2007_01 I Want More

Happy New Year, 2007.  Before leaving for a dinner party with friends, I thought it would be fun to name three things for which we were thankful in 2006, and three wishes for 2007. At the time the words were leaving my mouth, I felt panic at what I might reveal. What was I thinking? I don’t always think before I talk. It’s a known Sagittarius disease.

Thankful was easy enough. I could throw mine out fairly easily. I was truly thankful to be beyond living with an angry resentful man. Second, I am lucky that my girlfriend shared her brother’s “circle of friends” with me. While I was not impressed with the movie, I loved the book, Circle of Friends. I loved the diverse characters, with their interwoven friendships. This group includes couples, singles, men, women, and a few kids. They share meals, ideas for outings, and a genuine extended-family kind of love for one another. They, too, are diverse, yet interwoven. I was incredibly lucky this year to know good men, to see them relate to others without bitterness or selfishness. I am incredibly grateful for the support of girlfriends as I rebuild who I once was. When I began to end a twenty year marriage, I expected to hold a bad attitude about men for a couple years. I secretly considered them “expensive for what you get”. I did not expect to miss male companionship for a long time, and was surprised to find myself ready to “live again” in only a couple of months. While painfully aware that my life is far too complicated for anyone to consider me now, all my liabilities are temporary. Longer term than I would wish, but temporary just the same. And by living at the periphery of their circle, I enjoy amazing friendships now. Finally, I am thankful for skills that allow me to survive. While I do not currently use many of my work skills, they are still in demand, and some day I expect to command a better pay; I am blessed with life skills for survival: the knowledge that hard work will not kill you; that happiness comes from loving, not from being loved; that forgiveness is not for the one forgiven, but heals the wounds of forgiver. Yes, thankful for the past year was easy.

Wishes for the future were not. I found myself on the edge of panic attack, and decided to just let it drop and invoke my rule that no one was forced to share. I was unable to think of something that was both attainable and “allowed”. It felt more critical because it wasn’t just a new year for me; it was the beginning of the second half of my life. And I certainly wanted more than I had asked for in many years. I dodged the question, focused on their wishes, but was not as well camouflaged as I thought. And no one remembered it was my game and my rules and I said we did not have to share. When pushed to answer, I found my mind paralyzed. I absolutely could not think. So we returned to discussing their wishes, which turned out to be a couple of the best hours of the year. Still, it bothered me that I could not answer. I was not defining my dreams for 2007; I was defining dreams for the first year in the second half of my life. I sat on my chair, as close to fetal position as I could be in a chair. All I knew was that I wanted more.

Finally, I pretended that I would not share, thought for a moment, and immediately knew what I wanted. While one friend had been logging our answers for posterity, I grabbed a pen and scribbled quickly, lest I find myself stymied again. When I was honest with myself, I knew what I wanted for the New Year. First was that I wanted to know my boys would grow to be good men. Secondly, I wanted someone to care for me. I have given my all, have loved with all I had, but watched that love fade over time as he became more and more self-centered. The marriage deteriorated, the love died. I have spent most of the last ten years, looking a year or two into the future, and trying to create a family that loves. But my husband refused to care about our home or our family, regardless of what I did. I realized a year ago that if he hadn’t found it in his heart to care about us in the first twenty years of marriage, it was not likely in the next twenty. And I gave up. My second wish is for someone to care for me. Sadly, it is too late to provide that for the boys. But I want a relationship of mutual love and sharing and intimacy and fun. I want more. I want to share cooking and outdoors and word games and a yearning for each other. I want more. The final wish is truly a wish. I want discretionary income. I have worked since I was fourteen to build an income for a certain lifestyle. While not extravagant, I had come a long way from selling scrap metal to keep the electricity turned on. I want to use my income for myself and my family and return to normal percentages for expenses, savings and vacations, not bear the weight alone of debt I did not incur. My current state will not allow me to pay off this level of debt, and re-purchase secondary real estate. It requires intervention beyond what is at my disposal today. But it is a wish. Not a resolution, that would require a real plan. So it stands.  It is my third wish. None of us can see what changes may occur, and it may be a wish that does not come true in a year. So be it. I’ll risk wishing it anyway.

