I never had any desire to change my name. My name has been my identity - who I was, how people knew me, what they called me. The thought of being something - someone - else frightened me. I always thought I'd be one of those women who marched to their own drum - a loving mother and wife, but one who just couldn't adopt someone else's identity through the old-fashioned "tradition" of taking a man's name. It's funny how time changes us.
Friday night, "J" was to pick me up from work on our way to a romantic weekend in Vermont. Those who have been following closely know that our relationship was really written in the stars the last time we took a trip to this state. Needless to say, we were both very much looking forward to our weekend away together. We arrive around 10:00 to a note on the back door of the Inn, with directions to our room (the inn keepers go home at 9:30, so they wouldn't be able to show us). I open the door to a lovely sitting area with 2 chairs, a table, a single cup coffee maker and some books about Vermont. I turn to the left and walk through a small entryway into the bedroom - a four-post bed, 12-foot ceilings, fireplace, balcony. "J" did good. Not overlooked is a vase full of gerber daisies and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries. Apparently there were a lot of people working behind the scenes to make this a wonderful weekend. We turn the fireplace on, pour some wine and settle in for a cozy evening.
He pulls out his guitar and starts playing some chords. Nothing unusual, as he often does this around the house (one of the MANY things I love about living with him). I am aware that there may be a marriage proposal in my future, but am confident it will not be tonight - we had just arrived, and I was sure there would be something up his sleeve for Saturday night. It just seemed like a better night to propose.
KP takes some pillows off the bed, puts them on the floor next to "J" and lays down. She is looking up at him, lovingly.
"J" looks down at her, smiles and says: "would you like to hear a song I've been working on?"
"Of course," I said. "I would love to." All the while, expecting him to play a few lines and stop, because the song wasn't finished.
A melody - clearly learned - comes from the guitar. Lyrics begin.
"Five minutes gone, and I already love her. Five minutes gone and my whole world has changed. She's the one, the one I want to have babies with tomorrow. Have a big family, the old fashioned way. Baby, if I asked you, with only myself to give...baby would you have me? I'll give you everything you need. Will you marry me?"
My reaction? Shock. Disbelief. That this was really some Matt Nathanson tune that I hadn't heard and he was just playing some cruel joke on me to see how long I would play along. The song continued, and he asked me about 5 more times to be his wife. When the song was over, I realized what this meant. I am pretty sure I said "YES"!
We laughed and cried as we both realized what had just happened. In those simple words - in that exchange - we just made a promise to each other that we want to spend the rest of our lives together. Raising a family. In 5 minutes, both our lives changed. In the best way possible. He is going to be my husband.
Gerber daisies, chocolate covered strawberries and my own personal song (hey - I don't "require" these things...but they are DEFINITELY a bonus!), and I am suddently ecstatic about the idea of taking his name. I am proud that I will be able to share the name of one of the most beautiful people - and families - I have ever met. I look forward to the moment I change my name to his - in one move creating a new family with its own traditions, beliefs and legacies. I am looking forward to the first time he introduces me as his wife, and he as my husband. I love the sound of those words, and look forward to the many years we will be able to use them. There is no one on this planet I would rather share my life with, of this I am certain.
As we take this next step together, I look back upon all the years my name has given me a certain identity with pride and nostalgia, and look forward to the many years ahead with my new identity. No regrets from the past, and only hope for the future.
I have a feeling I am about to embark on a beautiful journey with my (soon to be) new last name. WOO-HOO!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Letter to "Little J"
While I enjoy the process of writing anything - prose, stories, blogs - the thing I love the most is to sit down and write a letter. I love that I have the ability to tell the people I love how much I love them - in something written and permanent. I love sharing my feelings in a way that allows me to think about them. Feel them. I have thought of one day being able to write the story of my life - or at least sharing it with my children/grandchildren - through the many letters I wrote over the years. They are windows into my heart. They tell stories of love and heartache. I love to receive letters. Nothing makes me happier than reading words of love, support and friendship. Letters allow us to keep people with us, even after they're gone. These words ease pain, provide hope and express love.
Tonight I sat down and wrote a letter. Just the same as a blog post would do - if not even more - this letter expresses my feelings. It was inspired by the events that occurred today - the simple, everyday events that took my breath away, and made me so happy to be in this life.
Dear "Little J":
I remember when your dad told me about you. It was on our first date. I was so excited to meet you, to be a part of your life. I thought of all the time we would spend together. The memories we would make. Meeting you for the first time was such a joy. I immediately fell in love with you. Immediately. I remember the responsibility you automatically took on at 4 years old – understanding (but not quite sure why) the challenges adults with children face when dating. You wanted to know if your dad had told me about you – if I knew he had a little girl. I remember thinking about the incredible burden that must be at four – always wondering about your parent’s choices, the people in their lives and how you fit in. I wanted to be in your life starting from that moment, always making sure you have nothing but love surrounding you. The more time I spent with you, the more I loved you. And your dad. I had an instant “just add water and stir” family. And I loved it.
