Barnmaven

The End. Period.

It may surprise some of you (especially those of you who are friends on Facebook) to know that technically I am not yet divorced.  My ex moved out well over two years ago, but we didn't actually begin divorce proceedings until August of this year.  I don't know why we waited so long, but when I look back at the patterns in my life I note a definite tendency to postpone the inevitable, so I guess I'm just being true to form.   I will rip off a bandaid, jump into cold water, endure the artist's needle, but I will not lend myself readily to painful emotional change. 

The not-quite-yet-divorced status should, if all goes as expected, change tomorrow.  The final paperwork has been signed by my ex, his attorney, my attorney, and myself.  The hearing is scheduled for 8:30 AM (which really means all the lawyers will be in court at 8:30 AM, there will be check-ins for those doing status conferences and eventually the lawyers who have motions to be signed will line up for their turn, then the status conferences will take place and THEN motions that need to be heard will be considered and hopefully they get done sometime before armageddon.  I suspect this is why attorneys charge so much money, its recompense for the stab-yourself-in-the-eye boredom they go through in court every week). 

The final death throes of the marriage took place over a number of years for a number of reasons.  Tomorrow will be the final, gasping breath of the brontosaurus shuddering on the carpet of the rainforest floor.

 

I don't know if I ever really believed that marriage was forever.  I know that I hoped it was.  I don't think there are many people that enter into a relationship commitment planning for its eventual demise, though we all have to realize that its a possibility. 

I am looking forward to settling into a different phase of my relationship with my ex.  I think that now  that we are no longer debating over exactly how to split hairs and then assign ownerhip to halves of hairs that the bulk of the discomfort will be over.  Worrying about what would happen and who would get what if we didn't agree was a soul-consuming experience.  As much as I am trying to learn to lean back and worry more about the ride than the destination, I'm still human and still reacting to my fear more than I would like.  I've struggled with anger and hurt and jealousy.  I've had to learn how to walk away without voicing upsets or concerns that aren't capable of being resolved.  I've learned to let my feelings be felt with the explicit understanding that there isn't a happy-ever-after, there's no reward or prize or mountain summit, just a continuation of life that will undoubtedly serve up fresh suffering after some time passes. 

Falling in love and beginning a new relationship didn't really alleviate those feelings.  It just allowed me to ignore them for longer periods of time.  Ultimately, though, I've got to acknowledge them and allow them to work their way through.  If I don't, they'll just keep causing me pain and there's no reason at all to let that linger longer than it needs to. 

After tomorrow, my ex and I will no longer be husband and wife.  We'll be coparents.  We'll be once-lovers.  People who walked a path together, side by side for a time, and who will continue to parallel one another to a small extent because of our mutual ties to our progeny. 

As our children become adults, I hope that they will be able to comprehend that relationships are complicated and fragile.  I hope that they can understand - and more importantly believe  - that a divorce was never something we envisioned for our family until we actually reached the point where it happened. 

I hope they will learn that when you're an adult living in a world you are coping with your past and your present in ways that often do not make sense.  That unless you give your relationship the time and energy - and compassion - that it requires, it will not thrive.   That once you stop communicating you begin sliding down a hill that only grows steeper the farther down it you travel.

I hope that they will be able to recognize that in the end we both made some hard choices in order to preserve our sanity, healthy, and dignity, and more than anything, I hope that they will forgive us for the impact those choices had on them.

I hope very much that they will be able to see their parent's divorce not as an altogether negative experience.    Divorce is painful, but at the same time, my failed marriage gave me a gift.  Through it I found impetus for growth and change, seeking new ways of interacting with others, with myself, with the world I inhabit.   

The impermanence of things in life offer us gifts.  Tomorrow marks the end of one thing, but offers a new threshold to cross.  

 

A light so bright it hurts my eyes

In the noise and chaos of dealing with too many balls in the air, I'm not overburdened with opportunities to think.  Between the kids, work and animals, usually any chance that I might slow down and string two coherent thoughts together about how I feel and where am I going in life are interrupted because a ball or two is about to go SPLAT!  Quick, catch the ball!  What was I thinking about?  I forgot. 

Suddenly Sunday night arrives and the kids are off to their dad's.  I'll see them after school four out of the next five days, which helps, but its evening, and then its morning, and holy crap, its dark out.  Fall arrived and I was so busy avoiding thinking about it that it I almost didn't notice it happening.  Lets just say now would not be a good time to run out of Wellbutrin. 

