So, I have been cooped up for the last 4 solid months writing my dissertation. Yesterday, I printed the 188 page document 5 times for distribution to my committee. Took the kids to dinner and a movie to 'celebrate'. Celebrate in quotes because it didn't sink in. Because, this morning I woke up at five to seven thinking "Okay, I'll go for my walk and then I'll get back to work on the revisions...." I went back to sleep when I finally realized I didn't have to do that today.
I went for my walk. For the past 4 months or so, my time walking has been spent coming up with phrases for rewording things, thoughts on how to reorganize chapter 4, making lists of what still needed to be corrected, rewritten or tossed out. Piles upon piles of thoughts on nanoparticles, glass and photoluminescence have cluttered my mind and my kitchen table, coffee table and desk. This morning, the other stuff I have managed to bury under those piles of technical thoughts, rushed to the forefront and guess what happened? I started sobbing while walking down Highway 93 with the throngs of Clemson fans driving to the game watching from their cars. I couldn't stop crying, so I kept walking. Walked all the way to campus before it subsided. Really, until I convinced myself that I was okay and my whole world wasn't coming to an end.
You see, I walk the same route almost everyday, but today as I walked by the spot where he said to me "maybe we've gone as far as we can together", I remembered that's where he said it. Why today? I made it around the corner before I caught my breath. Then, I started to cry because I want to hear an honest to goodness, truthful, soulful apology from someone I know I'll never get it from. My heart is broken and I want to hear he understands that and he knows he screwed up. The 'dumb girl' in me wants that. Badly. I won't ask for a why anymore. A why won't fix anything. Won't change anything. But, I want an honest admission of guilt. He lied. He broke promises. He stole things from me he said were mine to keep. I'm hurt, I've done nothing wrong and I want an apology. After 14 years of marriage, I think I'm entitled to at least that.
Which then made me think about how I'm doing all of this moving forward, moving on,starting over stuff by myself and a part of me, well, let's be honest here, A LOT of me wishes I weren't. I miss having someone in my life who gets all of it. Who's there when it's time to turn out the light. Who's there to tell me, I'm glad you had a good day today. Who expects to see me at the end of the day. I'm so tired of feeling like such an imposition to other people. I feel like I'm constantly asking for attention and when I do see people I don't want to tell them about my trials for fear they'll leave and not want to see me again.
I know I'm independent. I have been my whole life. I can do it myself. I am doing it myself. But, I would really like a partner in crime. Somebody to remind me it's time to go to bed. Somebody to be proud of being with me. Somebody who wants to be with me. Somebody who can't wait to see me. Somebody who makes my heart race at the thought of being with them. I miss that. I miss all of it. I really do.
I'm not out looking. I don't have time for that (see paragraph 1). I have a dissertation to defend, a house to get streamlined for a move that will happen in a little over a month, and a new life to get organized for me and the kids. Not to mention supporting and loving those kids. They really need me right now too. So, I don't have time to fall apart. I don't have time to be lonely and I sure as hell don't have time to wallow around drowning in self pity. But, here I am, boo-hooing anyway.
Apparently, my heart didn't get the memo today.
But, tomorrow is a new day. I'll go for another walk and this time, that spot won't get to me, but if it does, oh well. The piles have to get cleaned up for this move and that's just one I've got to get moved off of my heart.
T.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
Happenstance...I think not...
Over the course of the past two weeks, I have been getting a lesson in destiny...I have always believed that people are in your life for a reason, but, wow, it's becoming very clear to me just how very real and true it is...
My best friend is a woman whom I met ten years ago while I was a working engineer. So was she. Both of us fresh out of school with strong family ties and mutual understanding of what was most important in life. On the surface, this is why I thought we had become friends. She is the only person that I trusted my small and only child at the time with, without batting an eye, outside of my immediate family. We just clicked. We have not lived near each other in 9 years but the friendship remained steadfast and true. We have managed to see each other at least once a year (which seems like just not enough, but it's what we can manage...) Almost 6 years ago, her fiance suddenly and unexpectedly passed away. When I got the call that morning, I burst into tears. I had no words of wisdom. I had no way to ease her pain. I had no frame of reference to relate to the tremendous loss she suffered. At the time all I could do was be there for her and felt so helpless and useless in her time of great need. Phone calls at random times of the day, and all I could do was listen, interject with some mindless drivel every now & then and just be there. I could not reconcile in my head or heart, why this had happened to such a genuinely lovely human being. I watched as she somehow managed to pick herself up and carry on despite what should have been debilitating grief. No matter how unfair the circumstances she admirably carried herself with such grace and strength.
Four years ago, I had Griffin. We all know how much questioning and anger I had (see previous posts and my old blog...) and then the journey of losing him. While still reeling from that loss, my husband disappeared. Although he did not die physically, the loss was just as real. In the blink of an eye, she and I had more in common. I now had that understanding I had been looking for. Our friendship really turned to a sisterhood as a result. I also finally get the whole Oprah and Gayle thing. She refuses to be Gayle, but I get it. She has been on the receiving end of those randomly timed phone calls, and she is just there for me. She may not know what to say, but she's there, and it makes all the difference. In the back of my mind, I often wonder...is this why we met all those years ago? Somebody, somewhere knew this is what the universe had in store for each of us and knew we'd need each other to make it through??????
Four days before Christmas this past year, a college roommate of mine found me on facebook, out of nowhere. The last I had heard from her, she was literally riding off into the sunset on a white horse with the love of her life. I had run into her dad about 7 years ago and he reported that she was living, joyfully, in the woods of Wisconsin somewhere, expecting her first child. It was great to hear all was as it should be for her. We had lived together almost a year before we discovered we had the same birthday. I always love telling that story. We met because she was dating a guy who was a friend of my boyfriend. We were the girls who would hang out together because the boys were too wrapped up in playing dungeons and dragons until 5 in the morning. She's an artist, was an art history major and thinks completely differently than an engineer. It was an interesting pairing, her and I, but we had fun, nonetheless.
When she friended me on FB, I realized she had a different last name, which puzzled me because she and her husband were the kind of couple Shakespearean sonnets are written about. So, I did a little investigating that day and I discovered she had lost him to an awful illness. I freaked out a bit upon this discovery. Another woman I have admired and cherished has endured her own private hell of loss. Much more in common than our birthdays now....
On Saturday, I felt compelled to read my birthday twin's blog, randomly choosing a place to start, opening the entries two days after her husband had passed, first. Even more goose bump worthy, was the realization that the anniversary of his death was this week. I literally found myself holding my breath as I read, in awe, the details of what had transpired that week of her life, finally gasping for air, in between sobs. Separated by time, space and life, she was feeling, doing and experiencing the EXACT same EVERYTHING I had in the past year, in that post. I continued to read and found she was out there now, three years later, happy and living her life to the fullest after those dark and daunting moments, and it empowered me in a flash. I am still stunned by the entire experience, but as it sinks in, those same questions are percolating from before and wondering about that nudge I got from the universe to peek into her world...
In the last year I have found that somehow, the right people with the right words at the right time are continually coming my way. It also appears that the reciprocal is true, right? I'm being placed in the lives of others so that I may be there at the right moment with the wisdom that has been bestowed upon me. How is it possible that two of the strongest women I have ever known in my lifetime have come to suffer such similar losses? How is it that we are sisters via such similar tragedy??? It's amazing to me really, that what appeared as randomly established friendships over the years appears now to be intentional by some greater power? Almost spooky from my end. What happened to my roommate, is helping me be more supportive of my best friend. The life altering circumstances which have bound us together in my mind, have cemented my quest to be sure to live life to it's fullest and love as much and as often as you can. I am so very thankful to have these wonderful women in my life.
Whatever that higher power out there in the universe may be....apparently they really know what they are doing. Take a deep breath, acknowledge and let destiny show itself...this is the profound revelation I have come to. Be thankful for the people who reveal themselves to you as your chosen family. They really are there for a reason.
The last little nugget of knowledge I feel compelled to share as a result of our experiences......Our moment on this planet is fleeting, don't get bogged down in whatever misfortunes and tragedies may come your way. When you are lucky enough to live to see another day, the possibilities for joy are limitless.
