Tag: relationships

  • Current Mood

  • “you are safe”

    I love my husband.

    Jared says I have been less afraid of him this year; that I am making progress.

    He says for years in the 2010s to the early 2020s I flinched, as in actually jumped, whenever Jared reached out to touch me.

    Jared says it hurt, but he knew it was not him I was reacting to: it was ghosts of the past.

    The body keeps score.

    And even now, my nervous system is highly wired and worn out.

    But I do love my husband, and I am learning to trust the love that he has shown me consistently for 22 years now.

    Trust is hard.

    Trusting men is harder.

    The body keeps score and even with 22 years of careful and tender care, there are confusing outbursts occasionally. It’s hard to remember that my husband is not the enemy sometimes.

    And when my nervous system feels short-circuited due to high alert, the best thing I can do is bury my head in Jared’s chest and let him tell me, without me saying a word, “You are safe.”

    In fact, when I am at my most distressed, Jared takes off his shirt to hold me, telling me I need the contact of his warm skin.

    Jared says, “You are safe,” at the most unexpected times.

    The situation is delicate enough that Jared’s incredible employer lets me hang out with him at work whenever it’s practical.

    Right now, I am drafting this post from the hallway of the press box while Jared is working with the broadcast kids for the Halloween football game tonight.

    Lots of afternoons, when I have been unable to drag myself out of the bed due to despondency, Jared will say, “Come see me,” and when I manage to get cleaned up and out of the house, I just go hang out at his office.

    Jared is truly my safe place.

    How I got so lucky when that man with the online profile “Maxtheape” sent me a message in early July 2003, I will never know.

    I remain convinced that Jared Price saved my life.

  • the turnaround

    Last December, I had a series of experiences that shook my world.  

    While the details are juicy, what happened doesn’t matter much anymore.  

    I came away from that time in December confused. And hurt. And angry  

    And maybe as I continue to write I will better be able to articulate why I was hurt and angry.  

    Suffice it to say, I found out in December that someone a very long time ago, decades ago, chose greed over spending a lifetime with me.  

    I got confirmation that a mindset shift I’d had with regard to that person in 2010 was accurate.  

    And, in the aftermath of December, I experienced heartbreak all over again.  

    I remembered that prior to marriage and creating a family with my husband, I had thrived on participating in interpersonal romantic drama.  

    I remembered that while I have been a victim of trauma, I am a survivor.  

    And, for six months, I mourned.  

    I mourned for the version of my self that was too trusting in December.  

    I mourned for the version of myself that was too trusting over two and a half decades ago.  

    I got angry at my whole world– for some reasons justified.  

    I have spent the last three months in the aftermath of my hysterectomy trying to pick up the pieces of myself and my world.  

    I’ve faltered. I’ve fallen back into old patterns of doubting myself.  

    And, I’ve felt sorry for myself an awful lot.  

    I’ve learned some things about myself though:  

    One of my best friends called me the most industrious person she knows not long ago.  

    She’s right; I am industrious.  

    I’m a survivor.  

    I’m a talented writer and photographer, if I do say so myself.  

    I have few friends, but I am a good friend.  

    Jared says I can be funny.  

    I have a near-indestructible marriage.  

    I’m a good wife. I’m a good mom.  

    There are still things to work on.  

    Finding contentment where and as I am is a challenge. Probably the biggest challenge of my life.  

    I am up to the task.

    I’ve only just begun to pick up the pieces, and I’ll be sharing the complete story of this journey in my Substack newsletter, “Tickle the Sun.”

    My public posts will continue to be about the messy reality of my life, but in my paid Substack, I’ll be sharing the journal entries, the full stories, and the hard-won truths that come with living in the light.

    You can join my free list for updates, or you can become a paid subscriber to get the gritty, behind-the-scenes stories I am ready to share now.