Escape

I'm surrounded by people and uncomfortable in a pair of heels I can't really balance in anymore. I try not to lean on Paul too much and comment to someone near us about something random, drawing them into a conversation. They say something, I tell them I am deaf and try to read their lips, but generally they look to Paul and he then explains to me what they said. My smile tends to be unharnessed and my mouth moves a slight beat quicker then my thoughts, so I enthusiastically reply and notice the person has a slightly confused look on their face. I remember to draw my volume from my stomach and not my throat and try to speak clearly, but they smile at me wanly and glance at Paul, waiting for his explanation. He tells them what I am trying to say and then we all stand awkwardly for a moment before they smile and escape.

We stand looking at yet another painting, and the man next to Paul comments to him. The two strike up a conversation and I try not to look as though I want to know what they are saying. I busy myself looking intently at a speck of dust and when I furtively glance at Paul he immediately tries to explain what they were discussing. I don't really understand what he is saying and as Paul tries to fingerspell it and put a 5 minute conversation into a 5 second nutshell his newfound friend excuses himself and escapes.

At some point Paul has to excuse himself to the men's room and I busy myself with my phone, I have no job and my few good friends know where I am so I fiddle around on facebook when I realize someone is standing near me and apparently talking. I look up with a smile and apologize for ignoring them, and explain I am deaf and didn't realize they were talking. They smile awkwardly and apologize for bothering me. I tell them they weren't bothering me at all and please to go ahead with what they were trying to say. They wave their hand dismissively, smile pityingly, and escape.

Paul comes back with a warm smile and his strong arms quickly wrap around my waist as his lips brush my neck and for just a moment I relax. Right then a girl in a fabulous dress appears right next to us, and I insist Paul asks where she found it. He tells her his wife is deaf but would like to know where she found her dress. The girl pauses for a moment to understand and then with a preschool teacher smile turns to me and tells me where she bought it, and then how beautiful I am. She then flashes Paul a sympathetic smile and escapes.

We walk around amusing ourselves, noting the conversations flowing around us, and both admit to being a bit tired at the same time. We escape...

Portions

This morning I set out on a run to the gym, with the intent of working out there and then running back. It is a 3 mile trek, which makes a 6 mile round trip. It felt great to be outside, and at each corner I looked to the next in anticipation. Just one more mile, one more stop sign, 1 more bus stop, 1 more building... at each mini goal it felt as if I had finished something, when really I had a lot more to go, as well as the run back. Even once the entire work out was finished, and I was home drinking my protein shake, I realized I still wasn't done. Today's workout was only one of my three scheduled runs this week, and after this week is this month... and well, you get the point! So although breaking my goals into portions makes them seem more feasible, at what point can I say I have truly achieved my purpose ? Is that even possible, or would one goal simply beget another, like another corner to run past?

When Paul and I were dating we wanted to find an apartment that fit our meager income, and for weeks I knew I would finally be happy if we could just get our apartment. When we finally moved in we set our sights higher, and now we always say that when Paul becomes a Journeyman things will be great! I know there will always be something else to yearn for. Another goal, another obstacle, another setback, another corner to turn. Life is just a series of these segments, and at times the entire cycle can seem to stretch out endlessly, even pointlessly. When do I get to be happy? When do I finally arrive? For me, the answer is the path. When I run each step is fun, I don't only enjoy the run when it is finished. Paul may not yet be a Journeyman, but he loves going to work each day and I feel blessed to live the life we do. I may have health problems, but if I didn't it would be something else. I can't sit around waiting to die, when I am alive and well today. I can't waste my time worrying about something that hasn't even happened yet. I can't allow the inevitable happenings of life to weigh me down, I'm too busy running forward!

People ask me all the time how I deal with all of the stress in my life, and when I tell them I don't think my life is very stressful I am always met with an incredulous stare. I have a roof over my head, food on the table, a family that loves me, freedom to choose what to do with myself and usually enough resources to support those desires. What else is there to ask for? I take every moment as it comes and make a conscious choice to enjoy it. The day I stop doing that, I may as well die, because that is no way to live. I may not run another marathon, I may not break another PR, but today I ran, and that is enough for me.

Fall out...

