Playing "The Other Woman". Or NOT.

I lost my virginity a few months shy of my 17th birthday.

It was a pretty good experience as far as first sexual experiences go. I was in love. I knew the guy loved me. We had already done pretty much everything else, so the actual act of intercourse was a simple progression.

I'm grateful for that.

Of course, once my parents found out that we were having sex (or rather, suspecting!), they put the fear of God (or rather, the fear of JAIL) into the poor guy. He had turned 18, and they threatened statutory rape charges.

The kid was so glad they did not make him stop dating me, but he was terrified of having sex with me again until I was 18.

So, there were other things. I was fine with it most of the time. But there were times when I wasn't fine with it. And times that he forced me.

I didn't even break up with him for that.

I remember the afternoon when we did break up. And I went to work that night. And after work, I went out with a guy I had become friends with through work.

And that young man kissed me that night.

And I remember going to school the next morning, anticipating seeing my friends. I was desperate to tell them that I had broken up with Alex, but that another boy had kissed me.

Of course, a girl at my school had committed suicide the night before, so my boy drama took a backseat to that.

Within a few weeks, however, I was messing around with the new boy fairly regularly. Not having sex, but pretty damn close. We did go out. He actually offered me a ring fairly early on. I refused.

It wasn't long before my friends found out I was dating the new boy. And a particular group of friends knew him. Because he was the long-time boyfriend of a girl in their youth group. The guy was practically engaged. But getting naked with me on a fairly regular basis.

Ew. I ended things pretty quickly at that. I had too much respect for myself to be the other woman.

Then I got involved with the next guy. He would end up being the fiancee. It was while I was dating him that I began to have flashbacks of what had occurred with the first boyfriend. It was the fiancee that used the word "rape" for the first time.

A year later, I would run into that first boyfriend. And I would use the word "rape" to his face. And he would look me in the eye and apologize for what he had done.

Of course, the fiancee felt pretty good about himself. He would never rape me. He would spend the rest of his life with a scar on his right hand when that fist connected with the first boyfriend's teeth.

Of course, that fist would end up connecting with my face a year later.

But I didn't even break up with him right away for that.

I had gone off to college during that time.

And once I broke off the "engagement", I went a little wild. I kissed a lot of boys. None of them respected me. None had a reason to.

Many of them had girlfriends. And I simply did not care. Because if they had a girlfriend, they would not get close enough to me to break my heart or my spirit.

Sex was my shield. Sex was my weapon.

I finally calmed down enough to date a boy who would never rape me. Or hit me. But he would let me know in other ways that I wasn't quite good enough. And I let him.

I went through a few more phases of being the other woman because it was safer.

And then I met the husband.

And he treated me like gold. For many years.

Until he didn't.

And when we were breaking up, I fell into that thing with the soulmate. Ah, the soulmate.
The man who turned me inside out, woke me up, and got me out of that marriage I needed to leave. That soulmate.

He was no longer living with his girlfriend, but they were still speaking. I guess, in a way, I was the other woman for him. And because I was still, technically, married, he kept me a secret. Nobody knew that he loved me.

And when we broke up, he waited about five minutes before inviting a new woman into his bed.

But a few weeks later, he saw me. And I knew that he had been seeing someone new. But when he invited me to stay, I was pretty powerless to resist. He still had that hold on me.

And he did not kick me out the next day, bless his heart.

But I never did see him again.

I did hear from him for awhile. Especially when things were not going well with the woman that he would end up marrying.

Yep. He married her. And she has no idea that I even existed.

And I let that happen.

Because he and I were done. I would never see him again. We would stay in touch periodically for awhile. But I have not contacted him in over a year. And I have not heard from him in about that long. As far as I know, they're happy. He was not committed to her at the time we last made love, but once he did, he did.

Did I feel a little used? Nah. I got what I wanted that night. Was I sad that he would not be in my world for a longer period of time? Sure.

But thanks to Richard from Texas, I let that go.

When I mentioned him to TF the other day, she reminded me, "But you never thought you had a future with him." And she was right. I always knew that the soulmate and I were finite.

But I did feel a little icky about being the other woman. Which is a major reason why I never saw him again.

