Fire in the Sandbox!

Sometimes, we have to look at things from a different angle to get a solution.  For about a year, I have been treating a skin condition with everything I could find – cortisone, tea tree oil, blue goop and avoiding all lotions, creams and oils.  Things would seem to get better and then BAM! It comes back with a vengeance and spreads even further. 

I knew the cause of my condition, but I wanted an outward fix for an inward condition……let me just repeat that for myself to hear…..I wanted an outward fix for an inward condition.  Well, I am nothing if not consistent….  How many times have I told myself, if it wasn’t for x..y..and of course Z, I would not have behaved that way.  If he wouldn’t JKL then I wouldn’t LMN….what a load of KaKa!!  I want to fix all of the outward manifestations of an inside problem…..but I really don’t want to examine the actual inside. 

To rid myself of my condition, I have to eliminate all US wines, cut down on other wine, limit cheese, bread, and sugar—oh and drink a nasty concoction involving Apple Cider Vinegar.  Um….yeah…..see my reluctance???  But……my condition worsened until I had to do something and I am seeing great, amazing progress!!  I had to readjust my inside to get a true outside fix. 

After my X’s affair, the deacons of my church strongly suggested that I install software on his computer to keep him off certain sites and to monitor his behavior.  I told them in no uncertain terms that I was his wife, not his nanny---they said I was a fool.  Well…maybe….but I don’t think so. 

Prior to the discovery of the affair, we (read Becky) had a system of boundaries and checks and balances—that just meant that my X and my friend had created elaborate ways to get around them.  I had come to realize that my X’s behavior was between him and God—why should I control him??  Letting go of controlling his outward behavior allowed me to retain my dignity in a difficult situation.  It was not my fault…..I could not fix it…it wasn’t mine to fix.  The affair was an outward manifestation of an inward condition…no band-aid in the world would fix it. 

The Man has a wonderful saying—that when we fight, it’s simply our dysfunctions colliding.  My dysfunction butts up against his…doesn’t politely say excuse me…..and his butts right back.  We’re like two kids in the sand box emotionally pushing each other back into our own space.  I pick up a handful of sand, throw it in his eyes, and he exclaims, “that wasn’t fair!”  He finds kitty poop and smudges it on my favorite shirt….and it’s ON! 

What he says is accurate, however, the word dysfunction makes me feel broken….unusable….defective.  The actual definition of the prefix Dys is:  diseased, abnormal and faulty.  Dysfunction is so overused and has such a negative connation that it’s difficult to accept my behavior as a dysfunction….I am a Princess….I do not DYS-function!!!  (Of course, this has nothing to do with my tendency to avoid things….look the other way…you see nothing….) During my run today, I decided that there is a better word for me:  Mis-function.  I am not functioning the way I am supposed to….I have misfired. 

Many of my Mis-functions are actually a result of my strengths….which I think is pretty common…..

Affectionate can mis-function to become smothering

Problem solving can mis-function to become blaming

Detail oriented can mis-function to become critical

Protective can mis-function to become controlling

Passionate can mis-function to become bat s**t crazy!

To grow emotionally, I must look at my mis-fires, my mis-functions and discover what is going on inwardly that creates the outward behavior.  I have to get better at expressing my emotions—not my frustrations, not my list of gripes, but those feelings that press the FIRE button at a moment’s notice. 

But, just like my initial attempt to “heal” my skin condition, I typically want to fix the outside…(read:  everyone else).  But for true emotional healing, one must first look to the inside and the outside will follow. 

A Letter to the Future Mrs. X

A girlfriend and I had a long lunch with cocktails the other day.  The topic du jour was being a Mrs. X –you know….the woman who marries your X who without fail will be criticized about everything from her parenting skills to her nail polish color to the number on the bathroom scale.  We all hope the new Mrs. X will be dumb as a box of rocks, have a behind the size of Texas and, of course, make our X miserable so he will finally learn what  a SOB he is/was. 

