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Spring Sprung Famdamily

April 20, 2014 by

Whatever or however you might celebrate today, Happy Day (Easter or otherwise). Me? Oh, I am just going to clean my house, do some laundry and go for a walk eventually, maybe to the lake. Perhaps I will take my camera and see if the recent rains have raised our water up at all. Maybe I will see if our Bluebonnets are out, who knows there might be something worth taking some shots of this time. I know I have some small buds on my Lavender out back and my fruit trees are starting to bloom also, it is a sure sign Spring might finally be here to stay.

Anyone who knows me knows I do not like being cold. Truly, it is simply not my favorite thing, I like heat all and any kind of heat. I want to be warm, always. The strange thing about this entire issue of being warm, I do not like heavy clothes. I want to be warm without layer upon layer of clothing. I suspect this is why I like living where it is hot most of the time and why when I vacation my favorite destinations also tend to be, well shall we say on the warm side. I am simply warm blooded; I even like food on the spicy side of the flavor wheel; if my eyes water and my ears burn a bit I am happy.

So all this being said, Spring it seems has Sprung and I couldn’t be more pleased. Hell I might even pull the shades and do a bit of a happy dance through the house. I will have to pick something to dance too though; I will put my pick at the end of this if you like you can dance along.

Well, all this being said I am really only sharing my joy and happiness at Spring Time possibly being here to share some fun times with you. I know I don’t often do this do I? Yesterday though I spent time with my sons and their families and my wonderful wife-in-law. We took a slow train ride from Grapevine to the Fort Worth Stockyards and then wandered the Stockyards followed by dinner. Not the day I might have planned for myself, but when you have small children, well it actually worked out well, for the most part.

Pictures from the train ride, strangers and famdamily.

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I must admit the stockyards are a people draw, a great place for people watching. What a strange collection. I wonder why it is people immediately feel the need to throw on their cowboy boots, even if they have never worn a pair in their lives before.

Pictures from the Fort Worth Stockyards, street scenes and famdamily.

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Finally, we all piled into our respective cars and made our way to Uncle Julio’s, a fabulous and popular local Tex-Mex restaurant with a great menu and spectacular Margaritas. We were all sufficiently starving by the time we arrived and so enjoyed great meal and those of us old enough, enjoyed a libation. During the day I discovered a new Tequila which I will be adding to my bar (Herradura Anjejo), it is a magnificent sipping Tequila for those of you who have a leaning in that direction.

Pictures from our night of waiting and dinning.

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Last but not least of all, my friend Christ Hanna of Posture Studios, did another spectacular job and I want to share with you some of the pictures he took of the newest addition to my family. I am so pleased with how these turned out, think my new grandson is so angelic (never mind if his parents aren’t getting sleep). I encourage you, if you are in the DFW area or are planning to be, give Christ a call; he is wonderful and continues to be my hero.

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Now to what I will be dancing about the house too, you can use your imagination as to what in and how.

 

Lexicon: Wife-in-Law

She and I were both married to and divorced from the same man. She is the mother of my sons. We share a common bond, we love our sons, want what is best for them. We have been part of each other’s lives for better than thirty years and are friends. There is no term for the relationship we have, this one fits.

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Served Grown Up Please

April 13, 2014 by

LVal_Web_smallMy friend Red and I talk often, truthfully nearly every day. Through this recent tsunami, that has been my life I found I have no nearby support system. This has been eye opening; it has also made it very difficult.

Red gets a great deal of credit for pulling me through the worst of it, she dug in and kicked me a few times. There have been a couple of others though along the way, the interesting thing about these others?

My Friends in the Tsunami

  • They are women I have known close too if not more than thirty years, they have been close friends and intertwined with my life in meaningful and happy ways for all that time.
  • They are both in the midst of divorces from long-term partners.
  • Like me, they did not expect to be in this position this late in life.

Where am I going you might ask and so you should. I have been thinking about the position I and others are in at this stage of our lives, the odds are not with us according to all reports. I have been reading blogs by women, some younger and some my age who have been through the devastation of divorce after a long marriage and what it means to be single again. I have been thinking specifically about what it means to me, my life and my future and what I want for myself someday, maybe, perhaps and if I am fortunate.

I Want A Grown Assed Man

I have spent my entire life, every single relationship being the caretaker and provider. Begging for what I need and rarely if ever getting even one quarter of it, then calling myself satisfied. Enough, it is self-defeating and leads to misery. I am no longer willing to settle, not ever again. I don’t want to be anyone else’s second choice, booty call, meal ticket or anything else. Done with all of it, maybe I ask for too much, maybe the dream isn’t out there, nonetheless…..

I Want a Grown Assed Man and This is What He Looks Likemystery-man

He isn’t afraid of who I have been or where I have been; in fact, he is interested in my history, all of it. He wouldn’t think of condemning me for bad choices I have made because he has made some of his own.

He doesn’t shrink from the hard stuff, his own or mine. He knows life sucks sometimes and he isn’t afraid of it. He is grown; he has taken a few beatings and cried a few tears. He isn’t ashamed of it and he can bear up under the tears I might shed in the dark of night or the grey of dawn when I think there is no one there to hear me sobbing. He understands pain.

He wouldn’t think to slut shame me for what was done too me. He wouldn’t ever think to blame me for my past or take advantage of me because I have one.

