the home that wasn’t

In exactly one week, we head off to a whole new life…a new world to us, new environment, new culture, new (to us) house…..everything new and different!!

I am scared, excited, fearful, exhilarated, anxious, and sad…  I see the sun peeking up as I write and I think of the thousands of sun rises and sunsets which have encroached upon this world for me…  I’ve had the happiest sunsets I ever thought possible right here in this little frustrating town.  I’ve had the absolutely most phenomenal sunrises here as well.  I can say with complete candor, I’ve had experiences and moments here which were the very stuff that dreams are made of…the very fiber of fairy tales come to life.  I have made some unbelievably wonderful friends and known some interesting people.  I’ve laughed till my stomach hurt for days following and my cheeks felt like they had done strenuous Pilates.  I’ve cried more tears than I knew I had in me.  Here, my heart has been so full of love I thought it would burst and so broken, I thought I would die.  I’ve spent days on the beach about which I could have written novels, both comedic and romantic.  I’ve met pilots traveling through, partied with hundreds of people inside military planes.  I’ve gone swimming by moonlight, laughing through the waves.  I’ve skipped in the rain and laughed in the snow. I’ve sat out and I’ve danced.  I’ve lived in ten different houses here, all with unique people and experiences.  I’ve been single here.  I’ve been married here.  I’ve been a mother here and responsibility free.  I had my first real boyfriend here and my first grown-up love.  I’ve learned lessons I never even imagined as a child.  I’ve grown, I’ve stagnated, I’ve flown free as a butterfly and I’ve been imprisoned like a criminal.

I’ve played house and wife, mother and employee.  I’ve played conservative party-girl, lost hippie child, and unemployed beach bum.  When I moved away for college and a few years later my world crashed, I ran here.  This has been the only home (“base”) I’ve ever known.  The only place I’ve been able to return to (come “home” to)in the whole world  no matter what happened.  As much as I’ve often felt out-of-place here, out of sorts, and like an “outsider”, over the years, I’ve become this place; both the things I love here and the things I don’t.  This place is a part of me…a huge and irrevocable piece of my growth and my essence.  I will carry people and memories, lessons and experiences from here as though it’s part of my genetic DNA.  In spite of the fact that I did not “grow up” here, I very much did grow up here in so very many ways.  The people and things I’ve done and known here have shaped my soul in a good ways and bad.  The sand from the beaches has become embedded in my skin forever.  The memories rooted in my soul, never to be un-done, even if someday forgotten.  I carry every person, every moment, every encounter, every drop of beach water, every crashing wave, every love, every hurt, every tear, and every laugh with me for the rest of my days.   I’ve been hated here, loved here, nurtured and abused here on every imaginable and unimaginable level.  I’ve wildly dreamed of escaping this hell-hole and I’ve ached to return to its embracing shores…

I’ve never known a “home”, a home base, a place to run to…never.  And yet, I knew that here; the home of a place to go when I was lost and scared in the world (my dad).  The home where I felt I was always supposed to be, the place I walked into and realized I had been holding my breath for so many years, I didn’t realize how beautiful breathing could be (Dave).

This has been the only home I’ve ever known by any definition or connotation of the word “home”.   I am scared to the pit of my soul to leave here…and yet I’m scared equally to stay.  I fear I can never come “home” again, in the way that this is now my home.  I’m a mother and a college graduate and I wasn’t even raised here, and yet somehow it almost feels like I’m leaving the nest for the very first time.  I feel like a high school graduate heading off into the world on my own into the far and unknown beyond.

What will be here when I next return to visit, to live, to escape, to…????  What feelings will remain?  How will I be changed?  Nothing will ever stay the same as it is now and has been.

Life is scary.  Change is inevitable.  This was never my home…and yet strangely it’s also been the only home I’ve ever known.

time for a change?

Looking at my blog, I realize my title doesn’t  seem to apply any more.  Haven’t really felt all that loving in some time…and I certainly am not currently any kind of loving buffet for the masses…  I could re-name it Bitter Betty’s Random Thoughts or You bet I’m a bitch, wanna hear about it?   Perhaps a blanket cliché of I’m as mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!   Maybe… <Insert swear word HERE>  Hmmm…so many more appropriate options for a blog so full of way more madness than grace and the journey hasn’t even been all that delicious in a while really!

