Drive-by poetry.

Because we have twisted friends who apparently write poetry on long trips, we were gifted this story via email this morning. Loch said when he returns home he'll draw the pictures to go with it. I'm sharing it with you now because...well...the fog continues and I pride myself on regular updates. I love it. It makes me laugh and cry too.

The Angel and the Mermaid

The angel sat on a cloud above
full of hopes and wishes and dreams
He said to himself
How I wish I could find
the most beautiful girl in the seas

And down below
where the boats don't row
swam a mermaid with flaxen hair
she gazed at the sky
at the clouds drifting by
and wished that an angel was there

And in that brief moment
when the sea was calm
and the clouds had parted the skies
he saw his true love
alone in the waves
with sea glass tears in her eyes

The pain of her sadness
he could no longer bear
he sat and watched her for hours
He said he could help her
rescue or save her
it was all within his powers

Then one fateful day
when they both sat to pray
God opted to grant both their wishes
but before the sun fades a choice must be made
do they join with the birds or the fishes?

Instead of deciding
while God was deriding
they bucked with tradition again
they couldn't have love
It just wouldn't work
so instead they each found a friend.

With one flying up high
and one swimming down low
they tried to continue their routes
It wasn't as smooth
or as fast or as nice
they had to go into cahoots.

For she secretly loved him,
that flaxen haired girl
And he openly cared for her so
His blue eyes would rest on her beautiful fins
and he knew it was soon time to go

For the mermaid belonged to a sea monster now
In the darkest of water he lay
waiting for the angel to fight to the death
the monster he wanted to slay

For the water was always bluer there
under this bright white cloud
a thought the angel always knew
but never said out loud.

At once he knew what he should do
lightning raged into the sea
He killed the serpent
but missed his girl
giving her time to flee

Down to the earth
where the people can't fly
the angel at last did rest
He opted to give up his wings for that girl
because he loved her the best

And the mermaid grew legs
and walked out of the sea
to meet her true love from the sky
Surprised and in doubt
she couldn't believe
he gave up his chances to fly

And they now live like humans
just like you and me
they are so peaceful as one
They play with the mer-kids
and even the mer-cat
having a whole lot of fun

And the moral of this story
is not that angels fall
it's that sometimes
the deepest love
is the truest one of all.

Fog.

One of the things I miss about home, about the ocean, is the fog. I love the fog. I even love the movie The Fog. The original. I haven't caught the remake yet. But there's something peaceful and quiet and muted and isolated about the world when the fog rolls in. It's as if my vision suddenly ratchets down until it matches my hearing. Existing on a whole new plane of quiet immediacy. Right there in a thirty-foot radius.

No one understands that. Not even Jake and he's from Newfoundland.

That's how I feel right now. And I don't like these pills because I can barely keep my eyes open.

Help arrives in the form of Santa Claus.

Panic attacks that seemingly never ended bought me a round-trip ticket to the hospital, courtesy of my own personal army, who actually feared hanging off the gingerbread would be the next step in my day. I could no longer breath normally. I was really hoping they would give Jacob a prescription for a tranquilizer gun so he could walk around and just shoot me with a dart in the ass every time I freaked out and I could go to sleep for a little while.

That won't be happening. Because I have raging post traumatic stress going on. Unchecked by my own hand and the doctors who dropped the ball on the follow ups, because they got tired of chasing me around making sure I had help. The help that I fired twice against Jacob's better judgement and he was waiting for the bomb to go off and he had enough. Off we went. I am so happy they didn't decide to keep me.

I actually could have sworn they said that that the PTSD would only happen in the actual days following the attack, not weeks later. I was mistaken. I have a disorder now. Great. add to the growing list of flaws. And to think, people thought I was perfect. Oh, aside from not being able to hear anything and thumbing my nose at my own marriage, that is.

What the hell was I talking about again?

It's lovely to have actual proof from a doctor that I'm not crazy, insane or falling apart. I'm just an untreated case of serious PTSD out there rattling around completely ignoring Jake's pleas to let him help me. Because stupidly I was self-destructive. I was drinking, I wasn't taking anything, I isolated myself. The moment I let down my guard, the enemy came charging through the gates. Hell, why deal with something when you can pretend it isn't happening?

