I remember when I started dating my ex, Sam would get riled up and her hair would stand on end, and she’d growl this amazingly loud and scary bark. My own instincts told me to curl myself into a ball of protection. But my ex learned that he could play with her, and lunge at her, and she was safe. Always was. She never lashed out at her family. Strangers who approached the house, or gave her reason to be wary were definitely in danger. She could kill if she wanted to. But we were always safe with her and perhaps even safer because of her.

Sometimes people aren’t what they seem either. Sometimes they can appear like this great family man who has lived a boring, quiet life and is absolutely harmless, and yet he can turn out to be someone who has the capacity to lie over and over and then be hurtful on purpose. And sometimes a man can look hard, and cold, and scary on the outside but be a gentle soul.

Mercenary Guy has proven to be a surprise at every turn. No doubt he has seen his share of brutality and violence. He has played a part in scenes I can only imagine because I won’t even let myself watch those kinds of movies. When he rolls up his sleeves he made a comment about his tattoos and I challenged him and said, “I thought you didn’t regret those”. But he was thinking that maybe they would make a difference to me. Maybe I would put him in a box, because of his job and the way he looked.

Of course I did. When he first asked me out to the movies I just didn’t think I was his ‘type’. To which he replied, “What do you think my type is?”

But the question I was asking myself was, “What is my type?” I knew the answer. Not him. Not a man’s man. Not someone who’d I’d expect to find at Hooters picking up the first girls with big boobs.

But so far he is crushing all the stereotypes. He is protective for sure. He is aware in a way no other man I’ve hung out with has been. Of the surrounding and the people. It’s interesting to watch him watch everything. He has this hard front that breaks down very quickly. And before he knows it he is snickering like he did back in high school. He remembers the boy he used to be, who was shy and only went on dates if the girl asked him. And a smile comes to his face that lights up the room.

In just a few hours we are laughing and he says, “Do you think if we had been interested in each other in high school we would have hung out?” And I said, “Nope.” And he said, “Yeah that’s what I thought.” We were sitting in a fast food restaurant scarfing down french fries after a walk on the beach. I leaned over and he kissed me. I thought, “It’s a good thing this isn’t high school.”

He is nothing like what I expected. It’s nice to have surprises. It’s nice to have the first kiss be perfection. Perfection. It’s nice to have this rough and tumble guy who has had life come screaming at him have the willingness to be vulnerable.

I think I’m going to give him a chance. No, I know I am. And I know for a fact I’m going to enjoy myself getting to know him. Instead of coiling up, I’m grabbing ahold and seeing that not only will he not hurt me, but I just might be safer with him than anyone. I’m not going to keep him waiting out on the porch for very long.

He is working a 16 hour shift tomorrow, so he went to bed early tonight. And before he fell asleep he was deliriously talking of love. He and I are both smitten. Captivated. And smitten. And falling in love is kind of like that. Once it gets rolling it’s hard to stop. Like deciding once you get going on the sled that you really don’t want to go down the snowy hill. You can dig your heels in and scrape the snow with your fingertips. But once that sled gets momentum there is no stopping it. By sheer force it will have its way.

He is on his way out of the country for a job soon. No more sled, no more snow.

I mentioned to him in chat that I was a music nerd. That I even liked disco and Barry White. On our way home from the beach he reached for his CD case and that all familiar baritone started playing. I looked at him and smiled, he smiled back and said, “I own two CDs.” I was floored. Just the night before as I lay in bed wondering what this night would be like. I consciously thought, and even thought to write about it in this blog but regrettably didn’t, “If he breaks out some Barry White…I will know that this is not just a date.”

I guess things are not always what they seem. Sometimes life can surprise you. Even shock you. And sometimes, life keeps getting better.

When I’m alone with nothing to do I start typing and am often surprised at what comes out.  But ultimately it is very simply my story.  Not a historical account, not a fictional novel, and not really written for or to anyone but me.

I have had a great week.  My life has been full.  Right now my house is full with visitors from out-of-town hitting Disneyland all week while their kids are off school. Three kids and two adults and sleeping bags all over the place.  They thanked me for allowing them to invade my home and I told them the entire evening I would have spent alone on the couch if it weren’t for them so I appreciated it as much as they did.  And that is the truth.

I managed to squeeze in a run last night while I waited for their arrival.  My son was at a senior citizen prom literally dancing with old ladies.  My daughter was playing for the pep band at a basketball game.  And I was making plans for a date tonight.  A real one.  And I’m excited.

