Thursday, 31 August 2006

Techie-free house.

I'm an idiot. All I saw was that eventually every blogger using this will be forced to swap out to the beta version so I jumped when I saw the invite.

Things are a little mucked up as a result.

I was never the techie in the house, Cole was a computer wizard. Bear with me, I don't think I've lost anything (yet). Maybe Lochlan will help.

I believe you can still comment even. Ben seems to have tested that. He didn't get an invite though and is still on the old blogger.

This is why people buy their own domains. Right?

Let me know if there are horrible problems I have missed. Same email as ever:

saltwater princess at gmail dot com.

Never again do I touch it if it seems to be working fine.

Wednesday, 30 August 2006


(This is slightly explicit. I edited heavily. You should have seen it an hour ago. I practically needed a cigarette. I don't even smoke.)

Didn't I say before and repeat myself the other day about how Jacob can fix everything only to wreck it all over again, day after day? He has a bittersweet way in which he can build me up and tear me down in seconds and a dry delivery leaving you not one hundred percent sure whether he's kidding or not.

When he said I was a whore I know he was I've called myself one so many times I've lost count. I do it in life, I do it here, I pretty much label myself at every turn and he put it on the end of his point to illustrate what he meant and everything went horribly wrong in the instant between his depiction and when he realized that I thought he was calling me a whore.

Either way it still fucking hurt very very much.

I put the kids to bed, still alone, made tea and unlocked the front door to go out on the porch with my phone, hoping to reach Jake at some point and at least make sure he was okay.

He was. He was on the swing. Just sitting there. Thinking.

When I came out he jumped up and grabbed me into his arms and simply held on for dear life. I put my arms around his neck and we put our foreheads together as we do when we're having difficult conversations.

If I'm a whore then I'm going to be your whore, Jacob.

Don't talk like that, you're not a whore. I said that because I knew it would hurt you and that's what I wanted.

Do you still want to hurt me?

Never again. It hurt me as much to know I caused you pain.

What hurt wasn't the words, in the end. Just the fact that they came from you. I've been called worse. Worse has been done to me but it didn't matter because you never did it.

I'm sorry. Of all people I shouldn't have lost it like that.

I forgive you. And Jake, you don't have to be perfect all the time.

Oh I'm so far from it, Bridget.

Not in my eyes.

Thank God for that.

I'm sorry too. For yelling at you. For blaming you.

I forgive you back. And I love you.

I hope so. I love you. Geez. What a long fucking day, Jake.

Yeah, it was, wasn't it?

He smiled at me then, and held me for a while. Tight. Hard. He was breathing in my hair. It was the calm after the storm. We had expected it, in the building tension around the trip, and how the trip went and everything else going on here, there was bound to be some sort of blowup and I had set myself up for a bad day as it was.

We salvaged it with a lovely round of desperate, crazy, affirmative make-up sex.

Yeah, of course I'm going to go there. Do I ever not go there?

Last night Jake actually made an effort to expand his (ahem) horizons. To put it politely. I may be the freaky one and he's the straight arrow but there are times, friends, there are times when he is completely relaxed and just in the right mood and likes to try to match my enthusiasm. Not that he isn't always totally enthusiastic, but he has drawn a box around the parts of the kama sutra that he's comfortable with, and he fucking burned the rest of the book. Sometimes he remembers what was on the pages that were destroyed, and it's like Christmas for Bridget. Somewhere around four a.m. I ruined it. I was straddling his lap holding on to him and even the headboard for dear life because otherwise I would have been flung across the bed and I told him all we needed now were those strobe lights and a slow-motion sequence and we'd have the most erotic movie ever filmed. He laughed and the spell was broken. Damn it.

That's okay though. We always finish. He put me down and then he made me scream. Face down into the pillow. Because of the kids. Geez, people.

Was that so bad, Reverend?

Oh no, that was very very good.

I'm not a monster, Jake.

No, you're totally a freak though.

You love it.

Yes, because you're my freak.

That's right. I am.

Emotional Prostitution.

Kind of like my journal, public so that I can trade my deepest feelings for just a little more attention.

Look out. I'm angry and sad and possibly fatally wounded, psychologically anyway.

He wants me to make myself vulnerable to him, to let him in, let him help and let him see what's in my head and my heart. I let it all out and then he becomes frustrated and shocked by what's there to sift through.

We've developed a dangerous pattern of trading angst for passion. I give him an open door and he claims ownership. I am his wife now and that's a confidence he wanted very badly.

I've been down this road before, but in reverse. And it ended badly and every night I curse myself for falling into traps like this. Tell that to Jacob and he'll rip your face off, because he's not that kind of guy. He's talked himself into an innocence where my feelings are concerned.

I feel like a dangerous game that people play if they're brave enough and only after they develop an alarming addiction to me do they realize they're in over their heads. Not even a fair comment, but we jumped on the train of thought today in therapy at lunchtime and discovered we're in more trouble as a couple than we realized.

I'm not the impatient one.

You probably guessed that.

Me? I thought I saw it but then I was assured that I must be mistaken. Only it turned out to be true and I am not the one sabotaging my efforts to heal. And yet Jacob refuses to see his role in this. In the urgency to put the past behind us.

I said I'd like to go off the meds. He instantly thought that was a great idea because he's hating the birth control and we'd be on our way to adding to our family and being happy, as if I am somehow holding us back on purpose. He tries so hard not to see what a mess I am. Bless his heart.

He'll say he's nothing, saw he's flawed, broken, and just a man and be humble until you call him on it. Then he's insulted and ired and not so content to sit back and take criticism. He wants to be the one to fix it and god forbid anyone else gets a credit or a chance. Or calls him out. Or tells him to slow down.

He refuses to see his own selfishness. In the interests of preventing my own nervous breakdown likelihood I was forced to point it out. His response was to lash out at me and tell me I had no idea what I wanted, that I enjoyed my power over men and I liked to have fun and I had no interest in creating a healthy stable life for myself with a real future and maybe I really was just a whore.

Way to impress your bride of less than one month, Jacob.

I had no words, I just stared at him, my eyes welled up and I shook my head, not even believing that with three little words at the end of his diatribe he could hurt me more than I had ever been hurt or humiliated before but he managed to pull it off in spades.

The minute it came out he tried to take it back but the damage was done. Claus ground the session to a halt right there. I left the room and asked his receptionist to call me a taxi. Both Jacob and Claus came out and I told them to keep talking, the session was paid for, but I had had enough and I was going home. I was so cold on the outside and I was holding my coat together so I didn't crack into little pieces. Fragile indeed. Who wouldn't be after that? From Jake of all people.

