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.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Words and Deeds
Sitting waiting to get my haircut one Saturday morning, I read an article in a women's magazine. It referenced the words of a French poet whose name I've long forgotten. Loosely translated, he declared "Love is an Action." As I read it it struck me that there, in the most unusual of places, I was learning a lesson. For someone who always considered herself a fast study, it seemed incredible that this thought had not dawned on me before. I tucked it away and like all good lessons would need to think and digest on it before it really made sense.
Four days ago for the first time in my adult life, I felt like giving up. While we all have those fleeting thoughts from time to time, I knew something was different when I could not shake the feeling after two days. The culmination of many stressors had taken its toll in dramatic fashion. At work, after two very grueling months of trying to reach a fund raising goal, I had fallen short by nearly $150,000. A perfect record of twenty one years of goal achievement was shattered. At home, childrens' schedules and demand for my time (or at least my ability to drive them places) was heating up. On Friday, May 13th, my marriage, which I had treasured for many years ceased to exist. Then, before I could catch my breath, as I arrived to pick up Abby after a long Saturday at work, my friend Mary Ann pulled me aside. "You should know," she said, "that Gary called Abby today to tell her he is engaged." Although it was an outcome I had predicted for almost four years, the words nearly knocked me off my feet. The judge's ink had hardly dried on our divorce decree and he was getting married. Sunday I took to my bed thinking I might never rise again.
For two days I functioned on auto pilot. In a pervasive numbness, I drove the children to school, went to work, attended to their needs after work and tried not to think of anything. While the world is full of suffering much larger than mine I wondered what I had done to deserve all of this at once. I went to bed feeling tired and defeated.
Just a few hours later I awoke feeling rested and refreshed with an overwhelming feeling that things would be o.k. Nothing had changed but in that tiny window of sleep two comforting memories had filled my thoughts. The first took me back nearly ten years. That spring day I had been too tired from my chemo treatments to put on my wig. Standing in the door of Dan's classroom another mother noticed that I was undergoing cancer treatments. She said nothing but a few days later the phone rang. The school community had been made aware of my illness and was wondering if they could support us by providing dinner for us each school day. These meals continued each day, without a hitch for the next six months. For our struggling family, this was really love in action. I have forgotten many things in the last ten years, but never the face and name of the woman who saw this need and filled it.
The second memory is much more recent. As the weather grew warm, I began to turn on my car's air conditioning. For more than three years, each spring I would hold my breath wondering if the system would work. The problem seemed intermittent yet without fail the system would stop on the hottest days of summer or when I was going somewhere of importance. I had asked Gary to look at it several times and he had made several excuses - "I'm not a mechanic he would say," "I'm just not good at that stuff." In hindsight I realized that I hadn't wanted a mechanic - just someone concerned enough to help me figure out the problem.
Determined to get it fixed once and for all, I ask one of my smartest friends if he thought I should take it to our local mechanic. Without asking he leapt into action researching the problem, buying the parts, fixing the car and saving me from a huge and unaffordable repair bill. I was blown away by this amazing gesture of kindness.
Four days ago for the first time in my adult life, I felt like giving up. While we all have those fleeting thoughts from time to time, I knew something was different when I could not shake the feeling after two days. The culmination of many stressors had taken its toll in dramatic fashion. At work, after two very grueling months of trying to reach a fund raising goal, I had fallen short by nearly $150,000. A perfect record of twenty one years of goal achievement was shattered. At home, childrens' schedules and demand for my time (or at least my ability to drive them places) was heating up. On Friday, May 13th, my marriage, which I had treasured for many years ceased to exist. Then, before I could catch my breath, as I arrived to pick up Abby after a long Saturday at work, my friend Mary Ann pulled me aside. "You should know," she said, "that Gary called Abby today to tell her he is engaged." Although it was an outcome I had predicted for almost four years, the words nearly knocked me off my feet. The judge's ink had hardly dried on our divorce decree and he was getting married. Sunday I took to my bed thinking I might never rise again.
For two days I functioned on auto pilot. In a pervasive numbness, I drove the children to school, went to work, attended to their needs after work and tried not to think of anything. While the world is full of suffering much larger than mine I wondered what I had done to deserve all of this at once. I went to bed feeling tired and defeated.
Just a few hours later I awoke feeling rested and refreshed with an overwhelming feeling that things would be o.k. Nothing had changed but in that tiny window of sleep two comforting memories had filled my thoughts. The first took me back nearly ten years. That spring day I had been too tired from my chemo treatments to put on my wig. Standing in the door of Dan's classroom another mother noticed that I was undergoing cancer treatments. She said nothing but a few days later the phone rang. The school community had been made aware of my illness and was wondering if they could support us by providing dinner for us each school day. These meals continued each day, without a hitch for the next six months. For our struggling family, this was really love in action. I have forgotten many things in the last ten years, but never the face and name of the woman who saw this need and filled it.
The second memory is much more recent. As the weather grew warm, I began to turn on my car's air conditioning. For more than three years, each spring I would hold my breath wondering if the system would work. The problem seemed intermittent yet without fail the system would stop on the hottest days of summer or when I was going somewhere of importance. I had asked Gary to look at it several times and he had made several excuses - "I'm not a mechanic he would say," "I'm just not good at that stuff." In hindsight I realized that I hadn't wanted a mechanic - just someone concerned enough to help me figure out the problem.
Determined to get it fixed once and for all, I ask one of my smartest friends if he thought I should take it to our local mechanic. Without asking he leapt into action researching the problem, buying the parts, fixing the car and saving me from a huge and unaffordable repair bill. I was blown away by this amazing gesture of kindness.
As a society we are obsessed with words. Will the boss tell me I'm doing a good job? When will my boyfriend say "I love you" ? In my life I can't recall when any boyfriend of mine told me for the first time that they loved me but I will always remember six months of meals and a repaired air conditioning system. In my struggle I had forgotten to see that the love I needed did not need to be verbalized to comfort me; it was all around me in the caring deeds of my friends and family and would see me through this hard time. The lesson has finally stuck.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
What's In A Name - Or Title?
