Monday, June 28, 2010

The 1,534,234,001 Why I Got Divorced (and the ONE reason why I might have gotten married)

This morning I was woken by my cell phone ringing at the ungodly hour of 0844.  No one that knows me would call that fucking early.  My case in point, I had to divorce him.  We were married for a little over 12 years and he barely “knew” me.  I listened to his voicemail and he sounded irate, maybe even a little psychotic.

Here’s what’s up:  a financial fucking crisis.  A bill went into collection today that has his name on it.  A MEDICAL bill, for our children family from when we were married, that we were supposed to split after the divorce.  He didn’t worry when we were married enough to have insurance for the children, or to pay the bill then.  But now, it’s a fucking financial crisis… because… I didn’t can’t pay my half and it went into collection.

So the voicemail was a delight to wake up to.

I called him back and it went like this:

Him:  Aren’t you working?  Isn’t anyone spitting out babies?

Me:  I can only show up when I’m scheduled.  I can’t just “work more” because I’m broke.

Him:  All you have is your reputation… blah blah… you’re gonna wanna buy a house someday… blah blah… the kids are always dirty and hungry when I pick them up… blah blah…. you can’t do this to me you know… blah blah… you have to pay this bill…. blah blah…. (bored yet?)

Me:  Why haven’t they called me?  I will make arrangements for payment … it’s all I can do… blah blah

(I believe I’m crying at this point in reference to the kids being dirty and hungry every time he picks them up.)


So, here’s the thing bitches…  I don’t have a lot of money, but I feed my kids dinner every night I have them.  Sometimes “dinner” is popcorn at the movie theater.  It’s a LOT of calories.  No one can be hungry after that… and it’s not that often.  I digress… We also bathe, frequently, including oral hygiene (see Figure 1).  Sometimes the “bath” is a day at the pool.  No one comes home dirty from there though!  It’s good, clean fun.  I assure you.
 (Figure 1... This photo represents "Family."  Notice we are all different, but close nonetheless.)

He’s a hurtful ass bag who cannot take responsibility still.  It’s one of the many reasons I’m divorced.  You know, in addition to the whole lesbian thing… because really that’s like at the top of *my* list.

1033 phone rings

Him:  I paid the rest of the bill, your half.  Can you just make payments to me?  Whenever you can, when you get paid.

(One reason why I married him.)

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Reflecting on National HIV Testing Day

I don't feel particularly close to my sister. Or at least I don't feel like I think I am supposed to feel in accordance to the Hallmark cards I've read and the Lifetime movies I will deny I have ever watched. It's ironic (pay attention Kevin... irony explained) because we are actually very close in age. Seventeen months apart were our births to be exact. So we grew up as "Irish twins" so to speak. I have horridly embarrassing Christmas photos from the early 80s to prove it.

When we were very young we were forced into having the "benefit" of being each other's built in playmate. I didn't think it was so bad. I'm the older sister. I used to watch her sleep. She had blond hair and big brown eyes... tan skin and the cutest little grin ever. I felt like the family outcast with my brown hair and glasses. We shared everything whether we liked it or not. Those nights that we shared our bedroom and a bed, I would lie awake and watch her sleep and just admire her perfectly cute button nose. One time I even bit it. Not too hard. I just had to have it in my mouth.

We are both adults now, and I don't bite her anymore.

Last summer my sister came to me, very upset because she had found out that someone she'd slept with was "sick." I think that's all she told me, just those words. I didn't say or ask anything. I just listened to her. Then I tried to make it explicitly clear that she wasn't a horrible person like she was insisting that she was. I took her to a health clinic the next day for a free HIV screen and afterwards held her while she cried in the parking lot from the relief of it all.

We talked about it a little... the choices she'd made and the future choices she wanted to make. I never feel comfortable talking to her like that. Even though I was born only seventeen months before her, sometimes it feels like it was seventeen years. Sometimes I feel like I'm mothering her. And I don't want her to feel that way. Maybe she does too. Maybe she wants to feel that way. I don't know... Writing about our mother is another blog, another day. Basically, why do I feel like I mother everyone... is what I want to know?!

The only other time I felt like she "came to me" and I was really there for her, was when she stood in my kitchen and told me she was pregnant, in a very unplanned manner. I just hugged her and said, "There's plenty of time to sort out how you feel and what you want to do." Or something like that. Eight some months later I was driving to the hospital because she "couldn't take it anymore" and I sat next to her during her cesarean section... a very unplanned birth to go along with her unplanned pregnancy.

