It's Time

This year has been like being born.

After my ex-husband moved out, my aunt and her children came to spend a week with me, and she compared me in my hurt pain to the new flowers she planted in my garden. "You are new now, like the flowers," she said, "and like them, you are going to require a lot of care and time. You are fragile. Eventually, you will grow strong." I thought she was out of her mind. I was not a flower, I was a sniveling mess, and I hated myself for it, although I did know that her words had a ring of truth. I agreed that in time, I would be fine. At the time, I figured that in two years, I'd be myself again, so the mantra "two years" ran constantly through my head. "In two years, I'll okay. In two years, I won't be panicking anymore. In two years, I'll be myself again."

The reality is that two years later, I was entrenched in a relationship that I may as well call "Marriage, Continued" in that it was as emotionally unfulfilling and eerily similar to my marriage. Though I was involved with a man, he was reminiscent of my ex-husband and therefore familiar to me... totally a lateral move, not a step forward. I was not "better," I was merely "swimming in the river of denial." Even after an additional year, having extricated myself from that post-marital relationship, I was paralyzed about dating, furious at my ex-husband, and emotionally stymied by the future yawning before me -- alone.

Then 2008 hit. I spiraled downward. My close friend's marriage tanked. I spiraled faster. The hurricane. The weird year at work. Getting sick with a lung infection. Flooding. My uncle's death. Myriad car problems. Illnesses of friends of friends... deaths of friends of friends. The depression fell into a controllable situation, but it never departed completely, and honestly, it's still there, waiting for a vulnerable moment to leap out from the bushes and beat me down.

However, in the past few weeks, I've recognized that I really am like those little flowers my aunt planted so long ago. I've grown green little new shoots. I've even grown thorns. I've borne new blossoms. I have skills, defenses, wisdom, and hope -- hope! -- that I didn't used to have or haven't had in a long, long time. I can see, as clearly as with a new pair of glasses, that the world I've been watching all of my life is not the world in which I am living. I don't mean that as I've said it in the past... I never knew a husband could just leave... I never knew people really died... it's not that kind of realization. It's dawned on me, quite literally, that I can be both aware and have hope. Simultaneously.

In the past, hope meant being naive. Hope meant youthful optimism. Hope was something I lost in the divorce, as I lost my chance to grow old in my marriage, and as I lost my chance to marry as a maiden and live forever in the bosom of love.

In the years after the divorce, merely dating wasn't an option, because I knew I was was damaged goods as a divorcee. Rationally, it's just true that people divorce. They make mistakes, and they move on. However, I was damaged goods on two levels: I couldn't imagine the kind of faithful, steadfast, honorable man wanting a woman who'd failed at her marriage already. I saw my divorce as a "black mark" against my name, labeling me as unworthy. Also, I was literally damaged. Broken. Indeed, I was weak, vulnerable, and fragile -- just like those flowers. Instinctively, I knew one man's inadvertent misstep on my feelings or on my heart would crush me, as I wasn't strong enough to bounce back from even the most innocently thoughtless remark.

Safer to stay away.

But those green buds have grown bark on them and have become true branches of a much stronger plant than a mere flower.

I resent having had to grow these muscles, but the resentment doesn't undo that I do, in fact, have them. I am strong. I am a new person than I used to be. While I have so many fears, my friends tease me to no end, I do know that I am stronger than anything that makes me afraid, and with their help, I will stay strong. I have my faith. I have my family. The past is the past, and it has made me a better person than I used to be. Ripped from the cocoon-like womb of retreat, I understand now that how I spend the days is how I spend my life, and I won't spend them hiding from that yawning future. I am emerging from the safety and security into the bright light of the rest of my life. It starts now.

To quote Alice Cullen, "It's time."

Is It All Just Semantics?

I read a lot of advice columns, mostly for their entertainment value. Sometimes, a column seems to apply to something in my own situation, and I read it with a slightly hairy eyeball. I think it's somewhat funny when the columnist airly suggests that her writer break up with a boyfriend of many years' duration... do people just DO that on the whim of a total stranger? I'd never have done that with my own relationships. Actually, I ended most of them, but it wasn't until every single chance was exhausted for us to find peace together.

Anyway, this idea of ending relationships got me thinking about the relationships that are ending around me, and the idea of "choosing to stay in love" to which I alluded in the previous post.

Here are the top ten things I believe about intimate love:

1. Intimate love is inviolate. Nobody may tresspass against it. It is sacrosant. Both people in the relationship must believe this truth with their entire beings.

