Train ride home.
Feeling soft and vulnerable and exposed.
Not sure I like it.
My current partner is very good at a lot of things, but one thing in particular is randomly pointing out just how easily my ex partner “kicked me to the curb” and “just threw me away“. Says she would never do that. Says that’s not what people do when they love each-other.
Recently, and totally at my instigation and obvious unhappiness here in Barrie, we’ve been looking into moving to southern, less wintry parts of Ontario. We even considered Vancouver as Kate has family there, a new grandson she hasn’t met, and as everyone keeps telling me, “You’ll LOVE it there!” But, for reasons too numerous to mention, the Universe has clearly said NO.
Last week we had a talk about how few opportunities there are for me to do pretty much anything here in Barrie. It’s so spread out. You need to drive everywhere to get anywhere. I don’t drive. And the transit system here is merely a suggestion.
Winter is coming and the idea of being buried under 6 feet of snow for 5 months is starting to fucking stress me out.
It’s a thing.
During this conversation, I mentioned Toronto and it’s attributes. I could see she was getting agitated. Again. We’ve had this talk before. What can I say? Toronto is my home and will always be my home. I was born there. Have lived 3/4 of my life there. And I miss it. I have family, friends and familiarity there. And to be fair, I gave this Barrie-in-the-fucking-snow-belt thing a go. For three…going on four winters now. It just isn’t for me!
I want out.
She, on the other hand, is a small town girl and has lived much of her life here and in Alberta. She’s used to the long ass winters and mountains of snow. And hates the rush and noise and negative energy of the big city. Any big city. Especially Toronto. And I get it. I’m reaching the point in my life where I’m not super thrilled with the idea of fast-paced-big-city living either. But I also believe that wherever you live on this beautiful planet, YOU get to choose the pace of your life.
I don’t want the city rush and noise and negative energy back in my life, but I do want the feeling of connection. The feeling that I am a part of something. I don’t have that in Barrie. But I do have that in Toronto.
I also have independence.
Barrie has starved me socially. Isolated me physically. Nearly broken me spiritually. And I have to rely on Kate to take me everywhere and anywhere. A thing I am soooo not used to at all!
I hate it here.
And have, pretty much, from the moment I arrived.
She knows this.
Yet, last week when I mentioned Toronto for the umpteenth time, and all that it potentially has to offer, not just for me, but for her as well, she simply said, “Trish. If you need to go back to Toronto, then go.”
I gave her a look which couldn’t have said more clearly, “Reeeaaally???”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I have no desire to move back to Toronto.”
And that was that.
I knew this already. We’ve had this conversation before.
But I think what really surprised me this time around was the finality of her words. I really heard them. Maybe for the first time. She has said them to me before, but this time something rang different. Deeper. Truer. No room for negotiation. Whatsoever.
She said, “Trish. If you need to go back to Toronto, then go.”
But I heard, “I’ll love you as long as you stay here with me. Wherever here happens to be. But I will not love you in Toronto. If you need to go there, you’re on your own. Bye bye.”
And as I stood in the doorway watching her lying in bed, our eyes met in what felt like an unwavering challenge. A gauntlet had been thrown.
I mentally picked up the glove and studied it carefully.
Every scratch and scar and bump and bruise. The ragged rips neatly stitched back together. The leathery palm worn thin in places from endless emotional swordplay. The fingers soft enough for a lovers touch, but sharp in the slap of outrage. Yet the hidden lining remained bright and colorful, cleverly concealing the darkened stains of tearful betrayals.
I finally understood.
Fuck that shit.
Never. Ever. Again.
I am worth so much more than that.
Singular. Solitary. Silent.
It’s not a bad thing.
Moods are raging.
Clawing for attention.
But I am hovering above the fray.
Beneath this quiet calm.
Is a beating Heart.
I think a move.
Is on the horizon.
Music is back. Yay!
I’m so glad.
Means life inside me is stirring again.
It’s so much a part of who I am.
And it’s been missing for over a month now.
Discovered a new-to-me artist last week.
Former Girl. Now Boi.
Love her story. Her vibe. And the music she’s producing.
Fun. Sexy. Real.
Doing her thing. 31. Proud. And Finally Out.
A subject close to my heart with the death of my friend.
Today an older song came on while I was cleaning.
And it stopped me in my tracks.
I actually had to sit down and play it again.
And then again.
Blown away how the lyrics represented a moment in my life.
And cut into me.
Silly tears of a sentimental, fractured heart.
Maybe in acknowledgement.
The final reckoning of my unrelenting denial.
I remember when she said this exact thing to me.
That she was Exhausted.
I remember how my heart broke.
Because I understood.
And knew she was never really coming back.
It hurt so much then. And it still hurts now.