My heart is tied so tightly to hers. She doesn't even know it. She sees us as being very different women, living very different lives. All I see is my beautiful baby sister with a button nose. I see such similarities in us I could never explain to her in words, but I can try here.

We've both fought, a lot, for what we have. I think she assumes things come "easy" to me, and perhaps certain things do. But I hope someday she will recognize and honor the struggles I've had to overcome as well. Though our struggles aren't the same, we are fighters nonetheless.

Our journeys into motherhood have been unplanned. It may look as if my perfect family was... well.. perfectly planned. I think now that as I've come out to my family, she may see things differently. Perhaps not. When I see her mothering her daughter, though, I know that we are truly more alike than different.

I'm proud of her.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

My Darling...

Her birthday is Sunday.  I remember so clearly wondering if I would be able to do "it" again when I learned I was pregnant again.  It went like this:  I was "late"... not late for lunch, my period didn't show up.  I tested a ridiculous amount of times with several HPTs.  All negative.  I knew.  I was already a mother to a 3 year old little girl and a 6 month old teeny screamer of a thing.  Poor baby.  Wasn't really her fault... she just screamed constantly, and I really had given up on figuring out what she wanted.  So when I dragged my ass into my midife's office I was expecting to be told I was pregnant.  However, when the nurse looked at the dip stick and said, "Oh honey, you're gonna have a baby." I wanted to slap that shit eating grin off her face.  Instead I replied, "I already have a baby," and I picked up my teeny screamer and walked out of there.

I came home and told my then husband.  He was delighted.  So, that was that.  The nurse was happy and my baby daddy.  I was all set.  The screaming gradually ended and so did the crying (my teeny's and mine).  I came to accept what (or who) lie ahead of me. 

The night she was born the contractions came on hard and fast... woke me from a dead sleep.  We had taken a long walk, he, the kids, and I earlier that night ... after dinner... in that moment right as the summer nighttime air comes alive with fireflies.  I must have instinctually known I needed rest to do real work later, because I went to bed before everyone else, straight away after our walk, maybe even before it was fully dark.

When she was born, it was only he, I, and a nurse in the room.  A special nurse that I have the pleasure of still working with on occasion today.  My labors are hard and fast, and my babies come quick and easy.  It is a trade I will take.

Everything about her was easy and beautiful and delightful. The way she lay in my arms and looked up at me, it was as if she knew she needed to be calm FOR ME.  And she was.  Very calm.  She suckled at my breast in the most gentle and knowing way I've ever known or have yet to encounter, and it was what I needed.  I didn't know how I was going to manage this.  But it was like she was telling me that it didn't matter... because it didn't need to be managed.

So I relaxed.  And I loved.  And I mothered... her and I mothered myself a little too.

Sunday she will be nine.  Our lives are much different now if you are on the outside looking in.  Yeah.  I bet so.  But, if you live inside of us, it's not any different.  Love still lives here, where ever we live, we still enjoy the fireflies, and I've learned that anything worthwile... takes a little labor.

And now some words of wisdom from my rockstar... "What's the big deal about boys kissing boys or girls kissing girls anyway?  People in France do it all the time."

Tonight she handed me her wish list for her birthday.  I thought I'd share:

1. a Nintendo D.S. game (Okay, this one makes sense.)
2. scatebourd helmet (I'm not going to correct her spelling... it's too cute.. oh and SAFETY FIRST)
3. germ kit (WTF is this?  Anyone!?  Does she want to grow germs...)
4. catipolte (omfg... I laughed so hard picturing her catipulting her brother.  See #2)
5. sling shot (Good god.  After she handed the list to me she said, "And not a cheesy one either.")
6. a hard guitur case (This is actually what I wanted to get her.)
7. nerf gun (We have a least 8 already. Maybe more ammo would be more appropriate.)
8. guitur cleaner (Ah.  Yes.  She is my daughter.)

Then she signed her FULL name. 

I am so in love with my daughter. 

Friday, June 25, 2010

Heart Starved

Everytime I meet S's friends for the first time it involves eating.  There was a brunch the first go around, and last night... a fucking buffet.  Which if you suffer from any sort of disordered styled eating is the actual worst environment to be in as far as I'm concerned.  Oh let's see... new people AND chosing what food to put on your plate... then walking with said plate of food to table... then trying to eat said food while talking to aforementioned new people.  My heart is racing just thinking about the possibility of doing it again.

