So This is Christmas

I have always hated Christmas.  It has represented this forced idea of family perfection to me.  And like most things connected to my childhood has always made me feel inadequate.  I was pretty far from the perfect child in a wildly imperfect family.  I swear that even at eight years old I knew that the forced family time was most CERTAINLY not for me.

My response to my previous experience has been to stop exchanging gifts in my family.  I figured it would lower the pressure threshold for everyone.  We instead roll dice and win our gifts.  The gifts then are not so much the focus and the family time is.  No one really cares if they win Silly Putty and Antonio Banderas cologne.  It's just that we laugh and joke and play for a few hours as friends and feel beloved.

This year I spent my first Christmas with the Bulldogge, the Irish Pope, an  the  rest of their family.  Let me admit this: When we left, I cried.  In my entire married life I never unwrapped a present except from my son.  I had never received a gift from my in- laws.  I bought my own gifts from the Right Wing King.  In fact, I do not believe that I have received a gift that I didn't pick since Son was born.

It hit me hard to feel love.  It surprised me to be thought of and appreciated and liked.  I wanted to hug my new mother and sister in law hard and never ever let go.  I wanted to express how special they had made me feel.  For once I wanted to spill the beans about what my life had been.  Mostly because I know that it wouldn't matter and that my MIL would just have held me and rocked me until I was cried out and then fed me a cookie.

So I have learned about what I was missing.  I am figuring out how awesome this family can be.  There are safe people beyond Son, BMD, The Tiger, and UB.  I am a lucky, lucky, lucky girl.  Not only do I get the awesome guy, I get the love of his family as well.

Well, this is one of the giant steps I am taking in owning my life.  Accepting that I am love worthy.  And not just by a man.  By many.

My Time is Now

I am going to change my life. Like BIG change.  I am going to start doing what makes me happy.  Without worrying about if it makes me look crazier than I already do.

I have decided to love myself.  To like myself.  To see myself the way many others see me.  I am going to convince myself that I am worth working for.

I am tired of beating myself up and treating myself like garbage.  I am like an addict in my insanity and mistreatment of myself.  I will accept anything.  And it feels pretty rotten.  Especially since I am allowing myself to do it.

There are no reasons left to discount myself.  I am getting the help I need.  I have the love and acceptance of an outstanding man.  My son is grown and is such a fine young man.  It is my time.  Now I will chase down what I have every right to have.

It is time to pick up my guitars again.  Its time to take out my anger with muay tai lessons.  I will force my man into dance leasons.  I am going to become a doctor.  My wardrobe will be beautiful and bold, like the woman that wears it.

So my Christmas present to myself is love and acceptance.  Yay me!  Wish me luck, and love, and happiness

The Difference

Today's musing are in response to something the Bulldogge asks all the time.  He really does. (For you pelicans who think you know everything about the Bulldogge, you don't live with him.  What you see isn't always what you get)

Bulldogge is constantly bugging me about why my feelings are different for him than they are for Fuzzy Face.  I think that Bulldogge has this notion that my feelings for him are somehow inferior to those that I have for Fuzzy.  So my hope is to clear this up for him.

My sweet Bulldogge, you are strong and single minded.  Being with you is sometimes a challenge for me since I feel like you have this notion of love and romance that is not me at all.  And yes, you have to work hard at the fun stuff. I am sometimes scared of talking to you about things because I know that you won't give your opinion.  If I ask you, I WANT to know what you think.  Its important to me.  "Whatever you want is fine." is like your classic line.  That puts too much pressure on me.  What if I choose wrong?  It makes me feel like you are uninvolved in the relationship.  It scares me and makes me feel alone.

However, your strength means safety.  No one will ever get to hurt me again.  And you make me laugh all the time. And you are man beautiful.  And anything worth having is worth working for.  Even if I have to learn a whole new language to do it!  Oh, and even though it scares me to death, I love you.

On the flip side, we have Fuzzy Face.  He is all about a good time.  I can tell him anything at anytime.  I miss being lead into a room like a prize.  I miss banter and flirting and harassing each other all the time.  I miss reading the newspaper at a cafe in the morning.  I miss snuggling with him and the girls.  I sometimes miss that feeling of BELONGING with someone else.  I miss the giant sigh of relief as I walk through the doorway to his house that whatever is bothering me can be forgotten.

Fuzzy Face likes women too much though.  He's like a kid at Christmas with a giant box of chocolates that just wants to find out what flavor each one is.  He'll crack its shell, or take a nibble of this one, or a lick of that one.  Which many women can understand and handle.  But I just can't.  I want it ALL.  The love, the passion, the friendship, the family, and to be enough for my man.  I don't think that I alone can or will ever meet all his needs.  I wish him luck in his search.

So there you have it.  While Fuzzy Face is a ton of fun, being with him will never give me what I want in the long run.  Yes, I love and have loved him.  However, Bulldogge is the right man in the right place at the right time.  Our goals are the same and while he frustrates me, I can see myself as a little old lady drinking cocktails and rocking on a porch with him someplace sunny.  When I touch the Bulldogge's cheek I feel genuine love there.  The man waited a long time for me.

And NO, I am not settling.  I have always had a choice.  I think I am making the right one.

Oh, and I got involved with the Bulldogge, so it is partly my fault that I am not enough for Fuzzy.  I have not been fully available.  Even so, I doubt that in the end Fuzzy would ever choose me.

Thanksgiving

As a rule, I do not enjoy the traditional holidays.  But as I am growing and becoming more healthy I am realizing that I am allowed to build my own traditions for my family.  And this year I have plenty in my heart to be grateful for and I have decided to share some of it with you, dear readers.

I am thankful that I have survived my first year post divorce. It has been very difficult for me to attempt to rebuild my life. It has been hard to learn to handle things myself and not always have someone to solve my problems for me.  My marriage was by NO means a picnic or even remotely healthy in its final years, but having to do and face so much alone has been very challenging for me.

I am thankful that Son is growing into such a fine young man (even though I'm not supposed to write about him).  He is so good with The Tiger and managing things for him.  Like last night when Son was working on my car, he had The Tiger right there next to him as his assistant, like its the most natural thing in the world.  Their relationship is beautiful.  I am amazed at his wisdom and his abilities at his age.  I now not only love him because he is my son, I like and respect the person that he is becoming.  Its finally all coming together for him and I couldn't be prouder.

I am thankful for the BMD.  She puts up with a lot and still chooses to be a member of our family.  She is such a beautiful, ethereal creature.  She looks so fragile, but she is one of the strongest women I've ever met.

I am thankful for my work.  I am proud of being a nurse and working with people, even the ones that drive me crazy.

I am thankful for the Bulldogge and our continued efforts to build something together.  He really loves me...even if at times he is a little over enthusiastic about it.  I guess that is just the Bulldogge in him. I hope that we can  strike a balance and figure each other out.

I am thankful the the Vikings are having a pretty good season.

I am thankful for my dear friend Fuzzy Face.  What can I say about him that I haven't already?  He makes a good sounding board and challenges me to go after what I deserve.  I do still wanna kick him in the shin for breaking my heart a couple of times.  But when you care for someone you have to care about ALL the parts of them, not just the ones you like.

I am thankful for the Busty Bus Driver and the Liquor Lunch Lady for their friendship and support.  We always have such a great time and laugh until our sides hurt.  I am glad I can text BBD anytime I want to kill someone and she makes it all okay again.

I am thankful that the marriage amendment passed.  Love is love and who the hell has the right to say who someone can be married to.  Marriage DOES make a difference. Its not "just a piece of paper" and it does change the tone of a relationship.

I am thankful for my brilliant therapist!  Without all of her hard work and dedication I would not be here to celebrate this year. Of this I am certain. She has helped make my life livable and enjoyable!

I am thankful for The Tiger and his unwavering love for me.  I will have a man in my life that loves me that much and thinks that I am a precious jewel one of these days.  He was my first love and is truly my hero.  I cannot believe the strength he has every day.  The Tiger amazes me in his ferocity and his gentleness.  He make me smile from my heart.

Alright, dear readers, I am getting long winded.  Go and enjoy your feasts.

Mitch

I want to scream at the top of my lungs that I hate you, you son of a bitch; I hate you for my feeling this way, so lost and forlorn and just not good enough.  I hate you for being out with someone obviously more seductive and sexy and smarter and funnier and wittier than me.

And then I remember that this is mostly my fault.  I moved on. Or at least I wanted to and thought that I had.  I pushed you aside, not the other way around.  Fuck I'm stupid.  I think I knew it at the time too.  Ultimately I hurt someone else who probably really does love me.

Even then, in the final days of us being together, I never felt like I was enough to sustain your interest or passion.  Why do I keep hoping? What drives me to this insane place that says that tomorrow morning you will wake up and love me.  Only me?

I stare at this page through unshed tears.  I told you not long ago that I didn't want to live a life where I didn't jump for what I want.  And you said, "If you are interested in losing the drama in your life let me know".  Why didn't you tell me then that there was another, better, prettier woman who is ENOUGH?  More than I can be to you?  More than worth the effort?  I believed you. I bought it.  You got me.

When will I get to be more than a warm body in your bed? Do I even want to be?  My hope is that I learn from this.  I hope that I learn that I have to stand up for myself faster.  Speak my mind and heart without fear of being thought crazy.  And to jump.  Jump when my gut (and my heart) says the time is right and not when my brain gives me permission.

My heartache is lessening each day.  I am not hopeful about the probability of there ever being an "us".  I am growing and moving on.  It blows, let me tell you.  For a girl who has spent much of her life not feeling to feel that much heartache all at once was indescribable.  At least now I know that there is hope for me to have emotions, REAL ones.