And through a lot of therapy, I've come to realize that I have some pretty serious issues when it comes to men. I won't go into all of that here.

However, you probably need to know that RetroMama has not always had this self-esteem that she holds dear now. She really let men use her as she used men in turn. She chose men who were "committed" to other women because it kept them from getting close enough to break her heart. Because she was sick of being raped. She didn't want to be hit. She didn't want someone to tell her that she really wasn't pretty enough, or smart enough, or good enough.

So, she chose other women's men.

But those days have been over for a long time. She does not choose other women's men. She's not that fucked up little girl who had been used and abused. She would rather be alone that with someone who will never be hers. (Clarity? Yes. But we'll save THAT for another blog for another day.)

Eric was the man who really made me realize that I deserve to be treated well. Eric respected me. Eric loved me. Eric made me realize that it's okay not to settle. That I am pretty enough. And I am smart enough. And I am good enough.

But then...

That night... When LI came over here and took something from me. I told him to stop. I told him to slow down. I told him to leave.

And he did not.

He did not "rape" me in the technical sense. But as TF validated for me, he did rape me in an emotional sense. He did something after I told him to stop.

I took the same shower I would have taken if he had raped me. I washed and washed and I made the water hotter than I could stand. I washed my clothes twice and still ended up throwing out the tee-shirt I had worn that night.

And Eric came to me that night and made me feel safe. He touched me with love and affection and gentleness.

But he had a girlfriend. Oh, but that didn't really matter because he was going to break up with her anyway.

So, when Eric touched me that night, I did not feel guilty.

For days, I did not feel guilty.

But then he threw me under the bus. And he not only did not break up with his girlfriend, but he told her that I had told him I still loved him.

Um, I would never have said that to another woman's man if he had not told me that, repeatedly, in the previous days.

But then he did not break up with her.

And he did not tell her what he had done with me. And what he had said to me. He only told her what I said.

Great. Now, she hates me.

And I stuck up for her that night when he told me he had booked that trip. I told him that he was leading her on. And that he wasn't being fair to her if he only told her half the story.

But that day... When he told her what I had said, but not what he had said?

Something broke in me.

Because Eric... Darling, wonderful, loving, amazing Eric... Eric made me into the "other woman".

And I can't condone that and I can't respect that.

And I was fucking pissed off that he did that.

Because he was the last person on the planet that I believed would ever disrespect me that way.

So, I told him we couldn't be friends.

But he fought for me.

And I thought I could forgive him. As long as he did not make me a party to his dishonesty. If we were to be friends, I would have to be friends with Cara, too. And I could not be friends with Cara if he did not tell her the truth.

So, he asked for a "break". "Let's take November. You write your novel, let me get through my stuff. Then we'll be friends."

I assumed that he meant he would have told Cara the truth. Because that was my condition. Not an ultimatum. Just a condition.

And as the days passed and we weren't talking, I realized that there was no reason to wait and have a conversation in December if he had not told her the truth.

And, surely, he would know by now.

So, I emailed him and asked him. He'd said it was okay to email if we needed to. I needed to. So, I did.

And he ignored me.

Until today. Finally. After I actually had started worrying about whether or not something awful had befallen him or his family.

And after dragging it out all fucking day long, he finally answered me in a one-word email.

"No."

Well, there's my answer.

I'm done with Eric. And while I did call him, hoping for a decent good-bye this time, he chose not to answer my call except for when he had a kid with him. Knowing I would not pressure him to speak in front of his kid.

So, I may have left him a voicemail. One in which I told him I'm so damned disappointed. That I had expected so much more from him. That he had always treated me with respect. And that I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around this. But that I hoped he would choose to be happy. That it would be worth it. I said that stuff at the end.

Huh. He must not have listened to that part. Because he described it as a "diatribe" in his last email. Which he sent about two hours after that voicemail.

Um, okay.

He opened with how furious he is with me.

Yeah. I think he's going to be even more furious with me by the time this night is over.

Because, you see, I realized something that I never realized before. Back when I was in college, I liked being the other woman. It made me feel powerful. Sexy.

But now? Now I feel dirty. (Which really sucks. Because last night when I was so upset, I found myself thinking about LI and what he did. And I can't focus on how Eric made me feel better. So, now I actually get to deal with that whole act.)

