Date Night Decisions

It's date night, and I'm looking for something to wear. Something different. Not one of the six outfits I usually rotate through the Saturday cycle. Something that will make my boyfriend say, Ooh, and something that fools me into believing that things haven't been weird. Over the past ten months, there have been four funerals, umpteen thousand hospital visits, and between the two of us, at least a million and a half sinus infections, so our weekly date night hasn't been very weekly.

I toss a t-shirt to the side, then another. I find two bodysuits. They have long sleeves, but they're also sheer. It's Fall. While the weather is mostly sticky and warm during the day, at night, the temperature can plunge twenty degrees in an hour. The bodysuits are too hard to layer, and impossible to peel off if I get hot. So, I move on to an off the shoulder short sleeve I used to wear with the brown platform sandals I've had for at least two decades. I can't wear that top because my middle has grown, so now it hugs me a little more tightly than I'm comfortable with. These clothes have been around for a while, just like me. They've seen things. We've been through a lot of ups and downs together. My body may have outgrown some of them, but my heart has not.

A flash of white catches the corner of  my eye. I pull out a crop top that has spaghetti straps. It's something I bought recently, on a whim. When I bought it, I ignored the voice that said, Don't do it. You're too old for that. Do NOT embarrass yourself. Instead, I listened to the What Ifs: What if you keep exercising and eating right? You've been so consistent. You'll be mad if you get your twenties body back and you don't have it to wear. What if you come back to the store to buy it, and it's too late? What if it's not available anymore?

Get it rid of it. The shift is so sudden, I can't help but look around as if someone else is in the room. It speaks up again. Get rid of it. Get a trash bag and dump the whole drawer in it. Uh oh. The Bottom Lines voice is here. She's the straight guy who means business. She tosses an idea away as soon as she realizes it may not bring me joy. And she does it as casually as if she's taking out the trash on a Tuesday night. She makes "good" decisions. With no regrets. She doesn't take shit from me and the What Ifs voice. 

I hold up the crop top. I swear I'm about to fold it and put it in a donation bag. It says Bisous across the front of it. The neck is square cut and high. And while it's cropped, it's not so short that it shows off underboob. It's long enough that only a bit of stomach shows.

That's your style—subtle skin, super sexy! What if you hide your belly with a pair of high rise pants? Wear it, girl! Wear the hell out of it! What Ifs whoops and hollers over the responsibility and maturity that Bottom Lines preaches.  

Bottom Lines pushes What Ifs to the floor and puts a foot over her mouth. Don't do it. You'll be self conscious all night. What Ifs pinches Bottom Lines and wriggles free. What if you give it away? That means you're giving up! What if you start wearing frumpy clothes? What if you stop trying to take care of yourself?

Suddenly, both voices go silent. I don't know if I shut them up, but the attention is on me. We're all waiting for me to make a decision. But how can I? This is not just about date night. My brain has spun it enough that now I believe this one decision will shape the rest of my life. Will I rip off my clothes and put the top on? Or will I put it in the donation bag to give away? And what will the decision say about me?

...

That's when it hits me: I hang onto clothes like women hang onto guys who will never change. The hope is the same. The codependency is the same. The inability to go out and find the right fit for the person I am here, now, in this moment—it's all the same. 

The crop top falls from my hand. I watch it fall. I can't take my eyes off of it. It winds up hanging from the ledge of the open drawer. It waits for me to decide its fate. If I let it go, will someone better snatch it up? Will it look better and feel better on someone else? Was I never right for it? And if I hold onto it, am I settling for something that never fit properly in the first place? If I don't open myself up, will I ever find something new? Something more fun, more comfortable? Will I never be able to find something I truly love because I didn't make room for it?

 My thoughts take me back to the past: He said he's sorry. What if he changes? You've invested so much time in this. Don't give up now. They take me back to decisions that cost me pieces of my soul: Who gets divorced two months into a marriage? You made a commitment. Stick to it or you'll look like an idiot. Everything they think about you will be proven true. And on an on with excuse after excuse about why I should hang in there. No one puts the work in anymore. You're better than that. 

It was a long road with plenty of hiccups, but I managed to change my ways with men. I know I should be proud of that. But as I'm getting ready to enjoy a night out with a man who deserves my attention, I realize I never really learned the life lesson. Instead, I transferred my fear of failure to other things. 

That fear is present in everything I do, from my inability to release bodies of work without obsessing over them—But what if I don't spend enough time on it and it isn't as good as it could be?—to the level of stress I feel about picking a date night outfit. For a man that took care of me when I was sick. Who has seen me first thing in the morning with last night's makeup smeared across my face and my baby hair sticking straight up on my head. He tells me how beautiful I am in these moments. I know that I could dress in pajamas and sweats and he'd be thrilled. Tonight's stress is not about him. It's about me.