I have reason to believe that this winter will be better than last winter, which was better than the winter before.  That two-year-old winter, just post-separation, was fucking brutal.  The kids were fighting our family's circumstances with every fiber of their beings, I was facing nights where my kids were not with me and I had not yet done the work I needed to do to accept that pain as a part of my life.  It was dark, I was alone, and even though I was finally free of living within an angry and shattered marriage, I was not used to being alone.  I made it through, by the skin of my teeth it seemed sometimes, and by the time the next winter came around, I was doing better.  I was making progess in my personal psychological and spiritual practice.  I was finally comfortable with being alone, with periods of quiet contemplation.  I had things to do and friends to enjoy when I needed some time around other people.  I met SG, and for the most part, the rest of the winter seemed effortless.  I was happy, mostly.  The depression was there, of course, it always is, but it crouched inside its little mouse-hole, barely poking its nose out to sniff the air.  Occasionally it would skitter across the floor, only to be vaporized into black smoke by the shining bright light of my happiness.

This year things are somewhat different.  I'm with someone, and yet I'm alone.  It's hard, its a struggle, and let me tell you that every minor relationship issue feels greatly exacerbated when you can't see the other person's face when you're hashing things out.  So its both OK and not OK at the same time - and right there I am reminded of the twofold nature that I try so hard to embrace.  Life includes both joy and pain, and so this is just a natural part of being human. 

The other thing that changed is that my ex and I changed our parenting schedule.  We went to every other week, a situation I wasn't entirely happy with but agreed to because it was pitched so reasonably.  I have a friend that's a judge.  He says most parenting plans are like this and they don't like complicated parenting plans when you go to court.  And really, it makes more sense to limit that number of transitions they have to deal with, especially with our mixed bag of mental health issues.  It took a while, though, before I realized the real reason for it.  (When I figured out that our parenting schedule matches his girlfriend's parenting schedule and they are both surprise! kid-free on the same weeks, I had to draw a little +1 in his column in the imaginary scorecard I keep in my head.  Touche.  Nicely played.  Asshole.)  So before, the last the longest my kids slept somewhere other than my house was two nights in a row.  Its not all that bad, considering.  On the weeks they are with their dad I still pick them up after school until he gets off work.  I still get to be involved in dinner and homework and all the chaos and noise four evenings on the off week.  It helps tremendously.

Sunday afternoons are special.  I savor those last few hours with them, even if we're doing mundane things.  Yesterday we went up to Michelle's and spent horse time.  The drive is a little over a half hour. 

As we drove home, the light was beginning to thin.  My daughter laid her head on my shoulder, and grabbed my free arm to wrap it around my shoulders.  I hugged her, ruffled her hair, touched her soft cheek with my fingers. 

There are moments in time when loving my kids is both the sweetest and most painful thing imaginable.  I am awestruck once again by how incredibly fortunate I am to have these mysterious and quicksilver beings in my life.  I love them completely and without limit, and I know that our time is precious because it will too soon be less available.  They are with me for but a brief span of their lives, and they will drift further and further away from me as they learn how to be independent people.  They will still be mine, in my heart of hearts, but more than that, they are their own.  So I hold my daughter's hand in the car for as long as she will let me, squeezing it gently, savoring the sensation of her fingers entwined and our palms - hers soft and warm, mine calloused and hard - pressing together.

These are the moments I pull from my memory banks to hang on to when the night is dark.  They are the bright light that chases away the shadow. 

This winter will be better.

Both Hands

In my yoga practice I've been working on some hip opening poses.  I've got really inflexible hips, and creating more strength and flexibility does wonders for being a balanced rider on my horse.  In Pigeon Pose you go from a runner's stretch to having one knee bent near the palm of your hand, the foot and ankle flat and angled toward your other hand.  Then you lean forward and place your hands flat on the foor and allow your body weight to sink on top of that stretching hip flexor.  (Well, if you're me, you try to lay flat and you hope that someday, maybe years down the road, you might actually be able to do it all the way properly)  This morning as I folded forward on my bent leg and hip, even as I felt the discomfort of a tight ligament that was struggling hard to stretch, I simultaneously enjoyed the sensation of breath, of quiet, of relaxing every muscle in my face and neck. It was a moment of pure sensation, both pleasure and pain. 

I don't think its all counterintuitive that this discomfort, over time, creates great healing for my physical and emotional self.

