One morning late last fall, I woke up with a strange sensation. It felt somewhat familiar, but still I couldn't quite place it. It was like seeing a long-ago friend in a place you aren't expecting to see him, totally out of context, and thinking, "Yes, I think that's him, but what would he be doing here? Surely I'm mistaken."
--------------
I'm a very sexual girl. Always have been. I love sex! My ex got it whenever he wanted it and sometimes when he didn't. Our life on that front was always healthy, even as I continued to gain weight. We were both generous and accommodating and it was just... good on a physical level. Emotionally, though? There wasn't much emotion, but I chalked it up to Darren just not being an emotional, sappy, romantic guy. He was always very needy of approval and accolades and compliments, so I suppose on that level, he was emotional. I don't know. I showered him with compliments and verbal approval every day, and knowing that his love language was physical touch, I showered him in that way, too.
Looking back, I realize now that I had some serious emotional baggage that was linked to premarital sex that I'd never let go of. I bore a lot of shame as I entered into marriage, and that shame took its toll on my ability to fully experience sex the way God intended for it to work in a loving marriage. But that's another blog for another day. Anyway - I loved the physical aspect of it enough to be okay with not always feeling it emotionally. In hindsight, I realize how sad that is.
Then came the affair, and it changed him. Although he pleaded for forgiveness and I gave it and we tried to save our marriage, he really never came back. Our sex life suffered. I gained 100 pounds in a year's time. That sucked and certainly didn't help the problem. We continued to "do the act", but it was devoid of any passion at all. It was simply sex, and more frequently, it was one-sided. One night near the end of our marriage, I was awakened by him having his way with me. It was forceful and ugly and it felt like rape. I told him so. He shed some tears and apologized sincerely.
After we separated and I went through the divorce depression, I really thought the sexual part of me had died with the marriage. I mean, I couldn't imagine ever wanting it or feeling it again. The sensual, sexual, intimate part of my body and soul was gone and I mourned its passing.
Then came that August morning. I was lying in my apartment. The boys were gone. I suddenly realized that this strange sensation - that old friend who seemed familiar but mostly unrecognizable - was desire. I was horny! I thought, "Where the hell did THIS come from?" In that moment, I felt a longing so intense it made me shudder. It wasn't longing for Darren, or for any particular man at all. No, I was longing for intimacy, the freedom and release of lovemaking, the closeness and comfort of one of God's most beautiful gifts. I felt it in my core, in my heart, in the quickening rhythm that pounded every pulse point in my body. I started crying, then full on sobbing. I knew that the shame I'd carried for all those years was gone - wiped completely away at my HeartQuest - and that my flesh, mind and spirit were finally in the same place at the same time. And yet I could do nothing about it now. I was furious that yet another thing had been stolen from me. I'm not the type who's going to have a fling just to satisfy that need. I wept for hours.
And then I realized what a gift it was that I hadn't lost that part of me after all. What an awesome sign of healing that I was feeling it again!
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There is more to this story. How amazing to me that exactly a year later, the story comes full circle. More on that when I have the courage to share it.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
catch-up
It's hard to believe that a year has passed since I logged in here.
So much has happened.
We sold our house after only 31 days on the market. It broke my heart, and I wept openly on the realltor's shoulder after the closing. Since that time, the boys and I have moved again, this time to a perfect little house that keeps them in their school district and affords us the comfortable, single-family-dwelling life we missed in the duplex. It really is a Godsend, and is a story that I'll come back and tell. As sad as I was to lose our dream home, I'm over it now. I can drive by without feeling grief and loss. It's just four walls and a roof and a big wrap-around porch now, but it's not a home. It's simply a house. Home is where your heart is, and that is something I have found to be absolutely true.
Even though the market was barely in its earliest stages of recovery, we profited a little on the house. I set some back for a future surgery I'll need to have, and some went toward a new car. (My VW Bug, though I adored it so, just couldn't handle being a family car.) At Christmas, we took a once-in-a-lifetime vacation. I took the kids on a Caribbean cruise. I'd always wanted to cruise, but never was able to because my ex thought he would hate it. WE LOVED IT. Before it was over, the kids were already planning our next one. In fact, they want to cruise again so badly that both boys put $7 of the $10 allowance I give them every week into a cruise savings account! That vacation is a huge landmark on the map of our recovery from the divorce. It really was amazing for us as a family.
Darren got engaged. Yes, while we were still married. Walking my boys through that confusion was one of the hardest things I've had to do yet. There was much anger on Ian's part, though he wouldn't ever let Darren see it. Misplaced though it was, I took the brunt of it. I haven't felt sadness or betrayal or disdain about the engagement or the other woman at all, which I think is a great indicator that my heart is in full recovery. Instead, I feel pity for her that she doesn't know what she's getting into (ha!), and sadness for Darren that he's thrown so much away. Everyone who's met her says she's exactly like me (I'll write about that sometime), which I think is pretty funny. The divorce became final in April, 12 months after filing. It was amicable and fair.
I've lost 115 pounds. The first 60 melted away with little effort, but the last 60 has taken a lot of effort. I've been plateaued for about 3 months and have been losing and gaining the same 5 pounds, but over the last two weeks, I broke through and am losing again - 8.4 pounds since 10 days ago! I still have 60 to go to meet my goal. I've come 2/3 of the way - what's another 1/3? I can do this! IT IS AMAZING TO HAVE MY LIFE BACK. I only thought I was living when I weighed 317 pounds.
The boys and I placed membership at Legacy Church of Christ last fall, but as much as I love the people there, it just didn't feel right for some reason. I've struggled with finding a church home, and have visited so many places. The boys are sick of visiting. Finally, I think we've found it - 7City Church, which is not the denomination I grew up in and spent my adult life in. Even still, it feels good and right, and I'm hopeful that God has led us there for a purpose. I haven't made any commitments to it yet - still praying for confirmation.
Finding a church home is a lot like dating, I've decided. Something about a church sparks your interest enough to make you decide to visit. Sometimes at first glance, you know it's not the right one. Sometimes after the first "date", you think, "Eh, maybe I can get past that quirk. I'll give it another chance." Sometimes it takes three or four dates before you realize that it's not gonna work out, and you're back to square one. One thing's certain - I've met some great people along the way and my faith journey hasn't suffered. I think the variety of worship styles and preaching styles and just the diversity of faith has been really good for my heart and soul. Part of the healing process for sure.
God continues to place people in my life who are simply there to like me and love me and enrich my life in little ways. I've met people who became friends in the most bizarre ways this year - at a concert, through Facebook, through old high school connections... and most recently, through a dating website. Yeah. That's a whole 'nother entry. Or twelve.
The healing continues, but the war is behind me.
It feels good to be writing again. :-)
So much has happened.
We sold our house after only 31 days on the market. It broke my heart, and I wept openly on the realltor's shoulder after the closing. Since that time, the boys and I have moved again, this time to a perfect little house that keeps them in their school district and affords us the comfortable, single-family-dwelling life we missed in the duplex. It really is a Godsend, and is a story that I'll come back and tell. As sad as I was to lose our dream home, I'm over it now. I can drive by without feeling grief and loss. It's just four walls and a roof and a big wrap-around porch now, but it's not a home. It's simply a house. Home is where your heart is, and that is something I have found to be absolutely true.
Even though the market was barely in its earliest stages of recovery, we profited a little on the house. I set some back for a future surgery I'll need to have, and some went toward a new car. (My VW Bug, though I adored it so, just couldn't handle being a family car.) At Christmas, we took a once-in-a-lifetime vacation. I took the kids on a Caribbean cruise. I'd always wanted to cruise, but never was able to because my ex thought he would hate it. WE LOVED IT. Before it was over, the kids were already planning our next one. In fact, they want to cruise again so badly that both boys put $7 of the $10 allowance I give them every week into a cruise savings account! That vacation is a huge landmark on the map of our recovery from the divorce. It really was amazing for us as a family.
Darren got engaged. Yes, while we were still married. Walking my boys through that confusion was one of the hardest things I've had to do yet. There was much anger on Ian's part, though he wouldn't ever let Darren see it. Misplaced though it was, I took the brunt of it. I haven't felt sadness or betrayal or disdain about the engagement or the other woman at all, which I think is a great indicator that my heart is in full recovery. Instead, I feel pity for her that she doesn't know what she's getting into (ha!), and sadness for Darren that he's thrown so much away. Everyone who's met her says she's exactly like me (I'll write about that sometime), which I think is pretty funny. The divorce became final in April, 12 months after filing. It was amicable and fair.
I've lost 115 pounds. The first 60 melted away with little effort, but the last 60 has taken a lot of effort. I've been plateaued for about 3 months and have been losing and gaining the same 5 pounds, but over the last two weeks, I broke through and am losing again - 8.4 pounds since 10 days ago! I still have 60 to go to meet my goal. I've come 2/3 of the way - what's another 1/3? I can do this! IT IS AMAZING TO HAVE MY LIFE BACK. I only thought I was living when I weighed 317 pounds.
The boys and I placed membership at Legacy Church of Christ last fall, but as much as I love the people there, it just didn't feel right for some reason. I've struggled with finding a church home, and have visited so many places. The boys are sick of visiting. Finally, I think we've found it - 7City Church, which is not the denomination I grew up in and spent my adult life in. Even still, it feels good and right, and I'm hopeful that God has led us there for a purpose. I haven't made any commitments to it yet - still praying for confirmation.
Finding a church home is a lot like dating, I've decided. Something about a church sparks your interest enough to make you decide to visit. Sometimes at first glance, you know it's not the right one. Sometimes after the first "date", you think, "Eh, maybe I can get past that quirk. I'll give it another chance." Sometimes it takes three or four dates before you realize that it's not gonna work out, and you're back to square one. One thing's certain - I've met some great people along the way and my faith journey hasn't suffered. I think the variety of worship styles and preaching styles and just the diversity of faith has been really good for my heart and soul. Part of the healing process for sure.
God continues to place people in my life who are simply there to like me and love me and enrich my life in little ways. I've met people who became friends in the most bizarre ways this year - at a concert, through Facebook, through old high school connections... and most recently, through a dating website. Yeah. That's a whole 'nother entry. Or twelve.
The healing continues, but the war is behind me.
It feels good to be writing again. :-)
Saturday, August 11, 2012
isn't it ironic, dontcha think?
I dated a lot of guys before I fell in love with Darren.
I even turned down one proposal.
Ironically, it was that proposal that made me realize how deep and real my feelings for Darren were. With the other guy, I thought we were just having fun. I don't think he really loved me at all. I think he was just ready to settle down and get married. Truly.
I never dated anyone for very long. I think the longest one was 9 months, and that was only because every time I tried to break up with the guy (he was only 16), he'd threathen to kill himself. I felt like I was responsible for his very life. Wouldn't you know, when I finally had the guts to just end it, he had a new girlfriend within a week? crack me up.
I got bored easily, I suppose. I always bought in to the old adage, "Don't fall in love with someone you don't see yourself marrying, and don't date anyone you don't see yourself falling in love with." So if the guy got too serious, or if I just simply realized that I didn't want the relationship to mature too far, I got out and dated someone else for a bit. I didn't have many actual boyfriends, though. I just dated around a lot. I had a lot of fun. :)
I ran through jobs the same way. I was always eager and willing to try something new. The longest job i ever kept (until I was a bona-fide adult with a family) was 9 months, and that was only because I adored the man I worked for (Red Wing Shoes in Denton). He was like a father-figure. He went to my church. He had a daughter my age. When another job opportunity presented itself that I couldn't imagine turning down, I gave my two weeks' notice, and then I didn't show up for my last day at work. Imagine my horror when I learned later that he and the only other employee and their wives had planned a surprise goodbye party for me, complete with cake and balloons. I still reel from the guilt and shame of that no-show.
But then there was Darren. He was not my type. In fact, at first, we didn't even like each other. I was too crass and loud and bubbly. He was too quiet and nerdy and had brillo-pad hair. Yes, I was shallow. But then something curious happened. I fell in love with his spirit. With his heart. And he, mine. And along the way, our personalities met each other in the middle. I calmed down a LOT, and he opened up just as much.
And here's the point of this entry. He was always afraid that I would tire of him, and would want to move on to greener pastures. In the first years - even into the second decade of our marriage, he would periodically voice his concern that I would get bored with him. I assured him that I never could.
And then he went and fell out of love with me instead.
How unbelievably ironic.
I even turned down one proposal.
Ironically, it was that proposal that made me realize how deep and real my feelings for Darren were. With the other guy, I thought we were just having fun. I don't think he really loved me at all. I think he was just ready to settle down and get married. Truly.
I never dated anyone for very long. I think the longest one was 9 months, and that was only because every time I tried to break up with the guy (he was only 16), he'd threathen to kill himself. I felt like I was responsible for his very life. Wouldn't you know, when I finally had the guts to just end it, he had a new girlfriend within a week? crack me up.
