I had originally intended to post this yesterday, since it would have been an anniversary. But I finished the night on the phone with a man who loves me and chooses to be with me. I'll never forget what once was but I realized during the conversation, that I'm happy where I am now. I don't miss 'back then' anymore. I'm excited for what the future holds. I don't need to look back and mourn the way I used to. I can remember what lies behind but press on boldly into a future full of hope.

So... here's to the past, here's to the present, and here's to me Leaving the Middle, it's been swell, for the most part I've had a blast, but life's changing again...

Two years ago yesterday (From FB memories):
“Here we go. The day is here. It's supposed to be our 14th wedding anniversary, but he walked away so instead I have been in this wilderness for 40 days. Thankfully I have been far from alone and treasure each person who is walking this road with me. I am ready to let go of what was, not quite yet of hope, but of what we used to be. My God promises that He works all things for good for those who are called according to His purpose. With that promise in my pocket, I am moving on to a new chapter of my life. But first, for today, I will finish writing this one. One last day,
here in this valley, to feel this moment in my life, to remember the good, because there is so much good, to mourn the loss of a dream and to exhale the hurt, pain and anger. May it be well with my soul!”
 
 I took to the mountains, because my help comes from the LORD, the One True Author and Perfecter of my faith, and I am closest to Him there. Exhaling what was... letting go. Breathing in the fresh-air healing that only comes in an earthy pine tree scent no man can package and ship on the gusts of alpine breezes.
 
“Sounds strange to say but this solo drive alone in the mountains was one of the most liberating and spiritual things I've ever done! Soooo there I was on top of a mountain... The furthest I've ever been alone. It was supposed to be an epic letting go. I bought a huge balloon, paid $15 for it!!! I had a sparkly notebook of blank pages to fill. I had nothing but the sounds of nature and my songs playing on repeat. I was a teary mess. I was going write until the tears stopped flowing and tie the pages to the balloon and send my sorrows, my hopes, my prayers up, up and away to the heavens and say goodbye to this chapter of my life... But the wind whipped up and the balloon slammed into a rock and popped so loud it startled me out of my sobbing. It was tragic and I bawled even more because my beautiful plan to let go, like so many plans before it, was ruined. I shook my fist at God, ‘That’s not how it’s supposed to happen!’ Then a still small voice reminded me, this isn’t my story, if it was I would have written it differently. This is His story and I am a mere character. This is character development. This is where I start to become who I’m going to be. I will forever treasure this day. And I can't wait to go kick up more mud real soon! I sure do miss being the shotgun rider but driving was awesome!!!”
 
One year ago today:
I ran 10 miles to mark the day, it seemed like a good idea.

Today:
I hope for something I’ve never had before, in a man like none I’ve ever known before. He loves me and I know it’s true because he shows me over and over with his faithful, patient, steadfast persistence that I keep trying to find the catch in. He’s still here for no other reason other than he picks me every day and I pick him. Whether he shares it or not, he strengthens and encourages my faith. I believe in his love for me as I am, with all my "over thinking" and butterfly business and eccentricities. I know he has a magnificently strong will that can handle me and mine boldly and without fear or intimidation. He has earned all my respect and admiration and I believe him when he says he’ll never leave me. And yet I am oh so wary! Not because of him but because sometimes I still feel like a dog run over. But I believe him and the risk is worth it, because he’ll put all my fears to rest in time… I just know it! Pray it up brothers and sisters and all the rest of y'all wish us well!

It’s time to come clean, to confess the compromises to my principals and beliefs over the last couple years and admit to the consequences of my choices. It’s like the song “Slow Fade” by Casting Crowns: “It’s a slow fade, when you give yourself away. It’s a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray. And thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid, when you give yourself away. People never crumble in a day...” I didn’t set out to be in consumer debt again after working so hard with my ex-husband to get out of it. I didn’t set out to have an ex-husband. I didn’t plan to be dating in my late thirties proclaiming my boundaries publicly because our culture falsely dictates that hook-ups and friends-with-benefits are supposed to be normal not scandalous.

There’s a little known saying: “Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.” It’s a warning of sorts; the “little foxes” as they’re called in this Biblical passage are the little things that, over time, ruin us. The little foxes invade our thoughts, our relationships, our sensibilities and slowly eat away at the rich, ripe fruit we’ve tended to and watched grow. With stealth and cunning they sneak in and take and weaken and reduce our harvest. Little by little, day by day, without vigilance and accountability a luscious vineyard becomes a picked over field of lackluster fruit. Today, I look over a windy and battered vineyard that is my life and wonder... who have I become? I’m nothing like she who once was.

