So behind everything else that has happened, I have met a really, REALLY great person.  I’m going to refer to him as Winsome01.  I met Winsome01 back in November and I don’t think there has been a day since we started talking that we havent spoken in some way shape or form.  We have fun together.  While I’m sure there are limits that we will eventually reach, so far there are no limits to our dates.  AND BY THAT I MEAN … we took salsa lessons for one date, have hung out in a book store on another, spent many hours sitting in Starbucks talking over tea, went ice skating in -27 celcius.

Winsome01 lets me be who I am.  Lets me make my choices and has been a reasonable, calm, not-going-to-fix-it-for-me sounding board when I just need to get it off my chest.  W01 has also been there through everything that has been happening with Paul.  There are times when I really wonder the wisdom of continuing our relationship and moving forward with it.  But then I don’t know who else is going to hold my hand (and sometimes figuratively hold me upright) as I walk through this exceptionally rotten time in my life.

So Winsome01 … whatcha doin’ Wednesday for lunch?

 Wow. I feel old.  At 6:43am PST 21 years ago today, Beautiful Baby Girl was born.  I still have yet to meet her as an adult.  One day maybe.  I am in contact with her through other social media websites and we do have each others email.  When BBG is ready, she will be welcomed.  With open arms, hearts and no doubt tears.  Lots and lots of tears.  Until then, Happy Birthday Beautiful Baby Girl.

I borrowed this picture from BBG’s Facebook Profile album. It shows her beauty with out giving away her identity completely.

I had a conversation today that nearly made me want to vomit.  Really.  I am still reeling from the news.  Apparently I have become complacent in my compassion for my ex-husband.  I was told that Paul is still very very angry.  Very angry.  He views the events that happened at Christmas as my own doing.  I literally felt like I was being hit in the gut and my wind was taken away.  And once again I hurt.  Deeply hurt.

I am really at a loss for what to feel for him anymore other than deep sorrow.  It’s hard.  Really, really hard.  I know Paul has caused me great hurt on so many levels.  I know there is no way to be able to understand why he feels such great hatred towards me.  I really truly believe that Paul may not know why he has the feelings he has.  SO much of Paul’s formative years were marred by conflict, not only in his home, but in his general life being raised in the heart of “Bandit Country”, South Armagh, Northern Ireland during the height of The Troubles.

Apparently I am to become a poster woman for domestic voilence and the severety that can happen.  Paul has been in police custody since the early morning hours of Christmas Eve.  That is 46 days to date.  I can’t imagine what its like to be in jail.  I don’t envy Paul at all.  In fact I feel great sadness when I think about him.  There is so much he is going to miss out on.  Sadly all because Paul has no control when it comes to alcohol. 

Compassion.  I must focus on compassion.  I know there are people who want me to remain mad at Paul.  There are times I want to.  But at the end of the day, he is a man pushed beyond his limits for coping.  Inside that hard shell of a man is a hurting, bruised, battered person who is just reaching out for help.  Have you ever torn a bandage off a festering wound that has stuck to the scab?  That is what Paul is experiencing trying to heal emotionally.  Is it better to leave the bandage on the wound and let the infection dig deeper in to the flesh? It hurts to tear off that bandage.  And I’m sure the pain of debriding that wound is not comfortable either.

I can only hope that Paul is open to the healing he needs.  I know of his personal past.  I am deeply sadened he had to live it.  I hope he is able to heal the old wounds so the new wounds aren’t as painful.

okay in years Oldest Large Child is going to kill me for posting this before getting it fixed, but I’m a proud Mama!  And most Sunday mornings that’s my voice you hear shouting at her to run ‘em all over in her effort to get the goal.

So I have to say I am freaking phenominal!

Really.  I am all that and a cherry pie! 

I have purpose.  I am capable.  I can do it!  ALL OF IT!  And you know what?  I know when to ask for help.  Usually.  BUT! I. Am. Woman.  Hear me.  See me. 

Recently I have been having the chorus of an Alanis Moriessette song run again and again through my head.  While I am really feeling like it describes me on so so many levels, there are times when I embrace the words.  They are in your face. They are subtle.  And while I’m feeling like I am these words, I really feel like they also describe all women out there.

I’m a bitch, I’m a lover
I’m a child, I’m a mother
I’m a sinner, I’m a saint
I do not feel, ashamed
I’m your hell, I’m your dream
I’m nothin’ in between
You know, you wouldn’t want it any other way!

Thanks Alanis!

okay this is Barb, my friend and neighbour.  But we went horseback riding. In the snow.  A freaking cold, windy, snowing day. But it was fun. 