I can't think of any time in my life prior to this when I wouldn't have spent the weeks leading up to SG's departures in a state of gloom and dread.  That's just what I used to do, I'd have imagined the worst, dwelt on how miserable and lonely I was going to be, and I would have hunkered right down into a cold, deep bucket of miserable.

I don't think I'm in denial.  I expect that the first couple of days after he leaves are going to be tough emotionally, and I'm sure there will be times when I will get to missing him terribly and it will hurt.  But I'm not afraid of it and I'm not dwelling on it. 

It occured to me this morning as I was brushing my teeth that we have just over a week left, and while I had a pang of sadness about it, I was also thinking about what a lovely weekend we've just had.  The sad feeling passed, more quickly than you might guess.  I have become a stranger to myself, but in such amazing ways.  I have experienced a transformation and while I can't pin it on any one thing in particular, I have some thoughts about what's led me here. 

I'm a parent of kids with special needs.  Being the mother of these two amazing human beings has taught me a lot about patience, about accepting that I don't have the answers right now, about being in the moment, about realizing that normal is really just a word that describes everyday chaos.

I'm reading David Richo's book The Five Things We Cannot Change and he talks about holding our opposites in a two-handed practice:  "I can hold my fear in one hand and my commitment to no longer act in a fear-based way in the other." 

Fear in one hand.

Serenity in the other.

One feels incredibly sharp, heavy.  The other light, no more than the exhalation of a deep breath.

Of course there are still things that hurt, that frighten me.  I honor the fear and allow myself to feel the grief of struggling with the bad days when the rages come and the medicine gets thrown back at me, and at the same time I enjoy to the fullest that sweet kiss on my cheek my son gives me at night and the feeling I get in my very center when my daughter smiles at me and her face is completely bathed in light and beauty.

In one hand, my sadness at saying goodbye to SG until possibly spring, in the other the contentment of time spent together, making music and talking about everything and nothing, reading, working.

It requires acceptance and surrender, and while I've lived a lot of years being skilled at neither, I am capable of learning to do both.    My children have disorders that make life for them and for all of us very challenging.  I can't change that.  Fighting it does no service to my kids.  Only when I accept it, when I say "yes" to it, can I do the things that can be done. 

Most of the parents I know who have children with special needs carry within them this same mixture of agony and hopefulness, anger and joy, fear and optimism.  Sometimes the balance tips one way or another, but we achieve a modicum of peace by acknowledging that this is hard while celebrating the everyday beauty, the successes small and large, the moments where things go well. 

Can you hold onto your challenges and your optimism with both hands?  Try it.  I bet you can.

Promises, promises

  

 

I'm an utter fool for romantic songs.   The few who are persistent enough to push past my hard, crusty shell will find that I am a completely sensitive and hopelessly romantic marshmallow.  Lately, though, my romanticism is being challenged by my determination to end my old codependent ways, and its turning out to be something of a drag on my love-song addiction.

Have you heard the song Marry Me by Train?  The song where the guy falls in love with a girl in a cafe and envisions their whole life together?  There's this part where the singer says Promise me you'll always be happy by my side and then I promise to sing to you when all the music dies.  And as I contemplate what it really means to love another human being in the kind of way that causes you to plan a life together, I realize that even though I love this song, even though I love its romantic implications, even so, those words are utter bullshit.

Who can promise to always be happy with their partner?  Happiness is a wandering set of goalposts.  If your happiness is dependent on your partner always remaining exactly the way they are today, on the circumstances of your life being just like they are now or reaching some future planned out goal, I think you will likely be disappointed.  I can't promise to always be happy.  I know that I feel happy when I'm with SG - at least most of the time.  Sometimes I'm not happy one little bit, but it usually has nothing do with him and a whole lot to do with me or with something that's gone sour. 

I love Khalil Gibran, particularly The Prophet.   I've quoted him before, and I will probably do it again in the future because he is wise.   I love what he expresses about the nature of relationships between adults:

But let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love. Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls

Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.  Give one another bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.  For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together, but not yet too near together.  For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

I forgot before, if I ever really knew it, that my ex and I were not the same person.  I forgot that even if he did not like something I was allowed to like it.  I forgot that even if I really wanted to go to a certain place for vacation that didn't mean that he wanted to go there too.  I forgot that the life plans I laid in my head for the both of us weren't necessarily the ones that he had for us, and because we didn't really share them with each other, we were both doomed to disappointment.    After a while, when you expect the person you're with to be just like you, to be the one to fix what's broken within you, the reality that they are not and they can't grows bitter in the back of your throat.

