So That Happened

I had this beautiful analogy about how you can't have 2 stars in a solar system until I fact checked myself to find that you can. Which was disappointing because the metaphor was poignant and hopeful. But I am unwilling to sacrifice my love of science at the alter of art. Ergo, the metaphor dies a swift death. 

To reframe- some things are real. Some things are tangible. Some things are visible. Some things are not. A child splashing in a visible wave blown by an invisible wind can testify that both what you can see and what you can't see can touch you at the same time. 

Love is that. Love is both a noun and a verb. Is is a chemical reaction that can be seen with an expensive machine and a feeling that can't be articulated due to the left and right brains inability to have neuro connections. Say what? We cant's say what we feel and we can't feel what we say. So we grope for words that come close and hope that our energy will fill in the gaps. 

Song of Solomon says that, "Love is as strong as death is. The insistence on exclusive devotion as unyielding as the grave itself." Love is as strong as death is. Death can not be undone. Nor can love. I believe this. Love, like matter, is never lost or gained- merely redistributed. Sometimes, in some cases, the concentration of it is enough to bring a destruction. So the safe thing to do is to redistribute it. Spread it thinly over a large area making it palatable for the masses. Or more accurately, walk away from a thing so powerful that it has the ability to destroy other things that equally matter. A calculated decision to sacrifice the potency of the love to save the lifestyle. 

A good and noble and right and healthy decision. One made with no regrets. 

Mostly because at the end of the day I know. And you know. It is a shared knowledge.

And that is enough.

A

 

Going to Stay, Staying to Go

I Go a lot.

I like the act of Go. Go makes me happy. 

I always have a travel bag packed with my passport and travel documents. As soon as I return from a trip I promptly repack the bag. I am always ready to GO.

I realize I don't dig roots or solidify relationships or make "permanent". Not only does that not matter to me, it also kinda makes me proud. The idea that I am nomadic, able and willing to see the next horizon, next sunset, next people, next place. The globe is my playground. I make my rules and create my life uninhibited by what "regular" people do.

I am remotely smug about the idea that while everyone else' feet are mired in concrete, I've done the impossible and learned to fly. I have wings. The ultimate sense of freedom. 

Now I am in this odd geographic place where people stay for ages. Their roots run so deep that even an act of God, or request from God, doesn't move them. I think that's so weird. The born blind trying to describe color to a child. We are not on the same page and probably will never be. We aren't in the same book. We don't even use the same alphabet.

Which takes me to my relationship. The thing I appreciate about "California" is that he is rooted as an anchor. Nothing tosses him, nothing upsets him. He is dug in, a barnacle. This is his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. This unwillingness to be moved. We are polar opposites in this, which perhaps is a a part of our attraction. His stay compliments my go. His hesitancy balances my rashness. My look-less leaping balances his analysis paralysis. We are both intelligent and able to communicate in a way that is productive and solution seeking. Our personalities compliment each other. 

Until they don't. Until I feel like he's being lazy and he feels like I am being pushy. Until I feel like he's burying me alive in quicksand and he feels like I'm dropping him in the middle of a tornado. Until I get mad and he gets frustrated and we don't even have sex as a way to blow off stream. Then it just feels like we are opposites instead of compliments. Then it just feels painful.

Here is what I don't know- I don't know if this is normal. Does every relationship feel like this? A push pull of no one really getting things the way that they want it. Is this the balance that relationshipping brings? Or is this a sign? Is this the "work" that everyone says a relationship takes?

Side note- I also feel like "Why am I making compromises for someone who isn't even my husband??" I am getting literally nothing out of being reasonable. Why am I being so nice? It's not getting me anything. I pay my own bills. I entertain myself. Anytime I ask for something I am told to take a number and get on the waiting list. I am really unsure of what I am gaining in this situation with this man who isn't my husband and hasn't articulated plans of movement and growth. 

So if we aren't growing why aren't I going?

I don't know. Previously my answer would have been that I like him. We have a solid friendship under all of the complications and jagged edges. Now- I don't know. Perhaps we are only friends as long as I stay in my corner and don't bother him. But that's not friendship. That's emotional manipulation. 

