The day after...

If anyone is following my blog - you'll know that I was finally going to meet with a counselor yesterday concerning my divorce. A quick background: I divorced my husband (it was final in 2008) after 25 years of marriage. The last 6 of them he was a raging alcoholic. While my marriage had years and years of great times, they were almost all eradicated by the last 6. If you have never lived with an alcoholic - please, count your blessings. For those of you who have - I know you understand a lot of what I went through in those years.

I thought I was over everything - I thought I had found my peace and had moved on.

Well...no. I haven't. 

He still makes me angry. Not mad. Angry. I still get nightmares. I still feel that lost feeling I felt when I was searching for an escape.

He's been sober since September 2006 - the day I put him on a plane just after our 23rd anniversary for his 4th and what seems to be his final attempt at sobriety.

I was done. I told him not to come back.

Well - the counselor listened to my tale of woe and asked me why I hadn't let go yet. I told her I thought I had. Nope, she said. But she would help.

So...I feel freer already. I'm ready to be done with him. My son is 17 and has one more year of high school before he goes away to college. He's the person he is today because of who he is and how I've nurtured him. He is also a product of his environment - and he's come out on the other side better for what he's been through. The bottom line is - my son is who he is despite of his father. There is no reason for our son for me to hold onto his father. 

So why am I holding on? Because it's hard to let go after 30 years. I was 21 when I met him. 24 when we married. 48 when we divorced. I've known him over 1/2 my life. Good and bad. 

It's time to walk away.

And when I do - the counselor seems to think I'll let a lot more go...my weight, my fear of dating, my settling for life without the strength to move forward.

Today IS the first day of the rest of my life.

Learning to move forward - lose the anger, find the love

Let me start this out by saying I'm okay...frustrated, but okay. And in an odd way, I may have crossed a major issue in my weight loss journey - or actually, what causes me to have issues with weight loss. 

A little background on me: I divorced in 2008 after being married for 24 years. I met my ex in 1981, married in 1984, moved to Alaska in 1989, had our son in 1994. My father-in-law died unexpectedly in 2000 then my mother passed in 2001 - almost a year later and right after 9/11. By the start of 2002 my son and I were living with a full fledge alcoholic. The next 5 years were hell. On my 23rd anniversary, I put my ex on a plane to Washington for his 4th attempt at recovery. I told him not to come back. By June 2007, my son and I packed our car and drove to Texas to start over. The plus side of all this - my ex has been sober since September 2006.

As any other single parent can tell you, the past few years have been difficult - but I wouldn't change the choice of divorce for anything. It was a difficult decision - but the right one. My son and I are fine. 

My ex followed us to Texas, but was respectful enough to live 1.5 hours away. He is not in my face. There have been events good and bad - but all in all, we are friends. I loved him for over 25 years - I'm too damned old to be angry. 

And that may be the problem. There are times I still am. There are things that he says or does that bring it all back up - the anger, the nightmares, the frustration - it all comes back. 

I try. I do. I don't want to have these emotions come back. I want to move forward. I want to find someone else to love and be loved by. I know the only way to move forward is to forgive. I thought I had. I seriously worked hard to let it all go. It's not like it's the first "trauma" that I've experienced. I'm strong - I know I am. So for me to still get as angry as I do about his actions (or lack thereof) is almost baffling. 

So...after months of my son asking me to get counseling - I'm doing it. I meet with a counselor tomorrow afternoon. I'm tired of not sleeping. I'm tired. 

And what does this have to do with my weight loss journey? 

I'm an emotional eater. I have spent the past 17 years punishing myself with my weight. It's like I have an inner voice that says I don't deserve to be a healthy weight. It's like when I get angry at someone I love that I punish myself by destroying my weight. Always. Everytime I've experienced the anger, the frustration, the emotional crap - I eat. 

Today I realized I didn't eat like that. And I didn't do it yesterday. Or last week. Or the week before that. (believe me - there has been cause) 

This is huge. 

I'm not sure I'm "cured" but I have a control that I've never had before. I'm not sure exactly why. It's not that I've lost weight, because that has never worked before. It's not because I'm communicating with my SP friends - or my son - because I also tend to hide or hermitize myself as I like to call it. So, no...that's not it. 

I really don't know why. 

But I'm glad. 

Maybe...I'm really moving forward this time.

What do you want from life?

So far, I've given up on the autographed picture of Randy Mantooth, the herd of Winnebago's and the baby's arm holding an apple - but what I haven't given up on is that idea of having it all in whatever reasonable fashion I can manage having it.

