Unlearning and Re-Learning

I have always and will always love you.

I have not always loved you the same, though.
At first I loved you immaturely.
Possessively. Unsecured and clinging. Lusty and out of necessity.

Then I loved you much the same. But complacently.
I became aware it could be better. And of how it could be better.
And only then I realized the gap between us.

As the years went on it got farther and further apart.
I feel like I stayed behind so the gap would maybe close in so that I could walk with you.
Always ahead of you at the zoo. The museum. You would be behind, still reading what I had read in half the time. And so I lingered. Eager to keep walking but almost as eager to stay with you.

Until one day I realized what staying behind meant to Me.
So I asked you for something I needed.
Something that not having was literally eating me away in percentages of myself.

And you said Yes.

And so I indulged and I blossomed and flourished.
Your love freed me.

But it also freed me from you.
And now the gap grows ever wider.

And the love continues to change.
Now I love you where you are and from where I am.
And I look forward to the gap continuing to widen.
It hurts in a necessary kind of way.
Like birth.


I know why the pain is there
I know what it is meant for
I know it will stop soon... just not precisely when.

And so I labor.
To love you.
This perpetually different kind of way.

The Kittens are 5

I can't believe the kittens are half a decade old. I am so grateful for them and for Mama Kitty. They keep me warm at night when they all snuggle me and B is sleeping in her own room; and they always give me a laugh just when I need one.

Happy birthday, girls. And happy birtheversary, Mama Kitty.

The last year.

I guess the title of this post has two meanings. The first: the last 365 days of my life. The second: the last 365 day of my life as I and everyone in it would know it.

I am gay.
I define myself as Queer.

Yes, my parents know. Yes, Shawn knows. Almost everyone I wanted to tell before I came out to the mass public has been told personally. If I didn't get the chance to call or tell you, I tried or wanted to. I just couldn't.

I'm ripping off the band-aid and putting it out there.
To answer some questions that have been posed to me and that you may find in your mind as you read this:

No, I "don't prefer dick anymore."
No, it is not hormones.
No, it's not because of anyone or anything that happened.
No, this is not a joke.
Yes, I am sure.
Yes, I have had experience to know I am sure. Even if I hadn't... how are you sure about your own sexual orientation? Yeah.

Yes, I know this hurts and changes my family forever.

But I cannot go on living as half of myself anymore. So many things make sense in hindsight and the relief of being honest outweighs the grief of the situation... most of the time. I am sorry for the pain this has caused those who love me and my family but I will never be sorry for who I am.

Shawn and I are separated and working toward a divorce, not that it's anyone's business. But I have nothing to hide, so there it is. We no longer have enough of what the other needs to keep our marriage going and I think it's responsible that we are honest about that with each other.
Our number one priority is our daughter and always will be.

The last 4 weeks have been the most vivid and difficult of my life. But I know one thing after living through a moon cycle of this new change:
I am fucking ALIVE.

In every sense of the word... I feel electric. I see signs everywhere from the universe that I have finally found the Path. My Path.

I take one day at a time now like I have always wanted to. I love myself in my entirety.
And someday it will all be okay.

I have never had to rely on others like I have before this last month or so, and I have found the true colors of the people I thought I knew. Some for the better, less for the worse. I know who loves me and how and how much. I have never felt so free in my life.

Any prayers and thoughts for my family and myself are appreciated.
Thank you for reading, if you did.

Love.

Anniversary Funnel Cake 2014

‎We went to the Santa Lucia Festival again to celebrate our anniversary weekend with the annual eating of the funnel cake. Bernice was awake this year!

3 years, already! It's  going really fast...

1 Year

It's been 1 year and then a few days, now.

My baby is still a baby, but now she does so many things.

I am back to weighing what I weighed before I got pregnant, but I don't wear the same size clothes.

I am still breastfeeding her often, but not often enough to keep my cycle away any longer.

