Well he did it. Put a nice big padlock on the door, locking me and his son out of Jamie’s toys, clothes, belongings. I’m just exhausted emotionally.

I just don’t want to get married ever again. I don’t know, maybe I’ll change my mind about it some distant day in the far off future, but right now…I’m just so disenchanted. I certainly don’t want a wedding again. I said no no no, no wedding, no ring, no nothing big and even still it’s difficult to not get pulled into this idea that it’s some creative act you get to engage in. The abyss of pinterest can make it feel like this is some sort of creative playground you get to run around in and express yourself. But girls, there are so so many better ways of spending your time and money that in picking this shade of blue or that shade of violet. It doesn’t mean anything. And I refused to get any sort of diamond ever, any sort of fancy jewelry ever, really, and even still Jeff spent way more money than I would have wanted on a handmade wooden ring that I ended up losing. IT”S ALL JUST SUCH A MONEY SINK. Just stop it everyone. Just donate to something. I got everything at the thrift store and it was STILL more money than I would have liked to have spend. WHY are we all doing this nonsense to all have the same 6 pictures of everyone in the same positions, make our friends pay exorbitant amount of money, piss friends off that aren’t in the same life place as you are and generally put too much pressure on a relationship and these classically held societal ideals on how two people should relate to one another. If you want to celebrate ritual and tradition, there are plenty more interesting and creative rituals you could engage in. Actually creative ones. Even still it isn’t really necessary. And I said all of this from the very beginning and STILL it was difficult to not get pulled into the whole charade of it all. The point was to have everyone come be together, and then once there were all sorts of people flying in from all over the country, I felt this pressure to not have their time and money be wasted. And then it was exhausting. But it was valuable. It was all valuable. Because I think it healed some things in me. And it got some things out of my system. And it made me let go of a lot of things. A lot of ridiculous notions that girls get drilled into them over and over and over again. I feel better for the experience, I think. But it sure was an exhausting sham. I still can’t believe Max and I didn’t get married. It was all he ever talked about. You’re my wife. And you have to come back because our three kids are waiting to be born. Pheonix and Xavier was it? We never could think of a good name for that third child. He asked me to marry him nearly every day for 3 years. And I said yes every day for 3 years. I flew home from Australia that first time with a sketch tucked into my suitcase that Max drew of what our home would look like. And he didn’t even believe in marriage before he met me. Fucking fuck. Life is hard.

I don’t have any expectations anymore. For anything. Zero expectations. And I think that’s the best way to live right now. No expectations. Everyone will disappoint. So I’ll start at zero and be grateful for all the love in my life and appreciate each little morsel of it for what it is just right now. And that’s all I need.

I don’t know what I want exactly. I know what I feel. But I don’t know EXACTLY what I want. I know I don’t want to feel suffocated anymore.

I just feel open. And receptive. To whatever. To whatever the fuck. Wants to unravel. Wherever. I don’t need anything in particular. I don’t need some particular relationship of some predetermined size or shape. I just want to experience life right now and experience love. And if there’s love, I don’t think I need much else right now. I don’t expect anyone to be able to fit perfectly into my life right now.

And no more babies. Not now. Not for a long time. Again, this isn’t a never. Maybe some day in the distant future when things are very, very different. But now, it’ll just be me and little Jamie and he’ll be my buddy. And I’m at peace with this. And so I’m going back on birth control. Which is weird, a weird mindset to get back into. Since I was 19 years old I’ve been with someone who was desperate to marry me and have babies. Even fucking Adam Darrow. Fucking writing down on a piece of paper the details of what we’d do on our honeymoon a week after we started dating. So it’s a strange feeling. But necessary I think. Everything was so intense for so long. For 6 years basically there was always someone who wanted marriage and forever. It was a head spin. It was a heartfuck. And it made me fearless. I’ve seen the end of those three relationships that all told me to commit my heart to forever and I’m ok. I’ve made it through the other side. It’s ok. People heal. So what do I have to fear? Heartbreak is good for you. Gives you life and love and meaning. Nothing to be afraid of. That’s the juicy core of life. Sometimes you give it your all, you put your whole heart in, and you’re wrong. And that’s ok. But right now I’m ok with whatever. I’m ok with free and light and slow and loving.

