Tag Archives: trust

Life’s too damn short

, , , , ,

Dear Nora,

I will happily address your valid (and quite expected) question “WTF?” in a moment. But first, let’s talk about what’s going on with you.

I know you’ve been struggling, but more than anything right now I see you advocating and fighting for yourself in the way that only Nora does and it’s beautiful and I’m proud of you. I was so, so sorry to hear about you and Cory cutting off contact. What I heard in your previous letter before this last one was–you’re still in love with her, but it feels insurmountable–the timing is off, the geography is off, you’re not confident she would be “all in”, even if given the opportunity, and likewise you’re wary of planning your life around her in any way–although you are tempted to. But the result of all this is you feel unhappy, frustrated, distant and constantly missing her, all the while unable to fall out of love with her. Up until now, that is a lot of things outside of your control. And that blows. So then, the part that is within your control is what you ask of her and expect for yourself… Nora you asked for something really reasonable from her that would help you maintain your quality of life equation with her.*

*I have a general theory that every type of relationship either adds to our quality of life, subtracts from it, or has no noticeable impact–romantic relationships should average out to “add” because those are relationships we choose with free will…and why the fuck would we stay in something voluntary that was just subtracting from our quality of life??

You’re not asking her to move. You’re not asking her to make big decisions in her life based on your future plans. You’re not asking to be her girlfriend or be exclusive or even date you. You’re asking for minimum investment, just on a friendship level, from her emotionally. You’re asking to stay connected.  I have no doubt that medical school is a bitch, and makes any form of relationship maintenance a challenge, but if someone is a priority to you, they’re a priority. Period. If she literally cannot give even that much to you (or anyone) at this time… and your heart is hanging in limbo hoping for scraps… I think you are doing the best thing for yourself Nora.

I don’t think that snap you felt was “maybe I am done being open and caring and I am ready to be a bitch” at all. I think those were your instincts of self-protection and self-advocacy kicking in.

You KNOW you deserve someone who is going to be able to give you more than Cory can or will offer you right now. You know it. I know it. Anyone reading this knows it. I know I’ve said this before, but it really is true… sometimes being in love is not enough. And it has nothing to do with her not being a wonderful human being. She seems lovely. But the fact is she is unwilling or unable to offer you what you need from her right now. I know you are devastated. I have no doubt that being in NYC and not seeing her was extremely difficult (I won’t judge you if you caved…). But also, hold on to that pride and empowerment you felt. I hope you were much too distracted with the wonderfulness of being back in that place you love, surrounded by your dear family and friends and having your soul fed, to care.

I loved my postcard — thank you!

I’m playing catch-up on two letters here, so forgive the length! I want to talk about the trust thing you brought up. You say that ever since Trace, you can’t trust anyone. You say you were left hardened by them. Holy shit–that’s a lot of power to give that person!

Trust has been the name of the game for me over the past year. Over the past two years, for that matter. I’ve come to accept that trust is essentially two things: a gut check, and a choice. Trust yourself, Nora. Knowing what I know of you… I have little doubt that you knew what was up with Trace all along. I would bet on it. You’re mad at yourself for falling hard anyway. I would encourage you to be proud that a) your gut knew the truth, and b) you have the ability to fall for someone. Give yourself grace for letting it go on longer than it should have. And DO NOT give Trace that power–the power to harden you and change you in a way you do not want to change.

Healing is work, yes. But also, healing is taking a break. Healing is rest. Healing is new days and nourishment and knitting and Toby and nights filled with new dreams. You decide what parts to take away from your experiences. Yes, there are bruises. But those will heal with time. Focus on the parts you want to take with you.

And sometimes there are almost no parts worth taking and that is ok too.

In the end I think time washes it all back to sea, so just rescue the parts worth bringing along, and release the slimy and stinging creatures back into the ocean of “things that have happened that I choose to no longer have matter”. Trace used you? They failed to love you well, even when you poured out yourself to them? That’s on them. Let them float away into the darkness of the depths of their chosen currents. Love withheld is love wasted–that is cowardly. Love given is never wasted–it is brave. Even if it is not received as it deserves to be received. You loved someone who didn’t deserve what you gave them. Love is not a limited resource Nora. In fact, I think the more we exercise our muscles and learn to love others well, the more we have to give.

Never regret loving someone. You grew your heart in that exercise. They shrank theirs by never letting it fill up with a love of you. You were brave. Loving is always the terrifying and bravest choice.

As you continue to heal and reaffirm your gut instincts, and choose eventually to follow love again, trust will sprout up again too. Love can’t thrive without trust growing alongside it.

