Darling Nikki

Another tricky thing to navigate after a breakup is the loss of sexy naked time, and boy, did the New Englander and I have some sexy naked time!

People navigate this in all kinds of ways, masturbation, casual sex... Me, I'm down with the first, and have had my share of the second, but I'm not feeling like it's the way to go at the ripe old age of 48.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking about this part of our relationship, which then leads me down a path of asking myself how we could've messed up something so good? And THAT doesn't lead anywhere productive, because it tends not to include thinking about the crappy parts of our relationship that ultimately led us to the breaking point.

So what's a girl to do? I'm trying out a new strategy I learned where you name the different voices in your brain so you can better recognize when your brain is tricking you or leading you astray.

I named the part of my brain that is fixated on sex... what else? Nikki:

I knew a girl named Nikki
I guess you could say she was a sex fiend
I met her in a hotel lobby
Masturbating with a magazine
She said how'd you like to waste some time
And I could not resist when I saw little Nikki grind

She took me to her castle
And I just couldn't believe my eyes
She had so many devices
Everything that money could buy
She said sign your name on the dotted line
The lights went out
And Nikki started to grind

Nikki

The castle started spinning
Or maybe it was my brain
I can't tell you what she did to me
But my body will never be the same
Her lovin' will kick your behind
Oh, she'll show you no mercy
But she'll sho'nuff sho'nuff show you how to grind

Darlin' Nikki

Woke up the next morning
Nikki wasn't there
I looked all over and all I found
Was a phone number on the stairs
It said thank you for a funky time
Call me up whenever you want to grind

Oh, Nikki, ohhhh

Come back Nikki, come back
Your dirty little Prince
Wanna grind grind grind grind grind grind grind grind grind

Uh-huh. Don't we all.

But for tonight, we'll have to make do with some great music, including this not-quite-as-good but kinda fun cover by the Foo Fighters...

So Long, Marianne

During an episode of This is Us tonight, they played this beautiful song and talked about how Leonard Cohen had written it for his ex-girlfriend, with whom he remains friends:

Come over to the window, my little darling,
I'd like to try to read your palm.
I used to think I was some kind of Gypsy boy
before I let you take me home.
Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began
to laugh and cry and cry and laugh about it all again.

The New Englander and I don't quite laugh and cry about it all again, but we did laugh together again, and show up for what's happening in each other's lives. It's still hard for both of us to understand how we unraveled, and it sounds like this is a bit of a mystery for Leonard and Marianne too:

Well you know that I love to live with you,
but you make me forget so very much.
I forget to pray for the angels
and then the angels forget to pray for us.

Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...

We met when we were almost young
deep in the green lilac park.
You held on to me like I was a crucifix,
as we went kneeling through the dark.

Almost young, I like that phrase - -I'm not sure if the New Englander and I would qualify, at 39 and 44 when we met. I sho can relate to holding on to him like a crucifix, though - there was definitely, I think for both of us, a feeling of being saved by the love we shared.

Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...

Your letters they all say that you're beside me now.
Then why do I feel alone?
I'm standing on a ledge and your fine spider web
is fastening my ankle to a stone.

It's hard getting on after a breakup, and sometimes it does feel lonely, and as though the hold my former lover has is weighing me down.

Now so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...

For now I need your hidden love.
I'm cold as a new razor blade.
You left when I told you I was curious,
I never said that I was brave.

I am brave, or I wouldn't have been able to end things in the first place, but sometimes, sometimes I don't feel all that brave. Sometimes I just plain miss him.

Oh so long, Marianne, it's time that we began ...

Oh, you are really such a pretty one.
I see you've gone and changed your name again.
And just when I climbed this whole mountainside,
to wash my eyelids in the rain!

I'm with you there, Leonard, my eyelids get lots of washing, rain and shine!

Oh so long, New Englander, it's time that we began...

If I Can't Change Your Mind

I asked the cards how to be with my ex

It was a no TV Saturday for me, so I was pumping Spotify through my Wonderboom in the kitchen when this magical number began to fill the air:

Tears fill up my eyes
I'm washed away with sorrow
And somewhere in my mind
I know there's no tomorrow
I see you're leaving soon
I guess you've had your fill
But if I can't change your mind
Then no one will

And all throughout the years
I've never strayed from you my dear
But you suspect I'm somewhere else
You're feeling sorry for yourself
Leaving with a broken heart
I love you even still
But if I can't change your mind
Then no one will

Even though my heart keeps breaking
Don't you know that I'll be waiting
Here for you
Then when you return
When will you return
I hope you see I'm dedicated
Look how long that I have waited
If you come back then you will find
A different person
If you change your mind

How can I explain away
Something that I haven't done
And if you can't trust me now
You'll never trust in anyone
With all the crazy doubts you've got
I love you even still
But if I can't change your mind
Then no one will

Someday you'll see I've been true
I'll stay that way until
But if I can't change your mind
Then no one will

I know the pain of which he sings, though the end of my romance with the New Englander did not come as a result of not being able to change his mind, or me not changing mine.

