Boy Crazy

I am having an awful lot of fun being boy-crazy lately.  But my forty-something boy-craziness is very different that the boy-craziness of my youth - I think mostly because I have a sense of humor about it, and because none of my self worth is tied up in the results.

As I've mentioned here before, when I was younger I would agonize over men's responses to me.  If they didn't like me, I was sure that it was because I was flawed, unattractive, and unlovable: I thought I was unworthy of love, and that the fact that some guy wasn't into me was absolute proof of that.

Yuck.  And would you want to date someone who felt like that about him/herself?  I'm sure that the signals I sent out were needy....and worse.  I talked the talk, but I didn't walk the walk.  I chased after guys that I didn't even really like that much, because it made me feel good about myself (or at least less bad about myself) if they changed their minds and decided that they liked me after all.  Needless to say, that didn't create rock-solid foundations for relationships!

Worst of all, I had no idea I was doing it that way, and I would have argued  all day that I wasn't behaving that way.  I would have been wrong.

So, fast forward twenty years, and things are different.  I've had some pretty serious tests in my life, cancer first among them, and I know a thing or two about myself.  I wouldn't recommend cancer as a way of finding yourself, but I suppose that it's better than not finding yourself at all.  Cancer brought out all kinds of things in me, and I started to hear - round the clock, even when I wasn't doing anything to prove anything to anyone, merely trying to fight for my life and be there for my daughter - that I was an inspiration.  That I was strong and courageous.  That I was amazing.

After a while, I think I finally started to see it in myself.  It was that belief in myself that ultimately allowed me to walk away from my broken marriage, even though I didn't have a job, even though I wasn't sure how I was going to make it work.  I believed in my own abilities, and knew that I had what it took, even if I wasn't sure what "it" meant.

And it turns out all those things I learned about myself along the way are directly impacting my dating life now, and it's almost comical how the little light goes on in my head - self-knowledge - and how the world seems to notice it right away, and how things happen as a result of that.

I walked out of my divorce feeling twenty pounds lighter.  (I jokingly say 250 pounds lighter, corresponding to my ex's (over)weight....)  I didn't change anything on my OkCupid profile, but suddenly, corresponding to my feelings about dating, there are men all over the place.  Yesterday I got ten - TEN! - OkCupid messages, and several of them were actually from interesting guys.  (Attractive men who didn't leak all kinds of baggage across their profiles; literate men who appear to have interesting, together lives.)  I've been on the site for about a month, and never received that many messages in a day (excepting perhaps the first week when I was fresh meat on the website, and all the sharks smelled the blood in the water), and not from such high quality men.

Last week's coffee date didn't go anywhere, and I'm okay with that.  He was cool, as in not warm, in his interactions - didn't smile enough, didn't have any sparks, even though he was a really good man.  We exchanged a couple boring messages afterwards, and we both let it drop.  He sent the last message, and I didn't reply, because I don't need to chase anymore to prove anything to myself about my worth.

But my pheremones must be getting through the internet, because there really are plenty more fish in the sea.  I have a date tomorrow, and the possibility of two more on the horizon.  I don't hold much stock in them, and I have no expectations other than this: I'll learn how to talk to men.  I'll keep my dignity.  I'll try a new coffee shop or restaurant.  I'll learn a bit more about how people tick.  I'll have a good time, no matter how it goes.  If it clicks?  Wow - that would be cool!  But if it doesn't?  That's a-okay.

If I never meet Mr. Right, I'm still going to have a fantastic life.  And if I meet him?  Oh, that would be bliss.

So, right now I'm a little boy crazy.  I'm having so much fun checking OkCupid to see who has been checking me out, and reading their profiles, and choosing which messages I wish to reply to.  I'm a bit giggly about my dates, because it's just plain weird to be dating at this age, but my giggles are out of both the absurdity and the fun of it.

One day, I might meet someone worth a second date.

One day, I might even have sex again!

So pardon me if I'm just a wee bit boy crazy right now.

A time to weep

To everything there is a season, and today it is my time to mourn, weep, and rend.

We're finalizing all of the paperwork, making sure we haven't missed anything, and Bryan has been so sharp and rude to me (and if I'm honest, I'm also feeling particularly vulnerable and susceptible so his usual barbs hurt more than usual) that this morning before work I shed a few tears.  I'm trying so hard to be gracious and compassionate, and it looks sometimes as if he's not trying at all, and it still hurts.

After all this time, it still hurts.

The child in me wants to say, "But aren't I being good?" even though the woman in me knows that such pleading will get me nowhere, and that my own sense of self is the only reassurance I should be seeking.

Today, I am allowing myself to feel the sting.  Today, it hurts.  Yes, I'm crafting a brilliant life, filled with love, joy, peace, integrity, friendship, nature, health....but today, I'm facing down the failure of my marriage.

Today is the last full day of my married life.  Today is the last full day that I carry this name.

Today is not a day to remind myself that the marriage wasn't a failure if it brought forth my glorious daughter.  Today is a day to mourn.

*****

Tomorrow I'm going running (yes, I've kept it up since November, and I'm getting stronger daily - I work out a minimum of four times per week now, often six times per week, once with a trainer and the rest mixing up running, yoga, small weights, etc.) and I intend to go faster, farther, harder than I've gone yet.  Usually I run and chat with my friends, but tomorrow I'm going to run ahead of them with my headset on and pound the pavement and listen to loud girl-power anthems.  I'll finish the run with "I will survive," an anthem of break-ups and cancer survivorship.

Then, I'm putting on my new outfit and getting it done.  I bought some fabulous, fabulous shoes and a knockout dress - one that makes me look like my body is nearly flawless (!) with curves in all the right places, but is still ladylike.  I will work a few hours in the morning, and then walk a few blocks to the courthouse to meet my friends, and complete the deal.  Tomorrow, I intend to be strong, powerful, feminine, and optimistic.  Tomorrow, I will be born again.

But today, I mourn.

*****

To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under the sun.
A time to be born and a time to die;
a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
a time to kill and a time to heal ...
a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance ...
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to lose and a time to seek;
a time to rend and a time to sew;
a time to keep silent and a time to speak;
a time to love and a time to hate;
a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

 

Thank you for your kind thoughts, prayers, light, and support.  It's a hard day.  I didn't want it to be hard any more, but there is no way around it.  Can't go over it, can't go under it, have to go through it.  Deep breaths...

Reflection

This morning I woke up and it was gloriously sunny outside.

I love a good metaphor.

Like so many others, the new year is a time of reflection for me.  And this year, more than any in recent history, I have so much to reflect upon!  What a wild ride it has been.

This time last year, there was a grumpy man in my basement, I was unemployed and uncertain as to my next steps, and my daughter was in counseling for divorce-related anxiety that looked a lot like OCD.  My house was breaking down, and we were flat broke.

I couldn't see a way out.

This year, I am wrapped in hope.  It is shocking how much difference a year can make, one way or the other, and I am so hopeful that my current path will continue.  Katherine is thriving, giggling, excelling at school, and released from counseling because she's doing so well (and that OCD handwashing etc. is a distant memory).  My job is wildly successful, and paying my bills with enough left over to work on my dreams.  My basement is used for movie nights, guests, and yoga....because nobody lives in it.  My divorce is final in about two weeks.  I have a trip to Paris on the horizon, a girls' weekend planned.  My house is almost put back together (I suppose there will always be a few projects in an old house, but the big ones have been taken care of).

I dream of a love for the ages in 2013.  I was born a romantic, and I really believe in that kind of love, and in my ability to find it.  I'm a regular on OkCupid right now, and though most of the messages that I get are more amusing than anything else (no, you may not lick my feet; please tell me that your wife-beater shirt in your photo is ironic) there are some genuine guys mixed in with the crazies.

But here is the thing, and it's HUGE:  I don't need anything to change in order to be happy.

I do not need to lose weight. 
I do not need a lover.
I do not need a house on the water.
I do not need to win the lottery.
I don't need to be published.

If I found myself five pounds slimmer, in bed with my hot lover, in our waterfront home, with a million in the bank and a check from my publisher on the way, I'd be ecstatic.  Of course I would.  But the truth is that if none of that happens, ever, I'd still have a fantastic life.

The body of water that I run by every other day or so is magnificent.  My little job is satisfying.  I'm writing a bit here and there.  My beautiful, compassionate, amazing daughter is happy and healthy.  We do little adventures all the time.  At the drop of a hat, I can fill my house with friends and laughter.  I'm a member at an art museum and a science center, and I have so much fun going there.  The mountains around here call to me to visit them....and I do.  I'm going to Paris - how amazing is that?!  And my humble home is warm and welcoming and comfortable - it may not land in Architectural Digest, but there is something about it that is truly lovely.

Last night I went to a friend's home for a party.  I talked to new friends and old, I had a glass of wine, I laughed.  I wore high heels and a sparkly top.  And I left early to come home to bed, because all this early morning stuff makes me tired at night.  And I am so proud of that - because I didn't need to prove anything to anyone,  listened to my body, and I had a great time.  I left the party in full swing, but I left with a full heart.

