Life Altering at a Breakneck Pace? Take a Vitamin.

Move to a new city. 

Meet ideal partner.  

Fall in love.  

Find adorable Little Red House house in cute neighborhood. 

Get married. 

I have succeeded, unintentionally, to launch myself into full blown grown-up-hood. 

At my age, what I anticipated was:

 Move to a new city.  

Get a bum job.  

Rent a small room. 

Make ends meet.  

Suffer aggravating roommate situations. 

Question my life.  

Worry about my brain atrophying.  

Laze about on the outskirts of careerdom waiting, unenthused, for something to yank me away from a drab, but responsibility-less, hourly wage.

After years spent as a top of the class, overachieving type A, I was thirsting for some downtime--and maybe some Portland microbrews.

Ironically, however, "settling down" feels like anything but.  With this newfound umbrella of unconditional love and support over me, I'm finding myself compelled to seek something better for myself.  To put myself out on the line, be vulnerable, stressed-out and overcommitted. And, in someways, to claim a new revitalized adult self that's independent, invested and motivated all over again.   Should I proclaim the hiatus officially over? 

Dang.  Suddenly that responsibility I pushed away is looking kind of nice.  It sure would be swell to be respected and valued by everyone in my working life as I am in my personal life with Chris.  I have so much loving support that I feel like I might as well use it and go for something big.  Maybe I should be a writer like I've always wanted to be.  Or maybe I shouldn't be letting those hard earned film editing skills sit on the shelf even though the talent in this city scares me into a corner.  

Maybe I'm inspired because I'm with someone who has been driven to fulfill his passions from before he could speak.

Whatever it is, it's put my life out of balance.  I'm so happy with this aspect of my life, that my 9-5, (or, sometimes 11-7 or 3-11 as the case may be) is becoming much more dissatisfying much more quickly than I anticipated.  

Partly, I feel the need to live a fulfilling life all around.  But, on a deeper level, I want a long life with this man, full of many chapters and phases.  Many years from now, which will fly by, I am sure, Chris and I want to start a family.  But we both view that decision as the biggest responsibility we will ever, ever take on and I want to dedicate myself to it fully.  Which means that the dedication I have for a career needs to occur before the family can and should.  So, nows the time to begin investing myself in that aspect of my life.  

Secondly, as my mind opens, for the first time on the image of myself as a mother, much less a wife, I have one ravenous desire, to live and very healthy, very long life.

And, without warning, all my mother's foreboding worry rises up in me.  That motorcycle that I salivated over for years, is more difficult to ride every time I turn the key.  I worry about carcinogens, dark leafy green intake, extended family medical history, flossing, careless drivers, health insurance, cholesterol in egg yolks, the condition of my liver, kidneys and pretty much everything but my heart, which is well taken care of. 

"Someday" my mum said, "You'll have kids and you'll stop taking all these stupid risks of yours."

Kids are still a new and vaguely impressionistic image in my mind, and yet I'm thinking about selling my precious Vera, hanging up my helmet and investing in air bags.

Holding Chris' hand while laying in a bed in the emergency room earlier this week awaiting news of a kidney infection,  I felt myself closing a chapter of my life.  I have spent a lot of time adventuring alone, down Colorado mountain and country roads and through back alleys in Asian countries.  And now I have a partner, who happens to be justifiably terrified of motorcycles.  By association, I find myself justifiably terrified of anything that runs the risk of taking me away from him too soon.  It's a claustrophobic feeling, that the world and all its dangers might close in on me, because, inevitably, something will.  What a pendulum shift, from adolescent invincibility to total fragility.  Before, I couldn't picture myself living past 35, now my only wish is to live a long, savored life with Chris.    Before, what could happen to me just didn't matter, and now nothing could matter more.   I suppose that's what they call "settling down," but really, there's no adventure worth having unless he's experiencing it with me.   It's not to say that I won't jump off another bridge or out of another plane or, transversely that I'll encase myself in some sort of bubble.  But, now that I have someone to adventure through the world with and I won't be making choices that could land me back in that emergency room bed.  At the very least, I need to start taking vitamins. 

The Joy of Being Proven Wrong.

January 2nd, 2010:

"I can't imagine being in love with one person for the duration of my life. Marriage seriously misses the mark in my mind. [.....]
And I fall for the ones that make me laugh until I can't breathe. And the ones that are patient and sincere and are as considerate to strangers as they are to their best friends. I love the people I see by the riverside, who lean into the wind and smile.

