couple material. Therefore, not ready to take the next step. We are quite different. But similar in enough ways to keep it interesting. I keep thinking he is going to lose interest and stop calling me, but it hasn't happened yet. Regardless, it's been fun. And it doesn't hurt that he's nice to look at. A fine specimen of man, he is. Ha!!! Sounds like I'm in a meat market. Sorry about that.

I didn't really mean it like that. He is wonderful. Truly. And I'm lucky to have the time I have with him. Just don't call me his girlfriend.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

The Quasi Dating Enigma

So, it seems to me that the quasi-dating phenomenon is gaining popularity in the mid-twenties to early thirties crowd. Maybe I'm delusional and have a biased perspective. I'm sure there are relationships that occur at this age that are less dysfunctional, but just hear me out.

What qualifies as a quasi-dating relationship? These two spend alot of time with each other. They may or may not be seeing other people. The couple, or a portion of the couple, isn't interested in committing whole-heartedly. This could be due to one member wanting to keep options open. It could be because one or both parties are not ready for the committment. It could be because, frankly, he's just not that into her... or vice versa.

Now, we can't necessarily assume that all quasi-relationships are alike. One could involve the two caring very deeply for each other where, in a different QR, you would be hard-pressed to find any significant interest or attraction between the two. If the couple is at the same spot, this could possibly be a very comfortable place for them to be. But if they differ in perspective, it causes quite a rocky situation.

No one wants to feel half-interested in. No one wants to be nominally cared for or partly adored. These end up being anemic, sluggish, flacid relationships because the parties don't really understand where they stand with each other. One writer suggested that individuals in these relationships end up backing into a dating situation with each other without clarifying their relationship. These are weak reflections of true relationships. There may or may not be a time and place for this type of relationship. Perhaps one member of the couple just wants to give the other person some space or extra patience. But sticking it out in this kind of relationship can cause some significant problems if one refuses to take a close look at motivations. Feelings of resentment or inadequacy can start to take over.

Now, I, myself have never been involved in anything like this. So who am I to judge? Just a simple observation of life as it is today... Ha! I lie. I have extensive knowledge of this very situation. My past blogs should be evidence of that. But today I took another step at analyzing and clarifying. And I am happy. I am ready to rinse my hands of quasi-dating forever. At least until the next super-luscious gentleman steps into my life and makes an offer I can't refuse: hesitant passion, wavering devotion, and lackadaisical affection.

; )



http://boardtocertaindeath.blogspot.com/2007/06/pseudo-relationships.html

http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?itemid=9277647

Thursday, December 18, 2008

My New Band

I'm calling it Obesity.

Our t-shirts will say, "Obesity's phat."

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

What Kind of a Dance IS That?

I read through these posts. Uggggh. All the way back. And I see where my thoughts have been and where my heart has been. Thirteen days ago I blogged about letting go of Max. And what progress have I made on that front? None. I read his blog, too. Most of what he talks about are the struggles and celebrations he's encountered in his new stage of life. I am part of that. I know I am part of the celebrations he's encountered. And frankly, I'm sure I am part of the struggles, too. He talked about how we complement each other. And how we've got steps to take but that he is glad I'm in his life. I feel exactly the same way. Yet the steps that have been taken in the last few months have been back... forth... forth... back... back... forth... back... forth. We are doing the two-step.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Multiple Personality Disorders in Mi Perro

Now, I'm not intimately aware of the signs of schizophrenia, so I don't know that I'm prepared to diagnose my dog for sure. But it's like he is one person when I am around, one person when I'm gone, and an entirely different person in bed. Now, hear me out. So, when I'm gone, things mysteriously occur. One by one, the things I choose to accent my living room with disappear and all that is left of them is shreds of wood on the living room floor. A Mexican pot... a carved box from India... they have all met their end. It's got to be him, right? But he never really admits to it... naughty.

Then when I am around, he's super happy, playful. He noses me to wrestle him. But he refuses to snuggle me in daylight. Refuses. All he wants is treats, walks, to have his ball thrown, and to play tug-of-war. It's all about him, really.

Now, an entirely different personality appears once night has fallen. He creeps up in bed and snuggles with me just perfectly. When it's cold he tries to nose to get under the blankets. And in the morning he lays his head on my chest. Such a sweet dog.

WHAT THE HECK? Are these all just aspects of one personality? Are they three separate ones? Does he want his cake and to eat it, too? Make up your mind, dog! You think this... you think that... you do this... you do that... WHAT DO YOU WANT?!???

I guess it's ok with me in the end. If it really bothers me, I'll just ignore him.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Ode to the Creepies

I love creepy people. In fact, immediately after an interaction with a creepy person, I think how much I am going to enjoy writing about them later. Hey, creepy guy... You make my life richer and more enjoyable. And you give me perspective on how normal my friends actually are.

So, the guy that bagged my groceries today. Total creeper. He was pretty bold.

Dear Creepy Bagger at King Soopers,

You were attempting to make pretty intense eye contact with me today. But I, wisely, faked like I was watching my purchases ring up on the computer. You immediately sent a sense of gooey ickyness down my spine. You, for some reason, assumed that I was from Minnesota. And I am not. So when you asked me if I was from Minnesota, I said, "... no." I really just wanted you to stop talking to me. Then you asked me if I was making Italian food. Let's see... ricotta, shells, cheese, pasta sauce, sausage... uhhh.... you genius. Stop talking. I can picture you drooling. I'm not even looking at you.

Why is it only the icky guys have the guts to talk to the single girl using the little basket to shop? Hello! I am using a basket because I AM NOT HAVING DINNER WITH ANYONE. I don't need a ton of food. I should probably think twice about shopping at the grocery store centrally located in family-ville. Find me a good tomato or ask me where you can find the lemon juice. I will take you over there and you can ask me out on a date. It will be perfect.

Or you could do like all the hot single guys in the grocery store do... go pick up a six-pack of beer, a loaf of bread, and four pounds of roast beef.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

For Mya

Episodes of American Life: Issue 3

video

Friday, November 28, 2008

Trampled

A man working at a Walmart store was trampled this morning. Trampled to death. What kind of force has to be inflicted to kill someone by trampling? And it was all unintentional. We are in such a frenzy to go purchase shit that will sit around our house and collect dust that we are willing to take someone's life from them. We are willing to push and shove as though we are in a fight for our very existence. Unreal.

This morning I was leashing up my dogs to take them for a run and at the same time this poor man was sent to his death - to unlock the door of the Walmart so people could f***ing shop. Really? And this shouldn't be a surprise. It happens every year, right?

I hope everyone who felt their toes tap his body or felt thier feet sink into his torso, his face, his neck remembers this moment every time they enter a store. Every time they see the name Walmart. Every time they see a line stretch around a retail store. Outrageous! People are killed for so many reasons around the globe. Because of hate or revenge. Because they stood up for something in the face of opposition. But not for opening the door to a Walmart. This infuriates me.

Monday, November 24, 2008

Pursue?

Sarah said to me today that I should be pursued. And she is right. I dive in to every relationship wholeheartedly. I give lots. I sacrifice lots. And it wasn't until the last few years that I learned how to sacrifice in healthy ways. So what does that mean, really? To be pursued? Maybe it means to not give everything so fully. Maybe it means holding back. I'm not too sure.

I am sure, though, that so many men have been so emasculated by women in their lives that it makes it difficult for them to take that risky step to pursue a woman. So we are left in an environment where men are afraid to pursue and women are either waiting to be pursued or have become accustomed to taking too authoritative of a role in their relationships. Sad story.

Monday, November 17, 2008

The Break In

I thought it was weird a few weeks ago when I came home and found the candle on my table lit. Creepy. Who was in my house? My dogs don't know how to light candles.


So, even stranger when I come home after a night in Denver to find my futon mattress unrolled, my bed linens ruffled, and all hell has broken loose in my bathroom. A picture from my living room displayed as the backdrop to two bucking My Little Ponies and little sticky bees dotting the mirror in the background. What kind of a freak sets up a sordid scene such as this in my bathroom?


I rush downstairs in a panic to find a photo that I do not own displayed among my own photography. And sinking to my knees, I scream, "WHAT HAS HAPPENED?!?!?! What has happened?"


Returning to my bedroom... once a place of solace and comfort... I find my camera. It contains all the evidence I need. Two youth have invaded the privacy of my home and donning my sacred weiner costume, taken seductive photos of themselves in my shower. I feel empty.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Your WHAT?!


"My weiner tickles."


WHAT?! Did I really just hear that? Weiner. Who uses that word? Well, a five-year-old. A five-year-old with a bit of an odd sensation in his nether-region. I was at the grocery store the other day. I saw a package of what I would call hot dogs. They didn't really fit up next together perfectly like a package of Oscar Mayers. They look like they tumbled from above and nestled in next to each other. They were wrapped tightly in plastic. Want to know what the label said? Weiners.