For that, I will be forever in your debt.  Thank you.  Really, I mean it.

What the Hell am I Doing?

I know love.  I have smelled it, had it smack me in the ass, tasted it, heard love whisper in my ear, and seen it in the eyes of another.  When it showed up I knew exactly what it was.  Of course I ran like hell.

Love seems so dangerous to me.  At least real love does.  The one that found me does.  Is this how it is for everyone?  It means opening up and laying bare all of one's secrets.  I didn't even get to do that on my own schedule...the person that cares for me can see all of my mess.  Right through all of my cover up and well rehearsed lines.  Dammit!

The challenge is that I messed up.  I freaked out.  Not only did I take off like a fat kid for a Krispy Kreme, I decided to try my luck elsewhere.  Not a good idea.  Dangerous of an entirely different kind.

I am sad.  I want my love.  It may be unconventional.  That's okay, when we are together nothing else matters, and I am certain that I am the only one he has eyes for.

Now the trick is to get healthy.  I want to be the best I can be.  Even if my love isn't coming back when I figure my next move out.  (Oh he is fabulous.  And he digs me!)

I'm excited.  Life is going to be good.  Even if its not what I am expecting.

A Little Something to Dream On

Some may call it a "Bucket List".  I, however, look at more like a "To-Do List".  My dreams may seem trivial, but wait until I start doing some of them...then it will look like an adventure.  One also has to consider the source...I was told growing up to not expect more than a husband and a child.  My dreams were to be for them and not for me.  My dreams are becoming my own finally.  I am working hard to build the life I always knew I could have.  Its a rocky road, and I have made some mistakes.  I am going to get there.

So!  This is The Fat Girl's To-Do List:

-Ride a mechanical bull
-Vacation at a dude ranch
-Dance on a bar
-Tent camp in Montana
-Learn to surf
-Visit Hank Williams's grave
-Drive my old truck to Alaska
-Join the Peace Corps
-Sing in Nashville (even if its karaoke)
-Buy myself a Ford Bronco
-Find true love
-Eat in a Gordon Ramsay restaurant
-Touch the Hollywood sign
-Take flying lessons
-Own an outrageously expensive pair of jeans
-Picnic in Central Park
-Kiss someone I adore under the Eiffel Tower
-Hug Big Bird
-Feel an Elephant's skin
-Drive in a demo derby
-Meet my youngest niece
-Put my feet into every body of salt water on earth
-Smell flowers in Bali

That's a start, don't you think?  I'm sure I will come up with more as time goes on.  The existing list is ambitious enough for now.  I wanted to have it formally documented so that I knew where I am headed.  Wish me luck.

Suspicious Minds

Bulldogge goes through my phone.  He can try to say that he doesn't, but he does.  It is irritating to me.  Its not like I hide my password or anything, I just believe in a certain level of privacy.

What is making me so crazy over the issue is that he will claim that "someone" anonymously sent him screenshots of text message conversations over Facebook.  And when I ask to see them he tells me that he deleted them.  Or that "someone" from such and such a number called Bulldogge and didn't leave a message.  I don't know about anyone else, but since the invention of cell phones I have not memorized a phone number.  So rattling one off to me in general will not trigger an instant recognition of who it is.  (I looked up the number in question in my phone, it is our good friend Fuzzy Face! Which as I write this I realize Bulldogge probably got from hacking my Facebook)

Lately Bulldogge has been asking me to write what I would normally put into a blog in a notebook instead.  Um, hell no.  There are countless started and discarded blogs that mean nothing out of the exact moment in which it is written.  I don't want to have an exact accounting of every negative feeling or daydream of a different sort of life available for consumption to a man who uses my words as weapons.  What I publish are issues that I need advice, or clarity, or resolution on. 

For the record, I have in the past been that crazy girlfriend that goes through her man's phone.  I did it to one person in particular and it didn't go as well as I hoped.  That person and I have too good an understanding of one another and he knew exactly what I was doing.  Also, I think I am a really bad liar.

I wonder what kind of answers Bulldogge is seeking?  Why not ask the questions directly?  I am honest to a fault.  I try to live in such a way that I am no longer ashamed of myself.  So what holds him back?  What makes him feel like violating my privacy will bring us closer as a couple?  I fear it will backfire on him.

Mythical UB

Here is something I have never written about: my brother Bob.  He will be lovingly referred to from here on out as UB.  Does anyone else remember the movie "Uncle Buck"?  That's pretty much my brother.  Well, minus the car.  And front teeth.  But the lovable, irresponsible dude with a big heart?  That's him.

I have yet to figure out what it is about him that children and animals find irresistible.  He smells bad.  And he's not like a Wall Street banker or a superhero or something.  He's just a dude.  A stinky, funny, clothes-too-big, pants-up-shirt-down guy who hides his dirty dishes. 

I wanted SO badly to write this lighthearted, "my brother boarders on retarded" article about him.  Now that I am here, however, it most likely won't work out that way.

Recently I asked UB to live with the Bulldogge and me.  I have always said that there was no way on God's green earth that I would let him live with me.  I do not trust him as a rule.  I mean, we have an extensive unhealthy history together.  Our lives have been enmeshed from the minute we met. 

Now though I want to help him get healthy.  I have always lead the way, or was supposed to.  I want him here to see me becoming happy and put together so I can show him how he can do that too.  I want him to find for himself just a shred of peace and hope.

I cannot decide if I am being unrealistic or not.  I don't even know if he wants more out of his life.  Maybe he's happy.  But that is not what I see.  I see the weight of his regret bringing him down.  I can feel his unspoken pain, rage, and unhappiness.  For heaven's sake, we are practically twins.  How does the man think he can hide anything from me?

UB is my closest friend.  He witnessed the trauma I keep hidden even from myself.  I understand what has made him the lost soul he is today.  I will catch him every time he falls.  Every.  Single.  Time.  I do not stand in judgement of UB, I know he is navigating the world without even the stars to guide him.  It might be up to me to show him the way out.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I will always think he's a disgusting, piggy, loudmouth, lush that smells like ass crack.  But he is also the only person who knows why "PeeWee's Big Adventure" is my favorite movie.

Playlist

As I listen to the smooth notes played on slide guitar it feels like the blankets from your bed wrapped around me.  Certain passages of lyrics remind me of the scenery that I pass on the way to be with you.  I am moved on a very primal level when I hear what I term "your" music.

Music reminds the body of where it's been.  It hardwires sensory information to the reptile brain.  And you my dear, moved me in ways I didn't know existed.  I have alternately loved and loathed you for it.  Nothing comes close...no drug or drink or distraction can erase the things you bring out in me. I cannot escape the scope or depth of my reaction to you.

Saying that I love you is far too simple.  I have loved in my life and this is more than that.  Obsession may be a more apt term.  With you I can surrender who the world sees me as...you get the best of me and bring out the best in me.  I can find safety knowing you protect me even from myself....

How did I land here?  Reclined in a bathtub listening to melodies that are almost torture to my pleasure sensors?  Why are we not tangled up in each other, laughing, kissing, cuddling, teasing and ultimately getting the best sleep we will have all week?  Oh!  That's right...I have convinced myself that I am conventional and cookie cutter and together we are distinctly NOT.

So, I know everyone is curious to know the songs that evoke such emotion within me.  Here goes:

"Someone Like You" by Kings of Leon
"Heartbreak Warfare" by John Mayer
"In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel
"Sex on Fire" by KOL
"Bring Me to Life" by Evanescence
"Porn Star Dancing" by My Darkest Days
"Somewhere With You" by Kenny Chesney
"Powerful Stuff" by Sean Hayes
"Drunk on You" by Luke Bryan
"Edge of Desire" by John Mayer
"Alone With You" by Jake Owen
"Come Over" by Kenny Chesney
"Right Here" by Staind
"Dirt Road Anthem" by Jason Aldean

There it is.  I hope you listen to "Somewhere With You" and "Edge of Desire" most of all.  I'm pretty sure that you don't love me anymore, but I can't say the same most of the time.  Quit ignoring me.

Cutting

Hi.  My name is Karin and I am a recovering cutter.  I am bringing this up because tonight I would like little more than to take a scissors and run it across the soft white skin on the inside of my left forearm.

The sweet warm relaxing feeling of the mental anguish draining from my body would be a welcome relief right about now.  It has been my drug of choice, my secret vice for quite sometime now.  I am so ashamed of it but at times I have needed it so badly.

I admitted to the Bulldogge tonight that cutting was something that I had done in the past.  When I explained to him what it was and why I chose to do it, he left the room and has yet to return.  I am not quite sure how to interpret this.  I am about 95% certain that he is disgusted with it and with me as well.      

My warning has always been that I am a scratch and dent person, not pristine by any means, but well
worth the effort to overlook my flaws.  And I AM in fact working on my issues including the cutting. I am not sure how I feel about this latest rejection.  If nothing else it has gotten my mind over obsessing over letting the pain out.

For the record, the last time I cut was just over a year ago.  Just about the time my divorce started.  In this moment it would feel excellent to drag the blade over my skin; just enough to break it open, but not enough to have a pool of blood form.  The emotional release of it is almost as euphoric as an orgasm...with its instantaneous release of pressure and waves of satisfying relief mixed with sheer pleasure that wash over you.

Tonight so far has been a victory.  I have not cut or harmed myself.  I want to desperately however.  But I am taking each moment, each emotion, each thought as it comes and doing my best to handle them as they move through me and past me.

Wish me luck, dear readers, for I will need it.  And thank you for standing by me and listening to my ramblings.

