Thursday, July 22, 2010

Public Orgasm (...I didn't want to, it just happend. And more photo documentation.)

It's all because of these stockings I want to wear for S.  They are the finest, loveliest fishnet stockings.  I've been waiting . . . saving them.  Even the lace at the top of the stockings is so delicate and pretty.  I can't wait to see how it looks being held up by my garters. 


It's all the STOCKINGS' fault.  Let me explain.

With stockings and garters like this, I couldn't wear just ANY shoe.  No.  I do have the ruby red heels, yes, but I think those shoes would fight for competition with the stockings.  So I needed the right shoe.  I've been looking.  Today I found them.

They were at Target of all places, on the Clearance Shelf.  I hate shoe shopping on the Clearance Shelf because they never have my size (7.5 - too common, too picked over).  Well, holy CHIT, they fit perfectly!  The problem . . . no price tag.  I had no idea what they cost.  But it's Target right?  Clearance Shelf.  

I took my hot little shoes up to the Customer Service Counter and waited patiently to find out if I would be taking them home with me.  I had decided not to spend more than $18 on Target Clearance Shelf shoes.  No matter how fucking hot they were.  No matter how sexy they made my legs and ass look.


I came.  Right then and there at the Customer Service Counter I came all over myself.  Shuddering, eye-rolling orgasm.

It must have been a long one too.  Because the young kid working the counter asked me, "So do you want the shoes or not?"

Fuck yeah.

I tried to capture their sexiness.  What do you think?  Comment and let me know.  Or don't.  I tried them on with my stockings, too, and just as I thought. . . PERFECT.

"Our People" get yeast infections too (and other completely stupid observations)

I'm grumpy.  Consider yourself warned.  Oh yeah, another disclaimer: much of this is probably TMI (too much information).

Let's examine the possible causes of said grumpiness.

I woke up from my nap last evening and started getting ready for work.  Something wasn't quite right ... "down there."  I couldn't figure out what was up, or down for that matter, just that something didn't feel right.  I thought maybe I just needed to give it up and shave already - I would never be able to last long enough for a waxing.  Ugh.  Anyway, as my evening progressed, and I dressed, drove to work, changed into scrubs and made it through report ... I finally admitted to myself that I have a yeast infection.  FUCK.

Earlier in the week I had a sore throat-fever-sinus-thing that included my all time favorite "I'm Going to Puke or Die" symptoms.  In the next few days there was a threat of a cold sore breakout.  Now, this?  A yeasty muffin? 

I must have been squirming or something all during report, because afterwards one of the nurses asked me WTF was wrong.  I told her about the yeasty muffin.  Now all of you are aware that I don't necessarily work with the brightest crayons in the box, right?  Remember this conversation?  Oh, by the way... I feel like I might have been a little harsh in my blog about that night.  So... this SUPER intelligent coworker says to me, "What?! I thought you were gay?"

Excuse me?  Yeah... I am.  I also have a vagina.  How I identify within my sexuality doesn't seem to protect my vagina from the horrible "yeasty muffin" disease. 

"Our People suffer from yeasty muffin too."

I bet S is reading this and she is thinking, 'I told you!  You eat too much sugar.'  But the thing is with that woman, she'll never say a thing like that to me.


Another possible reason for my current state of bitchiness (as if having my vagina feeling like it's going to fall off isn't a good enough reason):

I am JUST now taking my numerous pills that I was supposed to take when I got off work YESTERDAY morning.  Some of these pills are for... shall we say.. my bitchiness.  Better late than never.


And I think this is all I have energy for... one last golden nugget from tonight to showcase the stellar intelligence of the staff here.  Examine these photos:

We are so GREEN!  We recycle (plastic and aluminum only). < note the sarcasm.

We still fuck it up.