He is a gentleman; he has manners not just the ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ type of manners but real manners. He knows how to behave in both public and private and it is innate to his person, rather than showmanship.

He makes plans with me and for me; he is respectful of my time and his own. More than this, he thinks ahead and thinks of more than himself and his own desires. He listens carefully to things I love and seeks opportunities for us to do them together. Even when something isn’t high on his list of ‘shit I most want to do in life’, whether it is the opera, the ballet or going to a Lyle Lovett concert, he makes concessions because he is a grown assed man.

He never fails to flirt, with me! Damn, this is important. A simple touch, a cuddle, a kiss on the back of the neck, a meeting of the eyes across the dinner table anything and all the things that send that message he wants me and finds me desirable. Stop looking at your phone for five minutes, pay attention.

He doesn’t think compromise is a four-letter word. It isn’t. Really, see ten letters C O M P R O M I S E; I counted three times just to be certain. He doesn’t beat his chest and say, ‘Me Man, You Woman’, and stomp out of the room as soon as the word compromise is introduced into any discussion, instead he seeks opportunities to balance our relationship and make it easier for us to move forward.

He traces my battle scars with the tips of his fingers in the night, knowing they are an intimate part of my being he loves them for their presence on my skin and my soul.

He never hides me away in the dark; he is not embarrassed by me or his choice of me. He takes my hand and proudly displays me as his partner no matter what anyone might have to say, he defends me in the face of condemnation.

He is not afraid of debate; he welcomes it when it is necessary and never fights dirty. Whether it is politics, religion or whose turn it is to do the dishes, he will always remember I am his partner and he loves me. He is never petulant or childish in a fight, never uses silence or past hurts to win.

He dances with me! Whether in the living room, the bedroom or at a dinner club; he dances with me. He takes me in his arms and dances me around the room. He knows how to hold me and take my breath away when he moves me. He knows how to make me feel beautiful.

He likes himself, is comfortable in his skin and doesn’t need outside affirmation of his manhood. I am enough for him. He doesn’t have to prove his manhood through Neanderthal means. He doesn’t beat his chest when asked to help with household duties, he would never think to say, ‘that is woman’s work, do it yourself or get a maid.’

He knows making love is more than wagging his appendage and hopping on! Nothing more to say on this one.

He is interested in more than himself, he is interested in the world. He reads, he explores and he is willing to try new things; at least once. His mind is a sponge that happily seeks opportunities to absorb new experiences.

He is engaged and active, whether in a single cause or broadly across many intertwined causes. He is at least putting something ahead of himself.

He has his own money. Yes, I went here I had too. I don’t care whether he has the same amount, more or less only that it is his own. I care that sometimes someone else pays, for the theater, the first class plane ticket, the groceries, the clothes, the phone bill, the luxury items. I care that someone besides me cares the bills get paid not just assumes because they always have they always will.

Finally, he loves me exactly as I am doesn’t want to subtract anything from me, doesn’t resent anything about me except I am late coming to his life, doesn’t condemn me or ridicule me, doesn’t want me changed, thinks I am sexy from the inside out and wants to see me naked from the inside out. Will sit in the waiting room when I am having surgery, not asked to be called when I am ready to go home. Will hang out with me when I am getting my next tattoo, not tell me they will divorce me if I get another.

jpgI Want A Grown Assed Man

I bet my list could be longer, I am certain of it. Red says they are Extinct. I don’t believe her, I think they exist and we simply haven’t allowed ourselves to be loved by the right man. I am holding on to hope. Lately I have been posting snippets on Facebook as I think of them, these were two from the past couple of weeks.

What I want….Breakfast in bed (just coffee would be good), phone calls in the middle of the day (for no reason at all), trips to the garden center, window shopping, spontaneous road trips just to take pictures….oh damn I want someone just like me. Oh well, guess I will have to do.

 

I want to be seen for just me, liked for just me, be wrapped in arms because I deserve it, walked with, taken out for drinks and a movie, danced with in my living room. I want to play cards and billiards, I want to laugh, I want someone to like the skin I am in without wanting to change it. Damn, I just want that.

I was inspired by this: http://www.xojane.com/sex/grown-ass-men

I realize, I want to be loved for me. I will continue to write about the mystery man I hope is out there, not today and not soon because I am not there, I am hurt right now and feel terribly unlovable and unpretty. But someday I want someone to feel me, my sharp edges, my history, my future and love all of it. I want someone to feel this and say this to me some day.

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When I was Twenty-One

March 25, 2014 by
So young so dumb

So young so dumb

Elyse at Fifty Four and a Half asked a series of questions I nearly didn’t answer, despite promising I would. When I began answering them, I realized it was hard looking back. History, even our own sometimes causes us to assess who we are today, not always with a forgiving eye. Nevertheless, I promised and so I sat down and wrote. I hope some of you will also, if you do, please link back to Elyse’s original and mine if you like. Here are Elyse’s original questions:

What were your plans and dreams at 21? Are they different from the dreams you had at 31? At 41? Did you make any decisions at 21 that you would change if you could? Did you want to have children when you were 21? Would you change anything?

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was 1978, can you imagine it was thirty-six years ago and I was just a baby in terms of the world. In 1978, I was twenty-one years old and already I felt I had lived one thousand years; my soul was battered, my heart broken and I was without any real direction at all. I was truly a mess by the time I was twenty-one, I had survived though and I was standing something many had predicted I would not be doing. By 1978, I had survived being a street child, I ran away from foster care barely past my fifteenth birthday and hitch hiked across country more than once.

