Sexual coercion

I don't know how to start this blog post but my journal from the mid 2010s reminded me that sometimes you just have to start writing even if you don't know where you are going, so here I start.

As I come out of a heterosexual marriage, a relationship that began at a time I thought I was a lesbian or at least bisexual, I struggle to understand where I exist on the sexual identity spectrum.  What adds to that confusion is repulsion from the idea of sex.  I've tossed around the idea that I might be asexual but it never quite lands because I think my repulsion comes from a place of fear, maybe trauma.  The more the fog lifts from my marriage overall, the more I question how much damage he may have done in the way he approached and viewed sex.

But until now, all I had was foggy, incomplete memories that leave me feeling unsettled.  In this journal I recently found, there is one entry where in black and white, I write about coercion and what felt like a complete disregard for me.  Part of me didn't want to find this entry.  When it was just foggy, incomplete memories, it was easier to just bury and accept the not-quite-right label of asexual.  

About year two or three of our marriage, intercourse became painful for me.  Over the years I saw more specialists and tried more treatments than I can count.  None of my doctors ever could find a cause and every treatment they prescribed only made it worse.  Eventually what was just pain during intercourse became every day pain in my hips, back, pelvis, butt, etc.

My messed up ideas from society left me feeling like I owed some amount of sex to my husband so I suffered through the pain when I could but I couldn't always and so we had sex less often.  And I blamed myself for the pain and the limits on our sex life.  And I believe he blamed me too.

On January 21, 2013, I wrote:

I've also felt frustrated over my vaginal issues.  It's been so long since sex hasn't been painful.  [He] has made a number of comments lately about our lack of intimacy which have really hurt.  He seems to define intimacy or romance as intercourse and only intercourse.  To me it is so much more.

At some point after that, he started watching porn and got fixated on blow jobs.  They didn't cause me physical pain so I thought that would be better but it was actually worse because of the expectations that came with it and how uncomfortable it made me feel.  He usually smelled so strongly of urine that I would gag.  He would put on a certain pair of boxer shorts and sit next to me on the couch to let me know that is what he expected.  That was the only time he would sit on the couch with me.

I felt pressure from him to meet his sexual needs regardless of what it cost me.

And in those later years, when I was actually have a good pain day and tried to initiate vaginal intercourse, he would reject me saying he could only get off on blow jobs.  And then when he discarded me, he blamed me for the lack of a good sex life.

I want to remind myself at this point that my chronic pain issues have disappeared since the divorce.  I even had a pain free pelvic exam at my annual physical for the first time in close to twenty years.  The common denominator was him and the effect his treatment of me was having on my body.  The pain during intercourse was my body physically rejecting a man who didn't love me.

Reflecting back, I realize the last time he cared about my pleasure during sex was before we had married.  After we married, if I wanted an orgasm, I used a vibrator on my own afterward his needs had been met.  He didn't even try to please me.  There was nothing reciprocal about sex or intimacy at all with him.

He was my first sexual partner so I wasn't sure what a healthy sex life looked like.  I just knew that sex quickly became something I dreaded, something that made me feel uncomfortable, something that I ultimately just ended up treating as an obligation in our marriage.

I've never written any of this down before today, except the very brief journal entry I quoted from January of 2013.  And until yesterday, I had never even said out loud that I think I experienced sexual coercion.  

I don't know what I do with this information or how I process it.  I think I just start by writing it down.

Missing memory in my journal

There is a key memory missing from the journal I found this week.  I recognize that I didn't write everything down.  I wasn't a daily writer during this time.  But there is one memory from this time that I hung onto so tightly for a decade after it happened and to have that one memory missing makes me question the reality of or at least significance I attributed to that memory.

This is the story I have been telling myself - there was a day that my chronic pain was unbearable.  Despite the debilitating pain, I felt like I desperately needed the benefits of singing with my community that evening at choir practice but I didn't know if I would make it through with taking a pain pill.  The problem was that I didn't trust myself to drive on a pain pill.  So I asked my now ex-husband if he would drive me to and from choir practice.  He agreed.

In the years that would follow, I looked back at that moment as proof that he was supporting me as I tried to manage my pain, proof that he loved me, and proof that he was a good guy.  I repeated that story so many times in my head.  I remember even recalling it in the moments he was breaking my heart as he discarded me.

But in real time, I didn't write it down.  Maybe because it wasn't really that big of a deal and it wasn't really proof of anything.  As I type it out here, it sounds like such a small thing to do for a spouse and without a pattern of consistent similar small things, not really proof of anything.  And nothing in my journals or even my memory even hints at this being a pattern of consistent small things.  It was an isolated moment I hung onto a bit too tightly.

I inflated its meaning in my head.  But why?  To justify my loyalty?  To make it easier to honor the commitment that I took seriously?  To make myself feel just a little less unloved?

I found another journal

I packed up one of my nightstands last night.  I expected to find a couple of love notes from my ex-husband as I remember discovering them the day I moved out of our marital home and hastily left them there because I couldn't find the box where I had stashed all the other memories of him.  I remember confronting him in tears that morning when I found them as I realized the dates were only a couple years old and he had previously admitted to lying in other notes he had left me.  When I found them last night, I had expected to feel something.  But I didn't.  They were just words on a paper that had lost their meaning.

Then I discovered cards I had received when I left Wisconsin, one from my colleagues and one from my community choir.  I lingered over those a bit as I tried to put faces to as many names as I could.  I admit though that with time my memory has faded as to the ones I knew more superficially.

And then I discovered a journal.  I was constantly writing but never very consistently so half-filled journals and notebooks stashed in random places and forgotten websites are my reality.  I feel like each new one I have discovered over the past almost two years has shown up at the exact moment I was ready to glean something from it.