My stove is sticky, my laundry is in a huge pile, my kids are eating Top Ramen (again), and my acrylics are ready to fall off... I have a midterm, a paper due, and a week long trip to pack for. I have been so focused on this marathon, and supporting the team, that my home has fallen apart a bit. I wouldn't be too worried, except that my Nana is staying here with the kids while I am gone next week, and as Tish pointed out, this place should be as clean as a hotel... um how about a motel?

Instead of really accomplishing much today I have puttered, sipped coffee, and moved piles around. I am really good at reorganizing piles. Go me! However, I did get my marathon wrap up emails out to both the team and my supporters! I also found out that I was mentioned in the Long Beach Press-Telegram's write up of the Long Beach Marathon! Front page! I plan to play the "I ran a marathon" card for another day, and yes that does include wearing my medal everywhere.

Now I must peel myself off of this desk and actually accomplish something concrete before Paul comes home. If he gives me the look, I'll just wave my medal in his face.

Guilty?

I woke up yesterday and stared at my ceiling planning my morning run. I laced up my running shoes, put Mica's hair in a beautiful braid, got in the van and drove to a park. As Mica played I sat on the bench, willing myself to head to the gym as planned, but my legs felt heavy as though I was sliding bricks along with each step. The sun bounced off the sand and absorbed the last of the energy I had mustered up over my peanut butter and banana earlier in the morning. Mica walked up and simply signed "home," not even my offers to push her in the swing could persuade her to stay. I held her tiny little hand in mine as we trudged back to the van and went back home. Another failed run, that was 2 in a row. Why did it feel like the sky was weighing me down?

Paul got home moments later from yet another day in court related to the bar fight he was involved in. He was so confident, I assumed there had been yet another postponement in the case. Instead he just said, and with a smile, that he plead guilty. I felt the air rush out of my body and the anger plump my veins...Why would he plead guilty when he acted in self-defense? It is just ridiculous to me. The other man initiated the entire fight, and we have a witness. Unfortunately the supposed victim was leaning toward testifying against Paul. This makes no sense to me, the man is in a gang. What kind of gang member testifies? Didn't he get the gang member handbook? Hasn't he ever seen the Godfather? ... Paul explained that the DA offered him a deal, no jail time, just a small fine and anger management classes. Paul is ecstatic that the entire ordeal is behind us, and I know I should be too, but suddenly I found myself crying. I just couldn't process the idea that Paul plead guilty, and it was over.

I don't have to fall asleep afraid I'll wake up to an empty bed one day. I don't have to worry about getting jail letters, and accepting collect calls, and driving to whatever hell hole my husband was assigned to each Saturday with JT and Mica in their most adorable outfits, waiting to get a hug from Daddy. Yes, I glad it is over, but I am just so angry it ever began. I'm furious that a person can just push everyone around them until they snap, and then be labeled a victim and recieve support from the court system. I am frustrated that Paul had to miss at least 6 days of work for court. But on top of all of that, I am really livid that Paul should not have been at that bar to begin with.

I never did get out for a run yesterday, I followed Paul around like a puppy dog to get some errands done, keeping him in my line of sight as though at any second he could still disappear. We didn't celebrate or even discuss the situation any further, but I slept better than I have slept in 6 months. Now I am heading out for a run, and I know I will complete it and go on to finish a marathon in 2 more months. No more quitting... no more worrying...