Saying Good Bye

Saying Good Bye

By 1978, I had survived my first husband who I was married to by Texas common law. He was violent to the point of nearly killing me twice in two and half years. His violence painted ribbons of blood on my body, left me with scars that will never fade, left me without a uterus and with only one ovary before my sixteenth birthday. I thought he was all I deserved, I didn’t know better. He kept me safe from the streets, from worse. Finally I ran, with nothing but my life I was still only seventeen.

By 1978, I had married (legally) my first ‘real’ and ‘true’ love and lost him through my own pride and his stupidity (he went to prison). I didn’t know how to trust his love for me; looking back, I realize he did see me truly and love me despite my battle weariness, my luggage. He didn’t know how to fix what was broken inside of me. I ultimately ran, again. Loving me wasn’t enough to hold me, certainly not through his incarceration. Loving me wasn’t enough to fix what was broken. Although we would remain married for five years, we only lived together for two, we talked, we wrote long letters; I would not return to the marriage though I returned long enough to say good-bye when he was released.

By 1978, I had returned to my father’s house for a short time during his recovery from multiple heart attacks and by-pass surgery. Originally it was to be a short stint that would ‘help’ us both, it turned into nearly two years during which time we reconnected and fought through many of our most bitter feelings. Despite some of our ugly fights, I remained a mystery to my father for nearly two more decades. This is one of my greatest regrets we missed so much.

The only one I didn't marry

The only one I didn’t marry

By 1978, I was without direction in my life. I had no understanding of who I was or should be. I knew where I had been and didn’t think I could escape my past, didn’t believe I had value in the world beyond, the world of ‘normal’. It was a terrible place I lived in my head. How do I answer those questions? Did I have dreams? Yes, I did but I don’t think they were the dreams of normal twenty-one year old women of the time. My dreams were more nightmares, too often waking me screaming at night in a cold sweat with fear palpable as if spread by a fog machine. At twenty-one I already mourned the future I thought I would never have and chased the early grave I dreamed of too many nights.

How much had changed by thirty-one, fascinating what a decade, a short ten years can do. Though I was still searching for ‘true love’ and parts of myself in the ether, I had begun the long process of repairing my broken psyche. I had my first hard fought college degree; I had another short-lived marriage under my belt by now and had begun another much longer marriage that would produce some spectacular outcomes despite eventually ending in divorce. I had two young sons, something I thought I would never have. I had a wife-in-law who would eventually become one of my dearest friends. I had the beginnings of a successful career and the foundations of friendships that continue to this day. I had also by this time met my biological parents and siblings, relationships I value to this day and meetings that helped me tie up questions I had all my life about who I was and why I was so different from everyone else in my family.

By the time I was forty-one, so much had changed in my life again. My world had been rocked back by violence with my kidnapping-carjacking and ultimately the shooting that left me for dead and ultimately disabled. That same incident left my ‘normal’ family shaken to its foundation and unable to recover though we would struggle to maintain a façade of normalcy for several more years, my socially acceptable husband ultimately followed his demons back into the bottle and away from his children and the stability of marriage. That divorce cost his children and me, but all of us including their other mother found our way back together to what is our new normal, our family is odd to the outside world, two ex-wives working and loving together but for us, we work.

My babies

My babies

I wanted children, yes of course I did. I married my forth husband because he was ‘normal’ and I believed he would provide the best opportunity for me to adopt. It was part of our agreement, part of personal vows. He lied. He had a history he didn’t tell me about, he would never be able to adopt. By the time he was forced to tell the truth I was so enmeshed in the lives of his children, so in love with them, I could not imagine walking away and starting over, a part of me always hated him for that lie. One day when my sons were teenagers my oldest said to me he thought his parents had children so I would have children, I always wondered if that might not be true.

I made decisions throughout my life I sometimes wish I could change, forks in the road I wonder if I had only taken the more heavily trod would I have been better off. Even as I think this though, even as I consider the alternative path, the person I might be had I chosen differently I think, ‘no, I am this person and I am not bad as I am.’

I wouldn’t change a thing.

From 1978, the memories pour back.

Filed Under: Random Thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Transitions and Assessments

March 7, 2014 by

VictoriousWhen we mourn, it is for our loss; no matter the loss, we mourn a change to our circumstance. The degree of our mourning, the style of our mourning, how we grieve it is deeply personal. No other person can tell us whether our mourning is too great or not great enough, too short or long, appropriate or inappropriate considering the specific loss we have experienced. Whether we are heartless, or instead whether we feel too deeply our loss. Grief is very personal, expressed in both public and private it remains nonetheless a very personal expression.

Oh, I know there have been countless studies and pragmatically I understand the stages of grief, truly, I do. I also understand I have been hit with perhaps too many things all in a very short space of time and I haven’t processed one thing before being punched in the head by another. Rationally, I ‘get’ that I am not working through the stages of grief in the manner people expect, or showing the outward signs of grief for the individual losses in the manner others expect of me. I also know this makes people uncomfortable.

I can’t help their discomfort.

I can’t even particularly gather the energy to care about their discomfort.

In fact, I do not consider their discomfort as relevant to what is needful for me, for my life, for my future. This week I have done some soul searching, I have done some foot stomping, I have done some staring in the mirror and asking myself some hard questions.

