Deconstruction Sucks. Yippee kai yay.

    

    As I mentioned at the end of my last post, I moved back to my hometown of Duncan, Oklahoma 3 years ago. Duncan is a small town in Southwest part of the state just 30 miles north of the Texas border.  I think it's pretty typical as far as small towns go, but it's not one of those "mind your own damn business" small towns like the one Tim Walz kept talking about during the presidential campaign. Oh, if only. Here in Duncan, minding other folks' business is 2nd nature for some and something of a hobby for others. I keep my head down an mind my own business pretty much all the time. 

    Duncan became my hometown in the spring of 1963 when I was 3 months old and my sister was 5. My parents moved our family here from the even smaller and more rural town of Sulphur, Ok, just an hour's drive due east of Duncan. I graduated from Duncan High School (Go Demons!) in 1981, and left for college that same year. 

    Flash forward an entire 40-year lifetime and BAM, it's September 2021, and I'm right back where I started. You might think after 3 full years of living life here, I'd no longer be stopped in my tracks by a sudden feeling of panic while driving down pretty much any street. But it still happens more often than I find acceptable. It's like my car landed on the "go back to start" square in the cosmic game of life. How did this happen? How did I end up back here??? What the heck is going on? Is this real????

     While everyone else at any given 4-way stop may be simply waiting for their turn to proceed, I'm also reliving that time my 70s era, candy-apple red Toyota corolla fell into a giant sink-hole at one of the busiest intersections in town, or the time I rear-ended the car in front of me on Hwy 81 because my high school crush honked at me from the southbound lane, or the time I got stranded high-center on a mound of dirt in a construction area that's now considered one of the older neighborhoods in town.    

    My parents were only privy to two of those particular incidents, and I could go on with lots of others. The one where I fell in the sink-hole landed me on the front page of our local newspaper, and the fender bender smashed up the front of my beloved little Richard Scarry-looking car. While I consider these good memories that bring me joy and laughter in the retelling, especially when reminiscing with childhood friends, my state-of-being when they occurred was, as it turns out, not good. Being HERE physically somehow makes them more than just beloved memories. It throws my mind and body back into those moments in a way that feels uncertain and scary as if I'm actually reliving my childhood. 

    I didn't anticipate these feelings when I freely and willingly made the decision to move back here, but here we are. Because of this, I don't get out as much as I probably should. I'm not sure how long it will take or if I'll ever get used to being here, but I can't really worry about that anymore. I just have to do the work, continue the healing, and assume that the turning of time brought me here for the right reasons. 

    I've finally reached the point in my religious deconstruction where I can comfortably and wholeheartedly hold on to some of the truly helpful tenants of the indoctrination I received as a child. One of those is  "All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are called according to His purpose." (Romans 8:28)  I may have a heretical view of a good portion of that bible verse, but the first 6 words are the most important to me. It will all work out for my good, eventually. I do believe that. But it still sucks to go through it.  

    If I showed you a few pics of the families of my two biological sons, including 4 gorgeous grandsons who live here, you'd understand right away what motivated my seemingly irrational choice to move back to Duncan after my retirement from teaching in 2020. I'm here for them, and I have no regrets. The healing and deconstruction are just a bonus. Yippee kai yay.  

    In other news, and just to update a bit, t-dub and his husband miggs will be flying in from their home in San Francisco at the end of the month for our full family Christmas. All four of the boys, their wives, and all 5 grandsons will be here. I'm looking forward to it more than I can possibly describe. We haven't all been together at the same time in 2 years, and that's way too long. The important thing is that our family remains, and continues to grow and change just as all families do. And I'm not all alone here in Duncan. I have my partner, bigby, here with me. We've been together for almost 12 years, and I'm so very grateful for him. Particularly his willingness live in Duncan, and his patience with me as I continue the hard work of healing and deconstruction. Yippee kai yay.

More later! 

Thanks for reading,

grace

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Grace Returns Back

Many years ago, a friend told me, "a blog isn't a place to heal," and I remember feeling a bit defensive because writing about my experiences with t-dub felt like healing to me. Live and learn. My friend was right. A blog, or at least my blog, never was a good place to heal. But it did make me feel heard and understood and gave me a sense of release from some of the inner ramblings of my mind. 