Mercenary guy is headed out on another mission soon and will be gone for months.  I’ve gotten to know him through lots of talking and he’s funny and sweet and not as scary as you might think although what he does is very scary.  It’s only a date and it will be a nice change and it’s making me smile and it’s part of my story, so I’m telling it.

It’s my improvised life.  The ups, the downs and all the in betweens taking me places, giving me joys and heartache both.  What I do know, is I’m better for all of it.

I’ve known all three types.  The Giver, The Talker, The Servant.  Even though their expression comes out in different ways, the motivation is the same.  They just want people to be happy and they’ll sacrifice and do anything to get a smile.

Been there done that with my ex, and others.  I don’t want a lop-sided relationship like that ever again.  Where you think you’ve met your prince charming who seems so great.  He lets you watch what you want on TV, he picks restaurants you like, he brings you things you like without you even having to ask for them.  You say thank you.  You say wow I didn’t expect this.  But after years of it.  You begin to expect it because that is just how he is.

You try being the giver but there really is only room for one because givers feel uncomfortable receiving.  And so it goes.

If I know this happens…I need to look for signs and mannerisms that are different than what I have described in a potential boyfriend.  Someone who may be a little rough around the edges.  Mature and thoughtful but more balanced.  Someone who doesn’t make it ALL about you but about him too.  Someone not SO nice. Maybe nice is not the right word…I mean, not so accommodating.  I don’t want someone to cater to me emotionally, physically, spiritually, or materialistically.  I want someone who will say, “Not that show…not tonight…come on let’s watch my show baby and I’ll make it up to you later ”  I want give and take.  I want someone to consider me without being inconsiderate to himself.  It’s hard to explain and there is a line between what I’m describing and a selfish jerk.  I don’t want that either.

H.S. Guy definitely did not fit my past mold.  He had a life and he carved out space for me in it but where a giver would have a candle lit meal waiting somewhere with my favorite flowers and beautiful music.  He moved some dishes off the counter that I hopped up onto to rest and drink my water while he looked through coupons for the local Thai place.  Believe it or not the fact that he just wanted to eat with me was enough and refreshingly spontaneous.

I don’t know what man I will let in next.  I’m kind of excited to find out.  I met one who I thought..maybe…but maybe turned into maybe down the road if he is ever single.  Yeah I can’t do that again.

There is one new guy who has my eye.  From a distance.  But he is different.  Really different.  Supremely different from other men I’ve been interested in.  My initial reaction was to dismiss him outright because of how many surface differences there were between us.  Me and the kids call him Mercenary Guy.  He and I went to high school together but didn’t know each other at all.  Now he’s a hired gun.  He works in security, some of it very high-profile.  He’s been to Iraq, Afghanistan, he’s on his way to Liberia.  He’s got tattoos.  Just doesn’t seem my type at all.  Out of the blue he asked me to the movies.  I said no.  I was watching and waiting.  So I said no.

But now, it’s a whole new ballgame.  My son thinks he’s a bad a$$ and said as much.  He said, “Mom he is living Call of Duty you have to say yes.”  haha.  All I can say is he definitely marches to his own drummer.  And yet he seems to be willing to wait and be patient.  He says my eyes draw him in….I think he’s liked every picture I have on Facebook,  which seems to be my problem with men.  They like me too much. But he, in taking no for an answer, shows that he respects me, which is more than I can say for others.  He’s polite, and yet he seems to be all man.  Which is kind of sexy.  Oh boy…

He’s not a bad guy but he could definitely classify as a bad boy.  He skipped his graduation to go surfing.  He hung out at Bible studies when he was a kid for the free food.  He joined the Marines and did his duty and some of it was not pretty.  He’s seen a lot.  If I’m Gidget he’s the Big Kahuna.  Only this Gidget is all grown up.

So who knows –  I might say yes.  Eventually.  I’ll keep talking to him at least.  Already, he has told me, I will have to sit down and watch all six Star Wars movies one at a time and that is a must.  In reply, I have told him, I will agree to those terms if he watches six of my favorite chick flicks.  We have a tentative deal…that is if I end up saying yes to a first date.  But something tells me, this is how it’s supposed to go.  Both people kindly, playfully even, but definitely asserting themselves.

So this might get interesting….

