nakedjen

The End

Those rings came with a promise.  Actually, those rings came with many promises.

On our wedding day, the day that DearSweetDave gave me those rings, I know that I have never been happier.  My heart was truly bursting with a joy that I had never felt before.  It was as if it was beating outside of my chest for all of our friends and family to witness.  I could barely contain my joy, my love, my happiness to be DearSweetDave's wife.  A word that had frightened me before, but with him, no longer felt scary.  It felt exactly right, it felt true.

I believed that my heart and soul had come home.  That my heart was truly safe.  That DearSweetDave was going to cherish me and love me forever times infinity and more.

However, some promises as we know, can be broken. 

And forever times infinity can be a lovely idea on paper, but in reality, when one husband isn't truly committed or decides that perhaps his wife is just not compatible, well, then it all becomes rather tragic and the rings, the rings that were exchanged and that represented a future together, that held all your hopes and all your dreams and all the promises, the rings become something sinister and awful instead.

Last night I returned the rings to DearSweetDave.

I told him that I must release him.  And I asked him to please release me, in return. 

And it hurt me and shattered my heart more than anything I have ever endured before in this lifetime.

This is truly, absolutely, the end.

Therapeutic Blog Post or Maybe It's Just Gratitude?

I am still breathing.  For this I am grateful.  For this I also owe lots of heaps and praise and thanks to the ever kind and loving Gwendomama who has been keeping me safe and warm and offered not only me sanctuary, but my large black dogs sanctuary as well.  Sanctuary that came with wireless internet access, no less.  And chocolate cupcakes.  And a hot tub for my post-marathon very aching body.  And the cutest 2 year old boy on the planet that was quite helpful in his attempts to mend a broken Nakedjen heart.

I will admit that it was reallyreallyreally hard to leave that sanctuary.  In fact, I feel as if I need to go back.  Pronto.  I don't think I'm quite ready for the real world, quite yet.  I thought I was, but Nakedjen in the real world makes my mind go into the strangest of places. 

For example.

Yesterday I contemplated, seriously, I very serious, whether of not I should perhaps consider plastic surgery.  I'm turning 44 this year.  I'm going to be divorced.  My body, as we all know from the pictures, isn't exactly, well, perky!  Somehow I found my mind going to this place where I honestly was thinking, "Self, if you're going to be joining the single world of available women again you may need to get a few things lifted and tucked and tightened!  Because all the downward dogs and handstands in the world are not going to reverse what gravity has already done to this 44 year old body.  Not now!" 

Um, yeah.  See what I mean?  The pre-divorce, post-bombshell dropped Nakedjen's brain is obviously still a little rattled.  And not thinking very clearly.  As soon as I drank a good long swig of my Cranberry Kombucha (elixir of all good Naked goddesses) I shook my head and banished those thoughts of plastic surgery.  At least for now.  I'm not promising that they're not going to come back, so I'm counting on you, my faithful readers of Nakedjen, to remind me that loving my body just as it is is a good thing and that there will be another man (or woman or orangutan) out there in this world who will love and cherish my body just as it is!

After clearing my head from the visions of boob lifts and butt lifts and cheek implants, I marched myself into a tattoo convention in San Jose where I then became obsessed with finding the perfect "I'm now divorced" tattoo to adorn my body.  Nothing says, "I'm a free woman" like branding yourself.  Right?  Um, yeah. 

I was thinking I needed something for my heart chakra.  It's still feeling rather broken.  Shattered, really.  Smashed to smithereens if I want to be the most truthful about it.  I was thinking that a little buzzing of the tattoo needle and some ink injected right there into my heart resulting in a beautiful laughing buddha sitting on a lotus might just help it to mend.
   

Or not.

It might instead just hurt like hell and lighten my already very light wallet by about $500.  Of course nothing says, "Hey, my husband dumped me and I just emptied our bank account so he couldn't", like a permanent laughing buddha on your chest!  Surely it's the ultimate symbol of the last laugh. 

