I wrote my way out
I keep thinking about the Hamilton lyric....
"I wrote my way out...."
"Running on empty, there was nothing left in me but doubt, I picked up a pen, and I wrote my way out."
It's my turn.
I must write my way out.
You see, I REFUSE to succumb to depression. Not this time. Nope. I'm making a choice and that choice will be to RISE UP. (Also from Hamilton, just sayin')
For those of you who missed it, I'll give you a recap.
I met the man of my dreams. I met the man who made every dream I ever had come true and then showed me dreams I never even knew I had. I found a man who loved me unconditionally and stood by my side during one of the most dark and difficult times of my life. He showed me what he was made of, and what he was made of was staying power. I found a man who loved my boys and they loved him in return. I found the man who put a smile on my face that I never even knew I had. You know that Bible verse (which has been taken grossly out of context), "I have found the one whom my soul loves?"
That one. That's the one I found. It took me 44 years. But we found each other.
And I'm pretty sure he felt the same way about me because 9 months after our first date, he proposed to me. You know, that lifelong commitment where you pledge your life to someone, FOREVER?
Our relationship was a fairy tale.
Our relationship was not a fairy tale.
Our relationship was REALLY FREAKING CLOSE to a fairy tale.
Picture if you will, the movie montage of your favorite romance film. That was us. I told people he was my NOAH. My Noah you guys. As in, Noah and Allie from The Notebook? THAT NOAH? The fictional unicorn of a man that Nicholas Sparks created to ruin women's expectations of men forever? You guys, I FOUND ONE. I found a Noah! Except, he was better than Noah. Because he exceeded my expectations all the time. Not every time. But pretty freakin close. And if you've read this blog, you know that my expectations are ridiculous.
And here's the thing, those of you who follow my story... I have some serious trust issues when it comes to men. But I found my NOAH y'all.... and he proved himself throughout the terrible awful that he was strong and steadfast and true and my champion. He never left my side. Even when it was ugly and oh, it was ugly. He took care of me and the kids and he showed up. He showed up in a way that no other man ever has before. And because of that, he cemented himself to me. Because really, that was when he should have run, but he didn't. He was right there; in the trenches with me.
But more than just "showing up," Philip (not his actual name) treated me like a queen. Every. Single. Day. He made me feel beautiful. He actually made me beautiful because in his love I found a confidence and security I didn't know existed. I found trust. I found home. I found comfort and truth. I found a place to lay my head at night and just.... exhale. I found the man that I could just be with. We had the best times going out, whether it was to a wedding or a fancy dinner in Nashville or a jazz club or hiking the Ozarks. We found laughter and joy in the simple quiet moments at home whether it was just us reconnecting with each other, or we were hanging out with the boys around a bonfire or binge watching TV.
He became our support system in so many ways. My oldest son leaned heavily on Philip during the college application process, which was huge. Jared trusts NO MAN. When the moment came for Jared to learn whether or not he got into Vanderbilt, a moment he insisted on being alone for; not only was I allowed in the room, but he asked Philip to stay too. Monumental. He became a step dad of sorts to the boys, and they grew to lean on him and depend on him. For me, he was my partner. He helped me do things around the house from dishes to the lawn to major home renovation projects. He moved in with us in January and we worked tirelessly to make this house OUR home.
I never doubted this man for one second. Not one.
We did not fight, we did not argue. He was the calm to my storm and I pulled him out of his shell. We were a well balanced couple. We had silent conversations between our eyes from across a room. In the quiet, intimate moments when it was just us, often nothing needed to be said. Our hearts did the talking for us.
He was my person.
I could finally exhale.
The funny thing is, when I met him, I had given up completely on the idea that I would ever find anyone, and I was truly at peace with that. I knew that marriage would never happen for me again, and that was just fine. After five years of being divorced, I had more than proven I know how to live alone and how to thrive while doing it.