On May 13th, by the stroke of a pen I lost several titles: wife, stepmother, daughter-in law, sister-in law (to some), aunt (to some also). I somehow find this ironic that this happened on a Friday, the 13th but then the marriage began three years to the day my grandmother passed away. I am not typically superstitious although things have turned around a little since I got rid of that license plate with the 666 on it.
In some ways receiving divorce papers reminds me of those deaths where the final cause of death awaits toxicology reports. You know the patient is dead and nothing will change that but that final report closes the case so that everyone can move on. The night I went to the mailbox and got the papers my niece was here to store her things until the next college year. There was no dramatic music in the background and no tears but simply a quiet glance at the documents and then on to the next task.
The thing about being married for such a long time is that it becomes a way of life. I have been in significant relationships since the age of twenty - well over half my entire life. And while I don't need a significant other in my life to make me feel whole there is this recurring feeling of having forgotten something that strikes me from time to time. I have grieved the loss of the specific person and now I am grieving the loss of the role.
There is a family that remains where I once was a daughter-in law and a sister in law. My marriage may be over but I still care for them. In the best divorces there is respect and understanding that bonds though not legally tied still exist in our hearts. But as we all know things are never quite the same.
In some ways receiving divorce papers reminds me of those deaths where the final cause of death awaits toxicology reports. You know the patient is dead and nothing will change that but that final report closes the case so that everyone can move on. The night I went to the mailbox and got the papers my niece was here to store her things until the next college year. There was no dramatic music in the background and no tears but simply a quiet glance at the documents and then on to the next task.
The thing about being married for such a long time is that it becomes a way of life. I have been in significant relationships since the age of twenty - well over half my entire life. And while I don't need a significant other in my life to make me feel whole there is this recurring feeling of having forgotten something that strikes me from time to time. I have grieved the loss of the specific person and now I am grieving the loss of the role.
There is a family that remains where I once was a daughter-in law and a sister in law. My marriage may be over but I still care for them. In the best divorces there is respect and understanding that bonds though not legally tied still exist in our hearts. But as we all know things are never quite the same.
So with cautious optimism I look forward to a possible new title that I've not had in many years - girlfriend.The word itself sounds young and exciting. I have always been a Pollyanna at heart and truly think the best is yet to be. This process has made me grow in ways I never thought possible and through the love and support of my family and friends I am becoming stronger than ever before. And so begins a new chapter.....
Saturday, May 14, 2011
There is no I in team, but there is me
In my other life I raise money for a living. People tell me that it must be an awful job but I love it. My job in Annual Giving can be especially pressure filled. A goal is set and there are 365 days to reach that goal. It typically increases each year and in an economy like this can be challenging.
Those who know me really well understand my competitive nature. Forged in elementary school competing with our later class valedictorian Laura, I continued to want to do well throughout high school. My high school friends will remember Mr. Daniels -a tough but hunky high school social studies teacher and his infamous tests. No one got 100 but he curved the grades so that the highest score be it a 65 or an 80 set the curve. On a few occasions I relished the fact that I was the most hated person in the class for setting the curve. College at Union put me in a place with other equally competitive people and developed my social skills (sometimes a little too much to the dismay of my parents). Along the way I'm happy to say I was able to develop a good sense of self-esteem. It got shaken a little in these last few years but given the love and help of some really good friends it is still there. Which brings me back to work and in turn the larger questions of life.
As a team, if we pull together, we will do the best possible job we can. This year is particularly tough but we have many accomplishments to show from our work and if we don't quite meet our goal we will have grown together. I still have faith that we may do it. But now I need everyone to focus on the we and not the me.
Describing this situation to my friend Kevin, he told me a great story from his coaching days. Telling his young basketball team that there was no I in team one young player spoke up." Coach, he said, there is no I in team but there is me." Kevin's gift for humor at just the right moment has seen me through more than one dark time in the last few years.
That story though got me thinking about some of the larger questions of life. The institution of marriage for example. Two people form a team and there are great victories and heart breaking defeats. If and when children enter the mix the circle expands. Collectively everyone is there to support one another and if all possess good self esteem each understands that all will benefit from the success of the other. The danger lies in thinking too much of one's self. The resulting consequences are devastating.
I have laid off from writing in recent weeks because I have been afraid to put voice to some deep feelings that I have had. I realize now that in expressing those things I will be able to move forward.
I am no longer mad or sad at the demise of marriage. I am just very disappointed and not for the reasons you might think. I married a smart and charming person many years ago. What I discovered along the way was that while we all believed in him he did not believe in himself. He was always searching and restless for the right job, the right location, and eventually again for the perfect relationship. Along the way, two marriages were destroyed and five children greatly effected. The more we got to know him, the more he couldn't bear for us to see the real him. But we did and we loved him anyway and hoped that he loved us. All in all when it came down to it it was easier to move on than to face the personal demons.
If I have learned one lesson in life it is that I can be strong as an individual but even stronger with the grace and love of others who know the real me. It does not diminish me but makes me even greater. It's time we all start growing up and ignored the me in team for a change. We have nothing to lose and so much to gain.
Those who know me really well understand my competitive nature. Forged in elementary school competing with our later class valedictorian Laura, I continued to want to do well throughout high school. My high school friends will remember Mr. Daniels -a tough but hunky high school social studies teacher and his infamous tests. No one got 100 but he curved the grades so that the highest score be it a 65 or an 80 set the curve. On a few occasions I relished the fact that I was the most hated person in the class for setting the curve. College at Union put me in a place with other equally competitive people and developed my social skills (sometimes a little too much to the dismay of my parents). Along the way I'm happy to say I was able to develop a good sense of self-esteem. It got shaken a little in these last few years but given the love and help of some really good friends it is still there. Which brings me back to work and in turn the larger questions of life.
As a team, if we pull together, we will do the best possible job we can. This year is particularly tough but we have many accomplishments to show from our work and if we don't quite meet our goal we will have grown together. I still have faith that we may do it. But now I need everyone to focus on the we and not the me.
Describing this situation to my friend Kevin, he told me a great story from his coaching days. Telling his young basketball team that there was no I in team one young player spoke up." Coach, he said, there is no I in team but there is me." Kevin's gift for humor at just the right moment has seen me through more than one dark time in the last few years.
