My Motivation

My friend was down this weekend for a half-marathon where she got a personal best and averaged a pace of 9:33 for the 13.1 mile run.  I was in awe of her drive and determination.  The run was at Disneyland and while her motivation was speed, her friend who was also in the race got distracted by the Disney characters, music, and attractions along the way.  She stopped several times for pictures and finished far behind.  Her motivation was to enjoy the experience and take it all in.

There is no right way or wrong way when you look at it.  It depends on your goal.  As a single woman is my goal to be alone?  Is it to NOT be alone?  If it was, I could do something this minute to ensure that I had a man by my side.  If my goal is to be married, I could work out that probably too.

These last few months I’ve had a lot of time to think about what my motivation is.  What is my goal?  Other than trying to make each decision in a godly way, I do believe it is up to me to decide what I want.

I met up with the two ladies after their run and we were met by an old high school friend.  My friend and he had been chatting and hadn’t seen each other in 25 years.  It was fun to catch up and laugh.  Meeting in a group took the pressure off.  But while sitting in a lounge at the Grand California Hotel, I was acutely aware when my kids got home from the weekend with their dad.  It was hard to hear the conversation in the loud room and my mind wandered.  Both my kids texted me that they were fine and to enjoy myself, but I wished I were home with them.  I did try to engage, but I got bored.

I realized I would be far happier  in my sweats watching a good flick with people I love than sitting in a lounge making small talk with people I barely know (my friend aside).  In the end I did laugh and enjoyed myself as best as I could.  But I really wasn’t into it.

As I walked in the door at ten minutes to midnight my son greeted me with messy hair and tired smile.  “Why are you up?  You should be in bed silly!”

“I wanted to say hi to you.”

He lingered as I grabbed some crackers for a late night snack and tried to unwind.  He brought out a new pea coat he got from his dad off the clearance rack.  He told me stories about his weekend.  We walked up the stairs together.

While I was changing he knocked on the door and said, “I don’t know why but I wanted to say good night again.”  And he gave me a big hug.  And I asked him if he missed me and he said yeah, I guess.

I told him I loved him and we said good night again.  He came back in my room one more time when he remembered something else he wanted to share and I put my head down on the pillow thinking…THIS is my motivation.

No matter how I look at it, until they move out and find lives of their own.  My number one job is to be there for them.  I’m mommy, even though he’s 17 years old.  I’m other things too, but I’m mommy first.

So whatever I do I must be a good example to them.  And I don’t have to run this race for speed.  Time is my friend.  Time will help determine what the right course of action for me is.  And right now I’m content to wait it out.

Loyalty

Where does loyalty begin?  With a promise?  With a smile?  With a kiss?  Is loyalty so old-fashioned a concept that it doesn’t even exist between people anymore?  Surely it doesn’t happen after swapping spit on a date.  No.  There are many men and women left waiting for a call.  But what about deeper relationships?  Surely not husbands and wives even anymore.  No.  Many leave and annihilate that safe-zone that loyalty breeds in order to become free agents.

Is there loyalty among friends?  Always?  Surely family.  Blood is thicker than water they say.

Is loyalty misguided?  Are we not to stand by each other and believe that our loved ones will triumph over their trials?  Or do we throw them under the bus?  Do we convict them of the sin they truly are guilty of and write them off?  Why?  To save ourselves from the complexity of loving someone through their mistakes?  Because we must honor ourselves first and then others?  Or just because we like to judge? Or because we think loving people despite their flaws is committing ourselves to weakness as a victim?

For me and the way I treat people: loyalty comes in tandem with honesty, kind of like the marines have this concept of no man left behind.

I discussed before on this blog that I believed love was a commitment and not a feeling.  But this might clarify my point a little bit more and also broaden it to other relationships.

When you love someone you are loyal to them AND honest with them.  You tell them when they are messed up in their thinking and then you stand by them.  You don’t judge and condemn and leave.  You don’t talk about them behind your back.  You sit with them when they are in the trenches and help them when they are weak.

That is what we are here to do for each other.  Not to judge or condemn but to come along side and lift up and help.  Even if it means a longer day than you wanted or more “drama” then so be it.

There is a time and a place to call someone out on something.  That is the honest part.  But you don’t cut and run.  You just don’t if you love them.  Cause that is NOT love.  That is acting in your own self-interest.  Period.

And on the flip-side, love is also not letting them get away with treating you or anyone else badly.  It doesn’t mean turning a blind eye.