Five minutes later, I was still shaking. It was just too much honesty. I am not good at pathetic; I prefer to keep that mask tied on a bit tighter. Whatever was I thinking to start such a game? Our scribe’s list was so clear-cut: obtain goal weight, find a soul mate and settle financial matters. But the conversation was truly healing, enlightening and cathartic for one of us. Several times as we sat talking about each other’s dreams, I sent a prayer of thanks, for the friendships, for the memories, for the moments, for the insight into their hearts. And if any of us come closer to our dreams for having defined our wishes, then I will consider us that much luckier. And I already know how lucky I am. What a lovely gift to begin the New Year, and a new life. So our scribbles went into their safe to revisit at the end of the year, and today I find myself trying to verbalize for myself just what it is that I want.

I know that answer today.

I want more.

December 5th, 2011 Postscript - Today, I am thankful that I do have more, including most of the wishes from four years ago. A picture, that's what we need: a picture. So as today is my birthday, I intend to add details to the picture of more..... I hope you do the same.

2008_10 Sante Fe First Annual

Once upon a time, there were four moms who found themselves turning fifty years old. For the past five decades, they had grown and learned and loved and lost but had held to the friendships that had sustained them through the school years. So to mark that small space between fifty years of life, they escaped by automobile to the magical borough of Sante Fe, New Mexico.

The drive was fun and full of stories. Lunch in a Trinidad park was exotic: V8 juice, cheese, crackers and pictures to commemorate the occasion. Arrival in Sante Fe proved the accommodations would be perfect. One of the recommendations for dinner, The Shed, was northern New Mexican cuisine with a reputation for great margaritas. Because lunch had been light, the four friends arrived fifteen minutes before the restaurant opened and enjoyed drinks in the bar. This turned out to be lucky, as the wait was over an hour by the time they left.  As it turns out, accosting strangers to take pictures is less effective than you would hope.

  

The next day began and ended with perfection. They began with a walk to The Plaza and an hour of stories in the Starbucks shop. Walking back to the condo, they saw a chance at a cooking class. Who knew, that each loved cooking. They signed up, raced back for minimal makeup and returned to a most entertaining three hours of cooking demos followed by an amazing lunch of the prepared food and local beverages.

A bit of shopping and they were off to enjoy a lovely hike on a trail found by the organizer-mom. More pictures, more stories, and all were recognizing how lucky and how healed they were.

A long over-due shower prepared them for dinner recommended by the cooking school chef. La Boca boasted unusual tapas, salad, bread, and wine. How more perfectly could the evening conclude? Walking back, peace and relaxation settled over them. The organizer mom recognized it first – the perfection of the day – Starbucks, cooking class, hike, shower, fun food, all shared with friends who understand the paths we have travelled.

The second day was balance for the other half of a girl’s brain – shopping! Arriving at the Paris Bakery early, anticipating large cups of latte, ala Friends, they were enticed into a tapas sort of meal: butterfly cookies, bisconchito shortbread cookies with anise and cinnamon, and croissants of chocolate, plain and almond. Choosing their selection, the adorable local boys shared a joke – until persuaded to share with the moms. As it turns out, they were convinced that the four friends had partied heartily the previous night. Even funnier, was that they looked that badly without having partied at all. Ah, well.

From there, they were fortified sufficiently to wander the many galleries along Canyon road.

www.waxlander.com    www.gaugy.com

     

Lunch was the next one from the cooking chef’s list, Tune-up Café. Tune-up was known for amazing breakfast, perfect burgers, but only known by the local residential district surrounding the place. Most recently named Dave’s Not Here, after years of being named Dave’s, it must be remembered sans pictures, as they just seemed too intrusive. Lunch was served again in the new favorite style of tapas – small bites of four different dishes in the middle of the table.

 

After lunch, they returned to the plaza for jewelry shopping, with loose interpretations to accommodate the need for purses and headbands. 

Time again for a late shower before heading to the last dinner. Known for romance, but more importantly recommended by the cooking chef, Amavi’s provided great dishes celebrating the local cuisine. Sante Fe boasts 341 restaurants for their 70,000 residents, more per capita than anywhere in the US. Second place goes to San Francisco, at less than half that percentage.

After more stories, sharing of pictures from cameras, and a lovely night’s rest, breakfast was a beautiful show of oatmeal, strawberries, grapefruit and chocolate chip pumpkin bread from one friend’s own cookbook.

