It's Been About 4 Years -Let me explain (Part Two)

I must admit, a smile flickered on my face. It's always a magical feeling to know that life is growing inside you. But then at once, I was scared. Saddened. Hopeful. All the feelings. 

At the time, I felt there was love between my boyfriend and I. At the time, I had a lot of faith in us. It felt like we were both living on the edge of a precipice. For me, I saw opportunity and light and faith. For me, it was more than hope. When I had gone out to the balcony to show him those two lines, fear filled his eyes. The word A-B-O-R-T-I-O-N slipped from his lips. I nodded in agreement because it was the logical decision. We were new. We were trying this relationship again. I had only been back in town for one menstrual cycle. One. I called Planned Parenthood and set up my appointment for the termination, trying to hold it together. It was scheduled for 2 weeks out. There was sadness but a bit of relief upon his face.

Simultaneously, I had made an appointment with my OBGYN. I spent the next week and a half feeling a mix of anger and deep sadness. Knowing that the day was getting closer, and feeling more apprehensive and panicky. I was looking back to the first day when I saw those two lines. The magic I felt. The courage. The hope and the faith. I saw a beautiful life ahead for us. All of us. And I brought this up to my boyfriend. I said that we should consider the idea of having this baby together, having this family together...I mean, we loved each other, right?

My son was home with me finally for the rest of the summer. My daughter had gone with her dad to spend two weeks with him. A week went by, closer to potential termination date. The night before my birthday, my son and I went over to my boyfriend's home to spend time together. Roommate didn't want ______ coming over because he was needing space. So off we went to pick up ______. Mind you, he had just got off work and it was already 10:30 at night. It took another 20 minutes to get his beer and cigarettes and head home. 

By the time we arrived at his place, I, being pregnant and in the first trimester, was extremely fatigued and ready to just crash out. He, however, wanted to stay up later than it already was. He said he wanted to talk and so I sat and listened. He was voicing his fears and concerns about having a baby and being a father. I told him that I understood his fears and concerns and that they were totally normal to have! Especially as a first time parent! But these were not the words he was looking for apparently, said I wasn't hearing him, that I was dismissing him. I wasn't sure how I could have dismissed him at all. But then he proceeded to explain further how I was a shitty girlfriend to him. All of this in front of my son, by the way. This was the night I realized that this was his roundabout way of telling me that he did not want this kid. So as I had been kicked out of bed and had no real place to sleep, I sat upright in his chair and wrote this note to work through what I had just experienced:

"Tonight was the first night I actually felt fear or concern for this path I chose, with the pregnancy, this baby, and this relationship. It was the first time I felt doubt. And I have spent all night second guessing myself. And I’m fucking exhausted. I should have just gone home, or stayed home to begin with because I was already so tired. And so, my thoughts go to: How is he going to treat me or react to me when I am tired, exhausted, or have had a bad day? Because I don’t think me being tired warranted the reaction and the punishment I received.

I literally hadn’t seen him in awhile, and even though I was exhausted, and even though I didn’t want to leave the apartment so damn late, I did anyway because I missed him and I wanted him to hold me and I could just go to sleep. But instead, because of my exhaustion and my perceived dismissal and perceived lack of connection, I was shut down, talked down to in front of my son, and then was told because I was tired, to go the fuck to sleep. Nothing I did was right, nothing I did was enough, and in the end, it was about what he wanted from me.

I’ve been trying to make this about us. An equal partnership. But it seems to me like if I’m not doing enough for him, or doing things the way he wants, when he wants, I get booted out. I am not enough. He told me to go the fuck to sleep and left to smoke and I was crying to myself when David comes out from behind the tapestry and tells me he wants to go home. I should have just gone home. But then _____ comes back in and starts to kiss my back and hold me and tell me he loves me and I’m still his girl and it’s so confusing.

