Is it all relative?????

I am a product of my generation. I was born in the late 60's, was a child in the 70's and a teenager in the 80's, and in college in the 90's. Much of how I think, and how I see the world is filtered by generation I grew up in along with the life experiences I have had. How can it not be?



I recall in the early 80's having a discussion with my mother. My mother grew up in the 40's and 50's, during the height of the cold war. In the early 80's US and Russian relations were strained at best. I recall the fear that my mother had of the Russians and the nuclear war that she believed was a real possibility. When my mother spoke of this I looked at her like she was crazy, and I told her that. My fear was not the Russians, I felt that they at least had enough common sense to know that if they engaged in nuclear warfare with the US it would be returned and mutually assured destruction of both countries would occur. My perception was that the Russians did not want to die any more than the Americans did. I recall telling my mother my fear was the middle east and the Islamic radicals that had no fear of death, hence no fear of killing Americans. She didn't get it, any more than I understood her fear of Russia.



If you look back at the knowledge society had 10, 20, or even 30 years ago you can see how as a society we have evolved, especially when it comes to issues such as parenting, interpersonal relationships, self awareness, etc., the list is quite long. Its like Oprah says "when you know better you do better."



The church for better or for worse has had to change and adapt with society. Albeit most change in the church as come at a snail's pace. In a church that believes it has all the correct and right answers, I think it is difficult to accept change, because for many it is akin to admitting that perhaps the church does not know everything and is evolving along with society. What is ironic about this belief is that the Church also believes that, as we evolve and change as individuals, we gain further light and knowledge. So on one hand we are expected to grow and progress as individuals, but at the same time we are expected to be resistant to change if contradicts or is not in harmony with any thing ANY church leader might have said in the past, or currently.



A simple look at Church history demonstrates that on many issues, both doctrinal and moral the church has evolved over the years. In fact to read some of the statements said by church leaders can be shocking, if considered in our modern day context. But what we have to recall is that those statements were not said in the context of the knowledge we have now, they were said in the context of the knowledge the leaders had at the time. As as Oprah says "when you know better you do better."



I think it is also important to consider that just as I filter information, knowledge, and light through the generation and life experience I have had, leaders making statements also filter through their generation and life experience. As much as we like to think what they say is the pure "word of God" I think its more like the word of God filtered. And I am ok with that, because I know that I have the opportunity to get on my knees, receive my own confirmation and revelation, filtered through the generation I grew up in, and the life experiences I have had.

Because I just can't leave well enough alone...

After stewing about for several days, and feeling like I was not being understood I fired off an email to the first counselor in the RS, who also happens to be the Bishop's wife. Here is the email: (Some of the names have been edited, for obvious reasons!)


"I wanted to explain myself a little more than I did when we spoke on Sunday afternoon, because it is a very complicated issue for me. My issue with CP is more that just a personality conflict, its his judgment. Like I said I have a brother in law that is bi-polar. He was diagnosed when he was 19 and in the MTC. He clearly had to leave his mission and come home due to his medical issues. Over the course of the last five years he has done an outstanding job maintaining his medication, including monthly visits to his doctor to monitor his medication by checking his blood. He understands his condition is a life long condition and that even if he is feeling good he can't go off his medication. I trust him completely with my children and on more than one occasion I have left my children in his care because I have never seen any behavior from him that would lead me to believe he would do any harm to my children.

CP is a different story. I have been concerned about his behavior from the time he and his wife moved in to the ward. I have not seen him exercise good judgment in many different situations. Several years ago, you were probably in Hawaii when this occurred, he and his wife were considering purchasing the house across the street from me when Craig and Debbie placed it up for sale due to his call as a GA. CP and Craig began to negotiate on the purchase price of the home, and somewhere along the line the negotiations fell apart. CP believed that Craig was being dishonest and went up to Church headquarters. He waited out in the parking lot for Craig to come out, but Church security discovered him before he had any interaction with Craig, and made him leave. He also wrote several letter to Church headquarters saying that Craig was dishonest and had no business being a GA. Well a few months after this occurred Craig and Debbie were coming to our ward for a visit, and Church security demanded that Craig have a body guard because they did not want him unaccompanied in the ward where CP was, given what CP had done and said. Craig did not want a body guard but agreed to let Bishop J know what was going on, and asked Bishop J to be his body guard since he would be sitting up on the stand with Bishop J. Obviously nothing occurred, but to me it is an example of his instability, and lack of good judgment.

More recently in July the SWAT team was at the CP's house. CP's wife had taken CP up to SLC and checked him into a mental health facility because he was off his medication. Since it was a voluntary check in, after his wife left CP checked himself out and returned home. His wife was not there at the time, and CP who was still manic, wanted to get into the locked gun cabinet and was upset when he could not. One of the kids called the police which is why the SWAT team had to come out to the house. The SWAT team had to negotiate to get him out of the house and he made all sorts of statements about not coming out without a fight. Eventually he did come out and agreed to return to the mental health facility. How do I know this information, its from the police report.

The July incident was FOUR months ago. If this was something that happened several years ago, and he was stabilized with his medication I would not have an issue. The problem with CP is that he does not maintain his medication and these two incidents are only two of a handful of incidents involving CP that I could tell stories about, where his judgment is questionable at best.

Now I do agree that probably most of the time he does just stay in his room and probably would not come to church when he is in that state. But that is not a risk I am willing to take with my child. As you know little children can be difficult, especially two year olds, I know, I live with her daily, and she acts like a typical two year old. My concern, is given his instability, and demonstrated lack of good judgment, what if he is in the nursery, perhaps having a bad day, and my child begins to act like a typical two year old? It is not hard for me to conceive that he could "snap," not intentionally, but just due to his instability and poor judgment, and it could turn into a harmful situation for my child. I have seen it time and time again in police reports I have read, and it is usually stems from an individual with mental health issues, who is not properly addressing their mental health issues, and a child does something that causes the individual to snap. In these situations generally is not the parent of the child, but rather someone who does not have an emotional attachment to the child, such as a care giver.

CP's past instability and poor judgment in conjunction with his recent instability and poor judgment, as a mother give me great concern in leaving my child in his care. I too have prayed about this situation and I do not feel comfortable leaving my child in nursery. My job as a parent is to do what I feel is in the best interest of my child and to protect my child. I could not live with myself if I allowed her to be in nursery and something happened.

While I know CP probably will not be in nursery that often because his attendance at church is sketchy, I still cannot sit comfortably in Sunday School or RS knowing that it is possible he will decide he needs to come to church for some reason, and the first place he would go would be to the nursery to see his wife.

I hope you now understand that is not simply a personality conflict I have with CP and that I am not judging or labeling him. As I explained earlier, given my situation I am the last person to judge or label. With my soon to be ex-husband's situation I have had similar discussions with him about who he can expose the kids to and what situations he can place the kids in. Because at the moment there are days I question his judgment too. My decision with CP is based on his demonstrated conduct of instability and poor judgment, in conjunction with the feeling I have that my child should not go to nursery.

I hope this gives you a better understanding of the position I am coming from, and why I am having to make difficult decisions, and how his being in the nursery is complicating my already complicated life."

I sent this email a week ago, and the only response I got was about going to lunch for my birthday and making sure it is fun and not discussing any "heavy" topics. Well at least I tried, hopefully I gave her something to think about, and I am also considering sending a copy of the email to her husband, the Bishop. And perhaps including a sentence or two about how he has now been placed on notice of the instability of CP, and God forbid should anything happen while CP is in nursery, he will expose himself and the church to legal liability. (Its the lawyer in me, I can't help it....)

How did I become the bad guy???

Church as been testing my patience lately.....

I took a trip in October and while I was gone my ward felt the need to change nursery leaders. This did not come as a complete surprise to me because before I left the former nursery leader told me she was being released. (I have a two year old so clearly nursery affects me.)

I returned from my trip to find a couple had been called to the position. Now I have no issues with the wife, but the husband that is another matter.....

First, he (CP) is bi-polar, and does not control his condition with medication. If he controlled his condition with medication I would not have an issue. I have a brother in law who is bi-polar and controls his condition with medication, and I completely trust him with my children. When CP goes off his medication he gets violent. In April he was arrested for domestic battery, and domestic battery in front of his children. In July he was off his medication again and this time he was trying to get guns out of a locked gun cabinet. The SWAT team was called out to his house and he had to be talked out of his house (episode lasted 2 hours) and then was taken to a mental health facility. And these are just the incidents I am aware of because of my access to police reports.

Second, he admitted that in a prior ward he pulled the pants down on someone else's kid to spank the kid, because he thought the kid was acting inappropriately.

Third, (and this is only a minor concern) he is sue happy. To date he has sued two individuals in my ward for bogus claims. Both of which included claims of defamation of character because he believed these individuals were talking smack about him. Both law suits were thrown out by the judge because the claims were bogus, but not after both individuals spent considerable time and money defending themselves.

So I took my concerns to the bishop who said he would think and pray about it. I met with the bishop a week later and was told he prayed and his counselors prayed about it and they felt CP needed to stay in nursery. I was fuming. I told the bishop I prayed about it too, and felt my child should not be in nursery with him, so clearly we have competing answers. It went downhill from there. I basically slammed the door as I left the bishop's office.