Then I got scared. I was scared of the future. Of playing a role I didn’t know that I could play. Would I be able to be the strength you will need as you grow up and experience life? What will I say when you get your heart broken for the first time? How will I react when you say the inevitable “you’re not my mother” line? My heart was breaking just thinking about the future and all the possible, hypothetical heartache. For a moment, I lost sight of all the happiness, love and friendship we would most definitely experience. For these fears – and letting them grab hold of me – I am sorry. I will always be sorry for the moments in your life you experienced anything but love and acceptance from me.
I love your capacity to love. From the moment I met you, you have been opening your heart to me. You immediately accepted me as part of your life. Without question. You trusted me. Each and every time I see you, I find a new reason to love you for who you are. I find myself excited to see the woman you will become, and the choices you will make. I also get nervous and scared, knowing some of those choices you will make may cause you deep pain. And there will be nothing I can do about that pain.
I hope I can be the friend you will need. I hope you will always feel my love, and always know I am here for you. I hope you will always know that you and your dad are my family, and nothing will ever change that. I will make mistakes. And you won’t always want my friendship or my advice. I hope you know that no matter how much life changes, you will always be our priority, and will always be loved. You took a piece of my heart the very first time I met you, and have been taking little pieces ever since. No amount of fear will ever change that.
Thank you for the love you bring to my life. For the happiness. And the laughter. For showing me a side of your dad that only makes me love him more. I look forward to our life together – every single moment.
All my love,
K
Tonight I sat down and wrote a letter. Just the same as a blog post would do - if not even more - this letter expresses my feelings. It was inspired by the events that occurred today - the simple, everyday events that took my breath away, and made me so happy to be in this life.
Dear "Little J":
I remember when your dad told me about you. It was on our first date. I was so excited to meet you, to be a part of your life. I thought of all the time we would spend together. The memories we would make. Meeting you for the first time was such a joy. I immediately fell in love with you. Immediately. I remember the responsibility you automatically took on at 4 years old – understanding (but not quite sure why) the challenges adults with children face when dating. You wanted to know if your dad had told me about you – if I knew he had a little girl. I remember thinking about the incredible burden that must be at four – always wondering about your parent’s choices, the people in their lives and how you fit in. I wanted to be in your life starting from that moment, always making sure you have nothing but love surrounding you. The more time I spent with you, the more I loved you. And your dad. I had an instant “just add water and stir” family. And I loved it.
Then I got scared. I was scared of the future. Of playing a role I didn’t know that I could play. Would I be able to be the strength you will need as you grow up and experience life? What will I say when you get your heart broken for the first time? How will I react when you say the inevitable “you’re not my mother” line? My heart was breaking just thinking about the future and all the possible, hypothetical heartache. For a moment, I lost sight of all the happiness, love and friendship we would most definitely experience. For these fears – and letting them grab hold of me – I am sorry. I will always be sorry for the moments in your life you experienced anything but love and acceptance from me.
I love your capacity to love. From the moment I met you, you have been opening your heart to me. You immediately accepted me as part of your life. Without question. You trusted me. Each and every time I see you, I find a new reason to love you for who you are. I find myself excited to see the woman you will become, and the choices you will make. I also get nervous and scared, knowing some of those choices you will make may cause you deep pain. And there will be nothing I can do about that pain.
I hope I can be the friend you will need. I hope you will always feel my love, and always know I am here for you. I hope you will always know that you and your dad are my family, and nothing will ever change that. I will make mistakes. And you won’t always want my friendship or my advice. I hope you know that no matter how much life changes, you will always be our priority, and will always be loved. You took a piece of my heart the very first time I met you, and have been taking little pieces ever since. No amount of fear will ever change that.
Thank you for the love you bring to my life. For the happiness. And the laughter. For showing me a side of your dad that only makes me love him more. I look forward to our life together – every single moment.
All my love,
K
Friday, May 15, 2009
KP’s Comin to K’ville!!
As I write this post, I’m on an airplane headed to Knoxville. For weeks “J” has been keeping plans for my 29th birthday a secret – I had no idea what I’d be doing, where I’d be going or who I’d be seeing. My destination was only revealed to me upon check-in. I think I was the only one in the airport cheering because they got to go to Knoxville, Tennessee.