2013 is my year. I can hardly wait to live it out.  I do hope for big, amazing, incredible love, with fluttering butterflies and tingles and soft sweet kisses on my neck that make me weak.  I am hopeful.  But I will not forget that even without butterflies and weak knees, I am blissfully happy, happier than I have been in at least a decade. I will not squander that happiness by trading it for longing for something out of my control; I will revel in it, accept it as the gift it is.

Happy new year to you.  If you are in the painful throes of divorce, if you are hurting and wondering how on earth you can claim your life in the midst of chaos, please know that if I did it, you can, too.  Keep swimming!

xoxo

Nest Struggles

I am a bird who really needs her nest.  Even in college, when other girls were bunking together in impossibly small spaces, I needed my own little room, my very own, filled with bookshelves and quiet space.  As I have aged, this has become more and more the case.

I think it has to do with being a bit of an introvert.  I've spent most of my life posing as an extrovert, but the older I get, the more introverted I become.  Anyway, I need that quiet space, and I especially need it when my life is chaotic.

Well, my life is chaotic: the divorce proceedings are taking up far too much of my time, and work is busy, and I still haven't totally adjusted to this single working mom thing.  And this week I spent two partial days at the courthouse, taking court mandated classes.  (The parenting class was actually four hours, and more interesting than I thought it would be.  It said exactly what I thought it would, and I didn't learn anything new, but the presenter was good, and that helped.)

And then there's house repairs.

I am in the middle of what I call my mini-kitchen-remodel.  This is not a big dream remodel - this is done out of necessity and with the slimmest of budgets, but I'm hoping that by keeping an all white pallette (counters, cabinets, backsplash) it will look clean, crisp, and maybe a tiny bit chic.  There was mold under the sink, and it just had to go: it wasn't healthy, and that made the kitchen my number one priority for house repairs.  I kept the upper cupboards (which though old, are perfectly fine), and tore out the bottom half of my kitchen, including part of the floor tiles.  As remodels go, this one is tiny: no walls moving, no major layout changes, no upper cabinets.   I've gone the IKEA route, cheap all the way, but upgraded a bit on the backsplash, sink, and faucet.  (Have you seen the prices of faucets?  It's insane!  A curved tube with a handle is hundreds of dollars - yeesh.)

And my sidewalk - the one the neighbors complained about - is under repair now, and my garage door got fixed today to the tune of about $600.  Oh, and did I mention that our cat got sick, and this lead to a $600 vet bill?  And on top of the vet bill, the cat has been urinating blood all over my house, until we locked her in the bathroom (so now it's only in the bathroom).  (I love our kitty - she's a sweet girl, and a lot of comfort to Katherine.  She's worth it.  We're giving her antibiotics and pain meds, and she's diagnosed with cystitis and crystals in her urine, so she's now on a specialized cat food.)

Kitchen cabinets in the living room, countertops against the bedroom wall, my cupboard contents in piles in the basement, a kitchen that is unusable, a bathroom filled with a sick cat.  We're eating out every meal or eating cereal in paper bowls.

It's chaos.

And I'm venting.

The bills are making me sleepless - literally.  The refi money will only stretch so much, and I'm spinning at night.

I know, breathe through it.  Keep breathing.

It's possible that my kitchen will be usable by the middle of next week (with plumbing!).  It's possible that kitty will be better by then.  It's possible that the sidewalk will be fixed.  And next weekend I'm doing a half day yoga retreat, adn though my body is tight from lack of use, I'm really hoping that it will wake me up and help me to feel more myself.

I want my nest back.  I want this to be done, to head into an "easy" time.  Please?

I know that I've made such huge strides, and that I'm likely being impatient.  But I really, really, really look forward to next weekend, getting my house cleaned and moving back into the kitchen, and looking forward to the living without such repairs needing to be done!

I can do this.  Right?  Deep breaths...

****

This is a messy post, like my messy house.  Living in chaos makes me feel chaotic - even my brain feels disorganized.  But because some sweet and kind readers have told me that reading my struggles and successes helps them to feel more hopeful, I will end on this hopeful note:

In the past four months, I have:
- converted to full time work
- refinanced my house ON MY OWN
- hired an amazing nanny (remember, sharing her so that it's affordable)
- done most of the mediation and paperwork for my divorce
- filed for divorce
- mothered, worked
- taken the best vacation I've had in years
....and begun home repairs that make my house not only more pleasant but also more functional

I know I'm rocking it.  I'm prouder of myself than I've ever been.  But don't mind me if I get grumpy sometimes, and completely lose my mind, like I am today.  I am human, and I'm allowed to be human.  I'm tired, and I'm ready for a break.  But I've come a long way, and I haven't forgotten that.

Upward and onward.

Surviving versus Thriving

My refinance is complete, and my bank account reflects that.

I can not tell you what a relief this is!  My house repairs will happen, my financial picture is rosier, and I have room to breathe once again.  Maybe I can actually get some real sleep, all the way through the night, from the relief. 

I have been surviving lately, just trying not to drown.  I suppose that this was inevitable for part of the process - nobody ever says "my divorce was so pain free!" and there is good reason for that.  But still, merely surviving is not my style.  I have not worked this hard to be alive only to "survive" - I want to thrive.  I want to suck the marrow from life, I want to kneel in the grass in awe and wonder, and I want to carry the all the joy that life holds with me at all times.

I have high standards, clearly.  And I have had many people tell me that my standards are impossibly high, and then when I'm having a bad day, or week, or month, they tell me that my standards are making me miserable and that I ought to lower them like a normal person.

But I don't want to be normal.

I want an extraordinary life, and I am not settling for mere survival.  I am going to keep fighting to find the joys in my life.  The other day I stopped to smell a rose - a beautiful yellow one with a deep, old fashioned scent - that had not yet had frost, and the old cliche' came to me, and it reminded me that so few people actually stop to inhale fragrance in that way.  For fifteen or twenty seconds, I closed my eyes and breathed in its perfume, and it made me smile deeply, and it made me remember that there is beauty and joy in the world....but that you have to stop to find it.  How many times had I walked by that same rose without truly drinking it in?  How many people will actually stop for it - so beautiful and unexpected in the fall leaves?  I intend to be one of those who stops, and not just once.

The same people who tell me that my standards are too high, that life is full of challenges and that I can't possibly feel the joy I'm seeking, are the same ones who ask me "how do you do it?" and wonder aloud how come I'm so much happier than they are.


Here's the secret, the one they can't get.

I'm happier than they are because I decided to be.

I prioritize joy.  I refuse to give up on it.  When I'm in the dark, black hole of despair - we all get there sometimes - I don't stop seeking joy, even though I sometimes feel like I'm blindfolded in a snowstorm with no sense of home.  I just refuse to stop looking for happiness.....and that means that I find it.  I believe in it, so I just keep going.  It seems clear to me that though we all know that life has no guarantees, it pretty much guarantees that you won't get where you wish to be if you stop, so I keep going.

I can not remove life's obstacles (in case you've forgotten, cancer, divorce, and money woes are all on that list).  But in spite of them, there is joy, and I'm seizing it.

This weekend while my kitchen is being torn apart for my mini-remodel (a functioning dishwasher will cause nirvana-like bliss at this point; this is especially true today because yesterday I threw a trick-or-treating party with a dinner for 15 people and I still have dishpan hands as a result), Katherine and I are taking our dog and heading to the mountains for a night.  We're staying in a cheap hotel, but it's got an indoor pool, and it's in a gorgeous area.  Maybe we'll hike a bit, maybe we'll watch movies in the room, we'll certainly splash in the pool and hot tub.  Life's not perfect, but it doesn't need to be perfect.  I am going to get as much joy from my functioning dishwasher and new sink as any of the $100,000 remodels I've seen on HGTV, and I'm going to enjoy my cheap hotel as much as if it were five stars and world class.

Maybe one day, I'll get a "real" remodel or a five star vacation.  But I'm not waiting for "one day" to be happy.  It seems that the waves have died down a bit, and I can float in them.  Bliss.

Leaps of Faith

My to do list is overwhelming me.  This weekend, while working on the do-to list and spending a large amount of time in home improvement stores - not upgrading my home, but keeping it operational - my chest squeezed so tight that it was difficult to breathe, as the zeros on the estimates kept climbing.

I came home feeling glum and overwhelmed.

But...

I'm trying to focus on one thing at a time.  One large project (replacing basement carpet) will simply have to wait.  I will focus on the kitchen issue instead.  The basement will wait a year, and I will not die of a concrete hallway in my house where there ought to be carpet.

*****

I have not given myself time to celebrate, yet celebrating is on order.  The refinance went through, which basically means that I just purchased my own house.  The loan is in my name only, and when the money is deposited this week, I will write Bryan the biggest check I've ever written, and he will walk away from the house, and it will all be mine.  It is extraordinary to me to think that I've been able to make this happen, and it is worthy of celebrating.