 

The weather had been light-jacket-beautiful for two days, but the morning brought large snowflakes to decorate the flora and fauna. The unanimous conclusion was that no one was ready to go home to reality, but off they went. Because the GPS girl directed them toward the more scenic trip via Taos, it required a turnaround at the reservation and one more trip through town for a more direct route.  A simple bio break was evidently a bit of a challenge for the driver and required a couple of false stops before landing at a 7-11 in old town Las Vegas. The organizer friend had the brilliant idea to balance breakfast with Road Trip fare:  cheetos, vinegar potato chips, sunflower seeds, licorice, popcorn and the little donuts covered in wax chocolate. A couple weather zones included hail, but it was brief. The trip was truly complete. One more stop in Pueblo for lunch in a not-a-chain restaurant that included one more serving of refried beans, and they were healed and ready for the next fifty years.

Hugs and kisses in a Denver parking lot, promises to make it an annual pilgrimage and post cards for missing cohorts, and the trip came to an end. Today, you can find our heroines loving, scheduling, caring, cleaning, coaching, cooking and remembering.  How perfect is that.

2006_11 The Moon is Kicking My Butt

The moon is kicking my butt. I find myself all over the board emotionally. For years, I’ve contended that the full moon exaggerated whatever emotion was the prevailing one. I’ve also held that we just didn’t need as much sleep during the full moon.

At this point in life, I already deal with a range of emotions most days. But to have them exaggerated when I am on less than optimum sleep, is killing me. I am high with relief at having completed a home improvement task that was way beyond my league of expertise. Then I’m blue at not being able to contribute to a conversation on travel. It is not because I haven’t travelled; it is because I feel hopeless about ever traveling again. I go home to fight with my oldest son, walk the dog to create the illusion of leaving my problems behind, and then find myself completely blue. Blue because of the loneliness of raising teenage boys alone, blue because of the hopelessness of being financially secure again and able to take a vacation from responsibilities, blue because I do so miss taking trips to anywhere, blue from the overwhelming mountain of tasks I must complete before my life seems any simpler. Blue.

And yet, there is the moon, as lovely as ever. She is shrouded in a light layer of clouds, with both nimbus and cumulus framing her against the midnight sky. My heart feels her pull, as real as if I’d jogged the dog instead of walking him. Breathing is good, and creates the illusion that I can draw strength from her pull, rather than being thrown around emotionally by the pull. The air is cool, and stings as I draw in a deep breath.

The next day I am consumed with work and teenagers and school follow-up and attempts at exercise. I’m tired and sore from the work I did over the weekend, and stop for a moment to read the ten lessons from Noah’s Ark. You know the one – Don’t miss the boat, We’re all on the same boat, Travel in pairs, Stay fit in case someone asks you to do something big when you’re six hundred years old….. It ends with: Remember there is a rainbow at the end. And for the first time in forty-eight hours, the exaggerated emotion is peace. Sad perhaps, but also peace. Peace at knowing in my heart, that this is the right path. Peace at knowing that there is a rainbow at the end for me, but that I must first weather the storm. It may not be a pleasant path, but choosing it was the right answer. It was the right answer for me, for my boys, and ultimately, I believe, for my ex-husband. There is a rainbow somewhere down the road. It may not be the one I designed or dreamed or envisioned. But it is there. Lesson number two from my thirties: roll with the punches, keep your head up, and you’ll end up facing the right direction. Here at forty seven years old, I still need to keep my head up to be able to recognize the rainbow when I get there. Even if fleeting, I’m all about recognizing the rainbow.

So, the moon may kick my butt to ensure that I notice what must change, but she unknowingly creates a stronger element of peace. Resignation perhaps, but peace all the same. And I’ll not let it prevent me from watching for the rainbow.

2005_12 Breathe

Now that my boys are teenagers, I no longer see my life as hills and valleys. That may have been my life as a woman; but as a mother, it is one long canyon and cliff. Make no mistake: it is a high; it is definitely a high. But every day, I walk near the edge. Every day, I contemplate each step. Some days the going seems easy, and the view is spectacular. Some days I wonder how I’ll hold on, and how many will perish if I fall.

Tonight I made a difficult decision as a parent. My oldest was grounded. To his father, that included the Christian youth group, whose Christmas party was tonight. Because I choose my battles with the dad, just as I do with the teens, I let that decision stand. You see, he and I never contemplate parenting decisions together. This could not be construed as a partnership. I think about the consequences and lessons; my husband reacts.

But I digress. Mick was grounded for very good reasons. I would have included Christian functions in a category with school, as something that makes him better. I do not ground from events that improve people. Having said that, I’m fairly sure it is a battle I should have chosen. But I did not. As parents, we rarely know what is right. We take our chances, we do our best. It isn’t enough. We give it anyway.

