Habit

There are moments when I'm washed with a wave of gratitude and relief to be joined with this man, moments when I recognize the subtle poison of many years' habit slowly leached clean by today's reality.

The Ex did not particularly love my parents. He didn't hate them, but he didn't ever feel terribly comfortable around them--and he most certainly resented them during the months they were here. We would go years without having them around, and then when they were--well, I wanted to spend time with them. So schedules would be altered, plans would be made, and sometimes they'd want to come over just to spend time. You know, with their daughter. With their son-in-law. With their grandchildren.

He resented the changes to the status quo. He resented having to fit additional people and plans into our holidays, our weekends, our summers. And he outright hated having them come by to visit if there hadn't been, oh, a week or so of advance notice.

I grew accustomed to mediating. I'd tell them I needed to check with him first before confirming. He'd rarely say an outright No, but I would be in for a long bout of soothing, cajoling, and hours of underlying tension. Flexibility and graciousness were not his strong points. I felt torn, forced to choose between my parents and my husband.

Looking back, no one won in that scenario.

Flash forward to last night. My parents are back in the country--they flew in this last weekend--and while MTL and I were able to spend some time with them, they hadn't gotten to see the kids yet. We had plans for them to come to dinner Friday night, and I hadn't told the boys that Grandma and Grandpa were back in town, since I didn't want them to get too upset about waiting. The Ex must have said something to them. Yesterday when I picked up The Widget from daycare, he took one look at me, burst into tears, and buried his head in his arms. I miss Grandma and Grandpa! he sobbed, and it was with no avail that I assured him they would be visiting the next day.

So I called them, and we made plans for them to come by for dinner and a brief visit.

As I hung up the phone, a wave of apprehension washed over me. I hadn't checked with MTL before making the plans. How would he feel about it? Would he be angry about my parents showing up a day ahead of schedule? Would he resent them spending this much time at our house? Would he be upset that I had invited them before checking with him?

I texted him nervously and waited for his reply, reminding myself that he is far more laid back than The Ex in these matters, reminding myself that he showed no sign of resenting my parents this last weekend--he was even pleased that their plane's delay allowed him to accompany me to the airport to pick them up.

Sure enough, when he called me, he had no problem at all with the change in plans. There was no guilt trip, no resentment, no tension. When I told him later that night what I had experienced, he just looked at me and said I'm a silly girl--and when I explained why it had happened, touched my arm with compassion and understanding, and told me not to worry.

There are so many reasons I love him. He keeps giving me more every day.

Gag Order

I have so many friends having a hard time right now. Sometimes I feel guilty for being so happy.

You know how that is?

I mean, I've been down--really, truly, horribly down--quite a few times in my life. Good God, two years ago I was still crawling out of the Depths. They were there for me then and since. Goodness knows DraftQueen became my best friend out of those times. I wouldn't have met her if it hadn't been for blogging through the pain.

Most of my life has involved depression to one extent or another. I'm not entirely free of it now, though not nearly to the extent of What Was. I still have plenty of challenges and discouragement, especially on the political and career fronts. I mean, good lord. MTL has seen me raging around the living room ranting about all the anti-woman and anti-union and anti-teacher SHIT that is going on in this sad, sad country right now. More than once.

(Thank God that while we don't see eye-to-eye in all political areas, we do match up for the most part on those ones. Otherwise heads might roll. I've been THAT heated about it all, peoples. IT'S EVEN SHOWN UP ON MY FACEBOOK WALL. That's saying something, considering my conflict-avoidance tendencies.)

Anywho. Where was I? Oh right. I've been there.

However, despite those challenges, I can honestly say that I am happier than I have been in...well, decades. Since before kindergarten, I'd venture.

Meanwhile, many of my friends and loved ones are facing crisis after crisis. Health. Jobs. Family. Relationships. Depression verging on and tipping over into despair. Even war.

Sometimes, I just feel guilty. I don't know what to say, other than I love you and I understand and I'm so sorry. I wish I could gather them up for hugs, offer them tea and sympathy, but almost none of them live in physical proximity.

And when I want to gush about my own happiness, my wedding plans, my adoration of the man with whom I will spend the rest of my life...Well. I try to hold back, at least. Even then, I wonder if I'm saying too much. Should I just shut up?

I wish I could fix it.

Stupid broken world.

The Stories of Us

I think a few of you who read over here don't regularly read (or read at all) my main blog, Diapers and Dragons. So I thought I'd link you to the three posts I wrote there recently that tell the stories of how MTL and I met, fell in love, and (eeeeee!!) became engaged.

So here you go:

How MTL Became My True Love (Part I)

How MTL Became My True Love (Part II)

How MTL Became My Fiance

Enjoy!

IT'S OFFICIAL!!!!

As of around eight o'clock tonight, in a dark corner by the tenth hole of the glow-in-the-dark putt-putt golf place where we went on our first date exactly one year ago:

Now (OMG OMG OMG)

In 2-3 weeks (OMG OMG OMG)

Vent

I know I shouldn't let her get to me, especially when it's stupid shit that I bring on myself, like clicking on her Facebook info and noticing that she "likes" some childish FB thing, but still. I'm allowed to just not like her very much, right? RIGHT?