And let's be honest.  Even if we love each other deeply and honestly and we have a wonderful relationship, there's no guarantee.  He might leave me someday.  He probably won't, but he might.  You can't make someone stay and you can't make someone love you the way you want to be loved. 

So what are we left to do?

I hope love will be forever.  I am not going to avoid love just because it could end someday.  I am going to choose wisely and I am going to check my expectations.  I'm not going to make promises I can't keep and I'm not going to ask my partner to make them either.  I'm going to accept the love he has for me at face value and I'm going to trust him.  I'm going to accept him as he is.  I'm going to appreciate him for who he is and for the loving things he does for me.  I'm going to value his opinion and respect his experience.  I'm going to be as loving to him as I am able because he deserves to treated with love.  I'm going to keep in mind that both of us are human and fallible and that it is too much to expect us to always have good days, always be at our best.  When I fail to be loving and he grants me the room to be crabby and then forgives me for the way I might speak to him then, I am going to be damn grateful. 

At least I'm going to try very hard to do that, but you know I can't promise.

 

We are who we are.  We don't need permission, but we do need acceptance.  We need someone who will forgive us our bad behavior but who will let us know when we have stepped on their feet.  We need someone who will see us when our dignity is shredded and walk beside us until we have regained our composure.  Love without boundaries, limits or control.   Promises are not love and love does not require promises to stay alive in our hearts.

Get out of the shallows and into the deep

I'm going to go out on a limb and guess most of you don't know who Israel Kamakawiwo'ole was.

OK, maybe you didn't know five minutes ago, but you just got done on Wikipedia and now you know who I'm talking about.

Here's a little help for you.   This, by the by, is my favorite version of Over the Rainbow.  Because you care about my musical opinions.  You're welcome.

 

Iz was a big guy.  More importantly than that, he was an amazing talent.  He started in music at a young age and found his calling early.  He was married to his childhood sweetheart and left her and a beautiful daughter behind when he died at the age of 38 in 1997 from complications due to obesity.

But here's the thing:  I don't want to talk about Iz's weight, or anyone's weight.  Or maybe I do, but in a larger context that has more to do with Who and not What.  Because if you look at videos and footage of Iz and the only thing that strikes you about him is his size?  You are missing so much.

One of the things that has struck me watching this video is the images of the people of Hawai'i.  Their love for Iz is unmistakable; he was a beloved son to all of them. They would have loved him if he weighed 150 pounds because it was his talent and his heart that they loved.  And when you look at people in his videos, you see a people who are a hell of a lot less focused on what they look like than on how much they are enjoying their lives.

I don't have any scientific evidence that people in America a hundred years ago focused less on what someone looked like when choosing a life partner.  I also don't have any scientific evidence that people in countries that aren't bombarded by Hollywood and the glamour media the way we are don't focus as much on looks when forging relationships.  But I'm going to crawl out on a limb here and suppose that both of these statements are true.

Have you ever met someone whose list of requirements for a spouse looked something like this:

1.  Must be physically attractive

2.  Must make lots of money

Short list, although at least it has requirements beyond "must not live in mom's basement."

Thing is, if that's your list of must-have's, you are missing so much.  Partnering with someone means so much more than ensuring your financial stability, and frankly, in today's world, even people who used to have lots of money are suddenly finding the beach house in the Hamptons in foreclosure and their spiffy stockbroker job gone down the toilet.  And looks?  They don't last.  Not without lots of help from botox, scalpel and silicone.

Now let's be honest, my relationship scoreboard is somewhat on the checkered side, and yes, I'm divorced, and yes, I'm codependent.  I've also come a long way in my search for self-actualization and a while back had the A-HA moment where I understood -- I DON'T NEED A MAN.   I need to love myself.  I need to do things that fill my soul.   And holy mother of all that is good on this earth, it freed me from so much.

When I finally reached a point where I thought wouldn't it be nice to have someone to hang out with (NOT be addicted to, NOT marry, NOT obsess over and NOT rely on for my self worth), I opened myself to the possibility that was out there.  And I dated a little bit, and then I dated SG, and here we are.  And my list?  Isn't so much a list, but maybe something like a manifesto.