You never really do know what is out there until you step into the pile of shit while rounding that blind corner.  Sometimes, while you're leaning against the wall scrapping off your shoe, the most surprising things tap you on the shoulder.

Mine was simply a phone call asking me what I wanted for dinner.  When I said surprise me, he said okay and intends to do just that.  I don't get the company, but I do get the food.  More importantly - I was thought about. And for a moment - someone unexpectedly cared about me and felt compelled to surprise me with a little gesture.

These are truly the gestures that get me through my days - they are also the gestures that remind me that I still have desires and dreams. I'm not ready to give up and become the cat lady.

The Tubes reminded me that no one really knows what they want - and when they have it, they're not really sure they want to keep it.  We are always searching - always wondering - and always, always wanting more.

"What do you want from life

Someone to love 

and somebody that you can trust

What do you want from life

To try and be happy 

while you do the nasty things you must"

Is this truly it?

Is this what we're all striving to reach - to find - to cling to in our dreams, in our beds, on our daily commutes to our sheep like existence? 

I think it's pretty damned close.

My 2 minute surprise phone call showed me it's not that far from the truth.  

I want to be loved, I want to love back, I want to be happy and I want someone to stand by me as I creep through the muck, claw my way through the jungles, and deadman float through the garbage-strewn moat surrounding my King's castle.  

And while I never expect him to tell me he loves me - I know that he does...in the way most of us love another after climbing out of the hole of love affairs gone bad. We're scared, we're weary, we're covered in crud...but we still want someone to love and trust. We want to try and be happy.  

And we desperately want someone - just as battle savvy - to stand beside us in love and in life.

In a weird way I have that as a woman too afraid to cross a line to reach a man who is too afraid to need another person. So together we'll be there for one another - never sharing the identical secret we continue to keep from the other.  

In the meantime - I'll enjoy dinner and know that someone who truly does love me is watching out for me from afar...the only way he knows how.

slow down...the corner is coming too fast...

So what's wrong with me?

My son says I've changed.  That's new.  I've never had my son tell me that.

My ex did. I've had friends tell me that.  Even family.  But my son?

nope. That's a new one.

So what's different?

My life is changing around me and I have no control over it.  That's nothing new - but the circumstances are changing.

My son is growing up.  Hell, he's already grown up through no fault of his.  Life threw him a curve ball early on and he hit it out of the park.

But is that a good thing?

I will never know, because it is what it is and I can't change the past.

So I'm trying to control the future - and it's not mine to control.

I love him. I'm proud of him. I trust him to make the right decisions and choices and twists and turns that come with life.  I'm just not prepared to let him go.  Actually, I'm not prepared to let go period.

Why?

Because I have nothing to grab onto.

In my past, I've had three things...
1.  What will I be when I grow up?
2.  My husband
3.  My son

I'm grown up, divorced and the mother of a high school junior.  I'm done.  I spent 25 years holding onto and guiding my husband and I will have spent 18+ years doing the same for my son.

I understand that now it's my time.  Terri time.

But I don't know what that means.  I can't see the paths.  I don't know what's around the corner.

And unlike that girl of 19 - this time I'm scared.

You've come a long way baby...

I'm tired.

Anyone who knows me has got to believe that's my mantra.

I work more than I should and I never accomplish enough.  Sometimes I feel so exhausted that I just sit and stare at shit piling up on counters and tables and wonder where the hell my maid is.

Then I remember I am the maid.

And the mom.

And the business associate.

And the chauffeur, the tutor, the dad, the chef - the everything.

Why is that?  Because I deemed my life better as a divorced, single mom.

During times like this, it takes a lot to remember just how bad it truly was.  I spent years sad and lonely and scared...always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I never knew what I was coming home to or what my son was being subjected to. I was miserable. My son was scared. I hated coming home. I hated that I hated it. I got to the point where I just wanted my husband out of my life. I hated his alcoholism and I hated him.

I don't hate.

It's not who I am.  I'm an annoying peacenik - someone who truly believes that love can conquer all.  But I was done trying to rescue a man who didn't want to be saved.  I wanted freedom.

And damn if I didn't get it.

I'm free now. Free to live with skyrocketing debt. Free to work 60 hour weeks. Free to have 1100 sq ft of clutter. Free to want to pass out while defrosting a frozen meal. Free to do whatever I damn well please...if only I was awake to do it.

