Finally. It's been exhausting keeping this inside for so long. We have separated. I knew it would happen this year; had thought about it a million times and tried to figure out how to say what I needed to say and when was the best time to say it. Turns out there's no right time and no right way, and fate dealt us a blow that forced us to deal with it head on. So, it's over, and here I am starting my new life. Funny, 2011 was supposed to be "my year" and I suppose it was, to a certain extent. I mean, I made huge changes: I started to exercise and look after my body; I began to eat better; I lost weight and inches and am looking and feeling good about myself; I learned to meditate; I learned to take control of my life and stand on my own two feet. But now I think that 2012 is going to be an even more significant year. I am on my own for pretty much the first time in my life. It's frightening. Lonely. Exciting. Empowering. I have bought a new house and moved in a few weeks ago. Though it may not sound overwhelmingly impressive, I did the deal entirely on my own. Used to having a bit of help from my father or from Bob, I realized that I needed to accomplish this by myself. And I did. Yay me!
This is both an end and a beginning. I admit that I'm feeling lonely and vulnerable and afraid. There are days in which I think I'm going to fall apart and can barely muster the courage to get outside. Thankfully, there are fewer of those days than there used to be. During the last six years I have been unbearably sad and searched for an easy way out. Turns out there's no easy way out. But, there is a right way out and I discovered that I'm strong enough to handle it. In fact, I discovered that I'm strong enough to handle anything. And best of all, I've learned to let go of the past. Bygones. Let it go.
I am liberated. I am empowered. I am ready. I deserve this.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Ok, then.
Guess what? I am going to be ok.
Big changes are happening in my life. It's sad, frightening, weird, and heartbreaking. But, I'm surprisingly strong and can handle anything. This year has so far taken me on the proverbial rollercoaster and I've learned more about myself and how I have been (mis)interpreting happenings around me. I'm no longer blaming myself, and not blaming others anymore either. It's liberating and empowering. I'm learning to embrace every day and accept the positive outcomes as blessings and the negative as learning opportunities. I'm feeling every feeling to its fullest and recognising that I create my own happiness and choose to allow what to let into my life. The flip side of this is that I also need to learn to let go of that which weakens me or brings me down. So, ok, I have to work on that a little. But it's coming along.
By releasing expectations (my expectations of myself as well as my expectations of others) I have decreased the pressure that I put on myself and others. And I've got to say, it's pretty cool.
I am going to be ok. I hope you are too.
Big changes are happening in my life. It's sad, frightening, weird, and heartbreaking. But, I'm surprisingly strong and can handle anything. This year has so far taken me on the proverbial rollercoaster and I've learned more about myself and how I have been (mis)interpreting happenings around me. I'm no longer blaming myself, and not blaming others anymore either. It's liberating and empowering. I'm learning to embrace every day and accept the positive outcomes as blessings and the negative as learning opportunities. I'm feeling every feeling to its fullest and recognising that I create my own happiness and choose to allow what to let into my life. The flip side of this is that I also need to learn to let go of that which weakens me or brings me down. So, ok, I have to work on that a little. But it's coming along.
By releasing expectations (my expectations of myself as well as my expectations of others) I have decreased the pressure that I put on myself and others. And I've got to say, it's pretty cool.
I am going to be ok. I hope you are too.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Ah, that's better
I've been thinking a lot about what might be behind part of my emptiness (which is, by the way, lessening, I'm happy to report). Part of it is probably quite common among mothers...when the kids start to become more independent the moms feel less needed. Not that they don't need me, but they simply don't need me as much. It is bittersweet. While it is heartwarming, satisfying, and positive that they can stand on their own as they grow, I miss them. I miss that Alex used to want me to tuck him in every night; that Nathan couldn't pay outside without a grown-up with him; that they would need help brushing their teeth and washing their faces. Having said that, it is somewhat freeing to have extra time for other things...like me. I've read loads of books, started to meditate, and am getting through the years of clutter bit by bit. I am productive. I am crossing things off my list.
And I have a puppy. The sweetest, most affectionate, fluffiest, silliest puppy who, as Nathan put it, is the best puppy in the whole world for us. Tinny (you Republic of Doyle fans will recognise the name) has already brought hours of smiles and laughter to our family and we are all smitten. Even Bob, who wanted nothing to do with having a puppy, was caught playing with her last night when he thought nobody was looking. Tinny has brought me out of my shell in that I am getting out every day walking her and she is company for me all day. It's perfect. That's better.
