It’s Not Easy

My son turned 18 today and he had a great day until he came home from the movies and told me he missed his job interview phone call because he had turned his phone to silent due to  so many Facebook notifications about his birthday and he forgot about the interview.  This is something we’ve been hoping and praying for, for months.  A good job in a music store.  They got his name from another music store who was considering hiring him and called him.  When he called them back a half hour later they said thanks but no thanks.  He was devastated and I was angry at the missed opportunity.

He told me my reaction ruined his birthday and he’s probably right.  He left and blew off some steam and then came back and we talked things through for a while and hugged at the end of the night.  But this crap is not easy.  Being a parent sucks.  It’s scary.  I want the best for him and I don’t want to make it all about me so I try to give him good advice and steer him in the right direction.  But when something happens like what happened today I just can’t fathom being that casual that I would forget a job interview, or an assignment or anything so critical.

Tonight he sat on the piano bench next to the instrument he taught himself how to play.  He is gifted and talented in so many ways.  And he looked across the room and said, “Mom you can’t be an overachiever in my life…that’s you, it’s not me.”  And when I was hugging him later that evening he said, “You have to let go Mom.”  And I know I do too.  I have to let him make his own way and have failures that he owns so he can also own his successes.  But it’s so hard.

I had to tell my daughter to stop studying for math at midnight and that she would make better use of her time by going to sleep.  They are just two completely different creatures.  My son said to me tonight, “Mom you and I can’t relate.  We are different.  I’m sorry.”  And that is true too.  I get my daughter and her drive and her determination to do her best in everything.  I don’t get my son and his desire for a smooth, happy ride.

He tried to tell me tonight that I had no clue how to help him because I wasn’t a man.  And I shut that down pretty fast explaining to him that I’m an adult who has made her way and if respected can help him if he’ll listen.  But there is this huge void for him without his dad.  He sees his dad struggle to make ends meet.  He knows his dad chose to live away from us, lost his job because of choices he made to be with someone else.  He said, “I see both worlds Mom, the successful one with you and the unsuccessful one with Dad and believe me, I know which one I want to have.”

But I worry still.  Cause I’m a mom.

Tonight was emotional.  It was probably inappropriate but I said, “Eighteen years ago you were sucking on my breast…I kept you alive and I did that for a year.  And I know it’s been eighteen years but I’ve invested my life.  I’ve sacrificed jobs and countless other things willingly to be and do what you and your sister needed.  And I would do it again in a heartbeat.  But that investment leaves me wanting so much for you and it’s hard for me sometimes to watch you forget things and make mistakes and not be emotional.”

Parenting is hard.  Single-parenting is excruciatingly hard.  The good thing that happened tonight is that he didn’t have his phone and he couldn’t call or text others.  We dealt with each other and he worked it out.

Tonight was almost as painful as the day he was born.  Kind of feel like my guts have been ripped out a bit.  But even tonight’s investment in energy and time will be worth it in the end.  He knows I have my issues.  He knows I care too much and try not to.  He knows I love him.

Eighteen years ago my mascara was running and my face was puffy and I was wreck after pushing for hours with no medication, feeling pain I had never imagined before.  Perhaps it is fitting that tonight I feel so much the same.  And have just as much love in my heart for that life that God gave me to treasure and nurture as a gift.  I will cherish him in the deepest place of my heart as long as I live.

But it’s definitely not easy  It’s the hardest thing ever.

And So It Goes…

Trust is a funny thing.  You have to have faith to trust.  Going through a green light that the others on the road will obey the rule to stop at the red one.  You trust that the chair will hold you up and you won’t plummet to the floor when you sit.  You trust your son will call you if he’s going to be late, that your husband will not cheat and now we’ve arrived.  And it didn’t take very long, to the understanding that trust always leads to expectations and mine have apparently always been too high.  Because people I trust leave me.

I met up with Harry today at a restaurant because he only had an hour which turned into almost two.  I was a little quiet today because I couldn’t put into words what I was thinking and feeling.

My ex and I had a life together.  Every part of our being was woven and connected somehow into the other.  So much so that when he left it was like tearing a garment from one piece in two.  I had a relationship with a man who lived in another country and we dreamed a dream that was not meant to be.  But we worked hard to make it real by weaving the broken pieces of his cloth to mine trying to match up the frayed edges as best we could to make one piece; presentable and functional and strong.  But he didn’t tie some knots on his end…or I should say he didn’t UNTIE some knots.  And we unraveled quite dramatically right before we were done sewing the two pieces together.

Now I have Harry and he is this amazing person to know.  I’m in complete love with him.  Over the moon.  I love to listen to him talk.  I love to hear what he thinks about things.  I love to have him give me big hugs, and kisses.  And as much as we like each other we are not cut from the same cloth.  So matching up all our edges might be a little tricky.

He is made of rough fabric in a loose weave.  He’s lived, he’s seen lots, and he’s done lots.  His childhood was very different from mine, the environment much more permissive.  Every part of his life has been different from mine.  Our connection is our logic,  the way we think about things,  and our love.  Our connection also comes from  how we treat people and our drive to accomplish good things and that we have a common history coming from the same town, same school.

My fabric is tightly woven and in my view made to look more valuable than it is, like polished cotton.  Shiny only because its been processed, and worked on.  It may look nice and expensive but in the end it’s still just cotton.  I’ve grown up with rules, and expectations and a desire to please people I care for.  On the outside I am that woman who pretty much has it all together but on the inside is afraid of two things.  Not being liked, and being left.