I know people who are great at telling people like it is but not loving them by sticking by them and helping them through to the other side. I also know a lot of people who aren’t willing to risk being honest and just excuse and ignore major things.  Neither is true love.  You have to have both.

And let me be clear.  I do not think it means “saving” anyone.  You can call someone out but you can’t “fix” them.  They either will or they won’t.  That part is up to them.  They choose to do right or wrong, easy or hard.

Love doesn’t leave because it’s not convenient and a pain.  Love doesn’t leave when it hurts.  But love does hold us accountable.

It is both strong and tender.  It is not blind.  It is wise.  It is exemplified in the life of Jesus.  He was nobody’s fool.

It will be harder.  But I will be loyal to the people I love.  I simply cannot be any other way.  It is my duty, my calling. and in a very strange way, my joy.

It is not weakness.  It takes more strength to turn a cheek and love your enemies than to walk away.  It takes more humility to honor the truth and the part you played in it than to paint an ignoble picture of others.

I don’t love casually.   I looked into the eyes of my ex tonight who seemed lost.  He left me.  He cheated on me.  When it became clear that he was not willing to repent I took the necessary actions to divorce legally.  I did not do that lightly.  But I still love him.  Because I am loyal and honest with him to this day.

Few people deserve this …I think the true number is 0.  None of us deserve to be treated this way.  I just choose to.  Yes it means I will hurt more.  I understand the cost.  But it doesn’t change my conviction.

 

 

 

Tsunami Warnings

Why don’t people listen to warnings?  Easy answer.  They don’t believe the risk.  They think people are overreacting and nothing will happen to them.  What are the odds?  So instead of taking heed, they linger hoping for a bit of a story to tell the grandkids someday.  The more they linger the more they get lulled into believing they have safely defied the experts.  And as they walk along the beach, all of a sudden the waves get sucked back into the sea.  There is this odd sense of quiet before they see the wall of water approaching them, much too fast to manage escape.  They can see it coming.  They know what they’re in for but it’s too late.  They get sucked under.  All they can do at this point is ride the wave and hope they come out alive.

Emotions are like that sometimes for me.  I think there is no way he’ll get to me again.  For goodness sake it’s been 3 1/2 months!  But the warnings are real.  Emotionally speaking I’ve been sucked in again.  Sucked into the tumult of the waves being tossed from the extreme feeling of hate and contempt back to love and compassion.  Sucked into the noise.  That awful, loud, white-noise of excuses, reasons, explanations, plans, promises, and solutions.  It’s confusing.  Sucked into the fear and hope that simultaneously pulse through my body.  Sucked into this feeling, even when I’m so angry I can hardly see straight, of being home with him.

The war is with myself.  With the embarrassment which stems from pride that I let this happen to me in the first place.  And with the knowledge that so many people know what he did I would be a laughing-stock and not respected if I forgave him.  Certainly not now and I will not.  I refuse to forgive him to the point of absolution.  No.  He has to prove what he’s saying and that will take a very long time and will take consistent effort on his part.

But my heart and my head remembers the little things that are so easily dismissed by others as “the good part” as they remind me of the “bad part.”  I tell myself that most people would never have put themselves in the position he was in and he was stupid.  Yes, he was very stupid.  In many ways.  And why would I invite that back into my life when I have so much going for me?  Why am I utterly optimistic with the people I love?  Why am I a stupid woman?

It would be so much easier for him to leave me alone.  Forget about me and date someone from his own country.  But he’s still applying to jobs in America.  He’s working out the details now for himself to retire early.  He’s telling me moving back to his house and his wife were acts of a desperate man who merely needed a roof over his head after being homeless for two years.  That she understood that it was only for the holidays…..that he did not use her or her hopes that he would return…that he never once even hugged her…and only slept on the couch.  That his girls saw their misery and now they “get it” when they didn’t get it before because it was hidden from them.  That they all know he lost me and they see what losing me has done to him.

I’m tossed by the current, upside down and all around.  I begin drowning.  And I panic myself.  How can this be?  How can this be true?  How can it not be true?  He says he will prove it.  He says lots of things.  But what will he do?

And then I begin to focus on an anchor.

Maybe his heart is genuine.  Maybe he means what he says.

But that is when the anchor gets closer and I grab a hold of it.

Maybe.