Is it better?

Yes. It is.  But sometimes I'm too tired to see it.

I want so badly to have someone to share parenting with, to share finances with, to share my bed with.  I want someone there to hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. I don't care if it really is - I just want someone to lovingly lie to me that my debt, my exhaustion and my messy house are okay.

I want a partner in life.

I want to be loved.

I walked away from that so I could have a better life.  Am I being selfish to want both?  Am I too old to want both?

God, I'm tired.

She's taking chances...

She gets rock n roll a rock n roll station
And a rock n roll dream
She's making movies on location
She don't know what it means
But the music make her wanna be the story
And the story was whatever was the song what it was
Roller girl don't worry
D.J. play the movies all night long

I remember hearing this song back in the dark ages of the late 70's.  A friend said the song was "my" song.  It was me that Dire Straits was singing about.  I was a flattered 19 year old, stepping out onto the brink of adulthood - no holds barred, nothing to keep in check, the world at my feet.

My life WAS the songs I heard on the radio.  I lived for music - the poetry of my soul.  My hopes, my dreams, my loves, my failures.  They were all there on the radio. 

But the roller girl she's taking chances
They just love to see her take them all

Chances.  

I remember those.  

I took them head on with a smile on my face.  

Looking back, I see a girl who was never afraid.  But I know better. I was always afraid. 

 Except now, it's more noticeable.  I'm more cautious.  I don't pick up and dust off nearly as well as I once did.  Probably because I've learned - you can't always live in that dream world.  Sometimes, no matter how hard you fight reality - Reality creeps in and rules the day.

When I was much younger - before my skateaway days - I never really dreamed.  Reality was horribly there - every day - telling me what I could or could not do.  It was painful and blantant.  And it never left my side. 

Nope.  Love was never coming.  No white knight.  No castles.  No beautiful wedding gowns flowing over the fields as my prince swept me into his arms.  

Never as a young girl did I dream of that.  I was different.  I knew it.  No matter what - it was never going to happen for me.  I was told that - I was shown that.  I believed that.

Then the wheels hit my feet.

Hallelujah here she comes queens rollerball
Enchante what can I say dont care at all
You know she used to have to wait around
She used to be the lonely one
But now that she can skate around town
Shes the only one

I could fly.  I could reach out and pass by all the hurt and the pain of childhood.  I was invincible and alive.  Nothing was going to bring me down as I sailed away on avenues never available to me before.  And that is how I met him.

I was on top of my game.  I wasn't needy.  I wasn't vulnerable.  I was everything I could ever want to be.  I was me.  He was the truck grazing my hip and the seduction of the city.  He was my taxi driver - and I was his matador.  And I fell in love.

No fears alone at night she's sailing through the crowd
In her ears the phones are tight and the musics playing loud

Somewhere along the way - the phones were removed from my ears.  The music faltered and quieted.  But it was okay.   I had the dreams I had never allowed myself.  I had the music we created together.  I had him and I had love. 

Yet somewhere, somehow, over the years - the music ceased to exist.  I don't remember even losing it.  But I do remember waking up one day and realizing it was gone.  It was all gone.  The music, the dreams, the love, the feel of the wind on my face as I sailed into the crowd.  I wasn't sailing.  The crowd wasn't parting.  My feet were like lead weights.  The whirlwind of fantasy was no longer something I could see.  Instead, there were traffic jams and horns blaring and the pain of a gray city.

I wanted out. I wanted my skateaway.  I wanted my freedom and life back.

I rediscovered the song just a little while ago.  

I rediscovered music again.  

The dreams, the laughs, the hopes, the falls.  It's all there.  Again.  In my life. And I'm starting to feel whole.  It's almost as if I'm 19 all over again - and the blip in the middle was only that - a blip. 

She's back.  

That rollergirl - she's taking chances.  

And this time...I know to be careful of the trucks and the taxis and the traffic surrounding me.  I know...the wheels on my feet can slip on the pavement.  I also know...I can fly...

Come slippin and a slidin
Lifes a rollerball
Slippin and a slidin
Skateaway thats all
Shala shalay hey hey skateaway
Shes singing shala shalay hey hey
Skateaway

What wroth is brought to bear?

In a continuation from the last post...

The silence has brought about a pain that I didn't see coming.

Not mine.  No - I'm more or less at a milestone in the bumpy road I share with my ex.

My son.

