July 13, 2015

Dear Ex-Wife,

Dear Ex-Wife, 

I really went back and forth with this entry.  I don't believe in shaming anyone. That is not my intent at all.  When you are in the same circle as a writer, I guess you can very quickly become a muse, as so many of my wonderful girlfriend's have found out.

As I lay in bed last evening, listening to the soft beating of his heart under my left ear, I was unsure of what I truly wanted to write about.  But I knew I would write.

We are raising children together, all of us. And while we all have moments that are not so proud, I know we are attempting to do what we think is right.

Another time in my life, I would have approached this subject a little differently, but I suppose with age and maturation comes a sense of grace and control.  And yes, we all still struggle with those two words, even in our thirties.  

For weeks I knew someone had been through here.  I have a strong intuition, one that often leads me to the truth.  I don't know how I knew, but I could feel you here.

I thought about you perusing through my home unwelcome and unannounced.  And while it bothered me that you used a child to do it, it really made me a little bit sad for you.  You see, I understand that I have a part of "him" you will never again get.  And I can see why your curiosity must have taken control and you made a conscience decision to stroll through every floor of my home.

Have you ever traveled abroad, I don't think you have, although I am mistaken quite a bit (it's a learning process to be able to admit)...have you?  You see when you visit foreign tourist destinations, they don't always have tour guides that speak English.  So they outfit you with a little MP3 player that will explain the history.  I thought to myself last night, maybe that is how I should approach this subject.  Instead of being angry or hurt, I should maybe offer you a guided tour so that you understand the sights you took in.

When you parked at the bottom of my driveway and came through the passage way, did you notice the pergola on your right?  He built that for me the May before last.  All I did was mention interest in one, and in a week he was out there with tools in hand, and before I knew it, we were enjoying meals and drinks on beautiful summer evenings.

The basement was probably a mess, it usually is.  My laundry, the kids laundry, papers, boxes from the shop...I know, I know.  But you see, we work extremely hard to have the life we have, and if a room goes un-kept for a few days, we've learned it's just a part of a bigger puzzle.  Did you at least pat my little dog's head?   She is so good.  Such a kind thing.  Sweet to her family, always alerting us when she thinks there is danger.  Did she bark at you?  It's okay, she barks at everyone.

At the bottom of the stairs there is a picture.  It is a picture that I drew, and he framed.  Again, without me asking.  I simply came home and it was a surprise.  He loves that picture.

I think there is an Eiffel Tower in every room of the house, save the boys rooms.  It's a "thing" I have. They have been given to me by friend's over the years.  Tiny metal replicas of the place I eventually will make it to.  I took French.  It's a beautiful language.  One of my best friend's sent me a gorgeous pair of couture heels a few years ago right from Paris' streets.

At the top of the stairs there is a message board, and depending on which way you turned, you might have even ran your fingers across the pictures of me and my boy.  He's sweet.  A child that is so filled with love for his mother he would do anything for her.  You would understand that.  I at least know that.   He is a boy that is hard to get to know, and somehow, HE did get to know him.  They have a bond that is strong and quiet.  Like the two of them, I suppose.  Did you notice how the boy in the pictures held on to his mother?

The living room might have been a little messy too.  Again, the giant picture of Paris above our couch probably struck you.  That too, was a gift.  The very first piece of decor that he and I bought together, well that and the geometrical rug in the center of the room.

Was my bedroom door open or shut?  Sometimes the dog will push it open so she can nap in our bed.  The blue bedspread is beautiful, isn't it?  That too, another surprise I came home too after working a 12 hour day.  He even washed everything before putting it on our bed.  A huge picture of the London bridge hangs above.  It nearly takes up the entire wall!  The bedroom usually stays well kept.  But you know how he is about that, don't you?

The kids floor, oh man, what a disaster.  Boys will be boys!  We have both just agreed that minimal nagging is enough to help them tidy up.  I mean, boys just keep messy spaces sometimes.  

You see, I guess really, what I should be doing is thanking you.  After the initial shock wore off, and I battled sleep last night.  Because at first it felt a little bit like Rebeccah DeMoray in The Hand That Rocks The Cradle...but I know it's not.  So here it is.  Thank you.

