Babies to hold, lullabies to sing.

Posting resumes tomorrow. So many stories to tell but all of it will have to wait. I have Hope and Gabriel here right now and things are a little hectic. Happy New Year nonetheless.

One final bonus post to kiss this year goodbye.

I shall save you all the drama and just point out that after refusing multiple invitations I couldn't have accepted even if I wanted to, made by those who knew I couldn't accept them but still extended courtesies, we'll just say that Ben is here, he brought Thai food and cake and some sort of non-alcoholic sparkly drink that begins with a number and ends with optimism (that Ruth adores and is hardly ever allowed to have) and we're going to have movie night and then after the kids go to bed we'll break out the whores and liquor.

Of course I'm kidding. If I can't laugh at this point then there is no point.

Happy end of 2007. This might be the first year I don't cry.

Again, kidding.

Poor Ben. He obviously drew the short straw.

Nefarious Rex, Dinosaur Princess.

A year ago, I made a wish for a year that was pain-free, and I threw out a cheeky, offhand comment that in 365 days I would have my answer, if it did turn out to be that.

Today is the final day and I didn't get that wish. I didn't get it in spades, instead surviving the worst year of my life.

But I am still here. Blink twice, pinch yourself. Nope. STILL HERE.

Go, me. Go, Bridget.

The stands are empty today. Everyone's getting ready to celebrate. I have different plans for tonight.

I'm sitting on the floor with a pound of determination, an ounce of courage and a dribbly little thimble full of moxie and I'm gluing the pieces of me back together. It's painstaking work, my arms are aching and I've only just started. I see that a few pieces are missing, and the rest are scratched and chipped but when put together I know you won't be able to notice a thing.

I have until midnight.

Happy New Year to you and yours. May it be everything you wish for and more.

Snowblind.

Nolan had a black cowboy hat that one of his adult sons used to wear around the farm and he gave it to Ben to wear on the ride yesterday morning. Ben hasn't taken it off since.

Damn, I wish he would. I have a weakness for cowboy hats.

He looks good.

Maybe a little too good.

I am so confused. I've been doing a lot of ignoring, pushing away, avoiding and all kinds of other stupid things because I don't want him to wait for me. I'm not ready for anything. I don't think I'll ever be ready. I've been pawning myself off happily on Christian for affection and Christian is happy to oblige. Only Ben is not so happy with that, having come to sit with me last evening and when I got up to get Henry a drink I never came back.

Awkward. The whole thing is awkward and I don't know if I want him to be there waiting on the other side or not. I don't know what to do.

This morning? A little less awkward but not by much as he gave me a wicked grin and ordered me not to make plans after lunch, that he and I are going for a walk in the woods. To talk.

It'd be way easier without the damned hat.

Of course, I still have Jacob's hat, kept for Henry to wear so what do I know?

Horse latitudes.

We're at Nolan's in case you need us.

Nolan has a hobby farm outside the city, complete with horses, snowmobiles and enough peace and quiet to make me want to stay here forever. Ben has been tinkering with the motorcycles a bit since they are stored here in the winter now. I don't think I've seen Christian or Mark since we got here, they're off snowmobiling. Nolan is a widower. He's in his late sixties (?) and we seem to have a lot in common. He and Jacob met a few years ago when Nolan did some work for Jake as a contractor but I didn't meet him until this fall when Jacob told me the bikes would be stored here.

Nolan called before Christmas and said we should come out, that there was plenty to do and he would love a little holiday company. I doubt he expected four adults and two children so I called and he asked if I remembered the big house. He said it had six bedrooms so just bring everyone and we'd find places.

The kids and I have the coolest room ever. There are antlers on the wall. I don't know if they are real because oooog, I won't be touching them. There's a fireplace and a view of the land that doesn't contain a single power line or road. The guy's rooms are equally neat. The great room and the kitchen are the heart of this house, I could live here forever.

Except for one thing. I'm afraid of the horses. They're huge.

