Posts from — September 2009

These last couple of months have been packed full of life lessons for me. Perhaps the most astounding set of lessons has come from my break-up and friendship with Leigh.

You know the joke about the lesbian second date? Here it is for all the noobs. “What does a lesbian bring to a second date?” You ready for it? “A U-Haul.” (When Leigh and I got together, my mom asked me if I’d brought the U-Haul. Awesome.)

It’s almost as cliche to say that all lesbians stay friends after they break up. I know it’s not true, but sometimes it feels that way. The emotional appeal of staying friends with someone you’ve been close to is strong for two women. I’m not sure, however, that very many take it to the level that Leigh and I have.

After we tried out a traditional break-up (I said I was leaving, Leigh packed my clothes and a kitchen chair – yes a kitchen chair – into suitcases) we had a good long cry and a good long laugh. Then we talked about how important we are to each other, and how much both of us want to make sure that our friendship comes out on the other side, at least as strong as it was before the break-up. We talked about the logistics of who would live where, and for how long, and started through the process of dividing the possessions that we’d merged.

We also did what any other 21st century couple would do: we created a facebook page. We’d seen friends go through tough break-ups and we didn’t want our friends taking sides, feeling awkward (we kept that honor for ourselves), or wondering what was going on. It also helped us start the difficult conversation about what we were going through.

When we got together, we paid a great deal of attention to the practical aspects of being together. We’d known each other for a couple of years and been good friends for about a year. The night we finally got together, Leigh and I spent four hours talking about how much we liked each other, how getting together could change our friendship, and even what a break-up would look like – nobody said anything about kitchen chairs. Only then did we move forward. (We’re both lawyers, so it’s remarkable we didn’t sign contracts that night.)

Our break-up, has given us the opportunity to try something new – to tread a different path from the one we mapped out the night we got together. One of the greatest parts of our relationship has shown itself, ironically, in our break-up.

I live in Leigh’s house. It was our home, but it’s Leigh’s house. While many women might have told me I had to pack my shit and leave, and I might have left and not looked back, Leigh and I have been able to show each other a level of love and respect – and to be gentle with each other in a way we didn’t quite manage when we were together. I’m not sure if it’s because of the new life perspective I have, or the fact that I’m leaving, or Leigh’s new prescription, but I’m very grateful for it.

It’s been about three months since we created the facebook page. I’ve lived at Leigh’s that entire time, selling my house, quitting my job, moving my things to storage. I feel closer to her than ever, though I know that the break-up was the right thing. It’s given me a clear view of what it is I’m leaving behind, and an even clearer view of why I want to keep Leigh in my life. She’s important to me, and I’m very happy that we’ve been able to navigate our relationship and its ending the way we have.

I’m not saying it’s been easy – it hasn’t. It is unbelievably difficult to see someone I care about hurting because of decisions I’ve made – every day – and then to try to comfort her. I’m not saying this could work for everyone. We weren’t always sure it would work for me to stay in the house until I left, but we’ve communicated the entire time, the best we could, and we’ve kept each other informed about our feelings and our plans. We see each other as family, which means we plan to be in each other’s lives for a long, long time, and we want the best for each other.

I’m incredibly proud of Leigh. She’s branching out and lightening-up, and she’s pursuing her dream of being a photographer. (She’s really good.) I know she’s proud of me – even if she doesn’t understand why I’m doing what I’m doing.

I don’t know what will happen for either of us when I leave. There have been plenty of tears shed. We’ve both had our good and bad days. Even on the worst days, it’s been an inexplicable comfort to be able to walk through the house and get a hug from Leigh. She’s my best friend. After six years, she knows me better than almost anyone. I think about how fortunate I am every day to have her in my life. I don’t know what I’ll do when she’s not near me, and I know we’re better when we’re not together. That’s a hard place to be sometimes. But, hard places teach lessons.

So, I’ve learned a few things. I’ve learned how important it is to be honest and up-front with those I love. I’ve learned that there is room for creativity in most everything – even in break-ups. I’ve learned that love isn’t necessarily enough to sustain the relationship I want, but it is enough to allow me to discover what type of relationship is sustainable.

The last three months have been full of lessons and of gifts. I hope that, as I move through my life, I can be as kind to others as Leigh has been to me, and that I remember how important it is to treat those I love with respect, even when I find myself in uncomfortable positions.