You helped mold the man I am in complete love with today.  He is so kind and patient and strong.  There isn't a night since we met that he hasn't held me as I drifted off to sleep, unless of course one of us were out of town.  There isn't a day that has passed that he hasn't made me feel completely loved, respected and adored.  He doesn't intentionally hurt me.  He doesn't say nasty things.  We don't yell when we disagree, we compromise.   We've both learned a lot from our past and failed relationships.  I can't give him all of the credit, because I love him just as fiercely.  It's passionate and patient.  It is fire and ice.  When you think of us, you can picture the black and white yin/yang sign.  Because we blend perfectly, ironically enough.  I am so devoted and committed to him that I see no other.  He will be the man that I love until my very last breath leaves my body.  Our future while unknown, is exciting and positive.

ser·en·dip·i·ty
ˌserənˈdipədē/
noun
  1. the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

We have worked really hard at life, but loving each other?  That came easy.  It was absolute serendipity, our meeting a couple of years ago.

I truly do hope that you have found peace, and that whatever you were seeking in our home, you found.

Because from now on the doors will remain locked.

Sincerely,

The New Wife.
#sorrynotsorry

Live, love.

Tiffany writes for The Hive Publications.  She is a world renowned fiction author, as well as writing spiritual excerpts in her free time.  All publications belong to The Hive Publications.

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@tiffluv78












July 5, 2015

Beautiful Disaster

I haven't written anything in weeks, maybe months.  I didn't even check when I logged on.  I can't really chalk it up to having writer's block, but maybe that I just needed to live a little before I started pouring any kind of energy back in to my words here and there. 

I've spent the last couple of months working hard at our store front, hoping to cement roots here in our town.   Hours upon hours have been logged working feverishly to throw up a brick and mortar store where I can not only control what I sell, but have the time and outlet I need to sell my own writing, which by the way is coming.  We have had fashion shows, filmed commercials and just generally been very busy.  And in the midst of the chaos, I have given myself and my children the freedom and luxury that comes from owning your own business.
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I thought about the title "ride or die" because sometimes that is how I feel about the people in my life, then I tossed it for this entry.  Then as I was getting ready for the day my thoughts kept going back to yesterday and last night, which was Independence Day for us in the States.  And then I kept staring at the black tank top I am wearing that has "Beautiful Disaster" printed across the front in white letters and a heart surrounding it.  How appropriate it is for today's blog post.  Even though I am not quite convinced we haven't already covered this title and topic before.  Oh well!  My blog, my rules. 

The fourth of July has always been my favorite holiday.  Maybe because there aren't any "special" gifts, or the pressure of cooking everything just right.  Maybe it's because it is kind of a no strings attached type of holiday.  I don't really know.  It's always been a time of self reflection I guess in to my own independence and the independence of others around me.  And then two year's ago, it gave me something that I was unaware had always been in front of me which is the love of my life, the thought of breathing without M is almost too much to bear.  It started the beginning of the rest of my life.  For me, for my children, for M.  Even for friends of mine, that summer was the beginning of the end and the end of the beginning.   

We spent yesterday simply moving from one function to the next. 

First was a wedding that I can honestly say was amazing.  Not because of a dress, or cake, or anything like that.  But because it was for two very patient and amazing people who deserve God's grace and received it.  The fourth of July is special to them as well. 

Then we moved to family.  Where we cooked and laughed and bickered like family does. 

But it was the night's ending that really seems important to me.  Especially as I climbed in to M's arms and he carried me around the driveway, with my face snuggled in to his neck.  Some moments make us feel safe.  Some moments are supposed to be ours. 

I have friend's all over the world.  I have written about several of them here, my Army wives, my hometown buddies, my NH girl...you know them all well.  I've written about struggle and love and coffee with all of them.  Remember the three chihuahua's post?  Oh lord.  Remember reading about internet dating, and all of the crazy rambles about life in general?  Most have been sparked by all of these women, and their stories.  Our stories. 

But last night as I sat at the bottom of a driveway with three women who had just a smidge over what they should to drink,  all in our thirties...just watching them was incredible to me.  Dare to judge us, we could care less.  That is the beauty in being comfortable in your thirties.  In the midst of them making fun of my small boobs, the word "beautiful" was tossed around between the four of us in between giggles.  

There are these moments, moments that just seem to happen.  They are generally born in the most mundane times.  Times that we might normally take for granted.  But not last night. 