Which is a total metaphor for an angry husband, isn't it? That makes me laugh, the metaphor is for the depression/anxiety/fear and total hopelessness that I thought had become me.

Thank fuck. It isn't me. I am me, that is not me. Are you with me? The blame? It's in my head. None of it is my fault. Blissful unaccountability.

Now I just have to get past being on medication, because I'm on it again. and. I. hate. being. medicated. like. you. wouldn't. believe.

I have a new counsellor (!). One who looks like Santa Claus and specializes less in battered women and more in war veterans. Dear lord. He's a tough cookie. He told me not to pass off any bullshit answers and he would help me and I told him by the end of the week he would wish he had never met me and who was he kidding? (I was kidding, geez, I really have no shame). I made him laugh, and happily he has a big deep booming voice (I don't have to listen so hard) and he's a total hardass so I expect my sessions will be miserable but it's okay. He said if I wanted to (!) I could feel a whole lot better but I had to do a lot of work. But I want to feel better (!!) and he thinks we're off to a smashing start(again-!!!).

Right.

It's okay because dammit, I'm fixing it too! Fixing me. So I can be the way I have never been before. Or something. Bridget new and improved! Now with sanity!

I don't care what, as long as it isn't this. The meds haven't even kicked in yet. Just so you know.

And he didn't say "I told you so" even once. That's how amazing Jacob is. And now I'm going to show him how amazing I am, and suck it up and take the help and get to work and stop being so difficult.

Who, me?

Laying blame.

Happiness is coming home late on a warm rainy night and deciding to duck into a sushi restaurant first, where the lights are low and the place is empty and the owners happily whip up plates of rice and vegetables and cooked fish for the kids and you can enjoy some sashimi and saki and the music and the candles and an attentive staff and two hours of non-stressed-out peace and quiet.

I suppose it would have been even better had Jacob been there and not working but you know what? I'm a big girl and I had a good time.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It wasn't till we were home and the kids were in bed that the loneliness crashed down all around me. Homesickness, fear, unsettled forced comfort. And yet I swallowed what has become a bitter pill for me and ignored the feelings because they aren't productive anymore and I know I have to deal with things.

And hey, am I twelve? Jacob has work to do, he can't be here every moment. I always wished he could.

I have to embrace the way this feels because things change.

I am alone.

Wow, talk about trust issues. I'm thinking if Jacob leaves I will feel this way all the time. A neverending rush of miserable fear. It paints a horrible picture but self-sufficiency is important right now and I have to know myself well-enough to recognize that in the event that he did leave I could survive just fine on my own. But I don't.

Because I wouldn't..well, there's no lineup. I sent them home.

Christ, I'm playing 'What If' by myself. All this from going to dinner alone with the kids?

I wouldn't ever try to find anyone else. Or would I? No, I wouldn't.

Because if there is one thing I know for sure, it's that no one can hold a candle to him. No one even comes close. He serves to magnify the weaknesses of other men I know. He makes them all look bad, somehow he exploits the flaws in their own fabrics. He makes every man he knows suck it up and try that much harder. So why can't I have faith in him? Of all people in my life he loves me the most. He has put up with the most. And he is still here. And I love him so much it hurts. Hurts. In a way that I can't deal with.

I see it. This isn't his problem. He gave it everything he had and I wasn't responding because I couldn't do anymore than I was doing. And he did give up. In the fall of 2002 we moved away from home and he gave up on me and I wasn't ever going to blame him for trying to get on with his life. He met a girl, they dated a few months and he proposed, she said yes and they got married.

Way too fast. And I couldn't talk to him on the phone. The long distance alone was a dead giveaway and Cole was like the cat that swallowed the canary. He took me away from Jacob and Jacob was left to live a life I was no longer a part of. Bless his heart, he did. Because he said once I was a part of his life it was never going to be the same ever again. He was never the same man, he said. That broke my heart into a million pieces.

But it was the same feeling. That cold feeling of abandonment, when you know that your last shred of warmth is gone forever. Oh how I cried.

By the time the feeling became a familiar one, Jacob broke my heart again, in the most wonderful exquisite way. His wife went back to school and he moved here. And we started over yet again. But this time I had a taste of that fear and I figured it was a matter of time before I felt it once again. Because once you feel it there's some sick habit of looking over your shoulder constantly. In case it comes back.