And I realized that I really feel a sense of solidarity with Cara.

And I said in one of those emails over the weekend, that this isn't about him telling her to hurt her. If he broke up with her with our secret intact, that would be okay. I'm just really not okay with allowing this woman to fall further in love with him when he has already betrayed her.

She's a single mom, for crying out loud.

And I would hope that if I'm ever in a relationship again (which is REEEEEEEEAAAAALY doubtful at this point!), that if that man made love to another, I would hope that someone would be brave enough to tell me.

Cara seems like a really nice lady.

She's a little pissed off, though, and confused. And says that Eric's got some 'splainin' to do.

But, yeah. I did tell her. And I apologized for my part in this, and I told her that she does not have to worry about me ever having sex with her boyfriend again. That I had told him two weeks ago to tell her what had happened, and that he had, apparently, decided against it.

So, yeah.

Eric's gonna hate me now.

But you know what?

I'm actually feeling totally okay with that.

Eric said in that email he sent me a couple of hours ago that I can think of him whatever I want. That he knows who he is.

Yeah, well. So do I.

And now, so does Cara. Just as she should.

One Year.

One year ago this weekend.

The weekend that changed everything.

The night before Mother's Day, I wrote two emails.

One to Cinderella. Asking her to please respect me and stop talking about me. To stop reading my blog. To stop contacting me.

She has respected none of that. My last blog entry was full of lies. I was setting the tone to start making stuff up to draw her out. To force her to admit that our "mutual friend" is named Blogger.

But then I decided that she simply doesn't matter enough.

The other to the one who was about to make what I thought was a huge mistake.

The next morning dawned, and the kidlet and I prepared for Ari's arrival. I would be cooking up breakfast and we would be celebrating together. Two kids in the "We have Dead Jewish Mothers Club".

And there I was all zen and happy to share that special day with her.

And she brought drama to my home.

I remember being glad to see her go.

This year has been different.

This weekend, I truly believe that I have been in a place where I am just glad. Glad to be the mom to the kidlet that I am. Things have been pretty amazing in this last year.

I haven't been dreading tomorrow like I have for the past several years.

Yeah, okay, I don't have a mom anymore, and that's sad, but I'm truly, truly grateful for my son.

Yeah, okay, that last pregnancy ended in a miscarriage and that was pretty traumatic. But I'm truly, truly grateful for my son.

And, yeah, okay. I used to spend Mother's Day with my mother-in-law and my husband's family. And while I did ask the Ex if we could all do lunch together tomorrow, he preferred not to. And that sucks even more when the kidlet asks why he doesn't get to see his grandma tomorrow.

This evening as we walked to the ice cream shop, he said, "I guess Grandma doesn't know the secret." I asked what to which secret he was referring."

"That even though we're not married anymore, we can still love each other and be a family."

That's the secret. The one *I* taught him.

And while it is kinda sad that his grandparents (and aunt and uncle and cousins, I suppose!) don't know that secret, I'm so glad that my little boy DOES.

And I hope that on the eve of this day when we are to celebrate mothers, that maybe... Just maybe... Someone new will learn that secret.

And that even though there are those who will be spending their first Mother's Day thinking about a mom they lost this year, I hope that they can find some joy in it.

Me? I'll be grateful for the day I'll get to spend with that amazing little man.

And I'll be sending some extra Light and Love to those who will need it. Especially my favorite soldier who lost his mom earlier this year. And even to Ari. While I'm glad not to spend time with her tomorrow, I'll never forget how she picked me up off of that dirty sidewalk two years ago. After sitting with me, first.

It didn't rain that day.

So, Leon and I made the plan. To do that hard thing for him. And I would be there. And it would be beautiful and heartbreaking and amazing. And then I would say goodbye to him. He didn't know that part, though.

And then he tried to postpone. "It's supposed to rain that day. I think I'll wait to do it until February."

Well, I'm sick of postponing the healing.

So, I said the hard things. I said out loud, "I can't be friends with you. You made me a quitter and my friends don't do that."

He called me out on it, "Why were you going to do this huge emotional thing with me if you don't want to be friends with me?"

"Because it would be my last gift for the man that I love. So that you could move away. And I could let you go knowing that I did everything. I tried."