Now, in German, you pronounce the full long vowel sound of the second vowel. So what we would pronounce as wee-ner, they might pronounce as wine-er. Fascinating.


What possessed him to blurt this out in class? Was this a thought that couldn't possibly lay dormant in the boundaries of his own mind? Was it such a powerful realization that it had to escape his mind and make it's way... firing neurons through his brain to let sounds and syllables bubble across his tongue... thrusting this word around as though it were a well-polished trophy? Weiner.


What do parents teach their kids to refer to their nether-parts as? Weiner? Cookie? Foo? Willy? Hoo-ha? The English language.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

New

Thank God for... revelation. My perspective has been so narrow and so tight. My focus has been skewed. And all it took to boot me back into my own self was a little bit of revelation.

You are right where you need to be.

That's all I needed to hear. I woke up with new vision. New perspective. A new outlook. And my day was glorious. It was golden. I love this. And it really all boils down to me keeping my eyes in the right place and staying connected to my God.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Treading Water

Here I am. Struggling. Feeling like I am treading water. Barely keeping my lips above the water. And it's all in my mind. I have a wonderful job, amazing friends, a nice place to live, and a great family. What is the issue then? Nothing to complain about. So where is my focus? My dear friend said that most of our worries are about the past or the future and if we keep our vision on the present, there is much happiness to be had. It's true. I've never been a worrier. Am I worried? I think I am. But I don't know about what. I think it has to do with the giant amount of responsibility that I have. And I just want to shed it all. I like my house, but I would LOVE to be without it. I like my job, but I would LOVE to not have all those little things weighing on my mind in the wee hours of the morning.

Maybe I should run away. No, seriously. Leave a note on my bed like I did when I was eight. And instead of hiding under the bed to wait to see when they would notice I was gone, I will actually run. Leave this monstrosity of weight behind. What is it that I have been looking at? Because I feel it... my perspective has changed. No longer the beaming outlook. I guess I don't trust that anything good is coming my way. I think I wrote about that earlier. My friend asked, do I need something good to come my way for me to be complete right now? At this moment? I can't possibly rely on anything else to come my way. My focus has been narrowed and I know that as I focus on who God is, everything melts away. Worries. Weight. It all doesn't seem to matter next to the pleasure of knowing who God is. So how have I found myself here? What I need is perhaps to take a glorious week off and to go hide myself where only God can find me. To be separate. And to fix my eyes on him... who is steady. Who is compassionate. Who never fails.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Giving Up

Today I hated teaching. Maybe that's exaggerating. I was exasperated. Frustrated. I had enough. Enough of whining. Enough of repeating myself. Enough of having expectations completely disregarded. Enough of coming early. Enough of bossing kids around. I went to school for five years to learn how to teach. And what is it that I really do? I tell kids to sit in their place. I ask them to listen while someone else is talking. I ask them to keep their hands off each other. And I don't just do this a couple times a day. This is my job all day long. The entire day. What kind of teaching or learning is that? None at all. So maybe what I detest isn't teaching.

I played music for a little bit today - an hour. Not near enough. I was booted out of my little music haven by another soul who needed some time to play. And during this time, I realized that it's not about teaching at all. It's about my life. It's about why I get up. Why do I get up? Is it to love people? Some days, yes. I do what I can to be present and to soak up and give out everything I have to nearly 500 kids who need so much. But today I had nothing to give. You know... I just want something good. That's all. And this has got to seem so selfish. I know I have an incredible job at an incredible school with incredible people and incredible kids. I live in an incredible house that I couldn't give two shits about. I own an incredible house that I couldn't give two shits about.

So here's what it comes down to. I am not guaranteed anything good. There is absolutely no assurance that anything good is ever going to come my way. So it's up to me to make what I have as beautiful as I want it to be. But no matter how hard I try, it's never adequate. I have had periods of my life that I have really dug into things that made me happy - climbing, reading, writing, music. And I have repeatedly sacrificed for the people I love. But none of it really matters in the end. All of this, I've done to make my moments happy and to make other people enjoy their sweet minutes. Has it worked? Momentarily. But it's always shattered at some point.

So today I resolve to give up completely. To fail in every area I could possibly fail in. To let go of relationships. To disregard any expectation that has been made of me - in work, in finances. I resolve to fail. I just need to feel it completely. To dig around and feel all the tremendous failure well up inside and spill out and to fully drown in it.

I've never felt this. Not for one second in all my life.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

It Will Be Beautiful

I never realized how wonderful it is to be around people who have a solid relationship. People who rely in a healthy way on each other. Who communicate. Who love. Who give. It fills me up. These people adore each other and every now and then, you might catch some evidence of this. A smile between the two of them. A little moment in their day where they reach out in some visible way to show the other person their love.

There are a few relationships that thrill me like this. Certain friends of mine have these beautiful, awe-inspiring relationships. So beautiful. Not everyone, though. Some people in my life are married and just kind of live the day. Not necessarily being intentional about valuing that other person.... letting it go unsaid and perhaps unfelt.

But it is so encouraging to see. And I wonder if I've ever been in that position in my life. I think I have. Rob and I had a relationship like that at one point. But we slipped into the unintentional floating-through-life syndrome. I never want to slip into that again. I have hope. I know that one day, I will be settled in a balanced relationship with my best friend and our relationship will be so good and so balanced that it will be evident to the people around us. Not to say that anything will be perfect. But it will be beautiful.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Harley Has Ripe Gas

Dear Harley,

I am glad you are living with me. You are precious and you needed some love. So I am happy to fill that need. You needed me to brush you and to keep you healthy with good food and a bit of medication. You needed me to take you on walks. And to love you. To pet you when you come near and to wrestle you around a bit.

But you farted today more than once. In fact, you made my friends move from one place to another at least three times. I was just online and you decided to lay next to me. I can't really smell it that much, but I sense that there is a stench in the air. What the heck? Why don't you do a cleanse? Your gas is rank.



Saturday, October 18, 2008

Curious Mr. PigNose

I noticed you today, Mr. PigNose. You were driving the car behind me. The tip of your nose is higher than the septum... I think that's the right word... you know - where your nose connects above your lip. You don't have a big fat piggy nose. You have a slender piggy nose and defined cheekbones. And you totally grossed me out today. You were snacking. You were munching on some sort of snack item. And chewing with your mouth open. And licking your fingers and smacking.

I was so morbidly curious that I kept watching you. And you didn't stop. You were ravenous. You kept reaching in for more. Smacking and licking. My stomach began to turn and still I didn't look away. I fixed my peripheral vision on the car in front of me so I could make a quick getaway as soon as the light turned green. But while the light was red, I was your very own personal captive audience. You disgusted me.

You had a wedding ring, I think. I wonder if your wife notices this about you. Does it disgust her, too? Has she hid her disdain for years? I am curious as to whether she has thought to mention it to you. Or perhaps she's let it boil in her veins for years and perhaps she is considering some counseling. I wonder if your children have slender piggy noses and terrible snacking manners as well. Who is your mother? Didn't she advise you to chew with your mouth shut? Especially considering the shape of your ugly pig nose?

I daydreamed about putting my car into park and running back to your car and throwing open your door and grabbing your snacks and shoving them into my mouth as crumbs fell to the asphalt below and smacking and causing the snacks to become cheesy saliva mush as I laughed uproariously amidst Saturday afternoon traffic.

Green light. Goodbye Mr. PigNose.

Friday, October 17, 2008

My Punch in the Head

Yesterday shook my confidence. I had enjoyed a number of small successes riding motorcycles up until yesterday. My confidence grew as I learned to get the bike in motion, to shift, to make easy turns. Well yesterday, three major bumps in the road for my assurance... Not really three major bumps. How about two minor bumps and one punch in the head? So, I stalled the bike twice riding to work. In the middle of traffic. Not too fun... especially on a bike that won't start easily. But, again, I kind of enjoy that about the bike. Later in the day, I was on my way home to let the dogs out. And I ran out of gas. Nice. Smooth. But some kind gentlemen helped me out and I was quickly on my way again. So, about the punch in the head... let's just say it involved gravity and the hundreds of pounds of bike versus 120-lb me. Yeah. Super.

Well, the choice was mine - to let the bike and myself rest today. Or to hop on and charge out into the sunshine. Today is gorgeous, by the way. So, I drove back up beautiful winding Gleneagle Drive to school and I practiced turns in the parking lot for about 1/2 hour. I could barely make a full turn in that huge wide parking lot. But as I continued, I got my turns down to half the width. I don't know how people do full figure eights in two adjacent parking spaces. That's crazy.

But I'm getting better at turning. At remembering to shut off my turn signal. At coming to a stop. At putting the bike in motion. I rode the curves down Gleneagle a little faster this time. Things are coming along. I'm not about to give up.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Sushi and Sunshine and... Motorbikes?


So, sushi and sunshine make me incredibly happy. On a dark day when things are rushed and uncomfortable, one of these things is surely the cure to settle me back into normalcy. Now, there are a few other things that can do this, too. Climbing is one of them. Being around a good friend is another. And soon I might be adding something new.