And here it comes.

Seriously. Why is he here? And why am I so fucked up? Instead of feeling safe and secure and content at last I have to root around in the dark corners of my heart and drag out the worst, most awful feelings, kicking and screaming from their places where they are content to lie in wait, ready to ambush me at the most vunerable times.

It's insane. Again, this is NOT WHO I AM.

And yet I am me. I am not taking anti-depressants, I'm not drinking (sake doesn't count, they serve it in an egg cup), I'm sort-of rested and I'm a raving lunatic. I'm scared. So goddamned scared. Of everything.

He tells me I have to trust him. 9 years doesn't lie and he hasn't abandoned me before. Does the marriage count?

Logically it shouldn't.

Logically he should be the one with trust issues.

Logically it stands to reason that I would do this again. I would run. I would waffle. I would continue down a self-destructive path and work my way through my male friends because I'm trying to fill some gaping hole that I don't even remember what used to fill it.

Maybe because nothing did until now. It is filled and I'm not used to this. And I didn't mean that. Because I would never do that.

I wouldn't because I never felt for anyone else what I feel for Jake. Not even Cole. Honestly not even Cole.

So why? Why now?

Maybe because I'm so used to Cole yanking the rug out from underneath my comfort zone. I'm looking for excuses to fuck things up again because it's so goddamned unfamiliar. Feeling good. How sad is that?

Someone once told me that the devil gave me a beautiful face and the charisma of a thousand women in exchange for being able to control my emotions. And yet I believe that beauty doesn't come from the outside, it comes from within. Making me the ugliest person alive. And the devil is having fun with me now. I don't want this. This brimming with such enthusiastic self-doubt. I hate this.

What I want I might never have. Because I can't get a grip anymore. I can dig in with both tiny hands and hold on as tight as I possibly can and it isn't working. I'm slipping. And Jacob has me by the hand and I know he won't let go on purpose but eventually his body will give out or win over his heart and I will fall. And there will be no one left to catch me. Maybe if I think hard enough and I become strong enough I can fly. And then I won't get hurt.

And no that isn't what I said, okay, it's exactly what I said but it isn't what I mean and so please don't go there so I DON'T GO THERE. No worries. I'm not hanging off the gingerbread today.

Because I cannot fly. And no matter how strong I get, I cannot fly. Bridget doesn't have wings, she has stones tied to her arms. Jacob has wings. He can fly. He can do anything.

He saved me from Cole. But can he save me from myself? And how is it fair to ask him to do something for me, when I can't even do it myself?

I can't save Bridget. She's up there on the stupid roof trying to fly. Because she's an idiot. Because she's just not as freewheeling and cute as she would have you believe. She's a mess.

A beautiful mess.

Guess who said that?

Yes. The one with the wings. The one with no wings? Well, she believes every word of it.

I have to fix this. Me.

Disgraced.

Please note, this is a cringe-worthy post just for me. I promised myself I wouldn't gloss and I don't plan to so if you are easily shocked, read elsewhere today. I'm sorry. And to think this is heavily edited. I left everything out because it was that bad.

The beautiful roses were to mark two months since Jacob asked me to be with him. A picture that will never leave my head. I even remember what he was wearing. He had on his old worn threadbare jeans, a white thermal long-sleeved tshirt with a blue Habitat for Humanity tshirt over it, and his converse hightops. He was covered with sawdust and his hands were filthy. He had woodchips in his hair and hadn't shaved in four days. His pockets were full of nails. They were starting the addition that day, he was framing walls. It was like he just made up his mind, put down his hammer and walked over, and that's exactly what he did.

And two months is an incredibly short period of time and yet so much has happened. And so much is still to happen. I have come so far but I still have a very long road ahead, longer than I thought.

I'm seriously fucked up.

And since I have no shame, I'm going to write about it. But I am ashamed, embarassed and in awe of exactly how fucked up I am. It's positively amazing to me, and you have been warned.

Sexually fucked-up.

Yes.

Why am I writing about this? To get through it, because it's what I do. Because I'm tired of it.

