A promise to keep

 Sometimes a song says it all...

Brandi Carlile's
Listen here
"A Promise To Keep"

I still talk to you in my sleep
I don't say much cause the hurt runs too deep
I gave you the moon and the stars to keep
but you gave them back to me

The hill I'm walkin up is gettin good and steep
but I'm still looking for a promise even I can't keep

I still lay on my side of the bed
I dance alone when the last bottle's spent
memories like a river runnin through my head
I'll have me an ocean before I'm dead

The hill I'm walkin up is gettin good and steep
but I'm still looking for a promise even I can't keep

I still whisper sweet words to you
and when I'm busy, or have nothing to do
I pray to god, that my words ring true
and that your words might reach me too

The hill I'm walkin up is gettin good and steep
but I'm still looking for a promise even I can't keep
I can't keep it...

My hearts in pieces so please understand
I've tried to jump, but I've nowhere to land
so give me your heart and I'll give you my hand
and I'll try as goddamn hard as I can

The hill I'm walkin up is gettin good and steep
but I'm still looking for a promise even I can't keep

I can't promise you anything

This is a phrase that the Philosopher  and her girlfriends have heard a number of times during their dating experiences.  As you may have guessed, it is a phrase that men seem to use on a regular basis.  The women may use it but it is so rare that when we utter those words we are often in shock that they even came out of our mouths!

But what does it mean?  Why do men feel compelled to say it?  Does it absolve them from taking responsibilty for any heartache or pain that may come down the line in the relationship?  Do they feel it removes our right to be upset with them because we should remember that he "didn't promise you anything"?  Does it allow them to walk away without any guilt or remorse because they "didn't promise anything"?

I find it funny and immediately telling when those words are uttered because I can't remember a time when I said to a man "well I will only go out with you on this date if you promise that you will love me forever and take care of me and my children and give me great orgasms daily and worship and adore me till you die." 

So, exactly, what promises are they prematurely red-lining when they make that statement?

The only things I want promised are that he will show up as he said he would, be interesting to talk to and make me laugh.  Any relationship that we are supposed to have will naturally progress from there.  And the relationship is going to last as long as it is supposed to, promises or not. 

People have a tendency to eliminate themselves from relationship consideration all by their lonesomes.  Putting out the disclaimer that they can't promise anything doesn't absolve them from those behaviors that eliminate them. 

It seems a cowardly statement to the Philosopher.  It's like auditing a class in college.  A person may want to learn about this subject but he doesn't want to be tested on it for a grade or do any of the work the professor requires to pass the class.  And we all know that relationships have inherent tests and require a lot of work.  So when a man says he can't promise me anything, I know he has no intention of doing the necessary hard work and simply wants the 'benefits'. 

So he's right, he can't promise me anything and in return he gets nothing.

Next.

Tummy Tuck update!

For those of you who thought you would be kind and purchase the tummy tuck belt I referenced in yesterday's blog post, (perhaps for my birthday that's coming up?) it is not necessary to do so.  A girlfriend of mine's mother bought it for her and she says it is absolutely a waste of time and money (which I thought truly when I watched the infomercial).

So instead if you still wish to get me something that is appreciated, useful and definitely not a waste of time or money, I always appreciate a bottle of Paloma Picasso.  (ordered conveniently at www.fragrancenet.com)

I will simply keep to my original plan of having a TRUE tummy tuck when I get my inheritance from my grandmother.  Until then though, I will smell really nice.

The Silent Treatment

The Philosopher is persona non grata. 

It seems that Ladybug is intent on not talking to me as punishment for refusing to take out a $100K parent loan or refusing to co-sign a loan for a similar amount in "alternative financing" to fund her undergraduate education at her dream school in her dream city, Chicago.

I'm not sure if she thinks that by not talking to me I'll magically change my mind and agree to mortgage my life or allow her to begin hers saddled with that extreme amount of debt?  That I'll feel so guilty and miss having her talk to me and resent her active ignoring of me, that I'll cave and say "whatever you want Ladybug, just talk to me please."?  *Sigh*, my newly 'adult' child has a lot of growing up to do.

She is suffering from short-sightedness.  She is actually acutely afflicted with it.  I may have to step in with a drastic intervention if she doesn't alter her attitude around the house.  If I am persona non grata, then there is no reason for me to continue allowing her to drive the minivan or pay for the insurance or the gas or her telephone or her food or her home.  Because if I'm not there, then she is not there.  I am willing to wait another day or so before pulling the plug on her 'fun and beginning the shock treatment, so to speak. 

