Keeping fear in the cage where it belongs

Heidi posted another great piece at the Fitting Words blog. This time, she got more personal than usual about her fight with fear, and she asked that her readers provide some input.

I didn't start my response to Heidi as commentary on relationships, but the end product mentions "letting go," which is something we don't do well when it comes to friends and lovers. Once I was done basically blogging in her comments, I decided to share my rambling here.

Enjoy.

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Warning… I think I’m feeling philosophical again. lol


Fear is a useful and necessary emotion. It helps us to preserve life in the face of danger. It’s the meter that lets us know we’re in danger in the first place!


When left unchecked, fear can rule in our efforts to preserve more than life and limb… Preserve our pre-conceived notions…. Preserve our expectations… Preserve the control we want to have over the random things of life. This unchecked fear is a misuse and abuse of the proper function for fear, and I believe we have a choice in letting fear out of the cage… or not.


I may not be the best advisor here, because I fight with fear in many forms… most notably… fear of failure and fear of what others, mostly mom, think of me.


BUT, whenever I can dance to a small victory over fear, I can say faith was my fighting buddy. Whether it is faith in God’s benevolence, karma, or the way the universe always seeks a level – I believe I am always where I should be. If a job falls through… that means something better is coming. If a friendship fails, I can accept that his/her precious role in my life came to an end.


In doing this, I find that there are no “bad” situations. Just learning experiences – many of which reveal the lesson as time goes on. In times where faith fails, I tap my own reserve tank with one reality: Allowing a situation to steal my joy is like sticking a knife in an open wound. I become the force making the situation much worse than it should be — which makes me the author of unnecessary additional suffering.


The rare times I want to wallow and let joy chill on ice… well… those times don’t last long. There’s nothing like feeling the power of letting something go.

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How do you battle, win, and/or lose against fear?

Monogamy is selfish? I'm not convinced...

Kenya Stevens of JujuMama LLC left an interesting post on her Facebook wall today:

The nature of monogamy is selfishness. Most people would gladly have another lover, but what kills the dream is they would have to accept the same scenario. They deny themselves to further deny the one person they profess to love most. That to me is the real drive behind infidelity, the selfishness, and wanting to keep... your lover in darkness while you explore the light. (via Shannon Roberts)

Now I love Kenya's unconventional approach to strengthening relationships and her book is in my Amazon shopping cart for quick purchase this Friday. But her recent statement ate at my thoughts until I replied on her page and moseyed here for more commentary.

My original message to Kenya:

I don't agree that monogamy is selfish in itself. Pretending to be monogamous while cheating on a partner that you told something different is selfish. When both agree on the structure of their relationship -- that's harmony.

My His Side values monogamy as much as I do. As such, we have harmony in that area. Isn't it better to say that either ... See Moremodel works... so long as it is a shared value & desire?

Footnote: Monogamy does have its virtues... like the possible resulting children, the possible shared disease, etc. since there's no 100% method of preventing both. Discounting one structure to promote the other denies the value to those who chose it.

I couldn't resist spilling this conversation into this blog, because monogamy is central to my desire in a relationship. Kenya chronicled her journey into sharing her husband's goodies on her old blog, and it was clear it took a long time for the choice to sit well in her soul. That alone tells me that she clearly had a different preference for her marriage - which also features young children. As far as I was concerned, it took a pretty selfish motive on her husband's part to ask her to endure the ordeal.

What say you, or dear readers? Hit us in the comments.

Footnote: This blog will feature a book review of Kenya's book "Change Your Man: How to Become the Woman He Wants." I agree with Kenya's premise that men and women are different - and attempting to change your man via confrontation won't lead to harmony. I ordered her husband's companion book for His Side.

Bitter Pills to Swallow

Several weeks ago, my parents received bad news. "Although you are legally married, you've been living apart for many many years. He must be dropped from your retirement insurance."

In a funny twist, my parents are together almost every day. She cooks for him. He helps her with the house. They introduce themselves as husband and wife. But they can't stand living together. Mom is too controlling and dramatic, which doesn't mix well with the healthy doses of testosterone pulsing through dad's veins. Even in their 60's and 70's, some of their encounters mirror the hilarity of tweens trying to navigate puppy love.

Anyway...

Since mom couldn't produce a single utility bill or bank account statement in dad's name at her address, he is left to his own sparse insurance. They estimate his medical bills could increase by $1000 out of pocket per month. Nobody on retirement funds can afford that nonsense.