I got bored easily, I suppose. I always bought in to the old adage, "Don't fall in love with someone you don't see yourself marrying, and don't date anyone you don't see yourself falling in love with." So if the guy got too serious, or if I just simply realized that I didn't want the relationship to mature too far, I got out and dated someone else for a bit. I didn't have many actual boyfriends, though. I just dated around a lot. I had a lot of fun. :)
I ran through jobs the same way. I was always eager and willing to try something new. The longest job i ever kept (until I was a bona-fide adult with a family) was 9 months, and that was only because I adored the man I worked for (Red Wing Shoes in Denton). He was like a father-figure. He went to my church. He had a daughter my age. When another job opportunity presented itself that I couldn't imagine turning down, I gave my two weeks' notice, and then I didn't show up for my last day at work. Imagine my horror when I learned later that he and the only other employee and their wives had planned a surprise goodbye party for me, complete with cake and balloons. I still reel from the guilt and shame of that no-show.
But then there was Darren. He was not my type. In fact, at first, we didn't even like each other. I was too crass and loud and bubbly. He was too quiet and nerdy and had brillo-pad hair. Yes, I was shallow. But then something curious happened. I fell in love with his spirit. With his heart. And he, mine. And along the way, our personalities met each other in the middle. I calmed down a LOT, and he opened up just as much.
And here's the point of this entry. He was always afraid that I would tire of him, and would want to move on to greener pastures. In the first years - even into the second decade of our marriage, he would periodically voice his concern that I would get bored with him. I assured him that I never could.
And then he went and fell out of love with me instead.
How unbelievably ironic.
choice
The thing is, I could have loved him forever.
I WOULD have loved him forever.
Sure, he's selfish and condescending and flaky and lacks motivation. I really dislike those things about him, but I always looked at them as the trade-off. You know, the worse part of "for better or worse".What it came down to was that I loved him, and he loved me, and that's all that really mattered.
I found myself making excuses for him a lot. For his rudeness to others, for his indifference to people, for his intolerance of other people's children. He always fell asleep on the Thameses couch when we'd go to their house for dinner. Rude. He slept through a whole weekend at the beach with the Lamberts, because it was his vacation. Nevermind that the other 9 people in the house wanted to DO things, as it was also our vacation. He always slept at my parents' house, too. Even when we'd be having serious conversations about the impending divorce back in the spring, he'd fall asleep sitting there talking. I realize now that his sleepiness is a coping mechanism for when he doesn't want to do something. Selfish. Rude. It embarrassed me. I nagged him about it, which surely didn't help. But I loved him anyway.
He disliked being with his own extended family, too. I once asked his sister to sing in our wedding. Darren blew a gasket and said he would not allow it. I made him promise not to make me be the one to tell her. He said he'd talk to her. I found out a few years ago that he never did. I also recently heard that the family thinks I have pulled him away from them, that I avoid being with them. The opposite is true. If I hadn't made the commitments and phone calls and arrangements and hosted many of the get-togethers, we'd have never seen them. And he would've been okay with that. The one year I didn't hound him about calling his parents on their birthdays, he didn't call them. There was hell to pay. His mom's heart was broken, and his dad ripped him a new one. He didn't blame me, but I felt terrible. I love his family.
I'd always dreamed of renewing our vows on our 10th anniversary. When that time came, we were busy having babies and had no money. So we said, "We'll do it on our 20th." As our 20th approached and I brought up the subject, he pooed-pooed the idea in such a hurtful way that I didn't bring it up again. He had a way of shutting me right down. He knew exactly how to belittle me, make me feel inferior, make me feel silly and foolish and even stupid. But I loved him anyway. I always loved him.
I have always had a mouth on me. I wasn't a demure, whipped, sad little wife. I spat venom on him when he treated me like a child. I cried angry tears when he would shut down and refuse to engage. I can't hide my emotions - they kinda just hang out on my sleeve for all to see. And in general, I don't hold back words. Well, I didn't use to. Nowadays, I've become quite skilled at not saying anything. It has probably saved me a lot of heartache, to tell you the truth. Because Darren always hated that I argued and didn't back down from his bullying. He thought it was disrespectful. And I can acknowledge that indeed, it was. I meant to disrespect him a lot of times. I felt that respect should be earned, and much of the time, I didn't respect him. But I loved him. I always loved him.
I always told him that if he ever cheated on me, I'd be GONE. Then he cheated on me. And I didn't run. I didn't break completely. I fought for our marriage. Because I loved him.
When he grew distant again last year, and began treating me as though my very presence made him ill, I bristled. I'd been down this road, after all, and last time it led to another woman. And my bristling led to resentment on both our parts. When he complained of his leg hurting, I blew him off. To be fair, he has always been a huge, huge baby. There's the so-called "man cold", and then there's the Darren Cold. I really thought his hurt leg was nothing, based on his track record of over-reacting. Turns out, he really was injured. I will always wonder if my lack of concern in the beginning of that injury pushed him over the edge.
But I always loved him.
And I always would have.
I put up with a lot of crap from him over the years. More than I would ever advise my own daughter to put up with from any man. I would expect her to love herself more than that.
But here's the thing. Love is a choice you make. I believe that you can't help falling in love with someone. That just happens. But making the choice to KEEP falling in love with them after that initial stage wears off? Yes, that is definitely a choice.
And you know what?
I've been released from having to make that choice every day. And in so doing, my tolerance level of the rudeness and bullcrap I will take from him has plummeted. It's amazing what you'll put up with in the name of love.
And what sucks? I could have loved him forever anyway. I WOULD have.
I WOULD have loved him forever.
Sure, he's selfish and condescending and flaky and lacks motivation. I really dislike those things about him, but I always looked at them as the trade-off. You know, the worse part of "for better or worse".What it came down to was that I loved him, and he loved me, and that's all that really mattered.
I found myself making excuses for him a lot. For his rudeness to others, for his indifference to people, for his intolerance of other people's children. He always fell asleep on the Thameses couch when we'd go to their house for dinner. Rude. He slept through a whole weekend at the beach with the Lamberts, because it was his vacation. Nevermind that the other 9 people in the house wanted to DO things, as it was also our vacation. He always slept at my parents' house, too. Even when we'd be having serious conversations about the impending divorce back in the spring, he'd fall asleep sitting there talking. I realize now that his sleepiness is a coping mechanism for when he doesn't want to do something. Selfish. Rude. It embarrassed me. I nagged him about it, which surely didn't help. But I loved him anyway.
He disliked being with his own extended family, too. I once asked his sister to sing in our wedding. Darren blew a gasket and said he would not allow it. I made him promise not to make me be the one to tell her. He said he'd talk to her. I found out a few years ago that he never did. I also recently heard that the family thinks I have pulled him away from them, that I avoid being with them. The opposite is true. If I hadn't made the commitments and phone calls and arrangements and hosted many of the get-togethers, we'd have never seen them. And he would've been okay with that. The one year I didn't hound him about calling his parents on their birthdays, he didn't call them. There was hell to pay. His mom's heart was broken, and his dad ripped him a new one. He didn't blame me, but I felt terrible. I love his family.
I'd always dreamed of renewing our vows on our 10th anniversary. When that time came, we were busy having babies and had no money. So we said, "We'll do it on our 20th." As our 20th approached and I brought up the subject, he pooed-pooed the idea in such a hurtful way that I didn't bring it up again. He had a way of shutting me right down. He knew exactly how to belittle me, make me feel inferior, make me feel silly and foolish and even stupid. But I loved him anyway. I always loved him.
I have always had a mouth on me. I wasn't a demure, whipped, sad little wife. I spat venom on him when he treated me like a child. I cried angry tears when he would shut down and refuse to engage. I can't hide my emotions - they kinda just hang out on my sleeve for all to see. And in general, I don't hold back words. Well, I didn't use to. Nowadays, I've become quite skilled at not saying anything. It has probably saved me a lot of heartache, to tell you the truth. Because Darren always hated that I argued and didn't back down from his bullying. He thought it was disrespectful. And I can acknowledge that indeed, it was. I meant to disrespect him a lot of times. I felt that respect should be earned, and much of the time, I didn't respect him. But I loved him. I always loved him.
I always told him that if he ever cheated on me, I'd be GONE. Then he cheated on me. And I didn't run. I didn't break completely. I fought for our marriage. Because I loved him.
When he grew distant again last year, and began treating me as though my very presence made him ill, I bristled. I'd been down this road, after all, and last time it led to another woman. And my bristling led to resentment on both our parts. When he complained of his leg hurting, I blew him off. To be fair, he has always been a huge, huge baby. There's the so-called "man cold", and then there's the Darren Cold. I really thought his hurt leg was nothing, based on his track record of over-reacting. Turns out, he really was injured. I will always wonder if my lack of concern in the beginning of that injury pushed him over the edge.
But I always loved him.
And I always would have.
I put up with a lot of crap from him over the years. More than I would ever advise my own daughter to put up with from any man. I would expect her to love herself more than that.
But here's the thing. Love is a choice you make. I believe that you can't help falling in love with someone. That just happens. But making the choice to KEEP falling in love with them after that initial stage wears off? Yes, that is definitely a choice.
And you know what?
I've been released from having to make that choice every day. And in so doing, my tolerance level of the rudeness and bullcrap I will take from him has plummeted. It's amazing what you'll put up with in the name of love.
And what sucks? I could have loved him forever anyway. I WOULD have.
I'm just being honest.
It made me hold my breath.
For I knew that as soon as I breathed again, the tears would fall.
And oh, how I hate to cry.
I miss being held.
I miss cuddling. Oh my word, we were good at cuddling.
I miss having someone to hold.
I miss feeling a warm body against mine in the night.
I miss waking up next to him.
I miss the goodbye kisses he used to give me when he left for work - although it's been years since he did that.
I miss having someone to share my day with.
I miss having someone to share the joy of my kids with.
I miss having someone who knows me inside and out, who knows what I'm feeling and thinking.
I miss being a part of someone's heart and soul.
I miss having someone to laugh with, to sing with, to watch TV with, to road trip with.
I have a million and one friends, and I know I'm loved.
And yet, I find myself being indescribably lonely.
Friends have their own lives. Friends are parts of families and couples. Friends assume that because I'm such a strong gal, and so headstrong, and so full of faith, and so vibrant, that I'm probably doing fine. And so no one calls to see if I'm okay. Or if I'm lonely. Or if I might need to talk.
And part of that is my fault, because that's the image I portray, the personality I exude. I hate to be a bother.
But damn it, I'm lonely, and sometimes it hits me with such excruciating force that it knocks me on my ass and I don't know how to get up. And it makes me curse. And it makes me cry. And it makes me finally pull up this old journal and own it.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
triggers
One of the things I battled with at HeartQuest in January was my weight. Well, not my WEIGHT, per se, but the emotional baggage and bondage that contributed to it. I didn't really deal with it there, but for the first time, I confronted that it was an emotional/spiritual/
Flash forward to February. When Darren moved out, my friend Karen said, "You've always wanted to get surgery. Now's the time. It doesn't matter that Darren doesn't approve. It matters that you take care of yourself. And you need to do it while you still have his insurance." She made me promise to at least call and look into it. I promised.
When I pulled up to my office the next Monday, there was a new billboard going up right outside our doors featuring "Dr. David Kim: Get Your Life Back" and a picture of Nate Newton holding a pair of humongo jeans with the caption, "I lost 175 pounds with gastric sleeve!" This was cool for two reasons: 1) I'd just promised Karen I'd make the call and there was the number right in front of me, and 2) I knew of Dr. Kim because another friend had used him for her gall bladder surgery and spoke very highly of him and his office staff. Two signs. On a sign. ;-)
So I called. At the consultation appointment, Dr. Kim asked me why I was so hesitant to commit to the surgery. I told him that my husband very much disapproved because of the risks involved, and that I wanted to be cautious and not make an emotional decision. He said, "Let's talk about the risks if you DON'T get this weight off. Heart disease. Hypertension. Arthritis. Your knees could blow out. You'll develop diabetes. Feet problems. Higher risk of cancer. Stroke. Heart Attack. Death." Ah, yes. Perspective!
I still didn't commit to the surgery that day, but I did start nutrition counseling, and that has been amazing.
I've learned to recognize and identify my triggers - the things that make me need to stuff down and fill up. Most of my bad eating habits were learned in childhood. My unhealthy coping mechanisms were picked up then, too. A specific incidence in high school (a date rape) really sealed the deal: I made a subconscious decision to make myself unattractive so it would never happen again, and began stuffing more than ever. None of those triggers were surprises to me; I identified them immediately. But it broke my heart to realize that Darren, too, has always been a trigger. Coming to terms with that was difficult. I never would've realized it before, and certainly never would have admitted that he would be that for me, or that I would allow him to be. With a word, or more often without a word, he could belittle me, offend me, crush me, and make me feel inferior and unworthy.
