At work we have a wonderful tradition of a Thanksgiving Mass followed by a reception for our department. This took place on Tuesday reminding me that even in a difficult year, there is much to be thankful for. One of my friends there reminded me that I haven't blogged in awhile. Reflecting on this I remember how writing tamed the overwhelming emotions in the last year and let me see the humor even in dark moments. The dark moments now are fewer and farther between. I worry about things that all preoccupy us from time to time. Will there be enough money to go around? Am I being the best parent I can be? Do they like the job I do at work? All in all, though it is a good life.
Sometimes in a rapid jarring fashion the old life intrudes. The natural defense when one feels attacked is to attack. Growth and a more productive life comes in stopping the old dance and trying a new one. It is hard because the old patterns are so familiar. Such was the choice yesterday.
The girls and I spent this Thanksgiving with my mom. Dan opted to stay home and relax and although we all wanted him to join us we respected the fact that he is capable of making choices for himself now. On our trip to Poughkeepsie Kate asked if we could go see her aunt and uncle, Gary's sister and brother in law who live only a few miles from my mother. Thinking really nothing of it I said yes and Kate called her. After spending time with my mom, we took the short trip and spent a very pleasant few hours visiting. Believe it or not, my ex husband was not the topic of conversation.
Yesterday I received the following text from Gary as I drove home with the girls. "You left Dan home alone on Thanksgiving and his 18th birthday so you could take some kind of sinister trip to see my sister? What kind of insensitive, arrogant, sanctimonious whacko are you???"
I was stunned by the text. First, deeply hurt by the name calling and then angered by his attempt to draw me again into conflict with him. Upon arriving home I viewed an earlier email he sent me that day imploring me to stay away from his family. Believe me folks when I tell you not all abuse is physical and it does not discriminate regardless of socio-economic levels. I was shaken for the rest of the day.
Today, though with a good night's sleep and dinner plans with a nice man I have started to date I am glad I chose not to respond and dance the old dance. It is hard but no growth or positive change comes easily. If the rest of my life is going to be spent in life affirming relationships I need to let go of the old patterns of behavior. And this year for gaining that wisdom through the love and support of family and friends, I am truly thankful.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Leaving the Rest Stop
For someone who loves to think and write, the past six weeks seem to have been in this forum devoid of thought. Interestingly enough I haven't struggled with what to write but instead with sorting out the many thoughts and feelings I have been experiencing.
On August 19th my father passed away. His eulogy was the last thing I wrote and just six days later my former father-in-law who I loved very much also died. Since these deaths I've been consumed with thoughts on life, friendship, fathers, the end of life, loyalty and what we mean, if anything to one another. No humor in that paragraph, sorry folks.
Grief comes in strange ways. In my dad's last full day I cried a lot at witnessing his struggle but strangely after that the tears just stopped. In shock, I think we move in autopilot getting done what needs to happen until we are strong enough to start feeling again.
He would want me to think and feel and I'm ready to do that again. There are lots of stories to tell and lessons to explore. After sitting on the curb for a few weeks, I'm back on the road.
On August 19th my father passed away. His eulogy was the last thing I wrote and just six days later my former father-in-law who I loved very much also died. Since these deaths I've been consumed with thoughts on life, friendship, fathers, the end of life, loyalty and what we mean, if anything to one another. No humor in that paragraph, sorry folks.
Grief comes in strange ways. In my dad's last full day I cried a lot at witnessing his struggle but strangely after that the tears just stopped. In shock, I think we move in autopilot getting done what needs to happen until we are strong enough to start feeling again.
He would want me to think and feel and I'm ready to do that again. There are lots of stories to tell and lessons to explore. After sitting on the curb for a few weeks, I'm back on the road.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Like Ben Franklin Said Only Two Things Are Certain......
