It’s been over a month since I last posted here. It’s been a hot, heavy, brutal summer, though, and one I truly can’t wait to see the end of. Things have changed, some for the better, some for the worse, and I could use with a minute to decompress. Grab a seat, if you’re curious for a catch up. Continue reading
We are slowly – *very slowly* – turning our little apartment into a home. The initial rush of getting all of the things from the old place to here has happened, and along the way, we’ve also been dealing with getting our cat, Bailey, up to snuff with her medical needs. Cats aren’t cheap – no pets are – but because of that, most of the setup has had to slow to a crawl. We are still on the hunt for a decent bookshelf system, and Ray’s not totally sold on the living room the way it is now, but it’s coming. Slowly. Settling into a new pattern takes time, right?
Ray’s also started making the transition he’s been dreaming of. He’s taken a post over at a winery not too far from Portland, working a couple of days in their tasting room. He’s also brought with him a lot of marketing and design experience (which you can check out here) which the owners of the winery have already taken notice of and want to put to use. It’s a blending of his love for wine and design that’s coming to fruition, and I am so damn proud of him.
What this has all meant, though, is that we are now devoting far more energy to our future, rather than remaining focused on the present. We began this journey together staying very-much-present in our interactions with each other. It was tough, for me, especially since I’m really quick to want to settle into a long-term arrangement, being the nester that I am, so for years, Ray was always gently pushing back whenever I’d make noises about what our future together might look like. Nowadays, though, we’re having lots of talks about what the next six months, the next few years, might look like.
For his part, Ray is happy with us. I check in with him now and again, making sure that our ship is still on a course that suits him. He reassures me that things are fine, even though I know he’s also missing our more care-free times, when we could just chuck our stuff into the car and take off on a whim. While it’s not worrisome that those moments are really few and far between, all of this is a total flashback to my previous relationships, especially my marriage – the one that failed – and I’m having to check and double-check that I’m not retreading on ground I already know. I also, and this is key, need to remember that Ray is not my ex-husband, and to be judged or critiqued based on my own prior experiences in a relationship. You’d think after three and a half years, I’d finally stop making comparisons between what has happened in my past and what is happening now, but for some damn reason, I cannot. I always catch myself doing this, knowing full-well that it’s unfair to both Ray and myself. I need to do better.
I don’t know what the future holds for him and I. I don’t know where we’ll be in a year, five years, a decade. I guess this doesn’t frighten me too much, because for now, I’m still holding his hand. While we might not be making any majestic waves or taking off on any stellar adventures these days, we are still making our home, still building our family, still settling into a life of our own. For this, I am thankful. These small moments will keep me present and accounted for in the here and now, while everything else seems to be pointed at the future.
Since Thanksgiving, I’ve managed to hit the gym eleven times. That’s eleven more times than I went all summer long (apart from the one-off from time to time) and eleven more than I was expecting. While I realize that I still have a long way to go with regards to my fitness, I have been finding myself gaining back lost strength since the last time I was hitting the weights regularly. I feel my legs and arms swelling, growing muscles yet again. It feels good.
I’ve also noticed that my body is definitely aging. I’ve got a creaking right shoulder, stiff neck, and other parts of me that aren’t functioning as they once did. I am definitely noticing the effects of my sit-down/stress-laden job of bus driving. I have been reading over and over again just how bad my job is on a person’s body, with repetitive motion injury, stress, constant high levels of cortisol and the like. The gym, much as it always has been, is a proving ground for all of these things, and also an antidote to it, I hope. I hope it’s not too late for me to regain what I’d given up the moment my right knee gave out just under a year ago. I hope I can continue with this streak of going-and-doing the exercise that my body definitely needs.
Movement, as it always has been for me, is a method to sorting out my thoughts. I still don’t fully understand the chemistry or biology of it all, but I know that once I start putting my body into motion, suddenly, I can feel my thoughts stretching out into palatable lines of comprehension, rather than remaining a lint-ball of cross-purposes within me. I can take one idea and follow it to a logical and reasonable conclusion. I can ask myself the questions and do the reasoning that fully thinking something through requires, all while walking a fifteen-minute-mile on the treadmill, or bench pressing a few sets. I think it’s this dual purpose of exercise – not only to gain strength and stamina, but to also help process my thoughts with an added level of clarity – that keeps me going back. Sure, I’d like to once again be the skinny pretty man that I have been from time to time, but that might need to just be a by-product of it all, rather than the sole purpose.
It’s nice to be back there, back at the gym, back staring at the weight racks and noticing the fellas around me with the massive chests and multi-faceted arms and legs. It’s nice to feel my own personal power growing again, to allow myself the surge of endorphins that comes from a set well done. I’ve already got my eye set on the conditions outside so that I might make a return to running. I do need to purchase a couple of new pairs of sneakers – one for the gym, one for running outside – so hopefully I can find some good deals once the holidays are over. I want to get myself some new gym clothes too. It feels good to have something to focus on that I have complete control over, all while the political world that I find myself now inhabiting seems to be burning down around me. The gym is a respite from all of that, and I’m realizing that fact more and more these days.
