Portlandia

So I’m sitting in the O’Hare International Airport in Chicago…my flight should be boarding in a half hour… but I should have been back in Philly by now… honestly the uncertainty of travel is what gets me most anxious. Delayed flight out of Portland, watched my plane leave from Chicago… got told that I won’t be getting out of here until 7am tomorrow and was like fuck that I just saw 12 people not get on that flight that was supposed to be held because we were delayed leaving Portland because you assholes here were congested. So yep, commuter plane with only 48 seats… I’m glad I don’t have to spend the night here but I’m actually sort of terrified of commuter planes… like there should be another word other than turbulence for what’s experienced in those tiny metal death traps. Luckily my affinity for sleep far out weighs my paranoid fear of plummeting to my death and I sleep on most flights I take. I love take off and landing though, which is nonsensical because statistically speaking, those are the most likely times for shit to go wrong.

So Portland was pretty damn fantastic. One complaint, not enough trashcans… like San Diego I have to give you props for that, they’re on every block out there and sometimes half way through the block.  Subsequently the city is really clean, plus the street sweeping they do… But yea other than that Portland, you didn’t let me down. So many bikers and walkers, they really make it so easy! The Saturday market was amazing, got some hilarious shirts, and visited Powell’s books, which I could spend a lifetime in not even exaggerating a little. Seriously, largest bookstore EVER, with themed rooms and a rare books room which was really cool. Had to eat some VooDoo Donuts, and I totally pigged out… Captain my captain (cap’n crunch on a donut) Rasberry Romeo OMG couldn’t get enough of that filling, Old fashioned Maple – delicious, Sailor got a Maple Bacon one which was a thing to be hold, and then of course the famous VooDoo doll donut being stabbed by a pretzel. Went to the International Rose Garden this morning and was kicking myself because I totally should have put aside an entire afternoon for that place, not an hour…. Only thing for certain, I MUST GO BACK.

Everything else just feels totally jumbled now. It was really nice to spend some solid time with my Sailor and to just relax. I made it mandatory for no phone calls to or from his folks, so that was nice. We had a wetting down Saturday night, which means anyone on the ship who got a promotion pays for an awesome party where everyone else drinks for free. I will have to say I’m still impressed with the Sailor. I didn’t even say anything to him and he decided of his own accord to just stick with beer the whole evening, no liquor and he was great! I think I got more drunk then he did… so that was a pleasant change. I can see he’s trying, and that he wants to do everything he can to make things better and different, I just still don’t believe that they can be.

Finally home and in bed now, and so dreading going into work tomorrow… I’m definitely going to be a total zombie. Everyone is already asking how Portland was, and some people I know the underlying question really is, did you do it?? Did you finally have the balls and conviction to just say it, “I want a divorce”. The word “divorce” was actually spoken several times, but not really from my mouth…I did use the phrase “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results”. He acknowledged that he’d been taking me for granted and wasn’t always putting me first because he thought he had me forever. That he knows he needed to work on his drinking and that he’s much better, that he’s improved on the household chores front, that he’s more practical about spending money, that he’s actively trying not to make fun of me when we’re out with other people.  How he’ll talk with his parents when he gets back in August and how we won’t live near them and there will be boundaries. We genuinely had a nice time together but it’s hard for me to discern what’s due to our level of comfort, to my longing for companionship, and what’s actually just from him.

It really didn’t help that the whole time I was in Portland I couldn’t help but think about the Mountain Man. I saw this really interesting cycling shop as we were walking around downtown and immediately thought of him and that if I was here with him, we so would have gone in and stayed for a while. Then I wondered how my Sailor would feel if he knew how often I think about another man. When I was at the Rose Garden this morning I just knew the Mountain Man would have had a field day with his camera. I often fantasize how we would take trips together to places specifically to get our amateur photography fix.  I used to think that the Sailor and I balanced each other out, but now it feels more like we’re way too different to ever weather the storm of this so called life. But there’s still a part of me that doesn’t want that to be true and I don’t fully understand it. I know I don’t want to hurt him, and I know I don’t want to have to admit to being wrong, and I don’t want to have invested so much time into something for nothing.

My Sailor told me that I can’t let go of all the shit that’s happened over the years because I’m holding onto those reasons to justify leaving. I said I’m afraid that I don’t love him the way I’m supposed to be able to make it through all the ups and downs we’re bound to face, and that he’s right I let go of so much shit that my family has put me through, but I can’t seem to do the same for him. I said I was sorry that I don’t know why I can’t do that for him, and he said because you were hoping to find someone you wouldn’t have to do that for. I cried, as he held me and said you only gave me a year, I know so much more now, we can start over.   