Cole wasn't so nice in the sex department. Depraved would be a word I would use. I didn't know any different until now, I was fifteen when we got together. I wasn't a virgin, I had slept with two guys before him, I was such a wannabe bad-girl, being bad to catch his eye, and I succeeded. Be careful what you wish for, chickens. He was rough, violent. He was almost 20. He liked it that way. Eventually I liked it that way. I don't even know how to begin to explain that. I really don't. Can't miss what you never had, I guess.

I was going to be his equal. I was going to tame this darkly dangerous guy. Hilarious. And it escalated.

He had fantasies he told me about when we were having sex. He had always been obsessed with wanting to share me, and later with the idea of an open marriage, which is where Jacob came in perfectly, in Cole's mind. He could control my access to Jacob. An open marriage is a great idea, right? It meant he wasn't a jealous husband (sarcasm goes here). Maybe that's why I have so many male friends, maybe? I know, not fair at all, that's anger.

Eventually in bed he even would describe me having sex with Jacob while Cole watched, even though Cole would be the one having sex with me. His fantasies, told to me through whispers in the dark. Those were the times I think I liked it. I could picture that, I got into it thinking about Jake and I got off. Then Cole would get mad, he would get rough, he'd choke me, hurt me, leave me crying out in pain. The more I cried out the more turned on he would get. So yeah, do the math on that. If I enjoyed myself I paid for it. As long as he was in control it was okay, though. And I didn't like that. I would beg for him to stop and he wouldn't. I learned to take what I was given and give it back just as well. Hurt or be hurt. Hurt and be hurt anyways. Obey him and stay alive.

Funny the things you get used to. Not funny, but you get the idea.

So try undoing that. Just try. The first time I slept with Jake it was amazing. Surprising and suprisingly difficult. He couldn't understand what the hell I wanted, I couldn't articulate what I wanted because I had no idea. I was waiting for him to be rough, to throw me around, to make me cry out from pain. I'm sure that night he thought I was so fucked up maybe he had made a terrible mistake. It was bittersweet to finally be with him and suddenly find out how fucked up I really was, all at once.

And Jacob didn't give in and get rough. Instead he made me feel good, he made me cry out with happiness. He makes all that ugliness disappear. He's showing me how sex could be good and thorough too, crazy and beyond wonderful without being so twisted and harsh. That is bittersweet. He wants to fix this.

Twisted and harsh is fine if that's what you like but a steady diet of it against your will isn't healthy.

So I'm freaky. I feel like I need all that to get off now and I don't. Every night I wage a battle of wills with myself not to tense up and not to try to hurt Jacob and not to push him past his own limits of decency because I'm used to it being sick. I'm used to being submissive to Cole's whims and Jacob hates this. I have used that word before here and now you know why. It's a way of life. It's brainwashing.

Jake has so much patience. He said we should wait, I don't want to wait. He asks for me only to trust him. To just respond to what he does and not worry about anything else for now, and just do what feels good. Or not.

We can stop anytime you want to, Bridge.
Harder than it sounds. One night I asked him to choke me for release and he freaked right out and everything ground to a halt. I was humiliated. He was half sick with rage at Cole. I didn't want him to even look at me.

Depraved.

What a stupid word for a stupid girl.

I've got so much to undo and I'm going to undo it even if it embarasses the shit out me.

Cole used to pride himself on boasting about me being June Cleaver in the living room and a freaky porn star in the bedroom. I know he's told the guys things about me, things I could do to him, I know Jake wasn't spared tales of Bridget in the bedroom. And even then I was somehow okay with that. Cole must love me, he was proud of me, he was boasting, showing me off. He was envied. I was flattered at the thought that my male friends had fantasies about me because of Cole's words.

How sick. Because they really had no idea. They do now because I told them. Quietly I'm putting it out there so I can deal with all of it and get past it and put it on Cole and let myself off the hook because I didn't want a life like that. I'm not that girl. I never was. I played a role for my own safety and I stayed glued in one place while I came unglued on the inside. I have to let that go now. Bless them, they've been very grown up about it, even though I have no promises that it changes the picture of me that they have in their heads.

And it is getting better. Every night I re-learn what feels good and what I want on my own terms, at my own speed. Every night I'm almost surprised to remember that I'm not going to get hurt anymore. Sort of like an x-rated version of the psychological and physical restoration I'm going through. Learning to trust that I can be myself all the time and I don't have to give up anything to anyone ever. Unless I want to.