I've learned that those feelings of unworthiness are key. My sometime-need to disappear and not feel what I'm feeling leads to stuffing. I've learned to recognize that trigger and the lies that activate it, and just keep reminding myself that I AM DEFINED BY GOD, and no one else. I've forced myself to move through those feelings and feel them instead of stuffing them down. Last month, I was shocked to realize that I am one of my own worst enemies in this battle. I'm a perfectionist and hold myself to very high standards in my work and in most areas of my life. As an example: a few weeks ago, I received a large bonus at work. The board initiated it and I gratefully accepted it. Then, the next week, I got two declinations for grants I'd written. I suddenly felt unworthy of the bonus. I felt like a fraud. I felt like I'd let the whole board and organization down. I literally felt sick about it. So I went through a drive-through and ordered lunch. After ordering, I panicked - panicked!- that one meal wouldn't fill me up, so I ordered a SECOND MEAL. As I did it, I recognized that I'd triggered my own dumb self. I paid for both meals, but dumped the second one in the trash can as I drove away. VICTORY! The next day, I got a $25,000 YES for a grant I'd written. God is so cool. :) (I'm still exploring where that panicky feeling comes from, and why. This isn't the first time I've felt that.)
I have a long way to go with this mental/spiritual battle, but I'll continue the counseling and will get it all figured out. In the meantime...
I decided to do the surgery. It's been a three-month process to get ready - so many insurance hoops to jump through to get approved! I gave up carbonation cold turkey in February. I started walking daily (and developed plantar fasciitis, so I bought good shoes. ;) I've had a stress test, an EKG, a sleep study, a chest x-ray, a millions viles of blood drawn, an EGD (esophagogastroduodenoscopy. google that!) and a psychological evaluation, all to determine what my internist has been telling me for a couple of years: I'm the healthiest obese person on earth. Before they'd administer the anesthesia for the EGD, they made me take a pregnancy test. I told them I knew I wasn't pregnant. How do you know? asked the doctor. I thought about telling him that I can't even remember the last time my husband told me he loved me, much less the last time we had sex. Then I came to my senses and just said, "I had my tubes tied ten years ago." He said, "Ok, I guess if you haven't gotten pregnant in ten years, it probably worked. You still have to pee in the cup, though.) I'm happy to report that I am officially not with child. ;)
There was a moment of worry two weeks ago when one nurse said I might have trouble getting approved since I don't have a single medical problem attributed to the weight. But when I asked another nurse, she looked at my chart and said, "Oh honey. When they see how high your BMI is, they'll approve you instantly." <insert embarrassed smiley here>
I started the required two-week pre-surgery liquid diet last Tuesday and have already lost 10 pounds! Surgery is one week from today: Tuesday, June 26th, two days after my 43rd birthday. I'm doing Gastric Sleeve, which is the removal of 90% of my stomach, leaving a stomach the size and shape of a banana, or a "sleeve". It's not reversible. I'll have three more weeks of liquid diet post-surgery, then two weeks of pureed diet, then real food again. Except, differently than I've ever eaten before.
The surgery isn't a fix-all, and I know that. It's a turbo-boost to getting healthy again. I can do this. I know how to. I haven't always been obese. I was denied health and life insurance recently unless I fork over the money for high risk, which I simply can't afford to do. Life insurance alone for someone my age, weight and height runs $200/month. No way I can add that into my budget. If I can get my weight down and keep it down for two years, I won't be high risk anymore. Besides all that, I'm ready to get my life back. I want to bike the Trinity Trails with the kids. I want to climb mountains, or at least tackle Enchanted Rock. I want to approach an airplane seat without spying the panicked look on the faces of passengers hoping I'm not assigned next to them. I want to cross things off my lifelong To-Do list that I've had to postpone, such as skydiving and flying in a two-seater airplane and horseback riding in the Rockies. I want to sit in a theater seat without my thighs being pinched in half. I want to not embarrass my boys as they get older and start noticing that their Mom is gross. I want to feel as good in my skin as I feel in my heart and soul and mind. I want my life back.
And it *IS* nice that I get to use Darren's insurance, which pays 90% of the cost, while I still can. ;)
Monday, April 30, 2012
the prayer
Saturday was difficult. We showed the house to prospective buyers first thing that morning. My house looked beautiful. It made me ache to realize again that I'm losing it.
Then we attended Aidan's last soccer game, and the after-party. As we sat at a table - Ian, Dani, Darren, and me - things seemed so normal, as if nothing had ever changed. Except that EVERYthing has changed. I began to get teary, so I abruptly left and walked to the car where I let myself cry. Darren appeared a minute or two later and said, "I'll leave so you can go back in." He was trying to be kind, but it pissed me off. "No, one of us needs to be in there to support Aidan," I said. "Go back in." I took another three or four minutes, then collected myself and went back in myself.
I just want him to be remorseful. I want him to say he's sorry. I want him to acknowledge my pain, and the kids' pain. I HATE THAT HE CARRIES ON AS THOUGH WE'RE A NORMAL HAPPY FAMILY.
At the same time, I'm glad he's being kind. I'm glad we don't fight. I'm grateful that he doesn't embarrass me or humiliate me in public. He is, after all, still a good and kind man. He just happens to not love me anymore. I just want him to say he's sorry for the many years of hurt and especially for the current devastation. Is that stupid? I don't care. It's want I need. It's what I want. I need some sort of emotional closure.
That evening, I began packing for the move. As I stood in the family room looking at our family portraits and wondering how to store those until the kids might want them someday, someone rang the doorbell. It was two young adults - college-aged, probably. They were nicely dressed. The girl wore a cute spring dress that hit just above her knees, and the guy wore hipster jeans with a button-down shirt. I opened the door, and they beamed. The guys said, "Hi. We're part of a big group who's out today canvassing the city praying for people. Is there anything we can pray with you about?"
I was a tad cynical. I guess they could tell, because immediately, the girl added, "We're not selling anything, not preaching anything. We just want to pray with people who need prayer. Can we pray for you?"
I released the tightness in my shoulders and said, "Yes. You can pray for my husband. He's decided to leave our family. Pray for him to be the man God called him to be 21 years ago."
The guy spoke again. "We would love to pray for your husband. Do you have kids?" I told him about all three of them. He asked for my name. Then he said, "Stacy, do you think it was a coincidence that we showed up today?"
"Nope," I answered. "Not a coincidence." He smiled.
Then the two of them held hands, took my hands in theirs, and in a circle of three on my front porch, we prayed. The guy prayed for Darren. He prayed for my kids. He prayed for me. He prayed for marriages all over the world. He asked God to continue to carry us. Of course, I had tears when it was over.
And that was it. They thanked me for blessing them with the opportunity to pray, and were on their way.
Back inside the house, I walked into the computer room where Ian was playing. "Ian, the coolest thing just happened..." I began.
He interrupted me. "I know. I heard. I got on my knees while he prayed."
Coincidence? Nope. Not at all.
Then we attended Aidan's last soccer game, and the after-party. As we sat at a table - Ian, Dani, Darren, and me - things seemed so normal, as if nothing had ever changed. Except that EVERYthing has changed. I began to get teary, so I abruptly left and walked to the car where I let myself cry. Darren appeared a minute or two later and said, "I'll leave so you can go back in." He was trying to be kind, but it pissed me off. "No, one of us needs to be in there to support Aidan," I said. "Go back in." I took another three or four minutes, then collected myself and went back in myself.
I just want him to be remorseful. I want him to say he's sorry. I want him to acknowledge my pain, and the kids' pain. I HATE THAT HE CARRIES ON AS THOUGH WE'RE A NORMAL HAPPY FAMILY.
At the same time, I'm glad he's being kind. I'm glad we don't fight. I'm grateful that he doesn't embarrass me or humiliate me in public. He is, after all, still a good and kind man. He just happens to not love me anymore. I just want him to say he's sorry for the many years of hurt and especially for the current devastation. Is that stupid? I don't care. It's want I need. It's what I want. I need some sort of emotional closure.
That evening, I began packing for the move. As I stood in the family room looking at our family portraits and wondering how to store those until the kids might want them someday, someone rang the doorbell. It was two young adults - college-aged, probably. They were nicely dressed. The girl wore a cute spring dress that hit just above her knees, and the guy wore hipster jeans with a button-down shirt. I opened the door, and they beamed. The guys said, "Hi. We're part of a big group who's out today canvassing the city praying for people. Is there anything we can pray with you about?"
I was a tad cynical. I guess they could tell, because immediately, the girl added, "We're not selling anything, not preaching anything. We just want to pray with people who need prayer. Can we pray for you?"
I released the tightness in my shoulders and said, "Yes. You can pray for my husband. He's decided to leave our family. Pray for him to be the man God called him to be 21 years ago."
The guy spoke again. "We would love to pray for your husband. Do you have kids?" I told him about all three of them. He asked for my name. Then he said, "Stacy, do you think it was a coincidence that we showed up today?"
"Nope," I answered. "Not a coincidence." He smiled.
Then the two of them held hands, took my hands in theirs, and in a circle of three on my front porch, we prayed. The guy prayed for Darren. He prayed for my kids. He prayed for me. He prayed for marriages all over the world. He asked God to continue to carry us. Of course, I had tears when it was over.
And that was it. They thanked me for blessing them with the opportunity to pray, and were on their way.
Back inside the house, I walked into the computer room where Ian was playing. "Ian, the coolest thing just happened..." I began.
He interrupted me. "I know. I heard. I got on my knees while he prayed."
Coincidence? Nope. Not at all.
telling the masses
I've always lived my life out loud. By that I mean that I've always been an open book - transparent and honest. It's been a little weird to keep so many secrets for the last few months.
But it's time to start letting people know.
I started small, with this blog, an email, and the people I trust most in the whole world.
Then along the way, I added a few more people here and there, as I felt more certain that this was going to be a permanent situation. Last week, I shared the news with even more people - a group of girlfriends I spend two weekends with each year and have chatted with online for 12+ years - my scrapbooking friends from across the state and beyond. I will be seeing many of them this coming weekend and I didn't want there to be any whispering about "did you hear about Stacy and Darren...", so I decided it was time to share.
Every time someone new finds out, the support I receive overwhelms me. It makes me weep every time, because I am reminded that I AM loved, I AM cherished, I AM loveable, I AM worthy of the promises God has promised me. I haven't yet regretted sharing the news. Everyone reminds me that yes, Darren DID love me, and this is his new truth, but not THE truth. It always helps to hear other people say that.
But now I'm faced with a decision I need help with. Facebook. I've thought all along that I would wait for Darren to change his relationship status before I say anything public, but I'm beginning to rethink that. (His bio currently states that he's been happily married for 19 years. It's been 21. ha)
The boys and I are moving this week. As I continue to share my life, it will become obvious that something has changed. A lot of people know, but obviously not everyone does. Most people don't, actually. I don't want there to be any gossip behind the scenes. I don't want there to be questions - people always assume that the truth is worse than it really is when there are questions. I think I want to state very simply and very frankly what is happening. Maybe something like this:
It is difficult to share this very personal news, but the time has come to let you all know. Facebook seems a rather odd way to share it, but I'd rather you hear it from me than through the grapevine. Darren has decided to divorce me. He doesn't love me anymore, and believes now that he never did. We are working through this very amicably, but it still breaks my heart. The boys and I are moving this week to a rental nearby, and our house will be going on the market very soon. The kids and I are hopeful and joyful in spite of the circumstances - proof that God is real and is walking with us through this heartache. Please hold us in prayer as we transition to this new way of life.
There are a bunch of people who need to know - people who would be hurt to find out later. People are going to be hurt either way, but... I need for them to hear it from me.
Advice, please.
But it's time to start letting people know.
I started small, with this blog, an email, and the people I trust most in the whole world.
Then along the way, I added a few more people here and there, as I felt more certain that this was going to be a permanent situation. Last week, I shared the news with even more people - a group of girlfriends I spend two weekends with each year and have chatted with online for 12+ years - my scrapbooking friends from across the state and beyond. I will be seeing many of them this coming weekend and I didn't want there to be any whispering about "did you hear about Stacy and Darren...", so I decided it was time to share.
Every time someone new finds out, the support I receive overwhelms me. It makes me weep every time, because I am reminded that I AM loved, I AM cherished, I AM loveable, I AM worthy of the promises God has promised me. I haven't yet regretted sharing the news. Everyone reminds me that yes, Darren DID love me, and this is his new truth, but not THE truth. It always helps to hear other people say that.
But now I'm faced with a decision I need help with. Facebook. I've thought all along that I would wait for Darren to change his relationship status before I say anything public, but I'm beginning to rethink that. (His bio currently states that he's been happily married for 19 years. It's been 21. ha)
The boys and I are moving this week. As I continue to share my life, it will become obvious that something has changed. A lot of people know, but obviously not everyone does. Most people don't, actually. I don't want there to be any gossip behind the scenes. I don't want there to be questions - people always assume that the truth is worse than it really is when there are questions. I think I want to state very simply and very frankly what is happening. Maybe something like this:
It is difficult to share this very personal news, but the time has come to let you all know. Facebook seems a rather odd way to share it, but I'd rather you hear it from me than through the grapevine. Darren has decided to divorce me. He doesn't love me anymore, and believes now that he never did. We are working through this very amicably, but it still breaks my heart. The boys and I are moving this week to a rental nearby, and our house will be going on the market very soon. The kids and I are hopeful and joyful in spite of the circumstances - proof that God is real and is walking with us through this heartache. Please hold us in prayer as we transition to this new way of life.