A year ago, Bryan was still living in the basement, I didn't have a job, and I didn't know how I was going to make anything work.  Now I'm deeply immersed in my job, it's going well, Bryan has moved out, AND I've purchased the house.  Not only that, but almost all of the divorce paperwork is done, and I have made that happen.

So, I've made progress.  Giant strides, as a matter of fact.  A year ago, my current life seemed only like a fantasy, and I could not imagine how to support my daughter and myself or get Bryan moved out....and yet here we are.

So, right now, in the midst of far too many looming problems including major home repairs, a budget that is always too small, and deep fatigue from the day to day of my life mothering and working, I am realizing that I need to take another leap of faith.

When I told Bryan I wanted a divorce, it was a leap of faith (because I didn't know if I could handle my life, or if I could find a job, or if Katherine and I could survive the blow).  When I picked his move out date, it was another leap of faith (because I had no idea how we would make it).  When I took a job working for a small business, it was another leap of faith (totally out of my comfort zone).  Refinancing the house was yet another leap of faith - who on earth would offer a good rate to a woman who had been out of the work force for nine years?!  (HomeStreet Bank, that's who.  The rates are amazing right now, so check it out.)

But these leaps of faith have brought me a job, my own home, a thriving daughter, independence, and hope for the future.

So, now I take additional leaps of faith.

I will manage my home.  I will rule my finances, not letting them rule me.  I will help this business to grow.  I will love Katherine with all of my might.

I will leap into the life I want.  I will have enough money.  And I will find love.

I will get the life I am seeking.  In the middle of life's storms, it is so easy to forget that I've already accomplished the impossible in my life, so maybe accomplishing even more "impossible" tasks isn't so impossible after all.

I'm still swimming.  I'm going to make this happen!

Doing the Best We Can

Last week at the mediator, I had to confront Bryan about a lie.  I found out that he was laid off or fired months ago, and I had not revealed to him that I'd inadvertantly learned this information.

The mediator asked his salary, and he used old numbers.  I let it go.  The mediator asked him directly about health insurance, costs, employer coverage, etc. and he used the old information, even though I knew with certainty that he was now on COBRA (and that I was too; I'd been panicking about it because as a breast cancer survivor I know how vitally important health insurance is!).

He looked the mediator in the eye and lied.

In that moment, right before I revealed that I knew the truth, I felt so overwhelmingly sad for him.  His life is not going well, and he does not seem to have the tools to fix what needs fixing.

I spoke quietly, and my eyes were full of tears when I said, "I really hoped that you would bring this up so that I did not have to, but I know you were laid off a few months ago."

I think he wished that the ground would swallow him up in that moment, and I hated that I had to bring it up.  I believe he felt shame, and I was so sorry that I was associated with those feelings of shame....again.

I've said it before, but it bears repeating: Bryan suffers from clinical depression, and he doesn't manage his depression.  He is not in therapy, and I don't think he's taking meds any more, and yet he has classic symptoms of depression.   If I had to name one reason that our marriage failed, I would say that it was "untreated depression" or "undertreated depression."  He is a mere shell of the man I met and married, and bears no resemblance to his former self.  His humor, intelligence, and generousity have vanished, and in their place is anger, confusion, and closedness.  He went from being a person with many good friends to a person with few contacts; he went from being a great employee to....well, not great.  He went from being romantic to being self absorbed.  He lost his libido, his sense of self worth, and so much more, and I blame it on the depression.

So, sitting in the mediator's office, I saw all of this with great clarity, saw the pain he was in, and I felt deeply compassionate for him.

With that compassion came a new understanding: he is doing the best that he can right now.

I get so angry that he doesn't spend much time with our daughter, that he does the bare minimum in so many parts of his life, but especially in parenting.  I can not count on him to make sure she takes showers, or gets her homework done, or eats anything healthy, or goes to bed on time, or does any chores.  I get so angry that he expects me to do it all - every doctor's appointment, every birthday gift, every homework assignment (helping), every new pair of shoes.  I was so frustrated when we were living in the same house and he would sleep in every morning so that I would get up, make Katherine's lunch, serve her breakfast, get her backpack re-packed, etc. even though I was the one going to work and he was not.  I couldn't believe that he'd watch me flying around, and that when I walked in the door from work he'd watch TV while I cooked dinner and helped our girl with homework.  I found it astonishing, and it made me very angry.

But in that mediation, in a flash of insight, I think I saw it for what it is.

He loves his daughter.  He is taking less than he might from the house because he wants her to live in the house.  He's paying child support even though he's unemployed.  But he has nothing else to give right now.  He's doing the best he can.

He only has our daughter four four nights a month, and he usually only takes her for two of those nights (sending her to sleepovers the other two).  I have been so angry that he has given her so little...but suddenly I see it, he's doing the best he can.

Yes, I'm exhausted.  Yes, it takes a toll on me.  But I am so incredibly proud of the job parenting I'm doing.  I'm setting a good example, I'm raising a kind daughter who has a great work ethic.  Katherine and I have fun together (this weekend's agenda: a sleepover at our house with a couple "BFFs", a visit to a pumpkin patch followed by pumpkin carving and hot apple cider, Sunday School where I am her class's teacher, and then our new tradition: a quiet evening dinner followed by a movie every Sunday night), but still get homework done, eat veggies, etc.  I am working hard at work.  I'm balancing the oh-so-tight budget.  I got up at 5am the first fall day of rain to check the gutter in the corner where it causes problems, making sure that the water was draining away from the house.

I'm doing the best I can, and he's doing the best he can.  It's not fair, and perhaps I am owed much more, and perhaps Katherine is owed much more, but all anyone can give is their best.

So, I feel more at peace with him than before.  I'm so relieved that we are getting divorced - I can not have a partner who refuses to manage his mental health and expects me to deal with that fallout from that decision, and I can not live with lies, and I need to be married to someone I respect - but I see him differently now.

No, it's not fair.  However, I got the better end of the deal.  I CAN find joy in tiny things, I am proud of who I am, and I love my relationship with my daughter.  Yes, I have to work twice as hard, but I have more than double the benefits of that work.

 Tonight when I get home from work there will be three girls - Katherine and two of her besties - in my home, giggling and asking me funny questions about boys (they are at an age where they alternate between the idea that boys are weird and that boys are cool), and maybe we'll all dance in the kitchen to Carly Rae Jepson's summer hit "Call Me Maybe."  Katherine will roll her eyes at me - "oh Mom you're so embarrassing" - but then she will "accidentally" bump into me and I'll grab her arms and spin her in circles and she'll laugh and her friends will say "do me next!" and by the time the song is over I'll be out of breath and we'll all be laughing.  In the morning, her friends will say, "oooooh are you making chocolate chip pancakes?!" and they will be so excited when I say yes, because I have been informed that my house has the best sleepover breakfasts ever.

I know that this is all true, because this is how it always goes.  Or maybe we won't dance, but we'll bake together.  Or maybe they'll have me look up You-Tube videos on my computer, bands I've never heard of and would never listen to on my own (um, like Carly Rae Jepson) but which appeal to the tween set, and I'll indulge the girls because I love that they still include me on these activities, and because it always comes out who has a crush on who or what happened at school last week.  Sometimes they ask my advice about navigating a tricky friendship, or about how to ask their moms something.  Sometimes they ask how old I was when I got to do some things, or they'll ask me to tell them a funny story about when I was their age.  Then, they'll bounce off into Katherine's room, and I'll hear whispers and laughter, and sometimes they spend three hours without coming up for air, organizing elaborate fantasy worlds with Littlest Pet Shop, and I'll be able to light candles and read a book in the living room with few interruptions.

When it's bedtime, they'll talk longer than they're supposed to, and finally I will say "this is your last warning and so if I have to come in again I'm afraid I'll have to separate you" and they will stop talking because this is about the 100th sleepover for these girls and they know I mean it.  They'll say, "Okay" and they won't be upset at all; they'll roll over and go to sleep.  In the morning if I sleep longer than they do, they'll bounce onto my bed like a litter of puppies, and I will say "when are you girls going to learn how to make me coffee?" and they'll call out a chorus of "yuccckkkkkk coffee is so gross!" before they wonder if there is any hot cocoa available.

Bryan misses out on all this, and I feel sad for him.  He may not be treating me fairly, but still, I'm getting the better deal.

I am grateful for my life.  Thank you, Bryan, for giving me perspective. 

My part

I have heard, over and over, from many sources including therapists, books, websites, podcasts, and magazines, that in divorce it's really important to own your mistakes, to acknowledge one's own part, or one is doomed to repeat mistakes.

Easier said than done, as it turns out.  I have been filled with self righteous anger, and I might be justified by that anger, but it doesn't serve me.  I don't want to be angry and self righteous, I want to be happy.  I want to be HAPPY.  I want to be one of those people who radiates joy, who lives in peace, who spreads compassion.  As far as I can tell, righteous anger doesn't fit into that vision.

