Celebration Hangover

Is it possible to have a celebration hangover? Luckily, I’m officially done celebrating turning 40. I spent over a week connecting with dear friends in California and Seattle. I love birthdays because it’s an opportunity to show up and celebrate people. Sure, we should do this every day but let’s get real, some days you’re more concerned about getting through the work day and not eating cereal for dinner. That chance to say, hey! I’m glad you were born and are in my life! is one I don’t like to miss. I am so grateful to all the folks who came out of the woodwork to help me ring in 40.

Mr. Darcy, a man who shies away from planning most anything and who is not a party person, stretched outside his comfort zone to throw me a birthday bash. I could not be more touched or more proud. So many of my close pals showed up to partake in cupcakes and beer and a pinata (yes, I love pinatas!). Here’s some photos from the party:


Love hug! Me, my sis, Jeni Angel, and Finn


Favorite people! My bro-in-law, sis, husband, and BFF Meghan.


I’m pretty sure my nephew was more excited than anyone for cupcakes & singing.


Lovebirds C & S.


BFF Jenny Two Times drove all the way from Portland for the party. ❤


Hand sewn garland and happy birthday sign thanks to my talented sister.


Me & my pinata before I whacked it open.


Meghan handled the meat (tray). There are many jokes in that statement but I’ll refrain. I love her.

Heather & Aimee (former college roomies!) stopped by to celebrate with me.

Heather & Aimee (former college roomies!) stopped by to celebrate with me.

2 friends both named Jen gave me the same awesome card. How cool is that?

2 friends both named Jen gave me the same awesome card. How cool is that?

Friends from work came by to partake in the fun.

Friends from work came by to partake in the fun.

Our wonderful moms. Mr. Darcy's parents flew in from New Jersey earlier in the week. How nice is that?

Our wonderful moms. Mr. Darcy’s parents flew in from New Jersey earlier in the week. How nice is that?

My nephew makes any party fun.

My nephew makes any party fun.

Surprise of the weekend? Tomato flew up from LA to be there! 23 years of friendship.

Surprise of the weekend? Tomato flew up from LA to be there! 23 years of friendship.

I always say this but I always feel it: I am so lucky to be so loved.

I already am convinced 40 is going to be fantastic.


It’s Not Really A Secret

Mr. Darcy and I don’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day. We get each other a card and have dinner together, nothing fancy. But last night I came home from dance and there was a roaring fire, candles lit, the table set with flowers, and a husband preparing me dinner. Please note that the only thing Mr. Darcy has cooked for me in our three plus years together is a grilled cheese.

I married a sweetheart. His sweetness is a constant truth but it still catches me off guard. I haven’t always picked nice guys to give my heart to. Case in point, the other day I was scrolling through the secrets on Post Secret when I came upon a postcard that made me stop and do a double take. There was a photo of two people mid-kiss with the text of the postcard cutting off half their faces. The cursive handwriting said something about wishing he could forget her so he could move on with his life.

The man kissing the woman in the photo is an ex of mine.

And then everything got complicated inside me. Because here I am, a happily married woman, feeling like someone gut-punched me as I look at the ex kissing his ex in a photo on a famous website. It’s so complicated, the story of me and this ex, I can’t even begin to explain it here. The cut-to-the-chase version would be: we were on again and off again over the span of 5 years and the last time we  were on again, he and the woman in the picture with him, were breaking up and he was (once again) proclaiming his undying love for me (as he was wont to do, even when he was engaged to her). But, here is his face with her face, kissing, with his words about being unable to move on with his life since they split (over 3 years ago). We all make wrong choices. Maybe his was cheating on her. Very possibly mine was ever giving that guy my heart.

I’m not supposed to care about this at all or feel like a complete chump for believing everything he said all those years when he’d come crawling back to me over and over with his professions of me being his one and only. But being married doesn’t erase my past and having ended it with him doesn’t make it not hurt. I started to question all of it and felt the fool. Not because I care about him pining for me but if he did, would that finally make all the shit he put me through mean something? Truthfully, I always thought that someday I’d find a secret on that site from him about me.