My cousin was there.  Davis.  M.   The teenagers were hanging out in the garage while the adults got a tiny bit of relief from our very busy lives.  The kids are never embarrassed or have better things to do, for the most part they have watched our friendships that are more than thirty years old (for some) flourish and grow and that just seemed so important to me.  My words today might seem like ramble, but I just don't care. 

So back to the end of that driveway where the word "beautiful" came up more than once.

A girl who is very beautiful on the outside but on the inside is a tangled mess
You make me a beautiful disaster


You know what IS beautiful?  The group of people that I have chosen to surround myself in the last few year's.  It is hardship and the easiest of times, ironically enough.  It is watching my best friend drive all the way to Nevada and back, and hearing her say that her home truly is in Missouri now.  It is watching couples I know fall apart only to realize that they needed that breaking moment to understand that while love is easy, life can make it hard, and that nothing, NOTHING, worth having comes without some sort of fight and sacrifice.   It is sitting with women who are truly beautiful from the inside out.  Not one of us are perfect, not one of us have gotten where we are without some sort of fight or drama, and even through bickering, bitching and moaning we are making an attempt to be better humans and better women and better friends.  There is just so much wealth in moments that are beautiful.  From the inside out.  Not pretty.  But beautiful.  God dammit we have fought hard to be sitting in that driveway last night.  And everyday we should keep fighting to keep a hold of what we have.  Because that is what matters.  The girls like to give me shit about my heart, poking a little bit of fun at me because I am forever reminding them of how important the moments are. I know they mean no harm and I also know that they are taking stock in what we have. Just in their own way.  

[byoo-tuh-fuh l]
adjective
1.
having beauty; possessing qualities that give great pleasure or satisfaction to see, hear, think about, etc.; delighting the senses or mind:
a beautiful dress; a beautiful speech.
2.
excellent of its kind:
a beautiful putt on the seventh hole; The chef served us a beautiful roast of beef.
3.
wonderful; very pleasing or satisfying.
noun
4.
the concept of beauty (usually preceded by the).
5.
(used with a plural verb) beautiful things or people collectively (usually preceded by the):
the good and the beautiful.
6.
the ideal of beauty (usually preceded by the):
to strive to attain the beautiful.
interjection
7.
wonderful; fantastic:
You got two front-row seats? Beautiful!
8.
extraordinary; incredible: used ironically:
Your car broke down in the middle of the freeway? Beautiful!
 
I can't be around these people and not feel something.  I can't be around all of my friend's and not feel SOMETHING.  Because they force it, they force me to feel it, most of the time they don't even realize it.  I see disaster.  I see troubles and hardships, but I still see beauty.  Because we are what life is supposed to be.  It is messy and emotional.  It is people, places and things that embody and literally form us as people.  FROM THE INSIDE OUT.    I cannot look at M's face and touch him, close my eyes and listen to his laugh, or just feel him breathing as he holds me and not feel anything.  The emotion I have when I think of who we are, and what we all went through to be where we are today?  God, just think about it.  Seeing K & my cousin last night, you DESERVE where you are.  You worked hard for it. You fought a battle and you won, because you chose to. 


  1. Disaster Definition

    dictionary.search.yahoo.com
    n. noun
    • 1. a sudden event, such as an accident or a natural catastrophe, that causes great damage or loss of life 159 people died in the disaster
    • 2. denoting a genre of films that use natural or accidental catastrophe as the mainspring of plot and setting disaster struck within minutes of takeoff
    • 3. an event or fact that has unfortunate consequences 


 
The beauty that we all have the chance to create is right in front of us.  It's like a fork in the road.  It is a CHOICE.  To either wallow in pity and negativity or just simply embrace life's train wreck for fucks sake and live in our moments.  It is the good, the bad and the ugly.  That is the beauty in it.  It IS a beautiful disaster.  You take the pain and you understand that while it is there, you can fight it.  You can make your life what you want it to be.  I think that is the difference between a spiritual movement in a person and someone who just chooses to live in a life of pity.  God's grace is there.  The lesson's are there, often in the middle of a crisis or disaster.  We just have to see it and believe.  We have to have faith in the term "beautiful disaster".  Otherwise it is simply...

a disaster.   
 
It really is your choice.  
 
Live, love. 
Always.  xo
 
Tiffany 
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Tiffany writes for The Hive Publications.  
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