mental manure

 9/9/82-8/14/07

dedicated to Adam 

Yesterday I began reciting affirmations.  I admit it’s a seemingly silly practice, but the negative thoughts just won’t stop spewing from some burst vessel in my head and I can’t get it to clot.  I am convinced that they will sabotage my relationship with date#16.  My extreme thinking tells me if I have doubts, I should just drop the rope (run away) and see if he picks up the slack, but how many times have I tried this?  Enough to know it will not result in improved intimacy.  Should I assume he doesn’t want a committed monogamous relationship because he wants to date and sleep with other women?  I guess I could ask him.  I teeter along the line of wondering what’s my business and what’s not when it comes to his dating of others.  My ideals have really flipped since I began this project.  In someways I am embedding philosophies completely opposite the ones I started out with.  I am willing to participate in a relationship with a man who may want to fuck women other than me, but I have hopes of eventually finding a relationship worth committing to forever.  

The more I think about commitment and relationships, the more I see what I am really talking about is sustainability.  

Sustain:  to give support or relief to, to supply with sustenance: nourish;  to keep up, prolong, to support the weight of; to carry or withstand pressure, to support as true, legal and just;  to allow or admit as valid.  Also defined as: a method of harvesting or using a resource so that the resource is not depleted or permanently damaged.  

At this point I believe that commitment is irrelevant and what we are all looking for is sustainability.  After all here are the definitions of commit:  

to pledge or bind; or to carry out or perpetuate a mistake or a crime or immoral act; to place officially in confinement or custody, to consign for future use (memory), entrust,  to give over to another.  

Commitment seems to have to do with the transfer of power.  I don’t think that its any coincidence that this was the  original basis of marriage.  Perhaps a commitment is not what I am longing for after all. 

We philosophized for hours.  Date#16 is somewhat of an idealist when it comes to politics and environmentalism.  He pointed out that all things in life are circular, the natural process of most things is expulsion and absorption.   Farming without conscious intent has led to infertile land, which lacks essential nutrients to grow a thriving crop.   Mass producing synthetic fertilizers to introduce nitrogen back into the soil has become common practice  So what are we supposed to do with compost and other organic fertilizers that are being produced whether we repurpose them or not?  

        We began discussing how people produce emotional waste as well.   We experience sensations of jealousy, anger, rage, sadness and embarrassment.  These emotions are deemed undesirable, negative by our culture and most of the time people want to get rid of and hide our filthy feelings from friends, lovers and partners at all costs.  I really do mean all costs; lying, cheating, demonstrating passive aggressive behaviors have become social norms, which all lead to the deterioration of intimacy in relationships.

        Since I met date#16, I have been inspired to override my fears and expose my ugly feelings.  The manure of my mind, if you will, sometimes feels irrational, while other times my thoughts seem to be based in reality.  One of the benefits of exposing these thoughts is to get some feed back on which is which.   So just like in farming, the solution is to use my mental manure to fertilize for the relationship.  My fears and less than desirable feelings can circle around and be communicated.  Talking about such feelings can be used as a tool to be understood, to feel more secure and introduce new questions and ideas into the relationship.  Basically this is a process of composting and using our vulnerabilities to bring us closer instead of letting them tears us apart.  

        Date#16 and I went out of town together, we stayed at his friends house.  When I picked him up he told me  he had been hanging out with her, mostly as friends.  I had a mini heart attack.   In theory, this was not a problem but in reality my feelings were being shaken and stirred.  I could tell my body language became stiff and my face became sullen.  I tried to hide it but I knew it was no use, it was obvious that I wasn’t as engaged as I would have been otherwise.  Typically what I would do in a situation such as this, is deny my feelings and hope to get over it, but similarly to physics which states matter never really disappears, feelings don’t just evaporate into thin air either.  They are concrete imprints that may change and morph upon processing, but feelings that are denied will find away to surface one way or another if they are not properly handled.  In the past, I convinced myself that my stellar acting ability would fool someone into being unable to detect my discontent.   However,  humans are intuitive beings, and inevitably that person would ask “What’s wrong?”  

“Nothing”, I would say, invalidating the person who is perceiving the discontent, as well as invalidating myself.  And so the great divide begins.  On the surface things may seem copasetic for a while, that is until someone forgets to close the refrigerator and suddenly the mines begin exploding for seemingly “no reason”.  

        A solution to changing the outcome of unprocessed feelings is to simply acknowledge my change in body language.  I may not be ready or willing to talk about my insecurities or my frustration in that moment, but I can acknowledge that I am acting discontent.  This validates my own feelings, as well as validating the other party’s suspicions that something is fishy.  So that’s what I did.  I acknowledged that hearing about her had irritated me but I wasn't really ready to talk about it.  I told him that I would prefer to listen to some loud music instead.   It wasn't until we passed the summit that I said, I wanted to talk about my insecurities.  I said it was hard for me to hear about her.  I wanted him to know it was because I liked him, I tell him a lot.  It’s humbling, not playing games.  In the past I would have judged myself and not revealed why my jealousy buttons were getting pushed.  He understood that I liked him and confessed that he was starting to believe that I would always be there, he had concerns that he could start taking me for granted.  I explained that I understood the risk I was taking by making myself so open, but I was also convinced that pretending that I was not interested in him was just a form of manipulation.  I said that if he started taking me for granted,  I probably wouldn’t feel very good and I might want to distance myself as a result.  I reiterated I didn’t want to be taken for granted.  Then he realized after he said it out loud that he didn’t want to take me for granted either.   I remained firm in the fact that I was going to keep on liking him and we would see where that took us.   

         We arrived at out first destination and I got to meet two of his friends.  We decided to take a walk down the street to the water.  I didn’t make the move, I waited.  He reached out and held my hand.  We walked out on to a wooden path over the water, under an electrical tower (it wasn’t as dangerous as it sounds).  It was windy but not too cold.  We stood next to each other looking down into the water mesmerized by the patterns and shapes.  We sat down on the end on the makeshift dock and kissed.  When I kiss him I can’t help but feel excitement for just knowing him.  So much of the time there is a sensitive trepidation between the two of us that I have never felt before.  I suppose it’s a feeling of balance, we are careful about putting one or two heartbeats on at a time.  I give, he gives.  It feels as if we are continually adding to the weight, not taking any off.  