I haven’t spoken to him in years, not since right before I met Mr. Darcy. I believe that letting this ex go was a big reason I was able to be open to SEE Mr. Darcy when he entered my life. Like I’ve said, I have not always excelled at being available for good men. But I walked away from that toxic, tumultuous relationship that made me feel small and unworthy and twisted up inside and said aloud: I want more than this for myself. I want to build a life with someone who shows up, who is here with me every day in every way, who builds me up, not breaks me down. I wanted someone who would fight for me and our relationship.

Enter Mr. Darcy, stage left.

I talked to Mr. Darcy about all this over dinner the night I discovered the postcard. I was nervous to tell him I was hurt that the postcard was not about me but I didn’t want to keep it from him when it bothered me so much. But, true to form, he got it and wasn’t threatened by it. We actually had a thoughtful conversation about love, relationships, the past, and ego. And in the end, I was reminded again what an amazing man I am married to.

The ex used to say he was never jealous of the men I dated while we were broken up because no one would ever love each other like we did. In a way he’s right- no two loves are exactly the same- but in a big way he’s so, so wrong because I would choose Mr. Darcy a million times over him. Even when we’re a mess, we’re fighting, we’re annoying or boring each other, Mr. Darcy is my choice. The love I share with him surpasses every other love I’ve had. It’s the love I want to spend the rest of my life in.


The wedding ceremony was very important to us. We wanted it to be reflective of who we are as a couple- sentimental, humorous, and sweet. From everyone we’ve heard from, it was all that and a tearjerker. So many people have told us they cried during the entire thing which totally touches my heart. I remember looking out and catching a glimpse of Jeni Angel and Long Story Longer’s faces and seeing them smiling with tears in their eyes. Tomato says he cried from start to finish and he doesn’t even like weddings.

I apparently swore twice during the ceremony though I only remember the first instance. When I got up to Mr. Darcy and took his hands I said “shit” because I was so overcome with feeling. We all laughed. I guess I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t slipped up like that. Me and my potty mouth!

I thought I would share the vows that Mr. Darcy and I wrote for each other so you could get a glimpse into the ceremony. It all seemed to go by so fast and all of a sudden Jenny Two Times (who did a great job officiating) was saying it was time to say our vows and we looked at each other like- ALREADY?! I love how they are both so us and how we said similar things without knowing it. (We didn’t know what the other was saying ahead of time but Jenny Two Times made sure they were balanced.)

Mr. Darcy’s vows to me:

My Dearest Sizzle (he used my real name of course),

Almost six years ago, I moved out to Seattle to make a huge change in my life for the better. I came here expecting to make a better career for myself, to learn and grow, and to push myself in new directions. I didn’t think that would come to Seattle and find the love of my life. I thought my chance for finding someone to spend my life with had passed. I was resigned to being a nerdy bachelor who doodled monsters for a living. Thankfully, the world has a way of giving us what we need most when we expect it the least.

Prior to meeting you, I wasn’t sure that Seattle was a place I could ever call “home”. Now, I can’t think of anywhere without you as home. Moving to Seattle to meet and fall in love with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.  It may seem cliche, but I really do feel like the luckiest man alive when you smile and tell me you love me.

My love and admiration for you grow every day we spend together. The fun days. The carefree days. The hard days. Everyday you choose to build a life with me and I with you. Through all of the laughter and tears, you are there to rejoice and comfort me, to hold and be held, to kiss and be kissed. Knowing that I have you with me on the journey in life makes me believe that any obstacle can be overcome and every success celebrated in a superb grand fashion. Having you in my life challenges me to be a better person. It is a challenge I accept every day and pursue with all the energy I have. You have taught me to think outside of myself and embrace the world around me. I love the life we have built together – our home, our cats, the mutual support and kick in the ass we give each other when we need it. You are my best friend in the world. I know I can trust you completely and without reservation, and that comforts me in a way I can never truly convey.