Recently I read that when approaching women as potential dating partners men will only approach women they can picture themselves eventually making love with. I suppose I am naive but I found that a bit shocking. Certainly no woman I know focuses on that during a first date. We, truth be told, are much more practical and wondering more likely if this date will be more responsible and caring than the last jerk we were with. Perhaps though this is why so many of my first dating conversations have included some talk about their prostate and its condition. I wish I could tell you I was making this up but it is true. I think I have heard about more prostate conditions in the last six months than the local urologist and at least he can bill for the conversation.
It is a whole new dating world out there after fifty. At twenty your date wants to demonstrate how strong and tough he is. After fifty he seems to want a nurse. Many want to tell you they have the body of a thirty year old and could have a thirty year old woman if they want but prefer someone my age for the "life experience" As the queen of many first dates lately I am left to ponder two things - first, what is wrong with being in all respects with a woman of my age and secondly, when I was younger and I thought men were just being my friends was I so dumb not to realize their real motives. As someone who really likes the me of today vs the insecure twenty or thirty year old I was, I wonder if these guys really have as much of a grip on who they are as their female contemporaries. Perhaps because so many of us a primary caregivers and have given birth, we are more in tune with the life cycle.
In the end after all isn't is at all about death? Women for the most part seem to grasp the reality that they will die someday. For our male counterparts that reality is much more of a struggle. So I continue to move forward in this journey and maybe will meet a man who knows he's going to die. Now that would be a catch!
It is a whole new dating world out there after fifty. At twenty your date wants to demonstrate how strong and tough he is. After fifty he seems to want a nurse. Many want to tell you they have the body of a thirty year old and could have a thirty year old woman if they want but prefer someone my age for the "life experience" As the queen of many first dates lately I am left to ponder two things - first, what is wrong with being in all respects with a woman of my age and secondly, when I was younger and I thought men were just being my friends was I so dumb not to realize their real motives. As someone who really likes the me of today vs the insecure twenty or thirty year old I was, I wonder if these guys really have as much of a grip on who they are as their female contemporaries. Perhaps because so many of us a primary caregivers and have given birth, we are more in tune with the life cycle.
In the end after all isn't is at all about death? Women for the most part seem to grasp the reality that they will die someday. For our male counterparts that reality is much more of a struggle. So I continue to move forward in this journey and maybe will meet a man who knows he's going to die. Now that would be a catch!
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Inch by Inch, Row by Row
Abby's room is clean! I can see the floor and there is nothing lurking under her bed. You may ask why that is worth writing about but in the case of mess Abby's is her mother's daughter. This weekend she is with her dad as we officially begin a visitation schedule. In cleaning the rest of the house yesterday I realized many things needed to go back into her room. I was hesitant to add mess to mess.
So, I began slowly and methodically to pick up clothes, get rid of junk, and vacuum the room. As I worked I watched an episode of "Hoarders" that reminded me that this was nothing compared to the mess some people need to clean up. I'm proud to report by early this morning - with some sleep in between- the room looks pretty good and I am feeling great about it. Drawers are organized, the floor looks great and we are all set to bring her new bed in later this week.
Last Saturday, in the midst of what has been a very stressful time I stepped on the scale. I had never weighed as much in my life. On Sunday I began a diet which I have religiously followed for the last week. Today I am twelve pounds lighter and motivated to do much more (truth be told - in total I need to lose about 100 lbs).
What I'm finding though in losing this weight is that I'm also adapting a better outlook. Things which have been out of control for so many years are coming back . Just like the weight is starting to drop off I can feel the change happening.
A wise friend of mine told me this week that you can't do it all and when it is overwhelming you just have to take everything in chunks and deal with little bits at a time. As someone who boldly tries to juggle several balls in the air at once and feels like a failure if any fall it is a great piece of advice. He also reminded me that worrying about what wasn't getting done doesn't help anything.
So, today I am feeling good taking one step at a time. The darkness is starting to recede and as everyone has told me it would things are starting to move forward. Keep tuned maybe like so many have said, the best is yet to be.
So, I began slowly and methodically to pick up clothes, get rid of junk, and vacuum the room. As I worked I watched an episode of "Hoarders" that reminded me that this was nothing compared to the mess some people need to clean up. I'm proud to report by early this morning - with some sleep in between- the room looks pretty good and I am feeling great about it. Drawers are organized, the floor looks great and we are all set to bring her new bed in later this week.
