When all else fails, try try again…

…or just burn the fucker down.

I went home… I slept in my bed… alone. And I thought it felt awful, tense and stressfull.  I was trapped in there and I hated it and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it again… but then I came back again anyway just because I really did want to devote myself  to us… and I woke you up and asked you to sleep in the bed with me… just to be there, not for anything other than the sake of being spouses.  And it was good and sweet.  And I wanted it to go on… but then it just all went flying out the window. 

Too Much Fertilizer burns out the soil completely.  I’m burnt.

Nothing is growing here in this garden and the root of that one weed last week disrupted soil all over the entire garden, dropping the ornamental shrubs one at a time leaving just destruction and waste in it’s path.  Damn those weeds and that cheap store bought fertilizer.  Never again…

I hate how quickly the sticker bush weeds grow.  One minute you get a small fragile self twining vine with soft hair like coverings and the beginnings of a bloom… and the next minute it’s a full blown stinky, prickly, seeded and self fertilizing plant.

I rip it from the soil, pulling it out, roots and all.  It stubbornly hangs on as ferociously as it can, and then gives way.  Just like my sprit and faith… willful but giving way every time.

To one of my gardeners, thank you for the air mattress, the comforter, the wine. Thank you for listening, empathizing, offering suggestons… thank you for the house keys.  You may never know how much that means to me… But God does.  And so do I. 

And to the gardener who helps me plant the pretties- thanks for being my “family”… my “person”!  I couldn’t do this without you.

Independence

Here I am, sitting in the dark of someone elses living room at 9pm.  I’m sitting on someone elses couch, sweating on someone elses couch cover and accent pillows, sipping cold white wine out of someone elses carefully chosen wine glasses.

I am alone.

My children reside at home with their father.  OBoy12 and OGirl10, snug at home with daddy, thinking mommy is “babysitting” someone else’s children… MGirl 18 is home with Oboy12 and Ogirl10… and someone elses babybaby.  Babybaby might be legally someone elses, but heartfully totally mine.  So much of my life seems to belong to someone else. 

Except that it really is mine.  Independantly, I have to accept that MY life is made up of someone else’s love and acceptance, someone else’s approval and encouragement, someone else’s needs and wants and desires.  MY life IS about someone else.  It’s not about me at all.

Dude!  Who knew?

Tonight, I am on my own.  And it’s scary.  And I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing, going the right way, headed the right direction,  or if I’m walking in the light, walking in His way, and I don’t know if I can trust and believe that it’s all going to be OK in the end.  Without my control.  Because… it’s not about me.

Sheesh.  NOW they tell me.  I could’ve used this info 38 years ago… or at least 14 years ago.  Why did I have to learn this lesson now?

I’m going to go out into my garden now.  It’s been untended for way too long.  The weeds are out of control, the insects are thriving, the soil is thin and hard.  It smells funky out there, and it’s full of things that scratch and sting and snag…ugly ugly things.  It’s gonna take me awhile.