Jacob grabbed my hand. I wrenched it back. The look on his face would have crushed anyone with sadness but I had nothing left to feel for him right in that moment except the coldest, loneliest rage I have ever felt in my life. He has no illusions when it comes to me and I thought he saw nothing but good when he looked at me and instead he sees nothing but my flaws and mistakes and weaknesses. And that changes everything. All of it, a beautiful magical illusion and like all good things, temporary because Bridget doesn't deserve happiness.

Oh no.

I guess I don't. Whores are not worthy people, are they?

So do you think his love for me is real or did I simply trick him and draw him in with my charms, since it's what I do best? Now that he's fucked me a few hundred times and had his fill he's comfortable laying blame and pointing fingers and saying what's really on his mind.

Who knows? I'm not talking to him. I don't even know where he is. The expected panic is lightened by the shock of his outburst. Prostitute indeed.

Craving Jake.

Neurotica for a Wednesday morning. Hopefully a better post will emerge later and bury this unexplainable misery far down the page.

Here's a prime example of how my brain has functioned since Cole's attack in May. I sat down to write about how before Jacob left to go to work this morning, he came back upstairs and kissed the back of my thigh and then told me he wished he could stay home one more day. Which, damn, is awesome enough as a whole post by itself but then I came downstairs, poured some coffee and sat down to write after making the kids some breakfast and so much anxiety started pouring out around the edges of me that I went back for my robe and put it on, in hopes that it could somehow absorb the excess.

I'm about to have one of those days.

A mental list of things I can't write about, things I can't deal with and things I don't understand begins to wind itself around my thoughts, choking them off abruptly. A tangled mess woven into my psyche and no matter how long I sit on the floor unraveling and finding ends and trying to make some order of it all it's pointless. No headway at all.

This is why I'm still taking pills. Sporadically, begrudgingly. Soon to launch an all-out campaign to stop with the pharmaceutical therapy, for now I take them and scowl. Because, oh yes, they make the grinding pain of the anxiety bearable. Bearable is much preferred over completely uncontrollable. Notice I didn't say unbearable. As long as everyone including me (!) can control Bridget, if they know how to keep her calm, keep her down, keep her from losing it than the day can go on.

As you were, folks, as you were.

Otherwise I'm sure the men in the white coats are right around the corner with their stretcher with restraints and some needles of euphoria and sleep, ready to pounce. I've been told unequivocally that this is not how it is, but I'm not stupid.

Claus calls me the impatient patient.

Somehow while we were on the coast I held it together, in spite of my juvenile efforts to tear myself apart and sabotage myself it went smoothly. It was easy. Too easy. I was, no, okay, honestly Jacob was warned that it might all blow up in our faces once we arrived, or worse, once we came home. At least he's had some warning. I'm ticking. Like a fucking bomb.

The things I don't want to deal with remain. Those things I can't erase from the story of my life and they're all things I will have to examine in detail at some point. Like when I dropped the box, like the kids starting school which terrifies me to the point that I refuse to think about it. Like when the hell am I going to get better? When will I stop comparing?

When will life go on, because I thought when the box fell from my hands that everything was going to magically be better?

When will I smile without doing a systems check? When will benign greetings like "How are you?" stop being loaded questions, dreaded and anticipated and difficult to answer?

I was so so happy once. Okay, no I was miserable for so long and unhappy in my own skin and wanting everything I couldn't have, and it's become an all-encompassing expedition to finally move past all that and I can't. My life has become quicksand and everyone pulls until I'm halfway out and then they walk away and someone else comes along for a try.

I'm not blaming everyone.

When do I stop craving Jake? He's here, for god's sake. He's RIGHT HERE. I can still taste his kiss on my mouth. A coffee kiss. My bangs are still swept to the side from where he smoothed them away with his fingers when he looked into my eyes and told me he loved me and that he'd be home for lunch.

And the minute he leaves I feel like someone has taken the warmth of his presence and replaced it with jagged shards of pain, a dull ache that never goes away until he comes home. Stabbing pain radiating through the entire structure of my heart. No one gives you instructions for this and they should. So, tell me, is faith carrying me on these days or isn't it?

Some days faith isn't all it's built up to be, some days it just isn't there at all. God takes sick days too and when he does watch the fuck out. Jacob hates it when I talk like this but honestly smiling tightly through my teeth and repeating "I'm fine." doesn't get me anywhere at all. This, writing about it, well, this works somehow. Almost as good as a kiss on the back of the thigh from Jake.

Or maybe it's just that the vacation is now officially over and everything is the same as it was before and I was hoping for better. Or maybe not better, just different. Just not this. I only feel better when he's here. And that's not fair. To me or to him.

Tuesday, 29 August 2006

Lucky lucky girl.

It's a really good thing that Jake hasn't stopped with his kitchen karaoke. I was treated to this song this morning. All I can say is Nickelback is pretty damn cool. I also forgot what I was going to post today as a result of hearing the lyrics. I'm well known for taking almost any poem or song and making it all about me, but Jake told me to listen closely because this was so going to be our song.

Have a wonderful day.

    This time, This place
    Misused, Mistakes
    Too long, Too late
    Who was I to make you wait
    Just one chance
    Just one breath
    Just in case there's just one left
    'Cause you know,
    you know, you know

    That I love you
    I have loved you all along
    And I miss you
    Been far away for far too long
    I keep dreaming you'll be with me
    and you'll never go
    Stop breathing if
    I don't see you anymore

    On my knees, I'll ask
    Last chance for one last dance
    'Cause with you, I'd withstand
    All of hell to hold your hand
    I'd give it all
    I'd give for us
    Give anything but I won't give up
    'Cause you know,
    you know, you know

    So far away
    Been far away for far too long
    So far away
    Been far away for far too long
    But you know, you know, you know

    I wanted
    I wanted you to stay
    'Cause I needed
    I need to hear you say
    That I love you
    I have loved you all along
    And I forgive you
    For being away for far too long
    So keep breathing
    'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore
    Believe it
    Hold on to me and, never let me go
    Keep breathing
    'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore
    Believe it
    Hold on to me and, never let me go
    Keep breathing

Monday, 28 August 2006


Maybe today I should have stuck with writing about enjoying the beach again. Or maybe I misrepresented myself but when I said we acknowledged the drinking problem I guess I blew it out of proportion. The problem isn't that I need alcohol, the problem is that I will choose to use it, when available, as the pain-duller of choice. I hate pills but I am trying, even when I say I'm not.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to make excuses. I'm not someone you have to hide your alcohol from or someone who wakes up with a craving, I'm a very subtle imbiber kind of gal, a few times a year, who is coming to terms with a hell of a lot of stress and I'm dealing with it in the worst way and so now I have to deal with one more thing now. That's all. I don't make waves. I'm not out of control and I'm seriously so straight up when it comes to these things you would find it all incredibly uncharacteristic of me to drink too much. You can tell because when I do, I blog about it and the few times I have crossed my own lines all ended badly and I wrote about it because it was so uncharacteristic. Let that be a cautionary tale for those of you exploring your own issues. I'm not a drinker, but I let something go too far. And I didn't ruin our trip, it was ruined before we left. The whole drinking issue was a lot more low-key than I would have you believe. But suffice it to say we both noticed what I was doing and I did finally surrender to the common sense we have lovingly cultivated thus far. I'm trying, guys. It's been a rough year but I can do this too. No one ever would have expected all this from Bridget, trust me.

