So maybe letting go is what makes it better. If I'm not reigning in the
wild personality glitches and emotional binges for some reason
nothing...happens. All this post traumatic stress bullshit just ebbs and
flows like the tide and I have no control and I thought that was what I
needed. Control. I looked and there it was.
I can push and shove
Jake so hard and he doesn't budge. Yet he'll stand there taking none of
my bullshit and simultaneously saying he'll be here as many times as I
need to hear it and I love him to death for it.
He said Let it go, Bridge.
And
I did. I just said it and left it there. And we're all still vertical.
No one's insulted, no one's had enough, no one went off the deep end or
fell apart. And I took very deep breaths and he kissed my forehead and
just held his lips there, against my skin. He matched my breathing. I
closed my eyes and the neverending adrenaline rush and fear suddenly
wasn't there anymore. Would it be asking too much to just pray that it
holds?
And on a good note, we totally missed today's date. Jacob
is officially divorced. A long road for him that started over a year ago
when he made up his mind that he couldn't and wouldn't live without me
any longer. I can hardly believe it.
Monday, 3 July 2006
Therapy homework.
Shield your eyes while I quietly implode, okay?
Excuse me if I can't explain why I wake up wanting to hurt myself. Total despair and I don't know why. Sure you have the answers for everything. I don't and until I (I, do you hear me?) find them there isn't any point to validating me like some sort of mental patient. I see it. I see everything. I know how it appears. I realize it doesn't make sense and yet everyone around me continues to allow it. It will pass, things will get better. You won't feel out of control anymore, they say. And then someone changes the medicine again. New hours, new routines, new feelings and it overwhelms and Bridget loses it and gets to sleep for a whole day all over again.
Only this time she didn't sleep so well or so much and she woke up feeling dangerous.
And I'm over here hiding in a tiny corner of me and I don't like it. I can't see anything and I'm afraid. No, not afraid of the dark, afraid of myself, don't you see that? I can't shut it off.
I'm not going to hurt myself but it's right there, the feelings. The easy way out. The end to all this bullshit. All the pain, all the looking up to see you staring at me with that equal threshold of pain radiating from your own eyes because no, you can't fix this. You just can't and wanting it so badly makes absolutely no difference in the world.
And I'm sorry for this but here it is. You going off to call the doctor and ask for help or advice doesn't make a difference. They don't know me. They're going to get paid whether I feel better or not. There's no stakes for them. Things were better when you were calling the shots and frankly I don't care if you felt you had to give up control to save face, to prevent the comparisons. They weren't fair anyway and why you listened when you should have kept going is a mystery.
A mystery I solved. It was me. You were afraid I wouldn't get anywhere so you passed me off to the professionals and agreed to stay close to observe and assist and support and all the other things you do so well. You want me back. The happy girl. Not this. You doubted yourself.
Don't do it with me. I don't need the second guessing. I need everything you gave me before. Take off the gloves, throw away the psychobabble and the drugs and just take my goddamned hand and make sure I have distractions. The rest will fix itself.
I promise.
And even if I say I'm going to hurl myself off the top of a building, I'm not. Are you mad? Ruth and Henry only have us now. And I have you. And I wouldn't give any of you up willingly so don't be scared of my words. They're just stupid words. I have millions of them, and if I can ever find the wherewithall to sit down and sort them out and arrange them perfectly I will have all my answers and then I'll feel better. I know it.
In the meantime, can I exchange this? This pain? This unreal intangible pain in my heart that doesn't ever let up? The physical pain was so easy. Child's play that I could gauge and work with. I work hard, I did everything I was told and then I healed. I felt better. I can move again. I'm not wrapped up anymore. I'm not marked by his hands. I can let that go. So why won't this work? Why won't the intangible pain let up even for a moment? How do you presume to understand how your soul can flinch, a visible reaction to an invisible terror? It's crushing me.
Because I've been a wife, a compliment, a trophy, a toy for so long I don't know how not to be, that's how. Told how to dress, how to think, how to feel and what to do. The freedom of now is overwhelming. I am overwhelming now. A million miles a minute headlong into everything and I kick myself hard every time I want to ask for help or defer on a decision because I can't make it. I don't know which end is up.
