" I really did feel like everything I did was about..."

I really did feel like everything I did was about 50%. I didn't want it to be that way, and I really tried putting 100% into everything, but as long I kept feeling let down no matter what kind of effort I was putting in, I knew something wasn't sitting right.

It wasn't as though I wanted these things to happen. It is, though, that I didn't make the decisions for something else to happen. I was, in part, looking for somewhere else to throw the blame if something went wrong. When I finally thought about what kind of decision I should have made, could make, and consequently did make, it was almost too much to bear. At first it was unthinkable. Then it was necessary. And it's like my dad told me (which I all-too-inconveniently forgot): If you don't make a decision, someone will make it for you. I let people make decisions for me for years without even realizing I had gotten in the habit of it. I did not realize it exactly like that. It explains so much. A puzzle piece in the big jigsaw of life. But then the other part to Dad's piece of advice is to make the decision and execute it. If it was right, then move forward, if it was wrong, make it right. Seems so simple, doesn't it. That's how easy it is for us to complicate things. Even as a woman who was raised to think like a guy and reconciled with the woman I really am, this makes sense. I complicated things ALL the time, unnecessarily. And why? Because I was too busy trying to "prove" something, to make it look good, all the while not investing with my whole heart. In a phrase: I was lying to myself.

And how bitter that seems!! How terribly raucous it is to put my life and the tremendous sorrow I have for the hurt I caused people into a simple paragraph! This was not an easy conclusion to come to. Not for one second. The elaboration of which I'll have to save for another entry, but suffice to say for this entry, it comes with heavy, heavy consequence and the duress of a summation of approximately 13 years. However, I am still not bitter.

And I was thinking about love. What it means. How we say it. How it is true. Most of all, in terms of myself and how my life has led me to really give it a good, hard look; and how it still means something, now more than ever. The other day, I was sitting on the bench outside staring at the supporting post of the balcony above, and the words "love" and "not enough" breeched my thoughts. Never in my wildest dreams did I think about my non-choice way of living exactly like that for a really long time, or that finally taking responsibility for my life, myself, and my actions (finally!) would bring me here, but neither did I think my life would unfold the way it did; and it occurred to me that sometimes, love just isn't enough.

Proper communication (learning how to speak the other person's language and giving it importance), matched fundamental values, short term goals, long term goals, and a solid base of all these things IS what's "enough", it's what sets the tone to the degree of compatibility, but most of the world gets automatically bored with the idea, especially because the advanced stages of love are not being taught--the crucial, underlying truths of what love can be. (There are marriage preparation-type courses for a reason! And yet we all cry that divorce is as easy as changing our snow tires.) The world is (and even I was, to a surprising degree) lacking in the concept of building a foundation, fundamental to the core of a relationship. Everyone gets to the point where they are at a loss for what to do after the "ohmygod I think I'm in love" love (or whatever version of thought gets us into the state of fundamentally unhappy couples) fades into something else. Here's a hint: it's supposed to mature. It becomes a decision then, an action, and it is love like that which supports the structure built on afore-mentioned foundation like layers of a pyramid: likes, dislikes, common interests. It is love that can sustain the soul during conflict of the initial layers and it grows from there, if nurtured, but it does not generally shake the foundation. Love grows, but it also transforms. Most of all, it is an action. Love is an action that requires sacrifice, but sacrifice comes in all forms--but usually means letting go of our pride, allowing our walls of defense to be softly penetrated, and when done right is the most tender, precious thing in the entire world, here or thereafter.

Things Not Allowed in Love: bitterness, lukewarmness, indifference, lack of action, blandness. That's what I think, anyway. Even intense negativity is better than absolute lack of participation, because at least it's dedicated in some way (although it doesn't have a good place in a relationship.)

Now. Here's the thing. None. Of. These. Things. Are. New to me. Not once, ever, in my existence as a wife of a cancer victim, or as a mother of two, or as a woman exposed to the attrocities of the world, or as a person whose sense of emotional awareness/perception was her own flogging, or as a person whose made a bazillion minor-to-major grave errors in her whole life, did I not live these things as best as I could. I knew, even if I struggled like an s.o.b. with knowing better, what love was supposed to be. How, exactly I can't describe, but it was always something intrinsically inscribed on the walls my soul. Perhaps taught to me through the faith my parents transcribed unto me, perhaps acquired through years of observations watching them miss the mark with each other every time they opened their mouths, watching other couples, watching the nuances and inconsistencies that created hardship and strife, but most of all, living exactly as I have lived, eff-ups and all. It has only become all the richer now...