That story though got me thinking about some of the larger questions of life. The institution of marriage for example. Two people form a team and there are great victories and heart breaking defeats. If and when children enter the mix the circle expands. Collectively everyone is there to support one another and if all possess good self esteem each understands that all will benefit from the success of the other. The danger lies in thinking too much of one's self. The resulting consequences are devastating.
I have laid off from writing in recent weeks because I have been afraid to put voice to some deep feelings that I have had. I realize now that in expressing those things I will be able to move forward.
I am no longer mad or sad at the demise of marriage. I am just very disappointed and not for the reasons you might think. I married a smart and charming person many years ago. What I discovered along the way was that while we all believed in him he did not believe in himself. He was always searching and restless for the right job, the right location, and eventually again for the perfect relationship. Along the way, two marriages were destroyed and five children greatly effected. The more we got to know him, the more he couldn't bear for us to see the real him. But we did and we loved him anyway and hoped that he loved us. All in all when it came down to it it was easier to move on than to face the personal demons.
If I have learned one lesson in life it is that I can be strong as an individual but even stronger with the grace and love of others who know the real me. It does not diminish me but makes me even greater. It's time we all start growing up and ignored the me in team for a change. We have nothing to lose and so much to gain.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Much Is Expected.....
Sometimes it is often the simplest of conversations that stops you in your tracks and makes you reflect on something in a way you've never seen it before. This happened to me on Sunday in a busy coffee shop along Route 20 talking to a man I had just met. Hardly the place for an epiphany yet maybe the best of circumstances; words from a stranger that resonated with me in a way he doesn't even yet know.
In the last few months I've become a resident expert in coffee dates. These are those meetings when after chatting for a reasonable amount of time on the internet both parties seeks a neutral place to safely meet and gauge if there is further interest. My expert status may tell you that for me these have been less than successful . Ah, I've had coffee and even lunch but have yet to have moved on to dinner and let's get crazy and imagine a movie too. Sometimes the rejection has come from the other party and sometimes from me but my level of comfort and confidence in having these get- togethers has grown tremendously in just the three months I've been doing this.
So last Saturday after talking with a widower for almost three weeks I proposed that we meet for coffee on Sunday afternoon. This was the first time I initiated the coffee and for once I was feeling like I was in the driver's seat. I had almost written him off - nearly five years younger than me, quiet and very respectful in his on line conversations with me, he seemed well - too nice. Where was that element of danger that I craved or that spark of passion I thought I needed to immediately feel? Just as I had been about to write him off earlier in the week he had shocked me. The week had been hectic and our thrice daily emails to one another had stopped when I didn't return his that Monday. On Thursday he politely thanked me for our conversations and told me that he was sorry that he had bothered me and would stop emailing me. Immediate remorse set in for me - why would I always contort myself for a jerk yet ignore a nice guy. I snapped to attention, emailed my apologies and by Thursday evening we were emailing again. Now I wanted to meet him sooner rather than later. Sunday morning he called to confirm our coffee and the sound of his voice strong and confident pleasantly surprised me. I eagerly looked forward to our meeting.
His bland affect at our meeting made me wonder. What was he thinking? Would we be able to hold a conversation? Like a job interview that seems doomed from the start I thought please, I'm not up for another rejection again.
And then we began to talk - the conversation flowed easily for two strangers. There was lots in common - kids of the same age and funny teenage stories but we also just as easily trasitioned into world issues. In one email we had briefly touched on the demise of my marriage so it was time to talk about the death of his wife. That conversation evolved naturally as if we were two old friends talking. And then it hit me. To whom much is given much is expected.
My new friend's wife had been much like me in the prime of her life with a young family when her cancer struck. She had successfully endured chemo and radiation and was soundly in remission for over a year when it struck again - this time with a vengance. Told she was terminal in April with a prognosis of thirteen months to live she was dead by July and the last three months a harrowing tale of the failures of our medical system. Having listened to many cancer stories with positive and negative outcomes over the years I had never heard such a sad story told with such clarity, understanding, love, and final acceptance.
Driving back on that afternoon, I pondered this new friendship and where it might lead. Appearances can be misleading and I was now rethinking my original misconceptions. But more than that I was wondering why had she died and I had lived. Like me she must have wished to see her children grown and to grow older with her loving husband. Wasn't there some rhyme or reason as to why things happen the way they do?
I have received much in my life that is really hard to measure - wonderful friendships, loving and caring relationships, laughter, fun, and tremendous memories. For any bump in the road, there have been ten moments that lifted me up. Much has been given and it's time that I consider the gifts I need to leave for all that I have received. The thinking cap is on - this is one assignment I want to ace.
In the last few months I've become a resident expert in coffee dates. These are those meetings when after chatting for a reasonable amount of time on the internet both parties seeks a neutral place to safely meet and gauge if there is further interest. My expert status may tell you that for me these have been less than successful . Ah, I've had coffee and even lunch but have yet to have moved on to dinner and let's get crazy and imagine a movie too. Sometimes the rejection has come from the other party and sometimes from me but my level of comfort and confidence in having these get- togethers has grown tremendously in just the three months I've been doing this.
So last Saturday after talking with a widower for almost three weeks I proposed that we meet for coffee on Sunday afternoon. This was the first time I initiated the coffee and for once I was feeling like I was in the driver's seat. I had almost written him off - nearly five years younger than me, quiet and very respectful in his on line conversations with me, he seemed well - too nice. Where was that element of danger that I craved or that spark of passion I thought I needed to immediately feel? Just as I had been about to write him off earlier in the week he had shocked me. The week had been hectic and our thrice daily emails to one another had stopped when I didn't return his that Monday. On Thursday he politely thanked me for our conversations and told me that he was sorry that he had bothered me and would stop emailing me. Immediate remorse set in for me - why would I always contort myself for a jerk yet ignore a nice guy. I snapped to attention, emailed my apologies and by Thursday evening we were emailing again. Now I wanted to meet him sooner rather than later. Sunday morning he called to confirm our coffee and the sound of his voice strong and confident pleasantly surprised me. I eagerly looked forward to our meeting.