In reality, we should pine away for the perfect woman – someone who will be pleasant to talk to at family functions…..someone with a sense of humor so when Junior shows up at their house with his latest ant farm project and proceeds to drop said project on the floor shattering an ant world all over her kitchen……she won’t commit homicide….. We should want someone good to our children and who treats them with dignity and respect……..

It’s a stinky job…..being the Mrs. X.  You inherit all of the family disfunction….not just your own, but your Man’s, too.  You not only inherit his family, his kids, the dog, the goldfish and the Bob Marley album collection---you also inherit his X…..let me repeat that…..yes, you inherit his X—who most probably will hate you till the day she dies. 

My X is getting married this summer.  The new wifey isn’t exactly who I would pick to be the step-mom in my kids' lives…..but I wasn’t actually consulted…..and quite honestly, if I chose…..I would probably pick someone with the above qualities…..you know….dumb as a box of rocks and someone at LEAST a jeans size larger than me…..maybe even two…. BUT, in the spirit of charity, the Easter Bunny, spring lambs and April Fools day, I am giving the future Mrs. X a little help….just a little. 

Dear Future Mrs. X:

I know you are madly in love with my X---I know right now everything is all tulips and sunshine and I genuinely hope that you two will be eternally happy….etc. etc. etc.  Being a step-mom and dealing with me will not be a walk in the park……I apologize in advance.  If the X and I could deal with our dysfunction properly…..well….he wouldn’t be my X……  Here are a few tips to make your life a bit easier as the new Mrs. X.

Treat my children kindly and with respect.  This is non-negotiable.  Feel free to enforce your house rules, but know that there is a line.

At family functions, talk to my kids…..engage with them.  Find out what they like and who they are…..they are pretty good kids…..I know they remind you of my existence and of a life you weren’t a part of…..but embrace it because they aren’t going anywhere.

Don’t try to drive a wedge between my X and our kids.  Don’t badmouth their mother……..I have heard that she can go from zero to psycho in about 15 seconds……so keep your thoughts about my life to yourself and to your hubbie….don’t speak of them to my children.

When you see me, be polite.  It’s a scary thing being around the former Mrs. X….. I have been there….but remember, there are many weddings, graduations, birthday parties, and births to attend……  Better yet, bring a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses---we will probably both need a drink. 

Encourage my X to spend time with his children…..make some new traditions (just don’t make them conflict with mine---remember that zero to psycho comment).   Include them in your plans. 

And lastly, be patient….it takes more time that you ever thought for kids to warm up to the newbie.  It takes more time than it should.   But if you invest in their lives, you will eventually get a return. 

All the best,

Me.

Diary of an Angry Greek Woman

My first encounter with Medea was in the early days of dating The Man. He invited me to a movie, Medea Goes to Jail. He mentioned that this was a continuation of the Medea movie, Diary of an Angry Black Woman. I was *so* excited….I just love documentaries… the grit, the true life stories and this one sounded right up my alley. I pictured Africa…Johannesburg…women marching for equal treatment... When the first preview came on, my excitement came to a screeeeeching halt. *Oh* Tyler Perry is not an artsy indy filmmaker. Um…yeah… The Man kept glancing at me nervously at every punch line wondering, “why isn’t she laughing??” I kept subtly glancing at him, “did he just laugh at that?” Time moved in slow motion - the complete opposite of warp speed - I tried to smile and look cute…feign interest…wishing this movie theater served something a little more potent than milk duds…..

That was my first encounter with Medea. Imagine my surprise this semester when our assignment was to read Medea by Euripides. Tyler Perry just went up a notch in my mind. Medea? There is another Medea? I was instantly intrigued.

