November 2nd, You’ve Been Demoted

Get it? Bird and Chef!!!
Get it? Bird and Chef!!!

Yesterday was Chef and my anniversary. As usual, it was a mixture of sadness, trauma, and relief. But this time, it was also sprinkled with a new hope for my future. Recently, a friend told me that I carry around an invisible wall around me, almost like a neon sign shouting out my unavailability. Unlike Chef, I’ve been stuck in all of this, unable to move forward, and refusing to go back. That’s the kind of power love has, and I still marvel at how stubbornly it has held on all these years.

A few weeks ago, I stood at a crossroads when it came to Chef, and the struggle felt almost physical, it was so raw. Somehow, I knew there really was no wrong answer. What was important was to choose the path, and start walking. I took a step into the future, choosing the road away from that chapter of my life, and sadly, I chose to leave Chef back there in the past. That chapter was simply too painful and wrecked beyond salvation. It wasn’t a decision I made lightly, nor was I flippant about it. This move to Austin was supposed to be a new start for me. Dragging all the trash from the past here with me would ruin it, and unfortunately, Chef comes with a lot of mental and emotional baggage. I’m finally making the decision to let go of those last few strands of hope, and walk away. This time, I won’t be looking back.

Last night, I was sitting in my living room, watching Mike & Molly with Oliver’s head in my lap, and Sparrow curled up resting her head on a pillow we were sharing, and I felt happy. Yes, oliver and memy dogs ate my couch. Yes, Sparrow’s separation anxiety is literally making my crazy. Yes, I barely make enough money to live here, and my car needs some work on it soon or I’ll be in a world of debt. Yes. Each day seems to start with a different problem designed to stress me out. But a month ago, those problems were different from these, and they somehow still managed to get resolved, despite my doubt and worry.

I thought briefly of keeping a small calendar so I could write which set of problems were weighing so heavily on me, just so I could see how easily and quickly the Lord had handled each set. A month ago, Sparrow and Oliver were disappearing for hours at a time, exploring Red Rock and scaring me to death. A month ago, I was worried about how I would be able to save up enough money so I could move out on my own. A month ago, I had no home. A month. Four weeks. And here I sit, all those problems resolved, and grappling with these new ones. The difference this time is, I can easily see that the Lord has me in His hand, and knowing He has not forgotten about me goes a long way to soothing any doubt and fear that might be lurking in my heart.

Maybe the biggest difference I see in myself these days is I suddenly have become more social. I actually got lonely last week — LONELY! I so don’t do that. And yet, I found myself longing to hang out with someone, talk, laugh, and share. Go figure.

I occasionally go back to the beginning of this blog, especially on anniversary dates. In a way, it is a way to measure the healing, remember the truth, and it offers me hope in the knowledge, nothing, even the worst kinds of pain, lasts forever. It reminds me, yes. I will be happy again. Yes. I will laugh again. Yes. I will be able to forgive. Yes. Life goes on, and it took me with it.

Bird's Phone 2013 261Today, I’m thankful for time, for hope, and for the peace I have gained in the knowledge that the Lord never left my side the whole time. I’m excited as I look towards the future! November 2 used to be a very special day for me, but today, I release it back into the pile of un-celebrated dates, each  one of them carrying only the potential of being promoted to a personal favorite.

~ Bird

PS: I’m going speed dating Friday. Yep. I’m that girl.

Stuff A Chick Should Know About Hooking Up With 1%er Guys

tulsa-drags-april-2011-076_cropOf all the topics I write about on here, the one that tends to get more attention than I care for is biker clubs. It isn’t that the subject isn’t interesting. It is. It is just that I have a lot of mixed feelings about it. There are parts of being around that lifestyle I miss, and other parts I simply do not. I have loved more than one Bandido or his ole lady in my life. I’ve also despised a few of them as well.

So, when I get contacted about advice about club stuff, I get… nervous, I guess is the best way to describe it.