You, you stand there with the patience of Job, and it's so fucking maddening. It makes me want to scream because it's taking too long and you don't really want this. You have no idea who is going to walk out the other side of this or even if there's a promise that anyone will ever walk out at all.
Yet still you stand there waiting, and helping, being steady and keeping the kids happy while Mommy goes to her room and cries herself to sleep without ever knowing why. Manning your post simply because you promised you would and you'll lift them up and be the only constant good thing in a world that sometimes seems to be filled with night-black snarling tangles of rage and they're coming straight at me. You can only hold them off for so long. And clutching me to your chest while you fight one-handed isn't going to make for any easy victories. Not this time around. That's right about how positively fucked up I am. The worst thing is you alternate between wanting to do this all for me, and shoving me forward and insisting I do it myself. Just when I get going and I feel like I'm getting somewhere something else happens and you step in and take over again. In the non-control way, of course. Letting me think I'm doing it all myself and I'm possibly as dumb as I look because I prefer it that way. Honestly. Heartbreakingly.
Please. Just fix me. Because I'm not having any luck.
So everyone wanted to know how Bridget feels today.
Aren't you sorry you asked?
Excuse me if I can't explain why I wake up wanting to hurt myself. Total despair and I don't know why. Sure you have the answers for everything. I don't and until I (I, do you hear me?) find them there isn't any point to validating me like some sort of mental patient. I see it. I see everything. I know how it appears. I realize it doesn't make sense and yet everyone around me continues to allow it. It will pass, things will get better. You won't feel out of control anymore, they say. And then someone changes the medicine again. New hours, new routines, new feelings and it overwhelms and Bridget loses it and gets to sleep for a whole day all over again.
Only this time she didn't sleep so well or so much and she woke up feeling dangerous.
And I'm over here hiding in a tiny corner of me and I don't like it. I can't see anything and I'm afraid. No, not afraid of the dark, afraid of myself, don't you see that? I can't shut it off.
I'm not going to hurt myself but it's right there, the feelings. The easy way out. The end to all this bullshit. All the pain, all the looking up to see you staring at me with that equal threshold of pain radiating from your own eyes because no, you can't fix this. You just can't and wanting it so badly makes absolutely no difference in the world.
And I'm sorry for this but here it is. You going off to call the doctor and ask for help or advice doesn't make a difference. They don't know me. They're going to get paid whether I feel better or not. There's no stakes for them. Things were better when you were calling the shots and frankly I don't care if you felt you had to give up control to save face, to prevent the comparisons. They weren't fair anyway and why you listened when you should have kept going is a mystery.
A mystery I solved. It was me. You were afraid I wouldn't get anywhere so you passed me off to the professionals and agreed to stay close to observe and assist and support and all the other things you do so well. You want me back. The happy girl. Not this. You doubted yourself.
Don't do it with me. I don't need the second guessing. I need everything you gave me before. Take off the gloves, throw away the psychobabble and the drugs and just take my goddamned hand and make sure I have distractions. The rest will fix itself.
I promise.
And even if I say I'm going to hurl myself off the top of a building, I'm not. Are you mad? Ruth and Henry only have us now. And I have you. And I wouldn't give any of you up willingly so don't be scared of my words. They're just stupid words. I have millions of them, and if I can ever find the wherewithall to sit down and sort them out and arrange them perfectly I will have all my answers and then I'll feel better. I know it.
In the meantime, can I exchange this? This pain? This unreal intangible pain in my heart that doesn't ever let up? The physical pain was so easy. Child's play that I could gauge and work with. I work hard, I did everything I was told and then I healed. I felt better. I can move again. I'm not wrapped up anymore. I'm not marked by his hands. I can let that go. So why won't this work? Why won't the intangible pain let up even for a moment? How do you presume to understand how your soul can flinch, a visible reaction to an invisible terror? It's crushing me.
Because I've been a wife, a compliment, a trophy, a toy for so long I don't know how not to be, that's how. Told how to dress, how to think, how to feel and what to do. The freedom of now is overwhelming. I am overwhelming now. A million miles a minute headlong into everything and I kick myself hard every time I want to ask for help or defer on a decision because I can't make it. I don't know which end is up.
You, you stand there with the patience of Job, and it's so fucking maddening. It makes me want to scream because it's taking too long and you don't really want this. You have no idea who is going to walk out the other side of this or even if there's a promise that anyone will ever walk out at all.
