A First Post of Firsts.

 I remember the first time I laid eyes of Beth. I remember like it was yesterday. It's one of those memories I never want to let go of, the kind of recollection that causes you to smile, to laugh, to cry.

I was 19 years old and had only recently given up a notorious “life of sin” for the straight and narrow path of full blown Christian discipleship. (this is another story altogether) and in an effort to align myself with fellow “Born-Agains” I had started frequenting a local Christian coffee shop / music venue with an acquaintance of mine. This buddy had minimal interest in religion, minimal interest in music, but maximum interest in pussy. He was, for lack of a better word, a player. Myself, having adopted all the bells and whistles of a TRUE believer, had decided that if I was to find a woman, that this place would be the perfect environment to do so. Looking back I find it humorous but at that time I had no idea how to meet women and ya know...meeting women seemed like a good idea. (but I digress)

One evening the coffee shop was hosting a “free movie night.” I couldn't tell you what movie was playing, if it was any good, or how many people showed up. I couldn't tell you what I had to drink that night or what I was wearing, or even what month of the year it was. What I can tell you is that night changed my life forever. That night Beth entered my life like a beautiful whirlwind of tenacious energy whipping me from the ground and hurling me into some mystical world full of sunbeams and candy canes. Well maybe not that extreme but she certainly made an impact. My sidekick and I that night had decided to play a little game called “Find a Woman for Chris.” Classy I know. I remember that he went around the room pointing out different girls and asking me what I thought of them.

“How about that one Chris?”

“Too blonde”

“That one?”

“Too noisy”

“OK what about her?”

“Too old”

And then his finger stretched out towards a young lady seated on a couch towards the front of the coffee house. This particular girl was conveniently sitting next to some rather handsome looking fellow so my initial response was to say, “ Come on man, she's taken,” but for some reason I decided my first reaction was lousy and went instead with “Wow, you know what, there's a woman I could spend the rest of my life with.”

I can't remember if I talked to her that night. I think I did, but if any words were exchanged they were brief. About a week or so later I found myself on a bus with this woman (who I would later that day come to find had been named “Beth” by her parents) traveling to Madison to go to a “True Love Waits Rally”. On this trip I made my move and parked myself next to her in an attempt to swoon her into a dating situation. I probably made a complete ass of myself, but I was OK with it and she seemed amused by my awkward attempts at flirting so I just continued with my oral spewings until we made it to Madison. Upon arrival we decided that while marching to the capital to protest the act of “doing it” seemed like a great idea, skipping out to hit up State Street and get to know each other seemed like a more enlightening experience. We made a day out of our absence from the rest of the group and then made a night out of riding back on the bus holding hands, exchanging phone numbers, and being generally a mushy mess together. One year later we were exchanging wedding vows. 10 years later we're repealing those wedding vows and it seems like the last decade was a lie however I know that there were good times, and great times. I need to remember the good times. I need to remember the trips to vineyards, the silly nights we stayed up laughing, drunken Scrabble games, and road trips that took far too long. I need to remember those times so that I remember that even some of the most hurtful things we can go through in life are not born out of purely horrible circumstances.

It feels very therapeutic to be typing this out. I'm not sure why. Lately when I think of Beth I only have hurt emotions. Hurt because she seems to hate me, hurt because she seems to think I hate her. I don't. I don't believe she hates me. I do believe that we are both completely different people then when we first met. I believe the shy, goofy, new Jesus recruit that fell in love with the girl of his dreams on a school bus to Madison makes for a lovely story but in reality, stories rarely have the happy ending we dream of.

And that's OK.

My story isn't done yet. As I reflect back on the last ten years it's hard for me to not sink into a deep depression. I've cried almost every day since she broke the news to me that she was done trying to make “us” work. I've tried to drink away my misery, I've tried to ignore it. I hurt someone deeply (and if you read this, Leah, I'm sorry, I truly am.) attempting to replace Beth's love with another. I'm not ready to love again. I'm ready to date and I'm seeing a rather awesome lady who has been putting up with my ups and downs more than I expect anyone to do. But the thing I'm learning the most is that I need to find me. I need to know me. I need to take care of myself. I need to continue to be a good father and push on to being an amazing father. I need to not look for a relationship to complete me but instead let my relationship's be an extension of who I am, and who the other person is. It's the only fair way to do things.

So it's almost four in the morning and my compulsion to finally write (it's been 4 months since I have) has been quenched so I'm going to catch a few restful Z's and call it a night. I'm glad I was able to finally get some of what I'm feeling down in a tangible form. My hope is that I can continue to write, as writing is one of the things I love to do most. If you are a friend of Beth's I want it to be said that I do NOT want to badmouth her. I wish I could tell her these things, and maybe (hopefully) once the legal bullshit of separating is over and done with I'll be able to do just that. If I don't, I'm OK with that too. I'm learning a lot through sitting meditation and reflection and I'm beginning to see that my emotions are not ME, they are merely an extension of me. And I'm learning to love myself. I don't yet, but I'm trying. Part of that is doing things that I love, like writing, and more so, sharing.

I'm sharing my story so that you can have a glimpse into my life, and so that I can be honest and “get out” a lot of the things I've been holding in. It's time to figure out who I am.

Sleep Well Friends.

Christopher