It’s a sorry end to the optimism I held onto, the hope I held onto and the dream that will never be.  But it’s a victory for me and my dignity.

Sometimes things become very clear when you step back and watch.  Watch someone panic instead of trust.  It’s sad really.

After a four-month deliberation, the verdict is in for me.  No more watching and waiting.  This girl is done.

I asked for some space.  I did what I said I’d do.  He promised not to email me until the 16th.  But he went crazy and then got mean because I wasn’t answering him.  And then he assumed I was with another man and started sending me images that were supposed to make me jealous, and movies.  And then the attacks started again about how he was the only person who would ever truly love me and my entire family betrayed me. How people love me on Facebook and my blog because they don’t really know me.  But he does and he loves me but no one else will because I was a bad wife, a bad mother and a hypocrite of a Christian.

When I have shared what has happened with my closest friends and then show them the emails, their mouth literally hangs open and then all they can say is…”This is bad.”

It’s kind of like how the Matterhorn ride at Disneyland rattles my brain so much it hurts.  And even though the ride puts a guy’s legs wrapped around you and gives you the opportunity to lean back for a snuggle on your neck…the snuggle isn’t worth the pain.  It hurts too much to ride anymore.  I won’t ever go on it again.  The last few times I’ve been to Disneyland I thought maybe it was just how I sat, or how I felt that day and thought maybe it would be different.  But it’s the same every time. It just plain ol’ hurts too much.

I just want it to be over.  It is over.  I have gone soft for the last time. I promise.  This is it.

His last email was telling me he had spoken to a woman from Liverpool for 4 hours and they hit it off.  I don’t know why I had to know this.  I was glad.  I’ve been telling him for months to try to date and it would help him get over me. I just thought the email was mean.  Lots of it was mean.

I was wrong about him.  Really wrong.  Amazingly wrong.  I was sad for a long time about it.  But I’m good now.  Moving on.

I’ve spent some time reading old posts (again)  and I thought…how naive.  How silly and even juvenile I was to believe AGAIN what I had determined at the end of my marriage that ONLY crazy people believed.  That love could conquer all and that marriage was worth the pain risked.

Falling in love is like a magic spell. It makes people stupid.  It makes them believe.  While I enjoyed the fairytale adventure it is never what I craved.  No.  What I craved was a normal, trusting, comfortable, mutually satisfying, loving relationship.  Not the roller coaster we got.

Did it make for a good story?  You’re darn tootin’.  But it’s tired me out.  Yeah, I wish I could snap my fingers and get that awesome hug or kiss.  I want to wake up next to someone (who preferably doesn’t snore) without all the crap that comes with it (and by that I mean the lying kind of crap not the regular everyday crap cause I know that is real life.)

But I got on that roller coaster and I said, “I’m in.”  I knew the risks. I could potentially get very hurt.  And I was hurt.  Big surprise.

I wanted to feel the elation.  I wanted to squeal with joy.  I didn’t want to think about getting vomit splattered all over my face from the person in front of me puking their guts out.

What in the world would posses me to get back on that ride after that?  Any ride for that matter?  Why would I give my heart away again?  Ever?  Who wants puke on their face?

People lie.  People are no good.  They are selfish.  You can’t count on them.  It’s not worth it.  Period.

Am I in a bad mood?  I guess I am.  I know this doesn’t sound like me.  I know it.

Am I still ferociously mad at Martin?  Yes I am.  And this is me,  kicking and screaming trying to stay away from him when all he ever says is please, I love you, I’m sorry and shows me everything he is doing to make it right.  I’m not moving an inch.  I’m watching and waiting just like I said.  But it goes against my natural inclination and I hate that about me.  I hate that I am watching at all, and that I still care, or that even 1/2 % of me thinks maybe…like I thought maybe at the beginning of the relationship.  I was stupid to think maybe….

Sometimes I think it’s just better being friends with people – men.  Don’t mess it up with kissing.  Friends stay.  Love interests don’t.  Like a friend said to me the other day, men are frogs, they jump from lily pad to lily pad because they don’t wanna get wet. It’s the princesses who don’t mind getting wet.  It’s true sometimes.  Men leave.  Women pick up the mess.

UGH I still have such a broken heart.  All I can do is run.  Literally and figuratively.  That is the only thing that helps me lately.  I pray and I read my Bible, and I go to church, and that sustains me like my skeleton holds me up.  But the running keeps my fingers and toes from going numb with cold from lack of blood which makes me feel dead.  Pounding each step makes me feel like there is something I can do other than feel sad.