I'm going to shut up now. Lord.

In a happier twist, I have a picture here of Ruthie on the beach four days ago. A mini-me. One of my favorite pictures I've ever taken.


 Tonight feels like a million miles away
    And these times just won't change
    Life just stays the same
    I'd give anything to see the light of day

The bad stuff. Because there's always bad stuff. Especially when you haven't been home in years, and you arrive with a chip on your shoulder and a brand new husband. And you realize half the people you came to see have no fucking idea exactly what the past few years have been like for you, nor do they have any clue how you really spent your spring because it was glossed over.

It explained a lot, anyhow.

I had to let it go. Who cares, anyway? Water under the bridge. Bridget drowning in pain and fear and no one took notice, no one stopped to pick up any of the shrapnel along the way except for one and damn if she isn't going to keep him close.

Or shove him off the cliff while he admires the view.

I blindsided Jacob before we caught the second plane. Because I knew exactly what to expect. I made the easterly part of the trip a liquid voyage of courage, having cocktails before getting on the plane and then yet another on board. Fully medicated. So by the time we arrived I didn't really need to be afraid and so I wasn't. I was having a hard time standing up. I looked Jake in the eye and measured his disappointment with an unsteady gauge.

And since drinking is a really bad idea while taking anti-depressants, I chose to stop taking the pills altogether. Alcohol has always been a better friend to me, and hey, I can save the need until the kids have had a full day but once they're asleep look out.

Jacob pointed out quite brutally that I have a drinking problem.

He's right. I do.

He asked me to stop and I said no. Not on this trip. I needed it for this trip because I couldn't do it under my own sailpower. I couldn't put that box over the side without some sort of assistance. He said he would be there, that he wasn't leaving my side. It wasn't enough and it didn't matter. Once again I hurt him but I had to leave it or I would have lost everything that day. I went cold and I got through the whole ceremony of burying someone that took me to hell and just left me there alone, with no way to get back.

And very briefly I lingered, taking it in, reliving the worst and ignoring the one with the map, waiting patiently to show me the way home. Briefly. Then I took his hand and ran away fast and I didn't look back and I won't look back, ever again.

I got completely trashed that night, and Jacob took me out of the restaurant, I don't believe my feet touched the ground and he got me into bed and didn't leave me. He held me tight and he was there. Just there and it means so much I will never ever forget what he put up with on that day because I was in a dangerous place. I told him this wasn't and could never be our fucking honeymoon because we deserved better than this.

The next morning he held my face in his hands and told me he loved me so much it was criminal.

I couldn't agree more. He is everything. Everything.

And then very patiently he took us to the beach. Every single day until it got better and I smiled more and I spoke and I played with the kids and sat and watched them get to know the ocean and we turned the nightmare back into a dream. A new chapter in our own bestseller, a quietly successful pageturner. No more trashy horror stories here, knock wood.

He said nothing as I waited out the kids each night before pouring a large glass of wine. He didn't interrupt as I wrote volumes with a pen and a notebook as we drove. He didn't ask if things would be different when we came home. The morning of the flights home I woke up, took my pills on schedule and straightened the hem of my dress and smartened the fuck up. I asked him to take the pills and give them out at the right times. I promised him I would never drink again and he promised I would never hurt again. He threw out some ideas for a different trip. A trip somewhere new but with beaches. Not much further away but different. A real honeymoon. Just for us. When I am better.

It's a deal, sweetheart.

Sunday, 27 August 2006


I'm not sure where to start.

This could be a three or four-part ramble of extreme proportion. So many thoughts, so many realizations, so many changes and lessons and lightbulb moments that smacked me right between the eyes. Believe me, the euphoria of this trip was equally matched by emotional rollercoasters that left permanent aches in my soul. I think I said a similar thing once before, something about being built up only to be torn down over and over again. Well, it was like that.

We arrived and were instantly thrust into the arms of my entire extended family, who were anxious to suffocate us to death with family events and outings and get-togethers, and then we were alternately loathed at arms length when I reminded all of them rather bluntly that I was here for a reason and it wasn't human, much as I had warned them previously on the phone. I was here to reconnect with the ocean. And lose some mental baggage. And breathe deeply. And escape from two decades of being told what to do and how it would be done. I can't say it was pretty. Jacob even waded into the fray, exchanging some tense words with my father over how my first vacation in a very long time would be conducted with our own itinerary, and not theirs. Rather brutal but mercifully after that night everything evened out, everyone backed off, and I was on my way without guilt or remorse.

So I'm terrible. I'm also the youngest child of the family and my behavior is legendary. I did make sure to love up everyone until they were almost bruised from my attentions before we left so it all worked out in the end.

So our first order of business was to drop everything and run to the ocean. We opted to drive to Point Pleasant Park in Halifax and visit Black Rock Beach first. It was raining, windy, glorious.
I ignored the weather and the rocks and the general gray miserable expanse of shoreline and waded in, shoes and all, halfway to my knees. I instantly forgot everything I had ever known and was struck silent, dumbed and unable to move. I looked out and took a very deep breath. Oh my god my ears hurt so badly from the wind because my hood wouldn't stay up, I've lost the string on my sweater. Looking down amongst the garbage strewn from storms the rocks hid dozens of pieces of sea glass. We filled our pockets with that glass and it's now on my kitchen windowsill. I actually held myself together for a whopping forty seconds before I snapped and decided I had to move back.


Not to Halifax though. Too close to the masses, the suffocative blood relatives and friends that remain so small-town and unable to see past their own wants and needs, not that I blame them.

Nope. Shortly before Cole accepted a job out west we had settled into a pattern of taking drives from Halifax to Lunenburg via Bayswater, and we would pass through Aspotogan and the two rolling and winding coves that mark the beauty of this tiny dot of land. Of course there's a big white farmhouse for sale, there's land available and it's affordable even. I never told Cole I wanted to live there but I always wished I could. Jacob hadn't been through the area so as he drove I asked him what he thought and he told me we should write down the for sale sign information and look into buying something here because it was beautiful.

The smile didn't come off my face for days.