Tiffany
My best friend is a woman whom I met ten years ago while I was a working engineer. So was she. Both of us fresh out of school with strong family ties and mutual understanding of what was most important in life. On the surface, this is why I thought we had become friends. She is the only person that I trusted my small and only child at the time with, without batting an eye, outside of my immediate family. We just clicked. We have not lived near each other in 9 years but the friendship remained steadfast and true. We have managed to see each other at least once a year (which seems like just not enough, but it's what we can manage...) Almost 6 years ago, her fiance suddenly and unexpectedly passed away. When I got the call that morning, I burst into tears. I had no words of wisdom. I had no way to ease her pain. I had no frame of reference to relate to the tremendous loss she suffered. At the time all I could do was be there for her and felt so helpless and useless in her time of great need. Phone calls at random times of the day, and all I could do was listen, interject with some mindless drivel every now & then and just be there. I could not reconcile in my head or heart, why this had happened to such a genuinely lovely human being. I watched as she somehow managed to pick herself up and carry on despite what should have been debilitating grief. No matter how unfair the circumstances she admirably carried herself with such grace and strength.
Four years ago, I had Griffin. We all know how much questioning and anger I had (see previous posts and my old blog...) and then the journey of losing him. While still reeling from that loss, my husband disappeared. Although he did not die physically, the loss was just as real. In the blink of an eye, she and I had more in common. I now had that understanding I had been looking for. Our friendship really turned to a sisterhood as a result. I also finally get the whole Oprah and Gayle thing. She refuses to be Gayle, but I get it. She has been on the receiving end of those randomly timed phone calls, and she is just there for me. She may not know what to say, but she's there, and it makes all the difference. In the back of my mind, I often wonder...is this why we met all those years ago? Somebody, somewhere knew this is what the universe had in store for each of us and knew we'd need each other to make it through??????
Four days before Christmas this past year, a college roommate of mine found me on facebook, out of nowhere. The last I had heard from her, she was literally riding off into the sunset on a white horse with the love of her life. I had run into her dad about 7 years ago and he reported that she was living, joyfully, in the woods of Wisconsin somewhere, expecting her first child. It was great to hear all was as it should be for her. We had lived together almost a year before we discovered we had the same birthday. I always love telling that story. We met because she was dating a guy who was a friend of my boyfriend. We were the girls who would hang out together because the boys were too wrapped up in playing dungeons and dragons until 5 in the morning. She's an artist, was an art history major and thinks completely differently than an engineer. It was an interesting pairing, her and I, but we had fun, nonetheless.
When she friended me on FB, I realized she had a different last name, which puzzled me because she and her husband were the kind of couple Shakespearean sonnets are written about. So, I did a little investigating that day and I discovered she had lost him to an awful illness. I freaked out a bit upon this discovery. Another woman I have admired and cherished has endured her own private hell of loss. Much more in common than our birthdays now....
On Saturday, I felt compelled to read my birthday twin's blog, randomly choosing a place to start, opening the entries two days after her husband had passed, first. Even more goose bump worthy, was the realization that the anniversary of his death was this week. I literally found myself holding my breath as I read, in awe, the details of what had transpired that week of her life, finally gasping for air, in between sobs. Separated by time, space and life, she was feeling, doing and experiencing the EXACT same EVERYTHING I had in the past year, in that post. I continued to read and found she was out there now, three years later, happy and living her life to the fullest after those dark and daunting moments, and it empowered me in a flash. I am still stunned by the entire experience, but as it sinks in, those same questions are percolating from before and wondering about that nudge I got from the universe to peek into her world...
In the last year I have found that somehow, the right people with the right words at the right time are continually coming my way. It also appears that the reciprocal is true, right? I'm being placed in the lives of others so that I may be there at the right moment with the wisdom that has been bestowed upon me. How is it possible that two of the strongest women I have ever known in my lifetime have come to suffer such similar losses? How is it that we are sisters via such similar tragedy??? It's amazing to me really, that what appeared as randomly established friendships over the years appears now to be intentional by some greater power? Almost spooky from my end. What happened to my roommate, is helping me be more supportive of my best friend. The life altering circumstances which have bound us together in my mind, have cemented my quest to be sure to live life to it's fullest and love as much and as often as you can. I am so very thankful to have these wonderful women in my life.
Whatever that higher power out there in the universe may be....apparently they really know what they are doing. Take a deep breath, acknowledge and let destiny show itself...this is the profound revelation I have come to. Be thankful for the people who reveal themselves to you as your chosen family. They really are there for a reason.
The last little nugget of knowledge I feel compelled to share as a result of our experiences......Our moment on this planet is fleeting, don't get bogged down in whatever misfortunes and tragedies may come your way. When you are lucky enough to live to see another day, the possibilities for joy are limitless.
Tiffany
Monday, July 25, 2011
Regression Analysis
So, seven LONG, LONG, weeks ago I went dancing on a Tuesday night like I have been doing for about the last six months. Second song in, I did a normal, regular, even, correct rock step. However, my right calf had other plans and snapped like a rubberband. I heard the pop in my head despite the extraordinarily loud music. In the split second it took for the sound and the pain to correlate, panic had a chance to settle in.....I was on crutches the next day and restricted to "non-weight bearing" activity. Which means, sit on your ass, dummy, or it will never get better.
Over the course of the next few days, I found myself beginning to be stuck in my own head more than I had been for quite a while. I was crying, again. I wasn't sleeping, again. I had no motivation. I was spiral-ing, as I call it, in my head. I was questioning everything. I began doubting again. I was asking why, again.
I could see why it was happening- my outlet for stress and emotional detox were gone. I spent at least 45 minutes a day communing with my ipod, pavement and the heavens for the last year- it was my 'drug' for coping, clearing my head and generally making me into a whole human being and I couldn't do it, indefinitely. I tried little things around the house to replicate the cleansing nature of my daily ritual, to no avail. My leg would just not get better at the rate of which I was requesting...
No dancing. No walking. No sweating. No sleeping. Lots of crying. Lots of steps backwards. Regression. Almost like an out of body experience- I sensed what was happening and I knew exactly why, I was screaming on the inside to stop but it didn't. No sleeping. More crying. No movement. Staring. Like the color was drained from my life. More time in my head. More pressure on myself to fix, well, everything. No matter how hard I tried, I fell further into the cold, cavernous abyss.
An extended stay by he who shall remain nameless, in my house, with me in it, did NOT help matters either. BAD IDEA. Obviously, I was not thinking clearly to agree to such a thing. Knocked me backwards about, oh, I don't know, about eight trillion steps. I found out that I have been competing, inadvertently, for ex of the century, in the Land of MakeBelieve. I want the crown, scepter and title apparently. More crying. More weird dreams. Restlessness. Regression.
I have been analyzing all of this regression, knowing full well why it's happened, but wondering....
Is this a necessary part of the grieving process? (ummm, yes.)
Was this an Oprah "listen to the whisper before it turns into a smack in the back of the head" moment? (ummm, yes.)
Am I suppose to go backwards before I can truly move forward? (ummm, yah, maybe a little bit.)
Have I been on ' emotional crutches' or using exercise band-aids instead of dealing with pain of these horrible losses in my life for the past year? Should I be worried that I am damaged goods?
That's when I said nope to those last two questions and told myself to knock it off.
Patience, young grasshopper, patience. This whole thing is a metaphor for patience. Wait it out. Your leg will heal. Give it time. Quit panicking. Grieve. There is no quick fix for your leg or your heart. Patience. Deep breath and just wait. A reminder to let go and let God. You've been in the eye of the hurricane and now you must face the remainder of the storm. Time heals. You had to rest and gain the strength you need to find your way out. You will make it through. You'll be better than you were before. Stronger. Wiser. Leaner. Faster. Happier.
Dance-ier :)
Tiff
Over the course of the next few days, I found myself beginning to be stuck in my own head more than I had been for quite a while. I was crying, again. I wasn't sleeping, again. I had no motivation. I was spiral-ing, as I call it, in my head. I was questioning everything. I began doubting again. I was asking why, again.
I could see why it was happening- my outlet for stress and emotional detox were gone. I spent at least 45 minutes a day communing with my ipod, pavement and the heavens for the last year- it was my 'drug' for coping, clearing my head and generally making me into a whole human being and I couldn't do it, indefinitely. I tried little things around the house to replicate the cleansing nature of my daily ritual, to no avail. My leg would just not get better at the rate of which I was requesting...
No dancing. No walking. No sweating. No sleeping. Lots of crying. Lots of steps backwards. Regression. Almost like an out of body experience- I sensed what was happening and I knew exactly why, I was screaming on the inside to stop but it didn't. No sleeping. More crying. No movement. Staring. Like the color was drained from my life. More time in my head. More pressure on myself to fix, well, everything. No matter how hard I tried, I fell further into the cold, cavernous abyss.
An extended stay by he who shall remain nameless, in my house, with me in it, did NOT help matters either. BAD IDEA. Obviously, I was not thinking clearly to agree to such a thing. Knocked me backwards about, oh, I don't know, about eight trillion steps. I found out that I have been competing, inadvertently, for ex of the century, in the Land of MakeBelieve. I want the crown, scepter and title apparently. More crying. More weird dreams. Restlessness. Regression.