Yet still you stand there waiting, and helping, being steady and keeping the kids happy while Mommy goes to her room and cries herself to sleep without ever knowing why. Manning your post simply because you promised you would and you'll lift them up and be the only constant good thing in a world that sometimes seems to be filled with night-black snarling tangles of rage and they're coming straight at me. You can only hold them off for so long. And clutching me to your chest while you fight one-handed isn't going to make for any easy victories. Not this time around. That's right about how positively fucked up I am. The worst thing is you alternate between wanting to do this all for me, and shoving me forward and insisting I do it myself. Just when I get going and I feel like I'm getting somewhere something else happens and you step in and take over again. In the non-control way, of course. Letting me think I'm doing it all myself and I'm possibly as dumb as I look because I prefer it that way. Honestly. Heartbreakingly.
Please. Just fix me. Because I'm not having any luck.
So everyone wanted to know how Bridget feels today.
Aren't you sorry you asked?
Sunday, 2 July 2006
Softly, slowly (the hearing post).
(This post is going to be awfully esoteric for most. The revelation that Jacob deliberately whispers words to me that I never hear was at once profound and heartbreaking to discover. And it has been going on for years. YEARS. For the record, Cole never cared if I heard him or not. He helped me pretend I was perfect. On the outside.)
I have a theory: There are two kinds of people in this world-those who get songs stuck in their heads and subsequently play them for WEEKS until the urge wanes, and those who don't.
Jacob and I are both of the first persuasion. Which makes for some entertaining and frustrating moments because the one with the stuck song will play it so much it invariably winds up in the head of the one who was doing just fine thank you.
Enter Elton John and Bernie Taupin. Masterful songwriters. Hello, we're children of the early seventies. Because, well, Tiny Dancer. One of Jake's favorites.
That song that will go down in our history as changing my mind on my hearing. A tremendous feat this many years into a hearing loss, don't you think? Especially since I've been listening to this one song my entire life. On 8-track, vinyl, cassette, CD and finally iTunes. If that doesn't prove I love it I don't know what would. I just never knew most of the lyrics.
Which is funny and cute but really dumb all at once. We were slow dancing in the kitchen a few weeks ago with the CD Madman Across the Water playing.
I love to dance, what can I say?
Jacob was singing Tiny Dancer, right into my ear so I could hear the words clearly. He got to the bridge and sang "and you can't hear me...when I say softly... slowly..." and I just stopped and stared at him. He smiled and twirled me around and kept singing and finished the song and then he played it again. And sang it again. He explained the significance for him, how often he says things, talks to me knowing I don't have a clue. I don't even know.
That touched me right down to the bottom of my soul.
Right there it became Bridget's song. My song. (Without even tiny Bridget dancing references required. He is 6'4", I am 5'2" with heels. Tiny is an apt description.)
Jake said he's always thought of me when he plays that song, ever since he found out the hard way about my hearing loss. I try not to tell people until I'm in a difficult one-on-one situation, because it compounds the doll treatment thing, which I hate. Once he became a regular fixture in my life he picked a fight with me out of the blue one evening. I was in the kitchen and I asked him if he wanted a drink and then I came to the door and stared at him, waiting for his answer. He was short with me. For the first time.
Why do you do that Bridget?
Do what?
Ask me everything twice?
I didn't hear your answer, Jake.
You never hear my answers though.
I don't hear much of anything.
What?
Are you making fun of me?
No, explain this to me. Please?
I lost most of my hearing. Put on those headphones and talk to me. That's what I hear, Jake.
Why don't you wear a hearing aid?
I don't want one. I don't need one.
But you do. Wouldn't it make it easier?
Make what easier?
Life?
No, life isn't hard. (<---I actually said that. How ridiculous.)
Wow.
Wow what?
Wow, I'm surprised. Actually I'm not. It makes perfect sense. I've been endeared to your head tilting for a while now. This explains a lot. The gesturing. The facial expressions that are so funny when you're trying to concentrate on listening. The writing. Constantly. Aw, Bridge. But Cole doesn't even....
(I cut him off here) Just don't make a big deal of it, okay?
It is a big deal. It makes you more adorable.
Jacob, not now.
Just saying.
Shh.
