Flushing Out the Poison

NOTE: I found this draft blog written over a year ago, but felt it worth publishing.

It's time to flush the poison out, much like extracting venom from the site of the bite.  And nothing has ever been more cathartic for me than writing.  I haven't written in a year.  And it's time.  

I have been living in sadness and hurt for many months over the actions and words of someone I thought I knew very well, was close with and who loved me.  Let's call that person "X".  After a supposed "friend" made some accusations and shared some theories about me (based on ignorant and short-sighted observation), X exited my life quietly and without any communication.  What's troubling is that, if X believed the theories and accusations, they should have been very concerned about me and should have reached out to see if any of it was true and if I was okay.  X later said (in a letter) they didn't bother because they wouldn't have believed what I said.  Reaks of an inability to handle conflict and confrontation, coupled with a general lack of compassion or love for me.  But they've chosen to couch it as being sick of my "horrible decisions," particularly with regard to men, and the specific man I am with now and have been for almost two years.

On that note, they made a mockery of my relationship with that man, saying "You're pretending to be married for Christ's sake."  What was meant as an insult actually has some truth to it.  I married him with an ordained minister, because it was more important to us to be married in the eyes of God than the eyes of DeWine most immediately, and not that it's anyone's business, but we will get legally married once some financial matters are in order.  So yeah, we did get married for Christ's sake, and to have His blessing over our relationship.  We pray together regularly, many times a week.  I've never been involved with a man who did that.  

What I came to learn through X's direct words to me (after many months of silence, and only via a letter), is that they have been silently and confidently sitting in judgment over me for quite some time, referring to me as "the little princess," saying that I think the world revolves around me, and that I never think I am wrong.  That I am the common denominator in all of my broken relationships.  Applauding others (whom they've influenced and been the primary supplier of "information" to) who said hateful things to me in response to me simply reaching out to see how they were and to ask a simple question.  

Because of my long and close history with this person, reading these words and realizing what a farce I've been to them was obviously extremely hurtful.  The letter was snide, made several false assumptions, and came from a place with very little accurate information about me and my life, though obviously feeling as though they know plenty, and certainly enough to sit in judgment.  

It bears noting that, in the 15 years I was a single mom of - initially - two very young children - this person rarely - if ever - offered to lend any assistance or support to me as I struggled and they were too self-focused to notice or care.  I did ask for help from time to time, and despite the many, many times I reached out for other reasons, to share a laugh, etc., X's observation and comment was that I only reached out when I needed something.  And while in those moments, X agreed to help and mumbled some vague words of empathy and support, they have now made it crystal clear that they thought me ridiculous for it.  Add to it that they "no longer recognize me" and in reference to me: "If you see her, tell her I said hi."

I've done an excessive amount of reflecting on the entire situation.  I have searched my mind and heart and prayed over how there could be any resolution.  I've asked myself many times if I have something to apologize for, and cannot come up with anything I have done to this person (other than ask for help) that would require an apology.  I come up short.  And I'm a person who is quick to apologize and take accountability when I am in the wrong, even if it's an honest mistake I've made.  I beat myself up over my mistakes and transgressions far more than anyone else ever could.

As I've worked through the pain that all of this has caused, I now find myself in the strangest place - somewhat wanting resolution, but also angry and disgusted with X.  To realize how highly they see themselves in relation to me and how I've been the laughing stock to them for so long.....why should I even want them in my life?  They've been self-absorbed and holier than Thou and only continue to be.  They rarely checked in on me - mostly only if I was ill or had surgery or something like that.  

I will never open up to this person again, because they will weaponize anything I share and I now know how they actually view me.  They've expressed feelings of inferiority toward me before because of my advanced education and perhaps success in my career.  I cannot control their feelings.  They will continue to sit in judgment on me, ostracizing me, even as they profess to be a Christian.  I'm going to be happy.  I'm going to take care to not give them opportunities to hurt me further or reject me again.  I will be civil and courteous, but I will no longer expend energy and emotion and effort toward them.  This is what I mean by flushing out the poison.

Uninvited

Two days ago, my life changed on a dime.  That may sound dramatic - and perhaps it is - but let me explain.  I am divorced.  I've been divorced for about 16 years.  And since then, I've been in a few relationships - all of which ended in both heartache and disappointment.  About 5 or 6 years ago, I made the conscious decision to just stop dating.  In my experience, "love" had taken far more from me than it gave and I was depleted and done.  Not so much bitter...just removed. 