Hopeful romantics.

On an unspoken challenge, Jacob has made it his life's mission to leave me speechless, or so I'm beginning to suspect.

He's doing a damn fine job.

This afternoon he walked into the house out of the blue with a huge bouquet of roses, told me he loved me, and grabbed me in possibly the most earth-shattering kiss he has ever bestowed on me (and he's good at them). He then told me to have a good afternoon and he'd be home for supper. And with that he went back to work.

Leaving me standing in the kitchen with all these roses and the goofiest smile on my face. Ever.

TGIF, everyone.

Fidget and the rumpled reverend.

You know, I wasn't kidding when I said that about having caffeine and vibrating around the house. I do. I shake. I have serious jitterbugs from too much caffeine and I usually try to keep it under 6 giant mugfuls a day or I have personal earthquakes all day long.

A neighbor blissfully lent me her new Tassimo for the coming weekend, since they are going away. She left a lovely assortment of discs with it, since she knew I was considering getting a podmaker.

Oh. my. God.

This is too easy.

I've possibly had fourteen cups of espresso and I've only been up since 6. And we went shopping this morning because this. man. has. no. clothes.

Men need clothes. That old blazer. My favorite. It's so worn it's like velvet and it was corduroy when he bought it. His jeans? Possibly the same ones he's worn since college. Shoes? Oh geez, don't even go there. Chuck Taylors and one pair of brown oxfords that are almost worn through the soles. I dropped those off to have the soles replaced. 2 broken belts to be rebuckled. And then I dragged the Emperor with no clothes to the Gap.

Where he promptly morphed into a metrosexual when he saw all the linen.

He wanted to get linen shirts, a linen blazer and a few pairs of carpenter's jeans.

I pointed out the rumpledness, which would kind of give him a Duran Duran music video vibe. Because a girl never forgets her first crush on a musician. Simon Le Bon. First blonde man to catch my eye, but thankfully not the last. Sigh.

He was fine with the rumpled look. He loved the jeans. Loved them.

Look, Bridge, a loop for the hammer when I'm doing the roof. And feel how cool this is. This will be great. Wow. I didn't even know about all this stuff.
He left that store with 4 new outfits, none of which included the gorgeous celery green long sleeved shirt that made his hair look almost white and his eyes like the water in a tropical beach poster but I tried. Oh how I tried. I'll be going back to get that shirt for him.

And me? I rattled around the store like I was on crack. Because I was loose in the Mall (I love the Mall) and I was full of pod coffee. I couldn't have slowed down long enough to buy anything if I had wanted to.

    Pretty looking road I try to hold the rising floods that fill my skin
    Dont ask me why Ill keep my promise Ill melt the ice
    And you wanted to dance, so I asked you to dance
    But fear is in your soul,
    Some people call it a one night stand, but we can call it paradise

Ben calls Jacob out.

This post will humanize Jacob, for those of you riding on the high along with me. It's long, get coffee.

Ben was quietly and briefly banned from the house yesterday. Not verbally, and not absolutely because Jacob doesn't have final say, and neither do I but we're all taking some steps back and calling it a breather. Jacob had been looking for an excuse to give Ben his notice, but it really isn't fair because Ben has been here, he's been amazing and helpful and generous with most of his free time and Jacob forgot all that rather quickly in his attempt to quietly fight his demons on the inside. Because he does that.

Some of my own denial clarified for me last night. I was going through the stack of papers on top of the fridge because these are things that have been sitting up there for weeks. Several pamphlets on Battered Woman Syndrome were in the pile and I finally clued in. Oh my god I am. Unequivocally. I kept pushing it off, denying it, ignoring the talk because Cole didn't hit me during our marriage.

He didn't have to. He belittled me, picked on me. Told me things that you don't say to the one you love. He was so full of contempt for me. He conducted his own evil little brand of psychological abuse and I didn't even know it. I was sure he said mean things when he felt threatened. I'm sure he did feel threatened. And my excuses are one of the biggest indicators of that abuse now. Blaming myself. Though I will continue to do that because of my own actions, I can step outside of myself and see it for what it was.