I came home from work on Monday evening to find a card waiting for me. It was a “Happy Birthday week” card from “J” who had left that morning for Houston. Honestly, I thought he would have forgotten my tradition of celebrating the ENTIRE birthday week. But, then again, every time I think “J” might not live up to the image of him I have constructed in my mind, he exceeds all expectations. While putting my clothes away that same night, I realized he placed another card in my closet and labeled it: “Open Wednesday evening”. Of course every ounce of me wanted to tear it open right then and there. But, since I love surprises and appreciated the lengths to which he had gone, I left it right there. When I finally read the note, he had instructions for me: “Pack enough clothes for the weekend, bring a bathing suit just in case and prepare for medium-to-warm weather.” My mind started REELING with the places we could be going…
For years I have always said my dream is to spend my birthday with my friends who have been so far away for so long. Secretly I hoped “J” had planned to take me there…to see my “family” and introduce him to my life before Boston.
For days people have been asking me where I’m going, what I’m doing, what clues I have and if (take your inner voice to a whisper here) I thought “J” was going to propose to me. Wow, thanks people. That thought hadn’t even entered my mind – now I have THAT to think about as well. (For those of you reading this who have just gasped, no, “J” is NOT going to ask me to marry him…female friends just can’t help but think in those terms). I have been a ball of nerves for days wondering what awaited me this weekend…
So, now I’m on my way. I know where I’m going, who I’m going to see and not quite what I’m doing just yet. As I was laying on “J’s” shoulder a minute ago, I remembered back to this very night one year ago today. I was in my rented room in JP, had just started a new job, and was fighting a losing battle with addiction. I remember how sad it felt thinking I would be spending my birthday alone in this new place. Now a year later, I’m on a plane sitting next to a man who has literally made my dream come true. I don’t even need to know what awaits me tomorrow or next week or next month. I already know this is going to be an amazing year. What a way to end my 30s, huh?
He even gave me the window seat.
I came home from work on Monday evening to find a card waiting for me. It was a “Happy Birthday week” card from “J” who had left that morning for Houston. Honestly, I thought he would have forgotten my tradition of celebrating the ENTIRE birthday week. But, then again, every time I think “J” might not live up to the image of him I have constructed in my mind, he exceeds all expectations. While putting my clothes away that same night, I realized he placed another card in my closet and labeled it: “Open Wednesday evening”. Of course every ounce of me wanted to tear it open right then and there. But, since I love surprises and appreciated the lengths to which he had gone, I left it right there. When I finally read the note, he had instructions for me: “Pack enough clothes for the weekend, bring a bathing suit just in case and prepare for medium-to-warm weather.” My mind started REELING with the places we could be going…
For years I have always said my dream is to spend my birthday with my friends who have been so far away for so long. Secretly I hoped “J” had planned to take me there…to see my “family” and introduce him to my life before Boston.
For days people have been asking me where I’m going, what I’m doing, what clues I have and if (take your inner voice to a whisper here) I thought “J” was going to propose to me. Wow, thanks people. That thought hadn’t even entered my mind – now I have THAT to think about as well. (For those of you reading this who have just gasped, no, “J” is NOT going to ask me to marry him…female friends just can’t help but think in those terms). I have been a ball of nerves for days wondering what awaited me this weekend…
So, now I’m on my way. I know where I’m going, who I’m going to see and not quite what I’m doing just yet. As I was laying on “J’s” shoulder a minute ago, I remembered back to this very night one year ago today. I was in my rented room in JP, had just started a new job, and was fighting a losing battle with addiction. I remember how sad it felt thinking I would be spending my birthday alone in this new place. Now a year later, I’m on a plane sitting next to a man who has literally made my dream come true. I don’t even need to know what awaits me tomorrow or next week or next month. I already know this is going to be an amazing year. What a way to end my 30s, huh?
He even gave me the window seat.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Just add water
I have "adopted" an instant family. Or, better yet, have become part of one. Without even knowing it - just woke up one morning and voila! There I was in the middle of it.
When I started dating "J", I knew he had a daughter. He told me the night of our first date. Shortly after that night, I met "Little J" and fell in love immediately. I knew he had a daughter. I saw the pink coat. The princess room. The tiny shoes by the door. The pictures that covered the walls. I mean, I got it. "J" + "N" = "Little J". Biology, right? If only it were that simple...
With it being school vacation, we had "Little J" for an extended weekend. Thursday night - family dinner and some catching up with my mom and best friend (sidebar - SO GOOD!). Friday night - first softball game. Saturday - a WONDERFUL afternoon spent in Rockport, Mass climbing rocks and picnicking. Sunday - Barbies and "Little J's" first soccer game of the season. Just a typical weekend with the family...
So, despite the fact that I know "J" has a daughter, it hit me this weekend. "J" has a daughter. She's not just some kid who stays at our house every other weekend. It's not just playing house. This is real.
I couldn't love that kid any more than I do. She's amazing. And brilliant. And loving. But she's his. And not mine. She'll always be his. More importantly, she'll always be his first. At the beginning that wasn't such a hard realization. We were at the start of something wonderful, but had no idea where it would lead. "Future" was a word we used lightly. Now "J" laughs as he talks about what our future will look like. Together. And I (admittedly selfishly) realize that someone else shared that "first" with him...