My life is hard enough as it is, and this just makes it harder. I go to church alone, with my three kids who are 8, 5 and 2. So clearly having a spiritual experience at sacrament meeting is a no-go. The one and only spiritual experience I get each week is in Relief Society. I told the bishop that if CP was left in nursery I would not be taking my daughter to nursery. Which impacted me because I either had to leave after sacrament meeting, or attempt to take her to Relief Society, which in reality would mean no spiritual experience for me and disruptive to everyone else trying to have a spiritual experience.

In the last year since my husband and I separated this is only the second time I have even met with the bishop. I have not asked ANYTHING of the ward. I told him he really does not have any concept of my life, what I am asked to deal with on a daily basis, and how hard things are, and how I am trying to make the best of a difficult situation that I had no choice or control over.

Quite frankly I knew what the bishop's answer would be before I even met with him and I was prepared to accept it, what surprised me was how angry I became, I have not been that angry in a long time. I hate being that angry. I know I loose effectiveness, and I just hate the way it makes me feel.

Today as I was leaving after sacrament meeting, I was stopped by the first counselor in the Relief Society presidency who also happens to be the bishop's wife. We talked about the nursery issue for a while and I ended up with a lecture on how we should not judge others, but we should be accepting and loving. HELLO, I have a gay husband I think a know a thing or two about judging others???

All I am asking is that my kid not have to go to nursery with an individual who has recent KNOWN violent behavior, is not properly controlling his mental health, and admits to making poor judgement choices involving other people's children?????

But you know I am the bad guy.....

My Motto.

I have had this poster since law school, it came from a calendar I received as a gift. I hung it at my assigned study desk in law school, and since then it has found residence with me at the various houses I have lived in. Currently it hangs in my laundry/sewing room.

I love the message. So often in life we get hung up on wanting to change things that are not within our control. Our job is to realize what we can control, which quite frankly is very little, and set aside those things and people that are beyond our ability to control. This poster reminds me to look forward at the things that lay ahead, and not what is in the past.

After all the road ahead is can be filled with new paths, new people and new friends, all awaiting our arrival.

Desire

Recently I was watching an old episode of Oprah. She had on a couple of guests who were talking about female sexuality. One guest was a professor who had done a study and completed a paper on what women want and need in a sexual relationship. Much to my surprise she indicated that DESIRE was the number one thing women needed.

Regardless of whether or not they were having sex, women wanted to feel desired. I pondered on that, or rather gnawed on that for a few days. Its true.

What do girls do when going out with a guy they desire? They primp. They carefully select their outfit, they do their hair fancy, they put on makeup, all with the hopes of being desirable to their date. There is something that is boosting to a women's self esteem to be desired by a guy she finds desirable.

The same is true in marriage, but in a different format. For a lot of women in marriage it is subconscious need. If she and her husband are regularly having sex, its probably not something she even ponders. But if the sex stops, in other words the husband seems disinterested, that yearning for desire kicks in. Suddenly she beings to wonder what is wrong? Am I too fat, do I need to wear more make up? Sexy clothing? What is so horrible about me that he does not desire me?

Mixed orientation marriage only compound this problem. Do I believe that a man who has same sex attraction can successfully have sex with a women? Of course I do, I have three kids to prove it. In the beginning of our marriage when he was younger, and suppressing his feelings, he was capable of having a sexual relationship with me and desiring me. Probably due in part to the horniness of youth. As time when on, it became more difficult. I was not what turned him on. I was not what he desired. We still had sex, and he still wanted to please me, out of his love for me, but I didn't feel desired. It devastated me. It devastated my self esteem. It brought me to a low I had never felt before. Intellectually I knew it was not about me, but someone forgot to explain that to my emotions.

Even now I still struggle. I still wonder what is wrong with me. I am too fat, I am too ugly, I am too (fill in the blank with any irrational thought). Is it too much to hope that someday I will feel differently? That someday I will be in a relationship where I do feel desired, feel complete, feel totally loved. A relationship that will heal the wounds of this one.

Yet I can't sit around waiting for that relationship, I have got to fix myself. I have to tell the intellectual side of me to have a chat with the emotional side of me, and tell the emotional side of me to quit having such irrational thoughts. Because none of those thoughts are true. It is not about me, it never was.

Yet I still hope, that someday....desire.

There is a chill in the air.

This last week I felt it. There was a chill in the air, the chill of fall. In some ways it was a welcome relief from the warmth and heat of the summer. I am tired of sundresses and shorts. I am ready for jeans and sweaters. But at the same time there was a certain sadness that accompanied the chill I felt.

It was a year ago, around the time the chill in the fall air set in, that soon to be ex-husband (STBEH) decided to separate. I still painfully recall that time and the accompanying emotion. I recall feeling lonely, despondent, afraid, and scared. Being depressed, yet knowing that every day I had to get up and be a parent. Which quite frankly was about the only thing that kept me going. I felt lower than I had ever felt in my life. I also felt more loved than I ever felt in my life. The love from my friends, the love from my Heavenly Father. I was a dichotomy of many emotions.

As I looked forward last fall I knew the next six month would be hard. They would be dark, they would be reflective of the weather, the child in the air, and the soon to be bitter cold. I set my sights on May 1, 2009. I set some goals to accomplish by May 1, 2009. I knew by May 1, 2009 that the darkness that was invading my life would be lifting. I knew I would be six months further in the healing process, I knew that it would be spring, new life, full of promise. I would feel the warmth of the sun, the renewing of the earth, the renewing of my spirit.

Spring and summer came, and sure enough I felt the renewal of the earth, of my spirit. Those dark days of fall and winter both as a physical manifestation and as a spiritual manifestation had been lifted. I had adjusted to the new normal. I had grown as a person, much in the same way the plants and vegetation in my yard had grown and bloomed. Yes there were still weeds to be dealt with, yes bugs still invaded, but I had more the tools and chemicals to fights those demons. More importantly I had fertilizer to help both me and my vegetation to continue to grow and flourish.

Now with this new chill in the air I felt this week, I am reminded of the closing of summer, the color of fall and the darkness of winter. As the emotions of last year flooded my memory with the chill of last fall, a certain sadness set in, realizing the memory was not dim nor had it faded. The chill of fall, with its accompanying warm afternoon used to be on of my favorite times of the year, as I would recall the beauty of the changing colors, along with the last elements of the warming sum. It meant sweaters, football games, Halloween, back to school, and playing in the leaves. Now it is a painful reminder of what occurred on a chilly fall day. Those same emotions are still felt, although they are tempered by the growth of the last year, and do not seem as raw or as fresh. But they remain, much like a scar, of a reminder of where I have been, as I look forward to where I am going.

What we deserve.

Recently I read this from another blog, and it struck a cord with me.

"We all deserve a partner in life who can do three things for us every day: Someone who will make us feel loved, make us feel respected, and make us feel appreciated every single day."

I believe this is true, I believe it is what we should strive for in our relationships, whether they be gay or straight relationships. The question for the mixed orientation marriage is, can you have all three?

I think about my own relationship. I know my soon to be ex-husband (STBH) loves me, but I also know it is not a complete love. While he loves the person that I am, and I honestly feel that from him, he doesn't love me as a sexual being. There is a missing element to our love. It gnaws at him and it gnaws at me. He wants to be that sexual partner for me, but he falls short, due to no fault of his own. The result is he feels bad because he does love me and wants to give that to me, and I feel bad because I am asking of him something that he is not capable of giving. It leaves us both empty and incomplete.

I can see it now he is in a new relationship. It is a relationship that completes him. It is a relationship that does not leave him feeling incomplete. He feels whole.

Respect. I have felt respected, but not always. When STBH first came out and started exploring his feelings and going through what I call his gay teenage years, I felt disrespected and left behind. It was like this whole life we had built together he was willing to just toss aside in favor of his new friends, his new self discovery, his new life. Eventually he came back to his family, but came back a changed person. I changed too. Now our respect for each other is not as husband and wife and commitments we have made to each other in that regard, but rather a respect for who each other is as a human being, who each other is as a parent, and who each other is as a friend.

Appreciation. I can honestly say that during our marriage I have felt appreciated, although at time I let my own selfishness stand in the way of allowing myself to feel his appreciation. I have felt even more appreciated as we have redefined what our relationship is.

To be loved, respected and appreciated. It sounds simple, yet in a mixed orientation marriage so very hard. Ultimately for us we both determined we could not continue on. Yet in making that decision our relationship has grown in our love, respect and appreciation for each other. Kind of ironic.

Sacrament Meeting

For some reason today I was not looking forward to going to church, and I was out of excuses to skip, or skip out after sacrament meeting. (Mostly I was not looking forward to Sunday School, I enjoy Sacrament meeting and Relief Society, but Sunday School...? Yuck.)

We arrived a few minutes early and I got the kids settled and ready for Sacrament meeting. As I looked around I noticed two new families that had recently moved into the ward. Both families have children my age, so it will be imperative at some point I introduce myself. (I don't live in one of those wards with a zillion children, so any new children in the ward are a BIG deal.) I watched these families, a mother,a father, and their children, with both parents working together to take care of the kids. I was jealous. I sat alone, with my kids, struggling to control the five and two year old as they demanded my attention, new toys and fruit snacks.