This one covered the time period of about January 2013 to early 2017, with a random entry from 2019.  During some periods of this time, I wrote every couple of days.  Other times, it was a few times a month, and there are a few gaps of a few of months.  It was a fascinating read.

First, in that four years of time, there are only 3 or 4 entries that mention my ex-husband.  There's almost a 2 year gap between two of those entries.  It's like he was only superficially part of my life even at that point.  In the earliest entry, I was very hurt by something he said that reflected how he was treating me.  

In the other entries, I gush on and on about my love and how unconditional it is with not a single reference to whether or not he loves me or how he adds to my life.  It's all about what I can do for him, how I can support him, and in one case how I'm willing to sacrifice for him.  Some of those entries almost read as if I was trying to convince myself of something.  If you read between the lines of one of the entries, I think I recognized that he didn't love me back, at least not in the same way.

But those few entries are not the most fascinating parts.  This is the time period where I hit rock bottom with regards to my chronic pelvic, back, and hip pain (especially towards the end of 2014 and beginning of 2015).  I wore a TENS unit daily.  I carried with me narcotics that I prayed I wouldn't have to use on any given day because of how horribly they made me feel.  I repeatedly write about the fog the pain left me in, the moments I curled up in a ball on the floor and cried, the fear that there was no end in sight, and the failures I felt when my pain and fogginess interfered with the standards I held myself to.  I wrote often about what I was doing to manage the stress that my body was holding in my hips and back.  I was so aware of the messages my body was telling me but unwilling to even name the root cause of that stress.

But despite all of that pain and darkness, a huge percentage of entries demonstrate an acute awareness I had for the beauty that surrounded me - the snowflakes, the fallen leaf that followed me, the sound of my car, the engineering of an interchange, the smell of the grass, a passing motorcycle "expressing its joy with the world," etc.  I was constantly chasing joy to escape the reality of the world I lived in.

And in between the entries of joy, the pages are filled with advice to myself - patience, the power of silence, the importance of perspective, the distancing myself from negativity (in contexts other than my ex-husband), a reminder that I don't need to know exactly where I'm going to begin, encouragement to foster my hobbies (singing, gardening, beading, writing poetry, reading, etc.), and so much more.

I was bullied as a child so I learned to entertain myself, chase joy wherever I could find it, and pick myself up each time I fell apart.  So I suppose doing all those same things in my marriage felt familiar.  Reading these entries made me wonder how many parallels exist between them and the writings I did as a child on Mucky Island (I'm not sure those writings exist anymore to compare).  

What is progress?

"What is progress and how do you measure it?  What if your perceptions change resulting in uneven comparisons?"

I wrote this in my journal on January 4, 2015.  For context, based on prior journal entries, I probably hit rock bottom with my chronic pain in November and December of 2014.  I had written about how it affected my choir participation and the ways I felt I was letting down my fellow altos.  I had written about the uneasiness I felt of my boss accepting the documents I drafted without review that I knew I had drafted in a fog.  I wrote about my struggles with trying to figure out how food was triggering pain.  And there are several entries about the effect of narcotics on me.  I only took them in the very, very worst moments because I hated how they made me feel.

Other entries were upbeat with the intentions I was setting and the things I was finding to help me.  And there is so much poetry during this time of the beauty I was seeing in the world.  I even wrote about the awe I felt driving through an interchange!

So I was living in a world of extremes - the pain that I felt controlled my very being and the beauty I grasped onto trying to counter that control.  And life was changing so fast that my perspectives were changing.  So I struggled to see my progress.  I struggled to understand my world.

When I read this entry today, I paused and re-read it several times.  It felt like it had been written for today.  I still feel like I'm caught in a world of extremes, although not the same extremes and not for the same reasons.  And life is changing so rapidly that I can't keep up with the way it is altering my perceptions.  I struggle to measure my progress because any comparison I try to make feels uneven.

This weekend

This weekend has been overwhelming, filled with constant moments of awe, and a little lonely.

Last night as my sandal covered feet sunk into mud with each step I experienced the Atlanta Jazz Festival.  People sold snacks out of suitcases and pulled around wagons of ziplock backs that supposedly contained margaritas.  From the food stands you could get oysters, lobster rolls, hibachi, Caribbean rice dishes, and so much more.  Tents had been set up where people were clearly day camping the entire weekend.  

And despite the rain, the crowds came.  They were expecting 200,000 people and the two acts I saw were probably the two I heard talked about the most on social media ahead of time.  The place was packed!  I stayed about 3 hours, listening to two performers, before I made my way back to my apartment.  The walk back was short and simple and I followed the crowd most of the way but I realized in that moment that I had not given much thought to making myself familiar with the route home in the light of day so the walk home wouldn't feel so foreign.  It was alone in that crowd of people after the sun had set I walked that street for the first time.

I felt so small in a sea of people.  There is freedom in moving throughout the world alone, every decision my own.  I stay only as long as I want.  I go exactly where I want.  But I miss having someone to turn to and share the moment, someone to chat with between sets, someone to encourage me to experience something different.

Yesterday afternoon, I decided to try out the MARTA and see if I could find my way to what will be my new office.  I felt a bit like a tourist with the novelty of the subway.  I've never lived anywhere with a subway before and so my experiences have been pretty limited to a brief trip to NYC in 2024 and decades ago in Europe.  I easily found the station near me, paid my fare, and boarded.  It was a short ride to my destination station

Finding the street at when I got off though, didn't go quite so smoothly as I circled the multiple level station several times before finally finding an exit.  The station is currently under renovations although I imagine they will be done soon.  We are only a couple of weeks away from the World Cup and this station is the closest station to the stadium.  Up at street level, it took a moment to orient myself to where I had been let out.