Ok, so while we’re on the topic of love being terrifying and following our instincts… here’s an update on me and Lily.

By every calculation I should feel extremely hesitant going into this. But the strangest part of it all (even as I say “what the fuck” to myself), is how not strange it feels. It is such a balance of excitement and peace. Somehow both new and yet familiar as home.

I feel so much myself, my best self with her. I don’t feel like any parts of me are hidden or pinched or shoved aside or shut down. I’m not trying to put on any pretenses. It feels so good! I didn’t know a relationship could fit me so well. It’s like trying on an outfit in the fitting room and just being like “damn girl”… I like how I look in this. How I look to myself.

The importance of that is, I’m not losing myself. I still see me, I still hear my own voice. I am continuing to go to therapy. I am continuing to seek balance in how I take time for myself vs. how I spend it on others. Those things won’t stop being my tasks any time soon. I still want a cat. I’m still paying off my debt. Life in general is pretty much as it was, only now she’s around for it too. Quality of life–elevated! My primary relationship is with ME. I’m not seeking anyone to fill my gaps–I fill them myself. Yes, she complements me in some ways (thank god for her sense of direction–I have none), but ultimately I am just happy to have someone I can be my whole self around, who isn’t threatened by me loving myself and being content with myself. Not only that, but she appreciates and loves that about me!

I believe she is quite a rare find Nora. She is humble and compassionate, honest and brave. She approaches life with the same type of positive attitude as me, and has a bright, natural type of joy in her. She loves hard. She works hard. She is playful, and finds beauty and humor in the day to day. She is patient, and steady and always seeking balance. She loves adventure, and her cat, and pays her bills and buys groceries. She cooks, and loves food (we cook together and I love it). She treats me so well. She gets me, and sees my worth, and thinks I’m special and awesome and is supportive and kind to me. She rolls me over gently when I’m snoring in her ear at night. We laugh so hard together sometimes I start gasping for air. And she isn’t embarrassed of me when I start crying into my soup at Panera after a hard day.

the other day I told her I was going to take a bath and she snuck into the bathroom and got this all ready for me

The other day I told her I was going to take a bath and she snuck into the bathroom and got this all ready for me…

I know it’s fast, and I know how it looks and that there might very well be some people in my life who are judging me. But you know what? I don’t care. I truly do not. Not that I don’t value concern and care of friends and family. But ultimately, I’m the one who’s living my life. I’m the one who wakes up being me every morning and lives with my choices, and who knows the inside of this relationship.

And if I have peace and love and happiness in my soul falling asleep in her arms–then you better believe I’m going to be snuggled up in that spot. Life’s too damn short.

Me & Lily

I’m not certain where this will go, but I am hopeful it’s going somewhere good. I know my worth, I know I’m a good thing, and I want someone who doesn’t just recognize that, but matches it. Based on what I’ve seen and gotten to know so far, I believe she does.

I love you and I hope you’ve come home from your trip with a renewed sense of self and hope! I want to hear about it!

Love, Ruth

P.S. I turn 30 in ten days. Holy crap! I’m going to Boston with Lily & a group of friends for a wedding and then to celebrate my birthday!

P.P.S. Please go find a cute girl to sleep with who is actually into women and who won’t get you pregnant.

P.P.P.S. I am reading Hannah Hart’s memoir “Buffering: Unshared tales of a Life Fully Loaded” right now and loving it so far (probably should throw out some trigger warnings for it… so far her memories from childhood have been rough, dealing with judgmental religion and mental health).

A decision every day

, , , , ,

Dear Ruth,

How dare you avoid me?

(This is a real question, really, how did you do it? Sometimes I want to avoid myself)

I do not want to talk about my trip to Colombia on this letter because that is going to be a really long story and it has a sad ending. I rather rant to you about marriage today and leave the immigrant rant for another letter (it’s coming though, I got so much bitching to do)

I want to respond to your question of getting ownership of your feelings and thoughts. I absolutely think you can, but it is not going to be fun. First of all, I am polyamorous. I cannot really relate to the idea of jealousy in romantic relationships. What are you jealous of? What are you worried about? That they’d leave you? That someone prettier would come around? I don’t get it man. I do know about trust in relationships. Relationships are based in decisions. People wake up every day and choose to stay with YOU. You don’t own Elise, she can look at whom she pleases and talk to whom she pleases. She can wake up tomorrow and say: FUCK THE LEASE! I AM OUT! But she has not. And she may never do that. You just have to accept that she chooses you every day and will continue to do so until she wants to. You cannot win her over, you cannot earn love. This is not a competition: you vs all other gayz. This is a partnership.