Daddy's Home

Today is the last day my husband will be working out of town, at least for now. For the last few months we have lived separate lives. He wakes before dark, works 10 hour days on the steel, has beer with the guys and plays dominoes all night in their shared motel room. He eats top ramen and Jack in the Box, a maid makes his bed every morning, and twice a week he makes the 4 hour drive home to see his family. I have no idea where he is at most times, he showed me pictures from a Michael Jackson dance contest he attended the previous week, I didn't know he had gone. I married my husband to share a life with him, and when people ask me where he is I want to say he went to the store, not he is somewhere in Santa Barbara that I would need my GPS to find. When he visits I feel the limitations of his time, he yearns for sleep and I hold myself back, greedy for his attention. I settle for sleeping in his strong arms, his hands a deep dark brown from the sun, his cuticles gnarled and dry, his fingers swollen and at least one broken. He's too heavy and eventually he turns over, leaving me to stare at the outline of his shoulders and drift off pressed against the small of his back. I feel him kiss me good bye at 3am every Monday in the midst of my deepest dreams, and when I finally break through my sleep my heart drops at the darkness of our empty bedroom. The days he's gone are oddly normal, I've grown accustomed to his absence, which may be worse than missing him. When he comes home I jump on him, my legs wrapping tight around his waist and I inhale his scent as his unshaved face scratches my cheeks. He kisses me fiercely every time, but already I feel the clock tick. When he comes home tonight the clock will stop, but I will try my hardest to hold onto that feeling and not take his presence for granted. Our lives will intertwine again as naturally as they have the past 5 years, and maybe the next time I am irritated with him for leaving his clothes allover the floor I will stop for a minute and remember our empty bed, and just be glad his clothes are on our floor and not a motels. Maybe... maybe not...

Paul & his bed buddy Jeff, no more Monkey Bites, he's mine!

Happy 5 Year Anniversary Bebu!!!

Revolutionary Road *spoilers*

Health, a roof over your head, food on the table, a solid job... what more could anyone ask for? Apparently for much of the middle class that is just not enough. They are "unhappy" and depressed, they want to escape, waste, and spend their way to happiness. People close to me know I have no tolerance for those who create their own drama. As we say in my house, even to my 3 year old, suck it up! Last night I was so excited to watch Revolutionary Road. Kate and Leo, reunited in a 50's period piece exploring the ups and downs of a classic pre-feminism marriage? I was sold at the first preview, as Leo threw her against a wall and passionately kissed her. Unfortunately, the previews were the best part of the film. Well, the previews and the acting. Kate and Leo play affluent, upper middle class parents of 2 beautiful young girls, and spend the entire movie whining about not being happy and wanting to escape to Paris. Apparently, as Kate says, they used to have a secret, that they were better than everybody, but then they found out they were just like everyone else.... oh boo hoo, cry me a f*cking river. The entire film was a cynical look at marriage which strived to prove that life is not real if you are married in the suburbs. Tell that to the other 90% of the world who do not exist in our bubble, and you'll get a lot more than a stone thrown at you. This movie represented to me everything wrong with our society. People making over 100 grand a year, still in debt. People getting divorced because its "just not working." Antidepressants with martini chasers. Separate vacations, and spending the family savings on "finding yourself." You want to find yourself, try looking in a mirror. Like a 5 year old who's parents never said no, spoiled middle aged adults tantrum their way through life with a shrink who encourages them to cry while simultaneously collecting from the insurance company. The movie ended with a suicide and a tear, and the only emotion I could muster was disgust for a silly little woman with a perfectly healthy body throwing it away on self-inflicted drama. Tonight when I do my nightly prayers, and again effusively thank God for my blessed life and beautiful family, I am also going to give thanks for the perspective that NF2 has given me. I would rather be sick and grateful, then healthy and deluded.

Sharing the Brain Tumors

I am the only one in my family who is allowed to have a brain tumor. I have 5, that is more than enough for the 4 of us.

Over the last 6 months my husband Paul has been having health problems. It started with headaches, lethargy, and swollen lympth nodes behind his ears. It progressed to bouts of depression and problems with his hormones and cholesterol levels. After months of assuming it could be nothing serious, yesterday Paul was diagnosed with a pituitary adenoma.

From what I understand, if you are going to have a brain tumor, a pituitary adenoma is one of the most common and easily treatable when caught early. Paul's has been caught so early that they underlined tiny on his MRI report. What I do not understand is if it is so tiny, how is it causing so many problems? The pituitary gland itself is very small, so even a tiny tumor is cause for alarm, especially when it is symptomatic as Paul's has been.

For once, Paul is lucky to have a wife with NF2. I know all the best neurologists and we are informed of the treatment options. Watch and wait, drug therapy, surgery, radiation. I've gone through all of these, and oddly, Paul says he is excited to experience a bit of what I have gone through in order to understand me more.