This princess wants to hang up her tiara.  No more princess parts for me please.  No more lily pads, no more frogs who think I should be on a pedestal – who can’t resist me.

And you know the funny thing…the stupid, idiotic, horrible thing….is I’m staying away from him in part, because I know in my heart he needs me to be out of his life  in order to “get better” and stronger.  And once he heals, his magic spell will be broken too, and he will realize how stupid he was for turning his whole life upside down for me.  He will come to his senses.  And jump to another lily pad far away from me for good this time.

He’s not there yet.  He’s still sending me pledges and trying to explain his panic and his regret.  I knew it was too good to be true.  I knew no one was that on fire to do something so huge and not have doubts.  He just didn’t discuss them with me.  He discussed them with other people.  And therein was his ultimate choice.  All I was – was a prize to him.  I wasn’t a person.  I was the princess he wanted as perfect as he could keep me.  As soon as I started looking like a normal person – one with flaws, stinking of the same thing we all do – he jumped.  As soon as it looked like he might get wet cause the river got too rocky, or scary – he jumped.  Cause men are frogs and that’s what they do.

I haven’t met one who isn’t yet.  And I’m beginning to think I never will.

I’m the one who gets the tears and fists clenched in frustration when I bring up the tender topic of my daughter’s math grade that got downgraded for participation points after too many excused absences which is not supposed to happen as retribution from core teachers against kids in band.  I learn things when I go to booster meetings…

I’m the one who gets the rude comments from my son when I interrupt his (insert leisure activity here) to do a task for me.  It can vary from playing Call of Duty, to watching Kyle XY, or playing his piano or guitar.  Tonight it was because he was on the phone.  I’m still working on manners, I have three more months before he turns 18.

I know I get the blessings too of being up front and personal with both my teenage kids.  It is something I would not trade for the world, so consider this pure venting on my part.  I miss having a partner to help me with all of this.  My ex lives too far away to help at a moments notice.  Thankfully he has contributed appropriately financially so far.  But I fear he will lose his job again in this economy.  It scares me, but I don’t think about it because I’ve learned it doesn’t help to worry about things you can’t control.

I knew it would be a thankless job all those years ago when I saw the plus sign after peeing on the stick.  In fact I cried, overwhelmed at the thought.  I knew it when I quit my job so I could dedicate myself more to my family’s needs and prided myself on play dates, home cooked meals, and homemade crafts that actually taught them something.  I knew it when my husband walked out the door with his clothes on hangers never to return.

I knew I had no option but to be there for my kids and give them sometimes hard messages but ones they needed nonetheless.  And I will be willing to do that forever.  But also to hold them when they need a good cry as they have done for me a few times in recent years.

When I get to feeling like this I need to remember that I have something priceless with my children.  Trust.  And many parents of teenage kids cannot say that.  I need to remember I have fun with them and laugh more than cry.

As I type this my son is jamming on his guitar and every few minutes yells out, “Give me a chord mama!”  And I yell, “Gmaj7″ back.  And then he serenades me with something amazingly beautiful.

As thankless as it is, I’m so sorry that this season of my life is almost over.  He graduates in three months.  My daughter the very next year.  Both will be in some form of college and then beyond to live hopefully happy and full lives.  I feel woefully inadequate to help them through those decisions but we will muddle through.

I know all the sacrifices will be worth it to see them jump up and down with that diploma and walk down the aisle.  But even more I know it will all be worth it when they call me, come over, and integrate me in their adult lives  not because they have to but because they want to.  That is my goal.  To stay close.

But tonight I’m a little on the weary side.  But I know it won’t be a thankless job in the end.

And of course as I’m done typing this entry he is in the kitchen telling me he ran the dishwasher while I was out and is asking if he should put away the leftover corn that was left on the stove.  Ok, maybe I should just be counting my blessings instead of feeling sorry for myself.  Of course I should.  Of course.

It is true with parenting as it is with anything else.  The hardest of tasks are usually the most rewarding. And sometimes you don’t realize it until it’s over.  Thankfully that is not me tonight.

The players are the ones with the bruises, the sore knees, and countless concussions.  They are the ones that have taken the hits in life to get where they are and have counted the cost of winning and being the best versus having no legacy for all their sacrifice.

