The Separations

The Boy has given me a date of departure. He will be out of here, and out of Oregon, by June 3, 2023.

He’s been existing in the spare room in the apartment, and for a solid month or so, we’ve been mired in a strange interaction that has been full of both friendship and peace, as well as fraught emotions and pointed arguments. Back and forth, sparring over stupid details, and both of us just in a constant state of heightened emotional being. We are both exhausted by it.

He gave his notice to the job he landed here, a job which he loves, yesterday. His realization that his current income means he won’t get approval for an apartment anytime soon on his own, plus his heart strings being pulled to the Rockies, has been a thing to watch him wrestle. From my vantage point, he’s simply following another guy, and uprooting himself again for another person, without the real effort it takes to put down roots anywhere. I see this in him because, like him, I did the same thing around his age. I get it. Perhaps he’s seeking redemption like I was, a savior, someone to hold him captive long enough to settle him down, much like I was. Perhaps it’s something more. I don’t know. The part that stings the most, for me, is that I was hoping to be that man for him.

Part of me still longs for it, if I’m totally honest. I have offered him a second chance with me, but he simply refuses to entertain the idea. He’s as stubborn as ever (and as me), and is just charging forward with everything. So, we part ways in a few days, and I don’t know if I’ll ever hear from him again. I can only hope that we at least part on good terms.


His departure isn’t the only thing I’m wrestling with either.

I’ve asked my husband, a partner of mine for nearly a decade, to end our marriage. Along with the Boy and I going our separate ways, so too are myself and the man I married a few short years ago. He too is also still in this two-bedroom apartment, with the both of us swapping out nights on the terrible sofa in the living room and the comfy bed we no longer can share.

The decision to ask for a change in our marital status came as a shock to him, but was something I’d been chewing over for quite some time. Lots of things are factors in this move on my part, but most of all is the disconnect between us. His job took so much out of him, leaving very little for me and for us, and the resentment of having to carry the house, the relationship, and all the rest, simply became too much for me. I reached a breaking point, and when I realized that love could feel better than it did, that I could, in fact, be with a person who fosters an alignment between my mind, heart, and full body, and not just pieces of me now and again (something the Boy taught me), I needed a change.

He’s changed jobs, thankfully. He’s also verging on moving out very soon as well, having been on a voracious hunt for a new place to live, one that will accommodate visits with our dog, and give him access to his job and the nightlife he likes. The apartment hunt has been super tedious for him, but last I knew, he’d found a place that would work. His housing decision, it should be noted, was all self-driven. I never asked him to move out. He has opted to flee this apartment we’ve shared, citing access to work as his real reason, and I’ve let him run with it. I’ve also secured the apartment here as mine alone, qualifying to be on the lease as the sole occupant, which was a bedrock stability moment for me, as well. He knows where I live, and is always welcome to come for a visit. He remains a friend, though I don’t know how much our paths will cross as he dives into this new direction in his life.


I will be living the single, solo life in a very short amount of time.

I have not lived by myself, on purpose, ever. I’ve always either been seeking a partner to join me in living, or been living with a partner or roommate for all of my adult life. This shift represents something quite massive for me, and I’m both nervous and excited for it. After losing two major relationships back-to-back, I know I need some time to heal and pull myself together. I want to explore the ways that I give out so much energy to others, and how to keep healthy boundaries for myself, so as not to give away so much in the future. I need to settle into love with myself, and find that deep-core self that is a more true version of me for others to get to know, and possibly love.

I have so much to do for myself in the coming weeks and months. I am going to dive deep into my personal training, stepping away from my transit job in good time, so as to be available for coaching at any time during my day. I’m ramping up at a fancy health club nearby that signed me on as a trainer, and still running my own virtual training website, AND working with a second coach on his virtual training program as well. I’ve got my eyes on mid-July as the moment I hang up my keys and turn in my uniform, but it all depends.

I’m also taking this pivot-point in my life to do some deep financial restructuring, and getting my fiscal feet under me in a way that’s far more solid. I spent years trying to buy the happiness that I was missing in my life, and have since learned that it is impossible to do that. You cannot fill in that void with things, no matter how much you try, and in the end, it just adds to the pile of stress and worry, and that moment of joy become obscured in interest rates and credit scores. It’s far past time to reckon with this in a fundamental way.

Throwing a stick of dynamite into one’s own life is a scary fucking proposition, but I do know, in the end, I will emerge a better, stronger, purer version of myself. I didn’t know I could light my own phoenix fire, but here I am, holding the recently-lit matchstick in my fingers.

A Deep Goodbye

The Boy and I had yesterday together, most of the day, anyway. We started off by going to the gym, with a plan for hiking after.

At the gym, though, and I’m not sure why I let myself get to this level, my anxiety flew through the roof. I found myself rushing through my workout, really amping up with thoughts that were short-circuiting, and all the rest. At the end of the workout, I nearly stormed out of the gym, and had to catch my breath in the Jeep for a bit. My brain just couldn’t decipher out joy from the endorphin rush of the workout, and the adrenaline that was pumping through my body.

The Boy could tell I was upset, but I remained silent, and just drove us home. I asked, briefly, if he was still up for hiking, to which he said yes, and that’s what broke the ice. I admitted that I was in the middle of a panic attack, and that I just needed the trees. He needed food, but was very agreeable to getting out to the woods. In time, and with some more breathing, I was able to bring myself down out of the rafters, but in the quiet in the Jeep, I also watched as he dove into his text messages and totally checked out on the present-tense with me.

