On being watched.

Delusions. I must have them. Who am I kidding? We're not equals, Jacob and I. Not in the least.

He leads, I follow. Happily, I might add.

I started today like I start so many days. Figuratively standing behind him clutching his hand, eyes cast down, letting him be stronger because it's easier to be led. He makes it easy for me to let go and just be myself, that girl I'm finding I sort of like, though she's still a little difficult to coax out of her sullenness, she takes time to warm up.

Just don't push her too much. Oh, and she's still easily startled. Things you need to remember.

Which Ben did on Saturday, and he's no longer welcome here.

Shortly after I wrote in my journal Jacob and I made a late dinner. Quietly, resolutely we ate together. The suffocating disappointment of Friday's outcome still hanging over our heads made things tense, an unwelcome feeling for me now. Halfway through the meal I looked up only to discover Jacob was sitting there making silly faces at me. I laughed so hard. We made up. Okay, not exactly true. We made up in his dining room chair in various states of undress because going upstairs would have taken too long.

Here's where I point out when he was unzipping my dress he heard a creak. I told him it must be the cat. We continued on. That chair was fun.

Until we decided to return from heaven and we both saw Ben standing in the doorway watching us. Leaning in the doorway, because he had been standing there for a good ten minutes taking in the flesh-for-fantasy lottery. He struck Bridget gold. He saw everything. All of it.

Most people would have been embarrassed and left hastily. Ben? He stayed to watch the show. Which pretty much destroyed the already shaky ground he occupied in Jacob's good graces, because Jake hated the offhand comments Ben would make at any given opportunity. Or the lingering looks if my strap slid or the wind swirled my skirt. Jake always said that Cole and Ben were likeminded individuals.

Ugh.

So Ben was sent outside, and then kicked out of Bridget's army for good. Or at least for a long while. I'm summarily creeped out by his actions and now is not the time to ask me to swallow his temporary madness. I'm too fragile for that. I'm too fragile to even acknowledge that one of my friends thought it was terrific to watch me get...no, I can't. I have a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach.

So Ben is out. For good. Jacob doesn't want him around. I don't want him around. I don't care what his excuses are or his reasons. They can't possibly be good enough to justify the extreme breeching of our privacy, dining room or not. The back door was locked. He had a key because he was returning my car that I had let him borrow, thinking he would return it on Sunday morning, not at 10:30 Saturday night.

So with that I go back to deferring to Jacob. No more creeps, no more surprises, no more judging character so poorly and ignoring cues, refusing to believe in motives I still can't believe people harbor. For real. For me. I can live with your weaknesses, just don't betray me so magnificently. Please.

He sees and hears things I won't and can't. And that is exactly what I need.

Running man.

We're back.

I was dragged back, kicking and screaming in a figurative sense. No one wanted to come back. It was a remarkably quiet drive-those of you with 5 and 6 year olds in the house will find that unbelievable. There is something about painted wood floors, showers with no water pressure, woodstoves, checkers and napping in the sun in a wet swimsuit until you're too hungry to wait another minute, so you run and grab a cookie and go right back to your nap that makes me want to ditch reality altogether.

I would in a heartbeat but I traded the workaholic for the man with a calling. He had to come back. He now has three days to prepare for a wedding, a funeral and the regular summer services, plus he starts teaching a course next week that he's not ready for and uncannily nervous about. This weekend Jacob finally felt the weight of a family. Which he coveted for so long and now he sees the responsibility.

Because unlike his previous somewhat parallel universe, this one doesn't stretch easily to include the notion that when life hands you curveballs you can just pick up and leave for a bit. He will take on more than most people can handle at once, because in between..

He's a runner.

At least that's what I call it. When life gets difficult or claustrophobic Jacob hits the road as soon as he can. Once he was gone for seven months. He barely plans these trips and is ready to call the airline and book a flight somewhere or pack the truck or whatever and leave town on a moment's notice (like Monday). He says for him a change of scenery always brings fresh insight, a fresh attitude and a renewal of the spirit.

Translation for the rest of us: Jacob has his own avoidance tendencies.

Who doesn't? It's okay. It's not a flaw, it's a coping mechanism and it works as well as some people's shot of brandy, or someone else's nervous breakdown. Or someone throwing a plate..

Er..

Whatever works, Jake. Then you get past the hard part, come back renewed and life continues on. No one can argue another's way of dealing with the low moments.

It's okay.

We're back. He always comes back. I wondered out loud if the four of us being there defeated his purpose, if we cramped his escape.

A very brief trace of the wild emotional Jake flickered through his beautiful blue eyes, because he has at once embraced and rejected the realization that I know him as well as I do and I can capitalize on it at will at last. Like he always has with me.

I pushed the unspoken into the light and we officially entered a new phase in our relationship. Equals. No one is in charge, no one leads. It's a partnership. He can continue to protect, I can continue to nurture and confirm and yet we can keep each other in check. Something he wouldn't allow before. He took charge. He didn't think I was strong enough for that. Because sure, I can hold him, I can tell him everything he wants to hear, I can tell him I am his now and know that he will look after me. But there was no place for acknowledging his thoughts or even negative feelings before. This time Jake was the one who was surprised that the world didn't cave in.

He doesn't have to be strong all the time and the running stops here. He said it stops because nomads are solitary, and he is no longer a solitary traveller. He's not alone, and the revelation hit him all at once this weekend with an audible smack. He is overjoyed. He has a whole family now.