I came here tonight to spend time with him, and go to sleep next to him. He told me he wanted to talk so I wanted to talk to him. He began sharing his concerns and fears, which are understandable, but I did what I would have wanted to do for myself if I was in his position, which I have been in before, and tried to mitigate his fears, and give him some assurance that everything is going to be okay and that there is nothing to worry about. I couldn’t even finish what I was trying to say before he interrupted me about how I wasn’t listening to him and so I apologized and shut up. I guess I made some type of face and that made him more upset or angry. I didn’t understand. And I was upset about the situation. He left to smoke a cigarette and I was left confused about the whole situation. We were having a fine night before we got home, weren’t we? So what did I do so fucking wrong?

I was embarrassed how he was talking to me in front of my son. I think that’s what angers me the most. There is a way to communicate and that is not the way to do it. I’m already an extremely sensitive person, so imagine what pregnancy hormones do, ON TOP of me being exhausted.

So of course, I’m laying there trying to sleep, after he’s already fallen asleep, and I’m thinking about why he was bringing up those fears and concerns if he didn’t want my feedback or reassurance. Isn’t that what people are supposed to do in relationships when one is feeling scared or fearful? Did I not make the right move? Which led me to think, what if this is his way of saying he doesn’t want to do this with me. Which I know he tells me he does, and sure, maybe he does, but maybe he just doesn’t want to do it with me now. And if that’s the case, he just needs to tell me 100% that that’s what he wants.

The last thing I want is for him to do this because he feels it’s expected of him. I want him to do it because he truly and 100% wants to. If he does it out of expectation, there will be regret for him. And then resentment. And I can’t personally handle that pain.

So all night while I’ve been thinking my about all of this, and trying so hard to fall asleep, he’s been pushing me closer and closer to this corner of the bed. And it’s so uncomfortable. And every time I try to wake him he stares at me in this half wake, half sleep state with this really grumpy look on his face and just goes back to sleep. I’ve given up and moved to the big chair. I’m just really not okay with what happened tonight. I mean, I didn’t do anything to deserve what happened. I was exhausted,

I should have stayed home. But I missed ______, I needed him. So I came. And when he needed me, I thought I was being there for him. But it wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t enough. And then I was made to feel even worse because I wasn’t loving on him the way he needed even though I needed it too. And when I wasn’t given the opportunity to talk to him or explain myself, I was told to go to fucking sleep. And all night have been practically forced out of bed. And all I can think about is David looking at me all fucking sad and asking if we can go home, and me telling him “well roommate wanted his space so here we are.”

I feel like I didn’t stand up for myself, and I feel like I let my son down. Again. I’ve been totally okay the past week. Exhausted! But okay. After tonight, I mean, I guess I should say it’s morning now, fucking 3am…but after last night, I am taking a little more consideration into these next steps. Because, I bring this up again: if my being exhausted causes this much of a reaction, what will happen when I’m waking up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? What will happen when I come home or ______ comes home, and I have had a bad day? When I need him, but I am not enough for him.

What if he has a bad day and I try to help him and he gets mad at me for trying to make him feel better? I will not be spoken to that way in front of my children! To belittle me and make me feel like my needs are less than his, because he was unhappy with how I tried to make him feel better?? Because my exhaustion got in the way of holding him properly or kissing him properly or not snuggling with him when he was the one who kept walking away for a smoke? When he was the one to tell me to go the fuck to sleep. When I wanted a kiss and he said to me, “don’t make me treat you like your kids.” What? But when you want a kiss I just have to give it to you immediately? How is that equal, right, or fair?

This gives me no comfort in moving forward. Safety net is gone. I no longer feel safe. All because I was fucking exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep, but I wanted to be there for him too. Couldn’t do both apparently. I’m just really ready for my daughter to come back home. I just want to snuggle with my kids and be left alone."

-sage 08/15-08/16 3:36am

Funnily enough that same evening while we were at the gas station grabbing his beer and cigarettes, I was trying to talk to him about Roommate and how he was being absurd about not allowing my boyfriend over to stay the night. A few days prior, boyfriend had talked to me about moving in with us so he could be there with "his family" as he called us. However, when I spoke up about my frustrations with Roommate, his attitude did a 180 and said, "Let the man have his space!" Woah. Weren't we just talking about moving in together just the other day? So I look back on all this now and am certain that the whole night was him trying to back out and tell me he didn't want this. And I should have listened that first time.

