NEEDS & Celia's Rainbow Gardens; Quartzsite-AZ

November 21st: Holland was not liking the 4 day silence; he was missing the open-handed talking. His door opened and he started trying to engage me. I finally looked up and said, "Are you going to apologize for your over-the-top behavior?" He said, "No." I said, "Okay then - we aren't talking. An apology is all I'm interested in hearing."

A little while later, he tried to engage me in convo again. Again I stayed mute. He said, "How long are you going to stay mad at me? You're treating me like a child." I said, "You are behaving like an overgrown brat." He asked, "What do you want from me?" I replied, "An apology." He struggled getting the words out, but he finally managed, "I'm sorry." I asked, "What are you sorry for, Lynn?" He genuinely looked confused, and finally said, "I don't know - you want an apology, so I'm sorry."

Then, I noticed his agitated anxious behavior … something Bob would do when dealing with his TBI sensory overload. In that moment, I understood that he really does not know.

Déjà vu - different person, same blank canvas (my mother & my first husband, both suffered brain injury blackouts - my mother would be violent; I have never had to fear either husband).

Now I know how to ride out the choppy waves of this current emotional tempest: every person is different, but the rules remain pretty much the same.

And I am determined that I will not be Holland's {candy scott}: I can back off and give him space when needed - stress kills. I do not want to be Holland's stress trigger by insisting on getting the response I want (as candy scott's pettiness was, which spiked the stress trigger that led to Bob's physical death). Becoming a widow again is not on my present, or future, agenda.

Needing a verbal apology isn't that important.

And I said as much to my husband: "I noticed your agitated state … and I know that high stress makes you get stuck in a looping black hole with your brain injury. It's unfair to make you apologize for something you have no recollection of doing … or saying. I can tell that you really are confused about my insistence on an apology when you don't know why I am upset. I understand that you are trying to make things right - and don't know exactly what went south, and why it needs righted; so, I'm willing to start this Day fresh; and, my mute button is off, as of now. And you can spend as much time in the bunk room as you need to, to regain balance again. When I noticed your high agitation, I know what I'm dealing with now - I know the rules; I've been playing by them my entire life. Now that I know what's going on, I'll try not to get mad when it happens, again."

I also know that there will have to be many concessions on my part to keep the stressors at bay: there have been many major adjustments in Holland's Life since we joined our lives together, in Reno, 22 months ago. He's been juggling a lot of changes - and he puts a lot of pressure on himself to be the husband to me he thinks he needs to be (redmill men machismo). There will have to be many changes happening in my life too, to meet both of our needs, realistically and healthily balancing.

But nothing said, excuses the redmill behavioral pattern he is also stuck in - that chain needs to be broken.

I was drinking my coffee, and working on a knitted preemie hat, when a storm reminded me of an upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. I also remembered that Holland said he would order me a short string of white twinkle lights … so, I asked him if he would do that. He said he would - but that there is a Dollar Store here that might have what I need; and I wouldn't have to wait a week to get them. He offered to drive me to the store, since he knew where it was located.

The storm cloud over the PNW concerned me … so, I called David - and was thankful to hear that he and his family members are okay.

Washington State Reels From Bomb Cyclone As Atmospheric River Drenches California: 

(https://www.nbcnews.com/weather/storms/washington-state-bomb-cyclone-california-rcna181164)

A string of Christmas Lights got me out of the house, this morning.

Glittery 'Illusion' browline color; sparkly Blue eyelid color; sparkly green, lower liner. Soft Brown Brow Gel; weird brush makes smooth application, tricky.

Blue Mist Mascara; Neutre Enflamme Crème Blush; & Pink Sand Crème Lipstick

Face on; ready to roll.

I did find what I needed (and a bit more ;-)) at the Dollar Store.

On our way home, Holland asked me if I needed to be home right away: I said, "No - you know me; I can be gone all day long." He suggested a drive … we started out on the backstreet, where Celia's Rainbow Gardens is located: and ended up in Bouse.

We've been curious about Celia's Rainbow Gardens, so we checked it out; I walked the entire memorial while Holland patiently waited (listening to his music I could vaguely hear, as I walked) - and the {Gardens} was nothing like what was expected.