Listing all of the things I love about you is a bit overwhelming, but here goes:

  • Your kindness and charm are like no-one I’ve ever met.
  • You have style and flair that most people envy. Your smile is infectious.
  • Making you laugh is one of my reasons for living.
  • I love your confidence – both the quiet and brash assuredness that you live your life with.
  • I love your thoughtfulness and attention to detail.
  • I love the way you challenge yourself to be a better you. And I want to be a better me just to keep up.
  • I love your compassion for others. You open your heart easily to those in need and it is stunning to watch.
  • I love that how engaged with life you are. You remind me of how beautiful the world is and how much there is to explore when I’m too busy looking inward.
  • I love that you can be carefree and dance at a moment’s notice.
  • I love to hear you sing.
  • I love sitting on a couch with you as you watch your favorite shows and I make fun of them.
  • I love looking into your eyes.
  • I love kissing you any chance I get.
  • I love your cats that have now become our cats.
  • I love all the things I’ve invariably forgotten to say about you.
 All that’s left say is:
  • For the rest of my days; I choose you.
  • I promise to treasure and nurture the love that you give.
  • I promise to show up, every minute of every day for our relationship
  • I promise to treat you with all the kindness, respect, and appreciation that you deserve.
  • I promise to make you laugh every chance I get.
  • I promise to play you in Scrabble any sunny day we can – and even let you win sometimes.
  • I promise to love your family and friends the way I love my own.
  • I promise to cherish every moment we have together – even when we are cleaning up Dash’s butt.
  • I choose you every day.
  • Thank you for being my person.
  • Thank you for choosing me.
  • Thank you for marrying me.
  • I’m all in. For ever.

My vows to Mr. Darcy:

I looked a very long time and had almost given up on meeting you, my Mr. Darcy, and yet here you are standing in front of me on our wedding day. You are my dream come true.

When we first met almost 3 years ago, you told me that you “grew up around women like” me- meaning strong, independent, opinionated (some might say bossy) over-thinkers. At first I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not but then I met your mom and your sister, saw the incredible love you have for them, and recognized traits I’d tried to downplay my whole life suddenly as assets. I was never sure if a man could handle me but it turns out you can. From our first date I knew something was different about us.

I used to think that wanting to get married meant I was weak. I was never that girl who dreamed of her wedding day. But I was so wrong. Saying yes to marrying you is the bravest thing I’ve ever done.  Loving you has made me more tender, more vulnerable, and more trusting. You have softened my defenses and I am stronger for it.

There are so many reasons why I love you. I’ve made a list of the highlights.

  • You are genuine, honest, and trustworthy.
  • You are hilarious. You make me laugh all the time even when I’m crying or mad at you.
  • You think I am funny which means you have excellent taste.
  • You could eat your weight in bagels yet you can’t tell the difference between zucchini and squash.
  • You are unflinchingly generous.
  • You look at me like I am the only girl in the room and tell me I am beautiful even if I just woke up from surgery, have a head cold, or a zit.
  • You are steady and thoughtful and easy-going.
  • You are wicked smart and it’s cute how you get all riled up during political conversations.
  • You love your family and have come to love mine.
  • You are loyal and stand by your friends.
  • You are an incredibly talented artist and are passionate about nerdy things of which I will probably never understand.
  • You always show up for me.
  • You will make an amazing father if we are lucky enough to be parents though you will probably worry way too much. .
  • You love our cats even though when I met you you were not a “cat person.”
  • You are a man of integrity and character, strong values and morals.
  • You will always try for the sake of our relationship even if it’s uncomfortable.
  • You are a total sentimental sap and even though I rib you for it, I kinda love it..
  • You work at our relationship with as much care and focus as you do those tiny little men you paint.
  • You protect my heart like a warrior.