I know that life circumstances like mine lend themselves to a change in lifestyle. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it now; I’m blessed to have gone through this in the day and place we live. Had I been abandoned in a different time or country, I wouldn’t have fared so well. I have a job and community that supports struggling single women and doesn’t prey on them. I live a happy, comfortable, independent life that keeps me safe. It’s a good life I’ve been dropped into, but it’s different. I am alone; free and unfettered to and taste and see and hear and feel all that that I can... but also unaccountable. I don’t answer to anyone and, no one cares what I do with my time, talent or money... for me, this is the biggest little fox in the skulk.

Some people are loners and can effectively live and manage their vineyard on their own. While I am fiercely ambitious and motivated, I know that I am a companionable soul and work my vineyard best in fellowship. It’s not that I need someone to tell me what to do… no, no... I appreciate knowledgeable guidance but I’ll learn how to grow, water and nourish my fruit myself; that part I’ve got covered. It’s near the borders, where the creeping vermin sneak in, and in the bounty I have to share, where a companion, accountability partner, or teammate works best for me.

Let me explain…

If I am left to myself, yes, I want a vineyard capable of sustaining me, but so what if some of the fruit is consumed by pests? There’s still enough for me to live off of. Sure it’s not the best, it’s not the most, it’s not the smartest way to tend a vineyard but… who cares? As long as it’s enough for me, it’s good enough. But, add a partner to the mix, someone I know will also enjoy my fruit, suddenly I’m motivated to shoo those foxes away and build fences and borders to keep them out. Why? So I have more bounty to share with them of course! I have external motivation, someone else to give to, to share with. I have a reason to care.

It’s not the same as being desperate for a companion. I don’t need someone for my vineyard to grow. God has blessed me with a wonderful body, mind, soul and spirit. He has given me opportunity to grow good fruit. I do that, but there’s something about me that manages myself better when I know there’s someone else directly affected.

I lost my someone… my someones actually…

In the same amount of time that my ex-husband left, my kids transitioned from childhood into young adults, capable of making their own choices, quite independently of me. He didn’t want me. They didn’t need me. I, alone, was left to tend my vineyard, and the little foxes started creeping.

The biggest compromises came in the areas of finance and romance and it is in these two areas I must make my confession, but this is enough for now, confession is inevitable but it will wait a bit longer, just a bit...

This one is going to be tough, and long. No need to read it, but the words must be written before I present too many more of my thoughts and opinions on dating, relationships, sex and spirituality. Before I can take you through my year of dating, complete with my plan, rules, dates (I mean data presentation) and man-alysis, I need to go back... way back, and get out of the way, a bit of my sexual history in order to explain some of my viewpoints, perspectives and boundaries that I’ve set as I wander in the Middle.

But first a comment to my family and request to any who do read this:

To my family, should you read this please know I in no way mean to dishonor or disrespect any one except the offenders, and even in that I will speak the truth and whatever disrespect or dishonor it garners is because of their actions. This post will include my perspective of the events; the results of my perception have led me to become the woman I am with the beliefs that I have. Should any of you like to speak to the words that follow I absolutely welcome the dialog and will not judge, blame or condemn you for anything that was done or said or not done or said. In the same way I hope that you all can be understanding enough to let me get this out. It is time.

To my readers. Thank you for reading every blog that you have. You never cease to amaze me. I’m not famous by any means but that so many read so often humbles me… That you share your encouragement, stories and thanks with me is a bigger blessing that I know how to handle, thank you. This post, is highly personal. I’ve tried to always request, accept and appreciate constructive criticism and reviews and have swallowed down the nasty criticism like gristle on steak. I do not want to keep anyone from expressing any opinion in public or in private (by all means if you want to post a review good or bad on Catching Tatum please do!) but I would ask for this post to please remember this is my soul I’m sharing. This is not a character, this is not an issue of structure or arc, this is my life, and one of the most sensitive areas of it. If you want to criticize, please be sensitive of that. I welcome and ask for comments and dialog. Let’s talk openly and honestly about sex, the stereotypes, the dogma, the cultural shifts and trends. Let this be a safe place to speak about the issues. Let’s use this as a catalyst to reach into dark places and expose evil but please be gentle if at all possible.