But he was different. He made me want to share my life. He made me want to be a wife. His wife. He made me want to belong to something bigger than just me, and that was us. He made me want to be an us.
So at some point in December, he asked my boys for their permission to marry me and they gave it gladly. On December 17, he made me this beautiful book describing me, how much he loved me, it told our story, it was the story of how he felt about me, about how he felt about wanting me. The last page said,
"I am the luckiest man alive because I have the dazzling privilege of knowing and loving the beautiful singularity that is you..."
And then he got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife.
I put my hands over my eyes and kept them closed for a long time. I didn't want to open them because I was afraid it was a dream and I didn't ever want to wake up. When I finally took my hands away all I could do was look at his face and stare into his eyes. He wanted me to look at the ring, but I couldn't take my eyes off of his face. I couldn't unlock my eyes from his. I didn't want to go to sleep that night. It took me long after he was snoring for me to fall into slumber. I didn't recognize what I was feeling. Pure bliss, total joy, security, and happiness all at once.
This just doesn't happen to me. I didn't know how to receive it, I didn't know how to enjoy it because I didn't believe it was mine. But it was mine. He was mine.
And then it was a whirlwind. we spent Christmas with my parents, we rang in the New Year together and it was perfect.... January rolled around quickly and we began both packing up his apartment and purging things in my house to make room for him. We reconfigured closets and the guest room was emptied entirely so that it could be turned into Philips music studio. The last weekend of January he officially moved in. It was such an exciting time, but truth be told it was a tad bittersweet for him to leave his Nashville bachelor pad. I had written him a letter, the last piece of mail he would receive at his apartment... telling him how proud I was of him for taking the chance to move to Nashville four years ago; and that the apartment represented so much for him and it was moving to that apartment that ultimately led us to finding each other.
That was the kind of sweet thing we did for each other all the time. Those were the ways we poured into each other and made each other feel loved and cherished and heard and seen.
And then the minute he moved in, he started his rigorous travel schedule for work. In truth, he was never home one full week from the time he moved in. And in a way, that was ok. It was an adjustment, two 45 year old only children moving in together with ALL of the guitars AND the two kids. The space was good for us. I missed him terribly when he was gone and was always over the moon for his return. In February we took Jared to Boston and while he was in debate tournaments all day, Philip and I roamed the streets and bookstores of Cambridge and fell deeper in love with each other. We sat in the Harvard bookstore for hours and read books about Greece and planned our wedding trip. The three of us were crammed into a tiny hotel room but made the best of it and shared some great laughs and created awesome memories.
March became a bit sticky as an unmentionable event took place (outside of our relationship) that caused quite honestly, the worst stress I have ever known. I can't say I was at my best. I was emotionally frayed and running on E. My bucket was empty and I had nothing to give. At times I was short, and at others, I was downright harsh. I had no patience. I apologized profusely as I knew this wasn't the best time for us. It wasn't the worst either. We had some shining moments in March for sure. We went on some great hikes, volunteered together for the March For Our Lives in Nashville, went shopping for our wedding outfits, and continued to feverishly plan all the details of our trip. He was full of grace and support during this really challenging time for me. Again, he further cemented himself to me as he continued to show up for me in ways I never imagined another human ever would.
On Friday, April 6, Philip came home from a long week on the road. He was on E. I was on E. We had what I would call our first real fight. It was more of a "very serious talk" than a fight. But it was one of those really good, cathartic conversations that you walk away feeling stronger for having. We cleared the air on some issues, communicated our feelings and decided that we needed to spend the weekend simply reconnecting with each other and filling each others buckets. We had a beautiful weekend together, not doing much of anything but just being US. It was exactly what we needed. By the end of the weekend I felt refreshed and energized and that our relationship was stronger that ever. If it was even possible, I fell more in love with him that weekend.