Those families had what I wanted, a marriage, an in tacked family, a supportive partner. In a church where the focus is a nuclear family, I am the odd man out. I don't have what is idealized. I don't have what I was told to strive for in Young Womens. I don't have what everyone expects you to have, and questions when you don't. I felt like a failure.....

At the conclusion of Sacrament meeting I went to chat with one of my good friends. She is one of the few people in my ward that has full disclosure of my situation. She was emotionally struggling through Sacrament meeting, but for much different reasons. Her husband had been in Texas since Wednesday supposedly for business, but it was really to see the BYU game. He had taken his business partner, and had not communicated with her the entire time he was gone. She too was feeling alone, and much like a failure in her marriage, because he had elected to take his business partner over her, when the original plan was to take her. We cried together for a moment, and it left me realizing that we have to live in the moment, because the grass is not greener on the other side, its just different grass.

More change.

In my last post I spoke about our decision to finalize our divorce. One thing I did not speak about was one of the reasons why......

Earlier in the year STBEH (soon to be ex-husband) met someone. His name is "T." I have not met T, but my children have, and they really like him. They have not spent a significant amount of time around T simply because STBEH did not want them to get too attached until he and T had decided the course that their relationship would take. I appreciated that.

Over the course of several months they have been working on their relationship and have reached the point where STBEH and T are seriously considering moving in together when the lease on STBEH's house is up at the end of November. They don't want to take that step until our divorce is finalized. I not only appreciate that, I respect that. But it does not make it easy.

I have not met T yet, primarily out of STBEH not wanting to hurt me even more, and wanting me to meet T when I felt ready. I need to get ready. T is going to play an increasing and larger role in STBEH's life, as well as the life of my children. I know there are going to be awkward moments, especially at first as we feel each other out. I know it is going stressful for STBEH as he brings together two people that he deeply loves in a desire that they can find some common ground to be friends. That in time we can all come together and be a part of each others lives.

For me its going to require more courage than just about anything I have faced in my life. I need to be an example to my children. As much as they like and enjoy "T" to them he is just a friend of daddy's. They don't understand that it is more than that. I need to be ok with it, so they can be ok with it.

I told STBEH that I needed time. Time to digest, time to process, time to accept. STBEH told me to take all the time I wanted, and I did not have to do anything until I felt ready.

I knew that it was only a matter of time before STBEH would be in a new relationship. He needs this relationship for him to continue to grow, develop and discover who he is. I want him to continue to grow develop and discover who he is. From everything I know about "T" he is a good guy. He seems very stable, not into drama, mature, he grounds STBEH. More importantly he really loves our kids, and is looking forward to being more involved in their lives. STBEH told me that T is the male version of me, I took that as a compliment.

I guess I always hoped that it would be me to have the first new relationship. I thought it would be easier for me to accept a new person in his life if their was someone for me. But like most of life, you hope, you plan, then you take what comes and accept it. Hopefully you accept it with grace and dignity.

Will be working on that.

Change

A few weeks ago I looked around and realized I had adjusted to the "new normal" and it was nice. It was short lived. The thing about "normal" is it never stays "normal" for long, as change is introduced. Change came this weekend, and reminded me that normal is a journey, not a destination.

I was having a discussion with my STBEH (soon to be ex-husband), during which we agreed that we needed to stop sitting on the fence and file our divorce, before the end of the year. We have agreed on everything, and already divided everything, so it really is just a formality that we have the stipulated agreement prepared, signed and submitted to the judge. Admittedly its been something I have been avoiding. It is formally signifies the end. And in my mind it carries a certain stigma.

I have 17 cousins on my dad's side of the family, ranging in age from 25-57 and I am the first one to get divorced.

I have 24 cousins on my mom's side of the family ranging in age from 18-41, and there is only one divorce among them

You can see statistically speaking my family does not fall in line with the national average for divorce rates, and it is important to note that NO ONE in my family is or has judged me or my situation, but the sting and stigma still exists in my mind. Its like saying "Hey, guess what I failed at marriage!" Just put a big "looser" label on my head. "Yes my I know my kids will be screwed up for the rest of their natural lives because we couldn't work it out." I also know that all of this is completely irrationally thinking, but I think it none the less.

I also know that anticipation is probably worse than the actual deed its self.

Finally I know that I am very blessed. I have a great relationship with my STBEH, and with both put the interest of our children first, which I know will mitigate the disappointment they will feel when everything is finalized as they try to continue to adjust to the new normal.

It is a journey not a destination.

The Dance

Twelve years ago today my husband and I were married. It was the happiest day of my life. I had loved him for years, wanted to marry him for years, and finally the time and circumstances were right.

Like most brides on their wedding day I could not have foreseen the road that laid ahead, nor would I have really wanted to know. I was blissfully happy to be marrying a wonderful man, whom I loved deeply. I had meticulous planned every detail of the wedding and reception, and everything went off without a hitch, turning out just as I had planned. If only you could plan life the way you can plan weddings....

As the years went by I learned to love him even more as we built our life together and had our three wonderful children. That is not to say we were not without problems and challenges, like EVERY marriage. That is not to say I did not make mistakes, and he did not make mistakes.

Time marched on and we have found ourselves at a cross road. My love for him has not changed, nor his love for me. What has changed is the nature of our relationship. Its emotionally intimate but not physically intimate. We have concluded that being friends is right for us, but being married is not.

This is the first anniversary I have spent apart from him. This is the first anniversary we have not physically expressed our love to each other, but it does not diminish in my mind the wonderful years we have had together. All evening Garth Brook's song "The dance" has been playing in my head for I truly believe that had I known 12 years ago what he future would bring, yes I would have missed the pain, but I also would have missed the dance.

Here's to 12 years of dancing.

Random Connections.

Last summer in the midst of all the craziness of my life, I made a connection. A connection with a man, who was not my husband. He had a post on an Internet site, and I read it, and I immediately connected with it. I inherently understood what he was saying. I recall debating whether to send him an email, thinking to myself this was one of the more ridiculous things I had done. This guy was a total stranger, could be a stalker for all I knew, but yet deep down I knew he wasn't. I hit the "send" button.

A week of emailing back and forth and my connection was confirmed. We connected on so many levels, it was a bit unnerving that I could randomly meet someone I nearly instantly fell in love with. He made me laugh at a time when laughing was not part of my daily routine. He made me smile when I saw a new email from him, he made me feel safe and protected an allowed me to express anything and everything I was feeling without risk of retribution or judgement. He allowed me to cry. He was a friend. A friend who understood, a friend whom I connected to.

He is the heterosexual version of my husband. Its freaky when he expresses his struggles, and his emotions. On more than one occasion the words coming out of his mouth are the very same words I have heard from my husband. I guess that is probably one of the reason I feel connected to him, he is familiar. But at the same time he has many qualities that are very different from my husband, and are uniquely connected to me. We think alike. Within a very short period of time we could almost finish each others sentences. We have a connection in many ways I can't even begin to describe....I just feel its existence.

But.........he is married. (As you can imagine if he is talking to me there are issues there.....)

I know I shouldn't have, I know it is wrong, but I also know that he came into my life during a very dark period and provided the only existing light. I needed him, I depended on him.

It got too intense, too quickly, and we took a break for 6 months. No contact. It was hard. But I needed to know for me, if what I felt was situational or real, and I think he needed to decided that as well. Six months to the day up pops and email from him. He didn't forget, nor did I.

Future????????? Question: Is anything random?????

The new normal.

It happened just yesterday. In the midst of a completely busy day, busy week, busy summer, I S.T.O.P.E.D. and looked around at my life for the last few months. I was amazed at how dramatically different it was from a year ago.


A year ago my husband and I were in the midst of try to decided if we were going to stay together or separate. It was a very, very, very painful time in my life. I recall feeling guilty because it was summer vacation and I had done NOTHING with the kids but tell them to watch TV. I could not, did not, nor could I conceive of doing anything but getting out of bed and taking a shower. (Although I did work during that time period, not sure how...) I muddled through daily rituals with my children, not finding enjoyment in anything. By September I could not take it any longer and called my doctor requesting an increase in the dose of my anti-depressant, which was of course provided, and kicked in just as we were making the separation decision.

Following the separation decision I so desperately want my life to be back to normal. I wanted a new husband, I wanted a new marriage, I wanted to be the family I had been before, but would never be again. It seemed so strange after 11 years of marriage to be and feel single...

I wanted to know I was loved and attractive to men. I did stupid things, I knew I was doing stupid things, I did not care. I knew someday I would care. Fortunately for all the stupid things I did nothing was life altering....and sure enough I began to care again, then wanted to beat myself over the head for the stupid things I did....., but I learned from the stupid things.

Slowly as summer changed to fall, fall to winter, and winter to spring, my relationship with my husband began changing. At first it was very painful for both of us to be apart. Yet painful to see each other. We did not have a lot of contact. Then the angry phase came. I knew it would, it had to, it could not be avoided. I yelled at him, I let him know I did not appreciate him screwing up my perfect life, I told him it was unfair. To his credit he just agreed with me, and told me I had every right to be angry, and he let me be angry. His letting me be angry allowed me to move past the angry phase, into a healing compassionate phase.

