February 22, 2009

February 22 used to be my anniversary. But that ended legally in May of 2002. I remember that day too well. Over and over I listened to Bonnie Raitt "I Can't Make You Love Me" curled up fetal position in the closet crying. It honestly felt as though my heart had been ripped. It hurt. Bad. Way worse than the time I sliced my eyeball. I was so afraid. I was 42. I had three kids. I hadn't worked in close to 20 years. I didn't have an education (on a piece of paper). I had been with the same man since I was 17. Fear is crippling.

I am going to tell this story and then I'm going to let it go. I've been doing a lot of that lately, the letting go, and I like how it's feeling. It started a little over a year ago. I started giving away things. And not just crap but really cool stuff like knives and my Canon T-90 (The Dark Knight of cameras! Soo Cool!!) Well recently I've been letting go of emotions too. Emotions that I've held onto for a very long time. Like sadness and pissed-offedness. It feels like it's easier to walk taller. I know that sounds kinda silly but it's true. At least it's how I'm feeling these days. I woke early this morning, around 5 and wrote a bit about Oliver. I then decided to take myself to breakfast. On the way home I thought to myself how much stronger I was than Brian. How I'd stuck to what we'd started. I didn't run away when things got tough. And I'm still here. Still standing. Still being the parent I was from the beginning. And I felt damn good about that. Good enough to think, his loss, and I'm ready to let it all go and be friends for the kids' sake. Wow! I made it! Although, I knew this day would eventually come. But there will forever be a feeling of loss on this day, if only for a fleeting moment, as it was this year. I have never in my life been so in love with a man as I was, at one time, with Brian.

On February 22, 1985, we were on our way to Bend, Oregon to be married by the justice of the peace at two o'clock in the afternoon. By the time we finally got married we had been living together for six years. We had moved into the house I now live in and we had Shelby. She was eight months old. I knew habits well. We were meeting Mike and Megan. They were to be our witnesses. I had known Mike as long as I had known Brian (that's another blog!). And I knew Mike and Brian together. So on the drive over to Bend I said to Brian, "I know today isn't some huge production but it is supposed to be my special day so could you not get drunk with Mike tonight? Please." He looked at me, and in the most disgusted voice I'd ever heard come from him, said, "I am not into performing." Now, I knew exactly what he meant but I thought 'Who the hells ass did you pull that from?!' That night I slept with Shelby and listened to his drunken, poor, pitiful me, sleeping alone on his wedding night, fuckin bitch, moaning till he passed out. I cried myself to sleep after he shut up. The next day he was like nothing bad ever happened. We went skiing, I blew out my left ACL. But I now had insurance...

Fear is crippling.

Nine years ago, thanks to the most amazing friend I've ever been given, I began to celebrate this day as my Divorce Day. Rosy has never failed to send me love in some fashion on this day. And I remind myself of all I have and all I might not have, if things had not happened exactly the way they did. And from this day on I will also celibrate this day as Moses' birthday!! Happy Birthday little man!

1st picture: February 22, 1985
2nd picture: The last really good family portrait November 1991