Bars and Tattoos

This weekend was one of the best I’ve had in years.  It should be noted, though, that I’m incredibly easy to please.  It doesn’t take a lot to amuse me or make me happy.  Which is what makes it even more amazing that it took this long for me to follow my happiness.

On Saturday, I slept till noon.  That’s always a nice thing.  When I finally dragged my ass out of bed, I headed straight to the tattoo shop.  I have several that I want, but there was one in particular I’d been thinking of for a long while.  I’d worked a couple extra hours the last week, and decided to use those few extra bucks to treat myself.

 

 

Those words are lyrics from my favorite song, “A Murder of One”, by my favorite band, Counting Crows.  For me, they have a personal meaning.  I don’t want to waste my life.  I’ve wasted a lot of time. I don’t usually look at it as a waste, necessarily; I spent a lot of time and energy working on something that ultimately failed.  I learned lessons, gained some wisdom and insight, and got The Most Awesome Kid Ever out of it.  But all that time, nothing was about me.  My wants, my needs…they all got pushed aside.  And I was ignorant enough to believe that that was just what happened when a woman becomes a wife and mother.  It IS NOT.  I figured that out much too late.  But I’m making up for it now.

And I’m changing.  Growing.  When I was in high school, I had the typical teenage girl self-esteem issues.  I never thought I was pretty and hated my body.  Other than that, though, I was comfortable with everything else about me.  I loved myself, my brain, my heart, who I was as a person.  I knew what I wanted and I went after it.  I was strong for my friends, for myself.  Years later I was even told that my self-possession intimidated some people, which I found odd.  But I guess, in reality, I was odd.  It would explain why a lot of the people who signed my senior yearbook described me as “unique”.  That’s just a polite way of calling me a weirdo.

But at some point, I became this cowering, simpering, terrified-of-everything woman with absolutely zero self-confidence.  There were times I wasn’t even sure of what I was feeling and why.  If you had looked up the definition of co-dependent, my picture would have been right next to it.  But once the ex went to rehab, I started getting help for my own issues.  I started to remember who I was and what I wanted and that I was my own person.    He was in rehab for 3 months.  The kid was 1 ½, and I’d been a stay at home mom.  But for those 3 months, I made it work.  I had help, of course.  I’m incredibly blessed to have some of the best friends and family on the planet.  But I got a job, and Sarah and I got by.  I’ll never forget what I told him the first night he was home:  “I love you, and I want to work it out.  I want to be with you.  But I don’t need you anymore.”  And I didn’t.  I could live without him, and it took me having to do it to realize I could.  Of course, it was another 3 years before it ended, but still.  All those steps brought me here.

Some of this is just remembering who I was before marriage.  Another part is exploring who I want to be now.  So I try new things, talk to new people.  My BFF convinced me to go to a bar alone Saturday night.  I don’t mind doing things alone; I go to the movies by myself, take myself out to dinner, that sort of thing.  But going to a bar alone seemed a little scary.  The Bestie gave me a few tips, though, and I did it. 

I sat at the bar, ordered a drink, and listened to the band. I watched people be drunk and crazy.  I sat and drank a little, and thought.  One of The Bestie’s tips was to set a time limit.  Not to give me a curfew, but more so that I’d sit there for a while without giving up on myself and leaving.  I found myself staying past my time limit because the band was good and I was enjoying just sitting there and listening.  The Bestie had said it would be empowering.  I had my doubts while I was there; some things are just more fun with friends.  And while I don’t know that I’d necessarily do it again, it did end up being kind of empowering.  I know I can do it, if I so choose. I learned something new about myself.

I’m changing.  I’m growing.  I’m not gonna waste my life.  MY life.  And on days that I’m struggling, on days where I get a little negative, now I have a reminder. 

 

 

Freedom

Last week was rough.  Bunch of minor irritations, and one larger one.  Last week was my brother and sister-in-law’s wedding anniversary.  Unfortunately, while I love them both and am very happy for them, that day has negative connotations in my life.  That day was the beginning of the end of my marriage.  And while I’ve moved on, the memories of the things that happened between the ex and I are still pretty fresh and cause me to feel a bit of resentment that I’m still working to overcome.  There’s no need to provide details; it was bad, and that’s all anyone else needs to know.  Perhaps other couples could have moved on from the drama and revelations that day brought.  At the time, I thought we could.  I feel like I really tried to work through all the issues and heal my marriage, but I felt then, and still feel now, that he didn’t.  I’m not at all trying to degrade my ex; maybe he knew that we would never make it work, that everything that led to the explosion that day was just too much to move past.  Maybe he just didn’t give a shit.  It doesn’t really matter anymore.  Because what happened, happened, and its over.  I’m free.

Free.  It’s a wonderful feeling.  I spent damn near 20 years of my life putting someone else first.  I was doing it before I understood the implications of putting someone’s health and happiness and feelings and thoughts before yourself.  I did so much for him.  And for a while, after it was over, I didn’t know how to live, who I was, without having someone other than Sarah to take care of.  But one day it hit me:  all that attention and effort and work I put into trying to maintain my marriage and my partner, I could put that towards myself.  Getting divorced meant that, essentially, I became a part-time mother.  Sarah spends every other week with her father.  I’m glad that she has a father who wants to be that active in her life.  And I miss her terribly when I don’t have her.  But, eternal optimist that I am, I find the bright side.  I use that free time to do the things I always wanted to do but couldn’t find time for while being a wife. 