There are a bunch of people who need to know - people who would be hurt to find out later. People are going to be hurt either way, but... I need for them to hear it from me.
Advice, please.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Blessings, part 3: The House
The night Darren told me he was filing for divorce, I told him that if that was the case, I wanted him to move back into our house and I'd find a place for me and the boys to live. He has a million and a half unfinished projects to finish before we can sell the house, and we'd already discussed that we'd have to sell the house. He agreed. I immediately set out to find a suitable place for us to live.
My only criteria were that is have two bedrooms, and that it be in our school district. I don't want to uproot the boys' lives any more than I have to, and keeping them in Lily B and near their friends (and MY friends) was of the utmost importance to me. But the pickin's are slim in our neighborhood when it comes to rentals. I called on several, and the prices were way more than I could pay. In some cases, they were more expensive than our mortgage payment. There's no way I could do that.
I looked at a couple of properties. One was almost affordable, but was a complete dump. I'd have been scared to live there. The other was nicer, but would've cost half my monthly take-home, and it didn't have a spec of yard. (And since we're getting a DAWG...) I was getting discouraged. I considered the possibility of renting a 1-bedroom apartment and me sleeping on the sofa.
And then one morning, I went a different route than I ever go. I took Park Place down to University, past the zoo. I never go that route. And on the way, I noticed a sign in a side yard that said, "Luxury Duplex for Lease. Dogs Welcome." SIGN NUMBER 1. (Yes, a literal sign. haha! But a figurative one, too.)
I turned on to the street to get a look at the house from the front. My heart sank. Yet another place I wouldn't be able to afford. But then I thought, "Maybe the duplex is in the back yard." So I parked and called.
The duplex is the entire 2nd floor. 1500 square feet. 2 bedrooms. 2 baths. Private entrance and yard. And IN MY COMFORTABLE PRICE RANGE. Unreal. I couldn't believe my ears. I almost cried. I made an appointment to see the place that evening. SIGN NUMBER 2.
The boys went with me. They were nervous but excited. I was worried about my bad credit, which is a horrendous marriage story I haven't (and probably won't) talk about here. I reminded the boys to be on their best behavior. Ian reminded me that they always are. (Uh-huh.)
The Landlord asked me where I work, what I do there, and how long I've been in that position. I answered, and she said, "Let me show you the place." That was the extent of my credit check. SIGN NUMBER 2.
The place is gorgeous - just my style. Hardwoods throughout. Fireplace with black tile and beautiful wood surround/mantel. Cool architectural details and moldings. MORE CLOSET SPACE than we have in our entire house! A garage space for my car. A DOGGIE DOOR.
"Oh! A doggie door!" I exclaimed. "I was worried about how we could have a dog on the second floor and not be home all day."
"You have a dog?" asked the landlord.
"No, not yet, but we're getting one," I said.
"What kind?" she inquired.
"I don't know yet. But I've promised the boys a dog to help us with this transition."
"Well, I'll tell you what," she said. "I love dogs and every boy deserves a dog. I won't4. charge you a pet deposit." SIGN NUMBER 3.
"This is where the washer/dryer hook-up is," she said as she pointed to a corner of the kitchen. "Do you have a washer/dryer?"
"I do," I began. "But I'm not sure I'll end up with it...."
"Tell you what. I have one that just needs to be repaired. I'll get it fixed and have it moved up here for you."
SIGN NUMBER 4.
I wrote a check that night.
We move in the weekend of May 4.
Well, "we" is misleading. I won't be there.
I had a girls' weekend planned already. I was about to cancel it when Dani talked me out of it. She insists on moving me FOR me while I go play with glue and paper with my friends. I protested, but eventually, she won by saying, "Mom. It's going to be so hard for you to leave your dream house. To see your life dismantled like that. You need to just go away and come back to your apartment all set up for you to live in."
The next day, LivingSocial ran a deal for 2 movers, a truck, and 2 hours. I bought it.
SIGN NUMBER 5.
The landlord is painting the accent walls in my color choice - "Harmonious" by Behr. It's a beautiful, soothing light blue with a hint of teal.
Isn't that fireplace gorgeous? It has an outlet on top. Can't wait to decorate for Christmas in here. :)
Master bedroom with bath. I'm giving this one to the boys. They can pee it up all they want and it won't have to be the bathroom guests use. Except for their friends. They're friends will be required to use this one, too. hahahaha
Both bedrooms are a good size - 13x13.
My bedroom. Two closets. Might make more sense for the boys to have this room because of that, but wait... one closet for clothes, and one for.... MY ART SUPPLIES. WOO HOO!!
I ordered loft beds from Walmart for the boys' room. We're condensing two boys' bedrooms, a playroom and a computer room into one. The loft beds will help. So will the fact that they purged a buttjillion toys last week. :) I'm happy to have a space for my art stuff, too. Didn't think I'd get to have that. :)
The kitchen is dinky. That'll take getting used to. But it's doable. The door opens to a staircase that leads to our own backyard, separate from the landlord's backyard. (She lives on the first floor.)
I'll hang my pot rack above the dishwasher in front of that window. It'll help some with storage. Also, the hot water heater closet is in the kitchen, with plenty of shelving inside for the giant junk like big serving pieces, crock pot, etc.
Looking from the kitchen door through the dining room. There's room here for a round table, my kitchen dresser and matching armoire (more storage. yay!). On the left side of the room is a nice-sized corner where I can put my desk/computer/office area. Maybe an easel. Perfect. :)
The house is closer to school than ours. It's closer to three of the boys' best friends than ours. It's within spitting distance from the zoo. In fact, word on the street is that we'll be able to hear the lion's roar. SIGN NUMBER 6. :)
My only criteria were that is have two bedrooms, and that it be in our school district. I don't want to uproot the boys' lives any more than I have to, and keeping them in Lily B and near their friends (and MY friends) was of the utmost importance to me. But the pickin's are slim in our neighborhood when it comes to rentals. I called on several, and the prices were way more than I could pay. In some cases, they were more expensive than our mortgage payment. There's no way I could do that.
I looked at a couple of properties. One was almost affordable, but was a complete dump. I'd have been scared to live there. The other was nicer, but would've cost half my monthly take-home, and it didn't have a spec of yard. (And since we're getting a DAWG...) I was getting discouraged. I considered the possibility of renting a 1-bedroom apartment and me sleeping on the sofa.
And then one morning, I went a different route than I ever go. I took Park Place down to University, past the zoo. I never go that route. And on the way, I noticed a sign in a side yard that said, "Luxury Duplex for Lease. Dogs Welcome." SIGN NUMBER 1. (Yes, a literal sign. haha! But a figurative one, too.)
I turned on to the street to get a look at the house from the front. My heart sank. Yet another place I wouldn't be able to afford. But then I thought, "Maybe the duplex is in the back yard." So I parked and called.The duplex is the entire 2nd floor. 1500 square feet. 2 bedrooms. 2 baths. Private entrance and yard. And IN MY COMFORTABLE PRICE RANGE. Unreal. I couldn't believe my ears. I almost cried. I made an appointment to see the place that evening. SIGN NUMBER 2.
The boys went with me. They were nervous but excited. I was worried about my bad credit, which is a horrendous marriage story I haven't (and probably won't) talk about here. I reminded the boys to be on their best behavior. Ian reminded me that they always are. (Uh-huh.)
The Landlord asked me where I work, what I do there, and how long I've been in that position. I answered, and she said, "Let me show you the place." That was the extent of my credit check. SIGN NUMBER 2.
The place is gorgeous - just my style. Hardwoods throughout. Fireplace with black tile and beautiful wood surround/mantel. Cool architectural details and moldings. MORE CLOSET SPACE than we have in our entire house! A garage space for my car. A DOGGIE DOOR.
"Oh! A doggie door!" I exclaimed. "I was worried about how we could have a dog on the second floor and not be home all day."
"You have a dog?" asked the landlord.
"No, not yet, but we're getting one," I said.
"What kind?" she inquired.
"I don't know yet. But I've promised the boys a dog to help us with this transition."
"Well, I'll tell you what," she said. "I love dogs and every boy deserves a dog. I won't4. charge you a pet deposit." SIGN NUMBER 3.
"This is where the washer/dryer hook-up is," she said as she pointed to a corner of the kitchen. "Do you have a washer/dryer?"
"I do," I began. "But I'm not sure I'll end up with it...."
"Tell you what. I have one that just needs to be repaired. I'll get it fixed and have it moved up here for you."
SIGN NUMBER 4.
I wrote a check that night.
We move in the weekend of May 4.
Well, "we" is misleading. I won't be there.
I had a girls' weekend planned already. I was about to cancel it when Dani talked me out of it. She insists on moving me FOR me while I go play with glue and paper with my friends. I protested, but eventually, she won by saying, "Mom. It's going to be so hard for you to leave your dream house. To see your life dismantled like that. You need to just go away and come back to your apartment all set up for you to live in."
The next day, LivingSocial ran a deal for 2 movers, a truck, and 2 hours. I bought it.
SIGN NUMBER 5.
Isn't that fireplace gorgeous? It has an outlet on top. Can't wait to decorate for Christmas in here. :)
Both bedrooms are a good size - 13x13.
My bedroom. Two closets. Might make more sense for the boys to have this room because of that, but wait... one closet for clothes, and one for.... MY ART SUPPLIES. WOO HOO!!
I ordered loft beds from Walmart for the boys' room. We're condensing two boys' bedrooms, a playroom and a computer room into one. The loft beds will help. So will the fact that they purged a buttjillion toys last week. :) I'm happy to have a space for my art stuff, too. Didn't think I'd get to have that. :)
The kitchen is dinky. That'll take getting used to. But it's doable. The door opens to a staircase that leads to our own backyard, separate from the landlord's backyard. (She lives on the first floor.)
I'll hang my pot rack above the dishwasher in front of that window. It'll help some with storage. Also, the hot water heater closet is in the kitchen, with plenty of shelving inside for the giant junk like big serving pieces, crock pot, etc.
Looking from the kitchen door through the dining room. There's room here for a round table, my kitchen dresser and matching armoire (more storage. yay!). On the left side of the room is a nice-sized corner where I can put my desk/computer/office area. Maybe an easel. Perfect. :)
The house is closer to school than ours. It's closer to three of the boys' best friends than ours. It's within spitting distance from the zoo. In fact, word on the street is that we'll be able to hear the lion's roar. SIGN NUMBER 6. :)
conflicted
I went to hear Paige Henderson (HeartQuest founder) speak about Rebekah (of Bible fame) last week. I love the way Paige teaches. She delves in to the stories and then goes deeper, bringing the characters to life before your very eyes. She has an amazing ability to make characters in the Bible live and breathe and spill coffee on their pants just like you and I do. They're so much more than just characters when Paige presents them.
So Rebekah offered water to Isaac's servant at the well, and then offered to water his camels as well. His TEN camels. Camels drink a lot of water, so Paige dove in and figured out just how much. Ten gallons. Each. That's 100 gallons of water. She dove in and researched and learned that a generic water pot would've held about 4 gallons. So... that's 25 trips to the well for those 10 camels. The point is that Rebekah was generous - with her time, with her kindness, with her water. And then Paige asked, "What do you need to go back to the well for more of? Because it'll never run out. You need kindness? You think you're all out of it? Yeah. But God's not. Go back to the well and get more. You need patience? God's got plenty and He'll share it. Go get more. What do you need to keep giving? What do you need to be generous with? This isn't about money. It's about your heart, your soul, your spirit. Ask God right now what He wants you to keep coming back to the well for more of. He'll tell you. When he does, raise your hand so I'll know you got an answer.
So I asked. "God, hey what's up. I'm headed to the well. What do you want me to fill up on? What do you want me to give more of?"
I heard my answer immediately.
But I didn't like it, so I didn't raise my hand.
"No, no, seriously," I thought. "Heh heh. What do you want me to give more of, really?"
He told me again. Same answer.
"Ah, well, can we talk about this, God? Because I'm sure you'd like to see me show more forgiveness. Have more patience. I know I need to be more generous with my time."
Again, he spoke the words I didn't want to hear right into my heart.
"Keep. Loving. Darren."
I wrinkled my nose, bit the inside of my cheek, and folded my arms across my chest.
I didn't like this one bit. I never did raise my hand.
See, just last week, I told myself it was okay to let him go.