Oh how I felt like a fish out of water as I tried to navigate my way around downtown on foot.  I kept getting twisted up as I turned left and then right.  And the vibe felt so different - I really felt out of place in a way I had not yet experienced in Midtown.  I did find where my office is located and then continued on to Centennial Olympic Park.  

I see some pretty wild outfits and appearances in Midtown (that are actually quite refreshing in their uniqueness) but none of that prepared me for what I saw around Centennial Park.  The first two that drew my eye were two women who had painted their skin and hair purple and as they turned the corner, I noticed they had tails!    I then noticed more and more people with tails.  Then there was a person dressed in a strange birdlike black costume that covered them head to toe.  

Nobody around me seemed to be batting an eye although the bird like black costume got some admiration as people snapped photos.  I later saw signs for Momocon which I assume is what prompted the costumes but it was such a bizarre thing to witness without any understanding in the moment of what was happening.

Yesterday morning, I walked Piedmont Park with my camera looking for birds as a light sprinkle came down.  Gray Catbirds seemed to be the species of the day as they constantly sung their song and posed for some great photos.  I also enjoyed watching some juvenile Canada Geese.  And I captured some amazing photos of a Brown Thrasher in grass that was covered in tiny raindrops.

But what stands out most was my experience with two Muscovy Ducks.  There was a woman standing by the pond who motioned me over when she saw me looking for birds with my camera.  She pointed out a large Muscovy Duck in the pond that appeared to be going in circles.  She explained that she could see the head of another duck below it and she didn't understand what was happened.  I observed a few minutes and saw that as it circled, the head of that second duck would occasionally come up for air.  

We both were horrified as we watched what appeared to be one duck trying to drown the other duck.  Neither of us had ever seen it before nor understoodd what we were watching.  Then suddenly it was all over and the smaller duck below escaped while the larger one just meandered off.  I later did some searching online and discovered that ducks in general are pretty violent during mating and the male will often chase a female and almost drown her as he mates with her.  

It really was an eclectic weekend of experiences, many of which felt so foreign and unfamiliar to me.  Both awe and uncertainty mixed through me constantly.  I'm confident this move is going to be an absolutely amazing move for me.  I am in complete awe that it is actually happening.  But it really is a lot all at once.  And I miss having someone to walk through a big life change like this with me, although I also recognize all that I will gain from doing it alone.

I have to head back to Birmingham today.  I should probably clean up the apartment a bit so that it is in good shape next time I want to move more things over.  And maybe I should go find my car.  I don't remember where I moved it to after it finished charging Saturday morning.

Waking up to my first full day in a new apartment

I went to go find my new local grocery store.  It is laid out so strangely but sells all my favorite things so I imagine I will get used to the new layout.  I bought enough food for just this weekend - sandwich fixings and snacks and so was surprised when the total came up to $82.  None of the prices I looked at looked higher than what I was used to but then I thought through what I had purchased.  

I guess I was in a "fancy" mood.  I picked up a 2 cup container of pomegranate seeds already shelled from the fruit and when I walked down the snack aisle, the Macadamia nuts called to me, and the little bottles of rose prosecco seemed so appropriate for this weekend and although I've been experimenting a bit with real cheese lately, I just didn't want to chance it this weekend and bought the expensive vegan cheese.  Although, in hindsight, it's a bit funny that I couldn't bring myself to buy the $4 half gallon of oat milk for my coffee because I knew I wouldn't finish it.

It's a nice six block walk though, over pretty well maintained sidewalks and so my grocery cart will do well.  Although, as I write this I realize I walked down stairs to enter the store and didn't see elevators at the entrance I used.  I should have paid more attention to that part.  My cart won't do well on those stairs but there has to be a more accessible way to enter it.

I also walked past the MARTA station.  It's only five blocks from my new home.  I want to find time this weekend to ride it and get familiar with it as that will be how I get to and from work.  Maybe that will be my excuse to check out the Presbyterian church downtown tomorrow.

I walked to the botanical gardens this morning in the rain.  It was quite amazing.  Rainy days are my favorite days to wander a garden and photograph flowers because of how vibrant everything becomes and how much detail raindrops add.  Plus, there aren't many weird people like me so I get the gardens to myself.  😁

I haven't made it to the Jazz Festival yet.  About the time I thought about walking over the thunder started and I saw social media posts that they had to pause.  It sounds like it is back up and running now so maybe I'll walk over soon.

I'm kind of just enjoying though listening to the sounds of my new place.  There are no trains which I think I will miss.  The birds seem more vocal all day long.  It's quieter overall but there are still faint sounds of being in the middle of the city.  The fire station is only a block away.  And there are a lot of people around.  Plus I can sometimes hear sounds from the festival being held at the park.

It's an interesting contrast to step out back into the nature of a park that makes you forget you are in a city and then to step out front into the hustle and bustle of the city.  I feel like I'm on a dividing line.  To the east is nature.  To the south is residential.  To the north and west is a vibrant, active city.

The chair from my Sunday morning coffee time

When I moved out of the apartment we shared as a couple, I took with me one of the high chairs so that I could use it with my desk.  But then it wasn't long before I was recalled back to the office full time so it didn't get much use in my first apartment on my own.  

Today, I brought it in my car to Atlanta and set it up at the counter of my new kitchen.  I pulled out my laptop from my backpack, set it up on the counter, dug out a plate to hold a muffin I had brought, and opened a bottle of wine.  I then sat down on this high chair at the counter and memories ran through me.

It was a chair just like this one (although I don't think this exact one) where I would sit every Sunday morning as I sipped my coffee at the kitchen counter with my laptop in front of me.  Frequently, he would interrupt me to do something but I stood my ground.  In those last couple of years, this was one hour of peace I refused to give up.