It seems to have expanded from it's original purpose, and morph out to meet the needs of Quartzsite locals and snowbird winter nesters.

And I am happy to note that my Video Feature on the phone is working with the laptop again, so I can verbally share ;-)

On the drive to Bouse, Holland explained some things to me that helped me better understand his current frame of mind: the explanations did a lot to defuse future emotional explosions. Now I know how to better weather the moody darkness when it arrives - the knowing will help both of us tend to our personal and joint US needs in a productive way, going forward.

Celia's Rainbow Gardens; Quartzsite-AZ.

Story Behind Celia's Rainbow Garden:  (http://www.celiasrainbowgardens.com/Story/)

Entrance Butterfly mosaic; raw obsidian rocks, raw quartz, & what looks like a chunk of petrified wood.

Entrance Marker w-Celia's memorial picture, & a rock sketching, laid at the base of the entrance memorial marker - very nicely done.

Memorial Wall with pressed handprints.

This {Gardens} Memorial is wide in scope and depth of desert landscape.

I began to realize that the {Gardens} meant Cremation Cemetery …

Strange in this place; but perhaps used for solemn ceremonies.

A disc golf course runs THROUGH the Gardens …

One of several disc golf baskets placed strategically throughout the Gardens perimeter's.

More memorial oddities …

Small foot bridge spanning a shallow dry wash.

No explanation; just placed here.

A memorial section for RVing women - who lived here, or made the journey here alive, or otherwise.

An interesting Barrel Cactus species …

Fish Hook Barrel Cactus: 

(https://www.desertmuseum.org/kids/oz/long-fact-sheets/Fishook%20Barrel%20Cactus.php)

An interesting rock mosaic missile birdhouse.

'Santa Rita' prickly pear cactus; fleshy pads turn purple or magenta when it's cold or dry; return to their blue-green color.

On our drive to Bouse, we discussed our challenging relationship … and what needs to be done to strengthen it.

Back on track; Hallelujah. The wins may be small - but they sure feel good ;-)

I am a Daughter of the a Most High God - Holland is King of our Union … and he has told me I "am Queen of this house": right now, our Life resembles a contemplative chess game. In chess, the king is the most important piece, and the queen is the most powerful piece: 

The king is the most important piece because the game ends if the king is captured; there are many ways a flesh-&-blood king can be held captive … and right now, we are dealing with several hamstringing instances; and they all have to do with his family and friends intrusions and interferences on our life as we try to move forward to establish strong and healthy marital roots. My king's Past is holding him emotionally and spiritually, captive: following e.v.e.r.y. phone call or text, he is {in check}.

The queen is the most powerful piece because the queen protects the king; she can move in any direction, combining enabling & empowering moves: she can make as many safe-guarding decisions as necessary … as long as she is not blocked by opposing circumstances.

We are going to play this game of Life to win: redmill family approval for how Holland and I conduct our lives, is not required.

In Bouse, I spotted the Post Office and asked if he'd drive over there; so I could get a couple postal boxes to put my Angel Baby items in, so I can mail them off next week.

The 2 boxes paid for and placed in Betsy's back seat area, we saw across the highway, a fresh fruit and vegetable set-up; so we drove there - and were told that the fresh veggies/fruit truck is in Bouse, every Thursday & Friday: this afternoon, we grabbed some green beans, Brussel sprouts, zucchini, a green pepper, mushrooms, and a pint of raw honey (we tried the honey when we got home; it tastes like sunshine :-)) - we'll be going back, while we are in Quartzsite.

Sunkissed, desert flower, organic Honey; Bouse-AZ

Back home, I stashed my holiday cache; and prepared boxes for mailing.