         We went back to the house made dinner and hung out with his friends.  They went to bed early and he set out blankets out on the floor.  We started kissing.  I was so excited to see him all week but I just couldn't let go.  I wasn't willing to take things further because I was wondering if I was in the moment with him, or if I was for the moment for him.  His statement earlier made me winder if I was already being taken for granted.  I said it out loud.  I told him I didn’t want to be a girl on the side.  He said I wasn’t the girl on the side, “Then what am I?” I asked.  He said, I was the girl he was going to go up to the city with to have an adventure.  In my mind I heard, you're a “for the moment girl”.  I didn't panic, we kept talking I said that I was sad because I had been so excited to see him all week, and now my mind was being a major buzz kill.  I told him I wanted to know that he was invested in our relationship,  he said needed time to think about that.  I said I just didn’t want to get dropped.  He asked if I thought that being out of my comfort zone was contributing to my fear of being dropped.  I hadn't thought about it that way.  “Yeah , probably”, I said.  We kept talking.  Eventually the conversation turned to his end.  He said that he often filters what he says and remains quiet unless he feels he has the perfect logical answer, but the thoughts in his mind keep bouncing around like a ball in a pin ball machine, and he began to question why he just doesn’t just say those things out loud.  He acknowledged that once they were out of his head they could be changed morphed, re-routed and refined based on what the other person had said in response.  So he refined his earlier statement, just because I was his companion for exploring the city tomorrow, didn’t mean that it discounted anything that had happened previously or anything that was coming our way in the future.  We communicated and we were both heard.  I reiterated that the point of conversations of this nature wasn’t to find the perfect answer and solidify anything, but to participate in the act of breaking down and building up, the process of communicating our ideas and exposing what is going on for each of us.  

The next morning we had the best sex of my life.  There was something about feeling real with him that was so clear.  Arching my back I could see out the window behind me and saw blue sky and perfect little fluffy clouds.  There was a trust there that let me release in a primal scream.

We went to the San Francisco, visited with more friends we were staying with that night, and then took the Muni into into Union Square.  We asked a woman sitting across from us on the train to help us clarify of our directions.  She was very outgoing and from LA on vacation.  She asked us where we were from.  Santa Cruz, we said.  She noticed that he was the physical incarnation of the beloved beach town.  She said “You guys been together 3 years?”  We looked at each other, and then shook our heads, She kept counting down backwards.  I finally stopped her and said we met each other two months ago.  She asked our signs and told us we would work well together.  

We spent most of the day in a five story building  on Geary Street with nine different art galleries.  We took a break half way through and got some coffee.  I pulled out my notebook and began writing, and he started sketching on a napkin.

We had a great time together.  Slowly but surely we are getting to know each other.  And the waxing and waning of my confidence continues.

FEAR:  I’m thinking the best solution at this point is to start seeing other people again (running).  I need to spread the impact again (running).  I need to get some of my power back (running).  I would like to feel more secure.  I feel a lack of security.  The funny thing about getting my power back is this; I already have all the power I am ever going to posses.  What do I have to lose by remaining open?  Nothing absolutely nothing, except my fucking pride.  It’s all about pride.  I gotta let it go.  I have to be fearless.  What’s the worst that could happen?  I love, love, love, he just happened to get in the way.  I will fearlessly be myself, I will be eccentric.  This is not about him, this is about me.  I will give freely.  I will open up.  I will not expect anything in return.  I will dance, I just want to be loved.  

A softer side of me, peaceful dove, in pinks and browns and flowers in my hair.  We are little hippie kids, with petals for cheeks.  The space is ok, it lets us breathe.  I let go over and over and over, releasing my grip and feeling the softness of pillows and warm comforters with cool breezes that cool his skin.  I brush my hand over him to warm him up.  Is he dreaming of freedom?  I’m tired of getting mine, I want to adore him.  I want to knit socks out of the softest cotton for him.  I also want to give more freely to Lucy, to Lylah.  I still hesitate about giving completely, that’s why the space is there.  I will write him poems on paper I have made myself, out of his recycled story.  What can I do?  Rock climbing?  Making pies?  Sewing, painting, mending my clothes, reading newspapers, massage him.  I need to calm down.  Chamomile.  He makes me tea and we drink it together.  I love looking back and thinking where we have been.  I never want to stop writing about him.   I want to remember it all.  I don’t want to miss this part of my life.  The part where I met him.  The part where we grew together.  The part where I learned to love.  The part where I learned to be selfless and really see someone, where I am hanging on the edge above the ground and have faith that the fall might be worth it.  When I think about all that has happened, all that I have felt, all that I have processed, I can’t believe that it landed me here.   Here is a place where I am present, where I am inspired to create everything around me.  I want to build, beautify everything, give, give, give, be whole.  Where I feel whole in myself.  When I am writing I feel I have a purpose.  

I no longer fantasize about the house and the kids and the fence. My fantasies now consist of trust, friendship and amazing sex.  When I was younger I was so caught up in finding the perfect mate.  I was looking for someone to “settle down” with, someone who would take care of me and buy me stuff, especially things like an engagement ring and a house.  I was unconsciously looking for a parent, not an equal.  I am beginning to see what really matters.  I asked my friend Wendy a serious question.

Me:  I want to know something.  It’s a terrifying question so don’t answer if you don’t want to......... What would you have done differently if you would have known Adam was going to die?
Wendy:

wow

that gives me chills

give me a minute to answer that...

Wendy:

I would have loved him with even more abandon than I already did! It makes me cry but it makes me smile too... I would have been less cranky about stupid things like him tracking mud into the apartment with his shoes

there's more... hold on

I would have spent a LOT more time hugging him and just generally being ridiculous which is what he and I enjoyed the most
Wendy:

I would have taken more pictures of him, family pictures... and I would have married him (he wanted to go to Vegas but I said "No, not until you have a year clean" ha. didn't happen

I would have married him in a heartbeat if I had known. I miss him so much! I can't seem to find another "soul mate" you know? I keep asking him to help me find love and I keep praying about it... but I just loved him with all my heart
Me:

I’m so sorry Wendy.....