I rode my new motorcycle to work today. It was cold... 31 degrees to be exact. But it is a short ride to work. I accelerated onto a busy road and then made another turn onto an even busier road. The conditions were really nice and I was able to get so much more confident on the bike... learning to lean into the turns and to shift comfortably. The cold air was wonderful. And I felt great getting off that bike... knowing that I can do anything that I want to do. It seemed too complicated at first, and not worth the effort. But I am so psyched that I learned how. It's been so much fun even just tooling around the neighborhood. I'm invigorated and really happy that I can do it. It sounds stupid, maybe. But we mentally block ourselves from reaching out and trying new things. We persuade ourselves that it's not worth the effort or that it's too hard. Or that only a certain type of people do that thing... not people like us.

I also like that it takes some tricks to get the bike started. It's not easy. You've got to be patient and try a few things. I've got to let it warm up and rev it a bit. It's not just an easy thing like jumping into a car and popping it into drive. I've got to think about it and to stay on top of it or I won't be successful. I love that.

So, today was a good day. There is alot for me to learn about bikes, but I'm completely psyched about this. It keeps my eyes bright.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Gross and Stupid David Caruso


Dear David Caruso,

I watched your show today. I don't even know the name of it. I got home late and fixed a super fast dinner and just sat down to chill for a minute, so I figured, 'What's the harm of watching this show. I know... I really hate you, David Caruso. But it's only a minute or two.' A few years ago when I was addicted to television, I used to watch your show all the time. And when I did, I remembered thinking, 'Wow. David Caruso really sucks as an actor. Either that, or his characters are all written real shitty. Either that or the writers are COMPELLED to write really shitty characters for him because he can't do anything but crappy suck acting.'

So, anyway... benefit of the doubt... I watch your show. You were in a holding room with someone you had arrested for MURDER. And you said, "We apprehended Carlos Agaba today." And she said, "So, are you going to let me go?" WHY DID YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT, DAVID CARUSO? You suck so bad. Could you possibly have any other expression on your face? Could you vary your vocal inflection at all from its present monotony? You are terrible. And all the other actors on your show are good actors. Why do you suck so bad? And do you think you are really good? Your characters seem pompous and arrogant, so I believe that you also are pompous and arrogant. Maybe you aren't! Maybe you are a really nice person and the fact that you can make yourself seem otherwise is proof that you are a good actor. But I don't believe it for a second. I think you suck. And when I talk to people in my daily life who have such a blank expression and irritating way of talking like you do, I walk away from them. And when I walk away from them, I think... 'God, I'm glad I'm not talking to them anymore. I wanted to kick that person in the head.'


Please do not watch this youtube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_sarYH0z948

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Procrastinating

I sat down to write just now. And there's alot that is swirling around in my thoughts. Not really anything of consequence. I am excited. I am anxious. For different reasons. And I've got a mess of a kitchen downstairs that I would LOVE to procrastinate on right about now.

So, two weeks ago I moved into this gorgeous house. This big, beautiful, lovely and painfully lonely house. I wasn't nearly as lonely in the last house. Maybe it had to do with memories of people I had shared it with... Robert, Heidi, Kristal, and Kim. It never seemed lonely. Here, my neighborhood is wonderful. I've got kids all around me. Wonderful families that really care about each other. But inside this big, seemingly empty house is space and air and quiet. I need a roommate. I would really like two. So hopefully in a few weeks, my blogs will be about roommate quirks. Whatever they are will be better than this sad quiet.

Maybe to combat the loneliness... maybe to provide a playmate for my baby dog... or maybe to maintain another connection to Max, I took in his sweet dog, Harley. He is a mess. He is matted and a bit needy. He's a wonderful dog. Affectionate and obedient. But he doesn't really like Wyatt all that much yet. I wonder if they will develop a bond. He seems so old for his five years. Maybe a little attention, some good food, and a haircut will do the trick.

I rode my beautiful KZ today. I love it. Now, when I say I rode it, I mean to say that I took it around the block. Not really much of a ride. But exciting enough for me. I really have never thought much of motorcycles. But this summer when Max asked if I wanted to learn, I didn't object. The second I let off the clutch and gave it some gas, I felt that beautiful rush of freedom and it's got me hooked. I can start it, stop it, and shift gears up and down, but that's about it. I can't wait until I've got enough confidence to go riding with Max. It will be so much fun!

Max leaves tomorrow for California. I am just beginning the task of taking him out of my thoughts bit by bit. Not totally. But I have got to get some emotional distance. So in the next few weeks I'll have to wrestle myself away from the phone when he calls. It's kind of like starting to eat vegetables when you aren't used to it. You have to force yourself to do something because you know, in the end, it will be better for you. Our relationship is so wonderful. I really love it. But it's also been creating a heavy heart. So I need to shake it.

Anyway, I got to meet little Noah Boll today. My dear friend, Jenn, has had her first baby. He's so wonderful. It's amazing to see a woman become a mother. What used to be so very important to her now takes a back seat to loving and providing for her baby. It's a precious thing. Anyway... I suppose I should get going on that disgusting kitchen downstairs. Or I could sink down into a tub of bubbles... that sounds wonderful.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

I Need Time Space Silence

My mind is not right. I have handled myself very well since my divorce. I've mostly done the right thing. But I have felt pushed and pulled these recent days and it's left me ripped open. At least that's how I feel today. I need boundaries. I can't be pushed and pulled any longer, so what I really need to do is clear my thoughts and create some distance from the situation. Some emotional distance? My dear friend and I share the most deep and communicative intimacy. It is like none I've ever had. And this intimacy is a deep friendship... so deep that it's blurs the lines of friendship. We have an odd relationship. It's not bad. It's different. And I've intentionally prevented expectations from creeping into the middle of it all, however, my emotions are so heavy in the midst of it all. I am so intensely in love with him. And the timing is so intensely wrong. So what do I do? I can push back that love and stifle it so that I'm not living an authentic life. I can let it grow. I can let it die away. Or I can get a little healthy distance.

Healthy distance. Time. Space. Silence.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Some Men Are Very Stupid

Exhibit A: Long-haired professional football players... you don't look good. Whoever told you that you did look good was lying and has fooled you into believing something terrible. Cut your hair.

Exhibit B: The dude who thinks he is so good looking that any girl would fall over themselves just to talk to him. Guess what... it takes more than that. And don't throw the "I'm a bigwig in the military" or "I ski". Girls don't care. Let me rephrase that. Any woman who has handled adversity in her life with dignity will not fall for that. She will see right through you and recognize what a giant tool you are.

Exhibit C: The dudes who lie about themselves. You are 23. All your stories about the jobs you'ved worked and the high-profile experiences you have had are either all lies or exaggerated and you know it. And so do I. I would rather sit down with a total numbskull that is real about himself and his interests and presents himself truthfully than with you.

Exhibit D: The mullet. Seriously? What are you trying to convey?

Exhibit E: The man who ate my lunch out of the refrigerator today. You are going to suffer.

Exhibit F: All the men who have wanted to come talk to my friend, Sarah, because she is beautiful, but haven't because they are intimidated. Get over it. Talk to her. You are making her feel bad.

Exhibit G: You oogling married men. Go home to your wives. And love them. And tell them how outrageously sexy they are and how glad you are that you are their husband.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Chad Has A Crush On Me (Part 2)

"You have a tat-TOO, Miss Renfroe?"

"Yes, Chad."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes. It hurt alot."

"I like girls with tattoos"

(silence)

"Really, Miss Renfroe. I REALLY like girls with tattoos."

"That's not hard to believe, Chad."

Get Me There!

So, I get to move on Saturday. Usually moving is crappy. I guess maybe it will be a little crappy. I mean, having to box everything up and rearrange and get rid of things. I actually don't mind it. It makes me feel like I have my life together when I can do all that. I think what bugs me is having to get furniture I need. I guess I should think about owning a dining table. One with chairs, you know... and a futon would be good for guests to come sleep over. Some bar stools - two would be fine. Oh, and washer and dryer. That's necessary. : )

I am really excited to be moving. For many reasons, really. One being that I will have 45 minutes to an hour EXTRA every day! How much would some people pay for an extra hour in their day? I can't wait. So much I can do with that! I can cook! I can take my dog out before it's pitch black! I can ride my bike to the climbing gym! I can read! I am so grateful for that. And Wyatt will be grateful, too. I'll get to sneak away for lunch when I want to and sit on the back patio in the sunshine. A little solace in the middle of my day away from the craziness of 498 small children.

Another thing is that I am so excited to be in the community that I have been a part of for three years. I used to think that I didn't want to live near my kids. I didn't want to be 'inconvenienced' or to run into them everywhere I go. What was I thinking?!?! I love them. I invest in their lives. I love their families. Why would I not want to dive in and become a part of the entire community? I can't wait to see them biking down the street and have them ring my doorbell to come play with Wyatt. I am thoroughly stoked.