But I couldn't actually go through with it. 

Truthfully, another tattoo on my heart chakra does sound like a nice idea.  But not when my heart is still so shattered.  I need to do it when I'm whole.  When I'm not doing it because I'm angry and hurt and wishing my life was not this life but another life entirely. 

Still, I'm grateful that I was able to stand there and have that moment.  To choose not to do it.  To decide that it was anger that was driving me and to let it go.  To know that I don't need a laughing buddha on my heart chakra to help it to mend.  That continuing to love what is, to love my own real-life Buddha and Stella, is what will mend my heart.  Body art is great, but it isn't what makes you whole.

Buddha and Stella, by the way, will be moving with me shortly.  The Universe heard my cry for a new place to live and it answered it perfectly.  We've found a cottage on two acres right here in Santa Cruz.  Right in town, if you can believe it.  It is small, but it is perfect for us.  And the price was exactly right.

What was most surprising to me was that not only are they thrilled that I have TWO DOGS, but they're also thrilled that I am naked!  Could this be a better fit?  The plastic surgery will definitely have to wait.  I mean, these folks already love me just as I am. 

For that, and for so much else, I am always always grateful.

P.S.  A large and ever ever grateful shout out to Dr. Suz.  Who I feel I have not properly acknowledged.  Every step of that marathon last Sunday, Dr. Suz was there with me.  Every.Single.Step.  She absolutely never let me quit.  She kept me smiling, she reminded me that we'd just done one mile, of course we could do another, and she just made sure I kept moving forward.   I would not be a marathoner without her!  I mean that in all seriousness.  She deserves my medal as well as her own.  So all gratitude to her for asking me to participate, for getting me to train with her, and for getting me over that finish line. 

She is, quite simply, an amazing human being!  I'm blessed to have her in my life!

My Angel's Name is Grace Davis!

  Marathoners! 
  Originally uploaded by GraceD.

There has been a lot of commentary over the last few days on this blog.  There has been a lot of back and forth and even some questioning about where I stand in all of this and why I haven't said anything in regard to the comments that have been made.

I have refrained from making any comment about the comments myself because, well, I consider all of you not only adults, but friends.  And I expect all of you to be able to work it out among yourselves and that you do not need me to monitor the playground.

I understand that the emotional outpouring I have shared over the last few days here on my blog has certainly provided a catalyst for many of you.  I know that there are buttons that are being pushed.  That there are those of you who have been through similar situations and have very passionate feelings or, yes, even wounds, about this very issue.  Or an issue quite similar.  Because, dear readers, let's face it.  Each of us must travel our own path and our experiences are all unique.  There may be very striking similarities, but my shoes do not fit the vast majority of you (of that I can be almost certain) and since my path is not your path, while my experience feels so very familiar and is bringing up long forgotten hurts for you, I must suffer my hurts just the same.

On Sunday, I chose to participate in the Nike Women's Marathon.  I chose to attempt to complete 26.2 miles in what I kept assuring myself was just a simple stroll around San Francisco.  Despite the horrific week I had had prior that had been composed of vomit and diarrhea and a visit to Urgent Care because I was certain I was going to off myself completely, I decided, no truthfully, I was determined to go to San Francisco and finish that marathon.  In my head, which I admit may have been warped thinking, if I didn't go and if I didn't finish, Dave won.  And I wasn't going to let Dave win. 

As my friend, Dr. Suz, and I were driving to San Francisco on Saturday afternoon, she informed me that she had emailed Grace Davis (of the comments) and asked her to come and meet us at the finish line of the race.  This was the first I had learned of this, so I immediately called Grace and asked her if it was true.  "Of course I will be there," Grace said.  "Malcolm and I will be there with the camera.  And flip flops and all kinds of things that you will need.  Do not worry.  I will be there." 

At that moment, I got quite teary.  I had Dr. Suz in my corner, but now I had Grace waiting for me at the finish.  With flip flops.  And other things I might need.  I had a support team.  I could do this.