I Don't Know What to Call This

I'm pretty sure tonight's entry is going to piss some people off and has the potential to hurt a few others....SIGH...but my brain is so full I have to do something with it or I risk losing my sanity.

About a week ago I was with someone that loves me a great deal and they asked-or well rather TOLD-me to be 100% genuine with myself and with my head shrinker when I attended my next appointment.  Today was that day.  Now I feel like I am at the crossroad of Hell and Misery.

A lot came out of my session today.  First is a painful, terrible, awful admission...Bulldogge is mildly manipulative and pressures me.  I do not think that its intentionally hurtful.  It has been an ongoing issue between us and it scares me.  I feel like I am being slowly and sweetly lured into a corner.  Its maddening to hear how hurt Bulldogge's son will be if we break up.  Or how his parents are excited for him finally being in true love.  I will grant you that when written out it doesn't sound the same as it feels.  I am electing to not tell specific stories as examples because I do NOT want to hurt the Bulldogge.  He matters to me.

What he fails to realize, I think anyway, is that when my leash is a little longer I will be the best partner one could hope for.  I am scared so easily.  And I am most certainly not ready to be bulldogged into a life I'm not sure I want.  In this minute I so desire total acceptance of all of the parts of me.

With that said...I'm back to wanting to jump on the travel nurse bandwagon.  Just a short stint.  I want to give it a shot.  Not to run away from my own issues, but more so to embrace my problems and learn to just be ME...whoever I am anymore.  I may come back more confused than when I left.  But I need to get myself together.

Today I talked to that same person and now they asked me to be honest with myself about what I really want, minus the bullshit and pressure.  And without thinking about what looks good or what other people and society think I should be doing.  That's tough to think about.  I would love to throw out the BS "I don't know" answer.  That answer is not true.

I want to love myself.  I want to be comfortable in my own skin.  I SO want to live my life without a single regret from here on out.  I look forward to remembering how to take care of myself.  I think I deserve a little time to be selfish.  I want to find my swagger and stop feeling sorry for myself.  I want to see more, be more, and do more.  I want to realize that I am worth fighting for.  And that what I want matters.

Sometimes I doubt that I will ever be content with my life.  I worry that I will be out here on the wind forever.  Maybe I just need to realize that the universe made me this way for a reason....

I am Home

Okay.  Admittedly I have a pretty tumultuous  life.  But it has made me a strong, albeit weird, person.  Have you seen "The Lion King"?  I always subscribed to Pumba's "Home is where your rump rests" theory.  However, it leaves a person always slightly unsettled and never fully comfortable.  Not totally connected to the people you share your space with.

I have spent all these years adrift in an ocean of people feeling unconnected, alone, and utterly unlovable.  And then it happened...I found my missing piece.  He is strong enough to protect me from the whole giant dangerous world.  And he is more than willing to do the job.  He is after all the Irish Bulldogge. 

There have been times when I have not been the perfect girlfriend for him.  Others may have had certain qualities that made them stand out for a few moments, but I have to ask myself, "What have you longed for more than anything else in your whole life?". 

The answer is: to be safe, to be loved for all that I am and accepted for all that I am not.

This last weekend I moved out of my apartment and into the home the Bulldogge and I now share with our two beloved kitties, Snookie and Taaka.  As it turns out, home isn't a physical address.  Who would have thought? 

Home is where you can drop all of your troubles without fear.  Home is where you can bawl your eyes out over a headache or cuss like a sailor when you stub your toe.  Its where silliness and laughter are spoken.  Home means coziness, closeness, and snuggling. Most of all it is safe.  And cool with you being who the Universe has created you to be. 

So when the last box was put into the garage Sunday night after a LONG weekend of moving me out of my apartment, my soul sighed with relief at the thought, "I am home.  This man with his beautiful wide shoulders and masculine square toothed grin is it for you.  Enjoy the hell outta this."

My Son Hates Me

I know that I have said it before, but it is easy to hate something that you don't understand.  How much do you want to know?  Everything?  Nothing?  I am a hard person to get to know.  I hide a lot of myself.  I am very private-secretive almost.  I spend a great deal of time worrying that people will think that I am totally whacked for some of the choices that I have made.  A lot of them are a little questionable.  As I am healing I am learning to let a few glimmers of my true self show. 

Seriously, I think that I hold back a lot of valid truths from Son because I feel like it will all sound like excuses.  It would be very easy to spill everything out just to rid myself of it all.  However...it feels like excuse making.

How can I say that the grandmother that he remembers through the eyes of a young child mistreated me like it was her hobby?  Every time Son starts in on his, "I hate you and resent you for so much" rant I want to just spew venom at him.  I wonder though if telling him the facts of the life that I have lived will only further alienate him.

For the record: I signed Son over to my parents after a GREAT deal of urging from my mother.  I was battling advanced endometrial cancer and I was caught up in a mother's bind.  What do I do if I do not survive?  I was constantly reassured that I could have him back when (not IF, when) I recovered.  To the surprise of many, including my doctors, I survived.  I was left bald and infertile. 

To add insult to injury, I was told that I had taken too long to get better.  I was told that my son no longer would consider me his mother.  What could I expect?  I had been sick for almost a year.  Then that lead to the "You can't send him to school with a birth certificate that says 'unknown father' on it".  Mind you this crazy woman had told me not to list Son's biological father so that the man would have no rights.

I was set up.  My mother stole my child from me.  How is that fair?  Why had I believed one single word she said to me?  Every piece of me knew better.  Every single molecule in my body knew better.

And here I sit now...My son hates me with a vengeance.  All because I feel this need to protect the person that hurt me so deeply.  Even now, so many years after her death it is like she still gets to win.  I may never speak up.  For me it is so much easier to remain silent and let Son have his own version of such a twisted truth.  A truth in which I am the enemy.  A truth that to him means I never fought for him.  A truth in which his grandmother is the savior. 

God...I may even hate myself a fair measure...  

Creativity

Lately I have been revisiting some of what I remember to be my favorite books and movies from when I was a kid.  It strikes me that I have always been drawn to the creative--dance, art, music, theater--and yet I don't think of myself as creative at all...

How much has been taken from me?  I wonder.  I am working hard on making this place in my life my new starting point.  It is such a challenge though.  I have to fight with every word I have ever heard about myself.  Push back against every shove, smack, glancing blow I've ever taken.  I still feel like a prisoner in my own mind much of the time.

What am I going to do about it?  I'm not sure.  I have no plan.  I want to start trying things.  Anything really.  If it means I have to buy out the whole craft store to find something I like doing.  Or if I have to haunt every art museum and gallery in town to learn what I need to.  I don't care anymore. 

So off I go, in search of my creativity.  I'm sure its in there somewhere.  For all I know it is just a wish of mine that's not going to go anywhere.  But I have to give it a shot. 

A Bulldogge Blog

I don't know that I have ever been this calm while in love. I know what's going to happen today. And the day after. And all the days that come. Not in bad boring way, but in a "I know who I'm coming home to" way.

We all know that I am a scratch and dent person. I come preblemished and slightly bruised like fruit at Aldi. Which I know now that there is nothing wrong with, but most people won't take the chance.

Now I have my Irish Bulldogge. The more I get to know him, the more I like him. Yes, I said "LIKE". I think that like speaks more to respect than love. At least new love. New love is all chemical combustion. I want a slow, steady, even burn. Don't get me wrong...We have PLENTY of of chemical combustion! Irish Bulldogge is so handsome that I can't get over it. He makes me stupid sometimes. How did I get so lucky??!? (Thank you Facebook!!)

I know that Bulldogge feels unsure sometimes. But I am full blown, head-over-heels, flat out in love with this man. Without a moment's hesitation. He is on my mind all the time and I am so happy and proud to be slowly building a life with him. I don't want to be without him now.

Sweet, sweet, bad ass Bulldogge...Being with you is one of the best surprises of my life. You have no idea how much I love you. Who would have guessed? Even Son likes you...he doesn't even like me half the time. That is impressive.

Please do not for one second think that you are not enough, Lover. I am honored to have you as my man. I am excited for our life to get started (finally!). You are SO worth the wait.

Workin' Hard

So this picture was taken in my bathroom about 20 minutes ago. I am down about 50 pounds. I have about 28 to go. My hope has been just to become non-plus sized. Where I go from there I'm not sure. How have I made it this far? Let's talk about that tonight.

The truth is that I initially started out wanting to get gastric bypass. I figured it was my only hope; the only way for me to beat my addiction to the food coma. I had so little left of what I thought was myself that I was willing to do ANYTHING to at least get my hotness back. Because even though I never trusted anything else about me, I always knew I was pretty. Maybe not smart, maybe not witty, maybe not athletic or sexy or whatever else...but pretty I had on lockdown.

However...I am smart enough to know that if I only addressed the physical issue of being able to hold a ton of food in my gut that the surgery would only accomplish so much. Around the time I got served with my divorce papers I started therapy with probably the best therapist I could have found for myself. She has an innate sense of how to get me thinking in new directions and she is just so good at getting me to talk about what's going on behind the "Plastic Karin" I present to the world. Therapy sucks a lot of times. I leave there feeling so emotionally spent that I am worthless the rest of the day.

Also I worked closely with a dietician to relearn how to eat. Its been a challenge. I don't like fruit, but I LOVE veggies. I'm sure that sounds weird since I am such a junk food junkie. A food journal! (I hate that thing and keep trying to ditch it, but I have to admit that it helps) Water instead of soda-and I mean ANY soda. No fast food, or well limiting it. If anyone had told me a year ago that I could ENJOY living on 1,500 calories a day I would have asked them to share whatever meds they were on.

