To be unwanted, sexually by your partner is a slow papercut of destruction of your ego, your psyche, your self-esteem. To know that the one person you are committed to forever wants not to touch you, not even in the dark, is an especially cruel devastation. It’s like those sticky mouse traps that are meant to be more humane than the ones that simply crush your skull in an instant. A loveless marriage keeps you bound by your heels and toes, as the first the fight, and then the life, seep out of you. The only way to survive is to chop off your own feet and run, bleeding and without balance, as far and as fast as you can. And it turns out, when you are brave, or scared, enough to do that, not only do your feet grow back, eventually, but also, Love, you grow wings.

I am not your diligent daughter
I’m not air, I am not water
I’m here to remind you of what really is real
I’m here to hear to smell and to feel

I was raised by quadrophenia and Frampton comes alive.
I was not parented. I never learned
How not to tell lies

I never learned
I only inherited
I never learned
I only inherited

Like the belief that I
am not enough
But rather, instead, inherently broken

But I aged and I aged
and I aged and I aged
And I aged and I aged
and I aged and I aged

And one day I’d even
matured
And that’s when I knew
how to be
my own best friend in the world
That’s what I know now
My place in this world

I am not your diligent daughter
I’m not made only of air,
Or of water
I’m here to teach YOU
what really is real
I’m here to hear MYSELF sing and to feel MYSELF feel

For here is the truth
out loud and in whisper
I am enough I am enough
I am enough I am enough

Saw some old friends last weekend. People I don’t really know, but whose hearts have touched my heart.

We shared songs and hugs and smiles and then on Sunday morning then call came in that one of us was gone.

All weekend I had tried to recall the name of the woman I had gone to school with and one of us had gone to seminary – Mercy Garland. A mercy garland is what we all could use a little of right now. 

May we all be wrapped and held. 

“I will begin again…I will begin again…”

It’s a gray and mild New Year’s Eve, a day of reflection and of letting go. In the drama and trauma of the past 5 years, the divorce, the pandemic, the new career, the tRump administration, the war, finding and losing love, 2022 has been the year that was supposed to get us back to normal. But for me, re-entry has felt force fed, more socializing, more engaging, more noise and scents and chatter than I was really ready for, or comfortable with. Today feels like the finale of my “period of upheaval” and I am sad for all that has happened, all that has changed, even though it is for the good. I realized this morning, hand-thrown coffee mug in my palms, looking out at the trees beyond my kitchen window, that tomorrow the sun will rise again, and I have, after all, found what I was looking for.

Our walls were Homespun, Mannered Gold, Brick Path. Colors of the sunset and woolen blankets. Though the ceilings were too high, the conversation too distant, I made a home. Even told it once, “I don’t love you, but I will take care of you, and I will leave you better than I found you.”

I planted flowers and trees, day lillies, irises and figs. Brought in a piano, guitars, recorders, and the djembe I’d carried from Africa in ’91. Hung reminders to laugh, to love. But the walls knew. The marriage was cold. 

Now the house is absent too many papers piled on the countertop, dishes in the sink, crocheted throws on the couch, to curl up under after a bellyful of beef stew and french bread. 

And you live there. Clean, as you’ve always wanted. Surrounded by your gun metal and gray. Without streaks or smudges from my handprint on your heart.

Watching home movies alone one night in the townhouse I share with my dog and my daughters when they happen to be home I see the way you consistently failed to pick up on the clues that I’d leave for you requests that would come through glances and smiles please help me through you never do even when I say please put down the video camera I could use a hand here you find a way to ignore my needs and serve your own looking back at these films now I see the way that my blood simmered on the stove’s back burner until the heat began to rise and rise and rise, like a volcano dominant for thousands of years bubbling just beneath the surface until finally the crust could no longer contain the pressure and it crushed forward faster and faster all of the patience and tolerance of the past gone and one day kaboom I explode and with it all of us our family our home our children our marriage any chance of love that was left between us and the hope for friendship or at least kindness gone and I wear the Scarlet letter that will mark me for the rest of my life I bear the burden of being the one that caused our demise it was me it was all me for you cannot have it any other way but as I sit on the couch and watch those movies while the slow hours tick by on this Friday night in the townhouse I own and live in with my dog and our girls when they’re home I see the ways that I tried and the ways that you failed us.

Two little bottles

Stuffed in the pocket

Who was it who left them

To be found out by me?

Six little ounces

One empty, one full

Bitter the sweetness

Black leather jacket

Two little bottles

Stuffed in the pocket

One for each hand

Who was it who left them

To be found out by me?

Dear Jace it doesn’t have to be like this

We could stop being against each other

And stop short of being for

We can acknowledge that we were two people

Once loved one another

But always wanted more

I always wanted love and affection a partner, parity play

You always wanted a housewife

You never want to a friend

And neither one of us changed

And so we grew apart

Now our lives are separate

And we don’t live in each other’s hearts

We do live on the same planet,

The same town, the same life

At least as far as our children are concerned

They’ve carried enough strife

So let’s put down our swords

Let’s pick up our palms instead

And let’s move toward peace for tomorrow instead of fighting with each other today.

I took the route through my old neighborhood this morning in the way to the OB/GYN. A seemingly unnecessary appointment as I’ve already felt the lump. The “diagnostic” radiologist will squeeze me in two weeks. So why do I need to come here today, to have them confirm that I need a specialist? I have no idea.

Over the weekend I spent too long watching old home movies. I saw with my own eyes how sweetly I nurtured my baby girl, taught her things like singing, measuring flour, and ice skating. Where was Jace? Behind the camera “correcting” me when I moved inconveniently into his shot. 

All he had to do was be kind. It was really all I ever wanted, all I ever needed. But he was incapable. I never felt supported, heard, appreciated. It’s all right there on film. The frustration in how he said my name, like it was a burden on his tongue. As if what he really was saying was, “Do I really need to remind you yet again?” Or, “You really are so incompetent. When will you ever learn?” as I moved to my right so that Lucy could be in full frame. Me, pregnant with our second, squating to explain to our daughter about ducks and princesses at Disney World. 

I loved being married. I loved being a family. Being a neighbor, a friend. I never wanted anything more.

The last time I had a diagnostic mammogram, 6 years ago, when I called Jace to tell him I needed a biopsy, he replied, “Ok. Get the test. What’s for dinner?” 

I was always so alone. And so, today, as I put on this wrinkled, teal gown, open to the front, I am by myself. I am by myself, but I am not alone. 

Meeting you at the time that I did was the best thing that ever happened to me.

And losing you at the time that I did was the best thing that ever happened to me.

And the most important lesson I ever learned and all my years of therapy and Al-Anon was that I am capable of holding space for opposing emotions at the exact same time. There doesn’t have to be all or nothing. It doesn’t have to be black and white. It can be this AND that. Both things can be true.

I love you with all of my heart and I always will. And, I am so grateful not to be responsible for you any longer.