Starting Over

As I sit here eating my oh-so-healthy breakfast of cheddar potato chips, vending machine pastry, and bottled Starbucks vanilla iced coffee, I realize that I’m desperately searching for a way to feel better this morning. How do things reach this point without any logical explanation? Four months ago we were stupid in love, planning a life and a home together after a year of commitment and a matching tattoo, and today I’m waking up alone again without a single shot being fired. No one cheated. There were no fights other than some deep discussions as the distance between us became more apparent, but today all she can say is “I don’t know why” and I’m left with my shredded heart in my hands wondering how the hell to pick up the pieces and move forward. Is it me, did I do something? “No, it’s not you. It’s me,” she says, (my favorite conversation.) Have you fallen out of love? “No, love is not the issue,” she says. So what is it? What can I do or say to change what’s happening now? How do I stop what feels like a roller coaster ride out of control as all of my life seems to slide through my hands like sand and I feel like I’m breathing through broken glass? On the inside I’m on my knees screaming and bleeding and trying to patch the holes in my defenses and all she says is “I don’t know.” Why don’t you know? Why not fight for what we have? Why let it just slip away like garbage instead of something rare and precious to be treasured? This thing that I’ve loved and nurtured and come to value as something I can count on in my life seems to mean nothing to her and I am lost. Suddenly, I am not worth fighting for. We are not worth fighting for. I don’t understand and I don’t know how to make it ok in my head and my heart without that.

“But there is no joy in Mudville - mighty Casey has struck out.” *

*From the poem "Casey at the Bat" by Ernest Lawrence Thayer The Examiner June 3rd, 1888

© Sarah Ultis 2011

The Elephant in the Living Room ~ A Poem

The Elephant in the Living Room ~ A Poem About the Things We Don't Talk About

There's an elephant in the living room,

Everyone knows it's there.

We all tiptoe around it,

And try not to stare.

There's an elephant in the living room,

No one knows what to say.

Maybe if we ignore it,

It'll just go away.

It’s an elephant with secrets,

The kind that everybody knows,

It is why we close the drapes,

It’s the prisoner that we chose.

There’s an elephant in the living room,

We call him many names,

Intolerance, ambivalence,

Fear, bigotry, and shame.

Maybe it's your auntie's cancer,

Or your big gay Uncle Al,

Your cousin who got pregnant

Before she spoke some vows.

Maybe your sister runs around,

Or your father likes his booze.

Or maybe, just maybe,

That elephant is you.

What if, one wonderous day,

That elephant made some noise?

A trumpeting so loud that,

Maybe then we'd have no choice,

But to talk about our differences,

Our worries, doubts and fears.

Then that elephant who'd grown so large,

Might just disappear.

© Sarah Ultis and Bryon Robichaud 2011

Angel of Mercy

In the 1940s and 50s before the women's liberation movement, women were viewed as these perfect angels. Domestic Goddesses building beautiful homes while men earned the wage. (Well, until World War II when there weren't enough men available to keep the country running. When the men came back the women went back to the kitchen. Don't even get me started on that tangent.) It was women's job to ensure their virginity. It was their job to keep men on the straight and narrow. Men were expected to run amok and get into trouble and to try to pressure girls into having sex.

As I look at the dynamic in relationships between butches and femmes I see a lot of similarities. The sexual part is of course no longer an issue, (though I do find that women who are comfortable with their enjoyment of sex are still talked about as sluts even among their peers) but butches are still expected to run around, get into trouble, and be irresponsible. They're expected to be hard workers who are afraid of commitment and chase tail at every opportunity. Femmes are expected to keep them in line, ride out the storms of misbehavior, and keep the home fires burning for the time they return emotionally to the safety of home.

Why is this? Do femmes have stronger hearts than butches that make it possible for them to love through all the hurts? Are we built as a different kind of woman who can patiently wait for the one we love to get her head out of her ass? That's not to say there aren't butches out there who have been just as hurt by femmes, but I have to write from my own perspective and I find that in my experience women who participate in a classic butch/femme relationship often function in this sort of dynamic.

Now I consider myself a fairly liberated woman when it comes to male/female gender roles, and yet I find myself exceedingly antiquated when it comes to my thoughts on my role in a relationship with a woman. Why is that? I believe in equality. I believe I deserve to be treated with love, respect, and affection. I would certainly not accept such behavior from a man in my life, yet I find that over and over I allow that from the butch in my life, and I find that if I behaved in the same manner, they (the butches that is) would be appalled and find me somehow less feminine.

In the lesbian relationship I've become accustomed to I'm supposed to be the rescuing angel of mercy, and quite frankly I'm tired of this role because not only does it allow for bad behavior on behalf of my partner, but it creates an expectation of perfection for me which I cannot possibly live up to. I am not an angel. I screw up as much as anyone else does, probably more, when it comes to my relationship. And it isn't my job to have all the feelings and do all the emotional work and communicating, nor is it her job to hammer all the nails and earn all the money. This is supposed to be an equal partnership, which means equal physical and emotional work There are of course going to be times when the load is sometimes going to be 90/10 rather than 50/50 because life is hard and unpredictable and sometimes you just can't carry your share, but it shouldn't be that way all the time.

