Author: zuftruth

I can’t count the number of times I’ve sat in front of this fireplace. Early mornings studying by its light, late nights cuddled up to its warmth…endless mugs of hot chocolate and then coffee, cups of juice and then glasses of prosecco, all consumed at its hearth.

When my mother made the decision to sell her home, I wasn’t surprised.  Over the past 15 years it’s gone from housing a family of four, then three, then two, and now one. I didn’t think it’d feel like a loss. But sitting here and reminiscing over the evolution of this house in the past 40 years, I’m realizing how it changed constantly to meet our needs as a family, and in this moment it feels a lot like saying goodbye to an old friend.

It began as a pretty typical bungalo, but as our family grew, my parents added a double garage and converted the then current garage into a beautiful family room ( housing my favorite spot to sit 🔥) As we got older,  the toy room in the basement became my brother’s bachelor pad, giving him sufficient space away from the prying eyes of his parents and pesky little sister. Walls have been painted and knocked down. Carpets have been ripped out (a good thing when you consider how many drinks were spilled by the bar downstairs), and baseboards replaced after being chewed by not one, but two puppies.

I’ve had endless firsts in this house…everything from first words to first mmmmm maybe I should keep that to myself 🤭 I’ve survived broken hearts, cried a million tears, laughed until it hurt and celebrated some of my greatest achievements all right here.

All that being said, truth be told, this house is just bricks and mortar. It’s the people who were in it who made it my home. While I’ll miss this spot in front of the fireplace, it’s the memories of the family and friends who sat here with me that made it special…and those can never be sold.

#byebyedearbourne

Side note – Yes, I did turn the fireplace on in 25 degree weather so I could bid it a proper farewell.  🥵

When’s the last time you felt truly beautiful? With absolutely zero, ‘buts’ attached? You know what I’m talking about….the, ” these jeans look good BUT I wish my thighs were smaller “, “my makeup is perfect BUT I can still see that breakout”, or ,” I have a pretty face BUT I wish I were thinner”. 

I’m sad to say my last butless ‘feeling myself’ moment was when I was 11 years old. I was dropped off at my friend’s birthday party and one of my classmates greeted me and immediately told me I looked really pretty. My cheeks burned with the compliment as a shyly thanked her…but for the rest of that night I felt a confidence like I had never known. I was wearing a grey t-shirt with a happy face on it (newly purchased from Suzy Shier), a pair of reliable blue jeans, and huge glasses lonnnnnng before huge glasses were trendy. Let’s just say, looking back, “really pretty ” isn’t how I’d describe my look!

Flash forward just one year to junior high…my glasses are gone, my jeans are more streamlined, and I’m doing my best to embrace the assets puberty has afforded me. Unfortunately, teenage girls can be awful. I can recall one particular heinous specimen teasing me for the way I pulled my sweater down over my butt in an attempt to conceal it. She even went so far as to impersonate my walk, sticking her backside out to get a laugh from her minions. I fired back a sarcastic retort and I don’t recall her ever bothering me again BUT the damage was done. 25 (God, I’m old) years later and any praise for my derriere is met with me quickly insisting it’s too large.

I can’t blame my faltered confidence on her, or even on one person in particular. It’s the culture that gets in our heads. The magazines, the models, the incessant diet ads and beauty tips…the not so subtly implied idea that fitting a mold equates to happiness. My husband always tells me I can’t take a compliment. My face screws up in disbelief, and I outrightly admonish him for saying such things.  I never really thought about how sad that is until now…That the person whose opinion means the most to me in the world can’t erase doubts instilled by people I’ve never even met.

I’m issuing a challenge to myself to remember the little girl in this photo.The one who never hesitated to throw on a swimsuit, who loved her gymnastics leotards for their bright colors, who smiled with all her teeth showing, who only touched the bathroom scale when using it as a door stopper…the one who took compliments at face value and simply said “thank you”.  I may have lived too much life to get back to her entirely, but I know I can embrace her spirit, and maybe even start to believe in myself the way that girl did.

The average person falls in love 3 to 4 times in a lifetime. Did you know that?  I didn’t!  At least, not until I sat down to Google it. And, as it turns out, I’m a bit basic…

Number 1 (The Fairytale Love)
Doomed from the very start, Shakespearean may be a more accurate term than Fairytale.This romance was over before it ever truly began. It was such a slight blip on the radar screen, that unless you were one of my closest friends you’d never have noticed it even happened.  I’d be tempted to chalk the whole experience up to raging teenage hormones if it weren’t for the fact that the impact of it lingered for years after we lost touch.  Number 1 gave me more than a glimpse at what it was to love someone… He helped to turn that mirror inward, and enabled me to see myself as someone who could BE loved.