We spent Saturday afternoon at the Nike Expo getting our "stuff and schwag" and then scouring Macy's of all places for some running socks.  I had brought running socks, but figured I needed "other" running socks.  I found some that were a tad cushier than those that I had brought and figured they would do.  With that purchase we headed over the Moscone Center for the Team In Training Pasta Party. 

Now people, let's remember that I have no eaten anything substantial since Monday when Dave dropped the bomb.  Nada.  I have been literally living on fumes and water.  I kept thinking that I must stay hydrated so I drank water and more water and more water.  At the pasta party dinner I ate pesto pasta and lots of vegetables.  And a banana.  And promptly redeposited it when we got to the hotel.  Oh well.  Surely some of it had stayed in my body, right? 

Dr. Suz and I pretty much went straight to bed since we had to be in the lobby to meet the Team in Training folks at 4:00 a.m.

3:30 a.m. came very quickly.  I awoke and was feeling okay.  Not great.  Not horrible.  I managed to eat one of my own home made power bars and then drank some home made electrolyte juice.  And I took my vitamins.  Because I always take my vitamins.  Got dressed and we headed for the lobby.

Our start was at 5:30 a.m.  It was dark.  It wasn't too cold.  But I wasn't awake.  At all.  I did quite a few sun salutations to try and warm my body up and stretch out all the muscle groups.  My body felt flexible.  It felt ready.  It felt good. 

So we started walking.  I honestly can tell you that I think I slept walked through the first five miles.  It wasn't until we hit the Presidio hill and the Elite runners were starting to pass us that I actually felt my body shift and I felt like I was "in" it.  Until then, I was somewhere way outside my body looking down.  Watching it.  Observing it.  And I was fighting nausea big time.  Every time we would stop at a port-a-potty (and we stopped quite frequently) I would throw up and then pee.  There was nothing to throw up, of course, but this biley liquid would come out and somehow I would feel just a tad better. 

When we got to Mile 6, the Presidio Hill, we were met by our coach, Denise.  She asked how we were doing?  I told her that I felt okay.  Not great, but okay.  She walked with us up the hill.  Honestly, the hill was not that bad.  All that worry over that hill?  We shouldn't have worried.  Dr. Suz and I chose to actually run down the other side of it to make up some time and that actually felt good, but soon after that I found myself needing another port-a-potty.  Vomit, pee, oh yeah.  From Mile 7 to Mile 9 seemed to take forever.  And it was on this very gentle incline.  That, in reality, was worse than the Presidio hill.  Because it fucked with your head.  It all seemed flat and easy, but you were slowly going up.  up.  up.  and you had no landmarks.  Somewhere in there my phone rang.  It was Dave!  Which was really surreal for me.  He said he was calling to wish me luck.  I really appreciated that he was doing that, but my head wasn't in a space to really connect with all of it.  The whole thing felt just surreal.

And then we were at Mile 10.  Which was at the Cliff House.  And the top of the Great Highway.  We both chose to run all the way to the bottom which was so exhilarating.  Honestly, I think this was the BEST that I felt all day.  I just ran and ran and ran.  And I cried and cried and cried.  There were real tears streaming down my face.  I'm not even sure why. 

When we reached the bottom, we headed into Golden Gate Park.  There were folks handing out bananas and I grabbed one.  I don't even like bananas, but I really felt my body needed it.  I gobbled it down, and knew right away this was a mistake.  I told Dr. Suz shortly afterwards that I needed another port-a-potty.  In my head I just kept saying, "Just breathe.  Keep breathing.  You can do this!"  I think we finally found a set of them at Mile 13.  Puke, Piss, Pray.   At this point I was begging Clyde Fairy to please help me make it.  Please.  We were only half way finished and I was not feeling well at all.