Pick the guy who will hold your hair while you throw up (through your nose, no less), wipe off your face and still kiss you goodnight (after you brushed your teeth, of course).  Pick the guy who thinks you are beautiful no matter what you wear and tells you so often.  Pick the guy who is so smart that his brain is his sexiest organ.  Pick the guy who makes you laugh, often.  Equally as important:  pick the guy who laughs at YOUR jokes.  Pick the guy who GETS you.  Pick the guy who shares your values, who is your equal, who will work hard for both of you, who likes to spend time with you more than he likes spending time with his friends but who isn't afraid to let you know when he needs his own time. Pick the guy who shares the chores with you not only because he knows its fair but because he likes to see you smile when you come home to a clean kitchen. Pick the guy who is confident and who understands the importance of caring for himself as much as caring for the relationship.  Pick the guy who, if necessary, understands basic wiring and can fix your bathroom fan.  Pick the guy who is willing to put up with all imaginable kinds of chaos in the form of children and animals because he is so into you that its worth it to him. 

Don't look at his car.  Don't look at his salary.  And, if I may suggest gently?  Don't look at his looks.  Because if he is all of the above?  Every time you look at him through the eyes of love you will realize that he is exactly the kind of handsome you waited all your life to find.  Maybe you just didn't know it.

We - Americans, Westerners, whatever - focus far too much on the things that will not matter fifty years from now when everything starts sagging and our children start bringing home their children and their children's children for us to love.  Money cannot buy you someone who will love you even when your chin occasionally sprouts long white hairs overnight.  He might drive a Ferrari and have windblown California Surfer Guy hair, but will he bring you the hot pad and a pain reliever when Aunt Flo's sister Carmine Cramps knocks you on your ass?  Will he look you up and down and give you an appreciative "Hmmm" when you walk out of your bathroom dressed for work EVERY morning?

When we constrict our expectations to the point that they are only able to be met by the best-looking and wealthiest among us, we limit our own ability to experience real love in the way that it is meant to be understood.

Open yourself to the possibility.  You may be surprised at what you find.

Relatively speaking

About once every two weeks I browse through the "people you may know" feature on LinkedIn.  If you're a social media junkie, you know that LinkedIn is the business and career (i.e. clean and sanitized) version of Facebook.  People post their resumes and job experience, connect with colleagues and business contacts.  No friday-night drunken party pictures or gratuitous photos of children and pets, just all work, all the time.  Well, mostly, anyway.  Every once in a while I link my blog in a very discreet place on my LinkedIn page, followed shortly by a wave of fear that causes me to un-link saidsame blog.  I have nothing to hide.  I have everything to hide.  I'm not sure if I ever decide to go job-seeking that a prospective employer would be truly impressed by reading about my bleeding hoo-haw or my dogs or my very special and very challenging children.  (One of these days I'll post more about how I'm going to make a bajillion dollars when I create MyFaceLinkTwit+ and everyone migrates their social media addition to it.)

One time, before they added the feature where you can scroll through profiles of people who are connected to people who are connected to you they used to just make a few suggestions by name.  Once LinkedIn suggested that I connect to my Mother's cousin's daughter's husband, who I have not seen since 1996 and who lives in South Carolina.  How did you know, LinkedIn, HOW DID YOU KNOW???? 

So last week I'm scrolling through the list of people LinkedIn thinks I want to connect with, and I see a name that I recognize. Its the daughter of the alcoholic I lived with some twenty or more years ago, the daughter of the man who glued me to the path of the codependent, the daughter whose father owes the state of New Jersey some $54,000 in back child support.  Wow, LinkedIn, REALLY?  How did you know?

As it turns out, the suggestion wasn't that mysterious, she is the connection of a connection.  And then I look at my list of connections and I start to have that strange sensation of sinking into a swimming pool filled with marshmallows.  Goosebumps rise on my forearms as I consider the breadth of people represented in those several hundred names on my contacts list.  High school friends.  College friends, sorority sisters.  Ex lovers.  Coworkers current and past.  Business associates, fellow Bastards, fellow bloggers. 

All across the web, we are connected.  We are connected on Facebook, we follow each other on Twitter, we know someone who knows someone who knows someone who...fill in the blank. 

Connected.

Interrelated.

I think now, more than ever, the average non-adopted person can understand what its like to be an adoptee "in reunion" and living with relatives from two (or sometimes even more) families.  Adoption, divorce, remarriage, step-familying - my children have a brother from another mother, I will likely soon be acquiring another step-offspring, I have a brother and cousins by adoption and brothers and sisters and cousins by birth, because their father and I are both adopted, my children have at least eight sets of grandparents, and that's not counting potential future stepgrandparents.  But when viewed in the context of the world of social networking so many of us inhabit, it no longer seems strange, does it?