The Nasty Takeover of Polly Anna?

The Last Ridiculous Girl Scout finally goes Renegade?

Yet, I hesitate to make any drastic changes. Whoaaaa Nelly…pump your breaks pal!  Let’s not get all excited… One never knows when the bitter, pissed off side might dwindle again and my loving, optimistic counterpart will come out in full force for one last hoop-la. 

Ahhhhh  I’m just not feeling all that creative today….


I have recently been gripped with the calmest sensation of deep fear.  It seems as though I’m simultaneously apprehensive and yet calm with unattachment to whatever it might be.  I suppose at some point when you’ve been tossed around like a ragdoll long enough, you get somewhat numb to the effects…  Or do you just feel as though very little else can drastically shock you?  I’m not at all sure what this is, but it’s a fascinating sensation!

Change…change…change…transformation is inevitable and much appreciated…ahhhhhhhhh….


So I’m thinking lately how this situation makes me feel resentful, manipulated, frustrated, and less of myself in general.  As though I start to become a distant fading light, losing its power and sense of being.  The very essence of who I am feels lost every time this cycle starts over and/or continues.  I realize that although my part in it is to hold onto a sense of faith in the person I love, that is allowing this and affecting me as a whole.  As much as I want to believe in the person I love and his ability to do the right thing and my ability to patiently wait for that to happen, there comes a time when I have to accept what is and let go of what I want so badly to believe.  A time when I have to take responsibility for that and my part in perpetuating the insanity in my life.  My responsibility is to love myself enough to believe in myself and not try so much to believe in another.

Starting yesterday, I’m making the attempt to take back the power in this ongoing crazy situation; to take responsibility for making it different – changing the things I want changed.  I’m tired of being perplexed, confused, hopeful and hurt, trusting and betrayed.  I’ve been tired of that for some time now. Hopefully I’ve really had enough at this point and will stick to it.   I’ve made small steps toward that in the past and then hoped he would give the rest, by accepting my position, taking it into consideration, respecting it, and ultimately doing the right thing in response to my efforts.  Guess I’ve been hoping he would share the responsibility of correcting this situation, making it a little easier on me to be strong and do the right thing for myself. 

What kind of ridiculously innocent faith is that?  And what has he done over the past 2 and 1/2 years to demonstrate that he would ever take any responsibility for doing the right thing?  Nothing.  I’ve seen nothing in him that resembles the character of the man I love for years now.  Why would I hold onto faith in him when I’ve seen nothing of him in so very long?  Is it because I’m too lazy to just do it all myself and be the complete strong person on my own?  Or is it denial that the man I knew and loved somehow disappeared and is possibly gone forever?  Or never existed, except as a facade…  Which is an extremely hurtful concept to consider.  It makes the truest thing I’ve ever known or experienced all just a manipulative act which I was naive enough to fall for completely.  If I have to accept that the only love I’ve felt was real was not in fact real, what does that mean?  It means I was duped.  It means I’ve never known authentic love, ever… 

Gosh, how desperately I have clung to my deepest hopes of the heart and soul, while the ugly face of its  opposite  screams directly in my face?  I  may as well cover my eyes and chant a sing-song I can’t seeeeee yoooooouuu…I can’t seeeeee yoooouuu. 

How ridiculous.  Time to grow up.    Time to face the music that’s actually playing instead of thinking I can keep dancing to the music from my heart, at an entirely different beat.  Time to take the power back and take responsibility for eliminating this chaos in my world which is changing me at a structural level.  Where did my boundaries go?   I am not the victim here unless I allow myself to be.  I am not inherently lazy either.  Apparently just inherently, ridiculously faithful in others, regardless of their actuality.  Holding onto that innocence has been exhausting and soul mutilating.  My knuckles are white and stretched to their max.  The skin might even be starting to rip and tear.  It’s painful to continue holding on that way.  It’s also painful to let go… 

However, one makes more sense and will prompt a faster end to the difficulty.  I’ve never been one to rip the band-aid off fast and quick, although I’ve always known that’s the smartest and most effective method to remove a bandage. 

