"Nothing's as obvious as what is lost; Nothing's as painful as the cost." - Blue Rodeo

Well, I suppose I have been quiet long enough.  It’s time for another blog post.

I’m hesitant to write anything because I really hate being misunderstood.  Being misunderstood is one of my greatest frustrations in life.  And I know this post is going to sound somewhat depressing and self-pitying.   Look, in many ways, I am extraordinarily happy with myself.  I’m thriving - physically and emotionally.  This is the healthiest I have been in my entire adult life…and I mean that in the truest sense of the word “healthy”…..and I know I’m just going to keep getting healthier.  Every day I greet the world with nothing but confidence and joy and I know I have absolutely no good reason or right to feel sorry for myself.

But the truth is I’m suffering a bit of an identity crisis.   So, I suppose I AM feeling a bit sorry for myself, even though I have no right or reason.  There are a lot of really, really great things happening and I'm celebrating those things...while I feel sorry for myself.  I pretty much find myself thinking “woohoo!” and “this sucks!” all the time.....sometimes in the same moment.    Apparently I can't just allow myself be happy.  That would be too easy.  I’m working on that….but I’m not there yet.

I’ll start with some great stuff.  Yesterday, I wore heels to work….a hot, Italian pair of four inch heels – office appropriate, with amazing stitching, stylish details and gorgeous distressed leather.  My feet were KILLING me, and I didn't care.  I strutted around the office like I owned the place.  You see, it’s the first time I have worn heels for an entire day in years and years and years….possibly EVER!  Do you understand??  Let me spell it out for you.  Because of my weight, there are a great many simple little things that I have never been able to do before.  One of those things is wear heels.  Could not before .....and now I can.

That, my friends, is a mofo NSV!

It would not have even occurred to me to attempt such a thing if this other little thing hadn’t happened last weekend:  I was parked behind Sam in the driveway.  He wanted to leave so I needed to move my car.  All my shoes/boots that I normally wear were upstairs so I threw on a pair of sandals that I had not worn since last Summer.  They’re Birkenstock type sandals with adjustable straps across the foot.  I just threw them on and started walking, and, I could not believe it………they slipped off my feet as I started walking!  I literally tripped over them.  My freaking shoes were so big I could no longer wear them!

Things like this happen ALL the time now and when they do, they catch me off guard EVERY single time.  I know I should not be surprised.  I’m losing weight….a lot of weight.  Things ARE going to change!  Lots and lots of things will change.  But I swear...I see myself naked and I don't really think I look all that different (except my neck and shoulders). So I forget that I have lost weight all the time……and then when something happens that reminds me, THEN I notice something’s different, and I’m like, "Hey…..You!  Check out this thing that changed!”.    I just HAVE to tell someone.  I want to share my joy…I want them to start screaming and jumping up and down just like I want to do.  But usually I just get a blank stare or a half smile in return.  I get it….unless you’ve had the experience of being trapped in a cage, how could you possibly understand what it feels like to be free?

But this shoe thing is especially exciting for me.  It’s exciting because I have a collection of shoes…. Heels, actually.  Sexy, pointy, strappy, gorgeous, amazing heels that I bought over the years even though I couldn’t stand up in them, or even put them on my feet.  I bought them because I loved them and wanted them.  I bought them because I could completely see the real me in my head and the real me is the kind of woman who sometimes wears heels.  I like heels.  They make me taller.  They’re beautiful.  They’re stylish.  They’re sexy.  They make legs and asses look amazing.  I kept buying more and more heels and I’d keep them shined up and sitting on a shelf like art while I yearned to be able to wear them.  I never gave up on the idea that the day would come when I could actually wear heels.  That day, it seems, is upon me.  Or at least…..I can see the sun rising on that day. 

Another great thing happening for me - Writing.  I am getting paid to write.  I still have my full time job at Pictometry but in addition to that, two agencies now hire me freelance to write for them….it’s called ”content marketing”, but it’s writing.  I am super stoked about getting paid to write, being published (even if it's ghost writing and I don't get credit for it), and the fact that it’s a side job where I have a great deal of control.  I say when, I say where, and how often.  I finish an assignment; I say I want another one…..so they give me another one.  No matter where I go, I can keep doing it.  It’s awesome that I don’t need to sell my soul to make some extra money and I get to do something I feel happy and confident about doing.  I’m still pretty slow and very new to the whole industry so it’s not like I’ve had a lot of assignments or am getting paid a huge amount of money per assignment.  But I’m working on building my skill, speed and experience and then it will become a bit more profitable.

I also have a work trip to Florida coming up in February for the next National Sales Meeting…Amelia Island.  I’m very excited about that.  I have always really enjoyed the road trips down to Florida to visit Sam’s parents, so I’m going to use a week of vacation time and split it up before and after the NSM so I can drive and make a couple stops along the way.  I really loved Charleston, SC but only saw a bit of it once so I may stop there for a night.  Also, there’s a really interesting large retail space called Tamarack in Beckley, West Virginia where all different kinds of artisans sell their creations.  It's an amazing place.  I have picked up several gorgeous pieces there over the years so I’ll definitely have to stop there on the way….for me, no road trip to Florida would be the same without stopping there. (There’s also something pretty magical about the West Virginia mountains, especially when the sun is rising…the mist is intense. Always cool to stop there overnight and experience the WV sunrise.)  Then there’s Nashville, TN which has been calling me for years…..I really want to go there.  It’s more out of the way so that may not happen, but I’m excited to think about the possibilities and make some travel plans.

And….Felix action!  Suddenly I’m getting calls about Felix again.  Tonight I’m checking out two leads after work. 

Ok, so now onto the identity crisis I’m having.  I’m not even sure I can really articulate it, but I’ll try. 