I have been analyzing all of this regression, knowing full well why it's happened, but wondering....
Is this a necessary part of the grieving process? (ummm, yes.)
Was this an Oprah "listen to the whisper before it turns into a smack in the back of the head" moment? (ummm, yes.)
Am I suppose to go backwards before I can truly move forward? (ummm, yah, maybe a little bit.)
Have I been on ' emotional crutches' or using exercise band-aids instead of dealing with pain of these horrible losses in my life for the past year? Should I be worried that I am damaged goods?
That's when I said nope to those last two questions and told myself to knock it off.
Patience, young grasshopper, patience. This whole thing is a metaphor for patience. Wait it out. Your leg will heal. Give it time. Quit panicking. Grieve. There is no quick fix for your leg or your heart. Patience. Deep breath and just wait. A reminder to let go and let God. You've been in the eye of the hurricane and now you must face the remainder of the storm. Time heals. You had to rest and gain the strength you need to find your way out. You will make it through. You'll be better than you were before. Stronger. Wiser. Leaner. Faster. Happier.
Dance-ier :)
Tiff
Thursday, June 9, 2011
The River
Heard this song on our way back from a patented Kirin, Cooper, Mommy adventure of the month....I use to sing it to Kirin when she was a baby and she changed the name of it to "The Butterfly Song". Never really figured out why, and to the boys too.....Anyway, sharing because it surprisingly touched me yet again. It reminded me that the reason I use to sing it to my babies was to teach them they should always live their lives to the fullest and they can weather whatever storms they walk into throughout their lives....definitely a reminder to me to do take a deep breath and carry on too. I can do this. Whatever THIS may be....
Thanks, Garth. I needed that.
Tiffany
Thanks, Garth. I needed that.
Tiffany
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Dealing with The Knot(s)
Have you ever owned a necklace, stuck it in a drawer for an undetermined amount of time, only to pull it out 'moments' later and find it tangled and knotted? The process to untangle it is generally quite complicated. There is the initial pull to see if it would just undo itself, which, in actuality, only makes it more difficult to get undone. Then you locate the main knot, which you begin to loosen, but realize it will require four other kinks in the chain to be removed before you can get to the main one. Upon the loosening of that 4th one, you inevitably find 2-3 others which require your attention before you can get to that big one. Then, suddenly, the entire thing unravels, almost magically on it's own and you are left with the original jewel in hand, linked only by the clasp.
So as I was walking my 4 mile loop on Saturday I was pondering the many complications related to my current situation (as I usually do) and had the following 'aha' moment...This necklace thing is a perfect metaphor for the 'tying the knot' of marriage. I feel like I only just 'got it' because for the last six months, I've been in up to my nostrils actually untying my piece of a marriage knot.
To unravel and undo the multiple years of our marriage seemed an insurmountable task roughly a year ago. The entanglement of my life with his goes so far beyond that initial knot tied a Sunday in May fifteen years ago. It's easy to say, as he did, "I'm done with the relationship." That's all well and good, however, all that did was acknowledge the existence of the big knot. It's there and he wants it gone. I have to admit, I was stubborn and I tried, with all my might, to pull the knot tighter. I fought for several months, fiercely, to keep it tied. But, to my dismay (to put it mildly), I had to succumb to the ugly truth. It was time to let it go.
When we met, we were both college students with nothing but our bright futures ahead of us and our student loans on top of us. No real assets, no land, no tangible items of worth. Just each other and what we had to offer each other and the world. As time marched on, we acquired things, and they were just things, but WE acquired them together. WE acquired friends, together. WE developed our own extended family, including these friends and many old ones,together. WE had children and a family of our very own, together. The blessings they bestowed on US are beyond quantification. WE had created a life TOGETHER. No real way to tell where one ended and the other one began. With his statement, all of this was ordered to cease. Suddenly, it was expected that EVERYTHING was to be sequestered into a his or hers bin. The intricate, taut, and hidden knots of OUR life were being exposed and somehow needed to find a way to be undone. How do you divide the pictures? Do you keep the wedding photos? The marriage license? The cd's? The friends? The family? The loyalty? The love???
On Saturday I found myself recognizing that the secondary knots are disappearing through hard work and acceptance, acknowledgement and a lot of pain. I'm hearing two opposing thoughts right now from my closest friends and family..."Oh you will be so happy when the papers finally come" and "When those papers come, it's going to hit you hard". My retort is, I have absolutely no idea what it's going to do to me. I have a sense that when they arrive it will be the same as the moment when the master knot of the necklace suddenly disappears. Not an accomplishment by any stretch of the imagination. Relief, maybe, yes, because it is finally done. No more anticipation. Will I be happy? Hell no. This is not what I wanted, not what I pictured or what I needed from the man I married. Will it allow me to move on, unencumbered and guilt-free? Yes, probably. But, I will forever be tied (there is that word again) to him because of my children. I can't say I will ever be joyful about these proceedings. Accepting, yes. Happy, no.
Will the delivery of the papers devastate me? I don't think so. I think I've risen from the mounds of devastation and have refused to return. Will it hurt? Probably. Definitely, maybe. I think maybe not so much, sometimes, because I recognize a piece of paper is not the way our lives have been dis-integrated. It's taken almost surgical precision to change the ours to his or hers. The cuts and the bleeding have already occurred with regards to the emotional reality of the death of OUR life. The grieving for the loss of that life is already in progress. The papers are just the business of divorce. As long as I maintain my stance: that I refuse to let it get ugly and mean, to pay respect to the love and life that existed for 14 years: this business deal that has gone bad will come to a peaceable end.
So, now I wait for the day when the papers are finally signed. I don't look forward to it, but I don't dread it either. I don't think about it much, actually. What will happen, will happen. With that final tug on the necklace, suddenly, the knot will be magically undone, but I know what went into making it happen.
So as I was walking my 4 mile loop on Saturday I was pondering the many complications related to my current situation (as I usually do) and had the following 'aha' moment...This necklace thing is a perfect metaphor for the 'tying the knot' of marriage. I feel like I only just 'got it' because for the last six months, I've been in up to my nostrils actually untying my piece of a marriage knot.
To unravel and undo the multiple years of our marriage seemed an insurmountable task roughly a year ago. The entanglement of my life with his goes so far beyond that initial knot tied a Sunday in May fifteen years ago. It's easy to say, as he did, "I'm done with the relationship." That's all well and good, however, all that did was acknowledge the existence of the big knot. It's there and he wants it gone. I have to admit, I was stubborn and I tried, with all my might, to pull the knot tighter. I fought for several months, fiercely, to keep it tied. But, to my dismay (to put it mildly), I had to succumb to the ugly truth. It was time to let it go.
When we met, we were both college students with nothing but our bright futures ahead of us and our student loans on top of us. No real assets, no land, no tangible items of worth. Just each other and what we had to offer each other and the world. As time marched on, we acquired things, and they were just things, but WE acquired them together. WE acquired friends, together. WE developed our own extended family, including these friends and many old ones,together. WE had children and a family of our very own, together. The blessings they bestowed on US are beyond quantification. WE had created a life TOGETHER. No real way to tell where one ended and the other one began. With his statement, all of this was ordered to cease. Suddenly, it was expected that EVERYTHING was to be sequestered into a his or hers bin. The intricate, taut, and hidden knots of OUR life were being exposed and somehow needed to find a way to be undone. How do you divide the pictures? Do you keep the wedding photos? The marriage license? The cd's? The friends? The family? The loyalty? The love???
On Saturday I found myself recognizing that the secondary knots are disappearing through hard work and acceptance, acknowledgement and a lot of pain. I'm hearing two opposing thoughts right now from my closest friends and family..."Oh you will be so happy when the papers finally come" and "When those papers come, it's going to hit you hard". My retort is, I have absolutely no idea what it's going to do to me. I have a sense that when they arrive it will be the same as the moment when the master knot of the necklace suddenly disappears. Not an accomplishment by any stretch of the imagination. Relief, maybe, yes, because it is finally done. No more anticipation. Will I be happy? Hell no. This is not what I wanted, not what I pictured or what I needed from the man I married. Will it allow me to move on, unencumbered and guilt-free? Yes, probably. But, I will forever be tied (there is that word again) to him because of my children. I can't say I will ever be joyful about these proceedings. Accepting, yes. Happy, no.