I hate myself for even thinking this way. I know it's probably a normal reaction - but I hate "normal reactions". And I hate even more that "J" always has to be working to protect the people he loves...
For now, my life will consist of watching "J" be the dad he loves to be. It will be weekend soccer games and occasional Sunday morning Mickey Mouse pancakes. It will be falling deeper in love with this little girl that fate brought into my life.
Yes, for now, my life consists of my "just add water and stir" family. But after the AMAZING weekend we just had, I think I'm pretty lucky to have my "instant" family. Even if it is different than what I had imagined...
Wait!! My WHOLE LIFE is different than I imagined...and that's a pretty GREAT thing...
Sigh.
When I started dating "J", I knew he had a daughter. He told me the night of our first date. Shortly after that night, I met "Little J" and fell in love immediately. I knew he had a daughter. I saw the pink coat. The princess room. The tiny shoes by the door. The pictures that covered the walls. I mean, I got it. "J" + "N" = "Little J". Biology, right? If only it were that simple...
With it being school vacation, we had "Little J" for an extended weekend. Thursday night - family dinner and some catching up with my mom and best friend (sidebar - SO GOOD!). Friday night - first softball game. Saturday - a WONDERFUL afternoon spent in Rockport, Mass climbing rocks and picnicking. Sunday - Barbies and "Little J's" first soccer game of the season. Just a typical weekend with the family...
So, despite the fact that I know "J" has a daughter, it hit me this weekend. "J" has a daughter. She's not just some kid who stays at our house every other weekend. It's not just playing house. This is real.
I couldn't love that kid any more than I do. She's amazing. And brilliant. And loving. But she's his. And not mine. She'll always be his. More importantly, she'll always be his first. At the beginning that wasn't such a hard realization. We were at the start of something wonderful, but had no idea where it would lead. "Future" was a word we used lightly. Now "J" laughs as he talks about what our future will look like. Together. And I (admittedly selfishly) realize that someone else shared that "first" with him...
I hate myself for even thinking this way. I know it's probably a normal reaction - but I hate "normal reactions". And I hate even more that "J" always has to be working to protect the people he loves...
For now, my life will consist of watching "J" be the dad he loves to be. It will be weekend soccer games and occasional Sunday morning Mickey Mouse pancakes. It will be falling deeper in love with this little girl that fate brought into my life.
Yes, for now, my life consists of my "just add water and stir" family. But after the AMAZING weekend we just had, I think I'm pretty lucky to have my "instant" family. Even if it is different than what I had imagined...
Wait!! My WHOLE LIFE is different than I imagined...and that's a pretty GREAT thing...
Sigh.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Meet "J"
I'm scared as I sit here in my bed writing this post. I've never been so scared to post anything here. It's ironic, huh? Of all the things I've said here, shared here - this is what scares me. The reason what I'm about to write scares me is because there's always a chance in life something won't work out. Won't be happily every after. If that happens - if I wake up one morning to find myself alone and heartbroken, I'll always have this post. These words. These emotions. This reminder. That's a chance I take every time I write. That these words will live on forever and inevitably so, too, will the emotions. But, since I'm too honest - and too much of an optimist - I'm going to take that chance. I'm going to share these words - these feelings - despite the risk.
I realized the other day that most people who read this blog know me well. My thoughts, fears, weaknesses and strengths. You know my laugh and my tears. But, despite the numerous posts that revolve around him, most don't really know "J". And, since he's so quickly become such an important part of my existence, I thought it only made sense to properly introduce him.
The first time I met him, it was his passion. His laugh. His smile. His blue eyes. He listened to me. Wanted to know me. Really know me. As I got to know him, I quickly saw how much he loves his family. With everything he has. Despite the pain and imperfection. They are part of him, and that's all he needs to know. Seeing them altogether is like nothing I've ever seen before. The love. The respect. It's something I long to achieve with my own family - both living and yet to be born. The first time I met "Little J", I saw a deep love I'd only known from my own parents. She feels safe with him. He is so proud of her. It's a mutual respect so precious. He trusted me from the very first moment we met with the most precious thing he will ever know. Maybe he saw the way I fell in love with her within 5 minutes. Maybe he didn't know what else to do.
He still listens to me. He can read my mind and know what I'm thinking before I say it. He loves my family. Despite the pain and imperfection. He has helped me see things in them I forgot existed. Goodness and strength and love that were hidden by pain. If for nothing else, I am grateful for that. He wants to protect me from pain and will go to whatever lengths it takes to prevent me from feeling any of it. I swear if he could he would take it all for me.