So, this is my attempt to spell it out, to not sugar coat it, to say it like it is.  Here are my mistakes in my marriage, the ones I own, the ones Bryan had no control over, and the ones that are mine alone to fix.  And, because it's too painful to own up to them without something positive, here are my thoughts on how I'll fix those problems in the future too.

Because I'm never going back again.

Deep breath.

*  I believed I would never get what I wanted.  I believed that I had to compromise, and so I got a guy who was overweight, and less motivated, and didn't treat me like a queen, because I figured that in the end that is who would want me.  Now, would you like to be with a woman who, deep in her heart, thought that she'd settled?  I believe that as much as I tried to ignore, deny, and hide those feelings, somehow Bryan saw them, and I do not blame him for not liking what he saw, because I wouldn't like that either.  I cheated myself by settling, but I cheated him, too.  Well, I'm never settling again.  I'm not going to cheat myself like that....and I'm not going to treat a man like that again.  It wasn't intentional, but it wasn't right, either.

*  I believed that I was inherently unworthy.  I'm still working out this one in my head, how I came to believe that I was somehow less than.  It goes back to childhood, to parents who name called and didn't always meet my needs.  I didn't believe in myself, so I didn't expect anyone else to believe in me.  It was an unhealthy, as well as unattractive, trait.  I behaved in a way that said, "I would never require you to treat me well," by volunteering - volunteering! - to do double the amount of work with half the resources.  When I got wise to my own behavior and insisted on more, to him it must have seemed like I was breaking character, and since he was satisfied with what I once gave freely he didn't want to change - he liked it the way it was, and *I* am the one who agreed to live like that initially.  Well, news flash, I don't feel like that any more.  I am more proud of myself, and my character, than ever before.  I actually think I've got something pretty special to offer, and I bring that to the table.  I think I know how to teach people to treat me, and I'm okay with walking away if they don't treat me the way I want to be treated.  I taught Bryan how to treat me, and I taught him the wrong stuff.

*  I did not stand up for myself and stop unhealthy behaviors before they grew out of control.  There were serious warning signs after we got engaged, but I went ahead with the wedding.  When we were first married, there were really serious signs of trouble, and when I brought them up and he resisted conversation, I backed down and tried to sweep it under the carpet.  Denial is not a good coping mechanism, and it catches up eventually, and everyone pays.  Had I stood my ground - standing up for what I truly believe - the marriage might have ended sooner, but it also might have been saved. I believe I know how to stand my ground now.

*  When we dated, I tried to be who he wanted me to be, instead of being who I really was.  I watched more TV.  I went to fewer plays, and more restuarants.  I exercised less, and ate more.  I wanted a guy who worked out (as all my other boyfriends had), who did volunteer work, who cared about his job, who cooked, who went to plays with me, who hiked with me.  But I wanted him to like me, so I went along more with his lifestyle, thinking that surely the laid-back ways were just the early-love stage of things, and they'd change when it got serious.  Well, from his perspective, it was probably ME who changed.  He probably thought "Wait, we love spending tons of money at good restaurants!" when I said, "I'd rather eat at home so that we could spend the money on plays and concerts or travel," and he probably thought that my attention to health (diet and exercise) came out of the blue, when I thought I was being who I'd always been.  The lesson?  I need to be who I am from the get-go.  I didn't do him, or me, any favors when I went along with his way of doing things when that wasn't really me, and I didn't do either of us any favors when I expected him to change over time, too.

*  I keep running into a quote that says, "When someone tells you who they are, believe them."  When Bryan and I met, he told me he didn't ever want to get married, have kids, have the white picket fence.  I knew I wanted all of those things.  Over time, he changed his mind....or that's what he told me, and I really wanted to believe him.  Ultimately, I should have listened to what he told me up front.  He's not a horrible human being for wanting no responsibilities, or for enjoying laying on the sofa with a drink while watching TV, but it wasn't a good fit for me, and I chose it anyway.

So, yes, he screwed up.  He was not an ideal husband by any standards.  But this isn't about him, it's about me, and I screwed up too.  I wasn't ideal either, and I contributed to our problems.

I am determined to learn. I am determined to have the life that I dream of.  I have made so many positive changes in my life in the past year, and I am more "me" than ever before.  I do not know if deep romantic love is in my future, but I think it is.  I do not know how many more lessons I need to learn, but I know I'm trying.

Best of all, I'm finding some peace with who I am, and who I am not.  Whether my new understanding helps me to find a beautiful romantic relationship or not, it is gaining me joy in the rest of my life.  Owning my mistakes is painful, but I'm not as afraid of pain as I once was.

And just for the record - I am NOT beating myself up over this.  I have learned a great deal, and without the path I took, I wouldn't be who I am now.  And you know what?  I'm okay with where I am, and now that I've started learning the lessons instead of just fighting the awful fights of cancer and divorce, I can say with better clarity that those fires have shaped me, and that I am stronger, wiser, and kinder as a result of those experiences.  I do not regret marrying Bryan: being married to him gave me the best daughter I could have imagined up, and truly, sometimes she's like a spirit from my dreams.  And maybe, based on my childhood experiences, I needed to experience life with Bryan to learn the lessons that will bring me to the love of my life, the man of my dreams.  Or maybe I will learn to be fully satisfied without a partner, finding my satisfaction in a job well done, in family and friends, in travel, in volunteer projects that help make the world a better place.

Only time will tell.

But I'm glad this little exercise is done now!

The voices in my head

Today I had to go get a blood draw in preparation for my annual oncology appointment.  I was busy at work, had to walk 20 minutes from my office to the appointment, and was running late.  I didn't have two minutes to think about the appointment...

Until I was halfway there.  And then, without my permission, my head went to a dark place.

It sounded like this:

Man, I hate going to this place.  All that chemo, all those horrible memories.  Ugh.  It's been a while since I've been there.  I hope no cancer grew in that time.  God, what if they find something?  I had a headache last week, my first migraine, but maybe it wasn't a migraine, maybe it was brain mets.  I can't think like that....but it's so scary.  One little blood test, and it can turn my whole world upside down.  What would I do?  If it came back?  It could be back.  It could.  What would I tell Katherine?  I would try to be calm.  I would tell her, "We did this before, we could do it again."  Last time I was really public about it, maybe I could fake it this time....wear a wig all the time, keep working, not tell anyone except my closest people.  Maybe I could do chemo after work.  Could I work through it?  Would I lose my job because I couldn't work?  How could I put Katherine through that again?  And oh no, what if I put her through divorce and then I died?  How could she stand it?  Maybe I could have Bryan move back into the basement when I got really sick, to transition him back in to take care of her more.  Maybe I shouldn't get divorced, because if I'm just going to die anyway, I just can't put Katherine through it....I could put up with Bryan for her...am I ready to die?  I don't want to die...

And this is how it was.  I stopped myself when I realize how quickly I'd spiraled downward, I got it together, I got into the building.

The very first thing I heard upon walking in the doors was, "My friend just lost the battle after eight years."  I'm just over seven years out, and as I walk into the cancer institute that is what I hear.  Is it is a sign?  Please don't let it be a sign.

I make it through the blood draw, and then escape as quickly as I can back to work.  I sit down and promptly start sobbing, and my boss hugs me and promises me that I'm well and that it will all be okay.

It'll all be okay.  I'm allowed to get divorced because I'm not going to die., so Katherine won't have to deal with any more pain caused by me.  I'm going to live a long, long time.  Right?

I get test results in a week or so.

Insistence and Persistence

This business of creating boundaries is hard work.

It comes as no surprise that since boundaries were a major issue in our marriage, they continue to be an issue in divorce.  Yesterday's post is proof of that ongoing problem.

But I'm not giving up.

I sent a cordial but firm email stating my discomfort with Bryan coming in the house when I'm not there.  Again.

He was snappy in response, and returned his key.

Here's what I learned from all of this:

I want him to behave well.  I want him to do the right thing without me telling him what to do, I want him to be responsible, and I want him to acknowledge that I'm being reasonable, fair, and cordial.

And that may never happen.

I can not control his behavior, and I certainly can't make him be nice to me.  Acknowledging that is something I've been working on for a long time because it is really hard on me when I go out of my way to be kind and fair and he still snaps at me: it feels like a breaking of the social contract, and I feel pained when I think I'm being kind and he is rude in return.  I have protested too much "But wait....I said....what I meant was....can't you see...." and it has had no impact on his behavior except perhaps to further annoy him.

Well, that's changing.

He was annoyed that I insisted on boundaries.  It stung a bit that he was annoyed....but it doesn't matter.  I know that I was being fair, and reasonable.  He owns his response, and really, it doesn't have a thing to do with me.  I don't need to fear his responses any more, because he can take his bad mood to his own house where I don't have to tiptoe around it any more.

What I care about is that I behave with integrity.  It would be nice if he responded beautifully to that, but ultimately, it doesn't matter to me.