  • What do I want?
  • What is important to me?
  • What do I need?
  • What are my core values?
  • How do I want to live the rest of my life?

These were important questions for me to ask and answer. I don’t know that I have fully answered all of them to my satisfaction; I have started though. This morning I woke to a comment on my previous post (Not Strong) filled with malice and written purely with the intent to hurt. I considered simply sending it to Spam rather than answering and perhaps I should have, but I allowed it to stand and I answered with exactly the anger I felt, perhaps the anger I needed for others who have treated me without care, compassion, empathy or respect.  I found though, this comment simply pushed me over the edge and so I let it stand.

I saw this quote today and it struck me;

“Do what you feel in your heart is right, for you’ll be criticized anyway. You’ll be damned if you do and damned if you don’t.” Eleanor Roosevelt

This is the truth, isn’t it? This is part of the answer to all of my questions, the first steps toward moving forward. Not fearfully, not ashamed of my failure but instead proud of my success. I shouldn’t hide who I am, dim my light or attempt to fill the bucket of other people’s expectations, I have been doing this my entire life and it did not make me joyful, it did not create a happy home, nor did it make me want to get out of bed and gladly go to work every morning. What fulfilling everyone else’s expectations did to me was slowly kill my soul. When I allowed people to speak to me as if my humanity was not worthy of respect, without saying “No”, whether from a family member, a loved one, a friend or an employer or even a stranger in cyber space; what it did was diminish me in my own eyes.

Is the sadness over? No, probably not. It has been less than three months. In this short period, I have lost a beloved husband, I am unemployed and I have lost a mother no matter the relationship. These are all very difficult losses and hard to process, especially on top of each other the way they have been. The reality is, I have a right to feel sad, I have a right to be pissed off; I have the right to feel any damned way I want to feel. This is hard, there is no other way to say it but this is hard.

Hopefully, I will have more good days than bad days. I keep looking for silver linings, I truly do. I have had a number of decent prospects and am committed to finding the ‘right’ job not just any job that is one of the answers. Life transitions are difficult, I know that.

As to the rest, I hope those of you who read and hang with me, who offer your support and advice will continue to do so. I know, I haven’t been my normal self. I will get back there.

Filed Under: Series: Dumpster Diving Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

Out of the Box

January 27, 2014 by

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERALast week was full of firsts, in some cases firsts I forced myself into and in others simply firsts because it is a new era and it is time for me to grab life for myself. For anyone who knows me well it is common knowledge I do not like crowds, truthfully I don’t like any situation I don’t feel as if I am in control of. So this past week was not only full of firsts, it was also me pushing my own boundaries and maybe societies boundaries a little tiny bit as well.

I found I am still not comfortable with crowds.

I also found I could push through my discomfort but it took some real nail biting.

Finally I found social expectations can be met with humor and ‘don’t give a damn’ on my part.

There was one other thing I found out about myself this week; I can be judgmental regarding politics and political candidates. Oh, fine I really didn’t find this out this week; I knew this but I found myself truly judging candidates critically and finding many of them ‘wanting’. I am not just going to pull the lever for you because you have a ‘D’ by your name, need to do better than that.

Lastly, because I spent most of the month of January thinking I was going to die I didn’t spend a great deal of time working towards goals or trying to find my next job. Despite I have an ‘excuse’ this has left me feeling, well feeling a little of a failure. Though I believe my goals are achievable, they have been beyond my reach and it has been frustrating.

The job / work front has also been frustrating and although I know I made the right decision in leaving the organization I was working for, it is scary right now to not have income and have bills looming. I truly want to change the trajectory of my career; want off the road and out of consulting but perhaps this isn’t the time to try to make this change. I am leaving the door open for what makes sense on both a personal and work-life basis, but those “no thank-you’s”, well they are de-moralizing.

Are you wondering what I did last week that taught me lessons, in humility, humor and even a bit of perseverance?

I dated myself. Yes, you read that correctly, I took myself on dates and found I am excellent company.

Date 1, 22-January: House of Blues, Dinner and Concert, Hot Tuna and Leon Russell. Let me first say, dinner in a room full of couples a bit awkward if you are eating alone. I have traveled alone for years and haven’t felt so out of sync with those around me in the past. No matter, dinner was fabulous and the concert was grand. Let me tell you something the audience was funny, I felt as if a crowd of aging hippies surrounded me; well, I suspect that was the truth. Both acts did a great job and despite my discomfort, it was a great evening.

Date 2, 25-January: Local Democratic Club, Judicial Bench Openings Dallas County, all candidates stump. Let me just say there are some interesting candidates running for the current benches in Dallas County and in some cases, we have two (2) to five (5) Democrats running for the same seat. I am primarily interested in the criminal courts but it was interesting listening to candidates running for family and probate judge-fines-himselfcourts, fascinating in the case of the probate court. In one case I wanted to stand up in the middle of a very long-winded stump speech and ask the candidate, “what in the hell does what you are talking about have to do with the bench you are running for?” Actually, that happened twice. I ended up sitting next to one of candidates for a Criminal Court who I had met before and we talked afterward, she is an interesting woman with interesting ideas about juvenile justice and getting young people out of the adult system. I like her. I liked a couple of the candidates their ideas about expanding the system to rehabilitation and support versus simply throwing away the key.