Despite those fears I am what I am.  I have to be, I don’t know who else to be.  It’s all I know.  And I am NOT afraid to try.

So I kept staring at Harry today, listening to him talk and every now and then kissing him or letting him kiss me.  When I’m with him I feel like time stops.  It’s the best feeling in the world.  When I study his face I know deep down that he’s in my life now forever come what may.  He’s part of my heart.  I love him.  I know me.  I know what that means.  I’m not sure I know what it means for him.  I’ve made the mistake before of transferring my value system onto the expectations of someone else and it kept me from being able  to even conceive of the lies that I had to deal with.  I would never lie like that therefore he would never lie either.  I was wrong.  Dead wrong.  And I don’t want to be wrong again.

He’s letting me into the deepest level of himself and I am letting him in too.  We are getting out our fabric and wondering which side we should start sewing together, with what kind of thread, and what kind of stitch.  We both want it to hold.  One extreme is getting the sewing machine out and just get er done.  You know you love him  so seal the deal like they used to before the man went off to war.  It’s romantic…it’s reckless.  Another is to just stitch it in  a very loose hand stitch that can easily be undone so it doesn’t bond the two fabrics together…making it easy to live our own lives and yet still be close and enjoy each other as much as we can outside of all our other obligations.

But  this is what I want.  I want Harry to be the first person I talk to each morning and the last person I talk to at night.  I want him to know me better than anyone else on the planet.  I want to hold his hand and help him when he’s sick.  I want to do projects with him.  I want to live with every confidence knowing I am the only one for him, so that he can be that guy friend to girls and hang out with the guys and be himself.  I want to travel and see the world with the only man I’ve ever known who knows more than me about what we’d be seeing.  I want him to be a person on my children’s speed dial knowing they could call him in a heartbeat if they needed anything.  I want the kind of stitch that is hard to tell where his fabric starts and mine begins.  Something strong that can weather any storm.  I want him to become my family of choice…I want it all.  I want the dream again.

But my spirit is quiet tonight realizing that I’ve wanted this before.  I’ve been willing…so very willing…to make it work before and I’ve been let down.  My heart has been broken.  I feel so healed…eating better, sleeping better, so content.  But today as I looked into his eyes and saw the rest of my life in them I realized that I needed to believe that I could trust him.  And I got afraid for the first time.  Because I know he will do and be what he will.  My hope for my dream is now in his hands.

It made me think of this song…and it made me a little melancholy.  Maybe its brave even to be pondering the idea at this point, but I really do like him that much.  He is very special.  And so it goes….

Rare Indeed

Someone I know was recently invited to a meeting with biblical archeologists and those who study artifacts.  He learned of a process by which they are discovering new and ancient fragments from both the Old and New Testament written in Greek that are preliminarily dating as the earliest ever found.  He got to touch these pieces of papyrus with his own hands and watch the experts as they did their work.  He came back from this meeting so excited because he learned there are vaults of similar documents that have yet to be catalogued.  It is such a labor intensive process it will take decades to go through everything they currently have properly.  Imagine rooms and rooms of ancient, precious artifacts that will uncover truths about the Bible, history, and our world.  When I think about those dusty rooms I think of the value of that room and what’s in it.  How amazing.  That is the stuff of life because it reveals things we didn’t know.  Even one such artifact sitting right now on a shelf untouched, if examined can lead to new levels of understanding.

Some artifacts will reveal nothing.  They will not be the book of Isaiah, or the Gospel of Matthew.  They will not be The Odyssey or The Iliad.  Not treasures.  But SOME will be.  And that’s exciting to me.

It’s exciting when you happen across something that seems so common as a piece of paper and then it turns out to be momentously uncommon.

I truly didn’t know what I was getting into when I asked Harry if he would mind shooting some pool with me sometime after months of chatting online.

Aside from the fact that I love the guy…Harry is an amazing and interesting person to know.  Getting to know him well will take decades.  And I’m there…yes, I’m there.  Decades it is.

If all you saw was a picture or a glimpse, you’d think…bad ass kind of trash talking guy who could throw back some booze, spank some women, and hit some guys…hard.  You’d think biker dude who hangs out in bars.  That’s what I thought.  He’s 6’1″ weighs nearly 300 lbs, is bald and likes to scowl.  No tattoos thankfully.  Everything else is there.  But when I visited him at his office the first thing he showed me was a 19th century leather-bound book on Common Prayer and mementos he kept from trips around the world and his Letterman’s jacket from high school.

He grew up working for his dad in the construction business and was ridiculed at times for his love of books.  He once moved his bed out of his room so he could fit in more bookshelves.  He told me the other day he bought a book that taught him how to be a butler and practiced the craft on his parents when he was a kid.  At one time his nickname was Frasier because he loved to listen to people’s problems and was perhaps a little too refined for his own good.

He worked himself through college as a history major and fell into his career because he did the books for his dad’s company.  He owns his own accounting software company and is currently selling software he wrote.  Fascinating.

This is the same kid who won the state championship in wrestling after taking a city bus alone to the event.  He calls himself an island and a rock after the Simon and Garfunkel song.  He has this keen sense of awareness to his aloneness and yet he is one of the most generous people I have ever met.  He wants to belong.

He has researched his genealogy so extensively he can talk for hours about it, telling story after story.  He wants a clan.  He wants to do good.  He wants to accomplish.