2. Intimate love is sustainable.

3. For intimate love to sustain, both people must come together in attraction that includes but goes beyond the physical. In other words, the relationship is made of whole cloth, and both partners "keep the cloth clean" by pursuing individual interests and taking care of their bodies and souls. As each person is grateful for the other's love, he or she does what he or she can to stay interesting and attractive out of respect for the other.

4. Intimate love is sacrificing. It prioritizes neither partner, but instead puts the welfare of the couple ahead of either person's individual agenda.

5. Intimate love involves trust that the partners share goals and values. This is a hard one, becuase sometimes people misrepresent their goals and values, or they're quite honestly not sure what their goals and values are. But if two people are throwing in their futures together, it's necessary for their vision of the future be similar, if not the same.

6. Intimate love is forgiving. This means that each person must "assume the best" when the other person does something thoughtless to violate mutual goodwill. The person who offends must be able to see the situation through his or her partner's eyes, own up to it, and ask for forgiveness. To do so indicates trust in the partner. If a partner is constantly offended, however, there may need to be another conversation about values (see number 5). Hopefully, people work that stuff out when they're still dating.

7. Intimate love is REALLY forgiving. While abuse, adultery, and addiction are situations where a person's physical or material safety is comporomised to the point of dissolving the relationship, intimate love strives for understanding and invests the time and work required to recognfigure the status quo so that the couple can emerge stronger than they were previously. This effort may take more strength than either person or the couple together can bear, but when it's possible, it's possible.

8. Intimate love is accepting that there are going to be times when love is the LAST feeling between the two people, but it knows in the background that the love is still there, if on ice.

9. Intimate love is behavior. It's the solicitous protection and support of another person and the right to expect solicitous protection from that person in turn. Each person is steadfastly in the other person's corner.

10. Intimate love is free. It holds no accounts. It allows both people to be who they are, without artifice or based on a desire to please. Thus, when two people come together in love, and they find they fit together being who they really are, it's a joy for them and the others who are around them.

Okay, writing this list nullifies the point I was going to make about my friend who chooses to stay in love with her husband... as I was going to say that can't we choose to love ANYONE?

I don't think we can, no.

Is that all there is?

Too funny. I'm sitting here reading about Kate Walsh's divorce and thinking, "Even she believes nobody gets married to get divorced. But why do people get married?" Then I remember my ex telling me that our marriage wasn't what he expected or wanted, or something like that, and asking him, "What did you expect?" Did he expect some kind of fairy tale that would last forever? Do fairy tales last forever? Do people fall in love and get married, then have a horrifying realization when the "in love" feeling doesn't permeate their every waking moment, but bills, obligations, failures, children, and responsibilities do?

And here I thought marriage was supposed to be a refuge from bitter realities. What happens when the marriage itself is a bitter reality?

When I look at successful relationships that surround me, what I see is commitment. Period. These people want to stay together, so they do what it takes to stay together. Often, it's not fun. Often, it's work... and not the desk-work of most of my middle class friends. It's back-breaking, bone-chilling, frustrating, primal-screaming work, when it comes time to work. I can say, with some authority, that work is Not Fun. Ultimately, the people who don't stay together don't want to stay together, or at least one of them doesn't, and whoever says no wins.

I certainly don't see flower petals tossed into the wind anywhere. I don't hear singing angels. I don't have to swat at a Cupid flying around. Not even in the best relationships.

The best relationship around which I get to dwell periodically is my aunt and uncle's relationship, the couple who live in Dallas. They're pretty heartsy and flowery, but they're definitely not perfect. He wishes she were fitter. She wishes he were more of a go-getter. He wishes she were inherently tidier. She wishes he were less of a dog person. They adore each other -- in between tending their five children, working three jobs between the two of them, managing a house and three cars, and home-schooling.

I think that's one layer of hell, personally.

The next best relationship of which I know is my brother and sister-in-law. They are very similar. They are both very bright people, neat but not fastidiously clean, mathematical, outdoorsy in an indoorsy way, and musical. Also, they as well adore each other. But I don't know if they're as thrilled to bits with life in general as my aunt and uncle. Often, my brother reveals poorly defined dissatisfaction or lack of fulfillment with life in general, indicating an emotional core only those who know him best could recognize. My sister-in-law, whom I admire in many ways, apparently saves her depth and intimacy for my brother, or at least I hope she does; she and I are yet to have a meaningful conversation about anything, and I've known her for fourteen years. I'd shudder to think that's why my brother loves her so much.

