Sunday, December 28, 2014

a husband's hurt

My heart hurts to see him struggle. 

I want to tell him it's sink or swim time but I'm already terrified of having another one drown. 

I feel bad that he's having to deal with this alone because when we got married I promised I'd be there. But he left me alone, even as I cried and screamed and begged for him to love me, he left me alone.

I'd be an asshole if I didn't care at all, but it makes me angry to hurt for him. I've hurt for him enough. 

Saturday, December 27, 2014

a letter to my son (and other unmotivated individuals who believe it's supposed to be easy)

You made a comment at your cousin's on Christmas Day that really encapsulates everything that infuriates me about you, everything that I fear for you.

I ask that before you grow defensive at my words, you consider them carefully, with the knowledge that they come from someone pretty damn smart, with experience, who loves you dearly and wants nothing but the best for you.

Your cousin asked if you had considered which nursing school you were going to attend. 

You replied simply, "I dont know, I have options."

No sir, no you do not have options, not at the moment anyway. You most certainly don't have any good options and you damn sure don't have a plan.

What you have is $15,000+- in a bank account that was intended to pay for your education. 

You have a laptop that was bought for you with that money. 

You also have a set of bedroom furniture, television, entertainment center, punching bag, and desk that your parents have given you. 

Wow. That's a damn good start. But do you know what you don't have? You don't have options and you don't have options because you don't have a job, you don't have a car, you don't have any employable skills or experience, and apparently you don't have a whole lot of integrity. 

That's a concept you should study. Integrity. It's a lot more than just a word. Without it? A man has nothing. With it? Nothing can destroy a man.

But integrity won't get you anywhere if you're not willing to put forth the effort, to roll your sleeves up and work for good, work for your independence. 

You've recently been offered several available options - the VFD, the Nurse Practioner in my office, an entire first semester of college during which you did not have to work - and you have squandered each of those. I think you believe options and opportunities are limitless, always available when you decide you are ready to take advantage of them. That's not the way opportunity works. Sometimes you only get one chance. 

The more time and resources (and trust) you squander, the more your options shrink.

And what happens when you run out of options? You hope your mom will let you live with her while you work some minimum wage bullshit job?

That's going to suck! Especially if your mom is pissed off at you because you won't wash your clothes, clean your bedroom and take care of your dog. 

You don't have options. You have a C and a D in two first semester college courses, an absolutely disgusting bedroom, a pissed off mom who doesn't trust you, and a rapidly shrinking trust fund that I'm not certain will last until you decide to get off your ass and do the right thing. 

You've already let a ton of opportunities pass you by because you were scared, or unwilling to put in the work. Those opportunities are growing fewer and fewer and will begin to require that you work harder and harder. One day they'll stop coming at all. God doesn't keep throwing ropes down for people unwilling to climb.

Saturday, December 6, 2014

a perfect love

It's not love that fails us.

It's people - their failings and faults, their expectations and choices. 

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

life terrors

The Boy was frozen in terror. 

He had fallen. 

In that second all he knew was that he had fallen, like his Daddy, and he wondered if he too would be gone in an instant.

Seconds passed and the terror began to ebb, yet he remained perfectly still, waiting. 
There was a time I wasn't afraid of anything. After losing him I became terrified of everything. 

Years passed and as the terror begins to ebb, I remain perfectly still, waiting.

Friday, September 26, 2014

in a little while

I'm going to stop

and stretch.

I will breathe deep

and know that everything is going to be ok.

God's timing is never wrong,

sometimes it just takes a little while.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

with this ring

I heard from him today. He said he'd like to have his ring back, that he didn't like not wearing it.

All I said was ok.

I couldn't help but wonder if he only wanted it back to throw at me. Perhaps leaving it in the mailbox wasn't enough. 

All women are whores. We give ourselves away for love. Damn shame when you give yourself to a man who doesn't want you. 

We long for that innocence again.

Sunday, September 7, 2014


Somehow his inability, or unwillingness, to forgive me allowed me to finally forgive myself. 