Number 2 (The Hard Love)
This love lasted a decade,  and in its constant evolution,  gave life to the highest highs and lowest lows relationships have to offer. At 21, he was my first real boyfriend. Things between us progressed quickly and yet so naturally that I can’t even recall the first, “I love you” or if it was in response to him saying it first, or I had initiated it myself.  It took ten years and a failed marriage for me to learn that sometimes love isn’t enough. There’s a metaphor that compares a relationship to a dimmer switch. You can turn the light down so far that you can barely see it’s glow, and with a quick spin of your finger restore the room to brightness… but if you turn the switch so far down that it clicks off, no amount of spinning can bring that light back. After years of spinning, I finally had to face the reality that our love had gone dark.

Number 3 (The Lasting Love)
The final rose if you will. Vastly different from the other two, this one took years to build. As one of my best friends, not only did he witness first hand the demise of my marriage, he had a back stage pass to the worst of me. He’s literally carried me when I couldn’t walk ( from ankles sprains to food poisoning), tucked me in to bed when I’d had too much to drink,  and followed me into a black ocean to ensure I wouldn’t drown while night swimming…and all this before we so much as shared our first kiss. Not only is this love different in the time it took to build, but in the time we both dedicate to keeping it safe. As marriage number 2 for both of us, we’ve learned appreciation for the small things is what gets a couple from one milestone to the next. For the first time in my life I never feel the need to ask myself, “what if ?”. I know I’m in the right place, and, most importantly, with the right person. 

I know what you’re thinking….the average is 3-4, and I’ve claimed love 3 times before even reaching middle age. So, how do I know this is it for me? I don’t.  Nobody does. What I can say with certainty is that I WANT it to be it…that I’ve never been happier, or more sure of my decision. I can say that I finally love someone who loves me the way I need to be loved. 

4 years ago today  I was heading out on a two-week long vacation to Greece with my husband and two best friends.  Despite being hit with crippling food poisoning on the third day of the trip, and even though two thirds of my travel companions now wish that my E.coli infested spaghetti Bolognese had finished me off, I still reflect on that trip as two of the happiest weeks of my life.

That being said, Greece, though beautiful, isn’t a place I’d like to go back to. The mainland was crowded and poverty stricken. There were cats and dogs literally starving in the streets. As an animal lover, I cried each day until we reached the islands.  Rich in comparison to the mainland, the islands bustled with tourism, and though I spent a night feeding dumpster kitties my leftover pizza, I truly believe  all the strays were well fed even without my assistance.

So ” Why?”, you may ask, does that trip remain my favorite of all time?

By no means do I consider myself a jet setter, but I’ve seen enough places in my 34 years to know which factors truly make or break a trip. When it came to Greece, I couldn’t have asked for a better alignment of these key components.

Timing

Only weeks before we set out, I had completed my MBA. Along with the satisfaction of knowing school was FINALLY out for me, I had received a promotion at work to compliment my new degree. I hopped on the plane that day not only feeling accomplished, but optimistic about where my career was headed.

Weather

There’s just something about Spring! Fall may be my favorite season for it’s amazing colours and dry hiking trails, but Spring has something special. The air at that time feels electric with new life. Every part of you is grateful that the sun has started to shine its warmth after a long, cold winter.  Spring temperatures are also perfect for touring. Warm enough that you’re comfortable, but not so warm that you break a sweat crossing the street.  Side note : temperatures at this time are STILL too warm to climb the Acropolis without breaking a sweat… buckets and buckets of sweat!

and the final, and most important of all key factors,

Travel Partners

After our honeymoon, I swore I’d  never take a 2 week long vacation with just my husband again. It has nothing to do with location. Ireland was an absolute dream!  It sounds awful… but the reality is we just enjoy different aspects of seeing new places. Divided by priorities, we butted heads on numerous occasions, often killing the romantic vibe of our beautiful setting.

Travelling with another couple, especially one we were so close to, eased the pressure of relying solely on each other for companionship. Romantic moments had to be stolen, making them that much more special…and on the other end, whenever we disagreed about how our time should be spent,  it was easy to pawn one another off on a travel mate.

Unfortunately it’s impossible to recreate an amazing trip. I could gather the same people, set the same schedule, visit the same exact sites, and it could end up being awful.  All I can say is, do your best to enjoy the moments while you’re still in them.

I  often think back to one morning in Santorini nearing the end of our trip.  Everyone else was still sleeping and I snuck out of bed up to our rooftop patio. A staff member was outside folding clean laundry. Upon seeing me, she greeted me and without even asking if I needed anything, she ran and brought me back a coffee. Sitting alone up there, sipping my coffee, and staring at the sea, I felt truly blessed. I had everything in the world I could possibly want at that moment, and I damn well knew it.