As my mother shared this crisis with me (and lamented about my father's annual visit to his girlfriend's hometown - a total other story), she said the bitter words I hear from far too many older women. "STAY. SINGLE." She meant it. "Share your life and your resources with no-one. You'll have to help them one day."

I have thrown my hands to the sky and raised my face to the wind many times with the same objection. "What part of that advice offers me the option and information I need to experience the beauty of a loving relationship?" Doesn't choosing a partner come with the absolute promise that one day I'll have to hold them up during a time of need? Doesn't the anticipation of their love and support during my darkest hours balance the perceived hardship? If that isn't love, then WHAT. IS????

Wounded people wound others. That concept is one block in the foundation of this blog. The wounded spread their bitterness like a disease... cleverly concealed under the shroud of "loving relationship advice."

Keep this in your back pocket: If the advice you get doesn't explain how love can win, then the puppet strings of bitterness and fear are showing all over the messenger. Smile. Keep it moving. Brush the bitterness off your clothes and find a trail that leads to love. It is the only truly positive power this planet has ever known.

Photo yanked from Legal Juice.

Balancing Hope and Disappointment After a Breakup, Part 3 of ?

The words of BSEW regular, Big Mark, triggered this series for sure. He offered the following words to describe the His Side/Her Side split (and pinpointed a deep feeling that I had yet to specify on my own):

Keeping the disappointment from mixing with the hopes is a challenge for sure.

So instead of cussing out Big Mark for swimming around in my head and finding the words I couldn't even express, I decided to blog about it. LOL

Continued from Part 2, which I had to break apart because it was becomming its own damn book...

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The weekend ended when His Side returned to his cousin's house, tried to call me, but I was on the phone with an old friend that I reconnected with. The old friend was a flame in my late teens, and we've had a good time catching-up on all the changes that 20 years can bring. His Side Lost. His. Mind.... first when the reconnection was revealed through the magic of Facebook friends lists, and then when His Side actually couldn't reach me because my phone was busy. The nerve of me using my phone. Based on the accusation, clearly old friends only reconnect to make plans for hot steamy affairs... right?

Anyway, I take ownership of three mistakes I made in this process:

1. I underestimated the challenge ahead of me and got loose on my watch.

2. I greatly underestimated how difficult it would be for His Side to fight his own personal battle with hope and dissapointment.

3. I didn't take the sage advice to go "no contact" for at least 30 days straight after the breakup. Somewhere deep inside me, a naive hopeful girl believes friendship should never die. Well part of that girl died this past weekend. She needed to. And the next time I see her, I'm gonna slap her in the mouwf.

Everything happens for a reason. (Dammit. Another cliche I couldn't avoid because of the unmistakable truth at its core. But I digress...) Even our mistakes become springboards for lessons that we need to learn. I count this the tuning point in successfully balancing hope wiht disappointment.

I suspect there will be a Part 4 to this series. Shit, I may do like Rocky, forget when to stop making more "parts," and just continue this until I'm too old to box I complete all the transitions that come with the territory.

Holla at me in the comments... even if it's to spank me for being dense. Y'all know I can take it.

A Relationship Public Service Announcement...

This PSA comes with a T-Shirt: STOP BLAMING ME FOR YOUR SHYT.

I believe I've had this conversation before with my BFF Negril. I'm kinda glad we're not in the same office today, because she might be foreced to slap me. In spite of sage advice and hard-earned wisdom, it is amazing how the mind plays tricks while submerged in the middle of a situation. Before today's PSA story comes the conclusion: You really can't do enough to appease a person who wants to blame you for their problems. End. Of. Fracking. STORY.

His Side called me first thing this morning. I'm talking before I oozed out of bed to prepare for the morning routine. I didn't expect to hear from him, because he lost his job yesterday and claimed he didn't want to hear from the rest of the world - including me - for a few days. He only had the job for about four weeks.

"Hello."

"Do you have COMPANY?"

"Wha???..."

That's how the conversation started. Because of course if I choose not to sleep with him, I'm whoring around town looking for random dyck to satiate me.

[Note to self: Don't be offended. Hold it together. He knows you're not a ho. If he really believed that dumb shit, he wouldn't be interested in you in the first place.]

