day 46

removed for personal reasons

Day 45

When love is real, it will set you free, trusting you will return what you've been given, but knowing that if you can't, your happiness matters more than a broken heart.

Day 44

It is Christmas night. I am about to watch The Santa Clause with my husband and our girlfriend. Given all that's happened in the past few weeks, it's amazing that this day has been so wonderful.

We broke up with her and she moved out... but then we realized how much we still loved her, and she us. She's made mistakes, but none of us are perfect. She's come such a long way, too... and how can I walk away from love just because of a mistake? So, we've taken a step back... she's our girlfriend and we're dating. Maybe someday, hopefully someday, we'll have a commitment ceremony and she will move back in. For now, we take it as it comes.

Back to Christmas... as a child I dreamed of Christmases spent with someone I loved. Once I hit my teens, this dream grew into a fairytale fantasy of cuddling by a fireplace or under the glittery lights of the Christmas tree. There was snow on the ground... and mountains I could see when I looked out the window.

My childhood was never pleasant. I liked Christmas because for the most part, our incredibly dysfunctional family pretended to get along for about 36 hours. Christmas was an escape from the day-to-day reality of having a drug addict for a mother and a self-absorbed asshole for a father. It was an escape from an aunt who loved nothing more than to be vindictive and malicious and manipulative.

Christmas was my fairytale day... even the worst Christmases, I can usually pick a happy moment from. I'm a dreamer. It's not hard to find a silver lining for me, most of the time.

So, here we are... Christmas 2009. This is my 11th Christmas with him, and our first with her - one we thought we wouldn't have, or at least we thought it wouldn't be one we celebrated happily because of the breakup (we weren't letting her spend Christmas alone, regardless). We had a great Christmas dinner - in fact, he said it was the "best meal" I've ever made. I made breakfast and built a fire. There is snow on the ground, and the mountains of my dreams are right outside my window... bigger and more beautiful than I ever imagined them.

I never imagined a husband and a girlfriend in that fantasy of mine. Oh, the attraction to women wasn't unknown to me. I just expected to be conventional, which, in retrospect, was pretty silly. I'm far from conventional. I never imagined I'd be loved in such a way by not one, but two people I utterly adore. I never dreamed I'd be in Colorado, the place that is simply the home of my heart... the place I feel I belong more than any other, except in their arms.

I expected this Christmas to be brutally hard. I've been sad leading up to the season because it is the first Christmas where I've accepted the end of the dream of becoming a mother. My teenage sister, who is pregnant, just decided she doesn't think I am family, and she's been fed bullshit about my husband - a man who has been nothing but amazing to her - and she decided to put him down. She told me I was just jealous of her because she can get pregnant and I can't. She was like my daughter for so long... and now she's just gone from my life because she has been so twisted by our fucked up family that she is no longer the child I once knew.

But it doesn't matter... I am not sad. I am exquisitely happy, in fact. I have spent the day without any decorations or holiday music. We watched Elf last night... and I'm going now to hold hands with the woman I love while we watch The Santa Clause. Tonight I will sleep sandwiched between the two I love, the two who mean more to me than anything in the world.

What more of a gift could I possibly ask for or dream of?

My teenage fantasies have nothing on the reality of this day. I am left so overwhelmed and overjoyed that words cannot possibly express how I feel right now, despite my efforts here.

I am loved and lucky beyond compare... and I hope this is just the first of many Christmases like this.

Day 43

My heart is light
but full of love
I dance below the starry sky
A moment memorized
captured forever in a photograph
that cannot do it justice

I am theirs
and they are mine
Whether forever or for a moment
I will savor
What I am given
I will take what I am offered

Asking few questions
Living in the moment, as it is all there is
I take away from each minute spent
with them, in their arms
A part of myself that is fulfilled
In ways I dared not dream

I take a chance to love
as completely as possible
to be loved wholly
not for who I could be
but for who I am right now

So I give wholly of myself
this moment is theirs
to cherish with me forever
I hold little back and release my fears
surrender them to the winter wind
that blows softly around me

I love them
Never must forget they love me
And simply want to see me smile

Day 42

I have not seen her since around 1:00 on Saturday. Almost 48 hours. I haven't gone this long without seeing her since May. Her absence is palpable. It is a weight on my chest that does not seem to lessen, but rather increases with the passing hours since our final hug goodbye.

How can a decision that was right feel so utterly and completely wrong? How can I know that to be with her now would be a mistake - for all of us - when to not be with her feels like the worst thing ever to happen? When did love become an oxymoron?

I have never been the grounded one. I dream as much as one can while still existing in the real world. I'm the emotional one. I am rarely the purely rational one. I am rarely the one to see things so clearly, and know the decision to be made. I work through these things, but it is almost always a challenge for my creative, passionate, emotional mind to take that turn to rational, clear headed and logical. I am in the logical role for the first time, and it's utterly illogical. My feet are as firmly planted on the ground as they can be, and I long for the clouds. I do not want to be pragmatic. I do not want to be "right." I do not want to limited by rational thought.

I want to let the happiest memories cloud my judgment. I want to soar into love blindly, and forget that it isn't the right choice. It feels so right... the love. Being apart is what is wrong. So my irrational mind, clouded by loss and aching with love tells me.

To love someone so much you must let go is a cruel reality. It does not feel kind or fair or just. It feels cruel and cold and vicious. It is not the first time I've lived through letting go of someone I loved. The last time, though, we came back together... and are together still, ten years later. It was right to let him go, just as it is right to let her go.

I never forget the stupid Scholastic Book Club poster that hung in my elementary school's office. There was a baby deer and the cliched quote, "if you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours to keep. If it doesn't, it was never meant to be."

I know there's no coming back this time, and yet this reality is not one I want to live in. I am struck by two other quotes.

"Love the life you have, not the one you want." ~Unknown

I love the life I have... I love Colorado. I love my adorable dogs. I love my amazing husband and the bond that we share that defies explanation. I am trying to remember all of these things as I mourn the loss of the only woman I've ever loved.

"You know you love someone when you want them to be happy even if you are not a part of that happiness."
~Unknown

I do want her to be happy. I hope she is able to find what she needs. I know she is hurting now, though I do not pretend to know what her pain feels like. I just want something good to come from this freedom we've given her.

I love her. I believe I will forever, on some level. The six months during which she was mine (ours) will be etched forever on my psyche. She is an amazing person... and I want her to believe that, to see that.

I dream of her. I dream of her free and happy and whole... and hope she realizes her own dreams.

Day 41

What could've been...

It is our last night living together, and she's moving out tomorrow. She spent last night sleeping in my arms, and will spend tonight sleeping in his. We're not saying goodbye, and we know this isn't forever... we hope with all our hearts that within a few short months, we can start "dating," whatever that looks like with your ex-live-in-girlfriend you share with your husband. The hope is that somewhere down the road, maybe in 18 months, maybe sooner, we can all live together again. When that happens, if that happens (and oh, how we hold tightly to the "when" and try desperately to ignore the "if"), we'll know it's forever. We'll know we've worked out what needed to be worked out. We'll know it's right for her, and she'll know we're who she needs and wants to be with for the rest of her life.

We play a game, watch a movie... we spend every minute of this last day together. We are sad, but we go to bed with hopeful hearts... we kiss, we cuddle. We love. We share our tears and sorrow, but believe it's only transient... it's just a part of our journey together, and the time apart is necessary to get to the "rest of our lives."

We close our eyes, as she and I hold hands and envelop him in a hug. We fall asleep with heavy hearts, but like Pandora's box, there is hope mixed in with our sorrows and saddness.

What is...

He and I slept together last night, as she slept alone in the room below ours. We go shopping together, leaving her home - for the final time ever - to pack alone. At the stores, everything is a heartbreak. I see a gingerbreak house at Costco... and I almost burst into tears. She doesn't even know I'd planned to buy that kit to make with her before Christmas. It was something I'd been planning to surprise her with, but that chance slipped away. Even after the (temporary, or so we hoped) breakup, I was going to surprise her with one on Christmas Day. I wanted to make that and watch Elf, which she has never seen, and even he loves. I wanted to share a tradition and start one with her, because even after November 25th, I believed we'd have Christmases together, as Us.

