12 year anniversary

September 16, 2006, we used to to say it'd be easy to remember because our area code was "916" and so was our anniversary.  So far it's worked, neither he nor I have forgotten.  I've not really taken notice of it, however.  It's something I think about the day before and then suddenly realize it was yesterday.  It doesn't sit on my head until I get angry with it or sad with it.  Thankfully it keeps to itself.  This year I was up at my boyfriend's house sanding the school's wooden sign that I'd taken as a project.  I got covered in redwood dust, I sweat, I felt proud of what I'd accomplished.  The day prior I was debriefing with my sweetie about being thankful for all of it.  Then I called Ethan and told him too, albeit through some tears.

I'm happy just now.  There are many things I would change, these are mostly trappings and so not really important.  I'd not go back and change anything though.  I'd marry him, I'd make babies with him, I'd go bankrupt with him, I'd live in tiny weird houses and clean up dog diarrhea from the carpet with him.  And while I'd never ever want to go through it again, I'd even have him leave me.  I love the changes that I see in myself since this all began.  I clearly remember who I was when we were married, who I was when I held baby Rosanna in my arms who I was when I called him to find out where he was and learned that he was sitting next to her and they hadn't kissed yet.  And then, having had a major life-spolsion, going on so very many dates- a necessary experience that shifted my world view dramatically and permanently. 

I am so different than I used to be!  I love it.  I would absolutely change my children's confusion and hurt.  To take that away I'd do almost anything.  And yet I also am reminded often to trust.  So I do (it's more rewarding and less stressful than the alternative) and I imagine a way in which this betrayal will serve them in their lives, I imagine how it's all perfect.  This struggle was sent to me to give me an opportunity to "level up", to remember that I am a powerful woman who makes things happen and to practice being love even when it seems impossible.   I'm working, working, working on these things daily.  I'm communicating even when it feels dangerous and reaping the rewards, I'm loving through the seemingly unlovable moments and I'm noticing how much that changes things.

What an awesome practice field my life is. 

Tucked Away

Away, tucked away in layers of cotton and breath.
I so hurriedly herded and encouraged and needed you there.
I held your half grown self firmly against me, absorbed your heat, your smell, your relentless adoration.

My heart pricked with the shame of my shortcomings.

Out from her mouth spilled the verbal commitment of her heart to me, her appreciation of her existence.  And I no longer wanted to give her to the night.
I needed her to know how sorry I am for showing up to this task with a nearly empty tank.
It's not ok.
I should be able to do it anyway.
I wanted to wail at her feet and beg for the day back- to not yell, to not speak harshly, to hold hands, to be still and listen, to be on the floor and catch all the moments that cannot be retrieved in these mourning hours of the night.

I wanted to promise that by tomorrow I will have it figured out.
I will be outfitted, somehow overnight, with the gear I need to be that mom. 
Maybe I just don't have the correct candle scent warming and filling my nostrils,
maybe the motivational quote on my computer screen isn't potent enough,
maybe the GMOs in my snacks are impacting my brain function.
Whatever it is, I wanted to promise her to have it solved and resolved by 8am tomorrow.

Of course I don't actually share any of this. 
Look at her.
She sees only perfection in me.
Why would I trouble her world when all of this only exists in mine.

She falls from my grip like a felled tree, vibrating the bed frame, sending the creatures surrounding her into the air, collapsing the pillow up around her face.

A Gift

I'm pretty aware of the effect my mind's wanderings has on my overall feeling of wellness.  Letting my mind settle into all the ways I am pissed at my circumstance results in mindless eating, grumpier responses to my children, blah-ness.  The opposite tends to be true as well: tending to the awesomeness begets more awesomeness in all the ways.

I received a gift today.  I am certain I receive them every day, and this one was obvious.  This is my journey to reprogram my mind to pay attention to the gifts and therefore create a shift in my life toward the possibilities.  For the purposes of this journey I am choosing to assert that the gifts are not happenstance.  It's more fun and meaningful that way.

Today my girls and I arrived at the river a full ten minutes early.  This is significant because by all calculations, based on commitments from earlier in the day plus the added time it takes to accomplish most anything when you add children to the mix, we should have been late.  I actually had a conversation with myself a few hours prior just to acknowledge that today we weren't going to be on time and that, this time, that could be ok.  