I had a friend growing up who loved to dream big.  Practically each time I saw him he had a new project he was working on that would make him millions.  There was always a lot of hype and excitement and then nothing.  On to the next thing… but why?  Was it cause all those things he tried were lame ideas to begin with?  Some of them were to be honest but I don’t think that’s it.  I think he just had a short attention span and liked the idea on the surface but once it seemed like it was going to require a little more work than he’d anticipated it was dropped for the next idea.

But this man named Harry is not that kind of guy.  He sees things through.  He cherishes memories, and history, and understands that something worth anything is worth working for.  And he works hard.

Seven days a week right now trying to get the software business off the ground that he funded with his own money.  He has everything to lose and a lot to gain…he understands goals.  Which is admirable but at the same time they have been rather empty pursuits.  All of this knowledge, and motivation funneled at a goal but for what?  To make money and to be able to rest, relax, and enjoy life….but alone.

This is where I entered into the picture.  Not sure how or why, but with all that going on, he finds time to talk to me and tell me he wants to grow old with me.  He makes time to listen to me and marvel at how willing he is to fall for me…

The one thing Harry guards well, is his heart.  And he is letting me in…

For me getting to know Harry is like seeing a rare artifact that is hidden by dust, dirt, and decay.  But underneath is beautiful and precious.  I see the heart of a little boy who wants to please his parents.  I see the heart of a teenager with raging hormones who just wants to be loved with wild abandon.  I see the heart of a scholar who wants to learn as much as he can about everything.  I see the heart of leader who uses his resources to build.  All of these precious sides to him.  But he is letting me see the heart of the man who wants that faithful, loving companion, who will love him for years with genuine affection and admiration.

Harry is not an infomercial or one of those seminars you go to so you can get a free hotel stay somewhere about timeshares.  He is not something that gets bought because of a flashy ad campaign or cool packaging.  He is valuable.  He has worth.

And this girl is gonna stick around to discover the depths of this guy.  I have no choice.  Opportunities like this are rare indeed.

The Dirty Work of Letting Go

It used to be that every Saturday for at least the morning hours, my family and I cleaned the house. Dusted, vacuumed, laundry, cleaned toilets and tubs, scrubbed sinks and counter tops. If I was lucky, I managed to volunteer for outside duty instead which consisted mostly of pulling weeds, using the hula ho, and moving around rocks, bricks, or holding a board for my dad as he cut it. Sometimes if I was really lucky, it meant painting, climbing on the roof, or belly crawling in the crawl space under the house with the silty dust. But usually, every Saturday was clean up day. Roll up your sleeves, dirty work.

I’m afraid I’m raising two light-weights when it comes to chores. We have a housekeeper come to our house twice a month. The night before they arrive, we scurry about the house picking up our clutter. Before we have a big party, we do more deep cleaning. But since I’ve been single, there have been very few “project days.” I have not only housekeepers, but a gardener and a pool guy. I think my kids pulled weeds only a few times as kids and they probably don’t even remember it. They helped me plant a few plants too. But not much more than that. I don’t think they’ve ever cleaned a toilet. They are going to hate me but I think I’m going to have to teach them how to do these things. Maybe lay off the housekeeper for a month or two…

Nobody sane relishes dirty work. But it does feel pretty good to get a sense of accomplishment seeing the results of your work. Everything in its place as it should be, and sparkling clean.

Sometimes the easy way out isn’t better. It makes us more dependent on experts, on a higher income. We get used to soft and easy rides and when things get tough we are at a loss how to manage.

It just amazes me how much people look to a life of cushion as their goal…and I have to admit, I have done the same.

Before I moved to California I spent four hours a week on my 1/3 acre yard. And when we first moved we tried to do our own yard. But it was so large and so manicured. We would spend the 4 hours on one side of our yard and turn around realizing we couldn’t do it properly even if we spent two whole days a week. We could have learned how to do the pool ourselves, we were just lazy. And the housekeeping? Well…I really hate cleaning toilets. Soft. I’ve grown soft.

We are soft too when it comes to doing the hard things in life. Parenting unselfish and unspoiled children is difficult these days. Telling them no on principle instead of necessity doesn’t go over quite as well with the kiddos and some parents bend to peer pressure so much that they say yes even when something isn’t affordable.

Telling people no at all is difficult but sometimes it must be done. It takes back bone, but it is hard to do.

It has been difficult for me to keep pushing away people who want in. Knowing it is not the best thing for me, does not make it any easier because I’m the type of person who cares about other people’s feelings…even more than my own at times. It hurts me to knowingly hurt someone else…even if it is the right thing to do.

I’ve learned a lot in my singleness about deciding what is best for me and accepting those things in my life that are edifying and beneficial and turning things away that tear me down. Sometimes it is very messy, painful, and difficult. But the end result is that you’ve cleaned up some messy parts and your life has more order, is purer, and sparkling. And the peace and contentment I’ve felt recently is testimony to it being worth it.

I’m really bad about tossing stuff out. I tend to hold onto certain things a bit longer than necessary. First they get set into a corner. After several months that pile gets moved to the garage, and eventually gets sold, given to good will or trashed. I don’t know why I do it this way. It for me is the process of letting go.

Yesterday I shredded some photos I had of Martin. I tossed old cards, notes, and letters. I just had to get rid of them. It was time. It wasn’t easy.

Letting go is hard. It just is. For some people more than others. And we are sometimes incapable of making clean breaks. But we keep heading in the right direction and we eventually get there.