Will the delivery of the papers devastate me? I don't think so. I think I've risen from the mounds of devastation and have refused to return. Will it hurt? Probably. Definitely, maybe. I think maybe not so much, sometimes, because I recognize a piece of paper is not the way our lives have been dis-integrated. It's taken almost surgical precision to change the ours to his or hers. The cuts and the bleeding have already occurred with regards to the emotional reality of the death of OUR life. The grieving for the loss of that life is already in progress. The papers are just the business of divorce. As long as I maintain my stance: that I refuse to let it get ugly and mean, to pay respect to the love and life that existed for 14 years: this business deal that has gone bad will come to a peaceable end.
So, now I wait for the day when the papers are finally signed. I don't look forward to it, but I don't dread it either. I don't think about it much, actually. What will happen, will happen. With that final tug on the necklace, suddenly, the knot will be magically undone, but I know what went into making it happen.
Friday, April 15, 2011
"A problem shared is a problem halved..." Kate Stevens
So yesterday, this is what I really wanted to post on my facebook status:
So the 8 year old has a genuine, full blown, crying from his toes, total meltdown on the way to school because "it's like I've lost everything".... I can't fix this and I wonder if he's proud of himself for what he's done to all of us. Yah, I said it. I'm so pissed and pissed at everyone who forgives him, coddles him and treats him like it's okay. It's not okay. You don't abandon your family. Period. Inexcusable.
I typed it. I stared at it through my tears and pent up frustration. I was about to hit 'enter' when I thought it was probably a good idea to stop and think about the ramifications of saying something like that out loud to the world. I'm so frustrated with the situation and I love my kids so much, that the statement from Cooper just tipped me over the edge. I was finally having a moment where I wanted the world to know how bad I feel about this and at that moment, I wanted to hunt him down like a wolf stalking a vampire and rip his cold blooded head off. How could a father do this to his 8 year old son? Especially after losing his brother. How could he do this to his 11 year old daughter, who thinks he is the sun and the moon? How could he do this to me when all I ever did was love him????? I wanted to kick a hole in the wall. I wanted to scream at someone, anyone, asking why this happened to us, how this happened to us, why was the world so unfair??? After a moment, I copied and pasted it into a message, sent it to myself and posted something about "finally being pissed", instead.
Strangely enough, about an hour later, the ire had dissipated. Weird. About an hour after that, I was walking around work feeling, almost, lighter. Weird. Like a weight was lifted off of me. Huh? How was it possible that I had been so unbelievably irate, (about time in some people's minds, I'm sure), and suddenly didn't feel it any more?
I have said since the onset of this current unpleasantness that I couldn't get mad him. Getting mad gets you nothing and Griffin's plight taught me that. I still believe that wholeheartedly. But I have also realized that in the grieving, you have to get mad to learn to let it go. That's how I learned it was pointless- I was so mad at God when I finally got my baby home from the hospital after 4 long months, only to hear two days later that he would need a kidney transplant by the age of 2, his brain was full of holes and he would probably not live to be 5. I was so mad that I refused to talk to God for about a year, not understanding why in the world this horrible, awful, unfair set of conditions were at war with my infant child's body. It made no sense to me at all. Honestly, it still doesn't, but I do understand it was what Griffin was given by the universe and I had no control over changing it, only over how to handle it. When I came to that realization, I understood I was wasting valuable energy (of which I was expending at a great rate) on being angry. My little guy needed me and that was all that mattered.
Remembering this, I realized why I felt better and thanked Griffin for reminding me- I finally said it out loud. I finally let it take hold for a bit and released it to the universe. I was genuinely mad at him. I was finally allowing myself to be mad at him. My love and affection for him, my protective instincts for the man I married, are finally leaving me. I'm learning to let them go. Talk about enlightening...I realized, too, that I am finally living the phrase, "let go and let God". I've only have control over how I respond and my actions to those cards that I am dealt. I am finding great peace in that knowledge. Wow.
Being angry and spiteful gets you nowhere. It eats you from the inside out. Finding the joy and the happiness in the world around you, the moments you have on this planet with the people you love, is what the focus should be. Living, loving and smiling as much and as often as you can should be the highest priority. But reminding yourself you're human now and then, is okay too.
Soooooo, I'm going to give myself a break.... this whole grief thing is pain in the butt because it won't cooperate with me :)
Tiff
So the 8 year old has a genuine, full blown, crying from his toes, total meltdown on the way to school because "it's like I've lost everything".... I can't fix this and I wonder if he's proud of himself for what he's done to all of us. Yah, I said it. I'm so pissed and pissed at everyone who forgives him, coddles him and treats him like it's okay. It's not okay. You don't abandon your family. Period. Inexcusable.
I typed it. I stared at it through my tears and pent up frustration. I was about to hit 'enter' when I thought it was probably a good idea to stop and think about the ramifications of saying something like that out loud to the world. I'm so frustrated with the situation and I love my kids so much, that the statement from Cooper just tipped me over the edge. I was finally having a moment where I wanted the world to know how bad I feel about this and at that moment, I wanted to hunt him down like a wolf stalking a vampire and rip his cold blooded head off. How could a father do this to his 8 year old son? Especially after losing his brother. How could he do this to his 11 year old daughter, who thinks he is the sun and the moon? How could he do this to me when all I ever did was love him????? I wanted to kick a hole in the wall. I wanted to scream at someone, anyone, asking why this happened to us, how this happened to us, why was the world so unfair??? After a moment, I copied and pasted it into a message, sent it to myself and posted something about "finally being pissed", instead.
Strangely enough, about an hour later, the ire had dissipated. Weird. About an hour after that, I was walking around work feeling, almost, lighter. Weird. Like a weight was lifted off of me. Huh? How was it possible that I had been so unbelievably irate, (about time in some people's minds, I'm sure), and suddenly didn't feel it any more?
I have said since the onset of this current unpleasantness that I couldn't get mad him. Getting mad gets you nothing and Griffin's plight taught me that. I still believe that wholeheartedly. But I have also realized that in the grieving, you have to get mad to learn to let it go. That's how I learned it was pointless- I was so mad at God when I finally got my baby home from the hospital after 4 long months, only to hear two days later that he would need a kidney transplant by the age of 2, his brain was full of holes and he would probably not live to be 5. I was so mad that I refused to talk to God for about a year, not understanding why in the world this horrible, awful, unfair set of conditions were at war with my infant child's body. It made no sense to me at all. Honestly, it still doesn't, but I do understand it was what Griffin was given by the universe and I had no control over changing it, only over how to handle it. When I came to that realization, I understood I was wasting valuable energy (of which I was expending at a great rate) on being angry. My little guy needed me and that was all that mattered.
Remembering this, I realized why I felt better and thanked Griffin for reminding me- I finally said it out loud. I finally let it take hold for a bit and released it to the universe. I was genuinely mad at him. I was finally allowing myself to be mad at him. My love and affection for him, my protective instincts for the man I married, are finally leaving me. I'm learning to let them go. Talk about enlightening...I realized, too, that I am finally living the phrase, "let go and let God". I've only have control over how I respond and my actions to those cards that I am dealt. I am finding great peace in that knowledge. Wow.
Being angry and spiteful gets you nowhere. It eats you from the inside out. Finding the joy and the happiness in the world around you, the moments you have on this planet with the people you love, is what the focus should be. Living, loving and smiling as much and as often as you can should be the highest priority. But reminding yourself you're human now and then, is okay too.
Soooooo, I'm going to give myself a break.... this whole grief thing is pain in the butt because it won't cooperate with me :)
Tiff
Thursday, March 24, 2011
What is that sound?
When I was about 26 weeks pregnant with Griffin, we had taken a family vacation to the beach in June. My feet were ridiculously swollen and I spent most of the time on the actual beachfront with my feet propped up on make-shift stools the kids built for me out of sand. I also spent a lot time trying to keep the beached whale from getting sunburned (me and my enormous, swollen feet). On the fourth day it was suggested that I treat myself to a pedicure and some air conditioned comfort. I booked the appointment for 1pm and headed off to the fancy salon, waddling the whole way. (I'm telling you, when I was pregnant, those feet were BAD. Ask anybody). I was exhausted, and the women in the salon could tell. They propped me up in their VERY relaxing and cushioned throne and said "let us handle the rest".