Exercise has been a challenge so far. God it sucks ass. I'm starting to get into it now though. Its the Bulldogge's fault. He made me join the gym in order to start dating him...that was all the motivation I needed!! Getting to hang out with him for that time was worth having to work out. There have been setbacks: I broke my foot, I can think up about 6,000 reasons not to go to the gym, and my Irish Bulldogge is now my boyfriend so there is one less carrot dangling out there to get me to go.

So that is how my story begins. Its been hard hard work. I need to consistently remind myself that I am worth working for. I do still have what I would call "relapses". I binge occasionally. I get overwhelmed to the point of snapping and the only option left seems like food.

I am getting well both physically and emotionally. I am worth it. And I can do this.

The Fat Girl Speaks About Being Fat

I REALLY hate this picture of me. Like A LOT. It was taken on the day Son turned 18. What makes me even more mad is that I gained about 15 more pounds after that. I didn't even care. I was in survival mode the only way I knew how.

First, you must understand that drugs scare the ever lovin' crap outta me. I have never so much as tried a cigarette. So doing drugs to escape my feelings was out of the question. At some point during nursing school I discovered the food coma. Oh, it was fan-freaking-tastic.

I loved the planning out what I was going to prepare for myself or what I was going to go out and order. I would eat and eat and eat until I was almost sick. Then I would take a nice hot bath and pass out for hours with the TV tuned to some wedding show. The escape was so sweet. I loved to just sleep and dream. I would try to sleep until I absolutely HAD to do something. I was resentful of anything extra that I had to do. And how the pounds piled on!

My marriage, financial picture, child's life, professional life, and personal feelings were burning down around me. It didn't bother me. My food was keeping me as well as all of my fear and anxiety completely numb. Its hard to express your thoughts when you have a giant spoonful of Ben & Jerry's in your mouth.

Last September I had finally had enough of not taking care of me. It has been a slow prossess but I am working so hard at it. I'm going to continue to write about what I'm doing and how I am doing it. I can't promise you that what I talk about will be motivational or inspiring, but I promise that I will always be honest.

For the record: My name is The Fat Girl and I am a compulsive over eater.

John Mayer Revisited

I have said before that rediscovering John Mayer changed my attitude. I am still a little obsessed with his music. Although if I listen to some of it when I am feeling melancholy I wish I was making that exceedingly long drive to make love to a giant man in the basement bed that we shared. Don't you ever long for someone that used to be? I know I do.

HOWEVER! That is not what this post is going to be about. My man John Mayer has a new album and it has this really great song called "Shadow Days" on it. It touches my soul. The chorus goes like this:

"Hard times have helped me see: I'm a good man with a good heart, had a tough time and a rough start, but I've finally learned to let it go. Now I'm right here and I'm right now and I'm open, knowin' somehow, my shadow days are over now."

That's how I am feeling about now. I am figuring my life out. I am learning what I want and what I don't. Also, I am realizing that I don't have to carry around all the garbage of my past all the time.

Mostly I have started to learn that there is no shame in what has happened to me. I can say out loud...okay, maybe not loudly, but I can whisper, "I have survived and I get to LIVE now." No one can take my power from me anymore. I get to say what happens to me and who gets to be in my universe. And I am in control of who touches me and for what purpose. No one will ever get to hit me again or grab me for their own misguided reasons.

Sometimes I wonder if my Bulldogge gets how hard it is for me to tell him these things. Lord knows Fuzzy never heard it all and what he did hear he understood immediately. Really, I've never told anybody else. Explaining it is so difficult. And painful. I really hate hearing, "Its okay, you don't have to tell me." If you love me and are going to attempt to take care of me, you need to know these things. Because what happens the first time I have a night terror and you can't wake me? What happens if I have a full on raging panic attack while having sex? (And yes, that has happened to me) I can't control that stuff...

My shadow days ARE in fact over. I am actively seeking out happiness and balance. My anxiety is lower. And I am not NEARLY as high strung as I thought! I am pretty funny, and fun. I'm one foul mouthed woman who doesn't like to drink as much as I used to. I am less tired and in less pain since I have stopped running from myself.

"It sucks to be honest, and it hurts to be real. But its nice to make some love that I can finally feel" Amen Brother Mayer. Amen. From your mouth to God's ears.

A Post for Chronic Pain Partners

Tonight's post is on behalf of my chronic pain friends...we all have partners or supporters and we know it can be confusing or difficult to know exactly what to say or how to say it; when to act or not act. So my hope is to break it down for those that love us, look after us, take care of us, and sometimes get really sick of us (admit it, you know its true).

Alright, here's my first little insight: Please don't ask if we are in pain. There is always pain. Its all about the degrees. Really. It waxes and wanes, comes and goes, basically does what it wants, and we are along for the ride.

I have been trying to come up with a good way to illustrate this. Its sort of like having what the dealership would call "an intermittent problem" with your new car. You KNOW your car acts up almost every single morning when you pull it out of the garage, but sure shootin' when you pull it into your friendly Ford (or whatever!) dealership the damn POS just won't do it! Our pain is like that. It happens at its own time, at its own pace, on its own schedule and never the same way twice.

Next, and this is a true true promise, we only complain when the pain is so bad we cannot handle it one second longer without saying something. My cousin said to me last week that "I don't say anything most of the time because I know that I have to live with this for the rest of my life." When something IS said, please please PLEASE do NOT roll your eyes. It is important to listen closely to what is said (no, this is not touchy feely garbage, I swear), if you get good at this part you will be able to reduce our pain significantly by figuring out what our triggers are. There is a small anxiety component to pain and if left unattended its like metal shavings in your motor oil. You partners know us well, you know when you're going to get screamed at for something dumb, or when we are serious. Learn our pain signals to you the same way.

Finally, be paiient. I know it sounds like BS but its like learning something new. You learned how to change motor oil, change a tire, diaper babies, make spaghetti, and wash bras. Many of you know a great deal more than that. Trust me, you can handle this. Just learn what works. Is it a bath and candles? Do we need to go into the backyard and dig in the garden? Do we need to lock ourselves in the bedroom for a good cry? Who knows? We are all different.

Be part of the solution. Help us in any tiny way you can figure out. Its not about us getting roses or candy or just complaining to get some attention. Google chronic pain. Its not that scary. If we can handle it, so can you!

Sap-tastic Tuesday

Sap-tastic Tuesday is a new addition to my life. I told someone that I loved them on Tuesdays and bank holidays only (the reality was that I loved them WAY too much for them to handle I think and I knew better than to say it). So now I let myself feel those feelings of unrequited love for whomever it may be-my former spouse, a past lover or two, a former boyfriend-on Tuesdays and bank holidays.

I will admit I am weird. I have the BEST boyfriend right now. My Bulldogge is fantastic. I don't want to hurt him with Sap-tastic Tuesdays. I love him everyday. And he is man enough to handle that. As I write this I am smiling thinking about him.

But does that negate all the feelings that are residual from my past? No. And I know IB gets that. We have talked about it as a matter of fact. He told me he thinks about his first love practically everyday. Does that make me feel less important? No, not for a second.

So its Sap-tastic Tuesday everyone! Maybe someday soon I won't need to have them. Maybe I will no longer feel the pull to mourn my past...I will have my future with the Bulldogge to look forward to.

How Can I Say What Needs to be Said?

I love my Bulldogge. Of that I am certain. Like it feels as if my ring is missing from my left hand in love. His cozy dog house will be my home. Irish Bulldogge is the end of the line. I am beside myself with joy and relief.

Here is the issue that I have to resolve within myself: How do I get past my fear of opening my mouth to say what is going on in my head? There are things that I need to say to him, just to smooth out the wrinkles. You know, just small explainations of what works for me, how my mind interprets things, the best way to handle me...and most importantly and most scary: my past.

The fear of saying anything to him can become overwhelming inside my body. My throat starts to close, the tears well up but won't fall, and I avoid saying ANYTHING. My heart races so fast it feels like my chest is going to burst and I will fall over.

I don't know what it is that makes it impossible to say what I want to the Bulldogge. I'm not sure if its him saying, "Its going to be okay" and "I'm here for you no matter what" like a hundred times a day. Or if it's wanting to be the perfect uncomplaining girlfriend or who knows what...

On the surface these phrases sound innocuous enough, almost comforting. However, in my life experience these things also have come to mean, "Shut up, I don't want to hear it." and "I will make your choices for you because you can't."

I know that my fear has nothing in the world to do with my Irish Bulldogge. Those that know him, including myself, know that he is one of the kindest souls you will ever have the good fortune to meet. He would probably stab himself in the arm if I said it would make me feel better. He would say, "Are you sure, woman? This is REALLY what you want?" first, but he'd do it.

So I am scared. For all the work that I have been doing I haven't been able to master saying what really counts. I am scared of hurting him accidentally, I am scared of him not wanting me anymore, I am scared that I will always be alone, I am scared to say what's happened to me, I am scared of being a freak, I am scared of being seen as fragile or crazy. Okay, we are all a little crazy.

It is a work in progress. I need to master this-or hell, at least try it-to make this a healthy and honest relationship. I hope IB is as all in as I am. Its true, he is...damn I love that man. Enough to force myself to do the work of getting better.

Stupid Happy

In the recent past I have waxed romantic about several gentlemen. I'm sure that was all needed to help me figure out exactly what I wanted out of my next real relationship. And I think I may have figured it out.

I am passionate about a man that is nothing like I thought I wanted. He is blunt. And I mean BLUNT. He is unromantic and a tad bit shorter than me. But oh my GAWD do I find him beautiful! And sensitive, smart, kind, and big hearted almost to a fault.