Holland doesn't have anything to do with Christmas, but he recognizes this personal need for me; and allows me small concessions with holiday fare - I want to have a few selected cheerful decorations (not a lot, there isn't much storage room in Independence); I want to enjoy some holiday foods; I want to listen to some Christmas golden oldies; I want December, my Birthday Month, to be alive with happy. No one pays attention to my special Day, except me because it falls between Christmas & New Year's Eve - it gets lost in the holiday shuffle (Bob got me a BD cake to mark my 30th BD - inside joke, as no one our generation was supposed to live to see their 30th BD; my kids and grandkids don't even know what Day my BD is - unless I mention it on FB; and I'm not even sure Holland heard me when I mentioned the Day), so throughout the years, I recognize the entire month with special vibes ;-)

He also recognizes my need to engage in the Angel Baby charity work.

I got a little more than lights, earlier; these will go up after Thanksgiving ;-)

18 ct. AB Shrouds will be on their way 'across the pond', shortly.

This box needs a little more 'fleshing out' before it is sent on it's way to Maryland.

And Holland spent the rest of the night with me, outside the bunk room - the game of relational whack a mole was put on hold ;-)

Holland really is a good man - and truly a good man for me, when the black mood is played out. If he wasn't, neither of us would still engage in the patchwork process needed to weave the tapestry of US.

With hope and prayer, the black mood will dissipate and eventually disappear, altogether.

He can't stand the self-imposed distance; dealing with hard familial realities … is hard, & the yo-yo effect is always in play.

Help in any - and every way, to establish & strengthen deep roots.

ANGEL BABIES SHOULD NOT BE POLITICZIED; Quartzsite-AZ

It was a c.o.l.d. morning, here, in Quartzsite-AZ; so, I planned to do my walk sometime around suppertime - when the temp's will rise into the 70's (yes, I know that's backwards, but I am not the Creator, Who designed the way things are 🤔)

While waiting for the heaters to warm Independence up, I wore a light coat this morning … and watched RVr's pulling/out of The Pit Stop before parking in the desert: I like people watching - not in a weirdo way, but in a curious way: wondering what their background story was/is/hope to be; wondering where they are coming from; and wondering where in the desert, they will be parking to enjoy the warmth-sunsets-and sunrises 😉

The snowbirds are arriving, in droves; steady RV traffic.

Also a steady stream of ATVs, quads, and 4 wheelers; headed for the desert trails.

The RV traffic kept dust spinning in the air; so, my walking plans were put aside, and again worked my indoor stepper, instead ;-)

I also worked on a couple more preemie hats:

And made a snap decision to shift the items I have made up for Rachel's Gift (an Angel Baby organization I have been working with for the past 5 years) to a different Angel Baby organization: I was dismayed to receive a FB notice this morning notifying me, "we are proud to announce that we will be asking everyone to work gender neutral blankets in pink & blue mix, only, trimmed in pastels of green, yellow, and white." I was not happy to read that; dying babies should not be politicized.

So, I will be shifting everything ready to ship to Rachel's Gift, to Angela's Box, where those working the assembly line understand that babies enter this world, male or female - and exit, the same.

 

BOUNDARIES; Quartzsite-AZ

He's in a black mood again. He's been trading phone calls and phone texts with family members and friends, from Kelso-WA. He gets off the phone with a scowl on his face and ready barbs to spit out of his mouth. He was CLOISTERED IN THE TRUCK the other day, engaged in a 2-hour phone call with a cousin, and came back in the house ready to rumble. He started a fight BASED ON ASSUMPTIONS he had in his mind about what I would think, had he had the convo in-house.

His angry assumption, really did make me angry (1) I happen to like this cousin, though I've never met him; I have been privy to convo's between them, and have on many occasions encouraged Lynn to go see him (2) admittedly, the topic does not interest me … but the closing out and secretiveness was not necessary; and the excuse given, was inflammatorily weak (3) the eagerness to start an unnecessary fight was not deserved.

The bunk room is becoming his primary {space}, because "you are impossible to live with!" redmill men translation - "I can't treat you like shit and have you smiling while I do it."

Wrong woman - wrong assumption.