The End.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Dear S, (what i couldn't-wouldn't-shouldn't say):

I don't want you to leave.  But you are.  You should.  You will.  When I get home from work in the morning my home will be empty.  Silent.  A shell.  A mere cavity.  I liken it to a skeleton... with no flesh, no muscles, no organs left - nothing - only the carcass. 

A house.

An empty bedroom.  An empty bed.  Two pillows, but I know only one will be moved.  Which side will I climb into?  It doesn't matter because I know I won't be able to stay there, and soon after I'll move to the couch. 

I never wanted to feel this way.  I fought hard to never feel this way.  I had a hard shell up, protecting myself, protecting my little skeleton... so that I might never have to miss anyone.  Sometimes, often times, the protection came in the form of multiple lovers . . . not allowing myself to get too close to one person - and not allowing one person to get too close to me.  But, I fucked up.  I let you in, and only you, and I let you in completely.  Now . . . now there's fear.

An empty house.  Void.

No laughing kidlets even.  Missing you has brought the missing them right back up to the surface.  Opened the wound right back up.  And I'm bleeding.  I'm bleeding all over the place and I don't know what to do about it.  Because this is the kind of blood letting that I'm told is 'good for me.'

Each morning when I wake I reach for you, and I find you.  This overwhelming sense of joy washes over me.  Yesterday morning this was followed by relief, 'She's still here.' Next came the emotion of great sorrow, 'This is our last morning together for awhile.'

Then the tears started.  And I closed my eyes and saw Motherless looking back at me.  (Oh how I wish you could know her.  She is such a wonderful young woman.)  As I had my eyes closed, I was seeing Motherless look back at me, and I was remembering the time she and I spent together in my dream.  Time I can't get back.  Because I'm awake.  I started sobbing.  Full on sobbing.  Do you remember? 

You woke too.  I woke you.  Our day began.  Precious hours.  Time we cannot get back. 

I don't want you to leave.  But you are.  You should.  And you will.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

How Children Are Like Dogs (and I think my gf likes them anyway)

Children are like dogs.  Or are dogs like children?  Or are MY children like dogs?  My kids are messy little creatures leaving trails of crumbs everywhere they go.  I have no idea where the crumbs are coming from.  It's like a continuous flow of cracker crumbs... but I never really see them eating crackers.  Nutella sandwiches, yes - crackers, no.  I liken this to dogs shedding their hair everywhere.  Am I correct?

Regardless of their crumb-shedding (and ability to destroy a perfectly staged home in less than 3 minutes), I love them more than than the Skyy Vodka in my high-ball glass.  Here's my motto:  my children mean the world to me, but aren't my world.  Meaning... I have a life outside of mothering them.  It's good for all of us.

My children are like dogs in another way.  

They either like you.  Or.  They.  Don't.

They like S... a lot... and I really, truly believe she likes them.  I mean she just doesn't like spending time with me and they are the bonus feature.  She likes them individually, and knows a bit of each of their personalities already.  It's not just that; she WANTS to know more of them.  And I believe her when she tells me that.  I've been told in the past that a girlfriend wants to "know" my children and I don't think I really believed it in my bones.  I wanted to of course.  I could tell my children didn't really want to know her either.

With S, I've asked the kidlets about spending time with her, referring to her as my new "friend" and they are super enthused about it.  They like her more than me at this point.  Normal.  I get it.  I'm not fun.  I make them do things like push in their chair and brush their teeth, and S takes them to the store and buys them yard toys.  What's not to love? 

I was extremely nervous about introducing them.  But the dogs kids helped reassure me that everything's going to be okay.  I've learned a lot from my kids.  I know I'm supposed to be teaching them super important things... but lately I feel like they are teaching me.

Last night they taught S to play UNO.  I love them.  All. 

Thursday, July 15, 2010


Remember when you were a little kid . . . and maybe you were enamored with your best friend's mother (if you were a girl)?  Remember wanting to be close to the pretty girls in the classroom, looking for any "excuse?" 