I prayed for and fought for my marriage. I was valiant and strong through my fear and brokenness. I showed compassion, forgiveness, and unwavering love - more during the past few months than ever in my life. I was willing to work on and fix the issues I brought to the marriage. But Darren wasn't. He is convinced he's never loved me and can't continue to live a lie, so he's gone. Its done. Nothing I can do about it. I needed to let him go. Truthfully, he's making it pretty easy for me to let him go. It felt amazingly good to give myself permission to stop loving him.
But let me clarify. I'll always love him. He was my best friend, my soul mate, and my partner in life for 21 years. I can't just chuck that out the door and pretend it never happened. But continuing to LOVE him just hurts. Immensely. It felt good to say, "It's okay. I don't have to love him. I can let him go."
And then God said, clear as day, "Keep loving Darren."
Hmph.
Then Sunday's sermon was about hearing God. I don't have a problem hearing and listening. God speaks to me through DOGS, for crying out loud. Through music, and Scripture, and laughter, and the touch of a cool breeze on my sun-kissed forehead. I talk to God all the time, and He to me. But never, never, not once, has He told me something I didn't like.
Until now.
I'm very conflicted, and I can't stop thinking about it.
Coincidentally, Darren filed for divorce last week, and I put my lawyer on retainer today. With Darren's credit card. He offered to pay for the whole thing, which should end up costing between $7- and $10,000. THIS kind of spending from a man who I've always described as frugal, but who is really just cheap. He won't spend money on much. But to get rid of me? He didn't hesitate. He's even paying my half. Which is only fair since I never wanted this in the first place. I'm counting it as a blessing.
But I don't want to keep loving him.
I can be kind.
Compassionate, even.
I can love him as a brother, as a friend, as the father of my children. That I can do.
But I'm telling you that God didn't tell me to do that. I know what he meant. KEEP LOVING DARREN.
God help me.
I don't want to.
So Rebekah offered water to Isaac's servant at the well, and then offered to water his camels as well. His TEN camels. Camels drink a lot of water, so Paige dove in and figured out just how much. Ten gallons. Each. That's 100 gallons of water. She dove in and researched and learned that a generic water pot would've held about 4 gallons. So... that's 25 trips to the well for those 10 camels. The point is that Rebekah was generous - with her time, with her kindness, with her water. And then Paige asked, "What do you need to go back to the well for more of? Because it'll never run out. You need kindness? You think you're all out of it? Yeah. But God's not. Go back to the well and get more. You need patience? God's got plenty and He'll share it. Go get more. What do you need to keep giving? What do you need to be generous with? This isn't about money. It's about your heart, your soul, your spirit. Ask God right now what He wants you to keep coming back to the well for more of. He'll tell you. When he does, raise your hand so I'll know you got an answer.
So I asked. "God, hey what's up. I'm headed to the well. What do you want me to fill up on? What do you want me to give more of?"
I heard my answer immediately.
But I didn't like it, so I didn't raise my hand.
"No, no, seriously," I thought. "Heh heh. What do you want me to give more of, really?"
He told me again. Same answer.
"Ah, well, can we talk about this, God? Because I'm sure you'd like to see me show more forgiveness. Have more patience. I know I need to be more generous with my time."
Again, he spoke the words I didn't want to hear right into my heart.
"Keep. Loving. Darren."
I wrinkled my nose, bit the inside of my cheek, and folded my arms across my chest.
I didn't like this one bit. I never did raise my hand.
See, just last week, I told myself it was okay to let him go.
I prayed for and fought for my marriage. I was valiant and strong through my fear and brokenness. I showed compassion, forgiveness, and unwavering love - more during the past few months than ever in my life. I was willing to work on and fix the issues I brought to the marriage. But Darren wasn't. He is convinced he's never loved me and can't continue to live a lie, so he's gone. Its done. Nothing I can do about it. I needed to let him go. Truthfully, he's making it pretty easy for me to let him go. It felt amazingly good to give myself permission to stop loving him.
But let me clarify. I'll always love him. He was my best friend, my soul mate, and my partner in life for 21 years. I can't just chuck that out the door and pretend it never happened. But continuing to LOVE him just hurts. Immensely. It felt good to say, "It's okay. I don't have to love him. I can let him go."
And then God said, clear as day, "Keep loving Darren."
Hmph.
Then Sunday's sermon was about hearing God. I don't have a problem hearing and listening. God speaks to me through DOGS, for crying out loud. Through music, and Scripture, and laughter, and the touch of a cool breeze on my sun-kissed forehead. I talk to God all the time, and He to me. But never, never, not once, has He told me something I didn't like.
Until now.
I'm very conflicted, and I can't stop thinking about it.
Coincidentally, Darren filed for divorce last week, and I put my lawyer on retainer today. With Darren's credit card. He offered to pay for the whole thing, which should end up costing between $7- and $10,000. THIS kind of spending from a man who I've always described as frugal, but who is really just cheap. He won't spend money on much. But to get rid of me? He didn't hesitate. He's even paying my half. Which is only fair since I never wanted this in the first place. I'm counting it as a blessing.
But I don't want to keep loving him.
I can be kind.
Compassionate, even.
I can love him as a brother, as a friend, as the father of my children. That I can do.
But I'm telling you that God didn't tell me to do that. I know what he meant. KEEP LOVING DARREN.
God help me.
I don't want to.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Blessings, part 2: the job
Four years ago this month, I was working at home as a professional scrapbooker. I was just back from a scrapbooking trip to the Midwest, and gearing up for another trip to Cape Cod. I was published in a scrapbooking design book, was wrapping up my last job for a sorta-famous client, and was busy with a few local jobs as well. It wasn't making me rich, but it was fun and fulfilling, and it brought in enough money to provide grocery and fun money for the family. Plus, it allowed for free travel. Life was good.
Then two things happened to bring an end to that fledgling career.
First, Darren had his affair and in the aftermath, blamed my travel for his being lonely. (I was gone a total of 22 days over the course of four months. Six of those were with the boys at summer camp, where I was the craft lady.) He asked me to stop traveling, so I did, cold turkey. I even cancelled a paid trip to Aspen that August where I was to sit with a new client for three days and help her sort through years of photos that I would then bring home to scrap. I was sad to lose that opportunity, but it was the least I could do to save my marriage, and I was desperate to save my marriage. I thought, "I can still be successful at this business and not travel. I don't have to teach at retreats. I don't have to go to exotic places to meet clients."
Second, the country started swirling around in the Economic Toilet of Doom. I stayed busy for another year or so, but that fall, two brand new clients cancelled on me in the same week - one in California, one in Nebraska. Both of their husbands had been laid off, and as it should have been, paying someone to scrapbook for them was the first thing to go from their budgets. I knew that I'd likely lose more clients before it got better and certainly, I'd have a hard time attracting new ones. Darren and I talked about me getting a job. With Dani in her senior year and both boys in elementary school, the timing was right for me to get back out there. I worried that I'd end up at Target at best.
At the same time, I needed a distraction from the heartache of Darren's affair, so I threw myself in to volunteering at Fortress, specifically in the realm of communications and fundraising. After our first auction and dinner that fall, the then-Executive Director called me and said, "I'm sitting here in Terri's office, and we want to know if you'd consider coming in every day if we could pay you to do this." I didn't hesitate to say yes. He said, "Don't you want to talk to Darren about it?" I said nope. It was done. I had a job. The next day, I broke my foot. ;-)
That little Fortress job was exactly what I needed. It absolutely filled an empty part of my soul. I was good at it, and I loved it. But more importantly, it mattered. It allowed me to make a difference for a cause and a ministry I already felt so passionate about. Win, win, win. I worked 40 hours a week, but was only paid for 20 of them, and at only $12 an hour. But I was okay with that. I figured it was just like volunteering, except now I was getting paid for half of my volunteer time. I was okay with the salary. I was just happy to be working. Not a week went by that I didn't elicit rogue eye rolls from my coworkers in our staff meetings, because not a week went by that I didn't remind them how blessed I felt to be working here, how I knew it was a God thing, and how I wouldn't take it for granted.
Then, a year or so later, a new budget allowed for me to be paid a full-time salary. It still wasn't much, but I was ecstatic. I continued to learn about the nonprofit sector and realized that I'd finally, at the age of 40, found my calling in life. I KNEW WHAT I WANTED TO BE WHEN I GREW UP! I immersed myself in webinars and books and conferences and every other opportunity I could find to learn more about grant writing and fundraising and communications in general. I got better and better at what I do, and more self-assured. Then last January, I got an unexpected raise. A nice chunk of change, thanks to Terri who slipped it in to the budget. :).
Eventually, I cancelled my last remaining scrapbook customer. I donated most of my scrapbooking excess. I repurposed the scraproom into the boys' computer room. And I continued to learn and grow in my new career, loving every minute of it, and never forgetting that God handed it to me on a silver platter.
Last week, I was rewarded again. This time, the raise is enough to make it possible for me to support myself and my boys. It's huge. It's life-changing. I'm still not rich, and never will be. I'll still have to lower my standard of living without Darren's salary added to the mix. But I'm secure, and I can do this on my own now. I received word of my raise on Thursday morning. That night, Darren announced his decision to file for divorce. Imagine that.
Four years ago, I made fun money, and had no way of earning an actual living. Four years later, I have a career. Not a mere job, but a career. Not a mere paycheck, but a purpose. Not a simple nine-to-five, but a passion. And I still tell people that God gave it to me. He is faithful to fulfill his promises. He told me once (or a thousand times) in Jeremiah 29:11 that he knows the plans he has for me - plans to prosper me, not to harm me. Plans to give me hope, and a future.
That hope is here. The future is now. Four years ago, God looked into my future and said, "I know the plans I have for her." And he set them in motion.
I will never forget it. I will honor Him for this blessing for the rest of my life.
oh - and you know what? He's honoring me, too. In February, I was beside myself with grief. I was using the tools I acquired at HeartQuest to move through it, but it was still almost paralyzing. Some days, just falling out of bed and into a new change of clothes for the day was a victory. Showing up at my office was a feat. Actually accomplishing work was nothing short of miraculous. I thought I wouldn't survive February, either personally or professionally. I had four huge grants due that month. I couldn't write them. I learned that our "sure-thing" grant wasn't such a sure thing after all, and if we got it, it likely wouldn't arrive until April. (Coincidentally, it arrived today!) The board (my bosses) approved an emergency fundraising campaign to get us through the crunch, which I had just days to organize and execute.
And I was in a fog. I'd sit at my desk and stare at my laptop. Often, I sat there with silent tears streaming down my face. I tried to force myself to care about the grants, but I couldn't focus. So I decided that I had to look at it as obedience (I'm a big-time rule-follower, you know). I would be obedient to my job. If I failed, NO one would get paid. Fortress would have to close. I had to make us some money.
It didn't work. I still couldn't focus.
So as a last resort (WHY is this always my last resort???), I decided to let go and let God. I prayed for my grants. I asked God to give me the desire to write them. I asked him to help me see it as obedience to HIM for giving me this job and entrusting me with this mission. And I wrote. And wrote. And wrote.
I will tell you this truth: the grants I wrote in February were garbage. The words are there on the pages, but they lack passion. The need is there, but it lacks spark. The ask is there, but it lacks urgency. The February grants were far, far, far from my best work. But they were done. I was obedient to God. And you know what? He honored that. One grant I wrote that month brought in $28,000. (I asked for $36,000.) Another grantor awarded $48,200. (I asked for $48,200.) The Emergency Campaign brought in $18,000. We'd hoped for $25,000, but only needed $10,000 to get us through the crunch. A grant I wrote for $25,000 made it to the prestigious second round. God continues to honor my February.
What a blessing this job has been and continues to be for me.
I'm telling you, my God - YOUR God - is cool. Man, I love God! <3
Then two things happened to bring an end to that fledgling career.
First, Darren had his affair and in the aftermath, blamed my travel for his being lonely. (I was gone a total of 22 days over the course of four months. Six of those were with the boys at summer camp, where I was the craft lady.) He asked me to stop traveling, so I did, cold turkey. I even cancelled a paid trip to Aspen that August where I was to sit with a new client for three days and help her sort through years of photos that I would then bring home to scrap. I was sad to lose that opportunity, but it was the least I could do to save my marriage, and I was desperate to save my marriage. I thought, "I can still be successful at this business and not travel. I don't have to teach at retreats. I don't have to go to exotic places to meet clients."
Second, the country started swirling around in the Economic Toilet of Doom. I stayed busy for another year or so, but that fall, two brand new clients cancelled on me in the same week - one in California, one in Nebraska. Both of their husbands had been laid off, and as it should have been, paying someone to scrapbook for them was the first thing to go from their budgets. I knew that I'd likely lose more clients before it got better and certainly, I'd have a hard time attracting new ones. Darren and I talked about me getting a job. With Dani in her senior year and both boys in elementary school, the timing was right for me to get back out there. I worried that I'd end up at Target at best.