This is not rocket science.  This is Relationships 101, and I should have learned it a long, long, long time ago.  Still, it feels like a giant revelation to me to FEEL this an not merely "know" it, and I'm excited by this progress.

I insist on boundaries.  I will persist in giving out boundaries that I believe to be fair and reasonable.  I will persist in feeling good about myself no matter what he thinks of me.

Now that is progress, don't you think?

Doormats

I am a feisty, sassy, in control, independent, strong woman.

That is why I am more surprised than anyone that I turned into such a doormat during my marriage.



I feared Bryan's temper - the way he would freeze me out, or yell at me, whenever I displeased him.  I didn't have to insult him to make him angry: I would just say, "Are you sure we can afford that?" or "Please don't speak to me in such an angry tone," and he'd go into his lizard brain, angry and cold, and over time I took on more and more behaviors to avoid provoking those responses.  I was the stereotypical frog in boiling water: when I first got in, the temperature wasn't too bad, and by the time I realized that it was boiling, I was nearly cooked.  In this way, I stopped saying, "That is not okay with me," as often as I should have, and I found myself in a marriage that was so broken that the only way to fix it was to get out.

I'm awake now.  My eyes are wide open, and I LOVE that I have my sassy streak back.  Not sassy in a "don't you talk to your mother that way!" kind of way, but in a playful, feisty, strong, in control way.  I love rediscovering my sassy self, whether it's reigniting my career, going on an adventurous road trip with my daughter, or just finding the courage to say, "My life is worth it, and I won't live like that any more," in response to my unhealthy marriage.

But in the midst of a divorce, I'm finding that it's still possible to fall into the old ways, and it's troubling.

Bryan has been borrowing my car.  Without asking.  He's been bringing Katherine to my house, without asking, and inviting her friends over here, and eating my food.  While I was gone, he slept in the guest room for a few days, saying that his place was too hot.

We had discussed the childcare schedule repeatedly, and he has repeatedly forgotten, and then acted like it was an inconvenience to him to watch his own child. (Need I remind you that he is being paid to sit on the bench?  And that I am working full time, and yet we're arranging childcare left and right, patching together a summer schedule?!)  When I came home from vacation, he acted as if he was shocked that he was on duty for 24 hours, even though he hadn't seen his child in 10 days.  What's worse than that is that when I tried to gently remind him of our conversations about the schedule, he was snarky and rude in response, and when I said, "I don't think Katherine needs to hear this, could we talk about it later?" he was rude again.



Okay, so he's rude.  This is no surprise, and I don't want to waste my life thinking about it any more.  But what I do need to figure out is this: how do I avoid nasty fights (especially in front of our daughter!) while sticking to my guns?  It is NOT okay for him to spend time in my house without me.  Our agreement is that if Katherine forgets something, she can come over here with him to pick it up, but NOT hang out here.  And do I really have to say "get out of my fridge!" and "stay away from my car!" again?!

I can't imagine what he would do if I went over to his place to hang out.  I don't know why I'd even consider it, and yet he keeps coming here....even to sleep here when I was gone.

But I hate the fighting.  And I hate it worst of all when it's in front of Katherine, who doesn't deserve that in her life.

My current plan is to document this stuff and then bring it up in front of the mediator.  At close to $300/hour that is a very expensive plan, but I can't think of a better one. 




Readers, do you have advice?  Please do not advise me to speak using "I statements" and using positive language; please do not advise me to use non-inflammatory language and stick to only the facts; please do not advise me to have these conversations in email so that it's non-emotional in tone and there is a record of who said what.  I'm way ahead of you there, I'm doing that, but still I need to confirm things, and still we need to communicate, and still, these exchanges continue to be a bit ugly.  I could understand why Bryan would get upset with me if my conversations went "You asshole, we talked about this seven times last week, can't you get it through your thick head that you agreed to take Katherine tomorrow while I'm at work?" but I do not understand why when I say, "I have you down for taking Katherine tomorrow, does that still work?" he instantly gets defensive and short with me, acts like we've never had the conversation and that I'm suddenly imposing on him (never mind that it's HIS daughter too!). I don't want to get in fights....


I'm not a doormat.  I'm Wonder Woman.  Really.

But I don't just want to take it, either.  Being a doormat doesn't suit me.  I do NOT wish his dirty feet upon me.  And he can't act like he lives here and he's not granted a free pass to bail on his daughter just by saying "Well, I forgot" whenever he feels like it.

So - during divorce, how do you keep it out of mediation or litigation, and encourage civil conversations?  How do you deal with an ex's amnesia regarding agreements?  How do I point out "here is the email thread where you agreed to all of this!" without adding fuel to the fire?

How do you stay out of the doormat pose? 

Am I alone in this?  I'd love to hear what you have to say - thanks.

Reveling in the victories

I choose to revel in the victories, big and small.

Today I'm reveling because I had a good day at work.  Because I got up early and did some more chores to prep the house for tomorrow's party.  Because tonight I made a home cooked meal, fresh and simple and inexpensive and tasty.  Because I finally hung curtains across the back wall of the kitchen where the windows are large and the evening sun treats the whole kitchen like a greenhouse.  Because I gave Katherine my full attention when she talked to me this evening.  Because I'm following my tight budget and proud of my decisions (even when that means I'm the only one not buying a coffee).

And because tomorrow a dozen or more friends are coming over, and I'm so glad that I have such good friends, and that they're game for my sage burning bell ringing wine drinking party.

I am not afraid to revel in the small.  It's why I threw a last day of chemo party in the chemo ward, and it's why I found myself staring at a cake with boobs (stripper boobs, if you ask me) on it on the day my reconstruction was finished (with tattoos, by the way....boy do boobs look weird with no aereolas) at my finishing breast reconstruction party.  Katherine and I decided today that we might need to do some kind of summer party together, too - we're thinking Hawaiian themed luau (some kind of pulled pork and pineapple burgers.....potluck style to save money?).

Because life is short, and often painful.....but there is so much to celebrate.  I intend to make more time to celebrate than to mourn, and I don't care if it's big or small.  I was proud of myself for making the time to hang curtains.....in my work clothes, pencil skirt and all no less.  Ha!

I've been separated for less than two weeks, but so far, so good.  That calls for a celebration, don't you think?



What are you celebrating?  No matter how hard things are, what are you feeling proud of, and what small victories can you claim as you work your way towards larger victories?

Happy Tuesday, dear readers.  Be well!

Anonymity, Online dating, Moving, Money

I have a lot on my mind this week.  The worries make me dizzy.

A friend let slip about my blog, and about my Match.com profile, accidentally outing me to a dozen people.  Bryan doesn't know about either the blog or my desire to date (though he must wonder), and I'm filled with fear of him finding out about either the blog or dating, because I'm working so hard at maintaining civility with him, and I don't want to jeopardize that.

It's made me wonder: should I keep a blog?  Am I really doing this with integrity?  Is this a healthy place to vent where nobody gets hurt, or am I just airing my dirty laundry in public?  Do I offer a service to other women going through divorce by sharing my story, or is it self-indulgent?  How does one walk that line?  (Advice on this always appreciated.)

I do know that I love blogging here, that I enjoy the feedback immensely, that I feel so much less alone when others share their stories.  However, today I'm wondering what to do.

And I'm realizing that I threw away $50 that would have been better spent elsewhere (even on a new pair of shoes) than on Match.com, because I am just not ready to date.  I'm too tired to be vivacious right now, I have too many worries to think about flirting, and even if I was filled with energy and desire to flirt, I just don't have time.  Work is busy, my home needs a lot of work, I really want to connect with girlfriends in my down time, and Katherine needs and deserves most of my attention (and I want to give it to her).  I had a vision of walking down a boardwalk, sipping an iced coffee, wearing a pretty sundress, and flirting with a tall handsome man, passing away part of the summer....but I realize that instead, I want to walk down the boardwalk with Katherine and our dog, that I want to eat ice cream with her, and then swim in the ocean with her, and not care about anyone else in the world, or how witty I am, or making a good impression.  The time will come to date, but I'm not there.  (sigh)  I think I was trigger happy - I was lonely, and jealous of my happy friends, and wishing for quick fixes, but I know that will not get me where I want to go.  I need to work on myself right now, not dating.  (another sigh)

And yesterday I spent the day with my inlaws - all thirty or so of them, including brother and sister in laws, nieces, nephews, etc.  There was a family wedding, and they made sure I was included.  When it was time for a family photo, I panicked - what should I do?  I was prepared to bow out gracefully with a smile, but they ushered me over and told me that was nonsense, family was forever, come on over.  Bryan, Katherine and I stood together in the group, family.  This small moment blows my mind; it is what I want for Katherine, but so awkward and strange that I barely know what to think.

But these things are far overshadowed by the fact that this time next week Bryan should be moved out.  I will really be in the next phase of life, the one I've been preparing for all year.  Katherine will have two homes, and she will officially be the product of a broken home.  (An expression I loathe, for many reasons, but there it is.)  I will lose control over parts of her life that I currently have control over.