Monday April 9 was our one year anniversary! I bought this huge mason jar and filled it with 365 individually written notes with 365 reasons why I love him. In the morning he gave me the sweetest gift which was the picture we took on our first real date, "just in case," along with a fortune he got the week we met that said, "A beautiful relationship is about to blossom." When I came home from work he had an anniversary balloon attached to a bag and in that bag was a Hamilton shirt and a note saying, "Let's go see Hamilton in Chicago!" and knowing that I could never see it without Jared (and Luke even though he pretends not to like it) he meant, for all four of us. I was speechless to say the least. Again, I didn't know how to receive such a thoughtful, magnificent act of generosity.
Philip went out of town for work on Tuesday and returned Thursday night. The rest of us arrived home after he did from an event we attended at Vanderbilt. When we came home, we rushed right to each other and hugged and kissed. He was so excited to hear about the event. We even stayed up a bit late and watched some Parks and Rec, our current obsession. I was exhausted. I had not slept well the night before and passed out before Philip was even done brushing his teeth. I remember waking up at some point in the night and reaching for him, laying my hand on his back because I just needed to touch him, for no other reason than to know he was there.
But my stomach was a mess again that night and I had a hard time sleeping. I got the boys up and ready for school and went back to bed before I had to go to work at 10. When I woke up, Philip was already up. I texted him to come see me. He immediately came up and started asking if I needed tea, if I waned my water made for work, if I needed toast or anything for my stomach. I looked at him and said, "Babe, I've missed you, can't you just BE? You don't always have to be doing something for me, just come lay by me and talk to me." We laid in bed and talked for an hour. About the future, about moving to Nashville, about my job... eventually I hopped in the shower and got ready for work. I came downstairs and Philip told me I looked beautiful and gave me my water exactly how I like it (with a lemon of course). He walked me to the door, kissed me goodbye, and told me he loved me. I asked him to put something in the mailbox, so he actually followed me out the door so that he wouldn't forget. "You can do it later," I said.
Little did I know that "later," he would be frantically packing every single possession and leaving me, for good.
I must continue to write my way out...............
"I wrote my way out...."
"Running on empty, there was nothing left in me but doubt, I picked up a pen, and I wrote my way out."
It's my turn.
I must write my way out.
You see, I REFUSE to succumb to depression. Not this time. Nope. I'm making a choice and that choice will be to RISE UP. (Also from Hamilton, just sayin')
For those of you who missed it, I'll give you a recap.
I met the man of my dreams. I met the man who made every dream I ever had come true and then showed me dreams I never even knew I had. I found a man who loved me unconditionally and stood by my side during one of the most dark and difficult times of my life. He showed me what he was made of, and what he was made of was staying power. I found a man who loved my boys and they loved him in return. I found the man who put a smile on my face that I never even knew I had. You know that Bible verse (which has been taken grossly out of context), "I have found the one whom my soul loves?"
That one. That's the one I found. It took me 44 years. But we found each other.
And I'm pretty sure he felt the same way about me because 9 months after our first date, he proposed to me. You know, that lifelong commitment where you pledge your life to someone, FOREVER?
Our relationship was a fairy tale.
Our relationship was not a fairy tale.
Our relationship was REALLY FREAKING CLOSE to a fairy tale.
Picture if you will, the movie montage of your favorite romance film. That was us. I told people he was my NOAH. My Noah you guys. As in, Noah and Allie from The Notebook? THAT NOAH? The fictional unicorn of a man that Nicholas Sparks created to ruin women's expectations of men forever? You guys, I FOUND ONE. I found a Noah! Except, he was better than Noah. Because he exceeded my expectations all the time. Not every time. But pretty freakin close. And if you've read this blog, you know that my expectations are ridiculous.
Yeah, this Noah.
And here's the thing, those of you who follow my story... I have some serious trust issues when it comes to men. But I found my NOAH y'all.... and he proved himself throughout the terrible awful that he was strong and steadfast and true and my champion. He never left my side. Even when it was ugly and oh, it was ugly. He took care of me and the kids and he showed up. He showed up in a way that no other man ever has before. And because of that, he cemented himself to me. Because really, that was when he should have run, but he didn't. He was right there; in the trenches with me.