I remembered taking calls from a friend when she was in love (with the man to whom she is married). They broke up often, due to many difficult differences in important topics: religion, politics, family. When she would call, the lament was the same: “I don’t know how to breathe; I’m not sure I can breathe.” True enough. I knew the feeling; I couldn’t help her a bit, but I could “be”. And so I did. I “was”. Tonight, I wanted so badly to call and tell her that I didn’t know how to breathe. I wanted to tell her that Mick was grounded, which included church group, and that he was on a hunger strike because “even inmates had the right to worship.” She knows him, she identifies with him; the humor would not be lost upon her. She would have laughed out loud at his creativity and ingenuity, and then felt sorry for doing so, and I would be able to breathe.  I wanted to ask if she had also been mean to her father, not just to her mother. She would tell me how sorry she was for the times she was mean as a teenager. And I would sigh heavily. And breathe. I wanted to know that this, too, would pass. I needed to hear that she had grown past being a melodramatic, manipulative teenager. Then I could breathe again.

I let it ring once. And hung up.

Tonight, she is Single Mom, her husband out of town, her kids young enough to be all-consuming at night. She does not need to help me breathe. That’s the beauty of girlfriends. Sometimes the really good ones can ease pain, can make you smile, while in the midst of their own bath-time crises. And because you know you could let the phone ring twice, you can breathe. 

2005 11 Thankful2005

Thankful 2005

This year I asked the boys to think of five things for which they are grateful. And in keeping with a sense of fairness, I needed to define my list as well. So here goes.

I am thankful for my family. I have friends who missed the opportunity to have a family, and while I have failed to create the nurturing and guidance I wanted for the boys, I am very grateful to have the opportunity to love them. 

I am thankful for my sister. Only she and God know most of my aches and disappointments and dreams and frustrations and accomplishments. Without her non-judgmental understanding, I would hide many truths from her. Without her ear, I would be less.  

I am grateful for the job I have now, for the security and dependability, for flexibility and good souls, for the dear friend who is fourteen cubicles away. I am lucky to be here.

I am grateful for the skills I’ve acquired, perhaps mostly through adversity, but acquired just the same. I am lucky to have confidence in those skills and understand those talents and know that I will always rebound, will always bounce back, and will always find someplace to add value.

I am grateful for my mother. For years, I joked that I come from a long line of women who worked too hard but had an incredible capacity for love. I am so grateful for those lessons that hard work wouldn’t kill me; that I am capable of more and will survive more than I think; and that happiness comes from loving, not from being loved. With that insight, how can I lose?

And having been the over-achiever, with further to go than most, and with obsessive-compulsive running deep in my genes, I had six things on my list. I am grateful for my faith. The grace God granted me to believe, the vision to see the world differently, the relationship with Him that sustains me. I know what gift was waiting behind every painful thing in my life but one. How lucky is that? And so I know, always, that if I’m willing to “bloom where I’m planted” and surrender to the adventure ahead, I will come away stronger, wiser, better able to help another, or fulfilled in the dreams I hold in my heart. Regardless of what the gift is, I know in my heart it will be.

1994_01 Lonely

Marriage is a lonely thing

Or perhaps it becomes lonely over time

My heart claims this is merely a stage in its life

And I want to believe

So I remain committed to this family, to this marriage

I believe this is only a step in evolution.

But I remember when we were best friends

When we could spend days together

  Because we cared about the same things,

  And wanted the same dreams,

  And believed the same ideas

It’s sad that it seems so distant

  And hurts

    To find myself so far away

But each time a storm is followed by a deep freeze,

  A few leaves are weakened,

  A few twigs are damaged,

  Making them unable to hold on

    During the next storm

Storms are natural;

I know that.

  It’s the frigid ice that kills.

Each silent cold

  Robs the tree of supporting life;

Each withdrawal of warmth

  Drains energy from its soul

The colder the storm rages,

  The less life flows to the limbs.

The longer the freeze,

  The more brittle become the branches,

  The lonelier becomes the heart,

  The sadder becomes the soul.

Yet with each storm it hurts less.

The hardier branches steel themselves

  For the next cold spell,

  And draw back from potential hurt.

It is self-defense that the heart pulls away;

It is Darwin’s law that the strongest survive.

The marriage becomes lonely as an act of preservation,

  Hoping for a new spring,

  The generation of renewed love and

  Some miracle to create life.

But in the meantime

I find it sad to care less.

