Mirror Mirror

It’s interesting, really. It’s interesting how living with someone creates a mirror reflecting back the state of your heart, your attitude and…well…..your messiness inside and out.

There have been times in the last three months where I have wished I had an anonymous blog -- one where I could share the grit of my life….the struggles I have…my points of self-doubt and indecision. I have done that in the past in this blog when I was picking up and rebuilding my life….but I have found that it’s a precarious place to share publicly and openly when other people are involved….future spouse, kids, future step-kids. I have struggled with what to share and when, so I have taken a bit of a break to reorganize my blogging thoughts, to look at the future and determine whether the Divorced Diva will still be in existence….and have come to the conclusion-----Heck Yeah!! Even on my journey to become remarried soon…..my divorce (and my 16-year marriage) still shapes my outlook, my relationships, my fears and my desire to have breakfast at 11am on Saturday mornings just because I can.

As I sit here typing on my couch, overlooking mismatched shoes on my living room floor, yesterday’s coffee cup on my coffee table and a stack of torn magazine pages containing recipes, ideas, and pretty pictures, I feel a sense of guilt. Guilt because I have been home for three hours and have done nothing but check email and watch Gray’s Anatomy. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not a bon-bon eating, tv watching couch potato…..that is not where I live….but I do visit there from time to time. It’s easy to appear neat when your man comes to visit from time to time, but it’s quite another thing when they share an address……..suddenly, those shoes that I hide at a moment’s notice remain on my floor…..my makeup is all over the bathroom counter and my dishes are still in the sink. The Man has stepped up to the plate. He cleans up after himself, he does dishes, he helps out around the house….it’s every woman’s dream…..that is….until he asks “can you hang that up?” Whoa….what?? You mean you can see my stuff?? My Klingon cloaking device no longer works now that we are engaged?? You can actually see my stuff??? Defensiveness rises up….excuses stream out like a burst water pipe. Deflect--deflect……well…..what about the fact that you left your water glass on the coffee table??? Huh?? “You mean the one next to your coffee cup--s???” Mayday… mayday…..I’m shot…I’m going down…. Parachute comes out and I descend the stairs to the safety of my couch. But then….there he is……wanting to talk.

Talk?? In the olden days we had our own homes….our own space…..so if I felt a little….well…hormonal…..I could just make up some project to get done at my house, give him a kiss on the cheek and offer to bring over dinner. I can’t tell you how many loads of laundry The Man did at his house that were somewhat suspect----that is, I suspected them of being a smokescreen for space….and a nap….  Now, here we are together…..and all the mess of our lives are here to be seen…both inside and out. We are mirrors for each other---revealing the brokenness of our lives---but also revealing the beauty of those broken fragments….if we take a minute to discern carefully. That mirror has caused me a bit of distress in the last few months…..sometimes I get tired of having my crabby image ricocheted back to me….I get tired of talking about our disagreements….I get tired of having disagreements…… but then I take a minute and realize that he is growing roots - - oak tree roots--and he is not going anywhere. This is his home. He is no longer visiting….coming over for a play date…..he is home….with me. We are home together.

So I will try to keep my mess to a minimum---both inside and out and learn to give more grace when his mirror is reflecting back at him….and understand.