His bland affect at our meeting made me wonder. What was he thinking? Would we be able to hold a conversation? Like a job interview that seems doomed from the start I thought please, I'm not up for another rejection again.
And then we began to talk - the conversation flowed easily for two strangers. There was lots in common - kids of the same age and funny teenage stories but we also just as easily trasitioned into world issues. In one email we had briefly touched on the demise of my marriage so it was time to talk about the death of his wife. That conversation evolved naturally as if we were two old friends talking. And then it hit me. To whom much is given much is expected.
My new friend's wife had been much like me in the prime of her life with a young family when her cancer struck. She had successfully endured chemo and radiation and was soundly in remission for over a year when it struck again - this time with a vengance. Told she was terminal in April with a prognosis of thirteen months to live she was dead by July and the last three months a harrowing tale of the failures of our medical system. Having listened to many cancer stories with positive and negative outcomes over the years I had never heard such a sad story told with such clarity, understanding, love, and final acceptance.
Driving back on that afternoon, I pondered this new friendship and where it might lead. Appearances can be misleading and I was now rethinking my original misconceptions. But more than that I was wondering why had she died and I had lived. Like me she must have wished to see her children grown and to grow older with her loving husband. Wasn't there some rhyme or reason as to why things happen the way they do?
I have received much in my life that is really hard to measure - wonderful friendships, loving and caring relationships, laughter, fun, and tremendous memories. For any bump in the road, there have been ten moments that lifted me up. Much has been given and it's time that I consider the gifts I need to leave for all that I have received. The thinking cap is on - this is one assignment I want to ace.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Blame it on Dad!
I guess I have to blame my father. In an age of traditional fathers, he was pretty unconventional. He cooked although it took forever to get dinner on the table and he would talk about his evening of cooking for weeks after. But in the confusing times of the late 1960's, he instilled in me one strong belief - that I could do anything I set my mind to do.
For most of my life, believing this has boded well for me. I got good grades in school, had lots of friends, and was able to get into a good college. While life provided challenges from time to time, I had a great sense of optimism and was typically certain of a good outcome. All in all I succeeded. If you can measure life by a grade, I was at least running a B+ average most of the time. That was until this mid life dating thing. For the first time I may have met my match. If quarterly grades were posted today, I would be getting a D and that would be with a sympathetic teacher.
I started actively looking three months ago today. This coincided with the announcement by my husband that he was sleeping over at his girlfriend's and would I by the way keep an eye on the kids. Realizing that he was having sex and lots of it to be certain I knew he had moved on. It was time for me to move from rescue to recovery mode and begin my dating life again.
I've written here previously about using the traditional methods of dating that I knew. Meeting through friends, meeting at work, looking up old boyfriends - all were tried and pretty quickly determined to be less effective at this stage of life. I decided to take to the internet and embrace technology for all the rewards it might provide. I created a profile and loaded a picture and off I went into the world of cyberspace to find Mr. Right or being a realist here, to have a dinner date every once in a while. I chose two sites - Match.com and Plenty of Fish - the former because of its great advertising campaign that lured me in and the latter because my sister had told me of the extensive number of dates my former brother-in-law had gotten by using the site.
I've told you about the lawyer - good on paper who was still lamenting about his ex-wife seven years post divorce. Moving on from that fiasco, I talked to Ray who had just lost his home to foreclosure. You may say I was picky but I was not quite ready to date a homeless man. Then there was Fred. I could forgive the fact that he was a Red Sox fan and we met for coffee. We got along fine but then after a week of post coffee emails all conversation died. Then there was the guy who was a Tarheels fan - I can't even remember his name who said he was lonely and depressed but then just stopped emailing. There is a lot of emotional neediness in this post fifty dating group. Men without women at this stage of life are not a pretty sight. I still hold out hope for Jim, the retired financially secure teacher who I talked with on the phone twice for three hours. He is currently sidetracked dealing with some issues with his daughter and maybe I'm the eternal optimist but I sense that this is true and not a dodge. Let me know people if you think I'm fooling myself.
So here I am - eager to succeed at this and failing miserably. I want to hear from you my readers on your thoughts. First of all, I ask you to not give me two pieces of advice that if I hear again I will indeed shoot the messenger. The first is "stop looking". Anyone who knows me will know that I can never sit by the sidelines when there is something to be done. The second is "develop yourself, get to know yourself better, enjoy your time alone...." Let me just say I am. I'm writing aren't I? I have lots of fun with my women friends, don't I? I don't need a relationship to make me complete but I'm ready to have one to add to my life. It would be nice to think that maybe, just maybe I may have sex again before I die. So I am all ears for suggestions and some really concrete ones at that. .... lose some weight, get rid of that awful laugh... that kind of stuff that I can really work on. I am especially interested in hearing from my male readers, if any, because I think you bring a unique perspective to the table. So let's get cracking, the semester isn't over yet and I still believe with your help I can pass.
For most of my life, believing this has boded well for me. I got good grades in school, had lots of friends, and was able to get into a good college. While life provided challenges from time to time, I had a great sense of optimism and was typically certain of a good outcome. All in all I succeeded. If you can measure life by a grade, I was at least running a B+ average most of the time. That was until this mid life dating thing. For the first time I may have met my match. If quarterly grades were posted today, I would be getting a D and that would be with a sympathetic teacher.
I started actively looking three months ago today. This coincided with the announcement by my husband that he was sleeping over at his girlfriend's and would I by the way keep an eye on the kids. Realizing that he was having sex and lots of it to be certain I knew he had moved on. It was time for me to move from rescue to recovery mode and begin my dating life again.
I've written here previously about using the traditional methods of dating that I knew. Meeting through friends, meeting at work, looking up old boyfriends - all were tried and pretty quickly determined to be less effective at this stage of life. I decided to take to the internet and embrace technology for all the rewards it might provide. I created a profile and loaded a picture and off I went into the world of cyberspace to find Mr. Right or being a realist here, to have a dinner date every once in a while. I chose two sites - Match.com and Plenty of Fish - the former because of its great advertising campaign that lured me in and the latter because my sister had told me of the extensive number of dates my former brother-in-law had gotten by using the site.