And I have a puppy. The sweetest, most affectionate, fluffiest, silliest puppy who, as Nathan put it, is the best puppy in the whole world for us. Tinny (you Republic of Doyle fans will recognise the name) has already brought hours of smiles and laughter to our family and we are all smitten. Even Bob, who wanted nothing to do with having a puppy, was caught playing with her last night when he thought nobody was looking. Tinny has brought me out of my shell in that I am getting out every day walking her and she is company for me all day. It's perfect. That's better.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Buried
We often put things away in a special place for safe-keeping, knowing that we can lay our hands on them when we need to. It has taken a long time for me to realize that I put something away several years ago that is now so deeply buried that I need an excavation crew to dig it up, plus a restoration team to shine it up and bring it back to life. I did not safely put away anything of material value but, rather, hid a huge part of my soul. Why? To protect it, I guess, from fracture; to hide it from everyone because I couldn't bear to expose its fragility. I had been hurting so badly from what-shall-remain-unsaid that I had to shut my self (as opposed to myself) down and let life happen outside of me. Looking back, it was a necessary step to take because it provided a mechanism for me to hide, cope, and become invisible. I used to be a true extrovert and was never afraid to "put myself out there"; I have hidden my soul with such determination that now I might be afraid to put myself back in there, so to speak.
I'm afraid that if I try to retrieve the part of me that was my true essence that it may be irreversibly damaged; unfamiliar; unattractive.
I'm afraid that it might change who I think I am. Or who I thought I was.
Two people, for whom I am deeply grateful, have seen directly through me and have challenged me, in two very unique approaches, to face my soul head on no matter how frightening it is. The truth is, it might be more frightening NOT to face it. These two people may or may not know who they are; they frighten and excite me at the same time. I am deeply in their debt and someday I will be able to tell them of the immeasurable difference they have made in my life.
But you know what? All that said, and all the tears I have cried, and all the fake outward I'm-so-together show...I know that have to reintroduce myself to my self. And though it scares me more than anything else I have ever done, in a strange way I might be looking forward to it.
I'm afraid that if I try to retrieve the part of me that was my true essence that it may be irreversibly damaged; unfamiliar; unattractive.
I'm afraid that it might change who I think I am. Or who I thought I was.
Two people, for whom I am deeply grateful, have seen directly through me and have challenged me, in two very unique approaches, to face my soul head on no matter how frightening it is. The truth is, it might be more frightening NOT to face it. These two people may or may not know who they are; they frighten and excite me at the same time. I am deeply in their debt and someday I will be able to tell them of the immeasurable difference they have made in my life.
But you know what? All that said, and all the tears I have cried, and all the fake outward I'm-so-together show...I know that have to reintroduce myself to my self. And though it scares me more than anything else I have ever done, in a strange way I might be looking forward to it.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Waving
Call it poetic, symbolic, or cheesy, but today, this first official day of the Year of Me, we had the first real snowfall of the year. It was clean, fresh, fluffy, but moist enough so that it would stick on top of branches causing them to gently droop as if surrendering to relaxation. You know what it’s like when you get to the point in a massage where you relax so much you lose yourself? Like that. It was spectacular. Even better, it was mild enough so that one could be outside quite comfortably if dressed warmly enough. And even better than that, it was perfect snowman snow. My youngest son, who is the happiest little boy in the world pretty much all the time, could barely contain himself when I asked him if he wanted to make a snowman with me.
I pulled my old snowpants out of the closet that I had bought for a ski weekend over ten years ago when I felt less body-conscious than I do now. I weighed less then and even though I probably thought at the time that I was a whale, pictures prove that I was all that and a bag of chips. Sick, as my kids would say. I looked good. Well, the pants fit. They were snug, and it was a slight struggle to lace my boots, but I was moving comfortably and the zipper was all the way up. Oh, AND I had a pair of jeans on under them instead of long-johns. I have suspected for a few months that the result of some exercise and better eating habits had changed my body shape, and this was proof. I walked out my front door the most confident and proud woman in the world. We made a happy, welcoming, snowman in the middle of our yard who looks like he’s waving to passers-by.