She is still in cloth diapers, but we take a few days off every now and again.

Things are different, but I can't remember how anymore. Not exactly, anyway.

Bernice's Gender Neutral Nursery

After all the prep and work that went into preparing for Bernice to be here last year at this time, it was amazing to have the nursery complete. I haven't shared pictures of it yet, so here they are. 

All photos by Shawn Finley

 Yarn Painting by Shawn's Mom
This was in his and his sister's rooms when they were babies, too.

 I made Bernice's orange curtains just for her.

The Grateful Dead poster I found in Chicago 2 years ago. 

When we bought it I had no idea where I would put it. :o)

 Dinosaur rocker from my parents matches perfectly!

That rug was the inspiration for the whole room!

 Shawn and I painted the chevrons by hand.

 

 This rocking chair in the corner was the one my mom would rock me in when I was a baby.

Special calendar from Bernice's Aunt to keep track of her busiest year. 

Vintage Kitten picture from a yard sale I found YEARS and YEARS ago.

 Glitter Owl from Shawn's parents topped with custom glitter letters from my parents. 

This is one loved little baby!

Of all the cool things about Bernice's room the best thing about it in my opinion is that I think she likes it, too.

Makeup Free for 30 Days

I'm starting to learn a lot about myself, and one of the really apparent things I have discovered is that I am a cyclic animal. I have seasons and they help me to organize myself and my work.
I crochet in the Winter, draw in the Spring, plan trips + parties in the Summer, and sew in the Fall.

I also wear makeup cyclically but I don't think it follows a predictable and seasonal pattern. 30 days ago I started thinking about starting a makeup-free cycle so I just went with it after noticing it coincided with Lent. I didn't want to religiously observe Lent; I just wanted to stop wearing makeup and be accountable for my choice. I thought choosing to be without it entirely for over a month would help me accomplish my goal.
At day 12 I wanted to wear makeup so badly. I considered giving up on Lent like I had the last time I tried it when I was 9 years old. But I didn't. I just picked out a cute outfit; one I never would have spent the time choosing before. I was terrified, but when no one ran away from me screaming in public it got easier.
Around day 19 I noticed I started to take better care of myself. When I don't get enough sleep or water you can SEE it. When I don't pluck my eyebrows and witch hairs you can SEE them. When I try to pick a blackhead or something you can SEE it. So I am now gentle to myself and my face, and make sure to take care of myself so that I look better at the very least.
I spent a lot more time with my family and we did a lot more fun stuff. I slipped out of the house to get donuts as a surprise one morning before Shawn woke up! I didn't even THINK about putting on makeup. I just left.

It was liberating.
I had finally become comfortable in my bare face. Not just like "I don't give a shit" comfortable, but like "I look better without it anyway" comfortable. In the last week I caught 3 reflections of myself in my phone, the computer, a window and thought, "pretty."

Now when Shawn tells me I'm beautiful I get tingles through my whole body.

Will I never wear makeup again? No! I like makeup sometimes! But I think my everyday look, if I want, will just be well-groomed eyebrows and concealer on the outer corners of my eyes. For dates with Shawn I might wear more, but for everyday my regular face is just great.
Makeup can be lots of things for lots of different people but for me it was a crutch. A crutch to hide my laziness which can manifest as self-neglect. Taking the crutch away forced me to fix the problem, and now after 30 days it's a new habit. A lovely, healthy new habit.

Baby & Mommy

Bernice in my baby dress, and me in my baby dress ca. 1988

Bernice Grace - Pictures of Months 6-10

Click here to view this photo book larger

Photo Book Tip: Create an adventurous travel photo album at Shutterfly.com.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I just realized...

Continuing to do something you no longer have passion for simply because you have been doing it for so long is just as bad as not doing something which you were destined for and right for all along until much, much later... if ever... especially if it is to continue the status of never having done that, for reasons of pride or anything else.