But more than just "showing up," Philip (not his actual name) treated me like a queen. Every. Single. Day. He made me feel beautiful. He actually made me beautiful because in his love I found a confidence and security I didn't know existed. I found trust. I found home. I found comfort and truth. I found a place to lay my head at night and just.... exhale. I found the man that I could just be with. We had the best times going out, whether it was to a wedding or a fancy dinner in Nashville or a jazz club or hiking the Ozarks. We found laughter and joy in the simple quiet moments at home whether it was just us reconnecting with each other, or we were hanging out with the boys around a bonfire or binge watching TV.
He became our support system in so many ways. My oldest son leaned heavily on Philip during the college application process, which was huge. Jared trusts NO MAN. When the moment came for Jared to learn whether or not he got into Vanderbilt, a moment he insisted on being alone for; not only was I allowed in the room, but he asked Philip to stay too. Monumental. He became a step dad of sorts to the boys, and they grew to lean on him and depend on him. For me, he was my partner. He helped me do things around the house from dishes to the lawn to major home renovation projects. He moved in with us in January and we worked tirelessly to make this house OUR home.
I never doubted this man for one second. Not one.
We did not fight, we did not argue. He was the calm to my storm and I pulled him out of his shell. We were a well balanced couple. We had silent conversations between our eyes from across a room. In the quiet, intimate moments when it was just us, often nothing needed to be said. Our hearts did the talking for us.
He was my person.
I could finally exhale.
The funny thing is, when I met him, I had given up completely on the idea that I would ever find anyone, and I was truly at peace with that. I knew that marriage would never happen for me again, and that was just fine. After five years of being divorced, I had more than proven I know how to live alone and how to thrive while doing it.
But he was different. He made me want to share my life. He made me want to be a wife. His wife. He made me want to belong to something bigger than just me, and that was us. He made me want to be an us.
So at some point in December, he asked my boys for their permission to marry me and they gave it gladly. On December 17, he made me this beautiful book describing me, how much he loved me, it told our story, it was the story of how he felt about me, about how he felt about wanting me. The last page said,
"I am the luckiest man alive because I have the dazzling privilege of knowing and loving the beautiful singularity that is you..."
And then he got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife.
I put my hands over my eyes and kept them closed for a long time. I didn't want to open them because I was afraid it was a dream and I didn't ever want to wake up. When I finally took my hands away all I could do was look at his face and stare into his eyes. He wanted me to look at the ring, but I couldn't take my eyes off of his face. I couldn't unlock my eyes from his. I didn't want to go to sleep that night. It took me long after he was snoring for me to fall into slumber. I didn't recognize what I was feeling. Pure bliss, total joy, security, and happiness all at once.
This just doesn't happen to me. I didn't know how to receive it, I didn't know how to enjoy it because I didn't believe it was mine. But it was mine. He was mine.
And then it was a whirlwind. we spent Christmas with my parents, we rang in the New Year together and it was perfect.... January rolled around quickly and we began both packing up his apartment and purging things in my house to make room for him. We reconfigured closets and the guest room was emptied entirely so that it could be turned into Philips music studio. The last weekend of January he officially moved in. It was such an exciting time, but truth be told it was a tad bittersweet for him to leave his Nashville bachelor pad. I had written him a letter, the last piece of mail he would receive at his apartment... telling him how proud I was of him for taking the chance to move to Nashville four years ago; and that the apartment represented so much for him and it was moving to that apartment that ultimately led us to finding each other.
That was the kind of sweet thing we did for each other all the time. Those were the ways we poured into each other and made each other feel loved and cherished and heard and seen.