Whenever you feel jealous, count the days that Elise has chosen you. The times she has gone out of her way to please you, say thank you to the universe for ten things she has done that make you happy. By the time you are done, you won’t remember what you were jealous about.

Trust is not never being jealous. Trust is getting past those fears and insecurities and knowing they’d choose you again.

We are just so different Ruth. Like I cannot comprehend the way you think about marriage as security. My parents are married to this day and it has brought nothing but unhappiness to each other and their children. A lease, a marriage contract, paper and more paper. I can relate to the thought of “I choose this person to be my closest of kin” , this makes sense to me. The way you list an emergency contact on forms and applications. You have someone. In this sense, I get your idea of marriage. You have someone, undoubtedly. It is the certainty that they have your best interest and your happiness in mind.

But this statement I have a problem with “This person is my anchor. This person is my home”

It mostly has to do with my growing up without a family or an anchor or a “home”; feeling still like home is a foreign concept that may never make sense to me. When I broke up with my ex, I went through a whole process of re-accepting this “homelessness”. And I came across this poem:

you can’t make homes out of human beings

home warsan shire3_900someone should have already told you that

and if he wants to leave

then let him leave

you are terrifying

and strange and beautiful

something not everyone knows how to love.

By Warsan Shire (here’s the whole poem)

So what happens if the anchor lifts? You drift. What happens if you want to navigate away from port? The anchor holds you back. I am not okay with this. I am the captain of my soul (also a poem).  I have had too many “homes” to believe that they would last more than five years. I promise, I am not cynical. I am actually very romantic. But as a friend, I want you to go into this thinking:

a new contract every day, a decision every day.

Trace and I are coming onto a one year anniversary of our very first date. I have never been with anyone so different to myself. Half the time, I am almost certain they would leave. And I am surprisingly okay with it. They have been consistently around for the last five months and have made me very happy. We have had conversations about moving in together and marriage and such. We agreed to seriously revisit the concept when we have been together for a year.

I am doing better in terms of stress (or trying) the game plan was to reduce the number of commitments I currently have and make alone time to recharge and1461865314292 recover. It has worked well so far. I had a very abusive roommate (he’s a little psycho though, like not all there) who harassed me on text every day and yelled at my guests and threatened to have me evicted (after I gave moving notice). It was making me feel very unsafe, called 911 several times. This was definitely not helping my stress levels. But now I have moved and I am pleased
with my apartment, I have more space and more privacy and no harassment whatsoever. My biggest problem is Toby pooping in the house, but currently working on that. 

I am also making a fairy garden in the small yard we have in the back. Its going to be so beautiful. I will send pictures when it’s done.

I cut my hair recently, what do you think?

1461865196031

Thank you for putting up with my weirdness. I will write to you again about Colombia, and privilege and goals and being an immigrant. It’s on my mind right now but too stormy to make a decent post out of it.

Love,

Nora

PS. Yorkies are perfect. Great for allergies, small and well behaved. I approve.

Choosing one another

, , , , , ,

Dear Nora,

I have to confess.. I’ve been avoiding you a little bit. Not really deliberately, but if I’m being totally honest it’s because as I’ve been thinking about the question “why marriage” I am having trouble coming up with a good answer for you.

So instead of waiting to reply until I can offer a nicely packaged response, instead I will offer you just my scattered thoughts on the subject. First, a few quotes:

“that’s the most beautiful thing in the world: when two people become fluent in choosing one another.” -HB

“Why do we choose partners so different from ourselves? It’s not fate, chance or clichés like ‘the heart wants what it wants’. We choose our partners because they represent the unfinished business from our childhood. And we choose them because they manifest the qualities we wish we had. In doing so, in choosing such a challenging partner and working to give them what they need, we chart a course for our own growth.” – Modern Family

That I can tell you—if I know anything about Elise and I, it’s that she helps me chart my course for growth. But somehow, simultaneously accepting me, 100% as I am in this moment. I just think marriage offers you “security” (I know divorce…  people break promises and are human and fail… all that crap…)—but it is someone saying to the world, I choose this person to be my closest of kin. I choose to work through the hard parts of life with them. I choose to share the best parts with them. This person is my anchor. This person is my home.

spring

Spring <3

Elise signed her first ever lease with me. She had previously just rented rooms, or lived with someone who owned a house, or somehow just got by with out ever having to make that legal commitment. So it was a big step for her to enter into a binding contract with me. NOT that she couldn’t get out of it, there is always a way out if you really want out. But by her taking that step with me, it demonstrated that she was “in this” with me. That’s what marriage is, x1000. Not a one year lease. But looking around at this crazy world and crazy life, and saying “I’m in this with you”. You could do it and mean it just the same without the paperwork, and there is always a way out, contract or not. But the act of publicly and legally binding to that person, it’s a demonstration of that commitment. It’s the act of doing that that adds the meaning, not the paper itself.

