a single pink rose bud

•September 27, 2008 • Leave a Comment

He sauntered into the place in his usual, unassuming, long-legged gait. Twirling a single, pink rosebud between his fingers, he sat down at the table, seating himself across from yours truly. Dear reader, several hours later, when I departed for home, I had that single, pink rose bud in my possession.

Single – unique, one-of-a-kind. Pink – gentle, soothing, patient. Rosebud – a work-in-progress, clenched ever-so-tightly to itself, just beginning to open … oh-so-slowly, so much potential, requiring a little extra nurturing and care. And patience.



•September 26, 2008 • Leave a Comment

He’s got the heart of a photographer.
It’s clear, from his work, that he understands the soul of a woman.
He’s shown me his raw vulnerability.
He’s a broken doll, too.

a date?

•September 25, 2008 • Leave a Comment

“So I guess this was a date, huh?” He turned to look at me as he spoke those words. Ahhh ~ I find those blue eyes sooo very irresistable.

“Yeah …” I replied with a smile.

A date … first one in MANY years.

Happy, happy, joy, joy.

vestiges of a marriage

•September 24, 2008 • Leave a Comment

And so, for the past 3 days I have spent time rummaging through the last vestiges of my former life ~ as a wife, a yuppy, and a consumer-driven, stuff-collecting middle-class zombie. For the first time in years, I fished my wedding dress from its box, encased in its plastic dress-bag, and complete with veil and head-piece. I’d even saved the shopping bag in which the head-piece came. And then, I came across the matching ‘granny boots.’ How different, the shoes I wear now, and the steps I take in said shoes.

For the last time, I washed and folded his clothes ~ bits and pieces he’d left behind. I sanitized and purged. Washed so many blankets, even a few pillows, and … also the shower curtains! I do suppose that’s my OCPD creeping out … organize, de-clutter, strive for perfection. I’m molting my marriage skin.

scatter and gather

•September 22, 2008 • Leave a Comment

It’s happened. After 9 months of separation, living under the same roof, He has moved out. I feared, even just a few weeks ago, that the dissolution of the partnership would dissolve me. For … who have I been these many years? Someone’s wife. Someones’ mother. Someones’ nurse. An employee. A student. A patient. A victim. A fuck. An income. Defined in relation to others. Defined by a role I assume in daily life. Defined by an affliction. Defined by an action. Valued for the pleasure others can derive from their interaction with me.

I feel liberated. I feel relieved. I feel renewed – like I have the energy to sort through all these material things and purge, purge, purge. An external activity and process that mirrors my internal processes. Scatter and gather.

first day of … just me …

•September 20, 2008 • 2 Comments

… feels weird …

scouring the topography

•August 28, 2008 • Leave a Comment

The topography of my heart ~ jagged shards that pierce and draw blood :: tender, silken flesh, glowing with warmth :: the bitter taste of regret and grief :: an inhospitable, icy tundra :: hungry flames of passion that want, that compulsively and without contemplation consume all in their path.

I have begun to scour the landscape of my heart ~ the topography of its flesh, shards, even its flames and ice. Often, I cannot seem to reconcile the facts with the truth. Truth feels and looks so far-removed from the facts. Perhaps it transcends the minutia of fact. I dunno.

Here’s what I do know.

  1. We must offer forgiveness in order to receive it.
  2. Forgiveness and love increase in their value with our difficulty in giving them.
  3. Taking responsibility for one’s own actions sometimes feels unpleasant. Its the only path to freedom, however.
  4. Unconditional loving fucking hurts.
  5. The more I learn, the less I feel I know.