The important part is not waffling so much that people feel like you are messing with them or not being true. We can’t take the easy way out sometimes. In order to be honorable, we must do things right and finish the job we started.

Knowing you have to, doesn’t make it any easier. It’s dirty work. But it’s better than looking around one day and realizing your life is so messy that you become a candidate for an episode of hoarders. We must, at times, roll up our sleeves and get reacquainted with the mop. Prepare for our backs and even our hearts to ache the next day….but it will be worth it in the end.

Fog

A few years back my husband and I visited some friends up in a cabin in the mountains.  After a fun day in the snow we had to decide to either stay and possibly get stuck because a storm was on its way or brave a drive down the mountain that night.  About half way down a very dense fog rolled in.  It was so bad we couldn’t see more than 3 or 4 feet in front of us.  Luckily there was traffic and the cars just followed each other at a snail’s pace.  The scariest moment was when the car in front of us turned off the road and we found ourselves in the lead.  It was as if we were blind.  No matter how hard you tried or how wide you opened your eyes, it was impossible to know if you were driving on the road or heading off a cliff.  It was terrifying.  I could drive down that same road in the bright sunshine at about 50 mph as happy as could be.  It wasn’t the road itself that was scary it was the condition of the road.  It was the fog.

Today I got to thinking about Martin while I was talking to Harry on Skype.  I remembered things about Martin that I had forgotten or suppressed and it upset me for a while.  Harry just listened like he does so well.  And then asked, “Do I make you feel okay?”  And it was so crazy because I had just gone on and on about how I was deceived over and over again.  I cried and talked about how much it hurt.  I couldn’t trust that Martin had my back, ever.  He talked about me to people behind my back from the beginning (with some female coworker) to the end (with my own sister).   Then there were all the lies you all already know about.  He talked his way out of everything.  But I was wary.  I wanted to trust him.  I wanted it to all be okay.  But I knew it wasn’t and it hurt.  At the very end it was the worst and I thought I was broken.  I thought I would never love again.  I would never be able to trust another man ever again.

But here is Harry.  Asking me if I’m okay with him.  And it hit me that I feel the safest I’ve felt since 2000.  Safe, at peace, content, in almost every way possible.  2000 was the year my dad passed away.  That was the year we moved back to California and my husband took a job he hated that introduced him to the woman he left me for.  Honestly, it’s been that long since I’ve felt “right”.  When I lost my dad I lost a person I knew had my back.  He would not sugar coat things but I knew he had my best interest at heart.  And then in 2007 when we got that phone call from the angry husband the night we got home from our cruise…that feeling of safety crumbled.  I thought I had it again after meeting Martin.  2010 was a good year.

But the very first time I uncovered a lie we were having dinner with his pastor.  I asked the pastor how he liked meeting Martin’s oldest daughter and he said he had never met her.  But Martin had told me that he took her to church.  WHY would he lie about that?  He denied lying about it until I said I would confront the pastor and the daughter to find out the truth.  It was only then that he admitted to it.  That safe feeling was gone.  I remember driving in his car looking at the window not even out the window, internally completely freaking out.  I had never been lied to like that.  That was Sept 2010.  From then on out, the lies were uncovered pretty regularly.  Because I loved him, I excused him, I believed him, I wanted it to all be okay.  But deep down I knew it wasn’t.

I dated a little after Martin, but couldn’t see myself in love after that.  I thought maybe I was broken and would never love again.  I thought I had gotten jaded and stopped believing in love.  I got mad at every romantic comedy.  I scoffed at all love stories no matter what.  I certainly wasn’t going to let myself fall so easily next time…not into that scary place.

But today it hit me when Harry was asking me what I thought of him.  In fact as I’m writing this he just texted me “have I told you I love you today?” And I whole-heartedly texted back, “I love you too…and I’m so grateful.”

It wasn’t that I was stupid to love Martin.  Or that it was love’s fault.  No more than it was that road’s fault for the ride being scary.  In the daylight the road was fine – not without its risks seeing that there is a cliff on one side of it…but doable.  It was the fog that made it scary.  It was the lies.  No matter how wide I had my eyes open I couldn’t see the true path because I was being blinded by deception.  No one could have.  Lies are lies.  They deceive…that’s what makes them lies.  Granted I could have pulled off the road a little earlier…very true.  But I’m not a quitter.

So I’m driving down this road now and I’m not afraid at all.  NO FEAR.  How’s that?  There is no fog.  I know weather can change…I know things change and people are not perfect.  I know Harry will someday disappoint me.  But when he does, I also believe he will be harder on himself than I will be on him.  We are a lot alike in that way.

Love is a good road.  It’s risky but so much fun.  The bad guy is the fog.  And I think I was mixed up about that before.  Talking to Harry today helped me see it more clearly.  Talking to Harry just simply helps me period.  I hope Harry lasts a long, long time.  40 years maybe?

 

 

 

Someone Like You

When you have a house, no a mansion, full and I mean full of about 200 parents, aunts and uncles and couples heading for prom and you are the designated (free) photographer and your cell phone rings while trying to dial in your camera settings and the person on the other end is your daughter who is getting ready for prom at your house and she is bawling her eyes out telling you her date’s mom (who is dying of cancer) has stopped breathing and is in ICU…what do you do?