And then the minute he moved in, he started his rigorous travel schedule for work. In truth, he was never home one full week from the time he moved in. And in a way, that was ok. It was an adjustment, two 45 year old only children moving in together with ALL of the guitars AND the two kids. The space was good for us. I missed him terribly when he was gone and was always over the moon for his return. In February we took Jared to Boston and while he was in debate tournaments all day, Philip and I roamed the streets and bookstores of Cambridge and fell deeper in love with each other. We sat in the Harvard bookstore for hours and read books about Greece and planned our wedding trip. The three of us were crammed into a tiny hotel room but made the best of it and shared some great laughs and created awesome memories.
March became a bit sticky as an unmentionable event took place (outside of our relationship) that caused quite honestly, the worst stress I have ever known. I can't say I was at my best. I was emotionally frayed and running on E. My bucket was empty and I had nothing to give. At times I was short, and at others, I was downright harsh. I had no patience. I apologized profusely as I knew this wasn't the best time for us. It wasn't the worst either. We had some shining moments in March for sure. We went on some great hikes, volunteered together for the March For Our Lives in Nashville, went shopping for our wedding outfits, and continued to feverishly plan all the details of our trip. He was full of grace and support during this really challenging time for me. Again, he further cemented himself to me as he continued to show up for me in ways I never imagined another human ever would.
On Friday, April 6, Philip came home from a long week on the road. He was on E. I was on E. We had what I would call our first real fight. It was more of a "very serious talk" than a fight. But it was one of those really good, cathartic conversations that you walk away feeling stronger for having. We cleared the air on some issues, communicated our feelings and decided that we needed to spend the weekend simply reconnecting with each other and filling each others buckets. We had a beautiful weekend together, not doing much of anything but just being US. It was exactly what we needed. By the end of the weekend I felt refreshed and energized and that our relationship was stronger that ever. If it was even possible, I fell more in love with him that weekend.
Monday April 9 was our one year anniversary! I bought this huge mason jar and filled it with 365 individually written notes with 365 reasons why I love him. In the morning he gave me the sweetest gift which was the picture we took on our first real date, "just in case," along with a fortune he got the week we met that said, "A beautiful relationship is about to blossom." When I came home from work he had an anniversary balloon attached to a bag and in that bag was a Hamilton shirt and a note saying, "Let's go see Hamilton in Chicago!" and knowing that I could never see it without Jared (and Luke even though he pretends not to like it) he meant, for all four of us. I was speechless to say the least. Again, I didn't know how to receive such a thoughtful, magnificent act of generosity.
Philip went out of town for work on Tuesday and returned Thursday night. The rest of us arrived home after he did from an event we attended at Vanderbilt. When we came home, we rushed right to each other and hugged and kissed. He was so excited to hear about the event. We even stayed up a bit late and watched some Parks and Rec, our current obsession. I was exhausted. I had not slept well the night before and passed out before Philip was even done brushing his teeth. I remember waking up at some point in the night and reaching for him, laying my hand on his back because I just needed to touch him, for no other reason than to know he was there.
But my stomach was a mess again that night and I had a hard time sleeping. I got the boys up and ready for school and went back to bed before I had to go to work at 10. When I woke up, Philip was already up. I texted him to come see me. He immediately came up and started asking if I needed tea, if I waned my water made for work, if I needed toast or anything for my stomach. I looked at him and said, "Babe, I've missed you, can't you just BE? You don't always have to be doing something for me, just come lay by me and talk to me." We laid in bed and talked for an hour. About the future, about moving to Nashville, about my job... eventually I hopped in the shower and got ready for work. I came downstairs and Philip told me I looked beautiful and gave me my water exactly how I like it (with a lemon of course). He walked me to the door, kissed me goodbye, and told me he loved me. I asked him to put something in the mailbox, so he actually followed me out the door so that he wouldn't forget. "You can do it later," I said.
Little did I know that "later," he would be frantically packing every single possession and leaving me, for good.
I must continue to write my way out...............
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