This section of the marathon really fucks with your head, too.  You go into Golden Gate Park and as you're going in, you're seeing lots of people coming out.  Lots and lots of people.  And it is really defeating.  You know all those people are in front of you.  And you have no idea how far they've already gone or how far you have to go or where on earth you're ever going to turn around.  You just have to keep going.  And going.  And going.  And eventually you get to a little horseshoe turnaround area where you do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around, but instead of that being what it's all about you go right back where you just were!  It's a mind fuck, let me tell you.

Dr. Suz and I started making deals with each other.  Oh look, that mile wasn't that hard.  We just have to do 13 more of those.  We can easily do 13 more of those, right?  Right!  Of course we can.  We can do anything!!

When we exited the park, some of our teammates were standing there with signs and hugs and the most beautiful smiles two struggling marathoners could ever hope to see.  Again, I burst into tears.  My foot, at this point, was burning beyond measure.  I had developed some huge blister on top of another blister so that the entire ball of my left foot was one massive blistered mess.  But I didn't want to do anything about it, really, because I figured it would just make it hurt even more. 

Dr. Suz and I were now on the Great Highway.  Which, when we were discussing this marathon in the early days, we thought would be lovely.  A walk along the ocean.  We do that all the time in Santa Cruz.  But now, again, it just felt like torture.  Because this route was again one where you went out and came back.  So while we were just heading out there were all these others who were coming back...to the finish line.  A place we so longed to be, but we had 9 miles to go before we'd ever get there.

About this time Grace Davis called for the first time.  She asked me where we were.  We were just passing Mile 18.  She screamed and told me how awesome we were and that we were doing it, we were goddesses, we rocked!  Her enthusiasm was quite contagious and for a moment I really believed her.  Then I told her I wanted to vomit and she told me that throwing up was a good idea.  Well, okay! 

But it was shortly after I hung up the phone with Grace that I entered into a very strange place.  A parallel universe.  A Dali painting.  Words suddenly had color.  Sounds suddenly had shapes.  I could see through walls.  And everything was slipping and sliding and nothing felt as it should be. 

I mentioned to Dr. Suz that I didn't think I could make it.  That I was in a scary place.  She asked me if I needed to stretch?  Oh yes, stretch.  Perhaps if I stretched.  So I stretched.  And then found another port-a-potty and wretched.  And drank lots more water.  Always more water.  I drank and drank and drank.  Water.Water.Water. 

But with each step, life became more grueling.  I was quickly losing touch with reality.  And I knew it.  However, I did not want to let Dr. Suz down.  I certainly didn't want to let all those people who had sponsored me down.  And I didn't want to let Dave win.  I know it sounds completely irrational and stupid and insane.  I know this.  But I couldn't not finish.  I could not allow him telling me he was leaving me to be the reason I did not finish this marathon.  I.do.not.quit.  Not on my marriage, not on my dogs, not on the marathon.

We kept going.  The course took us all the way around Lake Merced.  I do not care if I ever walk around Lake Merced again.  Each mile that we walked around the Lake took progressively longer and longer.  Grace would call and ask where we were and I would tell her we had just passed Mile 20.  Then 21.  Then 22.  Then 23.  Finally, we were at Mile 24 and we were back on the Great Highway.  Going back the way we had come.  I was having to stop every twenty-five feet or so just to regain my balance and sense of reality.  The world was spinning without me and I was literally just trying to stay on it. 

And then, up ahead, there in the distance, was Grace.  Like an angel she was standing there with Malcolm the wonder dog.  And when I saw her I started sobbing like a baby.  And she started hollering like a banshee.  "THESE ARE MY FRIENDS!  CHEER FOR MY FRIENDS!!!  LOOK AT MY FRIENDS!!!!"  It was awesome.  She checked in with us and asked us what she could do to help us get over the finish line.  She gave me more water.  She held me up, literally.  And she walked with me, step by step, all the way to to the finish line all the while shouting, "CONGRATULATE JEN AND SUZ!!  THEY ARE MARATHONERS!!!" 