Have you ever creeped your exes on social media? Come on.. who hasn’t!?

Try as I might to bury my head in the sand when it comes to past loves, every so often I’m hit with the urge to check in and see what they’ve made of themselves.

Win the lottery ? New relationship? New job? Gain weight? Lose weight? Shrink a few inches? SOMEBODY JUST TELL ME!!!!!

It’s amazing the story a few photos can ‘divulge’. Before you know it, you’re caught in the instinctual comparison of success phase. Is that a new car? How big is his house? Is his wife smarter than me? Prettier? Happier? No matter the outcome of the score sheet, there’s the  inevitable feeling of defeat. You know what I’m talking about… the moment you realize that for some reason, they still matter to you.

Maybe we forget why the relationship didn’t work, or maybe those reasons don’t seem as crucial as they once did, but for a minute  you allow yourself to fantasize.  Where would we be? What would our children have looked like? Just how much would the trajectory of my life be changed?  Those mysteries, however, must remain forever unsolved.

You welcome the come down at that point. Your brain registers the masochistic behaviour you’ve begun to engage in, and plants you firmly back in reality by flashing less than flattering scenes of your time together before your mind’s eye.  Truth is, it doesn’t matter if the reasons you parted ways no longer exist, they did back then.  Hindsight is many things, but it certainly isn’t romantic.

So … to  the high school boyfriends, the university mistakes, and the one that got away – see you next time.

The process of saying goodbye to someone you love never really ends. I was aware my father was terminally ill for years before he passed, and yet, once he was gone I felt as though so much remained unsaid. To help ease my mind I penned a letter that was buried with him. To be honest I can’t remember exactly what I said. I know that I apologized for all the times I had disappointed him and told him how scared I was of a future without him. Regardless of what I did say, I found some peace in knowing that, even if only for a moment, everything I had wanted to say had been said.

Although at times it feels like ages has passed since the end of my marriage, and so much has been hashed out at different points, there still remains an air of ‘unfinished business’. Perhaps after spending 10 years with someone, closure isn’t something that truly exists.

I find myself caught between two lives; my life and OUR life. I forget who I am without him. I constantly question my own self awareness. ‘Was that my favorite movie or was it ours?’ ‘Was that my plan for the future or his?’ Finding the answers has proven to be more difficult than you may think. I’m torn between being unable to articulate my thoughts at all, and having a million things I’d like to say. Though I wrestle with the idea constantly, reaching out to him would be selfish and unfair of me…and so, I’ll leave it all right here.

First of all, thank you for loving me in moments I didn’t love myself. Though that time has passed and you’ll never again see me in that light, it wasn’t wasted on me.

You know, probably better than anyone, that I’m not one of those fortunate souls who don’t believe in regret. That being said, I’m sorry for being the biggest let down of your life. Regardless of the reason and no matter the justification, the fact remains I broke your heart. I only wish you could understand that mine remains broken as well. There was never a time I thought this is where our relationship would end, and through the grief and anger, I too struggle to feel whole.

No matter where my life had led me, I refuse to walk a path of hate. I’ll continue to bare yours in silence and pray one day it ends. Should that day ever come, I’ll still be here with that same love I had in my heart over a decade ago. Forever changed, but forever enduring.

I’ve become accustomed to using this blog as a method of release. I let my thoughts flow freely, even when a situation I thought I understood becomes glaringly more honest on these pages. Rereading this frightens me. It pains me. I’m frightened of the misunderstanding that’s sure to follow… and I’m pained by the judgement that I’ve only just begun to endure.

There are three sides to every failed love story. When a relationship ends, there’s YOUR side, THEIR side.. and muddled somewhere in the middle is the TRUTH.

The real question is, why does anyone else in the world need to know it? My perception of the world and the life I lead is MY TRUTH. I could tell you how I see things. I could regale you with endless details of my experiences. You could wipe tears from my eyes and offer kind words, or criticize me and call me a fool. That’s a choice you make. That’s YOUR truth.

I’ve never asked anyone to live their life for me, so why is there the expectancy that I live my life for so many others ? Over the past year I’ve experienced judgement like never before. I’ve looked into the faces of people who think I deserve to suffer. I’ve smiled at people who’ve whispered insults behind my back. I’ve lost friends….people I truly loved… and for what? For living my truth? For choosing to rip my own heart out to stop the bleeding?

I’ve spent so much time telling myself that if only I could explain to everyone all the things that have transpired, they’d understand… that they’d see things my way. That’s never going to happen. That story will remain untold. There’s only one thing anyone needs to know, and upon hearing it, any judgement passed is of their own accord.

“It was death. I chose life.”

Borrowed from the words of Laura Brown in The Hours, that sentiment, however unsettling, rings true in my ears.

Would you really ask that I choose differently?