The people who contact me about club stuff are always women, and they are either trying to get in to the culture, or they are angryBird (4 of 1)-11 for being pushed out of it. There really doesn’t seem to be any other reason I get these personal communications. Here’s the thing. I really can’t help with either problem. I’m no longer involved with any Bandidos, so I can’t make introductions, even if I wanted to; but, despite the ups and downs, I also don’t hate them, so if you do, I still can’t help you. I won’t be joining into any bashing sessions either.

The topic is coming up a lot more since the Waco Shooting Incident. I guess it’s time to write a quick post that might help both sets of women who are either embarking on the life or leaving it.

If you’ve watched Sons of Anarchy, are gullible enough to believe most of that stuff, and you still feel like being in the one-percenter world is for you, here are a few things I have found to be true about the culture:

  1. These kinds of clubs are for men, not women. You have accept that. What you don’t have to accept is that you are expected to act in a certain way because the stereotypes of cropped-bird-4-of-1-4.jpgbiker chicks say so. For instance, you are a human being. Your body belongs to you. Don’t just be giving it away like it has no value. Though it can be a little tougher, you actually can quietly command more respect than is normally understood by outsiders(Citizens); but it all begins with respecting yourself.
  2. If you hook up with a patch holder, then break up and hook up with his brother, then break up and hook up with another brother, you are telling everyone involved, both the men and the women, that the patch is more important to you than the man wearing it. Don’t do that. I only know of one chick who did something similar to this, but there were years between each man, and it did hurt her reputation for awhile. Just don’t do it. Once you are labeled a “patch whore”, you will be despised by the women and disrespected by the men. Always try to think of the long game.
  3. You would be wise to get in good with the women first. If you don’t, they are the number one reason women get driven off — not the men. Don’t think for a minute the men are going to stick up for you against their brothers’ ole ladies. Don’t be retarded.
  4. If the patch is more important to you than the guy, and you are able to admit to it, then remember, pick a team. You can’t first be in the Red & Gold clubs and then hop over to the Black & White ones. Neither of the camps will ever trust you again. Why should they? You’ve proven you aren’t loyal.
  5. Despite everything, real human beings are what comprises these clubs. Three-piece patches don’t automatically change who a man is on the inside. The clubs are large, and thousands of different men bring their own strengths and weaknesses to the table. If he was good man before the patch, he’ll probably remain a good man. If he wasn’t, he won’t become one. The club has power in certain areas, but it doesn’t change who a person is deep down inside of their heart.
  6. I would never recommend a woman join this culture. I would never have chosen it for myself. My husband chose it after we had been married for over a decade, and I can admit, I
    Everyone Has A Story...
    Everyone Has A Story…

    didn’t fit into it all that well. I just hid how I felt about stuff a little better than most. I think every woman should really look at the pros and the cons of a life like this and ask herself if the risk is worth it. You are only in it as long as your old man allows you to be, and like me, it can all be gone in an instant. Citizens will always assume you must have been some kind of prostitute/junkie/drug mule because of your stint in the life, whether it’s true or not. Be ready for the consequences to your reputation.

  7. For those of you bitter and angry about no longer being in the life, let me say this: We all knew going in that it could be gone in the time it takes to snap your fingers. How angry and upset at the club as a whole can you really be? I’ll admit. I blamed the Bandidos for Chef, but I also blamed Panera Bread, a tweaker homeless drug dealer, Chef’s sandwich-artist girlfriend, her mother, and a host of other minor players in this unfolding drama. In the end, it was only Chef, and in a smaller part, my own self, that destroyed my marriage. Not the Bandits. Not the drug dealers. Not Panera Bread. Just Chef and me. Let the anger go. In the end, they never promised any of the females anything else. None of us were above the rules, no matter how long we were in or how well we were liked.

Ok. That’s about all I’ve got, guys. I really hate this subject, so please. No offense, but I don’t really like giving advice about how to break into this culture. I simply won’t be answering anymore emails about it. I apologize if I seem to be rude, but personally, I would hate for any of my daughters to be in this culture, so helping other women get into something they may or may not be able to handle just does not appeal to me. This the last response I will be making about women joining these sorts of cultures.

Bird (4 of 1)-15

~ Bird

 

 

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