And so I resigned myself to being alone.  About 18 months ago, my oldest child moved out to go to college.  My youngest child is a senior in high school.  I had grown accustomed to - all the while dreading - the vision of myself as an empty nester, and eventually a solitary retiree.  I saw no glorious "final chapter"  in my future.  And I was trying to be okay with that, mostly because I was absolutely certain that settling for a companion in lieu of love and respect was a one-way ticket to misery, and I was not onboard.

Then something happened - the details aren't important - that prompted me to reach out to a man I'd known since 7th grade and was friends with on social media.  And when I say "prompted," I mean a sit-bolt-upright-in-bed-out-of-a-dead-sleep kind of "prompted."  And even as I typed a message on my phone, I recalled the dream I'd had just prior to waking up.  It was merely an image.  It was him, lying behind me, holding me in his arms.  And the overarching feeling was of safety.

I sent my message and his reply was almost immediate.  We commenced to talking about the thing that happened and the way it related to the loss of someone we both knew and at one time loved.  The conversation was brief.

The next night, he reached out to see what I was doing, and I half-heartedly tried to shoot him down by telling him...the truth.  Which is that I had a fire going in my firepit and was in my "fat pants" for the night (capri yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt and flip flops).  I was going nowhere.  To shorten the story, he convinced me to leave the house.  We spent hours together that night, and the conversation was effortless.  The laughter was inextricably woven throughout the conversation.  And the night ended in a kiss that mostly surprised me.

Fast forward to now.  We have seen each other nearly every day since then.  Our lives have become intertwined.  We've gotten to know each other on a deep and even spiritual level.  We fell in love.  And two days ago he gave me the most beautiful ring and asked me to marry him.  I said yes.

I'm pausing to ask myself if there is a point to writing this and putting it all out there....am I simply gushing about such an exciting event in my life?  No....no I'm not.  My point is this: it's never too late.  It's never too late to open the door, even if just a crack.  For me, I wound up opening the door to a love like I'd always longed for but had never experienced.  I have found the person who cracks me up and laughs loudly at my jokes.  I have found an articulate, well-spoken, intelligent person who doesn't always agree with me, but engages in discussion with passion and knowledge.  I have found my rock, who also happens to be my soft place to land.  I have found a personal cheerleader and supporter, who makes it a regular practice to pray for me.  Someone who doesn't hold the wrongs of others against me.  Someone who doesn't hold back or play games.  He celebrates me, he honors me, and he lightens my load whenever he can.

In return, I have found someone willing to accept my love without manipulating it, downplaying it, or using it against me.  He gratefully and graciously accepts all the ways that I express my love for him.  He doesn't take it for granted.  We share a love of music and feel safe exploring and creating it together.  We share a love of Jesus.

I had given up on not only finding love, but certainly had given up on finding my soulmate.  But here he is.  And for the first time in my life, love doesn't feel lop-sided.  I'm as confident and secure in his love for me as I am in my love for him.  

I tried to push him away.  I was scared and uninterested in taking another chance on love.  In many ways, he was uninvited.  And while he respected my boundaries, he continued to communicate with me.  And I found myself realizing that even though I didn't want a relationship, I wanted him to be in my life.  Soon after, I stopped lying and living in denial, admitted my feelings for him, and opened up.  He has been the surprise of my life.  I've known him for 35+ years, but never known him.  We both refrain from wishing we'd gotten together sooner.  Why?  Because we know God's timing is perfect.  At another time, we would not have been ready for each other nor for this.  Besides, we would not have the beautiful, unique children we have if not for other paths taken.  And neither of us can or would wish that away.  But we're here now.  Together.  Determined.  Grateful.  

Childhood Christmas Memories

For at least the first 16 years of my life, I was not home on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.  My parents, brother, and I were the only ones in our extended family who didn't live in Virginia.  Therefore, Christmas was in Virginia. 😀

Each December, we'd wait for my dad to come home from an annual conference the first week of the month.  Once he returned, it was time to put up the tree and decorate, officially beginning our Christmas celebration.  Mom would put on a stack of records while we decorated, including Brenda Lee, Elvis, and Alvin & the Chipmunks.  We didn't do outside decorations, but let me tell you - we had Pringles cans that housed miniature Christmas scenes, so we lacked for nothing.