I love you and this little life we have created and the journey we are on.  I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else- even when I’m angry at you, even when your farts stink up the place, even when the pungency of your morning breath almost makes me pass out. You are my person. You make me feel like the best self. Thank you for loving me just as I am.

Today, in front of our most beloved family and friends, I give you my heart. I promise to:

  • always be honest with you, even when it’s difficult
  • never stop working at our relationship or myself
  • make your dreams as important as my dreams so that we can share one dream for our future
  • stand by you in good times and bad, laughter and tears, health and sickness
  • strive to be open and let you see the real me
  • show up, even when I’d rather hide or run away
  • give you room to make mistakes and change
  • encourage and challenge you to be your most authentic self
  • offer you my unwavering support, encouragement, and compassion
  • make you laugh and smile
  • accept you for all that you are
  • respect and trust you
  • listen to you with my head and my heart
  • stand by your side as your biggest fan, loudest champion, and best friend

For the rest of our days, I promise every day to choose you.


A Letter to My Lover on His Birthday

“All I want is love eternally/with your heart facing me” –“To Travel & Trunks,” Hey Marseilles

Dear Darcy,

Today is your birthday. I just wanted to tell you how very happy I am that you were born and made your way into my life. I wondered if I’d ever meet you, my Mr. Wonderful AKA Mr. Darcy. And here you are, my dream come true.

I love you for so many reasons. Because you are genuine, sentimental, hilarious, handsome, and sweet. Because you work at our relationship with as much care and focus as you do those tiny little men you paint (nerd alert!). Because you make me laugh every day, and get my jokes, and tell me I’m beautiful even when I just woke up from surgery and have dried spittle around my mouth and eye crusties. Because you care about your friends, are close to your family, and love our cats even though two and a half years ago you proclaimed you weren’t really a cat person. Because you take out the trash in the rain, watch TV shows along with me that you hate just to spend time with me, and hold the cat so we can clean his poo-butt.

I love you and this little life we have created and the journey we are on, hand in hand. I can’t wait to marry you. I am grateful every day that Al Gore invented the internet so we could post on line profiles and find one another. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else- even when I’m mad at you, even when your farts stink up the place, even when the pungency of your morning breath almost makes me pass out.

Thank you for catching me when I fall, standing strong when I’m crumbling, cracking a joke to make me smile, holding my hand, looking at me with adoration, putting up with my flaws, and being my partner. Thank you for being you.

Happy birthday, my love.



The Surgery Story

The night before surgery I sat with Mr. Darcy and asked him to keep only positive thoughts in his head as I was in surgery. I wanted us to focus solely on good outcomes and happy times, to hold the hope that we could have the chance to conceive, to picture our wedding day, and recall all the fun we’ve had already in our two and a half years together. He is a worrier by nature and I knew this could be a challenge for him but he promised to try. He always tries. It is one of the things I love the most about him.

5:15am came quickly. I stumbled to feed the cats then take my second, as instructed, shower with the special Hibiclens soap. It’s a super anti-bacterial soap recommended for pre-surgery. I thought two showers was excessive (one the night before, one the morning of) and since my surgery was below the waist, I didn’t re-wash my hair. I slightly broke another rule when I put lotion on my face. I did admit it later to the nurse without being chastised.

We made our way to the hospital, found a space in the very hot underground parking garage that smelled like an antique store, and checked in at the desk. We sat for only a few minutes before we were moved into the pre-op area which is basically a bunch of curtained off areas with reclining chairs. Multiple nurses throughout the morning double checked my name, birthday, and my procedure as well as asked if I had eaten or drank anything. I likened them to police officers interrogating a suspect except they are very sweet and wearing scrubs. Lucky for all involved I am a rule-follower (minus that little lotion incident).

I got to rock the gown PLUS bottoms, a robe, and some skid-proof socks. It was, clearly, one worthy of a fashion forward post. Oh! I got to pee in a cup too.