It’s an age-old story, really. Girl leaves her homeland…her family…her friends…to marry her hero - the celebrated Jason (as in Jason and the Argonauts). She helps him create his fortune by assisting him in his quest for the golden fleece. She is smart, beautiful, loyal…..he becomes her life….she has his children and is a devoted wife. They are the ultimate Power Couple--the Ken and Barbie of Ancient Greece. With her brains and his ambition, they can go places. That is…..until he traded her in for a new model….young, cute…..and a princess to boot. I can picture their conversation in my mind…..Medea: “But I got you where you are today - it was with my help that you succeeded.” Jason: “I would have succeeded with or without you…you really didn’t do that much to help…it was by MY hard work that I got where I am today.” I see Medea standing there….hearing those words that tore her heart….pleading with her husband to stay…not to abandon their long marriage. My heart starts to pound…my blood is reaching its boiling point…. Jason: “and just think…..it will be much better for the kids…..they will have little brothers and sisters who will be heirs to the throne….think of them for once…think of the opportunities it will give our children.” annnnnnd the Waterford crashes into the living room wall. I wonder - is he related to my X?? Early ancestor, maybe?? Jason: “I am sending you away - but you’ll have a nice house.” CRASH! Jason: “Why can’t you just accept this? You are so difficult!” CRASH- CRASH-CRASH-CRASH!!! Sister, I am there!! I am there in spades!!

Medea is devastated, hurt, angry, and alone. She has lost her husband, her friends, her house, and her lifestyle. She is one angry woman. She plots…plans….and manipulates her circumstances in order to bring him pain. She becomes a woman obsessed with showing the world how much he hurt her---to show the world what a bad father he is--to show the world that she is right and he is wrong. He was unfaithful not her….why is she being punished? She wanted to work on the relationship--he didn’t….the world needs to know that Jason…the revered Jason is a fraud. Medea looks for the way to cause him the most pain - - and she finds it….through his children.

In Euripides’ story, Medea plots to kill her children. I would be hard-pressed to find any woman willing to stoop to that level to cause their X’s that much pain. However, quite often I see women (and men) attempting to kill the relationship between their children and the other parent. It’s so subtle….a comment here and there about how unreliable they are, about their financial support, about their new girlfriend. I see them scheduling play dates, family outings, or girl scout meetings on the other parent’s weekend. She ignores simple, reasonable requests. She brings them late or picks them up early…..and visitation becomes a hassle in the children’s mind. Mom is happy because she feels vindicated because the kids chose to stay with her during Dad’s time.

I understand…..I am there sometimes….pick me not him….pick me not him!! Sometimes I just want to push the X off his pedestal like a kid playing King of the Mountain. Just one push…one quick hard push…. Why should he get to be the good guy?? It’s not fair!! I work hard to be a mom. I make the difficult decisions. I sacrificed for my family…stayed home to be a mom instead of finishing my degree and starting a career. But here’s the thing - kids need their dads and their moms. My new mantra is, “they are an X for a reason.” What he does now isn’t part of my current equation - he is my X-husband…..but he is not my kids’ X-father. He may not keep his house the way I would keep my house (holy cow, it would involve a bulldozer), he may not keep the children accountable like I would (just call him Mr. Cha-ching) and he may not date women I think are appropriate (I would prefer they be actual grown-ups) :)  but he is still their dad and I need to give their relationship the utmost respect.

Your kids may never see how he wronged you….how much he hurt you….how you are the superior parent. To be honest, although that is a gratifying thought, it’s not a healthy thought. Part of me wants my kids to see it, but part of me knows that if and when they do, they are going to experience my pain, feel my abandonment, and mourn the daddy they once knew who has now fallen off his pedestal. It’s not worth it. My vindication is not worth my child’s heart.

Just walk away knowing that he is an X for a reason…..and whistle a happy tune.

A Lesson in Forgiveness

I just finished reading a book by Immaculee Ilibagiza about her experience in surviving the genocide in Rwanda in the early 1990’s. The book, Left to Tell, is an inspiring story of survival, love, and learning to forgive those who have caused immeasurable pain.

Forgiveness……I remember that word. It means, in essence, that the other person doesn’t owe you anything - there is no debt to be repaid, no suffering required, no payback. Forgiveness is not forgetting, but it’s more of a remembering without malice. Many times, forgiveness is a process and sometimes you find yourself back at the beginning when you were about to “win” the game. Forgiveness is not easy…..especially in the case of my X where I find myself having an endless supply of new things to be ticked off about and all of the old patterns and ancient hurts resurface.