But I’m done feeling brave and stupid.  If he means what he says he has to prove it before I will entertain any thought of ever even looking him in the eye again, let alone letting him back into my life.  It would take a miracle.  And I cling tight to the safety  of that anchor and pray for strength to hold on.  Pray for strength to withstand the pull of the tide of my emotions that keep whirling around me.

I can’t imagine how many people are shaking their heads back and forth as they read this.  Like I did of the people who stupidly drove the shore in Indonesia when they heard a tsunami was on its way.  Idiots.  Stupid, stupid people.  And maybe I AM stupid for listening  to that voice that says…let him explain.  But it’s honest.  It’s what is really happening.  It’s emotional for me still only because there was so much good. All the good stories I’ve written about our connection and all our good times were not figments of my imagination.  That was AS real as his lies and his weakness.   At least that’s what I tell myself.

I don’t want my strength to come out of pride from embarrassment or injury.  I want my strength to come from wading through this torrent of emotions until I am safely on the other side of this pain.

And maybe that means watching him drown as I hold onto my anchor and losing him forever.  I know I can’t save him.  It’s beyond me.  It’s up to him and God’s will.  All I can do at this point is watch and wait to see what happens to him. Maybe as I watch he will finally be up to the task of facing the truth in his life.  Maybe I’ll get to see a man learn from his mistakes, repent, and actually turn his life around?  If I didn’t look I would miss it.

Whatever the outcome I will either be relieved and so very happy or I will grieve.  Either way I have to resign myself to the emotions of it and not try to hide, because there is nowhere TO hide.

I’m already in the water.

Soul Mates

Many people believe there is one person meant for us who is our true soul mate and nothing we can do will change who that person is.  We will find them and then it is our job to hold onto them.  Romantic comedies and tragedies alike feed off this belief.  Think Serendipity with John Cusack.  While I have experienced the euphoria of falling in love and not being able to fathom life without that person, I can’t say I buy into the whole philosophy.

For one there are no perfect people.  And before you counter that statement with, but there is a perfect person FOR YOU.  I say bull. Every single person out there has flaws and you stick around a person long enough you will see those flaws and I guarantee that some of them will get to you.  They will grate to the point of distraction at times until  you have to consciously decide that you can either live with them or you can not.  But there is compromise in every relationship.  It really depends on how much you are willing to accept or not which determines successful relationships.  That is aside from communication and honesty which are also integral.

Also, we have so many parts of ourselves that no one person can fulfill them all nor should they shoulder the pressure to.  I have had relationships that compliment different strengths, hobbies, beliefs, quirks, and appetites.  Where one person I can speak for hours about my love of history, about family and relationships.  One I can sit and watch movie after movie and laugh and another listen to music we both like.  One will go happily  to a museum or shopping and another  on hiking adventures.  But when and where one person falls short you have friends and family to fill in the gaps.  One person can not nor should not fill them all.  That is way too much pressure.  And it also sets expectations way too high.

Finding your soul mate also presumes that  somehow because you were meant to be together that life with that person should be and will be easy.  And I’m just saying flat out that living with another person every day and night is not easy no matter who they are.

Since becoming single again I have had a few conversations with a few men.  All from different backgrounds, and with different qualities.  Some I’m attracted to and others I’m not.  Some are super smart and savvy while others are sweet and simple.  All of them want to take me out for coffee or something.  Most of them I’m not interested.  All of them I’ve put off for now.

People tend to place much too much emphasis on chemistry instead of friendship and some are afraid that if you start the relationship as friends it will be stuck there forever more.  I think chemistry is important too but not acting on it.  Sure attraction has to be there…but if you put the physical before the friendship you are almost ensuring a short-lived romance.  Because chemistry has no endurance.  It fizzles over time and becomes stale.

That is one of the reasons I find myself a horrible candidate for the dating world.  Friendship takes too long to build and I’m afraid our culture has not groomed men to be patient.

There are layers to people.  And almost everybody looks good on the surface.  Good enough anyway to find out more.  Some aren’t for you and you know it right away.  But because my dating criteria is more internal than external, more about connection than chemistry it takes time for me to find out if someone is worth the effort or not.  You-know-who and I were friends first.  There was definite attraction but for months all we could do was simply share stories and talk.  But the more our friendship burned into romance the more he tried to make sure nothing jeopardized it to the point of lying to me.  I was his soul mate and he decided he couldn’t live without me.  Even after seemingly rejecting me, he has come full circle and is saying that once again.