The third best relationship I can observe is that of my work friend and her husband, who are a study in contrasts. He is meticulously organized to the point of obsessive compulsive disorder. She is "organic" about such things. He is methodical, predictable, and reliable; she is none of those things, but a free spirit who moves with the winds of her momentary inclinations. They share in common a fundamental commitment to their family, devout faith, and a mutual regard for the responsibility and respect for marriage. She trusts him implicitly and totally. He takes very good care of her and lets her be herself. But she herself said to me, "I can remember the moment I decided to stay in love with him." Interesting comment.

So ultimately, I'm thinking, what I want to do is fall in love and have a dazzlingly stimulating love affair... but marriage, with the heavy lifting, may not be so tempting to me any more. But as my aunt in Dallas would say, I have to take one thing at a time. Marriage isn't in the offing right now... so why not have a date? Why not find a great guy who likes me? Why not try?

Because if he wanted in my house and in my space, I'd have to kill him.

Or at least hurt him real bad.

2009

After several months of hermit time, it occurred to me to fire up the old blog and see what's going on in my head. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I seem to be in the precise same spot where I've found myself for the last three years... single, liking the solitude, and wondering what the future holds. I'm still coasting on letting life happen to me, as opposed to making it happen. Everyone says we need to take the reins of our own lives and make "it" happen, but I've never learned what "it" is, and I'm not sure what I even want to happen, if I really do get to choose.

One change is that I'm no longer in the depths of despair emotionally. Time, meds, counseling, and my own inner strength, as well as the support of my friends, have all worked together to weather that particular storm. I think back to last summer and how depression grabbed me almost literally in its sharp-toothed jaws, and I do recognize that I've evacuated that episode. I'm still taking meds, but I've cut my dosage in half with no ill-effects, and as the number of available pills continues to diminish, I plan to wean myself off of them altogether.

I've also grown in accepting myself better. Rather than feel I'm not good enough because I'm losing my looks, gaining weight, or unable to manage my house or career the way I want to, it's easier lately to think, "My life might not be all I want it to be, but it's all mine, and I'll take it." The idea of dating and feeling judged or evaluated by someone I'm not even sure I even like yet when I'm not confident enough to bear judgement is terrifying. Something's shifted inside of me, though, and the more time I spend on myself and with people I love doing things I love, the less a date's perspective -- good or bad -- seems, at least in the abstract, to matter. I'm growing up. I even like my flaws... after all, they're mine! I just may be able to look a man in the eye and actually mean, "This is who I am, and you can take it or leave it, but get over yourself" instead of thinking I need to tailor myself to his preferences.

I have always wanted to find someone who loves the things about me that I myself love, and whom I can love for the things about himself that he loves. Isn't that in a way the definition of shared values? But the people in my life who've cared about me have always seemed to like something about me that, to me, didn't matter very much. My most recent relationship of any duration was with a man who liked that I was able to leave him alone. My ex-husband liked that I was able to create a home for his own pleasure and to take care of the details of every day life, so he didn't have to. I want someone who actually likes me, who thinks I'm funny, who appreciates my artistic interests and who respects and admires my interest in books and reading. I've never dated a reader. Isn't that odd?

So my dear friend from home asked me if it's time to find another dinner partner. I asked him where I should go to find one. Wal Mart? There are myriad dating service online, and I guess if I bothered to strike up conversations with people at the gym, at work, or even in line at the grocery store, I could broaden my horizons easily enough, but the fact is, I'm just not interested in making an effort yet. I miss the comforts of a relationship... the closeness to another person, the idea of having someone in my corner... but I don't miss the anxiety, the need to compromise, the impact of that other person's proclivities on my life and time, or the responsibilities and accountability that's inherent in a relationship. I'd like to have one, but I don't want to have to do what it takes or sacrifice my freedom to do, for the most part, exactly as I please in my personal life. I don't want to "date." I would like to find a great guy who gets me, and who fits into my life like a well-designed piece of art, without requiring a total redecoration of who I am, what I do, how I do it, and why any of it matters.

Is that possible?

Gray Grief

It's late April 2008. It's a warm and breezy afternoon, with a gray sky and intermittent peeps of sunshine. My carpet is vaccuumed, my dishwasher is loaded, most of my laundry is done, the groceries are purchased, my yard is mowed, and all should be right in the world. But my mind is gray like the sky.

I caught myself just now thinking, "It's such a nice day, I wish I could be happy."