I wish I could give you a hug, and cry on you now

Wendy:

oh one more thing... I wouldn't have participated in his relapse, heroin. I would have been the lighthouse if I could have... ok. wow. I wish I could cry with you in person.

Me:  Thank you Wendy, I love you.

My chance is now.  I have let go, moved on and now I am ready.  I have done the work, clearing the wreckage of my past.  I am ready for love.  I welcome it with open arms.  Love is all there is.  My writing has taken a turn from looking at connection, to looking at romance, to looking at love. Some of the greatest love stories are tragedies. If you love someone, show them, don't wait. Do it for those who have passed on before realizing how truly loved they were and for those of us who loved them.

forgive and hold pinkie fingers

I will remember to let go of my fear as I am writing this.  I will remember the joy and excitement I feel when I am near him.  Date#16 came over and we decided to go surfing.  It had been almost a week since I had seen him last and living within the mystery, not knowing where we were headed, was a package still waiting to be opened.  I had not worried all week about our next move until the last few hours before I saw him.  Not knowing how to act when we first see each other is a predictable unpredictability.  It was a hot day and nothing in the world sounded better than pulling on a wetsuit and navigating the ocean with him.  We drove over to Cowells beach, where I learned to surf, where I worked my first summer job in Santa Cruz and where I feel at home.  We suited up, took our boards under our arms and walked toward the stairs.  I followed closely behind him.  My toes were like antennae, informing my foot when I could flatten my heel.  Carefully I stepped around the the green and black moss covering the stairs that lead down into the ocean.  There was a clearing at the bottom, but rocks can suddenly appear, depending on the tide.  I didn’t want to fall in front of him.  The tide was low enough where we could see a path when the water was drawn out.  The waves were practically were nonexistent.  The moment my feet hit the water I become aware of the danger zones.  Entering and exiting the powerful ocean, a force of energy where unpredictable things happen, is all about timing.  I needed to find the opening.  Being aware of the space can mean the difference of feeling safe or working hard to stay above water, depending on the day.   I still get nervous until I get out past the break.  I have always liked the feeling of smooth sailing once I am happily balanced on my board.  My world is split into two parts, what’s above and whats below the surface of the water.  I loved being out there with him on the same level alone.  The last time we were in the water together was a week after we met and he was heartbroken, it felt like years ago.  This time it felt like we had a history that had not yet established the first time.   The water was cool and fresh, I was on crappy foam board that my friend had given to me and he was on a 9 foot fiberglass long board.  I was struggling to keep up with his pace, as I am out of practice and my board was not efficient.  He slowed down and asked if I wanted me to trade boards with him.  I told him “It’s ok, I’ll just wait until I get tired”, so he went on paddling.  I looked at his feet getting further away and he was gaining speed.  I began paddling faster and faster but after only moments, both of my arms flopped at my sides, my hands feeling like ten pound weights.  I couldn’t keep up.  I yelled “ You know what? The lesson of you if nothing else, is deflating my pride and ego.”  

“That doesn’t sound good”, he said, 

“Oh yes it is”,  I replied.  

He stilled and let me catch up.  I abashedly paddled next to him and eventually my embarrassment subsided.  I remember telling him last time we went surfing, it always felt good to go out surfing.  But I then remembered there were times where I would go out by myself and I would be so self conscious of my ability, I would feel shame and it would leave me feeling like I didn’t want to try anymore, eventually I didn’t.  I wanted to keep surfing but I couldn’t shake the feeling of people judging me.  It kept me out of the water for over a decade.  It wasn't until I met date#16 that I even realized how much I missed surfing and remembered how fun it once was.  

We floated close to each other and found a stillness,  he laid on his back and I laid on my stomach, each on our respective boards.  I rested my head on my arm and our hands floated toward each other.  We closed our eyes and locked pinkie fingers so we wouldn't drift apart.  I noticed the silence and the comfort.  We laid there for a few minutes, bobbing up and down and drifting closer and then further apart.  I imagined the sensations out of context.  With my eyes closed I imagined that we were no longer in the ocean and our bodies were somehow just magically seemingly weightless, bouncing through space.  We sat back up and traded boards.  We spotted a mama otter with her baby on her tummy.  I made my way closer to them to get a better look.   All of a sudden I was compelled to paddle straight off toward the horizon.  It was nearing dusk and the water beneath me was clear, then faded into a deep green.   With each stroke I glided over the surface of metallic blue, the water was so calm it looked like a sheet of mercury.  The horizon was a deep black line and the sky was light blue edging into lighter purples and pinks.  I loved knowing that I could break away from him, knowing I didn't have to hold back.  I let my arms take me as fast as they could and sounds of the board lapping at the nose, and water coming off my fingers were the only sounds I heard.  I stopped to check and see how far behind I had left him, he was on his way over to me.  We followed the otter and her pup back toward shore, oooing and ahhing over their cuteness.  I liked the way he revered the mother/baby relationship.  On some level it created a sensation of safety in me.  Without saying so we paddled back toward the stairs and he caught two waves, which makes my heart sink just thinking about it, truly exhibiting his expertise.  We made it up he stairs unscathed.  

We got in his van and once we were on the road (after nearly leaving our boards there) I asked timidly, where things stood with his girlfriend.  I was so nervous.  I had been trying to stay neutral about what his week would reveal to him and there it was, the moment where we could either mover closer together or further apart.  He told me he had a realization that his preoccupation with being with her was more about her and other people, and not about his relationship with her.  He said that sometimes they would get along but inevitably they would end up fighting and then he would be left wondering what he was doing.  He said that controlling what she did didn’t seem appealing.  He wanted to be free to do what he wanted to as well.  I was ecstatic.  “I’m so happy” I said, I really was.  I sat the in that moving vehicle knowing that my patience had allowed space for him to flourish and take care of himself.  It felt amazing.   We drove to the grocery store, and I was on top of the world.  We pulled in to the parking space and he was taking his time putting his shoes.  I walked around to his side and reached my arm around him, he had the greatest smile on his face.  Happiness, pure happiness.  