At the same time, I needed a distraction from the heartache of Darren's affair, so I threw myself in to volunteering at Fortress, specifically in the realm of communications and fundraising. After our first auction and dinner that fall, the then-Executive Director called me and said, "I'm sitting here in Terri's office, and we want to know if you'd consider coming in every day if we could pay you to do this." I didn't hesitate to say yes. He said, "Don't you want to talk to Darren about it?" I said nope. It was done. I had a job. The next day, I broke my foot. ;-)
That little Fortress job was exactly what I needed. It absolutely filled an empty part of my soul. I was good at it, and I loved it. But more importantly, it mattered. It allowed me to make a difference for a cause and a ministry I already felt so passionate about. Win, win, win. I worked 40 hours a week, but was only paid for 20 of them, and at only $12 an hour. But I was okay with that. I figured it was just like volunteering, except now I was getting paid for half of my volunteer time. I was okay with the salary. I was just happy to be working. Not a week went by that I didn't elicit rogue eye rolls from my coworkers in our staff meetings, because not a week went by that I didn't remind them how blessed I felt to be working here, how I knew it was a God thing, and how I wouldn't take it for granted.
Then, a year or so later, a new budget allowed for me to be paid a full-time salary. It still wasn't much, but I was ecstatic. I continued to learn about the nonprofit sector and realized that I'd finally, at the age of 40, found my calling in life. I KNEW WHAT I WANTED TO BE WHEN I GREW UP! I immersed myself in webinars and books and conferences and every other opportunity I could find to learn more about grant writing and fundraising and communications in general. I got better and better at what I do, and more self-assured. Then last January, I got an unexpected raise. A nice chunk of change, thanks to Terri who slipped it in to the budget. :).
Eventually, I cancelled my last remaining scrapbook customer. I donated most of my scrapbooking excess. I repurposed the scraproom into the boys' computer room. And I continued to learn and grow in my new career, loving every minute of it, and never forgetting that God handed it to me on a silver platter.
Last week, I was rewarded again. This time, the raise is enough to make it possible for me to support myself and my boys. It's huge. It's life-changing. I'm still not rich, and never will be. I'll still have to lower my standard of living without Darren's salary added to the mix. But I'm secure, and I can do this on my own now. I received word of my raise on Thursday morning. That night, Darren announced his decision to file for divorce. Imagine that.
Four years ago, I made fun money, and had no way of earning an actual living. Four years later, I have a career. Not a mere job, but a career. Not a mere paycheck, but a purpose. Not a simple nine-to-five, but a passion. And I still tell people that God gave it to me. He is faithful to fulfill his promises. He told me once (or a thousand times) in Jeremiah 29:11 that he knows the plans he has for me - plans to prosper me, not to harm me. Plans to give me hope, and a future.
That hope is here. The future is now. Four years ago, God looked into my future and said, "I know the plans I have for her." And he set them in motion.
I will never forget it. I will honor Him for this blessing for the rest of my life.
oh - and you know what? He's honoring me, too. In February, I was beside myself with grief. I was using the tools I acquired at HeartQuest to move through it, but it was still almost paralyzing. Some days, just falling out of bed and into a new change of clothes for the day was a victory. Showing up at my office was a feat. Actually accomplishing work was nothing short of miraculous. I thought I wouldn't survive February, either personally or professionally. I had four huge grants due that month. I couldn't write them. I learned that our "sure-thing" grant wasn't such a sure thing after all, and if we got it, it likely wouldn't arrive until April. (Coincidentally, it arrived today!) The board (my bosses) approved an emergency fundraising campaign to get us through the crunch, which I had just days to organize and execute.
And I was in a fog. I'd sit at my desk and stare at my laptop. Often, I sat there with silent tears streaming down my face. I tried to force myself to care about the grants, but I couldn't focus. So I decided that I had to look at it as obedience (I'm a big-time rule-follower, you know). I would be obedient to my job. If I failed, NO one would get paid. Fortress would have to close. I had to make us some money.
It didn't work. I still couldn't focus.
So as a last resort (WHY is this always my last resort???), I decided to let go and let God. I prayed for my grants. I asked God to give me the desire to write them. I asked him to help me see it as obedience to HIM for giving me this job and entrusting me with this mission. And I wrote. And wrote. And wrote.
I will tell you this truth: the grants I wrote in February were garbage. The words are there on the pages, but they lack passion. The need is there, but it lacks spark. The ask is there, but it lacks urgency. The February grants were far, far, far from my best work. But they were done. I was obedient to God. And you know what? He honored that. One grant I wrote that month brought in $28,000. (I asked for $36,000.) Another grantor awarded $48,200. (I asked for $48,200.) The Emergency Campaign brought in $18,000. We'd hoped for $25,000, but only needed $10,000 to get us through the crunch. A grant I wrote for $25,000 made it to the prestigious second round. God continues to honor my February.
What a blessing this job has been and continues to be for me.
I'm telling you, my God - YOUR God - is cool. Man, I love God! <3
Monday, April 9, 2012
Blessings, Part 1: the joy
I think I said this in my very first post: I am a joyful person by nature.
Sometimes, even in the midst of this grief/anger/hope maelstrom that I'm swirling in, I find myself feeling joyful. It sometimes seems odd, so odd, in fact, that sometimes I check myself to make sure I'm not also drooling and dragging one foot behind me and having conversations with birds. You know - fallen-clean-off-the-deep-end kind of odd.
It occurs to me that many people who know me right now are people who've only known me in this stage of my life. They only know the shell of the joyful girl I am inside. They can't know how vibrant and hopeful and optimistic and passionate I really am. That bothers me a little.
But even now, I laugh. I crack jokes. I listen to happy music. I refuse to wallow. I'm productive. I'm not only surviving, I'm thriving.
This sucks. IT SUCKS. But in the midst of The Huge Suck, God keeps on giving me joy. I know it's from Him because it makes no sense otherwise. And besides... God is love. Love breeds joy. I love God. Therefore, God and I together make Joy. Is that the corniest thing I've ever said? No. What I almost wrote instead was cornier, I promise. (If God and I hooked up and had a baby, the baby would be Joy. See? Cornier. And maybe a little sacrilegious. Yikes.) (Yes, I went there. I blame it on The Suck.)
When Paul and Silas were imprisoned (Stripped, beaten, and thrown into an inner dungeon. This wasn't an American county jail, peeps.), they rejoiced. They actually sang. I want to be that kind of person. I want to be so confident in my freedom and in my GOD JOY that my singing echoes off the dungeon walls!
Last night, I had a little chat with the boys about us having to move out of our house. They asked why we had to. I explained that we can't afford to have two houses and have one of them be our big, beautiful house. Ian said, "I thought you loved this house." It is, I said. It's our dream house. This is the house God gave us. I've told that story a million times. It was more house than I ever wanted or dreamed I could have, but it became ours anyway, and I love it. It's the house Darren and I would grow old in. It's the house the kids would grow up and bring our grandkids to on Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter and the 4th of July.
When I said that, Ian began to cry. Aidan cleared his throat and said, "We're reading a book in school and it says that there can be no rose without thorns. That's trying to say that life comes with troubles."
"In this world, you will have trouble. But be of good cheer - I have overcome the world!" - Jesus
Be of good cheer. Choose to live in joy. Sounds good to me. :)
Sometimes, even in the midst of this grief/anger/hope maelstrom that I'm swirling in, I find myself feeling joyful. It sometimes seems odd, so odd, in fact, that sometimes I check myself to make sure I'm not also drooling and dragging one foot behind me and having conversations with birds. You know - fallen-clean-off-the-deep-end kind of odd.
It occurs to me that many people who know me right now are people who've only known me in this stage of my life. They only know the shell of the joyful girl I am inside. They can't know how vibrant and hopeful and optimistic and passionate I really am. That bothers me a little.
But even now, I laugh. I crack jokes. I listen to happy music. I refuse to wallow. I'm productive. I'm not only surviving, I'm thriving.
This sucks. IT SUCKS. But in the midst of The Huge Suck, God keeps on giving me joy. I know it's from Him because it makes no sense otherwise. And besides... God is love. Love breeds joy. I love God. Therefore, God and I together make Joy. Is that the corniest thing I've ever said? No. What I almost wrote instead was cornier, I promise. (If God and I hooked up and had a baby, the baby would be Joy. See? Cornier. And maybe a little sacrilegious. Yikes.) (Yes, I went there. I blame it on The Suck.)
When Paul and Silas were imprisoned (Stripped, beaten, and thrown into an inner dungeon. This wasn't an American county jail, peeps.), they rejoiced. They actually sang. I want to be that kind of person. I want to be so confident in my freedom and in my GOD JOY that my singing echoes off the dungeon walls!
Last night, I had a little chat with the boys about us having to move out of our house. They asked why we had to. I explained that we can't afford to have two houses and have one of them be our big, beautiful house. Ian said, "I thought you loved this house." It is, I said. It's our dream house. This is the house God gave us. I've told that story a million times. It was more house than I ever wanted or dreamed I could have, but it became ours anyway, and I love it. It's the house Darren and I would grow old in. It's the house the kids would grow up and bring our grandkids to on Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter and the 4th of July.
When I said that, Ian began to cry. Aidan cleared his throat and said, "We're reading a book in school and it says that there can be no rose without thorns. That's trying to say that life comes with troubles."
"In this world, you will have trouble. But be of good cheer - I have overcome the world!" - Jesus
Be of good cheer. Choose to live in joy. Sounds good to me. :)
playlist
Been working on a playlist that will surely become my best friend.
It's not sad. It's almost entirely upbeat. On good days, it'll be affirming . On hard days, it'll be empowering. :)
And in a quirky sort of way, it tells my story.
Enjoy. If you're on Spotify, look me up and it's yours. :)
1. White Blank Page (Mumford and Sons)
Tell me now where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart?
You desired my attention but denied my affections.
2. Who Knew (Pink)
I took your words and I believed everything you said to me. If someone said three years from now you'd be gone, I'd stand up and punch them out 'cause they're wrong. I know better, 'cause you said forever and ever. Who knew.
3. Piece of My Heart (Janis Joplin)
Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man? And didn't I give you everything that a woman possibly can?
4. That's All (Genesis)
Just when I thought it was going alright, I find out I'm wrong when I thought I was right. It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all. I could say day, you'd say night. Tell me I'm wrong when I know that I'm right. It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all.
5. Stop Draggin' My Heart Around (Stevie Nicks w/ Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers)
It's hard to think about what you've wanted. It's hard to think about what you've lost. This doesn't have to be the big get even. This doesn't have to be anything at all.
6. Over You (Daughtry)
Well I never saw it coming. I shoulda started running a long, long time ago. And I never thought I'd doubt you, but I'm better off without you, more than you know.
7. The Sign (Ace of Base)
Life is demanding without understanding. I saw the sign. No one's gonna drag you up, lift you into the light where you belong.
8. Time for Me to Fly (REO Speedwagon)
I've swallowed my pride for you - lived and lied for you - but you still make me feel like a thief. You got me stealing your love away because you never give it.
9. I Will Survive (Gloria Gaynor)
Did you think I'd crumble? Did you think I'd lay down and die? Oh no, not I. I will survive. As long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive. I've got all my life to live, and I've got all my love to give. I will survive.
10. Fighter (Christina Aguilera)
How could this man I thought I know turn out to be so unjust, so cruel? Could only see the good in you, pretended not to see the truth. Makes me that much stronger. Makes me work a little bit harder. Makes me that much wiser. Thanks for makin' me a fighter.
11. Forget You (CeeLo Green)
Despite the pain in my chest, I still wish you the best, but ...forget you.
12. Survivor (Destiny's Child)
I'm wishin' you the best, pray that you are blessed. I'm not gonna compromise my Christianity. I'm a survivor. I'm not gon' give up. I'm not gon' stop. I'm gon' work harder. I'm a survivor. I'm gonna make it.
13. Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You) (Kelly Clarkson)
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stand a little taller. Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone.
14. Somebody That I Used To Know (Gotye)
Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over. Part of me believing it was always something that I'd done. But I don't wanna live that way, reading into every word you say.
15. Don't Look Back (Boston)
I can see - it took so long just to realize. I'm much too strong not to compromise. Now I see what I am is holding me down. I'll turn it around.
16. The Cave (Mumford and Sons)
But I will hold on hope. And I won't let you choke on the noose around your neck. And I'll find strength in pain and I will change my ways. I'll know my name as it's called again. 'Cause I have other things to fill my time. You take what is yours and I'll take mine. Now let me at the truth which will refresh my broken mind. I know my call despite my faults and despite my growing fears. But I will hold on hope....
17. I'm Still Standing (Elton John)
I'm still standing better than I ever did. Lookin' like a true survivor, feelin' like little kid. I'm still standing after all this time, picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind.
18. Goodbye to You (Patty Smyth with Scandal)
I remember the good times baby now, and the bad times too. These past few weeks of holding on - the days are dull, the nights are long. Guess it's better to say goodbye to you.
19. I Choose (India.Arie)
Today I decided to let it all go. I'm dropping my bags, I'm making room for my joy. And I choose to be the best that I can be. I choose to be authentic in everything I do.