And selfish.

Which brings me full circle.

A

King-Dewberry

 Writers write.

Writers Write

I got the second part of a root canal yesterday. Thinking she was just going to "check" me I stacked appointments and ended up causing the Endodontist to pause another root canal to attend to mine. I recognize that I should feel entitled for that but I don't. I had arrived early and waited over an hour in the chair while overhearing her patiently answer the same 5 questions from 3 family members who's sister/cousin/daughter was getting the same said procedure. I was, in fact, ready to excavate the dental chair when I wondered if I, already having paid for the procedure, would have to cover the cost of the Novi cane that had been injected 30 minutes ago. As I was preforming a cost/ risk analysis the Endodontist made an appearance, her assistant having noticed the grip on my purse tightening after I checked the time. 

This is not a blog about a root canal. But it begins to take shape as a blog about boundaries and expectations. I have been saying, frequently, that as women we set our value. People will give to us what we allow and we have been whitewashed into thinking that having what we are given is better than having nothing. An economy of scarcity. I reject this idea in actionable terms. The idea of waiting the Endodontist out and missing my doctor's appointment was not worth my time, it was not a tradeoff I was willing to make. I was not on her time, she was on mine.

I have recently, categorically, been setting higher and higher expectations about how I will and will not be treated. And let's be frank- I've never allowed myself to be treated poorly. But somewhere in the past year something in me decided to raise the bar. Last year in Puerto Rico I had decided to "call out defecation kindly" which led me on a journey wherein people whom I had previously let get away with being (let's face it) a bit shitty, I began to call on their bullshit. In general, they did not like it. 

I had mildly wondered as I started this process if it would equate to loss. It has yet I do not feel bereft. My observation is that for every person unwilling to treat me well, there were others who were. And the less I cared about my aloneness the more they want to gather around me. Factually- the less nonsense I tolerate the more people seem to like me. I am guessing that when people see someone stand up for themselves it emboldens them to try to do the same- but I don't really know. That's not my journey. 

What I do know is that somehow or another I've ended up with what seems to be a tribe of fierce supporters who don't really know me but seem to love me. It's kinda weird- but it is Texas. Everything is bigger here, perhaps even the capacity for acceptance and affection. 

The real story that I want to tell is about pain management. After part 1 of my root canal the doctor had prescribed "5 Advil and 2 Tylenol every 6 to 8 hours". She recommended starting the dosage 3 hours from the procedure as the numbing effects would begin to wane about then. Fearing the pain, I did as directed. I felt no pain, my root canal was as effortless as clouds on a sunny day.

This time I decided to listen to my body. It wasn't an attempt at bravery, it was a busy day and I hadn't brought the Advil and Tylenol with me. Additionally, I didn't think it was a good idea to drive around  running errands with that much drugs in my system.  By the time I had eaten dinner I could feel both sides of my mouth and the pain wasn't significant enough to decide to chemically manage it. So I forgot about it. 24 hours later I have full feeling and didn't need any pills to manage the pain. Which meant I felt no pain and my life moved forward without the constraints of legal drugs. 

Me being myself I spent about 45 minutes meditating on why this was the case and what I could learn. I realized that the reason one needs a root canal is because the nerves in the tooth are dead. Which means they can't feel pain. I had only been in pain previously because the dead nerves had rotted in my tooth and caused an infection that was quickly multiplying in my jaw. Side note- the smell when she drilled into my tooth to remove the decay was exactly what one would expect- the smell of death in ones mouth. Weird. Anyway, with the nerve rot removed and a flushing of the infection my body literally had no ability to feel pain in that area. What had died couldn't hurt me and keeping it around had only caused me pain. 

Here is what I learned; leaving a dead thing to rot only smells and creates a pain point. Getting rid of a dead thing is fast, painless, and while smelly, easier than one would expect. Relationships are like that. You think that removing a dead one will hurt but really it's much more painful to leave it in than flush it out. Something already gone, a relationship already dead, can't hurt you when you let it go. It just makes room for something else, even if that something else is extra space and freedom. It is your extra space and freedom and suddenly the area no longer smells bad. Having nothing is better than having a smelly rotten dead thing. Both literally and metaphorically.

