Thursday, December 5, 2013

He asked me for fiction...

Anyone who reads my blog knows that I'm all about reality. What you might not know is that I'm tragically bad at fiction.  When my friend and fellow blogger Lance Manion asked me to write a bit of fiction for him, well, I gave it a shot.  Here are the slightly disturbing results in case you're interested:

The Elitist

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

It's all in your head

Sometimes it’s hard to write when you know people are reading it.  People you know, that is.  There’s something horrifying about writing everything you’re thinking for anyone to read, including your husband, friends, and family.  I try not to let it stop me, but all of a sudden after I got married, it was on my mind.  I think it’s been a couple of months since my last entry, which is unheard of for me.  In fact, I haven’t dropped off the face of the blogosphere since I became pregnant with my daughter 4.5 years ago.  So what happened?  I need to figure it out.
It’s easy to say I’m busy.  I’m wrapped up in being a newlywed and taking care of my daughter and adjusting to whatever I’m supposed to be adjusting to, but it’s all crap.  I’m always busy.  I travel around more than anyone I know. I’m always doing something with my family and in the middle of some shenanigans.  The entries I haven’t been writing are still in my head.  I think I have two or three of them stuck in my brain, screaming for me to write them down, but I haven’t.  I think maybe I’m afraid of what writing down some of this stuff will mean for me.  Being judged or having someone’s feelings hurt now that it’s all too public who I am to some people.  Not writing down exactly what I’m thinking makes the whole blog inauthentic and therefore pointless.  I won’t do that.  I refuse to compromise, change, or side step around the things I’ve been thinking.  So out with it, already!  Maybe I’ll feel better if I just put my blinders on and write my private journal like I always have.
I’m so frustrated with the medical community.  After being dragged through numerous tests by my primary care physician, have the results examined by several specialists, then getting more tests from an outside holistic doctor, and taking supplements, nothing.  There’s nothing medically wrong with me, apparently.  All body systems are functioning, organs firing, responses responding. I’m really healthy.  I paid for genetic testing to see if any unusual marker would show up for any disease or disorder.  Nothing.  What do I do with this? One of my doctors asked me if it was all in my head and if the hormone therapy I had introduced through birth control to raise my blood pressure was maybe a placebo effect.  I may have swung at her had she not been pregnant…the one thing I’ve convinced myself that I want to be.  Isn’t that what this whole year has been about?  A baby?  I feel like I came home from Esalen in February determined to get married and have another baby.  I found my husband, got married, and now what?  I can’t take out my birth control because my blood pressure is too low to support me walking around.  But there’s nothing wrong with me, right?  So I’m imagining it.  Yes, of course I am.  I’m deciding to pass out every time I stand up.  Why didn’t I think of that?  So the birth control remains in place for now.
Is that really why I decided to get married?  The day before I left for New York to get married, I saw my counselor.  He asked me point blank why I wanted to get married.  He said he’d never heard anything other than I love being single and free and making the executive decisions that rule my ever day life.  What was I doing?  I immediately told him that I wanted to have another baby.  I’d never wanted my daughter to be an only child and this was the plan.  I was ready.  He said he wanted to make sure I said it out loud.  Sort of a shitty thing to do when I think about it.  It made me think that all I wanted was a baby and I was using my husband to get that.  It bothered me on my wedding day.  If all I wanted was a baby, I could get a donor…or an unsuspecting 20 something male to cooperate and not tell him the baby was his.  It’s not like I’m in the business of having kids to live off the child support.
I’ll be the first to admit I’m fucking crazy.  I’m hard to love.  I don’t ask for help, if my husband says something stupid, I seem to be compelled to prove to him that he’s wrong even if he feels terrible about it, and for some insane reason I can’t seem to create a space in my head where it’s safe to just be vulnerable all the time.  When did I get so damn hard?  There are days when I tell myself that I like it this way.  I like doing things myself and I don’t need him or anyone else and I’m fine, just fine, dammit.  Holy defense mechanism.  You want to know how I can tell I really do love my husband?  When he doesn’t text me before lunch, I get scared he got in a car accident on the way home.  When we argue about something the night before, I still wake up at 5:30 am half asleep and wander out to the kitchen to hug and kiss him goodbye because I missed my kiss goodnight.  When I consider the possibility of us not being able to have more kids, either because of him or me, it doesn’t make me unhappy because he is enough of an addition to my life and I’m not searching for anything else in the world.  There are days when I wish I was still single.  There are days when I wish I’d come home and there was nobody else to bother me.  But most days, I look forward to coming home so I can spend 30 seconds with my face in his neck and be warm and safe.  I think that might be the most vulnerable thing I’ve ever typed in this blog and it scares the crap out of me.  My first instinct is to type something about how I’d be fine without him and whatever. Yeah, yeah, we all know I can do it on my own.  When did it become a crime to love my own husband and be happy to see him?  I don’t know.  Something is still broken in my head and my heart and I’m not sure how to fix it.
I feel like part of my problem is I have these preconceived notions of how I’m supposed to act in certain situations.  When I was married before I treated my husband a certain way, I had a certain image, and I did certain things.  Then once I was divorced, I became a totally different person.  Now that I’m married again, I had it in my head that I had to act how I did before.  Just writing that and rereading it feel moronic to me, but it’s what I was thinking.  I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and I realized something: who I am and what I do or how I behave has nothing to do with my relationship status or age.  This is just me.  How I acted 10 years ago is who I was then and I grew.  I changed.  The woman you see today has little to do with who I was back then.  10 years ago I was still very much a young girl, as I was supposed to be in my early 20s.  When I got married, I lived for my husband.  I worshiped him and his happiness was my happiness.  Being divorced in my early 30s opened up another chance for me to get to know myself.  I was able to have my good girl gone bad adventures and be wild and inappropriate and explore that part of myself.  When I got married again, I don’t know what I expected.  Was I going to no longer dress sexy or make inappropriate comments?  Should I not take sexy pictures anymore?  Was I no longer attracted to men and women that I encountered in the world, even if I didn’t have the option to act on it?  What happened to my girl time?  How about the time I spent with my daughter or my family?  These past few weeks I’ve been wrestling with all of it trying to get a hold on something.
I realized that I’m still me.  Even though I’m married again, I won’t ever go back to the girl I used to be.  Instead of going to a bar and making inappropriate jokes with the guys about taking one of them home, I go to the bars and make jokes about going home early to do inappropriate things to my husband.  I’m still one of the guys when I want to be.  I still dress sexy and take sexy pictures, it’s just now directed at my husband and I like knowing who I’m going home with each night.  I suppose the bonus is that I also have someone to hold me tight when I need it, even if I don’t know how to handle it.  There are still some nights I stand across the living room from him or don’t want him to snuggle with me in bed.  I used to be SO snuggly when I was younger.  Do I just want more personal space now?  Is it because of my last divorce or maybe just because my daughter is always on top of me and I just want space now? I don’t know.  I’m not even sure I’ll be able to answer all of these questions.  At least I’m ready to say some of them out loud and that’s progress.  I feel like I still have a lot to think about as I try to figure out how to be married again and learn what a real life partnership is like and what that means to me.  For now, it will have to suffice to say that the winds of change are blowing and I’m not running inside to hide from the storm.