Right person, wrong time.

 "I can't do us anymore. I just can't deal with James and his mom anymore" 

Some part of me knew things were going to be different when you came home from being on the road that week. The same way I could always physically feel a shift in us, when you weren't around and before you even said anything. 

I knew those words, or some variation of them were coming, and I desperately hoped I would be wrong. But in my heart, I knew the moment your name came up on my phone, that things weren't going to be the same after that. I knew in my soul somehow, that they had won, and we had lost, and that the only man I had found in a long time that made me feel valid, and loved, just couldn't do it anymore. And I went through probably a dozen things in an instant, even though it felt like all of these things became known to me at the same time- I knew that I had finally known what real love felt like. I knew that I had been able to find who I was with you, because I was safe with you. I knew that you loved me to the best of your ability while we had each other, and I knew that I was jealous of you in a way, because you got to decide to walk away from them and I couldn't. I knew I'd love you and miss you the rest of my life, because to me- you were my Saturday. I knew that being your wife one day was all I wanted, and if I got to have you, then I'd have all I needed in a partner. My life- our life- could have been something really beautiful. 

I knew that loving you was the easiest thing I had done with my life, besides loving my children, and that I have never laughed more or more genuinely, than I did with you. I knew that my life was going to be a lot more lonely after you because I couldn't imagine another man out there that would see me the way you did- the way you simply just knew how to love me in the little ways I needed to be loved. the way we would literally finish each other's sentences, and not in common words or phrases but something random and off kilter and we would both say it at the same time. I know that still, when I hear someone count 3-2-1 I smirk, because I don't have to flinch as you smack my butt anymore. But I would love it if I did. 

I miss bringing you coffee in the mornings, as you mumbled into the pillow. How we would sit there and drink our coffee together in bed, while we figured out the day and what we did or did not want to do, and what projects could we start in the yard? Is there a YouTube video for it? Does Home Depot have what we would need? Fuck it, lets just go look around. I still smile a little bit when I see the leaf blowers, or the edgers on sale or I watch husbands try to talk their wives into a new chainsaw, and i get a little sad. You never really had to talk me into it, I just liked to see you happy and if it took a chainsaw to do that, then so be it. Bringing home a power tool for you was like bringing home a new baby for someone else. 

I miss going golfing with you and your guys and watching you do something you loved so much. I miss the way you took the game seriously, but not yourself. The way you were never afraid of PDA in front of your friends and I never felt unwelcome amongst you guys. The way they said my "snack game is on point". You always made me a part of your plans, even when those plans were stupid fucking early T times and it was soggy outside. I never felt unwanted with you. 

I wish that I could know you now. The man that is healed and happy and hopefully not hating his job. I feel jilted sometimes that I had you when you were in pain all the time, at jobs that you hated, and were generally unhappy. It  makes me wonder what you're like now, how good we could have been together if you hadn't been going through two back surgeries.. I can only imagine the wrestling you could do with Gus if you were around and healed up. He would finally have a fair fight. You two would be inseparable even more so than you were before. 

I feel like I could say "I Miss you" a million times, but it doesn't capture all the ways and all the reasons I miss you. It's not something I can articulate, because there are no words for when you feel like half of your soul is out there walking the earth without you. You said once, that I am the only person that you have ever been able to be yourself around. In a selfish way I hope that's still true. But what kind of person would love you and want you to be hiding the best parts of yourself with someone new? Because I loved every goofy, childish, weird, loud thing that you did. And I wouldn't want you to change those parts of you for someone else. If they can't handle "Raul", then they need to keep walking ;) 

I get this stupid hope that you will show up at the house one day, and I can see you, hear you and hug you again. You will say that you miss me, and have missed me like I've missed you, and it wont be perfect or easy, and we don't know how to work it out, but fuck it, lets give it one more try. I know that isn't really going to happen. But I like to think that you will be thinking about me one day and pop up somehow...unlikely i know, but i think i am going to love you forever, so of course i want to see you again. We loved each other when we ended. I just wish I knew if we loved each other now. 

The little things.

 Its in the way that when I look up at you, you're smiling at me for no apparent reason.

Or the way you know how to get a smile out of me when i'm close to tears because i'm frustrated.

Morning coffee maker beeps because the coffee that you set up the night before is ready for us.