Which is going to make my day interesting. Since I'm leaving now to go riding.

I know. Me. On a horse. First time in ages. Hold your breath.

And try not to laugh.

Self. Destruct.

This subject is no longer off limits. Because he is continuing his madness, and because I no longer care who knows. I'm not the CFO with everything to lose, now, am I? The people who matter have forgiven me and I can't help the rest of you. Don't judge me until you've lost everything you ever wanted.

I'm taking Caleb's attempt at extortion (and slavery) and blowing it wide open. He's not aware of the depths to which my friendships run and how close we all are. And so I told them what happened. It softened them, because they know how destructive I can be when I hurt and they're just relieved I came out of it in one piece.

If you can call it that.

Caleb contacted me with his rare smug brand of formal condolences the day after I found out about Jacob. Caleb, as always, took that as an opportunity and created some business that he absolutely had to be in town for and showed up before sunrise on the red-eye. As soon as Joel took his eyes off me after breakfast I took off. I wanted to show everyone that I was in charge and I wasn't going to take orders from anyone. I had no confidence in what I was doing until I was standing in front of Caleb's hotel room door.

Well, well, if it isn't the princess. Where are all those knights who are supposed to protect you from me?

I just shook my head and stood my ground, tears spilling down my cheeks. He knew I was alone or I wouldn't be there. He clucked and said it was a shame. And then he asked what I expected from him.

Make the pain stop.

He smiled.

Oh, but princess, there's only a couple of ways I can get you to where it won't hurt anymore.

Please.

What do I get in return for making you feel better?

It was 48 hours later that Caleb called Ben and told him there was baggage to be picked up. As in, come and get her, I'm through. Flaunting his treasures to Ben who had so briefly looked up to Caleb.

Caleb had left instructions for Ben to be let in and went off to his meetings. Ben burst into the room and found me vaguely unresponsive, naked, bruised, covered with bite marks and dusted head to toe. Dipped in Caleb's toxic icing sugar. It coated my eyelashes, my fingertips. I had headphones on, the stereo turned up so loud, if my hearing wasn't already damaged it would have been. Ben tried to pick me up and was hit with everything at once. I wasn't dressed. A black satin ribbon was still knotted on one wrist. I wasn't coherent.

He found my clothes and gingerly dressed me as I half-slept in a stupor. He forced my lids open, didn't like what he saw and took me out of there, bundled in his jacket, not really walking, a foot off the floor. I don't remember any of it. He wanted me to talk to Jason (a police officer) formally at the very least and I refused.

I went to Caleb willingly looking for an escape from the pain I knew only he could provide. I let him put needles in me. Repeatedly. I let him do whatever he wanted to me. Every time it wore off and I would become afraid or start to cry, he would give me more. And after two days he got bored with the game.

After that arrangements were made to have me flown back to the same posh retreat I just came out of to detox and to be safe. I slept for the first four days and then didn't speak for the next three.

Joel arrived on day four and told me how the kids were and asked me if I was going to break my promises to them too, and that's when I spoke again. That's when I realized that it was time to stop expecting everyone to pick up the pieces for me. I had to gather them together myself, and hold them and when the time is right I will glue them back together.

Caleb came to see me while I was there, and told me what a great time he had with me.

He told me he had wanted to do that for a while now, since we cut off his access to me after Henry was born.

I swore at him but he just laughed and told me he was happy to give me a reminder of Cole and happy to help ease the pain. He told me he'd see me at Christmas and to pass his best wishes along to Ben.

He also gave me a DVD in case I had forgotten the good parts. That was a warning not to slander him, that copies could be sent to everyone I loved but really, I don't care and neither do they. He could put it on the six o'clock news, I wouldn't even flinch at this point.

The clearest thing I remember after he shot me up the fourth time in two days was that he told me I belonged to he and his brother again, and that that was good. That I belonged in the family. That he would look after me.

