The Magical Vagina

My best friend texted me other day. She said “I’d like to see just where in the Mommy/Wife handbook having a vagina makes you automatically responsible for every meal every person in this house ever eats?!”

Behold! It’s the magic of the vagina. xx-xy

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Why are you still yelling??

I’ve admitted every fault I have. I talk to much. I worry too much. I don’t clean the house enough. In my defense I’ve been busy… 7 kids and all their pets, sports, and educational activities, my full-time college career that’s been going on for a decade now, the job I try to hold down, the paperwork I’m stuck doing that leaves my desk three feet deep, but yeah, I admit it. I’m sentimental and I saved a pair of baby shoes from all of them and I have some of their pacifiers in a box and I have baby teeth hidden in the drawer and I can’t part with the seashells I hunted with my grandpa 30 years ago. All of those heartstrings hold clutter.

I’m not all bad. I make the bed. I love fresh sheets. I’m creative. I love to make things beautiful. I try. Why can’t you understand anything about me? I’ve spent 20 years giving you everything I have.

You know I loved him. I wanted him. I let him go because it was taboo. You felt threatened for a moment and suddenly you showed me your love, and with this family we built, I chose you. And as soon as I did, I heard my heart shatter. Continue reading

Damn Me

I miss you. In the depth of my soul I ache for you. I question the road you chose and wonder why it led you so far away. I miss the smell of your chest pressed against mine. I miss the taste of your kiss- I’m not even supposed to remember that, but I long for the safety of your smile, the comfort of your voice, the complete lack of judgment that made me feel like someone truly knew me and loved me anyway…

I told you to choose her. I know it was the right thing to do but it hurts me still, knowing you were packing to leave. You were sitting there, completely vulnerable, ready to choose me- and we could have wrapped each other in love and understanding, and I told you to go back home. I chose misery to avoid the complications of explaining my twisted heart.  Continue reading