It did come off eventually though. I'm a realist. This move could take a year or two. Maybe more. But at least we've got a goal to shoot for, whether you'd call it a plan or a pipe dream. Because being there was a thousand times easier than being here, even with the problems of logistics and overbearing relatives, a higher cost of living and the wind. The damn wind I loved. So worth it. In every way possible.

Of course the next trip home won't have the exhaustive itinerary as we ambitiously set out to cover every inch of the maritimes with our presence. I'm sick to death of ferry rides. I have decided PEI and I weren't meant to get along well, so Bridge got on the bridge and left it. I missed Shediac by minutes. Minutes, girls. I was so close, and yet I was so close to a mental departure of sorts from exhaustion that Jacob left the road further down and we drove to Joggins instead, spending the entire afternoon looking for neat rocks and then being forced to drive all the way back to the south shore in the dark.

I met Newfoundland. Dear god I couldn't understand a word anyone said but I never laughed so hard in my entire life. And I saw every little part about what makes up Jacob, because his family is like one giant puzzle and when you put it together it forms a hug and you can breathe and you never want to not be in the middle of that. He lived there until he was past twenty years old and he goes back at least once a year. Amazing what that kind of environment can do for a human being to make them so damn good. I saw sides of him I was astounded by. He saw the rest of me. We left the east coast closer, stronger and more honest with each other than we were before, if that were even possible. We fell in love again.

The kids had a blast. They have even more grandparents and great grandparents and cousins now, they have new relatives who love them as if they have been there since day one and we are blessed beyond belief.

But really, I can't see the people. Every time I close my eyes I see the blinding sparkle of the waves on the sand, and feel the wind untying my braids with cool fingers and the salt painting a film upon my lips that tastes better than any cake I have ever tried. What a beautiful feeling.

Of course there was all kinds of bad stuff. Not today though. I'll write about it tomorrow. Then I promise we're going back to good writing about good things. And maybe a few pictures. While I feel brave. Or something.


Saturday, 26 August 2006

Brown girl.


We came back. Surprisingly not reluctantly in the end. Armed with a plan.

It could take a while, but we're going home for good. Just maybe not quite yet.

I have a tan.

I have gone to 14 beaches. 14. No, seriously. Jacob is a saint.

I promise I'll tell you all about it. Just as soon as I catch up on the eleventy-nine-hundred loads of laundry that are calling my name.

And dinner. I need dinner. Almost 10000 miles of travel makes Bridget hungry. Even though I would prefer to sit here and marvel at the gorgeous tan color of my skin, we really need to eat.

Friday, 11 August 2006

Retuned to the sea.

This is goodbye, for a little while.

I'm jumping on an airplane in hours with my family, scared to death in light of recent news stories, disappointed in my fellow man for wanting to inflict such a level of hurt on other human beings but still high on life, high on love and with that tangible faith that I sought so awkwardly before, now worn from the inside out.

By me, little me, so cynical when all this started, now so sure of herself. At least for today.

First order of business is simply to get there. Home to Nova Scotia. Suddenly not home anymore after all. After all, I have everything I need right here. Well, almost.

There at first I will sleep some. Not much. I will be surrounded and accosted by family and friends I haven't really spent time with in over four years. I will carry Cole's ashes on the plane. They will be buried at sea. Not scattered at sea, buried. Dropped in a very heavy box very far from shore.

I will leave him behind. Forever.

Afterwards we'll have many days of playing on the beach, in the water and a few very out of the way trips in between, to PEI and to Newfoundland too. So the kids can get to know their new grandparents and their new auntie. So we can have a sort of honeymoon.

Happiness. True happiness in the best place in the world. The edge of my favorite ocean.

I might be different when I come back. Well, I certainly hope I will be. There couldn't be a better form of closure than to drop that goddamned box in the sea. That moment will signify the new beginnings for me, something I need. Something Jacob needs to have so badly, to bear witness to my closing of a door that I left open far too long. We're locking it and throwing away the key.

And then we can begin.

We're not taking much with us, also symbolic. No computers, no journals. No phones. No interruptions from life to encroach on our honeymoon and take away the magic. No writing to cause discord or create a temporary salve. Pure unadulterated freedom from the daily routines we have created to sustain us through the hardest days thus far.

No. None of that. This will involve waking up in rooms I have seen so many times before. White painted woodwork and threadbare quilts, a sandswept boardwalk that leads between the dunes and opens into the most breathtaking expanse of beautiful sand meeting sea meeting sky that I can't ever describe adequately enough to explain my love for.

I'm about to have my heart broken all over again when I see that wonderful place.

And then we can begin.

See you in two weeks.

Zen and the art of breathing slowly

Argh. The mood swings continue. They sort of come in cycles and I don't see it until I'm being really irrational. I haven't had enough sleep, I'm wound up over the wedding, the trip, everything. Besides, they are expected, anticipated, part of life now. An unwelcome part. A difficult part.

Why am I rationalizing?

Oh yeah, because I am reminded to slow down and breathe, I'm the last one to see my moods changing until it's too late. I grabbed Jake by the ears last night and kissed him gently and told him how much I loved him and he held me and said I really was having a rough time wasn't I?

Yes, I am. But it's easier because he's here. Everything is easier. Even the hard parts.

In other news, don't read the news! It can be rather detrimental three days before jumping on an aircraft. I bought some lottery tickets, if we win, we'll get our new vehicle early and drive that across the country.

Thursday, 10 August 2006

That's B for Bridget. Brat. Doesn't really matter.

Dear Diary,

I didn't feel like posting much today. The first day of Jacob's vacation went about as smoothly as rocks in chocolate sauce.


It started with an argument after midnight. About the airplane fears, the tension with regards to flying. I was angry because he has been around the world twice over without me and he's going to make this stressful? I've only been on a plane half a dozen times and I was so excited until last night. He let his fears spread out over both of us. Contagious fears at that.

Going to bed mad is a difficult thing to do when you've been married a little over one hundred hours. We tried. We really did. We both said we were sorry and we didn't mean it at all. We tried to make up in bed, which basically led to angry sex, which looks fun on paper but isn't fun in real life, it's frustrating and miserable and so unhappy and raw. And Jake sort of liked it. I could see that and it made me feel better and I got very excited and got into it and he stopped. Cold. Frozen, and unwilling to go any further or cross any lines. The straight up guy that he is. I love him to pieces.

So I made things worse and I yelled at him and cried and I slapped him. He grabbed my hands when I went for the second strike and just held them, firmly. And I couldn't move or do anything or get away from him and he took over and just finished and I was left to cry. Because he went to sleep in the guest room. I told him he was a selfish bastard and I shut the door and cried and cried. When I woke up he was wrapped around me this morning, arms tight, face in my neck, much as usual. A relief.