We began to communicate again. We began to talk like we have always been able too. We began to be honest, in a way we had not done in a LONG time. At first we thought we might be able to mend our marriage, but it quickly became clear we still wanted different things, and neither he nor I could give the other person what he/she needed. The marriage was over, the friendship was not. We emotionally relied on each other more than we had in years, and in many ways the last few months have significantly improved our relationship. Yet we began living very mixed yet independent lives. We had times when we were together and spent time with the children, we had times when we were apart, interacting with new individuals of our own choice.

Slowly I got used to his new place in my life, and became at peace with his new place in my life. I also realized I enjoyed having some of my own freedom. Days and nights in the house alone, or alone with the kids were enjoyable. The choices were suddenly all mine. Activity choices were mine, decorating choices were mine, menu choices were mine, and all sorts of other choices were mine, all mine..... And his choices were his, NOT mine. I did not have to feel guilty for his choices, because he had to live with the consequences, NOT me.

That is not to say there is not the occasional times of sadness at being alone. Wondering what it would be like to have a partner who wanted to cozy up to me. Wondering will I always be alone? Am I ok with that? It is a dark place I try not to let my mind wonder too frequently, because it leads to questions without answers.....

But just this week as I looked around, looked at my children, looked at my life, looked at the craziness, I realized I defined the "new normal" and I am happy with it, its a good place for now, until the winds of change remind me that more "new normals" are waiting for me.....

Black, White & Grey

Today in Relief Society I had the privilege of teaching Joseph Smith #35 which was on Redemption of the Dead. Of course it talked about the plan of salvation and how the Lord makes salvation available to all this children, but more importantly in the lesson was a significant section on how the Lord judges. That He does not judge all according to the same law, because some have had the opportunity to receive the law and others have not. That He judges us according to our hearts, what has been given to us, and what we have done with the knowledge that we have.

I have to say when I first read the lesson I was quite excited to teach it, primarily because I have a Relief Society President who is very black and white in her thinking and assumes that all should be as black and white as she it. I however am very grey in my thinking. Now my issue with individuals who are black and white in their thinking is not so much that they are black and white, because I can respect their choice to think and believe that way, my issue is their need to cram it down my throat and tell me that I am wrong for seeing shades of grey. With the implication being I have let SATAN into my life.....and I must repent now!

I have also noticed that those with this black and white thinking tend to believe that the Lord is very authoritarian, and critical in his judgement of us, and that is the standard they apply to themselves and those around them. I however believe that the Lord is very loving, very tender, and wants us to succeed and not fail. I believe that when we stand before him to be judged it is going to be a very loving experience, not a harsh critical experience. I often wonder that if I am right, and in the end things are more grey and less black and white, are those who have had such ridged thinking in this life going to be upset they did not relax and enjoy life more?

Or perhaps they are right, and I will just end up in hell for my liberal thinking....

But I also think this life is a time for each one of us to grow and improve upon the gifts the Lord has given us, together with the challenges he has given us. I know there is probably more than one sister in my ward, who if she know my husband was gay, would wonder why I have not had him excommunicated, much less why I still have a loving, caring relationship with him. For me, I know the person that he is, I know him better than any person on earth, I know the good that is in him, I know the love that is in him, I know the struggles he has. By throwing away my relationship with him I would be saying he is defined only by being gay. He is not singularly defined by being gay, being gay is one aspect of who he is. All of us are complex individuals who are neither good nor bad, but a combination of both. Our goal each day is to try to be more good than bad, to try to exemplify the example set for us by Christ, and to remember that if we fall down, our greatest success is in getting up again.

The Demon.

Being married to a gay man or nearly formerly married, to a gay man, brings its own unique set of challenges. The biggest struggle for me has been how I feel about myself. It’s hard not to take my husband’s sexual rejection of me personally, and realize it is about him and not me because it feels like it is all about ME. I will never forget the last time we made love, it was our wedding anniversary, and I practically had to beg him. I felt cheap, I felt rejected, I felt unloved. It hurt then, it still hurts now. It’s a hurt I wonder if I will ever get over.

It leaves me feeling vulnerable, ugly, and wondering what value I have. Things were not always that way. For the first few years of our marriage, sex was really good. (Not that I had anything to compare it to) He was very thoughtful of me and made sure I enjoyed myself. He would get aroused just cuddling with me. I know he was not faking things. I know he enjoyed making love to me as much as I did to him. I have many fond memories of making love to him, and enjoying a wonderful sex life.

That is exactly what makes the situation now so difficult. How can he just “turn off” what I felt was a real sexual attraction? How can it just be gone? I am still physically attracted to him, and I always well be, I can’t just “turn it off.” Which is why I spiral into the abbess thinking it must be me.

If he does not want to see me naked, why would anyone else?

Friends

We are all connected whether we want to be or not. And that connection is vital to our survival.

For a few days I had been feeling emotionally down. Nothing serious, just kind of bummed. It comes and goes, and I know it is part of the process and I try to let myself just feel, but try not to get too caught up in the feeling....

I went to Enrichment on Tuesday night. I have been trying to get back into my life and Enrichment is something I always enjoy. Enrichment was on service and our Stake President came and spoke to us on service and some of his experiences serving others. He spoke of Christ like service and how serving others not only enriches their lives but ours as well. After he spoke the sisters began working on several service projects. I began to talk to several sisters in the ward. In the last few months I have not had much of a chance to interact with the sisters. I have been holed up in my house feeling rather unsociable. Sunday is a crazy day because of the kids, hence leaving me little time to visit at church. It was nice to visit with my friends, feel their love, and know that they care.

I came home a renewed person. I knew I was loved by not only the sisters in my ward and that they cared. I never made it over to the service project I was too busy being served in another way.....

The energizer bunny

I have always had TONS of energy. I just keep going, and going and going….on and on. It’s always amazed not only my husband, but the people I worked with either in my job or in a calling. I have always been that way. Very driven. But then it happened. I stopped. I quit. I slowed down. I ran out of energy. The battery was dead. It happened last fall when my husband moved out.

Nothing that previously brought me joy, did I now find joy in. I did not want to do anything, I did not want to go anywhere, I just wanted to be left alone, to lay on my couch wrapped up in a blanket. I, however have three small children, so I had to struggle to move for them. But when I did not have to be somewhere, or do something, you would find me on the couch wrapped up in a blanket, trying to sleep my life away. Going to work, church , and taking care of my children was about the limit of what I was capable of doing, handling, or acting on. I was in a funk and I knew it. But I also knew I needed to feel the funk, I needed to bond with the funk, I needed to accept the funk. It was part of the process.

Despite my funk I made a few goals. It was October, and the furthest ahead I could see in my life was six months. Nothing further than that. And six months seemed like a LONG time, an eternity that would never come. To add to my funk we were heading into winter…..which just represented how I felt, cold, forbearing and alone.

Goal one, exercise, and try to eat right, in other words cut down on SUGAR. Did pretty good on that for the first three months…..

Goal two, not be bitter. Attitude is a choice, circumstances are not. Resolve to not be bitter. I knew the angry phase would come, and it did. I told my two best friends, to not let me get “stuck’ in the angry phase, and if they felt I was, to “slap me silly.” I said many a word to my husband during that phase, and he was smart enough to take it all in without saying a word, other than I was justified in being angry.

Goal three, be a more spiritual person. I have been beyond blessed with the spiritual experiences that have occurred in my life in the last three months. I have never felt alone, abandoned, or betrayed by God. I have never felt so close to my Heavenly Father.

Goal four, be a better parent. I knew my children would feed off my emotions. There have been very few things in my life in the last six months that I have had control over, but being a good parent has been one. Whenever I place my focus on my children, and not me, I become a better parent, and it brings a sense of joy to my life that nothing else can.

Deadline for goals: May 1, 2009.

It is now six months later. I am wiser, I am not bitter, I have new friends, I have a renewed testimony, I bonded in new ways with my children, I have more compassion, I can’t believe I made it through. I feel myself coming out of the darkness, out of my funk, into the warm sunshine of spring.

Where before the basic needs and necessities of life were my limit, now I want to share, I want to serve, I want to rejoin life. I found myself wanting to make a birthday present for a friend, wanting to visit teach, wanting to act like me again.

The battery is getting recharged, slowly, one day at a time, but I do see the energy returning.

Connections.

In my life there have been three people I have formed an immediate connection with. The type of connection that when you meet this person for the first time you have this immediate bond, like you have know each other for forever….. The first person was my husband, the second person was my best friend from law school and the third person was a friend I met last summer. All three are men.

All three of them can read my mind and finish my sentences on any given day. The best at doing this is clearly my husband. He knows my every thought, my every feeling, when I am hurt, when I am happy, and he also has always been able to warn me of danger. It’s an emotional connection I share with him too. I know what he thinks, I know what he feels, I know what he fears.

I fear losing that emotional connection and so does he. The ties that bind us are very strong. If those ties were not so strong decisions about our future would be easy. It’s also those same ties that cause us the greatest heartache and grief. I know that our friendship is complete, but our relationship as lovers is incomplete. We both yearn for something the other person can’t give us. We both feel unfulfilled.

It is the loss of that emotional connection that frightens me the most. I would feel so alone without him. I have come to rely on him and the wonderful emotional stability he brings into my life. In my mind divorce meant a complete severing of the ties. But what if it didn’t….