Not pictured: matching pj bottoms and kelly green socks with skid stoppers. I think this might be my first bra-less photo on the internet. There’s a first for everything.

After spending some time there with Mr. Darcy, keeping things light and relaxed as they can be, they moved us to another pre-op area. In a similar set up of reclining chairs and curtains, we met Penny The Snorter. She was a kick. Very peppy and friendly and when she laughed she ended it with a snort. It was just the thing Mr. Darcy and I needed to keep the mood up. As we sat there we’d hear her talking to other patients and inevitably she’d laugh then snort. Another nurse came by to put in my IV and Mr. Darcy and I, both not liking needles, kind of stared off and at each other while she put it in. She offered to cover it with gauze so I didn’t have to see it in my arm and at first I declined but I noticed I was feeling squeamish and kind of obsessing on it so I took her up on it.

As we waited for the anesthesiologist and my doctor to arrive to check in with me, I started to feel more nervous. It was getting more and more real. Mr. Darcy was a champ, holding my hand and encouraging me, fetching me tissue when I couldn’t hold back some tears. I didn’t cry as much as I thought I might and I greatly attribute that to the bubble of love I felt surrounding me from all the wonderful people holding me in their thoughts and hearts, to all the meditating and deep breathing I had done the week prior, and to Mr. Darcy’s reassuring presence next to me.

The anesthesiologists started to arrive to meet patients. Many were young and attractive. And then this older guy walks in with a handlebar mustache and I knew he’d be mine. His name, despite him saying it twice, I did not catch. I call him Dr. Iz (because I could only make out the beginning). As we walked through all the risks and how he would administer the anesthesia, he asked if I had any questions. I was hesitant to inquire but I really wanted to be sure he was a positive person and would only say good things while I was under. I had been reading a book about preparing for surgery (thanks for the rec, Meg) and it encouraged patients to ask their anesthesiologists and docs to say certain healing, positive things in the operating room. Studies have shown that patients while under can still hear things and so a doctor saying something like, “this is not good, she is riddled with cancer” would make its way into the patients subconscious. Dr. Iz told us about a study done back before ethics committees were around where a doctor whispered, “You are going to die” into 10 patient’s ears while they were under. When they woke up, 6 of them claimed to be sure something terrible had gone wrong during surgery.

He promised he’d be positive and then Dr. P came over to discuss more risks and the procedure. We initialed off on adding a DNC to the list of things she would be doing- a cold-knife conization and some technical name for scraping up past the conization area further up my cervix. I also asked her to be positive for me during the procedure. She’s very matter-of-fact and direct which I like though I was grateful I had Darcy there to be the comfort. No one should have to sit there alone during all that. It’s really overwhelming. When she asked if I had any questions I inquired about if she would be shaving me and would I wake up in a diaper. I had heard from two different sources who had experienced similar types of surgery that these things could happen. She assured me neither would be occurring and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Soon another nurse came to walk me to the operating room. Mr. Darcy and I hugged good-bye, said our “I love you’s” and “see you soon’s” and tears came to my eyes. I kept breathing deeply, one step in front of the other. The nurse was very kind and I’m sure she sees crying patients all day long. Once in the very, very cold operating room, they had me drop my sexy bottoms and climb up onto the padded table. Dr. Iz told me he was starting the “good stuff” as they put these deliciously warm blankets over my body. I joked that this was almost like a spa, except for the whole cutting-into-my-cervix part. We laughed. I reminded them- Dr. Iz, Dr. P, and the two nurses, that we were going to keep things positive in there. They promised. I suggested maybe they could talk about how pretty I am and nice things like that. We chuckled. I said thanks for taking good care of me and that’s the last thing I remember.

