(Louise)
It's amazing to me how dark it can be in the middle of the night in the country. Some nights there are trillions of stars in the sky. Some nights are inky blackness with only the slightest hint of a glow on the horizon, above the tree line.
Too much is on my mind tonight, and it woke me from a sound sleep. The STBeX and I are duking it out via email over the debts he racked up during the marriage. He is threatening to let this go to the judge, and I'm trying hard to stand my ground on what my attorney and I agreed to as to what I'd pay. I won't go into the gory details here, but let's just say that I have been willing to pay the part of the bills I helped accrue. Thanks to whatever it is he spent the money on (I really don't know), we have no real assets to split - just debt. It's a bad situation for me, but it's one in which I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, every bit as faint as that tiny glow on the horizon at this early hour. Someday I will be divorced from this man and be able to go on with my life. I know that divorces can get ugly, and I had naively hoped it wouldn't be that way with us. Unfortunately, it's always been this way - yield to what he wants or pay the price.
It's enough to give a girl an ulcer.
But the weekend was not a waste--far from it. Yesterday we got up and went to breakfast at this fabulous little local place. When we were finishing up, Thelma called some of our friends to see if they wanted to go do something fun with us. Within a couple of hours, we met up with them at the river to rent some inner tubes and float for a couple of hours down through the gentle current. Her friend's teenage boys were there with us and provided plenty of comic relief and entertainment as we went downstream. I'm sure I'll be a little pink from the sun tomorrow (despite sunscreen on my pale, pale skin), but it was so worth it. What a beautiful thing it was to be out in nature, enjoying God's bounty!
We were both achy from sitting in inner tubes for a couple of hours, though, so I made us a quiet dinner at home that we ate in bed while watching "Hotel for Dogs". It was a lovely end to a perfect day.
Thelma has asked me to teach her to write a post here, which I will be helping her with over the next couple of days (between my work deadlines and her wanting to catch up on chores we didn't do this weekend). I can't wait for you to "meet" her!
And Thelma? This video is for you, darlin'. (To the rest of you - this is our song....)
Love, Louise....
Monday, June 29, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Overworked
(Louise here...)
It was a busy week at work. There's a Tuesday deadline coming up for one of my projects at work, and things have been hectic.
Yesterday, Thelma saddled up one of the horses and took him for a short ride around the pasture and up and down the lane down from the house. A friend was supposed to come ride with her but never showed up. When she called to find out what happened, that friend had gone home and gone back to bed - sick - but she never called to cancel. The whole day kind of spiraled down from there. One thing after another piled up on her until we fell into a fitful sleep around 2 a.m.
I was up at 9 this morning, my head throbbing. Since I've been here in the mountains with Thelma, I have come off of many of my medications. Those of you who know me from the old blog know that I've been sick off and on for about 3 years. But now I'm off of my heavy-duty sleep medication - completely. I rarely if ever take my pain medication for breakthrough pain, and tonight I start tapering off of the long-acting pain medication. That will leave me on exactly two medications: thyroid meds and anti-depressants. If things keep going this way, maybe the anti-depressants will go away, too (though I don't think that will happen before the divorces are final...it's been a tad stressful, to say the least.
This is a short post, and I need to get back in the house. I'm in the driveway refreshing/activating Thelma's XMRadio in the truck. I wanted you to know we're okay, but we're starting to get some harassment from a few people who want to equate being gay with being a pedophile. They are starting to come down on her (and are using me to hurt her, too). If you're the praying type, prayers are appreciated for strength during this time. If you're not the praying type, send some good energy our way. Either way, we both love you and appreciate you checking in here at the ranch.
Love, (Thelma &) Louise
It was a busy week at work. There's a Tuesday deadline coming up for one of my projects at work, and things have been hectic.
