Tag Archives: Relationships

Jun 18 2012

Love and Marriage Reunites our Family

I’m  happy you are all here to witness, read, share with me, and comment on my thoughts, feelings and experiences. I didn’t want to disappear for a couple of weeks without an explanation, so todays post is to let you know what’s going on. Why I won’t be posting or reading your posts. I’LL BE BACK though.

On June 30th my youngest son is getting married. I have three sons’, the oldest two are married. This is the first of my children’s weddings I’ve been a part of. I’m so excited, determined to stay present to the entire process. Enjoy the hustle and bustle of  wedding day preparations.  Last night my sons fiancée called to share her undiluted joy.  She’s effervescent as champagne and it’s contagious!

The first time I married I was seventeen years old. My wedding was nice  but I don’t remember it being exciting. For my  parents it was a huge financial burden which they reminded me of regularly. The wedding was something they wanted to get through and be done with. I was married in the Mormon temple so my parents couldn’t get a temple recommend to be there. Secretly I was happy about it. My dad though was bitter which caused my parents to fight more than usual.  When my current husband and I decided to tie the knot we picked up the license a few hours before we got married.  Impulsive and quick as Vegas, we called a Justice of the Peace, I ran down to the local florist, bought a cheap bouquet of flowers, and thirty minutes later we got married in the yard sitting on the tailgate of his truck. You might be a redneck if… Ha!  My youngest son [the groom], was the ring bearer and the flower boy. Thinking back on that now, I’m so happy his wedding’s an event. A celebration of love.

My dress is really something! My daughter-in-law to be went shopping with me.  I’m no frump, have my own style that I wear quite well, but formal attire is not the usual for me.  We ended up choosing a Merlot colored floor length silk gown. Think red carpet stunning. I’ve worn some pretty dresses over the years but nothing like this. I was a bit concerned about standing out too much. Juneeebug, [my nick name for the blushing bride], was very persistent about my getting this one. I’m really glad she was, I feel smashing when I’m wearing it.

Most of the preparations fall upon the brides family, but they’ve delegated a few things to me. In my family I’m known for my creative flair, so one of my contributions was making the card box. For anyone who doesn’t know, it’s a box that sits at the reception so people can drop cards into it when they come in the door. Anywho, I decided to make a card box that looked like a three-tiered wedding cake. I took three different sized square white hat boxes, cut the bottoms out of each one, then glued them one on top of the other. Next I cut a slit in the top box.  The open bottoms created a shoot that let the cards drop way into the bottom of the cardboard cake. Next I sprayed the boxes with a textured paint so it would look like frosting then sprayed the whole thing with a very light pink. I used stick on jewels in different shapes [including hearts] and sizes and in various colors of pink, then glued pretty silk flowers to the corners of each layer. I wrapped the base of each box in silk fuchsia [one of her wedding colors] ribbon. The final touch was tying a bounteous bow on the top of the cake. It turned out absolutely beautiful!

I chose bright and playful invitations to invite friends and family to a rehearsal dinner my husband  and I are hosting the Thursday evening before the wedding. One of the first things on the list of ‘what to do’ during this exciting celebration, which begins on the 26th of June and continues until the 1st of July.

I’m also making up spunky flowery welcome bags for the guests who will be staying at the hotel for the wedding weekend. Original and fun, the tissue paper I’m stuffing them with is fuchsia and orange. In the bag, like Easter basket surprises, I’m sprinkling in Hershey kisses and chewy cherry hearts.

I’m a bit nervous but really looking forward to our Mother and Son dance. There are days when I can hardly believe my baby’s getting married. I wouldn’t call him a mommies boy but we’ve always been close. Luckily Juneeebug and I hit it off. Have developed a real friendship with each other.  At the risk of sounding terribly cliché, I really am getting  a daughter. Since I never had one, it’s really fun. We share clothes and jewelry and secrets. I’ve included the song we’ll be dancing to at the bottom of this page. Yes, I am going to cry.

My oldest son has two children. His two-year old son won’t be coming but his daughter who is five will be.  She’s the flower girl. I’ve only met her once when she was 18 months old and she doesn’t remember that visit.  The story is a long one. You will be reading about it sometime in the future as it’s much later in the memoir than the excerpts you’ve been reading recently.  While she’s here for the wedding I’ve made plans to take her to the Boston Aquarium. Also to bring her and her daddy to see our cabin so they can get a picture in their mind’s eye before they head back to Utah.

When my youngest son decided to stay with me after the divorce, move to New England, it split him and his brothers apart. He and my middle son, just two years apart, were very best friends so the move was incredibly painful for them both. There’s been times when there’s been almost no contact. Times when trying to stay connected was just to painful for all of us.  We’ve spent years trying to rebuild, undo some of what’s been done, and have relationships with each other that feel natural and comfortable. Slowly, it’s coming. In ways, I believe the connections are stronger than they would have been had we stayed together. Nothing is taken for granted.

Both my older sons’ will be standing up with their little brother; once very much an outcast among them. This wedding is creating a platform, an opportunity to re-seed the garden of our family. My son and his to be bride have been together for seven years and are very much in love. Their goal, other than the obvious, has been to create an atmosphere of love that their guests will be able to feel,which they’re definitely doing.

This will be the first time me and all three of my sons have been together for well over twenty years. Broken promises and hearts kept me from being a part of the weddings of my two oldest sons of which I still have regret.  As we all gather to celebrate the youngest of our clan and his stunning brides wedding day, for me, it is also a humbling, holy, family reunion.