He makes me laugh. He tells terrible jokes. At inappropriate times. And I crack up. He makes himself crack up. Which makes me laugh that much harder. He still surprises himself every time he realizes he's funny. He recently started to snort when he laughs. My boyfriend snorts. Sigh. He's not afraid to sing out loud. He even likes when I sing (to clarify, quietly to myself). He makes me face my fears. I both hate him and love him for that.
He makes me dinner. With music and candlelight. He lets me steal the covers and bury my bum into his body. Without complaining.
He loves my friends. He's interested in their stories. Their kids. Their dates. Their beliefs. He wants to know them. And me through them. He wants to spend time with them and never complains about the countless stories of "yesterday" we tell. He doesn't know the names, places, emotions - but knows it is important to me. So he humors me. And I love him for that.
He's my very best friend. He calms me when I am out of control. And makes me smile when I'm sad. And holds me when I'm feeling hopeless. Or just for no reason at all.
Right now I'm sitting in our bed as he's watching sports downstairs. You can't pull him away from his sports - no matter what the emergency. I even love that.
I'm going to drift off to sleep now. I feel better knowing the people I care most about will have at least a snapshot of this man that has changed my life forever. Who knew that less than a year ago he was just waiting for me to move in across the street?? I like to think that even if we did, neither of us would have done anything different.
I realized the other day that most people who read this blog know me well. My thoughts, fears, weaknesses and strengths. You know my laugh and my tears. But, despite the numerous posts that revolve around him, most don't really know "J". And, since he's so quickly become such an important part of my existence, I thought it only made sense to properly introduce him.
The first time I met him, it was his passion. His laugh. His smile. His blue eyes. He listened to me. Wanted to know me. Really know me. As I got to know him, I quickly saw how much he loves his family. With everything he has. Despite the pain and imperfection. They are part of him, and that's all he needs to know. Seeing them altogether is like nothing I've ever seen before. The love. The respect. It's something I long to achieve with my own family - both living and yet to be born. The first time I met "Little J", I saw a deep love I'd only known from my own parents. She feels safe with him. He is so proud of her. It's a mutual respect so precious. He trusted me from the very first moment we met with the most precious thing he will ever know. Maybe he saw the way I fell in love with her within 5 minutes. Maybe he didn't know what else to do.
He still listens to me. He can read my mind and know what I'm thinking before I say it. He loves my family. Despite the pain and imperfection. He has helped me see things in them I forgot existed. Goodness and strength and love that were hidden by pain. If for nothing else, I am grateful for that. He wants to protect me from pain and will go to whatever lengths it takes to prevent me from feeling any of it. I swear if he could he would take it all for me.
He makes me laugh. He tells terrible jokes. At inappropriate times. And I crack up. He makes himself crack up. Which makes me laugh that much harder. He still surprises himself every time he realizes he's funny. He recently started to snort when he laughs. My boyfriend snorts. Sigh. He's not afraid to sing out loud. He even likes when I sing (to clarify, quietly to myself). He makes me face my fears. I both hate him and love him for that.
He makes me dinner. With music and candlelight. He lets me steal the covers and bury my bum into his body. Without complaining.
He loves my friends. He's interested in their stories. Their kids. Their dates. Their beliefs. He wants to know them. And me through them. He wants to spend time with them and never complains about the countless stories of "yesterday" we tell. He doesn't know the names, places, emotions - but knows it is important to me. So he humors me. And I love him for that.
He's my very best friend. He calms me when I am out of control. And makes me smile when I'm sad. And holds me when I'm feeling hopeless. Or just for no reason at all.
Right now I'm sitting in our bed as he's watching sports downstairs. You can't pull him away from his sports - no matter what the emergency. I even love that.
I'm going to drift off to sleep now. I feel better knowing the people I care most about will have at least a snapshot of this man that has changed my life forever. Who knew that less than a year ago he was just waiting for me to move in across the street?? I like to think that even if we did, neither of us would have done anything different.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Building a future on the past
We moved into the new place on Tuesday, March 31st. By Friday we had guests. "J's" dad was on the same continent for work so he wanted to "swing" by and see the new place. We also had "Little J" for the first time in the new house. We spent Thursday night organizing her room so it was perfect when she got there. I only wish I could have seen her face when she saw it for the first time.
"J" had to leave for work on Saturday, so I agreed to stay with "Little J" and host her mom and baby sister for a few hours. I know it might sound weird to people outside the situation, but I like "N". She's a great mom and a good person. But, I think I also like her because she's never posed any threat to me. There is no history. No relationship. Nothing for the imagination except one night - and even when I TRY, I can't get that to bother me.
However, something about this particular visit just didn't sit right...
I ordered a pizza as soon as she got there, knowing I couldn't spend the entire afternoon visiting because I had a limited amount of time to spend on unpacking the seemingly endless number of boxes we had between the 2 of us. Bathrooms needed to be cleaned. Laundry done. Pictures hung. I sat on the couch in a puddle of my own anxiety as she spoke at me, wishing I could be alone in this mess so I could get lost in it. I wanted to be alone in MY new house to enjoy the things I hadn't seen in years. MY things.