We all have friends who want to helps us out and cheer us on.  Some want to know all the details and stats of our life while others just check in from time to time to make sure we are still alive.  Some are only interested when there is something spectacular going on and then they fade again into silence.

I take what others tell me into consideration and I listen.  I pray about how to honor God with my decisions and the paths I take.  But I am the key player in this game.  Martin is still a key player in this game because he is fervently trying to convince me to give him another chance.  My children are key players too.  They need a mom who has her act together and can put them first and love them with all her heart.  But that’s it.  Those are the only key players.  Martin’s kids have never been key players because he didn’t allow them to be.  But I wish they were.

Advisors, physical therapists, coaches, investors can say what they will.  But no one knows what it’s like to be on that field playing the game your playing because they are really all just spectators of varying degrees of interest.  They all only know a portion, a mere fraction, of what there is to know and all judge from a perspective unique to them.

I feel like I’ve been injured and I don’t know if I want to go back in and play this game anymore.  I’m tired, and bleeding, and it’s been a very long season full of great times and strife.  Everyone who knows me has counseled me to take myself out of the game for a while.  Just watch on the sidelines.  Rebuild my strength.  But anyone who knows me well, knows that is the hardest thing to expect of me.  Because I’m the Kerri Strug type. Who did a winning vault with an injured ankle to win gold for the USA women gymnasts in 1996.  I keep fighting.  I’m not one to give up.

And I know without a shadow of doubt that Martin is cut from the same cloth.  He has more determination than I have ever seen in anyone.  But the problem with him is while he really wants to win he is always afraid of getting injured along the way.  He had a short career in professional soccer in England plagued with injuries.  Just when he thought he was going to hit the big time he’d find himself on the bench watching from the sidelines.  But he kept bouncing back in life and became a success.  He learned very early  that he could only depend on himself.  Almost everyone in his life has let him down.  So he kept them all at a distance, took care of himself, and played nice on the surface, while underneath the reality was that he was miserable in many ways, especially in loneliness.

I don’t think Martin knows quite how to let someone in like I do.  He’s never been an open book.  He certainly knows what he wants but he is the type who believes everyone has an angle.  It’s his experience with people.  It’s the way he sees things.  So while he is very determined, he is always somewhat suspicious of what he sees on that surface because he knows there are lots of things going on below.  And that was his undoing with me.  I had no secrets.

It’s hard to be team mates when there is no trust.  His mistrust of me lead to my mistrust of him.  His mistrust was not based on facts but innuendo, mine was based on actions that speak much louder than words.  His mistrust lead to a whole host of attempts for him to handle and manage the details surrounding his life.  They left him fearing he would be giving up everything for a woman who he “got wrong” and was reaching out to my family members to hear the real scoop on me.  Unfortunately two of my family members decided to give him their opinions that were not flattering of me about my first marriage to Mr. Nice Guy.

Hearing negative things about me after seeing me blow up at seemingly little things while on my trip in England caused his fear to grow.  Fear is a funny thing.  It exaggerates and distorts perspective and reality.  Realizing there were financial road blocks still in place due to a contentious divorce settlement that he had kept from me was another reason for the panic.  All leading to a break down of trust that now he deeply regrets.

So what to do?  We’ve already broken up and I’ve been on my own for nearly four months now.  He doesn’t want to give up on us.

If you’ve read this far, I would rather not hear comments this time about how stupid I am.  I know there is a level of stupidity in what I do.  But it’s my game.  I’m the player.

It all depends on what it means to win.  Does it mean beating the other team and winning the game?  Does it mean seeing it through to the end and being able to hold your head up high?  Does it mean a great halftime show where you can walk away and say well at least I had a lot of great times and experiences.  Is it an end of a season?  And end to a career?  Or is it just the commercials that were a passing fancy that will soon be forgotten?

For now I’m out of the game but yes, I’m still paying attention and I like all of you wonder how it will end.  It could very well possibly be that as the clock gets closer to running out that a clear winner will be apparent.  No matter how much cheering the fans do, or booing for that matter after a certain point in the game will not influence the result.  Sometimes when you’re that far behind there is just no chance of victory.

All I know is the game is not over.  And things can happen in the last few seconds that can either bring shame and disappointment or can throw people out of their chairs cheering.

I’m so disillusioned that I’ve dropped my flag and can’t find the energy to cheer anymore.  But I am occasionally taking the volume off mute and finding out the score.