I think we spent all morning apologizing and then we headed for our counselling session.

Where I proceeded to simply confirm that I'm a fucking idiot. Jake told the counsellor about last night and instead of offering help the counsellor simply repeated his earlier suggestions to take things slow and go from scratch.

Right. That obviously isn't and hasn't been working.

So I fired him.

We're done. Thanks, I think that's great. Tons of help. Bye-bye!
Jake was still sitting in the chair. I had the door open. Ready to go, come on, honey.
He just stared at me. Probably embarrassed. Ashamed that he married such a fucking wingnut.

Jake, are you coming? Because I'm done here.

Bridge, what are you doing? Sit down, baby, please.

No, just come with me.
(ugly UGLY crying now spurred him into action.)

Yeah, Bridge, I'm coming.

God bless him, he got up and came with me.

Then he let loose in the truck. Because he wasn't about to let it go. Can you blame him?

Bridge? Bridget with a capital B for brat. What in the hell was that all about?

Not wasting anymore time or money with that useless man.

He's helping us.

He's doing nothing, Jake. You know the protocol too, just make a list and we'll work through it.

Do you want to risk everything on my subjectiveness? It's not that simple. Half the success comes from a third party keeping things calm and rational.

Calm and rational aren't my strong suits.

I see that. Does that mean tonight you're going to try to hurt me again?

I'm promising nothing.

Such enthusiasm. A complex girl. Difficult.

Yes. And you love it. When you should hate me by now.

Yes, because I didn't pick the bunny hill did I?

Right. You picked the experienced trail.

I think I picked avalanche alley, come to think of it. I knew what I was doing.

Jacob. Stop.

It's true. And truthfully if you knew how hard it is to get mad at you you might use it against me.

I wouldn't do that.

Then don't ever slap me again.

I wouldn't. Ever.

I can't believe you did it in the first place. Weren't you afraid of me? Not that I would slap you back but still.

No, I have faith in you.

You do? Thank you God. What's changed?

You were there when I woke up.

Of course. Where else would I be?

Anywhere else. I love you and I was never so relieved to wake up and be in your arms.

I love you too. And you'll never be anywhere else when you wake up, that I will promise you.

The day smoothed out eventually. I might never stop apologizing for striking Jacob, because I don't do that. I never spank the children and I have never hit anyone in my life. I wasn't even going for his face, I was trying to beat out my frustrations on his back, his shoulders and I just flailed in my misery and connected, but excuses aren't important. The important part is getting back to the hard work and hanging on to the good parts because the bad ones are crashing in around me. I'm coming down off the high and the issues are all still there, the time is still there ticking past and smoothing things out by the second. Slowly. Like molasses.

I can see I am not out of the woods yet, and the path isn't one you can rush over. Oh, not for a second will I be allowed to assume it is. One step at a time.

But no more violence. There has been too much of that. I crossed a line with someone I would never ever want to hurt in a billion years and I'm sorry. To everyone who had an ounce of faith in me, but most of all to Jake, who forgave me before I even did it. Because he would. I am sorry.

See you tomorrow. Hopefully the day will be better. Hopefully I will be better.

If not, well then I keep trying. And keep going.



Wednesday, 9 August 2006

Permission to land.

(Sort of almost not an open letter.)

What I would say to you, knowing I love you and knowing that you're scared, despite going up and coming back down in one piece dozens of times, and yet alone. It makes a difference and this does not emasculate you because we're with you for the first time ever, and you're more concerned with what happens to your family then to yourself. That's beautiful but not logical, for we finally have you and we're not going to lose you now.

I know you can't see how it will work but it always does. Every day, every hour and we will be no different. Simply remarkable beauty that people might turn and admire, briefly, obscured by their own preoccupations and quickly forgotten as they continue their own paths.

We continue ours, of course. And we'll work our way through the hundreds of miles one leg of the journey at a time and when we get there we'll unclench our fists and open them wide and touch the sky and the sea all at once and taste the air, salty with the summer's gift to your girl.

Your girl, who will be enveloped in the cool brine of the ocean. Be jealous, for she will be swallowed by her lover and then reluctantly handed back to you on a wave, frothing with envy.

It's so worth it. We just have to get there. Do not be afraid of this. Not now. Not here, with me.
Don't make this difficult, like everything else has been.

For this, this is so simple. We make up the miles with camera and sweaters in hand and we go in search of the place where we first felt the lightning and where I didn't hear you when you said that I was so beautiful and so you need to say it once more in the same place. Because I have to hear it for myself. Because I never believed that you could ever be this wonderful, this loving, this...mine. And now I want to come back and shout it into the waves so it can be tumbled and polished and thrown back to the beach for us to pry out of the wet sand and bring home. The permanence of that alone gives me reason to do this. The need to rewrite a little history and all of the present and possibly some of our future in the places we hold deepest within our hearts. In the places where we'll hear the familiar accents and eat the same food we ate for most of our lives and the place that welcomes us, flawed, ruined and half-put-back together. That place.

You know it well, that one place you're going to have pull me away from, tears in my eyes once again at the mere whisper of goodbyes. It will not be easy.

Fear of dying is going to be the least of the worries this time. You can do this.

And I am not afraid. And I don't want to feed your fear but I feel like a shroud around you and I want you to shrug it off and if I could I would lend you my lengendary faltering confidence because it works for everything except me and so it would carry you there just fine.

But since I can't do that, instead I will hold your hand and squeeze it very tightly and remind you often to breathe, and it will be okay. So take my hand and let's go.

Tuesday, 8 August 2006


Sometimes you are just left, standing in the centre of yourself while the debris of experience floats to the ground all around you. You can never go back. The only path leads forward and yet you're nailed to the ground somehow, unable to move, hell, unable to react. Just standing like stone, lips apart in a gasp of total disbelief, eyes filled with tears that will not fall no matter how hard you try simply to move, to do anything at all.

Sometimes you are reduced to tears, surprised by yourself, surprised by your own strength, your own choices, your own will to change that path, to find a new one even though you know that you'll get scratched and bitten, that it's dark, dangerous, unexplored territory. Unexploited. Knowing that if you make the wrong choice you can't go back and so you can't fail, dammit. Only you're not strong enough and you can't find it by yourself and that's when you're so close to giving up you can taste the bitterness under your tongue and you refuse to savor it.

Well, that...that's when you know that maybe you're not as weak as you once thought.

Fragile, yes. Without a doubt in their minds, or even in yours.

Weak, no.