I wanted to scream, "I'm better than this!  Let's go dancing!  Or let's go to a book store... or an anatomy lab... or hell a fucking park and swing!!"  I wanted to send telepathic messages that said, "Please don't judge me by what I'm putting into my mouth or not putting into my mouth, or how I'm putting it into my mouth..."

Here is the thing that the super duper smart Me knows:  They aren't judging me.  Because they aren't fucked up.  I am.

I am the one who cries in the dressing room because I feel less than a woman with no breasts.  I am the one who feels less than a woman when I know that others look past me or through me or can just see the surface me.  I am the one who doesn't ever feel heard...  so I often just don't really speak...

I asked once if anyone ever truly saw me or heard me.  None of them understood.  Except maybe a couple.  I meant do they SEE ME and do they HEAR ME... do they really know who the fuck I am and do they understand?  Do they care to?

I do okay eating with S, just her and I.  And Kevin and I really have fun eating... I've never had FUN eating.  I'm trying very hard to not make this about anything more than it needs to be.  But sometimes, you know, you just can't help it.  

I'll see S in a few days, for a few days.  And we'll spend time cooking for one another.  It's so healthy and for me, truly healing.  I need it.  I need to be in the kitchen with my heart.  Feeding it.  And her.  And me.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Random Shittiness

Well another term down.  I'm hitting the pause button before I get the eject button pushed on me.  I think taking the summer off and regrouping will be a good idea.  In fact, perhaps I'll take the fall off too.  I'm not sure.  I'm starting with the summer.  It is hard to stop.  It is hard to take care of me.  But I have to. 

I took an incomplete in one of the classes to sort of 'buy' myself some more time to complete the coursework.  I have 4 exams to take and 4 weeks to take them.  I'm almost afraid that won't happen.

I worry about my financial situation this summer without my financial aid checks...

So, tonight I had a few email exchanges with Motherless.  Heart-aching.  I just keep repeating to myself not to take it personal and that by hurting me, it's her way of staying close to me.  Yeah, that's it.

Wow... I'm just a fucking bowl full of cherries.  Speaking of which... tomorrow I'm going to see my new lovie S.  I'm going to drive up and stay with her at a conference she's attending for her profession.  At least that has me smiling.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010


I'm writing our love story.

I have these slips of paper, a receipt from a dinner, coupon from a dress shop we went to, a piece of printer paper that means "something" to me.  The papers I have tucked away because I know they will trigger a memory for me someday.  Today I don't want to forget.  And someday I might not be able to remember.  So I write.  On the back of the slips of paper I write the memory of that day, of that dinner, of that moment.

I am writing our story.

It is a love story. . . and I hope there is a happy ending.  Right now, in this moment, I am satisfied to just be able to gather these random slips of papers, to capture these memories, and to share my feelings about the moment I had with her.

Some day I want to be able to tell our story; I can't wait.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Distance Mothering

She makes my heart so happy.  Her freckles.  I remember when she didn't have them.  I watched them slowly appear, and I watched her become aware of them.  She would be embarrassed when people would comment on them.  Now, I believe she embraces them because they make her different.  She doesn't want to be like everyone else.  I hear her speak like that and it is so reminiscent of me at that age.

And I wasn't like everyone else.  I wasn't like anyone else.

13 is fucking hard.  If someone offered me a lifetime of riches to go back and be 13 again, I would tell them to go jump.  No way.  No how.  She lets me in sometimes, a little at a time and I am so grateful.  I am so grateful to get to be a part of her life.  She taught me so many things about myself just by being herself.  I know she doesn't believe it now, but someday... I hope she sees the things I've taught her.  There has to be something good I've done for her.

We've had some bumps recently, and there haven't been anymore "dates" ... in fact there was some pretty nasty texting about a week ago from her.  However, I tried to just sit with it, and in that moment be grateful that she was communicating with me at all.

I've continued with my end of the "deal" and remained steady in my contact and in my love for her.  No matter how angry she gets with me, I will never stop loving her.  All of her emotions are "allowed" with me, we just have to work on ways for her to express them.

I miss mothering her.

