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.

His Side Finally SPEAKS!

All you folks didn't really think I was here. I'm a real person. Her Side didn't make me up in some kind of schizophrenic dream.

I want you to know that I got my woman's back from this day - actually long before this day - and forever more.

But I found out for a fact, last night, that she has a really big issue with reference to sleep. First of all, she thought I was snoring when I really had a bubble caught in my throat. I wasn't snoring. I wasn't sleep. I was checking the health of the inside of my eyelids. She stole the fucking remote while I was in the middle of my health check.

Her Side interjection: That fuckhead was SLEEP y'all.

But anyway, she claims she was joking while asking "ARE YOU READY TO GO TO SLEEP? So I had to check her for establishing my fucking bed time.

Her Side interjection: It was 4am.

But any-fucking-way... On a Saturday night, after running around and acting a fool together all night, how da' hell does she have a problem sleeping when she can snore through a thunderstorm in the woods with no tent? So I carried my ass downstairs.

Everything was fine until about 5:30a when she decided the FUCKING DOWNSTAIRS TV WAS TOO LOUD FOR HER BEAUTY SLEEP. So this is what she does...

She stomps on the fucking floor and I think Armageddon has begun. I didn't panic and didn't answer... Until she hollered downstairs. Mind you, we have intercom phones. What need for the phone when she has lungs like that? I had no idea...

So I turned the TV down.

Her Side interjection: After yelling up the stairs like a Beyotch.

So I hear her go to the bathroom. So I thought. She throws the dog in the fucking hallway and says "Go downstairs to your FATHER." and slams the door.

Her Side interjection: Cause the dog shit on the bedroom floor while I was sleeping.

And to my surprise, it goes to show she has a very good heart, 'cause she had planned to leave the shit in front of the door as a booby trap for me to step in. How do I know? Cause she TOLD ME SO.

It goes to show, that she really loves me so. And couldn't wait to hear the squishy sound of dog poop between my toes.

And that lets me know that she loves me so. And that's it for the day.

Peace. Be cool.

An now, a short break for some inappropriate penis humor

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Randomness that just might break the strike rule... but fugh it...

Operation Save the Kidneys
His Side straight stopped drinking. Just stopped like ::snap:: that. He certainly wasn't a raging alcoholic, but balance was certainly missing. He simply detoxed. Drank lots of water. Went through the kidney pains, and *poof*.

Power Couple
We've really rallied over the past few weeks. We were productive - attacking important items on the to-do list and feeling the high of what happens when partners prove their union has power behind it.

De-Stressing Through Resolution
Together, we recently closed a long-standing legal issue that kept His Side on edge. He approached with trembling hands, and I held those hands as I told him it would be okay. Somehow, I just knew it would. In about 10 long but amazing minutes, the problem was solved and he was free from the worry. Years of worry. I saw a marked change in him that day. The stress dissipated like fog under the heat of the scorching sun. Without trying to sound cliche, it was amazingly like God smiled on us that day.

What's Mine is Yours
I noticed something about His Side. Not really noticed - but discovered just how deep it runs. He shares everything with me. It doesn't matter how big or how small. It could be his last bite of food or the only paycheck he'll see in weeks. He makes sure I get some, most, or all of anything he has. I mean anything. The gesture is always without thought or hesitation, and he doesn't take anything from me to "make it even."

And before you go getting all sappy, in spite of all that His Side does right, I may still be forced to kill him if he doesn't show his face on this blog in a minute. Now go back to what you were doing while I sharpen my knives.