Glowbug.

I just noticed how early it is. We've been up since 5. No running today, for the man of the house had other plans.

Jacob dusted off his hammer this morning and tore the back porch to shreds. Shreds. Right down to the insulation. He and PJ are installing new drywall later today and then he's going to build a bigger coat closet, cubby-holes for the kids with hooks to hang their coats and backpacks and then on the other side he's putting in another bathroom and some cabinets that will house the pet food and all the recycling bins, out of site.

He loves doing this stuff. He even had some extra tin-punched insert cabinet doors shipped up from the cottage work so he could tie it all in.

It's going to look amazing once we dig out from under all this sawdust and drywall dust. Which is now tracked from the back door all the way up the stairs.

But a nicer, functional and warmer back porch will be wonderful so I'm not complaining.

Jake wants me to paint the floor, as long as it isn't plain. Which was almost the coolest idea ever. A floor mural. A scene painted directly on the floor and then sealed with many coats of varnish to protect it. I've planned to do a forest scene with a lake with owls and the moon and stars which will be done with glow in the dark and sparkly highlights. All dark blues and greens and rich browns. It'll be amazing. Bats, hidden bunnies, moonflowers and pond lilies.

Maybe you'll even get a picture of it. Cole wasn't the only painter in the group.

I sketched a quick representation of it and Jacob went and bought all the paint for me last night. I can't start for a couple of weeks, until the rest of the room is finished, but it gives me something fun to look forward to and our house remains unique but is brought up to date because that porch was probably the worst room in the house. When we moved in Cole and I ripped up the old carpet and tore out the old cabinetry and then dropped it. It was a shell that was used simply to keep the heat in the house while we came in and out.

Now it's going to be a neat place to enter into our home. Full of love. Full of kids-little and big.

Edit: There seems to be a proliferation of flannel and toolbelts going on around here. It's hot. Or maybe I have inhaled way too much sawdust.

Keys.

I think I'm done with my tantrum. You said what Jacob said. Ignore the bad, or take what you need and leave the rest.

I deleted all of the bad from my email and I felt somewhat better. It's kind of like therapy, being forced to admit your mistakes over and over again, being judged for doing all of it ass-backwards and having everything go wrong all at once. I quit therapy, remember?

And I'm on edge anyway. So much stuff, and it never stops.

But I'll be alright. Eventually. And I know it's hard to read here, it's certainly not the most uplifting journal in the world unless you can somehow pick your way past the difficult parts and predict the future for me. That's what I hold out for.

Sometimes everything is wrong. Sometimes it's so perfect I can't see straight. Days like that I fall to my knees and thank God. I am safe and I am loved and the kids are wonderfully resilient and loved and provided for and I can't ask for more.

I'll try to make it a little better, I've still got so much to work on and this is where I sort it all out, so it will take a little time, we all know how slow I am to do things.

So we need a little light.

I've got a little here and I'm using it.

Rootless forest.

You got it wrong. All wrong.

Weren't you paying attention? Or did you skim through a few entries and decide you knew me better than I know myself, than my own husband knows me, or Cole or eight different doctors and therapists and counselors. Or my goddamned friends?

So many nasty, unbelievably off-base emails I am considering just taking this down forever, or making it private or just deleting the whole fucking thing. Or maybe I could take off the email but sometimes I get amazing letters of encouragement from people who have been where I am, who know what the fuck they're talking about instead of projecting their useless bitterness on to me out of spite. The wonderful, beautiful souls have left their names, they're written many times, they give a shit.

If you don't give a shit about me then leave me alone. Why waste your time?

It seems pretty simple.

Oh and I know my world is small and yes, right now it revolves around ME, while I struggle to not alienate my brand new husband or fuck up his life, while I comfort my kids who miss their dad and struggle through holidays and they can't understand where exactly he is or why he is dead and why Mommy sometimes can't explain it, or why she cries when she thinks about him. Or how to keep moving forward when I'm in this Quaalude fog that never ends but if I leave the fog I might just simply kill myself if I get low enough and I can't let these three people down. I made this bed.

So fuck you too.

I've had enough.

But I'm not taking it down because the accountability close to home is something I need right now.