And we talked a bit further. I said things that I'd written in that letter. Not all of them. But some of them. Enough of them.

And I cried hard for a few moments. Probably didn't help that I was less than 24 hours from having finished my first marathon in 8 weeks. And I was in agony. Physically. So, I just added the emotional turmoil to it and got it all out in one fell swoop.

And then it was done.

And then the most amazing thing happened.... I ended up having the most beautiful week. And wonderful people have stepped into it. And someone I didn't think had potential suddenly turned out to have potential.

And when I told SoulMate "I wasn't hearing from him not because he wasn't interested, but because he wanted me to have the time to succeed...", she said, "Oh, you mean he was stepping back to let RetroMama be RetroMama?"

Huh.

And on that day when I got to spend a beautiful and impromptu 30 minutes with her? That was the day it was supposed to have rained. And it didn't. It was a gorgeous, crisp, clear night. And instead of doing the hard emotional thing, I got to see my SoulMate. And go on a dinner date. :)

I'm done hiding the true me from people. I'm going to be all Gratitude and Light and Love and if that's simply too intense for someone, then they can choose to step away.

Oh, and I decided Roger wasn't the one for me.

And in very un-dramatic fashion, we broke things off.

But the one who stepped back last month? I shall have to come up with a blog name for him. Because he might be sticking around for awhile... Of course, I'm still keeping my options open. Still communicating with and dating others...

But I am me. And I do have something to offer. And it's up to you to accept it or not. Because whether you can handle me or not isn't about me.

And whether I choose to accept you is my choice. And I'm done wasting time on those unworthy. I shall continue to offer the random acts of kindness, and the not-so-random. I will be me. I will live and love and I will BE loved.

It's coming. I can feel it. And I'm finally open to it.

I cut the dead weight. And damn, that feels good.

Out of that little pond...

I came across a photo on my computer tonight... It's a group shot of a bunch of high school pals... And I studied it for a moment before I did some counting...

There are ten people in the picture.

I have kissed five of them. (And only three were boys. LOL)

And I'm in it, too. Which leaves only four in the photo whose tongues haven't been in my mouth.

I guess I really made my way around that crowd. Shit.

SoulMate was right to give me grief about my "little pond".

Well, I'm jumping into the ocean now. I haven't kissed a boy from high school in more than a month.

And while I am enjoying kissing other boys (men!), I am realizing that my town isn't such a big pond, either. Haha.

Things are about to get interesting....

Well, speak of the devil...

In my last post, I mentioned something about When I decided to stay away from the one who needs me to stay away, there was no closure... No conversation in which we mutually decided to stop speaking. Nope. There was just me. Deleting the phone number from my phone. Cutting the internet ties. And then... Nothing. And while a conversation would have given me something to reflect upon later, I don't think it would have been as positive as it could have been. So, I just left it. And I'm mostly pretty peaceful about that.

So, that was yesterday.

And last night I'm out for a wonderful meal with a dear friend, I got this weird text. I totally thought it was a facebook update... What with the string of numbers and all.

Um, yeah. Not quite. Turns out that string of numbers was from a phone number that my phone doesn't recognize... Because I'd deleted it.

And it was this disgusting text about something he was freaking out about... Including intimate details that he really shouldn't have ever shared with anyone outside of his marriage. Especially another woman.

Ugh. Ew. Ew. Ew.

And while it was tempting to respond with something along the lines of, "Yeah, well, I've been laid off and I've got some health stuff going on, so your problems with your wife are not exactly high priority on my list right now," I didn't.

I just told him that this was not my problem.

And he responded moments later. And I didn't respond.

And I giggled to CoffeeLady about how I took the ball from where it sat in my court and ran inside with it and hid it.

This brings me joy.

Because this person used to have a pretty fierce grip on me and the ol' self-esteem. And his opinion of me really mattered. He really mattered.

But now he grosses me out.

Whoa.

ClaRiTy.

I got my closure. This was just validation that I can be done and stay done. Because I made a decision to stay away and I am doing it. I'm totally doing it.

Z's asking today if there's any such thing as coincidence.

Um, no.