Anyway, his monnologue consisted of declarations of his love for me coupled with a tongue-lashing for having friends other than him. Male. Female. Straight. Gay. It doesn't matter. They all make him feel threatened, like he has to complete for my affections. I was told how I should understand him and his request, because of things that have been done to him before. He went on to lament his life and his mistakes, and rolled right back into what I should and should not be doing for him.

Now I spent most of this monologue rubbing crusties from my eyes and staring at the phone like I just got a call from aliens. I very calmly said fuck you informed His Side that I object to his calling my house for such nonsense and he'll nevah own the right to play Director in my life. I kindly declined the challegne to defend myself against his ridiculous accusations. He apologized, which historically only means "excuse me for a moment, and I'll see if I can implement my mind control in another attempt I have planned for this afternoon."

I feel badly for him. This empathy led me to overlook too much as his girlfriend... and sometimes engage in the fray trying to make things right. And now I'm starting to overlook too much as his "new-found" friend.

I thank Susan Elliott for this great post dealing with taking the blame for our partner's actions. Today's PSA comes from Susan's blog post (which you should stop and read, by the way):

They will not change. There is NO such thing as acting “right enough” or loving someone “good enough” to keep them from doing crappy things. A monster will act like a monster. A cheater will act like a cheater. A liar will act like a liar. And a bananahead will act like a bananahead. No matter what you do or do not do.

The bottom line is that everyone is responsible for his or her own behavior. Do not let someone else blame you for their bad behavior. No one can make anyone do anything they don’t want to do. [Source]

Reminder: Part 3 of my Hope vs. Disappointment series will auto-post tomorrow morning.

Balancing Hope and Disappointment After a Breakup, Part 2 of ?

The words of BSEW regular, Big Mark, triggered this series for sure. He offered the following words to describe the His Side/Her Side split (and pinpointed a deep feeling that I had yet to specify on my own):

Keeping the disappointment from mixing with the hopes is a challenge for sure.

So instead of cussing out Big Mark for swimming around in my head and finding the words I couldn't even express, I decided to blog about it. LOL

Welcome to Part 2 of The Shittiest Lesson EVAH

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I have been working on Part 2 of this series for weeeeeks. The landscape of this battle changes so often, that my draft posts go stale before I have a chance to dot the i's and hit "publish."

But today I reached a place where I can say something important about the ongoing battle - a battle I never expected to present so many challenges. I have to thank Mark again for forcing me to pay attention.

Most of the time, I'd say 85% of the time, His Side and I have a great time re-exploring friendship without the stress of "working on relationship issues." Those issues became deeply distracting, and we owed it to each other to go to our separate corners to work it out. That 85% represents "Hope." But the other 15% of the time, OH GOOD LORDIE, we take randomly unexpected turns manifesting "Disappointment."

His Side fluctuates between two ends of the spectrum: Deep understanding of how much time it would take for us to come together again in the future and hurt frustration that wants to make it happen right now.

I stay firm on the expectation that reconciliation would take a looooong time, but find myself feeling frustrated at key times that he seems to avoid his personal business with eyes fixed on recreating an "us." Dammit, how is that time gonna come while I'm still young enough to have wild sex if you keep wasting the days on dumb shit?

Anyway, it isn't fair for either of us to dump our disappointment on the other. My style is to go all blue and get motherly about his decisions. His style is to have a blow out until he hits the right button and I go up like a flare.

This weekend was particularly bad. We spend time together every-other weekend, but this weekend he was on a deep romantic mission. He got nasty when I didn't flow with it, and he said more hurtful things than a single human should say in a lifetime. I was floored. And I reacted. Talk about a flare. I think my hair caught on fire.

He continued the rip bouncing back and forth between apologies and more frustrated words. For the first time, I wondered if this was a person I even wanted as a distant associate. I simply told him, "Friends don't treat each other this way, and there's no way I can count you a friend."

It was like the end of an era. It was like breaking up all over again.

Worst of all, it was like looking into the eyes of a stranger who evokes fond memories because he bears a striking resemblance to a lost loved-one. Except it's not the loved one, and you have to deal with the reality of who is standing in front of you.

:: breaking the rest into Part 3, which will auto-publish in 2 days, because this is a long one ::

Young love is great, but the grown game ROCKS

I just finished reading an article, "Over 40 and Ready for Love?" Men and women ranging in age from 40 to 79 got their groove back and found love, with some entering marriage for the first time.

Too often, I think, pop culture characterizes the excitement of falling in love as a drink best served during youth. Teens and twenty-somethings are pegged as having the most fun with self-discovery, dating, marriage and even sex.