Reading the words of Immaculee, I find myself drawn to her struggle - drawn to how honest she is about the difficulty in forgiving. Immaculee had decided in her heart to forgive former friends who brutally murdered her family, her neighbors, her schoolmates. She seemed to have already won the battle of forgiveness….passed into the other side….taken the high road. But then, after the genocide is over, she visits her family home. She writes:

As we drove away from my home, past the unmarked mounds of dirt that covered Mother and [my brother], I felt the bitter, dirty taste of hatred in my mouth…I looked at the faces peering at us as we passed, and I knew with all my heart that those people had blood on their hands - their neighbors blood…my family’s blood. I wanted the soldiers to douse Mataba in gasoline and let me light the match that would reduce it to ashes….My soul was at war with itself. I’d struggled so hard to forgive, but now felt duped for having done so; I had no clemency left in me. Seeing my home in ruins and visiting the lonely, forgotten graces of my loved ones had choked the life out of my forgiving spirit.

For me, the most difficult part about forgiving is the fear that my pain will be forgotten - that all of my tears would be for nothing…they wouldn’t count anymore because everything will be “okay.” When the chalkboard of offenses is erased, my tears and my hurt go with it. Sometimes, I just want my pain to matter….to be important….to be remembered. The hard part is that pain takes a lot of energy to hold onto. Have you ever tried to hold onto a cat that desperately wants to flee? Holding onto hurt and pain is like holding onto that cat - it takes a lot of energy – energy that sucks the life out of your heart.

Although I can’t imagine forgiving my former friends and neighbors from brutally murdering my family, I do know what it feels like to forgive a former friend for her part in tearing apart the nice little life I had built for myself and my family. To be honest, the hurt was exhausting and holding onto it kept me angry and bitter for a good long year. I am not by nature an angry and bitter person. One day, I woke up and knew it was time….time to forgive. I drove to her house, heart thumping loudly, knocked on her door, and said….”I just don’t want to hate you anymore.” We talked for a long time sitting on her living room floor. She cried….I cried…. I finally had to ask, “Are you even sorry? Did my hurt matter to you?” Honestly, I didn’t feel as if my hurt mattered to anyone - I felt abandoned…by my husband, by friends, my church. Since my X was a worship pastor, we had been cast out of the church…my friends felt awkward around me…and although I tried to shelter my teenage children, they heard the rumors and they were hurting. My carefully crafted life was in ashes, but to stay there amidst the ashes…to build a memorial there…to camp out on the shore of bitterness and hurt would be resigning myself to a life of bitterness and hurt…so I had to choose. What do you want, Becky? A life where you are totally pissed off at your X about what he did or did not do? Is that what you really want?? Do you want to be one of those people who have to get in a snarky word at every turn--to prove that I am the victim and he made the biggest mistake of his life when he lost me? Really?

When Immaculee saw the man who led the band of murderers in her village - the man who killed her mother, father, and brothers…not just in a night of mayhem, but who actually hunted them down and killed them. He had hunted her as well - wanted her family’s property as his own. When Immaculee came face to face with her former neighbor…the father of her childhood friends….the brutal murderer of her family, she touched his hand lightly and quietly said, “I forgive you.” The politician in charge of arresting those who committed these atrocities was livid! He wanted her to spit on this man’s face…to shame him…to exact vengeance. When he asked Immaculee why she would forgive such a man, she replied, “Forgiveness is all I have to offer.” She had no family, no money….only forgiveness…but in offering that forgiveness, she gave herself something that money can’t buy - a whole heart….a heart that can love again, hope again, trust again. By forgiving, she allowed herself to live.

I want to shout it out to every ex-wife out there - Live!!! Move on!! Forgive!! Make your new life beautiful and let your ex do the same! May I remember that lesson myself every single day!