Yes, I am talking about Irish Bulldogge. It's been the most fun I have had in quite some time getting to know him. I like the way he talks to me...like he just intrinsically knows what is best for me. It's like IB was just waiting around for me to show up and I was waiting for him. He makes me laugh so hard...really laugh, like throw your head back belly laugh.

His romance is in making sure I sleep when I need to. Or reminding me that a little bit of ice cream isn't going to make me gain back the 50 pounds I've lost. Bulldogge knows that family comes first, always. And we both want a family, whatever that looks like.

I like to kiss where his neck should be and put my hands on his face. We can't sit in the same room without touching. Yes, it may make the cynics sick, but it is the most wonderful feeling in the world. I like that we just sit down and tell each other what the plans are, like there is no question if we will be together 3 or 6 months from now. Because we will be, without a doubt.

Irish Bulldogge hates this blog I think. He is pretty private, so I wait until I can't hold in my emotions anymore to write something. There are a ton of times where I would love to write about something fun and silly that happened, but he would really hate it, so I don't. Dang, I can't believe I would edit myself for the sake of anyone...

I guess I care about his feelings more than my own ego. That doesn't even freak me out anymore. Irish Bulldogge balances me. He is WAY tougher than me and THAT is the greatest comfort of my life. He will protect me come hell or high water. With him I will never be intentionally hurt by anyone again without them getting punched in the mouth. And that, my friends, is what makes me love him; his unwavering protection of me.

A Tiger Tale

The Tiger, as most of you are aware, is a highly decorated former Marine. When asked about the job he did all he will tell you is that he "was part of an elite unit of Marines". To this day that trademark Marine swagger remains, even behind his walker.

I am a terrible daddy's girl and have been from the moment I was born. As a tiny girl I remember demanding to wait to eat my dinner until my dad came home. The Tiger would give me a shot of his Schmit beer with our dinner. It was so bad that I would even sleep in his work shirts.

Throughout my life I have always had night terrors and horribly realistic nightmares. I still remember a few of them to this day. There is one that I had about my older brother and myself trapped on the front porch of a house during a torrential downpour. Now I would say that it was a hurricane. It's no wonder I still have trouble sleeping as an adult.

In an effort to thwart the bad dreams The Tiger started pinning what he called "bravery medals" to my nightshirt. Every night after my bath I would toddle out to my dad, he would pin my medals on and lift me up to the ceiling to touch my "things" (the bad faux vaults on the ceiling). And off to bed I would go.

I was pretty old before I realized that the "bravery medals" that my Tiger hung on my shirt were in fact his Purple Hearts and his Silver Star. It still blows me away sometimes that he would do that. I know that he never viewed his service as anything out of the ordinary, but I've read the commendations...that old man is Superman.

He and I harass each other relentlessly and can fight like professionals. But The Tiger is bar none the coolest person I know. I have said that my memories of my childhood don't come to me in a fluid stream, so the ones I have of my father are very special to me. His toughness and drive are what I compare all other men to. His humor and quick mind fascinate me. I am proud to be his daughter.

A Funny Thing Happened

I am pretty fast and loose with the word "love". I am aware of this. I am not one of those people who uses the word with some kind of reverence. It's not some great mystery of the universe. You either love or you don't love. Pretty simple.

I have been blindsided by my feelings for my Bulldogge. For real. It's sick! I feel like I am 16 and finding out what the wild world of adult feelings are like for the first time. I'm happy and smile all the damn time. What's with that?? I am losing my snarky edge and showing my soft furry underbelly. It doesn't even bother me. Odd.

I'm not holding anything back from this man. There is not even a moment's hesitation if I want to tell him something deeply personal. I WANT him to know all that stuff. And in a weird twist of fate, our freak flags match!!

So yes, boys, girls, lovers, haters, and pelicans: the Fat Girl has found a winner! A guy who is tough, smart, funny, fucking sexy, and loving all rolled into one! I trust him with all my heart. I dream about holding Irish Bulldogge's hand next to a fire when we are little old people. Sappy and sick for me, I am aware, but true.

What will I write about now that I have found a slice of happiness? How will it feel to not feel confused and unlovable? Will my insecurities ruin it all? Am I going to be one of those irritatingly happy people on Facebook forever?

Okay, so life still isn't perfect. But it feels outstanding, even with a raging fever and chills tonight. Good God, why did it take me so long to hit on IB on Facebook??

I Got Me a New Bulldogge

I haven't written much about him, but I seriously like my new Irish Bulldogge.

Why do I call him Irish Bulldogge? The name IS who he is. The first time we met after a lot of years we went to the gym together and the moment I laid eyes on him I thought two things, "This man is going change everything" and "Irish Bullgogge, he will be the Irish Bulldogge". Its in the way he moves and carries himself. It is in his goof ball personality and his rough edges. It is in his shape, his eyes, and his ginger Foo Manchu. I dig his directness, his honesty, and his innocence.

Damn he turns me into an idiot. I am never quite sure what to say to him because it's like I lose all my swagger when I am in the same room as him. I swear the Bulldogge drops my IQ about 50 points when I'm with him. So he does a lot of the talking and I laugh a lot, smile, and try not to be too big of a bonehead.

I like the way he looks at me. I love to put my arms around where his neck SHOULD be. Its not all seriousness with him. But its not all nonsense either. I can feel myself wanting to be the woman for him. I think the creases around his eyes when he smiles are sexy and beautiful. Bulldogge's shoulders are quite possibly the most amazing thing ever.

Okay, so it's not all about his physical beauty....IB treats me really well. He is respectful and kind to me. Being with him doesn't make me feel uneasy or unsure. It doesn't bore me or make me think about being anywhere else. And yes, friends, I do mean ANYWHERE. Its as if those other things that have been filling my mind have lost their color and flavor. Right now with him is the only place I want to be. My Irish Bulldogge makes me feel cherished and cared for and safe.

Hey, wait a second, isn't that what I have been saying that I am looking for?

I am not scared. I'm looking forward to this next part of my life. I can see exciting changes ahead. Maybe I am wrong again and will end up heartbroken. But I am SO looking forward to the adventure.

An Angry Rant

I feel like I have spent a great deal of energy lately handling a large number of haters. Okay, its not a large number, its actually a really small number. Like one.

Marrian-Webster dictionary defines a coward as "one who shows disgraceful fear or timidity". And my hater lived up to that today. I am not going to call this person out specifically, but I know who they are.

I say all the time that my relationship with Fuzzy Face is convoluted and at times confusing. Its true. I am honest about it. I do not hide it ever or from anyone.

What happened today really set me off. How DARE you send my blog out ANONYMOUSLY to someone that I care about beyond belief? If I wanted to put it all out on blast I would have put it up on my Facebook for general consumption. Granted, my blog is out for the public to see, but if I want everyone I care about to read what's there I will put it up on my Facebook page.

The person that you decided so desperately needed to see what I had put on my blog? You really hurt him. Even more than you hurt me. Not only that, he really matters to me...A LOT. I care about his feelings and thoughts which is why he chooses to not read my damn blog in the first place!!

IB is a good man. A sensitive man. The kind of guy you want to be out on the town with as a woman. He is masculine and smells good and is affectionate and bawdy and built like a brick shit house. He doesn't hold back for a second.

And you know what? He genuinely likes me. Not just horny or bored or lonely.

Did you succeed in blowing my life apart today? No. I hope it makes you warm and fuzzy inside to know that you hurt an innocent person.

And yes, you are a coward. If it had been Fuzzy Face or any of the other pelicans they would have PROUDLY had their name attached to it. They would want me to know that they had set about imploding my life. That's what men do, take ownership of their actions and stand behind them.

I hope that you decide to subscribe and try to discredit me. Do it. Flip the script on me. For real. Keep sending my blog out to people that choose not to read it. You will piss the wrong person off and it won't be pretty.

Not Sure What to Believe

"I love you, Babyz"...."Do you love me?"...."Very much"....

And so begins some confusion on my part. I'm not sure if I believe it. I do not doubt that he meant it at the minute he said it. I know better than to push the issue, so I let it go for the weekend.

Sometimes I worry that he says things based in what I want to hear and what will keep me close rather than what he actually feels. Like in December it was that I wanted to have some sort of commitment so he asked me to be his girlfriend. A month later it was over when he wanted something different for a few days. Now he KNOWS that the only way to keep me is to say he loves me. I wonder how long that will last.

Please don't misunderstand me...I trust this man implicitly as my friend. He would most likely do anything in the world for me, for real. He is like my family. Why don't I trust him the same way with my heart?

The way he broke up with me hurt me so badly. I felt like I had never really mattered to him at all past some action. I realize my own fault in that whole issue, but he could have taken it a little easier on me or at least called me rather than text message me? I was really really in love with the man. How could he just turn that down?

This new development is bringing up a lot of conflicting feelings for me. I don't know whether to trust what he says or continue to doubt him. I want so very badly to be precious to him. I truly want to be the one that he picks for his own. No, this does NOT make me needy or smothering or any of those things.

So there it is. I don't feel I can trust what he says a lot of the time. I feel like he WANTS it to be true. He is a good guy and a great friend to me. How can I learn to trust what he says to me? I did once upon a time. I'm not sure if I can right now.

Game Changer

I have in the past made reference to The Great White Buffalo. A man that should have married me a hundred years ago but didn't. Well, that was his loss, not mine. I did something that would have even a year ago seemed unthinkable. I cut him loose today.

It was simple, clean and to the point. I told him that while I care for him I want a great deal more out of life and love than the occasional Chinese dinner and sex. I wouldn't even call it "making love" anymore. He doesn't love me and I should have realized it the day he stopped kissing me.