At PetSmart, I saw stuffed Christmas giraffes. At Costco, I saw a toy safari with a giraffe. I remember feeding them with her, not so terribly long ago, and I wanted to cry.

In the car, songs that made us think of her - or songs that were ours - taunted us. We'd turn the radio on, desperate for a distraction, only to turn it off again when James Otto's voice reminded us that "after all the love we've made, it sure would be a shame if we let this moment end so soon." Ironic that it was one of her songs to us, and now it's ending and we aren't the ones who let it end.

We struggle not to cry, and sometimes lose the battle. She is everywhere, it seems, even as she sits packing her stuff to leave our home, the one we've shared with her for over six months.

We alternate between intense saddness, not just for ourselves, but for her... and extreme frustration and anger. Why? What did we do wrong? We remind each other we didn't do anything wrong... we gave her every chance possible. We broke up with the door wide open, and she turned around and slammed it shut while our fingers were still in the doorway. With how awful it hurts, it doesn't seem possible that we did nothing wrong. There must be something we're missing, something we failed to give her that she needed... except we gave her all of ourselves. As much as we give each other... we were honest and loyal and devoted and we loved her in the same way we love each other. We didn't have the history with her, but the kind of love we felt (and feel still, unfortunately) for her is the same kind of love we've felt for one another for nearly eleven years.

I ask myself why... it's so incredibly stupid, and what slammed that door shut was something that wouldn't have been a blip on the radar. We'd have been just fine with the true story. She just didn't give it to us. Does she feel unworthy? Was it an escape hatch? Maybe she didn't want the hope we were offering, and she was letting us go in the only way she knew how. Perhaps she realized she didn't actually love us, and was trying to spare us that reality in the only way she thought possible. Of course, if that was the case, it didn't spare us anything... because once again, for us the truth is always easiest to handle.

So, here we are... her last day with us. She will go to sleep alone, one final time, downstairs. We will hold tightly to each other up here. We know it's the last night.

I can barely handle being in the same room as her right now. It hurts too much. I see her and realize she's going away tomorrow... and that's it. It's over. Even if we manage to maintain a friendship, what we've had for nine months is gone. All tossed aside over some stupid white lies... just one too many. Trust is fragile when not nourished, and when abused it will shatter like crystal. It can not be repaired once that happens. The pieces left behind are too broken to ever be pieced together again.

And so this is the last night... the last night of something we wanted, dreamed and hoped would be forever, just as what we've shared is forever. It's a detour on our path together, and not a destination.

I question the veracity of all of it, and yet if it was all a lie, it started as such a beautiful one... and so I cling to that, to the beauty amidst the questions, amidst the doubts. I remember that first night in Phoenix, when I slept in the middle... only I couldn't believe how amazing I felt, and I barely slept because I didn't want to give a moment of the happiness up to sleep. I barely slept for fear I'd wake up to find it all a dream...

And oh, what a dream it was...

So, he will take her to her new home tomorrow. He will help her move her stuff inside. He will get into the car and come home to me... and he and I will get back to the route we were on last February 27th. We will never be the same. We love each other more... we appreciate the magic of what we share more. I see what his love looks like from outside the circle of it. I know exactly what she threw away, and I just can't fathom how she could let him go...

I love her still, despite the anger and saddness. I worry about her ability to take care of herself... and then I remember that it's not my right to take care of her now. I don't get to ask where she is or what she's doing. She took all my rights away last Saturday night.

"But there's a danger in loving somebody too much,
and it's sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust.
There's a reason why people don't stay where they are.
Baby, sometimes, love just aint enough."
~Patti Smyth

"And now I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end the way it all would go
Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd have had to miss the dance"
~Garth Brooks

Day 40

I love Pandora. I don't know what I did before I had it. I usually listen to the Sara Bareilles station. So, that's what I have on. I hear first this song (which I like, but is highly repetitive, so I didn't post all of it, just the critical parts). 

("Be Okay" by Ingrid Michaelson) 

I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today
I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok
I just want to be ok today

Open me up and you will see
I’m a gallery of broken hearts
I’m beyond repair, let me be
And give me back my broken parts

I just want to know today, know today, know today
I just want to know something today
I just want to know today, know today, know today
Know that maybe I will be ok

(There's a line "I just wanna feel today," which I left out because I'd actually prefer some numbness today.)

That song is followed by The Wreckers "Leave The Pieces." Relevant bits below. 

And it's alright, yeah I'll be fine
Don't worry about this heart of mine
Just take your love and hit the road

There's nothing you can do or say
You're gonna break my heart anyway
So just leave the pieces when you go

Now you can drag out the heartache
Baby you can make it quick
Really get it over with
And just let me move on

Don't concern yourself
With this mess you left for me
I can clean it up, you see
Just as long as you're gone

And it's alright, yeah I'll be fine
Don't worry about this heart of mine
Just take your love and hit the road

And I think, omg... how does Pandora know I'm going through a breakup? And this is the worst breakup of my life. Worse even than the ones I had with my husband early on, because he and knew we'd wind up together. Saying goodbye to her, I know is forever. We'll try to be friends. I just don't know how long that lasts, or what that looks like. I've never really been friends successfully with an ex.

In romantic relationships, you open doors that stay closed to friends. You take down walls you can never truly rebuild. Boundaries are penetrated that don't allow for a return to Before. However, this relationship has defied all the "rules," so who knows? When she meets someone new, I don't think I'll be able to handle it. We'll see, I guess.

So, as I'm sitting here with tears streaming down myself (because I was already sorting pictures of her and putting them in a folder that's not so easily accessible... call it the "Dean Box (Gilmore Girls)" on my hard drive. My emotions run the gamut, and mingle in ways emotions never should. It's an odd sensation, yet not one I'm unfamiliar with, seeing as how I tend to be this way.

I'm "sun and rain." I'm "fire and ice." This side of me "needs no explanation" because "it all makes perfect sense."  Apparently, I am good at being "on both sides of the fence."

Colbie Caillat comes on Pandora. She's singing "Got Me." 

I suddenly realize that I will be just fine. I will hurt. I will rage. I will continue to feel fire and ice where this breakup is concerned. But I am with him, and forever will be... until the end of time (ours). I listen to "Got Me," which I'd never heard before, and realize that in some ways it chronicles my relationship with my husband.

You're stuck on me and my laughing eyes
I can't pretend though I try to hide - I like you
I like you.

I think I felt my heart skip a beat
I'm standing here and I can hardly breathe - you got me
You got me.

The way you take my hand is just so sweet
And that crooked smile of yours it knocks me off my feet

Oh, I just can't get enough
I'm a stoup I need to fill me up.
It feels so good it must be love
It's everything that I've been dreaming of.
I give up. I give in. I let go. Lets begin.
Cuz no matter what I do,
Oh (oh) my heart is filled with you.

I can't imagine what it'd be like
Livin everyday in this life - without you.
Without you.
One look from you I know you understand
This mess we're in you know is just so out of hand.

Oh, I just can't get enough
I'm a stoup I need to fill me up.
It feels so good it must be love
It's everything that I've been dreaming of.
I give up. I give in. I let go. Lets begin.
Cuz no matter what I do,

Oh, I just can't get enough
I'm a stoup I need to fill me up.
It feels so good it must be love
It's everything that I've been dreaming of.
I give up. I give in. I let go. Lets begin.
Cuz no matter what I do,
Oh (oh) my heart is filled with you.

Oh (oh)
You got me. You got me.
Oh (oh)
You got me. You got me.

From the beginning when I (we) both tried to fight something bigger than either of us, until the point at which we realized that we were meant to be... and he does have me. He will always, just as I know I will always have him. 

I've been fond of saying that as long as I have him in my life, I can never be truly unhappy. This doesn't mitigate the loss of her, or take away anything from what I shared with her, what we shared with her... but what it does do is make me recognize that once the pieces are left behind, I can clean them up just fine. I don't have to do it alone, either. I have this amazing man who loves me and who understands (all too well) what I am going through, and we can hold tightly to one another as we put this chapter of our lives in the past... and we can look back on the good parts, and someday, given time, maybe those will be all we look back on. At some point, maybe it won't hurt quite so badly. 

Even if it does, even if it hurts forever, I can't be unhappy. It was an experience I shared with the most important person in my life. He and I took this unconventional, unexpected and frequently beautiful journey together - and anywhere I go with him is right. 