We may not be one people, but we are all on one planet.  Social Media has provided the material framework to prove what I've known all along - we are connected, each and every one of us, if not by blood and birth then by common acquaintance and if not by that then by common interest or common point of contention. 

And yet, more so than I can remember in my very brief lifetime, the dividing lines between people in my country are wider and more stark.  We live in a world where we can connect to one another at will, with an ease and speed never before known in the history of humankind, and the beliefs and the politics that we cling to drive us even farther apart.   The juxtaposition of these two concepts, our connectedness and our difference, flattens me with the irony it engenders.

Together.  One.

Apart.  Many.

Friends.

Enemies.

To quote Burns, I dinna ken how that may be.

On being right

Who doesn't like being right?  Raise your hand.  Right now.  I want to know if there is anyone out there who doesn't like to be right. 

Right.

Because we all want to be right.  It starts young.  My children already have fights to the death over the most inane topics, all because one of them wants to be right and thereby prove that ergo,the other one is WRONG.  Sadly, the one-upmanship very often persists long past its usefulness. 

I know people who are perfectly OK being wrong about some things, but with most people, if you try hard enough you'll find at least ONE subject where they will doggedly persist in the correctness of their position even in the odds of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

Its a fascinating concept, this battle over who's right and who's wrong.  There are a billion things that are matters of fact and record, which makes it easy to identify the winner in many of these wrestling matches of certitude.  But when it comes to people and emotions and situations, when perception is the only player in the game, all concrete wisdom flies straight out the window.  Absent of the ability to actually read another person's thoughts, we must rely on a different set of tools. 

I've noticed that the more time passes, the more I am willing to suspend judgment of intent.  But I'll own right up to the fact that this is not always the case.  Its a crazy-making thing, isn't it?   Someone does something that has a negative impact or connotation to you.   They forget to invite you to a meeting or a social event.  They acquire something that you intended to buy or apply for the promotion you were trying to get.   You make a pact or agreement with them and it turns out they can't (or won't) hold up their end of it. 

What's your first assumption going to be?

They did it on purpose. 

She KNEW I wanted that promotion and the only reason she applied for it was to spite me.  He lied to me on purpose.  They only got that expensive thing-a-ma-jig so they could make their friends feel jealous.

But we all know its not that simple.

Have you ever been cheated on in a relationship?  I have.  It sucks, doesn't it?  I mean really, down to the bone, hurts like a someone's taken a motherfucking buzzsaw to your heart.  And when you first find out, after your heart stops trying to jump out of your chest and you very carefully put down the baseball bat you found yourself carrying as you were marching up the sidewalk, the first thought in your mind is "How could s/he DO THIS TO ME?"  As if the indiscretion actually had anything to do with you at all in the first place.  Well, maybe it did, and maybe it didn't.  In my experience, infidelity seems linked more to a problem with the perpetrator.  Unless its a revenge thing, most people who cheat seem driven to do so by reasons they don't even understand.  They're not thinking about you.  In fact, they're working so hard to maintain denial about the moral slippery slope they're falling down, they try very hard not to think of you AT ALL.  Infidelity is a selfish and self-serving act, and has little to do with whether someone really loves you or not. 

Divorce is a situation where pain is unavoidable.  Its simply not possible to take any step of any sort without causing pain to your former spouse.  Intention to hurt may or may not exist -- but hurt is done, and the more hurt there is, the more bitter and angry people become.  I'm in the middle of it now, and there's so much I'd like to say and can't, but I can promise you that it is painful, that it is bitter, that it is angry.  It is a wandering line of suck that at times is unbearable and at other times thins to the point of being barely tolerable.    I hurt him, he hurts me.  I do something, he believes I'm only doing it to hurt him, he does something, I believe he's only doing it to hurt me.  Maybe I am and maybe I'm not.  Maybe he is and maybe he isn't.  There's really no way to know who's right.  I can judge by past history and the knowledge of a person that years together bring me, but I can't read his mind, nor can he mine.

All I can do is my best to be authentic and to do the right thing and not get sucked into bitter and angry.  All I can do is try to remind myself that it might seem as though things are said or done with ill intent, maybe they're not.  And all I can do is protect myself and my family and remember that even though things are bad, they could be so much worse.  Remember that there is a history here, that even though I feel like I'm experiencing death by a thousand paper cuts, that it won't last forever.  That I can swallow my bitterness and pain and focus on the things in life that are good and real and positive -- my kids tumbling up the sidewalk, coming home from time with dad to now spend a week with me; dinner and wine on a warm evening with good friends; strong arms of love that hold and support me when I need them; the love and support of family and friends; a bevy of wagging tails and horrid doggy breath waiting at the door for me; a long ride on a beautiful horse with a good friend. 