And another is that I am 45 minutes from Denver. 20 minutes closer to my parents, to Meghan and to Danielle, and to Max. It will be so easy to see any of them at the drop of a hat! Imagine... Max and I could meet for dinner in Castle Rock in less than half an hour. I can head to Denver for a show and be back in bed in a quick hour drive. It makes me so happy I can hardly stand it.

I guess the stress of being a landlord hasn't hit me, but with any luck, these guys will be an easy set of tenants and I can get this house off my hands in a few more years. Oh, and waking up to sit in front of my new fireplace or to drink coffee on the back deck or to soak in the giant tub or to ride my bike to get errands done will be such a joy!!!

Now, if I can only find a roommate! : )

Monday, September 15, 2008

Love and Trust. Trust and Love.

Can we trust without love?

I am reading The Shack by William P. Young. It details an interesting discussion between a man and the Trinity - God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. One of the ideas it poses is that "Trust is the fruit of a relationship in which you know you are loved" (p. 126). Today I had to let that sit in my mind for a while. And still it moves around, gaining momentum. Can I trust someone who doesn't love me? I don't think so, really. Because one who loves me has my best interests in mind. Someone who loves me has a vested interest in protecting me. And because of that love, I don't need to impose expectations or rules in the relationship. I can just be. And trust takes over.

But then, I think, sometimes love isn't enough. Sometimes it takes a choice - the choice to do what is right regardless. To stick it out and to do what is best for a relationship despite wanting to run away. Wait. Maybe that IS love. There are so many dimensions to love. And I'm realizing that love is less about passion and more about a deep sense of wanting good for another. Love is about setting aside your own needs and pursuing the fulfillment of the needs of another. In this environment of giving, I think it is impossible not to trust.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

Perspective

At one time in my life, I had a perspective that was far outside myself. I feel like I used to care for other people more deeply than I do now. That sounds terrible, I know. What is it that has turned my perspective so inward? The things that have transpired in my life in the last few years has left me wondering about my own life. Maybe my perspective has changed because there is so much in my own life that I can't control... so much that is unsure. But it's always been like that, hasn't it?

I remember when Rob was sick and I knew it was something I couldn't control, I still had a healthy perspective.

It's funny. I think when people get married, they fall into this false sense of security. I certainly did. And that security made me forget that I wasn't guaranteed anything. Nothing. I wasn't guaranteed a happy marriage. I wasn't guaranteed years or children or family. I wasn't even guaranteed another single minute. Yet I felt so secure and so settled. How deceiving are our emotions? It makes me curious about what my security is based on. It has got to be based on something solid and secure.

This brings my thoughts back to faith. I used to be so steady. I can get that back. Putting aside those things that are temporal and pursuing what lasts... love and relationship, right?

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Bleary, Bleary Eyes

I couldn't really explain exactly what I'm thinking now. It's a mixture of many things, I am sure. But my eyes are bleary and I can't breathe through my nose. It's been a while since I had a sob-fest. But here it is...

I married a wonderful man. There was so much to love. So much to be grateful for and so much to hold on to. Yet, after a series of years of leaving our issues unspoken, a rift cut through every good thing. And all that was left between us was bitter words and threats and painful, seething wounds. And if that was all it was, maybe that would be bearable.

But no matter which way you look at it, I was bound to lose. We were bound to lose. Because today he is a shell of who he once was. You would never recognize him if you saw him. And one of the only things that remains distinguishing him as my beloved husband is his love of mint chocolate chip icecream. His crippled body can't even position itself for rest. But I look into his eyes and I can see he understands every bit of what is going on around him. He isn't in a fog. He isn't confused. He knows. Yet he can't scrape together the syllables he needs to convey what he is thinking. And for me, the rift is gone and I can't remember the bitter words and the painful, seething wounds. To be truthful, I can barely even remember the good times. But what I do remember is that I loved him. And that has never - not for one second - faded away. So when I look in his eyes, I see the eyes that promised to love me forever. His swollen hands were the hands I held as we walked happily down the aisle - finally man and wife.

He is no longer my husband. It is what it is. Who is to say if I am better or worse off? But I don't want to leave someone that I love without hope. So I stay by his side.

I wonder sometimes what he does remember. Do his medications leave him with little memory? Or are those memories all he has? Does he remember taking his bride into their bedroom to make love for the first time? Does he remember all the silly jokes they had? (This picture is of us sucking our cheeks in... he isn't so good at it).

He called her his partner in crime once. And does he remember how beautiful life was? I hope he does. Because it is hard to see the beauty in the life he has now. And if God had any mark of decency, wouldn't He take him now? How can he leave him in this condition to die... or even worse - to simply grow old?

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

The Lake Was Glassy And Cool

His speech and hearing and mobility have all taken a dive. His brain is still undergoing swelling as a result of the extensive radiation. And so he is stuck in this holding pattern. Not being able to move or speak... just to think. And what goes on in his brain all day, I wonder?

I sat down near him on the couch as he was lying there. I set my chin on his knee. And I looked him in the eyes. I told him I love him and then my eyes filled up with tears. And so did his. And some of the words he can manage to say are, "It's ok." ... What's ok?? What is it that is ok, Rob? Because none of this seems ok to me. It would seem ok if you could get better. And it would seem ok if you could pass quietly into the next world. But this does not seem ok. This holding pattern. This lengthy stall of inability and frustration.

I swam across a lake this weekend... just as the sun was reaching its fingertips into the sky. The lake was glassy and cool. And a man and his boy were fishing at the southern edge. Why did I jump into that water? I sat there for a few minutes... tottering the line between jumping in and just dangling my toes in the water. And as the sun quickly made its ascent, I knew there were precious few minutes to enjoy this moment. To float softly across the water just as the sun made its way into the open sky. Only 200 miles south lay a man that I loved and that I still love that couldn't jump in even if he wanted to... unless he wanted to just roll off the dock and sink through the murky water to settle at the bottom. And here I was delaying a beautiful moment simply because the water was cold?? Insane.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Facebook Is Creepy

I hate you Facebook. You use my information to market things to me. When I say I like God, you try to sell me all this Jesus stuff. When I say I like travel, you show me links to all this travel stuff. And the creepiest thing of all is when I say I am single and you put things up that say, "29 and single again?!?"

I hate you Facebook.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Chad Has A Crush On Me

Chad is seven. When I gave him a reading test today, he kept making eyes at me. He was reading about teeth.

"Crocodiles have sharp teeth. RaaaaAAAARRRR!", he said.
And then raised his eyebrows at me and grinned.

"Some snakes have fangs."
He reached over and stuck his pointy fingers into my leg. "I'm venomous!"

"Interesting, Chad," I said, as I prodded him to continue reading.

"Girls these days..." he says, condescendingly.

This is the same kid who sang me "You Are My Sunshine" when I was sick. I love that kid.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Goodnight, Ceiling Fan

I enjoy the bit of independence I have in my life. I get to go climb when I want to and eat late when I want to and work late when I want to. There's no one that depends on me to get home to take care of dinner or anything like that. When I was married, I usually rushed home after work to get dinner going and then I sat on my ass watching TV the rest of the night. Lame.

Today I worked late and then climbed. I came home to take Wyatt out for a while and fixed a super late dinner. So mellow. And there was no responsibility for anyone else. Nice.

But then, when I did come home, it was lonely. No one to talk with about the day. No one to laugh with in the kitchen. No one to tuck into bed with and to kiss goodnight and to feel the warmth of their skin next to me. Well, my dog... not quite the same, right? So I think I stay away as much as I can. I get on my bike or take Wyatt for a run until it's dark. And I quickly fix dinner and then head to bed ignoring all that I miss about having someone there.

It's so nice to have someone there. To sit and breathe together. To have breakfast together or to sit outside near the fire together. Someone to fill up the car with gas while you take care of something else. To bounce ideas off of. To laugh with. To love. And to be loved. I think that's what I miss most about being married to Robert. He really loved me. Of course, that came with a slew of other issues. I began to wonder if it was possible. I didn't think a man could really love a woman. But I know it is possible. Just rare. So maybe the total independence isn't all it's cracked up to be. Ah, life.

Goodnight, then, computer. And dog. And ceiling fan. Goodnight, closet. Goodnight, dishwasher.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Turning Twenty-Nine

Well, on Monday I turn 29. Real 29. Some of you turn 29 year after year. But I think I'll just do it once. I love my age. My twenties have been really wonderful. I started a career that I love. I bought a house. I got married. I learned so much about myself. I became a better climber. I grew into a better person... except for the one year, of course. Twenty-six was a terrible year. I am glad I never have to live those days again.

But I feel fortunate to have learned as much about myself as I know now. I've been through some really difficult times that stretched my character. I wonder if I would have become who I am without those times. Likely not.