"Love is never wrong. Whether it's for the moment, or forever... but you can't get to forever without taking the moment." ~ Nora Roberts, Bed Of Roses

Day 39

Morning is a whisper on his breath
Warm against my neck
I stir beneath his touch

Fingers tangle in my hair
A sleepy seduction of hazy longing
As minutes pass like hours

The wind cries beyond window panes
As we awaken into one another
In the dusky winter light

Day 38

Dear Mother Nature,

Hi. Listen, about the weather... yes, I know I live at 9,000 feet. I recognize that it is December in the Rockies. I expect cold days, even especially cold days. However, it's been over a week now. Over a week where Every. Single. Day. has been below zero at some point is ridiculous. It is eight below. EIGHT. That is very cold. VERY. Do you hear me? It's really fucking cold!

I do not live in Minnesota or Alaska. I am not saying either of these places are bad places to live... but they expect it to be fucking cold. In Colorado, winter goes like this. We get snow. It melts in a day or less because it's sunny and reasonably warm during the day. At night, it may be very cold, but not usually below ZERO.

Look, I don't know if you've heard about this thing called global warming, but uh... IT IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THIS COLD. Damn it.

My poor dogs go outside and their little feet are so cold they come in limping with ice balls stuck to their little feet from the snow that can't MELT BECAUSE IT IS SO DAMN COLD!!!!

I'm sure you're very busy and all (see the aforementioned global warming thing), but when you get around to it (SOON), please give us some nice, warm weather. I'm not talking crazy warm... I'll settle for the freakin' forties by day.

Okay. That's all. Thanks.

~J.W.

Day 37

All For Believing (Missy Higgins)

Pull back the shield between us, and I’ll kiss you,
Drop your defences and come, into my arms.
I’m all for believing, I’m all for believing.

I’m all for believing if you can reveal the true colours within.

I know you blanket your mind so much that I am blind, but I, I see you’ve painted your soul into your guard,
I’m all for believing, I’m all for believing

I need to know just how you feel, to comfort you; I need to find the key to let me in, into your heart, to find your soul.

Pull back the shield between us, and I’ll kiss you,
Drop your defences and come, into my arms.


I’m all for believing, if you can reveal, the true colours within,
And say you will be there for me to hold, when the faith grows old and life turns cold, when the faith grows old, and life turns cold.
So if you’re cold I will stay, maybe fate will guide the way. I believe in what I see and baby we were meant to be,
Just believe. (we're meant to be)
Just believe. (we're meant to be)
Just believe. (we're meant to be)
Trust in me.


The anger comes in waves that bring with them tears of sorrow and loss. Lies, stupid, inconsequential lies... except not inconsequential because they tainted everything. Memories wrapped in sweetness and questions. Answers are scarce. Love could've been enough... but wasn't. Trust wasn't there, and not in the way I thought mattered most. My fears, my reluctance to trust were minimal when compared to hers. So afraid we could not accept her for who she was, she was blinded to the light of realization. We saw her. She didn't see us, and didn't believe our love for her would withstand honesty, when all we ever needed was honesty from her.

So much love, and it's overwhelming to not be able to give it to her now. I channel it into creative energy. I give even more love to him. He has been my one true thing for nearly eleven years. I know he is there for me, and I know he needs me to be there for him. His love is my anchor, and I hope I can give him this comfort and peace when all the world is in chaos around us.

Our open ended break up left me with hope, as is evidenced by the song posted above. I listened to that song nearly every day until Saturday, when the door closed tightly to hope for Us in the future.


The anger comes in waves, and is met with sadness that seems infinite. The tears burn my eyes and wet my pillow as I cry myself to sleep, remembering how she'd grab hold of my hand and wrap my arm around herself when she came to bed after working at night. I move closer to him, and find comfort in that... yet even while comforted, the vast empty space she once occupied seems to mock me. Sheets cool that once were warmed by her sweet sleep are mine for the taking... but I do not want that space. I want the middle, and never again shall I have it.

Day 36

Removed for personal reasons

Day 35

Removed for personal reasons.

Day 34

Sometimes, I just want to scream. That's all.

The End.

Day 33

I battle thoughts that only
take me up, then push me down
I ultimately come full circle
A romantic merry-go-round


Emotions catapult me to new heights,
of tears and broken dreams
But plummet with another breath
A roller coaster of silent screams

I can't escape the tilt-a-whirl
this breakup has become
But oh, how I still love the girl...
A fantasy undone

Day 32

Words are bitter on my tongue
Not unlike the gin I drink to
Wash the memories away

Dreams fade with each drop
Replaced by hazy memories
And echoes of distant laughter

Tears spill as the cup knocks over
And fades words of love
The colors blurring like a summer sunset

Day 31

It began as a fantasy, in a dream world where boundaries are pushed and limits of expression are tested. It became a wild, passionate, heady frenzy. The crescendo grew, and new love was realized amongst the joy and certainty of love that had defied all odds and lasted many years. The cold chill of winter was barely felt as we were warmed by love so new, so unexpected and so magnificently beautiful.

The fantasy became a reality, in the cruel light of the real world. Her touch silken escape, her laughter light that lit the darkness. She became ours, and we became hers. Five glorious spring days... early April, so full of the promise of summer's glittering green.

We coexisted, the three of us, in the real world and in the dream one... where on bended knee, with him beside me, we asked her to be our bride. Our joy was overwhelming when she agreed. Vows were exchanged in this second life, but she was here beside us, part of our real lives. Rings shared by him and I were moved to our right hands, as the three of us pledged to love and cherish... and wore matching rings, with three diamonds, to symbolize what we shared. We dreamed of sharing the same magical moment in our real world... someday, when the time was right.

Spring became a glorious glow of rebirth, as it does year after year... but this was a sweeter spring, for we had dreams of making all the fantasies of our other world realities. We took the first step in this in May when being apart became unbearable, she came here to live.

We journeyed together, in so many ways... spring blossomed into summer, and summer faded into the gilded glow that is autumn. Like the change of seasons, our relationship changed. Like the beauty that can be seen in any season, there was beauty to be found. There was also sorrow, like the golden aspen leaves falling from the trees. There was fear, like that of driving on ice slicked roads.

Worse than fear, there was danger... danger that staying together would mean death to all we shared. Danger that would mean there could be no hope of spring's return, someday when the time was right.

With the heaviness of this burden upon us, we let her go. Glistening tears spilled down our faces... so much love still remains. Is it a mistake? To let someone go because you love them too much? When faced with the reality of risks so great... the reality of hurt and intentional pain where there had only been love and the desire to find happiness within each others' arms. I cannot believe we were wrong, but, oh how wrong it feels.

Empty canyons remain, cut by the rush of new love and joy, once so full of promise... but one cannot move backwards, and stagnant water can only become dark and dirty. When forward is no longer an option, the time has come to say the words that cut deeper than any river can.

Still, I think we all dream... of the possibilities of a new spring. Winter is never a permanent death. It is merely a cycle, part of a process. Spring will return, and so often it seems more magnificent than the one the preceeded. There is freedom in the blue of a crystal clear Colorado summer sky.

At night I see the stars... so many, that I could never count their shimmering lights. Beyond them, even more are hidden from my view. Dreams are not unlike the stars that dance in the night... that danced in her eyes during happier times. I long to see those stars again. I ache to recognize those dreams.

Time will pass, and the hurt will heal... but the love can never die completely, and this is why I know the horror of this ending is right. Love lives beneath the tears, beneath the frustrations and beneath the overwhelming sorrow. It does not hurt to lose that which we do not love.

So, perhaps someday, another spring will bloom for the three of us. For now, he is my anchor... for now he remains my constant partner. She remains the princess of my dreams and soul... and I will not give those dreams up easily, and will find comfort in the memories of her soft warmth, of her musical laughter.

The end of one novel does not mean a sequel won't be written... as the book closes on this fantasy made real, my heart remains open to more dreams. Make no mistake... she will be the only woman I dream of, for none could take her place, just as none could take his.

My heart is whole, and yet shattered. My love is all accounted for, and there is none to give to any other but the Two of Me.