The unheard gasp confirms that you have faltered and then your words take the wind from your own sails, because you don't hear the questions. You don't hear your loved ones seeking out their confirmation. They are left to wait and watch and read, later on, when you can close your mouth and the tears fall at last. And then you write. You pour it out, a deluge, and it tumbles and spills all over the page and it's a mess. But take your time, and you shakily get down on your hands and knees in the bright lights you have brought in just for this purpose and you arrange and reaarange those words on your canvas and soon the picture comes into focus and now they know. Now everyone knows and you can rest.

Because the letters mean everything, and the words mean nothing and sometimes it's the other way around and sometimes, just sometimes it's not clear and it won't become clear and you just don't care.

Nope. Bridget, sometimes you just don't care if anyone can figure it out.

The most touching thing in the world, in my world. Don't you see it?

I could sit here for hours arranging my letters, trying to give them meaning and failing.

I refuse to fail and so the hours pass unwillingly. My neck aches, my shoulders shake. I can't get it out. I try so hard and still nothing falls into place. Some days are like that. Sitting frozen at the keyboard. A statue of a girl who can seem so animated and yet so stiff.

And then two large, tanned hands slide over mine, arms around my shoulders to reach the keys, and the long fingers will type out a word, and isn't it ironic that it was the word I was looking for all this time. And the stopper is removed and then the meaning falls into the jumble and I can fish it out and rinse it off and nail it to the page and everyone knows then. They all know because all this time he knew. He knew exactly what I wanted to say, but he was never going to say it for me. No, he knows more and it comes easier for he rests without such a heavy heart. And when he is rested he holds the light and shines it so that I can see. And when I find it I fix it in one place so I won't have to look anymore.

Completing the sentences is why I am in this place. Because when I can't finish it, he can.

Monday, 7 August 2006

I promise he isn't depraved.



I don't suppose you could edit that.

No, I really can't.

My God, I sound depraved.

You sound healthy and happy, Jake.

Right, better for the porn platform than the pulpit, Bridge.

I think you've got a good balance going.

You would, but what about the rest of your readers?

Jake, who are you married to? Everyone knows what to expect.

Oh right. Okay then I guess I got what I wished for didn't I?

Everything and more, Jake. Everything and more.

Can we keep the more part off the internet though? Please?

Oops I did it again.

He's lucky it's a holiday.

Jacob finished the Stoli last night. Without a glass because he finds it ever more satisfying to drink it off me. I think I was flat on my back on the dining room table for close to an hour before I was yanked to the edge so he could finish us both off. And to think I used to HATE that table because it's too big, too high and too ridiculous. It's perfect now. Oh please, your imagination is barely required for those images. And again, I have no shame. Maybe I can grow some. Naw, then I wouldn't be me anymore and God help this planet if I can't just be myself.

Uncensored, uninhibited, unapologetic.

Writing as it happens, life from my tiny corner of the universe. Oddly, as embarrassing as I am to Jake (please, he doesn't mind) and to my friends they mind it more when I'm all buttoned up. Surprise. Not really. You would mind me buttoned-up too. I promise. I'm the friend who sticks her entire upper body through the sunroof of the limo and yells Woooooooo! on prom night. Someone has to do it. Life should be fully experienced. Fully. There is no room for shy, no room for hesitation and no room for stifling of impulsive happiness. If nothing else, I have confirmed that.

I won't ever make that mistake again.

It's a provincial holiday today. No session for Bridget. I get almost a full week off, we only have Thursday (hideous) couple's therapy this week. It's sort of akin to being hung out to dry but thankfully basking in the extreme happiness seems to be keeping the wild emotional binges at bay. In other words, I'm trying and succeeding to stay pleasantly busy to ensure a smooth week all around. We've got a week of rest and the coveted mediocrity before we leave next week for bluer waters.

From the west coast to the BEST coast, chickens.

If you thought I was going to now go off the deep end waxing poetic on my love for the Atlantic Ocean you are granted a reprieve, I'll save it for when we return. Because, unfortunately, we have to come back here. The kids will begin school, new routines will settle in and then shortly after that the snow will arrive, the temperatures will plunge back down into the incredible numbers of ohmyfuckIcantbelieveitsthiscold and I will keep on working my way back to that place where I am most comfortable.

I will warn you now, you have six more days to get your Bridget fix before I leave you with a twelve-day dry spell. So far the plan is to not take any laptops with us, since they'll be a pain in the ass but Jacob is slightly concerned of the whole idea of two weeks without therapists or writing comforts close at hand. We'll see.

More tomorrow, I'm off to enjoy a relaxing day with my family. Taking the kids to the zoo. Or something. Something fun.

Sunday, 6 August 2006

No, cake did not come out of my nose.

Someone's relaxed now.

It might not be me. Or it might be. In this entry, it isn't me.

Last night around 11 we collapsed on the couch. With sustenance. So tired. So starving. So damn worn out. We hung on to the living room just to stop the spinning for a few moments, to breathe. We'll resume spinning later.

We put on Hustle & Flow. Jake took a bottle of Stolichnaya from the freezer and poured a small glass for himself and poured me a glass of ginger ale. Then he brought out two warmed up slices of cake and we settled in to watch the movie.

In our unwinding mood we kept turning the movie up louder and louder so I could hear what the characters were saying. It got very funny because at first Jacob would repeat everything for me, and keep me up. Subtitled might have helped, even when I could hear it I couldn't understand a word. Then he started imitating the memphis accents and singing the hooks.

Then he poured stoli into my belly button and went through two more shots that way before I cut him off.

Anyone want to fill me in on the outcome of the movie? Because I was carried up to our new california king sized bed and positively OWNED for the rest of the night. Bridget dipped in Stoli is a delicacy, I have come to find out. Bring it. I may have been licked all over. I have no idea. I died of happiness sometime around 2:30 am. For a straight-up kind of guy he can be rather carnal but he takes his time. He makes sure I'm with him at all times. He doesn't go forward without me. I'm still working hard at not getting ahead of him.

Oh no worries though. We're still doing deplorably in the whole sex department but we keep trying because it's taking longer and longer to degenerate into frustrations and tears. I'll leave that for another entry on another day. Last night was mercifully absent of both.

And now I must go, to sit in the front row on the left and listen to Jake try to work his way through the service, slightly hungover with no sleep, happy as a clam, so excited to give the announcements this morning and mention his marriage and new family. So so happy.

I am so happy to be his wife. I couldn't get this feeling across to you if I even tried.

Spinning to resume after lunch.


Saturday, 5 August 2006

Practicing signatures.

Excuse me while I breeze through, home only to change and go back out. It's a very special day today. Made completely silly by the raging thunderstorms this morning. We have been out running between the raindrops since 7:30. We didn't care. Not one bit.

 I was gifted a new last name this morning.