The conversation was strange, to say the least. We talked about "Little J". We talked about "J". We talked about our first marriages. Photo albums. Letting go. Then we started talking about "J's" ex-girlfriend. This particular ex-girlfriend, "L" decided to end the relationship after 4 years because they wanted different things. He wanted a family. She didn't. "Little J" is still in pain, wondering what happened. Wondering why "L" suddenly disappeared. She brings this up with her mom, but is scared to bring it up with "J", worried she'll make him mad, or me upset. That is an insane burden for a 5-year old to bear, isn't it?
"N" continues by telling me that she recently told "J" when "L" left him, she didn't leave him because she fell out of love with him, but because she knew it wasn't fair to continue in the same direction when they both needed to ultimately go separate ways. I listened. I engaged in the conversation. I felt...out of control. Alone. Like a stranger.
I was sitting on OUR couch in OUR house, and this woman was telling ME about my boyfriend's past. About a time I didn't exist. I'm new. "L" is old. She experienced things I will never know. "Little J's" birth. Her first words. Seeing "J's" face as she took her first steps. And, she's still in love with him. I felt like an intruder. In his past. In his life. In "Little J's" life. I felt the painful pull of "L's" longing for it to be different. I felt the pain she must have experienced when she read about me. The look in her eyes as she saw the man she used to call hers. That I now call mine. How must he have felt when he heard "N" say those words: she's still in love with you?
After several hours, "N" left and I got busy cleaning. I didn't think much about the conversation that took place here. I knew I felt weird. For a moment I looked around and didn't recognize anything around me. They were someone else's memories. Someone else's life. Mine is in boxes. My memories are scattered along the many miles I've traveled over the past 2 years. And lining the walls of places from which I have run.
"J" called me that night to talk about what happened after we exchanged several text messages. He got angry. I cried. I didn't even know I was upset. The tears just started to fall. I wanted to stop talking about the past. Talking about a time I didn't exist here. He wants to protect me. From his past. From the pain. From the baggage he brings. The thing is, I bring baggage, too. Mine is just hidden. And silent. Mine doesn't come into his house and tell him about my life before him. I love him for caring so much about me to want to save me. And, just as the realization is setting in that this "baggage" is here to stay, I no longer seem to care. All that matters is what we have - and what we're building. Just because I'm not a part of his yesterday, doesn't mean I won't be a part of his tomorrow. (I like to think a very important part, at that).
My next challenge is setting my own boundaries and keeping to them. I need to be aware of my feelings, and give them a voice. I need to tell "N" when I'm not comfortable with where a conversation is headed. "J" wants to protect me so it will never come to this. But I love "Little J" and him too much to shy away. Loving "J" means embracing this situation. ALL of it. And, if that means faking "comfortable" in the midst of conversations about the past, then so be it. After all, it's MY future that's among these walls that have been built on the past.
"J" had to leave for work on Saturday, so I agreed to stay with "Little J" and host her mom and baby sister for a few hours. I know it might sound weird to people outside the situation, but I like "N". She's a great mom and a good person. But, I think I also like her because she's never posed any threat to me. There is no history. No relationship. Nothing for the imagination except one night - and even when I TRY, I can't get that to bother me.
However, something about this particular visit just didn't sit right...
I ordered a pizza as soon as she got there, knowing I couldn't spend the entire afternoon visiting because I had a limited amount of time to spend on unpacking the seemingly endless number of boxes we had between the 2 of us. Bathrooms needed to be cleaned. Laundry done. Pictures hung. I sat on the couch in a puddle of my own anxiety as she spoke at me, wishing I could be alone in this mess so I could get lost in it. I wanted to be alone in MY new house to enjoy the things I hadn't seen in years. MY things.
The conversation was strange, to say the least. We talked about "Little J". We talked about "J". We talked about our first marriages. Photo albums. Letting go. Then we started talking about "J's" ex-girlfriend. This particular ex-girlfriend, "L" decided to end the relationship after 4 years because they wanted different things. He wanted a family. She didn't. "Little J" is still in pain, wondering what happened. Wondering why "L" suddenly disappeared. She brings this up with her mom, but is scared to bring it up with "J", worried she'll make him mad, or me upset. That is an insane burden for a 5-year old to bear, isn't it?
"N" continues by telling me that she recently told "J" when "L" left him, she didn't leave him because she fell out of love with him, but because she knew it wasn't fair to continue in the same direction when they both needed to ultimately go separate ways. I listened. I engaged in the conversation. I felt...out of control. Alone. Like a stranger.