Day 30 (many days late)

I cannot lie
Not to them
I cannot pretend,
for it's cruel

I have to let go
Surrender myself
to the pain that comes
with moving forward

There is no going back
No return to gilded days of promise
Stagnation ruins all that there is
Falsehoods destroy all that there was

It is what is right
Yet feels so wrong
My eyes sore and puffy
from hours of shed tears

Is there a monster looking back
when I see myself in the mirror?
Have I made the wrong call?
To protect those I love...

Is letting go wrong?
Even though holding on would taint
all that has been shared
all the beauty that once was

Why do I feel a demon?
Their tears shatter my heart
I am mourning, too... it is all our pain to bear
Why do I feel so alone?

Day 29

Beneath my back, the bed sinks down
Her breath is warm upon my neck
His hands are soft on heated flesh

Her arms intertwined with mine
His kiss upon my mouth
Together
United
Completed

We rise and fall upon the bed
Until the end
When we fall into one another
And sleep

Day 28

Intuitive Eating: two years later

In October of 2007, I confessed to my husband that I was really struggling with emotional baggage mainly related to my lifelong struggle with food. While I showed early signs of disordered eating, I didn't truly develop an eating disorder until I spent several years under the watchful and often vindictive and malicious eye of my aunt. I lost weight... I also lost all control over what I ate. I began to sneak eat. I'd eat out with friends. I'd steal food from the pantry when no one was looking. The aunt ridiculed me when I was caught, and did things that, in retrospect, often seem cruel.

Now, if you asked her, she'd tell you that she went out of her way to make sure I had special "treats," often that she herself made. Things like sugar free pudding or fruit salads. The problem is that it was always presented to me in such a way that I was made to feel inferior and left out. I wasn't "normal" like everyone else. I couldn't be trusted with anything. I was shamed into eating alone, and by the time I was a teenager, I was what was then called a non-purging bulimic (though only because my attempts to make myself throw up repeatedly failed).

A month before this fateful conversation with my husband, I had begun seeing a nutritionist. She gave me another thinly disguuised diet to try. I was disgusted. I felt broken. I'd dieted for years, and the roller coaster of ups and downs was getting to be a major problem. I was trapped in a never-ending cycle of failure/success/failure. I'd gain, lose, gain. I wound up heavier each time I dieted, and I was frustrated beyond expression.

When I found Bonnie, a therapist who specialized in eating disorders, I was skeptical at best. I was waiting for her to hand me the next not-a-diet diet and start asking me how much I weighed each week. Imagine my surprise when she instead handed me a book called Intuitive Eating. Not only would she not ask my weight, she discouraged me from finding it out.

The Principles of IE can be read here. The bare bones basic gist of it, however, is simple. Don't obsess over food. It's fuel. It's fun. It is meant to be enjoyed. It should not equate torturous rituals of weighing or counting Points (ala Weight Watchers). It is far more simple than you can possibly imagine, and yet, because of our twisted culutral obsession with thinness and fat phobia, it is almost impossible for most to follow.

I was ready for it, though. I had learned that dieting was emotionally and physically damaging for me. I wound up heavier and more sure I had 'failed' with each passing attempt.

Well, it's been two years. In that time, I have struggled with and embraced the concept of IE. I am no longer worried about a number on the scale. I have chosen to accept the body I have, to love the body I have and to let go of insane fantasies regarding bikini bathing suits at high school reunions. I've come to accept that with my disordered thought processes, I would undoubtedly struggle with body image regardless of what the scale said. I have addressed my disordered eating behaviors and thoughts as opposed to worrying about how many stars I've got on my Weight Watchers bookmark.

The result? I have never been happier with my body. I have never been less obssessed or concerned with food. In the two years since I gave up dieting, I have essentially maintained my weight. Early on, there was (and often is) some weight gain. I know this not because of a scale, but because my wedding rings didn't fit for a few months, or because the seatbelt fit a bit more snugly. After about six months, though, the rings fit again. The seatbelt felt less snug.

I still wear the same clothes I wore two years ago. I have probably maintained this weight within ten or fifteen pounds in either direction the entire two years. I don't know what that weight is. I am lucky enough to have a primary care doctor who supports what I am doing, who recognizes that not every pain in the human body can be attributed to being fat (love the doctor who told my girlfriend she had carpal tunnel syndrome because she was fat!!!). My doctor also recognizes that the mental health benefits of not obsessing over dieting are enormous to me, and that the chronic yo-yo dieting I did was unhealthy.

I still have bad days. I still, sometimes, struggle with my weight... with not feeling pretty enough because of it. But these thoughts are fleeting where once they were constant. I am able to remind myself that being pretty doesn't make one happy or emotionally healthy... and that being thin doesn't necessarily lead to health, either. Especially if unhealthy means are used to achieve the so-called-ideal results on the BMI charts.

Where food is concerned, I eat what I want when I want it. I do not check food labels. I don't obsess over whether or not I should eat a cream puff. If something tastes bad, I don't eat it... if something tastes good, I usually eat until I am comfortably full. I almost never cross the line from full into stuffed, and the rare times that I do, I am usually aware that it is happening, and it's a choice I have made for any number of reasons (something at a fancy dinner tastes really good and I decide I want a bite more, or I am actually giving in and emotionally eating - which is rare, but still happens once in a while).

Food is not a friend or an enemy now. It is something I enjoy very much when I need and/or want it, and something I walk away from if I am full or don't like it. I rarely choose to eat emotionally because food is not the panacea it once was. I now face my problems head on and try to find other means with which to solve them. Food never solved a problem in my life. It may have allowed me to avoid it... and as Bonnie used to tell me, after years of using food in that manner, there are times when it's okay to give in and do so. There are times when you need to allow yourself to shut off... but in allowing that, the "reward" of distraction is so insignificant that it is rarely worth that awful, overstuffed, my-stomach-hurts-from-eating-so much-feeling.

After two years of IE, I am happier than I have ever been with how I handle what I eat. I am more comfortable in my own skin than I've ever been, including that brief moment in time when my aunt managed to diet me down to my so-called healthy weight (and I thought I was fat). I am far more emotionally stable because I've developed skills to cope with my issues, whereas before I used food to avoid facing them.

Am I perfect? Hell, no. Do I falter some days? Sure. But overall I have a relationship with food that is far, far healthier than I ever dared dream it could become. Food is not my foe, nor my ally. It's what fuels my body. It is social and sensual and enjoyable, but it is not something I need to be happy, social or sensual. It is simply food. It tastes good or bad. I eat it or I don't... and no one tsk-tsks because I'm up a pound one week, and no one cheers and gives me an inflated ego because I happened to lose a pound another week. My weight is just a number on the scale that I refuse to consider or worry about, and I can't even begin to describe the freedom I feel because of this.

xoxo,
Juliet

Day 27

A hand outstretched

so hard to hold

feels like I'm letting go

Pain not shared roils in my stomach

twists thoughts into ugliness

my burden my pride and fear

First steps taken

stumbles and falls preceeded success

wandering alone before I dare

to trust another again

Day 26

emotional tug of war
I'm pulled two directions
answers in the middle
where I cannot seem to stand

Day 25

She stands beyond the door I've closed,
a wistful, longing look upon her face
It touches me and toughens me
It frightens me and reassures me

She cannot open the door,
though she tries in vain
I hold the key, clenched tightly in my fist
Which I press against my chest

She waits with patience I do not possess
I cannot answer the questions in her eyes
I want her warmth, I want her love
I miss her sweetness, I long for her touch

The knowledge awakens fear
Too terrified to trust even myself,
let alone the poetry that slides easily off her tongue
The poetry that dances past lips I ache to kiss

I know I must decide
Do I take the risk of being hurt?
Dare I throw my heart at her feet
with nothing but the hope that she will not crush it?

She stands beyond the door I've closed
I wrestle with my wounded pride
I battle demons caused by words
And hope she will not walk away down the empty road

Day 24

A toddler learning to walk will fall repeatedly. A young child with her new two-wheeler will falter many times before she first rides without the training wheels. Skinned knees will not deter children from learning to roller skate. Bruised arms and legs don't prevent girls from trying cartwheels in their backyards.

Children have a resilency that is remarkable. Adults... not as much so.

Perhaps we are like elastic bands. New bands stretch and return to their original shape. As the elastic ages, it becomes looser and brittle. It goes from remarkable resiliency to extreme fragility.