I was eagerly waiting for the sun to rise so that my son and I could leave. I was so angry and so hurt and so confused! We got home and I got ready for work, waited for the babysitter, and contemplated this whole situation. As I left for work, I got into my car, turned it on and then froze. My stomach was in knots and I had the bad butterflies, not the good ones. I broke down. I cried, and cried, and cried my heart out. I was praying to God and to my ancestors. I was apologizing for everything! I spoke back and forth with myself about this baby inside my womb. I knew that this baby was meant to be. I couldn't understand why. It was just a known, instinctual feeling. And so I called Planned Parenthood and canceled the termination. 

But I kept thinking about my boyfriend. And I called Planned Parenthood back to reschedule, and simultaneously went online to also have those termination pills sent to me by mail so they could come sooner. The lady on the phone was concerned as I kept calling back to reschedule or cancel, over and over again. I was sobbing on the phone and she told me, "Follow your heart. What does your heart say?" Now I know this was probably not allowed on her end to say something like this to me...but I needed to hear her. 

Follow Your Heart has always been a motto I use. I told her to hold off on the appointment and hung up the phone. I sobbed some more and then a song came on the radio. It was "Dear Prudence" by The Beatles. I was taken back to my first day back in Colorado when I was coming to the apartment. As I was walking up to the lobby door, I found a business card laying there. There was no contact information, just the words: 

The sun is up 

The sky is blue

It's beautiful 

And so are you 

I keep it in my wallet. The song kept playing and my sad tears slowly turned to happy tears. Grateful tears! No offense to my boyfriend, or perhaps my soon to be ex-boyfriend, but I was going to have this baby. Whether he was in the picture or not. And I vowed that if this baby was a girl, her name was going to be Prudence.

Prudence: (prudəns): UNCOUNTABLE NOUN

Prudence is care and good sense that someone shows when making a decision or taking action; caution or discretion.

Incapable

There is one side of me that imagines my life as one where I travel the world with my children, have a nice, humble home, have a garden or even some land with animals, and the financial freedom of never having to worry. The other side of me is broken, lost, addicted to sex and drugs, her home-away-from-home is a psychiatric facility where she can't seem to escape her mental illnesses and nihilism.

Sometimes, I don't know how to cope. And other times, I can easily conquer. No matter the head meds I take. Sometimes I feel like they are a placebo affect. But then I remember the past 7 years of having zero meds and the disaster after disasters that occurred. I mean, I've been back home for a year now. And you might think, "Okay, and?" But this is huge deal. A big step for me. The last time I stayed somewhere for a year or more was when I lived with M from 2012 to 2019.

I imagine my life where I don't have kids around to make sure I'm getting out of bed or leaving the room. I imagine my life where I don't have M around to lift me up and give me reason to live. It is a sad and dark life. And I don't even know how I scored the lottery with the family I have with M. 

I am incapable of normalcy. I am incapable of stability (on my own). I am incapable of taking care of myself. I am incapable with so many things, it's debilitating to think about. And when imagining my life where I no longer have M around, (my biggest fear), I wonder how in the world I will ever be able to show up for anyone. Ever. I am unable to work because of my mental illnesses. How would I pay for housing or food for my children? 

From 2019 to 2023 when I was alone caring for my children, do you know what I did? I spent almost every night crying myself to sleep. I shared my bed with my kids for comfort. I pissed in old bottles and cups when I couldn't leave my room due to psychotic symptoms I was experiencing. I left job after job. Home after home. Living in a constant state of severe anxiety and major depression. I couldn't pay my way. I was using our food stamps and TANF. $500 a month. You think that is any way to live?

If I lost M, I don't know if I could ever be okay again.

I've been having so much anxiety over these thoughts lately. It's a mixture of an evil brain during times of peace and happiness, and also because of our age-gap relationship. I worry so much about being left behind. Yeah, and I know I could go before him. But that's not the anxiety I get. 

Anyway, I don't like talking about that.