I will be posting the pictures of me once I get them from Barb.  She couldn’t operate the camera on my phone so I have to wait for the pictures she took.

Unfortunately most women WON’T re-post this.

I’m strong willed, independent, a bit outspoken, & I tell it like it is.

I make mistakes, I am sometimes out of control & at times hard to handle but I love & give with all my heart.

If you can’t handle me at my worst then you sure don’t deserve me at my best. If you are a HANDFUL, re-post! I dare you…

Yes this came from Facebook and I’m sure there are many many users out there that also use FB, but I really had to share this here, as I know not all my readers are on my Facebook friends list. I’m sure you are all wonderful people, but somethings are for in the inner circles. But I more often than not share IT ALL here. Funny how that works. In the mean time … Go on I dare ya!

A long the way we got a bit lost.  I’m not sure where, I’m not sure when, but we did.  I didn’t ask for it.

I didn’t ask for you to have an illness that would put me in danger.

I didn’t ask for you to be in pain.

I didn’t ask for you to lose everything precious to you in life.

I didn’t ask to lose my husband, my friend.

I didn’t ask for my children to lose their daddy.

I didn’t ask for your pain to be too much to bear.

Those are all the opposite of the things I wanted in life.

Now I am left to piece together a new life from the old.  To integrate the past and the present.  To not include you. 

I did ask for a husband who loved me more than his own life.

I did ask for help to heal your pain.

I did ask for a loving, caring daddy for my children.

I did ask to be able to give you the happiness you deserve and crave.

I did ask to be your friend and trusted confidant.

I can not put words to the hole you have left in my heart.  I know, in my heart, that is not what you wanted either.  You did not ask for this.

You did not ask to have an illness that put your most loved ones at risk. 

You did not ask to hurt your wife.

You did not ask to hurt your children.

You did not ask to be in pain.

You did not ask to never be able to return to your family.

It’s a crying kind of day. The kind where I avoid anything that might trigger a tear at all costs, because when they start, there is no stopping them.  That scares me.  It scares me because I know I’m going to frighten the monsters.  They don’t understand.  I’m not sure I understand.  It’s not just simple hormone changes, although I have no doubt those aren’t helping either.

There is release in the tears I’m not sure I want.  I have lived with the grief and loss for so long I’m not sure I want to let it go.  It’s my unnecessary friend.  You know the one that you have but really don’t need as they are not a positive influence in your life, but you keep there anyway just to remind you how messed up your life really is.  But how do you move forward in life with an attitude like that?

You don’t that’s the problem. Moving forward is what I have been waiting YEARS for.  For many years my marriage life felt stalled because of attempting to and finally succeeding in immigrating back to Canada, then there was the limbo of Paul’s working permit and permanent resident application once we had landed and were starting to settle.  Then the separation.  That was the biggest limbo of all.  It contained the immigration element as well as the issue of trying to work through all the bad things in our marriage.  With all that I don’t think I have truly cried in at least 18 months.

I’ve held it in.  I’m good at holding it in.  That’s what I do.  I hold it in.  I turn it over and over and over … and over in my head, my heart, my being.  I’m good at helping others get it out.  I’m really good at that.  Dealing with my own shit?  Somedays not so much.  I admitted recently to a friend that I was afraid to feel too much.  Feeling hurts.  And it brings tears.  All the tears, the excessively happy ones, the down right ugly ones, the median/mediocre ones. 

Right now, its the tears I want to avoid.

So where does one begin … the past few weeks have been more than a roller coaster.  I would liken it to what being in the middle of the ocean at the height of a perfect storm.  Just when I thought things had calmed down and that smoother sailing was ahead, a rogue wave came out of the deep dark blue and has hit me broadside.

The last of my marriage fully unravelled during the evening and early morning hours of December 23rd and 24th.  While I want more than anything to publicly, scathingly, hurtfully say exactly what happened, for etiquette reasons, I’m not going to.  Besides the fact that Paul is now in a world of hurt and there is nothing anyone can really do right now. Sadly it all could have been prevented.  Now instead of mourning the loss of my marriage, I now mourn the loss of a dear friendship.  The loss of a daddy to children.  Of a son to parents and brother.  And no matter how hurt I feel, I will heal sooner and very possibly easier than Paul will.

I do ask for compassion for Paul.  There is no going back now.  I ask that he is able to seek and be open to the healing he needs to be able to move on in his life.  The real healing, starting with the stuff that really hurts.  Until that happens, I further mourn the loss of my friendship, my husband, the vision I once had for my family.