I told her it would be okay and hung up.  Reeling on the inside, I smiled at the two teenagers waiting for me at the top of the stairs and asked them to hang on for a minute.  I looked down over the balcony railing and saw my ex and told him he had to go home to be with our daughter.  My mom and sisters left too to be with her.  But I was a frazzled mess.  Couple after couple stepped up and I was so distracted I fear I did a horrible job.  My son and his girlfriend were naturals.  My niece and her date were stunning.  The group shot had 50 kids.  I borrowed a ladder to try to get all their faces in. I had to stitch two photos together but no one will know.  I apologized for not being able to do more after an hour of shooting and hustled home.

My mom and little sisters were elbow deep in hairpins, blush, and hairspray trying to keep my daughter from crying.  My ex and two brothers-in-law were being men downstairs.  I apologized for a messy house.  One of my daughter’s best friends who was already planning on going to prom stag was coming to the rescue.  He’s been in love with her for years.  Just too shy to say anything to her.  A mom can tell….He showed up with a corsage in hand and a bouquet of flowers for her date’s mother.  We took pictures and smiled.  She looked amazingly gorgeous.

As she pulled away in his Mini Cooper, I stood there with my ex at my side and I couldn’t believe that I was the mom.  We had attended my senior prom together.  He borrowed his grandma’s Cadillac, I was accosted by his former girlfriend during formal pictures, I wore a beautiful off-white dress.  We ended the night making out in the back of the car.  That was 25 years ago.  25?  How is that possible?  As soon as she was gone he told me good-bye and left and I felt nothing.  There went my prom date, husband, father of my children, off to his own life.  And I wasn’t sad.  Progress.

My daughter got home at 3 AM, my son arrived with 8 other people to watch movies.  I decided that I would rather them be at my house than anywhere else.  So I was the cool mom and the party continued.  Sleep eventually came for us all, and they exited one by one the next afternoon.  The last one leaving around 1 pm.

Both kids had great nights.  My daughter said with a smile, “Mom I lived the movie Pretty in Pink last night.  Not only did my best guy friend ( à la Ducky) take me to the dance as second choice, but I got kissed by my date after prom.”  Her date ended up going at the last-minute after his mother stabilized and it made her night.  And I was beaming.  Wow, she was my little girl with drool dripping off her chin just yesterday.  And now she is a gorgeous young lady.  It really goes by so fast.

Sometimes I feel like my heart is being pulled out of my chest.  My life as been my children these past three years.  It’s been me and them.  We’ve fought, we’ve prayed,  we’ve laughed.  We’ve bonded.  They have held me in their arms and let me cry.  And I have done the same for them.  And it’s soon coming to an end.  This chapter of our lives.  I never thought I’d love anything as much as I love them.

A mother’s love is brutally real.  It starts with your guts being ripped out of your body quite literally.  It begins with brutality because it is the most extreme of all loves a person can experience on earth.  And lately it has felt akin to that same feeling, only now it is my figurative hearts strings being yanked every time I turn around and realize the end is near.

But I have so much to look forward to.  I know I do.  My life is not over because theirs is beginning.

In the midst of such busyness I managed to see Harry 5 days in a row.  We got some good quality time in just the two of us.  We keep feeling more and more drawn to each other.  For conversation, for affection, for support and love.  Before I ever considered kissing him he vented about his life, and I vented about mine…we encouraged and supported.  Now we have all that we had but on top of all it is the realization that we aren’t just friends.  We are so much more.  So much more.  And it’s kind of blowing us away.

Today he said, “You’ve always been there. I’ve always been in love with the thought of you. I just didn’t know your name till now.” Sounds like lyrics to a song…

I can tell this is big for him.  It’s been at least a decade since he’s felt this way.  Before, when we used to talk, he would describe this woman he was looking for and called her the “great white buffalo.”  I can tell I’m throwing him a bit.  He’s used to being in control of himself.  Only letting people in so far.   But with me, I think he’s already let me into that deepest place.  I can tell.  And it’s scaring him a bit.  He said,  “Every time I freak a little about being in love with you. You remind me of our friendship. And I’m not afraid. You don’t even know you do it. And that makes you even more special.”

And it’s coming at a very critical time for his business.  He needs to be really focused and he keeps wanting to focus on me.  He doesn’t say so, but I know I’m a distraction.  So I’m trying to be supportive and not tempt him away from the discipline I’ve been so proud of him for having. But…I have to admit, he’s kind of got me too.  Today we went from talking about our feelings to sharing our favorite artists.  Pollack, no.  Munch, yes.  He suggested we take a class together on Byron or Bronte and I told him I named my dog after the Bronte sisters.  He named his cat after the name given to Henry V in a speech by Shakespeare.  Whatever the topic it just flows and we get so excited that the other person has a reference to what’s being said.

At this moment he’s on a plane taking off right this minute.  Flying to North Carolina to complete work for a client.  He’ll be gone two weeks.  So long…We chatted until the last second.  The last thing he typed was, “I want us to be.  Been waiting for someone like you.”  My Harry.

…I’ve fallen hard for this guy.  Today was a special day for us.  He knows why.  It was a turning point.  And I know that I know…he’s my someone.  And I know how that sounds to you skeptics out there, but love makes you say crazy things and so here I go again.

Forgetting to Remember

One of the most embarrassing things about writing a blog about your own life is sometimes reading it back and realizing what an idiot you were.  It’s bad enough when I realize it in the moment like when I wrote the post I tenderly titled, Idiot.  I was angry at myself.  I trusted a man when there were warning signs.  When I wrote that post I felt like I was hanging in midair about to plummet to my death.