There are times when I imagine that Me where I am living a golden life with my kids and family. And sometimes I catch myself not believing in that reality. Because I don't realize just how debilitating my illnesses are. It's honestly a miracle I can do what I do at all. I mean, tonight, I came to the realization of why I never do bath time and self-care habits with my kids. Because as a kid myself, my mom never did those things with me. Bath time was not a time for playing. Or enjoying with my mom. It wasn't exciting like how you see with other parents or in shows or movies. So why would I get excited for my own kids. It was easier when my oldest were little. But even now with my youngest, I still find it such a chore to get it going. I feel like such a failure in some of my ways with parenting. 

I learned how Not To Parent. So I do those well. But things that fall between those things are my weak spots. Spots in which I feel guilt and shame and lost. And I worry that my kids will only see those spots and not the other stuff I try so hard to put forth. I was never set up to succeed. I was neglected, traumatized, abandoned, betrayed, and told to basically figure it out. And then when I end up in the mental hospital, I am treated like being mentally ill is my fucking fault. And my mom walks around on eggshells while my dad basically doesn't believe in mental illness. "Instead of communicating about it and trying to help, let's play pretend because I don't want to face my own mistakes as a mother/father!" Because you don't want to admit that you played huge role into how and why I ended up so mentally unfit. But look down on me to feel better about you, that's fine.

I am turning 30 on August 16th. I have nothing together. And my only motivation in life are my kids and my M. There are too many things in the world that I want to do or be. It's overwhelming. And I'm literally never sure if the thing I choose to invest in is real or just a manic episode. I mean, just a few months back, I was considering going to mortuary school. Here I am in June going, "What the fuck, Sage?" There are so many businesses that I want to run. Or rather, that I think I want to run. But when it comes down to it, is it real? I am completely unreliable in this. I can't just pick one thing and stick with it. I went to phlebotomy school just to be a phlebotomist for a week and a half. 

How do I reach my Golden Life Reality? No, seriously, how?? I could really use some guidance. Because I've been in therapy since I was 3 and am finally medicated and I just feel like it barely scratches the surface of success in my life. I still struggle so hard. So, so hard.

You don't even understand how grateful and lucky I am to be here. Like, you can't even comprehend. And honestly, I owe my fucking life to M. From day one. Even through all my bullshit over these past few years, he was there. Even if it was in the background. I will never understand why he loves me the way that he does. But he does, and so I am just forever in gratitude.

Anyway, I just needed to vent a bit and share my feelings. It always helps. 

Un-expectations

Last week at church, I had one of those stereotypical moments that you see in movies or shows when a skeptic is brought to tears and finally is open to God. The church-goers around them embracing them and telling them, "Welcome home, Dear Child. You are so loved." No, but for real...though much less dramatic, I had a moment.

I want to say that it started with May 20th when I went up to the river to do a physical emotional purge. I had a court hearing the next day and I was really feeling all the feels and simultaneously not having the opportunity to process them and release them. This is what the river is good for.

Though I had my baby with me, it was still healing and beneficial. We were able to perch on a rock and he allowed me time to speak what I needed to speak and cry what I needed to cry. I always pour out my gratitude. And then I basically speak out loud my feelings and emotions and experiences. I "catch-up" with the river, so to speak. And then I do my praying and meditating and ask for the things I need help with the most. This time, it was Release. Getting rid of all the dead weight I'd been carrying for so many years. Feeling light and free again. Saying goodbye and kicking out the bad people in my life, never to see them again. Freedom.

I finished with gratitude and appreciation while my baby was telling me, "Okay, lady, wrap it up." And off we went, walking back through the forest, stopping here and there to look at flowers and bugs and trees and to take photos. Listening to the forest speak to us through her birds and breeze and leaves. I love, love, love it.

The next day at court, I was devastated by the outcome. Everything seemed ass backwards. It felt like I hadn't been heard. For me, in those first couple of weeks after the hearing, the "bad guys" won, as they always seem to do, nihilism and depression were starting to set in. The self-care routine stopped. The head-meds were sometimes taken, sometimes forgotten. I was all out of whack, and my anxiety was starting to become a nuisance. Fear. Exhaustion. Anger. Heaviness. It was literally sucking the happiness out of my life, and there was much to be happy and excited for!