I admit that I haven't cut my hair for a long time for many stupid reasons.
One reason that's not stupid is that after I stopped hair modeling, I wanted to go back to my natural state. Wild, non-dyed hair. Especially for our wedding. Especially for when we had a baby.
I didn't want to upkeep a dye-job... and I love my wash and wear long hair. The last time my hair was short it was for a hair show, and I loved it... and then hated it. I felt so unattractive.

But I have toyed with the idea for a long time. Since our honey moon, when I changed out my pre-marriage nose ring for my naath I have wanted to shed my hair and start again.

Maybe next month. I bet I could do it...

7 Months Postpartum - "I have a Bikini Body!"

Back in September while marveling at the growth Bernice had already accomplished I was not feeling so great about the way my body had grown after having my baby. When I got pregnant I felt like I was going through puberty and after I had given birth it felt the same but possibly more intense. I felt like I was wearing a sweater that was stretched out in all the wrong places all the time. All the changes to my body making it seem unfamiliar in a negative way... but I have started to fall in love with myself again now.

This morning I found this amazing image:

 

And I said damn right.

And I started to think of myself in the context of the image... 

Then this morning on my daily (semi-daily) call to my mother we talked about how I left the house without ANY makeup on without realizing it. She told me about the first time anyone had seen her outside our family without eye makeup on a couple weeks ago at work. We laughed and laughed and she stated she was surprised no one actually said anything.

"Do you know why, Mom?" I asked, then continued, "Because you are so much more to them. You take care of their kids."

And then I thought of myself in the context of my own statement.

Bernice coo'ed from the backseat to us and our speakerphone conversation.

I finished the call and my errands all the while thinking. Letting it all sink in. All the beauty the universe had just shown me in myself, my mother, and the other ladies in my life--and the day wasn't even half over.

I think my husband noticed I was 'different' today before I realized it myself. He unsolicitedly looked me in the eye mid-conversation at lunch and said "You are so beautiful."

He says it all the time, but... damn. This time it hit me. He ALWAYS means it, but only this one time had I finally accepted it for once.

I went home and put on a bikini.

I felt like a 'reset' button had been hit inside me. 

I felt like I grew into my skin today... the sweater fits perfectly ;o)

I felt beautiful today. With no makeup on and without a shower (and I was pooped on, today PEOPLE!).

I felt beautiful.

Because I am so much more than tight-fitting skin. I am a beautiful person, woman, wife, mother and daughter.

Hundreds of Days

 Hundreds of days have passed since Bernice has been born (230). So much has happened and she has changed and grown so much.
You know that feeling you get when you go out to eat at a restaurant and you get the bill at the end? The feeling that maybe something might not add up right; you've been overcharged somehow.
That's the best example I can give you of the feeling I get when I look at these two pictures:

The first photo of Bernice, and the latest I took today (below, obvs).

I look back at all the photos we have taken of her, the hundreds of days documented and remembered. Vividly remembered. It's all there. It all adds up... somehow. All the changes, so gradual and yet so THERE. So visible.

It's sad and sweet. And I remember it all. I feel so blessed to say I remember it all.

Christmas Cake 2013

Christmas is here...

Dried Flower Memories

Being a parent immerses you into some deep places sometimes. Not necessarily dark, but deep.

I saw some pictures of myself when I was 11 and 12 this week and it makes me realize I vividly remember some VERY old memories. I remember looking that way.
In one of the photos, I proudly hold up my Furby (ca. 1999) and my mom crochets in the background. She and I were both 14 years younger... such a long time. In the photo she is only 10 years older than I am right now.

I don't know if it's because we look so similar or because now I am a mother myself, but I see more of myself in my mother in that photo of her than in that photo of me. It's not that I don't remember being 11, because I DO; I remember the braces, the perm, the everything.
I just see the reflection of myself within my mother so much more than I see myself in the "me" that I have grown from. I'm really glad this photo is still around.