I feel like I've been through lots of machinations over the 11 weeks since he moved out, starting with a deep sadness upon physical parting, moving on to a sense of relief that I wasn't still fighting the same battles and negotiating the same minefields it felt I'd been negotiating for months, then feeling like I was going to get to skip over the agony of a breakup because this just needed to happen, to where I've been the last few days, really showing up to the grief of having this wonderful person not turn out to be my person after all.

It's so hard to know what kind of relationship is best for us now and how it's going to work. Prior to tonight, we'd only had one real conversation since he moved back to New England. I found that first conversation difficult because it hurt to hear his voice and to have him call me babe, etc. even though I felt I'd been clear about the necessary shift to friendship.

After that I told myself I didn't want to talk to him, and toward the end of this week I realized that was coming from a place of self-protection. I was keeping him at arms length so I didn't have to feel that deep pain of which I spoke a couple paragraphs ago, but of course not feeling it didn't mean it wasn't there.

I asked the oracle (by drawing a card) what I needed to know about my relationship now with the New Englander and I drew the card you can see pictured above, which instructed me to practice devotion to those closest to me.

And even 1100 miles apart, he remains, as the lovely phone conversation we had tonight proved, one of those closest to me...

Outside

Future home of stickie notes to organize my book

The Universe is in alignment with me and my book project. Here are a couple of ways I know this to be true:

1) After a meeting with a colleague, I asked her about the huge boards she had leaning up in her office with stickie notes on them. I told her it would be great to have one to organize the different sections of my book, and she gave me one!

2) During the course of the conversation, I told her what my book was about. When I walked out of her office and into the stairwell, a woman ran after me to tell me that the experience I described of trying to piece together what happened in my childhood because I disassociated
from my body for three decades was the same experience she had. We went to lunch this week, and it was helpful to compare notes and support each other in the very difficult work of reintegration.

Today while I was putting away clothes in my room, a song came on Spotify about being on the outside looking in. I thought it was this one, turns out it wasn't, but it's still apropos of the conversation I had at lunch with my sister in healing:

And you
Can bring me to my knees
Again
All the times
That I could beg you please
In vain
All the times
That I felt insecure
For you
And I leave
My burdens at the door

But I'm on the outside
I'm looking in
I can see through you
See your true colors
'Cause inside you're ugly
You're ugly like me
I can see through you
See to the real you

My lunchmate talked a lot about feeling this way, to the point of not wanting to do yoga in a studio with other people. She also talked about feeling that she had nothing left in her to do the work of healing from what she went through - like she wants to, for her kids, but she just kind of doesn't have it in her:

All the times
That I felt like this won't end
It's for you
And I taste
What I could never have
It was from you
All the times
That I've cried
My intentions
Full of pride
But I waste
More time than anyone

I know from my own experience that it takes a good deal of healing to get to the point where you feel you have the strength to take on the hard work of unlearning all that has held you back in this life -- these rockers, whoever they are (I've never heard of this band) - seem to know the feeling:

All the times
That I've cried
All this wasted
It's all inside
And I feel
All this pain
Stuffed it down
It's back again
And I lie
Here in bed
All alone
I can't mend
But I feel
Tomorrow will be okay

I know now that tomorrow is ok, but I remember a time when I wasn't sure about that, which is just one of the reasons I want to write this book...

Time of the Season

The snow adds an extra feature!

Mountain Biking stop number three on my Northwoods adventure: Levis Mound.

I'd never been, and was excited to go, but I was a little unsure when I got there to find it covered in snow. I've never tried mountain biking in snow before.

It. Was. So. Much. Fun!

Plus, it was 28 whole degrees, which felt quite warm compared to Cable.

This song started playing on the inner jukebox during my ride:

It's the time of the season
When the love runs high
In this time, give it to me easy
And let me try with pleasured hands

My Daddy studied ruffled grouse for his dissertation

To take you in the sun to (promised lands)
To show you every one
It's the time of the season for loving

In particular these next few lines were on repeat:

What's your name? (What’s your name?)
Who's your daddy? (Who's your daddy?)

I think because I feel connected to him in the woods, and these particular woods had a sign that particularly made me think of him.

(He rich?) Is he rich like me?
Has he taken (Has he taken)
Any time (Any time)
(To show) To show you what you need to live?

Tell it to me slowly (tell you what?)
I really want to know
It's the time of the season for loving

Happy girl!

What's your name? (What’s your name?)
Who's your daddy? (Who's your daddy?)
(He rich?) Is he rich like me?
Has he taken (Has he taken)
Any time (Any time)
(To show) To show you what you need to live?

Tell it to me slowly (tell you what?)
I really want to know
It's the time of the season for loving

Is it the time of the season for loving? I gotta say it kinda doesn't feel like it.

Unless it's the time of the season for loving myself, the great outdoors, and all the loves in my life, including my Dad and my ex-boyfriend, who contributed to the joy I felt riding today.

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

The view out my window at Lakewoods Nature Lodge

Yesterday I began my travels to the Northwoods for work. My day did not go like I thought it would: A slippery, slushy snow closed down one of the major highways and caused me to bail on my planned drive to Turtle Lake.

