HTTR

*to the tune of "Friends in Low Places" by Garth Brooks. Ben, this one is for you. Start prepping your vocal chords, my brother.*

Blame it all on my faith,
I just texted Kate,
To bet against next Sunday's game.
The Pat's and the 'Skins,
Let the the battle begin,
And may the loser be shamed.

So my teams three and four,
Maybe somehow they'll score,
Against the Pat's defensive line.
If Cousin's can lead,
And Garcon can receive,
I feel it will turn out just fine.

Cause I'm a Redskins fan,
Whatever, whenever,
Every week I believe,
They'll keep it together,
It hasn't gone that way.
But we'll be ok.
Yeah, RG3 should've been a never,
And it's hard to see the team getting better,
But I'm a fan,
Whatever, whenever.

So I guess I was wrong,
I forgot about Gronk,
Edelman, Brady and Blount.
Another Patriots win,
They did it again,
Dominated, and wore my team out.

Yet I'm not gonna freak,
I'll wait till next week,
In seven days things will look great.
Meanwhile, I lost the bet,
And she won't let me forget:
This song's for the Patriots and Kate.

Cause I'm a fan,
Whatever, whenever,
Every week I believe,
They'll keep it together,
Every week I'm let down,
But I still stick around.
And every game feels like forever,
But I can't give up on this sad endeavor,
Cause I'm a fan,
Whatever, whenever.
 

The Pizza Is Real

You've known me your entire life. If you know one thing about me, you know that I love pizza. I've always loved pizza. I've always wanted a pizza to call my own.

One day, I walk into a pizza place and decide I will eat no other pizza but the pizza from this place. For better or worse. Till death do us part.

For twelve years, I do just that. I never get tired of that pizza, though very sad that it's starting to make me feel miserable more and more. Still, this is the pizza I've chosen and by God, I'm going to stick with it if it kills me. Why? Because I love this pizza.

Then it happens. I find out the pizza isn't even real pizza. In fact, nothing about the pizza was true. The pizza is a lie. Not only is the pizza a lie, it's been giving itself out free while I've been having to pay all these years.

The pizza place closes its doors and moves elsewhere, to continue giving its fake contents out to people who either don't know or don't care.

This hasn't ruined pizza for me, though. I decide to move on. I try other, new pizza in rapid succession, hoping that any one of them will be better. Not hard to top, but in the end I give up, knowing that the right pizza might just have to be something that shows up.

Then I notice a pizza place that has been there the whole time, I'd just didn't see it because I was so focused on my twelve year pizza commitment that it didn't even occur to me until I was pizzaless. I think, "Ok, I'll give it a shot."

And guess what? It's the best pizza I've ever had. Ever. Eeeeeeeever. And because you've known me your whole life, and known the struggle is real, I rejoice at the chance to tell you, "I think I found new pizza!!" I'm ecstatic. I'm giddy. I'm so happy, I can't stop smiling at the very thought of this pizza.

I'm bursting at the seams with unfathomable joy when I tell you.

And the only thing you say is, "Ew."

Fine. I'm not going to share anything about the pizza with you.

One Man's Trash

After the ex moved out at the beginning of July, one of my dear friends suggested I jump into the dating game. Why wait? God knows my ex hadn't and that was while I was still "blissfully" married to him. I weighed that advice against the people who told me I needed to wait a year, at least, before jumping into a relationship. 

Dating is something I've never actually done before, at least not dating more than one person. I'd only ever been with my ex. What do people even do? As a young lady, I was taught that dating was specifically for the purpose of finding your mate. Is it any surprise I married the first guy I dated? And while that isn't untrue, it turns out you can go out with a person and have absolutely no intention of ever marrying them. 

Dating for fun. It's possible. Who knew?

I stood on the precipice of this vast canyon of unknown experiences and was given this additional, and life changing, piece of advice. 

"Kate, there will be men you want to hang out with, and men you want to sleep with. The trick is finding the one you want to do both with." As I contemplated stepping over the edge, I didn't hear the added, "and you'll probably have to go through a lot before you find him."

This is not the post to talk about the descent and what manner of things I found there. Oh no. This is the post to tell you about two things I've learned:

First, unless you have an idea of what you're worth, you will put up with a lot of things you ought not to for longer than you ought to. Take it from me, someone who denied my marriage had actually been very bad for a very long time. 

Second, my new mantra is "truth and perspective." 

I am shocked at the way my ex sees me. It's ugly. In his mind, I've been as ugly to him for years as he is ugly to me now. He doesn't see me as I am, and I no longer see him as who I thought he was all this time. According to him, I've been worthless. Worse than that, I've been a soul-sucking leech, the reason for his financial ruin, for his giving up the only job he ever knew, for his three little "consequences," twelve years of misery and, to date, his greatest regret. 

That hurt. But that's perspective without the balance of truth. Nothing will change it for him. 

And for a while I thought nothing would change it for me. I thought the world of my ex for a very long time, a lot of hero worship. For him to think those things of me is devastating and some of it really cut me to the core. 

