Love is a Verb

I am up too late, painting my nails, listening to a slow song and the rare sound of my wind chimes blowing in the warm summer breeze.

It was so difficult to be an adult today. To take care of a crabby two and a half year old who talked back or fought everything, every chance he got.. To clean the apartment, clean out my car, get laundry and dishes and all that getting ready for the week ahead done. We all woke up on the wrong side of the weekend. We all napped while hurricane napped. And I get to paint my nails now because the whole house is asleep besides me. 

I got a new job. A promotion. It is amazing to the extent of renewing my love for veterinary medicine. I don’t have time to write much anymore – not that I ever seem to have a whole lot – in part because my schedule is different but also because I am trying to catch up my tech skills. 

And since I last wrote, I finally made it to the beach. It had been too long..

 
    

Are you ready? Next great adventure in queue. That photo of me pretty much sums up my feelings on the matter. Happy. So happy and so myself. Choosing marriage again is not something I take lightly, but also not something I can adequately address tonight with the overall mood of today being what it was… 

I did, however, share a quote on Instagram earlier that I know you will agree fits perfectly if you have any knowledge of me/my story. 

[I find it important to add that you also never ever have to feel guilty for making the incredibly difficult choice to leave. Although do be prepared for when those feels try to sneak attack you.]

So we are diving in! I am confident in my choice. Venue at our favorite CA beach and an amazing photographer booked for this October. Dress shopping next weekend. Dozens of little details to work out in the chaos of parenthood and a new job. Nothing is static for long around me, and it is this weird kind of bliss. Like being up late alone, listening to the sound of my wind chimes that have been with me from the very beginning.

Love, love as the verb and sweet dreams,

Michelle 

Check. [Soul]mate.

Hello again, to anyone who thought my long leave of absensce meant the death of this little blog. I have been honestly busy this time. Moved two cities over, hit my one year mark at work just in time for the clinic to move to a bigger, better location and am adjusting to life just me and Elliott, although with lots of parenting help from the boyfriend. It has been hard but exhilarating.

So much activity but not much to say about it all. Very little I felt the need to write out loud until the past couple of days. Settling down, for a chronic over thinker like myself, was so much easier when I was sure I was meant to be with someone. I had that feeling with the ex, and even though that relationship blew up in my face in a most spectacular way, there was no denying the magnetism we had for each other. I am not sure I feel that way about the boyfriend, and I do not yet fully know how that makes me feel. With the ex it was all miscommunication and empty love tanks, but with the boyfriend I never think about a love tank, because it is honestly a non-issue. There are none of the dramatic highs and lows. We are steady and stable and it is (sometimes/definitely) weird to me. It is not at all what I am accustomed to experiencing in a relationship. He would marry me tomorrow, would have married me last week, if I let him. But there is just this feeling that I am not ready and I do not know why.

Having gone through a divorce, I would almost rather live with him first…test the waters, see what our relationship will really look like 24/7/365. But that won’t work for him; marriage first he says. And that is a huge commitment. That is quite literally signing my heart and love away to someone else, promising to be there, promising to stay no matter what. Marrying him would mean making myself vulnerable to being left in the most soul crushing way again. To be a little too honest, my scars from ending up on the wrong side of someone’s keep or toss list are still too raw, even more than a year later. I hate it. I hate myself for not entirely being able to leave those experiences buried in the past. I hate that while talking to my littlest sister last night tears formed in my eyes when I admitted another divorce will kill me, or at the very least kill my spirit. I still don’t quite understand how I survived the last one..

It’s all up in the air, and it all doesn’t really matter at the same time. Just that little tug on my heartstrings and the grieving of the idea of soulmates. Adult life is so limitless and immeasurable and hard and wonderful. I hope Elliott listens – but being my son, sincerely doubt he will – when I remind him to not hurry growing up.

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Sunday Mornings

The boyfriend has been bugging me about church for over a month now. Mornings are not my favorite time of day, and Sunday is not an exception. In fact, the only thing I really want to do on weekend mornings is sleep in. Fat chance of that happening with a toddler in the house, but a mom can dream. And if I can’t dream because I was woken up early (again), I can at least enjoy a cup of coffee or two in relative peace. So unfortunately, church often takes a back burner to being lazy, in an attempt to relax. Just being honest here.

When I first moved back to the valley, I did not feel comfortable going to “my church.” It was the one I attended in middle school, the one that helped me find God. The same church I attended with my then-husband. The one his family had attended when they were still local. The idea of going back there did not feel comfortable. I did not believe that I could go, a new divorcee, and not be judged. But eventually, I felt the need to be there surpass my discomfort so I swallowed my pride, and found a seat.

I am long past feeling uncomfortable, but do still feel a disconnect. My church was typically well suited for me. Began as a baptist church, and moved to a more non-denominational way of teaching the Bible. It was not the only church I tried out in the area (went to a Catholic church and Methodist church a couple times with friends), but fit me best. Now, as an adult and as someone who is divorced, I am disheartened that they skirt over the issue and do not offer a divorce care class. I know, without a doubt, that I am not the only divorced Christian in this city. I know I am not the only working mom, whose original intentions did not include working while my child was still young. And yet the women’s bible studies are offered at dinner time on a Tuesday or early on weekday mornings. This particular church supports those with addictions, christian camps, a local food pantry, a pregnancy outreach center.. but what about the single moms, the working moms, the divorced?

I guess I am disappointed. I was there with 2,000 other people at the Easter Sunday service when they said they would be doing remarkable things in the coming year… and aside from sermons reminding us not to compare ourselves to others and how as we travel through life God should be the first thing we consider, I am just not seeing it. Maybe I have high standards. Scratch that, I know I have high standards, but if the boyfriend wants me to go to church, I am going to be the driving force behind some new ministries, or I am finding another one that fits who I am now and challenges me to grow as a Christian. Besides the fellowship and church karaoke, is that not the biggest point in giving up relatively quiet mornings at home?

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