During surgery they put a breathing tube down my throat but I never saw it. When I woke up it was already out. My only other experience of having surgery, like I’ve said, was when I was about 8 and had my tonsils and adenoids out. When I woke up from that surgery, I was surrounded by other patients waking up. One in particular was crying and screaming in pain. I recall the nurse saying she had her gall bladder out. I was terrified. And then I threw up. This waking up experience was much better. There was a nurse right there when I came to. I think the clock said it was around 9:45am. She gave me some ice chips. I didn’t feel much pain, just disorientation. Dr. P popped by to wave hello (she said I would not recall this but I do). They wheeled me to the same waiting area I started at, had me put on some mesh underwear to keep the pad in place, and got me some water and crackers.

When I saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room I started crying. I have never been happier to see anyone in my entire life. He sat with me as I sipped water and ate some crackers. I took a Vicodin and then they told me I could get dressed if I felt ready. Mr. D went off to fill the prescriptions and I continued to eat crackers. I was starving! Another guy in scrubs came by once Mr. D was back and wheeled me out to the car. I felt pretty lucid though Mr. D might not concur. I was ordering him how to get home from the hospital which is pretty standard. Maybe it gave him comfort knowing I was quickly returning to my old self? (Ha!) I really wanted a Starbucks breakfast sandwich so he stopped in and got us some. Man, that was a good sandwich.

When we walked into the door of our house we encountered balloons, a spread of magazines, bagels and muffins, and handmade heart garland. This is what happens when you give your family keys to your house. I, of course, cried. I am my grandmother’s granddaughter after all (Grandma Marion was the ultimate crier- she cried when happy or sad or sometimes over a delicious meal). Mr. Darcy went downstairs to fetch me a pillow and a blanket and discovered more treats- a robe and socks, and a handmade We ❤ U Tee Tee sign. More crying!

Dash really took to the robe. That bear on our bed is TA from when I had my last surgery (31 years ago!).

I settled into the couch and caught up on all the encouraging, thoughtful, loving texts, emails, tweets and FB messages. Then I cried some more. Happy tears though, seriously. And it wasn’t just the drugs. I spent the majority of the day watching tv, reading magazines, taking painkillers and eating donut holes. After a long nap, Mr. Darcy made me tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. Please recall that Mr. Darcy does not cook and please note that the grilled cheese was the Best Thing Ever. It helped that it was made with love and delivered to me in bed too.

I’m feeling some discomfort but the Midol helps cut the edge off it. I’m doing better than I thought I would as far as my energy and activity level goes. They even said I could go back to exercising next week (after I got my dance studio shifts covered). I’ll probably do some yoga and take some walks and resume dance next Saturday. Meanwhile I’m going to attempt to take it easy (by my standards) and recuperate.
I’m trying to keep focused on the positive, bask in all the support, and remain hopeful that the doctor will call later this week with good news. If you have any good vibes left to send, hold that hope in your heart for me (and Mr. Darcy). You have all been amazing and I cannot thank you enough for helping me get through this scary time.

DIY Buffet (because calling it a “buffet” sounds fancy)

When we were living at the apartment, we’d come across all manner of items left for “free” outside our dumpster area. Most of the time it was annoying and an eye sore. (Newsflash: No one will take your soggy mattress! Which is why you left it there, isn’t it?) But this one time as Mr. Darcy and I were headed to our cars we spied a piece of furniture that had been tucked away at the back of our alley. On closer inspection it was a decent piece of furniture and so I somehow convinced Mr. Darcy to help me haul it into the maintenance room right that second (it was raining) (we do live in Seattle so that goes without saying).

Fast forward to present day. The buffet, as I like to call it, sits nicely in our dining room area adjacent to the back door. We could have kept it the original blue color but I am trying this more minimal decor thing out. My fashion colors can be wild and bold but my house doesn’t have to be. Having moved from such cramped quarters, everything is now spread out in our huge house and I kind of like it. Maybe cozy clutter wasn’t really my design esthetic but rather a result of my small surroundings?