But after a summer in the canyon of vast experiences, I can tell you that perspective always needs to be balanced with the truth. Not just his of me, but my own of myself. 

If I hadn't learned this before now, I would be second guessing something that happened to me recently. Someone I've known for a very long time looked at me and saw something valuable. I don't know what that means, where it will lead, or what will happen in the future. But I do know that while the perspective of one says I wasn't worth keeping, the perspective of another is that I'm worth having. 

Rathe than question the latter, I've decided to take it as truth. 

Maybe, just maybe, I can be treasure this time. 

Worthy

It was one of the most beautiful days. Blue sky for miles, and fluffy white clouds. Country roads and cool air. Early spring, just after Easter.

She was just a baby in the backseat, my oldest. Not yet two, with her mass of curly hair and her little cherub cheeks. I was in the passenger side, my brow furrowed with worry. We had a flight to catch back to California, and I was plagued by what I had to face there: a husband about to go on deployment, and a marriage that was crumbling.

I looked at him as he drove. He was my dear friend. He looked as he always did, pale skin, blue eyes, black shirt, scruffy and blonde and young. He always seemed so young to me, even though we were only a few years apart.

"What will I do?" I asked him. "What will I do if everything falls apart?" I wasn't strong back then, or at least I didn't see myself as such. The idea of being alone and raising a baby terrified me. I couldn't see beyond my fear.

He didn't take his eyes off the road as he answered.

"Give me a few years." He replied. "Give me a few years to make something of myself, and I will take care of you."

I was touched by his words, surprised by what he meant by them. Something between us changed that day. He suddenly didn't seem so young. From a boy to a man, right before my eyes.

To my lasting regret, and for what I thought was his own good, I was dismissive. I responded with something like, "That's sweet."

I think of that conversation a lot these days. Give me a few years. Give me time, to prove to you what you surely must know. The offer of security. The offer of stability. The offer of love. Give me time to be worthy of you.

He felt I wouldn't take him as he was. He was right, but for the wrong reasons. Five months after that conversation, he was driving that same car and was in a fatal accident. It was only after his death that I understood that he wasn't unworthy of my consideration. I was wholly unworthy of his.

Over five years have passed. I find myself in much the same circumstances, with more to worry about. With three little kids instead of one. But I am not afraid. The marriage did crumble, but I haven't crumbled with it. There is strength, and at its source is the will to do anything for the ones that I love. At its source is a wellspring of love given to me unconditionally that I was to reciprocate.

I will make something of myself. Give me a few years. Give me time to be worthy.

Truth and Reality

Here is the reality:

I wake up at six every morning, usually with one or more kids sleeping in my bed. No one sleeps well these days.

I go to work, struggling to find a routine, to find my place. I worry I'm not doing a good job.

I come home, just in time to help get the oldest from the bus stop.

Walking back to the house, I pass his car. Sometimes it's there. Sometimes it's not. He lives across the street from me. His life is his own business.

He lives with his aunt. She was my friend. She might still be my friend. But I don't know. My feelings about his walking away from all of us, and getting to walk right into her home, makes me feel like my feelings are completely invalidated. Like the heart break I feel, the gut wrenching, chest tightening, rivers of tears pain I feel doesn't matter. It's all for the kids, right? It doesn't feel like it.

"We would have done the same for you," she said. That's easy to say. I didn't walk away from my family.

I asked him today to please be with the kids for an hour. Just an hour, so I could get the oil in the car changed.

"I have plans." he replied. "I'll be out." Smug. Smirking. He ran by us today, as we walked home. He reminded me again that he had plans.

Congratulations on being out. I'll be taking care of my kids after a long day at work. I'll be fielding their questions on why they can't see you tonight with generous answers of "it's just not daddy's night," instead of, "Daddy would rather spend time with other people than you."

Do I sound upset? I am.

Here's the truth, though:

I wake up at 6. Shortly after, my sweet cousin, who isn't even my blood relative, shows up to baby sit. She makes me breakfast, she packs my lunch, and she gets the kids ready to walk to the bus stop.

When I arrive at work, I'm surrounded by coworkers and friends who love and support me in my goals. Who saw me cry at the end of the day, and put their arms around me and told me it would be ok. They're here for me.

When I come home to the bus stop, my youngest babies are waiting there, arms stretched out and running across the grass waiting for me.

We walk home, his car is sometimes there and sometimes it's not. He ran by us. It hurts. I won't deny it. Seeing him, knowing he is with other women, knowing that we mean so little to him...it hurts.

But it won't always hurt. I can't see through the darkness right now. I can't imagine a day when I won't look at him without feeling loss, and anger and hate. But my cousin said to me, "You're in the dark of the cavern, but don't start trying to sprint out. You'll just be hitting the walls. Walk slowly, and believe eventually you'll see the light."

When I feel like falling apart, I tell myself, "It's not my loss, but what I've gained."

His cruelty and indifference are not my loss. I've gained freedom without him.