I've told you about the lawyer - good on paper who was still lamenting about his ex-wife seven years post divorce. Moving on from that fiasco, I talked to Ray who had just lost his home to foreclosure. You may say I was picky but I was not quite ready to date a homeless man. Then there was Fred. I could forgive the fact that he was a Red Sox fan and we met for coffee. We got along fine but then after a week of post coffee emails all conversation died. Then there was the guy who was a Tarheels fan - I can't even remember his name who said he was lonely and depressed but then just stopped emailing. There is a lot of emotional neediness in this post fifty dating group. Men without women at this stage of life are not a pretty sight. I still hold out hope for Jim, the retired financially secure teacher who I talked with on the phone twice for three hours. He is currently sidetracked dealing with some issues with his daughter and maybe I'm the eternal optimist but I sense that this is true and not a dodge. Let me know people if you think I'm fooling myself.
So here I am - eager to succeed at this and failing miserably. I want to hear from you my readers on your thoughts. First of all, I ask you to not give me two pieces of advice that if I hear again I will indeed shoot the messenger. The first is "stop looking". Anyone who knows me will know that I can never sit by the sidelines when there is something to be done. The second is "develop yourself, get to know yourself better, enjoy your time alone...." Let me just say I am. I'm writing aren't I? I have lots of fun with my women friends, don't I? I don't need a relationship to make me complete but I'm ready to have one to add to my life. It would be nice to think that maybe, just maybe I may have sex again before I die. So I am all ears for suggestions and some really concrete ones at that. .... lose some weight, get rid of that awful laugh... that kind of stuff that I can really work on. I am especially interested in hearing from my male readers, if any, because I think you bring a unique perspective to the table. So let's get cracking, the semester isn't over yet and I still believe with your help I can pass.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
"Is the Teacher in the Building?"
Last year I attended the funeral of a woman from my church. She was relatively young, in her mid sixties,and had fought a three year battle with liver cancer. As part of her eulogy, our minister described the unique relationship he had with this member of the congregation. We tend to think as adults we are grown and the learning process ends. Through his words he described how he, as a middle aged man of 56, had been enriched by the lessons learned from this woman despite their different personality styles. He quoted Buddha saying "When the pupil is ready, the teacher will come."
In the sadness of any loss there is always is a period of reflection of why. This is a natural part of the grieving process and certainly one I undertook for a long time when my marriage unraveled. Yet as I look back on any setback in my life I know that given time you began to understand that these course corrections bring you to a better place and a more developed you.
Despite the outcome,Gary and I had a decent run together. We were great friends, intellectual equals, and could make each other laugh. Our Achilles heel was our ability or should I say inability to manage money together as a couple. We were never on the same page and my eagerness to please and make everyone in the family happy led me to say yes when I should have said no. Over time even the best marriage can not survive the erosion of the feelings of security I needed to be happy.
Last week, a late birthday present arrived in my life in the forms of a new friendship. There was an immediate connection on core values and since we have yet to meet in person I am hopeful that this is not just sexual attraction taking over.On the surface we appear to be very different people. He is the most active outdoors man I've ever met and you know me, I'm active but hardly the outdoors woman. We seem to be pupil and teacher to one another back and forth in a synchronized manner that I've never experienced with a member of the opposite sex. I find myself saying a prayer each day that this will grow and develop. I am cautiously optimistic. Perhaps the teacher has arrived and the pupil is finally ready. Stay tuned. Only time will tell.
In the sadness of any loss there is always is a period of reflection of why. This is a natural part of the grieving process and certainly one I undertook for a long time when my marriage unraveled. Yet as I look back on any setback in my life I know that given time you began to understand that these course corrections bring you to a better place and a more developed you.
Despite the outcome,Gary and I had a decent run together. We were great friends, intellectual equals, and could make each other laugh. Our Achilles heel was our ability or should I say inability to manage money together as a couple. We were never on the same page and my eagerness to please and make everyone in the family happy led me to say yes when I should have said no. Over time even the best marriage can not survive the erosion of the feelings of security I needed to be happy.
Last week, a late birthday present arrived in my life in the forms of a new friendship. There was an immediate connection on core values and since we have yet to meet in person I am hopeful that this is not just sexual attraction taking over.On the surface we appear to be very different people. He is the most active outdoors man I've ever met and you know me, I'm active but hardly the outdoors woman. We seem to be pupil and teacher to one another back and forth in a synchronized manner that I've never experienced with a member of the opposite sex. I find myself saying a prayer each day that this will grow and develop. I am cautiously optimistic. Perhaps the teacher has arrived and the pupil is finally ready. Stay tuned. Only time will tell.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
"Am I His Mother?"
Back in high school, my best friend Lori had a surprise sweet sixteen party for me. Among the gifts was a small statue from my friend Jason that read "World's Best Mother". I still have it to this day and if I ever unpack everything from my post divorce move, I will proudly display it. I know where your mind is going on this one. Even in the gentler days of 1975 Poughkeepsie, New York I wondered if this gift had some kind of negative meaning. "No," Jason assured me. "This is just a recognition of your tremendous nurturing qualities." Since we have been friends now for almost forty years, I believe he was sincere.
This nurturing stuff has almost come too naturally to me. Growing up in a house where my parents loved and cared for us but often had lots of conflict with one another, I wanted everyone to feel loved and taken care of. Being the middle child didn't help either. I seemed to often be the go- between my two sisters and once in a while even play that role today. Too easily, I fell into this role in my relationships with men. As you know, this has not led to the best outcomes.
If the definition of a moron is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, I was determined to be smart about things this time. Men would come to me this time around. I would not be the over nurturing girlfriend or wife. But just like a shark smells blood, guys seemed to pick up immediately on the quality I was most determined to hide.
My first post separation date involved meeting a guy who as my mother would put it "looked great on paper". An accomplished lawyer with kids the same age as mine soon had me envisioning happily ever after. My first clue should have been that he wouldn't meet me until he had a cast removed from his foot. Then came our faithful coffee. Within just a few moments after we met he confided that even though divorced over six years, his ex-wife was a major factor in his almost nervous breakdown. His health was shot and at 57 had pretty much thrown in the towel on life and relationships. He didn't need a girlfriend - this guy needed a therapist and quickly.