Saturday, September 6, 2014


When you have someone who is as emotionally unavailable and emotionally absent as he is, it's amazing how small the void is when he's physically gone.

I find that very sad. 

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

polka dots and daisies

You can have the life you want.

You get the life you build.

Polka dots and daisies are a pretty solid foundation.

Saturday, August 23, 2014


I wasn't moving fast enough this morning.

I was still here when he started loading things onto the borrowed trailer. 

It only took an hour but with each passing minute the bitter taste of regret rose in my mouth. A person can do a lot to regret in ten years. 

As the hour grew long I became overwhelmed by sorrow, grief settling over me like a heavy blanket. The mourning is not so much for what was, but for what should've been. 

Suddenly the key is on the counter. He doesn't touch me because he knows that will break us both. 

He tells me not to cry and walks out the door.

He is gone. 

I will cry until I feel better. Then I will eat and live and laugh and love.

We will all be ok.

Saturday, August 16, 2014


I have finally found that place in myself where I can simply be.

It's a tremendous relief. 

Thursday, August 14, 2014

nothing left to say

We were having a conversation about how it wasn't healthy for us to continue to try to live in the same house now that we had decided to divorce. 

I remarked that I was fine until I came home. 

He responded that he had not been fine anywhere, anytime.

Before I could stop myself, I whirled around on him and all but spat, "I guess not, you've been walking around for seven years not really thinking there was a problem. I'm the one that's been running around for seven years hollering that our marriage was falling apart." 

He just stared at me. 

I took a breath and said, "I'm sorry, this isn't very helpful," before grabbing my bag and walking out the door. I'm not sure what else he wants me to say.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Saturday night's alright

You know you've reached a whole new level when you find yourself alone, in a bar, listening to a bad ass band on a Saturday night. 

I'm still trying to decide if this is a new high or a whole new low. 

Wednesday, July 16, 2014


If there's one thing we do well, it's polite aloofness. 

I imagine that will make things a lot easier. 

As bad as this sucks, it's not necessarily a bad thing. I prefer to look at it as though he's done me a favor, perhaps even sacrificed something to do so. That, I can appreciate. 

Perhaps he figures this is my only chance for happiness. 

Monday, July 14, 2014

no point

He told his mother today. 

She said oh no, counseling doesn't work. 

Well of course it doesn't work when your husband is gay. 

He explained, no, it wasn't that, it was that at the first session the counselor asked them if they were there to fix it or not and he said, "not."

Yea, I know all about that. My momma answered the same question the same way when I was 15 and yea, counseling doesn't help a damn bit then. 

Sunday, July 13, 2014


He says he thinks we should just end the marriage. 

He says that he doesn't want to go to a marriage counselor because he doesn't want to bare his soul to a stranger. 

"You can't even bare your soul to me," I retorted. 



I can't say I'm surprised, but it's still disappointing to have it confirmed that you're just not worth the effort. 

Of course, that may not be fair to say. After all, he has put up with me for ten years and that takes a tremendous effort in itself. 

Thursday, July 10, 2014


So I came home to pizza and the news that he has to meet with his boss in the morning because he's been fucking up and "not putting as much effort into it as maybe he should". 

I asked him if he found it incredibly ironic that if he got fired tomorrow it would be because he wasn't putting forth enough effort because he didn't want to be there anyway. He said no, that he didn't think it was ironic, he thought it was just sad. 

I don't think he gets the correlation. I find it absolutely fucking incredible!!!

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

never again

I was living with my Daddy's sister when I tried to kill myself. I had been dropped off there 8 months earlier, shortly after my 16th birthday. 

"I'll always be your Daddy, I'll always love you," he told me as we traveled. 

I was the one who had wanted to leave. I'd been begging to leave since 2nd grade. He was angry that I was destroying his family and forcing him to choose between me and my Momma. I had walked away from the house, sleeping in the woods during an epic snowtorm, refusing to live at home again as long as she was still there. 

I loved my Daddy but I swore that I would never again live in a house with people who did not love me. 