I know that Bottom Lines wants me to quit my problem cold turkey. As if I can just drop them like hot pots burning my hands. And I know that What Ifs wants to always be prepared. Because she won't be wrong if she's covered every angle and perspective. Both voices have their place. They both should get a say. But sometimes they're too loud. And sometimes they're too extreme. And now I've taken too long. They're done waiting for me to decide. I need to get dressed for Date Night. They both tug at me. To convince me that their way is the only way. 

The urgency knots my stomach again. And What Ifs is right there, pulling the knots tighter. What if you... Bottom Lines interrupts and hijacks the sentence...toss that shirt...but then they blend into one, a new voice with a new perspective...into a box? With other things that should be out of sight, out of mind. To be evaluated as things to keep or donate at a later time.

I'm listening. Stand up and breathe through this while you go get a box. This voice is gentle but firm. Decisive. Not shrill or mean. It soothes me when I start to overthink. He'll wait for you if you're a little late. I know this is true. I just needed to be reminded. You can fix this. Let's start with getting that shirt away from you. Then we'll get you dressed.

I recognize this voice. Balance. She's always there, in the background, waiting for me to acknowledge her. Without ego or expectation. She's my true self.  I've summoned her in my time of need. I've quieted everyone else down enough to hear her. She knows what's best. She knows that the What Ifs and Bottom Lines are not distractions from my path or enemies of my soul. She knows that they're necessary for my growth. They're the components of Balance; without both of them, Balance can't exist. Together, they show me the life lessons I need to learn. Through Balance. Through all the best parts of me. To support me on my journey.

The box is open on the floor next to me. I drop a few things into it while I look for something to wear. It won't all go away in an instant, but every time you catch yourself caught up in this tug of war, stop and think. Take another baby step toward a resolution and you'll feel better. Consistency and patience is key. You can do this. Balance feels like a warm hug. It feels like clarity. It feels right. 

 Baby steps. Compromise. I reach for two outfits I have worn before. Two outfits that make me feel comfortable, safe, pretty. The same way my boyfriend makes me feel. I pair the top from one outfit with the bottom from the other. They look good together. They feel good together. And I've never worn this combination before. One step at a time. Prove to yourself that if you remove people, ideas, and things that don't suit you,nothing bad will happen. You'll still be whole. You'll still be worthy. You're not a failure. You are enough.

It's date night. Tonight I will dress in confidence and self awareness and love. Not just for the man who is proud to be seen with me no matter how I look, but for myself. For the woman I become every time I make the decision to listen to my true self. I will not pick myself apart out of fear of failure or the unknown. I will be less strict. I will make decisions with love and kindness and patience for myself. And I will do this knowing full well that the next time my boyfriend asks me what I want to eat for dinner, we'll probably both have to take deep breaths after I answer, "I don't know."

CF Winn is the award-winning author of The COFFEE BREAK SERIES, a quirky group of shorter novels that are meant to be read while on a lunch break or in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. Her first novella, SUKI, has been grabbing hearts and hugging souls all over the United States.  The sequel, WHEN DWAYNE DIED, is coming soon.

The BOOKLIFE PRIZE (a division of Publisher's Weekly) has praised CF WINN's MOORE THAN MEETS THE EYE: "This novel is a unique and original storyline that readers will likely find much enjoyment in. Winn's fiercely plotted storyline makes for a suspenseful read. Every plot point feels as if it is being revealed at precisely the right moment. Winn's word choice makes for a joyful ride through unexpectedly dark terrain."

CF Winn's blogs have been syndicated on multiple sites including The Masquerade Crew. More posts like these can be found at Humor Outcasts and The Patch where she is a regular contributor.  

FOLLOW her on Twitter, Facebook, and CF_Winn on Instagram.

Letting Go: Eleven Things I Never Told My Ex

Letting Go Meant Forgiving Myself

For the longest time, I wasn't good at letting go.  

I was your biggest cheerleader and insisted that you were a good person who was hurting inside---even when you called me a bitch and a know-it-all. I told you that I had doubts and didn't want to marry you the night before our wedding. Then I told you that I would marry you anyway.

I went with you to the therapist and talked about my feelings even though all three of us knew that you drank too much and had anger issues long before you met me.

When I look back at our life together, I realize that I said many things I didn't mean and kept the truths to myself. I sank to your level and became as dishonest as you were in an effort to keep the peace.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/watch-hoziers-music-video-cherry-wine-domestic-abuse_us_56c32fdae4b0b40245c7d3c5

Even when everything fell apart, I still didn't come clean.