But in the spirit of the Over 40 article, I find something deeply sexy about relationships as I get closer to my 4th decade on this planet. The fantasy slowly transformed into the experience and wisdom it takes to attract, recognize, and nurture more fulfilling experiences.

In other words, I enjoy earning the right to say "Been There. Done That. AND Got the T-shirt."

Trial and Error: The Beauty of Experience and Learning from Failures

I read a lot of books about finances, business administration, and management. If anybody deserved an honorary MBA based on their library, I'd be that chick. The first time I was presented with the idea that 'we learn more from a failure than a success,' I was hopelessly intrigued. Many wealthy men and women give credit for the quality/depth of their success to memorable failures that shook their foundation, imparted priceless lessons, and sometimes almost broke their spirit. Failures present some of the best opportunities for growth, a unique view of "what not to do," and a powerful springboard for "what to do better/differently next time."

I wholeheartedly believe this concept applies to relationships. Isn't that why we bother with courting, dating, and engagements before jumping headfirst into marriage? We feel our way around the relational landscape, learn how to use the maps, discover how to stay on the road, and stumble upon ways to avoid pesky land mines left behind from all the wars fought in the land.

I find it particularly disturbing that casual observers can criticize couples - especially young couples - for "not making it work." There's no friggin manual for relationships/marriage. If there was, we wouldn't have terms like "hook-up" and "side piece" to describe the unfortunate purgatory that folks live in while pretending to look for love. And hell, divorce lawyers wouldn't be able to fart around with the rich and famous. Some might cite the Bible as the closest thing we have to a Relationship Users Manual. But even the Bible makes room for dreadfully-flawed human nature.

I have dated (seriously) since I was 18, but some of those puppy-love, budding love, and mature love stories stand out:

When I was 18, I had a boyfriend whom I loved as much as an 18-year old heart could stand. To me, he was the epitome of what a boyfriend should be, and he never proved anything different. I was the one who broke his heart to experience the sudden newness and freedom associated with attending college far from home.

When I was 26, I fell head-over-heels for an island man and our time together always took my breath away. For eight months, we worked, played, laughed, and loved. The sex was... the... SHIT. Suddenly, when his internship in the area was over, he was on the road to home to marry his ex-girlfriend. WTF? I was devastated. He was my first truly adult love experience.

When I was 28, I married somebody completely outside of my "type." He looked great on paper, but there was no true fire. In fact, I still had a small fire buring for the island man, who I remained in contact with. (What kind of crap is that?) I was compelled by the promise of stability - financial and otherwise - that my ex-husband seemed to represent. Three years and 11 months later, I learned why a resume of practical considerations won't do much to sustain a marriage.

When I was 35, I met His Side. I didn't date at all after my divorce. I was celibate and mastering life as a single mother. His Side looked awful on paper. No money. No assets. Past problems with some still unresolved. And. I. Didn't. Care. I was crazy about him, and he was clearly crazy about me.

We had a wonderful "phone" relationship that resulted in dating, which led to an intimate relationship (OMG, talk about finding extra icing on top of my cake), which led to him moving in. Together, we marveled about the organic, simple-yet-complicated, raw, unadulterated bliss that comes with falling hopelessly in love. Yet here we are in the chaos chronicled here at this blog. I am still in the process of recognizing and embracing the necessary lessons from this one...

In spite of it all, I feel poised to keep living a vibrant life armed with the lessons from each of these experiences. I am thankful for what I learned, primarily what I learned about myself as each of these stories played their necessary role in my life.

The Frickin Point I am Trying to Make Is...

In spite of recent developments as I watched My Favorite Relationship of All Time devolve into chaos, I am deeply happy and satisfied.

I don't have to cry my eyeballs out.
Been There.

I don't have to just accept the chaos out of fear of being alone.
Done That.

I don't have to worry if love still exists or can be a part of my future.
Got the T-shirt.

I'm all grownded up. hehe I am as free as I allow myself to be. I'm as wise as the experiences behind me - according to the degree I opened my heart to receive. And I know fo'sho that the ups-&-downs of living and loving during the uncertainty of youth never EVER felt this good.

How do you complete a puzzle when you purchased the last one and some of the pieces are missing?

The answer is... YOU DON'T.

Many years ago, in the midst of my own divorce, I read a fantastic book that spoke to something I needed to understand. The book wasn't a stellar representation of world class writing worthy of the Oprah book club. But it did exactly what it needed to do and explored a simple point: Forget what your math teacher taught you. Two halves don't make a whole. Not in the land of relationships.