So he took me to his sister's house two states away. I didn't really know her, but figured it was better than home. He promised he would stay in touch, that he would come see me, that he would always love me. 

He left several days later, assured that I would stay put and stay out of trouble. He said I could call him anytime I wanted, as much as I wanted and that he'd always love me.

Eigth months passed and I hadn't seen him. Momma and I weren't speaking, which was fine with me, but he told me that I couldnt call the house anymore because it upset her. I needed to call him at work if I wanted to talk to him. I went to school and worked while he was at work. 

I was in a strange place, with someone else's family, hanging out with someone else's friends. 

I don't remember what pushed me over the edge. Maybe I called the house only to be hung up on, or told to call him back at work the next day. Maybe I called my Granny and got some snarky lecture about how bad I was fucking up my life. Maybe I was just exhausted. I didn't sleep much back then.

I just remember the overwhelming swell of every emotion I'd ever felt, followed by a devastating emptiness that settled over me like a thick fog. It didn't matter, it wasn't worth it. Nothing mattered. 

I knew absolutely nothig about pharmacology at that point in my life so I didn't realize that the bottle of prescription strength decongestant woud counteract the bottle of OTC sleeping pills. Had I only taken one or the other, I probably would've gone to sleep and simply not woken up. Instead I took all of both. I was fucked up for three days, and sick as a damn dog all night. 

I remember pin-balling my way down the hallway, my heart pounding so loudly in my ears I was certain the laughing family in the living room could hear it. After puking for what seemed like an eternity, pissed that things weren't going according to plan, I grabbed the bathroom counter to steady myself and looked up. My reflection startled me - pale, with hollowed eyes and pupils so large my green eyes looked black as coal. 

I swore I would never again allow myself to slip that far. 

I pin-balled through the next coulple of days...wandering the halls of the high school, being led to class by my cousins and their friends, unable to remember my new locker combination. They all laughed at how high I was.

When the new year rolled around, and I still hadn't seen or heard from my Daddy, I told my aunt what I'd done. I heard her on the phone later that night. 

"I don't care," she said angrily. "I didn't think this was going to be permanent. You better bring your ass down here and see her.....even if you just send her a card a either do something or you come get her." 

A few days later my Daddy showed up. He was pissed. He left with assurances that I'd stay put and that I'd stay out of trouble. 

He sent me a card a week for 6-8 weeks. They were sweet cards with thoughtful pre-fab messages. He signed them using his first name.

My aunt put me on lockdown. I had to quit my job and couldn't even go outside to smoke without an escort. No one ever took me to a doctor or anything. It stayed that way until the end of the school year when I moved to anther state to live with my snarky Granny. 

I will never again live in a house where I am not loved. I will never again slip that far. And I will never again beg someone to love me. 

My husband doesn't seem to get that, but then again, he may not have heard that story. 

Sunday, July 6, 2014


As we're lying in the dark, unable to sleep after an argument, we have the following conversation:

Me: If I could afford the house payment and rent I would move out.

Him: What?

Me: I think that's one of those perception things. I think you think I'm playing when I talk about running away from home but I'm not.

Him: Well that's unfortunate.

We are then silent, the weight of that left unsaid is suffocating. 

Friday, June 20, 2014


I told him again yesterday that I was lonely. 

Earlier today I told him that I felt like walking off into the woods. 

A bit later he told me he was sorry I was depressed, that he was depressed too. He said this wasn't the life he'd pictured 5-6 years ago, which is when he started his last job.

A bit later, as he concentrated on his phone screen, I asked why the heavy sigh.

He said he feels like his life is a disaster.

"Welcome to the club," I muttered.

I asked what had made him sigh. 

He said he's felt like a failure for two months, since his job was taken out from under his feet. 

He never wanted that job to start with. Hated it, thought it was beneath him and made that clear to everyone.

He said it didn’t help that this new job had lied to him.

He never wanted that job to start with. Hated it, thought it was beneath him and made that clear to everyone.

He said that the dog was whining.

I didn’t know what else to say so I told him I was sorry and asked what we were going to do about it.