Seriously? I want so much more than that! I am WORTH so much more than that. If I hold every other man to a much higher standard, why not him too?? If love, devotion, and emotional connection is what I desire, then isn't it what I deserve? I get that the last 10+ years of our friendship has been, "Hey, do you wanna have sex?". "Sure!!". Stupid girl! It left me so much more lonely than I had been before hand.

I am continuously searching for the right person based on what I KNOW my personal search criteria are, so why would I let someone who so clearly falls outside of those expectations access to the most human, vulnerable part of me? My only explanation is that I have been so far removed from the idea of my own value and inner self for so long that I was just doing what felt good at the risk of my own well being. When I say it like that it makes me almost feel sorry for myself!

Clearly, even through my own eyes I have started choosing to accept nothing less than I need from the other people in my life. If it is Son, BMD, the Tiger, Fuzzy Face, or the Irish Bulldogge it doesn't matter. A few months ago it would have been very different. I would have accepted whatever they had to offer. Even the smallest scrap of attention would have made me felt like Queen for a Day!

So, I am changing. I am becoming healthier. It is starting to feel like second nature to make better choices. I am learning my own value and trusting my own gut. It seems like something so simple but for me it is fairly profound.

Goddamn Pain!!

Let's talk about my least favorite thing in the whole wide world, shall we? I fucking hate and I do mean HATE my chronic pain. It feels like it is eating me from the inside out sometimes. It makes me want to become some kind of pill popping junkie. Pain makes me think I am becoming crazy, because no one should remain alive like this unless they are passing a kidney stone or a baby.

Tonight I am working and it feels like I am battling for my life, sanity, and nursing license just to remain upright and functioning. Every muscle fiber in my body is on fire and I have nothing to douse the flames with. My coping skills are becoming overwhelmed and soon my only option will be wretching my guts out. When that happens, even my own body has no idea what to do with itself.

It is taking so much of my concentration to not panic and start to cry. Bawling is imminent. I am so sweaty and my heart is racing and I'm nauseated and I can't get my thoughts under control....and it's all driven by this unrelenting pain that I cannot escape. I want to run from it, but where??? Really, where ever I go the pain will still be there like an annoying relative.

I refuse to be the person that asks, "Why me, God?!!". I'm more of the, "Thank you for not giving this to someone that I love." kind of person. I can deal. I am tough. There is no way I could watch someone else go through this. I just wish there was some sort of escape or panic button I could hit when this happens.

How will I survive this night? I'm not sure yet. I want to be home, tucked safely in my bed, knocked out with anything that will ease my pain. In my perfect world I would wake up with a handsome stocky man there with a steaming hot cup of coffee and a kiss for me. Yet another deem at this point I guess. But the thought does help me feel better.

Cast of Characters

What a lot of people don't know is that I take quite a bit of heat over my blog. I get text messages, emails, Facebook messages, you name it. I have in the past chosen to respond on occasion to my lovers and haters when I feel it was needed, and tonight happens to be one of those nights.

Yesterday's hate mail included the following, "You need to grow up and drop the code names and nicknames. On your blog you say you are a woman in your 30s going through your 20s but that is only because you refuse to grow up."

I want to respond in a mature way to this, but seeing as how I don't know how to do that, according to this disgruntled reader, I will explain it the best way I know how. I say that I am going through my 20's in my 30's because I feel like I went straight from high school to being 35 or 40. I have always been someone's mother or someone's wife and never got to take the time to figure out who I am. Now I have the opportunity to do those things for myself that so many people take for granted.

On the subject of code names and nicknames: I do it NOT to spare anyone's feelings. Everyone knows who everyone else is. And if a person does find themselves in my blog and doesn't know who anyone else is or what the current nature of my relationship is with them, they generally ask. I think I do it so that if a person (think potential dates or employers) were to Goggle someone mentioned in my blog their name, dating antics, my emotions, and whether or not I think they fall into the pelican category remains out of it.

As a one time only special, here is a breakdown of the most written about people in my blog:

The Tiger. He is my father and his real name is Bob. He is wonderful and I love him.

Son. He is my son and his real name is Brian. We struggle a lot with our relationship, but overall it is good.

BMD. She is Brian's girlfriend and her real name is Dinah. BMD stands for "Beautiful Miss Dinah" because she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen

Fuzzy Face. We all have come to love him and hate him. He is what he is and his real name is Mitch. Our relationship is confusing at best. However, it is healthy and very honest. Too honest sometimes. If I needed to bury a body or drunken sweaty meaningless sex he is the FIRST person I would call.

The Right Wing King. He is my ex-husband and Brian's father. His name is Eric and he will be a part of my life for the rest of my life. We remain friends somewhat and aren't trying to kill each other anymore.

Hot Wheels. Does everyone remember him? His name is Todd and I had what basically amounted to an emotional affair with him. He is fan-freaking-tastic and I have lost touch with him. Bad choice on my part, I miss him sometimes.

Wolverine. I dated him for a few weeks and his name is Josh. However he and I talked via text for months before going out on an actual date. The pelicans had a field day with him and it ended somewhat badly.

Irish Bulldogge. We have had the official first date and his name is Todd (not to be confused with the Hot Wheels Todd). He, unlike everyone else, figured out right away who he was when he made his first appearance the other day (LOVE IT!!). When he texts he sounds like a caveman and I find him wildly charming. Rock solid.

The Pelicans. The term has come to represent in my mind at least, those who want to detract from what I have going on in my life. Well, maybe not detract. More like offer opinions when I don't want to hear them. They are usually right and that is why I have such disdain for them.

Enjoy seeing everyone's names this one time, because I am sticking with my code name/nickname system. I find it way more fun to use. They offer insight into people's true identities and personalities I think.

And that is why I am The Fat Girl. Its about so much more than my weight. Its about my insecurities and secrets. Its who hides the real me with all those layers of bigness. Its how I protect myself even now, from the rest of my life.

On Being Courted

I have been doing my fair share of dating since my divorce. There are those you all know about and a couple that you don't. The only one of any impact up to this point has been Fuzzy Face. He woke up a lot of feelings that have lain dormant for a long long time. While that has been overall really great, our motivations are still pretty different.

I feel like I need to hold out for someone who is perfect for me. They don't need to actually be perfect, just right for me. Funny, smart, good looking, goofy, strong, and honestly: a little redneck-ish. I like a man that's manly and can handle me as I am. Someone that looks at me and thinks that I am the best thing ever and really believes that.

Currently I am being courted, yes courted!, by someone I have known since I was a girl and Son was a baby. We recently reconnected on Facebook and now he is courting me. It's different than I am used to. I am not quite sure about all this coffee and conversation. I keep waiting for some kind of flip in the script and he turns into a giant egotistical prick. He talks to me and listens (at least it looks that way) to what I have to say. He texts me good morning and good night. It's super sweet.

Okay pelicans, just so we are clear, this guy is not like the Wolverine. He's the kind of guy who would smash you in the mouth first an ask questions later. The Irish Bulldogge is your kind of guy. Works super hard, lifts weights, likes to f*** (per his report) and fight. He's right up my alley. We haven't been on an "official" date yet, just hanging out at the gym and then having coffee before I go to work. Lots of talking. And he makes me laugh.

I am hoping that I am getting past that unrealistic hope that each new beau is "the one". I also want to stop trying to be what the person I am dating wants versus being myself. So I'm loud and obnoxious and a little naughty. I'm also sensitive and kind and loving. I am a pretty cool chick all in all. I would date me, I'm sexy.

It turns out that I like this being courted stuff. It makes me feel fantastic and like sex isn't the only thing this dude wants. I am pretty sure that lovin' will be on the table at some point (because seriously, it's important to me). I am enjoying the talking and flirting and attention. The man smelling my neck when he hugs me gives me goose bumps.

This Irish Bulldogge could give Fuzzy Face a run for his money. But on the other hand it may just further drive home the point that I just need to accept the fact that my heart belongs to Fuzzy. We will have to wait and see.

An Actual Poem

Today is one of those days
Longing to be next to you
Feeling the warmth of your hand on the small of my back
Listening to the rise and fall of your breath on the pillow next to me

Today is one of those days
When wanting you makes it hard to breathe
To have you take me where only you can
And how desire rules my thoughts for hours

Today is one of those days
That hearing your laugh seems like it would make my life
Watching you shimmy into your shirt would warm my soul
Having you crack me in the ass in public seems like the most natural thing

Today is one of those days
That makes me feel like you are as right for me as scrubs and running shoes
That has me thinking of places I want to share with you
That drives me to distraction thinking sweet silly thoughts about you

Today is one of those days
It's one of my some days
A day that is all yours
One that only you understand the reason for

An Open Letter to Son

My Boy-

I am about 90% certain that I know why you are so very angry with me right now. I want you to know that I appreciate your concern and caring for me. It means a lot to me that you feel as you do.

Let me start by saying: I am not with Fuzzy Face. It was dinner and drinks and hanging out. (And I probably wouldn't have told BMD if I knew she was going to take the information back to you) He and I are still friends and care for each other very much. We want different things from life and a relationship right now.

With that being said, I am going to make mistakes in my personal life just like anyone else. It is not your job to protect me from them. If there is a time in the future that Fuzzy and I are in a place to get back together and we are both agreeable it may happen. Who knows?

I am not out hoin' it up. There is a lot in my past that prevents that from happening. I do want to find someone. I'm not going to lie. I spent many of the years I was with your father very lonely and feeling very unwanted. It was hard for me to handle. That is not to say The Right Wing King is a bad person, he just didn't know how to be the husband I needed.