After all this time.
I am endlessly surprised by the tenacity of this Love.
How it sneaks up on me in moments of unsuspect.
Stimulating memory of touch and kiss and feelings.
I don’t want to be that woman.
Stuck in that story.
Of a Life that no longer exists.
It doesn’t matter that I recognize the truth in these lyrics.
That’s the very reason they resonate so deep.
In my heart. In my mind.
In the sensitive curvature of my skin.
It doesn’t matter that it was a lifetime ago.
Just the blink of an eye.
It doesn’t matter that I held fast to the belief.
That when you love as much as I loved her.
Because she taught me…
Every line in this song paints our ending.
From the first to the last.
But it’s true.
The tears I wipe away are the proof.
For Fuck Sakes.
Next song please!
So…after debating on this issue for the past week, on and off, I have decided that Coming Out Crooked needs to go back to it’s original format. My reasons are simple. I need my space back. This space was never meant for business consumption. It was meant to be a personal space for me to work out my shit. To capture the journey of my coming out and my life, with all the pain, the sadness, the joy and the love that has been in. I think it’s important that I keep this space for me.
This message is specifically for the followers that have joined ‘my tribe‘ in the past few weeks based on the positivity messages posted here in my JUST DO YOU newsletter. I have a new home for those messages, and for the newsletter, and it’s intention is clear. If you’d like to continue to follow me on that particular journey which is catered more to positive personal development and the power of self-talk, then please find me here!
It’s a brand new site. A new venture. A new journey. And it’s literally being built as I write this lol so it will be changing constantly until it’s all done! But the BLOG is up and running and new posts will appear on Tuesdays and Fridays. Right now, it’s where my true focus is so please feel free to join me. Everyone is invited lol. The Buddha Neuron is just as much a part of me as Coming Out Crooked. It just has a different focus. I’m a Gemini. Nuff said! Lol
Have an AWESOME weekend! And perhaps I will see you on the other side!
It’s been 4 months, almost to the day, since K was diagnosed with breast cancer. I’ll never forget the look on the GP’S face at the walk-in clinic when she mistakenly started telling me that the results were not good. That I had cancer. And then her horribly pained expression when she had to focus on K and awkwardly begin the telling again. No need. The C was out of the bag. Cancer was in the room.
I remember watching K’s expression as it mirrored her disbelief, affirmation of her worst nightmare, and the terror that threatened to swallow her whole. She looked so small and fragile sitting there beside me, taking the blow with as much dignity as she could muster. In that moment I was in awe and completely inspired by her ability to dig deep and pull out her courage. The tears came. Then the overwhelming numbness settled in. And for a nano-second there was a “why me?” but nothing diminished her inner strength. Or my respect and pride in her at the moment.
To say this ride has been turbulent is definitely understating the truth of the experience. Cancer touches everyone involved and takes no prisoners. K survived. My strength helped. My support. My love. My being present. When K’s radiation treatments were completed she got to bang the big gong set up in the radiation/chemo ward to celebrate and announce the end of her cancer. I was right there for that too. But shortly afterward, what started as a small thing escalated into a huge thing and I done lost my shit. Melted down. Big time. Released all I hadn’t fully realized I’d been holding onto inside. And in one loud, angry, woosh I whisked myself outta Barrie and right back to Toronto.
Familiarity. Family. Friends.
And. No. Fucking. Cancer!
I rented a small apartment for 5 days in The Village and reconnected with my freedom and my sanity. It was heavenly. Freeing. Liberating. And soul-finding.
And, of course, because no lesbians life is complete without angst and drama…it was also the bittersweetest of bittersweet.
I saw P.
But, it was good actually. No drama. We are working on a friendship now. Why? Cuz it matters. To both of us.
We talked. Really talked. For the first time in a long time. And I finally got the missing piece to the puzzle of our demise inserted into my psyche. A hard and painful fitting. But a necessary one. Ironically, it left me feeling…whole again. Stronger somehow. Like everything wrong that had happened between us wasn’t for the reasons I had thought. Wasn’t entirely my fault. That being a late blooming, inexperienced lesbian wasn’t something I needed to be ashamed of. Anymore. But more importantly, I was forced to look in the mirror and see something I’d never truly acknowledged about myself before…
(Ya…maybe I’ll write about that in my next post. Today I just needed to reconnect with my blog and ramble aimlessly! 😊.)
I also reconnected with L, a woman who intimately filled a painful summer with laughter and innocence and true fun. Until tragedy struck. For her. Death. Losing her family home. And then everything fell apart. Including that tentative, fledgling “us”. Again, another story for another time. But seeing her surprisingly reminded me of…well…me. The best me. The me I still carry inside. The child. The woman. The lover. The friend. The most wonderful parts of who I am. The me that people fall in love with. And it was beautiful to experience that feeling again. That loving of being me again.