He was fine...for a while.  Until he realized that this woman referred to herself as "wife to be" four months ago.  That would be May.  This is September.  In between was Summer and a two week vacation my son and his dad  took together.

You know...the trip where two people reconnect?  Where two people learn about one another?  Yep.  That trip.  The one where his father failed to mention he was getting remarried.

To a woman with two children.

The trip where my son's father failed to mention his family would be expanding.  That my son would have a stepmother and two step brothers.

Fail.

Epic Fail.

Whatever trust his father was attempting to rebuild disappeared in that whooshing sound you heard last night.  Gone in a flash.

That's what happens with trust.

It can be there - be strong and unwavering.  It can be given without a second thought.  It goes hand-in-hand with love.  But be the one who whittles away at it?  Be the person who pulls that last peg out from the Jenga game and watch all the pieces fall everywhere?  It can suck.  Plain and simple.

If you're lucky - you can rebuild that tower of trust.  But you can only tear it down so many times before your partner is done playing.

The sad part is - you never know how many times you can remove pegs from the fragile tower.  And each peg removed cannot be automatically replaced because you changed your mind.

No.  Trust was destroyed years ago.  The sad part is that the trust originally there was the innocent trust of a child - the trust that comes from being born into a loving home.  There's no reason to doubt as long as there is love.

But watch out for those promises.

They'll get you everytime.

Without a drawn out reason for the past breaches of trust - suffice it to say, it has been a long three year rebuild that was enjoying a wonderful success.  It was a mature trust.  A once bitten, twice shy trust - but it was there.  Eyes were wide open.  Mistakes were expected and forgiven.

And sadly, excuses were made.  The mature trust was disguised and ... as it turns out ... was simply a facade for a hurriedly recreation of that innocent childhood crush from long ago.

For all my ex did through his years of self-destruction, I had thought his sobriety and rediscovered self had taught him that omission of truth can be just as damning as lies.

I was wrong.

And now he is paying the price for a debt he isn't even aware he owes.

Over my son's lifetime I have taught him the value of trust and faith in another human being.  I've taught him that these strengths must start within ourselves.  He has seen firsthand the damage that can be done when trust is lost in another person.  And he has seen what happens when that trust - rebuilt several times - looks like when it is completely destroyed.

My ex destroyed my trust in him.  It was the final straw and the catalyst for divorce.  It doesn't matter how it was destroyed.  My son was a witness to the rollercoaster that was the final years of an incredibly wonderful marriage gone terribly bad.

By not volunteering his involvement with a new woman allowed the black hole of speculation to open up and swallow our son.

The fragile trust is gone, and the pain that had been a lingering memory has reignited into a festering sore threatening to infect any future attempts at family.

And his father has no idea.

The many Surprises of Facebook

My son informed me that while I was out last night - Hell had officially frozen over.

His father - my ex - is now on Facebook.

Oh. Dear. God. No.

While most people share the ever-entwining paths of Facebook with lovers and friends and exes of every imaginable existence - I have been blessed with a technologically deficient ex-husband who has shuddered at the thought of moving into the 21st century.  He has repeatedly informed me that socializing sites are a complete waste of time and not a valid use of what the internet has to offer.  And while I disagree with his take on Social Networks, I have quietly reveled in the knowledge that I was free to be who I am to a network filled with strangers.

True...I shuddered when older family members joined the ranks of Facebook - but I've come to realize it's easier  to stay in touch this way than forgetting to send out yet another round of Christmas letters every year.

But my ex?

Oh. Hell. No.

While I admit I truly loved the man and believed him to be my soulmate on this earth - we've completely grown in opposite directions.  There is a reason he is my ex.  I feel no animosity toward him, nor do I wish him anything other that peace, love and goodwill.  But...I do NOT want him reading about my day to day life, nor am I willing to censor what I say and do on Facebook.

I understand that most people don't care one way or the other what I say or do on Facebook.  He may be among those people.  But have you noticed that each time you add a new friend - somewhere in the back of your head - you wonder if they will judge you for saying "fuck"?  I guarantee if my mother were still alive, my statuses would be entirely different.

I'm thankful I'm as technologically literate as I am.  I have blocked my account from most of the curious out there who wander the internet cloaked as stalkers seeping into the lives of unsuspecting marks.  He cannot see  that I had a date last night, or am pissy about working 70 hour weeks, or bitchy about lack of parental support for our son.

But I can see his Wall.

So I did what any other ex would do and I looked at his Facebook info.