I will have two weekends a month by myself in this house, as well as Wednesday nights.  When I come home from something on one of those days, I will not be greeted by Katherine asking for a snack or a bedtime story while Bryan does something else by himself.  I will both love the downtime and hate that I am not there for her.  I will try to focus on taking care of myself, and giving her space to develop her relationship with her father, instead of the emptiness of her room, just down the hall from mine.

This week, either Bryan will pack himself, or I'll pack him, but either way, he's moving next weekend.

Please pray for us, keep good thoughts for us, hold us in the light, wish on shooting stars for us.  Hope that I can keep biting my tongue, that we can do this move smoothly, that Katherine can feel some enthusiasm for having two rooms, for a bit of independence walking back and forth, for the cell phone she's about to receive so that she can talk to whichever parent she is not with.  Please hope that Bryan will embrace his new location, finding some of his lost passion for living, that he can be the person he wishes to be.  Please hope that Katherine feels loved, and safe, and hopeful.  Please hope that I will behave with wisdom and integrity, and that I will find the strength and energy to craft the best possible life for Katherine and myself.  Please hope that many beautiful things come out of this change in our lives, and that the beauty that follows overshadows the grief at what is lost.

It all comes down to this.  Two homes, the end of an era, a change for all of us.  I am allowing myself to grieve, and still trying to focus on the good that lies ahead.

And money.  Oh, Dear God, the money.  I'm working on spreadsheets, playing the numbers, trying to figure out how to survive.....and I want to thrive, not only survive, and I have to figure that out.  It makes my head hurt. 

We have a meeting with a mediator tomorrow.

Thank you for your support this week, more than ever before, because I need it.

Calling all divorce bloggers!

I got a request in a blog comment for links to more divorce blogs.  Readers, if you're blogging, can you leave a link posted here?  If there is a divorce blog that you enjoy, could you post it here, too?  Include a few words about the focus of the blog, or about the blogger, if you're so inclined.

And....in case you missed my earlier post, I'll repost the info here.  I was contacted by a "major television network" to do a show about divorces where the exes live in the same house.  I can't do it - I need to stay anonymous here - but if you'd like to, they're looking for referrals.  I checked out the name of the person who contacted me, and it does look legit, but I make no promises.  I don't know much about television....except that I'm going to spend my fifteen minutes of fame elsewhere.

Happy Friday, everyone!  I look forward to seeing what blogs you post here.  (Even if you're a regular, consider posting your link here, and maybe you'll find some new readers.  Let's share the love!)

Biting my tongue: example

Three posts in one day!  If my regular readers were popping in to see the latest, you're in for a triple-treat.  Hello, readers!  (Three posts is what happens when it's my weekend without the girl, and I spend most of it working on separation issues, and I am too tired to accept invitations to go out with friends.)

Lest you think I am living in happy la-la land, let me describe something about Bryan's fatherhood.

He only has her two weekends a month.

He's off the bench and working out of town, so he doesn't see her AT ALL four to five days per week.  I have her two weekends a month, so he has her two weekends a month. 

That means he has her four days per month.

He had her this weekend.

Friday night, he got in at 7.  They hung out for an hour - yay, Daddy! - watching a video together on the sofa, and then he came upstairs and said, "I'm tired and going to bed so you need to put her to bed."

Bite tongue.  I did not mention that I'd been doing double duty all week, that I was tired, that it was his weekend, that his daughter had been counting the hours til his return. 

Saturday he booked an appointment to get his glasses prescription renewed.  Fine, I'll watch her.  Then he got her a playdate.  Which lead to a sleepover.  He did join them for about two hours for dinner, but the spent most of the day and all that night and part of the next morning apart.

So this morning they hang out a bit.  We go to our daughter's end of year event.  We come home.  He naps. I arrange playdate at our house, she plays, he naps.  They go out for dinner.  They come home, and he says "I'm going to the neighbor's for a beer." (Yes, the neighbor of the tree incident, the one who isn't speaking to me.  Poetic, isn't it?)  He flies out tonight.

By my calculation, that means that of the past 14 days, of which he gets Wednesdays (but he's gone), and Friday night through Sunday night, he spent a grand total of about 16 hours with his daughter.  He managed to reduce his short time with her by greater than 50%.

Bite tongue bite tongue bite tongue.  OUCH.  Bite harder.

I want to yell, "How dare you give our daughter so little!"

I want to scream "You selfish lazy bastard!"

But I bite my tongue.

And this is how we get along.

I'm going to go read Anne of Green Gables to my beautiful daughter.  I will hold her and snuggle her extra.  She deserves it.  And I didn't need any Netflix time anyway.

G'night.

Edited update:  Katherine cried when he left last night.  She misses her daddy.  She doesn't understand why he doesn't look for a job in our town, instead of leaving so much.  I held her and agreed that it was no fun at all, and stroked her hair, and read extra chapters, and let her be sad, and let her love her dad.  I tried to give her extra of myself, but what she really wants is him.  (She has plenty of me already - she loves us equally, but she doesn't have us equally.  Even when he's there, he's not there.)

A good divorce?

Two posts in one day, because it's Sunday morning and Katherine is at a sleepover and I woke up early, and so I have time to think, uninterrupted, which is a form of bliss.  Hello again!

I've mentioned Constance Ahrons' book The Good Divorce on this blog before.  If you are contemplating divorce, if you're in the middle of divorce, or if you're already divorced, and you have kids, this is the book to read.  The book outlines ways parents can approach divorce in the least-damaging ways possible for their children.  It's not a divorce law book, it's not a dating guidebook, it's not a justification for divorce book.  This is a book about parenting through divorce, and helping kids, and I think it's thoughtful and wise.



Notice that I said least-damaging, not blissful.  The book doesn't pretend that everything about divorce is wonderful and that the children will come out scott-free.  Instead, Ahrons paves the way for approaches to divorce that make the best out of a bad situation.  The general premise is that parental behavior impacts children as much or more than the divorce itself, and Ahrons suggests ways parents should behave in divorce.

I've taken the philosophies of this book to heart, and I'm doing my utmost to model my divorce on Ahrons' suggestions.  No matter what Bryan does, or how he behaves, I am in control of my own responses, and I am aware that anything that I can do to lower conflict between Bryan and myself will positively impact Katherine.


I bite my tongue a lot.
(Do not Google images of biting your tongue.  Gross.)

I think my tongue is covered in deep welts and scars, actually.  When Bryan told me on Friday night that he was too tired to help Katherine with her bedtime ritual and he was going to bed, I smiled at Katherine and said, "Get in your PJs so we can read stories," instead of snapping at him that he hardly spends any time with his girl and I've had a hard week too....although that is what I deeply wished to say.

And it's paying off.  I can not believe how much, but it's paying off!

Katherine is doing better through all of this than I even dreamed possible.  When she found out that her dad had commited to an apartment, I held my breath, fearful that this new stage of reality would freak her out, but instead, she seemed to experience actual joy.  I stared at her for a moment, I was so surprised by her response, but I think I get it now. 

Katherine is doing okay because Bryan and I have followed through on our commitment to make this work for her. 

The apartment is two blocks away, walking distance for a nine year old, and we've promised that she can go back and forth as she pleases, regardless of whose "day" it is.  When Bryan announced he'd booked it, I immediately said, "Oh, I'm so glad it's so close!" and smiled at Katherine.  Various people have said, "Ugh don't you want more space between you?" and while there is a part of me that feels that way, I mostly feel genuine enthusiasm for its proximity, knowing how nice it will be for her to just pop over to see her dad, or to come back here to get a favorite shirt or toy.

When Katherine was in a little play at church (ironically, about responding to change) last week, it was on "my" weekend, but I made sure that Bryan was invited, and we sat together to cheer her on.  My mom came, too, and afterwards she invited all of us, Bryan included, to lunch.  We all went, and we played nice.

Katherine doesn't say anything about it, but she sees it.  And she MUST notice how the tension is falling around here.  The tension is less than it was when Bryan and I were actively trying to stay married, as a matter of fact.

I'm packing all of Bryan's household stuff; he can't appear to get off his duff to do it, and I'd rather do it an hour here and an hour there than all in one mad rush (I really do dislike chaos).  And I've refrained from badgering him about it, and I've actually been pretty pleasant to him, despite the fact that it's a royal pain, and blatantly unfair (I have my own massive to-do list, and I'm doing his, too).  Katherine sees this, and I think she notices.

The funny thing is, Bryan is noticing too.  He has been much more pleasant to be around lately, and he has snapped at me much less than usual.  The tension is so much less, I actually told my mother "I think I like Bryan more now than I have in five years!"