© Sarah Ultis 2011

She Said/She Said

Remember when you were a kid and would play that game "Telephone?" You'd sit in a circle with your friends and whisper something to the person next to you, they would whisper to the next in line, and on around the circle until by the time it gets back to you, it's something completely different. Sometimes I think that's how communication in relationships works.

She says: "I have nothing to wear. All my clothes are filthy!"
I hear: "Why haven't you done the laundry?"
She says: "This kitchen is a wreck!"
I hear: "Why haven't you done the dishes?"

I say: "I need a little space."
She hears: "I'm leaving you."
I say: "I see."
She hears: "Whatever you just said is wrong. WRONG I say! And you will now feel my wrath! RAWR!" (No really. That's exactly what she hears. She says this doesn't apply if she says "I see" because butch "I see's" are apparently different than femme "I see's, which supposedly involve some sort of hands-on-hips with glaring, and possibly some foot tapping as well.) I don't know what she's talking about. You do? I see.

But really, how is it that the words we say somehow become something else as they're floating through the air from mouth to ear? Granted, there's tone of voice and body language, and people don't always say what they mean, or mean what they say, but as two adult women in a loving relationship shouldn't we be able to communicate more clearly? Is it our baggage that causes the disconnect? I know that much of what I misinterpret relates to my own fears and insecurities, or even old ghosts of conversations of relationships past. And then sometimes trying to clarify causes even more angst and confusion because me asking questions comes across as a challenge to her, or a statement that whatever she's saying or doing isn't ok. And Goddess forbid I include an emotional reaction in there because then everything just goes to hell in a handbasket. (Why do we only go to hell in handbaskets? Can't I get something roomier? I have a lot of luggage.)

So how do we learn to listen, really listen to what the other is saying, not just with their words but with their heart? And how do we learn to speak openly and honestly so that we don't leave holes for other interpretations of our intentions? We worry so much about hurting other people that sometimes we hurt them more by not speaking our whole truth. Sometimes we don't speak because we are afraid that what we say will be judged or that we will not be loved because of it, and sometimes we don't hear what's really been said because we don't like it or don't want to deal with it. When we can't verbalize, behavior speaks louder than words, and more honestly. Often times when we talk about our feelings, we're talking about what we would like to feel or about the way we wish we were, but we talk about it as if it were already a reality. This creates even more confusion because what you've told me you want and what you really want are not the same thing, and now I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing in order to provide you support as your partner. Somehow in the midst of that I have to learn to speak my truth with love and care for both her and myself because I can't be a strong partner to her if I'm not able to be honest about my needs. I need to learn to listen to what she's really saying whether I like it or not, and sometimes that means listening with my eyes and not just my ears.

© Sarah Ultis 2011

It's Not You, It's Me...

It's not you, it's me. Is this not the most unhelpful phrase in the entire language of relationships? Along with "I'm fine" and "Does my ass look big in these jeans?" Because basically what she's just said is there's a kink in the works of the "us" machine and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. The utter powerlessness that phrase invokes is rather overwhelming. What do you mean there's nothing I can do? This is our "machine", our life. How can it be broken and me unable to make repairs? And what do I do with my parts of the machine, which are still humming away like clockwork, while your parts shoot sparks and smoke? It feels like trying to steer a rowboat with one oar. So what do I do? If I flail around randomly all that happens is that we go in circles and probably wind up soaked and perhaps upset the boat altogether in the process. If I do nothing, we sit going wherever the current takes us for an undefined amount of time. What if by the time she's ready to row again we've drifted somewhere neither of us intended or wanted to be? Can we find our way back to where we started, or have we gotten too far away? It's an incredibly frightening feeling not knowing where you're going or what will happen when you get there. If I jump ship before we arrive I have the comfort of being once again in control of my own direction, but she's gone on to somewhere else without me and I have no way of knowing if that destination could have turned into an amazing adventure. So which is worse? To live in fear and insecurity with the hope that the end result will be worth it, or to be assured of safety now, but always wonder what could have been. Coulda woulda shoulda. Another of the world's most useless phrases, along with "what if" and "if only." How do we live in the moment of now finding peace and acceptance just in this moment of time, for this one breath, and then how do we do it again and again until all of our life is one peaceful breath? When do we let go of the need to "control" every moment and just allow the moments to flow through us as they come? As I float down this river of confusion, how do I communicate to her my love and my fear without increasing her fear as well? If I'm really living in the luuuuv moment (insert cheesy drawn out Marvin Gaye "Let's Get it On" voice here) should there really be any fear? This, my friends, is the dilemma of The Butch/Femme project. The ups and downs and communication catastrophes of the butch/femme lesbian relationship.

© Sarah Ultis 2011