It was a nice sunny day and I convinced Mr. Darcy to embark on a project with me. Again, not sure how I got him to agree but I think it has something to do with my breasts. Mr. Darcy seemed skeptical that a joint DIY project would be fun. How could it not? Togetherness! Painting! Sunshine!

Doors & shelves removed. Mr. Darcy is still in his skeptical phase.

Mr. Darcy uses paint on an almost daily basis so I tend to let him take the lead as The Expert when it comes to such things. Unless we are talking about paint colors. Then the gloves come off. He’ll quote the color wheel and I’ll rely on emotion-based tactics to explain the difference between teal and aqua. Again, the fact that we decided on wedding colors in a 2 minute conversation still astounds me.

Anyhow, I’d decided to go with white because our walls are beige (Mr. Darcy would call them some other color, I’m sure) and I wanted some lightness in the room. We sat in the sun slopping on paint, listening to the quiet of our neighborhood. It was very zen. After a couple of coats, it was almost done. I’d bought a spray sealer and as we sat waiting for our final coat to set I asked Mr. Darcy about it.

Me: “After this is dry we should apply the gloss, right?”

Him: “Yes, except we did not buy gloss.”

Me: “Yes we did. It’s right there.”

Him: “It’s not gloss though. It will not have a shine.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

A minute later.

Me: “After we apply the gloss we can just leave it out here to dry and move it inside later tonight.”

Him: “Sure. Except it is not gloss.”

Me: (Giggling) “Right! I meant. . . spray. What do I call it?”

Him: “Satin sealer.”

Me: “Got it.”

A few minutes later.

Me: “We should probably apply the gloss right now.”

Him: “Ok, but it’s still not gloss.”

Me: (collapsing in a fit of laughter, tears running down my face)

Him: “I want you to manage your expectations. It’s not going to be glossy.”

Me: (still laughing)

Despite my terminology confusion, the buffet turned out rather nice.

I’m pondering a simple design on the doors and am on the search for new handles for the doors/drawer.

Mr. Darcy even proclaimed that he’d finally found something I don’t over-think and am not super meticulous at. (He means this as a compliment.) Not that I do a sloppy job at painting but more so that I just dive in and do it without spending an inordinate amount of time considering what could go wrong (which is generally my M.O.). He said he found it enjoyable to paint with me. HUZZAH! This is perfect! Because I want to paint my craft room this weekend.

Flaws and Fears

Dear Blog,

It’s been almost two weeks since my last confession blog post.

My list of excuses for my absence are as follows:

1) I was busy

2) I was having too many emotions to make sense of in a blog post and/or it was stuff I don’t feel I can share publicly

3) I was paralyzed in the overwhelm that is my current emotional life

4) I feel I don’t have anything new to say or contribute to the blog world

5) I was avoiding you


Let’s discuss #3. A lot of people have been saying to me something similar to “you must be so excited and happy with the new house and the upcoming wedding!” And instead of gushing about it, I share an itemized list of all the things I have to do to get the house “ready” or get the wedding details in order. Where is the joy? Where is my happiness? I don’t even notice I’m not feeling those things until someone else does. This seems like a problem on top of a problem.

Not experiencing good feelings while not noticing the absence of said good feelings = problem.

I don’t mean to say I am never happy or excited or full of joy. But these moments are fleeting for me. They always have been. I have spent the majority of my life stressed out and in hyper-awareness mode. I’ve talked about this before countless times. I apologize for the redundancy but this way that I am is all up in my face right now and I need to talk it out (again).

I am always anticipating the problem so I can have a solution. This might be the nature I was born with or it might be the conditioning of growing up the oldest in an alcoholic household. I tend to be all business- meticulous, detailed, regimented, task-oriented, perfectionistic. Being that type of person has helped me function in the world, and in many respects, has helped me survive. These are some of my prized coping mechanisms. They make me really good at my job as an Event Manager. They make me very challenging to deal with in a relationship.