So since I know, am I supposed to do anything differently?
Yes, answer my questions twice without complaining. No. Seriously, just make sure if you want to know if I heard you make eye contact or it's mostly useless. Oh and rescue me if it's a noisy place. I'll be lost otherwise.
Beautiful.
Okay, stop it now.
It augments what I love about you.
Jake. Knock it off. Cole's outside.
Is it genetic?
No. Ruth has been tested and she's perfect.
So are you and I can't believe Cole. Does he acknowledge you at all?
Enough Jake.
That answers the question, Bridge.
He cultivated a long-running argument on the subject of my hearing after that because he wanted me to not have to work so damned hard to do something other people don't think about. He. just. fucking. cared. When no one else really did.
Now? Jacob has no shame, he tells everyone about it now. Absolutely everyone. The mailman. The grocery clerk. He's just trying to make things as easy as possible. Bless his heart.
And once I left Cole, Jacob instantly found a most beautiful way of getting my attention that I have mentioned before. He cradles my face in his hands, he looks into my eyes so that he knows I hear him. And frankly, as much as so many of my reasons against hearing aids were dismissed, that one thing, when he puts his hand on my face and while he's talking he absently rubs his thumb along my bottom lip. Well, that's not something I want to give up EVER and I fear that once I can hear him better he'll stop doing it. I don't want him to stop doing that. Ever. In a million years. Never ever ever.
So if Tiny Dancer wasn't stuck in my head before, it sure is now. And I know Jacob is still whispering things to me when he thinks I'm not paying attention.
I have a theory: There are two kinds of people in this world-those who get songs stuck in their heads and subsequently play them for WEEKS until the urge wanes, and those who don't.
Jacob and I are both of the first persuasion. Which makes for some entertaining and frustrating moments because the one with the stuck song will play it so much it invariably winds up in the head of the one who was doing just fine thank you.
Enter Elton John and Bernie Taupin. Masterful songwriters. Hello, we're children of the early seventies. Because, well, Tiny Dancer. One of Jake's favorites.
That song that will go down in our history as changing my mind on my hearing. A tremendous feat this many years into a hearing loss, don't you think? Especially since I've been listening to this one song my entire life. On 8-track, vinyl, cassette, CD and finally iTunes. If that doesn't prove I love it I don't know what would. I just never knew most of the lyrics.
Which is funny and cute but really dumb all at once. We were slow dancing in the kitchen a few weeks ago with the CD Madman Across the Water playing.
I love to dance, what can I say?
Jacob was singing Tiny Dancer, right into my ear so I could hear the words clearly. He got to the bridge and sang "and you can't hear me...when I say softly... slowly..." and I just stopped and stared at him. He smiled and twirled me around and kept singing and finished the song and then he played it again. And sang it again. He explained the significance for him, how often he says things, talks to me knowing I don't have a clue. I don't even know.
That touched me right down to the bottom of my soul.
Right there it became Bridget's song. My song. (Without even tiny Bridget dancing references required. He is 6'4", I am 5'2" with heels. Tiny is an apt description.)
Jake said he's always thought of me when he plays that song, ever since he found out the hard way about my hearing loss. I try not to tell people until I'm in a difficult one-on-one situation, because it compounds the doll treatment thing, which I hate. Once he became a regular fixture in my life he picked a fight with me out of the blue one evening. I was in the kitchen and I asked him if he wanted a drink and then I came to the door and stared at him, waiting for his answer. He was short with me. For the first time.
Why do you do that Bridget?
Do what?
Ask me everything twice?
I didn't hear your answer, Jake.
You never hear my answers though.
I don't hear much of anything.
What?
Are you making fun of me?
No, explain this to me. Please?
I lost most of my hearing. Put on those headphones and talk to me. That's what I hear, Jake.
Why don't you wear a hearing aid?
I don't want one. I don't need one.
But you do. Wouldn't it make it easier?
Make what easier?
Life?
No, life isn't hard. (<---I actually said that. How ridiculous.)
Wow.
Wow what?
Wow, I'm surprised. Actually I'm not. It makes perfect sense. I've been endeared to your head tilting for a while now. This explains a lot. The gesturing. The facial expressions that are so funny when you're trying to concentrate on listening. The writing. Constantly. Aw, Bridge. But Cole doesn't even....