She is experiencing what all young women experience as they mature and get ready to head off to college, that no matter what you try to do, you can't be the queen at home.  That is the mother's divine right.  I went through it myself.  Pushing and pulling, tugging and tearing at the 'restrictive' nature of life at home.  Oh it was just awful!  Or so I thought.  Once I went away to college and began living my life on my own, I settled down and didn't necessarily push those boundaries when I was home on visits.  My Ladybug is at that pushing/pulling stage because she is experiencing another one of life's mean little lessons - you can't always get what you want. 

Oh the joy! 

Milestones, milemarkers... no it's just life!

This was an interesting weekend at the Philosopher's home.

Milestones were crossed as my eldest, my Ladybug, turned eighteen and I became officially a parent of an adult child.  She also performed in her final highschool play.  I got a little teary-eyed when she came out for her final curtain call, realizing that any other plays I may see her in will require travel and overnight stays.  Even my youngest said this morning that he is going to miss watching her perform.  He does adore his big sister.

Her birthday celebration was low-key though - just dinner with the four of us last night at a neighborhood pub.  Consumed were three cheeseburgers and one plate of hot wings.  The Philosopher is predictable, whenever possible, I have hot wings.  Oh and a salad!

My middle child, the Rockstar, finally understood the concept of doing his fair share of work around the house and did a bang-up job on the yard: mowing, trimming, weed-eating.  It was rewarding to see him respond positively to my ever-so-slight nudging.  Ahh, the sweet feeling of parental progress.

I spent Saturday afternoon running errands for my elderly grandfather.  He is in a nursing home.  He will be 97 next month.  I am the only family member in town so it falls to me to take care of his business.  I brought my youngest, the Sage, along on the errands.  We rode with the top down on the convertible enjoying the sunshine on our faces.  I did my best to keep a smile on my face even though my heart ached missing my Fox.

Saturday night, Ladybug had one last performance to give and a cast party to attend.  Rockstar spent the night at a friend's house and the Sage and I watched the Law & Order marathon for a bit and then an "apocalyptic movie" (Sage's description) on Netflix while I played a little Words With Friends (winning and losing equally). 

During the Law & Order marathon, an infomercial for http://www.tummytuckbelt.com/  came on and the Sage practically ran for the phone so I could order it. He was sold on it.  He said "I know you've been doing Zumba mom and you are getting smaller but you're kinda not going anywhere either.  You should buy this."  As the infomercial waned on and the timer in the corner of the screen ticked down, he was getting really concerned I would miss out on this opportunity.  I thanked him for his concern about my stomach. But as I tried to explain how advertising works, he simply wasn't interested. The only way I could get him to relax was to tell him that I'm sure I can visit the web site at any time to order.  I was not going to miss out.  Sunday morning came and the Sage's first question was  "So did you buy the tummy tuck?"   I just laughed and told him "not yet, not yet." 

I am not offended by his eagerness to help me.  He has heard me complain of my c-section belly for his entire life.  He sees me exercise daily and watch what I eat and has seen me lose 40 pounds over the last few years.  He is simply trying to support my efforts.  I suppose I need to work with him on finessing his persuasive argument skills though. (And for the record, although I have not bought one of those belts, I am intrigued...)

The really difficult moment this weekend came when I, singlehandedly, crushed Ladybug's dreams of attending college in her favorite city, Chicago.  I tried to explain that accumulating $100K+  in student loans  to fund the difference in what the university was offering her in financial aid and what the costs were to actually attend it, was short-sighted, financially irresponsible and not worth it.  I stuck to my decision and to say that she was not happy with it would be an understatement.  There were tears, raised voices, exclamations that "I just didn't understand how she will die if she is not in Chicago."  It was not the sort of conversation you envision yourself having when you are first gazing down at your child's sleeping newborn face and you are filled with all those warm fuzzies that come with being a new parent.  Nope at that point in time all you think you will talk about are butterflies, rainbows and chocolate ice cream.  It sucks to crush dreams.  Sometimes though, parental progress equals extremely uncomfortable and difficult feelings.  But you do what you have to do.

However, it's a new week.  Rain everyday.  I've got a lot to keep myself busy: a few projects at work, grandpa's business, and my writing (more than just blogging).  Woven throughout it though will be continuing to work on healing, loving & missing my Fox and asking the universe to continue to take care of us, all of us. 
 

Our song

My Fox loves music and would often send me links to songs that made him think of me.  There have been many many songs (because he thought of me often, don't you know).  But this song, is from our first week together and still resonates deeply for me. 
Thank you to Mat Kearney for being an amazing singer/songwriter and for this song especially "City of Black & White".

Our song

Get under to get over

Some people say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.  I'm not entirely sold on that methodology just yet.  Several years ago, I attempted that therapy when Mike had cancelled his divorce and went back to his alcoholic wife.  Although it was fun, I can't say that I "got over him" because of it.  In fact, it just made me miss him and what we had that much more.