Remember feeling jealous when your best friend got a boyfriend and you didn't understand why?

Maybe you had a boyfriend (or a few) but you always REALLY liked his sister more.

Remember the sleepovers?

Remember getting caught by parents, friends, classmates?

Remember figuring out the word for what you are?  Was it in a book at the library... a magazine... a television show after school?

What was that like for you?  Were you told there was something wrong with you... that you would "outgrow" your feelings... that it was because of who your crowd you were running with?

Was this a sin?  Did you cry at night worried about the damnation of your soul?  Did you try to not have these thoughts and feelings... try to dress "right"... act "right"... think "right".... or normal... or however they wanted and expected from you?

Did you only want to please your mother?  Father?

Remember... Do you remember feeling alone? 

We, you and I, have shared those experiences.  Maybe not all... maybe not in the same capacity... but I bet that all of us, have shared at least some of them.  Regardless of the paths we chose - can't we all remember what it was like then - when we were learning about ourselves?

I think some of you have forgotten.  You must have.  Otherwise, why would I be feeling so persecuted within my own community?  That's what hurts the most.  I can shake off the ignorant intolerance from the straights, my family, my kids, even my best intending friends... but from within the gay and lesbian community... to feel judged... or rather inspected... leaves my heart almost too heavy for words.

When I was living inside that other person... the other El... I was so lonely.  I tried to create a community, but nothing ever felt exactly right.  I felt such a relief to start to tell my friends and family who I really was.  When my friend Jess accepted me with her loving, entire self I can't describe the emotion of overwhelming joy that overcame me.  And when other friends turned their backs on me, it confused me, but the emotions I had after coming out to them were still that of joyous relief.

Authentic truth.  I can hold my head high.

Except when another gay finds out I have been married for (gasp) 12-fucking-years.  Or that (gasp) I have five children.  Then, my head cocks a little to the right, and I close my eyes and remember.  Then I think... "Do you remember when..."

Wednesday, July 14, 2010


I cried myself to sleep last night.  I haven't done that in a long time.  The part that I hate the most about it is that 3 of my kids were in the bed with me.  

M says, "Are you okay mom?"  Yes, of course I'm okay, but I'm lying there sobbing silently - shaking the whole bed with my tears.

My son says, "Are you sad about Motherless?"  But you know he doesn't really call her that.

I still say nothing, because I think if I talk then they will know that I am crying - as if right now they just think I have the hiccups.

L says, "Do you know why she hates you?"  Yes.  I do.  

What comes next is the most painful of all experiences... my children start to fight about why my oldest, their big sister, hates me.  And I get to lie there and hear all of my offenses... perceived or not... they are listed off one at a time.  Like it's a game.  As if the child who "picks" the right offense first will win a prize.

Then the silent, body wracking tears become loud.  The bedroom gets very quiet.  

I feel M slip her shoulder under my head and I can tell her night shirt is getting very wet with my tears.  My son warps his arm around my neck and kisses my cheek.  I feel L take my hand into hers.  I am surrounded by loving arms, yet I feel so unlovable.  I feel so alone, but there is hardly enough room in my queen sized bed for the four of us.

I can handle being judged for my choices in life, and have dealt with it pretty well.  I never realized that the judgment I felt from my children (or oldest to be precise) is something I am struggling with.  I know it will take time for her to understand (better).  I know this isn't "personal" and that she is an egocentric teenager.  I get it.

It doesn't make the nights any easier.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

. . . breaking up is hard to do . . . (The End)

For the last 2 weeks T has been texting, emailing, and mailing me notes, packages, and ... a dozen long stem red roses.  I think that was about the last straw, you know, the one that broke the camel's back. 

I guess I wanted to appreciate her thoughtfulness, or her effort... or I just wanted to be FUCKING POLITE.  Yeah, politeness.  Like us women have been told we need to be for ages now.  But, I started to realize that her actions weren't polite. She was being intrusive and rude.