So, right now I'm sending some extra L&L to a woman and a kid that I've never met. And, I suppose, to him, too. Because I really do want them to be happy together. Because that's what they promised to do.

And I refuse to be a party to anybody else's marital issues.

Oh, and I totally wasn't going to blog this. I was going to keep it under my hat (but on top of the pigtails with the matching rubber bands! LOL!)...

But then I saw that she wrote about how I helped her without even realizing I helped her... Because I'd written something that spoke to her.

So, maybe this will speak to someone, too.

::shrug::

Light and Love... Peace... ClaRiTy... Zen.

From up here on that damned high road... Again. Eesh. LOL!

Taking Back My Memories...

There's this line in "Gives You Hell" where he sings "You can take back your memories, they're no good to me!"

And while I loved that song pretty passionately after the breakup with HRT, I'm kind of over it.

I sent someone a gift recently... I didn't really plan to buy a gift, but when I found it, I knew I had to send it... And I agonized over the perfect wrapping paper, and the perfect card... And I was thrilled with the finished result... I remember laughing with joy as I cut the wrapping paper to size... I put Light and Love into addressing the bubble envelope... I had fun with it.

Two days ago, I checked my PO Box for the first time in several days... There were several things in there... I sorted them at the counter, asking the kidlet to throw the junk mail away... There were a few envelopes with hand-written addresses. One was from the recipient of that gift. One was from DebuTaunt's parents... And one had Zoe's name in the return address spot.

I knew I had to open them right then and placed them in order from least to greatest importance... Zoe's would be last.

The first was the thank-you card for that gift. I tore open the envelope, expecting some kind of acknowledgement of how perfect the gift was, how thoughtful, how it would hold a treasured place in their home.

Yeah. That's not what I got. It was a pre-printed card, signed "Thanks, The Recipient"

Wow.

And then I opened the cards from DebuTaunt's family... And the words... Written by someone who had just lost their CHILD... And to take the time to tell me that something I had sent more than three months ago had made it to Deb's hospital room... That it had sparked conversation among her visitors... That she had actually touched it...

I sobbed. Right there, just crying... And the kidlet came over and hugged me and patted me and said, "I'm sorry you're sad, Mommy." And I smiled through my tears and said, "I'm not, Baby... I'm so thankful for these..." (OF COURSE the card sent on Zoe's behalf had butterflies all over the front!) and I held up the cards that mattered...

And then I asked him to throw away the other card. Because while I may be a sentimental girl, and the person who sent it used to be someone whose notes I treasured, I'm actually over it. I didn't waver when he said, "Throw away the card?"

And he did.

And I held the cards from DebuTaunt's family close, gathered up the rest of the mail and came home...

But the thought had entered my mind, "I spent all of this time and energy putting that together, and it didn't matter to them??? Well, pish. Maybe I shouldn't have done it..."

The next thought was, "Wait a second. I was joyful when I did it. I laughed and had fun. Why should their reaction take away from my memory of joy?"

And then I was glad again. Because there could be a thousand reasons why they didn't take the time to say something more. And 999 of those reasons probably have absolutely nothing to do with me.

So, I took back my memory. Because it WAS good to me.

And then I decided to take back some other memories...

Those girls. (I know I'm harping on an old subject. But it's summer... And the last two summers were all caught up with them...)

One of them deleted every photo of me from a website that was supposed to represent all of us... Erased my existence from those experiences.

Which is fine.

But I still want to be joyful about the wonderful times we did share before everything changed...

I still want to remember the way the moon looked that night as we listened to the music at that concert... I want to remember how we made a circle around the IBFF as she peed in the parking lot... I want to remember Island's. And the BGSC. And how they were there for my Ultra. I want to remember being wrapped in a blanket on my dad's couch as I sobbed. I want to remember crying at CEC because I had finally shared my most humiliating moment.

And HRT... How wonderful to be able to remember that night that we hung out with K at my dad's... The laughter the neighbors on the next block could probably hear... When L banned me from speaking at her wedding (she says she was kidding. I have my doubts. LOL), and she mentioned an inside joke created that night at my dad's, I was able to smile when I remembered how HRT had laughed so hard and threw his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.

Just because he became a lying, cheating, thieving asshole later doesn't mean that that wasn't a wonderful moment.