I want to believe him that we can start over, but there’s this part of me that thinks this all might have been doomed from the moment I started to have feelings for the Mountain Man. That after experiencing that type of a connection, there is no way things with the Sailor will ever feel right. That even if he works his butt off to be the best partner in the world, I’ll still feel like I’m missing something.

On the War Path

So haven't had a great week so far, my sailor sent me an email asking how it was going and letting me know how excited he is to see me this weekend in Portland. After summarizing what's gone on since the last email I'd sent him, I was just in such a mood that I went on a bitch rant. Enjoy.

Hey Sailor,

Yesterday I had to go to a funeral, my Great Aunt Rita from my Dad's side of the family died. The day started off shitty, literally, Bow crapped his crate, had to clean him up, missed the viewing and service, made it to the cemetery part and the luncheon afterwards, and then hung out with my Dad for the afternoon since I hadn't seen him in a while and won't be seeing him on Father's day. Got home, Bow had crapped the crate again.

I'm not too worried because I think it has everything to do with the popsicle your parents insisted he neededSunday night because it was so hot... I'm pretty sure the food coloring and sugar was too much for his stomach.. I had some of that ID canned food left from the last time your parents let him eat bad shit for him, and he got sick on me. He slept through the night fine and (my new Roomie) is home with him this morning.

Sunday night when I was over at your folks, your sister was actually home too, but she purposefully stayed in the TV room and never came out into the living room to say hi or anything. The only time she surfaced, and she stayed out in the hallway and I was sitting in the corner where your bookcase used to be so I didn't see her face, was to let us know that the lunch lady's husband died (I didn't know the name.. maybe from QOP? apparently it's very sad especially because the daughter has cancer...)

I just feel like I'm owed an apology for how disrespectful (your sister) has been through out this whole thing. And yet it totally feels like everyone sees me as the bad guy in this situation, which is fucking bullshit. Like not only was all of it just rude in general, but it was extra awful because I'm not just a random person who was her roommate that she was fucking over, I'm her sister in law, and it's also disrespectful to you and our marriage. Because even if things were great, we already have the stress of the separation, like my "home" should be a relaxing environment, not stressful. By no means did this make everything else going on, any better.

The whole thing was a shitty situation to be put in, and when I asked your parents for help, all I got was, we trust you and that you'll do what you need to do. Meanwhile your mom's saying shit to (her friend) in front of me about how she's so not looking forward to (your sister's) messes being back in the house, as if to say I'm such an awful person to be putting her daughter back in her house. It's not my job to remind (your sister) she still owes me money, and when I see her going down the shore and partying with her friends and showing off new shoes I want to slap her. Like how dare you be flaunting all that shit when you owe me $700 and I've already agreed to cut that in half "for you getting out so quickly and before the month was up".

And all the shit about not knowing about (your ten year old cousin's) birthday get together, or the mother's day one, or that we were also celebrating (your 30 y/o cousin's) birthday, it's honestly starting feel like your mother is doing it on purpose to make me look bad in front of the rest of your family. 

I have been doing things for years for you, because I love you, and because I felt guilty and obligated to do so. Well fuck all of you. I'm not staying and trying for me, I've been doing it for you, and I don't like you enough at this point to want to stay or try anymore. 

You say all of the right things, all these nice and lovely things, about how much you love me and how beautiful I am. But you never make me feel that way about myself. You make me feel self conscious when you grab my stomach rolls, and the fat under my chin, and when you make comments about how much I love food. You don't talk to me respectfully when we're alone or in public, you think I'm ridiculous for wanting more from you because my god it's not like you're beating me or cheating. They way you talk to me about "how you and your family have been there for me" and "who else loves me as much as you do" you've convinced me that those things are true, but they're fucking not. You and your family have been a huge part of my life for the past 6 years, but my siblings, and my parents, and (BFF since I was 3) and (BFF since I was 6) have been there a hell of a lot longer. They know me, and they saw me becoming someone that I wasn't and I was way too in love with you to see it.

I am strong, funny, smart, and beautiful, could I stand to get back in shape, of course I could but I haven't been able to love myself enough to really be committed to it, because you have made me feel small, and stupid and unworthy. That if I didn't have you, I'd have no one, that no one else could ever love me as much you do.  That I'm just an over reactive bitch, who's unreasonable, and I just need to be oh so grateful I found someone to put up with my crazy self. So I have stayed and recommitted myself to you over and over again after wanting to leave so many times.  But the thing is, I know that I wouldn't be so crazy and mean if I wasn't so frustrated and disappointed all the time. And I know that out of the sheer number of people in this world, you will never be the only one to love me.

The glass has been shattered, and either this weekend in Portland you can show me why you are worthy of me, or I'm done. I don't want any of this, and you can't make me want it, and staying just because I love you and don't want to hurt you, is not doing either one of us any favors.