We came back to my place and made perogis listened to Frank Zappa and shared stories of gentle debauchery.  Being in a secure healthy relationship seems unreal to me.  Granted my friendships have been improving over the last year or so but put against a background of 30 years of dysfunctional and unhealthy relationships, I feel a little like I’m dreaming.  Waiting for the other shoe to drop, yet really having confidence that this time is different.  I have to, if  I don’t want to sabotage this.  I have never tried trusting before, I’m not inventing problems, care taking or falling into victim mode and it’s quite surreal.  We were eating dinner and he commented on how he felt pretty out of it too, like he was dreaming.  I’d like to think that his sensations are as a result of him being swept off his feet.  My gut feeling was he was surprised by the ease and safety of our interaction as well.  Our interactions seem to have a magic about them, a certain kind of kismet energy that is easy.

Recently my friend told me “Be careful who you get introduced to, you might end up marrying them”.  I laughed, I think the deeper meaning of his statement was about letting go and letting the surprise stuff happen.  I think it has to do with the power of perception. Sometimes I wonder had the timing of my meeting of date#16 meting been different, would this still be the way things would have unfolded with him.  It makes me consider the romantic notion,  How could it be that I have wandered the planet not knowing what I never knew I absolutely could not live without.  When I’m around him I feel like he is a dream.  When I reach out and touch him I can’t believe that he is reaching back.  

I can feel it in my heart expanding, humility is washing over me like a solid wave of energy.  Every time I think about becoming angry and possessive over him, I take a deep breath and let go.  So much of my body wants to think that if he was the one for me that he would make me feel great all of the time, like a drug.  But he is not a substance, he is a person, with his own life, his own beautiful qualities.  This is a practice, a steady practice of letting him be.  It will overflow into everything about him, I must trust him.  When I think about why  I have never been able to maintain a long term relationship (past 2 years), I know it is because I have left stomping my feet, angry that they didn’t comply with my demands.  Most of the time it had something to do with the person of my affections finding it impossible to keep me on that infatuation high.  I have looked at relationships as something that was ingested, and once the effects wore off then I moved on to the bigger better high.  At this time in my life I must look at what I can replace that feeling of unrest with.  Whether it is focusing on my own life and moving in a forward positive direction or congratulating myself for not running even though I am not feeling the effects of the endorphins.  I must have faith in his ability to make good choices for himself.  Perhaps the thing about an equal relationship that I have been missing all along, is not only about mutual affection and adoration, but also seeing him as a person who is equally capable of living his life in the way that he wants to.  My relationship with him has nothing to do with her.  He and I have something special, that no one can sever.  The only way it can remain that way is if I trust his value of me and our friendship.  

I don’t believe that I can be open only part of the time.  I must be open all of the time in all aspects of life.  That’s a pretty big statement.  I must forgive, I must love this malleable state we call living.  We can all change.  We are all forever changing.  Do I want to be happy?  Yes I do.  Do I want joy? Yes I do.  I must treat every human like a precious, intricate piece of the universe and abandon my selfish motives of getting what I deserve and welcome what comes my way as the mystery and magic unfolds.  Why? Because it feels better, it is sustainable.  Having my feet underneath me really helps.  I am transitioning from control into trust and forgiveness.  

My parents are the final frontier.  I have never had it in me to forgive either of them.  I know I am miles away from forgiving my father in anything other than just in concept, as forgiveness must come from understanding and empathy and I am not there yet when it comes to him.  So I put it in the box on the shelf and will work on it later.  My mother is someone that I have been processing for as long as I can remember, at least the last 10 years.  I am very familiar with our dance.  In a lot of ways her love for me could be described as a scenario of drug induced highs and lows.  Most of the interactions with my mother had to do with her trying to cram me into the fantasy of how I was to serve her.  It came in the form of performing well to ensure she could take credit for my good doing, wanting an instantaneous love that was not built on anything sustainable, to being a receptacle for her rage and being made into the perpetrator so she could have a release of emotional pressure.  It’s interesting how all of this sounds eerily familiar, behaviors that I have then displayed in my romantic relationships.  For many years I have attempted to explain to her that the disconnect between us simply could not be resolved by just sweeping it under the rug and synthesizing the drug of love.   I nicknamed this feeling Flove, the endorphin feeling of love, the manufactured version which is not sustainable because it is not produced within oneself, it is hijacked from a fantasy of the mind.  It comes and goes in the blink of an eye depending on where one is in the story line of the fantasy.  On the top, when one is feeling high, is the part where the person is rescued by their lover, cared for and provided for unconditionally, perhaps also in an overly passionate way.  However the person craving this high is also afraid of intimacy so if the desire is actually reciprocated with consistency, it triggers a feeling of being suffocated.  There is no build up in these relationships, it’s all or nothing.  On the bottom end, the crash, is acknowledgment that the fantasy eventually comes to and end and the high simply can not be maintained.  

I relate it to sustainable farming practices.  When soil is over farmed, all of the nutrients have been sucked out of the soil.   These relationships have no real sustainable form of replenishing what’s good and what’s true.  Sustainable practices in relationship are slow moving, they don’t look like fire woks all of the time.  In fact, some of them are outright painful.  The transition into even and equal exchanges of realistic and maintainable building blocks of a healthy relationship, are only attained by exposing some of my inner demons and my flaws and insecurities, in a healthy way.  For example, by explaining why I feel a certain feelings and stating my fears and my anxiety in a non-blaming way.  I also state that I really like him and let it be known that I have two feet in the relationship.  I have to trust that he will like me anyway.  What makes it all worth it is an exponential growing in my capacity for love.  When I am secure in my relationship I feel happy.  The security comes from understanding and sustainable emotional exchanges. This is exactly the kind of relationship that will never happen with my mother.  I know she did the best she could.  I know she is sick.  I have empathy for her situation, but I have severe sadness too.  I am being compelled to open up some more space in my heart.  He inspires me to do so because I want more room for him.   

Could I say that I forgive my mother in a letter and still not have direct contact with her?  The wounds that were inflicted by her during my childhood are deep, they cause me to feel me panic and unsafe. My whole life I have looked at all people and relationships through this filter.  On my hard days, I can’t wrap my mind around how relationships could be anything other than one-sided.  But slowly I am seeing another way,  Slowly I am learning how to let my guard down.  I am shown that it is not about winning, but about opening.   