Maybe you feel as if I am abandoning you by moving into an apartment. It's not like I expect that you will handle everything that comes up there. The Tiger doesn't really want me to be there, you and I argue constantly, and I miss having privacy. I am a phone call and a very short distance away. I have told you before that you shouldn't have to be solely responsible for The Tiger, but both you and he want you to be the man. As the situation changes, so will the living arrangements as needed.

You have said in the past that I was to blame for most of the problems in my marriage. Maybe you're right. Maybe I do not deserve what I want in this life. But that will not prevent me from continuously trying to get there. I have in the past set you saying that aside as you being an angry young man. Now I'm not so sure. You might actually believe that.

My hope is that we can resolve whatever is going on between us. There was a time when we hung out all the time. I don't expect that anymore, but I would like to be able to sit in the same room with you for more than 5 minutes without you getting snakey. I have not been the perfect parent. I know this and own it. I have screwed up in big ways and small ways. Sometimes even parents are human.

I love you. But it's more than that. I am incredibly proud of you. I respect your ideas and opinions. You are a genuinely good person and you have never lost your moral compass. You amaze me somedays.

Here's to hoping we can solve whatever problem we are having.

Love Always-
Momma

Sucks to be Me Apparently

I have a good life. I am satisfied with myself, my family, and my situation. It is a good life that I lead and I am happy for it.

It has been said in the not too distant past that I am "a fucking nut job, u crazy crazy bitch. Life doesn't work out for everyone, u were not delt (sp) even a decent hand. Sucks for you.". Wow. Huh, that was kinda harsh. I feel that while I may have been dealt a not so great hand I have tried to do great things with it. I have heard this kind of garbage thrown at me in one form or another my entire life. Quite frankly, I have learned that it's a lie. I am no worse off than a lot of people out there who have more to deal with.

This person also went on to say about my blog: "You are a confused and scared person. That is the nice thing about the Internet crazy ass people can post 1 sided stories and try to look normal". That's the rub though! I don't try for one second to appear normal! I am broken in a lot of places. I am bruised and hurt and confused. I make no illusions otherwise. I am merely seeking a place in this world just like everyone else. Just because I write about what a lot of people won't say doesn't mean that there is something wrong with me. Or anything extra wrong with me.

All this was in retaliation for what I said about Fuzzy Face in my last blog. It seems to me that I am in general very kind in what I say about him. I care for him very much and consider him one of my friends. If something was going wrong in my life I would certainly turn to him. We just didn't work out as a couple. Sometimes when a woman finds out stuff after the fact she can get a little or a lot angry. If you take a second to weigh out the great things that I say about Fuzzy Face versus the one time I was negative...my love for him prevails. It does.

Let me go on to say this: my Wolverine is no consolation prize. He is worth all the work of being with him. We have our difficulties but they are working themselves out slowly. If he isn't "the guy" then so what? I am crushing on him right now and that's what matters to me. He has strong potential to be "the guy". I am on the cusp of actually being in love with this man. Not lust with a little like mixed in. Honest to God love. It scares the shit outta me. I didn't think I would be here ever in my life. I am lucky to have the Wolverine and he is lucky to have me. And what's even better is that we both know it.

So while I may be scared I'm getting on with my life anyway. While for a great deal of time I was confused, I'm not any more. Time has been a great healer in my life. I have realized a lot of things in a short amount of time. Maybe I am a crazy bitch who got dealt a bad hand. The Tiger always told me that you can win at poker no matter what you're handed.

Mock Away Pelicans

It is really easy to mock what you dont understand or what you fear. Way down deep we are all 3rd graders anyway, right? It stands to reason that those who worry about how they are perceived will tease what they don't have and won't get.

I am in the early stages of enamored with my Wolverine. He is freaking witty and smart and won't let me run him over. Not to mention when we get to talking everything else kinda goes away. The things that he writes continue to have me smiling days later. Weeks later. I am flattered by his small jealousies and the kind caring things that he says. Oh, he's cute too and has a really cool job that I don't 100% understand exactly but I think its sexy. He's got a smart creative guy job!

Wolverine is not the kind of man that I normally gravitate towards. He's not cocky, doesn't have a giant ego, he didn't lead with sex, and isn't ever so slightly disrespectful to keep me off balance. When I am alone late at night there isn't this faint undercurrent of fear in my thoughts about him. Being scared of the person I am with emotionally blows and I am over it.

He and I each have issues. We are scratch and dent people. However we can talk our way through it so far. We both hate dating and want to be half of a whole. Does this mean that the game is over and we are going to run away together and live happily ever after? Probably not. At least not yet. But there is serious potential!

No, Wolverine is NOT a "shorter, uglier, fatter" version of the person that insulted him today. I have known him longer, so that would make you a taller, hormone driven, uncaring cad. Who was ridiculous enough to dump me for some random sex in his kitchen with his school partner. Most likely you WOULDN'T have broken up me except that I had too much crap at your house for you to explain away. You're dumb, because I am pretty spectacular, really beautiful, and a fiend for sex. I love your daughters and I am a great mother. Who lost out in that scenario? Not me! I got the smart, caring, loveable guy that KNOWS that I'm worth it and treats me like it.

Now that the truth is out there, I always was waiting for the Wolvrine. He is a real man. He might be a mess sometimes, but he will admit it. God forbid a man talk to a woman...about FEELINGS. I am pretty pissed off at the people that have said thoughtless things about my sweet. He is worth having to take my time for.

Maybe that's his "smart" plan: be good to me to get what he wants! Since I have been told that it is better for a man to be smart and not nice. Touch my face when he leans in to kiss me? GENIUS! Call me sexy when you text me? Also really smart. Flirt with me relentlessly...Facebook, email, texting, sitting next to me. Super genius. I am an idiot for his sweetness. If its a game Wolverine is totally winning.

So call him what you want, pelicans! I don't care. Okay, that's a lie. I care for this man very much. I am kind of mama bear for those I care about. If I have to tell you off, I will. But my man is wicked smart! He'll take care of you all on his own.

F You Valentine's Day

I am by no means a man hater or a romance hater or a relationship disser or angry about being single on Valentine's day. But this year Valentine's day can suck a lemon. For real.

I am dating the Wolverine, as I have said. He is a great guy who treats me really well. We have a lot of fun together the few times I have seen him and he's a romantic at heart. I am open and willing to deal with his particular bag of life experiences. I realize that today was Wolverine's first Valentine's day in his new situation and him wanting to see me was a pretty bad idea. He needs space still for what is going on in his heart and his head. I had agreed however and got hurt when he freaked out. I don't really understand why I got hurt by it when I knew it was a bad idea for us to have plans.

I may have had a hand in pushing him towards his meltdown. I basically did a direct comparison between Wolverine and Fuzzy Face. I can see how that would hurt someone who's nerves were already rubbed raw. But they are so dramatically different. One part of me wants to comfort the Wolverine and tell him that I didn't mean it and I was delirious from working overnights. Then there is the other part of me that wants to be really straight forward and tell him to get over it, they are two different men that I care for for very different reasons and I have had vastly different experiences with each.

On the subject of Fuzzy Face, I miss him somedays, I can't lie. I miss the girls too. Blah...what a sap I am. I wish I hadn't been my insane self with him. Why couldn't I have taken 10 minutes for myself and gotten my shit together before diving head first into that? I texted with him briefly today about the last of my things. I hadn't actually planned on dealing with that until after my move. We shall see what happens there.

I got a cute text from The Great White Buffalo as well. We got caught up on the last few weeks worth of news. I declined the benefits part of our friendship. It turns out that it takes more than phenomenal lovin' to make me feel content. I can't believe that I just said that!! But I have found myself doing that with increasing frequency now. The poor guy has to be confused. But I want the brass ring this time. I am going to have all or nothing.

Even The Right Wing King sent me a message today! Granted, it was a dirty joke about Whitney Houston, but still...

Oh! And I almost got arrested over a parking ticket from 2 years ago at Christmas! Awesome. I am so glad to see that the Blaine Police Department has nothing better to do than run in women for parking in handicap parking spots!

So, like I said, F¥(# You Valentine's day. I am glad you are over. It wasn't a drama filled day, I'm just over it.

The Quiet Brain

I am dating the Wolverine. He has an X-men name and I think his super power is silencing my brain. I keep waiting and waiting and waiting for that moment-that inevitable moment-when my insecurities go on overdrive and I freak out on the person that I'm dating. But it seems like whenever I am around him that all of that gets set aside and I can concentrate on talking with him.

I haven't quite figured out how he does it, this furry force field of his. Trying to decide if it is some sort of mind game. You know, like a trick to make me think that there is no reason to be insecure and crazy.

Here's the thing though: my gut says, "Trust this man." HHmmmmm...I haven't trusted anyone in a very long time. I'm not even scared to trust him. Curse his superpowers! My defenses are non-existent with him, and honestly, they always have been. I remember when I first started talking to him months and months ago telling him really sensitive personal things. I don't feel a need to hide from him.

So, he may not be perfect. But who is, right? As long as our mutual weirdnesses line up, I think it should be fine.

Its all so different. Its not like being with Fuzzy Face which was wild and exciting. And its not like being with the Right Wing King where I never felt comfortable or good enough. How I feel when I am with Wolverine is similar to what happens to setting fire to a shot of whiskey: it burns slowly and evenly.

I feel weird talking about him. I still feel like I want to protect all of this and keep it for myself. As if I talk about this relationship the bubble will burst and he'll be gone too.

Is this love? I'm not sure yet. I think it could head in that direction. I can see Wolverine holding my hand through a lupus crisis. I can see myself getting ticked off at him for beating me at Scrabble all the damn time. Or listening to music all night...

For now I will sit and wonder about my quiet brain and how he accomplishes that. Scary quiet in there...

