I’m in Steamboat Springs. The man asked me this morning what marriage means to me. “Aren’t we sort of married right now?” No, absolutely not. Marriage is more than hanging out. It’s one of the most sacred acts two people can do on this earth. It’s the sacred third. It’s actually about God. And yes, if you thought this newsletter was going to be all jokes and not me talking about God, then unsubscribe now.

I think about marriage a lot. Maybe it’s my romantic heart, perhaps it’s my love for ultimate union (take me back to the mothership), or maybe it’s simply the joy I find when two people make a life vow to each other. How beautiful is that? I still cry in The Notebook. My heart is tender, and marriage makes me squeal like a little girl with her first crush.

Story time: When I was in elementary school, I held a “marriage” for me and this boy named Sean (I’m sorry, Sean). I invited everyone in the class. I think I made them invitations and told them to be at this specific spot on the playground to watch. Sean also received one of these invitations. When he didn’t show up to the wedding, I was devastated. Is this insane? Absolutely. Is this also an adorably sweet, feminine heart that has longed for sacred union since the beginning? Yes. Bald eagles often mate for life. How epic and beautiful is that? My heart longs for things I still don’t totally understand. My teacher is preachy, and I wish more people saw marriage as holy.

So fucking America

I really know I’m in America when I drive through the West. On the way to Steamboat, we passed through Kremmling. They put up a truly giant American flag (at least 20×10 ft). Right as we left the town, a bald eagle was circling in the sky and dove on top of another bird. It took it straight to the ground and was pulling it apart as our car drove past. I can’t make this stuff up. This is America, and these lands hold a soul that is wild and free.

I went through a phase of not being proud to be an American—if you’ve lived at all as a single woman growing up in urban areas, you’ve probably felt this way. It wasn’t until I came out to Colorado and really connected with the land here that I became proud to have a body and soul in this country. We chose to be here. The soul has a very fixed contract with this life. It forgets it all when it gets here. Much of the spiritual path is a remembering. My soul is happy to be on this land, in this country, of this nation and I refuse for some political bullshit to try and beat that out of me anymore. I believe we all have a part to play in stewarding this nation forward, but it’s not going to be from some self-mutilation or self-implosion that so much of liberal politics pushes.

Enough about politics, let’s get rowdy

We bought matching Smith sunglasses. The lenses flip up. They make me look fast. He told me that’s slang for I’m on meth. I like it that way. I have been on meth, only knowingly like once or twice. In Virginia, when you were a rowdy teen, you would sometimes buy MDMA and sometimes it was actually meth. We would snort it mostly.

I am sober today. I have been sober from alcohol for at least three years. I don’t keep track much, but I did have some whiskey when I lost my job and moved out of my house for mold in March. I got very drunk and remembered very quickly why I stopped drinking. You fall off sometimes, that’s okay. I’m sober from all substances as I write this, and I love my sobriety. It’s one of my favorite things about myself and what I've done for my life.

I told someone this at the hot spring last night. They asked me if I had a problem with alcohol, and if that was why I stopped. I’ve always thought I didn’t have a problem. I was never drinking to the point that it truly impacted other parts of my life, like work (I was a weekend partyer, maybe a drink at a Friday happy hour), but it did impact my romantic relationships and it was taking major time in my life away from the things that I truly wanted. When you need a day to recover from the one day a week that I was drinking, that sucks. I never wanted to lose that much time. That’s 52 days in a year that I’m “recovering”. And when I was giving my body and soul to 60+ hour weeks working in Corporate America, I couldn’t handle giving my precious free time to a drink. And, yes, alcohol was an escape for me. And, yes, I would do STUPID things while drinking. I would literally sleep with anyone if I had like three or four drinks, and so the additional impact on my life became my drunk-ass that took risks with my sex, and therefore was taking risks with my heart. I needed that to stop, too. So, did I have a problem? I guess I did.

The man and I are driving back to the RV today. We left it in the woods. He’s made me eggs and bacon, and they’re waiting for me to eat them. He’s a little stressed about work, but he hides it well. We were the hottest couple at the hot spring yesterday, and that made me feel good. People were watching us kiss, and I like the idea that we fulfill an archetype of love.

Until tomorrow,

Valerie