I feel a strike of mistrust in my vulnerability, this is why I live 3000 miles away.  I felt open and then close up like a clam.  I simply can not go near her.  I still have intense fear when I think about her.  My stomach tenses.  It is not safe but I don’t think that prevents me from forgiveness and I’m sure things like this are a process, that need to unfold and build upon each other.  I will transform my hatred and anger that I have felt for my mother and redefine it as fear.  She scared me, she hurt me, I was little, I was growing I was vulnerable all of the time.  I could not escape.  She abused me she took advantage of my love.   I am hurt, I was hurt, I cried for so long.  I spent years in my closet just trying to find a place where I could experience peace.   I was shamed, it was proved to me that I was not safe in the world, she told me things and used her words simply to compete with my abuse, so that she could let herself off the hook and feel like a victim too.  I could never be the victim because in her eyes that was her role.  I have so much fear of her, I am scared of her.  As long as I stay away from her I am safe.   

Dear Mom, 

I have fear that you won’t understand what I am saying.  I fear that you will misinterpret this letter to believe that you were a perfect mother.  Part of why I keep you at bay is because your actions when I was a child whether you were aware of it or not left me deeply wounded.  I feel that in the past when I have tried to express this you have become defensive and became the victim and were unable to take responsibility for things that actually happened during my childhood as well as discount my feelings around my own experience because you think it reflects on you too badly.  There were things about your mothering that I remember fondly, like you singing somewhere over the rainbow when I was falling asleep, I remember playing with your mouth and tapping on your teeth.  I know you took me to the library.  There are so many other memories I have of loneliness, sadness and trauma.  I wish that you could have empathized with my process and experiences sooner in my adult life, instead I felt like you denied them because you believed they were a reflection of you.  I find it hard to have a relationship with you because our perception of the first 18 years of my life are so radically different.  The thing is, I want to forgive you, but I am scared that if I do you will take that to mean that I think I had a great childhood or that the hurt I felt as a child, which still comes up in my adult relationships, was fabricated or over exaggerated. 

I am not ready for a close relationship with you.  I need you to acknowledge that you understand how it must have felt like for me growing up in a house with you and my dad.  I need you to take responsibility for the events that transpired when I was little and admit that you were the adult and I was a child.  That it was your job to protect me.  I don’t want you to feel guilty but I do want to feel understood.  I want to connect with you I always have, but I have never felt heard by you.  This is quite possibly the most vulnerable thing I have ever written.  I am terrified of the repercussions of sending this.  I fear that your response will be more of the same stuff about how you love me......that is not what I want.  What I want is for you to express to me that you understand that my childhood was scary, damaging, hurtful, harmful and ask me about my experiences.  I want to tell about my perception of what happened growing up and I want you to hear me and understand and acknowledge my pain and suffering, instead of deny it.       

This is something I have been trying to do for years and to be honest I have very little confidence that you will be capable of doing this now.  But I can tell you this, if you want to have contact with me it is a necessary part of the authentic relationship process for me.  If you can’t I don’t know where to go from there.  I know that you have survived by using this survival skill and maybe it’s out of your control and there’s no way you can do what I am asking, but I figured I would give it a try again.  Please don’t call me.  I’m not ready to talk yet.  If you call I’ll take that as a sign as you disrespecting my boundaries and it will only move us further apart.  

ME

What I just wrote still feels like the same story.  I will not send that, I will send is this:

Dear Mom,

You are human.  You have feelings and you do the best you can.  I must accept this and move on.  I forgive you.  I forgive you for everything.  But most of all I respect the fact that I am now responsible for my own life and my own joy.  I know this is just the first step, but I release the tarp that has covered all of my resentment toward you in my heart and I will let the pieces of debris float off into space.  I know it won’t happen all at once but, I have unlocked the cage that held my hatred and my deepest seeded fears.  Thank you for being my mom.  I wouldn’t be here without you.  

ME

I want to stay here, the space where I can love, the space where I have joy,  the space where I am met.  It is a space of trust,  it is mine for the taking.  

I don’t know what to feel.  I am confronted with the fact that I have to trust.  If I forgive, I let go.  I am so scared.  I don’t want to be hurt let down, abandoned.  How can I possibly trust her?  After all this time after all this time, after so many years of resentment pain and anger.  How can I possibly do this?  Because I want to be open to loving him, because I am worth my happiness, because I deserve to be happy, because the lesson is in the trust, in the process, not in the result.  He has burst my heart open and inspired me to be present to be in the moment.  He has shown me how to say what I feel, how my vulnerability can never let me down, that with love all things are possible, that magical things happen if I just open my mind to the possibilities.  There is such a huge part of me that wants to run away.  But he has shown me the benefit of living honestly with an open heart.  I practically can’t describe what I am feeling.  I feel such an incredible sense of freedom around my fear and anxiety with him.  I could act as if her responses and ways of being are not about me.  I’ll tell you one thing is for sure, I want to tell him all about it.  I want to share this experience with him.  I wasn't to open up to him like I never have before.  I want to take a flying leap toward him and let him catch me.  I have no fear.  I know he will be there.  I am amazed at how everything is interwoven and connected in my consciousness.   She triggered a fear, which lead to forgiveness of my mom, which lead to trust in him.  