Yesterday, Thelma saddled up one of the horses and took him for a short ride around the pasture and up and down the lane down from the house. A friend was supposed to come ride with her but never showed up. When she called to find out what happened, that friend had gone home and gone back to bed - sick - but she never called to cancel. The whole day kind of spiraled down from there. One thing after another piled up on her until we fell into a fitful sleep around 2 a.m.
I was up at 9 this morning, my head throbbing. Since I've been here in the mountains with Thelma, I have come off of many of my medications. Those of you who know me from the old blog know that I've been sick off and on for about 3 years. But now I'm off of my heavy-duty sleep medication - completely. I rarely if ever take my pain medication for breakthrough pain, and tonight I start tapering off of the long-acting pain medication. That will leave me on exactly two medications: thyroid meds and anti-depressants. If things keep going this way, maybe the anti-depressants will go away, too (though I don't think that will happen before the divorces are final...it's been a tad stressful, to say the least.
This is a short post, and I need to get back in the house. I'm in the driveway refreshing/activating Thelma's XMRadio in the truck. I wanted you to know we're okay, but we're starting to get some harassment from a few people who want to equate being gay with being a pedophile. They are starting to come down on her (and are using me to hurt her, too). If you're the praying type, prayers are appreciated for strength during this time. If you're not the praying type, send some good energy our way. Either way, we both love you and appreciate you checking in here at the ranch.
Love, (Thelma &) Louise
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Timing is Everything
(Louise, the prolific)
Had I found Thelma any sooner, I might not have been strong enough or determined enough to make that move in the right direction. As it was, I had spent the last year of my life getting "sober" from codependency. My daughter had problems, and we seemed to feed off of each other - with me always picking up the pieces for her when she drove her life into the ditch. I was also very codependent with my STBeX (soon-to-be-ex) husband, always enabling him not to be very responsible as the "provider" for the family. Many times, I was the one who had to go out and find work. I was good at it, though, always succeeding at whatever I set my mind to. Lucky for us, I could do that. Not so lucky for my kids, as their mom was usually traveling.
That year of recovery allowed me to see clearly what was mine and what was my daughter's or my STBeX's or God's. It allowed me to get out of my own way. It let me off the hook for the troubles of the world.
April 1st, I wrote to Thelma on both Classmates (which I hadn't found her on before then) and Facebook, hoping she'd remember me and write back. In my mind, she had moved on and wouldn't have a clue as to who I was. While I had spent the last 30 years thinking about her, I was sure she had never given a second thought to me.
Before the day was out, she had written back to me, twice in a row. In the first one, she seemed a little unclear about who I was, and then it was like a shock of recognition went through her. Within that one day, our notes to each other started flying back and forth minutes apart -- this was before I learned how to use chat on Facebook. Though we have erased all those messages for our own protection while we extricate ourselves from bad situations, they are forever etched in my mind. They went from friendly, long messages catching each other up on some things that have gone on since high school to a whole different tone a couple of days later.
April 3rd at noon (for anyone reading this who didn't already know), my ultimate nightmare came true. The police showed up at my door to tell me that my daughter was found dead at the home of a friend. After 8 weeks of red tape and toxicology tests, it was determined that she died of a fatal mixture of two common prescription drugs: Oxycontin and generic Ambien. If I put more details here, the ex might be able to find me through a search, so I won't. I'll just say that my life was forever changed that day. I still have moments of feeling like my guts are being torn out by a wild rhinoceros, like I may not survive my next breath from the absolute pain of the loss. I still have moments of disbelief that I'll never see my daughter again.
When I went to bed the previous night (a Thursday - and my daughter was a Thursday's child), my daughter was already gone, though I didn't know it yet. The next time I sent a message to Thelma, I had to tell her the horrible news. I think it was late Friday night when I wrote her. This was after I had made all the required telephone calls, gone to the funeral home, and fallen apart completely.