 So here I am. 18 years after the split with t-dub, feeling once again a desperate need to feel released from the ramblings of my mind. That seems to be as good as it gets as far as blogging and writing in general goes. But that's enough. And there's always the chance that I'll be heard and understood, which would be a nice bonus. 

 And the healing. Well. The healing is still very much in progress and has been for low these many years. It's been a slow and arduous process with much to unravel. The religious stuff. The personal stuff. All the stuff. And the process has ramped up significantly over the past 3 years because I've moved back to the small town in Oklahoma from whence I came. The place where it all went down. Duncan, Oklahoma.

More to come...

Thanks for reading!

grace

The Boys

My biggest concern right now is the boys. When this all "broke" in our family last weekend, there was an immediate sort of solidarity that formed between them; different from the one they've always had where no one ever tells how windows get broken, who took the DVD player upstairs, or why and how there's a little mess of burned matches and a wax mess on the table in the family room. This was different. This was a "we want to remain brothers" sort of solidarity. Fortunately, #1 has been home a lot lately and he was there to listen to their initial concerns and provide them with some hope and comfort concerning the future of the family. #1 called me shortly after #2 and #3 had been given the news by Tdub. The conversation I had with him went like this:

#1: Mom.
Me: Yeah?
#1: I just told #2 and #3 that we would always be brothers and that I knew you would always be their mom.
Me: So, they told you? What did they say?
#1: They were just worried that they wouldn't see us anymore, that you wouldn't be able to be their mom and we wouldn't all be together anymore.
Me: What did you say to them?
#1: I told them that I KNOW my mom, and that you will get them on weekends or any other time they want to come over and we could still be together.
Me: Thanks for saying that. You're right. I'll talk to them about it too.

#2 is 15. He's the one I'm most concerned about. It's such a volatile age anyway, and then, to have such a major life-change coupled with this revelation about his dad. We are getting counseling for both of them. And Tdub has verbally committed to continuing his own counseling as he navigates this new path.

The sweetest memory occurred last Friday afternoon. I stopped at the house to talk with #2 alone. Tdub had shared with me in a late night conversation on Thursday that it was, indeed, over. It was important for me to talk with the boys separately and make sure they heard from me that I was in NO way abandoning them or have any intention of leaving them. I had the talk with #2 and it went really well. We both teared up a bit, but it went well in that I felt certain he heard and understood how much I love and care for him/them.

I went to our bedroom to pick up a few more things (#4 and I are staying with friends.....the house is too painful for me....it screams "US") As I came back out and was passing through the family room #2 stood up. He looked me right in the eye, and, with a bit of a crack in his voice said, "Mom, if you ever need anything, you know you can just call me." I have never been more proud to be his mother than at that moment.

love,
grace

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Tdub

I talked with Tdub tonight, in person. It was good. (at least that was my perception of things...you tend to doubt all your perceptions when something like this happens)
He'd been telling me that he'd written something he'd like to read to me and we had that opportunity tonight. I'm going to make an effort to express where he's coming from based on what he read to me tonight. It's important for me to process it, and I think it's an important peice of the giant puzzle that is gay, ex-gay, wanted vs. unwanted attractions.

I want to emphasize, first, that when I look at Tdub I don't feel anything but love. I consciously choose to look at him as I believe Jesus would. I WILL myself to extend grace to him even if he deserves judgement. I can't help but love and ache for him when I see him this way. He doubts God's love. He loathes himself. Hurting me and hurting our family is, in his mind, a matter of self-preservation at this point. I don't agree with his reasoning, and yet, I understand that it's the best he is able to do at this given moment.

In listening to his "treatise" as he called it, I heard one thing very plainly. He believed that marriage to me was part of the answer to his dilemma. He went into the marriage hoping that by marrying the "embodiment of God in a female" (or something like that, as he put it) healing would find him or he would find "it".

This never works. NEVER. If you are a same sex attracted guy who wants to get married and have a family....please KNOW this. NO WOMAN, no matter how wonderful she may be (heck, look at me!! hahahaha!!!) can help you.