It’s several hours later now and dark outside, but I think I’d kinda like to be out there waving with him. It’s that kind of day.
(Originally written in January 2011)
I pulled my old snowpants out of the closet that I had bought for a ski weekend over ten years ago when I felt less body-conscious than I do now. I weighed less then and even though I probably thought at the time that I was a whale, pictures prove that I was all that and a bag of chips. Sick, as my kids would say. I looked good. Well, the pants fit. They were snug, and it was a slight struggle to lace my boots, but I was moving comfortably and the zipper was all the way up. Oh, AND I had a pair of jeans on under them instead of long-johns. I have suspected for a few months that the result of some exercise and better eating habits had changed my body shape, and this was proof. I walked out my front door the most confident and proud woman in the world. We made a happy, welcoming, snowman in the middle of our yard who looks like he’s waving to passers-by.
It’s several hours later now and dark outside, but I think I’d kinda like to be out there waving with him. It’s that kind of day.
(Originally written in January 2011)
This Is My Year
This is my year.
This is the year that I want to take control of who I am, what I eat, how I communicate, how I look, how I feel, how I love, and how I live.
This is my year, when I will learn to be honest with myself by paying attention to the most inner part of my soul; when I connect with those with whom I need to connect; when I learn to listen to myself through my own ears and through others’; when I repair myself.
This is the year that counts.
Man, I hope I don’t fuck it up.
The past few years have been difficult. Downright awful at times. I know the feeling of despair, of believing that my legs and the earth beneath my feet can no longer support me, that it would be easier if I could disappear. I have been unbelievably lonely yet I think I hid it well, for the most part. Luckily, I was able to feel periods of clarity – even rapture – at those many glorious yet simple times with my two children, without whom I don’t know how I would still be here. They have unknowingly and unselfishly found minuscule specs of my inner strength that multiplied exponentially upon exposure. I hope I can get them to understand someday how much they have held me up.
After delivering my second child, several of my inner organs decided that they were unhappy with their positions and subsequently moved downward. I tried to cope with their change of address by doing endless kegels and ensuring that I was never more than a ten-second walk from a toilet. More than once (more than several dozen times, if truth be told), I didn’t or couldn’t make it to a toilet. I peed in the garbage bin in my office. Twice. I peed in the bushes. I peed in a water glass at an undisclosed location. I peed when I ran, jumped, laughed, coughed, or hiccoughed. Having sex felt weird because my uterus was so unusually low. I was limited in what I could do, where I could go, intimidated by the control my body had over me, and I felt like crap. In November, 2010, I inhaled the happiness that is general anesthetic and a wonderful surgeon fixed my plumbing. After nearly a decade of feeling – quite frankly – gross, I feel absolutely fantastic. This has been life-changing. No hyperbole here (my sociology prof used to pronounce it HI-per-bole)…this normal body functioning is terrific stuff and I couldn’t be more grateful for the freedom it has given me. I went kickboxing today where I skipped rope without peeing. This is the beginning.
But hang on, please, and bear with me. You need just a little more before I can move forward with this.
I have made mistakes. I have made mistakes where I alone get hurt and mistakes so huge that I have made others cry with desperation or lash out in rage. I have worked through many mistakes, apologized for them, admitted my wrongs, and learned. I am still paying for some. I have accepted my mistakes and think that I’m ready to move on. But forget my mistakes? Not a chance. I’m not ready for that. And that’s really too bad because it means that I can’t shake the hurt and the guilt. That’s something I need to work on this year. I can forgive myself, but my heart won’t let it go. Maybe I need to be forgiven. In the same breath, I need to forgive others for some of the things they have – wittingly or unwittingly – said or done that hurt me. I have been blessed in my life to have made good friends who are loyal, honest, trustworthy, and who I love to death no matter if we see one another weekly or once a decade. These are the lifelong friends who will answer my call no matter what time of day or night and who will be empathetic, compassionate, understanding, brutally honest, and patient. I would do the same for them in a heartbeat and they know it. On the other hand, I have had to deal with disappointments, betrayals, and sophomoric pettiness. I realize that this is not especially unusual and that it’s so yin-yang and that everyone has similar thoughts and experiences, and blah blah blah, but this is my story. I don’t know how it will play out over time, but I have high hopes. And it matters.
