All The Way In and Half Out?

I have never felt so sad.

I am trying not to make this about me.  Not about my marriage.  

S recently gained a new client (yippee) who she quickly learned is a raging homophobe (yucky).  Half way through her treatment, this new client made a very disgusting, homophobic remark about her previous therapist.  I asked S, “What did you say…?”  I was half in disbelief and half in delight over how I just knew my wife had put this bigot in her place.

Nothing.

She said nothing because she feared coming out to this client and potential professional liaison would have negative ramifications on her business.  Her business is new and slow growing.  I understand that.  S says she is fine with staying in the closet to protect her business.  (I think her exact words were something like … to get more clients.)  

Staying in – or rather going back in – the closet is a lot different than what happened that afternoon, though.   S’s silence in the voice of bigotry makes my heart sad.  Makes me feel forlorn because she didn’t have to out herself in order to stand up for us, for our family… for everyone who we know and do not know who are LGBTQ. 

I don’t blame her.   She was not expecting to have an encounter like this… and on the other hand… I do.   I just simply expect it.  I was born and raised within this small community, and while she feels that this has been a very accepting community towards us… I have a different perception.

But I won’t go inside, and I won’t hide.  And I certainly will not tolerate bigotry in any form.

I get it though… when do you draw the line?  How do you make the distinction of who to protect and when?  S felt she was protecting her business and thus her family via financial security.  But I don’t want to live like that.  In the shadows.  Living a half life.  I think we can live a much richer life if we live it honestly, truly, and wholly.  

But like I said in the beginning… I’m trying not to make this about me.

If You're Interested

I have a friend who is very sick, like in a mental health crisis, and I didn't even know it.  Is it because I haven't been in touch with her?  Am I that busy?  Too busy to pick up the phone?  Send an email?

I knew she was not doing well.  She's been in a spiral for a while.  I should have called. 

But the fact of the matter is, I didn't.

I got an email from her today with a link to a forum where she updated about her condition in case "I was interested."  My stomach sank.  She thinks that my lack of communication with her has been disinterest?  Whatthefuck.  And why can't the email just tell me what's been going on?  It reads, "I've been hospitalized, etc."  With a link.  A LINK.

First of all... ET-fucking-CETERA.  There is more?  And a link.  To a forum I never go to anymore (for reasons that are mine and not hers).

I click the link - rack my brain for log in/password info - read her post and responses... and I am sad.  So sad.

I have lost her.  It has been six weeks since I have seen her, since my wedding... now so much has happened that I've not been there for her. 

She updated us all about her Dx and very much of it makes sense.  And some of it does not.  I cried for her and her family.  This afternoon I feel a numb denial that I've felt before when a loved friend has died, and it has not sank in.  But, she is not dead.  She's out there struggling, suffering, getting hospitalized, graduating from intensive outpatient programs, hurting, and ... healing... I hope healing...

She's just doing it all without me.

I'm very proud of my friend.  I am scared for her.  I am sad.  I miss her. 

Why can't I pick up the phone?

I Miss Her. (fucking-cheap-merlot)

There is this woman from my past.  No - not a lover.  I guess the best way to describe her would be to say she's an Other Mother... but today I don't even know who those Other Mothers are anymore.  When I started writing about them I thought I knew, and now... now... I realize I know about as much about them as I let them know about me.

We were friends once, this other woman and I.  We shared ghost stories over coffee on her back patio while her older child played in the sand box and the little one napped.  Her husband was away on business.  She had a hard time believing that I saw the same ghosts she saw.  But I did.  I lived to to tell my story of survival...  

I am sure she saw my marriage, and my family of five smiling children's faces, as part of this survival-success-story.  And I am sure that when she learned that my marriage was over and that I was an adulteress and that I was also a lesbian adulteress... well... no... I am not sure ... but I can only imagine she felt betrayed.

And when I came out of the closet, so did all of my skeletons.  I didn't try to hide anything.  Not anymore.  I had lived a lie, lying to too many people for too long.  

She fell off the face of My Earth.  Yes there were "words" between us.  I don't remember them to be harsh or anything I regret, but I don't remember them exactly.  

And then she was gone.

And now she is back.

Not really back in the way that we are having coffee on her patio... but... she has emailed me a few times, and I found out she had another baby.  

And I cried.  Real tears of joy for her.  I knew she was afraid that her ghosts would keep her from having another baby.  She won.  

I saw pictures of her kids.  And I cried.  Because they are beautiful, happy souls.  Because I am happy.  

I'm crying right now.  Fucking cheap Merlot.

Anyway.  

People are brought into our lives for a reason.  Everytime I open my email and I see this woman has emailed me, my heart is in my throat.  Fuck.  I miss her.  I miss all of them.  Most of them.  I think I miss the Mommyhood.  I miss being with Other Mothers.  That's the head of the nail right there.  

If you are reading this, and you aren't a parent yet... here is a secret:  parenting is hard. I know you THINK you know that... but ... did you know that it is so hard that there are days when you may wonder if you are supposed to be a mother.  

There are times that mothering is so hard that you think you want to get in your vehicle and drive - buy a wig/box of color - and change your name.  

There are times that mothering will affect your relationship/marriage/sex life - not for the best.

There is shit... excuse me... there are secrets that the Other Mothers aren't telling you.  It's not their fault.  No one talks about it.  

Except me.  

Maybe someday I'll write a book.  But first, my classmate D is encouraging me to finish grad school to pay off the student loans at least.  Makes sense.

Bubble Girl

Today I feel like a girl trapped inside a snow globe.  You know the ones with little villages inside, and glitter for snow, that when tipped over creates the most magical scene right before your eyes.  Sometimes there is a wind up music element in the bottom of the globe.

I'm in my snow globe, my bubble world, today; and I feel so completely trapped here.  I feel like I can't leave.  But I know logically that the doors open.  These keys fit right into the ignition of my van.  I know the way into town.  I even have errands to run that I have been putting off.  My dog needs a walk.  My guinea pigs need litter.  My paycheck needs depositing.

My bubble world is sealed tight.

Sure I can look at this whole living in a snow globe deal as if I am trapped here, or... there is another way to see this.  I am safe.  Here I don't have to talk to anyone and pretend.  I don't have to get dressed and worry.  I don't have to smile and fake.  If they only knew how hard it is...

But my bubble world is transparent.

They still look in.  They see me even when I think no one is looking.

When I was a little girl I used to sit and stare at my gramma's snow globes for hours.  I wanted to reach in - to crawl inside one of them.  Just to inside for a minute, a day.  I thought it seemed so quiet inside that bubble world.  So peaceful.  So safe.

Today, I'm nothing but a little girl again, who got her wish.  Living in a bubble.