And then, Sunday, May 2nd came. A day I was dreading for personal reasons. But I was looking forward to church, simply because I felt like there was going to be some type of answer. Something I needed to know. Because I had been struggling so hard over those past two weeks to understand how something so painful and traumatizing could make it through to the other side, seemingly to perpetuate that pain and trauma. How could evil win this one??

I eagerly sat there, awaiting an explanation. "Tell me how and why, God?" Now, I had been getting nudges here and there throughout the months; a little voice chiming in every once in awhile telling me to open my heart. To embody love. To let go. To forgive. Every time this voice came through, I would roll my eyes and huff and puff my way through the day. "Absolutely not! Not when it comes to this one!" Over time, the rolling of the eyes and the huffing and puffing lessened and I started to really feel it, which felt defeating in a way. It was the last thing I wanted to do with this specific situation. But it also felt out of my control. Like how it feels when your mom is dragging you along to some boring work meeting or something when you're just a kid who wants to play outside.

Even at the river, I had that voice come through while asking for Release. I only sighed and a few tears came down that I quickly brushed off.

Now time came for the sermon of the day. The reverend read a passage. It was about the man with the withered hand: 

Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there with a withered hand. And they watched Jesus to see whether he would heal the man on the Sabbath, so that they might accuse him. And he said to the man with the withered hand, "Come here." And he said to them, "Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm, to save life or to kill?" But they were silent. And he looked around at them with anger, grieved at their hardness of heart, and said to the man, "Stretch out your hand." He stretched it out and his hand was restored. The Pharisees went out and immediately held counsel with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.

The reverend had gone on to speak of Jesus's disciples plucking the grain from the field on Sabbath. How they had only been hungry. Not that they were doing any labor. How the Pharisees had been cold and closed off to them and looking for anything to accuse Jesus of. Though the Pharisees seemed to believe they were much more pleasing to God, which in their own way was hypocritical of them in the first place to believe so. Doesn't God show mercy?

This is when things got a bit foggy, because my emotions came flooding in. Tears couldn't stop falling from my eyes. I was doing the best I could to try to cover them up. It was a useless task. He was talking about the softening of hearts. Hearts that were made of stone. Or rather, hearts that had become stone over time through all of the pain and suffering they experienced. An instinctual defense mechanism. And we wonder why we feel so heavy.

All of those voices came flooding through again. "Embody love." "Let go." "Forgive." "Open your heart." And now a new voice, "Soften your heart." In an instant I had gone through how unmovable I had been with this situation. Though I had reason to be, in instinctual protection of myself and my son, I had trapped myself inside this prickly prison cell. Thinking that eventually, it would be the other who'd feel the pain from the needles every time I'd lean into them.

I, like the Pharisees, had been hypocritical in my defense of love and protection. Thinking my way was The Way. Yes, it was love and protection that was my aim. But it was a love and protection that could not reach the hearts in need of it as well. Though a bit defeating in feeling, I knew that I had come to a point where I realized that it wasn't in the other person that I needed to seek faith and forgiveness in. The only person you can count on truly, is yourself. Only you are in control of your own thoughts, emotions, and reactions to things. Beyond that, what can you really do?

I could keep my heart heavy in stone, sure. Keep myself stuck inside that painful prison of fear, anxiety, and stubbornness. And maybe that would negatively affect the other person in some sort of painful way. Maybe I'd see it as a form of protection for myself and my son. Like I was doing the right thing. But it would be such a heavy weight to carry for something that wasn't even of my own doing. Something that, ultimately, I had no control of. There was no seeing into the true reality of the future I wanted or expected from this Release. 

So what else was there to do but to just let it go. To soften my heart. To embody the love I wish had been shown. I needed to surrender and let be what will be. I needed to allow God to give me that Release and freedom I needed. Not the one I wanted. And you would think that would piss me off! But really, it took so much heaviness off. There was no more prison I was keeping myself trapped in, hoping it would hurt the other person.

I cried and cried. And yeah, people stared. They smiled in care. Not concern or pity. I had been blessed twice that day by the reverend. And I had a lovely woman sit and pray with me, hand in hand, while I cried. I felt embraced, not just by the community, but also by myself and by God and whoever's voices it was that had been nagging at me for so long.