Thinking this was a fluke I dated a few other guys. I heard about hip replacements, bad eyes, and my all time favorite prostate surgery. Let me remind you that none of these guys were even 65. I wanted to say to them while I may remind you of your mother I am really hoping that at least one part on you is still in good working order.I sincerely hope their mother would not be interested in that!
I then thought about their reaction if I too had revealed my medical history. Yes, I would say, if you look closer one breast is slightly smaller than another because I had surgery for breast cancer back in 2000. The upside is that both are still real and the doctors who have seen my surgery scar say it is one of the least disfiguring they have ever seen. We all know at that point they'd be running for the hills.
I am not opposed at all in accepting a person medical problems and all. I would just like to know you a little more before we discuss when you had your last colonoscopy. The nurturer is still here; she is just looking for some healthy balance.
This nurturing stuff has almost come too naturally to me. Growing up in a house where my parents loved and cared for us but often had lots of conflict with one another, I wanted everyone to feel loved and taken care of. Being the middle child didn't help either. I seemed to often be the go- between my two sisters and once in a while even play that role today. Too easily, I fell into this role in my relationships with men. As you know, this has not led to the best outcomes.
If the definition of a moron is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results, I was determined to be smart about things this time. Men would come to me this time around. I would not be the over nurturing girlfriend or wife. But just like a shark smells blood, guys seemed to pick up immediately on the quality I was most determined to hide.
My first post separation date involved meeting a guy who as my mother would put it "looked great on paper". An accomplished lawyer with kids the same age as mine soon had me envisioning happily ever after. My first clue should have been that he wouldn't meet me until he had a cast removed from his foot. Then came our faithful coffee. Within just a few moments after we met he confided that even though divorced over six years, his ex-wife was a major factor in his almost nervous breakdown. His health was shot and at 57 had pretty much thrown in the towel on life and relationships. He didn't need a girlfriend - this guy needed a therapist and quickly.
Thinking this was a fluke I dated a few other guys. I heard about hip replacements, bad eyes, and my all time favorite prostate surgery. Let me remind you that none of these guys were even 65. I wanted to say to them while I may remind you of your mother I am really hoping that at least one part on you is still in good working order.I sincerely hope their mother would not be interested in that!
I then thought about their reaction if I too had revealed my medical history. Yes, I would say, if you look closer one breast is slightly smaller than another because I had surgery for breast cancer back in 2000. The upside is that both are still real and the doctors who have seen my surgery scar say it is one of the least disfiguring they have ever seen. We all know at that point they'd be running for the hills.
I am not opposed at all in accepting a person medical problems and all. I would just like to know you a little more before we discuss when you had your last colonoscopy. The nurturer is still here; she is just looking for some healthy balance.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
"Run Home Susie, Run Home"
When the kids were little, we owned a house in Andover, Massachusetts. In the inflated Massachusetts home market of 2002, the place was a dump but really only in need of lots of cosmetic work. It was a corner lot and had a wonderful side yard. Gary did much work reclaiming that side yard that had been so overgrown when we moved in and we affectionately called it the "meadow".
I have some good memories of the kids playing in the meadow. One Saturday, Gary and the kids decided to play softball. Bases were created out of odds and ends from the garage and the game was set. With Gary as pitcher and a big over sized yellow bat the game began. Soon it was Abby's turn to bat. Although not even five, contact was somehow made with the ball and she took the base. Eventually she made it to second. The next batter hit a double too and the cry went out " Run Home Abby, Run Home". Abandoning her base in the meadow she ran to our front door and proclaimed that she had scored a run. Even at the tender age of four she knew where her home was. We still laugh at that story today. When you are in the midst of creating a life it is hard to know what stories will become family lore and those that will soon be forgotten. When I think of that story I think of a little girl not even able to read who clearly knew already where home was.
One of the most rupturing things about divorce is losing that sense of home you have with another person no matter where you live. Not long after Gary and I began to live separate lives I rode the train back from Poughkeepsie to Albany after a visit with my parents. For most of the trip I held back tears grappling with the concept of where I would be buried someday. My parents had long ago picked burial plots in the cemetery in Hurley where so many of our relatives had been buried before. Who would I be buried next to and where? As with most life changes you can only take so much on at once and to deal with this, I buried the thought in the back of my mind.
As an adult I've had many homes. In the past thirty years, I lived in Buffalo, Rochester, Albany, Philadelphia, and Andover. At each place I have made good friends and enjoyed my life. Would I call any of these places home though?
Here, interestingly enough, my three closest friends are all a few years older than me. One, a single mom like me has roots in the community. She is not leaving anytime soon. My other two friends though, have spoken openly of concrete retirement plans in other locations in just a few years. I feel a sense of panic and loss thinking that in just a matter of time these emotional touchstones will be gone. I know I must guard against jumping into something just to know these anticipated voids will be filled.
For now I am floundering. Like a fish out of water, I am gasping for air and not knowing if I will perish on the shore or make it back into the stream. Some days I hope there is a greater force and a bigger plan that will make sense of all this pain and angst. In the darkest moments I deal by remembering that even if a little girl can find home maybe I will too.
I have some good memories of the kids playing in the meadow. One Saturday, Gary and the kids decided to play softball. Bases were created out of odds and ends from the garage and the game was set. With Gary as pitcher and a big over sized yellow bat the game began. Soon it was Abby's turn to bat. Although not even five, contact was somehow made with the ball and she took the base. Eventually she made it to second. The next batter hit a double too and the cry went out " Run Home Abby, Run Home". Abandoning her base in the meadow she ran to our front door and proclaimed that she had scored a run. Even at the tender age of four she knew where her home was. We still laugh at that story today. When you are in the midst of creating a life it is hard to know what stories will become family lore and those that will soon be forgotten. When I think of that story I think of a little girl not even able to read who clearly knew already where home was.
One of the most rupturing things about divorce is losing that sense of home you have with another person no matter where you live. Not long after Gary and I began to live separate lives I rode the train back from Poughkeepsie to Albany after a visit with my parents. For most of the trip I held back tears grappling with the concept of where I would be buried someday. My parents had long ago picked burial plots in the cemetery in Hurley where so many of our relatives had been buried before. Who would I be buried next to and where? As with most life changes you can only take so much on at once and to deal with this, I buried the thought in the back of my mind.