The world seems to be on fire, or drowning, or both. The recent election, the slew of horror-story memes, contradictions, opposite-land cabinet picks, and the direction that my country is going to be heading over at least the next four years, have all carved away at my eternal optimism to a point where I don’t know how to be anymore. This lack of hope, lack of light, and lack of focus has me grasping at any and everything that might be construed as positive, but time and time again, those things that bring me moments of joy are elusive and slip through my fingers. So, I’m back to this space, this darkness.
I took off to the snow and evergreens a little while ago, and for a moment, I found respite.
Tomorrow, I want to go back, back up there, back to where the snow crunches, the air is perfumed with fir and spruce, and the sounds around me are muffled by the blanket of winter that covers every surface that faces the sky.
I need a retreat from this world.
Since November 9, 2016:
- I’ve been to the gym. I know this sound like a trivial detail, but having not gone persistently for months on end, the requirement to have a strong body, coupled with the clarity and surge of energy and endorphins that the gym provides, is now more necessary than ever.
- I keep writing. I keep putting down words of frustration, of sadness, of confusion onto pages and papers as an attempt to make sense of it all.
- I keep going to work. Not only do I need to just pay my bills, but I also need the distraction. Sitting here, quietly, staring at whatever is in front of me, only leads to more jaw-clenching and rage. The act of getting out on the road, and driving around Portland, Oregon allows me to interact with others, even on the most basic of levels, and reminds me that I’m not alone.
- I keep reminding Ray that I love him, more than ever. We’ve drawn quite close over the past few weeks since November 9th, and I feel more connected to him than I ever have. We both have had to face down some real truths about where we came from, and what has been holding us back. Now, in this current political upheaval, we have each other, and not a whole lot more.
- I keep looking for things to do, meetings to attend, groups to join, so that I don’t just sit here and idle my way through this mess.
There’s a direct and sincere feeling of having to come to terms with the life I have been leading. I have actively bought into the New Liberalism that has marked the last few decades here in America. I have sought the refuge of ever-more liberal cities in order to find a space to exist with limited fears, even when the act of doing so cost the connections I once had to my very-blue-collar past. I have bought into the idea of higher education as a means to overcoming social injustices. I have fed into the very machine that voters from places I’ve always been afraid of (middle America, “fly-over,” redneck, etc) have denounced and ridiculed, and now claim victory over. I gave over my rural identity and politics the day I decided to come out of the closet, it seems. I allowed myself to succumb to the audacity and optimism of living in and among a class of liberal urbanites who never expressed any connection to the world beyond their cities (other than to liken trips to the rural spaces as something akin to safari, or a trip to the zoo), all under the banner of being able to safely exist as my true self. I’m not sure about these choices anymore.
Today, I’m finding myself questioning this move, and why I didn’t have the strength to be who I am while retaining my rural roots and connections. What kind of impact could I have made if I had simply gone back home after college? Is this regret? Is this me internalizing a lot of doubts I now am holding about the country I live in? I’m not certain. I do know this, though – I moved away at the time because of fear. I chose not to live among those who held deep-seated hatred and bigotry against me, who I was and am, and those like me. For many like me, I’m pretty certain this is a similar refrain.
I’m also now, more than I have ever been, questioning the words and language used by those of us who live in these urban/liberal-elite spaces. How have we glossed over, or even promulgated, the challenges of race and racism, along with bigotry and xenophobia, by not actively engaging in the methods and actions needed to come to terms with these problems? Simply put, I don’t know what to trust any longer, internally or externally. I need to figure this out.
It’s been a really interesting summer. I went into it, with a very open work schedule, expecting to be able to get out and do a lot more than we have this year. My knee injury earlier this year, coupled with Ray’s ongoing shoulder problem, has kept us a little closer to home than I had anticipated. We haven’t gone camping as much as we did last summer, it seems, nor have we taken as many long-distant journeys around the Pacfic Northwest. That all said, it’s not like it’s been a bad summer at all. It’s been a lot more transformative than I expected.
We did get up to Canada, and celebrated Ray’s success at passing his Level 1 Sommelier exam. This act underlines his abilities to suggest and serve wine, and demonstrates on his resume and at future job interviews, that his knowledge is real and verified. It’s been a huge bump to his feeling of justification and personal security, and I’ve really seen a lot of worry and tension and depression start to wane in my boyfriend. Because of this, we’ve started actively exploring our next step, looking at employment options, housing options, and having longer discussions about what happens after living here in Portland. To that end, for myself, I’ve taken the steps to re-enroll in classes at the local community college in an attempt to learn new and different skills that can help me in my own job placement outside of Portland. It’s caused me to reconsider getting back into the classroom, to start the process of obtaining a teaching license, and as of tomorrow, has me registering for introductory courses in Computer Science. I’m starting to put more stock in the idea that Ray and I do, in fact, have a future that goes beyond the here and now, but I’m having these feelings and reacting to them in a way that isn’t going against Ray at all. Instead, there’s a synergy, a parallel, between him and I that has really sparked a new level of connection between us both.