So, I can let them pretend I never existed... Because even though I would never want to be in the same room with them again, there was a time when they mattered to me... When they brought me joy...

So, they can rewrite our history. I won't. Because it's MY history. And there were beautiful, wonderful, horrible, amazing, moments. And they made me who I am today.

So, I'm thankful for that.

Elijah can't Come without a Purple Rabbit.

Alternate Title: Manifest This!

Alternate Title 2: Don't rain on my parade.

So, the girl who spent Thanksgiving with her SoulMate in March is now the girl who might have had a Seder on Wednesday or Thursday like all the good Jewish families, but in true SoulMate style, scheduled it for Saturday instead.

The plan was formed a few weeks ago... I was dreading Easter. Dreading not being with my son. I would have had him for the entire Spring Break, but Easter is his dad's holiday. Not mine. But I would miss playing the role of Bunny for both my son and his cousins.

Being the proactive chick I am, I made a plan with the SoulMate. She was feeling the empty nest syndrome since all the people who had been staying with her (prompting the March Thanksgiving) would be gone and she wanted me to spend the night in her guest room. Everybody would win if I stayed with her last night and spent Easter morning with them. I would be going to TF's later that afternoon. SM decided to make it a party, and would also ask her friend, Ben (not his real name) to join us... Had I met Ben?

Um, hello? I mentioned him in the Thanksgiving blog... The maker of amazing cranberry sauce? The really comfortable hug? Yeah, since Thanksgiving, I've had it all figured out. He has (in my fantasies) become the yin to my yang. The one with whom I would spend the rest of my life. I'd actually asked her about him in an email, (because, of course, with my luck, his fabulously gorgeous wife couldn't join us for Thanksgiving because she was working on her dissertation for her Ph.D. or stuck in the lab on the verge of curing cancer or something equally as worthwhile), just a casual "So, what's Ben's story?"

When she'd answered that email, she said nothing about Ben. I, of course, decided that she absolutely loves me and loves Ben, but she knows that I've got a few holes in my boat right now, so perhaps she didn't want to subject Ben to the mayhem that has been me over the last year or so?

Right.

Anyway, during the course of planning the Seder party (and I've decided that this will be the night that he will look into my eyes and decide he wants to ask me to dinner (what? I'm starting off small here... We've got the rest of our lives, so we can take it slow)), she says, "Oh, yeah. You asked me about Ben... I meant to tell you..."

My heart pounding, I knew what was coming... He's asked about me. He wants to spend time with me. He felt that connection and wants to spend the rest of his life with me too?

Um, yeah. No. He's gay.

Of course he's gay!!!

Well, pressure's off. Now I don't have to worry about shaving my legs. Whee!

Fast-forward to yesterday.

I decided to buy a table. I had finally realized they simply don't make tables in the shape I want. Everybody told me to get a round table, but I really wanted a square table... I finally realized I would end up settling for a round table and was becoming okay with it... And then last week, I found the EXACT table I'm looking for. AND, they custom build them so I would get to truly make this table (and the chairs!) my own.

Driving to the furniture store, I called the one I'd thought was worthy of the dinner several weeks ago (thank goodness he has a girlfriend now and I don't have to worry about dating him anymore!) and told him how excited I was about buying a table, and hadn't we shopped for a dining room table for him several years ago???

And then he asked how much I was spending, so I told him. And he was all, "Oh, wow. That's a lot." Um, look, asshole, I'm not in the same situation as you are. I didn't just graduate college with a degree in something that was one of the first professions to take a hit in the recession, and I've been saving. So, you don't get to make me wonder if I'm making the right choice.

Because I am.

But it's kind of hard to get that level of excitement back when someone dashes some cold water on it. Eesh.

I did manage to get the excitement back... I ordered the table that is perfect for me. AND it was on sale. AND they paid the sales tax. So, screw you, not-so-worthy one. I won't be cooking for you again. You won't get to sit at the fabulous table. So there. Ha.

