Two Rights is not a Logical Fallacy

The second best decision I ever made in my life was to get married.
The first best decision I ever made was to get divorced.

This may seem contrary at best, but these two things have shaped me greatly—almost as much as burying two fathers. I have had the mirror held up to my face. I have looked deep into the dark thoughts of my own being. I have had to own up to my faults, my masks, my walls—all the things that I protected myself with. I don't think that I would have been able to do these things without the experience of marriage. Not even a long-term committed relationship would have done this for me. There is a level of...how can I say it...permanence, I guess, when it comes to being married. And for me, that was very necessary. I knew that I had to deal with myself in order to deal with my relationship. I learned this because I knew I had to.

Going through a divorce is strange. There is so much that still feels unresolved and up in the air. But maybe that isn't so strange. Very few things, at least in my life, come to a real resolution, despite my desperate attempts to reach some final conclusion.

I still stand by my first two statements. Because I now have a self-knowledge and understanding that no one can give me, and no one can take it away. I used to equate my husband with "home."
Now I know "home" was me all along.


I have some big plans, and I will hopefully unfold those shortly, when the time is right. Until then, just know that there are big things in the works, and you, my friends, will have a front row seat.

Stress Dreams, Cont.

A restless night last night, but full of intensely stressful dreams about my separated husband. We are still sharing a house, but he wasn't home last night, and I'm beginning to think he is seeing someone.

It's been a month.

What. The. Fuck.

Today has already been a challenge to not cry at work. I hate crying at work. And I've had to push it back all day long.

Thanks, Captain Obvious.

Sometimes my subconscious is like, soooo totally obvious. I mean, I really like those dreams I have where I wake up and say to myself, I say, "Self? What the eff was that?? What does that mean?? Am I secretly a man trapped in a woman's body??" And that bitchy self never answers.

But last night, my dreams were pretty see-through. One was about my soon to be separated from husband coming my (our old) room and saying, "Let's have sex one last time." Well, yeah, ok. Pretty clear. I'm terrified of being alone, not being sexually attractive, not having a partner I trust--all these things that have been building up in me with my so to be ex over a period of years. Great, subconscious. I get it. (Luckily in the dream, we almost did, and I then I came to my senses and refused because I knew it would set me back from all the progress I've made over the last week. Man, I am even rational in my DREAMS! Why couldn't I just have had the dream sex?)

The next dream was a group of people sleeping over at this really gorgeous man's killer house. We are all lounging around, someone was playing with my hair. Everyone was beautiful and sexy and sexual, even though there was no hanky panky. Ok, subconscious, again, I think I get it. This is my ideal. Awesome people attracted to me. Many awesome people. Sweet. (God, why couldn't I have had dream sex in THAT dream??? Sometimes my subconscious can be such a prude. Jeez.)

The next dream was about my extended family, and telling my grandparents--the ones that have been pushing me and soon to be ex to make a baby being--that we are getting divorced. Painful. And this dream was full of strangness. For starters, my grandfather was this king of carnival-type that was guessing people's weight, and he put me about 20 pounds over what I am. Harsh. And then my uncle was telling me he was getting divorced from my aunt, who happened to be his sister. I mean, we are Southern, but we ain't trash, ya know? And then my uncle started to sign his divorce papers and turned into my dad. Whoa. Subconscious, I get where you are going with this, but did you have to jumble it up so much? My father figures have disappeared from my life and now the only ones left are either hurting me or unstable.

Good grief. No, that should BAD grief. Bad grief! Bad! Go to your room!