Now these memories occupy the same space of a completely different version of me in a completely different state.  It seems such a distant memory yet feels so real in this moment.  Maybe it was my refusal to give up that peace that actually pushed me into this very trajectory.  

It's unreal how far I've come.

Manipulation, an old conversation that crossed my mind

I had a conversation in August of 2024 with my ex-husband after we had separated but before we could move out into our own places.  I wrote about it here.  I don't know why it crossed my mind today but when it did I went searching for my in the moment thoughts on it.  I remember exactly where I was.  I was sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen counter when he sat down next to me.  He talked about all the resentment he had let build up for too long.  He actually apologized.  And then the conversation ended with me comforting him.

And although at the time, his vulnerability and raw emotions felt uncharacteristic of our marriage, in hindsight, I realize the conversation ended the same way every tough conversation ended, with me comforting him.

I felt relief afterwards.  I remember telling my mom that it felt like I had gotten some closure.  In reality, there was just familiarity to how it ended.

And then as the days passed afterwards, any positive effects I had attributed to that conversation slowly faded away as his actions didn't match the words he had told me that night, until all that was left of the conversation was a feeling of bitterness.

Ten days later, he sat across a table from me, stone cold emotionless as we divided assets and debts on a spreadsheet.  The care and concern of that earlier conversation had completely vanished.  I remember feeling such a disconnect at how we so cooperatively divided assets, debts, material possessions, etc. as if there were no emotions tied to any of it.  I even asked him why we couldn't apply the same cooperation to our marriage that we were applying to the dissolution of our marriage.  He had no answer.

In reality, that earlier conversation was just manipulation.  It's not like it was the first time, he performed vulnerability to manipulate me.  It was part of what got me attached so quickly in the dating stage.  If there was any sincerity to it, there would have been some connection to his actions that followed it.  

Random Thoughts on a Monday

This may not be a very coherent post because I have a lot of random thoughts running through my head - good, bad, exciting, curious, etc.

I'm still a bit on a high from the weekend.  It feels big.  I really don't think it's a small thing to pick up my life as a solo individual and move states.  I know the process is far from over but it became really real this weekend.  And I realize that I have rose colored glasses on and that I'm sure there will be plenty of challenges around the corner, but it is really, really exciting.

When I walked through the park in my backyard on Saturday, I passed a tennis center.  A quick perusal of their website showed they offered beginner adult tennis lessons.  Could tennis be my next thing to try?  I feel like so much of my journey since the divorce to reconnect with myself has been facilitated by my openness to jump in and try new things.  I don't really want to lose that openness, although with time, I imagine I'll become more discerning.  I'm not there yet though so I'm excited every time I stumble across new opportunities to consider.

I spent some time this evening measuring all my furniture and drawing the living/sleeping area of my apartment out to scale to come up with a layout that I think will be good.  It looks like I'm going to have space to add a second chair, a chair I've had in my Amazon save for later list since the divorce.  It's quite compact as a simple chair but then unfolds into a chaise lounge and then even further to lay flat, so it's really versatile.  

I still don't have a start date and it left me in a moment of panic about 2:00 a.m. this morning.  Fears swirled in my mind that it could all fall apart and I would be stuck with a lease in Atlanta and no job.   I pulled out the tentative job offer e-mail which was conditional only on me completing the required paperwork which helped soothe my mind enough to go back to sleep.

I followed up with my new office today to check on the status.  And although, she didn't yet have answers, my contact was very responsive and said she would try to get a status update.  I continue to be impressed with every interaction I have with my new office which is encouraging.  

I wonder a little bit about what I'm walking into.  I recently discovered that the woman who got the initial job I applied for last August has since left the office.  That means that an office that once had three investigators, currently has none and they are missing their paralegal to support these cases as well.  Although, I still am hopeful to have a team of attorneys to work with, it appears the team of support staff I was hoping for may not materialize, at least in the beginning.  I don't know what that means for the case load that I will carry but I imagine it will be a lot.

And maybe this deserves its own post, but I recently discovered that my ex-husband's mom likely has gone into some kind of care facility.  I don't know exactly where it fits on the spectrum between independent living to assisted living to fully memory care.  I don't know what prompted it either.  

I only know what I know because his brother posted the real estate listing of his mom's house on Instagram and I didn't realize I still followed him (he so rarely posts and my Instagram account is public so I don't care who follows or notice who I follow) and my ex-husband hasn't changed the e-mail address with his Uber account so I saw the reservation for a pick up from what I assume is her new facility to the airport.

What I wonder is how his mom's deterioration and eventually death will affect him.  He had such an intertwined, yet toxic relationship with her that I doubt just disappears with her death.  It has to be so complicated, although I'm unsure of how much he will let himself feel it all.  But he will have to transfer that energy somewhere.  I wonder if him leaving me saved me from the consequences of that as I think it is quite possible, he will transfer that energy, expectation, dynamic, etc. even more onto his current partner.

I also have spent some moments reflecting on all I did to help when his dad got sick.  They are on their own now.  But I can't help but feel just a little bitterness as I think of how my ex-husband took advantage of my help with his dad while at the same time he was investing energy and time into his emotional affair.  

He even got me to the point of considering houses with an in-law suite so we could be more available to help on a day-to-day basis, something that in hindsight would have destroyed our marriage even faster.  

To him, I was worth keeping around for my usefulness at that time but a relationship with me wasn't worth actually investing in.  I say this not as a measure of my worth but as the reality of how he perceived my worth.  It's moments like this that remind me how transactional he saw our relationship.  It was all about what he could get out of me and what minimum he had to do to get that out of me.