I find the winter

  Hibernation

   

    Lonely

I have learned remedies and devised crutches for the loneliness. I do not apologize for any crutch that helps me to get through tough times. I am honest enough to recognize the crutch for what it is and to use it only until I am able to move on without it. The best crutch for loneliness is friendship, both real and perceived.

God invented girlfriends for those times when we need beyond what a spouse can provide. I truly believe that God never intended for the love of our life to provide for all our emotional needs: not all our personal growth, not our only forum for dreams, not all our physical support for daily life. We draw instead from a host of tools and souls. Once I really understood the role of girlfriends, I began to cut my husband some slack. He does not want to know on a day to day basis what I feel, what I am working on within, where I “scored”, when I lost. A girlfriend, on the other hand, loves to analyze with me, as it is in that analysis that she grows too. I absolutely understand now that you teach best what you most need to know. I think I stole that axiom from Illusions, but I understand it better every year.

This week I had the good fortune to walk for over an hour two days in a row with a dear friend. She is struggling in her new life with an infant. While she finds it amazing to be so in love with this miracle, she is challenged by a weeklong visit from in-laws very different from her own family. Okay, I know: and she’s different from the rest of us, how? She isn’t different. Many couples find that part of the attraction was the balance forced into their lives. That balance often comes from stark differences. While she understands her fiancé much better now, she is also exhausted by the negative attitudes, the lack of help, the condescension of their wedding and baptismal plans. She looks so forward to the arrival of her own family so she can be excited about the Lenten season, the baptism, their colossal wedding plans.

I’ve also learned a thing or two about negative attitudes. One is that if I let that negative energy flow through me, continue with my natural, almost “Pollyanna” approach, the negativity has nowhere to fester or grow or even to sustain its own life. If I refuse to acknowledge it, I also refuse to feed it, and it soon dissipates. I’ve finally learned to breathe, to pray, then to not walk as if on eggshells. Typically, the negative person gets bored, becomes part of the wallpaper, or joins life as I think it should be lived. Not always. It takes a considerable amount of energy on the front end to be who I need to be, to follow through being true to my natural exuberance all by myself. And I don’t always have that much energy, or the time to pray for it.

But, being who I am, I gave her my opinion: be excited if you want. They’ll either become wallpaper and allow you to enjoy your family, or they’ll watch, learn, experiment with happiness, change a little. Easy for me to say. But she tests it out, and thinks me some twentieth-century prophet. We teach best what we most need to learn.

So the next day, still basking in those praises, I was tested. I found myself in the very uncomfortable situation of my husband being over-involved in our son’s hockey team, very critical of the coaching style, to the point that he insisted that we move him to another team. Buy another jersey with only four games left, make new friends, explain why he couldn’t just “skate” for the remainder of the season. No. His father was adamant that he learn, improve, and that this coach’s style was too lackadaisical. He was angry, confrontational, and way outside of any comfort zone of mine. So I tested my purported approach. Having just reminded her of that approach, I could remember having heard it somewhere. So I chose to enjoy our time together as a family. I chose to live each day with the enthusiasm that comes naturally to me. And when the boys were tucked into their beds that night, I returned to whatever friend I could conjure up.

The clear, cold night is comforting.

I sit alone on the front step,

  Unnoticed by the Outside,

  Unmissed by the Inside.

I breathe the cold air in through my nose,

  The heat of anger out through my mouth.

I breathe the cold air in through my nose,

  The loneliness and resentment out through my mouth.

Orion is clear

                And reminds me that I am not truly alone.

The illusion of companionship is good.

Together, we share the beauty and peace of the dark,

                The calm and quiet of the cold.

Together, we remember the good of the past, the

                Good of the present, the good we expect tomorrow.

One more cleansing breath:

  Cold air, in through the nose,

  Hold the peace and comfort of God as long as possible,

  Then slowly,

    Ever so slowly,

    Breathe out the hurt,

      Breathe out the memory

                Forgive those who have caused pain,

                Ask forgiveness for any pain caused in return

                Ask for wisdom and strength and patience

                Remember that happiness comes from loving

                Not from being loved

                And prepare to return to the Inside.

Thin, cirrus clouds drift across the quarter moon,

  Reminding me that nothing is static.

  All is still changing, some things better, some things not.

The moon knows not how the clouds alter her appearance

  But she trusts and accepts and only changes from perfect to perfect.

I cannot control the outcome of all, regardless of good intentions.

    I return now to do the best I can.

    I return now

    To the Inside.