Date 3, 26-January: Harlem Dance Theater, Bass Performance Hall. I think this was my favorite date of the entire week; it is likely in part because ballet was my first love. The Dance Theater of Harlem includes classic ballet, modern dance and even street dance in their repertoire. They also include music and worldwide themes presented in ways anyone can relate to, they are phenomenal. I had a wonderful seat, close enough to hear as toe shoes hit the boards in Battu, close enough to see the sweat glisten and muscles contract as the dancers stretched, close enough to count the number of turns in a pirouette. Do I sound like a fangirl? I must admit, I am and have been since the first time I saw ballet as a tiny girl of four-years old, now fifty-two years later I am still a fan of ballet and very much a fan of the Dance Theater of Harlem.

So, those were my three ‘date-myself’ dates of the week. I haven’t truly accomplished very much this month and the month is nearly over. I am a bit depressed at my lack of success in achieving goals; however, I am happy with my solitary dates. I am happy I overcame my fear of crowds to get out of the house and do something, not just anything but things that are happy and uplifting for me.

Happy Monday and back to the grindstone of finding relevant work and of course a few rants of what is going on in our nation. Enjoy the playlist for this writing.

Hot Tuna: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gtdc6q8uTFs

Hot Tuna: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCsCW4WPcyY

Leon Russell: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXs29SpLGpU

Leon Russell: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=37dw2r45Xzg

Black Swan Excerpt: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kOf_00uh-1o

Forty Years of Firsts: http://vimeo.com/35636630

Filed Under: Series: Dumpster Diving Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,

Half a Lifetime

December 14, 2013 by

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI promise, you and me, I will not be maudlin through this time of rediscovery.  I might now and then be some of the following:

  • Pissed right off
  • Sad
  • Scared to death
  • Okay, even a small bit maudlin

However, I promise, you and me, I will not allow this change in my circumstances to take over my blog or my life.  Perhaps this is not quite the truth, this change will indeed take over my life it is in fact my new normal and thus instead of being part of a twosome my life is different, I will join the millions of women over 50 who are living alone, by choice or otherwise.

Things you and I should know about me as I begin this journey toward my new normal.  Things that are incredibly difficult to admit.

I have truly been in a long-term partnered relationship or married my entire adult life.

When I read that statement, it sends shivers up my spine.  The sad truth is, I do not know how to be alone, I have always had someone in my life.  I have always been the ‘other half’.  Usually, I have been the half that takes care of things, cleans up messes and ultimately is left holding the bag.

How strange, how very strange.

Since I was fifteen (15) years old, I have not really been alone.  Not really been on my own to determine and decide my own fate without having to consider how my choices might affect others, some of those others have been spouses, while others have simply been those who claimed the title (Texas is funny like that).  In some cases and through my own choice, I remained legally bound to a man with whom I did not share a bed, did not enjoy congress yet continued to shared a roof; I did this so his children would be provided normalcy.  My ‘husbands’ and other partners, in a nutshell;

  1. Beat the hell out of me, nearly killed me more than once and destroyed my ego – 3 years.
  2. Saved me from myself but could not convince me to love him or me – 5 years.
  3. Simply was a stopgap measure to convince myself and others I could marry ‘normal’ – 3 years.
  4. An addict and more, who hid his crimes from everyone far too well, robbed me of money, time and much more; gave me my sons, so I can forgive him all the rest – 14 years
  5. Dearly Beloved, yes he is still this despite it all, the last sixteen (16) years I have given him everything there was in me to give.  I withheld what he told me to withhold, each time he said to me, “I don’t want anything from you”; I withheld a little more if myself.  I honestly thought he was the one I would grow old beside  – 16 years

That is forty-one (41) years of my life in those five (5) men; I am fifty-six (56) years old.  Those five men represent more than half of my life.  Since I was fifteen years old, I have been entangled.  I have usually met the next man before I am fully untangled from all the legal wrangling of the previous relationship; I haven’t stopped to think how vulnerable I might be.

Now to the rest of what I wanted to say about not being maudlin and wanting a new normal.  DB and I separated once before during our marriage in 2010.  That separation was for 6 months, it was hard and he was the one to leave that time also.  Though to hear him tell it he left because I asked him the following:

“If you are so unhappy, why are you still here?”

His answer was to leave.  That six months was hard, it was sad, it was miserable in truth; but, by the end I had gotten to happy, gotten to a new normal where I was starting to enjoy life and my independence.  I should have known when he wanted to come back while refusing marriage counseling and refusing to acknowledge the core issues between us, it was not going to get better.

I have a friend of thirty-five years who says at heart I am a romantic.  I suspect she is right.  I wanted desperately for his, “I love you”, to be the truth without strings.  It wasn’t, it never has been.  But I wanted it and I put my blinders firmly in place and reminded myself of the vows I took, when I flung the door open wide and let my husband back into the home and the marriage he so firmly rejected once already.

Victorious

My new tattoo, as of yesterday. Yes, Victorious and yes my high-heeled combat boots were the model!

I knew, even then while I held that door open there would be an end somewhere in the future.  I had tasted independence and gotten to happy and it felt light and wonderful.  Don’t misunderstand me, being loved is also wonderful, I want to be loved someday in the future before that happens though I want to try living for me for once in my life.

I have a few more choices to make before too very long.  Choices on where I live.  Choices on how and where I work.