Now, he feigns surprise that I am pulling back. And I'm hearing the same, worn, tune: "You just hate everyone. You're just jealous!" So, I ask him, "Who? Who do I hate? Who am I jealous of? All I know about your highly dysfunctional family and friends … is what you tell me: admittedly, what I am hearing, I do not want any part of - that does not make me 'hateful'; and though these people obviously take up a lot of space in your life and with your time … they are not everyone; they are a sad, pitiful few. Why on Earth, would I be jealous of them? Their lives are in shambles, and they are miserably unhappy people. And you are unhappy when you make contact with them; trying to make me as miserable as yu'all. I'm not engaging on that playing field. I don't want to spend my life babysitting miserable people; and I am not going to accept bad behavior from you, either. You are wrong to treat me this way, and an apology like, "I was wrong, and I'm sorry" … and actually meaning it, instead of mouthing empty words, will be accepted; and we can get back to some semblance of rational cohabitation".

He shoots off, "I'll never say that; you will never put me on a leash - I am not your pet!"

I've never kept any of my men on a leash - but I do expect them to behave and understand boundaries. Lynn has been a bachelor for decades … and from what I understand from what he has shared with me about his Past - he has never had to answer to anyone for anything. And he, like the other redmill men, seriously do consider women beneath their consideration; and beneath them in only one way that matters to them at the end of the day. Period.

It's cave man mentality.

I said, "So … what I'm hearing is that you want to be a free agent, and you only want me around if I agree to, and accept, bad behavior; and when you're feeling like a roll in the clover … I'm not okay with that. Tell you what - you keep your freedom, and I'll take space from everything, including you, until you view women in a favorable light, and you figure out exactly what you want concerning me. If Kelso and all that entails is what you want, go home. If the wild side of life is what you want, and you think marriage is a 'taming leash!" … go home, Lynn. Go be the happy fool in Kelso; parading after, and babysitting your dysfunctional family and friends. I could really use some space from all the craziness you wrap yourself with."

I'm am referring to him with the name his whacky family calls him by: I married a man named Holland … Holland was the side of him he sold me, along with a honeyed promise to build a life with me, making it clear to me "I am not like the rest of them." Lynn, the one who lives in the Past, with a past that did more than dance on the wild side of life, is not someone I recognize; or care to know, actually. Holland is loving, kind, and gentle; Holland treats me tenderly. Holland has goals, ambitions, and includes me in those plans. Lynn is self-centered, easily angered, mean-spirted, and engages in risky behavior and terrible life patterns. I prefer Holland over Lynn (Holland is his legal birth name - the name he married me with; Lynn is his middle name, and the badass side of him his family and friends  prefer; and keep whipping up to serve their  no-good-purposes): his family and friends prefer Lynn because he is their babysitter - he takes care of thorny issues, excuses rottenness, and is shamelessly taken advantage of. Family like this is a questionable "tie", and {friends} like this are not friends.

If he wants me, he has to stick with Holland … and let Lynn fall by the wayside. They are all adults - it's time they picked up after themselves and set Lynn free to become his own person, before this life in this skin, ends with his last breath: the man Elohim knows and expects Holland to be: the man I know him to be.

And that's where we're at.

E.v.e.r.y.t.i.m.e. he makes contact with these people who have a shoddy outlook concerning women, and a woefully sad view of marriage given the lifestyle they live and embrace (and I'm understanding Lynn seriously misses).

I'm not going to be like the other redmill women: accepting belittlement simply because I am a woman … and I am not going to be treated like an obedient dog that will heel when my chain is yanked … or I'm thrown a juicy tidbit, now and then, to keep me 'in line'.

Once again, Lynn is set up in the bunk room - sometimes the door is open, more often than not, it is closed.

Doors are the sacred portals to acceptance.

They draw a clear boundary between who is allowed in and who should stay out. The only people who are allowed in are those who we choose to let in. If we don’t have the time/energy to answer the door: we don’t. If someone comes to our door that makes us uncomfortable … we tell them to please stop and close it (maybe the words/meaning is more pointed). If we decide to let them in, we can agree, disagree, connect, or quarrel and know that when we’re done, our door will be there to reestablish our boundaries.