"I don't know," he answered. "I don't know who's whining."

I said, "no, the other thing."

He came back with, "I don’t know, try to find a way to not be miserable I guess."

He got up and let the dogs out, standing on the porch for a few minutes, fussing at them playing. He came inside, collapsed back into his recliner.

From the bedroom we heard the cat meow. He sighed heavily and we fell into silence, the only noise - the background drone of some talking head, an angry bird outside, and the creak of his recliner as he reached for his soda. 

What a disaster. I can almost hear that damn cuckoo clock. 

Saturday, June 7, 2014


It's no one's fault. 

He is who he is and I love him dearly.

I am who I am. 

There's not a lot we can do to change that but I am lonely and miserable. 

I will not spend  the next 40 years feeling that way.

It's no one's fault. 


He says he's a light sleeper.

His wife can stay up for more than two hours, in the same room, crying every now and then. 

He doesn't notice.

I just want to go home. I don't belong here anymore, with him. I am a stranger here. I am alone. 

I don't have a home anymore. The Boy's Daddy had been the only home I'd ever known. It was hard to rebuild after he died, to create a new home, without him.

But we did it, and now he is taking that away from me and has the audacity to wonder why I'm pissed.

I've been here before, lying awake in the middle of the night, in tears because I am unwanted and unimportant, angry that the mere fact I feel that way isn't even worth discussion. 

I left when I was 15 and swore I would never go back so what in the hell am I doing here??

Saturday, May 31, 2014


The conversation was very simple. 

Me: I've decided I'm emotionally unavailable.

Him: Oh yea?

Me: Yea. 


Me: I decided this when I was reading about it because I thought you were emotionally unavailable. 

Him: Oh yea?

Me: Yea.

Him: Oh


Him: But you decided you were emotionally unavailable? 

Me: Yea.


Me: Well I still think you are too.

Him: Oh yea?

Me: Yea.

Him: Oh.


Him: So we're both emotionally unavailable? 

Me: Yea.

Him: Oh.


Him: I guess there are worse things to be.

Me: hearty laugh

Me: Well yea, I guess there are worse things to be.


Him: Something else about the dog that has vomited several times today.

And the conversation continued on that subject for a few minutes before he got up and went inside.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

and so he stays

They say that I still haven't let go. 

I'm not sure that I can. That ache is too much to bear. 

He kept me company in my solitude, quiet, unintrusive - simply there, a part of it, a part of me. That hasn't changed with his death. 

No one else has tried to take that position, no one else has wanted to stand that close. 

And so he stays. Just as he promised. 

Until I am ok. 

Wednesday, May 7, 2014


People are assholes. 

I'm not talking about other people. We're all assholes.

The difference between me and Daddy is that he thinks everyone has good in them but are assholes at the core while I think everyone is an asshole with a good heart at the core.

Sunday, May 4, 2014


An astrologist says that now is the time of acceptance, that we are all supposed to be working to accept the past. 

She also says you must have acceptance before forgiveness. 

I acknowledged, but perhaps that is not the same as accepted.

Thursday, May 1, 2014

forgive me if I don't say hello

There's a difference between blogging and writing. 

I have a hard time blogging. It is social, interactive. 

I find it to be very awkward. 

I love the anonymity that comes from writing - it's nothing but you and your thoughts scrawled across the page. I also love the little thrill that comes with the realization that someone has read those thoughts and responded to them. 

Proper blogger etiquette requires interaction and reciprocal blog visits and commenting. That kind of freaks me out and makes me clam up. 

I can spew my heart across the page and even know that it is being read, but the minute I talk to you I become more exposed, you become real. It removes the anonymity. 

I become vulnerable. I begin to squirrel away the thoughts. What was once hastily scribbled lines across a napkin or restaurant ticket shoved in pockets has become hurriedly typed snippets shoved  in digital notepads. 

No one ever sees it. Because I don't want to talk about it. 

I'll never be able to talk about it, not in a way that anyone would understand. But, I might be able to write it. 

I'm a bit timid. Please forgive me if I don't say hello.