He is fighting to prove himself worthy.  Even begging it seems for me to not shut the door and lock it.  He promises he will show that he can be a man of character even in tough situations and that he has learned from his mistakes.  I am not convinced.  In fact I’m skeptical at best.

I do have a vested interest that the people I love succeed.  I want to see them succeed.  And the more people I let into my world I realize – most just won’t.  But there is a shred of hope I guess.

There truly are only a few gems out there who’s traits, mannerisms, and values match to compliment your own.  When you find someone who does, it is special indeed.  I do believe in love.  I do believe in life-long love and commitment.  I do not believe it is easy.  It can only happen over time through a special kind of friendship.  That is the only time you know for sure. If after everything is said and done you still would rather be with that person more than anyone else on the planet because you can trust them and you find them to be faithful, loyal friends.

Mind over Matter?

When my husband left I cried pretty much all the time.  I was deep in depression and felt like a failure.  I thought my life as I knew it was over and it was.  I didn’t know how to pick up the pieces of my life because I didn’t even who I was apart from him or us.  I lost about 15 pounds and was miserable on the outside and the inside.  I felt like I had been rejected for everything I was which couldn’t be good enough, worthy, desirable, or otherwise attractive.

This time I know I am worth it.  I know I have lots to give.  This time I am not blaming myself for everything that happened.  I’m not turning inwards and second guessing my every move.  I know in time I will be okay and better for the break up.  I admit sometimes I hold out hope he will get his act together and surprise me years from now and maybe there is a 1/2% chance.  But mostly I am resigned that it is over.  And I’m also resigned to being brave about it.  No puddles this time.  No pity parties that last weeks…only hours if not minutes.

This time I have lost the, for some reason, required 15 break-up pounds as well.  But things feel different.  In my effort to rise above the pain while looking at it square in the face I have seen changes in me that are either healthy or alarming. I am honestly trying to strike a balance between the amount of food I consume and the amount of exercise I perform.  I don’t work out every day.  Depending on my week it’s about 3-5 times.  I run about 3 miles and sometimes do other workouts like yoga or bleacher climbs.  But I don’t think anyone would call it obsessive.

The problem is I’m going on month four and my appetite has not returned.  And I find myself holding off eating on purpose because I like feeling hungry.  When I eat, I don’t like the feeling of being full.  I do love the taste of food and enjoy eating.  It’s just afterwards I regret it.  I’m also enjoying being the skinniest I’ve been since I got married.  At 21 I was 98 lbs.  I was a rail.  And I loved being something many people couldn’t be.  Tiny.  Now at 42 I’m pushing double digits again as I hover this week around 105 lbs.  And I’ve started to keep track of my calories using a phone app. to see if I’m eating enough to maintain my weight, lose, or gain some back.  I wouldn’t call it an obsession but I do have keen interest.

I’ve never really cared before.

This time instead of my bad dreams stopping (recall that my tornado dreams stopped after 15 recurring years) after the break up with my ex, dreams and not good ones have returned with a vengeance.   I have several dreams a night that  aren’t necessarily horror films in my mind but unsettling nonetheless.  Often times I forget them quickly but I’m always waking up to them and trying to work them out in my brain.  Sometimes they scare me.  Every night I go to sleep hoping for a peaceful sleep but every night despite taking my sleeping pill which I’m now down to taking only 1/3 of a pill.  I wake several times a night sometimes as many as 5 times.  I check my phone like I have done for the past two years even though I know nothing new will be there.  I just do it on impulse even before I’m fully awake and then get mad at myself.

When my ex left I simply couldn’t sleep at all and until I got my sleeping pill prescription, had difficulty getting through my day without feeling so tired I was almost dysfunctional.  So I guess I have my 15 pills left to be thankful for which if I play it right will give me over a month of continued sleep at a descent hour.

I know every break up is different, or so I’m told.  I know I’ve been through a lot in the last four years.  I know I shouldn’t be too hard on myself and I’ve shown a lot of courage, growth, and am mostly being a good example to my children and those who know me.  But I can’t help but think I’m just fooling myself.

The courage is a mask for what I acknowledged the first time.  Utter weakness in the face of loss.  This time I’m pretending to be strong.  Mind over matter.  As much as I talk about surrendering to this new fate and trusting God I’m grasping for some ounce of control in my life and I’ve settled on controlling the food that enters my body.  Classic.  Stupid.  I can even analyze myself doing it.  So last night I went to In N Out Burger.  I do not want to come out of this crisis tweaked.  I obviously don’t want to be fat or unhealthy either, but yesterday was the first day I made my calorie limit in weeks.