Lest I become a sermon from on high, let me be perfectly clear that I am among the generalizations I have made. I have no more place to mention these things than say, a criminal or banished sinner. I am just, in a word, sharing.

...to be continued...

If I may...

I didn't meant to hurt anyone. I knew that it would hurt a LOT of people around me, but I didn't count on it affecting every single person who felt entitled to write me and tell me just what kind of person they thought I was before and after the whole initial step.

Not everyone who wrote me had something ill-willed or damning to say, but the entire collection of messages and emails I received did, in fact, make me think about my actions AGAIN, yes, of course, but mostly of yelling my defense amidst wracking sobs from on top of a mountain. I did consider this--and all these things that happened--in the full scope of making this decision before I even left. I have had the darkest days of my life so far contemplating these things. And I've seen some pretty dark days.

I considered the entire drama of it all, the potential tidal wave of reactions to ensue, the confusion, the hurt, the heavy impact of what I was about to do, the most important people in my life that it would affect. I tried to write them letters beforehand, erroneously, trying to explain (why did I even bother?) that what I was doing was huge and that I had to do it.

I made mistakes in my execution of this, used words that poorly conveyed what I really wanted to say, but I had no intentions of escaping the aftermath; and I did not escape it. I faced it full-on, like a matador in the bullring that knows full and damn well that if he dies, he made the choice to be there.

I also considered the people I knew, love, and respect to count on their forgiveness. Not in the way that I deserved it or would even get it or would ever learn of their processing of the entire situation, but in the qualities I saw in them, the reason I could be friends with each one, to believe/hope/see that place inside them that could and would conquer even the obvious hurt. It has been a tremendous blessing to see those who have nurtured their wounds enough to come out from the shadows of judgment and reach out their hands. Somehow I think they knew I would never turn them away.

I considered the light and beauty in each one of them to evolve past the initial tear, once things settled on the first level, in fathoming such a thing; and then to ask questions. I believe(d) in their ability to love past and through the hurt, which I could see in them, was (is) greater than anything I had to offer them, greater than whatever perceptions to come, greater than the general mass mentality.

I considered that no amount of explanation, then or now, would make it any more right.

I considered that at the end of the day, there was and is so much more to get from life than what I was preaching to everyone else to get, to soak up; and that if I had to be responsible for my life and what I got out of it (like I've preached to everyone else), then I had a decision to make.

For so long, people around me my whole life were unwittingly putting me in a cage with words and phrases like "oh well" or similar, critically judging my every move. Until, one day, I just did what was "right" and everyone shut up. Everyone didn't have to worry about sticking their two cents in, no one could tell me how stupid I was being. (No one was listening to ME anyway.) And while any time that people, family, friends meant well, it left me feeling like I couldn't do anything right unless I laid low.

Did I think that my aunties, old friends, dear family should allow me to get away with messed up choices? Of course not. Would have killed them to let me make my own mistakes? What happens when you cage a free spirit just for doing bad? You don't have a chance to see them do good.

I had a chance to change the direction of my life, just the right person to take the journey with, and the opportunity to be true to myself with massive consequences. With the daggers of people's opinions on every side and the future of my precious daughters at stake, I took the first step of my life, braced for just exactly what I got. And I still got the wind taken right out of me. The only load of crap I've ever fed myself was believing that some of the people closest to me would jump over the wide gap of broken pieces to see me for real. Some were able, some were not.

In my opinion, it's never too late.

I didn't figure I was being caged just like that, though, with exactly that intention on my mind trying to "shut" everyone up. I realized from early on that I wasn't speaking loud enough to be heard nor did I give anyone in the infancy of my adulthood the chance to see I was more than they gave me credit for.

I didn't realize I was being that way, and I wouldn't have admitted it had I seen a glimpse of it. I just was doing what I thought was right, following the path that I didn't see was meant to lead me here, making a shitload of mistakes in the process, but wanting to embrace what I was given, rather than discard a moment of it in ungratefulness.

But in a life that was one succession after another of making concessions, letting go of even the smallest dreams towards the end, and finally having lost my voice under the barrage and weight of all other perceptions but my own, it led me here. It led me to making painful, painful sacrifices. It led to the most consequential, supremely massive decision of my life. This wasn't just about a guy. This wasn't just changing life on a whim. It was and continues to be about something greater than myself, which is what I said from the beginning.