She was there for me in a way no one else was. My sister made plans to fly into town, and I really wanted Thelma, too, but I dared not say that. After all, I didn't yet know the full story. She was married. I didn't know how happily or unhappily she was married. Before the police came to my door that Friday, I had probed a little deeper into her life, asking about the years I'd missed - the years before she was married in 2001. The death of my daughter stopped us both in our tracks, however. It seemed like it would be inappropriate for me to ask for her to come to see me during all of the hell I was going through. But the most comfort I got from the STBeX was a pat on my shoulder. At least my son and I have a good relationship and we were of comfort to each other.
While I was dealing with the tragedy, an influx of family members, and endless planning for the memorial service, Thelma was at her mother's house for Easter. Little did I know, she was running about all the local towns looking for just the right gift to send to me. She was also immersed in my other blog, reading me and learning me.
A week after the memorial service, when everyone had gone home, I got a package in the mail. She and I had been talking on the phone by that point, and she asked me to please open it alone.
I went off to my room and pulled the shades. I was still crying my eyes out on a regular basis at that point, and my eyes felt red and raw. Just that afternoon, I'd had it out with the woman I had considered my best friend for years. She had come into town and made a jerk of herself, angry because I wouldn't go out and get a mani/pedi with her or take her out to eat. She seemed oblivious to the fact I'd lost my child only a week before.
In my room, I felt safe and secure. The world was outside that door, staying away.
I cut the tape off the box and peeled back the tissue paper. Inside I found a beautiful music box with an angel on top. The frame was gilded and the music was "How Great Thou Art". Tears slid down my face. It was the perfect place to put my silver pendant that held my daughter's ashes. She couldn't have known that I was conflicted about where to put that very special pendant. The music box was right on.
She also sent a card and a daily prayer book with the box, something else to show me how much she was thinking of me and missing me. Now that we were back in touch, we were hungry for each other's company. She had found the perfect way to tell me how much she felt my grief. I completely understood when I opened the box that she loved me. I no longer had to wonder how she felt then or now.
In the interim, while I was dealing with the planning of the memorial service, Thelma had responded to one of my FB emails in which I pried a little more into her past. I wanted to know if it was true that she had run off with one of our friends and if she knew anything about me. The response I got was a private email with the subject, "Yes". In her message, she said, "The answer is yes," that she had lived among women and had been out for many years BUT she did not "run off" with one of our friends. She moved away to the big city alone at age 17 and lived her life "out".
Life threw her too many curves at one time, however, in the 1990s and in 2000, and she ran back in the closet, succumbing to pressure from all sides.
The dam broke with that message because though it took me a few days to get back to her, I felt I had an opening to talk to her, and when the time was right, I did.
See you next time, L.
Had I found Thelma any sooner, I might not have been strong enough or determined enough to make that move in the right direction. As it was, I had spent the last year of my life getting "sober" from codependency. My daughter had problems, and we seemed to feed off of each other - with me always picking up the pieces for her when she drove her life into the ditch. I was also very codependent with my STBeX (soon-to-be-ex) husband, always enabling him not to be very responsible as the "provider" for the family. Many times, I was the one who had to go out and find work. I was good at it, though, always succeeding at whatever I set my mind to. Lucky for us, I could do that. Not so lucky for my kids, as their mom was usually traveling.
That year of recovery allowed me to see clearly what was mine and what was my daughter's or my STBeX's or God's. It allowed me to get out of my own way. It let me off the hook for the troubles of the world.
April 1st, I wrote to Thelma on both Classmates (which I hadn't found her on before then) and Facebook, hoping she'd remember me and write back. In my mind, she had moved on and wouldn't have a clue as to who I was. While I had spent the last 30 years thinking about her, I was sure she had never given a second thought to me.
Before the day was out, she had written back to me, twice in a row. In the first one, she seemed a little unclear about who I was, and then it was like a shock of recognition went through her. Within that one day, our notes to each other started flying back and forth minutes apart -- this was before I learned how to use chat on Facebook. Though we have erased all those messages for our own protection while we extricate ourselves from bad situations, they are forever etched in my mind. They went from friendly, long messages catching each other up on some things that have gone on since high school to a whole different tone a couple of days later.
