Number 3 Surprises

Last night was date 3. Although D tells me not to downplay it so much if I'm just going to keep going out with him, but I've always been one to put the cart before the proverbial horse so I'm just taking everything with a slow and easy stride.


Plus, he's around a year out of a big relationship too; so, right now we are just enjoying each other's company. And we do...


There are several things I have noticed about him that I thought I'd share...


I do not fidget around him. I found myself sitting still and silent beside him, enjoying his arm around my shoulder and feeling him play with my hair and realized, "Whoa, I haven't moved or spoken in several minutes. That's a record." In fact I picked my head up and he just gently put it back on his shoulder and resumed playing with my hair. Seriously, you have no idea what it means to not be in constant motion; hell, I didn't even know what it was like until recently. Of course, I had to think back at that point for the definitive proof that at no time did I remember ever tapping, squirming, swaying, rocking, or rambling while in him presence. It's almost like I don't have to; like my brain decides to give my time off for good behavior and let me rest. Crazy wild.

I've always wondered what it was like to actually be calm and relaxed and for a few hours each weekend I get to find out. It's so super cool!!!

Regardless of what happens with this, I know know beyond a doubt that I will eventually marry someone calm who can transfer that calm to me.  I gotta live like that! 

 I just wish I knew how to do that on my own. *sigh*

5 Years Ago

*Disclaimer* If you think Katrina hit and destroyed New Orleans you should stop reading here because I'll know you are reading and it will just piss me off...

 My life naturally separates into two parts-Pre Katrina and Post Katrina. For years I pushed every thought, every emotion surrounding "the storm" that shattered my life, as well as so many lives, in twain.



I've denied myself the luxury of examining my feelings for five years now, so perhaps it's time for a bit of reflection-honest reflection. You see, faithful few, I had to be strong and take care of business when it happened (because my ex decided to be completely weak and useless) and a few months later I found out I was pregnant with my son. That was definitely NOT the time to become overly involved with my emotions-they were very occupied by hormones. (BTW, NO, T was not a Katrina baby. I had been off bc for over a year trying to have a baby; the timing was just ironic.) After that I was just told to get over it…now I think I just might.


August 29th marks the 5th anniversary of Katrina demolishing the Gulf Coast, namely the Mississippi Gulf Coast. You see, the eye of Ms. Katrina passed right over Bay Saint Louis, MS, damn near over the roof of my house to be exact.


Yep, I lived in a little rental house in Bay Saint Louis, south of the tracks. Now on August 30th the only thing left of that little house was a couple of walls (literally a couple), moldy wood and plaster, piles or bricks, and a yard dotted with Trivial Pursuit cards. Well, and of course all of my material possessions ruined and waterlogged throughout the house-3 days of clothing, photos, and my car are the only possessions that made it out. Oh, and the roof was perfect....I do so love irony.


I know it was perfect because I saw it on Google Earth when I was staying at TB’s house. (TB is my aunt.) I remember being SO excited that it was there. Feeling hopeful, I so completely crushed when I realized it was all a lie. That everything wasn’t going to be ok after all.


I remember driving into the town and not really understanding what I was seeing, but I still felt that it would be ok. I really did. I was really naive.


As I crested the tracks, I remember looking out and seeing the water. Again it didn't make sense. I'm not supposed to see the water. Where are all the houses? My brain was just not registering the piles of wood and bricks as the beautiful homes I had coveted and dreamed of owning one day were gone. They were just not there, just vague shells or shadows of what had been their former glory.


It was at that moment, at the top of the tracks, that I realized nothing was going to be ok. I felt my heart sink to my feet and my whole body began to shake. No.no.no.no.no.noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. This just can't be happening. Please God this just can't be happening. Don't do this to me, please.


Every sense and sensation in my body shut down as I pulled into the driveway and looked at what was left of my former home. I knew even then it was my former home; that I would and could never live there again. How could I? Destruction of that nature can't be undone. Nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing.I didn't know just how right I was thinking that.


Before we'd even looked over the whole house I was ready to go. I just wanted to leave. The need crawled under my skin and spread until I could no longer feel my body. It was like I was no longer really there. I kept looking around for the camera crew and cheesy host with slicked back hair and toothy grin. Where was he? It's too much and now someone needs to tell me this is all a joke! Maybe I just need to wake up. Quick, I have to wake up or be let in on the joke before I throw up. Shit like that just doesn't happen. It just doesn't.