What if that emotional connection can continue on? We were friends first, and that is where our deepest emotional connection lies. That bond does not have to end simply because our marriage does. When I realized this all of the sudden divorce didn’t seem to be such a frighten thing, but rather a freeing of both of us to move forward in our lives, yet still have that connection that brings us together.

Love and Validation

In April we made a change. Rather than my husband having the kids every weekend at his house, he would come to my house and we would spend weekends together as a family, in an attempt to spend more time together and feel out where our relationship is going.

The first weekend was great. The kids loved it. He let me have Friday night "off" and I left the house to run errands ALL BY MYSELF! Being the mom on three young children, getting to have any retail experience ALONE is wonderful!

Second weekend was Easter. He is participating in a different church congregation, and is in their choir. They had services Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. As a result our weekend time together was limited.

Third weekend, he had a retreat he wanted to attend, and asked me how I felt about him being gone for the week-end. I said it was "fine." I knew that this retreat would be really good for him, and help him clarify things, or at least give him some new things to think about.

By the time weekend four came around I was looking forward to having him around. Not only because it is difficult and demanding to single parent three young children, but also because I felt like I had not spent much time with him, and I enjoy spending time with him. He mentioned on Friday that several of his friends had gone to Bear Lake for a weekend retreat. Then he mentioned it again on Saturday that he had been invited to attend, but said "no" because I would "kill" him for being gone a third weekend in a row. Then he proceeded to tell he that it was hard to say "no" because he was getting a lot of pressure to attend. I told him "thanks" that I appreciated him being home for the weekend. It was the end of the discussion between us, but it continued on inside my head.

I felt hurt. Yes I was glad that he was with us for the weekend. But I had wished that he was there because he wanted to spend time with me, rather than out of guilt or obligation because I would "kill" him for being gone. But the truth is, he probably would have preferred to spend time at the retreat with his friends. As much as I love him, I can't give him the one thing he desperately seeks, love and validation from men. And it sucks....

Food for thought....

This a guest post written by my husband. He sent it to me in an email and granted permission to post it on my blog. Despite all the really harsh and raw things on my blog, I do still love him and will always think he is a beautiful person inside and out, and this post just confirms that....


For many years, food has been an important metaphor in my life. I grew up on a farm, we had a huge garden that my grandfather helped us to plant and I loved cooking with my mom from the time that I was 7 or 8. When I went to college I became a baker and then later I became a pastry chef and a cook at a major hotel. Food can be grounding. When you chop up tomatoes and onions, mince garlic, add fresh herbs, and then labor over it in the kitchen, you are taking the best that Mother Earth has to offer, adding a little of your own love, and then serving it to people you love unconditionally.

When we were married, we prepared much of the reception food with the help of our friends and families. Since our own wedding, we have helped others celebrate by freely helping them with our own 'catering skills'. We've shared many great moments in the kitchen and even great times cleaning up in others' kitchens.

When I moved out, it was important that I find a place to rent with a big kitchen, and I immediately filled it with cooking tools, a new Kitchenaid Stand Mixer, and the best tools I can find. I purchased vacuum sealing equipment so that I could impress my friends with Sous Vide cooking, the new rage in professional circles. Yet, after a couple of months, my kitchen became empty and bare, not of professional tools, fresh ingredients, or of cookbooks. I noticed it was barren without the love and teamwork that had been in the kitchen in our home.

Sometimes, as gay men, we put one virtue ahead of all others, the idea of love or sexual affection. We become convinced that we were somehow cheated out of a normal measurement of this ingredient and then we become obsessed with seeking it. This idea of love or sexual affection is a little bit like sugar. In appropriate amounts, in a cookie or a cake, it adds sweetness. If there is too much, the cake will collapse, the cookie becomes too hard, or it dominates the other ingredients. I believe, what I've often found in the gay world, is an obsession with finding sugar, a kind of saccharine substitute for real love and the true mix of virtues and emotions that come with it.

On Tuesday, I had the chance to cook again in our old kitchen. It was for me, a powerful and wonderful experience. I found a fun recipe on the Internet and purchased fresh ingredients, chopped them up, and saw as each of these strong ingredients--garlic, onions, thyme, cream, stock, chicken, pasta, parsley and stock came together to make a great dish, chicken tettrazini. It was a dish prepared with love and a bit of hope. My parents came by unexpectedly and then you helped me serve the dish. The kids loved it, my parents did, and you did also. The dish was well blended and the ingredients were harmonious.

Pieces of me (he used my real name), I miss the many different ingredients in our marriage. I miss the cooking. And I miss the love. No amount of adoration from my gay friends makes up for the emptiness I now feel in my own kitchen. I could make the best Sous Vide dish in the world, but without you it always seems to fall flat. I hope we can cook together some more and find ingredients that will make it work.

Love,
(my husband's name)

525,600 Minutes

525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes –
how do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.

In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?How about love? How about love? How about love?
Measure in love. Seasons of love.

525,600 minutes! 525,000 journeys to plan. 525,600 minutes –
how can you measure the life of a woman or man?

In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.

It’s time now to sing out, tho the story never ends let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends.

Remember the love! Remember the love! Remember the love!
Measure in love. Seasons of love! Seasons of love.

-Seasons of Love, from RENT

Its been a year, that would be 525,600 minutes to be exact since my husband came out to me. In many ways it seems just like yesterday, in other ways it feels like a very LONG year, measured in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee, (or rather diet coke). In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.

In daylights that reminded me I had to get out of bed and face the world when I really did not want to. In sunsets that reminded me of the love I have for my children as I put them to bed. In midnights when the house was quiet and I had time to reflect and cry openly. In diet Coke that kept me going EVERY day. In inches, which is generally how far I felt I was moving forward on a daily basis. In miles, which is how far forward I actually moved. In laughter as I was reminded of the good friends I have, and in strife as I have felt my own sorrow and the sorrow of others, especially my husband.

In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried.

In truths I have learned, so many truths. Truths like I am a stronger person than I allow myself to believe. Truths like I am physically attractive. Truths like I am really, really good mom. Truths like people are complicated, including me. Truths like I have my own faults but I can recognize those and CHANGE is possible. Truths like growth is painful, but I and we, are a better because of it. Truths like some people will never get it or understand, and I can't change that, so I am going to chose not to be bothered by it. Truths like helping each other is the most IMPORTANT thing we as human beings can do for each other. And the most important truth, my Heavenly Father has an absolute unconditional love for me.

In times I know he cried for all the changes, for all the judgements, for all heartache he felt he was causing me, the kids and his family, when in reality we cried for him and the difficult realities he was processing.

It’s time now to sing out, tho the story never ends let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends.

Remember the love! Remember the love! Remember the love!
Measure in love. Seasons of love! Seasons of love.

The story does not end, it continues as well as the journey for both of us. Where the journey takes us and how the story ends has yet to be written, or decided for that matter. What can be measured is the LOVE. The love we still have for each other, for our children, for our families who struggle to understand and accept, for our friends who only want us to be happy.

We can remember the love of all of those around us the last year who have reached out to help, to understand, to provide comfort, to advise, but most of us to remind us we can't travel this journey alone. We need to get by with a little help from our friends, and friends can also be spouses who forge ahead both together and alone trying understand and enjoy each Season of Love.

Here's to another 525,600 minutes and the Seasons of Love to be had......

Scars

I have several scars, from past injuries. There is the scar that is near my eyebrow from hitting my head on the metal frame of a bunk bed in the dark. There is a scar on my knee from the rocks on the playground at my elementary school. And the scar I am most proud of is the one that can be found where my abdomen meets my pelvis, from the three c-sections that represent the birth of each child. Then there are the emotional scars….

It was almost five years ago to the day that I sat in an LDS chapel in Provo, across from the temple, for the funeral of a friend of mine. I would have liked to call her a “dear” friend, but I had not known her long enough to fall into that category. She was my boss. She had only been my boss for six months. During that six months she was a friend, mentor, and role model for me. I soaked up every word, every piece of advice, every suggestion she offered. As a judge she had a mature sense of wisdom, with a sense of right and wrong and fairness. Little did I know in 10 months time I would be attempting to fill her enormous shoes, and relying on every bit of wisdom I had learned from her in our short time together.

She died unexpectedly, without warning. No illness, no accident, just a silent peaceful passing, a call to return home. She was young, 48, leaving a husband, and three children, all girls, 19, 15 and 10. Her death was a shock to all. I sat in the chapel or rather the overflow in the cultural hall, among my co-workers. As I sat I pondered the last time I sat in a chapel for a similar reason. It was the funeral for my mother 14 years earlier. She too was young, 46, I was 22, my brother was 15 my sisters were 10 and 7.

Her daughters filed into the chapel with their father, and other members of the family. As I looked at her daughters, whom I knew she cherished above all else, I ached for them. I had taken that walk 14 years earlier. I knew what they were feeling, but more importantly I knew what lay ahead for them in the days, weeks, months and years to come, and they adjusted life without their mother, whom I knew had been a larger than life figure in their life just as my mother had been in mine.

I pondered the change in my life during the last 14 years, and as much as I ached for them I knew time would be the best healing medicine I could prescribe for them. Time having helped me make it through the roughest part of the grieving, with now only occasional moments of sadness to remind me of my humanity. I knew they would grow, I knew they would change, I knew they would become stronger women and most importantly I knew their mother would be closer than they thought, even though many days she would feel very far away.