I once thought keeping things makes them inherently special, but it's not the keeping that makes a thing worth something more than it was the day it was more familiar. It's the fact that one day when we reflect upon a memento, we will be more wise and more able to fully appreciate the memories we made with the kept object. It's like looking at a favorite painting or listening to a favorite song throughout your life. The painting or song changes with you because the more life you experience the more your perspective changes. It can make you appreciate things you never stopped to appreciate before. It's wonderful.

It reminds me of pressing and drying flowers. Our lives are so short yet so beautiful that sometimes we have to look back and graze the petals to remember how beautiful things are and have continued to be, even when we have moved on.

Break over!

Quietly, I took a break last month from blogging. I didn't mean to and I didn't announce it nor did I plan it. I wrote a couple posts before I stopped in October and I realized they kind of stained the vibe of the blog like ink water spots on crisp white paper.
I took a step back, realized that yes, I was going through a bit of postpartum depression, and that forcing myself to blog was making me over-analyze my feelings. So I stopped writing, continued living, and worked on letting myself feel what I felt and then moving on (all the while knowing better than the chemical imbalance in my brain) and now it's over. I feel good again. Happy for no reason, even!

It ceased last month right before our beloved ferret, Noni, passed away. She was always the symbol of my emotional duplicity in my dreams. Usually she would help me work through the process of unifying myself between the channels of heart and mind; sometimes she would show me that I was tearing myself apart and that although I was fine for the moment, I could not truly live that way. She reminded both Shawn and I of a weasel, or a little otter.
The night after she died I dreamed that I was sitting on a bench in front of a fountain. In the middle of the fountain there was a bit of land with a large tree. An otter was standing under the tree and I looked to her. She dove into the water and came out on the other side in front of me and I stood up from the bench. She held out her paw: she had a snail with the brightest white shell I had ever seen. She ate the snail and handed me the shell.
It was as if I understood her, and she understood me.

I knew Noni was finally at peace. I knew she was OK wherever she was now and that I would be OK, too. I must remember my true self, who I am, and continue navigating life at my own pace.

The Fear

Mama Kitty is not a suitable babysitter...

I have spent a large portion of my life trying to validate my own feelings. I read dozens of psychology and medical journals and articles every week as though it were mandatory to research before feeling the way you feel about things in public. It's almost like training for a fight that might happen... it's just a verbal fight I prepare for.
This has become very apparent to me since becoming Bernice's mother.

I researched everything about having a baby and then everything about parenting so that I could do the best job possible and know that in my heart I am doing what is best for her and our family. So far that is working out great and she is a happy and healthy little peanut. I have loads of articles and journal pages under my belt to back up the choices we have made and how those fit into our family, but there is nothing I could read that would make me leave my baby before I am ready.

And that's just the way I feel.

Call it attachment parenting, Postpartum Depression, or plain old selfishness but I don't care: I am not ready to leave my baby. And that is that.

Reasons (that I collectively call "The Fear")I have scrounged for in order to validate myself feeling this way include: someone feeding her something other than milk (and/or her having an allergic reaction to that food/formula), her having to take a bottle when we are exclusively breastfeeding, something happening to her while we are away and not being told about it, a robbery happening somewhere she is staying, blah blah BLAH.
In any case, I have my reasons (which are mostly worst-case scenarios worked out in my head when I think about leaving her). I chalk this up to simply not being ready to leave her for any amount of time just yet. She is only going to be a baby for so long, if I want to "hog" her I will. I worked hard, puked hard, and pushed hard to grow and birth her and I'll do what I feel ready to do when I am ready to do it. No one has a "right" to her. She is a privilege to have as a child and anyone who is entrusted to take care of her for the first time when we are ready to have a night out alone will understand that.
And besides, I'd love for Shawn to be the one she is left with if I must leave her so that he can have some one-on-one time with her. He is her father and that is important to establish.

