Can’t Stop Me

The boys and I are back in town after a week-long camping road trip. We drove through Death Valley. Spent the night in a cute cabin near a creek. Explored the ghost town of Bodie, California. Camped at Loon Lake. Had ice cream in Carson City across from our state’s government buildings. Spent the night in the famous “haunted” Clown Motel. There were laughs, and kid fights, and parents worn thin. It was an adventure and a great memory-making trip. My second-time camping was another success.

We spent lots of time at the lake, both in the water and on the shore. We did a short hike—I am sorely out of shape. The boys tried to fish. I threw rocks in the lake with my cute nephew. The boys got to kayak with some of the adults. I was talked into kayaking for the first time and immediately flipped the boat and fell into the water. All around, it was great!

While driving home, I realized some of my favorite memories of trips have been the embarrassing ones. My favorite thing about this camping trip was falling out of the kayak. One trip to Duck Creek in Utah, I slipped off a rope swing and slid my ass down part of a hill. I laughed so hard. I think these are my favorite moments because it shows how resilient I am and have been. I get knocked down and I get the fuck back up. That’s me.

June is almost over. While I do have new, happy associations with the month, it is still filled with a lot of painful reminders of the past. It would have been 15 years of marriage. It would have been 21 years together. It has been 3 years since I joined a club I never thought I’d be a part of. It’s all worked out for the better, but I can’t say I don’t fall into that dark hole sometimes. I still allow my mind to go places it shouldn’t. Even though I know better. It feels like I am out of control. I have to remind myself that healing is not something that you just accomplish and be done with. It’s an ongoing, never-ending process. I have to allow myself patience and forgiveness. I am not going to be perfect and that is okay.

you are all a part of me now

to the past loves
to the ones who never were
to the ones who used me
to the ones I used
to the ones who broke me
the intense romance
the toxic relationships
the lessons learned
the experience gained
the heart rebuilt

some are just not kind
they use you up, throw you out
just a memory

stuck

Sometimes, I don’t know who I am.
What makes me, me?
Am I trying too hard to be what and who I was in the past?
If I am not reading,
writing,
singing,
have I lost myself?
Am I just evolving into someone new?
Someone better?
Do I force the old ways?
Embrace new ways?
Sometimes, it feels like too much pressure.

Who am I?

I feel like my emotions have been all out of sorts. Again. I haven’t been reading. I haven’t been writing. It feels like I haven’t really done much of me lately. I find myself feeling scared that maybe I’ve lost me again. The last year has been a crazy new struggle and I feel like for most of it I’ve just been trying to keep myself from drowning. I’ve swung so far back and forth on the emotional pendulum. It would be nice not to feel so…up and down, all the time.

it’s the way you love me

the way you love astounds me
maybe it was like that in the beginning for me
the first time
but it was so long ago I can’t remember

it’s your calm and patience
when I am ugly crying
completely lost in my mind and emotions

it’s the way you remind
everything is going to be all right
we’re going to be all right

I’ve unintentionally trained myself
that if I show to much emotion
if I don’t hold it all together
my partner will bottle up and shut down
but you don’t

you don’t.

I’ll be fine next to you

you hold me when I’m
scared
sad
tired

you brush my hair
with your hand
and tell me not to worry
I will be fine

you hold back judgment
but give so much in
understanding,
patience

I’m always discovering new
reasons I love you

open book

you love me through my every insecurity
your honesty and bluntness
create a unique, safe space for my heart
there is no wondering
what you mean or
how you feel
you are an open book that
I love to read

The Purge

I finally did it. I have been looking at my closet for weeks (months?) now feeling sad. I would see all these cute clothes that just do not fit anymore. I lost so much weight post-divorce, only to gain all of it back post-Covid. Sure, I can totally lose all the weight again, but that won’t happen overnight, and in the meantime, it’s not doing me any good seeing it everyday. It just serves as a constant reminder that I have somehow failed. I don’t want that. So, off the clothes went into bags. They will find new homes somewhere else. And here? Now I just see clothes that actually fit the body I have now and I am so good with that. The only small items I kept were my bridesmaids dresses and the dress I wore on my first date with Nick (because, you know, good memories). When I lose all the weight again, I’ll reward myself with a new wardrobe. Until then, I am here to celebrate and embrace who I am now.