My concern, he says that now. If he does end up having Gamma Knife as the endocrinologist suggested, he would have the frame bolted to his head and be locked into a machine to have hundreds of gamma rays focused at one area in his brain. Paul is strong and would no doubt come out unscathed, so the next time I need treatment is he going to hold me to his 1 tumor standards? Will that be the least of my concerns in the long run? These tumors can cause seizures and dizziness, Paul is an ironworker. This could affect his entire career, and our financial stability.

In the end... or actually the beginning... I just want Paul to not have a tumor. I stare at his head instead of focusing on whatever random tv show we are watching, wishing I could just reach in and pull it out. I want to only be concerned for his health, but keep selfishly considering the ramifications to myself as well. So maybe we both are getting a glimpse of the other side of the fence.

It's all about the Family

JT just keeps getting into more and more trouble at school. I've explained that little boys who don't behave in class never get into college and end up homeless. I have spanked his butt red. I have put Xbox into a box and given him a toothbrush to scrub the floor. I don't know if I should be proud he is so strong-willed or angry he cannot control his impulses. Currently JT is grounded from living... well we allow him to breathe and read, but that is it. Our 50" flatscreen (had to drop the shout out) has been curiously dark since the last bout of punishment. Over the subsequent week an odd thing has happened... we got used to it! With the TV off the kids have discovered they own several boardgames, wrestled around with our chihuahua as much as safely possible, and drawn intricate tribal designs (or so I assume) with sidewalk chalk on our patio. We went for a family swim today and JT has told me he wants to start running with me! Tonight at our 3rd dinner at the table of this week I announced that from now on all dinners would be at the table. After some discussion we have made several changes to our family:

The TV is no longer on without specific permission, and there will be absolutley no TV in the morning, and until all chores, homework, dinner, and showers are completed nightly.

Tuesday night is Family Game Night! No TV at all, with board games after dinner.

Friday night is Family Movie Night, the one night of the week we will eat in front of the TV, with a family movie.

Eating out will be limited to one night a week, either Saturday or Sunday depending on our schedule.

I feel refreshed and look forward to implementing our new schedule. I see my children appreciating our time spent together, and recognizing that family always has priority. Maybe that was a lesson Paul and I needed to learn as well, and I can only hope we will be rewarded with well behaved and grateful children.

Now if only I can convince Paul to stop eating meat! Paul would say if only now Olivia would get off the computer... oops....

Bearing the Burden of Fear

Let's cut to the chase, Paul went back to court yesterday to face charges stemming from the bar fight he was in and met the public defender. He was arraigned for assault with intent to great bodily harm, and plead not guilty. He was told the maximum punishment would be 7 years in state prison, but the DA already offered him 1 year in county if he takes a felony. The PD (public defender) advised him not to take that, and they are all working together to make a deal. Paul has already told the PD he would accept house arrest with a misdemeanor charge, but the PD told him to hold off on anything for now. So for now we wait, which has to be the hardest part. On one hand I want as much time with Paul as possible, on the other I want all of this behind us. Sometimes I manage to go as long as a week pretending everything is normal, then I will be faced with a sudden reminder and the entire facade comes crashing down. It doesn't help that Paul still refuses to treat this seriously, and actually thinks this is no big deal. He is convinced nothing will come of it, and that he will walk away unscathed, which would be the story of his life to be fair. Things usually fall in Pauls favor, but I just need him to admit that this time it may not be that easy. I need him to bear the burden of fear with me, but I just don't see him validating my concerns unless he is forced to.

Now I am supposed to go for my last long run before my 5k in 2 weeks, but I just don't feel like it. Someone give me some motivation!