Breaking Up for Dummies

Where is that book?  I am sure with all the Dummy books out there, one exists.  And specifically... "How to Break Up with Someone You've Really Only Had Two Dates With... But You Went Around The Block With Her... For Dummies"  Fuck.  Where in fuck's sake is that book?  Or blog? 

So... I am trying to have this very important talk with T, about how we are just incompatible in a dating sense right now... and perhaps we should just try to be friends for a while, then see how that goes.  (Uhhh, give me a break.  I've never done this before.)  And she tells me she has to say something to me or she will regret it, and she expels out, "I love you."  WTF am I supposed to do with that?  Remember way back, the awkward silence *I* experienced after asking for a kiss...?  Yeah... most definetly awkward.  Things not to say:

That's nice.
Thank you.
You shouldn't.
So soon?

The list could go on... I think she meant that she's starting to fall in love with me... or that she wants to... or that she could allow herself to.  But she can't be in love with me.  Really.  This chick and I are so completely incompatible.  We cannot even have a conversation about anything.  It feels like an interview.  I ask her questions and she answers.  So this "conversation" got off to a real fucking great start.

I asked her, "Why do you love me?"  which I ask often.  I find the responses so... interesting... so telling.  You know?  Well her responses were more of non-responses, if you ask me.  They were not really reasons.  And that's because she doesn't really love me.  Not in the way she thinks she does. 

Why am I even blogging about this?  Does anyone even give a fuck?

My favorite responses to the question are the ones that have to do with A) my body, B) how I fuck, or C) how "good" I make them feel.  **Giant dramatic sigh**  Those are not the correct answers, FYI.  (Those weren't really her answers either... so strange and awkward.)

So yeah... here I sit.  With this card she left me that has a handwritten note that I absolutely cannot read.  I mean I cannot read it.  The words are illegible.  And I laugh at the irony.  What does it say?  Does it hold all the secret emotions and feelings about our Two Date Relationship that she wants to impart on me before the final band aid is ripped off?  It is a perfect symbol of what it is like between us.  Illegible writing... which leads to poor communication... or a lack of communication... I guess.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

My Wife Kevin

I just want to make a quick post about my good friend Kevin.  I often say "my best friend so and so" and then I realize that I have a few Best Friends.  Not many.  He is a Best.  We are new friends but he is so real. 

I'm learning a lot about unconditional love and unconditional friendship this year...  with him, and a couple other women in my life.  I love them all. 

Kevin comes to my house sometimes just to hang out and make sure I'm okay.  He will help me with the yard work, mowing while I weed.  He and I share meals sometimes and other times have watched a movie on the couch together.  The best part about him, is that it doesn't matter what we do or don't do... there is no motive.  He has no agenda, nor do I.  Just friendship.  It's all we both seek. 

To be understood.  And to understand.

And we do.


It's been a while gang.  Sorry about that...  I've been busy!  That's a good thing.

So I met the other girl I blogged about, S, and I've been smiling ever since.  No really.  I can't stop smiling.  It's really not even because of things she says or does, or that, "Hey now this really cool chic is hanging out with me."  No, it's just that I'm feeling more positive lately.  I just have a different perspective.

Uhm.  I hate that I'm about to do this.  But I am.  So let's just begin.  When I think about how I feel when I've spent time with T, it's been so totally ... really ... completely ... fine.  Fine.  Just fine.  Not bad.  Not specatacular.  She's a very nice girl that I enjoy talking to, when I can get her to talk.  I sometimes feel afraid that she won't understand my humor and I will offend her.  That's a not so good feeling when you're a crazy ass funny as hell woman like myself.

When I spend time with S... things are totally, completely, superbly... Fine.  You know the difference.  There is fine and there is Fine.  Things with S are so easy.  I feel like we've known each other before.  In another time.  In another life.  I don't feel like we've known each other forever, because things still feel very new and exciting with her.  Something inside me stirs.  With T, it's not there.

Okay... done with that ickiness... I hate feeling like I am comparing them and for some reason that feels so wrong.

You know what else feels wrong?  When your first date lasts THREE fucking days.  But that feels wrong on a different level, on a oh so "good" to be wrong level!  So S, came into town last week and spent a few days at my place and it was just so fun and funny and relaxing and enjoyable... and there really were no awkward moments even during the "longest first date ever."  I kept waiting for it to happen.  It never did. 

We joked about how inappropriate our "first date" was.  Truth be told, I thought it was quite perfect.  All three days.  We made plans to see each other in two days.  I would drive to her. 