The coffee cup top offs before you pour yourself another cup. 

The simple pleasure of sitting with you on the stoop at the end of the day. 

Feeling you there whether we're in bed, or on the couch - I can reach out and touch you because you're never far from me.

Its buying different "weekend coffees" so we can try something new

Its a bunch of dog videos that tell us what we're in for....

Its watching you smile when you talk to your son....

Its how we always say 'I Love you' before we go to sleep

Our cheesy matching coffee mugs

and our fake wedding rings

Its the way you accept me in my moments when i don't feel very lovable, and you hold me anyway

Its our daily phone calls to see how each others day is going 

Its how we each pick a person and we draw each other when we all go out to dinner

Its in the smile that you gave me the night we met, that told me you were something special

and the way you plan our life years down the road..

The way James holds my hand when we’re walking out of a restaurant, or barrels into me when he can’t stop running 

Its the way that i just want to get home to you when i dont want to be anywhere at all

and the way you already know what your getting my kid for Christmas

Home

The way you tell me I’m pretty when I smile- makes me want to smile again. And the way you seem to look right through me sometimes, like you can see every corner of my essence…and then the way you sort of smirk, it makes me think that you actually can
The energy that lives in symphony with the ease that is simply ‘US’ makes me feel like my heart knows you’re some part of my home. You are like the room that I can go to and cry, all curled up in a ball, when life gets to be too much. Or the room that hears me when I laugh so hard my sides hurt and I can’t speak. The room that knows how many times I’ve laid awake at night and wondered why no one knows how to love me. You are this room that knows me inside and out and has been there without question since I first stepped foot inside. This room has seen my fantasies played out in my mind, and knows the way my body flushes with heat in response. The way I long to be touched in ways that make my back arch and my breath catch in my throat… then there are days that your room has seen me give every last ounce of me to someone else, and has been there to hold me as I slept.
I’ve sat down in defeat and anguish, and nothingness on your floor, and been a shell of myself trying to keep it together. I’ve thrown color on my face so that I don’t feel so transparent, hoping you don’t
notice. But you do. You always do. I’ve spent hours outside your walls and longed to be nestled back
inside. This room is home.

For when I am inside, I know that I am safe - really truly safe, and that if I did get hurt, it was not
because you meant to. I know that I am good enough, and maybe even more than enough sometimes. I know that when you stand as my shelter, that I will be heard, I will be seen, and I will be loved. Not the kind of love that comes with an IOU, but the kind that exists because there is not any other way to
possibly exist with this person. The kind that means “I am here, always” without question, or debts! The love just exists because I deserve it, and somehow! through some sort of magic, I don’t even question it. I don’t ask “but why?”, or say “I’m not that special”. These words have left my lips so many times before. I don’t even try to downplay these things as I lean against your walls. Instead I just feel you behind me, supporting me, loving me, and I let my guard down and I close my eyes so I can breathe you in. I thank God that he put you in my path, because as they say- “there’s no place like home”.

I'm not for everybody.

I don’t understand you yet. On one hand we have such a good time together, but on the other hand you say things that just turn me off. And I don’t know if you mean things the way you say them, or not because there are these sky high walls up that I don’t stand a chance of climbing. Some times I don’t think I want to. I’ll Just let you go when you’re done here. Because without knowing me, or my trauma, my past, or my triggers you have made remarks about my weight, my housekeeping or perceived lack thereof, my laundry habits and then my driving.

What you don’t know anything about is what my life looks like when I wake up at 6 am. When I get out of bed and immediately have a house to take care of, dogs to feed, kids to feed, kids to get to school, and then maybe- just maybe! I might get out of the house without forgetting what I need (Just for the record, that rarely happens) on my way to a full time job that needs me there at 8. My life isn’t clean and organized and its not working out after work or cleaning part of the house every night when I get home. What you don’t know anything about is that I spend a stupid amount of time stressing over being a good mom and giving my kids a clean house, with a full fridge and clean clothes and fewer dogs. I want them to know how hard I try for them, but I am always so tired.