A strange breakthrough to have in the middle of the kitchen at dinnertime when there's a bunch of friends standing around watching the cat try to catch a ladybug. A remarkably possessive group, seven big brothers who will happily kick each other's asses to kingdom come before they let anyone hurt me like Cole did ever again. God I love them all.

Ben nods and says something about control freaks coming in all shapes and sizes and Cole probably isn't the only one. He looked at Jake pointedly.

The other guys took this opportunity to make hasty exits because most of them refuse to argue with Jake. Once they were gone Jacob looked at Ben and spoke rather mildly,

Have something you need to say, Ben?

I think I said it.

Want to explain it?

I think it's self-explanatory, so nope.

Oh, for cryin' out loud. I had to step between them.

Ben, do you really think Jake is controlling?

Bridge, I don't think I want to say any more. I just want you to be happy and in control of your own life. At your own pace. Making your own decisions.

I am, Ben.

But are you? Because I haven't seen that yet.
He looks at Jake again.

Sorry you feel that way.

Jake, in all honesty you're just like Cole.

Ben, what are you talking about?

Well, he IS, Bridge! They fought over you like you and plotted shares as if you were a possession. Last time I looked you weren't a thing, you were a person and they both act like you're a goddamned trophy! It makes me SICK!

Time to go, Ben.

Yeah, I think I've seen enough. Bye princess.

With that he walked outside, and I followed.

Ben, talk to me.

No, Bridge, I think your owner, oh sorry, your BOYFRIEND wants to have dinner with his prize alone.

Ben, fuck off. This isn't like you.

Yeah, well maybe I should have said something a few years ago. Jake is just as controlling, Bridge, maybe he's just better at it. Be careful. The charismatic preacher boy has you wrapped.

You mean I have him wrapped.

Whatever gets you through the night, baby.

Ben, I'm in control of my life and I don't like you saying these things about him. Christ, he's your friend.

So is Cole, and I've told him much the same thing. You don't see it. You can't see it from where you are.

Where am I?

I don't know anymore.

Not fair, Ben. So not fair.

I'm gonna go.

Yeah, maybe you should.

Don't cry Bridge. I'm sorry. This wasn't a conversation you should been involved in.

Maybe it's better I was.

Just...just stand on your own two feet and don't let him rush you okay? He's on a slippery slope, Bridge. And you're so much stronger than you think you are.

Ben, just go, okay?

Okay. Sorry, Bridge.

I went back in and Jacob was sitting there looking at me. Of course he heard everything, there are two windows that look over the deck and both are open.

Bridget.

Yeah, Jake?

Do you think I'm trying to control you?

No.

But?

No, but am I the one who would know? How much of my feelings are accurate? I know what I feel and then everyone tells me it's due to this trauma or that event, abuse, whatever. I don't even know anymore. Maybe Ben can be more objective.

I would never ever try to control you. There's no slippery slope here.

You can't. Even if you tried.

Then what are you thinking? You can tell me anything.

Are you trying? Am I the prize?

Honestly, in a way, maybe you are. Your love is the ultimate reward. It's the only thing I have ever wanted with my entire soul. Does that make me evil?

Not to me.

I'm happy to hear that, but if it's still wrong to others then I'm not any better than Cole in the end.

You're not Cole. And maybe they don't see some things, and that's why they feel this way.

Or maybe you don't. I'm pissed at Ben for putting this into your head.

He's trying to make sure my eyes are open, Jake.

He's trying to cause more heartache Bridge. Maybe he wants you for himself.

Now that sounds like the words of a control freak.
He just stopped and stared at me, with that look.

Jake. Let's fix it now and deal with it.

No.

We have to.

We don't have to do anything. I'm going to go to the church for a bit.

To work? Now?

No, Bridge. To pray. Because I'm so fucked up right now I can't make any sense of myself and that isn't a place I want to be. I love you. I'll be back soon.
And he kissed me and left. He came back looking drained and pale and miserable. Angry in his quiet way. He took the phone into the bedroom and he called Ben and they talked for an hour. I could hear him yelling at Ben that just because he wanted to be with me so badly doesn't make me his. And that it isn't his place to put me in a cage but yet it's so hard not to want to tuck me away in some safe place where no one can ever hurt me again because it's instinctual and he fights with those feelings. And he said he didn't have the courage right now to let go even just a little bit because I might get hurt again. And doesn't Ben think that he knows that it isn't right?