In respect of the possibility there is even an ounce of truth in the “struggle” he’s indicated he is currently experiencing in his life and in his expressed need to turn to me for comfort and support, I do not want to be vengeful or cold in my removal or harsh in my setting boundaries.  It has never been about getting what I want.  It has only been about believing in him and believing in the power and purity of unconditional love for another human being…   Yesterday, I selected a nice card expressing my love, concern and support of him and wrote my well wishes and other kind, but unattached, non-expectant words, in signage and left this on his door.  Not wishing or expecting anything at all in return.  Being inherently true to myself and my heart irregardless of his character; confirming that in spite of what I’m about to do and the boundaries I must set and hold firm, I do truly love him.  Then, last evening before I went to sleep, I blocked all access to me, locking him out of my life.  I drew a line in the sand, directly and firmly in front of where he’s chosen to stand. 

And with that, here I go…..

Go home……or……..stay

She hadn’t written anything for awhile because she had said good-bye and every good-bye to him was like a slow murder of her spirit.  One month was all the good-bye lasted. 

She had been doing dishes after dinner, still damp and sandy from a fabulous day at the beach with her children.    Standing at the sink, washing dishes, when he knocked at the door.  When she had said, “Stay and play Balderdash for awhile”, she really meant, “GO HOME, Dave!”  It just came out of her mouth all fumbled and backward.  That’s all.  She had always been difficult to translate clearly.  And the older she got, the more that was an issue in general.    As though with age and experience came fluency in some strange language closely reminiscent of English, but just not at all accurately translatable.

He came in asking to talk.  She knew his translation of “talk” and was not in agreement or in a state of willingness for that conversation.  She really was just a pushover for it though and no matter how many times she swore she wouldn’t listen to “let’s talk”, every time she feared he may really need to talk and she invited him in.  Every time.  Every time had become the definition of her very own insanity in a circular repetitive pattern that induced a voyage only to the road of chaos and further heartbreak.  Although she regularly insisted further damage was not possible.  It seemed nothing would finally just break her completely when it came to him…  as broken as she felt.

A month of healing.  Well, two weeks of grief and just under two weeks of healing and letting go.  It was most likely that second two weeks which always had more room for damage.  She’d just gotten to a state of semi peace and acceptance.  Where she wasn’t grieving constantly and wasn’t nauseous.  Then, BAM!  There he was blowing it all away like a flimsy house of cards.

As usual, he never did “talk”.  He helped her finish the dishes, chatted with the girls for a few minutes, and then they went outside for privacy.  They stood in front of her car, him holding her so tightly as if holding onto life itself.  He said, “It’s just that lots of people in my life are dying and getting sick and that makes me think about the people in life I care about.”  She was instantly concerned and naturally asked who.  His second basemen had recently and suddenly died at 33 years old and a very young co-worker had suffered a stroke.  The co-worker had survived.  She had been through a similar experience the year before and hadn’t fully gotten past the need to consistently tell people she loved them and appreciated them.  She understood the fear this type of experience prompted.  He said, “I know things are difficult between us now but I care about you.  I do love you and the girls.”

And he held on and on to her, telling her she smelled like the beach…like sun, sand, and water; like her; she smelled like comfort.  And holding her  “was so comfortable and natural, it was too hard to let go.”  He said he didn’t want anything to happen to her ever.  She just reassured him, as always, telling him she was his friend, no matter how crazy thing got between them or anyone else.  He responded, “I know.  That’s why I’m here.”  And they lay in her driveway looking at the stars just beginning to blossom in the twilight, laughing because they were lying in her driveway.  His phone kept ringing with his loud, drunken pals waiting for him to come party or whatever was planned next. 

She asked him to stay and play Balderdash.  He said he knew he should but he had too much on his mind.  He kept kissing her.  And finally he said, “I could just kiss and make out with you all night.  You are the best kisser in the world.”  She didn’t know if she should be kissing him or not.  She redirected his hands when they wandered too far from her back, but she just never knew where the line really should be.  The very minute she drew the line, the line shifted, whether she wanted it to or not.  It seemed as though the universe itself shifted a little, moving it and confusing her.  Of course she encouraged him to talk about whatever he had come to talk about and of course, after having the comfort of her even just briefly, he didn’t need to talk after all, saying they’d talk soon sometime when the children weren’t home.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh…..she wanted to scream!  Was his only mission in life to not stop until he killed her?  He was the proverbial scab ripper.  No matter what she did to move on and get away from him, make a stand and turn him away, no matter how much work she did to begin the healing process of letting go.  He had the knack of showing up just in time to stop the progress and stay just log enough to rip the still fresh and vulnerable scab off all her hard work… leaving her bleeding with love as usual.  No he wasn’t going to stop, was he?  And for the love of God, she wasn’t ever going to find the fortitude to stop him herself, was she?  Good heavens what a cruel and crazy world this was!