These will wait for a few weeks at least.  For now, I will simply try sinking into the idea of the new normal and how to get through the day.

Yes, it hurts today.  Yes, it will likely hurt tomorrow.  It will not hurt forever though; I know this.  I suspect I will share some of this journey with those of you who want to ride along.  I promise you though I will not change course, I will continue to write about other things that interest me and hopefully you, I refuse to get to mawkish.

Filed Under: Series: Dumpster Diving Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Empty Closets

December 13, 2013 by

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAChoices sometimes are taken out of our hands, taken away from us entirely.  Yesterday I came home after a week away to an empty house.  I knew it was empty as soon as I opened the door, before I opened a closet or drawer, I knew I was alone in every real sense.  One choice taken away, one choice not mine anymore; one fight I no longer had to step into the ring for another round.

I wandered through the house, looking for at least a note a letter, something anything that would say to me; I have loved you for sixteen years but no more, I am leaving.  There was nothing.  No good-bye, farewell, nothing at all to mark the end of a marriage, the end of nearly twenty years.

How do you do that?

How do you not even say good-bye?

How the fuck do you hug your wife on Sunday and then pack all your shit and leave without a word?

Because I have friends and you don’t like it?

Because I called you a jackass when you acted like one?

Because I wanted your contribution to our lives and our home to be more than your presence?

Because, I pointed out to you what you were doing in trying to isolate me from friends and family was abusive?

You didn’t like my anger, especially when it focused on you.  You didn’t like the mirror and sometimes when it was held up you would retreat behind a wall of silence, for day’s even weeks until I would beg for a word.

You would win when I was finally on my knees begging, in tears for the silence to end.

How the fuck do you announce on Facebook you have returned to your mother, knowing I won’t see this announcement until after a five-hour drive, after coming into an empty house.

How do you do this?

How do you tell me the only thing you wanted was my time, when the truth was you wanted it on your terms and to the exclusion of anything and everything else in my life.  Your momentary lapses into kindness were just that lulls in the storm, a means to an end.  They lasted only long enough to give me a false sense of safety within our marriage; they were shorter and shorter after every outburst.

One choice out of my hands, you chose for me.  You crushed my spirit, broke my heart.  Never mind, I will survive this.  Maybe, I will be alone for the rest of my life as you say.  Maybe I will never be loved again, as you say.  Except, I will be surrounded by friends who love me and do not expect me to change to suit them.

I wish you hadn’t done this too me, to us.  I wish you had loved me, us and yourself enough.  I did.  I still do, I suspect this will hurt for a very long time.

Filed Under: Series: Dumpster Diving Tagged With: , , , ,

Choices are Terrible

December 1, 2013 by

1343863240_3320_fearFear is a terrible thing.  The stories we tell ourselves of what will happen if we do or do not do certain things can spin out of control in our own heads.  If we have any imagination our internal stories can cause us too cower in corners refusing to take the steps we know in our hearts are right.

What do I fear?

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  • Losing everything
  • Never working again
  • Being alone for the rest of my life
  • Never being loved again
  • Dying alone
  • Not achieving any of my dreams

What am I willing to sacrifice so this doesn’t happen?  Apparently everything at least that is how it feels right now, today as I face the nearly untenable return to work in a hostile environment leaving too much unsaid at home.  What is it in my personal psyche that will accept what is indefensible under any normal circumstance rather than take risks that are not grounded in facts.

Yes, some of them are grounded in personal  historical realities.

Yes, some of them are grounded in societal standards and those translate into well founded fears.

Finally, some are simply my own fears, my own personal insecurities built over years of hearing “not good enough”.

Somewhere, somehow there comes a time when it is important to separate what are unreasonable fears from what is simply the truth about choices we make and why we make them.  Is there a part of us that chooses jobs because we think, ‘this is something that makes sense and I can do this; be successful at this.’  Or, as we get older in a market that values youth and beauty do we think, ‘shit thank you Jesus, someone is willing to pay me now if I can only stay under the radar long enough to retire I will be good.’

I wonder about this one, I truly do.  After twenty plus years in an industry that is unkind at best to women, one that I have fought hard to succeed in I find myself on the cusp of antiquity.  I still love what I do. I badly want off the road, badly want to find a ‘forever’ home that will value hard won knowledge and my years of experience.  Truly want to find somewhere to rest myself, on the laurels I have earned through years and 3 million miles in the air.  I still have it in me to work hard and contribute to success.  I still have it in me to mentor and lead.  What I don’t have in me any longer is surviving in hostile environments in silence hoping it will be better tomorrow.  I just don’t have that in me, I simply can’t find the strength or wherewithal to hope next week or this week will be better than the last one when I know the same people will be there and nothing has been done to change their bad behavior.

hazardous-waste-symbolsThe idea of getting in my car and driving four hours to an environment that is so toxic it makes me want to weep or scream every single day makes me weep now.

Funny though, when the environment I am leaving is as toxic it is choosing between two rooms one full of Sarin the other full of Rican.  Which is worse?

Dying alone seems a better choice, it is simply a matter of telling myself this isn’t the worse that can happen.  Never being loved is a silly fiction, I know I am loved it is simply a matter of definitions, love comes as a gift in so many different packages.  Being alone, how much worse could it be than it is right now when I am more alone together than I have ever been.