I have always had a "no closed door" policy in my homes (a closed door signifies a 'fuck you' mentality; an 'you are not important enough for inclusion' mentality - that mentality has no place in a homelife environment; 'I don't want to see you & you can't see me' mentality): Lynn is seriously, and childishly, challenging that open door policy - he is making a statement; basically he is nonverbally making a pissing against the wall statement.

For the first time in my entire life … I am allowing closed doors.

Peace is what I want in my Life now; peace is what I intend to have in my Life now.

I am allowing the closed door: for Lynn, it represents his 'right to freedom' - freedom that should not exist in a marital relationship; for me, right now; in this space and time, it represents the peace I desire.

I am tired of fighting with Lynn over things I will never accept, or be comfortable with.

The sound of silence is becoming a welcome friend.

A freewheeling life of drugs, drink, loose women, criminal motorcycle gang mentality, and lop-sided gender-based life views … is not appealing to me: I don't want to be around those kind of people: I grew up around those types of people and don't want it in my life anymore. That does not make me 'a hater!' I am a Christian. I am a high-value woman. It's a pity my husband (who claims to be a Christian, and says his entire family are Christians; go figure, considering all they embrace and excuse) doesn't understand anything at all about me and can't respect my lifestyle choice - and has no idea at all of what a true Christian, or Christian lifestyle, is.

He is used to the loosey-goosey redmill religion.

He is used to loosey-goosey vineyard religion.

He is used to the loosey-goosey sturgis motorcycle gang religion.

He is used to the loosey-goosey oak point grange hall religion.

It is true that Christians are "saved by grace" … however, it is also true that using that grace to continue living a life of debauchery and selfish behaviors is a sin that brings shame on the Name of Christ = Christianity. I refuse to engage in delusional graces; I refuse to dishonor the Name I claim. I can love people, while steering clear of destructive lifestyles and behavior patterns. Choosing a better environment for myself, and a healthier outlook on personal well-being; is not a hateful attitude.

He was not listening to what I was clearly saying when I was talking about these things at oak point … he was focusing on my shapely hour glass presentation.

Separation & Divorce for any other reason than adultery, is out of the question: I told him this about me, from the get-go: I am a Christian; marriage is a life-long commitment, not to be entered into lightly. This is a new, and disturbing concept to him - he is used to the redmill religion of 'easy come, easy go; and anything and everything is a go'.

Relationship advancement is stalled.

Communication has ended.

Life, in the moment, is in limbo.

This is not the type of marital relationship I had envisioned … or would have ever agreed to, had I known beforehand - but I'm in it; and leaning on Elohim's love, strength, and wisdom, to help me live through the verbal barbs, emotional withdrawals, and physical separations.

Having watched my mother and sister suffer through dangerously combative marriages (severe emotional and mental attacks, physical battering's, broken furniture, broken bones & hospitalizations, adulteries, illegitimate children, months long abandonments); I know things could be worse - and are not. For that gracious mercy, I am thankful: what I am experiencing in this moment of my life is bad - but it's not bad.

People reading this post, do not have to be agreement.

I know my husband is not a danger to me. I know that my husband is not always in a black mood. I know that my husband suffers with TBI, and that when upset gets stuck in an unhealthy mental loop. I know that eventually, when the black mood plays itself out, he will be sorry: sometimes he will verbalize that fact, other times he will simply act out his 'I'm sorry I was an AH'. But in the in-between-time, things get out-of-focus hard to deal with.

Now is reality time for Lynn; Lynn has never dealt with reality time, before. It is unfamiliar territory.

Now is space time for Val; I have never dealt with {I need space} before - before it was never necessary: most men in my past, realized that I am a good thing, and wanted to keep me. A hostile, mixed-messages union is unfamiliar territory.

So, I am slowly filling my new life with new places, new people, and new things to do – new “destination” points. A looping hike may seem like a small thing … but, it IS “a destination”; it fleshes out my days – it gives me something to do/people to see throughout the week (when Lynn broodily tosses freeze outs my way & closes himself off from me following phone convo's from his dysfunctional family and friends). Along my hike, people are happy to see me & speak pleasantries in passing: THAT makes me happy. And, I’m happy to see them too – for a brief moment in time, we’re sharing our lives: fleeting, but happening.