My chest hurt. I felt like I was drowning and I had no idea whether it was the suffocating heat and humidity or the overwhelming sense of life never being the way it was before.


By the time we stopped at St. Stanislaus and I saw that the ex would not be returning to work because there was only rubble where the band hall had been, I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to see anymore. I didn’t want to feel anymore. I just wanted to get in the car and drive until I couldn’t’ drive anymore. I wanted to be anywhere but on the Coast. Please God, if this is really not a dream and not a colossal joke, please just take me away from here. Please take me away.


I saw my (then) husband starting to unravel and knew that I had to be strong. I had to carry the weight. I had to “fix” everything. So, I plastered a timid smile on my face and asked to leave.


We drove to Pearl that night. I couldn’t face going to Pascagoula because I couldn’t trust my childhood home to be safe and I knew I couldn’t handle seeing it destroyed. (It was fine. No damage. No water. But lack of cell service prevented me from knowing that.) Unknown to me, the ex had used this to his advantage and used my dropped basket to plant a seed of hurt and doubt in my heart, claiming that family members had betrayed me in the worst way. That they were ashamed of me and would never accept me-only he would ever love, support, and understand me. Admittedly I was too addled and too damaged (and too busy trying to be a good wife) to see through his lies and allowed this to take over my heart until I could finally see him for what he really was…umm, that would be a liar.


I’m thankful for the three days I spent with Aunt Jan and Uncle Wayne in the aftermath. Uncle Wayne explained everything that was wrong with the investigations while watching CSI and Aunt Jan told me stories about her experiences after Camille. I remember allowing myself to cry in the shower that first night; so happy to have air conditioner, so happy to have hot water, so happy to not have to face the ruins of my life for a little while.


Knowing that you will never be taken care of, that you will never be allowed a moment of weakness because the person who’s job it is to help you is weak. I wasn’t 100 percent sure at that time, but I am now. That experience defined my marriage. I worked. He drank. I white knuckled myself controlling my fears and emotions to keep my world together. He allowed himself the luxuries of unraveling that I was never allowed to have. I think that was actually worse than the storm itself; knowing that everything I thought I had up to that point was worthless. Four years of empty.


Thank you God that I now can put that pain behind me and I can begin with a new slate-even if it is five years too late.

Shamless Plug

I want to take a moment to plug my friend D's new blog, As Yet Untitled . It is a great first post of a natural writer that has been burried under piles of exhaustion and self depretiation. I would encourage everyone to take a peek and offer words of wisdom and encouragment. Why? Well, because we've been friends forever and I live in constant hope that she will eventually believe in her own wonderfulness (I guess that's a word now) and talent. (Plus, I'm totally mentioned in the post!!)

Love and Possibilities

After doing such a stellar job last week, I don't even know where the wagon is anymore. For the past two days I have been SO far off the wagon I'm not sure where it went.


However, for the first time in a while I did not get all sad and self-defeatist about it; I just went to bed and woke up to start all over. It's amazing what happens when you allow yourself to actually like yourself.


Wow, that's one of the very few times I can ever remember thinking that exact phrase. Huh, I like myself. How cool is that shit!


It's funny, I've lost this same six pounds before (many times before actually) but I've never looked at myself and said, "Damn, Sis, you did good! And ya look good too! Great job!" This time I did.

This time I never thought in terms of "can't" but "don't want". I never told myself I couldn't have anything; I was instead choosing not to have it. And then I found I really didn't want it. Nothing nailed that home like walking down the bread and cookie isle, smelling each through the packaging yet not wanting any of it. Not even tempted. It was freeing. After living my entire life constantly thinking about food (either in terms of what I can have, should have, shouldn't have, won't have, didn't have, etc), I kinda feel like I'm making headway finally in the struggle to take charge of me. Like I'm finding me. Really discovering and taking charge of my body and my mind for the first time. I know I'm normally not all "New Agey" but this is just pretty cool. And a totally new feeling.  

One one hand I'm really sad it took this damn long, but on the other, I'm glad it's actually happening at all.

New

So, I can't actually remember if I blogged about having a mini date last weekend or not and, frankly, I'm too lazy to go back and look; so, if I didn't mention it...hey, I had a mini-date last Sunday.