this is not a hold up

          So yet again I was instructed to give the ultimatum. I was assured the only way I could possibly carry on with date#16 was to threaten him, and tell him to make a decision.  He’s already putting the pressure on himself, he doesn’t need my input.  I almost fell for it, I had visions of driving over to his house, writing a letter or writing an email to force the issue.  I began telling the story to one of my clients who has been married for over 35 years.  Pretty quickly he pointed out that human nature wasn’t going to permit me to continue being on the back burner.  I agreed, he said I needed to give him an ultimatum and tell him to choose her or me.  I said I saw where he was coming from, but I felt that it just wasn’t the right time.  I felt we were in the middle of a process.  I pointed out to my client that when in a long term relationship, there will always be times when there is a conflict of interest, inevitably difficult issues arise in relationships that last 20 or 30 years.   I said that if I saw myself going for the long haul with him, I wasn’t going to make these kinds of relationship decisions by myself, it would be navigated by the two of us.  I feel that our relationship is already some sort of partnership simply because we have set it up that way.  For just a moment I thought about a relationship defined by the interactions of the two people involved and not by onlookers.  The exchanges between date#16 and I are honest, open, positive, compromising, communicative, vulnerable, scary and trusting.  It feels like we are building a bridge between us.  Our design must allow for flexibility otherwise it will never last.  The stable foundation is within me and within him.   He can talk to me, he shows up when he says he is going to and he tells me he likes me.  But all of my reasons for hanging in there with him were being contradicted by the temptation to get I want instantly, by making him choose.  Yet everything in my body began to tense up and I started feeling anxiety again at the prospect of doing so.  I knew I would not be able to stick to my resolve and force him to make a decision.   My client tapped into my pride and  my fear of losing him.  He of course told me I was going to get hurt.  But I noticed that I felt more much more hurt at the thought of coercing him into making a decision.  It’s a real possibility that he may be with her for quite a while longer.  But how does a relationship magically repair itself, from cheating with his best friend, lying all the time, and an obvious lack of maturity?  Relationships can’t magically be healed without a tremendous amount of work.  However, out of embarrassment I left my client vowing that I was indeed going to make him decide.  

A few weeks ago a coworker of mine told us that her dog was sick, Tiki had some internal bleeding and the prognosis was not good.    The vet asked if they wanted to put her down at the office and end her life immediately.  Naomi chose to take her home and let her death happen naturally.  They had planned a big camping trip and were planning on taking Tiki with them, but when they heard the news she thought maybe they should cancel the trip.  They were devastated and a part of them wished they had never found out in the first place.  But then they realized that those were her last days and they wanted to appreciate her consciously as well as have her be happy and content during the ending of her life.  Naomi told me she was trying to hold it together so that Tiki wouldn't pick up on their grief because they just wanted her to be happy.   I started thinking about unconditional love.  It seemed as though they loved their dog unconditionally.  I could tell in Naomi's eyes and the tremble when she spoke, that she was devastated.  She clearly loved Tiki with all her heart and the idea of never seeing her dog again was unfathomable.  It was obvious that she never held back her love from her, she was her baby.  I started becoming curious about what that kind of love would feel like with another human being, and I began to get some insight concerning what losing a partner or after being together for 40 years would feel like.  If one were truly attached and happy and loved that person with all of their heart, their disappearance would be devastating.  Because of my attachment issues I have never really been capable of that kind of love before.  I began to sense that if date#16 and I kept on like this I could see myself experiencing that kind of love.  I went back to the break room and she was crying, I felt it.  She was grieving.  Tiki was gone, this loss is harsh, it required her to accept the truth that things you love pass on, go out of your reach and she will never see her again.  Grief  especially when it comes to death is multifaceted and it puts many other things in perspective.  She began talking about how much she loved her.  

My inner defiant teenager boiled up inside me and I wanted to scream.  There was no way in hell I was going to bring that kind of grief upon myself.  I already can’t imagine my life without him why on earth would I ever push him away?  If you have been lucky enough to find someone who opens your heart and shakes you yo the core, you know they are divinely given.  I know that I have been lucky enough to experience the sensation of romantic selfless love three times so far in my life.  The other two times, they walked away from me.  I had to accept that they were gone.  I let go of Garp gracefully.   I’d rather not admit the things I did trying to hold on to David, while he was walking away, it’s kind of embarrassing.  When Garp walked away I let go mostly with my dignity intact, but it nearly killed me on the inside.   My amount and stubbornness and holding on to David was in direct proportion to the the level of pain I experienced when letting Garp go.

Okay that’s it, these are the days of the internet, things have just gotten so weird.  I am perusing date#16’s Facebook profile and I find a link to her pintrest profile.  Pintrest is a website where people display images of things they like and interest them.  I go to her pintrest page find a page called “my fake wedding” laden with all of her wedding ideas, some of which have been pinned over the last two days.  Something is not right.  I’ll tell you what not right, me in the head.  Why on earth am I getting involved with this?  My fake wedding?  I’ll tell you what, the next wedding I plan is going to be real!  Oh I couldn’t help myself I had to keep looking, and as I looked deeper into her interests, I became really sad.  This wasn’t going to be easy.  I worried that my hope of his being on the verge of making a break from her is a little moronic. I know that for me endings have come when they could.  I could never force an ending and I still can’t, I don’t want to.  I don’t know what to do, other than keep breathing.  My eyes don't want to see, what’s headed my way.  I have been finding myself praying again, praying to help me stay open, praying that my love will be safe with him.  I just want it to work.  I have done so much work, trying to get better and now that I have found him why isn’t it working?  I’m feeling discouraged, stupid and scared.  Asking myself to stay positive and present is like asking Joan Rivers to be satisfied with her appearance.  I don’t want this to be about her.  I want this to be about us, he and I.  Am I good enough?  Am I what he wants? Because if I’m not, please I beg you, have a heart and let me go.  Please let me go.  I want to know if those feelings he has are easy to ignore or if they nag at him during the day and make him want to see me even though he is conflicted, even though he is not supposed to want to.  This is not how I thought this story would go.  Again I thought I could just walk away. Fuck, maybe I should.  Why can’t I just walk away?  I’m so confused.  At least I know I’m not alone, we are confused together.  I guess the reason I am staying is because I want to be his friend and I believe I always will.  I know that sounds horribly cliche and stupid but it’s what is true for me now and thats the best I can do.  I’m not sure I possess the amount of maturity it will take to really just be friends, I can’t see how in the world that will be possible.  I am so afraid I’m losing this battle, the battle within myself.  Dear god, have mercy on me, please make him decide to end it with her before monday.  

