I See the Moon (The Moon Sees Me)

Burn These Words (Infinity)

Cy Twombly

Most couples, I think, seem to have their words.

You know, their nicknames of affection.

(Or maybe that's only when you fall in love too young. Too naive. In error?)

Dude and I had words.

Words that were just between him and I,
in the alone times, the quite times, the private times.
In the good times.

Pookie.

And, infinity.

These words made us giggle. They made us tear up.
They were salutations. And whispers.

Today, I find these combination of letters, the sideways 8, absolutely ridiculous and revolting.

I think it's time to do something dramatic with these words.

Like I don't know, burn them for all of their foolishness.

A word as silly as Pookie couldn't ever stand the test of time or withstand the struggles of good times and bad, richer, poorer, 'til death.

And Infinity needed a stronger love.  It needed trust. Respect. It needed strength.

I don't need Dude for endless love and happiness.

I don't need infinity.

The High Road (Initiation is Brutal)

Martin Wehmer

"I promise you that someday, you will look back at this chain of events and chuckle - feeling proud you made it through by taking the high road. 

You are a beautiful, dynamic, classy woman who will win this race with elegance."

 ~ Sherri, Founding Member

*

Seven months in. The calendar a blur. 

Initiation into this club is exhausting, physically and mentally. 

My body aches with the stress and fatigue of worry.

Our kids, my bank account (current balance: $84), the house, the lawyer bills, 

the car, the lawyer bills again?

And anger. 

Dude, who so quickly ran away wants to live a simpler life. 

A bargain of a simpler life.

So I fight.

I cling to Sherri's words.

I run it off.

I hug our children.

Get some rest.

Keep going.

Oh, how I'm longing for the day when can I look back at this,

the day that I can look down at him,

from my perch on the high road.

~

Chapter One (A Dozen Years In)

What just happened has actually been looming for a good few years. What just happened has made my life pretty much hell. It's a bad dream that doesn't wash off with a splash of cold water to the face,  a bad dream with a villain on a mission to destroy me.

FLOAT, by Beth Hoeckel

Do Us Part? Tip #1: Trust that Gut Instinct, Girl. 

Dude, we’ll call him, was. Checked. Out.  Locked behind the passwords on his cell phone and computer, shut behind the closed door of his office, away on another business trip that had, you're not going to believe this, just sprung up.  He was not at the dinner table or the parent teacher conferences, and he was definitely not on the other side of the bed.

Dude's issues seeped in and the next thing I knew I was standing in them knee deep.  Waist deep. Up to my chin. At first, I accepted lies as truth, shook my head, strange. Things didn't feel right, look right, smell right. Our joint bank account didn't add up. Without any warning, it was mine alone.

Too late, I questioned truths for lies. Dude morphed. He became scary, embarrassing, verbally and physically abusive.  When he withdrew, I gave him space. I pandered to this monster's needs and demands.  If I brought up my areas of concern or attempted to help problem solve,  I was ridiculed.  Most sadly, I accepted his insults and slander directed at me and I said that I was sorry.  

The man I had married was gone. Dude was a cliff falling into the ocean in a violent, slow motion collapse.

In survival mode at last, I began to step away, just back away, from the edge,  slowly, slowly now, to protect myself. I couldn’t afford to get caught in his midlife crisis fall, his midlife crisis fail. Our daughters needed me.

If my portrait had been painted during this time, I would be clasping my hands, three daughters wrapped, intertwined around me. I'm afraid I'd be staring into space, staring though the ghost of Dude, wondering where he’d gone. And on a table to my side, the pieces of a puzzle that were supposed to depict our marriage and a family, but wouldn’t fit together.