Now, I have been for many pedicures. I have been very exhausted. I have been almost very pregnant in the summertime too. But, this particular moment found me doing all three at once and we had just moved into a house we were renovating to boot, so, I would say I was plum wore out. Regardless, they began to pamper my tootsies and my ever expanding calves. The air was cool, the chair was at just the right angle, I was actually comfortable in all of my hugeness. I closed my eyes. My mind wandered. I thought about names for this yet to arrive bundle of love. I was in the place of aware but not aware. I had no idea how much time had lapsed. As I leaned on the cool, faux leather seat, I heard a noise. Not enough to make me open my eyes, and oh I did not want to, as they were soooo heavy. Then I heard it again. And again. It was rhythmic. What is that sound? was all I could think in my stupor...Where is it coming from? Is it coming from me? It couldn't possibly be coming from me, could it? What the hell? HOLY CRAP! I'M SNORING! IN PUBLIC! DURING A 65 DOLLAR PEDICURE! I jolted up in my seat. All I could think was, thank God these people don't know me. Then, I was unbelievably embarrassed. If my face weren't already sunburnt (yah, I failed at that attempt) it would have been as red as, well, as red as the reddest thing you've ever seen.
That was the last time I heard an unrecognizable sound come out of me, until today.
This week, two monumental things happen in my life. The 25th of March marks the 1st anniversary of the passing of my sweet Griffin. It also, unfortunately, is the day the man I married almost 15 years ago leaves my everyday life. Why these two events have to be linked, I still don't understand. I don't know that I ever will. And, I still grieve. I have been told, by some very wise women, that the anticipation of the date is what bites you in the ass. I have come to realize how right they are. While the 25th of March will be marked on my heart for all of my life, I do not grieve that Griffin is no longer of our earthly confines. I know he is so much better off where he is. He is no longer in pain. He can eat those cheerios I longed to give him. What pains me is how much I miss him and his smile. His sweet disposition and his chattering. I don't miss his love, because I still receive it. I don't wish him back to us, because he is forever a part of me. I am his mother. Always.
Which brings me to the latter event. I realized, and I don't know that a lot of people understand this part, I am overwhelmed with grief for the loss of a life I thought I had. It's been creeping up on me since last month...I feel like I am losing my husband all over again. He's leaving the state. The man that I promised I would love and cherish, in sickness and in health, through all of life's trials and tribulations is no longer an integral part of MY life. I've lost that safe place to fall. He's gone. How do you just stop being a part of someone's daily ritual after doing it for 15 years straight? I know he's been out of the house since May of last year. I know I've figured out how to manage the day to day by myself. But, it's final, I'm not a wife anymore. Not on paper yet, but definitely not to him now. I thought I always would be. He looks me in the eyes and tells me how sorry he is that he has and continues to cause me so much pain.
Which brings me to today's noise. I found myself telling him I couldn't let him go, because if I do, I'm a failure. All the promises I made, vanish. My fix it self can't find a way to fix this, for all of us, and that is what I do and I can't. I feel like I can't look my kids in the eyes because I lied to them. I told them mommy and daddy would always be together. But most of all, I feel I failed him if I let him go. I swore to him I would love and cherish him for the rest of my life, for better or worse. That is what I signed up for.
He, of course, had to leave at this point.
I was crying. Sobbing. I took myself to a quiet spot on the front porch and watched him drive away. I continued to cry. And then there was a noise. One I'd never heard before. When I realized it was coming from me, the only way I can describe it is pain. A gut wrenching sob that comes from a place somewhere deep in your soul. If pain had a sound, that was it. I heard it repeatedly.
I would venture to guess that those wise women I mentioned earlier know that sound, and how deafening it is when it comes from within you. I hope those of you that read this never have to know this particular sound. I find myself a part of an elite club, to which entry is not something you want to gain. This week I am a mother who lost a beloved child and although it pales in comparison, a wife losing her husband. They are both what is going on inside my head and heart. It's a lot for one person and likely to cause strange noises.
I am doing my best to remain upright, positive and be Pollyanna. However, I'm allowed to be sad. I'm allowed to grieve. I have a lot that I have lost but I also know I still have a lot. Much more than most. I don't begrudge that. But, this week, please, let me be sad. Let me set down a little bit of my pack and rest for a bit. It's been a long year since all of this started. A long, long year. A journey that only I can travel. Only I have been given. At some point, I hope to find the gifts it has brought to me, but right now, I'm going to let the pain stick around for a bit, so I can give it the attention it's craving so it will go away. I promise, I won't let it take root, but I might have to make some strange noises in the interim. I will have to find a way to let go of him. Let go of the life that I thought I was going to have. May not be this week, but I will.
Honestly, though, I know I'm just making room for the joy that is just around the bend, but now, today, this week, I grieve.
Now, I have been for many pedicures. I have been very exhausted. I have been almost very pregnant in the summertime too. But, this particular moment found me doing all three at once and we had just moved into a house we were renovating to boot, so, I would say I was plum wore out. Regardless, they began to pamper my tootsies and my ever expanding calves. The air was cool, the chair was at just the right angle, I was actually comfortable in all of my hugeness. I closed my eyes. My mind wandered. I thought about names for this yet to arrive bundle of love. I was in the place of aware but not aware. I had no idea how much time had lapsed. As I leaned on the cool, faux leather seat, I heard a noise. Not enough to make me open my eyes, and oh I did not want to, as they were soooo heavy. Then I heard it again. And again. It was rhythmic. What is that sound? was all I could think in my stupor...Where is it coming from? Is it coming from me? It couldn't possibly be coming from me, could it? What the hell? HOLY CRAP! I'M SNORING! IN PUBLIC! DURING A 65 DOLLAR PEDICURE! I jolted up in my seat. All I could think was, thank God these people don't know me. Then, I was unbelievably embarrassed. If my face weren't already sunburnt (yah, I failed at that attempt) it would have been as red as, well, as red as the reddest thing you've ever seen.
That was the last time I heard an unrecognizable sound come out of me, until today.
This week, two monumental things happen in my life. The 25th of March marks the 1st anniversary of the passing of my sweet Griffin. It also, unfortunately, is the day the man I married almost 15 years ago leaves my everyday life. Why these two events have to be linked, I still don't understand. I don't know that I ever will. And, I still grieve. I have been told, by some very wise women, that the anticipation of the date is what bites you in the ass. I have come to realize how right they are. While the 25th of March will be marked on my heart for all of my life, I do not grieve that Griffin is no longer of our earthly confines. I know he is so much better off where he is. He is no longer in pain. He can eat those cheerios I longed to give him. What pains me is how much I miss him and his smile. His sweet disposition and his chattering. I don't miss his love, because I still receive it. I don't wish him back to us, because he is forever a part of me. I am his mother. Always.
Which brings me to the latter event. I realized, and I don't know that a lot of people understand this part, I am overwhelmed with grief for the loss of a life I thought I had. It's been creeping up on me since last month...I feel like I am losing my husband all over again. He's leaving the state. The man that I promised I would love and cherish, in sickness and in health, through all of life's trials and tribulations is no longer an integral part of MY life. I've lost that safe place to fall. He's gone. How do you just stop being a part of someone's daily ritual after doing it for 15 years straight? I know he's been out of the house since May of last year. I know I've figured out how to manage the day to day by myself. But, it's final, I'm not a wife anymore. Not on paper yet, but definitely not to him now. I thought I always would be. He looks me in the eyes and tells me how sorry he is that he has and continues to cause me so much pain.
Which brings me to today's noise. I found myself telling him I couldn't let him go, because if I do, I'm a failure. All the promises I made, vanish. My fix it self can't find a way to fix this, for all of us, and that is what I do and I can't. I feel like I can't look my kids in the eyes because I lied to them. I told them mommy and daddy would always be together. But most of all, I feel I failed him if I let him go. I swore to him I would love and cherish him for the rest of my life, for better or worse. That is what I signed up for.
He, of course, had to leave at this point.
I was crying. Sobbing. I took myself to a quiet spot on the front porch and watched him drive away. I continued to cry. And then there was a noise. One I'd never heard before. When I realized it was coming from me, the only way I can describe it is pain. A gut wrenching sob that comes from a place somewhere deep in your soul. If pain had a sound, that was it. I heard it repeatedly.
I would venture to guess that those wise women I mentioned earlier know that sound, and how deafening it is when it comes from within you. I hope those of you that read this never have to know this particular sound. I find myself a part of an elite club, to which entry is not something you want to gain. This week I am a mother who lost a beloved child and although it pales in comparison, a wife losing her husband. They are both what is going on inside my head and heart. It's a lot for one person and likely to cause strange noises.
I am doing my best to remain upright, positive and be Pollyanna. However, I'm allowed to be sad. I'm allowed to grieve. I have a lot that I have lost but I also know I still have a lot. Much more than most. I don't begrudge that. But, this week, please, let me be sad. Let me set down a little bit of my pack and rest for a bit. It's been a long year since all of this started. A long, long year. A journey that only I can travel. Only I have been given. At some point, I hope to find the gifts it has brought to me, but right now, I'm going to let the pain stick around for a bit, so I can give it the attention it's craving so it will go away. I promise, I won't let it take root, but I might have to make some strange noises in the interim. I will have to find a way to let go of him. Let go of the life that I thought I was going to have. May not be this week, but I will.