The courage I walk in during the day disappears at night as my mind wrestles with my fears of every kind.  I’ve had dreams about money, love, family, health, housing, abandonment, personal attacks, you name it.  One common denominator in these dreams are that I am usually alone.  A common denominator in my tornado dreams was that I was always with people and trying to help them.  Interesting.

Mentally I know what I am doing is the right thing to do.  My heart screams to go running back into his arms.  Even now.  Even when I know it is a stupid move.  Knowing I don’t want to have to deal with his antics for the rest of my life.  If only for the smile, laugh, hug, and that settled feeling I felt when I was with him…my heart longs for it.

I think I’m in a tug of war with myself subconsciously.  I know God wants me to be alone right now.  I don’t know for how long.  In actions I am being obedient.  Mostly.  But I know right now I have to get to that place internally where I am at peace with my aloneness.  It’s the one thing I’ve avoided doing ever since my ex left.  Being truly alone and content there.

I’ve often heard and said that you can’t go around a problem  you have to go through it.  And the only way out of something is to deal with it.  Aloneness is the one thing I have not dealt with.

H.S. Guy texted me last Wednesday telling me his life was too hectic right now to talk and he hoped I was good.  I took right now to mean that night.  But after 8 days with no word and two unreplied texts from me I’m thinking right now meant in the foreseeable future.  Ohhh.  So no upcoming dates.  No more hikes, or yoga, or dinners out.  Ok.  I can do that.  Bummer.  But ok.

Martin and my conversation the other night showed me how much work is left for Martin to do on his own.  He is still in that place of wanting, longing, and I can tell he would still tell me anything just to get more time with me.  In our short conversation I got the feeling he wasn’t being completely honest with me about where he was living now.  Could be that I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.  But that is kind of the point. I can’t trust him so I can’t entertain the notion of any kind of a relationship with him friendship or otherwise.  So…

There are several other men who have expressed an interest in spending time with me.  And for many different reasons I know that is not what I want.  So…

SO.  God is telling me I have to face aloneness finally.  OK.  Somehow I will.  I just want to stop losing weight.  I want the bad dreams to stop.  And I want this courage I seem to have these days to be more than a shield I use to deflect bad thoughts and feelings.  I want it to be what I really am.

Matter is what is real for now.  I’m seriously sad and wish things were different.  Mind is ruling over matter trying to control things but under the surface doing a less than adequate job.

One day and night at a time.  Ok.  I get it.  Lord, I pray, stay close.  I know You will.  But I have to ask.

Eruptions

I am fascinated with natural disasters of all kinds.  Most are destructive beyond measure and nothing good comes from them.  They shake, whirl, soak, and topple buildings and lives to the point of death.  But volcanoes seem to have an ulterior motive and almost a human character.  They create destruction and death by taunting humanity for months, but they also birth beauty and life. If it weren’t for volcanoes we wouldn’t have the mountain chains in the Cascades of  the Northwest or the Sierra Nevada’s; some of the most beautiful country there is.  But of course that is years after eruptions have occurred.  As the Bible says, beauty does come from ashes.  Life from death.

Some say, there is no greater pain than to lose love.  Some say you can die of a broken heart.  And there is this time period when it feels like that is true.  It hurts so much.  I can certainly attest to that.  But I’m starting to see my way through this pain.  And part of what I’m learning in this journey into being single is that there is something very odd that happens when two people become a couple. It’s this mind/heart shift that melds the two of you into one.

And that can be very good because you take care of yourself.  You love yourself.  You can’t possibly hurt yourself.  It is magical because it is inherently selfless to invite another person into your own being.

So when something does happen, as it often does, to cause a couple to separate, it is an excruciating process.

I’m 42 years old and I’ve been lonely for most of my life.  I was lonely during my entire marriage.  But for two years I was not.  I’ve never known the feeling of being wrapped within the envelope of love so much that I felt at home whenever I was with him.  I felt completely at ease and comfortable in my own skin with him.  I was completely and utterly me with him.  And I don’t know if that had something to do with not feeling lonely.  But put the two together and I was the happiest I have ever been in my entire life.