I’ve started reading again.  I’ve been writing, this blog and some poetry.  Its been ages since I’ve written poetry.  Mainly because, for me to write poetry, I have to feel.  And for years my feelings didn’t really belong to me.  My life didn’t belong to me.  I watch movies, binge watch whatever I want.  I take long baths and do girly shit.  I’ve been to Chattanooga to see my sister more in the last six months than I did in the previous six years.  I spend time with friends, I do crafts, I go on dates .  And I think.  About all kinds of things, but a lot about myself.  I can do that now.  And I’ve learned and realized so much about myself, and about what I want, should I ever find a potential partner.  And its so different from what I lived with for so long that its amazing.

I enjoy my alone time.  I need it more than I ever realized.  It allows me to recharge and refresh myself.  I don’t want or need a relationship with someone who wants to be up my ass 24/7.  I don’t require a lot of attention.  Nor do I want to give a lot of attention.  I mean, I’ll text a guy off and on all day, maybe have the occasional phone conversation, but I don’t need to see him every day.  I’ll give as much time, attention, and support as possible without interfering with my own well-being.  And I expect the same in return.  If I make time for someone, they should also make time for me.  I’m 37 years old, have a full time job and am a mother. I don’t have time to give to someone who isn’t worth it; I’ve got other things I could be doing.

I want a sense of humor, an easy-going attitude, a listener and thinker.  I want someone who respects me and understands that you get what you give.  Mostly, above all else, I want a fucking adult.  I have one child and I don’t particularly want another.  Of course that means the regular things like a job, a car, a roof.  But it also means that he knows how to take care of himself.  He makes his own doctor appointments, he buys groceries and budgets his money, he knows when he needs his own alone time, and takes it. 

 The best part of all this?  I feel fulfilled without a partner.  If I get lonely, its easy enough to find someone to pass the time with, just have fun.  But having a relationship?  I don’t need it.  So I can be picky.  And if I do find someone to be with, there’s no rush.  I don’t particularly want to get married again.  I don’t have to make grand plans for the future.   Once you’ve been through a divorce, you know things can eventually end, and there’s even a freedom in that.  I can live each day for what it is:  a chance to grow and learn and explore and love myself and those I care about.  Nothing more.  And that freedom is priceless. 

Creative Writing 101

I've always thought of myself as a writer, erroneously or not.  Even though I didn't do much writing during my marriage, I considered it a part of me like my arm or the extra lumbar vertebra in my back.  But, given the abundance of free time I have as a single woman, I've gotten back to it.  And I thought I'd share some of it.  Be gentle with me; I'm still getting back into the swing of things and talent is like a muscle.  Mine's a little weak, and I can't go back to being a heavyweight without working at it regularly. 



Fantasy
I have never been in the arms of a strong man,
But to you I would surrender and lay helpless as your arms surrounded me.
I can imagine the warmth, the heat.
I can feel it when I close my eyes, and I can picture the contrast between our flesh.
Will I ever know the feel of your body pressed against mine,
Or my lips caressing your broad shoulders?
Will I ever be showered by your long hair,
Feeling it tickle me as I breathe in your sweetness?

The answer is no.  But isn't it nice to daydream?



No More Running
Do you think you could let me love you
For a minute
Or maybe an hour or two?
I see something behind your eyes.
A pain
Or a weight
Or a suffering
Or maybe a light
That seems to augment a longing in my soul.
How long has it been since you were truly intimate with someone?
Not a lover
Or a friend
Or a soulmate.
But someone who listened without waiting to talk?
Someone who withheld all judgment,
Who offered only acceptance and honesty and vindication in return for your revelations?
Someone who made you feel like you did when you were a kid
And your bike would catch air
And your stomach would turn cold and drop
But your arms and legs would be all hot and tingly?
I can be that for you, if you'd let me.
If you even read this.
If you don't think I'm unhinged or delusional.
Maybe you can take a leap of faith, and trust a stranger,
If my words made you feel something.
Maybe I can be someone you didn't know you were missing.
If you could let me love you
For a minute or
Maybe an hour or two.


Same New Thing
If I give you my heart,
I'm giving you power over me.
Thinking about that is exciting
And terrifying.
Last time I gave my heart away,
It was returned in horrible condition.
Broken into dozens of pieces
Covered in bootprints and teethmarks,
Tattooed with insults and foul names and things I can't even repeat.
Repairing it took years.
Carefully gluing and gently scrubbing,
Reminding myself of who and what I am as I erased years of
Guilt and shame and disparagement and scorn.
So I'm scared.
Scared to give you this newly-healed thing that I worked so hard to repair.
I know you could break it.
That's an unavoidable risk.
Though, I really don't think you will.
I've studied your hands, and I think you know how to be careful with it.
And why did I spend so long healing it, if not to give it away?
But what if you don't want it,
This used and scarred thing?
I wish I had something better to offer you, but this is all I've got.
And I really want you to have it.
I'm giving it to you, free of conditions and expectations,
Because my hope outweighs my fear.

Maybe I should put a bow on it first, though.





That's all for now, my loves.  Gimme a shout, let me know what you think.  But be gentle -   I'm still getting there.