Maybe my life looks like a dining room table covered with toys and mail because that’s the heart of the house. It looks like a sink load of dishes because I care more about how my boys did that day. It’s crooked couch cushions because you can’t play “The floor is Lava” without knocking things over a little bit and throwing things on the floor. Its the endless parade of laundry baskets that work as dressers because after being gone 11 hours a day, and then making dinner, feeding the dogs and actually washing the clothes, I am to damn tired and sore after 15 hours to do anything else. And it doesn’t matter in the long run anyway. It’s a subtle dusting of dog hair in some spots because at some point we opened ourselves to loving these creatures that changed our lives. That doesn’t mean that my sheets are dirty, or they smell. I don’t remember what scent the laundry soap is, but I know its not ‘Eau De Canine’. I’ve heard some hurtful things before but between the weight of carrying a house, 2 kids, a full time job, car problems, money shortages, lack of sleep, constant and increasing physical pain, and maybe 30 minutes to myself a week I just don’t have it in me to clean the carpets every week, lose 40 pounds, take up a physical hobby that hurts me even more at the end of the day. I just don’t have it in me, literally/ physically/ emotionally/ financially.

My life is more love and less organized. It’s the sound of singing and dancing around the kitchen one night and yelling at each other the next night. Its laughing and tickling and bedtime routines and the near nightly debate on whether I want to go to bed because I’m asleep on my feet or do I want to watch 20 minutes of something? Its forgetting to take the pill that makes me feel better because I’ve been running all over for everyone else since I got home. Or trying to remember if I ate today. Its crying from frustration and exhaustion for no reason at all. Maybe I just have to pee, but I’m so fucking tired that when I get up my whole body feels like it’s made of lead.

I’m not for everybody. And I like it that way. I guess what I’m saying is that you can take me or leave me, but don’t take me and then try to change me. You don’t know how hard I’ve fought to get here.

Wonder (Why), Woman?

How do you know when you’ve lost part of yourself? 

I’m sitting here today thinking that I am so lonely and so near desperate for love, that I will let myself be used and yo-yo’d because it feels better than being alone. I know this to be 100% bullshit, but I just keep finding myself in these places, with these people, that don’t really love me, or honor all the work I’ve done to get where I am today. I feel like I have this confidence and this ability to stand up for myself and what I hold dear…until I get lonely. 

I let the pretty words or the compliments drown out the doubt and blow away the red flags. The flirting that tints my glasses with more and more rose color with each ‘beautiful’, ‘sexy’, ‘gorgeous’ that I can hardly see through them anymore. I am so lonely that I will berate myself at home alone, instead of reminding myself that what I’m doing isn’t wrong, it just isn’t kind to me. 

I’m sitting here today wondering why I offered to get close to someone when they want to leave within a year. Can I really take that? I don’t know. I know I have lost bigger pieces of my life, and I am still here. I know that caring for someone who wants to leave is worth it, because a year that changes my life will always be worth the heartache afterwards. I don’t want to avoid heartache- I just want it to be worth it.  I think this could be worth it…

I know reading this makes it sound like I’m just lonely again and wanting him to fix it. But the truth is, I have more respect for myself with him. I feel how strong I am and I know that with him I can stand up for myself. He hasn’t let me do anything else, really. 

If he decides it isn’t worth it that would hurt because we’re good together. We laugh, we talk, we relate, we understand each other. He’s kind, and gentle and artistic and he has a beautiful ability to make me feel at home in my skin. We see things and we think of each other. He’s shy and respectful, a gentleman. This kind of intimacy is what I long for. It’s so important to be able to come back to something when things get hard. Anyone can sleep together, but not many start with these things first. Put in the work to become friends before lovers, or take things slow because it really is that important. The kind of intimacy that makes holding hands send chills up your arm, and a smile sneak to your lips. Where you find a reason to touch the other person, just for a second. To watch them smile and wonder what their kiss feels like…these all make those moments so much sweeter when they happen. 

 

These are all the reasons I want him to stay…

But what I know of his heart so far is that he has been hurt, terribly, by the people that should have loved him. He’s gotten close before. And he’s been hurt before. Its not a fault or a flaw to be a human being with your guard up. Its not a bad thing to watch out for yourself because you’re scared or cautious. Its smart. The hard part is that I don’t know if I’m worth taking a chance or not. That’s for him to feel out. All I can do is say that I’m in, if he is. The rest is out of my hands….and I fucking hate that!

I hope you know...