Losing everything, now this is a terrible one.  Terrible because I have been here before and I am too old to start over again.  Terrible because it is a very real fear, not just one I made up in my over active imagination but one I have lived.  Terrible because it truly does scare the hell out of me and causes emotional and intellectual paralysis.

Love is a sometime horrible state of being, we hope beyond all reason what we love and whom we love will be good for us and that in turn we will be good for them.  We hope, rightly or wrongly we can fix what is broken in ourselves and that our baggage will match theirs so our travels are along the same roads.  We hope we speak the same language, from our hearts and our minds; both are important as we walk along paths no others have medium_diverging_paths-270x180tread dragging our histories behind us.

Sometimes we fail.  Sometimes, despite all our best intentions we fail miserably.  Sometimes there isn’t enough love to fix what is broken inside of us.  Compassion, empathy, humor, self-confidence these have to be part of the mix we bring.  When we try to force another person into a mold, whether it is an image we have of him or her or of how marriage should work we are doomed before we place our feet firmly on the path.  When  we have no flexibility in our personal views, in our vision of the world we have doomed ourselves to a very narrow future and we doom our partner to unhappiness if they don’t agree.

What am I willing to sacrifice?  Myself? My pride?

What happens when we don’t tell, or worse when we do but the other person doesn listen or doesn’t hear?

I have to answer these questions soon.  Choices are terrible things, aren’t they?

I leave you with this from one of my favorite Broadway shows, I think it says what we should all ultimately strive for.

Filed Under: Love & Marriage, Random Thoughts, Work & Employment Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Not the Right Things

October 20, 2013 by

soapboxpileRecently I have been giving a great deal of thought to the idea of how we move through the world. Not our physical movement, though this is important but rather our emotional, intellectual and philosophical movement through life.

During one of my long talks with my sister Red this subject came up, it was a round-about, that is we got there because of something one of her young friends said to her. I suspect this discussion has actually been part of a much longer conversation about happiness, Red has written about it here. I couldn’t help thinking about the question of Happiness and about what her young friend said that truly set my head on fire, it was this:

“My parents didn’t give me the right things.”

I think when I heard this initially I went silent for a full minute. Then out of my mouth came, “What the fuck does that mean?”

No really I wanted to know and my inside voice simply escaped through my lips and out into the world.

I haven’t been able to let go of this one. It has floated around in my head for days now. I have considered the ramifications of what this means, especially if entire generations think this way. First, I had to think about what it could mean and what the right things might be.

  • The right DNA – pairing two adults with reasonable intellect thus producing offspring with reasonable intellect who would eventually be flung into the world capable of fending for themselves.maslows needs
  • The right physical environment – parents provided basic human needs while child was incapable of providing for self (see first or bottom tier of Maslov’s Hierarchy).
  • The right emotional environment – parents were neither emotionally or physically abusive and provided for child’s spiritual well-being.

So, after I considered what the legitimate potentials were I considered what this ungrateful wretch might be thinking and what other churlish snot nosed, pedantic, navel-gazing, self-absorbed twits might also be thinking. I looked around at young people I knew, my own sons and others their age (the thirty something’s), as well as, those younger and those slightly older. Part of me truly is trying to find a correlation between all the bad behavior in our schools, on social media, what we see reported everyday about bullying and the comment:

“My parents didn’t give me the right things.”

What could this possibly mean? To put this in perspective the young man who uttered this idiocy is twenty-three (23), he is a White American, raised in the land of plenty though not with great wealth, he had access to public education and certainly should he wish to do so could attend trade school or community college. I am not privy to his home life or his parents’ income, but as I understand it he was not hungry or homeless ever in his life, he was raised in a two-parent household, with access to an extended family. So, what does he mean his parents didn’t give him the ‘right things’.

Does he mean his parents didn’t drive him hard enough to achieve? This gets me to the idea of personality and temperament. Isn’t it in part our individual make-up and responsibility to suck it up and become self-driven, self-determining, to stand on our own two feet at some point? When do we stop blaming everyone else, including our parents for our failure to thrive, our failure to launch into adulthood? Many of us had terrible childhoods, traumatic teens and yet we find our way through and evolve into stable and self-sufficient adults.

great-white-shark-kids-649456_14762_600x450-300x210Where is the cutoff?

I know my grandparents, who raised children in the Great Depression wanted their children to have more and do better than they did. That was the great dream.

My parents and their siblings, they wanted to leave a legacy of dreams. They wanted their children to have opportunity, access to success.

All of us, my generation seemed to have split down the middle. Some of us handed our children the legacy of our parents and the rest, we somehow have screwed it all up. We gave birth to generations of selfish bullies and their victims, overgrown children in expensive suits, incapable of achieving true maturity; intellectual midgets with the empathy of Great Whites Sharks, the MEMEME generations.

“My parents didn’t give me the right things.”

All I could think was this, my parents didn’t give me all the things I might have wanted either, but my father did teach me to think and use my mind. My father gave me a moral compass and a work ethic by his example. I was never hungry, never cold, never without a roof over my head even if that roof wasn’t always welcoming or safe. The truth is, by the time I was twenty-three I was an adult; weren’t most of us? It would never have occurred to me to utter the words above. We all have stories, some of them are good, some not so great, some truly suck. We though, we are responsible for the outcomes of our lives, not anyone else. Yes, the world sucks sometimes. Yes, our upbringing can be a hindrance if we allow it; all I can say is so what get the hell over it at some point you and only you are responsible.

