Back from Vacation

This evening Katherine and I returned home from vacation; a blissful week not all that far from here geographically, but somehow worlds away.  We are far too broke for vacations (the finances of all of this deserve several long posts, by the way, delving into what it means to have given up my career for nearly a decade, his inability to manage finances, and what it means to be living with your ex husband when you still can't support yourself 100%) but fortunate in having several friends with beautiful vacation homes.

This particular vacation home is my favorite. I've been there more times than I can count, and there is something just so right about it.  When I'm there, I can think, and relax, and somehow everything seems clearer.  When I'm there, anything is possible, but I don't feel a need to rush around.  It's a simple cabin, not too big, not too small, and I love it.  There is no WiFi; there isn't even cell reception.  I'm usually pretty connected, and the lack of connectivity itself is fantastic.  The trip was wonderful, and I really came back feeling refreshed.

I had been back in the house all of two minutes, complete with gift from daughter to ex (my idea, because I'm trying to be nice, see?!) to hear "I hope you brought milk with you.  I ran out yesterday."  Little statements like that make me absolutely crazy.  He's been home, nothing to do, and can't even buy his own milk?  And feels a need to mention it within a minute of my arrival?

I did have milk in the cooler.  Good thing, because in the morning if I don't have my coffee with milk I can not function.

(This is not what I look like while I drink my morning coffee.  This is not what I look like, ever.  And my coffee cup is about 5 times that size.)


Seconds later, he spotted the chocolates that had been given to me by a friend, and he lunged for them.  "MMMmmmm I like those" he said, and I snatched them away like a toddler, doing everything but yelling "Mine!"  Oh dear.  My vacation zen can wear off pretty quickly if I'm not careful.

While I was gone I came up with the brilliant idea of forgiving him for everything that's come between us.  I have this idea that he is a broken person, struggling in the world, and that he is doomed to be unhappy unless he changes, but that I have a great capacity for happiness, and that is enough for me, and I should just forgive him.  There is no "just" in forgiveness, I think it's a longer process than that (possibly millenia, actually), but I do like the idea.  It would be easier if I didn't come home to piles of things, a bad smell in the kitchen that wasn't there when I left, and the damn milk.  Breathe in, breathe out.....

It's going to take a lot of breathing for me to get past these little irritations, because after too many years of marriage, the little tape that plays in my head (or is it an MP3?  nah, mine's a tape) says:
How can he expect me to manage every little detail even when I'm gone a week?  Why can't he get off the sofa, even for his OWN coffee?  How on earth will he care for Katherine when I'm not in the background taking care of this stuff?  Why is he lazy?  Why do I have to do everything?

And then the other voice says:
Stop being judgemental.  Move on.  You're getting divorced, and it isn't your problem to solve any more.  Be an adult, don't dwell on the little things.

And the first voice replies:
But it's driving me CRAZY!

Clearly I have some work to do to attain forgiveness.  I know.  I'm working on it, okay?

But on another topic....

I have a massive love of orca whales.  There is something mysterious and beautiful and wise and playful about them - they're like mythical creatures to me, I find them so astonishing.  Well, I live in a part of the world where they live wild, and I've seen them, but only rarely.  Somehow, I got it in my head that when things were going to be okay in my life, when I was going to figure out the career and the finances and the divorce and find The Man, I would receive orcas as my sign.

On the ferry, there was a pod of orcas.  We were with them for at least twenty minutes.  I got pictures.  And I wept, because they were so beautiful, and so unexpected, because I loved seeing them so much, and because I thought, "Really?  My sign?  Right now?"  The orcas did not come bearing checks or a man, but they were no less sublime.

I don't know if it's a real sign.  I'm aware of how cuckoo I sound just for admitting out loud that I think it was a sign, and I don't know if I believe in signs...  But sign or no sign, seeing them was a gift I'm unlikely to ever forget.

The Man of My Dreams

The man of my dreams is meant literally, in this case.  I had a dream about a week ago that has really stuck with me, and it’s a nice little token to carry around with me – a talisman to rub between my fingers during the hard times.

I had a dream that was really short – almost like when you’re taking a picture with a digital camera, and you realize that you accidentally had it on the movie setting before you turn it off…..just about three seconds of video, enough to capture some movement, but no story.

In my dream, I was on a sailboat.  (I am far too broke for a sailboat right now, and I have never owned a sailboat.  I grew up on power boats, not sailboats, but lately I’ve been intrigued by the idea of their slow quiet.)  Katherine was behind me, seated in the stern with two other children, and all three had their heads back and they were laughing uproariously at something.  I was walking towards the bow, and he was coming towards me, passing me, and he looked at me and caught my eye and smiled a deep smile that said, “I see you and I love you and I know who you are” and his eyes twinkled and sparkled and his dark curls blew in the wind….

And then I woke up.  I could still smell the salt air, feel the breeze on my skin, see the bright, clear blue sky…..and I could still see his face before me.  I could still hear “the kids” – and somehow I knew that they were “ours” – his two plus Katherine were now “ours” – laughing.  And I felt deep, peaceful happiness.

You can see why I might want to take that dream with me wherever I go now.  It’s positively lovely, and it feels good just thinking about it, even a week later.

I’ve made myself a promise not to date for a year, probably summer 2013, because I want to work on getting my life in order before I try to meet someone, and because I don’t want some guy with a knight-complex to come and rescue me.  I want to be loved for who I am, and as things are “complicated” right now, I think that I could only attract someone who was also complicated (which I’m not willing to take on), or someone who was looking to rescue someone instead of liking me as I REALLY am – and I am a strong, capable, smart, funny (usually accidentally, but it counts!), together woman.

I crave dating.  Actually, I just crave The One – the person who will be my partner, who will hold my hand when I’m scared, or just when we’re walking to the bookstore.  I’d love to have sex with someone who loves me, who I find wildly attractive (mmm, yes, yes, I’d like that…. A lot.).  I’d like to sauté as he chops and we listen to NPR together on a Tuesday night; I’d like to have beach picnics with him under the stars.  I’d like to go for long walks with him in places filled with nature (beaches, forests, meadows..)  and I’d like to take a family trip with him and the kids.  I’d love to learn to sail with him.  But until then, I’ll just keep that dream with me, like a photograph in my wallet to remind me of a happy time.  Never mind that the time hasn’t happened yet…..I’m hopeful.

 I know my marriage was a train wreck, more unhappy than happy, and that I’m not even out of it yet.  But I believe that I will learn my lessons, and that the second time around is going to be FANTASTIC.  I  now I have to wait, and I will, but when it happens, well, it’ll be like shooting stars and whales breaching and a newborn baby’s first breaths and the aurora borealis and the taste of June strawberries from my garden, and I’m looking forward to that more than I can say. 

My dream was so clear that if I saw Sailboat Man on the street I'd know him in a heartbeat, and I'd probably fall over from the shock of seeing him.  I don't know if it was a real vision or just the hoping of a lonely-in-love-lady, but it doesn't matter.  I choose to believe in him anyway.

It’ll happen, and knowing that it will makes me glad.