Now, I am not feeling sorry for myself. I'm not unhappy. I'm just not happy. I'm not contented. Waves of angst continually wash over me like the breezes outside. Gas prices are climbing, surpassing what I've ever seen in my life. Our district is laying off teachers; "always" needing qualified teachers has reached its epoch (well, perhaps the district will still need qualified teachers, but the district is at this juncture unable to pay them). Housing has hit critical mass with defaulting mortgages and stalled home values. Prices are climbing for everything, not just gas, and whispers of food shortages and water shortages prey on the minds of those already in the grips of consumer hysteria.

I don't know that I'm hysterical, but certainly, the angst is exhausting.

The bottom line is that the poor people least able to afford these evolutions of the economy... young families, those working for little more than minimum wage, and those on fixed incomes... are not going to be able to survive, let alone make progress, at least for a while. There may be some sacrifice, if not actual suffering, in store for our nation, individually and together, in the coming months.

I could go into a diatribe of everything that's wrong with our country, but perhaps this point in history, we're part of what's really a global situation, not a national one. Pointing fingers is less useful than living conservatively and spending wisely. The truth is that factors beyond our borders play a huge role in our country's economic welfare, and besides, in a situation of this magnitude, it's impossible to blame or credit any one person or faction with responsibility for the problems or solutions.

Yet, as I sit here, I can only wish I could be happy.

Fifty years ago, the national problems were different; our economy was still coasting on a WWII-induced upswing. Who wanted to think of the boom ending or the wonderful national party finally hitting curfew? But it did. In the 1960's, America swapped safe tradition for the charismatic 1960's, and then in the 1970's, the price of gas was surpassed only by the length of lines of cars at the pump. Things changed. Unimaginably. Unpredictably. Yet reliably.

So now is now. And in another year... in another five years... we'll have a methodology in our lifestyles that nobody now can possibly predict or understand, however wise we think we are, however much we're too arrogant to admit it.

While any liberal environmentalist panicmonger can scream about water shortages or carbon emissions, at the same time as he or she screams, everything is changing. Others are designing newer and better ways to build cars, renew resources, and maximize efficiency. The world in which we live is not going to erode steadily in the coming decades, the world in which we live will evolve in coming decades. We must evolve with it.

Perhaps I could exchange the luxury of grief over the uncontrollable elements of daily life for faith in the American spirit. Americans are free. Some people abuse that freedom with sketchy lifestyles. Some abuse our country's goodwill by taking over-advantage of myriad social programs. Some steal from our country by living and working here illegally. Yet, the American entrepreneural spirit is one in which I have some faith. American ingenuity is a beautiful thing. I have enough faith to eschew fear. I must remember that.

Grief is a feeling of loss of something beloved and necessary. But what have I lost that is beloved and necessary? My feelings of safety and security? Feelings are neither beloved or necessary. My hard-earned money? I have enough, and while nobody I know is partying to pay more at the pump, so far nobody's really driving much less, either.

Save the grief for something worth it.

Surprises

I've been surprised to realize lately that not only fear of further suffering is preventing me from wanting to date, but also my own dissatisfaction with myself is a huge stumbling block.

While I myself may like myself better than I did years ago, I fall so far short of my own expectations for myself, it's impossible for me to imagine anyone else finding me acceptable, let alone desirable.

The saddest part is that if someone did indeed "like me anyway," I would neither believe him or have any respect for him. The scariest part of admitting that little tidbit is that I think that's always why I've "aimed low," so to speak, when it comes to men. For example, I've already admitted that I adored my ex-husband because it's how I wanted to feel about my husband. He wasn't worthy of it, but I overlooked it at the time to suit my own need. So, in other words, this self-perception problem is actually not new. It's just new to my enlightened self.

So what do I think is wrong with me that no one worth it could love me?

This is difficult to list.

First, I don't think I'm pretty enough. I don't think I'm fit enough (though I work out all the time), I don't like my complexion, and I'm kind of disheveled most of the time. I admire those feminine, finished looking girls with smooth hair and clothes that fit like they were tailor-made. They're not me, and I don't understand a man who'd prefer me to one of them.

I don't think I'm mature. I'm stubborn, and it's getting worse as I get older. I don't enjoy responsibility. My house is noticably "organic," though it's clean, and it's a heroic effort to stay even minimally organized at work. There's an artlessness about my lifestyle that, if I encountered it in another, would drive me mad. So I'd expect it to drive someone else mad to find it in me.

Then... I find myself unable to accept that "sometimes marriages don't work." In my naive mind, divorce was never an option for me when I married; I assumed that it wasn't for him, and I was wrong. I see as a divorced person how accepting people are... I am grateful for their compassion but at the same time vaguely horrified by it. It's an actual option. Not working out a marriage is an option. Of course I'd never have married someone I thought would leave me. Little did I know that, hey, divorce happens! It's really an option, and anyone can get one, and nobody else can do anything about it. Wow, what an eye opener! It would take an eternity for me to believe that a man wants, really wants, what I want and will do what it takes to have it.