I keep reading through my posts, and all that has happened since…

I declared myself single and began in earnest trying to exorcise and exercise my life back from the pit of depression and pain.  For the second or third time I declared quite emphatically that I was done with Martin.  But of course I had more weak moments.  Some of you probably think I’m like those crazy people who predict the end of the world and just keep moving the date when they’re wrong.

I’m healed, I’m free, I’m done with Martin.  Yeah, right.

I casually dated two different guys…but I still kept thinking about Martin.  Not everyday.  But it was there.  I just didn’t want to let go of that rope I’d been clinging to.  A symbol of that hope is the business card Martin gave me in Ireland the night we met.  Since November 11, 2009 I’ve carried it in my credit card case.  It helped me feel close to him when he was far, far, away.  Even still, each time I saw it, I remembered mostly good things.  The guys and the dates came and went and I still hung onto the card.

It’s true I had come far.  And each declaration of independence made me even stronger.  I ran, I sang my Kelly Clarkson and she encouraged me.  But letting go for me is very difficult and most of the time when I say that I’m done and over, it is bravado on my part.  I’m doing what I know I must do.

When Harry and I decided to meet for lunch for the first time, we went dutch.  He didn’t so much as hold my hand that time.  We were strictly friends.  And when I got out my credit card case that business card kind of fell out and I explained to him when I got it and how for some reason I wasn’t able to get rid of it.  He said, “Well maybe someday when you fall in love again you will be able to let it go.”  And I agreed that it would probably take that.  We had that conversation on April 1st.  The same date two years earlier Martin had picked me up from the airport on my first trip to England and told me he got the job in America.

But a lot can happen in a little bit of time.  And since April 1, 2012, I had my nearly perfect day with Harry.  And we have been almost inseparable since.  Not physically,  but we talk every chance we get, and he comes to see me every chance he gets.  Since we are both busy, it is not daily, but it’s as often as possible.  And with his schedule things are always kind of up in the air.  His birthday is Saturday.  Just in case I can’t see him that day, I wanted to be prepared and get him a gift.  So I got online and I bought him a shave at a fancy barbershop in LA.  He’s got a goatee and a bald head.  I had no idea if he’d like it or not but I took a chance.  The gift card came in the mail today and I ran to the store to get something to put it in.

At the check out I fumbled through my case and there was Martin’s business card again… and I realized that I hadn’t given Martin a second thought since I kissed Harry for the first time.  Looking down at that card I knew that I didn’t want it anymore.

At our restaurant, Harry and I talked and talked and talked.  We laughed, we held hands.  I told him about my job.  He talked about the Weimar Republic, Wilson’s Fourteen Points and I ate it up and smiled.  We talked about us and how great it was to be this relaxed with someone.  He and I just click. During a chat yesterday we were discussing how well we were clicking….He said, “Our friendship is the easy part… wait.. our attraction is the easy part.. um but… our conversation is the easy part.. Hell,  what’s the hard part?”

It really has been so easy for me to relax and smile and thoroughly enjoy myself with him.

And then I remembered…

He thought he was going to get his present when I said I had something for him.  And he looked confused when I reached for my case instead.  I grabbed Martin’s business card and handed it to him across the table.  He was genuinely bewildered for about 3 seconds and then he understood. And he got what it meant.  He arose from his seat, walked over to me and gave me a big, big kiss right there in the restaurant and then a big, big hug.  And he said, I love you too.

And something tells me that he truly does.  And so do I.

I said, “Now for your real present.”

He opened it and loved it.  I was so happy.  Giddy.  I love getting people things they like.  He said that no one ever knows what to buy him and shook his head saying, “How is it that you know me this well already?”  And I just smiled.  Score.

I’m still really enjoying this new thing I have with Harry.  This thing where we are not just friends, but where our friendship means the most of all.  This thing where our attraction to each other is born out of respect and that has turned into love.  And the miracle is I’m really not afraid.  I know that I’m not going to lose him as a friend.  He is not the type to love and leave and neither am I.  Even if it doesn’t work out, we will have something.  But something is telling me this is going to be Livvy loving Harry for a long time.

Healing is a process.  And people say that one day you just wake up and forget to remember.  And ever since Harry has become someone special to me, I’m forgetting to remember anything that happened before him.  And I’m just happy.  Completely content.  Amazingly sleeping at night again like a healthy person.  Like a person who is healed.

My card to Harry read: For everything that you have been and for everything you will be to me.  Thank you, I love you and happy birthday.

My hope is back.  I’m back.  And not just from the Martin debacle.  I’m me again…healed from the broken marriage, healed from stupid choices that brought me more pain.  And I know I’m ready now to stop looking back so much because I’m so very excited to see what is ahead.

 

Crunch Time

Go, go, go, seems to be the order for the day for everyone I care about.  I was on the go from the moment I opened my eyes until about 10:30 this evening.  First work, then my son’s volleyball game where I watch him sit on a bench and getting 0 play time.  Then rushed home and picked apart the carcass of a chicken and peeling and inhaling an old banana before jamming to church.  Busy?  Yes.  But in between and with every spare moment I was either talking to Harry on the phone or chatting with him on the computer.  We laughed, we flirted, we had some moments of reflection.  He vented about work a bit and I did my best to make him smile.  I’m still on cloud 9 and I was managing, and feeling strong.

When I walked through the door home from church, everything changed.  I felt like someone changed the channel.   My romantic comedy was replaced with a drama.  One of those after school specials with stressed out teenagers who take all their frustrations out on their mom cause she is an easier target than the volleyball coach that hasn’t played you in three games.  An easier target than a band teacher who has practically forced you to be in three performances outside of your regular class load despite two performance festivals, and finals looming.