April 3rd at noon (for anyone reading this who didn't already know), my ultimate nightmare came true. The police showed up at my door to tell me that my daughter was found dead at the home of a friend. After 8 weeks of red tape and toxicology tests, it was determined that she died of a fatal mixture of two common prescription drugs: Oxycontin and generic Ambien. If I put more details here, the ex might be able to find me through a search, so I won't. I'll just say that my life was forever changed that day. I still have moments of feeling like my guts are being torn out by a wild rhinoceros, like I may not survive my next breath from the absolute pain of the loss. I still have moments of disbelief that I'll never see my daughter again.
When I went to bed the previous night (a Thursday - and my daughter was a Thursday's child), my daughter was already gone, though I didn't know it yet. The next time I sent a message to Thelma, I had to tell her the horrible news. I think it was late Friday night when I wrote her. This was after I had made all the required telephone calls, gone to the funeral home, and fallen apart completely.
She was there for me in a way no one else was. My sister made plans to fly into town, and I really wanted Thelma, too, but I dared not say that. After all, I didn't yet know the full story. She was married. I didn't know how happily or unhappily she was married. Before the police came to my door that Friday, I had probed a little deeper into her life, asking about the years I'd missed - the years before she was married in 2001. The death of my daughter stopped us both in our tracks, however. It seemed like it would be inappropriate for me to ask for her to come to see me during all of the hell I was going through. But the most comfort I got from the STBeX was a pat on my shoulder. At least my son and I have a good relationship and we were of comfort to each other.
While I was dealing with the tragedy, an influx of family members, and endless planning for the memorial service, Thelma was at her mother's house for Easter. Little did I know, she was running about all the local towns looking for just the right gift to send to me. She was also immersed in my other blog, reading me and learning me.
A week after the memorial service, when everyone had gone home, I got a package in the mail. She and I had been talking on the phone by that point, and she asked me to please open it alone.
I went off to my room and pulled the shades. I was still crying my eyes out on a regular basis at that point, and my eyes felt red and raw. Just that afternoon, I'd had it out with the woman I had considered my best friend for years. She had come into town and made a jerk of herself, angry because I wouldn't go out and get a mani/pedi with her or take her out to eat. She seemed oblivious to the fact I'd lost my child only a week before.
In my room, I felt safe and secure. The world was outside that door, staying away.
I cut the tape off the box and peeled back the tissue paper. Inside I found a beautiful music box with an angel on top. The frame was gilded and the music was "How Great Thou Art". Tears slid down my face. It was the perfect place to put my silver pendant that held my daughter's ashes. She couldn't have known that I was conflicted about where to put that very special pendant. The music box was right on.
She also sent a card and a daily prayer book with the box, something else to show me how much she was thinking of me and missing me. Now that we were back in touch, we were hungry for each other's company. She had found the perfect way to tell me how much she felt my grief. I completely understood when I opened the box that she loved me. I no longer had to wonder how she felt then or now.
In the interim, while I was dealing with the planning of the memorial service, Thelma had responded to one of my FB emails in which I pried a little more into her past. I wanted to know if it was true that she had run off with one of our friends and if she knew anything about me. The response I got was a private email with the subject, "Yes". In her message, she said, "The answer is yes," that she had lived among women and had been out for many years BUT she did not "run off" with one of our friends. She moved away to the big city alone at age 17 and lived her life "out".
Life threw her too many curves at one time, however, in the 1990s and in 2000, and she ran back in the closet, succumbing to pressure from all sides.
The dam broke with that message because though it took me a few days to get back to her, I felt I had an opening to talk to her, and when the time was right, I did.
See you next time, L.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
From the Beginning
That's me - bottom right.That's her - top center.
Circa 1978.
(Louise)
There's a story here, and you know I'm one to tell it. I can't resist telling a good story, particularly a terribly romantic one.