I sat outside the door and cried because I knew he was crying, in that desperate, quiet way men do, when you're not really sure if they are, but they are. Something I've seen him do only 3 times in the entire time I have known him. He's a big strong man, he doesn't cry.

When he came out he said that Ben was going to back off for a bit, and that so was he. He said he was ready to talk now, if I would have him. Now look who is having trouble setting the one they love free to come back. Look at that.

I just don't want an undercurrent of negativity every time we have to make a decision from here on out, Jake. That's why I think we should deal with it.

Right so will you tell me when I'm doing it?

I will if you promise not to let me walk all over you because you're suddenly afraid to assert yourself because of what people might think.

I've never cared what anyone thinks, besides me and you, Bridge.

Then I'll tell you. And you keep being strong. And is Ben okay?

He's fine. We got it out. He's just giving us a little space. A day or two. Call him, okay?

Yeah, I will.

I didn't call Ben back last night, instead I left the space and I called him this morning. He was in a much better frame of mind. He said the only thing he knows for sure after knowing us all for so long is that he's not going to sit idly by ever again and not speak up. So he did it. He did it and he said he did it because he knew Jake was struggling with it and it got it out there in the open and now we can move forward, instead of getting bogged down with our long-ingrained methods of keeping things in, shoving bad thoughts or unreasonable feelings into dark corners where they linger, festering like wounds that never really heal. Those wounds will kill you in the end. Trust me. Because that was an issue. And we weren't dealing with it.

But dammit if I don't feel better now. And so does Jake.

Thanks Ben.


    Can I break away
    push me away, make me fall,
    just to see another side of me,
    push me away you can see,
    what I see, the other side of me

Bridget is one crafty wingnut.

Here's some glorious fluff, because let's face it. The previous post was not so much lighthearted wingy reading material for such a beautiful day as this.

So instead, behold the Spring Embroidery Project 2006, alternately titled: The Gap didn't have my size when I went to get one of their cute embroidered jean jackets so fuck them, I'll buy a plain one and do it myself.

I have a half-finished butterfly on left shoulder, and on the back, I'm going for an east-meets-west design or something, because cherry blossoms and prairie wildflowers in the same area? Highly unlikely. Did you know I put a bunny in the wildflowers?

Two for Tuesday.

Point form goodness for your reading pleasure, I'm too tired to string it together.

-comments are not off, I hid them somehow and managed to restore them after 45 minutes of fighting with the overheating laptop. I'm so not computer-literate. Hell, I'm barely literate.

-Got a surprise phonecall from Jacob's wife today. (don't panic, divorce is final in a couple of weeks). She wished us well. She wished us luck with having a baby. She's seeing a nice guy, he's a lawyer who also doesn't want any kids (!). I won't even touch upon why they married each other in the first place. Oh yes, she was 33 then and didn't want to be alone and he was looking to forget. We couldn't be more different though but it's civilized. I know, I said that before and look what happened.

And no, I'm not pregnant. Holy lord you people.

-I can't open the front door. Funny. We used the original turnlock and knob on the inside for historical accuracy and a new deadbolt and keyed knob on the outside and when Jacob changed the locks it was very difficult to turn afterward. He's going to reinstall it tonight but until he does I can't get the mail and there's a catalogue that looks intriguing, and no porch swing either. Boooo!

-The wine, yes. I know. The wine is gone, none since Saturday. I know it's only Tuesday but we were having a glass every night with dinner. No more. I need a break from it before it becomes a permanent way to escape from my mind. Jacob's happy to drink coffee 24 hours a day. He actually does this. Sometimes tea but mostly coffee.

-Speaking of coffee, if you have a pod coffee machine tell me. I'm looking at them with interest. Because it would be so easy to drink coffee 24 hours a day. And paint the house at midnight or vibrate around the living room long after I should be asleep. On second thought, never mind.

-Teaching a 6 yr old to ride a bike without training wheels is just about harder than toilet training was. I'm so not kidding. But since the reading isn't going any better we'll just bat zero and roll on to summer.

-I'm rambling aren't I? Okay enough.