I've always looked forward to my thirties. Who knows now whether it will bring what I thought it would bring. Being a twenty-something certainly was worlds different than I expected. But I hope I'm moving into a stage of life that I can settle into... that I can be comfortable in. You know? It's probably my choice, right? I wonder sometimes if I could be comfortable in all the situations I can visualize for my thirties - living here in the states... living in Argentina... being single... being part of a solid relationship... teaching... pursuing something else in the field of education... being a mom or a sort-of-mom

Whatever it is that is in store, I think I've learned that for me to be content in my situation, I have to continue to pursue the things I love - music, travel, climbing, family... really that's it. And if I can avoid getting sidetracked, I'll continue to love the days of my life. And if I can love the days of my life, then growing older will never plague me.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Consumerism

So, I watched TV today. I had four choices: soap opera, soap opera, soap opera, or Antiques Roadshow. So I watched Antiques Roadshow. They went into this collector's house and he was talking about all his amazing priceless collections. He has these pillars with large marble orbs on top. He has dishes that are shaped like shells and vases of a similar shape. Almost every inch of his house is covered with paintings or dishes. He has bought entire pieces of furniture to house his collections and he has tables he's bought to display his collection of boxes. His bathroom wall is covered in mounted decorative plates.

Really? Really? Do people really enjoy this? Does it make their lives more vibrant? I suppose the finding is somewhat exciting. Finding something rare and the bidding wars. That seems kind of interesting, I suppose. But to actually own it? That would drive me nuts. I can barely stand the amount of things I own now. This man could fill truckloads with the amount of shit he owns. He paid $10,000 for a set of dishes. And this set was comprised of TWO dishes!!!

I myself, am a slight junkie for a beautiful set of dishes. But what I like about it is when I prepare an amazing meal and I set the table and my friends are all around smiling and drinking and laughing. And it all makes a beautiful memory. You know, I'd set a match to that place in no time flat and I wouldn't shed a tear. How do people get that way? I wonder if they have any perspective at all. I would wonder what my simple $10,000 gift could have done for someone who is struggling to pay for an education. Or for a little family who is fighting to pay their mortgage. I wonder if I'll be able to make those decisions someday... "Set of dishes with painted insects... or amazing vacation for me and my family... or give someone else a foot to stand on..."

Disney World... you know what I saw there? A Christmas ornament. A Mickey Christmas ornament in the shape and color of a Jack O'Lantern. Who wants that?!? Insane.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

I Love My Days

Today was so stellar!!! I taught guitar all day and ran home to show my house. This GREAT lady seems to be stoked on my house, so I am really stoked to have her here. She seems wonderful. I hope it comes through so I can get my ass north where I belong. Anyway, I climbed with a new amiga, Lisa. She is such a cool woman. Super confident and working through a tough divorce. She's wonderful. And I ate dinner with Vegas. I totally dig my friends. I miss them! Tomorrow morning, Sarah and I are headed out on a hike to the Punch Bowls. I'm super psyched.

I love having days that celebrate every moment. Days that aren't dependant on what anyone else says or does. But days that are filled with people I love. I am super lucky and it makes me glad to be alive.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

A Last Letter

What is it that, at the end of a life, defines it?

Is it milestones of grandeur? Or is it steps of disguised greatness? Is it the thunderous effect of one life on others? Or is it more like a ripple? A few months ago, my own mortality stood boldly in front of my face and it was an awkward moment at first. What do I do with this? Do I shake its hand... do I ignore and walk away? I considered the idea that I had only days left.

One day, no one will remember my name. No one will tell stories that I know. And that's just a simple fact of life. I am alright with not being a person that has revolutionized the world. I did not create the printing press. I have not solved the problems of a nation. But I have cared for the people that God has been generous enough to place in my life. And I believe I have loved them unceasingly. I have given bits of me and chunks of me and all of me into different areas. I hope that something I have said along the way has caused someone to think. To question. To smile. To hope. I have held a hand. I have cried. And really all that is worth remembering is anything I've done for the sake of someone else. Everything done on my behalf passes away. But I feel like the efforts I've poured into the life of another person can continue beyond me and beyond whatever simple action I performed.

Yet it's so easy to have a shallow perspective and to get caught up taking care of myself. In a year, will I even remember any of that? But I WILL remember how I loved. And I will remember the smile on the face of a friend and the gratefulness in the heart of someone else.

I wrote a letter earlier this year. I wrote it in a hurry before leaving on a trip I didn't think I would return from. It was an unusual feeling - one I had never felt before. But as I was writing, I felt rushed and like I didn't quite have the words to explain what I wanted those I love to know. Perhaps I'm ready now. And the essence of it boils down to one idea: I am aboundingly grateful that regardless of the poor choices I've made in my life, that God continues to pour blessing into my life. And the way He does it is through the people that have loved me.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Pigsty

I was just gone for about 12 days. It's a long time to be away from home! As I was coming back, I realized how much I missed my friends and how much I've been away this summer. I wouldn't say I regret it, but it's time to make a little change, I think. I need to be in town more. I adore Max. I really do. And we always have a wonderful time together. But I can't sacrifice my friendships for the sake of being in the same vicinity as Max.

I woke up this morning and realized... my room is a pigsty, my bill paying is a pigsty, my car is a pigsty, and I haven't fulfilled a few committments I set out to complete this summer. It's not good. And really, because of the hustle-bustle, I feel I am living in a typhoon and my whole life is a pigsty. I've let my connection with my God slide, too and I don't feel ANYTHING stable in my life. Nothing. It's affecting me for sure.

I want to develop a system of being. So my house isn't a torrential mess. So my bills are paid on time. So I can balance time better. So I can retain the stable ground of my faith. So I can pursue friendships.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Stepping Back From The Buffet

Why am I putting myself in this position?

I love a man who doesn't love me. Will he eventually? Maybe. Really, I don't want anyone else. But he is so not ready. He's got things to work out in his own heart and there is no room for me. So watch me tiptoe backwards away from the beautiful buffet table and put some space in between myself and those delicious hors' doerves.

After a while, maybe I'll be invited back to partake or maybe I'll find myself very, very hungry.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Feeling Ungorgeous

I have been a dork all my life. Not a big deal. : ) I don't mind being silly or dirty or unperfect. But sometimes it gets to me. I know there are many wonderful things about me and I don't pretend that I am any less or any more than I am. But, frankly, there are some things that I am not. Most of the time, I am settled and content with that. But this weekend, I felt distinctly unpretty. It really began to color my weekend. I don't know why it was such a big deal. I camped and biked this weekend for about four days. I was smelly and dirty. I really love being able to be smelly and dirty and just to love my day for what it was.

But I spent the weekend with a group and in that group was an absolutely stunning woman. She is gorgeous. And no matter what she wears or how dirty she is, she always looked absolutely beautiful. I think it's fair to admit that this was not the case for me. I didn't look that great. And it was hard for me to not be the glowing wonder in the group. I guess my expectations might have been wacked... I know Max was looking forward to this weekend so much. And so was I. And I guess I wanted to be the beauty and the mountain girl all at once. I wanted Max to think I was beautiful.

Looks like I still have some stupid insecurities to work out. Damn it.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

My Gramsy

My grandmother is in the hospital. When I went to see her, she looked so fragile and frail. She was super zonked on medication and she was in so much pain. You know what those folks look like in a nursing home... mouths gaping open and foggy eyes. It was really hard. And I felt terrible. Because I had postponed seeing her and Grandad over father's day because Jenn was in town. And she had been wanting to see me so badly. I was glad when I went in to see her that she did recognize me and realize I was there. At first she told me I didn't look anything like Stephanie. : ) I really do. I look alot like me. Grams and Grandad are really like my own parents. They helped raise me and then when Rob got sick, we moved in and lived with them. They love me in a different way than they love the other grandkids. I know that for sure. And it was really hard to see that. I love my Grams and I hope she will be ok.

Another thing, though, is that I really never see the gloom and doom in a situation like that. My automatic response is that she's having a rough go of it, but that she will be great. It's just a matter of time. But my aunt and cousin and a few others just feel like she's a goner. Why is that? Don't we see the same things?

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

No One Calls Me Mommy

So... here's a thought. I might live out my days without knowing the feeling of a baby's kick... without hearing first words and seeing first steps. Without holding my own dear one on my chest as we fall asleep together. Without dirty diapers and stretch marks and temper tantrums.

How do I feel about this? I don't even know. Maybe it's not a big deal. Who is it that said every woman has to have a baby of her own? But what do I do if in twenty years I think back to this day and cry knowing what I could have lived? Will I feel empty? Why would I, really? I am nobody's mommy. How can I look into the future and guess what my life will be like? Maybe I will be with something spectacular and I won't miss what I think I will miss. Or if I end up so brokenhearted about it, will I be able to pick myself up and move on?

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

THUNKed

I got to see THUNK's first show back in the saddle after three years. I am so stoked for Max. He is taking life by the balls and living it up. He is so outrageously positive that it makes me beam.