I was sitting on OUR couch in OUR house, and this woman was telling ME about my boyfriend's past. About a time I didn't exist. I'm new. "L" is old. She experienced things I will never know. "Little J's" birth. Her first words. Seeing "J's" face as she took her first steps. And, she's still in love with him. I felt like an intruder. In his past. In his life. In "Little J's" life. I felt the painful pull of "L's" longing for it to be different. I felt the pain she must have experienced when she read about me. The look in her eyes as she saw the man she used to call hers. That I now call mine. How must he have felt when he heard "N" say those words: she's still in love with you?
After several hours, "N" left and I got busy cleaning. I didn't think much about the conversation that took place here. I knew I felt weird. For a moment I looked around and didn't recognize anything around me. They were someone else's memories. Someone else's life. Mine is in boxes. My memories are scattered along the many miles I've traveled over the past 2 years. And lining the walls of places from which I have run.
"J" called me that night to talk about what happened after we exchanged several text messages. He got angry. I cried. I didn't even know I was upset. The tears just started to fall. I wanted to stop talking about the past. Talking about a time I didn't exist here. He wants to protect me. From his past. From the pain. From the baggage he brings. The thing is, I bring baggage, too. Mine is just hidden. And silent. Mine doesn't come into his house and tell him about my life before him. I love him for caring so much about me to want to save me. And, just as the realization is setting in that this "baggage" is here to stay, I no longer seem to care. All that matters is what we have - and what we're building. Just because I'm not a part of his yesterday, doesn't mean I won't be a part of his tomorrow. (I like to think a very important part, at that).
My next challenge is setting my own boundaries and keeping to them. I need to be aware of my feelings, and give them a voice. I need to tell "N" when I'm not comfortable with where a conversation is headed. "J" wants to protect me so it will never come to this. But I love "Little J" and him too much to shy away. Loving "J" means embracing this situation. ALL of it. And, if that means faking "comfortable" in the midst of conversations about the past, then so be it. After all, it's MY future that's among these walls that have been built on the past.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Just another post...
So, I have been getting it from several friends lately about my lack of posts to this blog. The truth is, I totally deserve it. I'm actually angry with myself because this is my way of documenting my thoughts and feelings about all the events in my life. My apologies to my friends and myself - I have been working far too much and not putting in nearly enough effort into the things that make me happy, like keeping this blog.
I have been sitting at home - in my new home - for hours staring at the screen, trying to come up with the right words for this post. I wanted to - err, feel like I should - tell the story about moving into my first home in more than a year with the man who has made my reasons for moving to Boston almost a year ago crystal clear. Instead, I find myself without the words - feelings - needed to tell that story. So, rather than writing what I have really been feeling 3 hours ago, I sat and tried to force something fake. Something I thought other people would want to read. Wow - EXACTLY the thing I promised myself I would never do. Since I have never claimed to be a quick learner (except on job interviews, of course :)), I am just now sitting on our bed writing this post about how I'm really feeling right now - and not what I think anyone will want to read. (Don't worry...the moving story is just on hold for another day)
So, how am I feeling right now? Hmm...frustrated. Angry. Sad. Exhausted. Lonely. I have had several people ask me already (why wouldn't they, after all?) what it's like to live with "J". I mean, of course it's only been 2 weeks, but inquiring minds and people who care want to know, right? Every time I get that question I have to laugh. My response? "I don't even know - he hasn't been home since we got here." This is a slight exxageration, of course, as there has been a few days he has been home. If I counted, I think I would come up with 4. Those days are wonderful, I tell them. And I'm sure as they happen that they will continue to be wonderful...
He's traveling again right now. There are still pictures to be hung and things to be put away. Despite the fact that I want nothing more than to have this place put together, I can't bring myself to do it. I just don't have the energy to do it alone. I'm too tired...too worn down from exhausting days at work. After 12 to 14 hours, hanging a picture alone just doesn't seem like fun. So I wait. I have him for a week - a whole week - starting on Thursday. I'm betting on those days being wonderful...
I haven't heard from him today. I don't know what his day was like - if it was good or bad. I don't know the drama he had to sort through yesterday. And I haven't been able to tell him about my awesome review that happened yesterday. I think that's what I miss the most while he's gone - those trivial little moments that connect you with the person you love. The only person who really cares to hear those every day, mundane details of your life...
I'm not at all angry with him. Or his schedule. Most of the time when I even feel a hint of sadness while he's gone I get angry with myself for sounding like a "female". I don't do this - I don't wait up for someone to call. I don't need someone to be there when I walk through the door. I moved to Boston alone, dammit. And when I got here, no one had any idea who KP was. The problem is, I have come to realize, is that now someone does. And I like it. So, all that talk is just coming from someone who was/is scared to be hurt and to be left alone...
