Mixed Feelings

Every serious relationship I’ve had has taught me something—sometimes gently, sometimes the hard way. I’ve grown a little more each time, even when it hurt. Right now I’m really trying to focus on the good things I learned from each one… the ways I’ve changed, the ways I’ve softened or gotten stronger.  My marriage was hard—damaging in more ways than I can count. But when he took away the choice to work through things, I had no option but to sink or swim… and I swam. I learned I’m stronger than I ever thought. I did the damn thing, even when it hurt. First, there was the long-distance guy… The care and passion we had made me brave enough to do something wild—like drive super far, on the actual highway, all by myself. That might sound small, but back then it was huge. He made me feel bold and wanted, and I’ll always remember that. There was a man who helped me rediscover something I didn’t even know I’d lost—my connection to intimacy, to touch, to pleasure. With him, I learned that ...

Recently Rockman wrote me a beautiful message about how simple it is for him to be an amazing man.  Giving credit to his parents his upbringing so on.  I've told him a lot about my life and he wrote me this beautiful comparison to being cold forged steel.  It was beautiful. I won't share the whole thing but I have to share this part, because it is so very me.  "Yet there you are... After all the hits, the hurts, the abuse, the neglect... There you are... There.  You.  Are.  I think that you are akin to some incredibly intricately and delicately-wrought long stemmed rose of iron (which still has well-earned and very well-forged thorns)." The lengthy writing that he wrote went directly into my compliment's bank.

Journal Entry 3 min read March 31, 2023 (long personal one) TW suicide, abuse, growth This is the story about my husband going missing. You don't have to read it Today’s the day. Today’s the day he walked out the door and never came back. Two years ago, Erica had a very interesting day. So what happened? Well, I asked him for a divorce. He said no. I told him I wanted to see other people, explore polyamory, learn more about myself and what I really needed. He asked me to give him time and to not date yet. I said okay—because I was a coward. That part's a longer story. For 12 weeks, we lived in a strange, stressful limbo. That could be its own story. He was at his best during those weeks. The kindest, calmest version of himself I’d ever seen. Maybe he sensed the end. We talked a lot. I told him about the ways he had hurt me, how scared I was of him sometimes, and how scared his kids were too. Then spring break came. We had a decent week. We even went and got a puppy—almost like ...