Lost in Space

I am at work tonight and you are on my mind hardcore. It's been this way for a couple of nights now. I feel like a junkie going through some kind of withdrawal. Trying to come up with a way to make it possible to be next to you for even an hour. Every damn song, joke, inferrence makes me think of you. The feeling is a sharp pain of loneliness and the dull ache of longing.

Now I have to sit with this feeling, which isn't awesome. It's not anyone's fault that I can't run to you and throw myself into your arms. It's just circumstances really. Knowing that doesn't soothe my mind much. It doesn't satisfy the physical hunger of need that goes all the way through me. It's not much of a comfort to see your name written somewhere and know that things can always change.

I haven't decided which is scarier to me: Not having you be able to commit to forever or never having you at all. Honestly right now I would trade my eye teeth-or at least one of them- to be cuddled up next to you. Okay, fine, truth be told, I want a little more than cuddling. We both know how I operate. I sometimes wish that lovin' was ALL I wanted from you. That may simplify everything.

I hate myself for feeling like I not only want someone but I need them. And not to fill some sort of cosmic space that is empty. Not to make up for my missing pieces. It makes me feel like a mess.

So, for now this is where I will lay these feelings down. I ache for you, your touch, your smell, your voice. As long as you know that it may be enough.

Introducing...

So I need a new character name for a recent-well not REALLY that recent-addition to my life. But what's odd is that I don't want to go on and on about them. I want it to be sort of my special secret to savor. Isn't that odd for me? I feel like I want to cherish this little bit of time all for myself.

Why haven't I done this before? I would hate to say that Fuzzy Face or The Pickle weren't special to me-Fuzzy especially-but I feel differently about this person. Fuzzy Face was so outgoing and gregarious that I guess I never worried about bragging about him or writing about him, you know? But now I feel differently.

However, this person is pretty jazzed about the whole code name idea. Except he wants a "cool" one. What defines cool? Because for God's sake, I find the programming on TLC cool. But I do love "The X Men" so maybe I will channel something like that. There is a lot of pressure! This person and I have been going around and around for months and months and the timing wasn't right. And I am still not sure if this is the absolute best time but when is? You have to start something to see where if anywhere its going to go.

When you are with one person and constantly wondering about another person, you are probably with the wrong person. And that makes me feel sad and guilty about staying with Fuzzy Face as long as I did. Was I using him for sex? Was I using him to cut through the loneliness? Was I using him to get the crazy rebound out of my system? Maybe yes to all of them. I do care for him very much. If he wanted to go out for drinks tomorrow I would. If he needed someone to watch his girls I would. I wish him well and hope to remain a friend to him.

So while I might be on the cusp of something grand with as yet unnamed person, I have a twinge of guilt of it being so close on the heels of my breakup. If I was an outsider I don't think I would think I am a bad person. Why do I obsess so much?? Dang.

Good Bye Time

DEEP BREATH--SIGH--DEEP BREATH...Here we go

Fuzzy Face and I are over. I will say it isn't a HUGE shock. I have been entirely too clingy too fast. And I just always had this nagging feeling that it wasn't the right situation for me. But you know, I was comfortable for the most part and liked the idea of being part of a family.

I do love him in a way. I'm just not sure its in the "Til Death Do Us Part" way. He is funny, and fun to be with. He's pretty good in the lovin' department. And I think he is really good looking. I love to look at him.

Sometimes it felt like I wasn't exciting enough or hot enough. But I also had a long talk with my brother this weekend and realized that Fuzzy has a couple of flaws that I am not quite sure I can handle long term. I really really wanted to, but wanting to isn't enough sometimes.

I haven't had the urge to cry yet. I'm sure I will bawl my eyes out on the way home from his place with my stuff in tow. He's a good guy. Just not my guy anymore. Sad, isn't it?

Hopelessly Hopeful

A couple of days ago I watched "The Shawshank Redemption" for about the hundredth time. I was struck by something that Andy said after spending a week in the hole:

"There are places in the world that aren't made of stone. There's something inside that they can't get touch, its yours. Hope"

I have said before that I am hopelessly hopeful. There were times that dreaming about what I wanted to happen and how great my life was going to be were all that sustained me. I never ever have given up hope. It may have wavered from time to time but it has never left my side. I'm not some Pollyanna that thinks that everything is always going to work out, that people are always good, and that nothing is going to be difficult. My hope is more that I can get through anything that I am handed.

My childhood memories come to me in mere flashes like photos in front of my eyes. I cannot recall whole memories very well. I will not condemn my mother for how she handled my raising. She did the best that she knew how to do with a daughter who was so undeniably lost and out of control. I am sure she counted on my father for assistance with me as he and I were so much alike, spoke our own language, and she struggled with understanding daughters. (For those who may not know, my father was severely brain damaged in a motorcycle accident when I was 6) Whenever my mom would fly into a rage or go too far with her criticism I would retreat into my mind and dream about a different life.

In my marriage I stayed lost in the daily tasks that presented themselves. Marriage was in no way what I had expected. I knew it would be hard. I had expected that much. But I was ill prepared for the lack of love and affection I found there. The hope of sudden improvement is what made it livable. Through all the yelling, fighting, insult hurling, and bad behavior I wished against all odds that one morning The Right Wing King would wake up and know how to love me. That he would suddenly understand how much I loved him and how desperate I was for his love and approval. Sadly that relationship ended in a pretty brutal divorce.

Hope is my crutch. Is that even possible? Is my looking forward a bad thing? Am I holding out for the unattainable? I'm not even sure. I do know that now that I am in charge of my own life and its direction that I will not settle for less than what I spent so much of my life hoping for.

John and Yoko

"It's part of our policy not to be taken seriously. Our opposition, whoever they may be, in all manifest forms, don't know how to handle humour. And we are humourous." --John Lennon on his and Yoko Ono's 1969 "Bed-In"

In 1969 John Lennon and Yoko Ono held two seperate week long "Bed-Ins" as a non-violent way of protesting war and promoting peace. One was in Amsterdam and the other was held in Montreal. The Amsterdam Bed-In received much press coverage but was not taken seriously by the press. The Montreal event had less coverage and had a mixed review by the American press.

Why, oh why would I start out with this ridiculous history lesson?? Last week Fuzzy Face's mother walked in and said that Fuzzy and I reminded her of John and Yoko. We spend a great deal of our time together cuddled up from the cold in our cozy bed. No, we don't spend the entire time getting it on...not that I would mind much, but that's just not how it is. It just happens to be warm and comfortable there.

In most homes the family comes together over the dinner table. In this house we all end up in a big hog pile in the bed. We all pretty much live in our jammies and hang out together watching tv. I haven't decided yet if this is as bonding as a meal around the table. But I am pretty sure that it is teaching Fuzzy's girls that they are loved and can come to their father for anything...even when he is cuddled up with his girlfriend.

As for he and I being like John and Yoko, I suppose I can see it. We are together most of the time, we spend most of our time in bed, and I am musically gifted while he sounds like someone beating a cat against the wall when he sings (kidding Babe, I like hearing you). I would like to brag that we are always naked and look good while doing it, but that wouldn't be very honest. He looks incredible to me when he is undressed, and hopefully I look good to him. Then again, I am the only naked woman in the room usually, so he has nothing to compare me to.

John Mayer

Lately I have been listening to John Mayer on an almost constant rotation. In my car, at work, when I'm falling asleep...all the damn time. I know that his music has been out there forever and I have always appreciated his musicianship. It's good, but I have never been a crazed, rabid fan.

Then, I started seeing Fuzzy Face. The first night that I spent with him I vividly remember making out with him furiously and taking my shirt off while "Heartbreak Warfare" was blasting out of the speakers upstairs. I can recall thinking, "Oh my God, this is going to change things". It was the first time I had had been with anyone in a long, LONG time. I seriously thought that no one was going to find me attractive ever again. I was convinced of it as a matter of fact.

So I was playing on YouTube and started listening to song after song after song. The chords that Mr. Mayer chooses for his guitar resonate with my soul and the head space I am in right now. I am a junkie for that bluesy relaxed guitar.

Now as I sit and listen away so many hours I think I've got this figured out. That sexy, emotional, full, rich music reminds me of what it feels like to be me. The actual me...good God. Where has she been? I've got swing, sex appeal, swagger, love, light, happiness, and hope. I have found a good spot for me. And if making it to John Mayer got me there, well, thank you to FF for having Cities 97 on that night, thanks to YouTube for making it all so accessible, and thank you Mr. Mayer for putting out such good tunes.

Being Miss Daisy

I am on vacation with Son and the BMD. They are incredible kids. So kind. And they take good care of me. We are all having a good time together. I feel kind of bad for them though....having to drag me around with them. So I have become like Miss Daisy. The old, crotchety, overly opinionated woman who is tolerated since she is bank rolling the whole shooting match, but sort of in the way.

It's not like I enjoy being in their way. I am in love in my own right at this minute. Being the third wheel is making me lonely. Son has BMD. Crazy Best Friend has her drifter. And I sit here missing what I feel I have at home. I understand that being alone here isn't the end of the world. Normally I love to be on vacation alone. But being alone surrounded by couples blissfully happy kinda blows.

I am trying so hard to not be in the way or push my own agenda. I am going with the flow as best I can...which for me is a huge challenge. I don't want to be that bossy loud mouth that needs to be the center of attention. I am working on being okay with a vacation filled with introspection...

I can't decide if I am being fake or mature. What I do know is that it is terribly difficult to let your baby birds fly on their own. Even if they are circling the nest waving back at you the whole time...you start to realize that they are going to fly off soon enough and build their own nest in a cactus somewhere.