grief is a faithful dog

grief is a faithful dog

and still

i remain true


preparing to receive love

standing tall

chin up

alluring, magnetic field unfolds

and now the past is too little

too late

desiring deep love

my beloved

my truth

my centered self

tasting fulfillment

with pure intentions

magnetized attraction
 

the silver lining

I've heard this exact compliment before.

I collect compliments like some people collect coins. I also have saved every thank you card/note I received since I was in college. At first, I kept the notes in a small tin. As the notes grew, so did the size of the tin until I finally had to get a large hat box. If I ever doubt who I am, I can open my sunflower covered hat box and see a sea of compliments. Sometimes, all I have to do is open the box and touch the notes and move them around and I feel better. Gratitude by osmosis. Although I am more than grateful for every time someone calls me gorgeous or beautiful, it's the unusual people and unique compliments I remember the most.

Time has paid me a compliment. The pain is different now. I don't think it's ever going to go away, it's just going to change. So my best friend right now is time. We're almost at the one year mark. What will it take for us to feel the sparkle of the silver lining. I wonder when are we one moment away from the other side of the rainbow.

I want one!

Although I haven't read "Fifty Shades of Grey," nor have I seen the movie "Magic Mike," I did watch an entire season of "Sex and the City" while on vacation. While I realize they are all fictional characters, I find these women to be so sexually free it's fascinating. My reality is always far better than fiction and I am ready for some crazy, stupid love. Like Carrie admitted once, "I just need to feel the weight of a man on me." 

a greater spirit

I aspired to be a greater spirit.

I made mistakes.

I aspired to be a sweeter spirit.

I learned.

The fact that anything I ever did contributed to his downward spiral inspires me to prove my truth.

I aspired to be a sexier spirit.

I longed. 

I did everything I knew to do.

Key word. "I"

I got help, got services, got ideas, got inspiration, got faith, got HOPE, got books, got therapy, got meds, got toys, got connected, got tuned in.

There are no victims here. Just circumstances.

I aspired to be a simpler spirit.

I told him the truth.

All of it. Too much truth. I gave him, Dr. Phil style, get to business, here's the deal, let's do x, y and z truth. He needed softer, subtler truths. He was damaged. Patch one hole and a new one would appear.

Now I know. I know for sure; although, I had come clean entirely, he still had secrets. Bigger than life secrets that he never, not once admitted to me or any of our therapists over a TWO YEAR reconciliation period in any way. I see hints now. If I had aspired to be a better wife, I may have noticed the subtle hints he did leave... I was tired. Better became harder and harder. Hope became dimmer and dimmer.

I know not what is worse. Not being trustworthy enough to be told the truth, or knowing he died by his own volition based on his truth. More shitty secrets, and he left an easy trail that only I could find. He wanted me to be able to connect the dots. It didn't need to connect the dots to know where he'd taken his soul. The trail was a sad, gut wrenching, implausible, are you fucking kidding me journey. I keep thinking I'm going to find a note somewhere. Some kind explanation of how he felt we'd be better off without him.  How ridiculous. I still don't see the silver lining there. Fatherless children in an age where his pain was manageable, if one only asks for and wants the help.

What about the girls? He left them no note. He made a mean choice. How mean and violent and selfish. I have been outright blamed in writing and face-to-face conversation for his death.

I made mistakes.

But I never stopped trying. To fix me. To fix us. I told him he didn't need fixing, just tweaking. I admittedly gave up on trying to fix everything. I have solid reasons. My reasons have nothing to do with him, or any man. They were made on my gut. I didn't feel safe. I felt heavy. I felt the way my emotional affair made me feel. Guilty. Confused.

Our journey to wellness was progressive and expensive. We grew so much.... Emotionally, spiritually, sexually. Except for this one secret. His secret; we would've made it. Except he didn't feel like the man I married. My gut knew something was off. And even on a great family vacation, while having a great time, I knew. I needed to end the marriage. Our therapist, gave me this advice:

Don't make a decision on a bad day, during difficult circumstances. Make it on a good day when nothing is wrong.

I still stayed. I still stayed! And that is because I loved him. And we were so good at being parents together. Our girls deserved for me to stay.

Because...

I aspired to be greater.

I aspired to be sweeter.

I aspired to be sexier.

Of all the goodness I aspired to achieve, I never aspired to be richer.