Seeing live music is so inspiring. There is so much to learn musically by staying attentive to the action on stage. I love it. Max has been an excellent teacher - pulling me back into music in a powerful way and he's been encouraging me to perform. I can sing all day in front of anyone. But as soon as you put an instrument in my hand, I'm a mess of nerves.

Anyway, I had a great time last night. Drinking and dancing and the whole time having this incredible emotion riding through it all. My pitter-pattering heart was all afire last night. Max is unlike anyone I have known. He is passionate, alive, genuine, dedicated, sincere, enthusiastic, fascinating... that doesn't even scratch the surface. We have this intense affinity for each other that I thoroughly enjoy. It's been that way despite years of silence. He's always been my... 'ahhhhhh.'

Monday, June 16, 2008

Muck of Assumption

Being female. Sometimes it's really beautiful and sometimes it crumples up my mind and makes me crazy. Apparently we are really good at observing human behavior. I guess we are skilled at measuring and identifying emotion. And I do this quite well, according to a scientific brain gender test, found online of course. ; ) Most of the time, I can sense emotion accurately and I can make logical decisions based on what I see. But every now and then... every 27 days, perhaps... I make assumptions on what I see and let myself get all tangled up in confusion and lameness. And all it takes is a little conversation to clear it up.

One of the things I've learned since my divorce is how absolutely vital communication is to a relationship. I believe that's why my marriage failed and I've become committed to never let that issue tangle up my relationships. I've become more up front. More direct. And less sensitive to issues that I used to take personally. I feel pretty good about it. But then there are weekends like this, where I just sit in the muck of my assumption and try to plug on. Uggh. Max pulled me out of it, and for that I was thankful. He is so gentle and passionate about keeping everything open. I love that about him. He is so irritatingly irresistable. ; ) Bastard.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

A Possible Dream

So whenever people refer to a 'dream' they have, it always strikes me funny. I've never really had a 'dream'. Perhaps when I was younger I had a dream. Frankly, it probably had a lot to do with finding a wonderful man to marry. Don't all little girls dream of being the beauty to compliment their knight in shining armor?

I realized this week that in behind all the thoughts I've had of daily goings on, that I have a dream. I didn't know it was a dream for the longest time. It really felt like an option more than a dream. But this week when I thought of it, I felt my heart pound and my spirit rest a little. Determination rose up in me and I knew that I had what it takes to do well. But my dream really isn't going to come easy. What dream does? It's going to take a series of choices to build myself up to a certain level that I would be able to ease into this dream comfortably.

I want to be a musician. Now, I've known music for a while. But I haven't really invested myself in it enough to feel fluent. It's a language and I've muddled with it but I haven't immersed myself in it and forced myself to think in it and converse in it. I want to be able to sing... to play music... it's the joy in my soul. I'm interested in confidence and musical stability. I'm interested in exploration and in falling in love with music. I'm interested in pushing myself musically to see the fruits of my labor. And if my voice should fall upon a heart that opens because of my song, then it will be a good day.

Jake Hates Me

I had a friend a while ago, before Rob and I split up. Frankly, he did some pretty scummy things. And I did some scummy things, too. Now here we are two years later. I know I am a different person. And I assume he is, too. So when we all got together to celebrate Rob's 30th, I figured we could have decent conversation and get over the issues that plagued us two years ago.

Not the case.

I don't quite know why he wouldn't make eye contact with me or why, when I engaged him in conversation, he gave curt answers. But it was what it was. And when I asked him if he was doing it on purpose, he said, 'yes'. Wow. Adults. Adults can't forgive? Adults can't move past issues and realize that people do change for the best? It was shocking. And it reminded me of how he treated me two years ago. He's shown me the most outrageously judgemental form of hate I've ever experienced. This from someone who loves the Lord. Sad.

Maybe a little bit of time and life experience will work it out.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Get A Grip

Dear Crazy Borderline Stalker:

There are some things you should know about yourself. If you go out on 1 1/2 dates with a girl, please do not obsess about her incessantly. Please do not text her and say how desperately you need her. You do not need her. You need to find yourself. You need to love every minute of your own life and seek out ways to love it more. You need to get rid of the idea that a girl will complete your life or make everything happy. Life is about riding through struggles, communicating, and choosing to love when it's not easy to do. What's up with this insecurity, eh? Settle into yourself. Love yourself for all the great things about you and all the little quirky things too and you'll soon find someone else is going to follow your lead.

P.S. I am really glad you don't know where I live.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

The Minutes of My Life

I was chatting with a good friend today about what's been running through my mind lately. Isn't it interesting how you don't even realize your beliefs or how you function unless you process through it with someone? I was saying things I knew I believed in my core, but that I had never put words to. It was really beautiful.

Although Rob can't dress himself and can't read and can't find the correct words to use, there are things he CAN do. He can sit in the park and listen to music. He can eat delicious food. He can feel touch. He can smile. He can make decisions. He can listen. He can tell me where to drive. One of the only things he has left that I think gives him any sense of power or independence is his ability to pay for things. And it made me feel bad at first to allow him to pay for our outings. But as he said yesterday, "You have the rest of your life to live. I have money..." and as he trailed off, I imagined him finishing by saying "and not much time." It must give him joy since he insists upon it so emphatically.

I feel like I've said these things and thought these things a thousand times over. But here is what amazed me. I started talking about what a joy it was to have our relationship restored to what it is now. And how beautiful it is to take part in someone's life that is slowly dwindling. I wouldn't give up this time for ANYTHING. It is beautiful and powerful to be able to provide someone who is limited with the opportunity to smile and to love their life regardless of their ability. And with these limited days and minutes, the ability to make them precious and meaningful is priceless. I wish I had been able to remember what I had said, but I do remember the meaning and the feeling behind it. It was a feeling of hope and of resolve in the midst of impending death. And I know that despite my mistakes of the past, that my choices today are what I can change. And so I choose faithfulness and dependableness. I choose joy and zest for life. And if I can do that only today, and then again on another today, then soon I will find my life a series of well-spent days and beautiful memories that I am proud to say comprised the minutes of my life.

Tattoo-oo-oo-OWWWWwww!!!



I got my first one six days ago. And my second this afternoon.

Let's be honest. Tattoos hurt like hell. It is not like being scratched. It is not like bees stinging you. And the sick and twisted person who thinks it's like a tickle is flat out demented. It is like little tiny scalpels slicing across your skin over and over repeatedly in the same place. Granted... sometimes you don't feel it at all. Sometimes you feel it a bit. But then there are the times where it is excruciatingly painful.


In order to stand the pain, I had to relax all the muscles in my body and hum a song. This somehow pulled me out and away from the pain of the tattoo. It focused me. But I can't lie. It hurts like a bitch.


I wonder what my next one will be.


Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Rolling Around The Park


I walked around America the Beautiful park with Rob tonight. I felt so good. Truly good. I'm pushing the love of my early days in a wheelchair, knowing that his days are short, and my entire body is filled with overflowing joy. What am I so happy about? The feel of the air on my skin... the gentle colors of the setting sun across the clouds... the laughter trickling through the air... the fact that I have another day with someone I care about.


It was truly glorious. And Rob mentioned that it was the most fun he has had in months. We rolled around the park and bumped over choppy ground. We ate trout with capers and delicious garlic beef tips. We sat in chairs on the grass to listen to an old big band. We tried to remember the songs. That's it. But if that's all it takes, I want to give him that feeling again and again. Every day until his days have run out. You know, that's all I ever want to do for anyone. Give them joy and good memories each day again and again until their days run out. I love this.

Sunday, June 1, 2008

My Good Friend


What a joy it is to spend a day with someone you truly love and appreciate. I can't think of a better way to spend a day. Today Max and I headed to grab coffee and then to climbing. My favorite barista was aghast at the espresso technique of course... "30 pounds of pressure!", his mind screams as the person who made my drink (I dare not call him a barista) taps down the grounds. And little do I know, but instead of a beautiful vanilla latte, I received a steaming hot cappucino. No complaints. I don't know enough to be aghast. I'll leave it to my coffee slinger friend.

We started climbing when it was shady and overcast. Really perfect climbing weather. Better that than being roasted in the sunshine. I'm so happy that I'm climbing at the level I am climbing at now. Max leads 10's and I follow. He's my wonderful ropegun. And I his little belay monkey. Wait. That's an insult. I'm no belay monkey. I'm a seasoned climber and don't you forget it. I will lead some. I promise. I love climbing with him. I just get on the rock and breathe in the air and climb. He is so encouraging and he trusts me. I am smiling.

When we came back home, he played music and we sang together a bit. So rich and beautiful. I love it. I really enjoy his presence. He knows me. There is no substitute for that. You know? Someone that knows you. There is a balance with us. A positive exchange. Priceless.

Saturday, May 31, 2008

Thinking

I got to hang out with Rob last night. He has been practicing using a walker. He did a great job. I was nervous the whole time that he was going to fall. He uses his left hand to fix the fingers of his right hand into a brace on the walker. Then he stands on his left foot to swing his hip so that his right foot moves forward. He puts his weight on it and then makes a quick step with his left foot. That little bit of mobility must be great for him. His mom said that there is a brace he wears around his waist to connect him to the walker. It gives him some extra support.