Fast forward to present day.  I am nursing my broken heart courtesy of my Fox, my multinational special agent.  I am grieving the loss of our daily communications and interactions.  It has been suggested that I 'get under to get over'.  Not this time, I reply.  I know better now. I don't want to experience that empty feeling because I am not with the one I love and whom I want to be with.  And I know it would not be fair to whichever man was picked. My brain and my heart would be wrapped up in my Fox's arms and I would close my eyes to see him and not the body in front of me.  Of course men will say they are willing to make that sacrifice to help  me along, but thank you anyway, I'm just not ready right now.

So what am I going to do?  I have no idea.  Keep picking up the pieces of my heart, see if a reassembled (and blended with my Fox's pieces) one is stronger?  Keep focusing on the good things that I do have and celebrating that every day above ground is a good day?  Keep praying that this separation, this painful separation, is temporary and that my Fox misses me so much that he comes back and our journey resumes together?  Keep blogging about it and bore anyone who reads this to tears?  Well, dear readers (if there are any out there) unfortunately for you, yes I will keep blogging.  It seems to be more therapeutic than the other option of getting under to get over.

I don't know what is in store for me.  I don't know why I experience what I do.  Apparently I still must have a lot to learn and my character needs more 'growing'.  Okay, I get it. Could it be possible though that my next opportunities be a bit less painful?  Could it be possible though that my next opportunities for happiness be less fleeting?  And Could it be possible though that someone loving me without any restrictions be a reality instead of a dream?  Could it?

*Sigh* I'm not over my Fox.  He's who I want to be under.

The Rollercoaster

For some time now I've been on a roller coaster.  From the first moment I met my Fox, to when he kissed me the first time and the last time, to when he asked me to marry him the first time and the last time, to when he declared he had not felt this way about anyone in his life for well over twenty years to when he said goodbye, it has been a rollercoaster.

On this ride I have felt such joy lying in his arms, gazing into his sparkling blue eyes, kissing his dimples, watching him toss his head back when he laughed and hearing his voice from 4,000 miles away tell me everything would be all right because he loved me and he wanted only me.  On this ride I have felt such sadness during my Fox's prior attempts to withdraw from me.  That sadness immediately washed away at the first text or facetime or phone call and I would begin the joyful climb upwards again on this rollercoaster.

Then on March 30, 2013 the rollercoaster careened downwards slamming into the wall of sadness and emptiness, interspersed with frustration and anger, shattering our hearts into a million pieces. And I fight every urge to reach out to my Fox to tell him how much I love him and miss him, to ask him to love me again, to see his smile, to hear his voice, to feel his presence in my life.  But I don't because he asked me not to and I love and respect him.  He said he had to prove to himself and to me that this was for the best.  (Funny though, I never asked him to prove it to me.)

Now my rollercoaster ride has no upward hill of joy, it is simply stuck in sadness (and anger and emptiness and confusion and sorrow and pain).  I try to stay busy but my Fox occupies my thoughts as he has done every day since we met, only now there are many more tears than smiles.  The rollercoaster creeps along slowly, weakening the joists which hold me together. 

I know this ride will end and one day I won't be sad anymore (nor angry nor empty nor confused) but I suspect it will be because I will be numb.  I hold on to my memories, though, and go to him in my dreams to relive the love and joy that once permeated my entire existence.  And I pray that one day, if the universe allows it, my Fox will kiss my tears away, hold my hand and ask me back on the journey with him only this time it won't be on a rollercoaster.

The Accidental Prisoner of War

Two years.  730 days. At a minimum.

Am I supposed to start marking X's on the wall for every day that goes by?  What side of fucking Christmas are we on? And which Christmas? Now what?

I am so angry with you. 

Happy now?

Just following procedure, ma'am. 

Did you think about the fallout these bombs would create when you dropped them this time?  Or did you think, "eh it's only Barbie, easy come, easy go."?

Was this all part of your game plan? Your strategy?  Stake your flag in my heart, nurture the dependence, the reliance and the 'joy' I felt every day with you.  And then walk away. Telling me it's your plan to come back for me.  Put me through this god-awful pain, to see if I have what it takes to be with you?  To test my "combat-readiness"?

Oh but you're setting me free, that's right.  Putting me back in the wild, returning me to my tribe.

I was free before.  I was freely loving you.  Freely choosing to be with you.  Freely waiting with you for our time.  Freely figuring out which journeys our paths would take till they converged.  But now, because you are judge and jury in this relationship, I have been sentenced to this torture.  Waterboarding begins at 2.

Gave me steak.  Left me with bread and water.