You may think I do this or that simply to hurt you, but if you really believe that, you'd be wrong.

Six

Months, that is.

S and I have been seeing each other about six months now.

For the first time in my life I'm not sweating the "next step."  I'm not worried about WHEN we'll live together, IF he'll want to marry me, WHETHER he thinks I'm too fat, too thin or too old.  I'm happy in this moment, happy with where we are and who we are together, and if it all ends tomorrow, I'll survive and look back on these months as a wonderful time of being in love, learning about myself and enjoying the company of someone I like and respect tremendously. 

There's also an incredible amount of chemistry, but I don't want to make the rest of you feel bad, so I'll not brag.

We don't even fight.

Well, we had one fight.

Okay, so maybe HE wasn't fighting, but I was certainly giving it my best shot.

I'd had this really horrible day at work.  I was mean and crabby and just looking for a reason to put my fists up in the air.  He was trying to explain a concept to me based on what he thought was a question I asked (it wasn't a question, I was BITCHING about something, how DARE you think that was a question, mister) and I just lost my shit.  I started crying, told him to stop patronizing me and if I remember correctly, I think I hung up on him.

I went into my standard "I don't want to talk about it, I'm going to be mad at you all night but I don't want to talk about it" mode.  You know, the thing where you give him the cold shoulder, expect him to try and make it up to you for whatever mysterious thing he did wrong, sigh a lot and say "I'm FINE" in that terribly terse tone of voice when asked "Are you OK?"

He put up with about 20 minutes of it and then carefully unfolded himself from the couch, put on his coat, and said "Look, this is uncomfortable for me and I don't think staying here is going to do either of us any good.  I'm going to go home and we can pick this back up tomorrow."

OH MY GOD.

What I love about being horridly codependent is that I don't hear what he's saying.  I don't hear "Hey, I like myself and I won't sit here and be treated badly by you.  I like you, and I think you need space to work through whatever it is that's bothering you.  Since you don't seem to want to talk about it, I'm going to go somewhere else until you feel better."  I don't hear any of that.  My codie brain hears "I hate you and I never want to see you again."

It was not a good night for me, certainly not one of my best.  Maybe not one of my worst, but definitely not one of my best.  And fortunately, for this relationship, it has not happened again.  I learned something from that night.  I learned that you don't have to try and carry on a conversation that isn't going to get you anywhere.  I saw and heard someone respect themselves so much that they very politely declined to be treated badly by someone else, and even if I didn't recognize it at the time, I remembered it and I learned from it.  I looked at my own behavior and I saw something I didn't like, something I wanted to change. 

The next day, and the following days, I also was treated to the solidity of a person who DID come back, who DID pick up the conversation, lovingly and without animosity.  

I learn a lot from this man, about knowing yourself, about how to be loving to yourself and to others, about how to voice your needs without being overbearing or pushy.

All that aside, I am also incredibly happy, incredibly loved and in love.  I am with someone whose company I enjoy to a degree that is ridiculous.  Whether we are out with others, home watching a movie, discussing something deep or laughing about something silly, I like being around him.  I like how he patiently listens to my kids and doesn't get his feathers ruffled by their issues.  I have no idea how long this will last.  I hope its forever.

So anyway, six months.

That's something.

Fluid

Its so easy when things are good to think "they'll always be this way."  When they're bad, sometimes we think the same, though the more optimistic among us may think "it will get better."  All I know is, enjoy where you are because somewhere along the line, something will change the equation.

I've probably said this same thing in about twenty different ways on this blog.  Its one of those essential truths that I keep turning around to find myself facing.  Change. Fluidity.  Nothing stays the same.

I want to believe that all change is good.  That even when things happen that seem unfortunate or even devastating, that eventually some good will come from them anyway.  I suppose that's true, in a way.   You run into a brick wall in life, you smash yourself against it a few times.  The bad part is you now have a big gash in the front of your forehead from repeated contact with brick and mortar; the good part is that eventually you recognize that your forehead hurts and you look for a different direction to go.  At some point you will find a direction that takes you somewhere useful.