I did... and it was more of the same awesomeness.  I spent another three days with her, this time at her place, meeting her friends.

I think I've gotten over the part where I'm searching for the - what's wrong with this girl - answer.  Maybe nothing.  Maybe something.  Maybe something I won't really care about. 

One last thing, because honestly... I could gush on about her... her eyes are the prettiest blue I've not seen since looking into my grandfather's eyes.  They are the color of a happy sky and in the middle there is this bright yellow burst that you notice if you look closely.  They are sincerely the most interesting eyes ever.  Not just the color of them, but the way she looks at me.  The way she looks at other people when they are talking to her.  The way she looks when we are holding each other very close and being very intimate.  The way her eyes change when she is laughing.  Her eyes even laugh. 

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Weekend Update: With Lesbian Loser Blogger

Well, I made it through Memorial Day in one piece.  Sort of.  

So I met T and spent time with her on Monday and Tuesday and it was great!  Because she knows about this blog, but doesn't read it and hasn't officially given me permission to really discuss her or "anything" I'm not really going to go into any details here.  If things progress, and she gives me permission to be more free with my blogging, I may... Anyway...

It was all very sweet things, like picnics in the park, walks after dark, and a box of chocolates in my hotel room.  Just sweet, sweet, sweet.  But something was definitely "awkward" about her, or us, I'm not sure which.  I can't tell if it was her... like if it's just who she is... or if it's something that I'm creating in her.  Like it's my fault.  Or if it's something that as we spend more time around one another, will totally work itself out.

But let's be real... I'm feeling very "real" tonight... how are we going to spend more time together?  This was a bad idea.

Weird incident #1: I asked her if I could kiss her.  TWICE, because the first time there was no response and I thought maybe she didn't hear me.  The second time I asked her, there was such a long pause I thought the answer was no, and being afraid of that, and wanting to know what her lips tasted like without being told no... I just went ahead and climbed over to her and kissed her without waiting for permission.

Weird incident #2, 3, and 4:  Can't blog about because of it's sensitive nature.  So you get the idea.

Weird incident #5:  The discussion in her car about how her nieces and nephews are the closest thing to her own children she'll ever have because she never wants children.  Yes you read that right.  WTF.  I am sure my face turned colors.  I am not sure which color it turned.  Just typing about it now makes me want to puke in my mouth.

This conversation happened on day 2 after incidents 1 thru 4 had occurred and I felt so... so... *sigh*
can't describe how I felt... but it was like I'd been kicked or punched in the stomach.  So we had a conversation in which I described the Ex Girlfriend's games she played with the "I don't want and never wanted kids" to the swinging to "I love them because they are yours" bullshit.  I tried to impress upon her that I felt tricked and lied to as if it were a game to her (Ex Girlfriend).

I guess she thought about it a lot, because on Wednesday she called to talk to me and wanted to finish the conversation.  I didn't know we weren't done yet.  She mentioned that she felt a little guilty because she was confused.  Fuck yeah.  Me too.

Am I expecting too much?  These women KNOW I have kids.  I am not keeping it a secret.  They freaking know.  And it's not like I am asking for our third date to involve a game of Jenga with the entire family.  FUCK no.  I just want them to understand that in order to be involved with me, they have to be open to the possibility that this is going to lead to a built in family.  It's not just my heart that will be loving them back... but the possibility of five other little hearts.

Who in the hell wouldn't want that?  I guess the women that I'm attracting.

I give up.  I can hardly breath.  It's painful... too painful... to think about it.

And I'm a little  pissed.  I talked about my kids all the time to her, before this little trip.  I even sent her a few "OMGlook-at-how-cute-they-are-doing-this" pictures to her.  So she knew... she fucking knew.  I'm feeling so deceived.  It's one thing, if I'm lying to myself.  Trying to tell myself, "I can change her."  But, I never thought that.  I thought ... well... she knows about my kids, so she must be open to having a big family someday.

I know this all seems like I am putting the cart before the horse and I GET THAT.  I told her that on the phone.  But, it's really important to me, because I don't want to be hurt... I was hurt.  Very badly by Ex Girlfriend.  I can't go through that again.  So for me, there is just no point in opening my heart up to someone that isn't going to be "around" for all of us.

Am I making a mistake in that?  What the fuck am I doing?