You would be 16 right now, sweet girl. I imagine you would have blond hair and blue eyes, just like me. You would have a smart mouth and a huge heart and we would have done a lot of growing up together, because you would have been my first. My first belly, my first flutters, kicks and bounces. My first sleepless nights and exhaustion induced meltdowns. My first 1^st birthday party and “terrible two’s” and scrambling home from work to see you after a long day. You would have been my first understanding of what it means to love something more than myself. I promise you, that I thought I did what was best for you, because I didn’t know then what I know now. If I ever thought that I could give you any kind of a life, I would have in a heartbeat. I would have gladly been up all night, and sleep walking at work. Smelling like leaking breast milk and sweet new baby smell. Going days without a shower just because I didn’t want to leave you alone for a minute. It would have been just you and me, baby girl, but I would have done my best…if only I knew what I had in me.

I’m sorry I didn’t know then that I could run on empty for weeks. I’m sorry I didn’t know then that I would feel such a huge hole each and every year that I’ve been here without you. I’m sorry that I didn’t understand what I would be capable of the second I saw you….I’m just so sorry. I was young, and I was alone and I didn’t have anyone to tell me I would be alright. So I didn’t know that we would have been okay, somehow, somewhere. All I knew was that I didn’t know how to be a mother and I didn’t want to see you in 7 months just to give you to someone else, because I didn’t know if I could do that. And if I couldn’t do that, I didn’t know what kind of life I would be able to give you on my own.

I hope you know, that I haven’t gone without you on my mind all the time, for the last 17 years. I hope you know that I wonder about you when I watch my boys playing…I wonder what kind of sweet things you and Noah would have done when he was little, and I just imagine you would have been a great momma to Marcus when he was born. I know you would have been an absolutely amazing big sister, had I only known then what I know now...

I hope you know that I love you. For the few days I knew you were there, I loved you so much. I know it sounds stupid, but I did what I did because I loved you. I just didn’t want you to have a childhood that you had to recover from, like I did. I hope you know I did my best.

Crimson River

The problem with trusting people, if you’re like me, is that you trust everybody. You trust the things they say, and the way they make you feel. You trust the lies that they tell you with a straight face, because they make you feel special. You trust the really really bad excuses because they must have a good reason. And then you wake up one day and you have to admit to yourself that yes, you saw that crimson river of red flags and you let it all go. Because when you ache to feel someone next to you, you risk the heart break just to feel the heartbeat. Just to feel the form of that warm body lying beside you.


The problem with trusting people, if you’re like me, is that you will let them come back time and time again. Because, in a way, they become your drug of choice. You can tell yourself that they aren’t welcome back each time they leave…until they ask to come back again. When you settle the nerves and swallow the little bit of pride you have left when it comes to them, you tell them your door is open, and you’ll be waiting for them. For a minute you feel beautiful because this is what they want.


The problem with trusting people, if you’re like me, is that you are 100% aware that what you are doing to feel some sort of love is nothing you would wish for your kids, or your friends. You wouldn’t wish this kind of desperate need for touch and interaction on them because you know what it feels like inside when you let yourself be torn down, used, and lied to. You know what it tastes like in the back of your throat when you have to choke down a sob before it comes out because you’re “not going to cry over him again”. But you know that’s a lie, and so you do cry...you just do it as quietly as possible.


The problem with trusting people, if you’re like me, is that you really, honestly, thought this person could love you. You believed his lies, that he wanted to raise your kids with you, and grow old with you. He knew just how to let you get your hopes up and feel like there was a future for you…but then you find out you were a way to pass the time, and you wait for that moment when your heart falls and breaks on the floor again...and you know it’s going to, because it happens every time.

The problem with trusting people, if you're like me, is that you like to see the good in them. Their smile, their laugh, the way they look when they talk about babies..the way they can look at you for just a second longer than they should and you feel your heart skip. You trust the way they look at you and say nothing, but smile. They way they say "You know I love you, right?" with that thick voice that you long to hear in your ear as you lay in bed next to them someday.

The problem with trusting people, if you're like me, is that you know in your heart there are very few that really love you. All the others are just pretty words in the right order, from a set of lips you could kiss all day long...if they'd have you.


The problem with trusting people, if you’re like me, is having to remember that trusting people is not a terrible thing to do…you just have to learn how to trust the right people. And that’s the hard part.