To start with, too many things are uncertain in my life right now and it’s making me crazy.   The number one most annoyingly uncertain thing is my Green Card.  What happens with my Green Card has repercussions in other areas as well so not knowing what’s going on means I can't plan, which screws up my life as well as Sam's and leaves us both in limbo.

You may recall I needed to apply for a 10 year card back in July.  I did so, I got a year extension on my GC and had my biometrics appointment in August.  I haven’t heard a thing since then, which is, sadly, normal for USCIS.  You don’t hear anything until you do.  The timeline for these types of applications is supposed to be 6 months, so - in theory - by January, it should all be decided.  However, Sam and I have used VisaJourney, an online community dedicated to helping people navigate the immigration process, from the beginning……and there are people on that forum who applied over a year ago for their 10 year card and are still waiting.  Their extension letter has expired.  Maybe that won’t happen to me.  But what if it does?

In the meantime, what will USCIS decide to do with me?  Will they ask for more information?  Will they make us do an interview?  Will they deport me?  I  know, I know…just wait and see.  I’m getting ahead of myself.  Except, not really.

Sam and I are at the point of our relationship where we are both ready to move on.  We both NEED to be able to move on.  I need to move out.   We need to get divorced.  I am tired of my ambiguous marital status.  Sam wants to just move on.  But we can’t do a damn thing until the GC issue is settled.  If we divorce in the middle of the process, I need to reapply for my 10 year card and start all over again, pay another fee, as a divorced person.  I’m not completely sure I can move without screwing up my application, but let’s say I could…. I don’t want to move into my own place and then have USCIS come back and say, no you can’t stay in this country.  Then I’ll have to move again. 

Thinking about what happens if USCIS does tell me I need to leave......I mean, it’s not so bad…I’d go back to Canada.  So I find myself kind of “planning” a life in Canada – because there’s nothing left of my old life, I’d be starting all over again there - while also simultaneously figuring out what to do next here in the US.  I have no idea which life I’m going to end up with.   In my weakest moments, I question where it is I even belong.  It’s municipal election time in Canada and I am no longer eligible to vote there.  But I can’t vote here in the US either.  I feel like I don’t belong anywhere.

As I think about the possibility of returning to Canada, I am heartbroken over Felix.  I think, as long as I stay in Rochester, there’s always a possibility I could someday get him back.  It’s possible.  Or maybe staying close to the last place he was seen just makes me feel less guilty for allowing my absolute worst fear about moving to the States – something happening to one of my cats – to come true.   In any case, "feels" about Felix have flared up big time lately.

My road to fitness is going really, really well.  I am constantly amazed at the things my trainer asks me to do and even more amazed when I can do them.  And…the last time I went to the gym, I walked 3 miles for a warm up.  3 miles!  And I wasn’t even hot or tired or sweating for the first mile.  Remember in May when I walked my first 5K and I barely finished it?  I was the very last person to cross the finish line and I was so proud?  Um yeah….now my goal is to be able to walk 5K five days a week….every time I go to the gym just for a warm up…and that goal is within reach.  My trainer wants me to enter a beginner Kettlebell competition in December!  Say, what??   I thought she was talking to someone else when she said this.  I was busy trying to lift a 35 pound steel ball above my head so I wasn’t really paying attention to her, and when I realized she meant me, I started laughing.  So surreal.  Is this my life?  It’s amazing but so weird.  I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone all the time.

Another thing is I’m lonely.  I am truly, heartbreakingly lonely.  There are a lot of different things contributing to this.  I miss my family.  I miss having a partner.  I don’t feel like my friends can really understand what I’m experiencing in my weight loss journey.  And….I do have a lot of friends, but I’m kind of a loner.  I tell myself I want to be alone…I like it, then I feel lonely.  I never used to be like this when I was younger….I was always the social planner.  I brought groups of people together to go out.  I made sure everyone was included.  I was a social butterfly.  When did that change?  You guessed it…after I was raped in my 20’s.  I feel like I need to embrace my need for people instead of just secluding myself all the time.  And this is messing with my sense of self.

Not to mention the fact that most of the people I know in Rochester were Sam’s friends before they were mine and although they have also become mine, I don’t want to put them in the uncomfortable position of “choosing” Sam or me.  I feel obligated to back away and let him have his space with our friends…because if the situation were reversed, that’s what I would want.  Right or wrong, that’s what I would want.

The idea that I will be divorced is another big hurdle for me.  I just feel like such a disappointment and failure.  I feel an overwhelming sense of loss associated with the entire thing, not just for the relationship itself but for the loss of Sam’s family in my life, the knowledge that when I move out, our dog Ladybug stays with Sam, the loss of “home”…these are my people and this is where I belong.   I have no one to take care of…except myself, how dull.  With Halloween approaching, this feeling has been amplified.  Sam and I had two weddings, both on Halloween.  We both love Halloween.  We always decorated the house and it has always been our tradition to watch scary movies and eat candy together on Halloween.  So I’m feeling kind of sad over the loss of that tradition.  And in spite of everything I said above about the GC issue, we have set a move out date for me of April 1.

I have not weighed what I weigh now in at least 15 years.  I haven’t been this “physically fit” (and I put that in brackets because “fit” is relative to my experience) since I was in my early 20’s.  Yet, my body still reflects the damage done by obesity....stretch marks, extra skin, really flabby arms, thighs and belly.  This is all uncharted territory for me.  I don’t know how to act, how to live, how to be and I'm trying to not freak out every second of every day.  I'm trying to handle it with grace and dignity.  I’m stumbling my way through, trying to make good, healthy decisions for myself.  But this is a mindfuck in the first degree.  I know other people who have been morbidly obese for their entire adult life will understand the struggle here and that mostly everyone else will not.  Which just makes it all the more a mindfuck.  I constantly feel like the only one who has smoked weed at a party…and I’m going around to everyone else going, “can you believe that just happened?”  No one else sees what I see.  I just look crazy.  And maybe I am.  I certainly feel crazy sometimes.