But for now I am not ready to leave Bernice with anyone (except Shawn) for any amount of time.
It's just how I feel.

The Kittens are 4!!!

I can't believe it's been a year since I posted Mama Kitty's birth story (http://daisytosunflower.blogspot.com/2012/09/our-kitty-babies-are-3.html). We're celebrating the kittens' birthday on Friday with a can of tuna and some extra hugs. Happy birthday Ava and. Lucy!

Love and Comfort II

What seems like a long time ago, I wrote about the fuzzy feeling you get when you fall in love and what happens to it after a while: it turns into comfort based on trust for your partner.
That trust has sustained Shawn and I through many years (6 years next month) and through my very puke-y pregnancy with Bernice. Now that she is here, I find myself uncomfortable in a vague sort of way. Like I felt long ago when my body first started to change in 6th grade.

I'm too hard on myself once again. Even though I am doing my best to get some kind of familiar shape back I know my body will never be the same. Even though I fit in a lot of my pants again I have the loose mommy-tummy skin from being stretched to the stretch-mark point for almost a year. I don't know what I expected before I had Bernice and I don't know what I expect of myself now but whatever it is, I'm not meeting my own subconscious expectations.

It makes being anything but cuddly with Shawn kind of difficult. No matter how much he reassures me that he thinks I am beautiful, I just don't feel that way about myself. In my mind he deserves a woman that looks much better than I do with no clothes on. He doesn't know I feel this way precisely... although he will after he reads it today. I know he can probably guess that something is wrong from the lack of eye contact and vehemence, and that something is Me.

I'm uncomfortable with myself right now, whether I "look good" or whether everyone including my pre-pregnancy sized pants are lying to me (which is doubtful). That is what I must focus on changing. Not my waistline, not the way I dress, not my hair. ME. I want to be comfortable with myself again so that I can be a good body-image role model to Bernice and a good, happy wife to my husband.

At least it's good to know after thinking about this that the only thing that has changed the feeling of comfort in our relationship is Me. And I have the power to fix it. Now to find the strength...

For All the Mommies and the Daddies

Tonight I understand the ferocity of parental, and in my case, motherly love. I understand that any feelings that our parenting skills are being questioned are invoked within us by the differences between us. Any feelings that other parents' choices are made as a slight to us stems from differences in the infinite number of choices we all have to make everyday as parents. And all these feelings originate from the core feeling of anyone questioning that love. It can make the blood rise immediately.

But when we tuck our children in bed at night whether it is with you in your family bed, in a bassinet in your room, in his or her own crib in a separate room (with or without a bumper) don't we all hold onto them just a little longer before going to sleep ourselves? Don't we all try to consciously make a memory that we will never forget? Memories about how small our babies are, and how fast they are growing. Little details of the lines of their face. Such tiny fingers and toes. Each little hair on their heads.
If we all know that deep of love for our children I believe our differences can be celebrated instead of being used to criticize other parents. Lo! We all have found decisions we feel good about among the hundreds of choices which we all have to make. What could be better in the uncertain world of parenting than to feel good about how we're raising our own children?
Maybe we could understand each other and become curious rather than judgmental when we see those who have chosen differently than we have. Instead of taking it as a slight to you, feel good about your different decision you have made which works for your family and know that the parent in front of you feels that way about their own decision. Give a nod to them respectfully as a sort of "parental namaste:" The good parent within me sees the good parent within you.

In short: the Mommy Wars currently raging across the internet and in our communities make me cry. Breastfeeding, formula feeding. Disposables, cloth diapers. Vaccinations, no-Vaccinations. Intact boys, circumcised boys. Medicalized birth, un-medicated birth. All of it. It just needs to stop.
It just doesn't matter at the end of the day, and it's not part of that memory you make. What matters is the love we all know for our children. I hope we can all let that be enough to at least begin to let us relate to other parents, if not to love and understand them.

This is a tough job, folks. And if we're all doing our best, we're doing just great.