I was so excited to start the new job!  I dropped my daughter off at school right when it began and picked her up exactly when it let out.  The extra sleep and quality time together immediately improved both of our moods.  Life slowly began moving from surviving to thriving and that, my dear reader, is a phenomenal feeling.  

Except…the job wasn’t it.  It wasn’t the one.  The money, the belief systems, the female competition…NOT it.  I lasted 2, maybe 3 months before I agreed with my therapist on going out on my own.  I had the experience, the talent, the will to ‘make it.’  It was quite terrifying actually, but there was nothing to lose (you know, besides our home and all other possessions). 

To my pleasant surprise, people gave me a chance and they wanted to see me win.  My family and my love (initially) were incredibly encouraging and supportive.  I was busy in no time, and for that, I couldn’t be more grateful.  Also, to be able to do what I loved every day and get paid fairly…worth more than gold. 

(When it comes to career stuff (all stuff really), I’ve always found that when something’s right for me, the path opens up.  That opening comes with a feeling…the feeling I only know how to describe as expansive.  Not restrictive.  Not dreadful.  I’m not being asked to compromise myself in any way. That’s how I’ve come to know that I’m in integrity and generally doing what I’m supposed to be doing.)

I wasn’t exhausted all the time anymore.  I felt a new energy and a sound directive in every human aspect.  Mentally and emotionally, I was on the right track working with my therapist regularly and not running away from anything.  Physically, I was taking care of my body and loving me in that way.  Spiritually, I felt on my path…going to meetings, yoga/meditation, helping any woman willing to put in the work.  I was connected and focused.    

A continuous year and a half into our relationship now and my love still had not been around my family.  It was important to me that this aspect of our lives be intermingled.  This was something he knew for a while.  So, he initiated having a conversation with my father…(everyone knows what a big deal this is, especially to a girl who cared about her dad so much.)  He even called him personally. 

(Better late than never is usually the case, but here you’ll come to see, never would have sufficed…)

We met my dad at an outdoor shooting range in the middle of nowhere.  Why we thought this activity and location was the way this conversation should be had, I couldn’t tell you.  I can tell you that it was par for the course of the danger in falling in this type of love… 

He shook my father’s hand and promised him that he would never repeat the things of the past and that he loved me very, very much…my dad accepted graciously.  He didn’t give him a hard time whatsoever.  I imagine he recognized how hard it would be to look into the eyes of a man whose daughter’s heart you broke and take accountability for that. 

It genuinely impressed me…both of them impressed me.

Finally, everything felt so good and so right!  Daughter, amazing!  Career, growing!  Relationship, deepening!  Me, hopeful! 

(Serious question for you, Life…why must pain be the touchstone for all spiritual growth?  Because we wouldn’t choose growth if we were happy all the time?  We would be too comfortable in our ignorant joy?  Because growth requires honesty and sacrifice and discipline?  We wouldn’t choose those things if it weren’t so painful not to?  I understand we are here for learning, dear Life, but my, how sometimes I wish the good things could last forever…)

Before my love and I got back together, I had a conversation with each of my family members and told them that we were talking again.  My father didn’t try to talk me out of it or tell me how stupid I was.  He let me know that it was me that he trusted.  He wasn’t all that concerned with him.  He trusted me.  That meant everything…

(I told my dad once that someday he would understand this relationship.  In my mind at the time, was the thought of this memoir ending in an epic love story of the old Disney varieties.  I was wrong I think only in that it will likely end in the newer Disney way…with the empowered princess saving herself.  And if that isn’t the ultimate heroic act of true love, I don’t know what is.)

The others were less supportive, understandably…with one brother confidently stating, “The past is in the past for a reason, Sam.” He wasn’t wrong either.

When we first got back together, I knew that if I was going to go through with this, I would have to trust him.  We had that conversation…the conversation where I stated that the things that happened in the past regarding other women, were still unacceptable to me.  That I never wanted to experience any of that again.  That transparency was the goal.  I was clear and to the point and he understood (agreed even), promising that he was not that man anymore…

So, I gave him my trust…fully and completely.  It’s almost unbelievable, close to impossible, for a girl coming from where I’ve come from, also when considering what we had already been through together…yet it’s still the truth.  I never brought up the past again.  Not in any punishing way.  I never asked any questions about women currently in his life, as he promised that there were not any and if that changed, he would tell me.  All of me believed in him…the him that loved me and was my best friend and a good dad whose sobriety was the most important thing. I saw no red flags in that first year that would have made me think otherwise…

I have since recognized something that could have prevented much of the pain and lost time here…you build trust by asking questions.  Not by NOT asking questions.  I didn’t give myself the opportunity to build the foundation of transparency that I was so desperately wanting.  Why?  Because I loved him, and my spirit is intrinsically idyllic (I love that). How can love fail? Or maybe (probably) a part of me didn’t fully want the truth. I wanted it to work (not to my own detriment anymore though).  

I was learning to love myself in a way that honored and protected the Good in me, while also being aware of the dark in me at the same time. That would eventually prove to make a difference…

The lack of meetings and the total change in him at times, eventually ended up changing the way I handled my trust with him. I was not the same girl that would punch a guy in the face (unless I had to), nor the one of Chapter 10.  I began asking questions at the first swaying flags that came…(they were undeniable and of the purest ruby red)…it was…(can you guess?)…to do with a woman…

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