And for the record, I don't have him wrapped around my finger. Jacob's had a thing for me for years and I fell for him right back, I have never tried to excuse that, I have said more than once I was a shitty wife to Cole. Jacob is also not a pushover. The only reason he never killed anyone is because he believes that shit is for God to look after. He has one hell of a temper, I just leave that out.

Because I don't need people to tell me I'm about to repeat history here. So once again, fuck you. Because I've got no words for this today.

All the same.

I love karaoke mornings, he sings with so much passion. It's awesome.

    I don't mind where you come from
    As long as you come to me
    I don't like illusions I can't see
    Them clearly

    I don't care no I wouldn't dare
    To fix the twist in you
    You've shown me eventually
    What you'll do

    I don't mind...
    I don't care...
    As long as you're here

    Go ahead tell me you'll leave again
    You'll just come back running
    Holding your scarred heart in hand
    It's all the same
    And I'll take you for who you are
    If you take me for everything
    Do it all over again
    It's all the same

    Hours slide and days go by
    Till you decide to come
    And in between it always seems too long
    All of a sudden

    And I have the skill, yeah I have the will
    To breathe you in while I can
    However long you stay
    Is all that I am

    I don't mind...
    I don't care...
    As long as you're here

    Go ahead tell me you'll leave again
    You'll just come back running
    Holding your scarred heart in hand
    It's all the same
    And I'll take you for who you are
    If you take me for everything
    Do it all over again
    It's always the same

    Wrong or right
    Black or white
    If I close my eyes
    It's all the same

    In my life
    The compromise
    I close my eyes
    It's all the same

    Go ahead say it you're leaving
    You'll just come back running
    Holding your scarred heart in hand
    It's all the same
    And I'll take you for who you are
    If you take me for everything
    Do it all over again
    It's all the same

For the uninitiated, the song is the same one that plays during the video for the Free Hugs Campaign. Which still makes me cry and I've seen it dozens of times now.

Bravely marching forward.

My sister sent me this and we got the biggest laugh out of it when I sent it back, I thought I'd post it here while I pointedly ignore all the negative emails today's post generated. The show must go on, after all.

Soundtrack to my Life Movie Forward:

    Here'ss how it works:

    1. Open your library on your Zen or other MP3 player.
    2. Put it on shuffle.
    3. Press play.
    4. For every question type the song that is playing.
    5. When you go to a new question press the next button.


Opening Credits: Me & my friends, The Red Hot Chili Peppers
(nice, so far so good)

Waking Up: It's All Understood, Jack Johnson
(perfect wake-up music)

Falling In Love: Dragged Down by the Weight of Existence, Fear Factory
(uhhh...interesting in a cosmic joke kind of way.)

Fight Song: Mary Jane, Alanis Morissette
(if you're going to fight an internal battle, maybe)

Breaking Up: Another time, another place, U2
(oh, ouch)

Making Up: Nothing Else Matters, Bif Naked (covering Metallica)
(PERFECT)

Life is Ok: Tea in the Sahara, The Police
(Yes, please.)

Mental Breakdown: Dirty Glass by Dropkick Murphys
(funny, this is one of my happy songs-Jake and I sang this at a karaoke thing in Newfie and brought down the house).

Driving: Heartache Tonight, The Eagles
(makes sense, my dad's favorite song, I was raised on it)

Flashbacks: Fatal Wound, Switchfoot
(this was one of Cole's favorites so why the hell not?)

Happy Dance: Sober, Tool
(tool time is happy time for Bridget)

Regret: Song of the Flesh, Black Crowes
(okay, it works.)

Final Battle: Eskimo, Damien Rice
(way off. I don't even favor this song.)

Death Scene: Mad World, Gary Jules (covering Tears for Fears)
(I could see this happening for real.)

Final Credits: Default Judgement, Fear Factory
(Perfect, I couldn't have chosen better.)

Feel free to try it, it's kind of neat.

Exoteric, or, Nothing that's perfect is real.

Do you know the story of Icarus? Maybe it's my story too. He was a slave, imprisoned, and he built a pair of wax wings to escape but when he did it felt so good that he flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. He fell into the sea and drowned. In other words, perhaps I am pushing my luck.

Thirteen unlucky words to describe Bridget this past weekend:

You're a pretty little masochist with a high pain threshold and absolutely no remorse.