As an adult I've had many homes. In the past thirty years, I lived in Buffalo, Rochester, Albany, Philadelphia, and Andover. At each place I have made good friends and enjoyed my life. Would I call any of these places home though?
Here, interestingly enough, my three closest friends are all a few years older than me. One, a single mom like me has roots in the community. She is not leaving anytime soon. My other two friends though, have spoken openly of concrete retirement plans in other locations in just a few years. I feel a sense of panic and loss thinking that in just a matter of time these emotional touchstones will be gone. I know I must guard against jumping into something just to know these anticipated voids will be filled.
For now I am floundering. Like a fish out of water, I am gasping for air and not knowing if I will perish on the shore or make it back into the stream. Some days I hope there is a greater force and a bigger plan that will make sense of all this pain and angst. In the darkest moments I deal by remembering that even if a little girl can find home maybe I will too.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
What Doesn't Kill You, May Almost Kill You
Once when leaving a job after two very difficult years, I was asked to say a few parting words. What immediately came to mind was the phrase "What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger." While I restrained myself on that occasion for obvious reasons, I have contemplated that phrase many times in my life. Do setbacks and loss really make you stronger or do they wound you in ways in which you never quite recover?
Those out of the stream of emotion of this event remind me what does it really matter. To me, if you are the defendant, the assumption is that your bad behavior brought you to this juncture. To me, who has felt in the last four years I have cried enough to fill Lake Erie, this was a final insult and a terrible blow.
Like all marriages mine was not perfect. Over the last three years as I have worked through this process I have examined over and over what happened. John Grey says that at a time of breakup women blame themselves and men blame the women. Wow, just another thing we women take on our shoulders. I spent a lot of time blaming myself - was I not attentive enough, did I spend too much time taking care of the kids, was I too fat (this one, which still haunts me, took up way too much time). In the end, it began to dawn on me - none of that really mattered because for this family I had done the most important thing of all. I had shown up. For almost twenty years, I had put myself on the back burner for a husband I loved and a family I adored. I had my dreams and aspirations but to me their happiness came first. Love, a poet tells us, is an action. And I truly loved them all. The last thing I should do is defend myself.
This year I celebrate a special anniversary. I try not to talk about it too much because I think somehow it will jinx my luck. In June, it will be ten years since I finished initial treatment for breast cancer. Back when I was diagnosed Abby was just two years old. During a particular terrible round of chemotherapy, I remember thinking if there is a God, just let me live at least until this little girl is eighteen. On that front, life has been good. Next month, my two year old toddler will hit the ripe age of thirteen. Despite the typical mother daughter ups and downs we are close and if I am gone tomorrow she and Dan and Kate will remember me. When all is said and done all that is really left is that we loved others in our life enough that even after we are gone they can still feel that love and can pass it on.
At this point in life, I thought I would be coming down the backstretch enjoying some time in the sun. While I didn't expect to be the beautiful horse in the Winner's Circle, I didn't want to be in a place where I wondered if I was headed for the glue factory. I am not dead yet, but the jury is still out if this whole experience has made me stronger. All I can tell you is that I am hanging in there. I am still showing up.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
The Inventory
Whether we want to admit it or not, every newly single divorced woman looks to the past to see if the new special someone is hiding there. Donna Hanover, Rudy Giuliani's ex-wife even wrote a book about it. Donna was lucky. Publicity over her divorce caused her old boyfriend to give her a call. From what I know, they are still living happily ever after.
In my fifty-two years, there were twelve special somethings in my life. I use that term loosely, because a two week relationship in eighth grade may not really count as something special. The purpose of this exercise though is to make one feel better about one's self so at this point, if I brushed up against someone on a crowded street I'd be tempted to count it.Some I should add were real relationships - boyfriend/girlfriend while others could be better described as near misses. I was dating someone or he was but the attraction was certainly felt.
First of course, I had to discount my soon to be former husband. One down, eleven to go. Certain relationships also seemed immediately out to me - the transition boyfriend in college, my friend in eighth grade, the fling I had during graduate school. Then I had to deduct the now happily married - four that I knew of right off the bat because we had remained friends. Ah, the list was narrowing.
Two of the remaining four struck me as the most appealing of the remaining prospects. Both were near misses -one from high school and the other from college. I knew through mutual friends that the college prospect had asked about me over the years even as he had married and had children. Maybe he was unattached at this point? Ah, it was not to be - a google search and a few quick emails determined that he was enjoying family life in the country's heartland.
The high school near miss came front and center. He had a wonderful sense of humor and was an all around nice guy. I learned in short order that he had three children almost grown and had been divorced for nine years. Oh, this was too good to be true. And of course it was. We friended each other on Facebook and I discovered he was newly remarried to a stunning thirty-five year old woman. So much for my trip down memory lane.
In my fifty-two years, there were twelve special somethings in my life. I use that term loosely, because a two week relationship in eighth grade may not really count as something special. The purpose of this exercise though is to make one feel better about one's self so at this point, if I brushed up against someone on a crowded street I'd be tempted to count it.Some I should add were real relationships - boyfriend/girlfriend while others could be better described as near misses. I was dating someone or he was but the attraction was certainly felt.
First of course, I had to discount my soon to be former husband. One down, eleven to go. Certain relationships also seemed immediately out to me - the transition boyfriend in college, my friend in eighth grade, the fling I had during graduate school. Then I had to deduct the now happily married - four that I knew of right off the bat because we had remained friends. Ah, the list was narrowing.
Two of the remaining four struck me as the most appealing of the remaining prospects. Both were near misses -one from high school and the other from college. I knew through mutual friends that the college prospect had asked about me over the years even as he had married and had children. Maybe he was unattached at this point? Ah, it was not to be - a google search and a few quick emails determined that he was enjoying family life in the country's heartland.
The high school near miss came front and center. He had a wonderful sense of humor and was an all around nice guy. I learned in short order that he had three children almost grown and had been divorced for nine years. Oh, this was too good to be true. And of course it was. We friended each other on Facebook and I discovered he was newly remarried to a stunning thirty-five year old woman. So much for my trip down memory lane.