This really is a journey one must make alone.....even if you're married. It can be done. I still don't doubt that. I see and know of specific things that were not acted upon. I know of more that could have been done had the heart been in the right place to do it. And yet, I understand and I'm sympathetic towards Tdub in that he is weary. I'm not going to stand in judgement of him. God will take care of that, in His time, in His way. And I pray for mercy for Tdub. I really do.

love,
grace



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Church

I didn't go to church this morning. Didn't go last week either. This thing all started last Friday night with an all night conversation. There's been no fighting, no yelling, stomping, screaming.....and no begging and pleading either. I'm pretty sure that sort of thing doesn't work. ;)

I'm going to write about it as I can.....and just so you know, your comments are a great comfort to me. I didn't respond to any of them in the last post as I normally do, and I may not for a while. But please know that I need that and it's one thing you can do that directly blesses me and reminds me, in a very tangible way, that God loves me and cares for me. God's love resides in the skin of real people who minister that love to one another tangibly. So, I'm thanking you all right now for doing that.

God loves Tdub as well. I recognize that a HUGE part of my heartbreak is the very heart of God breaking for him. In fact, I can testify to anyone reading here....God absolutely adores you and cherishes you and wants nothing more than to be in relationship with you. Most of you know this.....but I'm telling you, I don't think any of us truly understand or comprehend the depth and breadth of His great love. It is over-whelming, to put it midly.

That's all I've got for right now.

I'll write more as I can.

love,
grace

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It's Over

Tdub is leaving. He's giving up the struggle with unwanted attractions and coming out as gay. The most difficult thing to observe is the crisis of faith he's experiencing. It's very sad to me.

I will always love and care about Tdub. I love Him with the love of the Lord....and one day, it won't hurt like it does right now. I'm convinced that God is in the bad things as well as the good. And so, come what may, I carry on.

I'm not sure what direction the blog will go since I'm unsure of my direction at the moment. I hope you'll keep reading and praying for me as I work my way through it.

love,
grace



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A Woeful Tale

I've had a suggestion from Tin Man (a friend of mine) to blog about my laptop being on the fritz. I'd mentioned this briefly in a post a few days ago. So, in an effort to inject some lightheartedness into my world, I will do just that. Now, for your reading pleasure, is the tale of extreme stupidity....and it's all true.

The Laptop

(a tragedy)

Once upon a time, fair maiden Grace sat down at her computer, as she was oft apt to do. Upon supplying her maidenly password in an effort to check her maidenly email, she discovered that the maidenly "z" key was quite sticky. "Alas," she said to herself, "my z key seems to be sticking." Undaunted and determined, fair Grace proceeded to investigate the stickiness of the key. After much fiddling and fumbling with said key, fair Grace became more and more disturbed and challenged until the very existence of said "z" key was almost more than one as fair as she could bear. In what can only be described as the sort of determination generally attributed to triatheletes, Civil War heroes, or vacuum cleaner salespersons, our perky little heroin popped the "z" key completely free of it's once secure position on the keyboard. "Oopsy," Grace exclaimed. And then, gasping at the sight, "Ewwww!" For there, atop and around the soft rubbery nodule protruding now in the place where the "z" key once was, appeared a pea-sized dust bunny. Being a maiden as fair as she, Grace was quite appalled at the width and breadth of the dust bunny. She could quite easily grasp it between finger and thumb, remove it, and dispose of it. And that she did, quite to her pleasure. Cleanliness is, after all, next to Godliness; or so it's been said. Having never expected such a sight upon removal of the key, fair Grace was naturally curious as to what might lie beneath the other keys. And so, with wreckless abandonment, like a tornado in a trailer park, Grace proceeded to pop other keys from their positions. Finding and disposing of one dust bunny after another. Grace was approximately 14 keys into her cleaning frenzy when suddenly, and without warning, her sense of reason and sanity returned as clearly as if a voice had spoken aloud, "what about putting the keys back ON?" Grace immediately changed her course of action from popping off to popping on, finding the latter to be somewhat trickier than the former. When all was said and done, our poor defeated Grace had rightfully returned 4 keys to their proper positions, 1 key to an improper position, and had 9 keys left homeless; the tiny metal pieces they should clip to having been snapped completely away in her foiled attempts at returning them to their home. And, the "z" key, or rather, the rubber nub that was once a "z" key, was STILL sticking!

The moral of the story: Don't ever take the keys off your laptop, no matter how big, fat, furry, and disgusting the dust bunnies may seem!

Hopefully, my laptop will return soon. It's at technology and I'm pretty sure they're in no hurry to return it to me. *big sigh*

Keep praying for me!

love,

grace

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