I laughed. He always gets it right. Jacob has a name for everything and I am simply a sheltered girl, insular, locked in her turret by the handsome prince while he tries to figure out what the fuck to do with me. For the second time in my life, no less.

And then I cried. I took my praise for making Cole so goddamned happy and just ran with it. If I told you I was easily influenced by the men that I love would you forgive me for it? If I told you we once had it down to a science, my pain for Cole's pleasure and he gave me whatever I wanted as my reward would you forgive me for that?

Jacob won't.

He sat up and swung his legs to the side of the bed, feet on the floor, perhaps planning to carry him away of their own accord. His hands covered his face, fingers clenched in vexation, lines underneath to prove his eyes had closed themselves, a futile, inept reflex to protect him from even thinking about accidents of intimacy that we caused on purpose.

He told me he was sorry. I had asked for all of his limits to be removed simply so we could explore it together and unwittingly he agreed because he is devoted, because he is generous with me. When I insisted that he wouldn't hurt me, he grew angry very quickly. He pointed out our obvious, marked differences in size and strength for the umpteenth time and that if he got caught up in it and harm came to me he would never be able to live with himself. I interrupted him and he yelled at me.

You don't understand, You're not helping things, I won't hurt you, Bridget. I will not hurt you and neither will anyone else!

We've had this conversation before, and it made me angry and I raised my voice but he cut me off again. He turned around and stuck his finger in my face, jabbing at the air around me and I cringed at that while he swore that if Cole could turn me into a masochist then Jacob would turn me back into who I was before that. I was the salt to Cole's vinegar. Rubbed into my wounds because it feels good, figuratively and otherwise. I am what Jacob says I am.

So add it to the list, we'll put it somewhere before victim and after mentally ill. And funny, I covet my submissive label. I like that word. That was the one I can live with. No one cares about that one, it's a very quiet little epithet, my inevitable role and the only one I can play that covers up the darker, shameful ones. That is the only one he likes.

The next time I opened my mouth, I was cut off once again. Jacob looked at me sadly and said,

No, Bridge. I don't care if we ever fix any of it or don't. I love you and I always will.

A small comfort, found in his anticipation of my question. Which is sometimes the very best kind of comfort. Even in the throes of a painful argument, we can still read each other's minds. I could eat him alive and I know he feels the same way and yet sex is this huge battleground, every night he is forced to be dominant, to physically restrict me so that I don't turn it into something he doesn't like, a double-edged dangerous sword in that half the time that's exactly what I want from him.

It will never be perfect at this rate. Jacob wants movie sex, in which he carries me to the bed and I make little noises and simply receive him and let him gently lead the way.

Bridget, well, she's in the seedy unmarked theatre down the street watching a whole other kind of movie.

He just read that and laughed. A laugh barely tinged with a bitter contravention, discernible only because I know him so well and maybe he didn't know me so well.

And one of my greatest joys is that even though such a huge part of him is entangled in his work, he's such a passionate, reverent man, he's upright, and he confided in me that he loves all of it, he doesn't just pull out the easy parts of Bridget to adore and plan to fix the rest, he truly loves all of it. All of me: the sweet, deeply emotional, fiercely loving, word-inventing distracted writer and the fucked-up over the top freakish sexual deviant too.

Which makes him vaguely a freak as well. He's only just a little chagrined by his own revelations on a regular basis but the fact that this has become our new standard argument because we've just about settled everything else is almost comical.

I can live with this one, Bridge. We'll get where we're going.

Do we know where we're going, Jacob?

Of course. But the point isn't the end, it's the journey. And ours is an adventure, we're granted passage a little at a time.

I bet you wish you had booked a cruise instead.

Are you kidding? I thrive on conflict, and adrenaline. This is my fetish, maybe.

I knew you were a freak.

Birds of a feather, princess.

Oh, you're not going to start in with the Icarus-stuff again, are you?

No, instead maybe I'll tell you about Atalanta, and the golden apples she could not resist.

You have a very large brain.

Oh here we go.

Matches everything else.

Uh-huh.

I like that, Jacob.

I bet you do.

Esoteric.