Separating myself from him has been excruciating to say the least.  I have had more very strong moments than weak ones.  But after the explosion of a volcano, the mountain doesn’t just all of a sudden grow quiet.  It still rumbles and spurts, and has the occasional smaller eruption.  The people who live around the mountain live in fear of what it will do next.  They’ve already gone through the pain of seeing total destruction.  Now they are only trying to pick up the pieces of what’s left and carry on and it keeps growling in the background, threatening their peace with smoke, fire, and ash.

I am not a perfect person.  I’m not the strongest person I know.  I’m truly a big softy.  And his emails got to me last night and I asked him if he would like to talk for a while.  It had been over two months.  My New Years Resolution lasted about two weeks.  And I was doing so well.  But I missed him terribly and while I had been grieving for him as if he had died, I realized I could relieve some of the pain and pressure in talking to him.  Classic rationalization move on my part.

But what I saw when we said hello was shocking to me.  He looked miserable.  He hadn’t slept well, it was about 4 in the morning.  He was heavier, unshaven, puffy and red in the face from crying and had tears all over his face.  He looked broken.  It hurt to see him that way.

He didn’t lash out, he didn’t try to weasel out of anything.  I think he was just grateful to see me and get a chance to talk.  And we did.  For a couple of hours.  It helped me to clear up some misunderstandings that are inevitable over email.  It helped him I hope.  He told me a dozen times how sorry he was.  He practically begged for forgiveness again.  But I held my ground.

I practically begged him to talk to someone other than me.  To let them know what is going on in his head.  He hasn’t explained anything to any of his family, including his daughters.  They just know we broke up.  He pleads with me about the pressure he was under to make it all work from all sides.  His family, his job, financially; it was all so big and so much of it was up in the air as to how things would be when it all landed that he got scared.  Living in rented rooms, or his car, constantly trying to move and get work and being rejected, feeling pressure from his own boss about him wanting to leave, fearing his livelihood with layoffs, wondering how he would make up for my alimony when we got married and the extra he was being asked to pay to his wife, trying to live.

I admitted to him that it was all a lot.  That through most of our relationship I was amazed at his resolve.  But what he needed to do was talk to me about it instead of letting the pressure build to the point of an eruption.  Because eruptions bring on major damage.  And he damaged us to the point of oblivion because he did not include me.  He gets that now.  He’s kicking himself for it.   He’s physically ill over it.  But I can’t change the fact that it happened.

This time it was very good for me to see him and to talk to him.  It was like coming home.  I know that is awful to admit after how badly he treated me.  But it was soo good to see him.  As horrible as he appeared.  I told him I wanted to be friends if we could.  But that is all I could ever be with him again.

I meant it.  I have never loved as completely as I loved this man.  I have never felt so connected.  And to be burned as I was burned from the very thing I loved so much.  It’s like looking up at that mountain that used to inspire you with its beauty and adventure, but now all you see is fear.  It’s guts are spilled out everywhere and anything it touched is destroyed.  It will take time and lots of it for me to see the benefit of this particular explosion.  I know that he will never be the same.

As I deal with the rumblings and ash clouds – I am also dealing with the pain.  Unlike him who is trying to hide away the pain, I’m looking that pain in the face and letting it work its way through me so I can move on and be stronger for it.  I want that for me.  I want to be whole again. Survivors are changed by tragedy.  But it doesn’t have to ruin them.  I’ve said that I feel ruined.  And I do.  Last night though, I saw someone who is more ruined than me.  And I realized how far I have come and how much stronger I really am.

Two Steps Back

I’ve experienced some regression in the past couple of days.  I really don’t want to lay it all out there but it has to do with rationalizing and remembering and feelings and a couple of emails.

Emotionally right now I’m totally okay but the resolve has weakened a bit and I’m kicking myself.  Here I am sleeping in the middle of my bed with my shaped up body, hair that got a little too blonde on this last visit to the hairdressers, and all these possibilities.  So many possibilities.  And I went backwards instead of forwards.

I’m mad at me.

My kids leave this morning to go with their dad.  They should have gone last night but he had a party he apparently couldn’t miss. I have work I need to do.  I have an ultrasound on Monday for that mammogram that wasn’t so good.  I need to get out of the house.

The thing is…oh forget it.  It’s stuff I think about though and its hard not to.

Maybe it’s three steps back even.  I was doing so good.

The Morning After

Who am I?  Where am I?  Am I even in the same room I’ve slept in for the last 11 years?  It’s amazing how shifting 20 inches changes your perspective.