Last Saturday, in the midst of what has been a very stressful time I stepped on the scale. I had never weighed as much in my life. On Sunday I began a diet which I have religiously followed for the last week. Today I am twelve pounds lighter and motivated to do much more (truth be told - in total I need to lose about 100 lbs).
What I'm finding though in losing this weight is that I'm also adapting a better outlook. Things which have been out of control for so many years are coming back . Just like the weight is starting to drop off I can feel the change happening.
A wise friend of mine told me this week that you can't do it all and when it is overwhelming you just have to take everything in chunks and deal with little bits at a time. As someone who boldly tries to juggle several balls in the air at once and feels like a failure if any fall it is a great piece of advice. He also reminded me that worrying about what wasn't getting done doesn't help anything.
So, today I am feeling good taking one step at a time. The darkness is starting to recede and as everyone has told me it would things are starting to move forward. Keep tuned maybe like so many have said, the best is yet to be.
Monday, July 18, 2011
The Wagon Wheel Coffee Table
One of my favorite movies is "When Harry Met Sally". I have forgotten how many times I've seen it but each time I do watch it I laugh like I'm seeing it for the first time. It provides such insight into male/female relationships and allows us really to laugh at ourselves as we have all at some time or another exhibited the behaviors of Harry and Sally.
In one scene Harry is newly divorced. His friends Marie and Jess have decided to live together but are arguing over including the wagon wheel coffee table Jess owns in the decor of their new apartment. Harry, raw from his recent divorce, is doubtful about the prospect of lasting love. He loses control and reminds them even if they think their relationship is perfect today they will one day be fighting over the ugly wagon wheel coffee table. We all laugh because we understand how things - even the ugliest of possessions take on significant meaning in a time of transition and loss.
For me my wagon wheel table was a headboard. It belongs to a bedroom set of Dan's. Twelve years ago my mother's neighbor was dying of cancer. With her only child halfway across the country my mother saw to it that she was not alone as the cancer progressed. When she died, her grateful son offered my mother a bedroom set from the house. I remember the day my mother arrived at our house in Pennsylvania with the set. Although it was at least fifty years old it looked brand new. She wanted our son Dan to have it. The headboard was for a double bed so Dan never used it and soon Gary decided it would work well in our bedroom.
Last week Dan told me that he was moving over his bedroom set to my house with the exception of the headboard. "Dad is taking that to the new house," he said. "What, "I thought to myself, "how dare your father break up this set for his own purpose." On Sunday night, as Gary stood in the driveway and we discussed this further I could feel my anger intensify.
If truth be told, the headboard is the ugliest piece of this set. It is a classic 1950's piece of furniture and I would be hard pressed to admire its beauty. Yet what it represents to me is something deeper - a lack of respect, a failure to understand the tremendous loss I have felt over the last several years, and what I perceive to be a lack of feelings. Surely it would be simple to ask if this is something I want to keep rather than break up a set of furniture willy nilly. It reminds me too much of the demise of our marriage where respect was thrown to the wind for perceived individual happiness without any opportunity for my input. These days, I feel like I am the only one mourning and realizing the finality of everything. As a comedian once said, denial is not just a river in Africa.
So, am I just a sensitive person or someone who is destined to move through her grief now so I can comfort others later? Twenty years ago I attended the funeral of the mother of one of my grad school friends. At fifty she had fought a twelve year battle with ovarian cancer and lost. She left behind a grieving husband and five children, the youngest who was just thirteen. Trying to make sense of this early death her son said it best in her eulogy. "The role Mom played," he said, "was to always be one step ahead of us to prepare us for what was to come." It was fitting that even in death she was playing this role.
So today I yield the ugly headboard - my own version of the wagon wheel coffee table with a hope that I provide an example of cooperation to my children and soften the blow of what we have all lost. I hope but don't expect that one day Gary will give pause about what happened. For now though, I need to move forward so that I prepare this new version of our family for what is to come.