So here we go... What needs to be said is that my parents were divorced. My father had custody and I was raised in a staunch, Pentecostal culture. My mother saw me regularly and lived a wild lifestyle which included drugs and alcohol and questionable acquaintances. One of these acquaintances violently sexually assaulted me before I was five years old. His approach was what society pictures a pedophile to be, angry, evil, threatening; but this is actually an A-typical pedophile MO. Most pedophiles are, “kind,” “love kids,” and are unassuming and groom their victims with trinkets and secrets. I was blessed to always know my predator was evil. I knew he meant to take what he wanted, make me do what he wanted, how he wanted it done because he threatened to kill my little brother if I ever told. The most horrid memory I have of the whole thing is not of the acts themselves but of my baby brother crying and me being desperate to do the act correctly so he could live.

His threat insured that I knew, and have known evil, from the beginning of memory making but, it didn’t keep me from telling. However things happened, I don’t know, but the man was extinguished from my life, the physical injuries healed, the incident under rug swept, the emotional wounds, untreated, remained.

As is typical for a child who is sexually assaulted at a young age, I acted out in sexually inappropriate ways. I was reprimanded frequently for doing “bad things.” There was never a reason why I ought not masturbate in public, other than it was wrong. There was never a reason for wearing panties to bed other than my private parts should be covered up. There was no counseling as far as I’ve ever known or remembered. I imagine that the incident was so emotionally painful and difficult to digest that everyone preferred to pretend it never happened... and so we did.

Later in my childhood/adolescence I was wearing something that might have been considered provocative and a family member took it upon himself to fondle me. I froze. I couldn’t believe it was happening and I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing. I let it happen. I said something about it later to my brother, and it turned into a HUGE family fight and I ended up recanting what I said to make everyone shut up.

At this time self-harm (a typical expression in children who are sexually abused) as well as drugs and alcohol became a prominent part of my life.

And then… I let it happen again another time! It was the same kind of deal, I was wearing something I probably shouldn’t have been wearing in a place I probably shouldn’t have been wearing it and this same family member did the same thing again and again I froze and again let it happen. I knew the guy liked porn, I knew he spoke crudely of women, including me... and I knew I was wearing the wrong things. So this time I didn’t say anything at all to anyone ever, I just got high.

After that I made sure to avoid that guy as much as humanly possible, to keep myself covered as much as possible and to keep my mouth shut because it just made things worse. I used a lot of drugs and alcohol and self-injury methods to forget about it. My behavior was erratic, but my grades were good and the teachers at my school, especially the second most amazing man I’ve ever known, my guidance counselor, Dr. David McDolald watched out for me. This man, a good man, worked with my family to get me into counseling. It helped. Even though I showed up high on more than one occasion, I’m grateful for the counseling. I learned techniques in those counseling session with Nancy that I still use to this day. I learned to go to a safe place when I’m stressed; for me that was the tree lined banks of the Stillagaumish River. I suppose that was when I truly fell in love with creation.

Then I started acting out sexually. My first chosen sexual experience occurred just after I turned fourteen and by the time I was fifteen I decided I was going to forget the bad guys once and for all. I wanted to erase or replace what they did but I didn’t have a boyfriend and didn’t necessarily want one so, for lack of a better term, I profiled boys at my school and picked a handsome young man who didn’t run in my circle of friends. I took some time to befriend him, I told him what had happened to me and that I’d like to have good sex to replace the bad sex. I was a cute girl, he happily obliged, and he did much to heal a wounded part inside me. I can’t and won’t advocate for sex outside of marriage, and I honestly wish, even with the abuse, I would have understood how sacred my body was, but I didn’t. I was a lost child trying to bandage up a gaping wound. I did what I thought would fix it and I chose a good guy to help. He did right by me. Right or wrong, good or bad, I will ever be grateful to him for showing me a better kind of sex and intimate touch.

Up to this point I’d never used condoms or birth control. I remember “blah, blah, blah” in health class so I didn’t pay attention. I think the Pentecostal upbringing convinced me that I ought not have sex so I kind of ignored the teaching because it didn’t pertain to me. And then I did have sex and… it just happened once, or twice, or ummm yeah... you get the idea. It was likely during this time I contracted HPV (genital warts) and herpes but because I had no out breaks I didn’t know. So, that’s way more information about me than I want anyone really to know, but here’s why I say it... Kids, adults, everyone reading this, if you’re having sex with multiple partners practice safe sex!! Whether it applies to you or not, whether you’ve ever had an outbreak or not, whether you can have kids or not, learn how to use condoms and don’t have sex with multiple partners without them. Gents, you can carry STDs dormant in your body your whole life and pass it on over and over and over again. Cover it up! Ladies, we’re usually more unlucky and tend to see outbreaks with most all STDs more often than men but not always. We live in a socitey with an STD epidemic. We’ve made a vaccine for HPV because upwards of 75% of the reproductive-age population has it. Herpes is super easy to spread and there is no cure and up to 20% of 14-49 year olds have it (actually CDC says this is probably understated due to those who do not show symptoms). This article from 2014 sites 20 MILLION NEW STD outbreaks each year (http://www.livescience.com/48100-sexually-transmitted-infections-50-states-map.html)!!! Obviously if you have one, you’re not alone, but don’t spread it. And if you don’t have one, why take the risk? I’m done preaching. Do it God’s way, or be safe doing it your own way.