But let's end this on a high note before I crawl into bed.  I am in the middle of a data analysis project at work that is stretching and challenging me in great ways and I'm really excited about the product I'm putting together that I think will make a huge difference in our investigation.  There is so much satisfaction I get out of learning new formulas and tools and watching them make sense out of data as if it is magic.  And this project is giving me enough repetition to truly ingrain some of these new things into me so that they will be at my fingertips in the future.  I'm more energized and excited at work than I have been in a long time.

Amazing day

The assistant manager at my new complex remembered me from last August!  It was such a brief encounter as she had a full schedule of tours and I had just walked off the street without an appointment.  She didn't even take the time to collect my information like every other apartment complex does so they can (often persistently) follow up.

When I sat down she made a comment about how long ago it was and that sometimes she sees people she really likes and then they never come back again to rent.  That's how my time in Atlanta started this morning.  And honestly, it only got even better from there as I discovered so many cool things to delight in within my new apartment and the neighborhood.

Now it is time to pick out a church for tomorrow and get some rest.  I have another exciting day ahead of me.

Stolen Moments

The separation may have accelerated my growth but I'm realizing it started a bit earlier.  Going back a few years, I started to seek out stolen moments.  This may sound like some inappropriate affair but these stolen moments weren't me investing in another person.  They actually weren't taking anything away from my marriage, although my ex-husband may disagree because they took away from my ability to devote my every second of attention on him.  

Marriage wasn't about "us" to him.  It was about "him" and him alone.  He never said to me "you're never on our side."  Instead he constantly exclaimed "you're never on my side."  He wasn't willing to look at what was best for us.  It was always about what he wanted, needed, preferred, etc.  And if what I thought would be better for us as a couple conflicted with that, I definitely wasn't on his side.  

What a dynamic!  One person always looking out for "me", "me", "me."  The other person trying to sometimes counter that by focusing solely on "us" and dismissing her own needs.

So in this context, I was drained.  I was minimized.  I was unconsidered.  So I started trying to find little moments to do something about it.  I started finding stolen moments to fall back in love with myself.

I remember the walk on the beach in Maui in May of 2023 that I wrote about the other day.  There were many moments on that trip where I poured into myself in little stolen moments - breakfast in the aft restaurant, a drink in the sunset bar, a solo snorkeling excursion, an after dinner tender ride, etc.  But maybe that wasn't even the beginning.

In early 2022, we took a cruise through the Panama Canal with his mom and my parents.  When we stopped in Colombia.  I had helped my ex pick out an excursion to do with his mom and booked just the two of them on it.  I then booked myself the day in the Sanctuary.  I'm not even sure what my parents did that day but it was time I knew I needed for myself.

In later 2022, we took a cruise with his mom in a top suite that had complimentary access to all the specialty restaurants.  I booked the two of them a dinner at one of those restaurants that I knew would occupy the whole evening because it included a show.  I then showed up in the dining room by myself, dressed in a favorite dress, and soaked in the attention of the wait staff while I enjoyed a leisurely dinner and then went to my favorite martini bar for drinks.

In spring of 2023, we moved into a new apartment, and I think that is when I started my morning coffee routine.  I had my spot on a stool at the counter where I could spread out with my laptop and enjoy some breakfast and a slow cup of coffee.  He hated this routine of mine.  But I didn't budge.  It was time I needed to pour into me.

And then there was that magical night in the Galapagos.  I went back to my travel blog to find these beautiful words to describe that moment.  

I did wake up though in the middle of the night (about 4:30 a.m.) and something called me to the balcony (figuratively - I wasn't actually hearing voices). The stars were so numerous that it was hard to make out individual constellations. It was truly a magnificent sight to see. And then a pair of gulls started soaring and playing along side the starboard side of the bow. They were just white whispers in the night. I later would learn that they were Swallow-tail Gulls that often followed the ship at night looking for squid which come to the surface at night.

Looking straight forward over the bow all I could see was pure darkness. It was a moment that took my breath away. I tried to go back to sleep after that but couldn't so returned to the balcony where I laid on the lounger and just enjoyed the moments until the first lights of sunrise began to appear and then I went back to bed.

It was in these recent years that I started to take advantage of the hours he was sleeping.  I would get up before sunrise to go out and watch the colors paint the sky as he slept in.  I would actually set a silent vibration alarm on my wrist on vacation to have these moments.  With my last couple of solo trips, I wondered why I wasn't as motivated to get up for sunrise as I used to be.  I think it's because I don't need to steal moments like this anymore.

I now understand that the act of pouring into myself is what makes me show up better in relationships.  It's actually quite crucial to a healthy relationship.  I will do my best to never again get pulled into a relationship that doesn't leave space for me to do that.  I shouldn't need to steal these type of moments.  There should just be space for them.

Uptown Funk

I'm sitting at my kitchen table with the windows wide open eating a sandwich for dinner.  A DJ is playing music across the street at the brewery.  I was catching up on Threads when I realized I was well into the song "Uptown Funk."  I stopped reading to listen.

For so many years, he had me trained to immediately help him find the closest exit, the second the first beats of that song played.  But tonight I can just sit here, sink a little deeper into my chair, and take in the calm that I have created in my life.

I think this is what a regulated nervous system feels like.

• the quick exit at the sound of "Uptown Funk", 
• the never-ending complaining to out noise the barking dog,  
• the demand that I pay attention and agree with him as he aggressively responded to drivers he felt had wronged him, 
• the refusal to open windows on nice days because he couldn't stand the noise, 
• the hurrying to avoid the rain when I wanted to linger, 
• the constant closing of the blinds to keep the world out, 
• the sleepless nights in hotels that weren't quiet enough for him, etc.

My nervous system didn't stand a chance when we were together.  No matter how calm and grounded one person is, there is no way for one person to consistently regulate the nervous systems of two people.  He couldn't even regulate his nervous system with the basics of life.  He couldn't even handle a song he didn't like.