I know what it’s not. It’s not someone responsible for your happiness. It’s not your “everything” (no one person will ever be able to fulfill all your needs, nor are they supposed to). It’s not a fairy tale.

One more quote for you. Actually, this one is a poem:

What love isn’t

It is not a five star stay. It is not compliments and it is ever ever flattery.
It is solid. Not sweet but always nutritious
Always herb, always salt. Sometimes grit.
It is now till the end. It is never a slither, never a little
it is a full serving
it is much
too much and real never pretty or clean. It stinks – you can smell it coming
it is weight
it is weight and it is too heavy to feel good sometimes. It is discomfort – is is not what the films say. Only songs
get it right
it is irregular
it is difficult
and always, always
surprising.

– Yrsa Daley-Ward

I’ve been fighting some of my more infuriating and possessive demons this past week or so. God, how I long to be free of them. Jealousy is like a puppeteer that laughs at me fighting my strings and makes me look like fool. I’m tired of the game, and I want out. I want ownership of my thoughts and feelings again Nora. Do you think I can get that back? I am determined to.

Your panic attacks sound terrifying. How do you handle that? Those moments of losing control, and knowing you’re not crazy, but also knowing something is sweeping over you that is bigger than you—something that can’t be reasoned with?

Have you come up with a new game plan to help with stress?

Trace sounds like a lovely person, and I’m glad you have them as a support, as well as some good and growing friendships. I think owning the identity of agender seems brave and beautiful and freeing. But also probably really hard, in practice, because our world is so binary with gender—even our languages! People get so uncomfortable with things they can’t categorize in a clearly labeled file folder.

I have people that feel permanent in my life, namely my family, especially my siblings who are my favorite humans in the world and get me and accept me in a way that I could never replace. I know permanency is an illusion and no one is truly permanent in life. People come and go and change and grow together and apart. Or sometimes a friend moves away and falls off the face of the earth (I’m so sorry that happened to you, friend), or gets married and has kids and everything changes. With friendships, I’ve had people revolve in and out over long timespans, and I think that is ok. A few have really stuck in my heart, and I think will be around “for good” in one way or another, but I guess time will tell. That is one of the bigger things I am learning to accept.

My dear, your story is anything but boring! I can literally not even imagine my 16-year-old self handling everything you went through. Sixteen-year-old Ruth was just going to youth group, swim team, and obsessing over The Lord of the Rings and Princess Diaries. My greatest challenge that year was AP U.S. History. So, if that tells you anything…

I want to hear about your trip back to Colombia! Details please.

Your friend, Ruth

P.S. Seeing pics of Toby makes me miss the little fur babies who’ve been part of my life. I am currently petless, but I know Elise & I will remedy that hopefully sooner rather than later. She wants a yorkie. So… that probably means we’ll be getting a yorkie (the girl gets what the girl wants).

Pretty Lies and Ugly Truths

, , ,
Dear Nora,
IMG_0589

I knew we came into each other’s virtual lives for a reason. It is funny to me that we’ve never met in “real” life. But I am sure we will remedy that some day. In the meantime, thank you for your letter.

IMG_1497

We took a road trip to beautiful Montana for Valentine’s Day.

I finished The Book of Unknown Americans (Cristina Henríquez) this week, and there was a line that reminded me of what you said, that everything sounds better in Spanish: “English was such a dense, tight language. So many hard letters, like miniature walls. Not open with vowels the way Spanish was. Our throats open, our hearts open.” The book was moving, about Latinos moving to the US from all over South and Central America, pursuing the “American Dream”. It’s fiction, but I suspect there was a lot of truth in the stories it told.

In all of this worrying about being cheated on and trusting others, I’ve been distracted from the part I’m most ashamed of–as a result of all of this, I stopped trusting myself. That is the biggest piece I must sew back together in my new canvas–it is the heart of it all.

After she cheated and I was hurt, I should have been my own greatest advocate–first and foremost protecting and defending myself. Have the self-respect to stand up and fight for myself. But I am ashamed to say that isn’t what I did. Instead I limped out slowly, with my head hung and cowered, mumbling something about how that was all I was worth. I made poor decisions in the aftermath that there are no excuses for. Even now it makes me cringe. My ex is long gone, so who cares if I can trust her anymore. But ME? I see her daily, face-to-face in the mirror, and I am still pissed at her. I expected more of myself. I deserved more from myself. I let myself down when it really counted and as a result lost a considerable amount of self-respect and the much of my ability to trust myself.