Several days after the funeral I had the unenviable task of taking the items from her desk at work to her house. I was greeted at the door by her husband and I expressed my sadness and sympathy at her passing. We chatted for a few minutes and I shared with him the death of my mother at a young age too. He asked me “Does this get better?” I recall my answer “Time, time is the only thing that will make things seem better.” I recall the disappointed look in his eyes.

Oddly enough I now find myself having to swallow the bitter pill of my own advice. Time, it’s a four letter word, and in my book right now not a good one. I know in time the strong emotions I am feeling now will be tempered by newly found wisdom, and growth. I know time will heal the wound that seems so open and raw right now. And in time even though the wound will be healed, the scar will remain as a reminder of injury and the miracle of time.

Walls

I am a mason, I’ll bet you did not know that. I am building walls. Okay, not in physical sense, but in an emotional sense. I can feel it. I can feel brick by brick the wall getting taller every day, and probably being reinforced with steel. It’s a barrier, but you know of course because it is my wall the stone work is gorgeous.

I never want to feel this vulnerable and hurt again, I won’t if I build that wall and refuse to let anyone in. I have good cause to build this wall. For the last twenty years, with the exception of my children, anyone who I have allowed to penetrate that wall has left me, abandon me. Some have left willingly, some have left unwillingly. I either event I am left to pick up the pieces and move on. Alone, by myself, relying on myself, as usual.

I wonder what it would be like to have a true partner. Someone who loves you unconditionally, someone to be with you through thick and thin, willing to accept challenges and meet them head on, not run away. I doubt in this life I will ever know that….

Then I think about one of my favorite songs, “The Dance” whose message is I could have missed the pain but I would have missed the dance. The dance was good, very, very good. I am glad I did not miss the dance. I am thankful for the opportunity to dance.

Anyone know a good wrecking crew? I have a wall or two that needs some work…..

Toto, we are not in Utah County anymore….

Recently I traveled out of town for a family function. Living in Utah is unique enough as it is, but Utah County is a whole world unto itself. Whenever I do leave the state I am amazed there is a whole world beyond the borders of Utah that looks and acts very different, and it reminds me I need to leave more often, in order to maintain balance in my life.

As I sat waiting for my flight I enjoyed the people watching. One of the first things I noticed was a young girl around 25 with bleached blonde hair walking from one airplane gate to the next. She was wearing a short, tight, black dress with black tights. Her skirt was too short and she kept tugging at it to pull it down. The black dress and tights were not as striking as her accessories. She had on neon pink stiletto boots that went about half way up her calf, with a matching neon scarf and hat. I was surprised she was not boarding the flight to Vegas, because she looked like a billboard you would see there.

Once arrived at my destination, I headed to the car rental counter only to find eight customers ahead of me and ONE clerk working the counter. I quickly surmised that I was going to be there for a while. I started looking at the customers in line ahead of me to pass the time. Directly ahead of me was a man I dubbed “Mr. Florida” He was a retiree, with silver/gray hair slicked back, with his aviator style glasses on. He wore tan polyester leisure pants with grey patent leather shoes. His wife, a similar looking retiree was with him.

As I looked ahead further in line I noticed one of the best female mullets I have ever seen. The lady was in her late 40’s early 50’s, but her hair was stuck in the 80’s. It was a dark red color, short and curly on top, with straight kind of side burn looking pieces by her ears, and of course long and straight in back. As I sat there I pondered if I could get a picture of this fine piece of time warped hair without being too obvious and having her husband come and physical remove my cell phone with a camera from my hand. Her back was to me, and so was his so one quick shot and I would be done. By the time I got the courage to take the picture it was their turn at the counter, and while I tried to get a picture, they were too far away for you to appreciate the fine specimen of hair she was sporting.

Finally a few minutes after I had joined the back of the line, and individual got in line behind me. I dubbed him “Mr. Cue Ball” due to his shaved head. He was kind of a Telly Savalas character, only weighing about 60 pounds more. He wasn’t fat, just thick. It was clear he worked out. He was not happy about the long line and lack of counter help, surmising as I did that it was going to be a long wait. As I stood in line and we moved forward he too moved forward, making comments under his breath about the lack of speedy service at the counter. He kept inching forward, closer and closer to me. Was it my perfume, did he think I smelled good that morning, and wanted more of my flavorful aroma? Maybe he was trying to “hit” on me, looking for a date while in Vegas, perhaps he wanted to say my long flowing curly locks smell terrific. NO. He was under the impression that if he violated my personal space to get closer to the front of the line that some how this would make the car rental clerk move faster and he would be on his way to his appointed destination sooner. By the time I got to the front of the line he was within 6 inches of my personal space, and I was feeling pretty uncomfortable to be unnecessarily violated by a complete stranger who clearly had room to step back a foot or two. I considered saying something to him, but then I looked at the size of his arms and recalled his already edgy state of mind I decided my personal space could be violated a little longer.

Too bad you can’t pass a deadly but silent one when you need it….that probably would have cured the problem! Note to self, eat more beans before next trip to ward off people who feel it necessary to violate my SPACE.

Meetings

How often I have sat in a church meeting looking at the clock counting the minutes until the meeting is over, not getting anything out of the meeting. Yet at the conclusion of the meeting others will say they felt the spirit and were touched. Were we sitting in the same meeting? Why didn’t I feel the same?

Recently I was sitting in a church meeting, feeling the spirit and a good friend whom I know was struggling with her own trials got up and left. She did not have anywhere she needed to be, it was just the speaker was hitting too close to home, and it was painful for her. Walking away was easier than facing reality. I felt bad. I was feeling peace and calm from the speaker, yet she was feeling angst. She was not ready to hear what was being said to her, I was. That’s the funny thing with the spirit, it does not come to you, you come to it, when you are ready.

Angels

I have decided I want to be an angel. I have been thinking about this for a while. I am a great mother, excel at my job, a really good friend, and a nice person and have my life together in every aspect except the relationship category. During a recent conversation with my husband it was pointed out that I am too controlling, too blunt and have no filter. Apparently it’s the tone of my voice, it’s condescending and intolerant, or at least it was to him.

When it comes to guys, especially in the LDS culture, I already have several strikes against me. First and foremost I don’t fit the mold, never have never will. I am a strong woman. I question things, people and ideas. I take very few things I face value. I have to know and understand for myself. I am cynical. Can’t help it, my sweetness was stolen by all the criminals I prosecuted. I am smart, and to a lot of guys that scares the shit out of them. I can go toe to toe intellectually with most anyone. That does not mean I am combative, to the contrary, I like to hear new ideas and view points, and consider those ideas and view points, even if they differ from mine. I love a good conversation. At my age it is unlikely I am going to change, and I am certainly not going to pretend to be something I am not.

You have to me a really secure man to be in a relationship with me. Most guys my age have not hit that secure stage yet. I have to say I like older guys, they are secure, have interesting life experience and generally are not out to prove anything. They can appreciate a women who can actually talk to them and engage their mind, as well as their……well you know what I mean. The problem with older guys, is they are beyond the “family” phase and I have young children.

So I have resigned myself that being an angel is the Celestial Kingdom will be just fine….after all can you really see me as a “second” wife?

More pieces....

It was bound to happen. It was only a matter of time. I knew I could not avoid it forever.

My husband has a new “friend” whom I will call Mr. T. I first heard about him from my children. He had been at my husband’s house several weekends in a row. The kids talked glowingly about him and how much fun he was. It did not take long for me to conclude this was probably an individual my husband was interested in. My curiosity got the best of me and during a conversation we were having I asked, and yes I was told that this was a potential love interest, however Mr. T was bothered that my husband was still married. (I guess I should write a note of apology for holding out some hope of salvaging things….)

Then it happened…..Tuesday morning I was checking Facebook to see what was going on in the world, or at least the world of those people I consider my friends. I notice that a mutual friend my husband I have in common was tagged in an album on Facebook. It was an album of a party for the Academy Awards that I knew my husband attended on Sunday night. I began to look at the photos….and there it was, a photo of my husband sitting on the couch, cuddling, and holding hands with an individual I presume to be Mr. T. It was a sucker punch to the gut…..

At first I was in shock, not believing what was actually in front of my face. Then as the day wore on the reality sank in. Mr. T was sitting, cuddling, holding hands with the man I still wished would sit, cuddle and hold hands with me. Intellectually I knew this was not about me, but I am still waiting for someone to explain it to my emotions. I could not have felt more rejected, more cast off, more useless to the man I still love. I can’t give him what he needs, what he wants, what he values. And for all the success I have had in my life, for all the things I have accomplished, I can’t do the one thing that means the most…..at least to me…

Quote:

“Maybe its temping to wish for the perfect boss or the perfect parent, or the perfect outfit, but maybe the best any of us can do is not quit, play the hand we have been given, and accessorize the outfit we got.” -Carrie Bradshaw, Sex & the City.

D***, I am going to look HOT for church on Sunday. Got the perfect accessorizes to go with the outfit.

Women in my family.