Mutual Accountability

One would think I’d be happy….. After all, I am home an hour early from class…..have more time to get my work “to do’s” done, study, and get ready for my outing this evening with The Man. One would think……

The problem is, however, that I am quite unhappy about it. Of all the classes I took this semester, this was the one I was most excited about….the one that grabbed me and said, “oh you must take this class.” It was love at first course-catalog sight. This class had the potential of being a perfect match…a soul mate of sorts….. We’d read works such as Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Hemmingway, Kafka, and O’Connor while discussing threads of sin and redemption. I dreamed of passionate discussions, new insights, and connecting with others through sharing of opinions. Reality hits…….no one is reading the books. When I say no one, I mean maybe five people out of 25 are actually capable of opening a book and reading it. It’s like reading someone’s Match.com profile, thinking you’d have a great connection, and then realizing in the first 5 minutes that you have been duped. Yes, he said he loved art and fine food, but he failed to mention that to him that meant comic books and Bravo Italian Kitchen.

I did a lot of thinking on my drive home….mostly thinking of how this applies to life and to relationships. This class with all its potential is now my most dreaded class. It’s not because I have a bad professor….he actually has great insights and a great knowledge of literature. I dread this class because it seems pointless……pointless because no one really engages. Most people are checked out……or checked in….to facebook….to email…..to their doodles on paper. There is no interaction….we just co-exist in a classroom for 3 hours a week. Hmmmmmm……sounds a lot like my marriage.

When two people don’t engage with each other, it feels lonely…..it feels empty…..it feels like one big, fat rejection. I cannot say how many people I speak to who are lonely in their marriages. Yes, they have tried counseling…..yes, they have tried date nights…..yes, they have tried more sex…..but the problem is that they are not engaging with one another. I remember asking the X early in our separation if he wanted a divorce. The X said “no,” he wasn’t ready for divorce. The problem was, however, that although he was not for divorce, he really wasn’t for marriage either….he was ambivalent....just biding his time. I wonder how many people are out there who are in a relationship who aren’t ready to leave, but are simply co-existing until something happens……either they get too old to care or until the other person gets sick of it and leaves first. **NEWS FLASH** If you do what you have always done, you will get what you have always gotten. If you refuse to engage and invest in the relationship, you will not get returns….things will not get better….things will not change…..ever. If this is you, why not figure out how to truly and heartfully reconnect with your spouse….no strings attached….record of wrongs thrown out the door…..giving life together an honest try. There are a lot of people who say they “try” to make things better with their spouses….but I am sorry, just like the fellow students in my fiction class, showing up does not equal an effort. The fact that your body warms a bed in your home does not equate a try.

It really twerps me off knowing that I busted my fanny to read the material due for class and look around and see that the majority of others could care less. This is not a required class - it’s an elective….so if you aren’t going to do the work, why waste our time?

Some would say they are only hurting themselves and that I should just feel proud that I am doing the work. The problem is that their ambivalence hurts the whole class. We cannot have class discussions of any sort…..they disrupt the class with their own goings on…..or simply try at any point to get completely off topic so they can talk. During counseling, my X didn’t do the assigned work, was not willing to look inside himself and his family life to discover the junk he brought to the table and was, quite frankly, ambivalent about our marriage. His lack of engagement spoke volumes about his true priorities and feelings….and it hurt….a lot. Eventually, I quit counseling….what was the point? There was no mutual accountability….no iron sharpening iron…..no growing together….we did what we always did……and grew……apart.

In Crime and Punishment, Razumikhin describes Raskolnikov, “He’s magnanimous and kind. He doesn’t like expressing his feelings and would rather perpetrate some cruelty than express in words what’s in his heart…sometimes he’s terribly uncommunicative! No time for anybody, everything’s in his way, while actually he’s just lying around, not doing a thing. No jokes, and that’s not because he lacks wit, but as though he had no time for such trifles.” To me, this is the picture of a person withdrawn from a relationship….someone who would rather be petty than explain what is on her heart…someone who clams up, gets frustrated with everyone wasting her time, and losing her sense of humor….someone who is not real anymore….she is just existing.

In relationships, we are mutually accountable - - we are accountable to be real with each other….living and sharing real lives….even if it is messy for a while. We owe it to those around us.

