My wedding on bicycle on Kansas City’s riverfront heritage trail:
Well, in the most appropriate category of all for this blog, this is the next big step in my artists life. It’s almost amazing that I was able to come so far in such a short time. Eight years ago I was recently divorced, unemployed, on six psych meds, and homeless. I invited everyone I knew to a party and four people came.
Last weekend I invited everyone I knew to my wedding on bicycle and 120 people came. If you haven’t seen me online lately, that’s because we’ve been busy planning this. I also feel sad that this personal blog of mine has become a third rank priority after my Wellness Wordworks blog and my Mad In America blog. I’ve really enjoyed writing, though, and having a public presence online. I was getting so excited before my wedding that I was having a hard time sleeping. Then I got several big grant turn downs and that made it hard to sleep, then got in touch with a business funding expert that loved my business and saw the same huge potential that I did, for once. Then the wedding on bicycle, of course, since we’re cyclists. It’s been a whirlwind, and I’m really enjoying this breather time in between the next batch of deadlines.
How we can be poor but rich at the same time, and why do a wedding on bicycle:
My wedding on bicycle was so wonderful, with many people who love me and Rod in attendance. Over 120 that we counted by the guest book and by noses in photos. I told someone last night, “I’m rich,” and he laughed because he and and are both very poor, income-wise.
But then he said, “Well, me too,” even though he is poor monetarily. But we had to learn to value our friends, our hobbies, our passions, our chance at meaningful careers, and the fact that we didn’t die when we were so close. That now we have a chance to keep other people going. I am happy, I eat good food, and I have people who love me, one of them enough to have the wedding on bicycle idea of his own, first. One of the previous commenters on my Mad In America blog said that I shouldn’t count myself as recovered by my material possessions, and he’s completely right.
Eight years ago I had very few friends. I was living the life of someone else, my first husband who was emotionally very isolated and a low energy person. My mom at one point suggested that I had to get a mental health label to get my high ambition self slowed down enough to match him. When I was divorced, I thought I would never re-marry, and certainly not with a wedding on bicycle since I was over 200 pounds at the time and not even riding. I consciously built a community and took back my life bit by bit by finding things that I enjoyed doing and people I liked to spend time with. Some of them I told my mental health history, and for most of them, it didn’t even matter.
I dated a few losers and finally had to make a conscious decision to stop bringing home losers. I looked around a little but then didn’t really stay in the hunt. I knew I’d have to date another cyclist, one who believed in commuting, because, how else were we going to get places? Then, about a year and a half ago, I met one that I liked right from the beginning. Here’s his story about how he met me, and my story about how I met him.
I did an awesome poem for him that I need to get video online soon for. Our wedding was a wild and crazy party. My cousin who stayed a week with me said, “That thing had a lot of moving parts.” We had a bike race, an art show, a community fire, an on-site tattoo ceremony, a poetry performance, pedicab rides, a business display table, a Judo Walk of Shame, and a frisbee golf demonstration. This was collection of all the communities I’ve build in the meantime, all the activities I’ve found along the way. The important lesson I found at one point was, “We don’t recover in order to do things, we do things in order to recover.”
The weekend was so much fun. If you didn’t come, I wish you could have been there.