I realized that keys are power when I was in High School. It was right around the time I nicked the master key to the schools in the district and made myself a copy. That key lived secretly on my keyring for three years, allowing me access to every room in the school. For a high school kid, that’s serious power.

I was reminded of that this week when, one morning while locking the house on the way to work, I realized how light my keyring had grown. I only carry keys – no fobs or gadgets – just keys. Until about a week ago, I had probably7 or 8 keys on a couple of connected rings. When I looked down at them this week, I realized that they had started dwindling. Leigh took the key to the garage off my ring, as I won’t really be needing it anymore. As soon as my house closes, I’ll be losing my house key, and mail key. I have two keys for work, which will be ending in two weeks. That just leaves the key to Leigh’s house, and the one for my bike lock – neither of which I’ll need on my trip.

I’ve had a hefty key ring for the last 15 years of my life. Makes me wonder a bit what it will be like not to have a car key, a house key, or an office key – at all. Interesting how powerful symbols are. I know I won’t have the car, house or office, but the loss of the keys really hit home. “Hit home.” That’s funny.

Here is the English version of the Italian post from a couple of days ago.  I used a different online translator to convert it back from Italian to English.  I think it’s a nice demonstration of why I’m worried about not knowing the language.  I’m pretty sure this is what I sould like when I speak Italian:

The words are iportante. I say the all time. That he is l’ only thing that me renders nervous for my return in Italy and l’ adventure beyond. The words.

They have grown with a mother who was an English teacher. I have studied law and has written for a life. The words are my friends. They are my instruments, mine defense, my crews. More than every other thing, words mean humor. I am a funny person. In reality, I am enough funny.

But, my humour is in great part depends from intelligence and comic times. And ‘ something that I have cultivated so as to use in order to break off the ice with new persons, like diplomatic instrument in the tension situations, and equally general divertimento. Without mastery of the language, I will have to resort to the physical comicità.

I know that to this it allows me adventure to learn a lot on same me. It will be strip via what task I and leave me with my Core. They are ready to let to the shoulders the consumismo. They are ready to let to the shoulders ” l’ lawyer “. I am not thus sure that I am ready to let to the shoulders l’ humour. I suppose that it says something to me.

The slid week, my mother has asked to me if I have fear. I have said that I am not – and I am indeed not. I feel as if you were ready in order to know same me. Creed that not only I expected l’ learning would have begun thus soon.

We haven’t had vocab in a while, so here’s a special one:

Today’s vocab word is zia. It means aunt. Here it is in a sentence:

“Kristin sarà la zia migliore di sempre!”

Happy translating!

This post is dedicated to my friends in Italy. The ones who put up with my English and force me to speak a little Italian every time we talk. Thank you for your patience…you’ll need it with this one.

Le parole sono iportante. Io dico lo tutto il tempo. Che è l’unica cosa che mi rende nervoso per il mio ritorno in Italia e l’avventura oltre. Le parole.

Sono cresciuto con una madre che era un insegnante di inglese. Ho studiato legge e ha scritto per una vita. Le parole sono i miei amici. Essi sono i miei strumenti, le mie difese, le mie armi.  Più di ogni altra cosa, parole significano humor.    Io sono una persona divertente. In realtà, io sono abbastanza divertenti.

Ma, il mio umorismo è in gran parte dipende dalla intelligenza e tempi comici. E ‘qualcosa che ho coltivato in modo da utilizzare per rompere il ghiaccio con persone nuove, come strumento diplomatico nelle situazioni di tensione, e altrettanto divertimento generale. Senza padronanza della lingua, dovrò ricorrere alla comicità fisica.

So che questa avventura mi permette di imparare molto su me stesso. Sarà strip via quello che penso io e mi lasciano con il mio core. Sono pronto a lasciarsi alle spalle il consumismo. Sono pronto a lasciarsi alle spalle “l’avvocato “. Io non sono così sicuro che io sono pronto a lasciarsi alle spalle l’umorismo. Suppongo che mi dice qualcosa.

La settimana scorsa, la mia mamma mi ha chiesto se ho paura. Le ho detto che io non sono – e sono davvero no. Mi sento come se fossi pronto per conoscere me stesso. Credo che non solo mi aspettavo l’apprendimento avrebbe cominciato così presto.