Moving on… As I entered adulthood my sexual explorations took a dark turn. I’d rather not go into the details. Suffice to say I am appalled by memories of things I did and saw, participated in and watched. Before that time I’d known both scary, bad sex and better, gentler sex. I knew what I was doing was not right, but it’s hard when you’re walking down a road with others to be the one to stop and turn around. Then before you know it you’re in a pit, ten feet deep scratching at the sides to get out, but the demons with you keep pulling you down. It’s kind of like there’s no way out and so you sort of give up or give in and stop even trying to pretend you’re a good kind of person. I let drugs take over my life, I was self-harming, I was participating in illegal and illicit activities of all kinds and I was absolutely, unequivocally, hopelessly miserable.

This is where God steped into my life. He gave me a second chance. I took it and I knew a big part of the cleansing and healing for me would revolve around my sexuality. I knew my libido was higher than most girls and my affinity for sex would likely get me in trouble again so I decided, upon pledging my life to Christ, to also make a pledge to not be alone with any guy for a year. It was a tumultuous year. It was full of purging bad thoughts, memories, ideas and visions from my mind and replacing them with whatever was true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent and praiseworthy. There were a handful of occasions that I spent time with my first ex-husband alone, it was also the first time I ever recall actually saying no to sex and having my words respected. He wasn’t happy about it but he respected my words and for that I’m grateful. It taught me I didn’t have to give in to every request and that even if my voice was small, it could still be heard.

The lack of sexual activity was exceptionally difficult. I had become very used to sexual touch, whether good or bad and my body, like it hungers and thirsts, craves sexual release. I had always practiced self-stimulating behavior and didn’t stop but I had a horrible sense of guilt about it at first because “the church” seems to demonize masturbation. I think it’s a very personal and private issue and I think, like anything else, it can be misused, but I do not think it is sin, nor have I found any place in the bible where the ACT of masturbation is noted as wrong, condemnable, punishable or sinful. (I think I’ll be so bold as to challenge anyone who questions me to prove me wrong on this.) At that time, as at this time in my life, while I practiced (and currently practice) abstinence, masturbation is a regular part of my life and I think I’m pretty open about it, and I think it makes a lot of people uncomfortable, but I think it’s a subject worth exploring, especially within the church, instead of condemning.

Then I met he who left me. We did not wait. While we were married I always felt a little sad that we didn’t but it didn’t bother me too much because we were supposed to do that whole “til death do us part” thing. Well, that didn’t work out so good and now I see that he was just another guy that followed the same pattern. I want them, or I want sex, so I sleep with them. It’s what I knew. I want a man so I give him what I know they all want, or a man wants/takes my body and I’m powerless or frozen to resist. And now that he’s left, the what if is… what if I would have abstained? Would he have stuck with me through it or would he have left before we had lives and children intertwined? Is this the big test to see who stays and who leaves? Is this why it’s a big deal to God? I’ve been abstinent for nearly two years and dating for a year of that and I absolutely guarantee you it’s a HUGE deal in the minds of men, and me.

But I want this. I actually asked for this. I remember writing the scene in Catching Tatum where Justin and Tatum are in bed together and she has the choice to make love to him or not. I wrote out the choice she made then remember looking heavenward, in my lovely little writing room that I miss so much, and saying out loud to God that I wish for once in my life I would have waited to put out. It was wistful prayer at the time, I was married to the guy I thought was my partner for life and the chance was lost to me.

But here I am. The longest I’ve gone without sex since my early teens, frustrated, so sexually frustrated but resigned and resolved to walk this out. To test myself: Am I stronger than my physical urges? Am I more than just an animal operating on instinct? Do I exist on a higher level? Can my mind, soul and spirit overcome the base desires of my body, or am I slave to it? To test men: Will anyone wait with me? Does anyone not pressure or beg, manipulate or push too far? Who is master over their body and not slave to it? Because if he can’t even master himself, how can I possibly trust him enough to be safe with him for the rest of my life? See, I don’t want just any man. Any man will take my body and satisfy his animal urges. I know this, life and men: good men, bad men, gentlemen and sadistic men have proven this to me time and time and time again. They will all take my body if I give it and sometimes even when I do not. I’m done having it taken. I want to give it to he who will not leave me. I’m not a virgin, certainly not pure, but I am new and for this time, I can choose to wait for him. I’m more than a body, I am a beautiful mind, a precious soul and a spirit in communion with the God of all creation! I will gladly share a little bit of all that’s in me with any man bold enough to hang with me for a while, but I’ll reserve the best of me for the last man I will ever love. I belong to him, and I wait for him. He’s looking for me and he’ll find me, or… maybe he is already looking out for me and just needs to figure stuff out, so I wait... And while I do I guess I’ll write about a lot of sex and dating, cause while I do not want to be single for long, it does have its moments of awesome.