Jun 12 2012

Ass-squared [assuming assumptions are true].

Assumption:
The act of taking for granted or supposing.
The act of taking to or upon oneself.
The act of taking possession of something: the assumption of power.
Arrogance; presumption.

Today I’m frustrated with the misunderstandings created by making assumptions. Before I move on I want to say that I also get caught up in making them on occasion.  I work against the urge though as it doesn’t allow for any genuine intimacy [in-to-me-I-see].

Yesterday I received a message from my sister that read, “Ok, what do I have to do?” Her assumption is that I have an expectation of her that she is not meeting because I’ve chosen to step away from the relationship for the time being. I’ve told her that I’m not sure what it is that I’m struggling with, I just don’t feel comfortable engaging in relationship with her at this time. Which is the truth.  In the past, if she asked me to give her a reason, I would have made something up so neither of us would have to feel the discomfort of the truth. The problem is she would then do whatever it is I asked of her, then have the expectation that all would be well because she did. Then I would have to lie and say that it is, even if it isn’t.

Recently I called a woman I know to ask her for the time of a particular meeting I was to speak at. I really just wanted to know the time the meeting began so I would know when to arrive.  She however assumed I was asking her if she would come and support me while I spoke. Immediately she began to scheme out loud as to how she could change her plans for the evening, so she could show up to support me, which she did.  When she arrived she sat down in the chair next to me which made me feel like a child, which made me feel a bit angry, which made me feel a little guilty. I thanked her for being there for me, which made me feel resentful toward her. Why didn’t I tell her I didn’t want or need her to be there for me? I didn’t want her to think I was an asshole. I was afraid if I told her the truth she wouldn’t like me.

My experiences have taught me that more times than not, after someone shows up for you in this way, they have an expectation that you will then be glad they did. If you aren’t and you let them know this by say, not responding in the way they hope you will, they’re uncomfortable and many times get angry. Which usually manifests with them backing way off. Making an assumption that you don’t need, want, or deserve support because you didn’t receive what they offered you, in the way they offered it. They rarely, if ever, ask what it is that you want or need, then do that. Perhaps they assume I will ask for more than they can or are willing to give, and most likely, I will.

Last week I asked a group of women that were in the habit of telling me they love me, not to. They are not family and I would not call most of them close friends. They are a group of good people who have a common interest and goal, but for me, being in love with each other, has nothing to do with the desired outcome we are all hoping for.  For me love is an action. Hard work much of the time.  At the very least, the action I’m looking for is to respect who I am, whether you agree or not. And when I use the word respect, I’m referring to refraining from intruding upon or interfering with my life. To accept me for who and what I am. The people I asked not to say I love you to me are people I felt were patronizing me by telling me they loved me. These women are assuming it’s what I want and need. Assuming that when I say it’s not what I want or need, I don’t know what’s best for me. They seem to assume that by saying “I love you” they are in some way doing something for me. They also expect me to respond accordingly, which most times I can’t, in good conscience  anyway.

I’ve come to realize that other people’s assumptions about what they think I want and need, what they think I “should” want and need, has been a problem for me for most of my life. I get really confused about it. Don’t want to make people uncomfortable, or to be cast off as someone who is too much of a problem. This I believe may be the root of it for me. I can’t count the times I have been in a situation like the ones above, not done what I was supposed to do according to whatever assumption someone was making, and was therefore rejected as someone who is much to difficult to get along with. It’s true, I’m impossible to get along with, if you’re hoping to have a relationship with me based on assumptions about what’s ‘normal,’ and therefore what I want or need.

My husband and I have been married for twelve plus years. He was 43 when we married and had no intention of ever getting married. He’s a handsome, capable, sexy fun guy who had lots of girlfriends along the way. When I asked him why he married me, why he stays with me, [other than I'm wonderful, wink],  he says he saved the best for last.  He also says that having a relationship with me is like climbing Mount Everest. Not everyone can or wants to do it. But if it’s your thing, and you’re fit to make the climb, the reward, the view from the top is amazing.

Mar 19 2012

The Web

 

It starts when I tell my sister hard truth.

Bitterly, she red button reacts, launches

an email missile and I shoot back.

Full on cyber strike aimed directly

at the heart of the matter. We are manufacturing

passion from pain. The way we learned love.

 

Point blank hit, she doesn’t sign; With love,

I beat her down to nothing with the truth,

elusive, when you spend life manufacturing

stories to cover the story. We launch

identities back and forth, never directly

state what we feel. They’ll get you back

 

by using it against you. We always turn back

to yesterday. Can’t let go for fear love

be lost in forgiveness, never given. Directly

transmitted between fragmented hearts,

intuitive as Google searching, we launch,

pursuing the perfect weapon. Manufacturing

 

ravenous rage. All feeling manufactured.

Nothing was authentic. We keep going back

trying to move on, we hope this fight will launch

the relationship forward. We long to be loved.

There are three sides, yours, mine, and the truth

rarely told way back then. Demands stated directly.

 

We learned well the art of war. How to direct

attention away from the facts, manufacture

life from experience devoid of personal truth.

We stopped dreaming of a future, back

there things are alive with fire! We believed in love

that lifted us right off our feet. Launched

 

us across the living room. So today we launch

love like projectile weapons. Circumvent direct

connections to soften the resolve to never love

again.  This is how you manufacture

war. Stories live on in hearts always looking back

for something that feels like truth.

 

Love launched missiles destroy lives. Manufactured

truth assumed. No direct answers. Watch your back.

Passion is painful. Love is no match for the hard truth.