That evening, the evening I had been dreading up until that morning, was another weight lifted. Speaking one on one to the person I hadn't spoken to for almost a year, to the person who had abandoned me and his son, was in some crazy way...healing. He spoke his words and what he needed to show for himself. And I decided to be soft. Open. I decided to have faith. Not necessarily in him, but more so in the journey. I knew that I was only in control of myself. That he was going to do what he was going to do no matter what. And I couldn't control that. But I could let it go and leave it up to God.

Maybe this person chatting in front of me had grown. Shifted. For the better as he said. Who am I to say?

It made me realize that, at the river and of all the times I had begged and prayed for Release from the past and of the people in it that had hurt me and my family, was granted. Just not in the way I ever expected. Maybe when we ask for the bad people to go away, they leave themselves too? Like, the "bad" is no longer with them. They are transformed, therefore, no longer capable of the harm. So, are they truly the same person you were praying for to leave your life?

I asked for Release. And I got it. I asked for freedom. And I got it. I asked for the bad people to leave my life and never return. And I got it. I was set free of the anxiety and burden of carrying that heart of stone around. I was released from the past and its pain through the self-work that was done through the other party and my acceptance of what was to what will be, knowing I can never be sure, and continuing my own self-work. Those dead branches that were no longer bearing any fruit had been pruned! But instead of expecting those spots where the dead branches were pruned to stay that way, new branches emerged healthier and ready to bear fruit.

These are the things that are hidden blessings. The ones we don't expect, yet they give us exactly what we asked for, in unexpected ways. And what I can do with that is to have gratitude, express it and transmute it into love, and have faith that everything is intended for reasons seen and unseen.

My heart may not be as soft as a rose just yet, but compared to the state it was in not so long ago, I think I'm making decent progress.

Lost & Found

So two days ago, I finally married my favorite person in the whole world at the recorder clerk's office. Yay, us! It only took about 13 years to figure this whole thing out, haha.

Something chaotic happened on the day we were getting married. The day started out calm and happy. I went to Trader Joe's and bought him some flowers (as Trader Joe's has the best flowers/plants). I spent the morning getting ready. My sister came over to help me get dolled up. I wore a hairstyle I never would have worn in a million years. It's not that it's dumb, but my hair is fairly thin, and volume is hard to come by unless I go to a salon—and who has the money for that?

M went to get ready at his parents' house so that we could be somewhat traditional in the "not supposed to see each other until we get married" part of marriage. I was running behind with the kids, trying my best to put on makeup (which I never wear, by the way), get dressed, and finish my hair. We zoomed out the door, and off I went up the mountain to meet my soon-to-be husband. About 5 minutes into driving up the mountain, I realized I had forgotten my driver's license/photo ID, which was required to proceed with the marriage.

There were no turnouts or breaks in the median to turn around, 30 minutes until the wedding was supposed to happen, and still 25 miles to drive. I had to drive all the way to the top of the mountain in order to turn around and drive back down. My sons were with me in the car, while my daughter was riding with my dad and sister. I asked him to keep searching in the back seat for my ID just in case, because I swore that the car was the last place I remembered having it. To no avail, it could not be located.

We arrived back at the apartment, and I dashed upstairs to rummage through everything I could think of to find it. Meanwhile, I was also soaking through a tampon because I was on day two of my moon cycle. I'm freaking out, on the verge of crying and giving up. I run to the bathroom to take care of myself and then, last minute, decide to grab my old California license and dash out the door, praying to God they'll accept this ID.

Driving back up the mountain, I let everyone know that I couldn't find it and that I was going to be there as quickly as I could. "Please let the recorder clerk know I'm just running behind a few minutes!" Like a madwoman, I nearly fall out of the car, check to see if I'm bleeding through my white dress, throw on my heels, desperately try to fix my hair (which I am now regretting), and get my sons out of the car.

Finally inside, I see my M, and relief floods my heart and mind. I climb into his arms, and he says he loves me and thinks I look great. We head inside the clerk's office, and I'm hoping to God that when she asks for my ID, she'll be okay with it. The clerk was very kind, welcoming, and excited for us and our family. And she looked over my ID for like, 1.5 seconds and happily handed it back to me. She had us go over some papers and sign them. I officially have the last name I have desired since the moment I knew his last name.