To see and be seen

I've been commuting by foot or scooter (with a little public transportation mixed in for a couple years) for more than thirteen years.  The slower pace over a smaller stretch of road/path gives me time to notice things I wouldn't otherwise notice.  One of those things I've reflected on many times is the routines people follow which create repeat interactions (?) / exposures (?) - whatever you want to call them.  

I've learned that it doesn't take long to pick up on these patterns.  I remember three weeks I spent in Houston 10 years ago where every morning after dropping my now ex-husband off at his temporary office, I drove a short distance to a bayou, parked, and walked the same trail with the same people.  Although I never knew their names or spoke with them, it was a bit sad on my last day to realize I would not see them ever again.  They had left an impression on me.

In Wisconsin, there was an older couple who regularly walked the wooded path I often took.  I did actually briefly speak to them once or twice but most of our interactions were just a "good morning" as I scootered by.  After moving away, I thought about them a number of times and wondered how they felt about the fact that one day I just seemed to disappear. 

It's not just about the people I see, people also see me.  More than one person has asked me where my scooter was on a day I chose to walk.  My scooter blog title "The Scooter Lady" actually came from someone in Wisconsin who would call out anytime he saw me "there's the scooter lady!"

This morning, I was walking through the park on my commute to work.  A man with a camera was standing watching a Yellow-crowned Night Heron.  And although he was out of place with regard to the routines I have watched, I immediately recognized him.  He acknowledged that he recognized me as well.  He lives in a first floor unit near my work and often leaves his blinds open.  He has watched me scooter past his window countless times and I have tried to discretely peak in on the world in his living room on the countless times I've passed by.

It wasn't until that conversation though that either of us realized the other was into birding and photography.  Although for the past three years, we had observed each other's routines, we had never spoken to one another before this morning.  I'm really glad I stopped and chatted with him.

I think I have underestimated the impact of these little connections as I go about my daily life, the people I see and the people who see me.  It is one way that contributes to a sense of community.  Maybe that is one of the reasons why I so enjoy my walkable life.  It slows me down to notice the ways I am seen and the ways I fit into my community.

Lunch with a friend, maybe

I might be having lunch with that friend who seemed to distance herself from me after the separation.  I've written about her often.  She was my only close local friend when the separation happened.  We met over seven years ago and have even traveled together.  My social media memories this week include some from five years ago with her and her family in the mountains.

She now pops back up every three or four weeks to check in on me in a way that almost feels like an obligation.  When she saw my social media post about the job a little over two weeks ago, she reached out suggesting we get together for a lunch or dinner.  I then didn't hear anything from her until last Friday when she actually proposed a date.  We agreed on today but we didn't set a time or a place.  That's been how it usually goes.  Each time, I've reached out the night before or day of to confirm.  

I don't know if I want to keep doing that.  I don't even know if I want to see her.  I feel so sad typing that.

As I build a life that is more aligned and intentional, I really appreciate the clarity I have gained.  During my marriage, I was living in a fog, maybe even with my head buried in the sand.  But the clarity is also painful.  It's hard to now see the dynamics and situations that I thought I used to love so much shift in ways that leave me with loss, anger, disappointment, etc.  My eyes are now open and I can't unsee what I have now seen and in some ways, I miss the ignorance and the innocence.

My breaking point this afternoon

I reached a point this afternoon where I closed my office door, sunk to the floor, and let the tears fall.

The trigger was an e-mail asking me to do a task that should not be my job, an e-mail that had come in four hours earlier but I had been so busy all day I hadn't seen it.  There is a paralegal in the office next door to me with very little to do whose job it is to support that type of case.  But the trigger was just a small piece of a much larger context.  

I then went back to my desk and composed an e-mail politely saying "no."  I don't know if I have ever said "no" to a supervisor before.  Well, there was one time for an incredibly unreasonable ask when I was off the clock on a weekend.  But usually, I just do what is asked at work no matter what it costs me.  I erased and re-wrote that e-mail three or four times before I finally hit send and closed my eyes.  I little later I heard the paralegal next door taking care of the task.

About an hour before I saw that e-mail, my other supervisor came to me asking me to create a report to show our caseload.  He wanted something to show new management to advocate for more staff resources to handle the type of cases that are at the heart of what I do.

After years of deprioritizing my work, leaving positions unfilled, overloading my colleagues with other types of cases, adding other work onto my workload despite my narrow funding, etc., it took me leaving to realize maybe he needs to do something different.  And he was willing to use a bit more of my labor to advocate for what he should have been advocating for all along.  Just six months ago, he told me he had too many other more important priorities.

As I prepared this report, I was disgusted.  Our numbers were low.  It's quite understandable, actually.  When you don't give people the resources to do their jobs, less work gets done.  If he truly cared about advocating for resources, he would have started worrying about our numbers years ago, not now when it's probably too late.  They are now stuck in a vicious cycle of not having the resources to do the cases that bring up the numbers to advocate for more resources.

If I back up a bit further to see the even bigger context, my mind has been pulled a million directions as my time gets shorter and the amount of work I want to accomplish to help the one colleague who has been by my side for the last seven and a half years gets larger.  And although he is a calm, intelligent, very capable colleague, I feel like I can sense a bit of panic in him.  

The percentage of my duties that can be easily passed off onto another support staff is quite small.  Much of what I currently do will fall back on his shoulders.  Some of it just won't be able to happen.  I realize he did it before me but his caseload was much smaller then.  Something will have to give.

