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August 7, 2018 By HallieZ 1 Comment

13 Things I Learned

Today is my 15^th wedding anniversary. Crystal.

Today is also my first wedding anniversary as a divorced woman.

We don’t say much, on these days, those of us with the “failed” marriages, who dwell in “broken” homes.

We are kind of outliers… those of use who were married longer than average, but aren’t any more. We lurk in the shadows… conversations about husbands… futures… sort of trail off when we walk up. It’s weird, to have your identity be linked to another person, so intimately, so entirely, and then be, well, just, you.

I learned a lot in my marriage.

It was one of the most amazing, passionate, heartbreaking, hopeful, growing things I have ever done in my life.

I left my husband.

I filed for divorce 3 months after our 13^th wedding anniversary.

That was the bravest thing I have ever done in my life.

My divorce was finalized a few months before my 15^th anniversary.

Timelines are important to me.

They help me make sense of the years I spent with him. Sometimes, I write them out, as I search for answers, as I try to figure out which pieces fit, look for the signs I missed.

Sometimes, I want to share marriage advice with young grasshoppers, but I feel like I can’t, because my marriage is over.

I don’t actually believe my marriage failed.

I don’t believe I live inside a broken family.

And I think, on the subject of marriage, I have something to offer.

So. Today. I give you…

one for every year I was married

Words don’t matter much. I BELIEVE what my partner is telling me with his actions.
My love is NOT going to heal my partner’s wounds. My love can only be a part of the healing they choose.
No partner will ever know me like I know myself.
No partner gets to define who I am. They get to be a part of my life, my story, and that is a gift to us both.
I never want a partner to be with me because he HAS to, I want him to be with me because HE CHOOSES me.
Adultery can be forgiven
I can say NO. No means NO, even in marriage.
Saying I DO was not blanket consent covering all things until the day I died.
Forgiveness is a process, and its ok to come back to the reason we need forgiveness in the first place.
I am worth fighting for.
My children are worth fighting for.
I am capable of more love than I ever dreamed possible.
I am lucky, blessed, honored, to have had those 13 years.

And a bonus for the year I was separated but still married:

14. Marriage doesn’t define us, we define our marriage.

All the pain, all the love, all the hope, all the joy, all the freedom, all the gifts that came?

I think they were worth it.

July 31, 2018 By HallieZ Leave a Comment

To Say Goodbye

It was supposed to be

You and me

Grey hairs

Wrinkled fingers entwined

Foreign movie on the screen

Sundance festival image flickering

You and me

In this theatre

100 years old

and counting

Instead

Here I am

Your body laid out

Cold

The essence of you is gone

Has been gone

For some time

I don’t know when it was

I realized you weren’t there

I have my suspicion

But

I can’t be certain

They said it would come in waves

This grief

And

They were right

They said I would say goodbye in stages

They were right

I move over your body

I know you aren’t here

But I remember

When you were

Your shoulders

Broad

Tanned

Muscled

Angling down to a waist

Gaunt from fasting

Carharts hanging

I touch

The lines I know so well

Goodbye

Months pass

And here we are

In this room again

Your lips

I don’t remember the last time I kissed them

I remember the first

Goodbye

Another season comes and goes

I watch a movie alone

And like a surge in the ocean

Your hands

Can’t we just bury you and be done?

But no

I touch the lines

Run my fingers over the ragged nails

They knew me

And

they didn’t even scratch the surface

Good riddance

I want to scream

But it turns into a wail

13 years was a drop in the bucket

I scream it to God

She hears

It was supposed to be a hundred

Don’t you fucking care

How long

Does it take

To say goodbye?

July 25, 2018 By HallieZ 1 Comment

a scent that reminds me where i stand

My nephew took a nap on my bed today.

When I got home from work, I was still on a phone call, and half distracted, followed my children’s giggles to my bedroom. No sheets. No blankets. All was gone.

And a bottle of lotion that had been full only just this morning, was empty.

Indeed, the small princling had discovered Auntie Hallie’s lotion, and henceforth, had anointed all Auntie Hallie’s bedclothes with the lovely, creamy stuff.

It was pretty great.

His mama explained and showed me the sheets drying and headed off to her wild and crazy mom-of-a-toddler life.

I just now pulled them out of the dryer, and as I dragged the comforter cover off the line, it surrounded me, this particular scent.

See, it wasn’t just any old lotion the young gentleman had found, it was a special bottle of Nevea After Sun Lotion that you can only buy in some tropical locations.

When I was 21, wild, Holy, Passionate, Searching for a purpose in Brazil, I discovered this stuff on one of my random days off, on a visit to the beach with some friends.

This smell forever takes me to the time in my life when I learned:

That I could be happy

I was allowed to be happy

Jesus wasn’t mad when I was happy

Sweat made me happy

Sun made me happy.

I could wear a biking and God would still love me.

I could spend some money on something NOT essential and God would still smile on me.

Resting under a fan with this lotion rubbed all over my almost-burn was happy in the flesh.

I brought a bottle home to Oregon with me, and when it ran out, I didn’t find it anywhere again for 10 years. One day, on the island of Phuket, in Thailand, baby in arms, in a very different bikini body, I happened across a bottle in a shop.