Make no mistake: this is not a like of the "maybe we can make it work" variety.  Actually, the thing that makes it easiest for me to like Bryan right now is the idea that I no longer have to be married to him.  His problems are no longer my problems: I do not have to care about his mood swings, or his laziness, or the fact that he expects me to pick up his slack.  He has lost most of his ability to hurt me.  When there is some emotional distance, I simply don't care what he does, because it doesn't impact me nearly as much, and I'm not invested in making him be the kind of person I'd want to partner with.  We have little in common, but it doesn't matter any more.  We are not partners any more, and this frees me to like him in a casual way, from a distance.

What Katherine will see is that I will buy him a housewarming present.  She will see that I will help him move.  She will see that I bought him a nice Father's Day card.  She will see that I am not arguing about possessions - I would honestly rather give him every last stick of furniture than fight any more, and fortunately he's not choosing to fight over "stuff," either.  She will see us side by side, cheering for her.

I have coached my friends and family to accept him, too.  I have called them and told them that they have my explicit permission to socialize with him, to call him, to support him, because he's Katherine's dad, and excluding him would exclude her.  I have asked my family to include him in holiday events, because it's good for Katherine.

If we did not have a child, I would try to divorce on a handshake and walk away, possibly never seeing him ever again.  I've got anger and sadness in spades, and I'm not confused by that....I do not always feel Zen about our divorce.  But we do have a child, and that makes us a family, and family is forever.  Our marriage is over, but our family is not.

And it's working.  Katherine is doing better than I could have dreamed.  Her grades are higher than ever, and she's become an amazing reader.  Her counselor has said we can scale back on sessions because she's doing so well.  She's doing well with her friendships.  She's sleeping well - not too much or too little.  With the notable exception of the one giant fit (blogged earlier), her behavior is utterly normal.

My life is complicated, and I struggle daily.  Being a single working mother is exhausting, and the financial ramifications of this make my head hurt.  I have no idea what the future will bring, and while I'm filled with hope, I also have fear.

But maybe I will get my good divorce.  Divorce was not my dream, but as divorces go, maybe I can make this one as good as they come.

Nesting

I am a nester.  My home is truly my sanctuary, and no matter how much I like flitting around in the big wide world, I'm always glad to come home.  At the end of an adventure - be that travel or simply a workday - I love walking up my front steps and coming into the familiar that is my home nest.

Which means that things have been a bit taxing lately.


I have a rather large desire for calm in my life.  Given that life is usually more chaotic than calm - deadlines! school projects! sickness! - I have always carved out time to come home and just "be" in my home.  Out in the world, people blow smoke as I walk down the street, and there are car horns, and there is so much rushing about, but in my own small sanctuary there are dishes lined up neatly in the cupboard and a pretty quilt on the bed and that little piece of art that I just love so much, and these small things add up to an oasis that I depend upon to keep my sanity.

Splitting up our house and its oasis-qualities is messing with my sanity.

Right now, things are in piles.  There is giant pile in the basement of kitchen items ready for Bryan to pack.  There are stacks of framed pictures.  There's an extra dresser, picked up for a song from Craigslist, halfway blocking a hallway.  There are half empty cupboards in spots.

Not cozy.  Not Zen.  Not an oasis.

Yesterday, I spent most of the day dealing with beds.  Bryan loves the style of "our" bedset, and since I don't, and I don't really want to sleep in "our" bed, he's taking it.  This, however, leaves me bedless.  And Katherine needs beds in both homes, and so needed a second bed.

A lot of problems can be solved by throwing money at them.  I can not tell you how much I have longed to go online, point and click, and then have somebody show up at my door with my desired items - including beds - in hand.  No such luck.

Instead, I've been hunting around Craigslist for suitable items.  Katherine requested bunkbeds, and though this doubles the cost (double mattresses, double bedding) of getting her a bed, and though I don't particularly relish climbing a ladder to change her sheets or read her stories, I recognized this as an opportunity to give her what she most desires, a positive outcome of the divorce (in her mind; she's wanted bunkbeds for ages but I kept telling her she had a perfectly good bed) in a sea of negative changes, and I agreed to it.  It turns out that bunkbeds are the most popular item ever on Craigslist, and I've spent a week sending messages to listings and not even hearing back because they're gone within minutes.

But finally, a friend of a friend came through - they had bunkbeds they were selling.  I enlisted my parents' help, and their truck, for hauling the beds.  And since I had them, I scrambled to find a bedframe/headboard on Craigslist for myself.  I couldn't bear used mattresses, so then we had to figure out cheap solutions to that problem.

Yesterday, my father and I disassembled beds and piled them in the basement next to the other piles.  I dealt with the under-bed dust bunnies.  I learned how to build bunkbeds.  I discovered that the bedframe I'd just purchased for myself was incomplete, and then spent some time spinning in circles trying to fix it. (Not fixed.  My boxspring is currently sitting on the floor, and last night I just hoped that the headboard didn't fall on top of me, because it's just leaning against the wall.)  And then I spent more money, because Katherine needed an extra set of bedding for the extra bed, involving heading out again to go to a handful of stores.

My nest has been a wreck from all of this chaos.  The basement looks like a cyclone has gone through it.

And my dishwasher broke, and suddenly I'm hand washing everything.

And there appears to be a leak by the chimney.

I am not managing this well.  I'm tired, and grumpy, and I want to have a tantrum.  Make it right!  Fix it!  Give me back my order and calm!

Bryan moves out in two weeks.  A month from now, we'll both have calm, because I will run around getting things done to make it happen.  I will keep reorganizing cupboards, I will collect hand-me-downs from friends to fill in the gaps, I will spend money buying necessities where there are no hand-me-downs.  By mid-July, it will be orderly again.  In a time of life that is chaotic, I cling to my small bits of order to keep me afloat, and I'm craving mid-July.

Praying I can hold on that long!


PS  Adding to my nesting troubles is the fact that ever since the great tree issue, my neighbors haven't spoken to me.  The city announced that even if I wanted one they would not grant a permit to remove the trees, and now the neighbors studiously avoid looking in my direction.  Not sure what I'm going to do about this, but it does make it awkward when we're all in our yards!  I'm very glad to keep my trees - ah, looking up to admire them now - but not happy about continued neighbor drama, even of the stony silent variety.

Time to revisit "Why I Want a Wife"

I remember the first time I read the essay, "Why I Want a Wife" by Judy Syfers.  It was published in Ms. Magazine before I was old enough to read, and I didn't read it until a high school English class.

(For those who don't wish to click through but haven't read it before, the basic premise of the essay is that if women had someone to care for the children, cook and clean, etc. then they'd be very happy to go to their nice offices and get paid.  It is a classic feminist essay, incredibly humorous and readable.  Oh, don't take my word for it.  If you haven't read it before, you should, so go click on it and then come back and keep reading here.  And if you haven't read it in a while, go re-read it.  It's better than you remember, worth your time.)

I brought home my hazy photocopy to my stay-at-home mother, waving it in the air and practically shouting at her.  "Look at this!  You need a wife!  Isn't this great?"

My mother was not amused.  She, rightly, felt that I was criticizing my father and their relationship together. I was critiquing her choices and judging them severely.

It is surprising to me more than anyone that some twenty-five years later, here I am, just as in need of a wife as my mother was.

Yesterday there was an article on The Huffington Post entitled Alimony for Cohabitators, Still, in 2012.  The article, by Elizabeth Benedict, examines the problem of women who receive alimony, and then use that money to fund their lifestyles with a new partner, whom they do not marry because then the alimony will end.  The article itself is relatively thoughtful: I agree that the problem she's pointing out is real, and that alimony reform makes sense.  But the comments to that post are what are inspiring this response.

The comments to the post contain a great deal of venom towards women, of the variety "She stayed home having fun while I want to work and then she left me, and I'm washing my hands of her, no way should I have to pay one red dime once we're divorced!"

As a former stay at home mother in the middle of a divorce, all of this impacts me....greatly.  We haven't worked out our finances for the settlement yet, but I fret over them every minute of every day, and not because I want to drain my ex dry (I don't), but because I'm struggling to make it work.

In my marriage - which one commenter has pointed out might be an anomoly, and was certainly sexist, and from the 1950s - he went to work, and I stayed home.  That meant that when Katherine was little, I was the only one who got up in the night to care for her, because he needed to be rested for the next day.  It meant that I did the cooking and cleaning, that I ran to the library and the dry cleaner and the grocery store.  It meant that I did all the school volunteering.  It meant that when our daughter was sick, I took her to the doctor, and learned how to clean myself up when she barfed on me, without ever setting her down because she wanted me to hold her.  He came home every day to a clean house, freshly folded laundry, a fridge full of food (his favorites, of course), a hot cooked meal from scratch, a happy child.  This freed up our evenings to hang out, watch TV, read, go for a walk, and have a good time.

Being a stay at home mom has its advantages.  I got to snuggle our daughter more than he did.  I was my own boss, deciding when to do what (but still getting the job done).  I got to push her on the swings, read her more stories, and enjoy her company.  I got to invite other moms and kids over, and laugh with them.  There is a lot of drudgery in being a stay at home mom (my ex didn't clean a toilet for a decade, but I certainly did!), but it also has joys.