I see and hear these over grown children of ours, these MEMEME, do nothing, got nothing, pathetic, whining poor me children and I want to beat them about the head and shoulders. Yes, it is hard out here right now; I get it I really do. Yes, the economy sucks and education is expensive. Yes, we need to fix some things to make it better. However, if you had most if not all of the advantages barring inherited wealth you poor baby have absolutely no reason to complain so get off your narrow ass and do something with your life.

Stop blaming others including your parents for your failure to turn off the Xbox long enough to find a job. Sit down and figure out what it is you want to do and be and begin doing it and being it. Do not look to others to polish that silver platter and hand it to you. Do not blame others for your failure to pursue your opportunities; you are not a victim get over your pathological need to be one. The rest of us worked our asses off, try it.

I leave you with this, Malala Yousafzai a portrait in selflessness and courage.

Filed Under: Random Thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

One of those Days

April 12, 2013 by

There are days, weeks even when your heart, mind and body feel in tune with the world around you. You start every morning energized, even before that first cup of coffee you nearly dance from bed to coffee pot. Then there are other times when you can barely drag yourself from the warmth of your cocoon, when daylight only proclaims the beginning of yet another  eighteen hours of purgatory. Last week was one of those weeks for me, oh Hell let’s be honest the past several weeks have been a collection of One Of Those Days.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERADespite what some of you might think based on some of what I reveal on these pages, I am truly a happy person most of the time. I work on being happy, I work at being peaceful and grateful. Sure, sometimes I am cranky and there are hours within the day when people, most especially stupid people get on my very last good nerve. Honestly though, mostly I am happy, mostly I am accepting of life, more to the point I am thankful for it and I am at peace with my past. I guess, like most people I have my personal neurosis, my weird quirks; some of which are certainly tied to my history and some of which certain impact my current world.

Nevertheless, these last couple of weeks have been a collection of ONE OF THOSE DAYS.

I have written recently about my marriage and how we are struggling with some of the long-standing imbalances between us. This hasn’t ended, we continue to struggle but the fight has shifted from leaving the marriage to how we remain in it. I do not know what this means, honestly. Perhaps it means we redefine what it is we want out of marriage, one more time. Maybe it means we draw a different map for our hearts. We have always been unconventional in our pairing, our conflicts though have never been about love. Truthfully, I don’t know where this ends or how, the battle lines continue to shift each hill taken not so much a victory as simply an exhausting endeavor, for both of us.

Then there is this season, April brings the first Victim Impact groups of the year. I always feel as if I must gird my heart and loins before walking into the lion’s den, this year finds me with another shift in attitude. Perhaps it is that we have seen so many mass killings this past year, so many deaths with the culmination of Sandy Hook in December. Society has always played a part in how I view what happened to me, how I view offenders, how I view accountability and why ultimately I am willing to talk to them about their role in making it right. I have agreed to five Victim Impact groups this season, three adult and two juvenile. There will likely be more but those are the ones I have agreed to so far. I finished the first juvenile last week and haven’t had the heart to write about what I saw and heard.

Speaking of society, what the hell is wrong with people? I have to ask this question in all seriousness, without snark or sarcasm, really what in the hell is wrong with people today. How can people, elected officials or otherwise jamesinhofeignore the obvious in favor of their personal worldview and say or do such ugly things, simply talk out of their ass. I know, I have a personal dog in the fight of a few things and Sane Gun Laws is certainly one of those things, but I also think a touch of humanity is an important ingredient if you are going to serve the public, shouldn’t you have a heart? I suspect those who have served to long in that cesspool called our capital have had their heart ripped out and stored in a mason jar somewhere, surely many of them no longer demonstrate any sense of connectivity to the rest of humanity. Witness the asinine statement made by one of the fourteen asshats who were intent on filibustering debate of Gun Control legislation. While I find the lack of action on this and many other critical issues exhausting I must say, James Inhofe takes the cake this week.

scarlett_ripFinally, last Monday I lost my last big four footed friend, I have found my home to be lonely without her. She was sort of dopey, but her age had caught up with her finally and this past six months were hard on her. My sweet Scarlet couldn’t climb the stairs to sit in my office with me anymore, I carried her up and down each morning so we could hang out before I left for the day. She had dropped nearly half her body weight and the vet didn’t know why, except to say her muscles were also being affected and her legs couldn’t support her anymore. Scarlet was half Shepard and half Rottweiler, she was awesome though sometimes not as smart as I might wish she had a sweet temperament and that funny Rottweiler smile. In her last couple of weeks, her friends Cleo and Beau my two cats cuddled her every day purring and sometimes head butting her. Last Monday, when she fell from my back porch and couldn’t get up I knew it was time, I could not continue to keep her with me simply because I didn’t want to face the alternative. I am so grateful to the Veterinary Clinic I use, they are kind and have a wonderful restful space to let go of pets, not a sterile space but a room with carpet, candles and soft music. This is where I held Scarlet until she was gone.

So, the last couple of weeks, well as I said a collection of ONE OF THOSE DAYS.

There is more, but that is enough isn’t it? I could go on and on about the stupid people that seem to roll into my life in waves, they annoy me.

Honestly though, I think part of the problem is spring is late this year. There isn’t enough sunlight and warmth to brighten the day.

How are you holding up?

Filed Under: Random Thoughts Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
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