My daughter, in addition to her normal classes which include AP and advanced math classes and four performance classes,  also has three extra-curricular bands, a $200 SAT prep class,  and AP test prep classes all after school.  Oh and Prom this weekend.

One minute I’m sitting with her on her bed in tears trying to give her encouragement and inspiration.  The next minute I’m telling my son that he has no choice but to pick up his floor so the housekeeper can vacuum in the calmest and most authoritative tone I can muster.  But he’s not happy and starts to yell at me.  I simply state to him that he will not be allowed to use a bad day as an excuse to raise his voice to me, or make excuses for himself to get out of responsibilities.  I shut the door and I’m back with my daughter who is now picking up the clothes off of her floor  cause she heard what I was saying to my son, while explaining to me that her prom date would be picking her up at 5.

I open my son’s door, literally 5 minutes as gone by and he’s laying on his bed with a clean room.  “How long did that take you?”  I ask.  “Five minutes.” He says.  “Was it worth yelling at me about?” “But Mom, I’ve had a hard day….” he’s at it again.

“No, that is a yes or no question.”

“No…I’m sorry.”  He concedes.  I give him a hug.  And tell him that I only want him to be the best he can be.

“Mom?”  Feeling warm and fuzzy, I’m thinking the drama was all over, I say, “Yes sweetie?”

“I really need to know if you can take pics of me and the twelve couples before prom, they’re really pressuring me and you are a pro.”  *sigh*

A half hour later I’ve committed to taking pics for one hour with his group then rush home to help my daughter do her finishing touches and take pics of her and her date before both kids hopefully go off to have the time of their lives.  And I will spend the evening home alone editing.

I look at the clock and notice it’s 9:30 pm and I haven’t eaten dinner yet so I break open a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.  Don’t judge. it’s childhood comfort food.

As I’m making my gourmet meal, I’m running around the house trying to pick up shoes, and socks, and trash, and mail.  I find a thank  you card envelope from the teenage mom down the street whose baby shower I attended this weekend and took the time to open it and smile.  I take a second to thank God that my own kids’ problems are far less complicated and decide I need a glass of wine tonight.  I’ve earned it.

I slop my macaroni into my mouth and set off for the store where lucky me, Peanut M&M’s (for my son), Junior Mints (for my daughter) and a Cabernet (for me) was all found on sale and head to the check out where my favorite checker Dave was finishing a conversation about his hair cut.

“Hi!” he’s always all smiles.  And bids the people in front of me goodbye by saying, “Well at least she doesn’t use the epi-lady anymore.”

“Oh I remember those things, they were awful.”  I chime in.

“Yeah it was like my wife was pulling out each hair on my head one by one.”  I laugh.

“I think it was a little S&M type thing cause she got WAY too much enjoyment out of it.”  I laugh some more.  This is the most animated I’ve ever seen Dave.

Thank God, cause I needed a laugh tonight.

“At one point I just said, ‘step back with the epi lady!’ and I had to put my foot down.”  At this point I was rolling.  And thanked Dave for making my night.

He said, “Anytime, enjoy your vino.”

Somehow it’s 11:30 pm now and I’m just feeling settled in as if it were 7:00.

My daughter will skip 0 period Jazz band because I gave her permission to do so tomorrow.  My son will continue to enjoy “senior week” which means no homework and late start each day.  And I will wake up and we will all manage to get through our days.

Right before my daughter went to sleep I reminded her that all of the pain, and anguish she is going through right now is to be considered training for the big event.  And the harder she trains now, the easier it will be later.  I’ve started doing the workout DVD’s titled Insanity.   Most days, at some point, I’m lying on the floor groaning with pain.  But I know that pain is going to yield good results.  I told her everything that is hard is usually worth doing because the pay off in the end will be worth it.  Even if the only thing it yields is the wisdom not to ever again, over commit.  And she nodded.

I promised her that whatever happened in the coming weeks would not end up defining her life.  That she was going to have a great life no matter what and that I didn’t expect her to do any more than her best and that was good enough for me.  I told her how great I thought she was and how her former band teacher who has a penchant for cool shoes, emailed me today asking if she could buy my daughter some cool $90 shoes for Prom.  Realizing they would be too high for the hem of her skirt I politely declines the offer.  But I told my daughter about it because it proved to her that she is really something special.  Teachers, don’t fork over a chunk of change to make a former student, and babysitter look hot for prom if they aren’t something very special.

With big alligator tears hanging off her cheeks, she looked up at me and said, “Thanks mom.”  I asked her if she was better now and did I do okay.

True to form, she said, “you started low got better in the middle and finished just ok, so you were a classic curve mom.”

I said, “Go to bed sweetie, I love you.”

Did I really just say a few nights ago that I almost wanted a do-over?

Dating Smart

I don’t know if this going to make any sense or not, but here goes.  Dogs are bred to do things and be a certain way.  I have a rat terrier.  She is awesome and I love my Lucy.  But she was born to kill rats and since I don’t have lots of rats hanging around she has decided that it is just as fun and fulfilling to kill lizards.  As horrified I am to watch her, I’m also amazed because she is on autopilot.  I run around screaming trying to get her distracted so the poor lizard can escape and she is locked onto that thing like a laser beam.  She didn’t have to go to school to learn how, no one even had to show her.  It just comes natural to her.