And the cheesiest urges overcome me when I write it out. I want to put a heart where the dot for the 'i' should be. I used to lose grades for that when I was in school. Now I can do it if I feel like it. We had a great laugh too, my new initials are B.R.R. Brrrr! (my middle name is Rebekah, for those wondering. Thankfully this new name rolls and tumbles off the tongue just a tiny bit less awkwardly than my old name did, but not by much.)

I had a brief panic attack at 5 am when I woke up and realized the kids...have Cole's last name. Which they will keep at least until Jacob formally adopts them, but even then, do we want to change it? Should we change it? They're too young to decide for themselves. The decisions just never end. But I'm not going to worry about it yet, we'll cross that bridge after we build it.

Our very short, simple ceremony was beautiful. This time however, the words are private, just for us. We asked our neighbors to witness. I was surprised again when Jake produced matching wedding bands. My god, I don't know where he gets the time for these things.

And to the naysayers and frowners raining on this parade: life is short. I didn't fall out of love with Cole overnight and I certainly didn't rush into anything with Jake. There is no purpose in waiting for appearances' sake. Sometimes you wait and wait and wait and then you realize you just don't have to wait anymore. So we didn't. Jealousy and disdain pours forth from the collective cold-hearted ones who aren't open to taking a chance, and I can't help them with that. I took it and it was the best decision I've ever made. Even after all that has happened since.

I wouldn't change it for the world.

PS. My wedding band fits inside Jacob's band, which I found out when we put our rings up to wash dishes. If that isn't symbolic I don't know what is.

PSS. For my wet blanket readers: Jacob's divorce was final on July 3. I believe I mentioned it in an entry here. He filed in February in anticipation of the end of May, when he could claim the full one year separation from his now ex-wife, who has always lived in Montreal. Then we had to wait 31 days for it to become final. Don't worry, it's all legal. When we went to get the marriage licence on Thursday afternoon we wound up having to come home and get his certificate of divorce and Cole's death certificate as well. Wet blanket indeed.

Thursday, 3 August 2006

Never ever ever coming back down from this day.

This morning I had a huge surprise. Up at 4:30. In the morning. I thought we were going back up to the cottage. Jacob told me to get dressed in something warmish and very casual. PJ had arrived and was downstairs making coffee, compensated heavily to babysit this early.


Jake filled a thermos with coffee and off we went. He had lost his mind.

Where are we going?

Apparently it was to be a secret. Pffffut. We drove out of the city and past farms and fields, now gold with late summer sunflowers, barley and canola. Down a dirt road. I'm thinking breakfast picnic but we didn't bring food. We drove out into this field and I saw it. The sun wasn't even up yet.






I squealed out loud. Like a baby pig. Jacob laughed.

Shit. Scariness. I'm terrified of heights but this is too exciting to be afraid. Besides, Jake's right there. We're going up! Ohmygodohmygod. The sun was just starting to peek above the horizon when we finally climbed into the gondola after the safety briefing and then up we went. So beautiful I barely had words. Jacob held my hands. I was shaking like a leaf but so excited at the same time to be so high up in the sky. Then as we crossed the most amazing field of sunflowers I didn't even know existed, Jacob turned to me and got that look. I call it his shut-the-hell-up-I'm-about-to-be-very-serious look. The balloon operator nodded and told Jacob that we were at a thousand feet if he was ready. Jacob started to speak and then stopped and chuckled and told me he couldn't get down on one knee because there wasn't enough room.

...couldn't..get...down on one...? Oh my God oh my God.




He took me into his arms and held me so tight. He put his head down and kissed my ear and then spoke. He asked me if I would marry him. Loud and clear into my ear. I didn't expect this day. And never in a million years did I think a human being was capable of conquering this degree of romance. He put a ring on my finger. Which I didn't really stop to look at because I was too busy smiling at him, tears rolling. Thankfully none of my ugly crying. He was blushing, so flustered, a mess of nerves. Uncharacteristic nerves, he never needs those with me. I wondered briefly if he thought I might turn him down. No, that would never happen. It was simply the day he has always waited for, and now it was here. At last.

I will marry you, Jake. A million times over.

I didn't have to even say it out loud but I did. Great, now we're both crying. I give up, we're emotional people.

I really have no idea what the rest of our flight was like. When the balloon landed and they helped us out of the basket there was champagne for a toast. Congratulations were extended. If only they knew what we had been through to make it to this moment.

On the way home in the car Jacob asked me if I had a day in mind for our wedding. I said not really. Then I started throwing out ideas. Halloween? Christmas? Next Spring? Something very small, just for us. He asked what I thought of Saturday.

This Saturday you mean?

I really don't want to wait anymore, Bridge.

oh my God. Yes.

One thing.

I don't think I can take one more thing, Jacob.



Will you take my last name, Bridget?

I'd like nothing better than to take your name, Jacob.

(he got all teary-eyed then, and that made for my infamous full-on ugly crying. Oh, hell.)

Do you have any idea how happy you make me?

I think I do, Jacob.

No, Bridge. No you don't. You really have no idea.

It was after he said that that I went to check my bag to see if I had a tissue when finally I remembered to look at the ring.

A pearl.

A pearl ring, simple, beyond the most beautiful thing I have ever seen before. A perfect fit even. He has an aptitude for this sort of thing and I never knew.

I never knew I could have this kind of happiness. I have no words for this.

Do you like it?

I love it. I'm completely overwhelmed. It's perfect. It's me.

I couldn't give my saltwater princess anything except a pearl. I found you by the ocean and the ocean keeps going, Bridge. She's strong and fierce and beautiful and she never stops. Just like you.

(I almost lost this post, deleting it by mistake. So I'll tack it on here so everything stays chronological).

12.5 hours

Much of this day was spent enveloped in making plans. Talking, phoning, trying to figure out how to pull off a wedding when I was given all of 48 hours notice (not that I'm complaining). Early on it became insurmountable. Who is invited? Do we throw a small party afterwards? Go out for a group dinner? What will we wear? Dressed to the nines or casual because we're casual people and it's our bliss? What about the families? Friends? Heck, what about the kids? What about those around us who don't approve, saying it's too much too soon and we should wait a little longer. We were forced to give up completely by this afternoon. It just wasn't falling into place at all.

Oh but we're still getting married tomorrow morning. Just me and Jacob and a minister that he knows from the united church nearby to officiate. And that's it. I have an ivory vintage swing dress that works. He has his good linen suit, and we don't need a big party or matching flowers or a bunch of people around.

Nope, we just need what we already have. Each other.

Works for me.

I did get cake though. Bridget always needs cake. Chocolate cake.

Wish me luck. No, don't wish me luck, I already have it. Wish me well instead.

Wednesday, 2 August 2006

A secret.