I was between 9th and 10th grade when my parents announced we were moving from our big city home in Texas to a small town in Georgia. Horrified, I threatened to tie myself to a tree, to run away, or to join the circus - anything to avoid moving back to the sleepy little farm town my parents came from. Sure, we went there every year for several weeks in the summer, and during that time I would hang with my country cousins, fishing, playing softball in a field dotted with cow patties, and learning how to drive the golf cart my cousins zipped around the farm in.
That was all nice - for a few weeks - but my friends were all in the city. Every weekend, they were at my house or I was at theirs. Several of us girls hung out together on a regular basis like that, and I couldn't imagine all of it coming to an end.
Yet come to an end it did. That August we packed up everything and left the city. A wire art sculpture I had worked on for many hours went spinning out from beneath the soft-sided luggage cover on the roof and landed in the road behind us. Dad refused to turn around and go retrieve it (he never turned around - ever), so I watched helplessly as another car ran it over. It flew up into the air and came back to Earth with a crash, bent and disfigured.
Once we arrived in the deep south, life really changed. Things were more tense than ever between my parents because the money was gone. You see the reason for the move was that Dad was sick with cancer and was given about six months to live. He wanted to be back "home", near his mother and his brothers. His run as a big time general contractor was over as soon as he had that first surgery. We were living on very little money and that seemed to make things a lot worse.
My first day at school was a strange one. In the city we always dressed in our finest for the first day of school, but at school in that small town, things were different. Day one was the same as every other day - jeans and t-shirts or jeans and flannel shirts. These were farm kids, rural kids, who didn't dress up - period - unless it was for a school dance or church. Maybe that's not fair...some did dress up from time to time, but on that first day, I felt like a spectacle. I showed up in a black jumpsuit with high heels and a silver ring belt. I had on a silver necklace that looked like an inverted pyramid and silver earrings. For the first day of school in the city I would have been fabulous. In the country? I stood out like a sore thumb.
One of the classes I had to take was World Geography, a 9th grade class that was required and that had not been required at my last school. So in I walked to that first period class on the 9th grade hallway, decked out in my city clothes. One girl, by the end of class, asked bluntly if I was a "ho"! LOL!
It was on that day or one that followed when I first saw "Thelma". She was wearing what everyone else wore, the style I had not yet acquired, and looked up at me. We locked eyes. She would soon become one of my closest friends, a girl I would hang out with as often as I had with the girls in Texas, but she was different. There was something about that intense gaze of hers that shot right through me. I remember returning that gaze on a regular basis, especially during those sleepovers (in which we were NEVER alone....). There was a deep connection between us. She was not my first girl crush, but she certainly made the biggest impression.
I left that school halfway through my junior year because of something bad that happened to me in that town. I never told her why I left, and we lost touch over time. I never forgot her, though.
When I returned to town to see my mother in 1984, with my (ex)husband and little girl (who was 5 1/2 months old at the time), Mom told me that Thelma was gay and that she had moved to a big city with one of our mutual friends. My jaw dropped and I blurted out, "Why not me? What was wrong with me?"
I know that shocked my mother, but she got it. She understood. She had seen us together. My husband was likewise not shocked, because he swore he always knew that about me. But the fact remained that Thelma was gone - with another woman - and I was married with a child.
Over the years, I thought about her a lot. When times were really bad, it was her face I held in my mind, her intense gaze. I hoped I would see her again someday, and I always wondered where she was and what she might be doing.
(There's some stuff I'm going to skip here because it's quite personal to her, and I'll let her tell that part...)
About 6 years or so ago, I began doing internet searches on her name and trying to locate her. I kept coming up empty. She was nowhere to be found. I wondered if she was even still alive, because well, you never know.
And then in March, a mutual friend of ours contacted me through Classmates and MySpace. One of the first questions I had for him was, "Have you seen or heard from Thelma?" He said he had not and that she had not been at the high school reunion he had attended some years before. My heart sank, but I refused to give up.