In fact, two halves make a hot mess. The blind leading the blind. A train wreck waiting to happen.

I couldn't resist sharing this thought after catching this gem over at Getting Past Your Past:

"When damaged people marry, they begin to resent their partner for not making them whole. – Robin Norwood

From the movie “Jerry McGuire” came the phrase “you complete me.” But, the truth of the matter is that no other person can complete us when we are incomplete and damaged and have not dealt with that damage.

We cannot leave to someone else, the work that is our own.

We cannot rush into relationships hoping to keep our mind off the fact that we are damaged or need more to be complete. We will never find that completeness through another person or a relationship or a job or a situation." Read the entire post [here.] It's worth the read...

I literally took 3 years off after my divorce. No dating. Not even a little bit. Not even physical contact and certainly not sex. In fact, I ate lunch with a male coworker twice towards the end of those three years. That was the closest I came to bothering with idea of dating.

I was on a mission to discover what "whole" meant. I found out, and I liked how it felt. I freed myself from the notion that "whole" meant "perfect" - and thankfully so - because "perfect" is relative and otherwise not attainable. "Whole" comes down to experiencing true, deep, and sincere satisfaction with who you are as a person (inside) aside from any dissatisfaction with things that objectify you (such as weight, hair color - because those things don't define your human value.)

As I told one of my bestest bestest girlfriends yesterday, I learned how to say "I'm proud of myself" without feeling guilty.

"You know what. I used to think it was bad to say. But I am proud of myself... not for being the creator of my essence, but for accepting the essence that the Creator gave me."

His Side was the person who ended my 3-year strike. In fact, we met almost 3 years to the exact day that my ex-husband walked out of our home and into the sunset - well - the sunset of his mistress' tits. hehe But anyway ...

More and more often, I find myself reminding His Side that I am not responsible for making him whole. Because more and more I see him setting me up as the punching bag for his fears and insecurities. The moment he feels fear or gets insecure about something, I can confidently predict he is about to find a petty flaw to lay into me about. If you're having a personal meltdown because I left a closet door open in a rush to secure some TP for a bathroom emergency, you need to make an adjustment buddy.

But the truth is, I don't believe much in coincidence. While I am nobody's savior, I know my trials and tribulations make me an effective vessel for understanding and helping those struggling with the same.

Without going into detail or starting another post, His Side will have an opportunity to chase his wholeness without offering me up as a sacrifice to the Gods of Broken Spirits. God I love that man. Like any other intervention, sometimes you have to offer a kind of help that isn't wanted... especially when it's time to spare your own health and sanity as a borderline accomplice named Enabler.

Semi-cheating my way out of a strike...

I know I'm on strike. Stop looking at me funny. I just need to stick a single toe over the picket line to share what I thought was a FANTASTIC article about assessing the health of your relationship (past or present). The author, Susan J. Elliot, offers 10 evaluation factors that hit the damn nail on the head.

If you're pining over an ex, use the checklist to see if you're deluding yourself about wanting them back. If you are already in a relationship, use the checklist to see if you need to run screaming into the night.

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THE CHECKLIST:
Recheck: Was Your Relationship Good for You?

SOURCE:
Getting Past Your Past (Blog)

AUTHOR:
Susan J. Elliot,
Lawyer, Counselor, and Author of Getting Past Your Breakup.

Bad Boy, Bad Boy... Whatcha Gonna Do... (Part 1 of 3?)

Whatcha gonna do when we come for you...

No bitter relationship debate blazes hotter than the discussion of a woman's attraction to Bad Boys. In fact, I witnessed quite a few nerds with high-water pants and pocket protectors explode into a messy heap trying to contain their angst about women falling for the stereotypical Bad Boys.

The blogosphere is loaded with outbreaks of heated exchange about "the good guys finishing last" and I call bullshit on most of it. Far too many of these outbursts feature psycho-babble about women with low self-esteem who cling to Bad Boys while "settling for less" - and worse - enduring all kinds of abuse. Lemme introduce a few points that I hope to break-down later:

The Hypocrisy of "Bad Girlism"
Most of the "good guys" complaining about empty black books perpetrate the same level of discrimination against "good girls." They want "Perfect 10" beautiful women who know how to have a good time. Why not take a second glance at intelligent Plain Janes? In other words, the good boys who complain about dateless nights are ignoring many of the good girls available on Friday nights. Hypocrite much?