There is no right way or wrong way when you look at it.  It depends on your goal.  As a single woman is my goal to be alone?  Is it to NOT be alone?  If it was, I could do something this minute to ensure that I had a man by my side.  If my goal is to be married, I could work out that probably too.

These last few months I’ve had a lot of time to think about what my motivation is.  What is my goal?  Other than trying to make each decision in a godly way, I do believe it is up to me to decide what I want.

I met up with the two ladies after their run and we were met by an old high school friend.  My friend and he had been chatting and hadn’t seen each other in 25 years.  It was fun to catch up and laugh.  Meeting in a group took the pressure off.  But while sitting in a lounge at the Grand California Hotel, I was acutely aware when my kids got home from the weekend with their dad.  It was hard to hear the conversation in the loud room and my mind wandered.  Both my kids texted me that they were fine and to enjoy myself, but I wished I were home with them.  I did try to engage, but I got bored.

I realized I would be far happier  in my sweats watching a good flick with people I love than sitting in a lounge making small talk with people I barely know (my friend aside).  In the end I did laugh and enjoyed myself as best as I could.  But I really wasn’t into it.

As I walked in the door at ten minutes to midnight my son greeted me with messy hair and tired smile.  “Why are you up?  You should be in bed silly!”

“I wanted to say hi to you.”

He lingered as I grabbed some crackers for a late night snack and tried to unwind.  He brought out a new pea coat he got from his dad off the clearance rack.  He told me stories about his weekend.  We walked up the stairs together.

While I was changing he knocked on the door and said, “I don’t know why but I wanted to say good night again.”  And he gave me a big hug.  And I asked him if he missed me and he said yeah, I guess.

I told him I loved him and we said good night again.  He came back in my room one more time when he remembered something else he wanted to share and I put my head down on the pillow thinking…THIS is my motivation.

No matter how I look at it, until they move out and find lives of their own.  My number one job is to be there for them.  I’m mommy, even though he’s 17 years old.  I’m other things too, but I’m mommy first.

So whatever I do I must be a good example to them.  And I don’t have to run this race for speed.  Time is my friend.  Time will help determine what the right course of action for me is.  And right now I’m content to wait it out.

Is there loyalty among friends?  Always?  Surely family.  Blood is thicker than water they say.

Is loyalty misguided?  Are we not to stand by each other and believe that our loved ones will triumph over their trials?  Or do we throw them under the bus?  Do we convict them of the sin they truly are guilty of and write them off?  Why?  To save ourselves from the complexity of loving someone through their mistakes?  Because we must honor ourselves first and then others?  Or just because we like to judge? Or because we think loving people despite their flaws is committing ourselves to weakness as a victim?

For me and the way I treat people: loyalty comes in tandem with honesty, kind of like the marines have this concept of no man left behind.

I discussed before on this blog that I believed love was a commitment and not a feeling.  But this might clarify my point a little bit more and also broaden it to other relationships.

When you love someone you are loyal to them AND honest with them.  You tell them when they are messed up in their thinking and then you stand by them.  You don’t judge and condemn and leave.  You don’t talk about them behind your back.  You sit with them when they are in the trenches and help them when they are weak.

That is what we are here to do for each other.  Not to judge or condemn but to come along side and lift up and help.  Even if it means a longer day than you wanted or more “drama” then so be it.

There is a time and a place to call someone out on something.  That is the honest part.  But you don’t cut and run.  You just don’t if you love them.  Cause that is NOT love.  That is acting in your own self-interest.  Period.

And on the flip-side, love is also not letting them get away with treating you or anyone else badly.  It doesn’t mean turning a blind eye.

I know people who are great at telling people like it is but not loving them by sticking by them and helping them through to the other side. I also know a lot of people who aren’t willing to risk being honest and just excuse and ignore major things.  Neither is true love.  You have to have both.

And let me be clear.  I do not think it means “saving” anyone.  You can call someone out but you can’t “fix” them.  They either will or they won’t.  That part is up to them.  They choose to do right or wrong, easy or hard.

Love doesn’t leave because it’s not convenient and a pain.  Love doesn’t leave when it hurts.  But love does hold us accountable.

It is both strong and tender.  It is not blind.  It is wise.  It is exemplified in the life of Jesus.  He was nobody’s fool.

It will be harder.  But I will be loyal to the people I love.  I simply cannot be any other way.  It is my duty, my calling. and in a very strange way, my joy.