I was trying not to respond to her at all.  I was not responding to her texts.  I didn't answer her calls, and I let them just go to my voicemail.  Part of me feels extremely guilty, because I even deleted them without listening.  But I did read her emails and respond.

How much more contact did I need to have with her?  We had a MINIMAL "relationship" at best.  In fact, really, I'd barely call what we did "dating."  I didn't really understand what she wanted from me, and my alarms were going off.  Alarms and a little voice shouting in a big way that this chick just was trying to manipulate herself into my world in any which way she could. 

I've learned to listen.

Friday evening she sent me a YouTube clip of the song Pray for You by Jaron and The Long Road to Love.  Harsh right?  Way to take the high road T.  She ended the email with something like, "Now I'm done."  But she wasn't because I did respond to that last "gift" she sent me... and our exchanges continued via email for approximatly 3 or 4 more emails. 

I should have continued to listen.

Manipulation.  I guess I learned to play the game, and still play on occasion.

I did stop the emails... or she did... whatever, it's hard to tell whatthefuck is happening when you are being manipulated.  The last email from her read something like, "The end."  I'm not shitting you. 

I was psuedo-dating a 12 year old.  Great.

I hope it really is The End.  It was a lot of energy to be expending just NOT responding to her.  Believe me, I can think of a hundred other ways to spend that energy.  And I will. 

The End. 

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Family Ties

I haven't blogged in days because ... well ... I've been busy with life.  S and I spent a few days with a very good friend of mine and her family at their lake home.  My friend's family was so unbelievably - INVITING.  That's the only word I can use to describe this family.  

There was my friend, her two very young daughters (the four year old fell in love with S), my friend's brother and his wife, their toddler son, my friend's father, his girlfriend, and his mother... and the lesbians.  It was quite the episode of Modern Family.  But somehow, we all fit.  We all connected.  We laughed.  We gathered.  We shared.  We disagreed. 

We were a community.

I love that this family knows its boundaries.  I felt immediately respected; and even though I wasn't necessarily a part of the family, I felt a definite part of their community.

What a gift.  I am so grateful!

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Answering Friday's Question: Have I Always Been Gay

I have been enjoying your blog, but i have questions! You can tell me its none of my business and thats cool, but if u want to share, that would be good too. First of all, and i know this is probaly an annoying question, but the only way i can get it is to ask. Have u always been gay, was it something u knew, but decided you couldnt face and thought u could marry and leave behind? Or is it something that u began feeling later? I see so many people marry, have kids, divorce, then come out, but am never sure what that means. I am sure it is different for everyone, but for you, how did it happen? 
~Just Curious
 Dear Curious,

I actually have been asked this before, and I'm not annoyed that you asked.   I understand the curiosity.  I'll do my best to explain my situation, as best as *I* understand it (but I think I'm still learning too).  I can't answer of course for the other people that you wrote about though.  Each situation is different.

You asked if I've always been gay.  Yes.  I believe I was made this way. (Made perfectly this way!)  Did I always know... well, I didn't know what it was called.  I knew that I really enjoyed what happened with my friend and I during my second grade sleepover; and I fell in love with my best friend when I was 12 and we slept together for almost 2 years... I knew that in high school my heart was always tied to women and girls that I spent my time with.  I did date boys.  But it was more like I did so because I could.  I

I wanted to see if maybe I wasn't dating the right boy.  Or spending the right "time" with the right boy.  In essence I was trying to chose not to be who I really was.  Because when I would go back to spending time with the girls I loved, my heart would be harder and faster, my belly would be tied in knots...  I didn't have the same physiologic reactions like that with the boys.

I fell in love with a woman while dating a man and I was only a kid myself... then found out I was pregnant... and that my lover was leaving.  I told the man I was pregnant and I chose to get married and start a family.