And I'm sure she feels much the same way about me. Civility or no, I'm sure we both get under each other's skins in special little ways that only an Ex and a Current (and Forever, mind you) can.

There are certain things I just won't do as far as my Ex and his Current (and maybe Forever if she gets her way, You Go Girl!) are concerned, though, and some of them I'm learning from her.

Which is why I'll keep my venting and my own passive aggressive and better-than-you crap over here. Don't you feel special?

Because bitch, he's not your "used toy" and I sure as hell am not "less fortunate" than your sorry ass.

There. All done. Now I'll move on with my life, thankyouverymuch.

Aphasia

I am a Word Nerd. I love words. They are significant in both sound and meaning. I need them. They have power in my mind: power to hurt, power to heal. MTL has learned and is still learning that the specific words he uses mean a great deal, and there are times when he has to think carefully about not just the intent behind the words, but the words themselves.

I imagine this makes life with me more difficult than not.

You would think, then, that I would be silver-tongued and fluid, always with the right words to say, ready to be said at the right moment. In some situations, this is the case. Put me in a classroom and I do quite well. Place me at a keyboard and I also do well. Usually.

Add stress and conflict and difficult emotions, however, and the story changes. Ask me to express my deeper feelings, my innermost thoughts, and my tongue trips and falters and stills.

Last night I lay with my head on MTL's lap, watching TV, and I turned to look at him. I reached out a hand, touched his cheek, and said, Do you have any idea how much I love you?

How much? he asked.

I should know better. It's not the first time I've said something like that. Not the first time he's returned the volley and called me out. How much do I love him? How do I express it?

I don't know how to bridge the gap between thought and tongue at times like these. Do I list all the things I love about him? It's an insufficient list. I feel like I'm only skimming the surface. Do I try to explain, as I cannot even here with the space and time to write it out, the way he has become an integral, essential part of me? How do I do that without making it sound like I've lost myself, become less instead of more? How do I say anything without sounding like a mawkish teen caught in the throes of twitterpation? How do I explain this without mimicking the trite phrases of Hallmark cards?

None of my words are enough. The only ones that make any sense are those written by others straining to put into concrete letters the intangible substance of emotion. I look mainly to e. e. cummings, who at least grasped that conventional language was not enough, and his love poems resonate like no others do for me.

Such as today, when I am overwhelmed with the evils and frustrations of the world, and leaden January weighs my mind, and so

in spite of everything
which breathes and moves,since Doom
(with white longest hands
neatening each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds

-before leaving my room
i turn,and(stooping
through the morning)kiss
this pillow,dear
where our heads lived and were.

            --e. e. cummings

I am struggling to feel sufficient: in my work, in my parenting, in my love, in myself. I am struggling to hold onto hope when my mind so much more naturally turns to despair. And how do I bridge the gap when my words refuse to take shape?

This much, I said, and I stretched my arms out and away from my breast, shoulders straining at their edge.

Is that all? he asked, laughing.

Hey! I spread my arms as wide as I could! It was an obtuse angle!

You're an obtuse angle! he replied, and he laughed again and hugged me close.

I don't know if he truly understood what I was trying to say, what I'm trying to express when I make those oh so limited sounds and gestures.

I wish he could see into my mind, feel what I feel, know what I know. I just don't have the words.

A Giant Leap for Stepkind

There are small steps in this process. Unintended pun, but hey, it works: small steps in becoming a step-parent, a step-couple.

This week was a hard one for me and MTL, as old baggage and old issues raised their ugly heads again. It takes time, and I'm not good at patience. I want a quick fix, a quick solution, and that just can't happen when we're dealing with ancient scars that have etched themselves across the deepest parts of our psyches.

So. Small steps. Sometimes even step-backs.

The children, however, occasionally take leaps. When DramaBoy was dropped off by his father this week, he was clutching two pudding cups and sporting a huge grin. I have pudding! he crowed. One is for me, and one is for my stepbrother! I have a treat for my stepbrother The Padawan!

MTL and I conjecture that perhaps The Ex told DramaBoy that it's okay to refer to The Padawan as his stepbrother, something that DB wants deeply. A couple of months ago DB pointedly asked when MTL and I are going to get married, as he wants The Padawan to be his brother. I told him at the time that they pretty much are, so it's fine to call The Padawan his stepbrother, but he didn't do so until this week. So...some switch was tripped in his head, and boy was he happy about it.

Last night MTL handed me some mail, saying it was mine. Two envelopes were addressed to me; the third was addressed to "The Parent of The Padawan". Oh, I said, am I the parent of The Padawan? You sure this is for me?

Yep, you are, he said.

So I opened it. And then handed the contents over to MTL, since it was something from The Padawan's school. Heh.

But the biggest leap? The one that had me warmed up inside? Last night The Padawan reminded us that we needed to contact his friend's mother about having his friend stay the night this weekend. He called, and once the mother was on the other end, told her (and I quote): My parents are ready to talk to you. Here!

And he handed me the phone.

It's hard to read The Padawan sometimes. I know he likes me. I know he's very fond of DramaBoy and The Widget. But last night, hearing him refer to me as one of his parents...

That was a very big step.