20. Feeling Good (Nina Simone)
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me. And I'm feelin' good.
It's not sad. It's almost entirely upbeat. On good days, it'll be affirming . On hard days, it'll be empowering. :)
And in a quirky sort of way, it tells my story.
Enjoy. If you're on Spotify, look me up and it's yours. :)
1. White Blank Page (Mumford and Sons)
Tell me now where was my fault in loving you with my whole heart?
You desired my attention but denied my affections.
2. Who Knew (Pink)
I took your words and I believed everything you said to me. If someone said three years from now you'd be gone, I'd stand up and punch them out 'cause they're wrong. I know better, 'cause you said forever and ever. Who knew.
3. Piece of My Heart (Janis Joplin)
Didn't I make you feel like you were the only man? And didn't I give you everything that a woman possibly can?
4. That's All (Genesis)
Just when I thought it was going alright, I find out I'm wrong when I thought I was right. It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all. I could say day, you'd say night. Tell me I'm wrong when I know that I'm right. It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all.
5. Stop Draggin' My Heart Around (Stevie Nicks w/ Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers)
It's hard to think about what you've wanted. It's hard to think about what you've lost. This doesn't have to be the big get even. This doesn't have to be anything at all.
6. Over You (Daughtry)
Well I never saw it coming. I shoulda started running a long, long time ago. And I never thought I'd doubt you, but I'm better off without you, more than you know.
7. The Sign (Ace of Base)
Life is demanding without understanding. I saw the sign. No one's gonna drag you up, lift you into the light where you belong.
8. Time for Me to Fly (REO Speedwagon)
I've swallowed my pride for you - lived and lied for you - but you still make me feel like a thief. You got me stealing your love away because you never give it.
9. I Will Survive (Gloria Gaynor)
Did you think I'd crumble? Did you think I'd lay down and die? Oh no, not I. I will survive. As long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive. I've got all my life to live, and I've got all my love to give. I will survive.
10. Fighter (Christina Aguilera)
How could this man I thought I know turn out to be so unjust, so cruel? Could only see the good in you, pretended not to see the truth. Makes me that much stronger. Makes me work a little bit harder. Makes me that much wiser. Thanks for makin' me a fighter.
11. Forget You (CeeLo Green)
Despite the pain in my chest, I still wish you the best, but ...forget you.
12. Survivor (Destiny's Child)
I'm wishin' you the best, pray that you are blessed. I'm not gonna compromise my Christianity. I'm a survivor. I'm not gon' give up. I'm not gon' stop. I'm gon' work harder. I'm a survivor. I'm gonna make it.
13. Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You) (Kelly Clarkson)
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stand a little taller. Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone.
14. Somebody That I Used To Know (Gotye)
Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over. Part of me believing it was always something that I'd done. But I don't wanna live that way, reading into every word you say.
15. Don't Look Back (Boston)
I can see - it took so long just to realize. I'm much too strong not to compromise. Now I see what I am is holding me down. I'll turn it around.
16. The Cave (Mumford and Sons)
But I will hold on hope. And I won't let you choke on the noose around your neck. And I'll find strength in pain and I will change my ways. I'll know my name as it's called again. 'Cause I have other things to fill my time. You take what is yours and I'll take mine. Now let me at the truth which will refresh my broken mind. I know my call despite my faults and despite my growing fears. But I will hold on hope....
17. I'm Still Standing (Elton John)
I'm still standing better than I ever did. Lookin' like a true survivor, feelin' like little kid. I'm still standing after all this time, picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind.
18. Goodbye to You (Patty Smyth with Scandal)
I remember the good times baby now, and the bad times too. These past few weeks of holding on - the days are dull, the nights are long. Guess it's better to say goodbye to you.
19. I Choose (India.Arie)
Today I decided to let it all go. I'm dropping my bags, I'm making room for my joy. And I choose to be the best that I can be. I choose to be authentic in everything I do.
20. Feeling Good (Nina Simone)
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me. And I'm feelin' good.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Hindsight
As we rode the elevator to the top of the Stratosphere, I slid my hand into the pocket of my black slacks and jingled the rings about. Then I slipped them on- both of them on my ring finger. I grinned when it dawned on me that happy coincidence allowed it to be my left hand. We took our seats at a table beside the floor-to-ceiling windows and ordered lunch. The Las Vegas Strip snaked its way across the city hundreds of feet below us. We picked out our hotel from our arial vantage point, and then as the restaurant continued its revolution, the mountains, the suburbs, The Pawn Stars shop. Our meal was delectable. The view, spectacular. I felt for the rings again, as if to make sure they were still there.
It had been a long time since either of us wore our wedding rings. I'd outgrown mine about 3 years into our marriage and back then, the small expense of having them resized was out of the question. Besides- doing so would be a sign of planning to keep the weight on forever, and I never intended to do that. A few years later, he dislocated his finger playing football and managed to rip the ring off before the swelling made it impossible. After the finger healed, the knuckle was misshapen, and the ring wouldn't slip over it. Not wearing rings wasn't a big deal to us. It bothered me a little bit, because the romantic side of me liked the symbolism. But the practical side of me knew that the rings didn't qualify our marriage as real anymore than our lack of rings indicated that it wasn't. And besides- neither of us were big jewelry people. We'd purchased the least expensive rings available- partly because we were poor, but also because we're just practical, frugal people.
But things had changed. We were celebrating our 20th anniversary. Three years prior, he'd fallen in love with another woman. It nearly destroyed me, but we weathered the storm and managed to come out of it without casualty. It had been a hard two years of putting it behind us and trying to move forward. There had been a lot of broken promises during that process, and I was still trying to heal. I decided a month earlier to buy new rings for us- to illustrate to him that I was still committed to him, that I believed in him. I wanted to start our second decade together with a renewed commitment. I bought costume jewelry, knowing he'd hate for me to spend much. But I chose carefully. My ring was silver with a 1/2-carat sized round-cut "diamond" solitaire. The band featured tiny pieces of cut glass on either side of the setting. I thought it was gorgeous.
His ring was a simple silver band with the words "Man of God" etched into it. It was my way of saying "I trust you again". It would also serve as a reminder to him of whose He was.
I had planned to present the rings at our anniversary dinner at the top of the Stratosphere. I knew what I would say. It would be a simple and intimate renewal of the vows we'd made in college- just the two of us and God. But as I fingered them in my pocket, it just didn't feel right. I decided it was because there were too many people around. Hours later, after watching the sun set over the mountains and seeing the Strip wake up with twinkling lights in the shadow left behind, I knew it was time. I pulled the rings out of my pocket and closed my fist around them. I sat down beside him on the hotel room bed, where he'd already logged on to his laptop. "Look at me," I said softly, with a smile and a hint of the giddiness I'd felt on the elevator earlier. He glanced up.
"I got you a present," I said. That got his attention and he looked at me expectantly. I opened my hand to reveal the two rings.
"I want us to renew our vows tonight," I continued. "I want to show you that I'm in this for the long haul, because I love you. I need you to know that I trust you and believe in you. And I want us to start wearing rings again." I started to place the ring on his finger, but he stopped me. He took the ring in his hand and looked at it.
"I won't wear this," he said.
"What? Really? Why?" I asked.
"I don't really like it," he answered.
"You don't like the ring? Do you not like that it has words on it?"
"I don't like the style."
"It's just a simple band, like your other one."
"No, it's thicker than my other one. I don't like it."
I showed him mine. He said it wasn't anything he would've picked for me. And that was that. He turned his attention back to his laptop, and I died a little more inside.
It had been a long time since either of us wore our wedding rings. I'd outgrown mine about 3 years into our marriage and back then, the small expense of having them resized was out of the question. Besides- doing so would be a sign of planning to keep the weight on forever, and I never intended to do that. A few years later, he dislocated his finger playing football and managed to rip the ring off before the swelling made it impossible. After the finger healed, the knuckle was misshapen, and the ring wouldn't slip over it. Not wearing rings wasn't a big deal to us. It bothered me a little bit, because the romantic side of me liked the symbolism. But the practical side of me knew that the rings didn't qualify our marriage as real anymore than our lack of rings indicated that it wasn't. And besides- neither of us were big jewelry people. We'd purchased the least expensive rings available- partly because we were poor, but also because we're just practical, frugal people.
I had planned to present the rings at our anniversary dinner at the top of the Stratosphere. I knew what I would say. It would be a simple and intimate renewal of the vows we'd made in college- just the two of us and God. But as I fingered them in my pocket, it just didn't feel right. I decided it was because there were too many people around. Hours later, after watching the sun set over the mountains and seeing the Strip wake up with twinkling lights in the shadow left behind, I knew it was time. I pulled the rings out of my pocket and closed my fist around them. I sat down beside him on the hotel room bed, where he'd already logged on to his laptop. "Look at me," I said softly, with a smile and a hint of the giddiness I'd felt on the elevator earlier. He glanced up.
"I got you a present," I said. That got his attention and he looked at me expectantly. I opened my hand to reveal the two rings.
"I want us to renew our vows tonight," I continued. "I want to show you that I'm in this for the long haul, because I love you. I need you to know that I trust you and believe in you. And I want us to start wearing rings again." I started to place the ring on his finger, but he stopped me. He took the ring in his hand and looked at it.
"I won't wear this," he said.
"What? Really? Why?" I asked.
"I don't really like it," he answered.
"You don't like the ring? Do you not like that it has words on it?"
"I don't like the style."
"It's just a simple band, like your other one."
"No, it's thicker than my other one. I don't like it."
I showed him mine. He said it wasn't anything he would've picked for me. And that was that. He turned his attention back to his laptop, and I died a little more inside.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Keep Going
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rein it in
Chris was here with the boys while Darren and I had our meeting, and stayed (at my request) when Darren came over to tell the kids. Afterward, he said to Darren, "You're going to get a lot of backlash for this. From family, from friends, from your church. No one is going to support this." Darren said, "I know." Chris said later, "I don't think he does." I told him that some of you have been reining it in, not allowing yourselves to tell Darren what you really think. One of you has said that if we worked this out, you would pray that God could let you forgive Darren and love him again, and that even if you couldn't do it, you would fake it for my sake. But that if he left me, you'd give him a lashing like he'd never had before.
I'm asking you to rein it in a little longer.
Ever good with the advice, Chris sent me this email today:
If you can, try and reign in your friends a bit longer. My thought is that if the worst of what he's about to go through comes mainly or firstly from your friends it could jepordize your chances of a cordial divorce. Let his family/friends get to him first and let him get started down the road of an amicable divorce before he gets shredded by those close to only you.
It's true. I need this collaborative divorce to work. Once this thing is final, you have my permission to lash out all you want. Tell him what you think. Speak hard, cold truth to him. I doubt it'll penetrate, but it might. Just please wait until we survive this process. In the meantime, simply unfriend him on Facebook to avoid the temptation.
Thank you.
I'm asking you to rein it in a little longer.
Ever good with the advice, Chris sent me this email today:
If you can, try and reign in your friends a bit longer. My thought is that if the worst of what he's about to go through comes mainly or firstly from your friends it could jepordize your chances of a cordial divorce. Let his family/friends get to him first and let him get started down the road of an amicable divorce before he gets shredded by those close to only you.
It's true. I need this collaborative divorce to work. Once this thing is final, you have my permission to lash out all you want. Tell him what you think. Speak hard, cold truth to him. I doubt it'll penetrate, but it might. Just please wait until we survive this process. In the meantime, simply unfriend him on Facebook to avoid the temptation.
Thank you.
free falling
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I'm stunned. Free falling one minute, soaring the next. Then free falling again.
Yesterday's Jesus Calling was perfect, as it so often is. I'd fallen several days behind and didn't read it until today when Abbie read it to me. The highlighted part is especially amazing to me, in light of last night's events. It's pretty cool to read it today, knowing that "whatever this day may bring" was heartache that I didn't think I'd experience again. I really didn't. I really thought that if he decided it was over, I'd feel relief. I didn't. I thought that I wouldn't feel devastated again. I did. I thought he'd choose to honor our vows and to honor God. He thumbed his nose at both of those things. I am still reeling.We sat in Carraba's eating pasta and seafood. The conversation was pleasant. He asked about Fortress. I asked about his weekend trip that he took to "figure things out". I was preparing myself for him to tell me he wanted to come back home and try to work this out. My concern was that I would say no, not yet, you haven't made any changes - and that THAT would be dishonoring to God. But I think I knew deep down that he was already gone. I just didn't think the man I once knew would walk away so easily.
And because of what?? It's nothing I've done. Have I been the perfect wife? No. I have a mouth on me. It's my first line of defense against Darren. No one else has taken a lashing like he has. I admit that and I've repented of it. But I loved him. UNCONDITIONALLY. He is a hard, hard man to love. He's selfish, condescending, lazy, unmotivated, and prideful. He could list as many things about me that are hard to love. Can't we all? But those are the "for worses". For better or for worse. You love each other anyway.