Just sheer “I am fucking fabulous and I’m fun!”
Thanks, L. I needed to feel that again. To be reminded that I’m pretty amazing. That I have a rare and beautiful nature that is not only desirable but desired. That being me is special. That I’m really not as messed up, inconsistent or flighty as some may think I am. That I can be grounded, solid, and God forbid…predictable!
But, sadly, while I was thriving in my freedom, exulting in my fabulousness, and completely enjoying my aloneness and separation from cancer-talk during the days, K and I fought in the evenings.
I left in a thunder cloud. And the storm followed me to Toronto. Passive aggressive bullshit. Every. Single. Evening. K fights badly. Denies she is saying what she’s really saying. Then trips over trying to correct the misperception. It’s maddening! It’s this dance we do. And it makes me miserable.
I hate fighting.
Mostly I hate fighting with her. We used to laugh all the time. We had more fun than fight. She could make me laugh when I was spitting mad. And that’s no easy task. But we’re not there anymore. And to be honest, I don’t know where we are. I recently told her that all I could give her was today. Who says that?!!! Who accepts that?!!! Sigh…but it’s truly how I feel.
We’ve had to overcome a lot of obstacles. My past. Her past. My pain. Her pain caused by my pain. Cancer. Healing.The mosh pit of co-dependancy. Relationships. I don’t quite get them. Fuck the platitudes! The shit ain’t easy.
We walk on egg shells a lot these days. Explosive relationship ending eggshells. Even so, I hear her truth between her words. I hear her fear of saying what could be a relationship ender. I hear it because I understand it. I’ve been there too. Thing is, it will end either way if it’s meant to. And there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. I understand that as well now. And many times during our heated and exhausting – not to mention thoroughly buzz-killing exchanges while I was flying in Toronto and she was healing in Barrie, I teetered dangerously close to the edge of never coming back.
But eventually, I tottered.
And I did come back.
The past 4 months have been…hmm… tumultuous? Crazy? Painful? Exhausting? Consuming? Running up and down and all around a delicate minefield of warring emotions. Sad…angry…confusing…happy…sweet…loving…and completely and utterlessly soul-lost. So many emotions, in fact, I don’t even recognize what I’m truly feeling anymore.
I feel no thing at all. 😔
I have never been so at one with myself and yet so fucking torn in all my life. Now that’s truly saying something. Did I mention I’m in therapy now, lol? Session 3 coming soon! I’m expecting a clarity miracle any day now! 😞
Cuba happened. Nice!!! Camping at Rainbow Ridge, a gay and lesbian campground, happened. Also nice!!! Had my 55th birthday on the 24th of May 😐…. Pause…. Yup. I think I’m okay with that lol. Danced my friggin ass off at a dance this weekend which felt amazing and reassured me that my aching, tired body can still move! So, there is that 😊. And, at the end of it all, K is cancer free and today she went back to work. Part time for now. But it’s a start. I’m happy for her. I truly am. Even though her workplace is crazy toxic and drama-ridden as hell, she was able to physically return. Cancer didn’t win. Not this time. And for that, we are both incredibly grateful. So thank you again, Universe.
Well. Now there’s the rest of my life.
And I have no idea what to do with it.
It’s complicated. And it’s not. I see writing on the wall. But it’s in a language I don’t quite understand. Not yet anyhow. I’m working on it!
Today is the first day I’ve had to myself since Cancer presented. 24/7 day in day out is not an easy thing for any couple. And we are not just any couple. Or maybe we are? We have ghosts. And issues. And baggage. And phobias. And pasts. And uncertain futures. Some days we’re on the same page, but more often we’re not. That’s my fault. K knows exactly what she wants. Now more than ever. Me? I’m not there yet. I feel so behind the eight ball of life sometimes. There are so many lessons unlearned and so many paths unwalked. I feel another life shift is coming. I’m not sure what yet. I just feel it.
But deep. Inside.
I know I’m ready.
June 23. The Universe has spoken.
Something BIG is coming.
I just found this amazing post from an amazing woman and had to share. She expresses something I have been struggling with for the past 12 days. 12 days of crazy. 12 days of confusion. Mental anguish. Sadness. Hurting. Myself and others. Depression. Revelation. Reconnecting. Remembering. And discovering. Me.
This resonates. Big Time. Thank you Racheal…
“The joy escaped. My friends told me they didn’t recognize me anymore. Maybe getting divorced will do that too. A person has to change and get stripped down to the rawest places when one goes through that. And there’s a ton of emotions and grief and sadness mixed in with it too. I think part of the recognizing of me is because I have been frozen in fear of making a mistake…”