I’ve really enjoyed the summer of the Jeep, even though it’s been a bit bumpy as a car owner. It has been broken into twice and has ended up back at the dealer twice now for repairs, but all in all, having that vehicle, my dream vehicle, with the top down and the tunes up, flying across the grasslands of central Oregon, or winding up through the mountains on either side of town, has brought me such joy and happiness. I love the freedom, I love the ability to throw the top down and just feel the world around me, and I love what being able to afford this vehicle has done for my feelings toward myself. Three years ago, I was an absolute fiscal mess. I had no job. I was stuck in a world that wasn’t of my design. I had nothing and no one to really turn to, and was allowing someone else, outside forces, direct me. Now, only a short while after, things have really changed for the better.
This summer has seen a real push with my writing, too. Having joined the small writing group that I belong to has been a real blessing in my life. Every other week, I now have a wonderful gaggle of people conversing with me about the book, about their own work, about the struggles we all face as we try to hone our craft. It’s super supportive, super engaging, and really reminds me that there is more to me than my ability to drive a bus and do the laundry. I’ve seen this sixth revision of a story I began back in 2011 really take some amazing shapes, and plumb a lot of depths that I was once too afraid to explore. In doing so, I am constantly feeling the loosening grip of darkness and fear that has always plagued me from telling a story that was as authentic as possible. This feeling of liberation has really expressed itself outward in my daily life, and I come back to the house, to my job, and to my boyfriend every other Wednesday night feeling renewed and resolved to go further and do better.
To that end, this summer has also been a lot about overcoming my insecurities with regards to my relationship and the faith I have in it. Ray and I have come up against moments that have required trust and commitment, as well as honest (sometimes brutally so) conversations about fear and worry that we both have. In being able to hold space for these kind of talks, though, and seeing the promises we’ve made to each other act out in real-time between us, has had the cumulative effect of really deepening the bond he and I share. Every day, it seems, he’s reminding me just how unlike any other man I’ve ever been this close to he truly is. I expect rebuke, I brace for antagonism, and a constant stream of doubt towards the choices and actions that I make for myself and the direction of my life. Instead, I keep getting more support, more love, more optimism from Ray. I had no idea that this is how a healthy relationship was supposed to work. I’m still learning and man – it’s such a valuable lesson.
Summer might be coming to an end soon, but we’ve still got lots going on this year to look forward to. I have school. Ray’s doing more and building out his resume in ways that will really set the stage for us soon. We’re also planning a joint adventure for our birthday that is shaping up to be a lot of fun and will bring us back to Denver, where I can reconnect with past friends and remind myself of where I’ve been. There’s also the chance that one of his dear friends will be joining us for Thanksgiving this year, so I might have the opportunity to put on a full-on feast, which I adore doing.
For months now, probably since my knee blew out in early February, I’ve been living in a state of pause. I stopped going to the gym. I stopped chasing health goals all around, and found myself looking at my list of things to do and achieve, and simply turning away from them. Each one of these goals felt insurmountable, unattainable, and requiring way too much focus and effort than I could muster. I don’t think I realized just how depressed and sanguine I’d become as I spent the month on the couch nursing my injury.
Summer has come, and I’m not any closer to reaching those goals – fitness, fiscal liberation, and the like – but something has snapped and broken inside me, for the better.
Earlier this week, I got news from a dear friend about a situation that has set him back on his heels in terms of his own life-trajectory. He’s facing a steep challenge over the next few months, possibly years, and while he reached out to me for support, I felt myself reverting into Oldest Sibling mode, planning and scheming and laying out a framework for how to help him move forward. I listened with intent to how he was feeling, and will continue to do so as he moves forward, but what this has done for me personally has been the gear-shift I’ve been needing.
I found myself able to sit down and go further with a chapter and section of my memoir that has been a huge challenge to face and come to terms with. I found a pathway forward in my own health journey that, for the first time in a long time, felt deeply close to my heart and something that I could claim as my own, rather than buying into someone else’s system, and ending up poorer and just as out of shape as when I started. I am seeing myself for what I am, right now, but I’m also once again visualizing where I want to be in a year’s time, when I turn 40, and what kinds of things I can do on a daily and consistent basis that will bring me to that place. That lamp in the dark, the thing that I am making my way towards, became clear, as though a thick bank of fog finally lifted and blew away.
This has been a good week.
It’s good to be back in my skin again, rather than feeling like an object in orbit around this lump of flesh that seemed to exist without purpose. I’m looking forward to see where this new-found drive takes me. Right now, though, I’m going to pour myself another cup of coffee and enjoy a quiet Thursday morning.
It should be noted that through all of this, Ray has been a steady rock. I’ve been able to lament to him about my stasis, and time after time, he reminded me that it’s okay to pause, to stop obsessing, to stop beating myself up for needing a break in all that I’ve got going on. We took off on a camping trip to Walla Walla, Washington, and even then, while I was dealing with a cold and full of snot and ick, he remained constant and life-affirming, all while I was feeling so dejected for seemingly ruining our trip. I am reminded daily just how lucky I am to have him in my life.