He also had to sign his name on some paperwork yesterday. His mom wrote out his name and he would copy it. Some of the letters he remembered. But he was thinking 'f' when the next letter was 't', and things like that.

Learning to walk and learning to write... Things he's known how to do the last 26 years of his life he is beginning to piece together again. Ten days until his birthday! The big 3-0.

Yesterday he was upset because he was trying to understand a medication switch. He knew that he used to take four pills a day - one every six hours. And now he was to take three a day. So he was just trying to figure out how many hours between each dose. But his mom mentioned it might be good if instead of going all the way down to three a day if he took 3 1/2 for a while. That totally pissed him off. He is hardly able to express himself and to say what he is thinking. And to see him express frustration makes it so hard. I tried to turn the conversation back to what he was trying to figure out first and once we got that settled, we addressed the 3 1/2 pills issue.

I'm getting much better around him. I don't cry as much and I think he appreciates that I talk to him just like I always have. He was getting pissed that his mom brought him vanilla icecream when he wanted 'black'. He told me to throw it away but I just said, 'Quit your bitchin'. This is all we have. Do you want some caramel on it?' And he ate it.

I am lucky to be here. I am glad he still wants me in his life. He brings me joy.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Las Fiestas

The last time I had a party at my house was two years ago. Rob and I had just moved into the house we bought. It was super fun. Lots of great friends all over the place eating and boozing and writing inappropriate phrases with magnet poetry on the wall. I had a great time.

So, I don't really know why it's taken so long to have people over again. For a time, after Rob and I split up, I really didn't have a ton of people who I would have invited over. I lost a ton of friends during the split. And now, I'm back on my feet and feeling great about life and love. I am grateful to have such incredible people in my life who have stood by me through all the terrible and seen me through to today... which has its own triumphs and struggles. But it's time, isn't it? To celebrate these people, to celebrate life and summer, to celebrate new people and neighbors, to dance on the grass and to blow smoke into the night. To stop. To take a moment to love the people around me. It's time! So I will fill my belly with mojito and watch the firelight dance across the faces of people that I adore. It is them that make my days alive and I love them.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Beer and Tiki Torches and Music

You are officially invited. I will set up tiki torches in the backyard. I will grill meat. I will make you drink beer and play around the world ping pong or something. We will play loud music and invite the neighbors. We will sit on the grass and stare at the stars. We will watch the little girls dancing and we will dance too. We will hear the bugs chirp and we will see the lightning storm in the distance. We will eat and breathe and love. We will sing and laugh. I will catch your eyes in the middle of it all and we will smile.

It's summertime.

Monday, May 26, 2008

Saying Goodbye - Part III


I showed up at Rob's house today. I thought we were going to go catch a movie. When I got there, Rob mentioned he was scared to go in the car with me. Because I would have to lift him into the car and lift him out into his wheelchair. And he didn't trust me enough not to drop him on the ground. Fair enough. When he was first sick, he weighed less than me. But now he is on steroids and carrying him around might be a pretty tough task. So, we went together down the street to a little Cuban restaurant. There was a table near the door that we sat at. And when the menus came, Rob asked that I read the menu to him. He held his finger on the one he wanted so he was able to order for himself.

Independance. It's got to be so hard. When he wants to call me, does he need help finding my name? Fuck. He can't even pee without help. I don't have a clue of what it takes to be his caretaker. I used to. I used to inject heparin in his hickman - a port that was inserted into his chest to take medication through. I would care for his wounds. Get him into bed. Advocate for him. Help him up the stairs. Make his meals. Clean up his emesis bucket. Help him into the shower. Keep track of his medications and chemo. Call the Medicaid bastards to get them to pay for his treatment. Now it is very different. He needs help dressing. He has braces on his legs. How do you provide support in this situation without doing too much? Or too little? It's a fine line.

He mentioned how frustrated he was with his mother. She apparently said something to the doctors that kept him in the hospital an additional three days. At least that is his point of view. She is so loving and caring that it stifles him sometimes. But it's so hard to understand what he wants or what he needs. So when we made rootbeer floats and she brought out some chocolate sauce, he nearly flipped because he didn't want it.

His mother asked me if she could take my picture. They are making a speech board for him to use to communicate when he begins to lose even more speech. Fuck. Are you kidding? I've worked with special needs kids at school who use these boards. And now you are telling me that the man I married... the man who pulled my garter off my leg with his teeth... who led five pitches to the top of Independance Monument... who traveled halfway across the world to trek across Russia has to now point to words to tell me what he means?!?!

God in Heaven,
He said he wants to make it to his 30th birthday. That is fifteen days away. This man wants to survive fifteen days and not a day more. Today he said he just wants to stay at home and die. Do you hear this, God? He is ready. God listen to him! Before he loses more. Before he loses the use of his left hand... his left leg. Before he becomes totally trapped within his own body. He needs to be released from this body and this world. Please.

Letting Go

Wow. My heart feels super light. I woke up this morning almost drowning in tension. I had a long drive home to think about why I was conducting my life in this manner. And it all boiled down to expectation. A big concept in my life in the last year has been the idea of obligation. No one likes it. You know? I don't enjoy feeling obligated to take part in something. I want to take part in it because it enriches my life or because I give something of value to it. Whether it is a relationship or an activity or a job... whatever it is, I want absolutely no sense of obligation surrounding any of the choices that go into it. I know that's not logical all of the time. But I can certainly choose to live my life in a manner that decreases both the obligation that I feel and the obligation that others feel towards me.

So today, I let go of some ridiculous expectations I had for someone important in my life. Frankly, I don't even know what some of these expectations were, but I just felt a sense of constriction that wasn't positive at all. And as soon as I released him from these expectations, my tension disappeared. My heart was light. And I was ready to live my day in a beautiful way.

This is going to be a very good lesson to hold on to.

Friday, May 23, 2008

I'm Out

Today I just wanted to run for the hills. I don't know why. I wanted to throw away my cell phone and grab my dog and head for some beautiful rock. Climb. Eat. Sleep. That's it. I know it's not logical, but I kind of wanted to go by myself. Totally solo. I really want to go somewhere in South America. I've wanted to go for a year now. And just bury myself in the culture. Dance. Eat. Drink. Talk. And soak in life somewhere else. Not that my life is bad. It's quite good. I just got restless with it for a second and I wanted to exhale it all out and breathe in something new.

On another day, I would love to take someone wonderful. To see new things with them. But today I just want to leave alone. A book. A pencil. A camera. I want to wander along the beach and splash my feet in the water. And sit. That's it.

Monday, May 19, 2008

Saying Goodbye - Part II

I went over to his house today. I've been wanting to share all that stuff with him that I wanted to say. But time keeps ticking by and instead of making excuses for why I couldn't do it, I just did it. The first thing I see as I walk in is his wheelchair. There are baby monitors around just in case he needs help. There's a special seat over the toilet. There's a wheelchair ramp. His face is puffy from steroids and the right side of his face droops. His right arm lays next to him almost like it wasn't part of his body anymore... a noticeably thinner arm than the left. The muscle tone is disappearing and his skin is softening.

I wonder how he is feeling and what he is thinking. And I don't know whether he's able to share that with me. I don't know whether he wants to share that with me. How must it be, to helplessly watch your own body wither?

I couldn't even get through five minutes without tearing up. And so I cried. And I told him a few things that I had wanted to say. And there were things I forgot to say. And things I wasn't ready to say. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. That's for sure. And maybe that's something I should never say until he is laid to rest.

It breaks my heart that he is dying. I wonder if his mother is scared each morning when she wakes, wondering if she will find her son has passed away. I wonder if he is ready. I wonder if she is ready. You know, when you are in a situation like that, you just do what you have to do. And abnormal situations become normal. When you have no choice... no alternative, you have to embrace the only situation you have. And his mom is doing really well. She is amazing. And I know it brings her joy to be able to care for her son.

God... it looks to me as though there is no coming back from this. You know what is going on. So please consider it all. And let him pass on in peace, away from pain and away from heartache. Away from frustration. Thank you for him. For his love and patience and faithfulness. And take him Home.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

We Breathe Easy


It feels like things have rolled into place for me. Timing has been interesting the last few months and I've found myself a few months into an incredible friendship. What I find so amazing about this is that we shared a short period of time together 10 years ago. And since that time, I've always felt a deep and lasting care and concern for this man. We weren't in contact for this entire time, yet I always knew he was important to my heart. And in this burgeoning friendship, I feel cared for and safe. I feel that nothing is too much to say. I am not too much for this dear friend. And I am not too little. We breathe easy together. We sat by the river the other day exchanging words. And as the river flowed by, we shared bits. Just little bits about what we are going through. And he wrapped his arm around me... so good. It was such a comfort. I am in a very good place. And daily, my heart expands to allow more. There is so much about this man that is good. True goodness. And that word doesn't even really convey the depths of what I mean. I couldn't describe him if I tried. But if you were to pass him on the street, you would notice it in his eyes - his joy and determination. And goodness. You would also notice his motorcycle. It's outrageously beautiful.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Saying Goodbye

There are many reasons we would say goodbye in a lifetime. Perhaps it's to move on from an old relationship. We say goodbye to friends and people we love as they set off on a new journey in their lives. And sometimes we say goodbye because someone we know is dying.