I find myself constantly plagued by self-doubt.  I doubt that I’m really losing weight.  I doubt that it’s really happening for me.  I doubt that I will ever be able to do everything on my “list” that I want to do.  I see myself naked and honestly, I don’t see the difference in my body, I really don’t.  I only notice the difference when I put clothes on or I step on the scale or try to do something new.

In addition to that, I have also been having my first physical problems since my surgery.  I’ve been REALLY sick a couple of times in the last few weeks.  (As I write this, I have realized these problems may well be stress induced.)  

The physical changes I am experiencing as a result of my surgery….the loss of the weight, the loss of the comfortable miserable identity I hung onto for so long.   As I lose more and more weight, everything becomes more and more possible and there’s nothing I don’t want to do, nothing I don’t want to be.  It’s all very overwhelming.

Which leads me to my dating life.  Dating should be the easiest, light hearted thing happening in my life right now.  It’s supposed to be fun.  I know this.  But it’s not.  It’s stressful.  I don’t want it to be stressful…it just is.  There are just so many weirdos out there.  So many people with questionable motives.  So many reasons to distrust someone.

And it’s difficult for me to “be myself” while I’m suffering an identity crisis and don’t know how to “be myself”, because I don’t know who “myself” is right now.  I had my first experience with a man telling me if I lost too much weight he would not be attracted to me.  I had to ask him to repeat himself – twice.  I just could not believe what I was hearing.   OK I get it….not everyone appeals to everyone else.  Some men are only attracted to large women, some men are only attracted to thin women.  I get it….but who exactly will be attracted to me right now…the guy who likes larger women or the guy into fitness?  ‘Cos I’m both, and don’t really fit neatly into a physical category.  Just like my hair color, my body is going to change.  So if you're into fat redheads, and you think I'm it, I've got bad news for you buddy.  I need someone with more...... flexible tastes, and that is just not easy to find. 

But seriously, if you are a man who is only attracted to large women and you know a woman has had weight loss surgery, why would you even ask her out?  Why would you waste any time at all trying to get to know her?  Why would you spend the entire first date spewing your hatred for weight loss surgery and trying to feed that woman cheesecake all night after she’s told you how meaningful having this surgery has been to her and telling you how sick she’ll be if she eats it? 

Sometimes it feels like people don’t date to get to know other people.  They date to impose their views on you, their life on you.  They know they want a partner and they don’t care who that partner is…they can envision the life they want and they want to just slot someone they are physically attracted to into that life to complete the picture.  They don’t care who you are, they only care who they can make you be.  You’ve got the look, now they want a puppet who they can tell how to think, how to act, what to say so they get their perfect little life.  If there’s one thing I know I’m not, it’s a puppet.  If there's one  thing I know I do NOT want, it's a puppet master.  If there’s one thing I know I am, it’s a romantic, and the romantic in me doesn’t go for crap like this. Dating is really hard on a romantic.  Dating is a very cold business.  It’s use or be used. 

But the larger issue with dating for me is much more embarrassing.  Truth is, it almost feels like I’m on a quest.  It’s hard to enjoy anyone when you want everyone to be the same person.  There’s a scene in the movie “Love Actually” where a kid confesses to his father that he’s in love and proclaims that there’s nothing “worse than the total agony of being in love.”  Ah yes, unrequited love.  This is the problem I’m facing. 

I mentioned many posts ago that I met a guy - months and months ago - I called him my “ideal man”.  That was a superficial, shallow way to explain how I felt about this person.  Truth is, this is the closest I have ever felt to “love at first sight”.  When I met him, he started talking, and really didn’t stop.  I barely got a word in, he talked so much.  He didn’t just go on and on about himself…he was interesting and did ask me questions and answered my questions when I was able to ask…..and everything he said just made me want to know him more.  But the fact that he talked so much gave me a lot of time to observe him and I have never felt so drawn to a man before, so instantly fascinated, so powerfully attracted, so pushed to challenge myself and be better so I could deserve him.

It’s not just that he is physically beautiful, although in my eyes, he is.  More importantly than that, I could see all the men in my family in him….my dad, my brother, my grandfather, my uncles….all their gifts, all their skills and talents, all their flaws…plus his own unique characteristics, and because of that I instantly trusted him, liked him and wanted to be near him.  I didn’t want to leave.  I didn’t know him very well, I had no idea if we were compatible or not but I knew I wanted to find out.

Unfortunately for me, none of those feelings were mutual.  I don’t give up easily and I definitely believe in the whole “if you really want something, you fight for it until you die”/ Say Anything School of Romantic Thought, but after someone tells you several times they are not interested in you, you risk becoming a stalker if you continue to pursue.  You don’t look like a passionate person fighting for what they want, you look crazy.  So I was forced to accept I had reached that threshold. 

Since that time, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this guy.  Yes, I know, it's been months.  I have been known to carry a torch for a decade.  I don't get over people easily.  I want to know him.  I want to date him.  But since he won’t date me, I try to move on.  I don’t expect every other guy to be like him.  I know he’s not perfect and he's not "ideal".  But he did show me the feelings I want to feel for my partner and he showed me I am actually capable of having those feelings.   I’m not interested in dating someone I only kinda like and letting that grow into a stable relationship based on friendship.  There's nothing wrong with that, but it's not what I'm looking for.  I want to feel that spark, those fireworks, that gut-wrenching drive to discover every single thing there is to discover about the person I'm dating.