Usually the last weekend before Christmas, we'd exchange family gifts (gifts from Mom and Dad, not Santa). Once school was out, we'd head to Virginia.  Somehow, my folks would pack all our unwrapped Santa gifts along with 4 people's luggage into the trunk of the Caprice Classic without us seeing them.  My brother and I had an invisible line halfway across the back seat, where neither dared to extend their belongings or body into the other's territory.  Again, we'd listen to Brenda Lee, Elvis, and the Chipmunks - this time via 8-track tape.  Mom and Dad would pump my brother full of Dramamine and he'd sleep most of the trip with his mouth slung open, and I would read voraciously (this was before I developed car sickness that now makes me want to hurl after simply reading a text or glancing at a map when in a car).  At times I would gaze out the car window, taking in the decorations of those who decorated outside their homes, or gazing into the passing cars (we got passed a lot), wondering where those folks were going and if they had a family as wonderful as mine.  And as the years progressed into adolescence, sometimes I'd fantasize about catching the eye of some cute boy who would demand his parents stop the car because he was sure he'd found the perfect girl for him riding alongside them in the car with Ohio plates.

Eventually, we'd arrive at a winding gravel driveway that led up a hill to my Mema's house.  The excitement and anticipation was bursting in my heart!!!  We'd made it to MeMa's!!

Soon the "exhale" of arrival was replaced with bustling, unpacking the car (yet somehow not seeing the Santa gifts), remarking on anything that had changed in the house since our summer visit, playing with dogs, plugging in MeMa's hideous green Christmas candles in each of her many windows, and getting all caught up on the gossip of a small town - whether we wanted to or not.

When our cousins arrived, we'd spend the first 15 minutes feeling awkward and unsure, but would quickly find our groove as our parents shouted at us to "Settle down!" and "Stop running!" and "Close the door - we're not trying to heat the outside!" 

When we'd head over to Granny and PaPa's house, the same phenomenon occurred with the cousins.  Soon those boys would be dragging me through briar patches in a skirt, lighting fire to my shoelaces, and showing me all the wonderful nuances of country living.  At Granny's we'd patiently wait for sightings of the neighbors we'd affectionately nicknamed "Stringbean" and "Butterbean" - a tall thin man, and a short, less thin woman who'd make their way up the road to explore the dumpster and return with whatever treasures they'd found.

My cousins were at the forefront of my mind as I selected clothes to take on the trip.  It was important that I demonstrated that I had fashion sense and was hip.

I cannot impress upon you how vivid my memories are of climbing the creaky steps at MeMa's each Christmas Eve with my brother, where we'd lie awake by the wood-burning stove for what seemed like hours, discerning what sounded like hooves on the tin roof.

When it was time to head back to Ohio, MeMa sent us off with warm ham biscuits to eat in the car, saving time and precious money on our 495 mile trip home.  I consistently felt irritated because she was interfering with the likelihood of me getting a rare fast food meal.  Now, I'd choose those ham biscuits every day and twice on Sunday instead of a fast food meal.  Some things only come with time, maturity, and perspective.

I hope you've been somewhat entertained with my Christmas childhood memories.  If not, no worries, I really wrote this for myself to capture and record the magic of Christmas in Virginia.

Merry Christmas!

The Inverse of Love

Last night I found myself thinking back on the loves of my life.  I've been fortunate to be in love before, though I haven't been in love in quite some time (but that's a different blog).  I engaged in a silly exercise, comparing loves and thinking about who I had loved "the most" (speaking of romantic love here, not the love I have for my children, family, and friends).  I can recall the deep, endless, self-sacrificing love I felt.  How I would have done anything to bring him happiness, and how feeling his love was one of the greatest feelings I'd ever felt.

I began to think how I feel for him now...if I feel anything at all.  My feelings for him epitomize ambivalence.  Not hatred, not longing, not regret....just....neutral, nothing.

In my experience, when a person whom I immensely love begins to mistreat me, disrespect me, neglect me, tear me down, and otherwise treat me like shit, I go through somewhat of a grief cycle.  Initially, I am deeply wounded.  I long for the sunnier times when love was reciprocal.  I examine myself to see what I may have done to cause this change, to become unlovable.  Then I feel anger, disdain, and disbelief at how things have changed.  And in time, I feel numb towards that person.

People always say love is a powerful thing, and it is.  What I've come to realize is that the inverse of love is perhaps equally powerful.  But instead, its power is in its ability to diminish and eradicate love.  It's a slow and painful process, to be sure, but it's a thorough process.  I stand in awe of the realization that the person I once loved so completely is now someone I feel nothing for.  Not because I lost interest, strayed, outgrew him, etc.  But because he treated me in such a way that my love began to evaporate.  Then again, maybe my love just changed direction.  Instead of pouring into him, it began pouring into me.  I began to love myself enough to stop exposing myself to the inverse of love.