"Today we are gathered to witness the marriage of M and Sage and to share in the joy of this memorable occasion. The two of you have come before me today to be united in marriage. Marriage is a desire by two people to share themselves and their experiences with each other and a willingness to accept each other for who they are. It is making a commitment to friendship and mutual respect and calls for honesty, patience, courage, and of course, humor. Marriage is where each partner is there to support each other in all that they do. Marriage requires closeness and distance—the closeness of a couple growing together and enough distance to allow each partner to be an individual. A good partner in such a marriage will be loving, caring, and above all, a best friend."

My hand melts in his.

"Sage, do you vow your love and devotion to M, promising to care for him in the joys and sorrows of life, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, whatever the future may bring?"

With a smile on my face and in my heart, "I do."

"M, do you vow your love and devotion to Sage, promising to care for her in the joys and sorrows of life, in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, whatever the future may bring?"

"I do." He squeezes my hand.

"M and Sage, you have both made the declarations prescribed by law and have made a solemn and binding contract with each other in the presence of the witnesses. It therefore gives me the greatest honor and privilege to announce that by the virtue of the authority vested in me as deputy commissioner of marriages, I now pronounce you married!"

And he takes me in and kisses me like it was the first time. The world around us disappears.

For a quick marriage in a recorder clerk's office, it was a beautiful experience. And I am over the moon about it. And yes, we are still going to have our wedding ceremony with other family and friends next year at our favorite place.

It was a million degrees outside, and we wanted to get out of these hot clothes. We were also starving, all of us, since we had not had anything to eat all day. It was decided that we would get some food at the taqueria and head to the beach to jump into that magical, medicinal lake water.

But I misplaced my car key. My brain seemed to have been gone for most of that day. In all honesty, I think I was just rushing around so quickly because I couldn't wait to be M's wife, finally. My dad and I searched and searched for the key. I went back into the office to ask the clerk if she'd seen it. Nothing. I ran back to the car to continue searching.

While searching for the key, my dad found my license. The whole time I'd searched the car, alongside my son who was also trying to help, we never found it. Lo and behold, it had been getting a safe ride in my daughter's car seat. Shaking my head in annoyance and disbelief, I went to put the license in my wallet when, as if by magic, my car key appeared in my wallet...which, by the way, I had already searched through five times and had not found the key. It was like a joke!

Dying of heat and hunger, we were all finally on our way. We filled our bellies, changed into beach attire, and headed to sweet relief from the water.

There was a moment in the water with my now-husband where he was holding me, looking into my eyes the way he used to in the beginning. It filled my heart. I told him, "This is my favorite place in the whole world. In your arms in the lake." Head resting on his heart. "Oh!" he said. We laughed together.

And it's true. My heaven would be this. And peering out towards the beach and seeing my family. This is heaven. And it's not often we find heaven on Earth.

At a point when I was alone in the water, I thanked the lake over and over and over. So full of gratitude. See, what I like to do is go to the river and purge my emotions physically. I pray and meditate and ask for release. The river takes my burdens away. Carries them down to the lake, like a message for her. So when I go to the lake and dive in, I come up feeling cleansed and pure and full of gratitude. And the lake, she is a whole entity. Her waters are medicine! And sometimes she claims the souls of others. And sometimes she carries the ashes of loved ones. And she gives children and babies joy from the sand and the sound of the waves. The coolness of the waters refreshes anyone who dares enter her.

Lake Tahoe. Home. Thank you. M and I stood and sat at your shores from ice and snow to those hot, summery days just talking and talking and being in each other's presence. Falling deeper in love each time. And now, this beautiful soul of a man is my husband. And it is an honor to belong to him. And yes, I am okay with belonging to someone. Because he isn't just any someone, he is the soul I was led to find again in this life. And I believe that we have belonged to each other since the creation of time.