Honestly, though, I know I'm just making room for the joy that is just around the bend, but now, today, this week, I grieve.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
This is me.
I'm an intelligent, strong, independent, well-educated, relatively stable, tall, 40 pounds lighter woman with killer blue eyes. I tend to feel the need to be in charge. I like to plan and organize everything. I probably talk too much, I like to gossip, and I admit this freely. I can do calculus, the laundry and make a mean pot of chili. I like to collect kitchen tools and have recently discovered my need to collect really fabulous girl shoes, mostly of the higher the heel the better variety. I watch tv whenever I have the opportunity and have a handful of shows that I must see for my week to be complete. I have a knack for quoting movies, especially those that I repeatedly watched as a child/teen and I tend to always have a movie to relate to a current moment in my reality. I don't like nature, for the most part, especially furry creatures and their six or eight legged counterparts. The beach and sunshine are good for my soul. I love Christmas. I drink Coke but never coffee. One of my favorite things to do is to ride in my car with the windows down and the music way up on a beautiful day. I have recently discovered swing/shag/blues dancing and now, I know, I can't live without it.
But, most of all, and I think best of all, I love. In fact, I love to love. I love to have someone to love and I think maybe, I am in love with being in love. I love with my whole heart, too. This makes me, I believe, fiercely loyal and protective of those I am lucky enough to call my friends and family. This is what I do. I nurture, I tend to and I try to take care of those I love and I can't turn this part of me off. I've been trying, but, I can't do it. Silly to even try.
I have recently been pondering these facts about me and trying to figure out why I feel a little off. I realized it's the love thing. I feel like I've got a gaping hole in my chest where my heart use to be for all the world to see, I have all this love to give and I'm the one who needs it. Never been selfish a day in my life (intentionally, anyway). Never put myself first, ever. I give and give, because, that's who I am. If you are my friend, I love you and that's that. I don't know another way. I'm sure there are varying degrees of that love, by definition, but I do love you, plain and simple. So, why can't I find a way to fill that hole for myself?
This is the first time in my adult life I have not been half of a duo. I'm having to become my own 'safe place to fall' and it's damn hard. Weird because I have always been independent and self-reliant, but I have been thrown into a situation that I find absolutely foreign to me. I adore and am in love with my kids, but I refuse to become one of those moms that pours every ounce of themselves into their children because they have no other interests and finds themselves living vicariously through them in some odd attempt at being their 'best' friend. I need to be me, Tiffany. Separate, but no less important, than Tiffany the Mom or Tiffany the PhD, etc.
I guess I should probably cut myself some slack. It's only been 10 months since I started this journey, while I spent 18 years doing it the other way. It should take some time and I finally get the phrase "growing pains', because this is hard. Very hard. But, this is me. A lot of the old with some pretty amazing new mixed in. I need to love this Tiffany because it's the only way I'll be able to spread the love around again and fill that hole. I've got to stop stifiling myself, in some attempt to re-invent myself or wondering why some people have decided that I'm not enough for them. It's ridiculous. From this moment on I'm going to stop putting so much pressure on myself to just fix it.
I need to take my own advice and just freaking roll with it.
This is me.
Tiffany :)
But, most of all, and I think best of all, I love. In fact, I love to love. I love to have someone to love and I think maybe, I am in love with being in love. I love with my whole heart, too. This makes me, I believe, fiercely loyal and protective of those I am lucky enough to call my friends and family. This is what I do. I nurture, I tend to and I try to take care of those I love and I can't turn this part of me off. I've been trying, but, I can't do it. Silly to even try.
I have recently been pondering these facts about me and trying to figure out why I feel a little off. I realized it's the love thing. I feel like I've got a gaping hole in my chest where my heart use to be for all the world to see, I have all this love to give and I'm the one who needs it. Never been selfish a day in my life (intentionally, anyway). Never put myself first, ever. I give and give, because, that's who I am. If you are my friend, I love you and that's that. I don't know another way. I'm sure there are varying degrees of that love, by definition, but I do love you, plain and simple. So, why can't I find a way to fill that hole for myself?
This is the first time in my adult life I have not been half of a duo. I'm having to become my own 'safe place to fall' and it's damn hard. Weird because I have always been independent and self-reliant, but I have been thrown into a situation that I find absolutely foreign to me. I adore and am in love with my kids, but I refuse to become one of those moms that pours every ounce of themselves into their children because they have no other interests and finds themselves living vicariously through them in some odd attempt at being their 'best' friend. I need to be me, Tiffany. Separate, but no less important, than Tiffany the Mom or Tiffany the PhD, etc.
I guess I should probably cut myself some slack. It's only been 10 months since I started this journey, while I spent 18 years doing it the other way. It should take some time and I finally get the phrase "growing pains', because this is hard. Very hard. But, this is me. A lot of the old with some pretty amazing new mixed in. I need to love this Tiffany because it's the only way I'll be able to spread the love around again and fill that hole. I've got to stop stifiling myself, in some attempt to re-invent myself or wondering why some people have decided that I'm not enough for them. It's ridiculous. From this moment on I'm going to stop putting so much pressure on myself to just fix it.
I need to take my own advice and just freaking roll with it.
This is me.
Tiffany :)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
damn it, man.....
A few reasons to be irritated with my current situation. Not complaining. Just venting. Stupid shit you never think of until it's got to be done....
REASON 848
TAKING THE GARBAGE TO THE STREET.
I am quite capable of doing this. I know it. I have no problem taking the garbage from the house to the dumpster in the backyard. I do the recycling too. But, for 14+ years I didn't have to take it to the street. I didn't have to walk through wind and rain and sleet and snow to get it out. He did it. I didn't have to think about it. It was just done. Damn it, man.
REASON 447
MESSAGE LIGHTS ON MY DASHBOARD.
Just before Christmas my check tires light came on in my car. It's my car. It's my responsibility. I get it. That light came on for TWO weeks before I remembered to stop at a gas station to fill the tires, only to get exasperated by the redneck couple who had arrived just prior to me and couldn't figure out how to use the damn pump. I drove off in a snit and the friggin light came on for another week. Every time I turned my car on, there it was. An orange beacon of a reminder that I had something else I had to take care of by myself. Car related stuff is not something I save space in my brain for...and for 14+ years I just said, "Hey, honey, can you handle this for me?" and it was. Not that I couldn't do it myself, just that I didn't have to. I had a guy for that. Damn It, man.
REASON 901
OPENING THE ARTICHOKE JAR
All I was doing was making dinner for me and the kids. One of our favorites too, grilled chicken and artichoke pasta. Cruising along, chopping, frying, doing my thing. Go to open the jar of artichokes and I can't get it open. Crap. Cooper says, "oh no, we'll never have artichokes again" and now I am determined to get the damn thing open myself without smashing it into a million pieces. It took 10 minutes, but, oh, I did it. I broke a bit of a sweat while doing it, but I got it open. Would have just walked into the living room and said, 'please' and it would have made that unsealing pop sound and it would have been opened in about 7 seconds. Damn It, Man.
REASON 43
CHANGING THE LIGHT BULBS
Once again, this is trivial. The bulb burns out. I notice and need to change it out. But, hey where are the light bulbs? What kind do I need? Damn, I don't have the right one. Go to Lowe's. Come home. Bought the wrong ones, AGAIN. Smart enough to grab the light bulb and take it with me this time. Come home, replace. Here I am, wasting half of my Saturday morning for a stupid light bulb. REALLY? Now I have a stock pile of light bulbs that may or may not work in various fixtures around the house. I rue the day when the fluorescent light burns out in my kitchen.... DAMN IT, MAN!
REASON 848
TAKING THE GARBAGE TO THE STREET.
I am quite capable of doing this. I know it. I have no problem taking the garbage from the house to the dumpster in the backyard. I do the recycling too. But, for 14+ years I didn't have to take it to the street. I didn't have to walk through wind and rain and sleet and snow to get it out. He did it. I didn't have to think about it. It was just done. Damn it, man.
REASON 447
MESSAGE LIGHTS ON MY DASHBOARD.
Just before Christmas my check tires light came on in my car. It's my car. It's my responsibility. I get it. That light came on for TWO weeks before I remembered to stop at a gas station to fill the tires, only to get exasperated by the redneck couple who had arrived just prior to me and couldn't figure out how to use the damn pump. I drove off in a snit and the friggin light came on for another week. Every time I turned my car on, there it was. An orange beacon of a reminder that I had something else I had to take care of by myself. Car related stuff is not something I save space in my brain for...and for 14+ years I just said, "Hey, honey, can you handle this for me?" and it was. Not that I couldn't do it myself, just that I didn't have to. I had a guy for that. Damn It, man.