Writing these truths has helped me.

I mean, I think that for myself, I look just fine, but what's actually most important to me is that I am healthy, and I am doing the right things to stay that way. I actually admire myself for working to maintain my God-given health. To me myself, that's more important than how I look. Couldn't it be more important to a man that my health is a priority to me over how I look physically, all on its own?

As for my stubbornness, well, I've lived alone for a long time, and it's only natural I've arranged my lifestyle to suit myself. However, I recognize that I'm perfectly happy to collaborate with people whom I recognize as worthy of my respect and esteem. I do think a man's job is to lead, however traditional that is of me, but the need for him to have my sincere respect (not the pro-forma respect I gave my ex-husband because, well, I wanted to respect my husband; I did it backwards) is paramount. If I found a genuine leader in my life, a person with the vision to take us forward together, I really believe I'd enjoy collaborating with him, even if it means giving up some of my independence.

I never expected to search for a relationship with a man at this stage in my life... I saw all my friends and relatives marry in their youth and then grow up together. My role-modeling doesn't fit my current circumstances. It might be a wise idea for me to search out some second-marriage people and ask for them to share their wisdom. This is a whole new row to hoe.

Tranquility

In my personal life, I have achieved about month 13 of peace and tranquility. A few realities have come to light:

I recognize now that tangibly, I am separate from my marriage and divorce. I see myself as entire person in my own right, now. How can I tell? When I read articles about the aftermath of divorce now, my response is, "This doesn't apply to me." The wound is healed, though perhaps some scars remain. Maybe some always will... maybe not. Regardless, it's all okay.

I recognize now that a year ago, when I wanted a boyfriend and chose to explore online dating, I quite simply wasn't ready, not for the excitement or the anxiety, the risk and the judgement and the rejection... or the flip side of love and support and nurturing. I wasn't strong enough on my own to share me with anyone else. Am I now? Maybe. Maybe not. Regardless, it's all okay.

I recognize now that my individuality is not only acceptable but essential for my adult peace of mind. In recognize that in some ways, I extended my childlike role with my parents into my marriage; I kept my own counsel and never challenged him or stood up for my needs (though the courtship was the place for such testing; had I been stronger during the courtship, I could have spared myself the divorce). That error is my role in my divorce. I forgive myself for it, for being naive, for choosing unwisely, and for making a mistake that offends my moral values. All I can do is improve the next time. If there is one.

I recognize that people are inherently flawed, so expecting them to support me in ways both physical and emotional sets me up for failure. That is, the people do not fail me, it's my misplaced expectations of the people and misuse of our relationship, or needing them beyond their capabilities, that fails me. For this, faith is essential. I am wary of "religion," especially the cult-like attitudes and behaviors I've encountered, but I retain an old-fashioned faith. I am an important part of this burgeoning universe. I have purpose and merit. I am forgiven my transgressions. The love that created me is the only thing that can also sustain me with purpose, strength, and clarity. Perhaps the faithless see this process of faith as "looking within yourself" to find what I need. For that, perhaps it is; faith is not empiricle. At the same time, I know how easy it is to lie to myself. It's harder to lie when God is refereeing.

I realize that my essential unhappiness comes from failing to meet my own expectations for moving into the future. After the divorce, I wanted to "be better" as fast as possible, not endure an extra second of suffering. I figured, "fake it until I make it." But I didn't count on bitterness. I didn't count on a serious hit to my self-esteem. I didn't grasp what had happened to my ability to trust others. Actually, my faith in others, borne of a lifetime of nurturing stability and unselfish love from my family, was such a defining characteristic of my personality that losing it created an enormous psychological wound. A void. While I have begun to fill that void and grow into the person I am as I sit here, this person is not same person, and trusting others is hard now. I realize it, though. Maybe that's good. Regardless, it's all okay.

I am scared a lot still. That's okay too. Feeling scared is just a feeling. So I'll feel it. But I am a heroine. Courage doesn't mean I never feel scared. Courage means persevering in spite of it.

And I give myself bonus points for trying. Always trying! Trying to move forward, even when I go two steps back. Even when I know people want to scream. Even when I want to scream at myself. In the end, it's been an adventure. I've learned a lot, and I'm a better person for it. I like myself better now than I did four years ago, though I'm not happy most of the time. That's ironic. And, it's okay.