3 Year of Marriage

3 years goes by much quicker than a week. It seems only yesterday Paul and I stood in front of my Uncle Bob and said our vows at the Aladdin in Las Vegas. Now the Aladdin is Planet Hollywood and our marriage has shaped itself into an entire family. We have had our share of hard times, and we sometimes have the worst knock-down scream-it-out fights you could imagine... but every night as I pull the covers up and fall asleep without pretense I am grateful to be blessed with such a wonderful marriage. Some of my friends don't really understand how I deal with Paul, and the way he tells me what to do. For example, he wouldn't "let" me attend a soccer game with Adria, and was upset that I even suggested I would go. One of my closest friends has a birthday this weekend, and Paul was incensed at the mere idea of me joining her for a drink with a group of women. On the other hand Paul does whatever he likes, and explains without a hint of irony in his voice that he is not my child. He fails to even recognize the hypocrisy, but still I love him. Still I see that every morning he is up before dawn hard at work, and when he gets off rather than going out with the guys he comes straight home where he kisses me hard and always shows appreciation for my own daily accomplishments. He thanks me every night for his dinner, and when we trade backrubs he almost always rubs mine longer. If both of our shows are on, we watch mine. When I became vegetarian he agreed to eating meatless in our home, although I'm sure he drives thru Tommys Burgers on occassion! When I took up running he had no problem spending Sunday mornings alone with the kids while I ran, and he was the only one at the finish line of my first race cheering me on. He does anything within his power to attain whatever I desire, and proudly tells me if I really want it to just tell him, and "I'll make it work baby." Paul protects me, I firmly believe he would never let anything happen to me or the kids. I suffered from anxiety for a long time, sleeping next to Paul each night has been better than any medication. Paul never lets me get away with anything beneath my capabilities. He is what is necessary in a partner, he pushes and challenges me, forcing me to grow and be accountable. I strive to provide the same encouragement for him, expecting only the best because he is capable of it. For 3 years we have been married, and we have both accomplished more in those 3 years together then we ever really did apart. We've built a home, and a life, and I can't wait to see what else is to come.

18,000 Nights

Last night I lay in bed, my feet mingled with Paul's and the covers tightly over us both. I stared at the outline of his bald head I could barely make out in the darkness of our cocoon, and gently traced my finger along his ear, careful not to wake him. I thought to myself that one day we will be separated, if not by life, then by death. Truly nothing is forever. I did what I always do when I think of this, I tried to count the nights we could have left. If I am lucky enough to make it to age 50, I would have another 24 years with Paul which sounds acceptable. Until I realize there are only 365 days in a year, which is not a big number. In just the last year absolutely nothing has really happened. Sure, my parents moved and Paul got a new job, but in the grand scheme of things this year was another tiny fraction of our kaleidoscope. So I think, well that would be about 18,000 nights left together, which again seems like a lot. Then I remember when I had this amazing 2 hour massage, I thought it would be so long and luxurious. While I was being rubbed down it seemed to go slowly, my mind even trailed off and lost focus on the intent for chunks of time. When the girl suddenly finished and I found myself outside in the crisp winter air, I could only think how quickly it had went, and how I should have absorbed each moment of that massage. After 18,000 nights will I suddenly find myself out in the cold? I cannot imagine a happiness without Paul, which probably sounds psychotic, unless you have found your soul mate too. Then maybe you lie awake at night, holding them a little too tightly, lashing out at any idea that may threaten the time Goddess grants you. The simple idea that he would be removed from my presence makes my heart lurch, a cold feeling creeps through my blood and gives me chills as I pull the blankets ever closer, almost like when you enter a haunted house and are waiting for the inevitable fears to be realized.

When I awoke this morning Paul was at work, and had left without a kiss good-bye. I feel loved that he is so secure he doesn't even consider that I wouldn't still be here every morning after, caring for his children while he works. I feel special that I am taken for granted, that I am so ingrained in his life I seem almost like a fixture attached to the walls of his soul. I am happy to go about my day, tending our home and babies. When he walks in the door I will no doubt rush to him and cover him in kisses, as I do almost every single night. I wont think about how many more nights we may have, I will only embrace this one and be grateful for what it holds.

Running my own race

I ran an awesome 13.5 mile run yesterday in 2:40! At almost 12 minutes a mile this would hardly impress most runners, but I always run my own race. I don't worry about the people around me, or what a person may think, whether running, blogging or just living, I always run my own race. I was proud of my run yesterday and spent the remainder of the day relaxing. We walked over to the empty school and played until the sun started to go down and the air turned chilly. We packed up the van and had some great Mexican food down the street, dos coronas por favor, y dos horchatas. When our babies were tucked in tight cuddled up in our bed watching Toy Story, Paul and I sat trading foot rubs and retelling stories. I know all his stories and he knows all of mine, but still we sit laughing and just breathing together. We headed to bed early and as I fell asleep in his arms I knew this was the life I was meant for.