Shortly before Christmas one of my favorite aunts died. Now before you go feeling all sorry for me, she had a very peaceful death, after 25 years of every medical problem known to man. It was actually amazing she lived a long as she did, and as a family we were grateful for the prolonged time we had with her and that she was released in a very easy comforting manner. At her request no funeral was held, but instead the family gathered for a BIG party. It was very fitting for my aunt, because in our family she was the organizer of most of the family parties we had when I was growing up. This was just the kind of gathering she would have enjoyed, and probably did enjoy with us….

As a family we gathered, ate of course, and told stories. Each of her three sons told stories of their mother, her husband told stories, and her youngest brother. Several of her grandchildren told stories. As we reflected on her life it occurred to me more than ever before how much I am like my aunt. We have very similar personalities. The things that were important to her, are important to me. They way she treated people is how I try to treat people. The way she viewed life and her medical trials is exactly how I try and view my own struggles.

It made me wonder is it nature or nurture? I have pioneer stalk on BOTH side of my family, including relatives on both side of my family who survived the Martin & Willie handcart companies. There is something to be said for pioneer stalk. Ancestors who braved the elements and physical hardships for the chance at a new and better life. Do those trials they endured alter the DNA for those to come? Do those who come after benefit genetically from those that came before? Darwin said yes with his theory of the survival of the fittest. But are those changes inherent to the DNA or a result of nurture rather than nature?

The generations that have come since my pioneer ancestors have faced their own set of challenges. As the years and generations have progressed, those trials have been more emotional and less physical. But regardless of the trial, the effect is the same, you either become better or bitter. Why have those who have come before me chosen to take a trial and make themselves bitter rather than better? Is the influence on me a result of the example they set for me, or has my DNA been altered through the generations to enable me to choose to be better and not bitter? Or is it a little of both?

Regardless of the answer to questions probably without answer, I am grateful for the heritage of my ancestors, I am grateful for the life my aunt lived, the type of person she was, how she treated others, and how she cared for her family. With any luck I will be just like her when I grow up.

What we see

We all wear our own set of rose colored glasses, colored by our own experience. Our Ward Relief Society Presidency made a directory for each sister for a Christmas gift. The directory had photos of each sister, address, phone numbers, and birthdates. I previewed the directory because I will helping the enrichment counselor put the directory together. As I was glancing through the pictures I was first of all amazed that they got everyone to pose for a picture, after all there is nothing women hate more than having their picture taken. The next thing I noticed was how good all the sisters looked. Seriously everyone looked amazing, I wondered if they had used Photoshop and reversed aged us! When I got to my picture toward the end of the directory, by virtue of my last name, I looked at my picture and grimaced. I hated my hair, it was pulled back, and made my face look even fatter than it usually does. I wanted to look thin and pretty! So I just decided when viewing the directory I would just skip the page with my picture so I did not have to look at the reality of myself.

On Sunday the directory was passed out to the sisters, and it was interesting to watch the reaction. Without exception everyone had the same response. Grimace at their own picture and only wonderful things to say about everyone else’s pictures. Why are we incapable of seeing ourselves as other do? Why are we are own worst critic? How often I have see sisters that I thought were so beautiful both inside and out, yet they can’t see that in their own mirror. I wonder why they can’t see what I see. Then I look in my own mirror and know that I don’t see myself as other do. Is it because I know the flaws, I know the hidden imperfections, I know where weakness is, I know the true me, not the me I portray to others. Yet the me I portray to others is I part of the true me, it’s not an act, it’s the good in me I share with others. Yet why do we all discount the good when we look in our own mirror? I am not perfect, but I am also not evil, I am somewhere in between. I think I am going to try to look for a new shade of glasses to wear while looking in the mirror.

Ready, Aim, Shoot. (Conclusion of “Bring my gun to Thanksgiving)

3:00 p.m. Saturday afternoon was my date with destiny or rather the gun range a short distance from my house. The designated meeting spot was the house of the Ward firearms expert. Somewhere along the line, news of my self defense course began spreading throughout the Ward, and my outing became an “unofficial” ward activity. Not only did the Ward fire arms expert and one of my home teachers join me for this outing, but along came my other home teacher (well I guess they are supposed to come in pairs) and his wife, in addition to the former bishop, his wife and his son. Brining our grand total, to a party of eight. What the heck the more the merrier when shooting guns?

We arrived at the range and were given a short safety lesson, which included wearing ear protection, eye protection, (I am a safety girl you know) as well as a reminder to always point the gun down range, unless of course someone is on the range, then the guns need to be set down. Then the Ward firearms expert began explaining the mechanics of the gun. My eyes glazed over with the mechanical details he was providing. I am a law school graduate after all….

Soon it was time to shoot my gun. I opted to have my home teacher help me, because quite frankly the Ward firearms expert kind of scare me. Now let me tell you about my home teacher, basically think Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry. He brought his revolver to the range that day and stood there with his right arm extended shooting the gun with one hand, the other hand in the front pocket of his jeans. Round after round being hitting directly on target until it was empty. Did I mention he has wild red hair??? I kicking myself for not bringing my camera. It was priceless.

Ok, back to my 9mm. He helped me load the magazine and then place the magazine into the gun, hence I was armed and dangerous. I nervously pointed my gun down range at a target. I lined up what I believed to be the target in my site, moved my index finger from the side of the gun to the trigger and fired away. I forgot how much the gun recoils after shoot a bullet out, and the trigger comes down ready to fire again. As the trigger came down my left thumb was in the way, and as a result the trigger scraped it, drawing blood. FYI, in the short safety lesson Ward firearms expert told us not to put our thumbs there. Crap, I was now going to be busted for not listening. Sure enough, BUSTED, with a “Didn’t I tell you not to put your thumb there?” Yeah, yeah, I know, but I am a lawyer and I can’t help it if in law school I was brainwashed to believe that I know everything, and was encouraged to selectively listen. Good news putting your thumb in the wrong place is a onetime deal, because once you make that mistake you avoid doing that again.

I began firing off more rounds, successively becoming more and more comfortable with my gun. After the first 20 shots or so, I realized I have really, really GOOD aim. I began hitting all the targets right on point, dead center. I became “Dirty Harriet” minus the wild hair of course. I used all 100 round of my ammo, and had a great time, and now feel completely comfortable using my gun. (Although I still lack the capacity to open the case)

I think I might have to look into trading that BMW 335 for a large pick-up truck with a gun rack….NOT!

Don’t shoot!!! (part 3 of “Bring my gun to Thanksgiving”)

Now you have to understand my trepidation about going out target shooting. First of all I am not really pro-gun, in fact regulating guns would be just fine with me. Second you have to understand the personalities of the individuals with whom I am going shooting. The home teacher, very nice man, age of my mother, extreme right wing, served in Vietnam, probably has flash backs (PTSD). The Ward firearms expert, seems like a nice guy but in need of serious psychological drugs. (even his wife admits that, and after a 5 minute conversation most people agree) See why I think gun regulation is a good thing? Good news for me, wife of Ward firearms expert will be coming with us.

The thing I find ironic about the whole situation is that where I live now is a very safe neighborhood, as in like ZERO crime except for the occasional teenage prank or vandalism. In my former life I lived in the “hood” so to speak. And of that I am not kidding. I had ‘gang” bangers who lived across the street from me. One Christmas the cops used my house as a look out because they were expecting a drive by shooting at the house across the street in retaliation for a drive by my neighbors had done on a rival gang. So I have a hard time getting overly concerned about my safety. Of course I am not stupid about it either. I lock my doors, have an alarm system etc.

The other thing that is funny about the gun is that I am incapable of opening the case where the gun is stored. The case has these latches that I do not have the finger strength to open. I never have, and I never will. I have always had to have a male open the case for me. So future burglars, robbers, kidnapper etc., please note that if you come to my house I will probably politely ask you to open the gun case in order for me to retrieve the gun with which to shoot and or frighten you with.

That being said, when you receive a gift, you must take it with the intent of the giver. Both of these gentleman who have agreed to take me shooting, are concerned about me and my well being, and only have my best interest at heart. So while target shooting might not be my “thing” it is a way that both of them can serve me in a difficult time, which is a gift I gladly accept.

To be continued…..

Armed and Loaded (part 2 of “Bring my gun to Thanksgiving”)

One cannot target shoot without ammunition. Had the gun, had no ammo. Needed ammo. Now mind you I have NEVER purchased ammo in my life. I believe that after I purchased the gun, a friend of mine gave me ammo for a gift, which is what I used the one and only time I shot the gun off. So to the local sporting goods store I headed.

I pulled into the parking lot, which of course was filled with very LARGE pickup truck mostly of the Chevy or Ford variety. My poor little BMW 335 was feeling out of place, as was its owner. Clearly we were not at Macy’s anymore…

I entered the store filled with all sorts of hunting paraphernalia, and head to the back where I presumed the guns and ammo to be. I passed several shelves of ammo, but rather than try to figure out what I needed I decided the most efficient way to purchase my ammo would be to find a sales clerk, and plead ignorance. I approached the gun counter and patiently waited. (Apparently the election of a Democrat has all of the right wing extremists concerned and gun sales are on the rise.) In the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday there were no less than three people selecting guns. One was shopping for a hand gun, and two for rifles. I politely listened to the salesmen touting the benefits of each gun, using words and language entirely unfamiliar to me, hence increasing my anxiety level about being there, and wanting to get my ammo and get the hell out before I started wanting to drive a pick up with a gun rack, and wear lots of camouflage.