As children, we are tenacious. We never give up. Quitting isn't a word most of us have in our vocabularly. At least, not when it comes to something we want to learn, something we yearn to be able to do. As adults, we do not have this tenacity. We let go of dreams too easily. We forget to fight for what we want, for what we love. We are tired, and do not want to exert our energy on flightless dreams of whimsy.

We forget how to be free. We forget how to let go. We forget, all too easily, that life is not endless. That time is not something we ever get back. We slip into despair and grief or waste time and energy on anger or regret.

So many children recognize that life is hard. We don't give them credit for it, but think back. Most of us had some sort of challenges to overcome. Most of us had to fight to grow into the people we are today. Those of us lucky enough to look in the mirror and like the person that looks back have had to fight for that self-respect. Children choose not to dwell on what they cannot control. They may become anxious or excited. They cry and they falter. Yet always they stand up again. Always they clean that skinned knee and put the skates back on their feet, ready to try again.

If we could bottle that fearlessness, that effervescence...if we could market the freedom children know, we'd all be rich. We forget, though, that we have this quality. If we tap deep into our psyches and remember who were were not that terribly long ago, we can enjoy this release from grief, this ability to fight for what we want, for whom we want to become. If we only stop and remember that life, while often cruel and miserable, can be beautiful and amazing... well... if we could do that, it would be a gift no one could take from us.

So, the next time you watch a child take her first steps, the next time you watch a Little League team win, just remember that they were not afraid of the journey. They failed before they could succeed. They fought for what they wanted... and you can, too. You just have to choose to believe.

Day 23

It whirls and twists inside my head
A tornado of unwanted questions
Which have no answers

I slip away inside and evade
The looks of worry in their eyes
Disappointment echoes in their every word
Unspoken and often unintened

My translation wrought with errors
I read between lines that are not there
My mind accepts the vicious lashes
I self-inflict behind closed eyes

Day 22

This is inspired by the Brad Paisley song "Letter To Me."

Dear Katya,

This is yourself, in the future. You've given up the name Katya, but you still have nicknames and pen names. Juliet is your favorite of these.

I'm sure you're skeptical. It's in your nature, though you aren't yet skeptical enough. So, here's a little something to prove it's me.

"Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name..."

That should get the job done.

It's a good guess that Jason has recently dumped you again. I'm sure you're frustrated and hurt, but let me tell you this... you will soon understand him better, and soon you're gonna realize you deserve more than he'll ever be able to give you.

Life has been challenging for you. I wish I could say that it gets less challenging, but the truth is, you have so many obstacles to overcome ahead of you. Just know that they make you a stronger person. You will learn to stand up for yourself, and you will learn to walk away from situations and people that hurt you.

There's a man you will meet. I won't say when, but suffice it to say, you'll know when you meet him. I know you have a huge crush on someone else right now... but he's not the right choice. I do wish you believed enough in yourself to see that he is completely into you, but you're not ready to take that step yet. Someday, you wiil be ready, and you'll put it all on the line for this amazing man. You'll dance in the rain and cry in the rain, and in the end, you'll stand with him on a rock in the desert and become his forever.

Life doesn't get easier just because we get older. Nor do people stop being dysfunctional just because you move far away from them (and you will). It won't matter, though... your life is so full of love that comparatively speaking, everything bad that happens will seem less awful. You will have someone to hold you when you cry.

Fantasies you've barely dared to imagine will come true for you. You will write a book - one you actually finish. Oh, and you're going to use a computer for that. I'm serious. I'm sure you're laughing, but it's true. Even more, you're going to rebuild your computer when your motherboard dies. I'm pretty sure I can hear your snorts of laughter from the past... but it's going to happen, thanks to that guy.

There will be this girl. You'll meet her in a totally unexpected way, and she will become part of the life you share with him. It will sound strange to you now, but you will love her... and so will he. She will teach you that love does not have boundaries or limits, and you will love him all the more because of her prescence in your life. She will give you gifts that have no value because they transcend tangible goods.

Your heart will break in ways you never imagined possible. What you've gone through with Jason will be laughable (and plenty will laugh, believe me). You will realize you never knew what love was... and your poetry will improve because you'll have someone - something - real to write about.

This man will help you piece your heart back together... if you let him. If you don't hide inside yourself and try to pretend, as you so often do now, that everything is just fine. It's okay to let him see you cry. He loves you. He will do whatever he can to make you smile through your tears, and he will succeed. But when he doesn't, when the pain is just too raw, he'll just hold you and love you through it.

I know it sounds like a pipe dream to you now. Just keep your heart and mind open. You will stumble, you will fall, you will hurt... and dreams you've had your entire live will die. When you graduate in June, you will get a book by Dr. Seuss called Oh, The Places You'll Go! You will love this book, and you need to remember the wisdom it has to offer you. You will need to remember that sometimes you lose... but that it is possible to win even when that happens. You can fail from lack of trying, or you can fight for what you want. Even if you fail, at least you've put in the effort. At least you have the scars to prove you fought for what you wanted.

Give Jean and Barbara hugs. You already know how important they are... you have no clue how much you will value what they've given you later on, though.

That baby sister of yours... kiss her sweet head. She will grow up so fast. Too fast. You will love her like your own. You already know this, even if it scares you to feel that way about her. She will always be one of the most important people in your world. She will be able to count on you to love her, even when she fails, and she needs that.

Remember that life is not something you can plan. It's not a route on a map you can plot out in advance, or plug into a GPS (you'll know what that is someday). Life is similar to a road trip, though. You can plan to go certain places, but then something comes up... and detours can lead you places you never dreamed. Sometimes, you'll still try to get back to the original destination... but other times you will realize that what you've stumbled upon accidentally is actually so much better than what you'd planned for yourself.

Take a deep breath and dive in. Life is never easy, but you have so much love to look forward to in the future.

Love,
Juliet

Day 21

Removed for personal reasons

Day 20

We breathe in synch
Him and I
Beside each other in bed
As though we were oxygen for each other

My lips against his mingle
The dance familiar and comforting
Yet as thrilling as that first time
When they met so long ago

Love is not enough to say
He is so much more than love
He is life
His heart beating matches mine

He is always beside me
No matter where he goes
I am in his arms at night
And he is in mine

Day 19

removed for personal reasons

Day 18

I watch him sleep, curled up tightly
His arm snaked around my waist
And if I move even slightly,
He draws me closer to him

Dark lashes on moonlit skin
His mouth relaxed and perfect
It begs me for a kiss
But I do not want to awaken him

I touch his cheek, and he softly stirs
His fingers lace through my own
He holds firmly, but gently
In sleep he is a contradiction

His embrace is my haven
When the world around me is chaos
When nothing feels right
I find solace in his arms, where I belong

Day Seventeen

She awoke to a gray sky... the kind tinged with blue, which in winter almost always meant snow was on the way. She shivered when she put her bare feet on the stone floor. It was just after sunrise, and she'd barely slept the night before. She couldn't get what had happened to stop playing like a bad movie behind her closed eyes.

She didn't know how she could've been so stupid. She looked down at her hand. The skin where her wedding band once rested was so brightly white compared to the rest of her hand that it was like a neon sign screaming of failure.

Love was tenuous, she decided. Fragile and challenging and maybe not worth the effort. She didn't know. Or maybe her friends were right. Maybe her mother was right. She never should've married him in the first place. They were a mismatch from the beginning. He was Mr. Social. Wanted a career in politics. She was the shy, quiet librarian at the high school. She wasn't cut out for life in the spotlight, and she'd told him that at the start. He promised her he'd keep her life private, but he couldn't keep his private. Oh, but he had a silver tongue. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it, which was undoubtedly why he'd been elected mayor of their small town when he was only 25.

They met when he came to the high school to speak to the students about politics and ways they could help make a difference - even before they were old enough to vote. She was in charge of the voter registration table where students over 18 were encouraged to sign up. She was captivated by his speech, and she wasn't afraid to admit that his amazingly good looks influenced her judgment. While not an unattractive woman, she knew she wasn't a beauty. She was rather plain, to be frank. Her hair was a nondescript brown and her curls generally misbehaved in the humid weather. She typically wore it up in a bun. It was just easier that way. She had decent skin and a nice smile, but she knew the only standout feature she possessed were her eyes. They were tortoiseshell hazel... green with specks of a bright brown around her pupils. If she bothered with makeup, she could've been called pretty, but she knew it was only because of her eyes.