Perhaps the true art to life is understanding when it's time to let something go.

Pain free-

Dewberry

Lungs full of air

It is quiet. At 9:03 on a Saturday night at the end of August. I sit in my house. The television is not on. The radio is not on. There is no noise other than the low and steady humm of the dryer.

I had a plan to be out tonight. A carefully orchestrated day that included God and peopling and ministering and going out. I got dressed up. Pretty Summer dress and a necklace. I got in the car.  I drove to the aforementioned activity of the evening- Blues, Brews & BBQ.  And then I kept driving. Right back to my house. Ending up right back on my couch.

Perhaps it was the 2 hours of swimming that followed the hour of ministry that followed the 2 hours of meeting. Perhaps it was the steak fajitas. Perhaps it was listening to people talk all day. Perhaps it is knowing that tomorrow I have service and am hosting a picnic, weather permitting, that will require me to be social all over again. Perhaps it is I just prefer to be at home. 

I think that my soul is at rest. I don't feel restless. I think that for the first time in my life that waters that engulf my heart are absolutely still. I have no desire to be anywhere but exactly where I am. That's crazy. 

And peaceful.

And an exhale. 

Tonight, I am on the exhale.

A

Being Pulled Apart

There are some little girls who dream of a wedding day. They have a trousseau and a vision board. Swatches of lace and silks picked out. The groom is as decorative as the floral arrangements. Necessary to complete the ensemble but secondary to the planning of the actual day. They play dress-up wedding. They dream and buy and plan.

And then there's me. The idea of a wedding gives me hives. Literally. The visions of walking down the aisle makes me want to vomit and the thought of FOREVER resounds in my head like Smalls on the Sandlot. I was not built to be caged. 

Unfortunately I also love men and romance and flowers and sex. My dual needs are incompatible. Where does that leave me? Torn.

What do I know to be true in this moment on this day?

Dads are great.

I don't want to be 60 and single.

He is trying really really hard to keep me happy.

I am being unfair in looking for reasons to be unhappy.

Because I love single as much as I love married.

If Jehovah says it's a gift it's a gift.

... the gift was of a woman to the man. 

... the gift was no longer being alone. 

... the gift was not marriage, it was companionship.

I affection him.

Sadly.

A

What I mean is....

 My verbal words are often filtered through a strainer that tastes like fear. Smells like fear. Is fear.

My written words never are. I often argue with you playing both sides in my head. I filter your words through a red-orange fog of self doubt and respond through a bullhorn of defense. The things I say never match up with the things I want to say and I always leave the conversation quite baffled at how my words became so mangled. A train wreck of words from which I couldn't unsay.

I do this often. All the time in fact, with every guy that forces me to slow down and "date". My relationship filter kicks in when it senses my heart is in danger and commences a code red counter attack. I am irrevocably broken. And yet unapologetically brave. Until I'm not.

Fear is not a bad thing. We've all seen Inside Out 1&2. Anxiety is not a bad thing. They are useful things. But then they take over the cognitive control board and before you know it you're saying-

"I'm ready to be done"

when what I wanted to say is;

"Don't give up on me"

Or

"If you're still in my life"

when what I mean is;

"Let's plan a vacation"

My fear filter is vicious. And it is brutally effective. This isn't too say that the things that worry me aren't worrying me. Or that growth and reciprocity aren't vital in any adult life. There is space for those things can be true too. 

I don't know if one day the right person will be able to silence the bullhorn and render neutral the fear or if this is what it will continue to be. 

I know that right now, in this moment, I feel both sadness and relief. And curiosity.

Will you, are you, made to hear me through my words- not when it's easy but when it's hard, when my fear filter is on and doing her best to protect me; OR will you see the fog and hear the bullhorn and remember you've only come for the smoke and mirrors? You just wanted a good show. Only time will tell.

Ahhhhh. The blog. My words are loosed. My soul is at peace.

Dewberry