So, this is where I am. I am on sabbatical for the entire year and don’t return to work until January 2012. My approved academic project is to write a book (details on that later) and I am enormously excited about it. Given the flexibility that a sabbatical provides to my day-to-day living, I see the next 12 months as an opportunity to pay attention to myself: to attend fitness classes, cook healthy meals every day (but not get overcome with guilt if I miss a few), read, meet with friends, learn to meditate. Maybe I’ll even tackle the linen closet.
(Written in January 2011)
This is the year that I want to take control of who I am, what I eat, how I communicate, how I look, how I feel, how I love, and how I live.
This is my year, when I will learn to be honest with myself by paying attention to the most inner part of my soul; when I connect with those with whom I need to connect; when I learn to listen to myself through my own ears and through others’; when I repair myself.
This is the year that counts.
Man, I hope I don’t fuck it up.
The past few years have been difficult. Downright awful at times. I know the feeling of despair, of believing that my legs and the earth beneath my feet can no longer support me, that it would be easier if I could disappear. I have been unbelievably lonely yet I think I hid it well, for the most part. Luckily, I was able to feel periods of clarity – even rapture – at those many glorious yet simple times with my two children, without whom I don’t know how I would still be here. They have unknowingly and unselfishly found minuscule specs of my inner strength that multiplied exponentially upon exposure. I hope I can get them to understand someday how much they have held me up.
After delivering my second child, several of my inner organs decided that they were unhappy with their positions and subsequently moved downward. I tried to cope with their change of address by doing endless kegels and ensuring that I was never more than a ten-second walk from a toilet. More than once (more than several dozen times, if truth be told), I didn’t or couldn’t make it to a toilet. I peed in the garbage bin in my office. Twice. I peed in the bushes. I peed in a water glass at an undisclosed location. I peed when I ran, jumped, laughed, coughed, or hiccoughed. Having sex felt weird because my uterus was so unusually low. I was limited in what I could do, where I could go, intimidated by the control my body had over me, and I felt like crap. In November, 2010, I inhaled the happiness that is general anesthetic and a wonderful surgeon fixed my plumbing. After nearly a decade of feeling – quite frankly – gross, I feel absolutely fantastic. This has been life-changing. No hyperbole here (my sociology prof used to pronounce it HI-per-bole)…this normal body functioning is terrific stuff and I couldn’t be more grateful for the freedom it has given me. I went kickboxing today where I skipped rope without peeing. This is the beginning.
But hang on, please, and bear with me. You need just a little more before I can move forward with this.
I have made mistakes. I have made mistakes where I alone get hurt and mistakes so huge that I have made others cry with desperation or lash out in rage. I have worked through many mistakes, apologized for them, admitted my wrongs, and learned. I am still paying for some. I have accepted my mistakes and think that I’m ready to move on. But forget my mistakes? Not a chance. I’m not ready for that. And that’s really too bad because it means that I can’t shake the hurt and the guilt. That’s something I need to work on this year. I can forgive myself, but my heart won’t let it go. Maybe I need to be forgiven. In the same breath, I need to forgive others for some of the things they have – wittingly or unwittingly – said or done that hurt me. I have been blessed in my life to have made good friends who are loyal, honest, trustworthy, and who I love to death no matter if we see one another weekly or once a decade. These are the lifelong friends who will answer my call no matter what time of day or night and who will be empathetic, compassionate, understanding, brutally honest, and patient. I would do the same for them in a heartbeat and they know it. On the other hand, I have had to deal with disappointments, betrayals, and sophomoric pettiness. I realize that this is not especially unusual and that it’s so yin-yang and that everyone has similar thoughts and experiences, and blah blah blah, but this is my story. I don’t know how it will play out over time, but I have high hopes. And it matters.
So, this is where I am. I am on sabbatical for the entire year and don’t return to work until January 2012. My approved academic project is to write a book (details on that later) and I am enormously excited about it. Given the flexibility that a sabbatical provides to my day-to-day living, I see the next 12 months as an opportunity to pay attention to myself: to attend fitness classes, cook healthy meals every day (but not get overcome with guilt if I miss a few), read, meet with friends, learn to meditate. Maybe I’ll even tackle the linen closet.
(Written in January 2011)
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