So when Duncan MacCloud came to her table and began to talk to her, she was a bit stunned. When he asked her if he could call her sometime, she knew her jaw had fallen open in surprise. It wasn't something Duncan missed. He quickly apologized if he'd crossed a line.

"I'm sorry. I don't see a wedding band, so I assumed you were single. Please forgive my forwardness," he'd said.

She found her tongue and somehow managed to assure him she wasn't married and would love for him to call her. She wrote her phone number and name down on the back of a voter registration card, and he'd made some quip about getting her vote. She'd laughed. He was charming, gorgeous and shockingly interested in her. She was flabbergasted.

On their first date, he rented a helicopter and took her on an aerial tool of Manhattan. He gave her champagne, and introduced her to caviar. She was surprised to like it, but she did. She also liked him. She was scared of her feelings towards him. He knew that, and was very slow to make a move.

At the end of their date, he leaned in and kissed her mouth lightly. She all but melted into his embrace, and shocked herself by deepening the kiss. He extricated himself from her arms and stepped off her front porch.

As he turned to walk away, he said, "Becca, you astound me." Before she could reply, he was in his car driving away.

They saw a lot of each other. Within weeks, they were inseparable. She knew she was in love with him. She just didn't know what to do with that information. She called her best friend and poured her heart out. Jenny just laughed at her.

"You act like you've never had a boyfriend, Becca. He's just a man. An incredibly gorgeous, well-off man... and you'd be an idiot to let him get away."

Jenny took Becca lingerie shopping. Becca had never set foot in a Victoria's Secret before. She felt her face turn scarlet as she looked at the many options. She finally settled, over Jenny's protests that she was a prude, on a pretty bra and panties set. She wasn't a prude. She had never owned undergarments so skimpy in her  life!

Duncan was infinitely patient with Becca. He took her on extravagant dates, and one night she asked him to come to her house. She wanted to cook for him. She had spent a summer abroad in Paris and had taken cooking classes at a prestigious culinary school. She made pate, home baked French bread, a seafood bouillabaisse and a chocolate souffle for dessert.

Duncan arrived with a simple bouquet of daises - her favorite flower. She smiled as she put them in a vase. She had decided tonight would be the night. She had on her new lingerie. She wasn't inexperienced, exactly... there'd been one guy before. Her high school sweetheart. She and Chris had broken up after three years when they picked colleges on opposite ends of the country. Jenny had been teasing her ever since about not getting over her first love.

Well, she was over him now... and completely smitten with Duncan. She served the pate with warm chunks of French bread. She sliced more to put on the table to go with the seafood entree. He told her how amazing everything tasted. After dinner, they went to her living room. It was December, and she had her Christmas tree lights on. He built a fire, and the snuggled on cushions on the floor  under a blanket.

Before long, their kisses became deeper and more passionate than they'd ever been. She pressed her body into his. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was being wanton. She simply didn't care. Her mouth found his neck, and she kissed eagerly while he moaned.

"You make me crazy," he whispered in her ear. "I've never wanted any woman so badly."

Shivers of delight snaked up her spine. She was exquisitely happy, and could not wait to feel him inside her. She suddenly found herself on top of him, writhing and eager, but still fully clothed.

"Wait," he said, as he gently lifted her off of him. "I need to do something first."

Confused, and slightly embarrassed, she sat up and did not meet his gaze for several moments. He touched her chin, and pulled her face up so their eyes met.

"I love you, Becca. I've loved you for some time now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue box that she knew was from Tiffany. He opened the box to reveal a sparkling diamond ring. "Marry me."

Tears filled Becca's eyes, and she found she could not speak. She nodded her yes, and he slipped the ring on her finger. His mouth found hers, and soon they were completely lost in one anothers' bodies.

(end Part I)

Day Sixteen

Insecurity is a malicious beast. It feeds off self-perpetuating beliefs. It makes you do incredibly stupid things that hurt the people you love, the people who love you...

I fear loss. I fear abandonment. I sometimes don't feel worthy of the love I have in my life. I sometimes think I am not good enough.

The problem is, when you combine those fears and feelings of worthlessness with insecurity, you do seriously fucked up shit. Sometimes, you do stuff that makes you wonder if you aren't trying to prove to yourself that you're not worth it... that you don't deserve it. Sometimes, you do stuff that betrays the trust and faith people have put in you.

You can't fix it. You can't undo it. What has been done is done... and now you have to hope like hell that somehow they'll forgive what is really unforgivable. You have to hope like hell that they will learn to trust you again... and yet you understand why they may not.

At the end of the day, there is nothing you can do. You're powerless.

Trust is like fine crystal. It is emotionally expensive and very fragile. Once it's broken, it can be damn near impossible to repair.

Now you wait. You wait and hope they love you enough to realize you've made a mistake you won't repeat. You hope they love you more than you deserve... because after what you've done, you actually don't deserve as much as they've given you. After what you've done, you don't deserve trust.

You know all of this. You will suffer alone while he thinks. You will suffer alone while you wait. It is part of the consequences of your actions, and you know that it is your own fault... and it hurts. You hurt knowing how badly you've hurt them. You hurt knowing that you've broken his heart. You hurt like hell and deserve to feel every ounce of remorse and self-loathing.

There are mistakes and there are mistakes. This is the latter of the two sort.

So, you sit and wait... and hope to be whole again, knowing you may never again be complete, knowing you may have irreparably broken the most important thing in your life.

Day Fifteen

Dear Kaity,

Today you are 18, and I just cannot believe that. I don't know how you grew up so fast. I feel like it was just moments ago that I was babysitting you while mommy worked and tugging your ponytail - and telling you it was my Pet Pony. You'd giggle and it just lit up my world to make you laugh.

You have not had an easy few years. I know that you're facing some major challenges ahead, too. Just for today, though. I want you to not think about the past and not worry about the future. Today is a day to celebrate your life. Given how close you've come to losing it over the past few years, it is a major celebration.

I love you so much. I hope you know how much you mean to me... how much I will always love you, no matter what. I have refused to give up on you and have spent most of your life fighting for you. Do you know why? Your very existence saved mine. I was lost when I found out mommy was having you. You were born, this perfect, tiny person... and you needed me. You needed me to be strong and to fight for you. I gained courage and strength through your very existence.

I have loved you like my own child, and I have loved you like my sister. This has created an interesting dynamic in our relationship... but for the most part, it's been a positive thing for both of us.

I miss you every single day. My walls are covered in your pictures, and when I see your face smiling at me, I just miss you that much more... but it also makes me happy to see that smile, especially knowing your smiles have been fewer and further between these past few years.

I hope you know how special you are... and not just to me. You matter to a lot of people, and especially to that baby you will have next year. Your life is going to change dramatically, and I will be there as much as I can be to talk to you when you're scared or lost. I am always here for you, not matter the distance between us.

I wish I could be there to celebrate with you. I'm gonna have a Halloween cupcake and think of you all day long.

I wish you a year of joy, peace and hope. I wish you a lifetime of these things...

Happy birthday, little sister.

Love,
Jessie

Day Fourteen

Dear Dream Child,

I am writing you this letter knowing you will never exist. I have imagined you so clearly, so often. You have your Daddy's hazel eyes and long eyelashes. You have my mouth. Despite having always wanted a daughter, I usually dream of you as a boy. A little boy who is adored and happy, and who never doubts for a moment he is loved. One time, I dreamt of you... and you'd just been born. You were named Thomas, but we called you Tommy. I held you on our bed and you had your tiny fingers wrapped around one of mine. Your Daddy looked so happy as I passed you to him... but then I woke up, and you were gone. My beautiful son... just a dream.

I knew I might never have you. I don't know how I knew, but I did. Still, when we started to try to make you a reality, I believed. I really, really believed it would happen... that you would be realized. Month after month, I was face to face with the bitter reality of a dream not meant to be for reasons that don't exist.