I have reached a point lately where I understand that everything that has happened in my life in the last twenty-odd years has pointed me in this direction and that this is where I'm supposed to be.  Near my parents.  With this man.  On this horse.  With these kids.  At this job.  In this house. None of it is permanent, I know better than to expect that.  But right now, in this moment, I'm here.  And it feels right.

This man, I wish I'd met him a long time ago.  But would I have been in a place then where I could have appreciated what he brought to my life?  Would he have been in a place where he would have even seen in me the woman that attracts him today?  Perhaps not.  So its fun to imagine, but ultimately I think its even more fun to let go of the past and imagine the future.

There are challenges.  There are always challenges, and frankly the last couple of weeks have been up to the eyeballs with them.   Even so, the challenges themselves seem to be telling me "yes, this direction.  Without regret."

Its easy to look at other people and see what's wrong with them.  See the things they ought to change. 

You know what's even harder? 

Look at yourself.  Look at what's wrong with you.  See the things YOU ought to change.

Even harder than that?

Look at the person you have been judging.  Forget what you think they ought to change.  Accept them as they are.  Love them as a person, even if they're not particularly loving toward you. 

I know what my challenges are.  I know I'm learning what I'm supposed to be.  I know I'm where I'm supposed to be.

Its all good.

On being the stable bow

I think life must be far simpler at age 6 than it is at 9.  I also consider the truth that my children are not the same person and each reacts to life's challenges differently, individually.

For instance:  My little race-car man capital L and italicized LOVES S.  They have been fast friends since shortly after they met and watching them together and listening to their conversations makes my heart go thump-thump in my chest.  So much love between them, and the love inside of me swells and surges up through me in response.   My amazonian princess is a bit of a different story.  Her reactions to S are more complex.  She is very reserved with her affections for him.  At first she was insistent that she liked him, but eventually her father informed me otherwise, which prompted some gentle conversations between us.  Its not that I insist she like S, not at all.  Her feelings are not mine to dictate.  I'd rather have a loving conversation about how she really feels than waste my energy ruining our relationship and ensuring that she never share anything important with me.  So we talk.  Its not that she doesn't think he's a nice guy.  She's not uncomfortable with him - but with the concept that I have a boyfriend. 

(I hate that word, honestly.  I'm in my middle forties.  I really don't think boyfriend is the appropriate term, but we don't live together and we're not married, so partner isn't quite the right term, friend is too vague, and both lover and special friend are just too...ewww....so I continue to use "boyfriend."  I just want you to know that I loathe it.)

Its not that she doesn't want S to be my boyfriend - its that she doesn't want anyone to be my boyfriend.

So we talk.  And I hear her and I acknowledge her feelings.  And I let her know, gently, that I understand how she must feel, still wishing that her parents were together.  I say that I am sorry that we hurt her by not being able to stay married to one another.  I say that I wish that it were different, but that it is not and cannot be.  And I let her know also, that I love and care for her so very much.  And that I am a grownup and that I am going to make grownup decisions for myself, such as having a boyfriend.  And she is more than perfectly welcome to share her feelings about that.  And we talk some more, and we hug each other and put our love for one another to words and we move forward.  I hope that someday she is able to cognitively separate her feelings about me having a boyfriend from her feelings from S.  In the meantime, this will do.  She is friendly to him, if aloof, and she is not rude or disrespectful.  I could not ask for better behavior, and I feel that all things considered, she's doing the best she can.  Its more than enough for me.

I'm learning too to put a tight lid on my feelings in regards to parenting time.  She loves her dad, so does my son, and their dad loves them.  There are times they want to be with me when its not my parenting time and there are times they want to be with their dad when they are currently with me.  Its hard sometimes to hear your children say, for whatever reason, that they'd really rather see their dad right now and not feel like you're failing at some level.  Its hard to put personal feelings aside, but nothing else will do.    Logic rarely informs the initial emotional response, and so I am learning to school my features carefully, to refrain from saying anything until I can put a smile on my face and into my voice and accept their feelings for what they are.  Even when I wish they felt differently. 

Its not just that I hope there is payback for this someday in the form of being loved more than the other parent, or that there is some sort of karmic return (although I wouldn't mind a winning MegaMillions ticket, thankyouverymuch) for being a good person.  I think maybe the motivation is more along the "do no harm" scale than anything else.  Common sense and experience tell me that if I attempt to dictate or control my children's feelings that I will be harming them, unforgivably.

Its just more of the growing pains of being a parent, I suppose.

 

 

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you,

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

    ~The Prophet, Khalil Gibran, 1923