SONOFABITCH if the first thing I see is a comment asking him when his upcoming wedding is.  WHAT THE FUCK???

Seriously?

Further down is another comment...this time from a woman...greeting him with love from his future wife.  And not just any woman...the woman he is "renting a room from."

So...all this time I was thinking he was a loser for not having a place of his own - for feeling bad for him because he was trying to get back on his feet - he's been "renting a room" from a woman who thanks him for last night????

Jealous? No.  Pissed off because I was COMPLETELY in the dark about this? Absolutely!

I've told him repeatedly that I wish only love for him - that I want him to find someone who loves him and looks at him the way I use to.  I want him happy.  So maybe he could tell me?  Or at the very least, tell his son?

I've always known that if you want to keep things quiet - the last thing you do is post it on Facebook.

Obviously, my ex missed that part in his lessons on navigating the "highway of tubes."

Rediscovery...

I'm slow.

I'll admit it.  I'm finally starting to read "Eat, Pray, Love" and only because I bought the book for someone else.  I figured maybe I'll flip through it and see if  it's worth the hype.

Liz Gilbert described my feelings exactly when she talked of ending her marriage.

"I don't want to be married anymore. I was trying so hard not to know this, but the truth kept insisting itself to me...How could I be such a criminal jerk as to proceed this deep into a marriage, only to leave it?"

Then she described my feelings on Spirituality.

"Culturally, though not theologically, I'm a Christian. I was born a Protestant of the white Anglo-Saxon persuasion. And while I do love that great teacher of peace who we call Jesus...I can't swallow that one fixed rule of Christianity insisting that Christ is the only path to God...Traditionally, I have responded to the transcendent mystics of all religions. I have always responded with breathless excitement to anyone who has ever said that God does not live in a dogmatic scripture or in a distant throne in the sky, but instead abides very close to us indeed - much closer than we can imagine, breathing right through our own hearts."

It's hard to put your life into words - or at least very few words - when you are discussing what some would consider a failure in your life.  Yet, Ms Gilbert does so quite well in her quick synopsis of what pushes her toward the journey of this book.  I'm barely into it - yet I feel as if I've been embraced by a soul that found a way to grow while still young enough to learn and give back.

So what am I doing?

I started my life over officially 4 years ago when I left my husband after 23 years of marriage.  I put him on a plane to Washington for his 4th (and seemingly) final attempt at sobriety on the day of our 23rd anniversary.  I told him not to bother coming back since I was leaving him and moving to Texas to be nearer to family.  I didn't finalize my divorce until April 2008 - after he followed us to Texas. I finally decided he was strong enough to let go.

But is that when my marriage ended?  It's what I've always told everyone...but no. That's not the truth.

My marriage ended for me after I gave birth to my son. My light. My joy. My gift. I realized there was a person in this world that I would willingly give my life for - sacrifice everything for - someone I could and would love truly unconditionally no matter what.  And at that moment, my focus changed and I started to breathe - to see - through my heart.

Understandably, my husband was not happy about this change.  I tried to balance it. I truly did.  But somewhere in my attempts, I found my own needs - my own voice.  I hadn't even realized they were missing.  I reached out to my education. I reached out to my passions. And while I was reaching - I was holding on to my son. I thought...I had hoped...that my husband could follow along side me. I had assumed he would want to move forward - for the sake of bettering ourselves for this precious child we had lovingly brought into this world.

But in that first year, and subsequent years, our paths separated and became further and further apart. What I thought was a lull in our marriage was actually the division of the union of souls. My marriage ended almost 10 years before I found myself acknowledging that voice inside of me, "I don't want to be married anymore."

As I said, I'm slow.

Here I am. 50 years old. Divorced after a lifetime of marriage. Mother of the perfect teenage son with less than two years left before college.  Starting over. No retirement, no savings, no credit.

But I'm at peace. Something I wasn't sure I'd ever experience again. I'm true to myself and I'm true to my son. I study everything I can searching for the God that I can feel beside me, speaking through my heart. I believe I have found that without the surety of labels.  I have my spirituality, I have my peace, I have my God.

I wish I could have traveled to Bali. Or Italy. Or a quiet cabin nestled in the redwoods close to the Pacific ocean. But I couldn't - I had to find that peace within my day-to-day means of survival as a single mom.

And I did.

I have the peace and the understanding to move forward in my life. To rediscover the lost spirituality I gave away when I got caught up in living for everyone else.  I have the chance because I am simply me.

Slow.
But me.