How Firm Thy Friendship

I attended calling hours tonight for a childhood friend who died unexpectedly this week.  Not surprisingly, I was overcome with memories as I sat with my two closest friends from my childhood and watched the video montage.  There are memories of countless sleepovers and birthday parties, riding bikes, prank calling, and spending nearly every day of summer at the neighborhood pool, longing to grow up quickly as we'd read Seventeen magazine and figure out the best hairstyles and makeup applications.

With hindsight and perspective, I've realized that my childhood was privileged.  Of course, I didn't realize it at the time.  I thought everyone grew up with friends like mine, in a neighborhood like mine, etc.  It's not that nothing bad happened - one of those friends lost a parent at a very young age, while another friend's parents divorced while she was young.  And it's not that we had a lot of material things.  It's that we had QUALITY.  I grew up with loving parents who are still together with 51 years of marriage under their belts.  I also grew up with some really quality friends. in quality families - good, kind, warm, welcoming people.  Just the other night my best high school friend's mom showed up with food and flowers - she'd learned I'd been sick and my friend sent her mom to bless me since she lives too far away to do so in person.  And today, whether it had been a few months or multiple decades since I saw some of these folks, that same genuine core of kindness and warmth was there, even amidst grief and suffering.  It really struck me how blessed my childhood was and how blessed I am.  That I could put my arms around two women who were once the girls I played tag with and tell them that I love them and mean it, even though we seldom see each other or talk.

Within the line of people who'd come to the visitation tonight, a group of boy scouts filed through.  As those boys each paid their respects to the family, they approached one of my friend's sons who was not in the receiving line.  And though the awkwardness was palpable, most of them gave that boy a hug and told him how sorry they were that he lost his mom.  It reminded me yet again of the power of friendships in those formative years, and how they really can last a lifetime.  I hope it's the same for her two sons.

"Waitin' at a stop light yesterday
As a funeral procession made its way through the gates
I watched it roll up a winding road
Through a field of green with white headstones all in a row.
And it made me think about where I'm at
On my not so straight and narrow path,
All the generous and mostly undeserved blessings that I've had...

I had an all-American Mom and Dad,
Some of the coolest friends you could ever have....."

~Jason Aldean, "Good to Go"

My Word for 2018

When 2018 began, I noticed people declaring "their word" for the year.  I gave it some thought, and decided my word would be "open."  I was feeling open to change, open to breaking old patterns and routines, and open to the possibilities life might have to offer.

The first half of the year, not much changed.  I did remain open though.  And when the time was right, I opened myself to two enormous changes.

First, I laid myself open to a new career.  After 14 years with a small business I had literally helped to build, I walked away and into a new opportunity in a brand new industry.  I was terrified.  I went from being the go-to person to being the person who constantly needs help and insight from others.  It was (and continues to be) a tremendous growth experience for me. I have joined a team of people whose high level of character is matched by their high level of talent - and that is a rare, wonderful thing.  My work is meaningful and impacts people's lives in a real and valuable way.  I feel so blessed and rewarded.

Second, I opened myself to the possibility of romance after 4 years of being inward-facing and choosing to be single.  I enjoyed a brief season of companionship, smiles and laughter, friendship, and perhaps love.  It ended poorly and without explanation, which makes healing difficult.  But I was open.  And that in and of itself is a success for me. It's something I've not been willing to do for far too long, and the better parts of the relationship showed me I could still open my heart to someone.  As is often the case, I simply opened it to the wrong person.

So I look to 2019, mulling over what my word and my mantra might be.  My first child will turn 18 next week and graduate in a few months, moving on to college and a life of independence.  It will be a tremendous transition and will mark 2019 in unequivocal ways.  I know my "word" will relate to that, it just hasn't come to me yet.  I'll keep you posted.

The Power of Words

I am a word person.  Words are the best way I express myself.  Words are my love language.  I commit words of love and support to memory, holding them close and cherishing them.  Likewise, I commit words of cruelty to memory.  So words can both haunt me and heal me.  

But perhaps equally powerful and damning is silence.  Silence - when words are so desperately needed - are punitive.  They leave words to the imagination, and imagination is a cruel companion in the midst of silence.  Worse yet is when one begs for words, for explanations and understanding, for a connection.....and silence is the only response.  It is cruel.  Intentionally cruel.  Destructive.  Selfish.  Cowardly.  Ugly.