Therapists sometimes recommend writing a letter full of thoughts that we wouldn't normally express. They say that you should burn it as a symbolic way of letting it go, but I would rather share it—just in case it can help someone who might be living like I did: protecting not just his secrets, but mine, afraid to tell anyone out of embarrassment, fear, or pride. You might feel alone, but you're not. You may feel like you deserve it, but you don't. And you may feel like you don't have a say, but you do. 

1. I never wanted to spend as much time with you as you did me.

I said I missed you when you were away from me because I did. I was happy when I looked forward to seeing you at the end of the day, several nights a week. You took it upon yourself to manipulate the situation so that eventually we'd wind up working and living together 24-7. 

Spending that much time with you showed me who you really are, and that’s when things changed. Eventually, every time I didn't agree with something you said or did, you'd throw a tantrum and announce that we spent too much time together. Suddenly, you had to get away from me. But I wonder, did you notice how I didn’t complain about your change of heart? How quickly and easily I let go and agreed to being apart all day and sometimes at night?

I wish our separations could've lasted longer than a few days. But when you'd complain that you missed me too much and needed me, it was easier for me to give in than be subjected to your tantrums and crazy mood swings.

2. When you asked my kids about what I did when you weren't around, they told me. Every. Single. Time. 

You acted like you were never jealous, that I was the lucky one and that you would walk out the door at any moment, but in reality, you stalked me. Via my kids. 

I don't have the words to accurately describe what I think of a man who would use children in this way. The closest I can come is: disgusting, untrustworthy, and pathetic. The next time you want to know if I hang out with the landscaper when he's not mowing my lawn, ask me.

3. I didn't get old and lose the urge to go to clubs. You just can't dance. 

Drunk or sober, it doesn't matter, just do us all a favor and stay off of the dance floor. It's embarrassing.

4. I hated being the breadwinner.

When we first met, and I allowed you a peek into my situation—single mother of three, working multiple jobs—you assured me that I'd never have to do it alone again; that you'd take care of me if I'd just let go and allow you to.

At first I believed you, but I also urged you to find your passion. While I supported your dreams, I also supported your need to travel, to eat out constantly, and to binge drink. As my level of resentment rose, so did the bills and the amount of hours I worked. 

Eventually, I also became responsible for your therapist, the debt you brought into the marriage, and your credit cards. I wore a $20 Cubic Zirconia I bought online so nobody would know that you (I) couldn't afford a (my own) engagement ring. And yes, in all fairness, you did have a job. But the extra $350 a week doesn't go very far when your husband's appetite is as big as the three teenagers you live with.

5. It is not humanly possible for a woman to climax as fast as you always did. 

And because my life with you was so exhausting, I could not be bothered trying to. It was easier to take care of things myself as was the norm in our relationship. After our first thirty second encounter, I had to wonder if it would get better, and it did. For you. I managed to teach you a few things and can only hope that your future conquests don't consider forty-five seconds a quickie.

6. No one liked you.

So Many Secrets And Lies 

But everyone liked me, so for my sake they kept their mouths shut, crossed their fingers, and hoped that they were wrong.

The best man at my cousin's wedding waited till we were over before telling me how you cornered him and said, "If you try and steal my wife, I'll fucking kill you." And the person who saw you in the shady part of town buying pills tried to spare my feelings by not exposing you. 
But once we split, I realized that everyone had distanced themselves and now I'm alone, too embarrassed by what you did to try and rebuild my relationships.

7. That time when you went away without me and the kids because you said we weren't welcome? While you were gone we discovered that you weren't welcome in our home anymore. 

You had to go to Florida for your grandmother's birthday by yourself. "We just got back from the Outer Banks and we (I) don't have the money for another trip (both of which you insisted upon although I, the breadwinner, objected)", you said. And so you went by yourself.

Of course you didn't want us to go. You were supposed to be sober, so if we had, you wouldn't have gotten drunk on the plane and called to tell me about the UFOs you saw outside the window, racing among the clouds. (Did you notice that I stopped answering the phone after that call?)

And we would've wanted to do more than just sit on the couch with the seniors watching the news all day and night, complaining about the sorry state of the world that everyone else created. With us around, you wouldn't have been able to tell your mom, aunt, and grandmother that "It's so nice to be here with you. You're my real family", then come home and say to me, "It's so nice to be home. You guys are my real family." 

While you stayed perpetually drunk and thankfully distant, the kids and I hung out together, watching comedies and laughing. We relaxed for the first time in years, blissfully not subjected to your complaints about feeling like an outsider because you refused to join in, or being told to be more quiet when we enjoyed each other a little too loudly for you and your hangovers. Our jokes were smart and uninterrupted by explanations you required because you just didn't get them. It was a great weekend and the only thing that kept it from being perfect was your return. Oh, how I longed to let go.