Oh man, I know how I sound right now.  It’s cute coming from a 10 year old kid with an English accent in a ridiculously mushy, romantic, feel-good movie.  Coming from a 45 year old woman going through a divorce - not so cute….desperate.  Yes, I’m desperate.  I’m desperate to get him out of my head, to feel what I feel for someone else who will return the feelings, and desperate to have a dating life without him sitting on my back the whole time.  I am desperate to not let how I feel about him destroy any more potential relationships.  This is ridiculous, but I have actually thought, hell, if I’m going to move, why not REALLY move and get away from him and his town…..’cos yeah, after 7 years of being with Sam and visiting Rochester, this is that guy’s town.  Everywhere I go, I wonder if he’ll be there.   Maybe a fresh start would help.  Pick a place I’ve never even been to…..I dunno, Austin, Texas, for example, and just GO THERE.  

It’s a nice fantasy to run away like that.  If only it were that easy.  It would serve me no purpose to just run like that.  I do have some stability in my life right now.  Work.  My trainer.  The gym.  These are the things that keep me sane.  When I have no idea what I’m doing or why, I know I have these things.  Love feels essential to me because I’m a dreamy, starry-eyed, impractical, freak and I’ll probably never outgrow that but truth is, love is not essential…not right now.  I still have a lot of hard work to do.

There are only a few things I REALLY want in life.

·         Get Felix back

·         Reach my fitness/weight loss/lifestyle goals

·         Be crazy passionately madly in love

I only have control over one of these things so I’m all in with it.  Everything I’ve got goes towards reaching my fitness/weight loss/lifestyle goals. 

The Return of Random Stuff:

·         I am obsessed with white kitchens.  And bathrooms.  In fact, I love white walls and furniture too.
·         There is no design style better than art deco.  I’m a fan.
·         I always think of myself as a coffee person as opposed to a tea person, but I love, love LOVE me some Chai, Earl Grey, Apricot Spiced and Red Zinger tea.
·         I'm neither a cat or a dog person…I am both.  I want ALL the critters all the time.  I can’t go to a pet store or animal shelter without wanting to take home every animal in the place.
·         I was deeply disappointed by the finale of True Blood.  In fact, the last three seasons were so bad, I have no idea why I kept watching.  I’m only now able to talk about it.
·         I’ve recently discovered a genre of music I can only just barely tolerate:  death metal
·         I can barely eat an entire banana.  Seriously, I’m completely stuffed after eating a banana.
·         I can’t stand tuna or salmon.  I hate the smell.  I hate the sight.  I hate the taste.  If you invite me over to dinner, you better not make me a tuna casserole or salmon on a cedar plank.  If you do, and I say I like it, I’m totally lying.
·         I could eat scallops, lobster and blue crab all day long.
·        The meme I added to this post?  Yeah that’s me.  White girl in yoga pants who loves Fall and is obsessed with pumpkin everything.  Totally.  Me. 

 

 

“I Am Just a Dreamer, and You Are Just a Dream.” – Neil Young

A couple weekends ago, I spent the entire weekend getting rid of a bunch of junk.  While I was going through stuff, I found a box containing essays I wrote for school, articles I wrote for my local newspaper while I was on their Community Editorial Board, some erotic fiction I wrote just for fun…and a bunch of poetry I had typed – on a typewriter - on crumbling pages. 

It really surprised me to find this stash of writing, especially the poems.   I had completely forgotten that I used to write so much.  But as soon as I saw them, I remembered there was a time when I carried around a notebook everywhere I went.   I’d scribble things down as they came to me and then piece it all together later. 

Poems were my very favourite thing to write (and read, actually!).  I was obsessed with technique, with literary devices, with transforming the imagery in my head into words…… inspired by my muses, encouraged by acid trips, fed by the fantasy world I prefer to live in.   My imagination is very visually driven.  Beautiful pictures and images constantly flood through my mind….and, I love writing, so poetry is the perfect vehicle for me:  lush language expressing what I see in my head without having to worry about practical things like plot, character or dialogue.

Back when I used to write poetry, I always had my hand on a creative pulse:  I designed and made clothes; I sketched and painted; I wrote; I played musical instruments.  I remember always thinking how terrible everything I created was.  I destroyed so many pieces because I just thought they were horrible, and who did I think I was trying to be an artist of any kind.   I was certainly too embarrassed to show my creative work to anyone I knew, which is silly, I now realize.  The only way to improve is to be criticized, so what was I so afraid of?  I tried a few times to get publishers interested in my written work, but the only things I ever sold were a few erotic pieces to Penthouse, which is really funny considering my complete lack of sexual experience at the time.

I don't know why, but when I found my poems, I was surprised to see how sexually suggestive my poetry is.  Again....I had very limited experience when I wrote these poems.  What I had was an extravagant imagination, an overactive libido and the unfortunate habit of falling madly in love with people I was attracted to.   By the time I finished my first year of university, I loved 3 male friends and one female friend….some more platonically than others.    I didn’t abandon one as I found another…I had plenty of adoration for the four of them.  They were my muses and the hardcore love I felt for them lasted for years.  I still occasionally see two of them and even now, 20 years later, my heart still skips a beat for them.

I’ve been thinking a lot about love and sex – relationships in general – for a long time.  This has been a significant focus for me for a while.  Oh, who am I kidding…..it’s always been a focus for me!  I really am a very love/sex motivated person and, for me, they are one in the same……one is not very satisfying without the other.  And when both are present, well…there’s no greater high.  That is an uncomfortable thing for me to acknowledge, but I might as well just accept it.    I know it’s true.....I have all these poems that reveal my true nature staring me in the face so I really can't deny it.