I purposefully placed myself in the middle of the bed last night for sleep.  If you’re wondering why you can read yesterday’s post.  I was compelled to see if it would have any effect on my psyche.

With book in hand my first dilemma was which nightstand lamp to use.  So I turned on both.  Then, I realized if I had some water I would be too far away from it to grab a sip.  There are benefits to being on one side or the other apparently.  I did notice how much more firm the middle of the bed was in my 15-year-old mattress.  I have my nice little sunken in part I fit into perfectly on the left.  I felt taller on the hump in the middle.  And I felt a little bold.  Like going into the middle of the ice rink instead of hanging onto the railing on the edge.  The whole room looked different to me.  And yes, it could have been because it was clean and I put newly cleaned sheets on my bed.  But still.  It seriously was odd feeling.

In the morning, the first thing I noticed was that the bed was messier.  The covers were all over the place instead of just on my little side.  And I probably would have felt like it was a complete triumph had it not been for my bad dream.

I don’t remember all of it, but I do remember I was on a cruise ship and that ship was being chased by two gigantically evil whales.  Of course it was stormy and the waves were choppy.  I remember  a wall with pipes going up from floor to ceiling and wrapping my arms around them interlocking my fingers so I wouldn’t get swept off the boat.  I remember being terrified.  I call them whales but they could have been sharks or a fantastic cross between the two from my imagination.  Usually in dreams where I’m scared because of being chased,  I try to warn other people to be safe.  But this dream, I don’t remember any other people.  I was alone.  Fitting.

I have been on two cruises in my life.  I had a great time on both.  But unbeknownst to me, on both, I was being deceived by the men I was with.  My husband texting his mistress that he missed her.  My fiancé calling and emailing a friend trying to figure out how to leave me.  I still don’t know why, but my thinking is he knew already he did not have the job, knew he was still married, when he had told me he wasn’t, and his colleague was trying to convince him that I and moving to America was a lost cause and a bad idea.  It took him a year and two months from that point to finally confront the truth.  But I digress.

I have great memories from both trips.  Sadly my reality was not the true and complete reality.  As was most of my time spent in relationships with men (no bitterness intended).  Which brings us back to why I was sprawling out in the middle of my bed – alone.

Maybe in the middle I felt vulnerable and that is where the dream came from and it wasn’t about my ex or Martin at all.  Or maybe dreams don’t make as much sense as we like to think and it’s just a nonsensical jumble or angst somehow being worked out in our subconscious.

What I do know is that despite the dream, last night was another step in the direction of clarity.  Why act like I’m married and continue the habit of sleeping on only the left side of the bed when I am in fact single and have this nice bed all to myself?  It’s a step toward acceptance of that reality in my life.  And I may go back to sleeping on the left only because it is more convenient for this coffee drinking, glasses wearing, book reading girl.  But the wall has come down because of what I did last night.  I literally avoided the right hand side of the bed before.  And I have now reclaimed it.

As silly as that sounds.  It was a big step for me.  And I woke up this morning, happily, with no regrets.  Alone.  In the comfort of MY own messy and lumpy bed.  I said my prayers of thanks for God seeing me through this long journey I have not wanted but find myself on.  And I literally kind of hugged my pillow, lifted my head, and am ready to face this new day.

Tonight is THE Night

I woke up this morning layered with a t-shirt and sweatshirt, socks, and sweats, curled up in a ball freezing.  Winters sleeping alone is not fun.  For 18 years I had a furry bear beside me I could snuggle up to for warmth.  Much to his displeasure I would often wedge my cold feet in between his legs and shove my cold nose into the crook of his arm.  Well, that is until his snoring got so loud I found myself turning the opposite direction from him and getting as far away as possible on a queen sized bed.  Which reminds me that having a partner to sleep with is double-edged.  It’s nice to have the comfort of another warm body.  But not the nuisance of loud, raucous  vibrations that after being woken they swear they weren’t doing.

Sleeping alone is one of the things I have actually gotten quite used to.  I like going to bed in peace and quiet.  I nestle under the covers reading a book.  I take my half pill of ambien and tell myself every night that the next night I will attempt to go it alone.

But last night I took my half pill and it was ages even with the pill before I fell asleep.  I had weird dreams all night.  Dirty bathrooms full of people I didn’t know.  Snapshot type dreams with people sneering at me, hugging me, kissing me, but yet I was disconnected to.  I woke up at 6 AM which is very early for me especially since it was after midnight that I fell asleep.  I dozed until about 7:30 AM.  It was not a pleasant dozing.