And then I made it to the SoulMate's home... With lots of wine. Which we proceeded to drink. In mass quantities. Luckily, I'd forgotten my phone charger and so I was cautious about the technology, so I don't think I was totally annoying or anything via the BlackBerry. (Although, SM's husband told me he was slightly distracted by the red light blinking from my bra... Haha)

We were well into the second bottle of wine by the time we finally sat down to dinner... I'd already told Ben all about the big plans I'd had for our future and he was totally great about it and told me if only I had more hair on my chest, I could have been perfect for him as well. He'd brought this amazing cheese (and more wine!) and we were all giddy by the time we sat down... The table was beautifully set with all of the traditional Seder bits but of course, we ended up using the stack of Haggadahs for a trivet for the amazing broccoli dish...

And as we drank and ate, no subject was taboo... Including vibrators, meeting men, "holes in his boat" and the gem we came up with about how "we don't have holes in our own boats, we just have holes in our oars..." And then SM spilled Elijah's cup of wine... And as we frantically tried to soak up the purple stain, someone said, "But now Elijah can't come!" And someone else said, "He could if he had a purple rabbit!"

Why, yes. My soul circle does talk about the prophet like that... Good times.

Later, I would collapse on SM's bed and pat her and talk with her while she drifted in and out before launching myself off the bed and draping myself over the toilet in their sons' bathroom... I felt hands on my forehead, pulling my hair back and then the sweet relief of the damp and cool washcloth on my cheeks... It was minutes before I realized it wasn't SM. It was her husband. Who even went into my suitcase and found my toothbrush as I sat with my back to the tub and rested my head on its edge...

I can't believe I threw up. That hasn't happened in awhile. And SM's husband took such good care of me... So sweet.

This morning was a lazy morning. SM and I had some toast, and I entertained her boys while she and I chatted and cleaned up from the night before... And there was a bottle of wine that had gone missing and neither of us remembered having opened it... After looking in the downstairs refrigerator, of course, we found it in the recycling. We pretty much had killed four bottles between the four of us. And Ben couldn't have had very much since he was okay to drive home.

Whoa.

I had promised Ben to get SM out of the house for some grown-up girl time, so we went out for some coffee and just chatted and such... And we talked about how I'm figuring out what I'm not looking for... So, we decided it's time to start manifesting what I am looking for in a potential mate.

I've got it mostly figured out. And I'm back to believing he's out there. So, I'm working on a new mantra. And back to manifesting with purpose...

And then TF asked me where I was because they were waiting for wine... I brought it and they all drank it... I drank water. And enjoyed every last drop.

After dinner, TF taught me to knit. Which I'm pretty excited about... I'm making something for someone for that Pay it Forward project over on FB... And I'm really excited about it. And proud of the small progress I made this evening...

And we started with the plans for Thanksgiving... The one in November. The one I decided to fight for... And the husband-guy reminded me why I'm glad we're not going to be married anymore. Not intentionally, I'm sure, but I was sure glad TF took my ranting phone call so I could get it off my chest...

And then my dad came up with this plan to help me out, and I just love him for it...

So, it's back to work tomorrow... After an amazing week with the Kidlet... Surrounded by Light and Love and reminders of what I don't want...

And with CB's observation still ringing in my brain... "She's such a strong woman, but she kind of falls apart when it comes to talking to boys..." But he asked me "what's the worst that could happen?"

So, I will focus on that. And put myself out there. Because what's the worst that could happen? Certainly not anything worse than anything I've already been through... And I'm stronger now. Therapized and shit.

Time to manifest what I can accept and what I actually want...

Doesn't everyone celebrate Thanksgiving in March?

And all because CB went to Ikea on Friday and asked if I needed anything...

A few of you may know that I've been wrestling with my belief system for awhile now. What you may not know is that this ended up being one of the issues in the divorce (or the divorce-ish thing I've got going on)... When I admitted I'd been following some of the science blogs (why does that word "admitted" seem like a confession of guilt?), and that many of them are written by fairly militant atheists, my husband started teasing me about reading the "satanic blogs".

I count Einstein and Galileo among my heroes. I doubt the existence of God as an all-knowing, all-powerful being (I can hear the gasps of horror from here. I can hear the click of the "delete" button...).

And yet I believe in Angels. I believe in SoulMates. I believe in the Universe and Energies making things happen... As my SoulMate said to another friend today, "Careful. This one manifests stuff like you wouldn't believe..." I call it my mad skillz. Because I do believe that I have the power to make stuff happen... Not sure about Fate... I believe there are multiple Fates and that people have the power to change their futures based on their own decisions.