Our Team in Training coaches and staff were waiting for us at the finish line and when I told them I needed to go to the Medical Tent they escorted me there right away.  But Grace did not leave my side.  People, let me tell you this.  If you ever decide to do a marathon or perhaps have a baby or perhaps get married or maybe just, um, oh I don't know, throw a protest....you want GRACE DAVIS on your support team.  That woman is an angel, a goddess, a pit bull and your very best friend all rolled into one. 

The Medics were not quite sure what to do with me.  I sat down and instantly turned blue.  The doctor took my pulse and looked at me and said, "You just finished a marathon.  Your pulse is 60.  That can't be right.  Let me take it again."  He took it again.  "Um, it's 60.  Wow!  Let me take your blood pressure."  "Wow.  It's 110/70  Did you really just finish??" 

"Yes, I just finished."

"So, you've been throwing up the whole race?"

"Yes.  Actually, all week."

"Oh, so you had the flu this week?"

"Um, no, not really.  On Monday, my husband told me he was done with our marriage.  I started throwing up that night.  And I had diarrhea.  On Wednesday I went to Urgent Care because I was feeling pretty suicidal.  But I had to do this marathon.  Because if I didn't do it, then it would be because of him.  And he's already screwed enough things up.  I can't not do the marathon because of him!  So I did it.  And I was determined to finish!"

"Woah.  Um, okay.  You are one determined woman!  Can we get a sodium reading on her?"

So they tried to get a sodium reading.  But my veins had collapsed.  But they did managed to figure out that I actually had  hyponatremia and that I had actually been over-hydrating through out the marathon.  Because of my week of not eating and vomiting and diarrhea, my bodies electrolytes and sodium levels were all screwed up.  And because I was already an epilepsy patient, my brain was a tad more sensitive than the rest.

The good news, though, is that I had Grace Davis as my support team.  Really.  Once those medics were ready to release me, Grace took over and boy did she take over.  Big time.  Remember what I said about having Grace on your team?  I mean it.  You really want her on your team! 

I have never felt so loved, so cared for, so enveloped in warm cozy love as I was in the hours following the marathon when she was determined to make sure that I was okay.  She got me an ice bath to make sure my muscles didn't seize.  She got me lovely miso soup to try and help bring my body back into balance.  She got me special juice.  She got me pretzels.  She provided therapy!  She was just, in a word, a Marathon Mom.

I do not know that I will ever be able to repay her for all of her kindness on that day and the day that followed.  I do know that Grace knows how very much I love her and that there isn't anything I would not do for her in return.  Anything.at.all.

I finished the Nike Marathon on October 21, 2007.  It was not pretty.  It was not done well.  I almost killed myself in my attempt.  Marathons are excellent metaphors for life.  What I proved is that I can do it under the most extreme circumstances and cross the finish line.  And knowing that, well, I know that I can survive anything life throws my way. 

So bring it on.   

SWF with 2 dogs needs a Home

It's true.  I'm not sure I'm going to be able to keep this lovely house.  I love this house.   It is my home.  But as things shake down with Dave, well, it is becoming crystal clear that I am probably going to have to downsize and find something a tad more affordable.

So, internet, I'm sending this out there!  Because you folks seem to always come through with, if not the solution, at least good suggestions on how to get there.

I'm actually NOT tied to living in Santa Cruz.  I'm happy to go some place new.  The most important requirements for me for our new living location are these:

Must allow my two big black labs.  This is non-negotiable.
Hopefully the new location has a decent health food store.
My new home needs to be able to have internet access.
It would be great if it had hardwood floors and a gas stove. 
It shouldn't cost over $1,000/month.  Gah.  This is going to be a challenge!

However, I am a very strong believer that the Universe provides.  That if I put my wish out there and really and truly believe, that it will answer.

Kind wonderful Nakedjen readers.  Perhaps you know someone who knows someone who has a little cottage that they'd like to rent to Nakedjen and her two adorable dogs?  I'll even gladly provide holistic healing and teas and reiki treatments and nannynakedjen or doula services to whomever has this cottage/dome/yurt/home. 