In one scene Harry is newly divorced. His friends Marie and Jess have decided to live together but are arguing over including the wagon wheel coffee table Jess owns in the decor of their new apartment. Harry, raw from his recent divorce, is doubtful about the prospect of lasting love. He loses control and reminds them even if they think their relationship is perfect today they will one day be fighting over the ugly wagon wheel coffee table. We all laugh because we understand how things - even the ugliest of possessions take on significant meaning in a time of transition and loss.
For me my wagon wheel table was a headboard. It belongs to a bedroom set of Dan's. Twelve years ago my mother's neighbor was dying of cancer. With her only child halfway across the country my mother saw to it that she was not alone as the cancer progressed. When she died, her grateful son offered my mother a bedroom set from the house. I remember the day my mother arrived at our house in Pennsylvania with the set. Although it was at least fifty years old it looked brand new. She wanted our son Dan to have it. The headboard was for a double bed so Dan never used it and soon Gary decided it would work well in our bedroom.
Last week Dan told me that he was moving over his bedroom set to my house with the exception of the headboard. "Dad is taking that to the new house," he said. "What, "I thought to myself, "how dare your father break up this set for his own purpose." On Sunday night, as Gary stood in the driveway and we discussed this further I could feel my anger intensify.
If truth be told, the headboard is the ugliest piece of this set. It is a classic 1950's piece of furniture and I would be hard pressed to admire its beauty. Yet what it represents to me is something deeper - a lack of respect, a failure to understand the tremendous loss I have felt over the last several years, and what I perceive to be a lack of feelings. Surely it would be simple to ask if this is something I want to keep rather than break up a set of furniture willy nilly. It reminds me too much of the demise of our marriage where respect was thrown to the wind for perceived individual happiness without any opportunity for my input. These days, I feel like I am the only one mourning and realizing the finality of everything. As a comedian once said, denial is not just a river in Africa.
So, am I just a sensitive person or someone who is destined to move through her grief now so I can comfort others later? Twenty years ago I attended the funeral of the mother of one of my grad school friends. At fifty she had fought a twelve year battle with ovarian cancer and lost. She left behind a grieving husband and five children, the youngest who was just thirteen. Trying to make sense of this early death her son said it best in her eulogy. "The role Mom played," he said, "was to always be one step ahead of us to prepare us for what was to come." It was fitting that even in death she was playing this role.
So today I yield the ugly headboard - my own version of the wagon wheel coffee table with a hope that I provide an example of cooperation to my children and soften the blow of what we have all lost. I hope but don't expect that one day Gary will give pause about what happened. For now though, I need to move forward so that I prepare this new version of our family for what is to come.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Casting Off- To Throw Away or Begin Anew?
I am procrastinating today - needing to organize my garage so I can move the last of my things from my old house this week. The garage will serve as a temporary repository of these things. From here I will decide what to keep and more importantly what to cast off.
Clutter experts will tell you that people often hang on to things for the sentimental value they instill in the owner. I am guilty as charged. My garage will soon contain several pieces of furniture that belonged to both sets of grandparents. Long deceased, their things remind me of a simpler life without the complications of loss.
In moving forward I am trying to hold on less to things and more to ideas. Do I need my grandmother's dresser to remind me of her resilient nature in the face of significant life challenges? What I am finding is that I have incorporated her spirit into me and if I give myself the time to quiet myself and listen she is there to support me on my journey.
This week I had coffee with one of the smartest men I've ever met. While he was book smart, he was also life smart. An hour into our meeting I cut it short because I felt intimidated. This man, who had lost so much of material value in his own life, understood that we all are seeking unconditional acceptance from one another. To be loved for who we are warts and all. With him there was no song and dance - no freakish side show. It was just this is me. How powerful a statement that was - told in such a quiet and simple way. It was overwhelming.