REASON 901
OPENING THE ARTICHOKE JAR
All I was doing was making dinner for me and the kids. One of our favorites too, grilled chicken and artichoke pasta. Cruising along, chopping, frying, doing my thing. Go to open the jar of artichokes and I can't get it open. Crap. Cooper says, "oh no, we'll never have artichokes again" and now I am determined to get the damn thing open myself without smashing it into a million pieces. It took 10 minutes, but, oh, I did it. I broke a bit of a sweat while doing it, but I got it open. Would have just walked into the living room and said, 'please' and it would have made that unsealing pop sound and it would have been opened in about 7 seconds. Damn It, Man.
REASON 43
CHANGING THE LIGHT BULBS
Once again, this is trivial. The bulb burns out. I notice and need to change it out. But, hey where are the light bulbs? What kind do I need? Damn, I don't have the right one. Go to Lowe's. Come home. Bought the wrong ones, AGAIN. Smart enough to grab the light bulb and take it with me this time. Come home, replace. Here I am, wasting half of my Saturday morning for a stupid light bulb. REALLY? Now I have a stock pile of light bulbs that may or may not work in various fixtures around the house. I rue the day when the fluorescent light burns out in my kitchen.... DAMN IT, MAN!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
The Meandering Path to....
Initially, I thought about a blog titled "Diary of a Bi-Polar Widow". I thought about talking about CrazyLand, the parallel universe I found myself sent to by way of an unexpected emotional terrorist attack and having to navigate about 6 months ago. About 5 months ago, I thought, I should write this stuff down. Then, I decided it was enough that I had to live it and recounting it for another day and time was probably not a very good idea.... I also thought that doing so just might make me a permanent citizen of CrazyLand, perhaps even their Queen and this, dear friends, was NOT something I desired. Here's what happened since that thought....
So, a couple of days passed, then a few weeks, then a month and whoa (in that Keanu Reeves tone)....It was September. I stepped off a plane into JFK, walked outside where my soul sister was waiting for me, got in a car and went to lunch. I had no one I had to call to let them know I had arrived okay for the first time in 15 years. My kids were in safe hands somewhere in SC. I was me, in New York, New York for the very first time. I was Tiffany. Not Tiffany the Mom, Tiffany the Temporarily Married, Tiffany the Aged Grad Student. Just Tiffany, about to embark on one of those typical drop myself in the middle of a big city adventures I have taken all of my adult life, and typically by myself. But, something was different this time. Something was slightly cattywampus, but in a 'hey that's cool' kind of way. I didn't say anything out loud, but it was enough for me to note it. It had to be significant too, given the certifiable basket case I had been for the few months prior. Yes, basket case. Total freakin' mess. The kind of trainwreck that I can't believe my friends, perched upon Sane Highway, didn't just wave at, wish me luck and go on their merry way.
Anyway, NY. I spent 3 luxurious days with my bestie in NYC with no agenda. Our thirty-something-selves got picked from amongst a plethora of bedazzled, barely of age, scantily clad, little (literally) girls, by the Clipboard Toting Dude in charge of the velvet rope to go to the shi-shi rooftop bar. (Yes, just like in the movies).... I went to the top of the Empire State Building. My idea, no coaxing needed. Yes, me, outside on the 86th floor. (I've got pictures to prove it)......I got so drunk my last night there, that, for the first time ever, I was praying to the porcelain gods (and have never been so glad that MaryAlice is my best friend). I am not exactly proud of this fact, however, as MA pointed out, it was about 20 years overdue....
Then, I returned to CrazyLand. I discovered upon my arrival back to the oddly familiar but strange locale that my navigation of the terrain had improved. The birds nests of razor wire red tape planted in CrazyLand that I had found with my every move prior to my departure that September weekend, had a smaller impact on me. Oh, don't get me wrong, it was still slicing me open with a vengeance, but the pain and the bleeding was diminishing. And, I knew one thing for certain, the landscape had not changed, just the visitor....
I'm really okay.
Tiny triumph.
About six weeks later, I took a trip to Charleston for a wedding of a fellow student. I convinced my officemate, Courtney, who also doubles as my Clemson Little Sister (CLS), to come along for the ride. We would spend the weekend there and just relax. Check out downtown Charleston. Shop. Just Be. Imagine that.
What happened on that weekend is, well, kind of amazing. The wedding was gorgeous and heartwarming, however, given my Temporarily Married Status, was a hard pill to swallow in all honesty. We had a fabulous time at an after party at the hotel with our friends. We danced. We played 'silent' duck, duck, goose. I laughed. A lot. The next day, we shopped and found bargains (which always makes me happy). We ate delicious food. We checked into this swanky downtown hotel, the kind that requires a hotel key just to get in the front door. We went whichever way the sea breeze blew us. We basked in the warm Indian Summer Sun. Then, we met up with one of CLS's friends. He took us swing dancing, for the first time. Yes, swing dancing. Not something you hear everyday, is it? It was a fantastic, free for all of bouncing, spinning and stepping. I absolutely loved it, even in giant orange flower flanked flip-flops. Smiles. Fun. Laughing. Living. We met up with another friend of hers. More smiles, more fun, more firsts. Whatever we felt like doing, we did. Nothing illegal. Nothing risque. Just pure fun. Just experiencing what Charleytown and life had to offer that night. I felt truly alive for the first time in a long, long time. CLS told me to roll with it. Whatever it was, and I did. Whoa.
Roll with it.
Small Triumph.
Upon returning to CrazyLand, I found, once again, while the landscape and terrain remained unchanged, this visitor's perspective had. It appeared that I had somehow returned to this place with a suit of armor, made with the sudden sense of self that had been revealed to me. This armor, while still needing to be molded and shaped into something less penetrable, was enough to sustain me while being confronted with the awful barbs I continued to encounter along my path. But it surprised me by being enough to completely stop the bleeding. It was strong enough, already, to withstand the twists, turns, and unexpected blows I was still facing. There was still pain, but my ability to stand tall and find my way, was buoyed by this new protection I had procured in a charming place called Charleston.
Then, two months and three more trips...
A solo road trip to Florida for work provided an opportunity to just hang out with me, myself and I. Alone in a hotel room for 3 days, painting my toenails (unfortunately pedicures are a luxury item for women who are temporarily married), watching silly television and actually eating dinner in my bed was a vacation from CrazyLand that I didn't know it would be. Of course, I had the work to do, but that is a story for another day... I also had a chance to visit a new friend, in a new place with new people. It was oddly comforting to be anonymous among perfectly lovely like-minded people. To put it simply, I had a weekend of easy. It was relaxing in a way that took me by complete surprise. The burden of all that happened in my 2010, was lifted for a brief interlude. I felt so very light upon my departure. It was one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given, and I don't think they really know it. Thank you, BC.
In two trips to Arizona, I found a much needed respite with my family, whose impact and love goes without saying, and a series of reminders of who pre-children, pre-marriage and in some cases, pre-adulthood Tiffany is. Through the wonders of facebook, I have been reunited with the kind of friends that knew you when you had that awful 8th grade permed mullet hair, braces and wanna-be Madonna hoop earrings, on a more daily basis, but haven't had the chance to see them eye to eye until now. I have become pen-pals of sorts with many of them over the course of the last two years, but being able to get that hug they have been sending through cyberspace was an opportunity that could not be passed up. Standing in Josh's backyard with the boys I had known since we were awkward teenagers trying to figure out who was with who and why, having a conversation as though we had just seen each other yesterday, and watching our children play together, was pure fuel for my soul. A trip to Tucson to visit my old stomping grounds and a much, much delayed meeting of the AV5 and my kiddos to celebrate my dear friend Annie's birthday, was sweeter than the dessert we ate for dinner. I soaked up all I could of my beloved Duckie, who has been there through most everything for 25 years. Seeing my Lisa and Kryss as the beautiful new mothers they are, getting to meet and cuddle their adorable babies, getting a surprise in the form of Jon and his lovely wife, all in the same morning, put a smile in my heart. They all knew me when. They all know me now. They believe in me and what they see. They love me for who I was and who I am. They all helped fill my Tiffany bucket.
Lightness of Being and a Fortified, Filled Tiffany Bucket.
HUGE TRIUMPH.