For those who are concerned, I have catharsis. Catharsis in the form of running. Hard running. With my MP3 player on full blast and my sunglasses on I can run for an hour and cry and bleed on the inside and no one has to feel bad or deal with it or worry about it. I get out, get some sun, fresh air, exercise and I don't have to worry about being on the treadmill at home with Jacob hovering. I couldn't bottle it up if I tried but you know something? He's done more than his fair share of comforting and he needs a happy Bridge now.

Precious few.

This morning I am gifted with Blind Melon karaoke. Which is great but Jacob's voice sounds more like Jason Wade than the late great Shannon Hoon when he sings so it comes out like Lifehouse cover songs. Hilarious. I never thought I'd love Lifehouse so much until Jacob started walking around this house singing songs from their third album so movingly all day long. He floors me. Can't you tell?

Esoteric Bridge reigns supreme today. Just maybe. Or maybe it's the sugar. We have fresh jars of honey. I love summer. I'm totally high. It's bittersweet.

Or maybe it's the introspection.

A little non-news. No, Ben is so not back in my life. Too soon. I sometimes forget he reads here. In which case I wind up dancing with censoring of my words and it won't flow. Jacob doesn't want to hear from Ben. I miss him but not enough to forget. Not yet, I'm sorry. And no Jake isn't deciding this for us. I am.

Jacob is so preoccupied anyway lately but I'm not complaining. I think the heat has gotten to him. I keep catching him smiling hugely at me and when I ask him what's so funny he says it's nothing, instead of telling me what he's thinking. He keeps telling me he just needs sleep and a bit of a lighter workload. He's got so much going on now it's hard to keep up with him. I miss him and he's down the hall half the time. He took on two more appointments each week, couples who asked him to do some counseling. Marriage counseling. It's so ironic I can't wrap my brain around it half the time. He's good at it though. Really good at it. I asked him how he got so good at it and he said he has a guide. I asked him if it was God or love that guides him. He said there might be less of a difference than I think. I said I think it's too early for this conversation.

He is proud of me though. I asked him if he would just take the bottle of antidepressants and dispense them and play pharmacist and he was honored to be the keeper of the drugs. He said I can tell everyone that HE gets me high and it's legal.

Because he wrote off another friend after reading back through the comments here one night, noticing I wrote that Mark had offered to give me something after Cole died to keep me from feeling it and Jake sort of very quietly and measurably hit the fucking roof. Turns out the once-strong group is the most secretive, dysfunctional bunch ever. It fell apart. All of it. Exposed to the harsh light of reality the expectations were shattered and we're left rather brittle as individuals. The bonds of friendship have been sorely tested this summer and they haven't held in some places and it's just been more to deal with.

I don't think a lot of my friends actually believed I would really wind up with Jake. They saw it but they refused to believe what was going on because I think deep down they all thought nothing would ever change. Since most of them put their heads in the sand as it was. I'm still amazed, looking back on things they saw and so few of them stood up to Cole out of their own fears or flaws. I don't even know anymore but it makes me sad. And now when they are faced with everything that went wrong under these bright lights, standing in front of me and telling me they are sorry he died and they're lying, well, it's worse.

But only for Bridget.

Hey. It happens, right?. Maybe it's for the better. I get to see everyone's true colors and moral compasses for the first time all in a very short time span and what's amazing is how spellbound they all were. By me. And how much they enjoyed the fucked up uninhibited Bridget and had little use for the hurting one, or the one who just wants to be happy with no bull. Like there was some kind of difference. And my standards were high. Which really makes me wonder if I ever had any real friends in the first place. And precious few volunteers for replacements. No volunteers, truthfully.

    We walk in your footsteps
    Though I've had my ups and downs
    And I'll stand in the silence
    Until I figure it out

    One might fall and the other will stand
    And one might give where the other won't bend
    The night is bright as the sun

    I'm never gonna know
    Never gonna look back
    Never gonna know where we would have ended up at
    The end has only begun

    So stop counting the hours
    Live out in the world
    Cause I've been chasing the answers
    And they don't want to be found

    One might fall and the other will stand
    And one might give where the other won't bend
    The night is as bright as the sun

    I'm never gonna know
    Never gonna look back
    Never gonna know where we would have ended up at
    The end has only begun

    Well the day
    Tonight feels like a million miles away
    And these times just won't change
    Life just stays the same
    I'd give anything to see the light of day

    Cause I've been too far away
    To hear you whispering

    They say one might fall and the other will stand
    And one might give where the other won't bend
    The night is as bright as the sun

    I'm never gonna know
    Never gonna look back
    Never gonna know where we would have ended up at
    The end has only begun

    Well the day
    Tonight feels like a million miles away
    And these times just won't change
    Life just stays the same
    I'd give anything to see the light of day

    What you do
    No one can decide it's up to you
    And who you are is what you choose
    These times when the world falls apart
    Make us who we are

(The song Jacob sings the most often, now one of my favorites.)

Tuesday, 1 August 2006

Pillowtalk therapy.

Sometimes late at night we have the best conversations. Jacob is obsessed with the points of trust and finds it hard to grasp how hard I struggle with it. I've always taken my fears and worn them on the inside. If I'm prettier, thinner, more fun I won't be alone. If I get better and don't have to deal with any remaining unrealistic psychological issues from my beating, from Cole's death,  Jacob will be happy and he'll stay, in my head. If we could find normalcy he'll stay. If I can do everything in my power to make him happy he'll stay.

He shoves back. He doesn't want a doormat, a trophy. He wants a strong, happy, healthy girlfriend. No, he wants a strong, happy, healthy, relaxed girlfriend who has gained a few more pounds because he said sometimes I hurt. He makes jokes about my serrated hip bones. He doesn't understand how I could worry that he's going to give up since he's still here after everything that has happened. How he's been here mostly since I met him. How he struggled to find a balance between living his own life and living it for me or for hope so he continued his travels and eventually got married. It makes perfect sense. How he has all the confidence in the world that I am doing well and mostly myself again. Because I have the right kind of support and love around me. Not just from him though. He insists he only helps and I am doing it. Humble to a fault. I'm sure he has saved my life many times over at this point.

We talked about my hard work, my continued progress without being reduced to being a child in our relationship. And we talked about our promises to each other to continue to fight for this, and for each other every single day of our lives because we have earned it. And we want it still, almost more than before we were together. It's profound now but no longer fucked up. I don't feel like I'm out of control. I don't feel like I'm alone. I feel like I'm settling in and I like where we're going. It looks happy and content and permanent and magical.

He's a good man. A very good man. He's so loving and just solid. And not prone to fly off into rages and mood swings and violence. He's gentle, thoughtful and real. Real in a way I never thought I would ever deserve, let alone experience.

Whatever doubts I had left are slipping away. I'm happy to see this. This is very good.