It wasn't horrible.  We were friends.  I loved him.  I thought that the feelings I had for women might go away, or might not... but what I was so certain of at that time... was that I would never be able to act on those feelings again.  I would focus on my family I was raising.  My heart ached for the woman that left my life, and I was afraid to feel that kind of love again.  So I really thought it was better this way.  I never loved my husband like that anyway.  However, the feelings never went away.

Twelve some years and five kids later... (in the middle of all of that, of course, there is a lot I'm leaving out - this is the Digested version) I "decided" I could not live lying to myself anymore.  It was affecting my entire life.  If I hadn't been gay, I might have even gotten divorced anyway, though I might have waited for better timing.  You see, as with any marriage there were extenuating circumstances as well.

So I think that's where "choice" and "deciding" were relevant in my life.  I "chose" to attempt to deny my sexual identity for many years by living as a straight woman in a heterosexual marriage.  I "decided" to live authentically and because I wanted to love myself first and foremost... I began that process by releasing my husband of the lie of our marriage.

It's all so complex.  This is just basically the tip of it.  My truest friends know more and more of me... Some know more about me than even I know.  What is so great, is that this last year... feels like my FIRST YEAR being me.  I feel so brand new.  Being brand new can be fun and exciting... but it can be really super hard and painful.  Being brand new means I make mistakes.  I've hurt people.  I've disappointed others.  Being brand new means I'm growing.

I hope I didn't confuse you more.


Saturday, July 3, 2010

It's a Process

Motherless slept over last night.  Before there is jumping for joy and a thunder of applause... let's read the blog.

I had received a message from her earlier in the week asking if she could come on Friday, but I didn't hear anything after that.  So I didn't know what to expect.  Was she coming or wasn't she?  If she did come, she would most likely be stompy-mopey-grumpy-and overall just a pain in the ass.  Probably spending most of the night in her room or rolling her eyes at me.  (I secretly hoped for all of it.)  If she didn't come, I would feel sad and devastated wondering what she was doing and why she changed her mind. (Secretly hoping she was having a good time doing whatever else she chose to do... but missing me a little.)

Friday came, and I showed up to pick the kidlets up, and there she was... waiting for me, bags packed, her pillow ready.  My heart started to ache.  I wanted to grab hold of her and never let go.  But I knew that if I did that I would lose her forever.

I had a crystal for her, a rose quartz.  S gave it to me and suggested we give it to her.  What S didn't know when she made that suggestion was that I had two small crystals of my own, given to me by my dear friend not too long ago - but what feels like a lifetime ago.  Because I was essentially living in a different life.  I don't know if my friend realizes I still have her crystals, or that I really found them healing, or the true appreciation I have for her.  I don't think she reads this and I've tried to tell her, but...

Rose Quartz.  I would sometimes put them in my bath water.  Or hold them in my hand (one in each palm).  Sometimes I would place them on my chest like this.

Sometimes they felt cool, sometimes warm, sometimes very light in my hand, and sometimes they would have a weight on my chest.

The proposed emotional and spiritual healing properties of the rose quartz seem to be very fitting for the relationship between Motherless and I.  When I offered her the gift I was very afraid she would not accept.  But she did.  Not exactly graciously, she is still 13 afterall.  She said something like, "Why did you get this?"  and then there was a "Where did it come from?"  Followed by her tossing it into her backpack.

Do you think it will still work even if she never takes it out?

Later that evening, between the huffing - stomping - and eyerolling, she talked a bit about "dad's new girlfriend" and everything she learned about the application process to Hooter's.  I just bit the inside of my mouth and stopped myself from saying, "There's a PROCESS?"  Instead I tried to act very interested and positive.  And when I couldn't take it anymore, I said, "Why don't you go outside and play."  LIKE SHE IS FOUR.

After dinner I asked the kids to make lists of things they wanted at the store so I could get some groceries... Motherless decided to put her two cents in on the lists... and requested FALAFEL CHIPS.