I do not believe in a god, and I refuse to believe in one cruel enough to get a fourteen year-old girl pregnant when a married 33 year old woman doesn't. I refuse to believe in a god who is malicious enough to give children to junkies and abusers but not to parents who would love them and adore them. Some might say that not having you is my punishment from the god I don't believe in... they can go to the hell I don't believe in.

When I hold the baby I nanny for... when her sweet little smile lights up my day... I think of you. I think of how happy you would've made me. No matter how hard it may have been, I know I'd have been a good mother because I know what it is like to not have that. I know how much it hurts when you feel like your parents don't care about you... like you're not really all that consequential in their lives. I'd never have wanted you to feel that for even a second, and I'd have done all that I could to ensure you never did.

I dreamed of reading you my favorite stories. Peter Pan. Green Eggs & Ham. The one I can never remember the name of about the house that is in the country until the country becomes the city... and the house misses the country and misses being loved... but then is again. When I imagine you as a girl, I dream of sharing the wisdom of Judy Blume with you. I imagine long talks... and tears when your heart first breaks... and joy when you meet the person you will spend your life with. I imagine you dancing with your Daddy on your wedding day. I imagine him scaring the crap out of potential boyfriends and never believing anyone to be good enough for his little girl.

I dream of your hair being like mine... curly and thick. I imagine braiding it for your first day of school. I imagine putting band aids on imaginary wounds... and real ones, too. I imagine panicking when you start to walk and fall down - just as I do when Allie falls down.

I think of the boundaries I'd set, and know that you'd fight them. I know that on some deep level, as frustrating as I'd find that, I'd also admire that quality. I'd admire your independence, and never want to squash it or your dreams.

I imagine your high school and college graduations... though if you didn't want to go to college, and wanted to find another way to live your life, I'd support you in every way I could without trying to make you into who I thought you should become. I'd want you only to be you... and I'd want you to be true to yourself, true to your dreams.

When some of your dreams never came true, and you needed to cry... I'd be there. I know that pain all too well, and I'd hold you and let you rant and cry it out. Or I'd give you the quiet space you needed to work through the pain on your own, and I'd know you well enough to determine which you needed.

I'd help you pick up the pieces and encourage you to find new dreams... because life without dreams is dreary and dull.

Most of all, I'd love you. I'd love you so much... the sweet child I will never hold. I love you anyway, even knowing you'll never be more than a dream.

You've become one of those dreams I know I need to let go of... I can't hold you any longer, but saying goodbye is so hard. You were all I wanted even before I knew your Daddy. You were a dream before he was a reality, but he just made the dream that much sweeter... he helped me see that I could be a good mother, and I saw clearly how amazing he'd be as a father. We'd make mistakes, because all parents do... but we'd own those mistakes and work towards fixing them... and we'd do so together, as a unified front.

I love you... I'm sorry you won't be realized. I will never forget the dream of you... but I have to say goodbye now.

Love,
Mommy

Day Thirteen

Love is...

Knowing when to let go
Knowing when to hold on
Knowing you're not alone
Feeling warm inside when it's cold
Being part of something bigger than yourself
Learning
Trusting
Hope
Charity
Beauty
Honesty
Sharing
Joy
Freeing
Being able to be yourself
Laughter
Tears
Pain
Life
Passion
Longing
Needing
Wanting
Giving

And in the end, it transcends words and definition. No matter how prosey I get, it's not something that words can ever do justice... and I am lucky to have so much of it.

Day Twelve

Kiss me... these two words repeated themselves in her mind as she walked with her hand in his. All she wanted was to know the feel of his mouth on hers. She'd kissed others... her fair share, she thought. Enough to know that it would be beyond amazing when - if - he kissed her. She wanted to kiss him, but she was a little too shy and a little too scared. He could be her everything. Four hours wandering around the museum and she knew this... knew it on a level so deep, it terrified her.

She wasn't looking for everything. She was young, and had just started to break free of the chains of fear so many tried to shackle her with. She wasn't ready... but there he was, hazel eyes twinkling in the dimly lit Islamic Wing. He was everything she'd dreamed of, and then some. Could she take the chance? Dare to give her heart, and not worry about the consequences?

By the time dinner was delivered to his apartment, she knew there was no need to ask the question. She had little choice. She could run, scared like a rabbit... or she could let herself feel, let herself live. To do so meant loving him... and accepting the risks that came with this knowledge. To run meant giving up on herself, on what she knew she wanted for her life.

She knew there was no choice to make. She'd made herself a promise, not a month before, to start actually living life. To start experiencing it daily. This was going to be one hell of a ride, but she sensed, after their marathon ten hour first date, that it wouldn't end anytime soon... and that it would be the best risk she ever took.

Nearly eleven years later, she sat staring at her wedding rings... and knew, with absolute conviction, that if she'd walked away, it would've been the biggest mistake in her life.

Day Eleven

Removed for personal reasons

Day Ten

Removed for personal reasons

Day Nine

 I am bound to him by love
yet in his arms, I know freedom

Day Eight

The morning air was heavy with autumn; crisp and cool, like the apple cider in the cup beside her keyboard. Outside, birds sang as they dined on the sunflower seeds in the bird feeders kept fully stocked by her husband. She loved this time of year. Most people she knew saw autumn as the death of summer, but she saw it as the beginning. The leaves falling off did not symbolize an ending to her, but rather the start of a new cycle. The trees would sleep for a time, and then buds would appear, and soon new leaves, bright with the hope of another spring. The leaves that fell to the ground carried with them unrecognized dreams and sorrow... and left behind a blank slate, for starting anew.

Yes, she saw autumn as a renaissance of sorts... a rebirth of imagination. Perhaps it came from the blank pages of notebooks bought for a new school year. Perhaps it stemmed from a childhood that involved a lot of moving, and a lot of starting fresh at a different school. For whatever reason, she just could not be sad when autumn finally slipped in at summer's end. To her, it was a time of celebration.

The first sight of pumpkins at the store made her smile, as it had when she was a child. The cup of cider she now sipped warmed her spirits, even when served cold. Few things made her happier than the day back-to-school supplies appeared in seasonal aisles at stores, and when those faded to Halloween displays, she dreamed of what she'd dress as - even when she didn't actually plan to wear a costume.

 She bit into a pumpkin spice donut, and glanced outside. The sky was bright and blue, and off in the distance, Mount Logan wore a new blanket of white. Winter would arrive soon in Colorado. The last official day of summer had marked the first measurable snowfall of the season. She wouldn't think of winter now, though. Not while the trees still whispered of autumn... not before the end of October, when the Halloween displays turned to Christmas ones. No, for now she would revel in the golden glory that was autumn. She swallowed her last sip of cider, and took the last bite of her donut. It was time to start the day... and already it had such a lovely beginning.

Day Seven

removed for personal reasons

Day Six

Removed for personal reasons

Day Five

This is actually a response to a discussion question in the curriculum course I'm currently taking. However, I felt it was worthy of being shared, and since I have the flu, I'm cutting myself some slack. ;)

When I think of reading, a simple one-word definition comes to mind: Freedom. Reading allows us freedom to pursue dreams. It gives us the chance to escape our world and go into someone else's, either fictional or real. Through books and stories, we learn more about who we are and what we value. Essays and magazine articles can help us determine what we believe in, and who we want to become as we grow.

For me, reading was an escape from a miserable childhood. I took books out of the library in mass quantities. I disappeared into a story and forgot about my troubles, or realized there were people with worse ones. I learned to be strong through the words of others. I discovered my own passion for narration, and frequently went through my day narrating events in my head, as though I was writing a novel of my own.

Without the ability to read, our lives are so limited. We are trapped in whatever situation we've been born into, with little hope for escape. I say this not only because without the ability to read, career paths are very limited, but also because imagination is limited when you cannot read.

When someone tells me they don't enjoy reading, I am utterly baffled. I simply can't imagine that notion. I usually figure they've just been reading the wrong stuff!

Day Four

People always ask me what it's like to live with fibromyalgia. So, I am going to attempt to describe the feelings.

For me, the first sign something was wrong happened at night. I tossed and turned. I had vivid and bizarre nightmares (like the one where I was supposed to poison Niles fro Frasier, and I was very upset about it). Sleep quickly became an enemy. I was constantly tired. I began to feel sore everywhere, especially in my shoulders and neck.