Mr. Darcy and I have been having a rough time the last few weeks. We are very opposite each other in some key ways. We also remind each other of our parents which is basically like picking up the trigger phone and dialing straight to crazy. In total honesty, we have said to one another (in complete fear of it being what the other person might be thinking/feeling) that maybe we shouldn’t get married. Does anyone ever talk about this? Because I sincerely doubt we are the only engaged couple to ever have these fights, thoughts, feelings, fears. Fuck it. So what if no one talks about it. I’m talking about it because it’s real for us. I know we’re not the only ones.

Back before we were engaged and we’d have an argument, sometimes one of us would wonder aloud if we should break up. I think for two people who are afraid of being rejected/left/unloved, going to that place and saying such a thing is understandable. Saying it doesn’t mean it should happen. It doesn’t even mean that either of us WANT it to happen. Pretty much it means the opposite of that, frankly. So now that we’ve upped the ante and are engaged, have bought a house together, and are a little over 3 months from a wedding, we now say “should we get married?” instead. It sucks. It hurts our feelings. Who the hell wants to acknowledge their deepest fears? I know people who spend their entire lifetimes avoiding such things! And yet here we are, looking it in the eye and feeling really shitty about it.

I want to marry Mr. Darcy. Even when I’ve been the one to say “should we get married?” I want to marry him. Even when we are having an argument, I want to marry him. He is my person. I just want to figure out how to get out of my own damn way so I can love him the way he deserves to be loved. I want to find a way to relax into trusting him and this relationship. I want to let myself feel happy feelings for more than a fleeting minute and figure out how to turn off the to do list running in my head like a ticker tape. I want to trust us, that no matter what we’re there for each other.

Every day I choose him, even on the days when I am not my best self or I question why he’d want to spend the rest of his life with me.

We’ve gone through a lot of change in the last month- he started a new job, we moved to a new neighborhood, our commutes changed, our routines flip-flopped, we bought a house(!), and we’re in the final stages of wedding planning. We might be kind of stressed out. I might be in full-on Colonel Sizzle mode, trying to reign in all the chaos. Mr. Darcy grew up in a home with an actual Colonel as a dad. Yeah, you can see how me being like that might not create harmony in the home. But we’re working on it because we love each other and want to be together. We’ll probably always be working on it. Relationships are works in progress.

Permission to be flawed, granted.

Morning Glory

I’m lounging on the couch on Saturday morning. Mr. Darcy wakes up and in his groggy, morning way comes over to lean over the back of the couch to give me a good morning kiss.

I apologize if it’s too much information but this is important to note for the sake of the story:  Mr. Darcy is naked in this scenario.

Me: Don’t rub your penis on the couch!

Him: My wiener is not dirty.

Me: All wieners are dirty. (I was raised Catholic. This is what they taught us.)

Him: My wiener is cleaner.

Me: Vote for wiener! Your slogan can be- my wiener is cleaner!

Him: It’s an erection year.

Two Years & Counting

December 26th marked 2 years that Mr. Darcy and I have been together.

I can’t believe it’s been two years already. No, seriously. Usually at this point in a romantic relationship I’ve already broken up with the person. I have had very few relationships last past 1.5 years. Just check my archives for proof! But Mr. Darcy is different and being with him makes me different and together we make it work.

Every day we choose each other.

This is no small feat. I know you understand, right?

I am so grateful for him. He utterly accepts me for who I am even when I am a crumpled, crying mess or a boisterous, silly dork or a stressed out, over-thinking freak. He models unconditional love to me every day and I only hope to give him the same kind of acceptance, love and encouragement in return.

Note to self: this does not include nagging him about wearing dad jeans, not eating enough vegetables and acting like a sore loser when he beats you at Wii Jeapordy again.


Honestly? I didn’t know what I was looking for until I found Mr. Darcy. And now I can’t imagine wanting anyone else.

Here’s to being on the journey together and to the (I hope) many, many more anniversaries to come.