Let me know.  Buddha, Stella and I are looking forward to this new adventure.

Naked and Raw

I have been following the discussion that has erupted on my behalf in the comments of previous posts.  I first want to say that I believe each of us has a very passionate belief on this matter and what I love most is that all of you are willing to share your beliefs with me.  I can not learn from those of you who choose to remain silent.  I learn most from those of you who choose to speak your own truths, to share your own passions, to speak out even if your own voices crack.

All your words, all my words, all our collective words are helping.  I am a woman who is naked.  I am a woman who exposes all her emotions.  I am a woman, who right this minute, is quite raw.

I do understand, on an intellectual level, how not publicizing this very intimate part of my life, these very intimate details of a marriage unraveling, the pain and the hurt and gasping for air that I am experiencing could be quite beneficial for many.  I do understand and I actually support that if that is your particular path.

I also understand, truthfully, that there are certain tactics that may work in certain situations with certain marriages and relationships to help salvage the union.

I do not play games.  I give you 110% honesty, my truth, and I rarely wrap it up in a lovely box with pretty paper and a tidy little bow.  No, more likely it comes at you like a full-force gust of torrential rain.  It soaks you to the bone so that even if you were wearing your clothes, you may now feel naked, as well.

I make no apologies for who I am.  This is me.  This is Nakedjen.  And if the content that I am writing and sharing is too difficult for you to bear witness to right now, well, I invite you to please take a break. 

I love all of you.  Your passion and your love and the ways in which you have reached out to me in these last few days have saved me, truly saved me, in more ways than you'll possibly be able to guess. 

There are no right or wrong ways in which to dissolve a marriage with the absolute love of your life.  There is no text book to follow.  This is my path, my journey, that I must take.  I am doing my best to take it with integrity and love.  And to stay standing.  And to remember to breathe.

It's Friday.  I think being naked today, especially, could be quite good for all of us.  Spend some time and celebrate the you that you are.  And remember to be grateful for all of you.  Each beautiful part.  I love you. 

A Particularly Bad Day

It has been a particularly bad day.  Perhaps the worst day in my life so far.  Honestly, I feel worse today than I did when Clyde died.  And we all know how horrible that was! 

I tried to have a conversation with Dave today, but it just wasn't possible.  He was in robot mode.  Seriously, he was incapable of showing any emotion at all and was talking in this monotone voice and the whole thing pushed me to a breaking point.

A point where, honestly, I contemplated really bad things.  Things a person should not contemplate if they're happy and healthy and well-balanced. 

At the urging of my mother, I called my doctor.  Who insisted I get to Urgent Care immediately.  Where I have been.  And now I have a whole slew of prescriptions that are supposed to help me feel more in control and "mellow". 

The thing is I'm not exactly the drug taking type.  I'm ultra-sensitive to pharmaceuticals.   So I'm not sure this is a good idea.

And when I got home there was a "Dear Jen" letter waiting for me.  It didn't make me feel one ounce better.  In fact, I think all it really did was help Dave to justify his own lack of emotion and actions so maybe he feels better?

I don't know.  I've never done this and I'm obviously having a really really really hard time finding my way.  I just keep hoping that the hurt won't hurt as much.  But it only keeps hurting worse.

The Most Important Details of My Life

I want to respond directly to what John wrote in the comments section.  It definitely struck a cord with me.  There is surely some validity to what John is suggesting. 

I have been writing about my marriage with Dave (and the troubles we have faced as well as the beautiful moments we have shared) since I began writing Nakedjen.

I can not not write about my marriage.  It just wouldn't work for me.  I agree that for some it is too intimate, too special, too emotional to be talked about on a blog.

But for me?  That is exactly who I am.  The things that touch me on my most intimate levels are the things that I must, absolutely, write about.