Values and Offerings
Without a doubt, we typically chose dates and mates based on current desires and values. My ex-husband looked great on paper. I valued that. I wanted a family man with a great job. I wasn't overly concerned about head-over-heels love or great sex. I didn't think the first was necessary and I had already had tons of the other.

Years after the fiasco marriage ended, I realized I wanted to be madly in love and have great sex. That doesn't mean I dropped the other values, but I adjusted my scale. Money can never compensate for romance and intimacy (unless you're Donald Trump), so my sweetheart... well... let's just say he's looking for work right now but the rest is TIGHT.

Good and Bad Defined
While sniffing around the internet for more blog dialogue about "Good and Bad Boys," I came across Ndel's definition of each:

Good Boys: He’s nice. He has a good job. He brings you flowers. He is faithful. He is honest. Okay, three out of five ain’t bad. Momma said he would be a nice boy, from a good family. Hopefully, a doctor, but not a lawyer. A banker, but not a broker. In insurance, but not in assurance. A police officer, but not a security guard.

Bad Boys: He’s dangerous. He’s fast. He runs with the wrong crowd. He’ll get you in the wrong way. He won’t be faithful. He’ll leave you, or even worse, he’ll leave you with no money. And a vaginally disfiguring disease.

While many definitions seem to focus on looks (nerd vs. hottie), money (doctor vs. janitor), or chivalry (opening doors vs. grabbing crotch), Ndel gets my standing ovation by nailing the heart of the matter:

But let’s expand the definition of Bad Boy. It really includes men with high levels of toxicity of all types – emotional and physical.

And to me, that's the point. So many of these Bad Boy debates are polluted with stereotypes of the hopeless nerd vs. the leather-clad bike rider, and too many participants are arguing from specific bad experiences with a certain "type."

I've dealt with toxic men in all forms... from Bad Boys to those with the appearance of a textbook gentleman. I have also had wonderful experiences with others, including a Bad Boy during my youth who I drove to his probation check-ins (and ultimately returned to jail years after we parted).

So in the next part, I hope to deal with the stereotype and get back to examining "toxicity" as the better foundation for determining what's "Bad" for relationship health.

How childhood advice killed many adult relationships

This blog post came to me as I drove to work today. Seriously. (Damn I watch too much Grey's Anatomy, but I digress.)

Anyway, I thought of the four major bits of advice that my mother offered about marriage/relationships:

1. Men want a lady in public and a freak in the bedroom.

2. Keep your hygiene tight.

3. Don't be dependent on anybody. Be an independent woman with your own stuff so you can take care of yourself.

4. Men are intimidated by smart women. You'll probably need an older man to appreciate and keep pace with you.

Some of that information is useful, or at least backed by a reasonable principle. But do you see what's missing?

Don't see it? Lemme take you to a conversation I overhead in the ladies room between a young teen and an older bitter hag woman:

Honey... Please. Forget about the fantasy. Find yourself a rich older man and get yourself some money. My husband is a pain in the ass.

Do you see what's missing from this advice?

Just in case your brain is functioning at the same level as the nearest coma patient, here's one more try. This came from a slightly older woman as I lamented during the lowest point of my failed marriage:

Marriage isn't great. You're just supposed to be content, not necessarily elated. You raise the kids and have a partner.

What's desperately missing from the stories we pass down is what a strong partnership can and should be. Relationship advice from bitter adults is loaded with warnings... and flags... and hurt... and sirens... and selfishness. How in the fucking world do we hope our kids find love when we made marriage seem like a black hole of despair? How do we skip over the lessons about the giving nature of love right to the "get yours or get out?" How do we roll our eyes at romance and wonder why girls and boys invent words like "da hookup?"

This is where I admit that I am a lucky sonofabitch. My man and I somehow managed to come out of such mine-fields with deep faith in the power of love. We didn't buy the hype that marriage is a booby-trap and life-long love can't exist. We still fight the demons that cling to our clothes as we sprint away from the lies and experiences that almost broke us. Shit, sometimes I give him the side-eye as a potential cheater only because his anatomy features a twig and man-berries (or because I'm overcome by demonic PMS). That's the baggage, ladies and gentleman, that we need to spare dumping on the next girl or boy who just might grow-up to make a great spouse if we let 'em.