Instead, I went to the Baraboo library, conducted my meeting via Zoom, had some lunch, and then headed up to Cable.

It felt strange to visit the area where my parents cabin is and not go there, strange to go mountain biking without my ex-boyfriend, and strange to be at a resort when so few people are there. But I'm kinda used to my life feeling strange right now, so it didn't get me down.

No snow to speak of on the trails, but brrrrrrr!

The Lakewoods Nature Lodge wasn't half bad, either complete with a hot tub that came in especially handy after today's early morning, insanely cold (11 degrees) mountain bike ride on what I can imagine are extremely fun trails when it's not so frigid you lose feeling in your hands and feet in a matter of minutes!

Another highlight, and how this song came to be selected to mark this day, was watching a nature show that reminded me of my favorite nature show growing up: Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.

I mostly don't miss having a TV, but there's something about watching zebras and cheetahs in their natural habitat that really does it for me.

Especially when they use a classic song like this in the background while Zebras are cavorting:

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I've traveled the world and the seven seas
Everybody's lookin' for something

Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I've traveled the world and the seven seas
Everybody's lookin' for something

Hold your head up
Keep your head up, movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on
Keep your head up, movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on
Keep your head up, movin' on
Hold your head up, movin' on
Keep your head up

Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused

Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I've traveled the world and the seven seas
Everybody's lookin' for something
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I've traveled the world and the seven seas
Everybody's lookin' for something
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I've traveled the world and the seven seas
Everybody's lookin' for something
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I've traveled the world and the seven seas
Everybody's lookin' for something
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I've traveled the world and the seven seas
Everybody's lookin' for something
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I've traveled the world and the seven seas
Everybody's lookin' for something

I could use some Sweet Dreams -- here's hoping some come my way tonight...

This is the Last Time

Wow, that was a big weekend!

I had dreams/nightmares galore, along with a breakthrough in the writing of my book, which I am now sure is a memoir.

Going into the weekend, I had started it about 20 different times, so the workshop I signed up for was called "Great Beginnings." I also signed up to work one on one with a published author on a critique of a manuscript that I submitted ahead of time, and out of both experiences came an understanding of where my book needs to begin: with a scene from my childhood.

On Saturday night, I wrote that scene, and on Sunday in workshop, I shared it to a group of kind, compassionate, and helpful writers who helped me understand better how to convey what I want and need to convey.

Tonight, I revised the scene based on their feedback, and now I feel like I have a path forward for my book.

While writing today, I heard this song, and it seemed appropriate to mark this day, as I am hoping this is the last time I will write the beginning of my memoir:

This is the last time
That I will say these words
I remember the first time
The first of many lies
Sweep it into the corner
Or hide it under the bed
Say these things, they go away
But they never do

Something I wasn't sure of
But I was in the middle of
Something I forget now
But I've seen too little of

The last time
You fall on me for anything you like
Your one last line
You fall on me for anything you like
And years make everything alright
You fall on me for anything you like
And I, no, I don't mind

This is the last time
That I will show my face
One last tender lie and
Then I'm out of this place
Tread it into the carpet
Or hide it under the stairs
You say that some things never die
Well, I tried and I tried

Something I wasn't sure of
But I was in the middle of
Something I forget now
But I've seen too little of

The last time
You fall on me for anything you like
Your one last line
You fall on me for anything you like
And years make everything alright
You fall on me for anything you like
And I, no, I don't mind

The last time
You fall on me for anything you like
Your one last line
You fall on me for anything you like
And years make everything alright
You fall on me for anything you like
And I, no, I don't mind

I Don't Remember

Starting November off with snow on the ground!?!

Stepping out of my comfort zone this weekend, I signed up for a writing retreat.

I learned so much today, day one of three, including a genre that I didn't know existed: autobiographical fiction. It refers to a book that is primarily comprised of made up events and characters that may be based on the author's own experience and self.

When I signed up for this retreat, I was still trying to decide between writing a memoir and writing fiction. It's tricky to write a memoir, because it requires that you remember things from your past, and quite often, like my friend Peter Gabriel, I don't remember:

I got no means to show identification
I got no papers show you what I am
You'll have to take me just the way that you find me
What's gone is gone and I do not give a damn

Empty stomach, empty head
I got empty heart and empty bed
I don't remember
I don't remember

I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything, anything at all

Strange is your language and I have no decoder
Why don't you make your intentions clear
With eyes to the sun and your mouth to the soda
Saying, "Tell me the truth, you got nothing to fear"

Stop staring at me like a bird of prey
I'm all mixed up, I got nothing to say
I don't remember
I don't remember

I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything, anything at all

I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I don't remember, I don't recall
I got no memory of anything, absolutely anything at all

I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember
I don't remember

It's true. There are a lot of things I don't remember, but a lot that I do remember too, and I have a feeling that the process of writing will unearth some long dormant memories.

When I got home tonight, I wanted a giant glass of wine -- my first sign that I was triggered and did NOT want to feel whatever was trying to come through.

I don't have to do it tonight, but I am committed to standing up to these memories and putting them on the page so that they can help others who have gone through something similar to me...