I wrote a lot of poems inspired by love and - for me - profound love and intense, erotic sex are a package deal.....that was the expectation I had for my life.  So I guess it should be no surprise that my poetry is sexually charged.  It also should not then surprise me that I have engaged in casual sex throughout my adult life.  I know that sounds contradictory……but to me it makes sense that if I can’t have love without great sex then I may as well find out right away whether or not great sex with someone is a possibility…… each encounter as almost like a job interview.  If it’s not there, then I need to move on to the next candidate.  Why waste everyone’s time?  Outside of sex, there are plenty of ways to build a connection and find common ground.  Sexual chemistry just cannot be forced…it’s there or it isn’t, so for me, it makes sense to start there.

There’s a part of me that loves the idea of being single forever.  I can imagine it.  I don’t really get lonely by myself.  I enjoy my own company.  In fact, I need time alone....I actually crave it and feel smothered when I don't get it.  I can go to a restaurant, to the movies, travel….wherever….. alone, and not feel awkward about it at all.  I can definitely take care of my own sexual needs.  It feels very comfortable and natural to me to be alone. 

But I know this isn’t really what I want in life.  That feeling of wanting to be single is a reaction to the expected "practicalities" of relationships…..the way coupled people have more disposable income together, more benefits, live longer, are “respected” by society, can travel more cheaply, etc.  These practicalities really piss me off.  They fly in the face of my romantic view of relationships.  I hate the pressure to couple up for practical reasons.  If I commit to someone, I want it to be a choice based completely on love…where only the free will of both people makes them want to be together.  I hate the idea that someone would be with me or I with them for some sort of tangible gain.

I don’t have the same desire for a steady, predictable, safe life like many people I know do.  Not that there’s anything wrong with a steady, predictable, safe life….it’s all about what makes you happy and that does not make me happy.   Ever since I was a kid, I would infuriate my parents by asking them how they can stand “normal” life:  Get a job, get married, have kids, pay bills, get up at 6am, go to bed at 11pm, take out on Saturday nights, TV every night before bed, live with the same person for the rest of your life, same boring routine week after week…..I just didn’t see how anyone could be inspired by that life.  What is there to live for?  Every day is the same as the next.  Where’s the excitement…the passion…the adventure......the stuff of poetry?

Now that I'm an adult and have to face the realities of relationships and life just like everyone else, casual sex kind of helps me insert that adventure and excitement into my otherwise regular life.  And the last of my recent casual sex partners has, unexpectedly, become one of my biggest cheerleaders, one of my greatest friends and one of my best lovers….a truly unexpected gift.  I met Rick right after Christmas…right before my sleeve surgery. We had an easy rapport when we met online...we had a lot to talk about.  And it turned out he had a pretty important role to play in  my life.  The guy who raped me was black.  It kills me to admit this but since then, I was afraid of black men.  I was never interested in them sexually or romantically.  Rick changed all that for me. 

On our first date, we exchanged stories about other people we’ve casually met.  I mentioned a guy I had met a couple weeks earlier who wasn’t interested in me when we met.  I talked about how silly I felt because I couldn’t stop thinking about him.  I would lay awake at night thinking about this guy.  Rick decided to make it his personal mission to make me forget about that guy.  And he has tried.  He's been way more supportive, loving and selfless to me than I have been to him….if anyone could make me forget about “my ideal man”, it would be Rick....he's amazing and I love spending time with him.

Unfortunately, I’m still into the other guy, and, understandably, it’s a huge source of tension between Rick and I.  I won’t commit to Rick, for many reasons, but one of them definitely is this other guy.  Regardless of what this other guy chooses to do, it seems wrong to me to commit to Rick when I know how I feel about someone else.  I know to most people it would be ridiculous to make that choice.  I’m spending quality time with a fantastic man who truly cares about me, meanwhile this silly infatuation for someone else I barely know…someone who could not care less if I live or die…completely pre-occupies me.  I can practically hear Katy Perry singing “Teenage Dream” every time I think about him…it’s so embarrassing, which is of course why I had to talk about it here. 

My penchant for fantasy gets the better of me sometimes, I think. But in this case, I'm not so sure it's such a bad thing.  Somehow, and I'm not really sure how or why, but this other guy  brings me right back to a time in my life when I wrote poetry.  He brings me back to a time when I loved myself and felt like I could do and be anything.  He brings me back to a time before I was raped, before I experienced a lot of the ugliness in the world.  I walk around giggly and smiling because of him.  He makes me feel 16 again. 

I've talked to Sam and Rick both about this other guy.  Sam told me that my problem is I decide I want something, I get it and then I want something else.  I’m never satisfied with what I have.  Rick implied that I am fickle and keeping my options open for “someone better”. 

I can see why both of them think what they do but I really don’t agree with either one of them.  I have been completely and totally satisfied in a relationship.  And I certainly don’t think there’s anyone “better” than the men who have been and are in my life.  I’m not “settling” for “lesser” men until I can upgrade.  That implies that my wanting to end my marriage with Sam, that my unwillingness to commit to Rick shows that they are deficient somehow, which is not the case.  And I don’t think I’m deficient either.  I can't help how I feel, I can only be honest about it.