Initially, the doctor I saw said it was probably my weight and possible sleep apnea. I was tested, shortly after moving to Colorado. I did not have enough apnea episodes (everyone has some). I was considered to NOT have sleep apnea. They did, however, notice that I didn't seem to cycle through the stages of sleep properly. I would start to dream very quickly, which typically happens in REM sleep. The problem is, I never went into the stages of so-called "deep-sleep." So, I woke up exhausted, and because of my dreams, I felt as though I'd been going all night long.

I ignored my symptoms. Pain began to wake me - probably in part because I no longer was able to achieve deep sleep. At one point, I joined a gym. I did 40 minutes on the treadmill three or four times a week. Everyone told me exercise would equate better sleep. It didn't. Worse, I wound up injured. After about four months, my left knee began to be a major problem. I had to stop working out and started physical therapy. This was my second clue that something was wrong.

The physical therapist I saw told me that the problem I had was not actually my knee. She explained the the muscles in my thigh were so tight they were pulling on the knee cap and making it hurt. I worked with her for a few weeks, but then scheduling conflicts meant I stopped going. My knee slowly began to feel better, and I figured it was just related to the treadmill.

When Greg had his first clear symptom of MS, I was doing massive amounts of research to try to explain what he was feeling. I stumbled upon a description of fibromyalgia. I read it thoroughly and with an open mind. Not for myself, but for him. It was clear from almost the start that he didn't have the right symptoms, but the more I read, the more I could not ignore that I had the right ones.

I printed out the chart the illustrates the 18 tender spots patients with fibro typically have their worst pain. I had Greg put pressure on all of the spots. 15 of them reacted painfully. The diagnostic criteria for fibro is 11 of 18 (http://adam.about.com/encyclopedia/Fibromyalgia.htm).

I bought a book about the disorder and began to ask my doctor questions. She agreed it was very likely, but since she is not a rheumatologist she didn't diagnose me with fibromyalgia. She eventually would send me to one, which turned out to be a laughable experience and resulted in my writing the doctor a letter about patient treatment.

So, here's what a day in my life is like.

It's morning. My eyes open reluctantly. I have tossed and turned a lot throughout the night, trying to find a position that doesn't put pressure on one of my tender spots. The last time my husband did the test for me, all 18 spots reacted with pain. I do not want to get out of bed because standing will likely hurt. I am exhausted and want to sleep. I know, however, that sleeping won't help and staying in bed will hurt, too. I can't win, so I crawl out of bed and test my body to find out how badly it is hurting. On a good day, I won't need to start off with Vicodin or Flexeril (a muscle relaxer). On a bad day, I won't be able to do anything without at least one of the two. On my worst days, I need both. This particular morning, I am in between a good day and a bad one. Fortunately, I don't have to drive to work this morning, so I take a muscle relaxer and sit for a while to debate breakfast and see if the pill helps.

I do not typically use caffeinated drinks to get me through. Caffeine doesn't generally do much for me anyway. This particular morning, however, I am already especially exhausted, and I know the muscle relaxer will enhance that, so I grab a Frappucino from the fridge, hoping it gives me enough of a boost to get started.

I am working on a paper for a class I'm taking as part of my graduate degree. I try to read some journal articles on the computer screen. My brain is easily sidetracked, though, and the words seem to move the longer I stare. I am unable to absorb the material, so I have to print it and try to focus using highlighters and notes in the margins. My once amazing memory is now plagued by lack of sleep, and forgetfulness is a major issue for me. I do not retain information as well as I used to, and I've asked the school for ADA accommodations. Since my program is entirely online, it's essential that I get the ADA office to send me books. I simply cannot read them on the computer. There are two reasons for this... one is the concentration issue, the other is that sitting at my desk too long can make the pain much worse. I get the printed out article and sit down with it, but between the muscle relaxer and my exhaustion, I feel like I am getting nowhere fast.

There was once a TV commercial on what adult ADD feels like, and they compared it to chronic channel surfing. This is how my concentration is most days. I am unable to focus on anything for all that long, and need to work carefully to minimize distractions and maintain my concentration. With diligent work, it still all comes together, but some days I have to accept that I am unable to focus enough. I have to give in and let myself take the time to regain focus.

This is one of those mornings. Even the printed article seems to taunt me. I simply can't keep my focus, and I need to do something mindless that won't cause my pain to worsen.

I get through the day without Vicodin. In general, I average one pill every other day. It doesn't actually work out that way, but 30 pills lasts me about two months. With my family history of addiction, I am absolutely paranoid about the Vicodin. I do not take it unless I'm really, really hurting. NSAIDS like Aleve or Advil do nothing to ease my pain, mostly because they are anti-inflammatories and there's little evidence to show that muscle pain caused by fibro is actually an inflammation. Worse, they upset my stomach, and I already have issues that are, yup, probably related to fibro.

When it gets close to bedtime I struggle. I am exhausted, as always, but sleep has become so unpleasant. It's my nemesis. I know I will likely sleep badly, and there is an anxiety now when it is time for bed. Furthermore, the later I stay up, the more soundly I sleep... the problem is, when I need to get up and drive to work, I can't afford to do anything that makes my "fibro fog" worse. I *have* to try to sleep... even if it's usually restless, I have to get as much of it as possible.

As for the pain... think about the body aches you get with the flu. I have that non-stop. On a good day, my pain level might go as low as a four... but that is a rare, exceptionally good day. Typically it hovers around a 5 or 6 with some variation throughout the day. On a bad day, it might jump to an 8 or a 9. There are days when the frustration and pain are so intense, I just cry.

I try really hard not to whine or complain too much. I limit my whining to an update in my status on Yahoo or here on facebook. I have limitations, though, and I've learned that to ignore them is to pay the price. Ironing or doing dishes or standing in a long, slow line are the hardest things for me. Standing still causes me far more pain than walking or sitting. Stress exacerbates my symptoms and my worsens my pain. The tender points that are most sensitive for me are in my neck and shoulders, so any tension makes that pain far worse. Tension headaches are a common issue, though usually they aren't that bad (at least compared to what I'm already used to dealing with).

I have TMJ, which is common amongst those of us with fibro. I have to be very careful when I yawn, as I've twice sprained my jaw simply by yawning too widely. A sprained jaw equals not being able to talk much and eating mushy foods for about ten days... and it just plain hurts.

These are the broad strokes of what it's like to live in my body. I've tried all of the meds that I can. I can't take Cymbalta because that type of anti-depressant actually makes me crazy. Gabapentin made me crazy. Lyrica did absolutely nothing, good or bad (and it's damn expensive, even with insurance). I'm on Wellbutrin for depression, which is also common in fibro (not surprisingly considering the chronic pain and lack of sleep). I take Xanax for anxiety and when I have weird electrical issues with my legs (RLS sort of sensations that generally only happen when I'm very tired).

Every day I struggle... but I push onward because what else is there to do? Give up? No, thanks. Not for me. But some days I break down a little, and there are chores I want to do and can't... sometimes the dishes sit for several days, but so what? In the grand scheme of things, a spotless house really isn't that important. I was never a neat freak, and now I just have to accept that some things need to wait or I need help. I do what I can, I push myself as far as I can without going too far... because if I do that, I will have a flare. My pain will become far worse, and I'll be even more restricted in what I can do.

It's not easy. There are days when I don't want to get out of bed... where I just want to hide from the world and say, thanks, I'll pass. I don't. I get up and do my best. I try my hardest to never let pain be an excuse, unless it's truly valid. I don't take advantage of my accommodations with school. I use them as tools, when needed, and otherwise persevere through the pain and "fog."

I think, overall, I handle it fairly well... and that's something that makes me feel pretty damn proud.

Day Three

In his arms, I find sanctuary from the past
The dark and empty days of my childhood recede
I am safe, I am loved

We found each other long ago,
but still learn more each day
He is my strength, my will

When I abandon hope, he helps me fight to find it
When I am adrift, he is my anchor and keeps me grounded
I am the person I am today because he loved me
I have everything because I dared to love him

We are bound for life, not by the rings we wear
Not by the piece of paper that claims it so
But by love that is so pure and deep
It has become as tangible as the rings we wear,
and is stronger than platinum or gold

(For G)

Day Two

removed for personal reasons

Day One

Removed for personal reasons.