I've never encountered this. Until now. When I was five, my grandfather died. It barely made sense to me then. And two years ago, I lost a student. It was so sudden, there was no time to say goodbye. And it rocked me to the core. I couldn't believe that one moment, he would be celebrating Halloween - dressed in full knight garb - and the next, he would be fighting to breathe and then be gone. It crossed my mind that the last time I saw him, he got his turn to be the pirate in a game we played together. How insignificant, really. But it brought some slight sense of peace to know he had been given his turn.

Well, today I thought of my dear ex-husband. I wonder if that sounds odd to some people. My dear ex-husband. He has been given an extremely rough life. Brain cancer at the age of 23. Remission until age 28 and then it roared back just as a bill of health was sure. I'm getting ready now to say goodbye. And I want to do it well. The last few months have been so hard for him. He's had to come to terms with losing speech, losing mobility, pain, loss of sense of touch, sight, and hearing. I only want his final days to be beautiful and full of the best. Full of good memories and song. I want to put on a beautiful dress. I want to make my skin glow. I want to smile. I want to emanate beauty and light. I want to share all the beautiful memories I have of the two of us and I'm hoping he will be able to share some with me. I want to dance with him a last dance. The dance that brought us so much joy at our wedding. And if he can't dance, I will sing to him. If his last day passed without me being able to share how much I love him - how he made an impact in my life - and how he will not be forgotten, it would be difficult to forgive myself.

It's hard to talk about this now. And I think it's hard to explain how much I love him, and yet how assuredly I know that we were not good for each other. In the end, his words and actions suffocated me. And my own words and actions choked him. But all the beauty is worth remembering. So in the middle of tears, I hope my words and my presence bring joy to his last days and that he can pass on into Heaven knowing that he is and will always be loved.

Dear Creepy Guys

Dear Creepy Old Guys:

Please move in with me and my roommate. We are two beautiful women in our late 20's/early 30's. We are rarely home, so you have plenty of time to root around in our closets where we keep our clothes and panties. Come eat our food and leave your piss all over our toilet seats. It would be an extra bonus if you avoided helping out with manly duties like mowing the lawn or nailing and screwing things. Please feel free to leave your dirty laundry in a pile by the washer so that we can throw it in with our own things. Maybe if you are lucky you will get a thong stuck inside the leg of your pants and when you go to work and it falls out in front of your co-workers, you can be given the double thumbs-up. We would especially appreciate smelling your cigarette stank as you walk in the door and listening to you empty your bowels in the morning. And our policy with jewelry and make-up... what's mine is yours!

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Love and Teaching

You know... I'm not sure that teaching is like anything else in this world.

I research and plan what I teach and research and plan the strategies and methods that will best convey this information. They come in the door. I show them things. And they usually learn what they decide to learn. I watch them and make some sort of judgement on their progress. And I write some sort of ridiculous number on a paper that goes home to their parents to show how their kids are doing in my class.

But what about the heart of education? Maybe it's not even that. Maybe it's the heart of being human. Each of these lessons made up of minutes of a day go by... nearly unnoticed... just as scheduled... nothing spectacular. And at the end of the year, I find I have a new bunch of beings around me. They are like the beings that I started with. But they are blossoming and turning into incredible, outstanding people. I feel almost as if I was walking down the beach and stopped to fill my hand with sand. Some trickles through my fingers. Some is blown away in the wind. And here I am, at the end of the year, with only grains of sand left in my hand. Only minutes are left of our time together.

So what, now, do I say? Do I bid them farewell without so much as a whisper in their direction? It's not what my heart says. "My dear students"... wait... too impersonal. "Hey, Pipsqueaks! Goombas!" That's better. "If all the time I have on this earth had run out today, what I would want to tell you is that I loved being your teacher. I loved showing you new things. I loved learning new things from you. I want you to know you are amazing. And I want you to know I love you. Not for being a great student. Not for having a great singing voice. Not for what you gave me or what you said to me. But I love you for who you are. All the beautiful parts of your heart that I get to see pouring out of you. And I will not forget you. You are the beat of my heart."

Thursday, May 8, 2008

A Sad New Dress

I bought a new dress this week. I bought a new dress to hide my puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. This dress leaves my shoulders bare and wraps around me just snug enough to feel as though I'm being held. And that's just what I need... to be bare - to be authentic and real... and to be held.

A man I love is dying. He's planned his last adventure. He's put together pictures and memories to share. He's made strides to forgive and to clear the air of the foul stench of offense. I felt heavy this week - as though his sudden depart would be just around the corner. And it might. I prayed that God would give him enough days for me to be able to put my thoughts to my lips. Can I possibly find the words to tell him that he is unforgettable? To tell him that his love has touched my soul in a deep and lasting way? Really, I want him to remember that I am a good woman. And that he really did choose a good wife. I want him to remember all the smiles we had and all the days of sunshine. And although his words are jumbled and his body is crippled, I want him to be filled with joy and to let the healing beauty of this woman fill his heart.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Signs That You Are Climbing With A Douchebag

Holy Balls. I really really thought I was going to die this weekend. Really. I went climbing with a friend of a friend this weekend. Alone. And the lesson I learned from this is: NEVER AGAIN.

The first sign that things were going to be odd was the red fedora he wore when we met before the climb. Who in the HELL wears a red fedora to go climbing?

Sign number two - the multicolored fleece pants which matched BOTH the red fedora and the purple vest-turtleneck combo.

Sign number three: He was insistant about toproping a 5.8. Now mind you, I'm not opposed to it, but when the approach to set up a toprope entails 20 minutes of scrambling up pure choss... I'd rather just lead it.

Sign number four: He was also insistant that although my 60-meter rope wouldn't actually reach the ground, we go ahead and use it on the two-pitch climb... no, no... not from the top of the first pitch, but from the top of the second pitch, 200 feet above the ground.

Sign number five: Anchor? Schmanchor!

Sign number six: He thinks he is being safe by overdoing the whole safety thing. In reality, he's got a web of ropes, slings, beaners, all that appear to have an important purpose, when in reality, it's a gigantic mess... all for the purpose of causing my death.

Sign number seven: Why are we wasting time on this slabby craptastic 5.8 when he seems to be scaling it so fast that I can't keep up with the slack in the rope? And he wants to do it again. It is a SHITTY CLIMB!!!! I would rather bury my feet in cockroaches than do that chossy slab again.

I, however, am also an idiot. I flat out told this dude that I didn't trust a damn thing he had set up. So he proceeds to tell me how it is safe. I, still very untrusting, tie in and climb over the edge. Oh, wait... hey, I say, since my rope isn't long enough, how abouts we tie a FUCKING KNOT in the end of the rope so it doesn't go - oops - slipping out of your DAMN GRI GRI!!! Even after this, I still lower myself over the edge and making eye contact with my dear baby dog, Wyatt, I whisper him a tender goodbye while my eyes well up with tears.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Things I’ve Never Done

I've Never:

* Written a message on the bathroom stall
* Tiptoed through tulips
* Been to a nude beach
* Seen heaven
* Walked through a drive through
* Climbed a big wall.. I mean a REALLY big wall.
* Finished a song
* Played the mandolin
* Laid on the beach in Thailand
* Birthed children
* Broken a bone
* Found the end of the rainbow
* Been in a hurricane
* Tipped a cow
* Learned to ride a motorcycle
* Eaten bugs
* Made a mosaic
* Grown a garden
* Been the girlfriend of a Nascar racer
* Grown a beard
* Punched someone in the face
* Gutted an animal

Saturday, April 5, 2008

Being Genuine

"The authentic self is the soul made visible." - Sarah Ban Breathnach

To pursue a life of complete genuine-ity... to participate in real-ification... worthy pursuit, I imagine. Yet sometimes it seems that being real pushes the envelope of intimacy. And a deep and beautiful intimacy is good in real-ationships. But it’s very scary, too. If I continue to be authentic with this person, it’s going to be very hard for me to walk away unscathed. Do you find this to be true? When you’ve put hard work into any relationship and developed a deep and delicate lasting knowledge of who they are, walking away just isn’t an option. How can it be possible that I would KNOW someone so well and then drop them to the side? Is it healthy? Is it real?

If the best thing is to continue authenticity to build intimacy, then so be it. And if the best thing is to sacrifice authenticity to slow intimacy, then so be it? But if one sacrifices authenticity, do they lose thier true self? Sounds like a predicament to me.