I have always felt a kind of restlessness.  Some people are really good at one thing, or they become interested in doing one thing, and that’s what they focus on and pursue.  Not me.  I have always felt pulled in a million directions.  Jack of all trades, master of none……that’s me.  I learned to play the flute for the band in high school but got bored with it so I switched to sax.  I am fascinated by the law…so in university I wrote the LSAT just to see if I could pass it…and I did.  But law school seemed too much of a commitment.  So I dropped out of university and went to college for fashion design.  Then I missed literature so I went back to university.  Then I hated school so I started working at the adult novelty store across the street from my house. I grew up in a family business…..being self-employed has always been super exciting to me.  So I started a web design business.   And on and on it goes.  I don’t know how else to describe it except to say that I have a lot of interests…I’ve been exposed to a lot of different people and ways of life…. and I want to pursue them all, so I end up doing none of them for long or very well.
This restlessness makes me a bit of a chameleon.  I can talk to anyone.  I can do anything (not in a super hero kind of way).  I can feel at home anywhere with all kinds of people.  Every person I'm attracted to appeals to me for a different reason…appeals to a different side of me.  If I decide to move on, it isn’t because I’ve found someone “better”, it’s because I’m ready to explore a different side of myself.  For me, spending time with someone is a fantastic way to explore parts of yourself.  I don’t like to feel that parts of me are being suppressed by a relationship.  I suppose that’s why, in general, I don’t believe in monogamy.  Finding someone I can relate to on all levels is difficult….but not impossible.  My romantic self tells me it IS possible. 

I realize I am pretty alone in this way of thinking.  Most people’s idea of love and sex and relationships seem different than mine.  And I have to admit that my romantic leanings took a big hit when one of my muses declared himself my enemy and then the rape happened.  1994 was just not a good year.  After that, my romantic ideals of sex, love and relationships were quite tainted, so maybe I am completely off base approaching love, sex and relationships the way I do. 

But I’m starting to get those ideals back.  You know how you can hear a song or smell something that immediately takes you back to a specific moment in time?  These poems do that for me.  I remember what each and every single one of them is about and how I felt writing them.  As soon as I saw the poems, I remembered that I wanted to “preserve” them so I decided to type them all out instead of just letting them live in my notebook full of scribbles.  I didn’t have a typewriter, so I used my friend’s.  I’d go to her apartment and she’d play the Proclaimers over and over while I typed away.  Little did I know as I sat there typing that in a few months my life would completely change right there in her very apartment, and that she and I would ultimately  never speak again.

The poems aren’t dated, sadly, but I can tell from their content when I wrote which poems.  When I found these poems and started reading, I realized I haven't written a single poem all since I was raped.  That realization made me incredibly sad.  But it also reminded me of the creativity I am capable of….reminded me of the longing and desire that is so much a part of me and I felt reassured about the direction my life is now headed. Sam and I ending our marriage was the right thing for both of us. 

If I am completely honest, my relationship with Sam has always been overshadowed by a secret I was keeping about him from most of my friends and family.  Sam is transgender.  He was born female and transitioned to male many years ago.  The fact that I kept this secret  - not that he is transgender - made me feel horrible, from the time I met him to the present day.  I have been really uncomfortable throughout the course of our relationship because I was keeping this secret and it bothered me that I chose to deny something so important about my partner.   It felt like I was ashamed of Sam, which I was not.  It felt like I didn’t trust my family and friends, which isn’t true.  The truth is much simpler…I was just a coward and didn’t have the guts to deal with the complication of how people would react.  I didn’t want to spend my time talking about it with people.  I knew the day would come when I was no longer ok with keeping this secret and that day has come.
The relationship with Sam was, for me, also a way of making amends.  As I have mentioned in a previous post, I volunteered at the K-W Sexual Assault Support Centre after I was raped.  When I left there, I didn’t leave just because I was burned out from volunteering full time for 3 years, although I was burned out.  I was asked to leave.  I had unintentionally outed a transgender woman who had recently started volunteering there with me.  I thought everyone knew she was transgender.  But they didn’t and my outing her caused her major grief and started a chaotic mess at the Centre that resulted in other volunteers going to the media.

So, in some twisted way, Sam did fulfill a very specific role for me.  Being with him somehow helped me feel better about outing that woman. 

I mentioned earlier in this post that I fell in love with a female friend when I was in university.  I have always been "bisexual"…..although I don't really call myself that. I don’t like to label myself because I find labels really.....misleading, I suppose.  But I have always known I was attracted to men and women. I knew it since I was a kid, I’m pretty sure my parents knew it, although we never talked about it, and some of my friends knew it too.   All my earliest sexual experiences were with other girls.  For me, being with women feels safer…and that is not because I was raped by a man, I’ve always felt that way.  I can’t imagine sharing my life with another woman though….the attraction is really just sensual and safe….very different than the feelings I have for men.

With Sam I felt like I was getting the best of both worlds….a guy who knew what it was like to be a woman.  A guy who understood the complexities of sexual orientation and gender and how those two things are completely different.  A guy who describes himself as a feminist.  A guy with a steady, predictable job and his own house and car who I could feel secure with.  It’s not that I wanted to use him….I loved him.  I love him still.  I thought the balance of the practical and all the things we have in common would help me feel good about being in a “real” relationship.  I put all my silly fantasies away and tried to be a respectable married woman. 

It is such a weird thing to be doing what I’m doing right now.  Unless you have a reason to do it, I’m not sure many people put themselves through a process like this where you take stock, challenge  every thing you own, every person you know, every thought in your head, every belief you have about yourself and the world, every bite you eat, what you see in the mirror, reveal to everyone all your secrets and hidden places, examine every thing you have ever done…all  to find the real you and make sure the life you’re living is the life that reflects who you really are.  For me, that’s what this weight loss surgery experience is all about.  Maybe for other people it’s different but for me, this is it.   I can’t really imagine having long term success after surgery without doing this.  I’ve tried that…it didn’t work. 

Even though my life and my relationships have largely resembled a steady, predictable life much more than I am comfortable with, I have not given up the idea that someday, my life could be as exciting, passionate, and beautiful as poetry.  I think if I could get out of my own way, it could be.  In fact, that ideal is more firmly planted in my head than it has been in years.    But that’ll never happen if I don’t stop bullshitting myself and I keep on ignoring what I know to be true about myself and what I want from a relationship.