Of course, this all comes at a time where an abundance of really good cases have just walked in our door.  We so rarely get very good cases from outside our office.  For some perspective, I haven't had cases I felt this strongly about since about 2020.  So I'm deep in data, learning new formulas, creating a work product that gives me so much pride.  And I'm reviewing documents, sitting in on meetings, getting ready to interview witnesses, and participating in all the strategizing.  It's all so energizing.  It taps into the deep meaning that has been missing from so much of my work these last couple of years.  There is so much I want to do for these cases and not enough time to accomplish it all before I leave.

And through it all, I'm just so tired of hearing my supervisor say that he knows that this promotion is what I have always wanted.  He even made that comment in front of my enter division and a member of our top management.  For three and a half years, I have been doing the work of this promotion on top of my other duties for the lower pay of my current position.  Three and a half years!  He even interviewed me for the same promotion in our office over 2 years ago and then couldn't explain why they suddenly decided not to fill the position.  It's a slap in my face to keep reminding me that you knew what it would take to keep me here and didn't do it.

I need to spread my wings to a new city.  I need these new adventure for personal reasons.  But I can't help but recognize that I never would have been looking for the promotion elsewhere, if they had given it to me 2 years ago, if they had understood the value of the type of cases I handle going back even more years, if they had recognized the value I provided to the office, if they hadn't assumed I would just always be there in the windowless office at the end of the hall by the stairwell.

I'm glad it's working out the way it is because I will greatly benefit from a fresh start but I still feel the weight of all the ways my supervisors continue to take advantage of me as I try and balance it out with the reciprocity I want to provide for the colleague who has been by my side for all these years.  I'm proud of my "no" today as I seek that balance.

A Maui beach, 40 years apart

Three years ago today, I walked the beach on the island of Maui.  My ex-husband and his mom sat under an umbrella higher up on the beach, in the last two chairs the vendor had available for rent.  They didn't even hesitate at the fact that a chair was not available for me.  He never joined me, even for a moment as I walked and walked.  He chose instead to stay seated next to his mom.

I had my camera with me yet wanted to feel the Pacific Ocean and so I carefully walked in as the waves rushed through me with my hands above my head.

I had traveled (crawled?) that stretch of beach about forty years earlier.  I remember feeling a connection to my early life and very disconnected from my marriage, although at the time I didn't really understand why.

When I worried I had tested his and his mom's patience long enough, I returned to where they sat and suggested we pack up and find lunch at one of the food vendors before heading back to the ship.  I had Hawaiian Poke.  They ate pizza.  As I write this, I realize how the enthusiasm they expressed about the idea of travel conflicted so much with a lack of enjoyment of actually participating in the travel.  The food was too foreign.  The sun was too hot.  The beach was too sandy.  The sights couldn't capture their attention.  I'm not sure I had ever thought about this.  But back to me and this day....

Before taking a tender back to the ship, we walked through the park where the 150 year old huge banyan tree covered an entire city block.  I weaved my way through its branches as I tried to capture an impression of it on video.  I was enthralled by its size and root system.

Once back on the ship, I found myself at the sunset bar.  I don't know why I didn't go back to the room with them.  But I didn't.  Instead I ordered a glass of white wine and in a way that for a change didn't feel lonely, I toasted Maui from the back of the ship.

That evening after dinner, I boarded a tender to go back to shore.  I love seeing the ship from the water and never before had I had the opportunity to see the ship at night from the water.  It was such a treat, one of my biggest highlights of the trip.  I sat alone on the top level of the lifeboat for an incredible view as the ship got smaller and smaller.  

I hadn't planned to spend any time on land (I was in it for the tender ride) but I found myself wandering one of the shops and buying a purse (which is funny to think about considering how rarely I use purses) before boarding another lifeboat to return to the ship.  

This was three months before the fire that destroyed the town of Lahaina.  This night has crossed my mind many times since the fire.

This is the trip where if I had been paying attention, I would have known my marriage was over.  I know hindsight is 20/20.  And I wasn't ready to believe it, even if I saw it.  I really don't think I ever would have left him.  I think my (misplaced) loyalty would have kept me in place.  

Although, I do think that starting with this trip 3 years ago, I had slowly started to distance myself and set up more boundaries.  I wasn't as quick to jump when he needed someone to listen to his endless complaining.  I was learning to protect myself even if I wasn't willing to take the most important precaution and leave.

Maybe it was that slow progress of protecting myself that made him throw in the towel.  If this was just a transactional relationship to him and my protections were getting in the way of the constant validation and admiration he expected, it actually makes sense that he would look for greener grass.  He'll probably never learn that he has to water grass for it to stay green.

But back to this trip, one thing it taught me was how easily I can do it alone.  There might have been a husband sharing a cabin with me but for all practical purposes, I usually found myself as a solo traveler on this trip and even the parts where I wasn't physically alone, all the responsibility fell to me.  

You can't walk the same beach twice.  The water is constantly moving.  The sand gets pushed out to sea replaced with new sand, shells and rocks, eroded by the waves.  Yet the connection I felt on that day with my 40 year earlier infant self reminds me of the longest relationship any of us has, the relationship with ourself.  In the chaos as a third wheel on the dream vacation I planned, I found a little bit of my self on that Maui beach three years.

Sunday evening reflections

It's Sunday evening.  I wait for the sun to set so the temperature will drop just a bit more before I can open my windows wide.  I'm enjoying this quiet moment to reflect.

Thirteen days ago, this whirlwind started.  I was irritated going into work that morning for many reasons and didn't expect to have my world turned upside down before lunchtime.  It's hard to believe it's only been 13 days.

I now feel more settled.  The adrenaline has worn off.  The realization of what is to actually come is a huge distraction from the past.  I'm still in that hallway of transition but the door in front of me is now open and my feet are moving towards it.  I can see glimpses of what is just beyond the threshold.