After one of my little naps I opened one eye and realized I was in the middle of the bed.  I never sleep in the middle of the bed.  I’m always in my little spot I allot myself on the left.  Not only were my feet in the middle but so was my head.  The middle?

I was talking with a friend a few weeks back who has emotionally recovered from a very hurtful end to her marriage.  She is not concerned with dating and is fairly content with her day-to-day life which does not include a man.  I asked her where in the bed she sleeps.  And she told me she sprawls out all over the middle of hers.  And it made me wonder if there is a connection between where we sleep in the bed and whether our hearts are holding a space open for a new man.  If we truly are content how we are should we be able to let go of that space?  Maybe it’s just a force of habit and it has nothing to do with our hearts.  But maybe there is a part of it that decides every night to keep that spot open.

My ex left almost three years ago and here I am still relegating myself to my little side.  Why can’t I take up the entire middle and sprawl my arms and legs out onto either side?  It’s not like I’m taking up anyone else’s room!

So I’ve decided that tonight is the night.  I’m going to purposefully set my pillow in the middle of the bed and see what happens.  See where I end up in the morning.  It’s a little experiment.  In honor of it I’m going to put on fresh clean sheets which I love more than anything.

Why not? haha.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Maintain!

I don’t have grotesque eyebrows naturally.  In fact I only starting shaping them in my late thirties.  It just didn’t occur to me for some reason before then.  I’m blonde and they are barely noticeable anyway.  But once I started, I got hooked on the “look”, and now, almost everyday, I have to do touch up plucking.  God forbid if I skip a few days.  Those little buggers pop up seemingly out of nowhere and there seems to be more each week.  There is this one hair on my left eyebrow that is dark and thick like a whisker.  And I hate it.  It is my nemesis.  As soon as it’s long enough to pluck away I get rid of that thing but of course it always comes back. I have to be diligent.  It can’t win!  If I stop it will…so I don’t stop.

I’m finding that so many things in life are like that.  Once you improve something; like your waistline or your spiritual life, you have to keep at it.  It’s not enough to do a good thing one time.  It has to be maintained or you will lose it.

And kind of like dying your hair, as it grows out it sort of looks worse than it did originally. The nice blonde hair fades to this mousey greyish color and by week 6 or 8,  every time you look in the mirror,  all you notice is that 1/2 inch at the top of your head.  So hideous.  So back to the hairdressers you go to give her a portion of your life savings and once again you feel fresh and kept and pretty.  That’s probably not the best example because dying your hair is pure vanity.  But you know what I mean?  What we are naturally speaking is usually better after diligent effort toward improvement.  But that effort has to be continuous or the benefits will disappear pretty quickly.

I’m probably in the best shape of my entire life and what am I doing with it?  I’m sitting around my house alone.  Great.  ON PURPOSE no less.  But honestly I’m not taking this as a life sentence. It’s just what is necessary for now.  And I’m kind of leaning toward hoping that it is for not much longer.  Do I still check my phone to see if H.S. Guy texted me today?  Yes.  I admit it.  And yes he did today.  And yes it made me smile.   SO what.  Maybe I’ll get another date soon.   I don’t see a reason not to anymore.  I’m kind of looking forward to it this time around.  I think I deserve a fun night out with a handsome guy.

And I think I’m ok with it because I realize it will not be the end all be all of my life.  I WANT BALANCE!  No fairytale romance.  No solution to all my problems.  Just something nice added in to make me smile sometimes and add a layer of texture and interest.

What I know I don’t want to happen is for any man’s life to be put on hold or drastically altered because he falls in love with me.  I know from experience that is too much pressure.  I just want something nice and normal and full and respectful.  A good compliment to all the good that is already there.

This sounds so healthy!  But I would not say it if I didn’t mean it.  Cause honesty has always been key for me in writing this blog.

Do I want that fun manly spark back in my life?  YES.  Am I being realistic about what it will bring me?  I think so.  I’m not the needy girl I was when I first met you-know-who.  I’m stronger.  And dare I say, I know I’m worth it.

So I’ll keep running, keeping praying, keep doing all the things that are filling the hole.  And tonight that means going to church to study the 37th chapter from the book of Isaiah.

Here we go…