I know poetry is not everyone's thing, but if you're so inclined, take a look.  I've published it all here on three separate pages.  And if you're out there reading, let me know what you think!  About poetry......mine or anyone else's..... love, sex, relationships, whatever! 

 

Random Stuff:

·         In high school, I could play the saxophone, flute, guitar and piano…but still I always wanted to be a singer. 

·         I HAVE to have my phone or iPod plugged in to my car while I’m driving so I can access my playlists.

·         I sing in my car while I’m driving.  Loudly.  This is how I avoid road rage and play out my fantasy of being a rock star.  Sometimes people think I’m yelling at them while I’m driving, but nope…I’m just singing.

·         For me, one of the best parts of a road trip is the opportunity to listen to hours and hours of music.  Whenever Sam and I took a road trip together, whoever drove got to decide what to listen to and Sam always picked audiobooks, which put me to sleep in two minutes flat.

·         I still have my tonsils and all my wisdom teeth. 

·         I never had braces.  I got the great teeth, my brother got the great eyesight.

·         I have a very serious boot obsession.  I suppose shoes too, but the boots I like are more kick-ass than shoes.

·         Sadly, tall boots never fit me because of my calves.  This was true even when I was a kid.  Years of English horseback riding gave me huge calves, I guess.

·         I am addicted to Aveda products and have been for 25 years.  My faves:  Rosemary Mint Bath Bar, Hand Relief and Confixor.  You know, just in case someone wants to buy me a gift or something.

·         I also love getting flowers, but not lilies.  Those are funeral flowers and they smell like death to me.    Plus, they’re bad for my cats.

“My Whole Existence is Flawed; You Get Me Closer to God.” – Nine Inch Nails

If you know me or have read my previous posts, you know that Sam and I are separating.  Romantically, we have been very distant from each other for quite some time, but we still live in the same house while we both figure out what each of us wants for our future and pay off our shared debt (ironically, our wedding, among other things).  We remain very good friends and have had many post-mortem conversations about our relationship, what went wrong and why and I think we are both at peace with it being over.

This whole post is about love and sex, and the thoughts in my head about these subjects.  It’s not meant as a commentary on Sam in any way.  Many people who have weight loss surgery find their relationships are changed after surgery.  Some people find it improves their relationship, many others find their relationship is over after the weight comes off.  For Sam and I, it happened before my surgery, probably because I had long term therapy for the year before surgery whereas most people don’t, so I think that hastened the process for me.

This post, just like all the others, is about me thinking critically about myself as I progress through the weight loss surgery experience.  Anything I say here is not a reflection of Sam’s shortcomings, but rather my own.  It’s just rather difficult to discuss sex and love without mentioning Sam in any way since he has been in my life for the last 7 years.  My relationship with him was only my second relationship that lasted more than 2 dates. 

He said something to me a while ago that has really haunted me these past few months and I’ve been thinking about it a lot.  He told me that I push everyone who loves me away because I think I’m not lovable. 

When he first said that, I really just kind of brushed it off.  I didn’t really think about it a lot but then one day, something happened and it was like a stone hitting the windshield.......you think it’s nothing but it completely cracks your window.  That insignificant thing that happened in my day suddenly made me realize there was something to what he said.  So I found myself re-examining my life, yet again, in this context.

When I was 14, I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome.  My family doctor had referred me to a specialist because I started to develop hair growth on my face.   The endocrinologist gave it to my mom and I straight:  I have too many male hormones;  will always have cysts on my ovaries which means I am probably infertile and probably won’t ever have kids;  I’ll need to be on birth control pills for the rest of my life to balance my hormones, and I will probably always struggle with my weight. 

So at the age of 14 I started on the pill and electrolysis treatments.  That also set the expectation that I carried with me throughout life that I wouldn’t have kids.  I never thought about whether or not I wanted them…I didn’t want to get excited about something that would never happen.

At this point in my life, several things were already true:  I already felt different than everyone else even before this, and even more so afterwards.  I already knew that other people thought I was fat and that it was a bad thing.  I had been on several diets, and generally felt that I was not acceptable the way I was.    Other people’s fear of my becoming fat leeched into me and started to shape how I felt about my body and myself. 

At the same time, I also became aware of how powerful my body was.   My classmates, my family members, advertising and media - everyone - seemed to have such strong reactions to and opinions of the female body and what was and wasn’t ok.  I mentioned previously that by the time I was 14, I looked 19.  I got a lot of attention from older guys.   I was already obsessed with sex and the attention I got was kind of scary to me.  I knew I was way too young for sex.  But still, I was curious so I would raid my dad’s porn stash and watch his VHS tapes until he’d realize one of his kids was seeing stuff they shouldn’t and try and hide them somewhere else, which didn’t work ‘cos I just found them again.  He probably thought it was my brother – not that he ever asked - but nope, it was me. 

I was confused by the dichotomy between being told I wasn’t good enough and all the attention I got.  It made sense to me that I wasn't good enough for love or real interest but I was good enough for sex.  Those guys probably gave that same attention to every girl, hoping someone would sleep with them, so I tried not to rely on it for my feelings of self-worth. I tried to not want that attention.  I tried to see it as not important.  Instead of trying to be sexy and attractive, I tried to focus on other things like being stylish, smart, mysterious, cool, a rebel.  In a previous post I mentioned how I had a lot of male friends in high school and how I thought dating was a big waste of time.  That’s all true, but the more complete story is, I didn’t think any guy could ever actually be interested me.  