And now, her only goal could be to immediately get back to work on building up another scab for him to rip off.  Must get to that immediately.  She could not let herself sit and dwell on what it all meant, why, and so on.  It meant he was sick and twisted.  It meant he never changed.  Hell, he didn’t even change his tactic moderately.  Same old, same old.  Tearing her entire world apart, ripping the delicate protective shell she fought  and struggled to build, took the absolute minimal effort on his part and no creativity whatsoever even.  Pathetic.  And she had allowed him to kiss her and had even reassured him!  Now where was her confidence and the reassurance she so desperately needed?  No where.  Back to digging it up from the depths of her soul… if there was any left down there… and if she could muster up the strength…    It was exhausting to even think about starting that daunting task….he would always be back.  No matter what happened.  He would always come to her eventually.  God help her….she wanted to vomit.

Knock, knock or not?

Thought I heard a soft knock on my door last night.  Didn’t go investigate partly out of the fear that it was someone(him) and partly out of the fear that it was only my imagination playing tricks on me.  If someone was there, I don’t think I’m strong enough yet to ignore it or send him home (“Go home, Dave”).  I didn’t want to risk displaying that weakness.  I think it’s that weakness which is partly responsible for getting me to my current situation and I must overcome that.  If I’m not happy with the way things are going/have gone, then I must insist on change or accept the current circumstances with the insanity that comes along with it.  If the definition of insanityis doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, then I have to do it differently or gratefully accept the insanity that comes along with my repetitive actions/reactions.  I have no choice.  This has gone on long enough.  Enough…still liking that word.  I repeat it in my mind for strength.

I’ve made no contact with him at all.  Today it’s been one full week.  I need to focus on that small success and allow it to keep growing and developing into something greater every moment that I succeed in my task.  The outcome doesn’t matter anymore really.  I merely have to remain true to myself and know that the best for my life will happen…whatever that might be.

One wish

If a fairy came to me right now and granted me one wish, what would it be?  What is one thing that would help create lasting love and ecstasy in my heart?  What is one thing that would help better direct me to full and beautiful transformation?

For years now, I have thought that resurrecting the gorgeous, fulfilling relationship I had with Dave would bring me lasting happiness.  But have I thought that only because that’s the major primary source of the heart liberating joy I once knew?  Maybe that was just a small thing compared to the possibilities I’m not even yet aware of?  It’s difficult to fathom that because it was my first experience with healthy, happy love and since I haven’t known much of that throughout my life, maybe the concept of better is out there and I just cannot comprehend it?  Would I want it back?  Is there more possible that I’ve yet to even imagine? The experiences we’ve gone through over the past few years must have changed us both.  Is it possible to get something from the past back?  Or do you always get something different?  There was nothing I wanted to change about him then.  I did want to change myself though and it seemed so effortless to be something fantastic when he loved and adored me.  I’ve made many changes now, but he has too, so what would that mean?  Would we be the same together, only even better for the changes that have occurred?  Or would we be a complete mis-match now? Would we only bring each other more misery if we started anew?  Would we just bring more wisom and experience to the table?

I believed for so long that if we could get through all that has happened, then we would be truly unbelievably strong and nothing could ever shake us again…and I’ve always added that as a bonus concept to the healthy relationship we once shared.  Is it possible to go through so much and come back together for something as good or better?

I think I might be afraid to make that my wish.  What if it was granted and it wasn’t a good thing anymore?  And then I’d have wasted a once in a lifetime opportunity to have one wish.

I think I’m better off wishing for world peace.  I want joy and love to be everywhere,  inside  everyone.  It would make the whole world a better place and not just my miniscule little corner…  Dang, I am such a cheesy cliche’ lately!