And yet, for all the love I know I'm capable of-- for all the facets of people that I fall for-- Something in me still searches for someone that's more than just one or two of those facets. I accept most people at face value and even love some within seconds, but I can't help hoping that I'll come across someone that I can spend years discovering."

August 18th, 2010

I'm typing this with a wedding ring weighing down my left hand.  It might cramp.  It's not a familiar weight, not yet, not after only 4 days of wearing it, but my hand feels naked when I shower without it.  

As I wrote that last post in January, my heart was swelling, almost painfully, with love for a person I couldn't even bring myself to mention specifically.  At the core of my being, I knew I'd already found that someone that I would spend years discovering.  That "one" that I "fall for" who makes me laugh until I can't breathe. He who is patient and sincere and considerate to strangers as if they were his best friend.

He is my husband.  He is my best friend.  My partner in this life and what feels like hundreds of previous lives.

A year ago, I was known for touting beliefs of polyamory and slandering marriage. I was the one who provoked the universe to prove me wrong.

And what a beautiful smiting it has been. 

I fell in love with Chris the moment I met him, and I can confirm the fables you may have heard and the movie plots you may have seen about love at first sight.  One minute I was standing on the solid foundation of what I held true, and within a minute of talking to this man, I felt as if the ground beneath my feet had ripped open and swallowed me up.  Everything shifted. Profoundly and irrevocably.

As much as a part of me wanted to believe in the possibility of profound, unconditional, all encompassing and fully supportive love, it wasn't something I could fathom, much less attempt to seek out.  And then it happened.

If, a year ago, someone would have suggested to me that I'd find myself, on August 18th, 2010 typing with a wedding ring on my hand, I would have laughed hysterically and in total disbelief.

Everytime I look into Chris' eyes, it's not without a large degree of shock.  My astonishment is only outweighed by my deep gratitude for being wrong...

On May 13th,Chris and I hiked up to Waimoku falls and in the torrent of the 400 ft waterfall, Chris offered me a pristine tropical flower and the offer to love, care and support me for the rest of my life and asked to marry me.

The next morning, we rolled out of our tent and walked to the seaside cliffs of Oheo Gluch and watched in silence as the sunrise came up over a torrent of ocean and misty rainforest.  That morning we said our vows and from May 14th on, I considered us bound by our own vows and commitments for life.

A friend of mine made our rings, which we waited to put on until my sisters came to visit and meet Chris for the first time.  On August 14th, in their presence and with their blessing, we exchanged rings and vows again. It was done spontaneously, without a plan, without a dress, without makeup, without written vows, without even the opprotunity to check and see how my wind blown hair looked. My sister took pictures as we cried and whispered vows and thanks.  It was my second marriage to the same man with dozens more to come.  We do not want a wedding, only small spontaneous celebrations of our commitment. (After all, Chris was a chef, we don't need a new blender, toaster or cuisinart.  So why have a wedding?)  I believe that every morning when I wake up and look my husband in the eyes, I reinstate my vows.  I abhor weddings because they create a misguided fervor over all the  pomp and the cake and frills and guest list and and and....  When really, all it's about it two people, promising everything they have to one another every single day and waking up and holding the course, no matter what turns come up. What began as a tradition of witnessing profound vows has become a giant cataclysmic event that sets a strange bar of expection and makes every day of marriage feel lackluster in comparison to the "big day".  Chris and I don't want to begin our life together in debt an we have many days ahead to celebrate.

We want our friends and family to share in our joy, but rather than one giant, costly day that becomes more about appeasing our guests and bad dance music at the reception, we will be having dozens of small spontaneous ceremonies over the course of our life together.  Stay tuned, a ceremony may be coming to a city near you. 

We have not yet sought out a marriage license, I have not yet changed my name (though we are exploring name combinations including G Dub, DubEar, Gebler etc. etc). I still consider the definition of marriage to be tragically flawed in this country.  Some of the best examples of commitment I've seen have been modeled by queer couples who have stayed together for decades out of will, love and unwavering promises -- not because it is legally binding via the government. According to the American government, the most impressive marriages I've witnessed haven't been "marriages" at all.   Chris and I will eventually get a marriage license, hopefully after everyone in the country can, but we're not in any rush because, as far as we're concerned, it's our commitment, not $50 at the courthouse, that makes this a marriage.  A honeymoon, however, sure does sounds nice.