He's leaving because he has convinced himself that he never loved me. Everyone who knows us and has ever known us knows that's not true. But it's true for Darren. He has to believe it to allow himself to leave.
He's leaving because he has convinced himself that he deserves passion. He defines his perfect passionate mate as someone who understands him and appreciates him and loves him, and someone who he understands and appreciates and can love. I said, "I used to be that for you." He replied tersely, "You were never that for me."
I asked him if there's someone else. He said no. I said, "Is there someone else you're interested in?" He said, "Hmmm.........no." I asked what that pause was supposed to mean. "Are you waiting to be free so you can pursue someone?" He said, "There are lots of people I could feel passionate toward. I deserve to be happy."
"I deserve to be loved," I said.
"Yes, you do," he answered. "And that's part of why I'm leaving you. I can't love you. I see lots of men who are attracted to you. I'm just not one of them."
I sat in the restaurant and begged God for words. None came. Well, they did. Lots of words came, but they weren't from God. So I finally said, "I don't have anything good to say, so I'm going to leave now." I gathered my purse and my confidence, and walked graciously out of the restaurant, past the window where he sat, to my car, around the corner, and then I let it go. I wept all the way home.
Twenty-one years.
Over.
I want to hate him, but I can't. I love him. And that pisses me off most of all.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Over
There is so much to say.
The only thing I have energy left to mutter is this:
Darren is filing for divorce.
I thought I couldn't ache more than I already have.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
God hates the devil
The boys and I started a new tradition while on the road last week: we bought an audio book and listened to it. (The Hunger Games, if you must know. Ian's read it twice, but Aidan and I had not. Even so, Ian is thoroughly enjoying listening to it!) It's cool how the three of us rode along in complete silence for 3 hours and didn't speak a word, just listening intently to the story. Twice, we've sprawled out on my bed or draped ourselves over the family room furniture and done two more 3-hour stretches of listening. We're only 7 chapters from the end. We're completely hooked!
Before we bought the book, the boys took turns playing DJ with Aidan's iPod, hooked up to my car's speakers. I thought it odd when the first song they played was Journey, and the second was Pink Floyd. When the third one was "Fix You" by Coldplay, I finally realized that they were choosing music for ME. Are they precious?? Aidan's iPod is loaded with awesome music because I'm the one who loaded it. <insert evil grin here>
Finally, I instructed them to choose THEIR favorite songs. Ian chose something by Casting Crowns. He sang along with every word. I marveled at how he knew the song, because we generally don't listen to Christian radio in the car (too many commercials, and the same 9 songs every hour, or so it seems). He said, "DUH, Mom. It's on Aidan's iPod." It made me happy that the Casting Crowns songs are his favorites. He knew them all. And Aidan? He chose The Beatles. My kids are awesome. :)
Aidan has taken on the role of Comforter. I haven't cried in front of him (well, maybe a tiny bit), but he knows when I'm sad. When I was telling a friend about it the other day, he was sitting nearby and quipped, "It's like I have a sixth sense or something." He totally does. He is very in tune with my sensitivities and recognizes when conversations might be headed the wrong way or when certain things might make me sad. I catch him checking on me regularly, to see if I'm okay. He often reaches across and holds my hand or puts his arm around me when he senses something might be off. It breaks my heart that he's taken this on, and yet I'm so proud of him I could bust. I constantly tell him that he will make an excellent husband and father some day.
Ian is very analytical about it all. On the way to San Antonio, he asked, "Mom, if God hates the devil so much, why doesn't He just destroy him?"
"That's a really good question," I answered. "I'm not even sure how to answer it. Let's ask Mr. Lambert when we get to John's house." (James gave a perfect answer, by the way.)
Ian continued, "I mean, the devil is the only thing God hates."
"God hates plenty of things," I replied.
"Like what?" he pressed.
"Like.... I think it's in Isaiah... it says God hates a lying tongue, and feet that stir up dissension... I can't remember what else, but there are six things that it says God hates, and they're all body parts like that. And in Malachi, it says God hates divorce. So see, there are lots of things God hates."
Ian turned in his seat and looked right at me. "If God hates divorce, why are you getting one?"
Boom. Spear to the heart.
"First of all, no one has said that we're definitely getting a divorce. And second, I want you boys to remember something. I do not want a divorce. But if Dad does, I will have to go along with it. Sometimes, we have to do things we don't want to do, even things we don't think are right. But that's why Jesus came! Because we have free will. God lets us make choices, and sometimes those choices will be things He hates."
James's answer later regarding the devil question tied right in:
"God created us and gave us the ability to make choices. Even Satan made choices. God could destroy him, but then he'd have to destroy the whole world. When he's ready, he WILL destroy the devil. But for now, we have to deal with him because we have free will." That's a very, very loose paraphrase, but you get the drift.
And by the way - that scripture I mentioned above isn't in Isaiah at all. It's Proverbs 6: 14-19:
Me, too, sweet Ian. Me, too.
Before we bought the book, the boys took turns playing DJ with Aidan's iPod, hooked up to my car's speakers. I thought it odd when the first song they played was Journey, and the second was Pink Floyd. When the third one was "Fix You" by Coldplay, I finally realized that they were choosing music for ME. Are they precious?? Aidan's iPod is loaded with awesome music because I'm the one who loaded it. <insert evil grin here>
Finally, I instructed them to choose THEIR favorite songs. Ian chose something by Casting Crowns. He sang along with every word. I marveled at how he knew the song, because we generally don't listen to Christian radio in the car (too many commercials, and the same 9 songs every hour, or so it seems). He said, "DUH, Mom. It's on Aidan's iPod." It made me happy that the Casting Crowns songs are his favorites. He knew them all. And Aidan? He chose The Beatles. My kids are awesome. :)
Aidan has taken on the role of Comforter. I haven't cried in front of him (well, maybe a tiny bit), but he knows when I'm sad. When I was telling a friend about it the other day, he was sitting nearby and quipped, "It's like I have a sixth sense or something." He totally does. He is very in tune with my sensitivities and recognizes when conversations might be headed the wrong way or when certain things might make me sad. I catch him checking on me regularly, to see if I'm okay. He often reaches across and holds my hand or puts his arm around me when he senses something might be off. It breaks my heart that he's taken this on, and yet I'm so proud of him I could bust. I constantly tell him that he will make an excellent husband and father some day.
Ian is very analytical about it all. On the way to San Antonio, he asked, "Mom, if God hates the devil so much, why doesn't He just destroy him?"
"That's a really good question," I answered. "I'm not even sure how to answer it. Let's ask Mr. Lambert when we get to John's house." (James gave a perfect answer, by the way.)
Ian continued, "I mean, the devil is the only thing God hates."
"God hates plenty of things," I replied.
"Like what?" he pressed.
"Like.... I think it's in Isaiah... it says God hates a lying tongue, and feet that stir up dissension... I can't remember what else, but there are six things that it says God hates, and they're all body parts like that. And in Malachi, it says God hates divorce. So see, there are lots of things God hates."
Ian turned in his seat and looked right at me. "If God hates divorce, why are you getting one?"
Boom. Spear to the heart.
"First of all, no one has said that we're definitely getting a divorce. And second, I want you boys to remember something. I do not want a divorce. But if Dad does, I will have to go along with it. Sometimes, we have to do things we don't want to do, even things we don't think are right. But that's why Jesus came! Because we have free will. God lets us make choices, and sometimes those choices will be things He hates."
James's answer later regarding the devil question tied right in:
"God created us and gave us the ability to make choices. Even Satan made choices. God could destroy him, but then he'd have to destroy the whole world. When he's ready, he WILL destroy the devil. But for now, we have to deal with him because we have free will." That's a very, very loose paraphrase, but you get the drift.
And by the way - that scripture I mentioned above isn't in Isaiah at all. It's Proverbs 6: 14-19:
16 There are six things the LORD hates, seven that are detestable to him: 17 haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, 18 a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, 19 a false witness who pours out lies and a man who stirs up dissension among brothers.My answer in the car seemed to satisfy Ian. His response was, "So God hates things that hurt people, which is why he hates the devil. Well, I hate the devil, too."
Me, too, sweet Ian. Me, too.
Me
Nothing new here worth mentioning, really. A few new revelations, an epiphany on Darren's part that just reiterates how he feels and is now certain he has always felt. For me, it's renewed pain, but not NEW pain, if that makes sense. The short version is, Darren claims he erected an emotional wall after a high school heartbreak, and he never let me penetrate that wall because he never loved me. But the woman he fell in love with 3.5 years ago WAS able to penetrate it, and he's never been the same since. When I found out about the affair, I reacted poorly and because of that, he's certain that he'll never trust me enough to let me through that wall, ever. Okay then.
I've continued with individual counseling, and our focus has been on my learning to manage the emotions that will continue to crop up when I least expect them. There will be so many things that will trip that lever - 1st birthdays apart, 1st holidays, 1st family vacations taken separately. Then there will be the things I can't plan for - a song on the radio, a habit that I start to indulge before I remember....
For instance, yesterday I was driving up the freeway towards downtown when Darren's building came into view. For years, "Darren's building" has been a "thing". I always point it out to people who are in town for the first time. But more than that, when I happen to notice it, from where ever I happen to be (you can see it from miles away in some spots), I call him up and say, "I see your beeeeeelding!" Yesterday, I saw the building and instinctively reached for the phone before I remembered that... no. I really can't call and play that silly game anymore. I felt a pang of sadness, but it was passing. It was nice to just feel it and then let it go. Bye-bye. Good-bye, now. Buh-bye!
Days come and days go. I move through them with resolve and I hope, a bit of grace. I find joy in the little things, and write a daily list of things I'm thankful for. When Darren picks a fight, I refuse to engage. When he's intentionally hurtful, I say "thank you" and end the conversation. When he's ignorant about his behavior (and I believe sometimes he is), I glide around it and get us back to the point. I'm learning to communicate with him effectively. Sad that it took 21 years of marriage and a separation for me to realize that communicating with him doesn't mean I have to walk on eggshells. It doesn't mean learning to play his games. It means understanding that he's the world's worst communicator and learning how to compensate for that.
My homework from my counselor is to take care of ME - to do things for ME. I'm starting to do that. Taking the trip last week to see Ginger and Cara (and Joanie and Maria) was one of those things. The boys think it was for them to see their friends, but no - it was for ME to see MINE. :) Tonight, I'm starting weekly "art therapy" with one of my favorite friends at her art studio. Mostly, we're just gonna hang out and make messes together, but I know it will be therapeutic. And besides, when she invited me to do this with her (is that awesome? I love her!), she TOLD me to tell Darren it was Art Therapy and that I absolutely am not to miss any appointments. HA!
And of course, this blog is for me. I thought I had nothing to say, but this entry's already gotten long, and I have two or three more brewing already. I just needed to start writing again. Thanks for prodding me. ;)
I've continued with individual counseling, and our focus has been on my learning to manage the emotions that will continue to crop up when I least expect them. There will be so many things that will trip that lever - 1st birthdays apart, 1st holidays, 1st family vacations taken separately. Then there will be the things I can't plan for - a song on the radio, a habit that I start to indulge before I remember....
For instance, yesterday I was driving up the freeway towards downtown when Darren's building came into view. For years, "Darren's building" has been a "thing". I always point it out to people who are in town for the first time. But more than that, when I happen to notice it, from where ever I happen to be (you can see it from miles away in some spots), I call him up and say, "I see your beeeeeelding!" Yesterday, I saw the building and instinctively reached for the phone before I remembered that... no. I really can't call and play that silly game anymore. I felt a pang of sadness, but it was passing. It was nice to just feel it and then let it go. Bye-bye. Good-bye, now. Buh-bye!
Days come and days go. I move through them with resolve and I hope, a bit of grace. I find joy in the little things, and write a daily list of things I'm thankful for. When Darren picks a fight, I refuse to engage. When he's intentionally hurtful, I say "thank you" and end the conversation. When he's ignorant about his behavior (and I believe sometimes he is), I glide around it and get us back to the point. I'm learning to communicate with him effectively. Sad that it took 21 years of marriage and a separation for me to realize that communicating with him doesn't mean I have to walk on eggshells. It doesn't mean learning to play his games. It means understanding that he's the world's worst communicator and learning how to compensate for that.
My homework from my counselor is to take care of ME - to do things for ME. I'm starting to do that. Taking the trip last week to see Ginger and Cara (and Joanie and Maria) was one of those things. The boys think it was for them to see their friends, but no - it was for ME to see MINE. :) Tonight, I'm starting weekly "art therapy" with one of my favorite friends at her art studio. Mostly, we're just gonna hang out and make messes together, but I know it will be therapeutic. And besides, when she invited me to do this with her (is that awesome? I love her!), she TOLD me to tell Darren it was Art Therapy and that I absolutely am not to miss any appointments. HA!
And of course, this blog is for me. I thought I had nothing to say, but this entry's already gotten long, and I have two or three more brewing already. I just needed to start writing again. Thanks for prodding me. ;)
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