11 years

Today would be my 11 year wedding anniversary if I were still married. Instead my ring sits in a box in need of care. I pull it out from time to time and swirl it around on my finger. It is quite beautiful still, although the luster is gone. I remember when I first bought it and we would get all giggly about the way it sparkled and threw off light on the side of the car. I also remember when I took it off and put it in that box for good. That was strange and wonderful and so very simple and sad. The ring is now a symbol of a dissolution of a relationship, of a committment, of a life. I should sell it and go on a trip.

I now sleep in bed with a man who has lived more life than I can imagine. I am surprised by him each day. I am surprised by how beautiful I find him in his silvery blue shirt. I study his arms and the gentle curves. I run my fingers along his abdomen, feeling his bones and the contours of his muscles, and the softness of his skin. He tells me the stories and I feel a sense of closeness and a sense that I will never be able to get close. 60+ women and he's only loved 2 and they are the only 2 to have ever left him. Does he only love the ones who leave? Add to that years of escapades and games and drunkenness and drugs and crazy sex and arrests and amazing friendships... compare that to me. I have so few stories, I often feel like a wooden box with a few intricate curves and colors that draw attention, but upon opening it you find nothing but emptiness and disappointment.

Last night I arrived home and all the clothing that I had left in my laundry basket in my own closet had been washed and folded. If only he knew that half of those things did not need to be washed -- they had just been thrown in there in the rush of the morning. I'm not telling him, so shush. The fact that he did it is amazing to me and I am not doing anything to discourage his amazingness. He also cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen and the floors. Sure, he also got to lay at the beach for a bit but took a huge portion of his evening to make "our" home clean. I'm still struggling with calling it that and taking it from him, but I am comfortable there.

I still struggle. Saturday there was drunken incident...let's just say he said some stupid shit. I cried. He apologized and said he did not know why it hurt me. I can't understand why he can't understand. He felt bad about himself the entire next day for how drunk he was. My anger quickly turned to desire to make him feel better. But ever since, I feel like things are on a cusp. At any moment he will tell me he doesn't really want me there or worse yet, he will just drift away and we will stop talking and kissing. I wonder if that is the inevitability of love?

This weekend, I want us to dance and sing and sleep close in a tent. I want to be on the water with him. I want us to laugh. I want to see him smile at me.

I feel sad today. It's not the kind of sadness of the past. It's the kind sadness that could be cured easily with a hug or some music and the sand between my toes. But it's sadness nonetheless. I am feeling unworthy. I am feeling like I'm not all that smart. But even more so, I'm feeling fat and ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. I know that it's not worth getting all worked up about appearances, but I feel so very unattractive lately. It's probably because my workout schedule has been pretty fucked since summer hours set in. It's also because my hair looks like a big, moppy mess. It's also because I just saw some pictures of me from last year and I look like a big, old chubbo. It's disgusting and depressing. Do I really look like that? But that's just a symptom of a greater self esteem problem that I have, which causes me to fear and not trust. And then I think, who gives a fuck, I don't need anyone. And then I think, yes I fucking do. I need a love. I need a couple great friends. And then I think, why the fuck do I need these things. I don't. And the cycle goes on and I get tired and I put it on a shelf and find something to make me laugh about.

 11 years ago today, we woke up early and went to Bachmanns to get flowers. We put them together into beautiful bouquets of hydrangea and purple roses. I put on an ugly green dress and combat boots and too much makeup. We went out on the water and said some of the most beautiful words I've ever heard. Friends and family watched. We listened to a silly song by Sugar Marie called Mermaid. I shoved cake in his face. We drank champagne. We were married. Sometimes it feels like it was the realest thing I've ever or will ever do. Sometimes it feels like the biggest sham.

I would like a cookie and a cigarette. I smoke too much now. I eat too much sugar now. I hate Brian & his forever and total absence from my life now. I love this new man but am afraid to let him in now.