I joined Facebook in late March, and after hearing from our mutual friend, I thought, "I haven't searched for her there yet..." and I did it.
BOOM - there she was, but she was MARRIED!!!
My heart sank again. I thought, "Well, I at least have to contact her and see...What if there was something there for her, too?"
I'll tell more of this story next time. She's ailing tonight and I'm being selfish, sitting here typing to you. Next post maybe I can tell you that she's better and can swallow without feeling like there's fire in it.
Peace - L
Friday, June 19, 2009
No Turkeys Today
Louise here again. I still need to teach Thelma how to blog on here, because I know she has things to say, too!
The other morning, as we were going about our morning routine, she shouted from the bathroom, "Louise! Get in here, you're not going to believe this!"
Not knowing just what to expect, I scrambled to her side by the bathroom window. In the foreground of that beautiful scene outside our home, just this side of the pasture where our horses were grazing, was a beautiful wild turkey (no, not the alcoholic kind!). He was pecking around in our freshly mown yard, foraging. We watched for a minute and I grabbed my camera (naturally). She slid the window open slowly, but he was alerted and went into a run and then soared out over the pond. A photo shoot ruined!
Despite the fact I was born in a small town in the south, I have lived in cities most of my life. This is the first time I've lived in the country, so far from town that I have to plan my trips to save gas. (She's lived in cities, too, but she's a country girl). In my last place, I was in walking distance of a Starbucks, a movie theater, Chico's, Coldwater Creek, the UPS Store, Fedex, the grocery store, the vet, etc. It was convenient, but it was also claustrophobic. At our new place, we can go out into the barn in our pajamas here, if we want to. We can leave our doors unlocked (though I don't), and we can walk around au naturel if we want.
It's a bit of a culture shock for me, but it's great. We're only 2 hours from a major city where we could go to concerts, museums, and sporting events (and yes, I plan to take her to a hockey game!), so we aren't so isolated. But our home is beautiful. I have never been in a place in which I felt such peace and serenity, such solace, such sanctuary. As soon as the farrier comes next week, we'll plan a horseback ride to exercise these horses who are getting plump on the more than adequate pasture land. I'm looking forward to a ride and a look at some more scenery from the back of this fine animal.
I may just become a country girl yet...Peace - L
The other morning, as we were going about our morning routine, she shouted from the bathroom, "Louise! Get in here, you're not going to believe this!"
Not knowing just what to expect, I scrambled to her side by the bathroom window. In the foreground of that beautiful scene outside our home, just this side of the pasture where our horses were grazing, was a beautiful wild turkey (no, not the alcoholic kind!). He was pecking around in our freshly mown yard, foraging. We watched for a minute and I grabbed my camera (naturally). She slid the window open slowly, but he was alerted and went into a run and then soared out over the pond. A photo shoot ruined!
Despite the fact I was born in a small town in the south, I have lived in cities most of my life. This is the first time I've lived in the country, so far from town that I have to plan my trips to save gas. (She's lived in cities, too, but she's a country girl). In my last place, I was in walking distance of a Starbucks, a movie theater, Chico's, Coldwater Creek, the UPS Store, Fedex, the grocery store, the vet, etc. It was convenient, but it was also claustrophobic. At our new place, we can go out into the barn in our pajamas here, if we want to. We can leave our doors unlocked (though I don't), and we can walk around au naturel if we want.
It's a bit of a culture shock for me, but it's great. We're only 2 hours from a major city where we could go to concerts, museums, and sporting events (and yes, I plan to take her to a hockey game!), so we aren't so isolated. But our home is beautiful. I have never been in a place in which I felt such peace and serenity, such solace, such sanctuary. As soon as the farrier comes next week, we'll plan a horseback ride to exercise these horses who are getting plump on the more than adequate pasture land. I'm looking forward to a ride and a look at some more scenery from the back of this fine animal.
I may just become a country girl yet...Peace - L
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