All and all I'm not discouraged that lightening didn't strike a second time during this foray into my past. I take it as a sign that I am meant to move forward and not look back. Here's to lucky number thirteen where ever he may be!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
R E S P E C T Find Out What It Means To Me
There is something to be said for writing at 4 am. In the quiet of the morning, before the day's distractions have set in, my mind feels clearer than any other time of day. Sitting here, with a steaming cup of joe, the world is my oyster.
The upside of being single at 51 is that the pressure is gone. My biological clock has long stopped ticking and having a man in my life will not define it but only add to it in a positive way. For the first time, I feel like I can afford to be really picky about what I want in a partner.
Early in this journey, as I hoped to save my marriage. I had a discussion with someone regarding the biggest indicator of marital satisfaction. "Take a guess," my friend said. Like backgrounds, few money problems, a good sex life came to mind immediately. "Not even close" said my friend." It's respect." At the time, I have to admit that I thought he was crazy. I guess in hindsight that was pretty disrespectful of me.
In my late teens I dated the first real love of my life. He was hard working and to me very sexy. He was the youngest of five and his parents and two brothers and sisters doted on him. They would invite me to Saturday night dinners and I loved feeling a part of this wonderful family. Years later I was shocked to learn that his mother left his father and moved to the opposite side of the country. Even as he battled heart disease and a premature death at 75 she did not return. What had happened? I took another look at those idyllic dinners. Wasn't a part of them always the merciless teasing of my boyfriend's mother. A common response to things she said was for a member of the family to jokingly tell her how crazy she was for rendering that opinion. Who could blame her for fleeing to California.
The upside of being single at 51 is that the pressure is gone. My biological clock has long stopped ticking and having a man in my life will not define it but only add to it in a positive way. For the first time, I feel like I can afford to be really picky about what I want in a partner.
Early in this journey, as I hoped to save my marriage. I had a discussion with someone regarding the biggest indicator of marital satisfaction. "Take a guess," my friend said. Like backgrounds, few money problems, a good sex life came to mind immediately. "Not even close" said my friend." It's respect." At the time, I have to admit that I thought he was crazy. I guess in hindsight that was pretty disrespectful of me.
In my late teens I dated the first real love of my life. He was hard working and to me very sexy. He was the youngest of five and his parents and two brothers and sisters doted on him. They would invite me to Saturday night dinners and I loved feeling a part of this wonderful family. Years later I was shocked to learn that his mother left his father and moved to the opposite side of the country. Even as he battled heart disease and a premature death at 75 she did not return. What had happened? I took another look at those idyllic dinners. Wasn't a part of them always the merciless teasing of my boyfriend's mother. A common response to things she said was for a member of the family to jokingly tell her how crazy she was for rendering that opinion. Who could blame her for fleeing to California.
Yesterday I had my second date with a very nice man. He is smart and certainly a good father to his children. I enjoy listening about his life but I realized yesterday besides talking about my children he never asks me about mine. Mom is just one of the many hats I wear and Mr. Right, if he is out there, will love and respect me for not just that role but the total person I am. While it is comforting to want to take shelter in a safe harbor, I know great opportunities may await me if I venture forth. Aretha, thank you for boldly reminding us what good relationships are all about.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
For Eric Segal and Kate - where ever they may be
At the tender age of eleven, with my best friend Lori, I went to see the movie "Love Story". For those of you old enough to remember this cinematic gem, the tag line of the movie was "Love Means Never Having to Say You are Sorry". I never thought about it much at the time - after all I was eleven and you could argue why would any parent let their eleven year old see that film. It was 1970 though, before the age of hyper-parenting and in those days we all played outside all day without telling Mom and Dad where we were every minute. Anyway, I digress.
Forty years later, in the middle of the night, I awoke to realize that what Eric Segal was really saying was that love means saying you are sorry again and again and making sure you are doing it in the moment if possible. I may now hold the world's record for the most time between seeing a movie and understanding its meaning. At this rate, I will need to live to be 90 to understand "Inception".Why, might you ask is this important especially at 3 a.m. on a workday?
Forty years later, in the middle of the night, I awoke to realize that what Eric Segal was really saying was that love means saying you are sorry again and again and making sure you are doing it in the moment if possible. I may now hold the world's record for the most time between seeing a movie and understanding its meaning. At this rate, I will need to live to be 90 to understand "Inception".Why, might you ask is this important especially at 3 a.m. on a workday?
Last night, I had a bad parenting moment. Instead of just cutting my losses and saying I was sorry, I argued and argued. My challenger was a formidable opponent - my sixteen year old daughter, Kate. Anyone who has parented a teenage girl knows that unlike a teenage boy who will sulk and ignore you, a girl is willing to take you to the mat. A innocent remark sparked the argument and soon I was determined to have her fully understand the loss I had felt as her father and I worked through the divorce process. When I finally regained my senses I knew I had said too much and even a trip into her favorite Italian bakery would not heal the situation that night. The good news is that I am learning and growing from things like this and next time when I am tired and cranky I will think twice about making sure everyone around me knows exactly how I feel. Eric, as you look down upon me from writer's heaven, be proud to know for this reader, the synapse has finally closed.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Where to Begin?
My good friend Kevin reminds me that marriages end in one of two ways - either divorce or death. When you look at it that way, divorce does not seem as bad an alternative. Still, after fourteen years of marriage and seventeen years as a couple, that August day when my husband announced that he no longer wanted to be married still reminds me of being hit with a sledgehammer.
My story is not about that marriage and its demise but rather about an unexpected life born anew. It is about finding myself again at a time when I didn't even realize I was lost. Most of all, it is a celebration of the people who have and continue to make this journey such an interesting one.
I hope you will join me as I move forward in this new life. We may just learn something from one another!
My story is not about that marriage and its demise but rather about an unexpected life born anew. It is about finding myself again at a time when I didn't even realize I was lost. Most of all, it is a celebration of the people who have and continue to make this journey such an interesting one.
I hope you will join me as I move forward in this new life. We may just learn something from one another!
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