Now that I have the perspective I lacked when I was in it–it is all so clear to me, and I am ready to put in the work. I will regain the trust, I will forgive myself for not acknowledging my own worth, and I will not soak in the guilt.

No one is above it. No one. No one is above being a coward, and taking the easy way, and lying and cheating and covering up their lies and skulking around and betraying their own beliefs and hurting others. Not you, not me, not my ex, not the girl I’m dating now. I guess all we can ask of ourselves, and others, but especially ourselves, is to be as honest as we can be. That sounds so obvious, but my god it is hard. Lies try to protect our pride and our ideals of who we are and who we’re trying to be, and are dressed up as qualifications and justifications and reasonings. In fact, lies are quite often much more pleasant and pretty than the ugly, raw, vulnerable truth. It’s hard to be honest with ourselves, let alone with a partner.

Being honest doesn’t mean beating yourself up and making a big show of it. It means owning what you’ve done, humbling yourself, making amends and then learning from it and moving forward when you’ve made a mistake.

It sounds like that’s what you’ve done, Nora. I know that can’t have been easy. But I’m proud of you for taking positive steps in accepting yourself, learning from what happened, and figuring out what you really need. I like what you said about forming relationships that are real and not ideal–more on that later. I am lucky to have found someone who is a very brave and honest soul. She makes an effort daily to self-examine, and offers up the truth, even when it paints herself in an un-flattering light. It is refreshing, to say the least. It might not be easier, but that’s how I’d like to go through life.

Only two things are certain in life: one day, you will die. And in the meantime, you have to live with yourself.

Here’s to forgiving our own cowardice, accepting ourselves, and telling the ugly truths.

Your friend, Ruth

Coming out of Winter

, , ,
Dear Nora,
IMG_0589

I’m sitting this morning at a favorite coffee shop in my neighborhood, and today is the first day I truly believe spring is coming again. It’s been a little over a year since I showed up on Portland’s doorstep, standing broken-hearted in the rain, and hoping that this place held the fresh start I needed to restart my heart.

IMG_0588-(1)

One of the first things I did after moving here was attend a concert of the Portland Lesbian Choir. I stood in the very back of the packed hall, and my eyes filled with tears of joy as I watched this community of brightly clothed women singing passionately together–and being met by thunderous applause of the loving audience. I didn’t know a single soul in the room, but it felt like home, and I knew I belonged here.

Nora, last night I was in that same place, a year later… I stood this time on the stage, singing with more than 60 of my sisters. And in the audience–good friends, supporting me, and among them my girlfriend of almost 11 months with tears in her eyes, smiling at me.

This winter has been dark and dreary. I’m realizing, as time passes, where the deepest bruises on my heart are. A simple circumstance or word will brush past and I’ll yelp out in pain–surprising even myself. When my relationship of 6.5 years abruptly ended at the close of 2014 with confessions of cheating and lies from my then-girlfriend, I sank into a dark place. It’s a sobering phenomenon how these things, which are no fault of your own, are somehow internalized as something that is your responsibility. Like… there had to be something wrong with me to make her do that. I am slowly, but surely, working to rebuild and restore my self-worth. It is hard and good work. But I do get discouraged when I see the steps I took backwards.

Worse than that though, my ability to trust has been reduced to rubble. That kills me, because that doesn’t feel like who I am–it’s a betrayal of myself and also a wrong against the amazing woman I’m dating–she deserves to be trusted. How do you get to the point where every harmless thing is not perceived as a threat? And when you no longer assume the worst (that everyone I date will inevitably cheat on me)?

There are no blank slates, only hearts that are worn and bruised–that is the starting point we have to work with. But I hold tight to faith that good and strength come from the broken places.

It has definitely brought about raw and honest conversations about trust and fidelity for Elise and I.

It is terrifying to risk my heart again. But it demands that I take that risk. My heart is braver (and maybe more foolish) than my mind. A year ago, on Valentine’s Day, I met a small, hilarious, sassy Colombian girl… and I knew immediately she was going to be an important soul for me to know. Shouting over the crowded dance club about our Christian upbringing and coming out, I felt more known by her within minutes than I had felt in a long time.

11536147_867198726433_8022379433291113949_n

Here’s to brave and foolish hearts, and healing.

Your friend, Ruth