So there we were, before all of our friends arrived, chairs set up, kayak in the water, sunscreen applied, be-hatted: ready.  It was quiet.  The sand was hot from being undisturbed all morning, soaking up the heat.  The three of us had ventured into the first few inches of sublimely cool water, and I was taking it all in.  When I looked downstream I saw I hawk meandering through the sky toward us.  Not even really in the sky, I'd say, but following along the canyon and river 100 feet or so above the water.  I pointed the raptor out to the girls, and took an other moment to observe it myself.  It wasn't a turkey vulture for sure, definitely a prey bird.  But something wasn't familiar about it.  By the time it was nearly overhead I lost it, "OMIGOODESS!!! A BALD EAGLE!!! GIRLS!! GIRLS!! LOOK!!!"  A freaking bald eagle!!!  I knew they existed in the canyon but I'd never seen one, and this dude was right overhead.  It was surreal.  I implored my children: this was something that most people never get to see, like ever.  Rosanna replied, "And WE got to see it!"

Today I am thankful for that gift. For the moments aligning to put us where we were, with our eyes looking, our little family together and peaceful all of us ready to receive it. 

JUST LIKE HIM

I, like you no doubt, have heard the Adele song hundreds of times.  "Someone Like You" emerged when Rosanna was little and I was moved by it.  Her voice was powerful and thick with emotion, she took me along her journey of heartache and longing and I felt as though she were telling my story.  I get emotional like that.  In fact, just last weekend I fought back tears when I overheard a man reminding his wife of her ring size.  He knew it more readily than she did. This is the kind of love I want.  Anyhow- I was listening to that song again today, reminiscing how little RoRo would sing it with me in her lispy 2 year old voice, and it occurred to me that the song is even more sad than it seems.  

Think on it for a tick: she is still so stricken by this love lost that she seeks the man long after the romance has died.  So long, in fact, that he is completely over it and is taken aback that she has shown up again.  Despite this, she croons to us that it is no biggie, not to worry, she'll find another JUST LIKE HIM.  **Girlfriend**: unless we're looking to relive the situation that caused you to write an epic-ly moving and wildly popular love song- I suggest we shift our focus to someone NOT like him.   OR she is making deeper observations about the nature of human beings to choose the same situation over and over again through different people/scenarios while still incurring the same results- thus "finding someone like you" is inevitable.  

That's really not why I sat down to write this evening.  I sat down to give myself a genuine high five.  I heard a piece of the song differently tonight and it gave me a moment of reflection: I have chastised myself for the amount of pain I suffered while my world was disintegrating.  I had, pre-Ethan, built sturdy walls around my vulnerable parts and, as a result of work and love and trust, I had let the man in.  I hated myself a good deal for not being smart enough to stay walled up, while at the same time knowing that "walled up" isn't  a way I want to live.  Ethan, knowing me better than me, insisted that loving is my nature.  He told me I couldn't shut it down even if I wanted to.  He saw in me things that I refused to, he lifted me up (ironically, during the time when his actions were stomping me down) and promised that who I am is amazing.  I am acknowledging some of this now, and this little snippet of the song brought it into new light:

"Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead

Nothing compares, no worries or cares
Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made
Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?"

I heard it like this: it's all perfect.  There is no choice but to live through all the moments, without endless second guessing and analyzation, the result isn't promised- so we just live it.  Then! this song comes on, and I was like, "HELL YEAH":

"I hope you fall in love and it hurts so bad- the only way you can know is give it all you have....."

SO -you guys- IT HURT SO BAD.  Just thinking about the hurt is making me cry again.  From this I can discern that I freaking gave my all.  I am so proud that I gave my all.  What a waste if I hadn't.  I am so proud that I hung on to my marriage and made gargantuan attempts to make it right.  I am so stinking proud of myself for the stubborn clinging and no-shit honoring of a commitment.  I'm also proud of the moment I decided that I was worth more than what I was fighting for, so I took out my scissors and, through mind-numbing sobbing, cut loose the life I was promised.  

For record, it still hurts...just not as bad.