Slow Your Roll, Wild One

So I walked into this blog with my guns blazing. If you happened to mosey into the joint while enjoying the scenery and eating an ice cream cone, you probably felt like you stumbled into into a bank robbery. Not the quiet ones of today with concealed weapons and sissy notes to the teller. I mean the old time heists complete with horses, gun battles, chases, and those sexy spurs.

You see, HisSide isn't computer savvy, but he surprised me several months ago with a fantastic suggestion: "Let's start a blog about our relationship and tell folks all the stuff that others won't admit to."

This was shocking pillow talk coming from a man who thinks the internet is evil. (Seriously. He does.) I was drooling over the idea. I often complain about the useless nature of the sugar-coated love stories that elders tell younguns to help promote relationship bliss.

"What? You never had a single fight your entire relationship, grandma? That is awesome. You really love each other."

I dislike such nonsense. I once lost an eye when it dislodged from the socket during an eye-rolling episode in reaction to a story much like that one. (I'm better now. And I'm also kidding.) Never fighting means you were never engaged with enough passion to bother. I bet grandpa argued more with the mistress than grandma. (Damn. Did I say that?)

So I eventually managed to actually start the damned blog, and my timing was fantastic. As you can see from the archive, me and HisSide were fighting. Not once, but in a chronic downward spiral. Now that I've been here for a minute and my guns aren't blazing, I must slow down long enough to say: The man with which I share this blog is my best friend, an endless source of laughter, a die-hard protector, and one of the greatest joys of my day. He has flaws that make me think twice. And some of those flaws even robbed numerous days of peaceful existence.

But guess what? My shit stinks too. Some of that criticizing I do has a lot to do with my human flaws qualities such as impatience and selfishness. (Yeah, I admitted it. Can you?) While improved communication skills (and such) can be learned by two dedicated people, you can't "learn" friendship, love, compatibility, commitment, or the blessedly-balanced sexual and non-sexual "chemistry" that leaves two people stuck like glue inside and outside of the bedroom.

See you back here next time.

The Gift of "Good-Bye"

I can't help but believe that knowing how to avoid a bad relationship is just as important as knowing how to find a good one. And to me, the biggest gun in the "avoidance" arsenal is "The Gift of Good-Bye."

After my ex-husband suddenly vacated our home - and my life - back in November 2003, I called myself praying he would return. I was super nice on the phone. I said my prayers at night. I wondered what I could do to make myself "worthy" of his return. Hindsight reveals that I hoped for his return for all the wrong reasons. I was concerned about finances. I was concerned about raising children alone. The best thing I could have done was to let. It. Go. And really, to let him go.

In the three years that followed, I grew more and more thankful that he walked away. My prayers went from "God please reconcile us" to "thank my friggin GOD he walked away." I saw how worthless I'd felt through the entire almost four-year ordeal we called "marriage." I was repulsed by memories of actually wanting him to come home. And one day, somebody essentially changed my life with a piece called "Let It Go" by Bishop TD Jakes. You can read it here, but here's a taste of what makes this piece resonate with readers from all walks of life:

People leave you because they are not joined to you. And if they are not joined to you, you can't make them stay.

LET THEM GO!

And it doesn't mean that they are a bad person it just means that their part in the story is over. And you've got to know when people's part in your story is over so that you don't keep trying to raise the dead.

You've got to know when it's dead.

You've got to know when it's over. Let me tell you something. I've got the gift of goodbye. It's the tenth spiritual gift, I believe in goodbye. It's not that I'm hateful, it's that I'm faithful, and I know whatever God means for me to have He'll give it to me. And if it takes too much sweat I don't need it. Stop begging people to stay.

So what makes us cling to folks willing to walk out of the door? Why are we happy to throw ourselves around the ankles of people who clearly don't value our lives? For me, it was fear of learning to live life alone again. Financial concerns and two sons compounded that fear.

But I tell men and women alike - don't chain yourself to somebody who doesn't give two-shits about your life. Stop trying to remake yourself into an "acceptable" being for somebody else. Right now, I am living the epitome of loving a mate who allows me to be myself all the time. Not just on the third Wednesday of the month.

And here's a bonus secret for you: Although I am the happiest woman in the world, I still wouldn't stop Dickhead if he decided to walk out the door. Why? For sanity and self-worth, The Gift of Good-Bye is the gift that keeps on giving.

Now go home and dump any shitheads that you're clinging to. Life is too short baby, and you're blocking your better mate from meeting you.