All of us have the same type of thing.  Maybe it’s not as instinctual as that.  But we are who we are.  And I know that a partner can’t be expected to fulfill every need we have either  But when one big chunk of us that is a big part of us like our physical expression, or intellectual expression,  or creative expression is stifled it can lead to frustration and unhappiness.

I was talking to Harry on chat after work today and we realized that part of what we like so much about each other is that we are fulfilling each others intellectual expression.  Both of us love to think.  In fact it’s hard to stop from thinking.  Like Lucy catching that lizard, it just comes really natural to us.  And we like to learn and then share what we’ve learned.  And both of us have been in relationships where the people we are with just don’t “get it” or make fun of it and even get annoyed by it.  And so then, there is a void.  We can live with it, but the void is still there.

He is smart, for sure smarter than me.  I’ve never had that before.  And between the two of us, we are dating smart.

Harry and I can float from discussing his genealogy and favorite historical periods, to the psychological concept of gas lighting, to the process of website development and software installation, to the fact that wine bottle sizes are named after biblical kings (they are look it up.)  And it’s not like we’re trying to impress each other.  It’s just where the conversation naturally goes.  And in between all that is emotional support, friendship, and a little flirting to round everything out.  I’m in heaven.  And I think he’s in heaven.

I’m so content with where I’m at with him right now that I’m in awe.  I don’t know how or why I would be lucky enough to find this …but it’s the most natural feeling to just let this develop. I’m not wondering if I should get on the ride this time.  I’m just here.  It’s where I am and I’m not fighting it, I’m enjoying it.

I’ve never, ever, ever, (one more for emphasis) ever, been in a relationship where I had fewer reservations.  So does that just mean I’ve been bit by the love bug again and I’m going to start ignoring major red flags because I’ve already fallen for the guy?  I sure hope not.  And I don’t think so.

Being friends for months first helped.  But it’s more than that.  It’s that as we’ve gotten closer it’s like we are realizing we have less voids with each other than we’ve ever had with anyone else.

For the first 6 months of my marriage, I spent a lot of time convincing myself that I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of my life.  For the last 6 months of my relationship with Martin I spent a lot of time convincing myself that I wasn’t GOING to make the biggest mistake of my life.

So what will it be like after two years with Harry?  I don’t know, but I can tell you right now, I’m ready to find out.  And the crazy thing is, with how much we both revere logic, we admit that such strong feelings after a very brief amount of time is most illogical.  So we are on purpose trying as best we can to take things very steady.  And I think THAT is smart too.  A different kind of dating smart.

He told me tonight that he wasn’t going anywhere, and that whatever this is -  it is hot and heavy and very responsible. And he never thought those two things were compatible.  And I hadn’t thought of it like that before.  But we have more balance in this one month relationship than I ever had in any relationship I’ve ever been in.  Ever (added for emphasis again because this is a huge revelation to me.)

Then he said, “I’m like a marathon runner. I want to sprint so badly, but I know I’ll lose the race.  And it’s more important to win . Cross that finish line.”

Now doesn’t that just sound like something I WOULD SAY?

He’s in this for the long haul but he wants to do it right.

And in the mean time we are becoming each others best friends.  And for the first time since I can remember, I feel settled inside.  Not that excited, anticipating hope beyond exhausting and scary hope I had with Martin.  I feel settled.

And maybe cause everything we have experienced so far and talked to each other about has been from a place of complete mutual respect.  We can talk about everything.  In fact, Harry told me today that Martin loved me too much and didn’t respect me enough.  And he is dead on.

Harry has had relationships too, many in fact, leaving him feeling less loved and more needed by needy women.  Harry knows I’ve had my fair share of feeling no respect.

So I’m trying to show him a love that is giving, and Harry is showing me a love that is respectful.

And it feels very, very good.   I thought I was broken, but he is beginning to make me believe again.

The Next Day

I woke up feeling so good.  The birds were tweeting in the backyard, the sun is out, and I was smiling.  I know how that sounds like a fairytale, but I can’t help it.  It’s true.  I found Harry on chat, he was working away as always. He asked me to look on my porch.  I kinda knew what that meant and I couldn’t help but smile even bigger.  I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, opened the door and there was this amazing bouquet of yellow roses and an orchid plant sitting on my ugly dirty table.  I was instantly embarrassed at how messy my front porch is.  But I snuck my scantily clad self onto the porch long enough to retrieve my flowers and bolted back upstairs to tell him thank you.

Wow.  I didn’t need the flowers to say wow but wow.  I love getting flowers.  And it’s not just that they’re pretty.  He had to drive  15 miles out of his way and went to three stores looking for decent flowers at 1 or 2 in the morning before he started work.  He did that for me.  It’s the effort that blows me away. And he bought the orchids and wasn’t satisfied so he kept looking and found the yellow roses and gave me both!

Yesterday he showed me his old passport from when he was 18 ish and I did remember that guy, but the man who was standing next to me is shattering all my preconceptions I had about him.  When he pulled me up and started to dance with me, I was in heaven.  How did he know that gets me every time?  There is something so romantic about dancing.  And he definitely had the moves.  I didn’t know the words to the songs that were playing because I generally don’t listen to country music, but at one point he started singing to me.  Wow.  I keep saying that…haha.

I asked him this morning if he remembered what song it was and he sent the link to this one over.

What girl doesn’t want to dance to a guy singing this song to her?

I’m seriously falling for this guy. No I think I already have…