In 2019, I had a five-year-old, a newborn, and a breakup. Wowza.

It’s been a really long time since I connected with you all here, on the blog. Part of me dreamed that I would write an e-book about how I got from day to day, from broken to better-than-ever or whatever. That part of me wrote about postpartum depression, what I felt was my greatest sin as a partner and a parent. I wrote about it a few times. If you’re hankering for a kindred spirit in isolation, here is some painful reading material for you:

I Never Thought I Had Postpartum Depression. . . But What the Fuck Else Could It Have Been?

A Timeline since Felix Was Born: PPD Followup

Depression: You are the Demogorgon and You Totally Killed Barb

I thought I’d come back here eventually with the news that my relationship had been revived. There was this one moment my ex said, “Why do you insist on doing this autopsy?” and I was like, “I’m not trying to autopsy this, I’m trying to resuscitate it!”. Necrophilia, never not a good joke.

Anyway, that relationship died a decade ago and I was still trying to fuck it, I just didn’t know, you know, and the biggest part of my not knowing was because she never told me until long after she moved on. I was really creeping her out at the end. I remember the last day I ever hugged her. The last moment we kissed. I had no clue. We never do. I had to see a her-shaped shatter in someone’s windshield in the middle of the road, to collect her to go to the emergency room, to walk up to her when she could have been dead and have her recoil from me to get the point: she wasn’t coming back.

I’m so thankful to have been released from that relationship.

We aren’t in a great place. My ex is still someone I don’t recognize. Sometimes there is something familiar about her and when that happens, I cry because that familiar person might not ever be the norm again. She sent me a link to a Belle and Sebastian tour stop here in New Mexico and I’d already bought my ticket months ago, but it was such a sane and connected moment that I spent that day in tears. I imagine that one day, I’ll be able to fully consume all of the anger and grief and breathe it all into love. I imagine that if I can’t, I’ll always give myself permission to feel.

The thing I learned from the decade-long relationship that eclipsed 20-30 is that if your partner loves you in spite of who you are instead of loving you because of who you are, you’ve got to let them go. Boring, right? Ten years of a relationship and I learned something I thought I already knew. I thought that I always wanted my partner to be a grounded, adult-y, left-brained kind of person, but it turns out that my partner just happened to be that kind of person and I loved her. It turns out I can love anyone.

After ending that relationship, I found myself free to come out of some closets. I’m not a cisgendered lesbian.

I’m nonbinary.

I’m queer.

I’ve written here on the blog about my late-night crushes on Jared Leto and Kristen Stewart, if you follow me on Instagram you might have seen me write about my being in love with Weird Al when I’m pregnant. I was really afraid to come out as queer in that last relationship. I was in a lesbian relationship, afraid to come out as queer.

These days, I’m partnered with another queer nonbinary person, in a relationship that to a stranger might appear cis/het. It’s a reminder that things aren’t always as they seem.

So many thanks to every one of you who have supported this little shop. I’m also an actor, a musician, and a visual artist. Velocitoddler is my day job, and I’m honored to be able to sew beautiful shoes for new kiddos. It’s really hard, being a new human. The least we can do is keep the babies comfortable.

I have a feeling the next post to come from me won’t be so eeked out, staccato. Each of the sentences I wrote here is deserving of its own story. I wish I was funnier, I’ll forgive myself for not flagellating myself more later. Always a laugh, laughing at yourself when you’re wounded. Hahah you fool.

How were your last three years? They were really great, weren’t they? One of my best friends is always on my mind. Her body is allergic to the world right now and I hope for her immune system to stop attacking her. I’m so unbelievably lucky to have this person in my life. I hope to be able to spend time with her again outside—perhaps outside of fire season, perhaps in a different city, different state.

Gosh, I really dipped out during the pandemic. I sewed for 16 hours a day for six months straight and then I wanted to rip my fingers off and never sew again.

It’s been over two years, still the pandemic. Still beautiful when the sun goes down.

Wrapping up here. I do really want to know, though, how you’re doing.

If you have any questions about dissolution of partnership, are going through something achey and breaky yourself and want to connect, or just want to send me memes, you are welcome to do that! My e-mail is tabatha@velocitoddler.com.

Tab, they/them

tabatha@velocitoddler.com

xoxo