Cairn landmarks litter my life like the trails I hike. Sometimes they form unexpectedly; an alphabetical seating arrangement that introduced me to a favorite middle school friend, a gift of money stuffed in the crack of my door, that other pink line… twice, the middle of the night plea for help that changed the entire course of my family’s life, the note on the kitchen table that wished me good-luck and good-bye. I couldn’t see ‘em coming. They weren’t there one day, and the next, pillars of reference erected to mark significance.
 
The unexpected cairns are rare, most of them are intentional beacons of memorable proportion. I pick around on the sides of the trail that is my life and gather stones for their stability, size and aesthetic appeal and purposefully, often painstakingly, build a pillar to commemorate yet another part of my life the LORD has brought me through. I have been making a giant cairn of my Middle for a year. And now it is finished and like I’ve done so many times in my life. I must go from here, to where ever the trail leads next.
 
A year come and gone... slow, painfully, slow and yet lightning-strike fast. It is time to sit, as it were at the foot of Asgard’s Pass, like I did twice this year, to rest, to regroup and to look up, way up and prepare for the ridiculous uphill hike to what lies ahead. Here I shall take a moment of reprieve before I begin again and share with you what this, the first year of my Middle, this pillar I have made, was all about. As the “plan” for my Middle shifts into phase two, I’ll unpack, like an energy and nutrient rich snack, my memories, moments, reflections, and analysis and dispense with the long awaited data presentation.
 
First of all, coming into this year, fresh off The Leaving, I really wanted to focus on healing more than massive goal setting like I usually do for the year. I wanted to do what was good for me, not necessarily whatever felt good, but what was good; body, mind, soul and spirit.
 
My primary personal objective was to avoid a rebound relationship at all costs but to “safely” get out into the dating world, to meet good guys, to do fun stuff, to learn as much as I could so I can move from a single to a companion again in the shortest, healthiest amount of time possible because I fear an extensive stretch of single life for me will only further set me in my own ways and make me quite unbearable for a man to want to tolerate. 
 
For my writing it was to publish five books and use my platform to speak to the issues of sexuality and spirituality that are so important to me. Clearly, with my publisher going out of business, the writing portion has only sputtered along but I find that sexuality and spirituality and dating and relational dynamics all kind of go together.
 
And so as I sit here, taking in all the things that have come to pass like food and water for my soul, I will not lie, there is a bit of a sense of foreboding as I look up to what awaits me. All that’s in front of me, as far as I can see is a steep, uphill hike. I know it will challenge every ounce of strength and endurance that lies within my body, mind, soul and spirit. Any way I go from here, it’s all uphill. Any words I write will face a pummeling of loose rock from the cliffs of one side or the other. Any relationship I entertain threatens to slide out under my feet. Even the summit I see so far ahead is false hope. There’s more to endure beyond what I can see. It hasn’t been easy up to now, but, as one of my buddies from the gym says, the warm-up is over; this is what I’ve trained for...
 
Instead of this being a singular review, we will scramble together through a series of posts that will speak not only to the data (or dates) and analysis (which I like to think of more as man-alysis) I’ve prepared but also to sexual and spiritual issues I’ve had in mind. It’ll be arduous. It’ll test your concepts and boundaries and pull me out from behind walls I’ve built whether to keep others out or me inside of my safety zone. I find the feelings involved in “relating” to gentlemen (and sharing that information with my lady friends) makes me more uncomfortable than I anticipated; which is odd because I consider myself to be a deeply emotional person. I find as I journey this single-life as a Christian woman with a high moral standard of propriety but an equally high libido I am frustrated with the act (or non-act) of sexual abstinence but have a stronger resolve every day to see if I can ever be more than just a piece of ass to any man even though I crave a sexual touch so badly.
 
Warm up is over, energy and nutrition on board, one last drink at the base... One look up... A deep sigh and resigned nod full of hope and trepidation. The cairn, like the pass ahead, massive and complex looms, beckons… You can come too if you like. Let’s do this!