I wanted to bring up the chaos of that day—losing my license and key, forgetting my tampons, feeling insecure about my hair, and the rushing around—because it is very symbolic of our relationship. So much so that it's laughable. I mean, from the time we started to spend days with each other, we had both been lost for a while. Both on the borderline of nihilism and loss of all hope for anything good in our futures. And we didn't bask in that while spending time with each other, which you would think would be the natural thing to do. Complain. Dwell. Pity. But we lifted each other up. We tried to understand ourselves and each other and the experiences we had from our past up until the moment we said hello to each other.

We fell in love, if this wasn't obvious enough. And we stayed hidden. We hid while simultaneously being out in the open, if that makes any sense. Like my license and key had done that day.

Over the course of our relationship, I was convinced that I had lost my identity. I didn't know who I was or what I was supposed to do in life. I needed to find myself. While he waited for me at the clerk's office, waiting for me to get my shit together, I left to go find myself. I drove down that mountain. I searched and searched. I neglected my self-care. All that blood soaked through. I needed those tampons, ugh! I couldn't find my license for the life of me! I grabbed an old ID and prayed it would be accepted. Thinking I was going to miss my own wedding, I rushed my way back up the mountain. Made it home to him, standing in this office with 20 minutes to spare for our appointment.

Meanwhile, my license, my identity had been with me the whole time. I had the key the entire time. It was always with me.

Having to drive down that mountain in the moment felt like such a mistake. And realizing at the clerk's office that I didn't even need to drive back down that mountain, that it was a useless thing that only wasted time, I was annoyed. And sweaty. Ugh.

But if I hadn't driven back down, I wouldn't have been able to clean up that blood and take care of myself. Even if it took a couple of extra minutes out of what was supposed to be our wedding. I wouldn't have the backup ID. That little bit of hope left in me that maybe, just maybe it would work. The alternative reality of what could have been was this:

Driving up the mountain, bleeding through my white dress. Still in a rush because I was already late. The anxiety. The need to rush through so I don't make a bloody mess. Only to realize at the appointment that I have ZERO ID to show, being turned around in defeat and disappointment. Blaming myself and my brain.

If I had never left M, which is something I have told myself since coming back home to him was a waste of time and totally pointless, I never would have come to the realization that he was, in fact, home. That I had already known who I was the whole time I was with him. That I already had everything I needed. This brings immense gratitude and appreciation into my life.

Appreciation for the bullshit drive back down the mountain.

By the way, while I was driving back down the mountain in desperate search of my ID, M was dealing with really awful people at the courthouse, which we thought was the place we had to go for the marriage. They weren't helping him at all. He was in the wrong place. And it wasn't until a stranger, not even a courthouse worker, told him he was in the wrong place and he needed to get to the recorder clerk's office at an entirely different address.

While I was gone, apart from him in Colorado, he had been in the wrong place too. And he received no help. There was no guidance. No direction. Knowing that he had to get to the place where we would be forever united. Both in our own way, knowing we needed to get to that place. And we did.

Life is strange that way. Little reminders and messages from the universe. This is life. And it ain't easy a lot of the time. And I know marriage is supposed to be a big deal in that you are binding yourself to a person for the rest of your life. You hear from so many people the anxiety they have just before getting married. I always told myself, if I'm having anxiety before getting married, I'm not getting married. I feel like when you are getting married to your person, you should feel calm. Ready. Loved. Knowing. Trusting.

Yes, marriage is a big deal. But everything that M and I have faced, whether apart or together, makes me extremely confident in our ability to get through anything that may come our way. I know in my heart how strong we are. How united we are and have been from the very beginning, even when apart. Our energy has been tied from the beginning. So marrying him was official in the eyes of the court, our union. Though our union happened the moment we spoke words to each other almost 13 years ago. It has been a soul marriage this entire time.

Absolutely everything in my life—my heartbreaking childhood, my angry adolescence—led me to him. Every pain I felt. Every time I was alone and wanted to die, I'd imagine a future where I felt cared for and loved unconditionally. I felt those emotions. And meeting M, I knew in an instant that the little girl who used to feel this energy, this presence I could only feel in my times of despair and loss, was him all along. I was just making my way towards him. And him the same in his own way.

Just a reminder that nothing in life is ever pointless, useless, or a waste of time.

Never.