         He’s here he’s alive, not dead.  I must proceed with reckless abandon, I must proceed toward a full surrender.  

when you don't know what to do, be yourself

I believe he was a rock climber and I think she was a little older than him.  I noticed her independence.  She didn’t seem to cling to him or present herself as needy in his presence.  I remember him telling stories of his travels at the Thanksgiving dinner table and I noticed she didn’t become agitated or jealous.  I filed that away in the cabinet of my consciousness.  I was nineteen years old.  I pondered their dynamic and wondered how long they would last.  I think on some level I felt like he was a drifter and was just passing through my friend’s mom, and her four kid’s lives.  Over the last 12 years I have seen them together at the farmers market, the grocery store and restaurants.  Last week, while I was driving an image of them popped into my head.  There was something about my energy with date#16 that felt similar to what I had witnessed between them all those years ago.  

A few days later I pulled into a parking spot at Whole Foods and noticed my friends mom’s boyfriend was standing outside of the car next to me, talking to his dogs through the window.  I paused and wondered if I should explore and see if there was anything I could learn from this coincidence.  In a split second I opened my mouth not fully sure of what was to come out, and said,

“I know this is really weird, but I remember you from many years ago, are you still with Kelsey's mom?”

“Yes”, He said.

“ I just have been thinking about you guys lately because I am seeing someone and I feel like it mirrors your vibe with her” 

“Well thats a good sign”, he said

I smiled and agreed. 

 “What is it? What makes it work for you two? How have you stayed together for so long?”, I asked.

“We are ourselves and we continue to be willing to being ourselves more and more” 

I nodded my head smiling.  He commented that no one has ever approached him like that before.  And perhaps he should be more forth coming when he feels the need to take such a risk.  I said “Yeah, it’s so worth it”.  He thanked me for asking.  Lucy and I went in the store.  It seems that I have had many spiritual awakenings as a result of impromptu meetings at the grocery store.  I thanked the universe for yet another divine grocery interaction.   Monday turned into Tuesday and I successfully stayed sane until his phone call in the late afternoon.  His voice sounded sweet and mature coming through the phone, letting me know that he was off work.  I think I have only heard his voice over the phone maybe three times because he usually can only receive and send texts.  But since he lost his phone last week, he borrowed one to call me to set up our meeting time.  I pointed out that it felt weird to hear his voice over the phone and wondered if he was in there, inside of my phone.  He laughed.  I asked him if he wanted to come over before Lucy went to bed so we could all go to the beach.  He said yes.  We met at my house, grabbed our wetsuits and headed out.  We played in the water for a few hours, Lucy howled as she watched him glide over the surface of the waves on his skim board and we observed him in his element.  I love watching Lucy grow up in the ocean as well.  

This weekend when I was driving back from Lylah’s party I read a billboard that read, “The family that plays together stays together”.  We felt like family.  I asked him to watch Lucy so I could go out into the water.  I handed her over to him and he held her and I went out past the break,  I was free.  I was free to be myself.   I was free to experience fun again.  I haven’t felt like this since I was nineteen.  I swam for a few minutes, completely at peace.   

The three of us packed up,  left the beach and went back to my house.  We drove home happy.  

“That was so fun” he said, more than once.

It was.  We when we got back to my house he helped me carry stuff up the stairs.  He also made a comment when we left the beach wondering how I could get Lucy and the stroller up the stairs at the beach by myself.  We came inside and I took a shower, while he and Lucy watched silly animals on youtube.  We took pictures of us all making funny faces on my computer.  When I looked at them later on, he looked like he was supposed to be there.  I put Lucy to bed.  Once she was asleep, it was the two of us in the space of my house.  The space of the unknown once again.  He hugged me in the kitchen,  we felt drawn and then he stared making that noise.  It’s a whiney combination of empathy and guilt, I think.  I became hyper aware of what was about to transpire, and listened.  It was clear, he was back together with her.    All I could think was “What am I supposed to do?”.   No matter how hard I logically thought about it in my head, I could’t find a solution.  I believed that he was back together with her, it wasn’t that I didn’t,  it was just that it seemed so wrong.  I was frozen again, the sadness was filling up my body like a toxic fluid and it was only a matter of time before it came gushing out my eyes.  I felt a heaving in my chest and stomach, pain and anger in my heart.  Questions spun through my mind but I remained calm.  I didn't lecture, instead I leaned on him.  I wasn't sure if I felt pathetic or if I felt safe.  Strangely enough the next right thing was just to let him hold me.  Following that I didn't go to anger, I went to panic.  I started to feel like I was about to leave my body, I began tapping and quickly assessed how I would be able to remain present.  I considered listening to a song that helped comfort me during that week and figured it would either make me feel better or worse.  I heard the first couple notes and I felt better.  I took some deep breaths and continued making dinner.  But the second I started to see the chili come out of the can I felt like I was going to vomit.  He asked if I wanted him to finish making dinner.  I said yes.  I started crying. I walked over to the chair in front of my computer and firmly said, “You're an idiot”.  

“I know”, he said.  

“I’m so mad at you” I said to him.