And it seems that, after missing each other on chat for a couple of days, I have been asked out yet again. I guess I shouldn't be surprised because we both had fun and were very relaxed with one another. In fact, I can't remember the last time I didn't think about everythign I was about to say before I said it to a guy, just to make sure I wasn't being a dork.

Nothing serious. Just two people who have a bunch of stuff in common, hanging out and having a good time. Not really a relationship, more like partners in crime....

I can deal with that.  

I can hear the snaps...

Best writing advice ever!




Be in love with yr life
Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
Blow as deep as you want to blow
Write what you want bottomless from the bottom of the mind
Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
Write in recollection and amazement for yourself


Jack Kerouac

Give me a Break

I just had a long chat with my buddy, Aggie, because I received the most interesting thing in the mail today.......

a letter from "you know who"

Yep, that's right. "he" (I wanted you guys to realize that isn't capitalized on purpose) sent me a letter letting me know where he was transferred and will spend his time as a "guest of the state of MS".


Of course, he just could not stop there. Oh no!!! he had to continue...

• he goes to counseling and AA meetings now (That might be better had he done that BEFORE there was a problem-just throwing that out there)
• he prays daily for the 3 of us and is in the search for God (Keep looking, buck-O!)
• he realizes how much he has hurt me (Umm, I'm not really sure he really has a fucking clue!)
• he misses the kids and realizes he has never ween Cait walk or heard her voice (Perhaps, as before, that should have been a thought BEFORE he decided to get stupid!! just saying)

As I red the letter I found myself getting more and more pissed off and then... WHAM...tears. WTFHell!!  I mean, it's been almost a freaking year and a half since the world slipped sideways and I thought I'd made great stride in my recovery.


Now, Aggie tells me that I have, in fact made amazing strides and that it is not strange that it triggered an emotional response. We were married for 8 years after all. But it still just flies all over me that I wasted another tears, another sniffle, another second of my life thinking about him and what he has done to the kids.


You see,  I accept my responsibility in what happened. I made the choice to marry him. I made the choice to not leave him when I first became unhappy and the marriage was slipping southward. I made the choice to have not one, but two children, especially when I actually knew in my gut by the time I was pregnant with Cait that he was having an affair. God, help me I knew and I couldn't prove it. I knew it and I never had anything by my personal instincts screaming in my head. For that I take responsibility, but I do not, can not, will not ever take responsibility for the behavior exhibited by that "man" (and I use that term loosely) and the things he did to my children.


Although I must say that all of the things he took away (traditional family until, home of their own, someone to call daddy), those two little monkeys are as happy as any other kids their age, and happier in some ways. They will never have to see me cry on a daily basis or feel so sad and listless that I can hardly get out of bed or fly into a manic episode of scrubbing the entire house and then fly into a rage because someone else got credit for it or any of the countless other attractive behaviors that were pretty normal during my marriage.


So, my final question is whether I write him back to explain that I will never give him access to my children-that he allowed that ship to sail when he started fucking someone who wasn't me. he will never receive a single picture, letter, card, or drawing from from one of my children or about my children. Perhaps his parents will oblige him, but not me. Nope. Nope. Nope. Absofuckinglutly not! If the kids want to seek him out when they are adults and he is no longer a guest of the state that is between them and their personal Jesus, but Mommy aint' having a damn thing to do with it. I will not watch him hurt them again while I am in control of their lives.

To write and express my true and deep feelings or not? The Aggie says no because I do not need to become tangled up in all of that shit again, but part of me really wants to inflict as much pain as humanly possible since I cannot actually put my hands on him and physically hurt him. I'm not normally a violent person, but I have been spoiling to hit someone or something for about a year now since I never got the opportunity to look him dead in his eyes and hit him with the biggest thing I could grab in my little hands. And trust me, I can sharpen my word into tiny, poisonous daggers that will need heal properly, but is it worth it? Will it just make it harder to leave it all behind me? Or will I just always want that last taste of finality that only a scathing letter can truly bring? Perhaps I should write it and not send it, much like my letter to that girl.

What say you, faithful few? I trust your learned opinions. Write and send? Write and don't send? Don't write and leave it alone? Leave me a little message so I can take everyone's pulse to help make my decision.

I will say this...I do forgive. It is not aulturistic though; I forgive him only because it is good for MY soul. Right now the only thing rconcerning around my little mind is the well-being of my little three person family-Me, Cait, and T. Everything else in the world is just lagniappe and I will deal with all of that as I feel like it...and right now, I'm not really feeling like it.