(I cut him off here) Just don't make a big deal of it, okay?
It is a big deal. It makes you more adorable.
Jacob, not now.
Just saying.
Shh.
So since I know, am I supposed to do anything differently?
Yes, answer my questions twice without complaining. No. Seriously, just make sure if you want to know if I heard you make eye contact or it's mostly useless. Oh and rescue me if it's a noisy place. I'll be lost otherwise.
Beautiful.
Okay, stop it now.
It augments what I love about you.
Jake. Knock it off. Cole's outside.
Is it genetic?
No. Ruth has been tested and she's perfect.
So are you and I can't believe Cole. Does he acknowledge you at all?
Enough Jake.
That answers the question, Bridge.
He cultivated a long-running argument on the subject of my hearing after that because he wanted me to not have to work so damned hard to do something other people don't think about. He. just. fucking. cared. When no one else really did.
Now? Jacob has no shame, he tells everyone about it now. Absolutely everyone. The mailman. The grocery clerk. He's just trying to make things as easy as possible. Bless his heart.
And once I left Cole, Jacob instantly found a most beautiful way of getting my attention that I have mentioned before. He cradles my face in his hands, he looks into my eyes so that he knows I hear him. And frankly, as much as so many of my reasons against hearing aids were dismissed, that one thing, when he puts his hand on my face and while he's talking he absently rubs his thumb along my bottom lip. Well, that's not something I want to give up EVER and I fear that once I can hear him better he'll stop doing it. I don't want him to stop doing that. Ever. In a million years. Never ever ever.
So if Tiny Dancer wasn't stuck in my head before, it sure is now. And I know Jacob is still whispering things to me when he thinks I'm not paying attention.
Saturday, 1 July 2006
Delayed gratification.
If there is one thing I do very well, it's get pregnant. Almost too easily. When Cole and I decided to have children it happened instantaneously. The running joke used to be that all he had to do was snap his fingers and I'd be pregnant. That was one of the (many) reasons I never cheated on Cole, despite being given tremendous opportunity. He had a vasectomy after Henry was born. God only knows what would have happened if Jacob had that power too.
And again I'm not going to entertain the speculation with that, because..we never. I mean, Henry isn't Jacob's biological child. Unless babies come from wishes.
Truthfully I do wish Henry was Jake's. I wish they both were. The lawyer suggested we have testing because she doesn't even really believe us and she said if there's any outside chance he could be we need to know now. Henry looks like Jake. They have the same hair, same attitude. Ruth is all Cole. She looks like me but she has his personality. We haven't decided on the test yet.
But anyways, I'm not pregnant. I got the news this morning when my period arrived and ruined hopes for this month anyway. Which kind of blew my plans for my post today because it filled my mind. I have to promise myself I won't get my hopes up every month .
So tomorrow I'll have to regale you with the incredibly cheesy story of how Jacob managed to change my mind on the hearing issues. It's very sweet. Cheesily adorable. You've been warned. I'm already smiling again. I need a lift, too many upsetting posts lately.
Have a wonderful day and Happy Canada Day to all!
And again I'm not going to entertain the speculation with that, because..we never. I mean, Henry isn't Jacob's biological child. Unless babies come from wishes.
Truthfully I do wish Henry was Jake's. I wish they both were. The lawyer suggested we have testing because she doesn't even really believe us and she said if there's any outside chance he could be we need to know now. Henry looks like Jake. They have the same hair, same attitude. Ruth is all Cole. She looks like me but she has his personality. We haven't decided on the test yet.
But anyways, I'm not pregnant. I got the news this morning when my period arrived and ruined hopes for this month anyway. Which kind of blew my plans for my post today because it filled my mind. I have to promise myself I won't get my hopes up every month .
So tomorrow I'll have to regale you with the incredibly cheesy story of how Jacob managed to change my mind on the hearing issues. It's very sweet. Cheesily adorable. You've been warned. I'm already smiling again. I need a lift, too many upsetting posts lately.
Have a wonderful day and Happy Canada Day to all!
Friday, 30 June 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, 29 June 2006
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.
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.
Monday, 26 June 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, 24 June 2006
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.
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.
Friday, 23 June 2006
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!
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!
Thursday, 22 June 2006
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.
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.
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