Finally a salesman asked me if I was being helped. I replied “No.” I guess prior to that I must have looked like some confused girlfriend/wife of one of the gentleman considering the purchase of a firearm. (Note to self, wear lawyer attire next time shopping for ammo, might be taken more seriously…) I informed the salesman I needed ammo for a 9mm hand gun. He then asked if I needed “Plinko” or “Self defense.” What???? I had a choice????? Furthermore what was Plinko? Self defense seemed self evident. Not wanting to look entirely stupid and have him refuse to sell me the ammunition due to being blonde and very clueless, although I am sure that was apparent, I simply said “I am going target shooting.” He informed me I wanted “plinko” and directed me to the shelf where “plinko” was located. Next he wanted to know if I wanted silver or brass casings. What???? I had ANOTHER choice????? I looked at him with a questioning eye and he told me the silver casings were not reloadable, but the brass ones were.

Seriously did I look like a women who was going to reload empty casings???? I think not…I don’t even want to shoot the gun to begin with, let alone collect my casings and reload them!!!! I indicated that I would take the silver, and politely grabbed two boxes, (100 rounds, I think that should be sufficient) and made haste to the register to leave this strange environment as soon as possible. One debit card purchase later, I was safely back in my BMW 335 leaving the land of guns, ammo, and very LARGE trucks. (Isn’t a large truck a sign of overcompensation?) humm…

To be continued….

Can you bring my gun to Thanksgiving dinner? (part 1)

Several years ago, in another life, I was a prosecuting attorney. As a result I received a number of death threats, most of which I did not take seriously. After all I was single at the time, no children, so death threats did not bother me, because I did not have a whole lot to lose. Not that I wanted to die mind you, but the seriousness with which I would take a death threat today, is vastly different than it was several years ago.

Because my father was wiser, and apparently valued my life more that I did, he insisted that I get a gun, a hand gun to be precise. I honestly could have cared less about owning a gun. (Although I did idolize Charlie’s Angles as a young child/tween, and guns in their purses were a mainstay.) In order to appease my father I purchased a 9mm, semi-automatic gun. I took it out shooting once and it has been in its case ever sense. Probably needs to be cleaned…. For reason I will not go into here, for the last 6 years the gun has taken up residence in the gun safe at my brother-in-laws house.

Well with the recently re-location of my husband, one of my home teachers has taken it upon himself to ensure my personal safety. He brought me over an 11 page, single space document on self defense that he prepared in 2002 and asked me if I had a gun. I reported that I did, but did not report that the location of my gun was actually about 20 miles south of my house. He then questioned how long it had been since I shot my gun. I sheepishly told him it had been a number of years. He then informed me that we were going to go out and shoot my gun. I said “Yeah that would be great” honestly thinking he was not serious. Oh no….he was serious. The next time I saw him he told me he had already spoken with the firearms expect in our ward, (he teaches gun safety for fun) and had arranged to go and warm the metal of my oh so cold hand gun, and see what kind of aim I have. (Little does he know my aim is terrible, perhaps I should warn him in advance that a flack jacket might be in order.)

Well I could not go shooting without my gun so the day before Thanksgiving I called my sister-in-law up and said “Hey can you bring my gun to Thanksgiving dinner?” She paused and said “ok.” Then I realized how bad that sounded, and she was probably questioning if she even wanted to come to Thanksgiving dinner. She was relieved to hear that I was planning on going target shooting, and did not have anyone in the family in my sight…..

Gun delivered Thanksgiving Day. To be continued…

Friends

Apparently I have acquired a number of friends over the years, and all this drama in my life has caused them to crawl out from under the rocks they have been hiding and back into my life.

I am a friendly person, outgoing, easy to talk to, and after all the years I have spent in the courtroom, not much of anything intimidates me except those plastic Barbie looking women whom seem to have taken over the generation just younger than me. Where I live unfortunately they run rampant. (Yes, I know letting them get to me is silly, I probably scare them more than they scare me. After all I can put together a grammatically correct sentence, usually…)

As a result of my friendliness I have had a lot of people to tell about my “situation” because I don’t want them to hear it on the grapevine. Inevitably lots have heard it on the grapevine because bad news travels very FAST. People from work, people from church, friends from high school, friends from college, people from my former life in another state, relatives out the wazoo….all wanting to let me know they care.

I have received numerous phone calls, cards and email. I never knew I KNEW that many people, and that many people cared about ME. It’s been comforting, a blessing, and an inspiration to me that along the way I have touched so many lives. It’s funny how we see ourselves, and the perception that others have of us. We truly are, are own worst critic. We fault ourselves, we blame ourselves, we guilt ourselves, we let Satan and his minions tell us we have no value. Yet those around us rarely see us that way, they see our value, they see our good works, they see our tender hearts, they love us for who we are. It’s good to have friends to remind us who we truly are.

To Judge.

I am a judge. No, seriously I mean it. That is what I do for a living. It is quite interesting to see people’s reactions when I tell them I am a judge. First of all, I am young so they don’t expect me to be a judge. (I was in the right place at the right time, another story, different blog) Second, I really don’t look judicial. I guess I don’t look mean enough apparently. And third, I don’t act like a judge. I really am a very nice person, most people don’t think I can throw down the hammer. The good news for me, I do civil work, so no one goes to jail, and its appellate level work, so I don’t actually have to see the parties, they have already had their hearing in front of another judge. I just see the transcript of their hearing along with all the exhibits, and their arguments on appeal, and write a written decision.

Another myth about being a judge, you would think that I would be quick to judge. But to the contrary I am not. I am probably one of the least judgmental individuals you will encounter, and it comes from being a judge and the limits on me as I try to judge others.

My job is to apply the facts to the law. Often times I know the way I am ruling goes against the real truth, but if the party with the burden of proof does not present the correct evidence, I can’t make a ruling that is not supported by legally competent evidence. I also can’t make a ruling that goes against the law. I have sworn to uphold the law, as distasteful as sometimes that is.

I also know from being a judge that there are two sides to every story. I sometimes wonder when I am reading the testimony of two individuals who had a conversation together if they were even in the same room. Yes, sometimes one party is out and out lying, but other times both parties honestly believe they are telling the truth, and the truth is a matter of perception. I am limited in what I can do, I don’t know their hearts. I can only take what is before me and apply the facts to the law.

Outside of my job I cringe when others are quick to judge. They are judging based on their limited perception of the facts, as applied to their life experience and values. Is it fair to impose our life experience and values to individuals who may not share those? Why are our values any more important than those of anyone else? Didn’t the Savior set the ultimate example by LOVING everyone, even those shunned by society, for choices and values not shared by those who were judging?

This is why I am grateful that the job of judging our lives lies with the Savior and our Heavenly Father. I have a very incomplete perception of reality when I judge and I know my judgment is limited. The Lord has a complete perception of our lives and his judgment is not limited. He understands our challenges, he knows our hearts, he knows our intent and it is by HIS full perception of reality that we will be judged. Thank goodness.

Beautiful

Last night I was sitting at enrichment listening to a speaker who had clearly faced several challenges in her life. She began by telling the story of her mother’s passing which followed a long illness. Despite the fact her mother had been ill she collapsed suddenly on the bathroom floor and was gone. The speaker then began to detail the bitterness she felt toward the Lord for his failure to take her mother in a manner contrary to what the speaker believed her mother was promised in her patriarchal blessing. After a year or two of bitterness she began to see the Lord had done what was promised in the patriarchal blessing, it was a matter of a new perspective for the speaker. She then said how often she felt the presence of her mother near, in quiet moments. I connected with the speaker and her story, and reflected on my own mother’s passing, and the questions I have had over the years about the influence she continues to have in my life.

She next moved on to a story of another trial the difficulty of which more intense than the trial of the passing of her mother. Although she did not say, I suspect it was a divorce. She said that despite the difficulty of the trial she resolved to be happy and not allow this trial to make her bitter as the first trial had done. She said our trials can either make us bitter or better, and we having a fullness of the gospel need allow our trials to make us better, and not bitter. The Lord teaches us through our trials, and we can’t learn if we are bitter. It is when we humble ourselves and submit our will to the Lord that we can become better, and it is a matter of inviting Him into our lives, and radiating the gospel even during our trials. Satan distracts us by keeping us busy so that become numb to the spirit. We have to make time for those quiet moments in which to converse with the Lord.

As I sat there I could not help but think she was speaking directly to me. She said whenever she goes on a speaking assignment she never prepares an outline, she never tell the group in advance what she is going to talk about, she prays and allows the spirit to speak through her. Several times during her talk she told us how beautiful we were and that we needed to smile and let the gospel reflect and radiate through our eyes. She told the sisters, “Many of you sitting her do not believe you are beautiful. Many of you have let the media dictate your standard of beauty, and find yourselves never living up to that standard. Sisters if your daughter was sitting up here on the stand would you allow her to think that she is not beautiful? No you would not allow your daughter to think she is not beautiful. Your mother wants you to know you are beautiful.” As she said those words it was as if my mother was speaking to me. Tears began to stream down my face. The speaker did not know the struggles I have faced dealing with my body image issues, and how my mother factored into that. But I knew those words “Your mother wants you to know you are beautiful” came from my mother to me through this speaker. I am beautiful.