Dave knows this.  He has always known this.  In fact, he knew this about me before we were ever married.

And yes, just for clarity, Dave has been thinking about this long and hard for a long time.  He's been involved in a year long workshop where he has been doing quite a lot of self-examination.  Of discovering who he really is and what he really needs. 

However, if you really want Dave's side of the story, I think you're going to have to ask him.  The thing about Dave is that he's incredibly honorable and honest and if you did ask he would absolutely tell you.

Was I blindsided?  Yes.  But was this new news?  Not really.  There have been issues in our marriage that we've been working on and working on and working on for a really long time.  Dave reached the point where working on them no longer felt feasible or allowed him to live in his own truth.  I respect him for this, but I will still share that it shattered my heart.  I love him completely.  Truly, madly, deeply.  And that has not changed.  So my heart really does hurt. 

We are, both of us, very kind and gentle and loving people.  I am doing my best to live through this with absolute love and integrity.  But I would not be me if I just "went quiet" and didn't talk about what is, for me, a very emotional time.

I have shared a lot of your comments with Dave and I think what has struck him most is how very supportive and loving you all have been.  He said to me tonight, "Jen, what you've created with Nakedjen is really remarkable.  You've done a beautiful thing." 

Each of us has our path.  I'm choosing to make mine public.  But I am in no way saying this is the way for everyone.  I respect those who choose to keep their paths private. 

If you're here and you're reading, thank you.  Really.  I appreciate your love, your kindness and your understanding.  And I will most certainly not stop sharing the most important details of my life.

More...

so i know i sounded all grounded and good yesterday.

that was yesterday.

i think my body is far more in tune than my brain.  my brain wants to compartmentalize this and my body is having none of that.

i have spent the last 24 hours throwing up (pretty dramatically) and i have diarrhea. and i can not stop shaking. visibly shaking.

in other words?  i'm a big fat mess.

and i'm not sure, honestly, that i can make it through all of this.  there's a part of me that just wants to curl up and die.

i think one of my biggest issues is that i actually really do identify myself as "dave's wife". and now? well, now i will no longer be dave's wife. and intellectually i know that i am so much more than just "dave's wife". but i have worked reallyreallyreally hard for the last 7.5 years to be his wife. a good wife. a very good wife.

and he doesn't want that.  or me.  or whatever. 

and it hurts like fucking hell.

He's Done

i wasn't going to write about this. or at least not right now. but you know what? it's my blog. and i've got to get it out.

we had a wonderful weekend. a weekend where those who were observing from the outside would say, "wow, those two have a really great marriage!"

so of course you can guess where this is going.

i woke up this morning and found my husband in the living room sitting cross-legged on the floor. i asked him what was up and he said he had been up most of the night. thinking. about us.

he's done.

he says he loves me, he thinks i'm the most amazing woman he'll ever know, i am his best friend, he can't imagine his life without me in it, but he's done.

and he doesn't know what his path is, he just knows that being married to me is not it.

my heart, to put it bluntly, is absolutely shattered. i feel like the biggest fool. for trusting him. for believing that he really wanted to be my husband. for being the best wife i could possibly be and having it just not be enough.

i feel like he's broken one of our most sacred promises. and i know i always say that marriage happens every day. that we wake up each morning and say, "today i choose to be married." and i understand that dave no longer chooses to be married.

but i'm still shattered.  i'm still hurt.  i'm still crying and unsure of what this all means for me and for us. 

i feel like all my hopes and dreams have just been completely stomped on and buried. 

and i just want to, well, there are a lot of things i really want to do.  i feel rather schizophrenic, actually. 

gah.

i'm fucked.  and i'm crushed.  and i'm feeling very alone.

and....

so the truth of the matter is this. dave is leaving. he's really and truly done. when is he leaving? fuck if i know. he just decided that he's done, but he has no plan. at all.

at first, i thought, well, fine.  you're leaving.  get out.  now. 

but now?  well, he's not going anywhere.  i told him he can stay here and we can figure this all out together.