I have to share the easiest and yummiest vegetarian pizza recipe ever!

1 pkg of whole wheat Trader Joe's Pizza dough or make your own like I usually do
1/2 jar of Ragu or mix tomato sauce, tomato paste and fresh herbs of your choice. If you choose to make your own, steam and puree veggies and hide them in the sauce!
Shredded cheddar cheese vegan optional
Lots of fresh veggie toppings I use red bell pepper and zucchini

Spray a cookie sheet or pizza pan with non-stick cooking spray. Roll dough out to edges and top with all ingredients. Bake at 400 for about 10-15 minutes!

Serve with sweet potato fries! Just slice into rounds, toss with olive oil, pepper, and sea salt. Bake at 400 on a tray sprayed with cooking spray until soft and edges start to brown, about 30 mn. Just stick them in first while you assemble the pizza then add the pizza and both will be done at the same time!

Monotony

Cleaning, fighting, worrying, cooking, laughing, running, reading, sleeping... It seems I do the same things repeatedly. I'm happy with where I am in life, I think monotony is a symptom of monogomy, and I longed for this type of structure for so many years before finding Paul. Now for the first time in so long I am questioning decisions I have made, and personal truths which have turned out to be lies. This is what they mean when they say people grow in a marriage, and have to find ways to grow together rather than apart. I have no doubts about Paul at all, I know we will work this through, we have gotten through much worse together and will continue to for the rest of our lives. In the meantime I am left to hash out my issues without splashing them allover my family.

Yesterday I went for a much needed run while Mica was in playschool. It was just warm enough to be hot once I started, and the glare of the sun forced my eyes to squint down at the ground as I pushed forward, trying to leave all of the questions and fears far behind me. Redhill runs on a loop, so no matter how fast I ran that 9 minute mile, I still ended up in the same spot. After 3 miles of what seemed like pointless circling, chanting my mantra in my mind, "Pain is temporary," I was right back to where I started. What I had accomplished was still within me but I had not traveled any actual distance.

Update on Paul's courtdate, he showed up and they informed him his arraignment has been pushed back until March 2nd, this is the second postponement since he was originally released. He has still not been assigned a public defender, and I do not understand why the DA gets months to build his case against Paul while he has no one to do the same on his behalf. All of the anticipation and worrying, but nothing has changed.

Assaulting My Peace of Mind

A few months ago my husband went to a bar after work for some beers with the guys. At the bar some jerk was pushing and being a general rabblerouser, and pushed Paul. Paul defended himself and they got into a fight. Paul backed off and left, then a bunch of people jumped the guy with broken beer bottles and left him unconscious in the street. Paul was arrested at his car, and charged with Assault with a Deadly Weapon, even though he had only gotten into a fist fight not of his own making, and had absolutely nothing to do with the man being jumped! He spent two days in jail, partly because I waited to bail him out. I was so angry, disappointed and scared. I felt betrayed. Here I am doing my part in our marriage, and he is off drinking and getting in bar fights. Finally I realized it was just a "man thing," and if he didn't get out before Monday he would lose his job. When he came walking up the road from the jail in a white jumpsuit I have never felt so relieved and terrified at the same time. I ran and jumped on him, he was probably completely shocked, expecting me to be infuriated. At the moment all I could do was hold him tight, and wonder how long until he may be taken from me and locked up?

Today, 3 months, a lot of fighting and tears later, is Paul's arraignment. The charge has been dropped down to Assault with Intent to Great Bodily Harm. He left early this morning without a kiss goodbye, all that will happen is he will appear before the judge and say Not Guilty. He will meet his public defender, and hopefully his PD is able to get the case thrown out. I really don't even understand why they are pressing charges. In my mind's eye all I can see is the DA pressing forward with the charges, and the judge sentencing my best friend to 2 years in prison. The other man in the fight told the police he initiated the confrontation, and did not want to press charges. So many good men get in bar fights, I have several memories of my own Dad with a black eye and a secret smile behind my Mom's back. As long as everyone keeps it clean, I honestly think people involved in a simple bar fight should get a ticket for a misdemeanor. Instead Paul is facing actual jail time, and if that really happens I cannot begin to imagine what that will do to our family. I am praying they put him on house arrest, if only so that I can make fun of his ankle bracelet. Paul seems completely detached from the situation and does not act worried at all. He is convinced he will be offered a deal, and will be able to negotiate so that he does not spend a single day in jail. I don't understand how he can sleep so deeply and chuckle so ruefully at my frightened tears. The fines and court fees alone could crush us.