FUCK OFF is pretty much my answer to the blame Dawn drama. But it still hurts. He abandoned three beautiful daughters! It was his choice. His long planned, long threatened, long standing view on problem solving. He succeeded. Not only did he succeed, but his choice was the worst one can choose! Drowning takes the longest, and is the MOST painful way to die, and it was HIS CHOICE. That is how much pain he felt. His pain in this life had to equal how he ended it. How absolutely tragic and awful as well as totally preventable had he stayed with the systems that were proven to work. The meds worked. But he didn't like taking them. So he didn't. And he faded away...

Our middle child, the one who was closest to him has a tough time in water. She often holds her breath until it hurts. She can't imagine he did not choose her. She's very mad at him. And I love the sea. And I love water. And I'll be damned if she won't swim like a fish and dream like a mermaid despite her loss.

I'm just so sad for him, and them.

And I still do not accept any blame. Suicide is painful for all involved. It is also very mean. Very, Very, Very Mean!

I can pinpoint the month, July, and year, 2008 that my marriage ended; although, I didn't find that insight until I processed his death and all the circumstances leading up to his death. Summer 2008 was supposed to be the summer of fun. Money was flowing. Girls were healthily growing. And he was suicidal. And I was numb with fear.

I didn't even know he was depressed. Much less thinking of dying! How can you not share that with the person you have trusted your entire being with, the person you call your best friend. I came home from our doctor toting free drugs and a survey having three of seven symptoms for anxiety and depression. I handed him the survey. He had all seven. We cried. We took the pills. Once the medicine started to work, he got sadder and weepier and remorseful for what he called "leaving us." The pills made him sleep better, feel better and think clearer. It's the thinking part that he always struggled with most.

Then came autumn. Then came hope. Hope that I was great, sweet, sexy. I had some secrets of my own. My HOPE came in via email and mp3files. Not one, but two music men filled my proverbial inbox with compliments and personal performances any girl would blush to receive. My husband even saw my blushes. He knew about the songs. We were spending 1-2 hours a day connecting and communicating. He said, "I can't write music and sing to you, but I can love you like no one else as the father of your children." That seemed plausible. Real. Logical.

Before any songs were ever sung/performed, I confessed my feelings. How could I have such massive, ignite my bones kind of feelings for someone I only saw once, in a group setting. HOW?! I told my husband the truth. I wanted out. He wouldn't budge. Now I look back and see a ton of times manipulated me. Controlled me and I'm not easily reigned in. But my girls are my life. But I wanted to stay. But I could not.

My weapon was always the truth. His was always guilt and thick promises. Declarations of love that I didn't feel. I don't know why. But once I'm gone from a relationship, I'm gone. I even told him that when we met. I said, "I'm a bird. Never try to clip my wings and we'll be fine."

His death did not destroy me. His choice was his own truth. But now I'm left in search of my true love who must also be a GREAT dad. My girls deserve no less than genuine, old fashioned, sweet, undying love.

I aspire to be a better spirit.

I don't aspire to be a better wife. In fact, I don't think I will ever get married again. Now my life is complicated. For now, I'm going to hunker down and simplify motherhood and career. I'd love some great, sweet, sexy man to sweep me off my feet, but after a month on online dating sites, I'm a little weary.

Whatever happened to serendipity.  I know... serendipity is what got me flirting in the first place.

if my pillow could talk

I'm dreaming about him again.
He always comes to me in my dreams.
Sweet, sweet dreams. 
I wake up feeling bold.

But he thinks less is more.
How much less is really less.
I'm full of less. 
How much more must I endure.

joy slumbers on my bed

It seems my darkest hour is behind me. It was actually the whole month of October. I'm not a crier for the most part. I especially don't like crying in front of anyone. I saved most of my tears for late night, or the shower. But October left me crying morning, noon and night. Not for any reason. Just a wave of sadness would hit. No one had to say anything, or do anything. It just hit me like a tidal wave without warning.

I didn't realize I hadn't already been through the worst of it. I thought I was doing great. Staying strong. It wasn't hope keeping me strong, it was survival. I had to keep it together for the girls. Hope was overshadowed by need.

Hope was always brighter when it dawned from fear. Fear of failure. Fear of loss. Thankfully, I don't live in fear anymore. The worst has already happened. So I continue.

I open every door. I keep marching on. Sometimes joy hits me so hard, I feel like running.