  He started warming up the chili.   I started dancing in my living room.  I swayed just letting my emotions wash over me.  There was no other way to survive this.  I couldn't pull it together an pretend I was alright.  The only way I knew how to deal was to move my body and let my sadness dance me.  For a moment I became a little self conscious.  In an instant I remembered what had happened in the parking lot of the grocery store earlier that day.  Just be myself, I thought.  And with a giant exhale and a collapse in surrender, I let go.  I let it all go.  I lost sight of all expectations.  I swung my arms and leaned forward, I twisted my spine, my head tilted and lead the way.  I let all of my pain writhe up and rise up the back of my neck.  My face relaxed and I listened to the beauty of the notes.  Over and over and over, I found relief in the lyrics.  This song was proof that at one time someone had been as confused and in as much pain as I was and had turned it into beautiful music.  I acknowledged the collapse of my plan and understood my powerlessness.  I know nothing.  I am real, I am human.  I let go of the idea that he would think I was weird, I let go of the idea that he would think I was unique.  I relinquished my sadness and just moved to the rhythm of defeat.  I opened my mind to the possibility that I could keep waiting, after all I couldn’t imagine my life without him.  Which is not the same as I’d die without him,  I just feel that I would always choose to keep him around.   I smashed myself deeper into the carpet and curled into a ball on the floor  This is what it feels like to lose.  The melody filled me with wonderment and the true unpredictability of life, the fragility of reality.   I was reminded how everything can shift and change in an instant.  It makes me grateful for this moment right now.  I noticed he was watching me dance, as I exhaled all of  my fear, pain and control.  I just let it be.  The next time I looked up, he was sitting on my bed with his face in his hands.  I walked over to him and put my hands on his shoulders.  He looked up at me, tears forming.  I thought, then hesitated, then pushed on through.  I whispered in his ear “move with me”.  I took his hands and helped him stand up.  I had no fear.  I began to dance with someone I was mad at.  It’s a release like no other.   I gave more of my weight than I normally would just to make him catch me.  I lifted him over my back and took more risks, we threw each other.  He was present and I think we conversed more with ourselves than we did with each other.  Eventually our movements shifted and became fun and playful like two little puppies.  We both felt better.  We started talking.  We talked a lot.  We are learning to use our mouths as peacemakers.  As instruments of change and exchange.  Together we walked the line.  I amaze myself at what I am sharing and he amazes me too.  I felt our intimacy begin to wrap around each other, bulking and sticking like cotton candy.  He was able to tell me his feelings with much less hesitation this time.  I wanted to kiss him so bad.  His sticky sweet intimacy was tugging at my heart,  the hurt sunk into my back.  I told him what my mouth wanted to do, kiss him deeply.   He said that he really wanted to try and make it right with her.  I understood.  I wasn’t telling him so that he would kiss me.  I was saying it out loud because I was thinking it.   

He decided to spend the night.  I got into bed and rolled away from him.  I knew he was wanting things to be right and I wasn’t going to override his boundaries.  I rolled back over to him and said, “I’m hurting”, then rolled back toward the wall.  He gave me his hand.  I fell asleep.

He must have started kissing me while I was sleeping, because I woke up to his lips on mine.  He was driven, his energy was heightened, he was drinking me like a big glass of water, following a deep thirst for days.  I wanted him too.  As soon as I realized what was going on I opened the door and let him in.  Our bodies began, pulling, smacking, pushing, skin tugging, hair falling, I became absorbed by his momentum.  Green light.  I moved toward his drawstring.  I paused, met his eyes and asked if he wanted me to stop, he pushed my head into him, I took him in.  He is so safe for me, I loved it.  I was in a pretty deep sleep when I woke up to him so the whole thing kind of feels like a dream,  he pushed me from underneath.  

Her competition and my stone face, he wants everyone to be happy, but when feelings like this are involved, how? Our arms and legs moved in support,  gliding over each others surfaces.  We tumbled, rolling over each other.  We exchanged looks, a look of scarcity,  a look of seriousness.  How can the dimension of strong emotions be subsided when no one is denying how they feel?  He resisted kissing me earlier in the night because he thought it was right, but his instincts told him to keep taking me, over and over again.  He was positioning me with his emotion, his breath, and with his lust.  It was lust, pure lust. He and I came and went in waves.  I walked out of the bed.  I needed some air.  I grabbed some music and ate some chocolate on the front porch, the street lights were shining, the air was cold, it was quiet.  Still out of breath, my bricks were stacked atop one another, but I left before the motor was spread between them.  I was on my way to inner peace.  I felt my insides settle.  It was intense.  

I came back inside, I avoided eye contact with him, I wasn’t mad, I was emotionally shaken.  I had fallen asleep with a deep sadness and pain because I had to keep my lips away from his, and was awakened by a collision of desire, it was confusing.  I pulled out some paper, charcoal and pastels.  I drew bold shapes, silhouettes and drew them by candle light, my facing away from him.  When the feelings had subsided, I turned around.  He was on the edge of the bed facing me asleep.  I had the feeling he might have been watching me for a while.  I wanted to bring the candle over to the night table and just stare at his beautiful face, but I didn’t, I watched from a distance.  I was still hiding a little.  I got a little closer.  Eventually I kissed him, he opened his eyes, looking scared.  I smiled at him and his face relaxed and matched mine.  I think he thought I was mad at him.  It was a crescendo of strong emotions.  I came back to bed and we held each other close all night.  I just kept breathing.  

I am not afraid of melancholy.  I don’t fear my intensity anymore.  I am the kind of person, who stays up all night because the ideas just won’t stop.  I am the person who shuts down and opens back up in a matter of 5 minutes.  I am the woman who used to get drunk on a daily basis and smoke cigarettes until my fingernails were yellow just so I could carry on a conversation.  I have been apologizing for my melancholy my whole life.  I am deep, passionate, I want what I want and I want to create.  I want to be heard, I want to be seen, and I can love because I am raw, exposed, and things that stand in my way, get moved.  I am the type who gives second chances.  I am easily influenced by people who inspire me.  I like to talk things around in circles until the make sense.  I am a writer, not a wronger.

I feel better,  better than I ever have.  There is a completeness that resides in me.  He feels like family.  I am vacillating between pure peace and ease and anger.  I am angry because I don’t want to look like a fool.  I don’t want anyone to pity me.  I feel that when I am vulnerable inevitably I am pitied.  I so badly wish that being open was a trait that our culture revered,  but instead it is equated to weakness.  I will no longer look at kindness and patience as a liability.  I will embrace my sensitive nature and love myself for it.  I don’t need to feel shame for liking him so much.  He even said so himself, he said I don’t need to feel bad about anything.  My mind is a powerful place, if I let go more, is it possible that I could also enjoy my vulnerability more? Since I wont be so worried about what people think of me and allow myself to just be?  I am aware of my breathing.  I    imagine myself holding a bucket full of warm soapy water, the pane of glass in front of me is so dirty it is casting a shadow,  light can barely shine through.  The shadow, wants to keep me dark hidden away from love and hidden from people.  I l%^e him. I *#e him, I #@ve his eyes, I lo*^ his body and I lo^# his heart.  I can’t quite use that word yet because it doesn’t fit any other description of love that I have known before meeting him.  I want to know more. I want to know all about him.  I want to be free.  I want to be free to do whatever feels right.  I have spent so long holding back.  My whole life could be defined by things I didn’t do.  I do believe that life is precious and not to be wasted.  I must be patient, I must be kind and everything I do can be a conscious endeavor.