Just because you love someone doesn’t mean it has to entail this particular x, y and z. A lot of people get their heads filled with a lot of this means this and this means this and you can’t really love someone if you do x, y or z. But love is bigger and wilder and more mysterious and than we give it credit for. Love does not equate to possessing someone. Love and marriage and living together and raising children and monogamy are all entirely separate things. Just because you love someone does not mean that it has to follow this paint by numbers diagram of the world. Maybe Bryan is right. And maybe we would all be a lot happier if we all really respected one another and one’s actual needs and desires as valid. Compersion is such a beautiful, truly loving thing. The joy of seeing someone you love experience joy. In whatever way. That seems like truly selfless love. To truly respect one another. Without knowing it, Max and I operated from this sense of selfless love our senior year of college. Because we really, really knew that we loved each other. And we were completely confident in it. And we were away from each other. So we said we could do whatever we wanted. And it wasn’t weird. And it was totally loving. And I felt completely emotionally connected to him. And I just lived my life. And I didn’t do anything with anyone else because I didn’t really feel any need to. But there wasn’t this baseline of behavioral rules that you either succeed or fail at. There’s just two people that love each other. And so what does that mean? I don’t know. I guess it can mean just about anything.

A relationship does not have to be any one thing and that is feeling super freeing to me right now. Giving love, receiving love, that’s what I want. That’s it. SO many expectations everyone puts on things and we drown ourselves in all these things we’d have each other be. Just be love.

I’m going to stop listening to “relationship experts” and start listening to that silent voice inside of myself. Start looking for forgiveness. And keep opening up my ideas of what things need to be. Of course we hurt each other, but it isn’t always so simple to trace to fault from here to here. Sometimes we are messy humans and we are not aware of how large the sword we are swinging around is. I wonder what this world would look like with more respect for Love and less respect for possession.

And so much force put on behavior without recognition, forgiveness and space of each other’s downfalls. It is not wrong or evil to believe wholeheartedly that you want to be a father, and then be overwhelmed by the reality when it actually faces you. Everyone has different boundaries, different thresholds. Let’s be honest to what we ACTUALLY feel and let go of hard and fast bottom lines of behavior. And so much labeling of behavior. As if a plus b plus c means that you are a d and you are strapped to that title. And there is self-fulfilling prophecy in this and there is fudging of the numbers in this and I’m never quite sure what it actually accomplishes to really declare someone to be a certain thing. Sometimes it might be helpful, but a lot of the time I think it traps people, helps people see only what they want to see, vilify people and get generally self-righteous. People are people. Everyone has a story. Everyone has their reasons and their own tremors and fault lines. Respect the delicate ecology of each human experience and let’s stop being so quick to place into categories. These categories don’t illuminate people’s behavior as much as vilify it.

And yes, I myself have been guilty of these things. But I want to stop doing this. Unless someone WANTS a particular label because it provides safety and clarity for them. For some it IS therapeutic to classify yourself, and for others it is entirely the opposite. This is tricky territory I don’t know how we are going to navigate. But I think it’s true. SOMETIMES it is healthy to declare yourself something and work within the confines of that illness or definition and sometimes it’s thoroughly suffocating and not entirely accurate to be placed in a box. Sometimes that’s very damaging. Everyone is different. Everyone is different and responds differently. So that’s tricky. I don’t know how to make a hard and fast rule with dealing with human experience and behavior. So I think fuck hard and fast rules. Everyone needs something different sometimes. And THAT’S a complex and messy world. That a lot of people don’t want to walk into. They want neat and pat answers. And to diagnose behaviors and mental capacities in neat bows and ties. And hold people to their weaknesses and place blame. Because it’s simple and safe and makes the world make sense. But the world doesn’t make sense. And humans are more than a selection of titles, categories and mental issues. Humans are complex and dealing with them is complex. Nonsensical and circuitous. But almost always, the push and pull of the waves of life are dragging you towards yourself. And almost always, love can be cultivated. And love can heal. And healing is real. That doesn’t mean that you don’t break again. And again, and again. Sometimes right on the same fault lines. But healing happens. Sometimes even while you’re not looking. And sometimes all the pain is worth the fucking ecstatic climb towards the light when you feel yourself healing. Sometimes all the pain is worth all the dirt covered diamonds you dig out of that dark place. Sometimes that’s the best fucking stuff of life. All the buried treasure down in the darkness. If you remember to look. And receive. And honor that darkness.

It’s ok, this is all leading me to myself. And to more honest ways of loving. To more real ways of understanding what it is to love. How to give it, how to receive it. Everything is a gift. Albeit it, oftentimes in strange, dangerous and horrifying wrapping.

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