Friday night after a few stops and starts and one incident in which the friendly giant couldn't help himself and took off, leaving me to navigate the hill alone after having never navigated a hill quite that large that didn't take place on skis and subsequently yelling at him when he caught up with me, he had a few more surprises up his sleeves.

Reservations at a dimly-lit upscale restaurant. Lobster. Sparkling water after which he asked me what I would like for a drink and after I said water I realized it was a test. A pretty velvet box that he put on the table after he ordered for us.

I'm thinking, what is this?

The high-maintenance princess who never is allowed out of my brain was hoping for a Breitling Starliner. Even though they're $6000 and Jacob isn't that kind of man. Heck, I'm not even that kind of girl. I saw one once in real life and it was beautiful. But it was also just a watch, nothing of any real consequence.

People say that about me too, I suppose. Beautiful but of no consequence.

The logical princess won out, to match her logical prince. There was no Breitling in the box. What was in the box was two new hearing aids. The tiny ones I wear inside my ears, replacements for the one I lost at the cabin and the one I threw away in a fit of frustration.

Jacob happily spent thousands on those. This man is unpredictably predictable.

Jewelry would have been more romantic.

You've got enough jewelry. Put them in, Bridge.

You make it hard to hate you.

Wouldn't it be easier to talk if you can hear me?

Sometimes.

Then put them in.
I excused myself and went to the powder room to do it. When I returned Jacob whispered to me.

Every man in the room watched you come back.

Sorry.

Don't be. I bet they've never seen a more beautiful woman, either.

Please, Jake. I look washed out in black, my eyes are tired...

You couldn't look bad if you tried.

None of my cute dresses fit anymore.

They aren't looking at your dress, Bridge.

They're probably all gay and seeing what the competition is for you, mister gorgeous.

Well this table is a veritable sugar bowl, isn't it?

If the shoe fits, preacher boy.

What would you like to do tonight?

What are my choices?

Anything you want.

Be careful what you...indulge me in.

Anything, princess. I mean that.
And with that, I knew it was going to be a long night.

Let's worry about all that after dinner.

It proved to be a two-hour dinner, we carried on the quietest conversation, savored the best food I have ever tasted and finally left to return to our room, where a fire had been built and chocolate-dipped strawberries had been delivered, a treat courtesy of Loch, who is in the Irish Mob along with Jacob and who may or may not have had a lot to do with the last-minute reservations.

Jake did indeed indulge me in anything and everything I asked him for and as usual he made himself stop because he has a herculean sense of self-control not seen often in mere mortals. And so Friday night ended in one of those stupid quiet arguments that we dropped in favor of pure simplistic intimacy in the end, easily found after losing our way over more awkward affections.

Damn that, anyways.

The next day we almost didn't leave the room, but we didn't want to miss the entire day and so we lounged around in bed until close to lunch, then ordered mimosas and brunch. Jacob coaxed me into the shower easily with a promise to wash my hair and then we hit the village to poke around a little, because we both adore nighttime snowboarding, it could wait a little longer. We got matching tattoos.

Oh, don't roll your eyes.

Matching. We're a set now permanently. Salt and Pepper. Bonnie and Clyde. Jacob & Bridget.

To commemorate the biggest single surprise and amazing moment of our lives because although he won't admit it, I'm positive there were times over the spring and summer where he really did second-guess his heart.

We somehow surpassed being comfortable with each other and graduated to completely exposed to each other, whether it hurt or not, cementing a mutual trust that we've been fighting for.

Maybe we just needed to find a safe place to achieve all this in a neutral setting. And I realize I'm not making any sense. Confidence can make everything sharper. Time makes everything better. Trust makes everything extraordinary. Exploratory time, successful or not, can be a catalyst for a positive change.

Jacob's innate goodness eradicates all things dark. Like me.

As God intended. I have resorted to laughing about it now because rather than curse out loud the constant barrage of tests God is putting me through, instead it's rather amusing to believe that maybe he put me here as one big test for Jacob. One that Jacob is determined to pass.

I may continue to sabotage his efforts. I laughed at a quote I saw last week while reading reviews of the new Switchfoot album, it said,

    Somewhere in there is the idea that good things happen to bad people, not bad things happen to good people.

