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.

Diving into Icy Water

I am back from my lovely vacation.  It was a retreat to a dear friend's cabin, so there was no escape from cooking or cleaning, but there was plenty of nature, lots of downtime, time with friends, hiking, and swimming in a place like this:



...and swimming in a place like this:



People do NOT swim in the mountains and lakes around here in May, unless they are insane.  Katherine and I are insane, and we love it.  The weather was unseasonably warm, and the water was a constant (and expected) freezing cold, but we dove in anyway.  I jumped off a county dock and my feet brushed the seaweed at the bottom, and I knew I was alive.  We jumped into a mountain lake where I couldn't see the bottom, and the metallic-snow-smell of the water let me know I was alive.  Living, with a capital L.

And to share that with my daughter?  There's nothing like it.  Reveling in nature, and in the beauty of our region, and in the fact that our bodies are healthy and strong, and that we are together....well, when I slice through the cold water, I get a rush like nothing else, and when I do it with her my body hums the refrain "that's my girl!" and I'm not sure if I'm talking about her or myself.

                                                                     *****

I used to hike most weekends, pre-marriage, and I always swam at the destination.  (Some like to hike to mountaintops.  I don't mind that, but I prefer it if there is a lake to jump in to cool off from the hard workout of the hike somewhere along the way, preferably the middle.)  I was a known skinny dipper: if I got to the lake and there were others there, I'd simply swim out in my swimsuit, then slip it off and hold it while I swum around where nobody could see me (because often I'd be the only one swimming).  This made me giggle, and felt a bit like wearing sexy lingerie under my clothes at a business meeting: it was a gift just for myself, a delicious secret.

Bryan wasn't into hiking, and he didn't smile at me the way other men had when I dove into cold water.  (Prior to Bryan, more than one man had found my antics in cold water HOT.)  Bryan frowned.  He told me I was foolish.  He rolled his eyes.  He said he was tired and wanted to go home.

I didn't hike or swim much at all during our marriage.

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Our friends thought about jumping in.  They watched us smiling, and shrieking, and laughing, and they said, "Oh we should join you that looks so fun..." but they did not.  This did not surprise me, because it's not for everybody.  I am used to swimming alone, even when the hike is with friends.  Katherine is the only one I've ever met who will join me every time, no convincing needed.

Swimming in a mountain lake isn't unlike what I need to do with my life right now.  I'm diving into the pain, convinced that doing so will remind me what it feels like to be free, and that the exhileration of it will compensate for the fear and the icy shock.

In one month, Bryan needs to move out.

In one month, I will be my own primary breadwinner for the first time in nine years.

In one month, I will officially 100% be a single mom.

I've been standing at the edge of this lake, wading until my feet tingle with the pain, but soon, the wading must stop, and it will be time to dive in.  I think that I'll be underwater for a while, and that I'll nearly faint from the cold, but I believe that I will emerge more alive than ever, more myself than ever.  I only pray that this is so, and that removing the dysfunctional relationship from daily view will help Katherine emerge stronger, more sure of herself, as well.

It'd be easy to add up all the pain;
all the hopes and dreams you watched go up in flames...
But not me:
I'm alive.
I'm Alive, sung by Kenny Chesney and Dave Matthews
http://youtu.be/8VVpAqHJlQk