So on Wednesday, the old house that I once dreamed would be the perfect family home will be emptied. Twenty years ago I began a relationship that I thought would yield the perfect life. What I now understand is that the ideal life is one without my constant striving for perfection. It will be one in which I can be accepted for who I am and not what I do. It will be filled with elements of respect and tolerance. I won't need the clutter of the past to remind me that I'm lovable. The journey continues but each day my backpack is getting lighter. In both senses of the phrase I am casting off.
Clutter experts will tell you that people often hang on to things for the sentimental value they instill in the owner. I am guilty as charged. My garage will soon contain several pieces of furniture that belonged to both sets of grandparents. Long deceased, their things remind me of a simpler life without the complications of loss.
In moving forward I am trying to hold on less to things and more to ideas. Do I need my grandmother's dresser to remind me of her resilient nature in the face of significant life challenges? What I am finding is that I have incorporated her spirit into me and if I give myself the time to quiet myself and listen she is there to support me on my journey.
This week I had coffee with one of the smartest men I've ever met. While he was book smart, he was also life smart. An hour into our meeting I cut it short because I felt intimidated. This man, who had lost so much of material value in his own life, understood that we all are seeking unconditional acceptance from one another. To be loved for who we are warts and all. With him there was no song and dance - no freakish side show. It was just this is me. How powerful a statement that was - told in such a quiet and simple way. It was overwhelming.
So on Wednesday, the old house that I once dreamed would be the perfect family home will be emptied. Twenty years ago I began a relationship that I thought would yield the perfect life. What I now understand is that the ideal life is one without my constant striving for perfection. It will be one in which I can be accepted for who I am and not what I do. It will be filled with elements of respect and tolerance. I won't need the clutter of the past to remind me that I'm lovable. The journey continues but each day my backpack is getting lighter. In both senses of the phrase I am casting off.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Knowledge is Power and Anger is Your Friend
"Anger is your friend" my friend reminded me the other night. If that is true, then it is certainly a friend I have not wanted in my life. For a peace lover like me, it is the last feeling I want to experience. Yet last night when I least expected it, it sprung to life.
I have always found it was hard to be angry for myself. As lives go, mine has certainly had some justified moments of anger but often I have chosen to try to ignore it. To me it was uncomfortable and unlady-like. When I witnessed someone else in a moment of anger, I have often thought they lacked self control. Part of this I attribute to my childhood. As the middle child of parents who were often in conflict, I worked hard to make things run smoothly. It took me a long time to realize that the actions of others were out of my control.
Of all the silly things the purchase of a yearbook unleashed my fury. I never thought I was one to have a strong maternal instinct yet I realized yesterday just how strong it was. Tired from rising early, I had fallen asleep by 9 pm. Abby awoke me to tell me Dan needed a ride home. Finishing an acting class for high school, he was performing in a final exam and was now done. He had tried his dad but couldn't reach him. In a minute, Abby and I were on our way.
When we split up Gary and I had agreed that Dan and Kate would live with him and Abby with me. In lieu of child support back and forth, I would pay for whatever Abby needed and he for Dan and Kate. In theory a good system, but as of late I was finding that even for basic necessities, I was covering more then we had agreed upon. And then there was the issue of rides, in the past week alone because Gary was "unavailable" I had provided at least ten rides. Unfortunately I couldn't recall once in the last month when these favors to Gary had been reciprocated.
Dan mentioned on the way home that he wanted to purchase a yearbook. At sixty dollars a book hardly a bargain. Dan told me that it contained a special section on the play he had played a lead role in the past fall. This play had marked a special milestone for him. After a very rough freshman year of school and a year away, this activity celebrated his outstanding achievement in successfully integrating back into high school. Short of cash, I advised him to ask his father to write a check and I would reimburse Gary on Friday. He was concerned that Gary would tell him that he had no cash. Abby piped up - well, he just bought Rebecca an engagement ring so I think he has the money. Something in me snapped.
