Tomorrow is the 12th anniversary of my wedding. And I’m hurting. Like in any story, I am incredibly at fault for my own hard times, but there is plenty of blame to go around, as well. And while this is where I am at the beginning of the story, that isn’t really what this blog is about. I need a place to talk about the things that I have no one to talk about them with. I’ve created this as a blog adjacent to a site that I expect no one will ever really see. LiveConsecrated.com is a repository for things that I want to write on Marian devotion, love letters to a Mother and queen who I didn’t meet until maybe a decade ago, and who has asserted herself in small subtle ways, caring for me as a gentle mother would a wounded son.
I am trying to sort through all of the feelings that come with a broken relation ship and an often broken heart. I should have left long ago, but I didn’t and like I said, the blame always rests first with me as far as I am concerned.
The story as far as I care to tell it to myself, because who are we, but the stories that we tell ourselves, goes back to Andrea. It begins with her, travels through several states, a few different women, a happy group of drunks and rogues, a brotherhood that has dwindled and mostly passed away and for the moment ends here on the eve of an ignoble anniversary, quarantined and gazing deeply into my navel to try and learn whatever lesson I can from whatever strange combination of grace and reprobation has brought me to this point.
So I guess I should talk a little bit about Andrea.