In any case, Jake came back a very confident, trusting man, having confirmed to both of us that no matter how hard I try I can't break him, and me, well, I'm still melted butter and vaguely as depraved as ever.

And mostly unfixable.

Retrograde.

I don't think I know where to begin. Everything has an opposite, right? And so I bring many stories to the table, and I'm not sure which direction to head in first.

I could go with the awesome boarding, the amazing food, the hedonism, the sheer largess of the lavishness with which I lived the weekend, the..uh..(oh God, cheese alert) matching tattoos, losing my fingerprints all over that man, and not being permitted to join any clubs, mile-high or otherwise.

Party-pooper.

Or I could go with the name-calling, walking out, being ambushed and the exposed rawness of assorted emotions that run on full constantly, wearing us down, wearing us out. The tears which leave us dehydrated and depleted. The exhaustion of trying to make our relationship work the way it should instead of the way it does.

I think I'll start by saying my face is wind-burned and pink, my hair is straw again and I am happy to be home. I need new goggles, I scratched mine all to hell, and Jacob is limping just slightly, having twisted something or other in his hip on his final kamikaze run down the hill alone.

Hanging out with an adrenaline junkie is exhausting. But for all the yin and yang of the trip it turned out wonderfully and we worked out a bunch of things and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I'm just too worn out to talk about it tonight so I'm going to bed and I'll start tomorrow, after my run.

Everyone say goodnight to the stupid girl.

Restoration.

I feel like hardened pull-taffy. Stiff and vaguely sore in places that generally aren't sore but my insides are melted butter.

Your girl doesn't have a care in the world.

Dear God, can I just stay this way forever?

The snowboarding was groovy beyond words, the flights and drives went without a hitch, and everything here at home went smoothly. Jacob went so far as to have hot chocolate and warm cake brought to our room both nights at midnight, I had my very first hour-long massage. By him.

I have been loved so hard I think our fingerprints wore off some time over the weekend.

    Let your love be strong, and I donít care what goes down
    Let your love be strong enough to weather through the thunder cloud
    Fury and thunder clap like stealing the fire from your eyes
    All of my world hanging on your love

No rain, just words.

No rain, just words.

I'll start on the negative and end on the positive.

To the reader who attempted to rain on my parade by telling me I was a spoiled girl, throwing a brat-attack after your husband busts his ass to make magic for you, it was less of a bratty moment and more of a moment in which I had to do something before I cracked in half again and it would have occurred regardless. It's not like I was only attending therapy in hopes that he would reward me with a trip. Don't forget he tried to take us away for Christmas and I asked him not to, preferring not to travel during the holidays when things are so hectic. He likes to plan surprises, he doesn't dangle things in front of me. Attacking me while you have only half of the information is a fruitless endeavour, my friend, just because I post some revealing moments doesn't mean I share everything.

Jacob doesn't need anyone to defend him, I take his criticism when he gives it, he doesn't require help in that department. In fact, he's one of the few people in this world that I can't distract at all when it comes to having his say. He's not afraid to cut me down, piss me off or leave me sitting in a room by myself when he's had enough bullshit. Trust me, I can't fool him any more than I could lift him. He's good at handling life. He's good at...handling me.

And so on to the sunshine.

We're all packed! There is a mountain of gear in the back porch and all that's left now is to pick up Bailey after dinner tonight and then we leave very early tomorrow morning, back late on Sunday afternoon. I won't be posting again until Monday. Will you miss me?

We haven't had a block of alone-time like this for a while now and we're both looking forward to that moreso than anything else.

While I'm gone, here's something to tide you over, A list of 25 of my favorite bloggers. There is more, of course, which I'll save for another day. Enjoy!

Blue Poppy
The Boyfriend Files
Broken Cow
Diaries of a Pumpkin Princess
Elation
Evil Heshley is Dead
Geek, Inc.
Hard to Believe I did it Again, Eh? I know, not really.
In my Element...
Ice Queen on Defrost
Kikiville
{love, Joleen}the blog
Madhatter
Paravonia
Potor Can't Write
Rising With Grace
Rockstar Mommy
Rude Cactus
The Sound of your Heart
Thimble
Sweetpeas
Switchfeed
Waiter Rant
Waiting for my Husband
Yah Lah Yah Lah