Her:  All I want are some falafel chips.

Me:  I don't even know what the hell that is... does that mean you are going to start coming back over?  Because I don't want some weird food here that is just going to go bad.  Is it really shelf stable? 

Her: [walking out of room]

So that didn't really go well.  A mother can only take so much though.

Then she tells me her father is picking her up in the morning so she can spend the day with her cousin.  Ahhh.  fine.  I just merely nod,  tell her have fun and ask her to come back for Saturday night.  This is when I can't barely take anymore... are you ready?  She tells me she thinks she is going to just stay the night with Susie.  (This is her Dad's deceased mother's friend.  Did you follow that?  Susie's been mothering Motherless since April.)  I can't take anymore.  Fine.  I feel like throwing my hands up and screaming UNCLE.  I'm hurt.  You've hurt my feelings.  I feel like that's all she wants to do anyway.

We retreat to our corners for a couple hours.  Life goes on.  I calm down.  I start to think about this woman in her life.  I really am glad Motherless has someone she can and does talk to... and anyone named Susie can't be that bad.

Friday, July 2, 2010

The Spider Swing (you know, like when you were a kid... sort of)

Climb on top, swing one leg over each of her hips... thighs squeezing her waist tight.  I wonder what the weight of me feels like for an instant, but instead try to focus on what is under me and what it feels like to NOT have the weight of anything ON me.  For once, I'm the "top spider" when usually I've been the "bottom spider" on the swing.  Oh the delight in being able to be versatile on the swing. 

Leaning back to go higher, and pushing forward to come down... rocking, pumping, grinding, pulsing, pushing ... we swing higher and higher.  Neither of us fearful of what lies below us, both of us aware that the possibility of falling exists.

Leaning, pushing, rocking, pumping, grinding, pulsing... trusting.

As high as we get, we each know that is as hard as we may fall... so we trust.  We must.  Right?

The swing stops, we catch our breath, and I ask to become the "bottom spider" again...

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Loving Women

I work with women everyday.  I'm an obstetrics nurse and all of my coworkers are women.  Outside of the security guards and maintenance men that may stop to visit the unit on occasion, my job consists of all women all the time.  Next, are my patients.  Beautiful, large, filled pregnant patients.  Women.  My shifts are complete with women - and their partners.  Partners are interesting to me - but that's for a different blog, different day.  This space is for women, today.

I think I've always loved women.  I've always wanted women to love me. 

During my years I spent married - pretending - lying - acting - I would form close friendships with women, lots of women.  I needed to be close to women.  I wanted to go dress shopping with close friends just so I could share a dressing room and be able to admire their bodies.  I would want to find ways to be physically close to my friends also, but not physically intimate - I'm not sure if that makes sense.  Probably only to anyone else that had to keep a secret like I did for so long.

My mother's group all so much as banished me when I left my husband and came out.  Three of the 7 other women in our group even blocked me on Facebook.  BLOCKED me.  During the years we were friends though, we truly shared so much of ourselves.  I was able to get the closeness and the intimacy that I could never attain in my marriage; however, I could never really get close enough.

I can't remember what I learned about first: the female anatomy, the process of birth, or midwifery.  Probably the female anatomy, but what came next I'm not sure of.  I just know that my love for women, all women of all kinds, has led me to midwifery.

Some don't realize that midwives aren't "just like doctors." We are quite the contrary actually.  Some don't realize that we don't just "deliver babies in homes."  Midwives are primary care providers... we care for all women in many age groups, any socioeconomic group, healthy and sometimes not.  I love healthcare; I love birth; and I love women.

I've also learned to love me, as a woman, and to accept myself, as a woman.  I worried for a while, that living (and lying) as a straight woman for so long would inhibit myself in finding love from another woman or in loving myself.  I'm on my path though.  I love myself as I am and in doing so I can love another for who she is.

It feels good to be me, today.  We'll see what tomorrow brings though.