That brings us here. A new year. A new beginning. A new way of approaching my life. A need to write it down. For me. I do feel fortified. I feel as though I have been brought back to life quickly, yet, as you can see, it has taken some getting here. I do not feel that I reside in CrazyLand, but am a visitor when the chancellor needs me to be. I'm realizing that my perspective is the thing that has changed. Who I am, at my core, is still me, and I am damn proud of that. Tiffany, with all the other titles and, just, Tiffany. The strength I need is within me and thanks to so many people with the right words at the right time, I am recognizing that now. I'm doing things I never dreamed I do (empire state building), and making it my moral imperative to live each day to the fullest. I've got a ways to go, but I am upright. I am smiling and I feel good. I'm trying new things, I'm looking for adventures. Whoa.
So, this is my new blog. Rest assured, it will not be a bashing of He Who Shall Remain Nameless, nor will it be a tawdry account of my escapades as a newly single hottie (those details are saved for others who shall remain nameless). But, it will not be for the faint of heart, and I cannot promise I won't use it to vent about anything related directly to me, how I am feeling or what I'm dealing with. That's the whole point. I'm starting over at age 37 and this is my tale.
Much love,
Tiffany the Triumphant
So, a couple of days passed, then a few weeks, then a month and whoa (in that Keanu Reeves tone)....It was September. I stepped off a plane into JFK, walked outside where my soul sister was waiting for me, got in a car and went to lunch. I had no one I had to call to let them know I had arrived okay for the first time in 15 years. My kids were in safe hands somewhere in SC. I was me, in New York, New York for the very first time. I was Tiffany. Not Tiffany the Mom, Tiffany the Temporarily Married, Tiffany the Aged Grad Student. Just Tiffany, about to embark on one of those typical drop myself in the middle of a big city adventures I have taken all of my adult life, and typically by myself. But, something was different this time. Something was slightly cattywampus, but in a 'hey that's cool' kind of way. I didn't say anything out loud, but it was enough for me to note it. It had to be significant too, given the certifiable basket case I had been for the few months prior. Yes, basket case. Total freakin' mess. The kind of trainwreck that I can't believe my friends, perched upon Sane Highway, didn't just wave at, wish me luck and go on their merry way.
Anyway, NY. I spent 3 luxurious days with my bestie in NYC with no agenda. Our thirty-something-selves got picked from amongst a plethora of bedazzled, barely of age, scantily clad, little (literally) girls, by the Clipboard Toting Dude in charge of the velvet rope to go to the shi-shi rooftop bar. (Yes, just like in the movies).... I went to the top of the Empire State Building. My idea, no coaxing needed. Yes, me, outside on the 86th floor. (I've got pictures to prove it)......I got so drunk my last night there, that, for the first time ever, I was praying to the porcelain gods (and have never been so glad that MaryAlice is my best friend). I am not exactly proud of this fact, however, as MA pointed out, it was about 20 years overdue....
Then, I returned to CrazyLand. I discovered upon my arrival back to the oddly familiar but strange locale that my navigation of the terrain had improved. The birds nests of razor wire red tape planted in CrazyLand that I had found with my every move prior to my departure that September weekend, had a smaller impact on me. Oh, don't get me wrong, it was still slicing me open with a vengeance, but the pain and the bleeding was diminishing. And, I knew one thing for certain, the landscape had not changed, just the visitor....
I'm really okay.
Tiny triumph.
About six weeks later, I took a trip to Charleston for a wedding of a fellow student. I convinced my officemate, Courtney, who also doubles as my Clemson Little Sister (CLS), to come along for the ride. We would spend the weekend there and just relax. Check out downtown Charleston. Shop. Just Be. Imagine that.
What happened on that weekend is, well, kind of amazing. The wedding was gorgeous and heartwarming, however, given my Temporarily Married Status, was a hard pill to swallow in all honesty. We had a fabulous time at an after party at the hotel with our friends. We danced. We played 'silent' duck, duck, goose. I laughed. A lot. The next day, we shopped and found bargains (which always makes me happy). We ate delicious food. We checked into this swanky downtown hotel, the kind that requires a hotel key just to get in the front door. We went whichever way the sea breeze blew us. We basked in the warm Indian Summer Sun. Then, we met up with one of CLS's friends. He took us swing dancing, for the first time. Yes, swing dancing. Not something you hear everyday, is it? It was a fantastic, free for all of bouncing, spinning and stepping. I absolutely loved it, even in giant orange flower flanked flip-flops. Smiles. Fun. Laughing. Living. We met up with another friend of hers. More smiles, more fun, more firsts. Whatever we felt like doing, we did. Nothing illegal. Nothing risque. Just pure fun. Just experiencing what Charleytown and life had to offer that night. I felt truly alive for the first time in a long, long time. CLS told me to roll with it. Whatever it was, and I did. Whoa.
Roll with it.
Small Triumph.
Upon returning to CrazyLand, I found, once again, while the landscape and terrain remained unchanged, this visitor's perspective had. It appeared that I had somehow returned to this place with a suit of armor, made with the sudden sense of self that had been revealed to me. This armor, while still needing to be molded and shaped into something less penetrable, was enough to sustain me while being confronted with the awful barbs I continued to encounter along my path. But it surprised me by being enough to completely stop the bleeding. It was strong enough, already, to withstand the twists, turns, and unexpected blows I was still facing. There was still pain, but my ability to stand tall and find my way, was buoyed by this new protection I had procured in a charming place called Charleston.
Then, two months and three more trips...
A solo road trip to Florida for work provided an opportunity to just hang out with me, myself and I. Alone in a hotel room for 3 days, painting my toenails (unfortunately pedicures are a luxury item for women who are temporarily married), watching silly television and actually eating dinner in my bed was a vacation from CrazyLand that I didn't know it would be. Of course, I had the work to do, but that is a story for another day... I also had a chance to visit a new friend, in a new place with new people. It was oddly comforting to be anonymous among perfectly lovely like-minded people. To put it simply, I had a weekend of easy. It was relaxing in a way that took me by complete surprise. The burden of all that happened in my 2010, was lifted for a brief interlude. I felt so very light upon my departure. It was one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given, and I don't think they really know it. Thank you, BC.
In two trips to Arizona, I found a much needed respite with my family, whose impact and love goes without saying, and a series of reminders of who pre-children, pre-marriage and in some cases, pre-adulthood Tiffany is. Through the wonders of facebook, I have been reunited with the kind of friends that knew you when you had that awful 8th grade permed mullet hair, braces and wanna-be Madonna hoop earrings, on a more daily basis, but haven't had the chance to see them eye to eye until now. I have become pen-pals of sorts with many of them over the course of the last two years, but being able to get that hug they have been sending through cyberspace was an opportunity that could not be passed up. Standing in Josh's backyard with the boys I had known since we were awkward teenagers trying to figure out who was with who and why, having a conversation as though we had just seen each other yesterday, and watching our children play together, was pure fuel for my soul. A trip to Tucson to visit my old stomping grounds and a much, much delayed meeting of the AV5 and my kiddos to celebrate my dear friend Annie's birthday, was sweeter than the dessert we ate for dinner. I soaked up all I could of my beloved Duckie, who has been there through most everything for 25 years. Seeing my Lisa and Kryss as the beautiful new mothers they are, getting to meet and cuddle their adorable babies, getting a surprise in the form of Jon and his lovely wife, all in the same morning, put a smile in my heart. They all knew me when. They all know me now. They believe in me and what they see. They love me for who I was and who I am. They all helped fill my Tiffany bucket.
Lightness of Being and a Fortified, Filled Tiffany Bucket.
HUGE TRIUMPH.
That brings us here. A new year. A new beginning. A new way of approaching my life. A need to write it down. For me. I do feel fortified. I feel as though I have been brought back to life quickly, yet, as you can see, it has taken some getting here. I do not feel that I reside in CrazyLand, but am a visitor when the chancellor needs me to be. I'm realizing that my perspective is the thing that has changed. Who I am, at my core, is still me, and I am damn proud of that. Tiffany, with all the other titles and, just, Tiffany. The strength I need is within me and thanks to so many people with the right words at the right time, I am recognizing that now. I'm doing things I never dreamed I do (empire state building), and making it my moral imperative to live each day to the fullest. I've got a ways to go, but I am upright. I am smiling and I feel good. I'm trying new things, I'm looking for adventures. Whoa.
So, this is my new blog. Rest assured, it will not be a bashing of He Who Shall Remain Nameless, nor will it be a tawdry account of my escapades as a newly single hottie (those details are saved for others who shall remain nameless). But, it will not be for the faint of heart, and I cannot promise I won't use it to vent about anything related directly to me, how I am feeling or what I'm dealing with. That's the whole point. I'm starting over at age 37 and this is my tale.
Much love,
Tiffany the Triumphant
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