After rappelling a breathtaking, 196 foot waterfall in Costa Rica, I enjoyed the passionate kisses of a 28 year old hot, hot Latin man. With our large group well ahead, we kissed. Our only witness, the spray of the waterfall we just descended. After that kiss, I ran, and I mean RAN up the 400+ foot rocky path. The guide leading the way was surprised I wanted to run it, so he ran. I arrived huffing and puffing minutes behind him.  We both smiled and laughed.

Andre, the gorgeous guy in his forties I couldn't help but notice, passed me half way and also met me with a smile. He didn't laugh when I arrived, he told me I started too fast and should've paced myself. Ugh! As if I don't already know that about myself mister! Andre is tall, smart, handsome, educated, athletic, never been married, no kids, great teeth, funny, I could go on. He sat with me at our very first sit down meal. His choice. My radar was on him. Mr. Latino literally came at me like a freight train. He escorted me to my room, to be sure my bags arrived safely. I opened the door and my breath was taken away with the view. An active volcano and floor to ceiling windows will do that to you. He made a noise that called my attention back to him, another grand view,  and he called the view beautiful, but said I was "wild beautiful" and before I blinked an eye he was right there, arms embracing me and already kissing me before I could truly comprehend. He was sweet and tender rough. So me! Not bad for a first kiss. Not bad for an older woman. Not bad at all.

Don't get me wrong, this trip wasn't about men in the slightest, or getting noticed at all. It was my trip to show the girls how we can enjoy life and trust that all will go well. Being kissed was not my mission. But when in Rome...

I only mention the age of Daniel because my radar guessed he was in his twenties. At my age, twenty-eight is a stretch, or so I thought. I was stunned to learn he even noticed me. Of course I noticed him, but the thought never crossed my mind. He was our guide, our Julie from The Love Boat. Plus, there was a super cute, super hot, twenty something girl on our trip. Why bother with the old lady? 

It wasn't Vegas, but I kept that door open. The kissing door is my favorite door. I don't remember ever kissing anyone as passionately as he and I kissed that weekend. That is saying A LOT. That kind of kissing usually leads straight to other things that distract you from kissing. But he loved that way I kissed him, and I loved the way he hugged me when he kissed me. I felt a little sparkly every night because of Daniel's affection. Like Tinker Bell herself sprinkled me with just a smidgeon of what's to come. It woke me up. I felt very alive. It was very surreal. It still is. I didn't even get his last name or contact info. Not a shred of him came home with me, other than a little glow I carried around. Fresh glow.  Until the last day.

On our final day in Costa Rica we went ziplining. This time sorrow socked me one. I felt so alive, and a little scared. Each zip was about a half mile long and although some were a little shorter, zipping along at 45mph for over a half mile above the rainforest overlooking an active volcano only reminded me of one place. My honeymoon. (I remember every time in my adult life I've had my breath taken away. In Hawaii, it happened so frequently. The aloha spirit one gets while there is a real fact). We zipped six times. I wept 5 of the 6 zips. Happy tears came at the very end, but mostly I wept sad tears, mad tears, high and dry tears, sobs of wet tears that dripped down my cheeks like rain. Everyone noticed. Everyone left me alone.

Joy and sorrow. Highs and lows. I know for a fact that while sorrow sits inside of me, joy slumbers on my bed.

And so I...

March on. Persevere. No matter how undulating the seas or crooked the path. I've nearly drowned in sorrow and most definitely jarred my brains with missteps.

I am reminded of H.W. Longfellow, “The dawn is not distant, nor is the night starless; love is eternal."

O M G!

I wasn't wrong.

I was actually really right.

I know what I know and I like what I like.

O M G!


I was right.

And I fought.

And I sought.

And I am stronger.

And wiser.


I know what I know.

I know.

I know now.

It was all right.

And it still went wrong.

I still love.

I still long.......

cursed or blessed?

I am losing the ability to hold back my feelings for anyone or anything. I live in the moment, every moment and I want to see past next week for a change. I am also more alive than I have ever been. I am scared to death some days. Then some days I feel I can save the world. If the truth is supposed to set you free, then why do I feel caged up.

At the same time...

I am gaining the ability to build a wall tall and strong, fortified with love and forgiveness. I live in the moment, every moment. I am more alive than I have ever been. Some days I feel I can save the world. The truth has set me free.

The trouble is, I'm really afraid to fly.