8. I was attracted to other men when I was with you. So many. 

I loved you until you made me hate you. And while I did not plan on acting on it, I was attracted to almost every other man I saw when I was with you. I'd look at the guy in the suit and wonder, What would it be like to be with someone and only have to work thirty hours a week? To have my weekends off? And then there was the guy who looked like he took care of himself. And the one who smiled all the time. If I compared them to you, anyone was more attractive.

9. I kept a separate bank account that you didn't know about.

It was obvious early on that not only would you never be the world's best provider, but that we probably weren't going to make it. Driven by a fear of failure, I kept trying with you, but also driven by the fear of starvation, I planned ahead.

When my job cut my hours in half and we had to depend on you, I stepped up saving my money, knowing that there was no way you'd be able to handle doing what I had done for so long. 

And so we separated—after you offered to drive my daughter and her friend around, knowing all the while that you were drunk—and by separation, I mean you living in my spare room, still sponging off of me. When I tried to settle up on expenses, you were drunk again, and this time you got angry and physical.

I told you that I threw you out of the house that night for your own good and I meant it, but I wasn't referring to your sobriety like you thought. My kids and my stash saved your life. My first reaction was to take a chair over your head and to continue beating you with it until you were dead. But then I thought of my kids and the money and how we didn't need anything from you—especially your presence. And that's when I finally let go.

10. You are one of the dumbest people I know.

Your spelling is atrocious, you can barely read, and the only conversations you are good at are heavily peppered with cliches—other people's words and ideas. 

I couldn't let you order anything online because my bank account would get hacked every time, and your biggest accomplishment during our time together was when you used Legos to stop the bathroom fan from shaking...and they still fall out of the ceiling from time to time. 

The only person I know who might be dumber than you is me. I invited you into my home and into my family's lives and allowed you to stay much longer than you should have. I knew I wasn't being smart but I couldn't let go. I kept hoping that the impostor you hooked me up with in the first place might return. I own my lack of intelligence in that respect, but I'm still smart enough to know that I don't deserve to be treated like that ever again. 

  

This Way To Complete Peace

11. I don't miss you. You served your purpose and now I wish you'd disappear. 

When you would yell at me, "You're the problem!" and "I wouldn't drink so much or be so depressed and angry if it wasn't for you!", I felt guilty enough to wonder if it wasn't true. After all, omission is the same as lying, and I kept a lot from you. But after a while, those hateful words became excuses made by a person who had no desire to change himself. With that realization, I was able to see how you changed me.

For so long, I wondered how I could go from picking such loving partners to picking losers, never getting the lesson until the ultimate loser was tossed into my lap and legally chained to my leg.

You were the mirror that showed me how I blamed myself for choosing fathers for my children that were not capable of taking care of themselves, let alone anyone else. I became the world's best caregiver, so good at doing my job, that when in the company of others, I couldn't stop.

But no matter how I excelled at being both parents, I could not let go of the feeling of failure, all too aware that I was only one person trying to care for three. Your hatred was my hatred, and when I finally rid myself of you, the hatred left as well, unable to sustain itself amongst a tight knit family that truly and unconditionally love each other. My kids have forgiven me for being human and we've moved on, closer and happier than ever.

Your nasty phone calls and texts are like the summer gnats that serve no real purpose. And like those bugs that briefly disappear for a season or two before popping up to annoy us by hovering around and trying to get attention, rest assured that your efforts are wasted, because honestly, none of us misses you at all.

Even though you're finally gone, I am haunted by the fact that as long as I carry these truths, I am stuck with you.

So I am letting them go—in my own virtual Chinese lantern. They are heavy, laden with ugliness and burdens I shouldn't have had to bear. If they sink instead of floating to Heaven, they will take their rightful place in Hell, far away from those of us who struggle to live in the light despite people like you who work hard at mucking up the works.

It doesn't matter whether or not you read this, because none of this was ever about you. It was always about me. In every other situation, I could easily see the lesson, and at some point I'd appreciate the role it played in my life. In your case, I was given hints and clues, but I needed a brick to fall on my head. You were the brick and that's where your significance ends.

As I shout out for truth and freedom from secrets, I no longer give that legal document or that metal band permission to act as excuses for bad behavior. I shed them, letting go so that I am free to immerse myself in honesty and happiness, two looks that fit every body type.

  

 

Let It All Go And Do You

BECOME AWARE: http://www.adweek.com/adfreak/bruised-woman-billboard-heals-faster-more-passersby-look-her-163297
 

CF Winn is the award-winning author of The COFFEE BREAK SERIES, a quirky group of short stories meant to be read while on break or in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. Her first novella, SUKI, has been grabbing hearts and hugging souls all over the United States. 

You can now order SUKI in paperback at https://www.amazon.com/dp/0615726313

FOLLOW me on Twitter, Facebook, Google +, and CF_Winn on Instagram.