It is not weakness.  It takes more strength to turn a cheek and love your enemies than to walk away.  It takes more humility to honor the truth and the part you played in it than to paint an ignoble picture of others.

I don’t love casually.   I looked into the eyes of my ex tonight who seemed lost.  He left me.  He cheated on me.  When it became clear that he was not willing to repent I took the necessary actions to divorce legally.  I did not do that lightly.  But I still love him.  Because I am loyal and honest with him to this day.

Few people deserve this …I think the true number is 0.  None of us deserve to be treated this way.  I just choose to.  Yes it means I will hurt more.  I understand the cost.  But it doesn’t change my conviction.

Emotions are like that sometimes for me.  I think there is no way he’ll get to me again.  For goodness sake it’s been 3 1/2 months!  But the warnings are real.  Emotionally speaking I’ve been sucked in again.  Sucked into the tumult of the waves being tossed from the extreme feeling of hate and contempt back to love and compassion.  Sucked into the noise.  That awful, loud, white-noise of excuses, reasons, explanations, plans, promises, and solutions.  It’s confusing.  Sucked into the fear and hope that simultaneously pulse through my body.  Sucked into this feeling, even when I’m so angry I can hardly see straight, of being home with him.

The war is with myself.  With the embarrassment which stems from pride that I let this happen to me in the first place.  And with the knowledge that so many people know what he did I would be a laughing-stock and not respected if I forgave him.  Certainly not now and I will not.  I refuse to forgive him to the point of absolution.  No.  He has to prove what he’s saying and that will take a very long time and will take consistent effort on his part.

But my heart and my head remembers the little things that are so easily dismissed by others as “the good part” as they remind me of the “bad part.”  I tell myself that most people would never have put themselves in the position he was in and he was stupid.  Yes, he was very stupid.  In many ways.  And why would I invite that back into my life when I have so much going for me?  Why am I utterly optimistic with the people I love?  Why am I a stupid woman?

It would be so much easier for him to leave me alone.  Forget about me and date someone from his own country.  But he’s still applying to jobs in America.  He’s working out the details now for himself to retire early.  He’s telling me moving back to his house and his wife were acts of a desperate man who merely needed a roof over his head after being homeless for two years.  That she understood that it was only for the holidays…..that he did not use her or her hopes that he would return…that he never once even hugged her…and only slept on the couch.  That his girls saw their misery and now they “get it” when they didn’t get it before because it was hidden from them.  That they all know he lost me and they see what losing me has done to him.

I’m tossed by the current, upside down and all around.  I begin drowning.  And I panic myself.  How can this be?  How can this be true?  How can it not be true?  He says he will prove it.  He says lots of things.  But what will he do?

And then I begin to focus on an anchor.

Maybe his heart is genuine.  Maybe he means what he says.

But that is when the anchor gets closer and I grab a hold of it.

Maybe.

But I’m done feeling brave and stupid.  If he means what he says he has to prove it before I will entertain any thought of ever even looking him in the eye again, let alone letting him back into my life.  It would take a miracle.  And I cling tight to the safety  of that anchor and pray for strength to hold on.  Pray for strength to withstand the pull of the tide of my emotions that keep whirling around me.

I can’t imagine how many people are shaking their heads back and forth as they read this.  Like I did of the people who stupidly drove the shore in Indonesia when they heard a tsunami was on its way.  Idiots.  Stupid, stupid people.  And maybe I AM stupid for listening  to that voice that says…let him explain.  But it’s honest.  It’s what is really happening.  It’s emotional for me still only because there was so much good. All the good stories I’ve written about our connection and all our good times were not figments of my imagination.  That was AS real as his lies and his weakness.   At least that’s what I tell myself.

I don’t want my strength to come out of pride from embarrassment or injury.  I want my strength to come from wading through this torrent of emotions until I am safely on the other side of this pain.

And maybe that means watching him drown as I hold onto my anchor and losing him forever.  I know I can’t save him.  It’s beyond me.  It’s up to him and God’s will.  All I can do at this point is watch and wait to see what happens to him. Maybe as I watch he will finally be up to the task of facing the truth in his life.  Maybe I’ll get to see a man learn from his mistakes, repent, and actually turn his life around?  If I didn’t look I would miss it.

Whatever the outcome I will either be relieved and so very happy or I will grieve.  Either way I have to resign myself to the emotions of it and not try to hide, because there is nowhere TO hide.

I’m already in the water.