you see, i love my husband. i really love my husband. i'm not just his prom date. i'm his wife. and while i am still trying to wrap my mind around this whole, "i'm done" bomb that he dropped this morning, i still love my husband. very much.

i also want him to be happy. to be the best dave that he can be. and if that means a life that doesn't include me, well that is what it means.

i am not going to hang on to him and beg him to stay in a marriage that is not a place where he wants to be. i'm just not that girl.

extricating our lives from one another's is going to be difficult and messy and it just can't be done over night. there are just lots of factors and joint responsibilities and co-owned businesses and undoing all of that will just take a lot of time and patience.

i came very close to just throwing the dogs in the car with my backpack and leaving. that's been my MO in the past. i just leave. everything. and let him, whomever he is, deal with it.

but i have the marathon on sunday.  and i couldn't let all those people who have been so supportive of my marathon efforts down.  and i didn't want to let myself down, either.

so i'm here. and i'm going to do my best to be the BEST me i can be through this whole process. because, well, i don't do things half-assed. even the things i didn't exactly sign-up for.

Feel Like A Stranger

Sometimes you wake up with tear-stained cheeks and really do wish that you were an Aborigine.  Who lives in the "dream" side of life.  Or that, perhaps, you could just wish hard enough to make that awesome dream come true. 

i was at a grateful dead concert. somehow, someway, by some miracle, jerry garcia had come back from the dead. and they were having a reunion concert. and at first i was telling dearsweetdave that there was no way i was going. no thank you. i was certain the whole thing was a big fat hoax that was being perpetuated by the leftover band members to line their coffers with more dollars from those of us who are desperate for just one.more.show.

but then, then...i received a golden ticket in my mail box. just like charlie bucket. it had skeletons dancing on it. and it had this letter that told me i was "a chosen one". so off i went. but when i arrived at the oakland coliseum i could tell right away that something was a bit amiss. that things were not what they seemed. and all these people were jammed onto the floor. pushing and shoving. i ran into greg and at first i didn't recognize him...but then he said something like, "sure, just walk right by..." and then we chatted for a bit about how we would naturally run into each other at this show of all shows, but that we honestly had nothing to say to one another. so sad.  and then i ran into steve. ah, steve. who i spent a lot of time kissing! god, i miss that boy.

still the crowd. good grief, the crowd. it was a mob scene. and i was trying to work my way to my "spot" up front where i always stand right in front of jerry. but these people were all so RUDE. so not the typical deadhead crowd at all. and i kept saying, "who are you people and what are you doing here??"

so then the music finally started and i'm still about half-way back from the stage and i can tell, right away, that this is NOT the grateful dead. no tell-tale tingle up my spine.  it's imposters! posers! fakes! and i'm thinking to myself that they've done this on purpose. this "concert" is for all the pseudo deadheads. har! because, as we know, i've had an issue with pseudo deadheads for as long as we can remember. not that i'm not the first to open my arms and heart and welcome anyone who wants to truly embrace the dead and their music and their lifestyle into the fold, but it made me a bit nutso when "in the dark" became a billboard hit and suddenly our concerts and parking lots were flooded with these drunken frat boys (and there's nothing wrong with frat boys) who only knew ONE SONG and were really just looking to score drugs and ogle the naked hippie girls. i wanted to box them up and send them home!

so when i realized that this was a "fake" band, i also realized that if jerry really were alive he wouldn't be playing at the oakland coliseum. no way, no how.  he'd be playing at the greek. small and intimate.  up close and personal.  rock down the house wonderful!  so i hitched a ride over there, walked through my very favorite grove of trees and could hear the notes of "feel like a stranger" drifting their way towards me.

and i just started to cry.  then sob.  because it was them.  and they were truly playing.  and i was finally home.

if you look very closely at that photo you can see me in front of jerry!  at that show, actually, i handed phil lesh a bag of clyde's cookies to share with the band!