He said I would be his plaything, that when he comes to the city he'll expect me to be there for his enjoyment and otherwise my friends get my DVD. Best porn they'll ever see and then when I only have him left I'll see what an easy arrangement it would have been and so not to fuck with him.

He underestimated all of us. I told them all what really happened (the painful, unsanitized version) and they closed the circle because they love me more than they hate my mistakes. Caleb can never touch me again.

He arrives today.

I won't be here.

I'd like a way out now please. Oh, please. Just make this stop.

Draw.

I suppose some days I should just skip posting but people seem to want to know how I feel.

Fine. Here's the mess, YOU untangle it.

Today I feel hollow and cold and alone despite being surrounded and wounded and bitter and the anger leaves at a pace that agonizes and fights and claws my insides. Far too slowly it's being replaced with a despair I am loathe to acknowledge. At some point I'm going to be forced to move along now, nothing to see here.

I'm not ready.

I'm not ready for life. I'm not ready for the world to present itself to me, I'm not ready to let go of something I worked so damn hard for. It's as if since he wanted me to crash, he wanted to be everything and make me weaker so that he could be stronger and my life with him is to now be cast aside as a shameful secret to be swept quickly under a new rug that we'll just lay down on top of the dirty floor and pretend they don't see the dust, the years of life they are quick to condemn.

I'm angry at myself for not seeing more than I what I saw and yet how could I see past the man he presented to me? He was too busy finding my focus for me, making himself perfect so that I would never know. Why didn't I know? Why did I go against every last tiny piece of advice on not to take flight with a bird who had issues and was the last man on earth anyone expected me to be with?

What would have been so wrong with that life and why did he have to do this?

Hindsight is just another blindfold today. I don't know any more now than I did a month ago, let alone a year ago. I'm not wiser, tougher or better equipped. I'm not better off, by any means, and I'm not different in the ways I should have been different. I only feel as though I briefly stepped into a fairy tale, tasted happily ever after and then suddenly the chef decided it wouldn't be on the menu after all and ushered me out and slammed the door in my face.

The closed sign went up and when the shock wore off it's clear that I still haven't had a damned thing. I look up and down and everything is boarded up. A vacant ghost town stares back at me as if I am the one to rejuvenate it's once lively streets. I can't. I wouldn't know how to begin.

It won't be today.

You wanted a fucking barometer, there. Take it and be sorry you asked. Most days are not good. Most days just opening my damned eyes is hard. Most days I want to shoot myself in the head just for a different kind of pain than this one.

Most days, I don't have a gun. Some ghost town this is.

A Tuesday out of the ordinary.

This morning was dark and snowy and warm and softly lit in blues and icy whites. A collective clatter of excitement rose up over glitter tattoo airbrush kits and tin space shuttle sets and crisp Harry Potter paperbacks, the spines crying out to be cracked and broken with curiosity.

Stockings were stuffed to capacity and the living room is the usual holiday war-zone of wrapping paper, packaging and tags that failed to connect the givers to the givees no matter how hard I tried, giving up early on in the chaos.

It would have been a perfect Christmas. I'll just say that it was wonderful and touching and comfortable, instead. Santa and his elves were very very good to the kids and I.

Merry Christmas to you and yours, may it be filled with happiness and peace, glitter tattoos and many little dudes in space suits, all over the floor.

If you need me, I'll be over in the corner playing Oblivion and eating candy canes until I throw up. Ben thought that was the Coolest Idea Ever but I was kidding. We have rounds to make, out there in the cold.

Enjoy the day. Enjoy your loved ones. Take a deep breath and remember this.

Oh, just WOW.

The moment I sat down this morning with juice, planning to read the paper while the kids pretended they weren't looking for breaches in the guy's present-wrapping jobs, there was a loud, excited knock on the front door.

I figured maybe it was FedEx with a last-minute gift.

It was not.

It was Ben.

Home.

Not snowboarding. Not catching up with his brother and his brother's partner's family. Not having a wonderful vacation.

I came back for you guys, if you'll have me.