(Don’t worry, mama to precious princling, I learned my lesson, and have a back up bottle stashed somewhere in my bedroom)

But tonight.

Tonight, in this heat wave, sweat, every curve damp, I stretch out on these sheets.

Its like a kiss from heaven, the smell that lingers on these clean sheets.

A kiss, and a reminder I didn’t know I needed so very badly tonight.

Beloved me

Precious Hallie

You WILL be happy again

You are allowed to be happy

I love your bikini body

The sun, and the sweat of your work make me happy

You’re still YOU

Here we are

You and me

Happy

June 25, 2018 By HallieZ 1 Comment

Dear Son, A Gift You Could Miss

Dear Son,

You were at your daddy’s all week, and I missed you SO MUCH!

You’re little still, and this won’t be for you to read for some time, but it was pounding in my heart today, and I thought I would write it down for you, and maybe you won’t ever need to read it, because it will be in our every day and it will be who you are… but still. Here I am, son-of-my-heart. All the love in the world for you, and, you know your mama, SO MANY WORDS!!!

Last night I went to a comedy show with some friends, downtown, and it went late. I never find myself walking through the nightlife of Salem Oregon past 10pm! But there I was.

Headed toward my car, I was. Minding my own business, skirt swishing, heels tapping, when a car full of men drove by.

(I know, gross, I’m your mom, but still… its my story, dude)

“Girl! HOT DAMN, YOU GOT AN ASS”

and then the things you can imagine that followed that.

Mama don’t mess. As you know. No, I didn’t flip them (because, I save my energy for shit that matters) and I didn’t feel ashamed (because, well, we all know I DO have an ass on me)

It took me a couple days to figure out what was simmering in my soul, after that night.

You’ve heard a lot of it, son.

“ treat women with respect, that’s someone’s wife/mom/sister/daughter”.

Its all true and good, my boy.

But here’s what my mama heart is saying.

When you treat women like that?

YOU ARE THE ONE LOSING

When you drive by, and all you see is an ass?

You miss the power in her soul.

When you declare over a woman a thing?

You miss her truth and you get stuck in your perception.

Every woman, all over the world, is holding a gift inside her heart, a gift more beautiful than you can probably even imagine.

Son.

It might be her friendship, steady and true.

It might be her voice, powerful in tenderness.

Her gift might be her body, wrapping you in comfort.

It might be the heat of her passion, shaking you to your core.

Her gift might be a truth, typed out on a paper, or etched in stone.

And son, you may hold a gift for her.

You can show up,

you can stand still,

you can drive by,

you can SEE.

You can look past that ass. And find her.

And my son.

It could break your heart, and it may break hers,

and son,

It will make you a real man.

Always, your mama

June 20, 2018 By HallieZ 5 Comments

Father’s Day, huh?

So. It was Father’s day a few days ago.

I did what I have always done, helped my kids prep and wrap their gifts for their daddy.

I sent him a text message that said Happy Father’s Day, hope you all have a good day.

I cried, because this isn’t how I ever thought our Father’s Days would be.

Once I got my heart through all that sorrow/mess, it was time to think about MY father.

That sucked even worse. So I cried more.

My father sent me an email when I filed for divorce that said I wasn’t allowed at his home on special events or holidays.

I mean. I did stop by on mother’s day and give my mom flowers, I told myself, so maybe I OUGHT to stop by on Father’s day anyway. And give him, uh. I don’t know. Like. Jerky or something?

But I didn’t WANT to do anything. I didn’t want to call him. Or drop of jerky. Or anything.

Not just because he said I couldn’t, but because he broke my heart.

I had scheduled cleaning job that day, to help keep me busy, and I cried as I ran the vacuum, and raged as I scrubbed the toilet. I had flashbacks, all day, of things that had happened that were not ok.

I remembered conversations and I remembered the agony of finally realizing my dad was only going to empower and embolden my abuser, not protect me.

I asked the Spirit what the gift was.

I asked the Spirit what was being asked of me.

– HOLD THE PAIN WITH THE BEAUTY –

Pain with the beauty?

What the hell.

There is only pain.

Images started coming to mind.

Reveling, the first born.

The love, the bond.

How well I remember holding my first daughter for the first time.

Small. Warm.

Nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my daughter.

A diaper change.

A first bike ride.

All this and more, a world awaiting.

So thank you, Papa, for the gift of attachment.

Thank you for holding me against your skin and letting me know your scent.

Thank you for carrying me on your body.

Thank you for changing my diaper.

For letting me feel the grass against my skin.

Thank you for letting me explore the world and know the feeling of dirt.

Thank you for letting me witness the birth of my siblings.

Bringing me into a place of connection with them.

Thank you for telling me stories of the natural world.

A teacher by destiny.

Thank you for being gentle with animals.

For teaching me to hold the plants with respect.

Those first 5 years cemented a character that I give thanks for. Every. Single. Day.

I don’t know how to hold the beauty and the pain in the same place and not explode.

But I am trying.

It’s right here, beating in my chest.

What I’m Writing