But I do believe in that stuff. And I don't know if there's a religion that embodies all of that.

Anyway.

If CB hadn't thought to ask if I needed anything from Ikea, maybe today wouldn't have happened.

But it did.

Ten miles with my girlz yesterday... ClaRiTy all over the place. Realizing that maybe the worthy one I made dinner for last weekend isn't necessarily worthy of anything more than that. Back to Liz Gilbert and the EPL...

I have a history of making decisions very quickly about men. I have always fallen in love fast and without measuring risks. I have a tendency not only to see the best in everyone, but to assume that everyone is emotionally capable of reaching his highest potential. I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a man, rather than with the man himself, and then I have hung on to the relationship for a long time (sometimes far too long) waiting for the man to ascend to his own greatness. Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own optimism.

Oy, with the ClaRiTy, already!

Let it go. Let it go. Let it go. I keep saying I'm at a point in my life where I'm not willing to take on that big of a challenge within a relationship.

So, stop.

And I don't want a relationship right now. TheRaPist keeps telling me that Blanche wasn't necessarily right. That it's okay for me to date now. To take it slow, but dating is okay. Spending time with someone is okay.

And I realized that I want to go out to dinner. I've said it before and I'm putting it out into the Universe. I actually really want to go to dinner with someone that I won't necessarily want to see again. I want to know what it's like to go out and spend time with someone and NOT necessarily fall in love and make it into something more than it is.


Just... Dinner. Out.

Anyway.

I was thrilled to get my boy back last night, and we had been contemplating a Disney day, but I knew we needed to connect with CB to get my Ikea goodies...

And then as my boy snuggled with me in my bed, my phone rang, and it was my SoulMate, inviting me to a somewhat impromptu Thanksgiving meal at her house if I was in the neighborhood (because I'd mentioned that last week)... She has had family in town and they decided to do the whole turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes thing. And did we want to join them?

Realizing I could kill all kinds of birds with this stone, we blew off the Disney thing and decided to go the Thanksgiving route. The kidlet thought it was hysterical to celebrate Thanksgiving in March. But five bucks says he remembers it forever.

I was thrilled that TF decided to join CB to meet us, and we spent a very enjoyable hour just talking, eating, laughing our asses off (The kidlet thought a better name for the Snuggie would be the shwanket, which had TF and me crying with laughter at the table!), and just enjoying each other's company...

After searching (nearly fruitlessly) for a table, we headed over to see the SoulMate and her crew.

It was utterly lovely to be in her presence, and in the presence of those she calls her "soul circle"... And I loved that I am in it. And the hug I received from the one who made the amazing cranberry sauce (and I am VERY picky about that stuff!) was a beautiful thing. Natural. Wonderful. And explaining to people who had been strangers about how I am in this different place, and how it's been tough, but I feel really good about it... SM's mom made a point to tell me to keep growing and being glad before I left...

And as we drove home at dusk under a sky the color of a bruise, I just felt so truly blessed. And knowing that even though the tears are coming more freely in my spare moments, it's because I'm healing... Finally grieving the loss of Mel's friendship last year. Because I am proving her wrong on a daily (hourly!) basis. Cutting ties. Accepting reality. Maintaining hopes where they are worthy, and letting go of the ones that are unreasonable.

Just learning as I grow.

Actually becoming grateful for the HRT and his hurts because they made me more effective for two students who really needed a grownup who understood their dramas. How ironic that I can understand the dramas of 14-year-olds because I dated someone who acted like one last year?

And how lovely to make the connection between last Thanksgiving and the one I celebrated today?

That I wouldn't go home tonight and find cruelty on the internet. And I wouldn't spend three days alone, culminating in a 20-minute desperately horrific crying jag on the kitchen floor.

Nope.

This time, barely more than three months later, I brought my boy home, did some laundry, some dishes, read another chapter of Superfudge with him, and then put him to bed in the bed I paid for on my own, and then assembled with CB. And then completed my first task in a course that I need to complete for additional job security.

Such a different place. Such a different mind-set.

Free and clear. I'm getting there.

Happy Thanksgiving.