I knew I didn’t want to ever get married.  I saw what being married looked like all around me and that wasn’t how I wanted to live, even as a kid.....that just wasn’t how I saw myself.  Being married seemed…….safe and "normal" I guess, to me. It just wasn't the kind of life I imagined for myself.  But I am a total romantic and wanted a relationship someday.  I just wanted the intense, passionate, transcendent, rock n roll, soul scorching kind of relationship poets write poems about and Led Zeppelin wrote songs about.  I wasn’t interested in a safe life…. I wanted a partner as tempestuous, irreverent and challenging as I was and our relationship to reflect that.

But I grew up hearing from everyone around me – especially from well meaning people who loved me - that I would be alone for the rest of my life unless I lost weight.  No man – certainly not the tall, fit, handsome men I was always attracted to - would want a fat girlfriend.  I grew up hearing I had such a beautiful face, which sounds like a compliment……. but the unspoken “but” is, “shame about the body”.  I grew up hearing, ‘you’d be perfect if only you lost weight’.  I grew up hearing that a woman is only worth something if she’s desirable to men and fat women are not desirable to men.  The conclusion I drew:  You are fat and don’t deserve to be loved or desired.

I wish I could go back and take that girl under my wing and tell her to not buy into the bullshit she’s hearing all around her….to REALLY not buy it.  I wish I could cover her ears and shout, “la la la, she can’t hear you and shame on you for being such an asshole!”  The awful thing is, you hear something often enough and you start to believe it and tell it to yourself over and over and pretty soon, it’s your truth.  All these years, I really believed I had ignored these messages.  But I can see now that was not the case.  Not only did I not ignore those messages but I absorbed them like a sponge.  I still don't believe anyone is ever actually attracted to me.  I always think there must be some other reason for their attention.

In the late 90's, I started to realize my 20's were almost over and the idea of turning 30 hit me HARD.  I had been living back at home at my parents' house after I was raped and had gained a lot of weight after trying to compulsively eat my anger away.   I had still never had consensual sex in my life and had still only ever been kissed by one guy.   It was depressing, embarrassing and I was tired of it, so I decided to start seeking out sex on the internet.  I don't remember the first guy I slept with.  I took what I could get.  Over the next several years, I would have long periods of total celibacy.  Then suddenly I’d get the itch to explore and would sleep with lots of people in a short time. I sometimes slept with several people a week and they were always one night stands.    None of those experiences were very satisfying.  Wars were waged on sex, myths were built on it…I was convinced there had to be more to it than what I was seeing and this thirst for the discovery of the magic I was sure existed drove me on to sleep with more and more people.

I was never really attracted to anyone I slept with.  What I mean is, they weren't physically my type.  But they were willing to sleep with me and that was all I thought I could hope for.  I didn't think anyone I wanted to have sex with with would ever want to have sex with me. I didn’t feel like I deserved to ask for what I really want.  I didn’t think I deserved to be loved or desired.  I didn’t think I was good enough to get the partner I want.  

I have no idea how many people I slept with.  I don't remember names, I don't remember faces (except the guy who used my toothbrush without asking...THAT guy I remember.  I was SO pissed.)  I put myself in some ridiculously dangerous situations.  I don't even know why I did all of this.....because I could?  Because I hated myself?  Because I was so numb and disconnected from my body that I wanted to feel something...anything?  Because I wanted control of my sex life back after having it taken away by the guy who raped me?  Because I was desperate for human contact?  Because I was just horny?  Maybe all of the above. 

Back to Sam's comment that I push everyone who loves me away because I think I’m not lovable. Honestly, I am not sure about the “pushing away” part yet.  There have not been that many people in my life who have loved me - in a romantic sense, I mean….two people.  And I’m not sure that’s enough to make it a pattern.   But I do think fear ultimately plays into this “pushing away” business. 

But do I think I’m unlovable?  The more I think about that, the more I know Sam is right.  I know I am terrible with money.  I am demanding and irresponsible.  I have a quick temper.   I’m impulsive and impatient.  I’m selfish.  I always try to be in charge and then resent my partner for not being strong enough to tame me.  In addition to everything else... my history, my obesity struggle, my medical issues….. who would want to put up with all that?  Who would want to love or have sex with someone like that? 

So yeah….I think I am pretty damaged and fucked up…….and unlovable.   I guess I have things to discuss in my next therapy session!

I just can’t believe I didn’t see all this myself years ago and do something to change it.  It took a passing comment from Sam, who obviously saw it so clearly, and an insignificant "stone" to make me stop and think about it.  Realizing all of this has helped me feel totally confident that Sam and I ending our marriage is absolutely the right thing for both of us.  Sam is a great guy and will make a great partner for someone else.  But I could never make him happy, and he could never make me happy......we both should have known that a long time ago.  Neither of us did anything wrong…we just need different things from our partner than the other is able to deliver.  We’re all looking for different things out of life, love, sex and a partner and what I wanted as a kid from a partner is what I still really want.  Splitting up doesn't mean “you suck and are unlovable”, it just means, “I don’t see what I’m looking for in you, but someone else will”.

Recently I read an article on Inc.com titled, “The One Behavior That Guarantees failure”.  Although the article was geared towards succeeding in business, the crux of the argument was this:  letting fear of failure stop you from asking for what you want ensures you won't get it. 

Yeah, I found this article helpful for me in my job, but more importantly, I found it really hit home when thinking about my personal life.  While I was reading, a fairly simple concept became clear to me - fear of failure holds people back and stops them from truly fulfilling who they are and getting what they want in life.  It certainly has done that to me in my life.  That has to change.  Starting now.

The interesting thing to me about this is I always thought it was love that holds people back and stops us from truly fulfilling who we are.  Clearly I have some work to do in this area.