Jacob isn't alone anymore. And neither are we.

And that is incredible progress made in three days in the middle of nowhere and that, dear Bridget, is why people run. When the familiar roles are stripped away on a new and unfamiliar common ground, you find out where you really stand and you don't have to run anymore. You can rest.

I kind of like standing right here, it feels really really good.

Up with the sunrise.

This morning Jacob woke me up at 5:30.

5:30! Someone has a deathwish. Even the kids have outgrown that ungodly hour.

He put my weekend carpet bag on the bed and sat down and told me a joke:

Q. What does an owl need for his bath?
A. A t-owl

After about 10 minutes of thinking, rather dumbly because I'm sitting there just trying to get both of my eyes to stay open at the same time, I clued in and remembered the cottage.

Surprise! (I get one-upped every. single. time.)

We're starting Monday with a brief getaway, going back up to that cottage by the lake to do absolutely nothing but tell owl jokes (he told me owl jokes to break the ice so many times that weekend) and sleep and swim and sleep and eat grilled food. The kids are already so excited. There are grey owls up there, it's beautiful. Quiet & beautiful. Exactly what we need. No computers, no well-meaning friends, no lawyers, no appointments.

Our first actual mini-vacation as a family. I have chills.

We'll be back on Thursday and when I return I promise to share the stories of how I lost the decade-long hearing battle, how Ben just about succeeded in pounding in the last nail in the friendship coffin with Jake on Saturday night and all the other news.

The mood of a rainy Saturday night.

I don't really feel much like sharing tonight. I'm feeling disappointed and frustrated. Get this. They don't believe I'm a good candidate for the cochlear implants because my hearing is 'slightly better than we'd like to see it.' and instead have recommended that I be outfitted with two hearing aids. It seems they have settled on 'moderately hard of hearing' because we all know how much Bridget likes to be labelled.

Two.

Hearing aids.

I said I would think about it. Because I wasn't about to pitch a hissy fit there but two hearing aids is just about the only thing I really don't want.

And Jacob's mad. Let him be mad then.

Floored.

This morning I made toast and eggs and coffee and brought them upstairs on a tray. The kids were still asleep. We had breakfast in bed between us on a tray and it was really nice. Jacob smiled the whole time. He's not used to being pampered. That is changing as we speak.

He's too easy to please. I want to make his life easy. I want to spoil him rotten and treat him to life out of the ordinary and surprise him and make him feel special, because he is. He claims when I walk into the room and smile at him he feels special, spoiled and out of this world. I'm rolling my eyes out of my head with that, just so you know.

It's sick. Remember when I talked before about the sheer level of infatuation we shared for each other? It hasn't waned. It won't give an inch. I love it. And he's done so much and given up so much and just plain been here when needed and stayed when I was being impossible. No guy I know does that. I'm not worth that and yet he swears different. He is so worth it, without question.

And I may be stubborn as hell but I also know when I'm not even remotely logical, and just posturing for the hell of it. And so I'm giving in and it's big.

My eval for cochlear implants is at 3 pm. I didn't tell a lot of people in case I got cold feet.

Give me strength. I try not to talk about it much but I have a very sweet story about how he finally changed my mind. I'll have to tell it tomorrow, I have no more computer time today.

TGIF!

Wide-awake and possibly screaming.

I was so rudely jolted awake this morning. When I opened my eyes I was sitting up and I was nose to nose with Jake, who had my face in his hands and he's yelling at me:

It's not real Bridge! It's not real!

Since, you know, if real life doesn't make you crazy enough, the nightmares will finish you off. The screaming. Oh, my God.

So far this week there has been yet another round of semi-catatonic rollercoasters. I'm going to burn down the whole amusement park.

The fuckers adjusted my medication. Less zombie, more Bridget. Thank God. I can't operate at 50% of myself and even Jake was showing serious wear with that. I need the sparklies. My sparklies were diluted by this shit and I hate it. I had been reduced to one word answers, no writing at all, mostly sleeping, trying to stay coherent and not using the stove, forks, a toothbrush or any other heavy machinery. Smiling was about as easy as lifting up the truck with one hand. Such a pretty picture I was. Thankfully I feel a little energy today. Not my usual headlong 150% into everything but soon.

I might even be able to drive soon. Not yet but soon. Once I master that fork.

Jacob's house sold! Thank God for small favors. He had multiple offers and made out like a bandit. He's really good with money too. Good in that way in which he's diligent and minimalistic and stockpiles money in the bank because he's sticking it to the man by being an anticonsumerist (translation: hippie with no furniture). Something I used to try to be. This could be the one difficult part of our relationship but since he's always around to discuss things with I hope we can do finances together, or he can continue on. Cole was so perpetually absent I looked after everything financial and he didn't care if I used retail therapy to fill needs. Jacob? well, Jacob doesn't have a whole lot of patience for things like $40 worth of cell phone charms from Japan or the Anthropologie dress addiction, which is partially his fault anyway, because I wanted to look pretty for him and he has a small unspoken thing about my dresses. He loves me in them. Wait, I think he likes them on the floor best now. Okay, nevermind.

And the best news of all, the sling is off for good. Finally. It was such a pain. I still have a long way to go but I don't have the imaginary grinding feeling anymore when I move my arms a certain way. This is huge for me. The visual reminders disappearing will do nothing but help spur the emotional ones to move on as well, I'm hoping.

The sparkles are congregating. I feel it.

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.