The commenters pointed out that fathers are wage-slaves, and they painted a dismal picture of fathers' lives.  I call false (you can use the other word if you want) on that one.  I've been a working person, too, and it has plenty of advantages.  White collar workers who have gone to college, as is the case in my demographic, pick their careers.  They are not breaking rocks, or listening to the whine of a loud factory, they are sitting at desks or around tables, talking to colleagues about a topic that they are highly skilled in.  There are lunches out, conversations at the water cooler, shared jokes and camraderie.  There is praise, and there are raises.  There is intellectual stimulation, and the possibility of advancement.  When a project gets boring, an individual can go out and seek a new project or job.  It's not perfect, and there's lots of churning numbers in spreadsheets or annoying bosses, but it's not all bad.  Parts of it are pretty darned good.

So, in my book, up until now, it's a fair sum game.  Working has its advantages, and staying home has its advantages, and both have their disadvantages.  Together, it makes for a pretty nice home life: good food, more free time for everyone.

And then, where there is divorce, it gets ugly.

While I was at home cooking and cleaning and breastfeeding and then, later, helping with homework (with a lot in between those two!), my husband was slowly earning more money, gaining more experience that made him more valuable in his field.  My own career was backsliding.  I have a handful of college degrees and certifications (all paid for out of my own pocket, not his), and had the same income potential as my husband when I left the workforce to raise our daughter, but this has changed.  Now, nine years later, I am practically having to start from scratch (or so it feels).  Thank goodness for my great education and fabulous network, thank goodness for work experience, even if it's from long ago, because I was actually able to get out there and find a decent job.  But I'm starting from way behind.

When my husband leaves the marriage, he takes his earning potential with him, and over the years, he's gotten ahead.  I am way behind him now.

Now, I could go on and on about how unfair it is that he expected me to cook and clean even on weekends and vacations, and saw no issue with laying on the sofa napping as I ran around caring for our daughter and lives.  I won't talk about the Christmas when we (yes we, both of us) invited his family for the big meal, and he napped for two hours in the morning and two hours in teh afternoon until I woke him up in a panic and said "Come on!  I need help!  There is a lot of work to do for this dinner and you're still napping!" and he said, "But it's Christmas!"....because it never occurred to him that it was Christmas for me, too, and that I had been cooking and caring for our daughter the whole time, even when he was napping.  No, I'll let you read Why I Want a Wife and let that essay make the argument for you.

But even if our marriage hadn't had blatant sexism built into it, even if it hadn't been so unhealthy, when he leaves this marriage, he has more than when he started, and the ability to sustain his own lifestyle.  I work just as hard, for just as many hours, and I earn much less, because of the time I took off.  I'm not fond of the idea of taking his money, because I'm fiercely independent by nature (yes, I know, my marriage doesn't reflect that, but I'm making up for lost time now) and I wish I could do it all on my own.  But unless I remove our daughter from her school, move to a different neighborhood, and uproot HER life, I can't make it without some help.  I don't want alimony, but I need it, and I've earned it.  Our decision to have an at -home parent and a working parent was entirely mutual, and I will not willingly be the only one to bear the cost of that decision.

But aside from alimony, I really do need a wife.

When I come home at the end of the workday, I've had a very different day than his was during our years when I was a stay-at-home mom.  First, I have to get up super early to take care of the dog, the house (throw in a load of laundry, etc.) and get myself ready and looking professional for work, before I wake our daughter up, make her breakfast, prepare both of our lunches, and get both of us out the door.  (My got up leisurely, drank the coffee I made, and left me to manage the rest, caring only for himself in the morning, stopping at his favorite coffee shop to read the paper a bit before heading to the office.)  During the day, I carry my cellphone everywhere, because if the school calls, I need to answer, knowing that I'm the one on duty.  (He went to work knowing that she was taken care of and that I'd handle whatever came up.)  Like him, I spend a day at work, and some days are great, and some aren't.  After work, I go straight to pick her up on the way home, walking in the door with her to immediately clean up the breakfast dishes and make dinner as I get her settled with homework, without a chance to change my own clothes.  (He walked in the door, where our daughter and I were waiting for him, and said 'Hey I need a few minutes to get settled', knowing that I'd manage things.)  I make the dinner, I serve the dinner, I clean the dinner, I fold the laundry, I return the phone calls, I wonder how to get her to the well-child check up without missing work.  (He enjoyed the dinner, then had some down time before bed.)

He has elected - his choice - for limited time with our daughter, seeing her mostly on weekends.  Our daughter is worth all of this work, and I am glad to have her with me as much as I can, but still, my reality is very different than his.

If I had the life my husband had during our marriage, I would jump up and down with gratitude.  The idea of walking in the door to a happy child and a hot meal is almost more than I could bear: the beauty would be blinding.

The good news in all of this?  I'm told that in 2012 there are men who cook, and who know that cleaning a kitchen means that you have to not only put the plates in the dishwasher, but the glasses and silverware too, and that the pots on the stove need to be cleaned as well.  I'm told that there are men who don't mind sharing duties on weekends, and don't expect a woman to do it all even when she's working.  I'm not bashing all men here, I'm sharing my experience with one man, and I look forward to the day when I find myself an entirely different kind of man to share life with.  Household chores aren't the only thing I want in a partner, but they'd be a nice piece of the puzzle, don't you think?  (Hot sex, hand holding, a hiking partner, and a good conversationalist are also on the list, just in case you're wondering.)

I'm PollyAnna, optimist.  One day I will find a partner who doesn't expect me to put more effort in than he is willing to make, and will appreciate me, just as I appreciate him.

But until then?  Man....it sure would be nice to have a wife.

The Summer of Joy

It's pouring rain.

I'm still sad.

But I'm not called PollyAnna for nothing.

This is where I pick myself up, and make a plan to make it better.  I sent out email to my close friends yesterday detailing that Bryan actually did go out and find an apartment, and that Katherine is super excited because it IS in walking distance of our house.  I told my friends that I am feeling intense sadness, but that I intend to find my joy, and that I needed their help.  I told them that I intend to have parties here all summer long - impromptu ones with watermelon and kids in the sprinkler and dancing in the kitchen and drinking wine and grilling food and movie nights.  I told them that I need to fill my house with laughter and people I love, to get rid of this aching sadness.

One dear friend responded, "I'm in!  Sign me up for the summer of joy!"

Have I mentioned yet how much I love my friends?  How good they are to me, how they hold me up when I'm falling?  How when I lose my faith in the world and in myself, their kindnesses restore that faith?  How, when I know I can not take one more step, one of them steps in for me?  It is no surprise that a friend gave me this gift, these kind words that are a declaration of intent.  Summer of joy!

I hereby declare it the summer of joy.  I will reclaim my space, and I will breathe deeply, and I will wear sundresses and dance barefoot in the kitchen.  My problems won't go away, but I will still live in joy.

I have a bit of work to do to get there.  But now I know what I'm aiming for.

Summer of joy, here I come.

PS  In the northwest, summer starts after July 4.  It just is that way.  If you haven't lived here, you might not understand....but if you've lived here, you get it.  I have a couple of weeks to figure this out.

Stages of Grief

This week I started separating out the kitchen items.

I went back into my spreadsheets of finances to update them.

I started making lists of home repairs that I was just going to have to deal with, whether I wanted to or not.

I contacted my friends with a list of items I need for post-split: like most households, we have one blender, one toaster, one vacuum, etc. and we're going to have to figure out how to double these items in the next three weeks.

Work is busier than ever.

Katherine is struggling to accept these new changes.  Except for the one giant fit - transference of every anxiety she has into something small and petty, but perhaps it was good for her to let it all out, even if it hit me where it hurts - she is doing well, but I see the small shadows around her eyes.  She's worried.

And I'm in a new stage of grief: depression.  I think I like this stage least of all.  Denial has its advantages, after all, because I'm pretty good at pretending all is well.  Anger is at least energizing.  I spent most of my marriage in the bargaining stage, so it worked for at least a decade.  I thought I was in acceptance - ah, blissful acceptance - of where I am: I have been thinking it through, planning, imagining a better future....

But right now, I'm just sad.  My family doesn't work.  Our finances are broken.  I'm exhausted.  My daughter hurts.  The word "overwhelmed" feels like it is tattooed on my forehead.

This is to be expected.  How could I divorce without deep sadness?  And now that things are put into piles, his and mine, how could I not grieve the life that might have been? 

I'm trying to live with this sadness.  I grieve for the death of the fantasy of the happy family; I grieve for the hopes that I thought we shared; I grieve for the life I've lost.  I grieve for our daughter.  I grieve for myself.




Readers, how do you manage your grief, sadness, depression over a divorce?  Any suggestions as to how I can both accept that sadness is a part of the process....and move out of sadness?  I learn a great deal from your stories and suggestions, and I welcome both.