He’s got a new beau, some man from Denver that he’s fallen for, and who is captivating him.

The lump in my throat that had been there for a while, regarding my connection to the Boy and myself, grew a bit bigger.

We started off on the trail, and since the cell signal died, he shoved his phone into his front pocket, only to pull it out to snap photos of flowers and things we saw along the trail. We talked, lightly, and generally, but it was when he started shooting a video, explaining where he was, that I paused again.

I knew this was probably one of the last days I’d be carrying a candle for what he and I had shared previously, as a closely-tied intimate couple. Those days were, at last, over, in my heart. I just paused, watching him wander down the trail ahead of me, and felt my whole self say goodbye.

The hike turned into quite the challenge towards the end, with some cliff scaling and usage of ropes to steady our ascent and descent. The payoff, however, was amazing. It was a waterfall, the kind that Oregon loves to deliver, with water cascading out over a basalt ledge, forming a basin, and an alcove behind the waterfall, where he and I found ourselves, covered in mist and mud, and in awe of the flow of water from above our heads.

In that roar of water, I told him that I loved him deeply, that I would always love him, and that I am having to let go of the love of my life. I squeezed his hand as he stared out at the water, knowing that he heard me, and we had a moment of silence between each other.

The walk back, was quiet.

The drive home was also quiet.

We ended up separating for a while when we got home, exhausted and tired, and laying down in our separate places. After a hot shower, and some food, we ended up chatting a bit more, and I found myself feeling both relaxed and quiet, with a lot of emotions bubbling up, but keeping myself in control of them.

This transition between us will be peaceful going forward. I’ve lost the fight in me to try and find a way back into his heart. He’s got his sights set on someone new, the next new thing for his own life, and I realize that, perhaps, this is what it feels like to be a Dad, for real, letting his beloved Son leave the nest they’d shared.

I will always love him, deeply and profoundly, as his impact on my life is still reverberating through everything I say, do, and feel, and I know that I am proud of him for doing what he needs to do to achieve the things he desires. Did we both fuck up along the way? Yes. Do we both care for each other still? Yes, as well.

Mountain Time

Sterling is a lovely young man. At twenty-four, he has more peace and calm about his character and demeanor than I’ve ever met. Tall, self-assured, confident, insightful, he and I spent the day together today, traveling a little out into the wilderness to the east of town, attempting to find splashes of sunshine on what was just becoming another very rainy day.

Once we got to Hood River, Oregon, and east of the Cascades, the rain abated, for a while, and gave us a taste of some summer sun that we’d both been seeking.

”Have you been to Timberline?” I asked him.

”I have not,” he replied, much to my surprise.

We headed south, along Highway 35, up and out of the Columbia River Gorge, and made our way along the eastern side of Mount Hood. The rain remained at bay.

I watched him as he took in the wilderness around us. He was taking in all of the trees, the variety of vegetation that grows on the eastern side of the mountains, the way the mist was forming on the tops of the trees, sending plumes of moisture up into already-saturated clouds. He was quietly noting the majesty of the forests, and realizing that he needed to come out here more often, to be among the giant firs and moss-laden pines. His eyes grew bigger with every swoop and turn of the winding road.

The rain returned as we spun around the south side of the mountain, and turned back west. Just after entering Government Camp, Oregon, I took a right, and up to Timberline Lodge, an iconic mountain ski resort and hotel that he simply needed to see. As we climbed up in elevation, the driving rain gave way to driving snow. The Jeep performed beautifully.

Once in the lodge, we wandered around, and I watched as he took in the structure, the history, of the building and the place. He truly seemed fascinated by it all.

Being a tour-guide of a sort for him today was really a sweet change from my usual grind. Normally, I’d be on my third day of the workweek. This week, though, I’ve taken some much-needed time off. I don’t return until next Saturday, giving me another shortened workweek next week, as well.

Today needed Mountain Time. I am so thankful this all started with the gentle nature and calm disposition of Sterling. I cannot wait for more time with him, to calm and focus, to breathe and smile.

Upwards & Onwards

I took a hike on Wednesday.

I took the day, unscripted by any other demands on my calendar, and simply drove to where the rain stopped. Just beyond the Cascades, out the Gorge, and on the northern shore, I found a trail that needed hiking.

I’d been there before, years ago, and in a whole other mindset and body, with my husband, and have been needing to go back, to go further with the hike, to see what there was to see.

the wildflowers were a nice surprise

I also needed to clear my head. A lingering feeling of doubt and cloudiness has been circling around in me for months now. One of my relationships has changed, and I needed to put it to rest in my heart, and mind, in order to make space for a new relationship that has, like the tiniest little wildflowers on that windswept hillside in spring, started to bloom. The hike, and the repetitive motion, was a meditation on changes, on letting go, on accepting the new, and on re-evaluating how I love, and who gets a piece of my heart. I let go, emotionally, a few times, and danced in the wind with the ravens that swooped and dove overhead in the cliffside updrafts.

Dad has a big heart. Dad has a multi-faceted big heart, capable of many things, including loving and caring, but also being brave, knowing when to let go, and when to remain still and quiet as the world, and the people in it, swirl around and flow like the river itself.

I also need to remember to do this more often. I need to separate myself from the digital world, from the built world, and get out there. It does my body, and mind, and spirit, so much good. So, so much.