It is so confusing being horrified at the idea of Paul being taken from me, and so ridiculously angry at the same time. It's not possible to maintain that level of emotion for 3 months, so somehow we have found a balance, and are living each day as normally as possible. Paul completely unaffected, while I walk around feeling like an anvil is about to crash into my world. I can only hope Paul comes home in a few hours and says the charges were dropped, but if not, we have a long and complicated road ahead of us.

You don't love me like Edward loves Bella...

Ok Wendy tagged me for the whole 4th picture in my 4th album thing! Last time I went into my computer documents, so this time I'll use my personal files...
That's Darci and I at MNO at melting Pot! Aw I like that pic, Darci is cool beans.

Yesterday I spent the day with my BFF Miena, Miena is super gorgeous and the nicest person I know... seriously.

Anyway she was telling me about some books she was reading, all about boundaries in relationships, especially in a marriage. I tried to imagine establishing boundaries with Paul and could see him laughing at me. Paul and I are way closer than any 2 people in love should be, and I'm not sure it's a good thing for our marriage actually. We see every part of each other, and discuss every thought, there are no secrets, even from our pasts. We've been best friends since I was 15, so in all of the hard times I went through, Paul was witness to my worst behaviors. The benefit of this is that I know Paul loves me for who I am, not for a person I have concocted to manipulate him into thinking I have always been such a positive person. I have seen Paul do his dirt as well, so there was no disillusionment on the day we vowed to be together in life and death. However, my Mom always said people treat the ones they love the most, the worst. Meaning Paul and I will say horrible, nasty, and unecessary things to each other over the most ridiculous arguments. When it happens my entire being goes into turmoil, hot tears sting my eyes, my chest constricts, my hands clench and I just want to scream and push it all away. As we hurl insults into each others faces all I want is for him to grab me fiercely and sooth my soul with loving words. I want him to love me like Edward loves Bella, paralyzed with fear at the idea of causing my tears to spill. I once told him this, and as the words escaped me I crumpled into a ball on the couch, crying hysterically at the idea of opening my eyes to my reality. Somehow, Paul recognized my breaking point, and came to me, and held me tightly, looked deep into my eyes and said, "It's just a book." Which to him made complete and total sense, and I could see myself in the reflection of his liquid honey eyes, not just my smeared mascara but the ridiculousness of my demand, and I only cried harder, because I really and truly want Paul to love me to that extent. That is the root of every dramatically infused battle we have ever fought, I know I love Paul so much that I would act stupid over him. I am stupid over him, only for him. No man in my adult life has had the ability to reduce me to a silly little girl, crying over a young-adult vampire novel with cheap mascara staining my skin. I don't have any leverage in our day to day disagreements, never would he act the fool over me, and maybe that is all I want is to see that I am his weak spot. I want to know that he sees me as worthy of anything but anger, I want to see pain and know he hurts the way that I hurt when our marriage struggles. Instead I see only strength and pride, and am oddly jealous of his ability to maintain that facade. One day I hope Paul and I find our balance, and learn how to interact without controlling each other, otherwise I'm going to need some water-proof mascara...

Feminist?

Why is it all of my girlfriends are defensively single? If I say anything about dating or ask about a man they may have met I am faced with a look of utter contempt. All of them are fiercly independent and quite capable of being on their own. Feminism at it's height...the collective goal we as women supposedly aim to achieve, free from the reins of a man... safely out of love's way. So it makes me wonder if my road taken is a bit cliche, I mean is it last century to find your True Love and raise some kids? It seems coupledom is being pushed aside as women are infused with a warrior cry of singularity. In marriage you trade your autonomy for partnership, but this is supposed to be beneficial and not at all sacrificial. So pardon me while I fold my husband's shirts and get dinner on the table by 5... I don't feel at all repressed, in fact you might say I feel... loved... adored... free... feminine.