In an almost twenty year relationship I wanted only one material thing. An engagement ring. It became a running joke between the two of us as we had never seemed to have the resources to purchase it. Nearly twenty years as a devoted wife who worked through cancer treatment, held two jobs for many years, supported career moves and his several job losses and played mother to my step-daughters had not earned it. Yet in a relationship that supposedly had only existed for five and a half months a ring was the reward. What added to the sting was that I had listened for the last several months to all his stories of his lack of funds and had continued to pitch in to help the children above and beyond our agreement. Sadly, I had been duped once again. The story might end there if I had not picked up the phone to ask if he would work with me to buy Dan's yearbook He snapped and told me what rotten kids they were and that he did not have money for such a purchase. I recoiled and he hung up before I could speak again. I called back and yelled into the phone. You can't buy your son a stinking pair of shoes yet you have money to buy an engagement ring. I think you can buy your kid a stinking yearbook and then I abruptly hung up. The tsunami of anger had been released and came rushing forward.And with it the kernel of truth I had not wanted to really face. That in all those years together he had never once loved me. It was a freeing moment.... anger was truly my friend.
Part of me laments the realization of spending over a third of my life with someone who didn't care for me although I have three amazing kids to show for it. Another part doubts that I will ever find someone who will love and care for me as me at this late stage of life. It is true though that knowledge is power and armed with that I hope if the opportunity arises I know I will now make wiser choices. My friend was right.....anger is my friend.
Of all the silly things the purchase of a yearbook unleashed my fury. I never thought I was one to have a strong maternal instinct yet I realized yesterday just how strong it was. Tired from rising early, I had fallen asleep by 9 pm. Abby awoke me to tell me Dan needed a ride home. Finishing an acting class for high school, he was performing in a final exam and was now done. He had tried his dad but couldn't reach him. In a minute, Abby and I were on our way.
When we split up Gary and I had agreed that Dan and Kate would live with him and Abby with me. In lieu of child support back and forth, I would pay for whatever Abby needed and he for Dan and Kate. In theory a good system, but as of late I was finding that even for basic necessities, I was covering more then we had agreed upon. And then there was the issue of rides, in the past week alone because Gary was "unavailable" I had provided at least ten rides. Unfortunately I couldn't recall once in the last month when these favors to Gary had been reciprocated.
Dan mentioned on the way home that he wanted to purchase a yearbook. At sixty dollars a book hardly a bargain. Dan told me that it contained a special section on the play he had played a lead role in the past fall. This play had marked a special milestone for him. After a very rough freshman year of school and a year away, this activity celebrated his outstanding achievement in successfully integrating back into high school. Short of cash, I advised him to ask his father to write a check and I would reimburse Gary on Friday. He was concerned that Gary would tell him that he had no cash. Abby piped up - well, he just bought Rebecca an engagement ring so I think he has the money. Something in me snapped.
In an almost twenty year relationship I wanted only one material thing. An engagement ring. It became a running joke between the two of us as we had never seemed to have the resources to purchase it. Nearly twenty years as a devoted wife who worked through cancer treatment, held two jobs for many years, supported career moves and his several job losses and played mother to my step-daughters had not earned it. Yet in a relationship that supposedly had only existed for five and a half months a ring was the reward. What added to the sting was that I had listened for the last several months to all his stories of his lack of funds and had continued to pitch in to help the children above and beyond our agreement. Sadly, I had been duped once again. The story might end there if I had not picked up the phone to ask if he would work with me to buy Dan's yearbook He snapped and told me what rotten kids they were and that he did not have money for such a purchase. I recoiled and he hung up before I could speak again. I called back and yelled into the phone. You can't buy your son a stinking pair of shoes yet you have money to buy an engagement ring. I think you can buy your kid a stinking yearbook and then I abruptly hung up. The tsunami of anger had been released and came rushing forward.And with it the kernel of truth I had not wanted to really face. That in all those years together he had never once loved me. It was a freeing moment.... anger was truly my friend.
Part of me laments the realization of spending over a third of my life with someone who didn't care for me although I have three amazing kids to show for it. Another part doubts that I will ever find someone who will love and care for me as me at this late stage of life. It is true though that knowledge is power and armed with that I hope if the opportunity arises I know I will now make wiser choices. My friend was right.....anger is my friend.
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