I haven't completely quieted that slightly anxious voice in the back of my head, the one that feels the uncertainty of not having all my ducks in a row yet.  I'm making financial and life-changing decisions without the comfort of an official start date yet.  But that voice is quieter now.

I saw a meme the other day that encouraged taking the risk.  It said (paraphrasing as I don't recall the exact wording) that it might work out, which would be great.  Or it might not, which would be a moment to learn.  Both paths lead to growth.  

So I'm jumping in with both feet.

It was a productive weekend.  I took care of some administrative tasks related to my new place - submitting proof of renters insurance, setting up utilities, verifying my account and reviewing my budget to be ready to make my first months' rent payment this week, etc.  I donated some clothes and items I no longer needed and then charged my car for the drive next Saturday.  

I cleaned out the planters and pots on my balcony.  I organized my apartment.  And I put in an order for some things I needed to help with the move.

In thinking about this move to start a brand new chapter, I decided I wanted something new and fresh in my apartment (without going too crazy).  So I found a shower curtain that I'm excited about which also had matching bath mats.  And since my towels are quite old, I ordered new towels in just the right color to match it all.  I splurged on a top rated brand that is supposed to be so plush.  I've been upgrading so many areas of my life, it was time for my towels to get an upgrade. 

I now feel ready to face the week.  I made some huge progress in a data project I was working on last week and so am excited to finish it.  And hopefully more of my ducks will get in a row this week.

I'm ready.

My therapist last week asked me how I felt about saying goodbye with the move now on the near horizon.  I didn't have an answer for her then.  I was still in the middle of processing something that had happened so quickly after nine months of (im)patiently waiting.

This week as I enjoy conversations with friends at work and tonight as I wander my town and visit some of my favorite venues and restaurants and spot a new bird in my favorite park, I feel ready.  I'm enjoying all of these moments.  Tonight was truly a wonderful evening.  It's not that I won't miss the people and experiences here.  But the draw of what to come is stronger.

As I sip wine at my favorite wine garden and taste sushi at my favorite Asian fusion restaurant, I can't help but dream of what venues I will find in my new neighborhood.  Just today, I received an e-mail from the Atlanta Botanical Gardens that they have started their Thursday night cocktails in the garden weekly event that goes through September.  I've already received recommendations of restaurants and live music for my immediate neighborhood.  I've already tried out the closest Mexican restaurant.  I've looked up the dates of their Pride Fest.  I've already found an Improv theater with classes available.  I've got a church recommendation and few others I've discovered from my own online research.

And so as details slowly fall into place, I'm still enjoying what is left of the life here but at the same time so ready to start this next chapter.

A walk down memory lane

I had to walk through the last ten years of my life today, all the jobs I held, all the places I had lived, all the people I knew, all the trips I took, etc.  I've been in the south for just over seven years so it took me back all the way to Wisconsin.  

It's funny the things that stood out.  I remembered the day we docked in Colombia.  I intentionally encouraged my ex-husband and his mom to book an excursion together so that I could have the day to myself which I spent in the sanctuary on a comfortable lounger with servers bring me food and drink and spritzing me with water.  Interestingly, it's the part of the trip that stood out most in this moment as I listed the countries I visited.

I paused a bit on our first apartment in the south.  I had forgotten how long we had stayed in that one bedroom unit - three and a half years.  We weathered much of the pandemic in that small space with the huge balcony.

I had forgotten about the couple months of unemployment when the private law firm I worked for discovered I had been interviewing with the government right around the time a respected former employee contacted them asking if they had an opening.

And I cringed as I wrote down what I knew of my ex-husband's contact information as the realization hit me that he will probably get contacted.  It was this reminder that I will be tied to him forever.  When we separated he asked me to tell him if I ever finally got this promotion.  I didn't agree to his request.  I guess he will find out anyway.

But all of these moments of nostalgia and pain were brief as I was laser focused on the end goal.  I wanted to get this paperwork done as quickly as I could to keep the process moving so that soon I can be embracing a new city and a new job.  I dream for the day I am among the rainbow crosswalks and getting to know a team of new colleagues.

Conversations repeating in my head

I have a few random conversations from the last couple of days that keep repeating in my head and making me smile.

The first was with my pastor's wife.  She told me that one day last week she drove past me on my scooter on a day it was raining.  She was going to pull over and offer me a ride when she noticed that I was singing.  She left me alone to my joy but told me that it brought so much joy to her as well.  

In my scooter rides yesterday as I replayed that conversation, I thought of all the times I have caught myself smiling, singing, or laughing to myself as I go about my day.  I had never thought about the impact it might have on others.  At times, I actually wondered if I looked a bit crazy to the outside world - although, this wonder was never great enough to stop my joy.

The second conversation was with my choir director.  He was sharing some Atlanta recommendations with me and asked where I was going to live.  When I explained where, he exclaimed, "You are going to live at "X street" and "Y street"!  That's a gay man's dream!"

Then as I was retelling this conversation to my colleague, I told her that I may face a little culture shock when I move.  She agreed that I probably would.  I responded "I hope so" with a big smile.  She returned my smile and said "me too".

There was a time in my life where I believed I was not a city girl.  After our year in central Wisconsin, I decided I was definitely not a rural girl either.  I believed I felt most comfortable in a suburban city.  It's what I grew up with.  It's what was most familiar, I suppose.  And my ex-husband probably influenced that belief.  The more we met his wants, the less he complained and his complaining got really old over the years.

It kept me pretty sheltered for the first four decades of my life.  

Birmingham felt like the first step out of that shelter (aside from my brief college study abroad experience) and it has been such a positive experience.  As I type this I reflect on my evening last night learning dances from Guinea, West Africa with someone native to that country.  

I suspect Atlanta will be an even bigger step out of that shelter.  And I'm really excited about that.