My mom is angry with me. Sigh. She has a problem with irrational fears - if she calls once and doesn't receive an answer, she calls again. Immediately. A second time and no answer and my phone is blowing up. Alternating calls and text messages, elevating from the normal: "please call me" to the ALL CAPS: "KP!!!!!!!!!!!" The problem is, she tried calling the night "J" came home after a week being gone. I am going to save everyone the details here, but just say that it would have been highly inappropriate for me to answer the phone. Apparently, in my mother's book, that's not the correct way to act with her. You see, rather than it being her responsibility to learn to control her irrational thoughts, I have to cater to them. Because of that, I'm being punished with my calls and text messages going unanswered. Really!?! She's the one who's ALWAYS there when I'm lonely. I can't help but wish she wasn't acting this way right now...
That brings me back to my bed. It's far too late for me to be awake. But, I feel acutely better knowing these feelings no longer reside in my brain where they will keep me awake all night. I promise to tell the story of moving into this wonderful new house, and mine and "J's" amazing trip to meet my family/friends. But, despite the fact that I can't imagine life being any sweeter, I just don't feel that right now. And, as you all know, I don't edit what I write here - no matter how much I sometimes wish I could. I have started to enjoy and appreciate the beauty in the imperfections of every day life...
I have been sitting at home - in my new home - for hours staring at the screen, trying to come up with the right words for this post. I wanted to - err, feel like I should - tell the story about moving into my first home in more than a year with the man who has made my reasons for moving to Boston almost a year ago crystal clear. Instead, I find myself without the words - feelings - needed to tell that story. So, rather than writing what I have really been feeling 3 hours ago, I sat and tried to force something fake. Something I thought other people would want to read. Wow - EXACTLY the thing I promised myself I would never do. Since I have never claimed to be a quick learner (except on job interviews, of course :)), I am just now sitting on our bed writing this post about how I'm really feeling right now - and not what I think anyone will want to read. (Don't worry...the moving story is just on hold for another day)
So, how am I feeling right now? Hmm...frustrated. Angry. Sad. Exhausted. Lonely. I have had several people ask me already (why wouldn't they, after all?) what it's like to live with "J". I mean, of course it's only been 2 weeks, but inquiring minds and people who care want to know, right? Every time I get that question I have to laugh. My response? "I don't even know - he hasn't been home since we got here." This is a slight exxageration, of course, as there has been a few days he has been home. If I counted, I think I would come up with 4. Those days are wonderful, I tell them. And I'm sure as they happen that they will continue to be wonderful...
He's traveling again right now. There are still pictures to be hung and things to be put away. Despite the fact that I want nothing more than to have this place put together, I can't bring myself to do it. I just don't have the energy to do it alone. I'm too tired...too worn down from exhausting days at work. After 12 to 14 hours, hanging a picture alone just doesn't seem like fun. So I wait. I have him for a week - a whole week - starting on Thursday. I'm betting on those days being wonderful...
I haven't heard from him today. I don't know what his day was like - if it was good or bad. I don't know the drama he had to sort through yesterday. And I haven't been able to tell him about my awesome review that happened yesterday. I think that's what I miss the most while he's gone - those trivial little moments that connect you with the person you love. The only person who really cares to hear those every day, mundane details of your life...
I'm not at all angry with him. Or his schedule. Most of the time when I even feel a hint of sadness while he's gone I get angry with myself for sounding like a "female". I don't do this - I don't wait up for someone to call. I don't need someone to be there when I walk through the door. I moved to Boston alone, dammit. And when I got here, no one had any idea who KP was. The problem is, I have come to realize, is that now someone does. And I like it. So, all that talk is just coming from someone who was/is scared to be hurt and to be left alone...
My mom is angry with me. Sigh. She has a problem with irrational fears - if she calls once and doesn't receive an answer, she calls again. Immediately. A second time and no answer and my phone is blowing up. Alternating calls and text messages, elevating from the normal: "please call me" to the ALL CAPS: "KP!!!!!!!!!!!" The problem is, she tried calling the night "J" came home after a week being gone. I am going to save everyone the details here, but just say that it would have been highly inappropriate for me to answer the phone. Apparently, in my mother's book, that's not the correct way to act with her. You see, rather than it being her responsibility to learn to control her irrational thoughts, I have to cater to them. Because of that, I'm being punished with my calls and text messages going unanswered. Really!?! She's the one who's ALWAYS there when I'm lonely. I can't help but wish she wasn't acting this way right now...
That brings me back to my bed. It's far too late for me to be awake. But, I feel acutely better knowing these feelings no longer reside in my brain where they will keep me awake all night. I promise to tell the story of moving into this wonderful new house, and mine and "J's" amazing trip to meet my family/friends. But, despite the fact that I can't imagine life being any sweeter, I just don't feel that right now. And, as you all know, I don't edit what I write here - no matter how much I sometimes wish I could. I have started to enjoy and appreciate the beauty in the imperfections of every day life...
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