So…..lesson and reminder to myself…..engage…..do not withdraw. When life gets a little (or a lot) messy, resist the urge to withdraw and keep my distance. When life gets busy, engage in the present moment not on my “To Do” list. My self-protective tendency is to hide my heart away…..to not let myself hope for good things when it’s risky…..to lie to myself and say that “I just don’t care.” When I refuse to engage, I am not just hurting myself, I am hurting those people who are investing in a relationship with me.

Galoshes

When life rains down on you, put on your galoshes and dance in the rain.

When I was a little girl, I loved to wear my galoshes. I had to walk to school every day…..and I loved the rainy days….those days meant for my clear, domed umbrella and….of course, my galoshes. No puddle was unexplored…unsplashed….no curbside river was left untouched. In my galoshes I was invincible…..safe…..unfettered by the rain.

Fast forward three and a half decades…….I am standing in the home of the X….watching my bride-to-be daughter give direction to those of us setting up for the wedding….she is so beautiful…and excited.


The wedding-weekend weather seemed a bit sketchy…..cold…and rainy….so I packed my cute black galoshes with bright red cherries just in case the reception tent became a muddy mess (yes, I was a girl scout….always prepared). So……on Friday, there I was standing in the home of the X….or more appropriately CLEANING the home of the X….the home where I raised my children…my dogs….my horses….my cows…it seemed that my X was neither a boy scout nor a girl scout as he certainly was not prepared for 160 people to descend upon his home in 24 hours…….but *ahem* that’s why he is the X. But in the end, I love my daughter more than I want to see my X squirm so I cleaned…and cleaned and cleaned… (I am expecting a nomination for sainthood from the Pope any day now)….. and not surprisingly, without an ounce of gratitude or even a simple thank you from the X…..

The stress level begins to mount……

Having a house full of people was a great distraction to me that weekend…..I got to cook….to entertain….to open wine bottles I’d been saving (gotta love that Rockpile Zin…..yum!)…. It also gave me an excuse to show up for the wedding just in time to help the daughter into her wedding dress……she was absolutely stunning! The most beautiful bride I have EVER seen!!!

The X’s house is full of people…..it’s cold outside…..very, very cold outside…so as people arrived, they gravitated to the house instead of the outside chairs. Thankfully, we had prepared a separate room for my family and me to get ready for the wedding. I plugged in my curling iron and slipped on my red Jessica Rabbit dress (I hadn’t intended to dress as the “Hot Mother of the Bride” but try finding a red semi-formal dress without vavavoom!). I slipped into the powder room to put on my makeup. Suddenly, someone burst into the room….all bouncy with a high-pitched over-the-top girl greeting…..it was an old “friend” of mine (you know….the one I wrote about in my last blog…the one who ditched me to hang out with my X)……I tried to match her excitement…..to give her the benefit of the doubt…..to reconcile my feelings with how she was greeting me……I hugged her back and resumed making myself forever-photo ready.

Walking into the dressing room, I noticed my curling iron was unplugged…..my things had been moved…..and saw that my “friend” had taken over my space. Furious, I walked back out of the door……heart pounding…..palms sweating…..and stopped in the hallway…wondering what to do. The home was now completely full of people and there was nowhere for me to go……what to do…what to do…… It hit me…..I am the Mother of the Bride… Turning around, I opened the door and walked back in (Pale Rider playing in the background of my mind)…..I firmly but calmly ask my old friend to please find another place to get dressed…and told her how I felt about her ignoring my emails and Facebook requests. Did she hear my voice quiver? Did she have any idea how awkward this was for me….did she even care?? Now I feel like a jerk……I am stressed to the max…..I need a drink….well….maybe drinking isn’t a good idea…..

Pulling myself together, I head to the center of the house where friends and family were congregating. There was a sea of people and all seemed a blur….noise all around me…..people all around me…..stress….stress…stress……I look around and saw a familiar pair of warm brown eyes watching me….loving me….waiting for me….. The Man puts his hand on my shoulders and I breathe a sigh of relief. This is going to be okay……

The wedding was beautiful……my daughter is now a Mrs. and we head to the reception. Although I won’t bore you with all of the crazy details of the ceremony, photos, and reception blunders…..I will tell you that I now call it National Lampoons Wedding Week….as there was craziness after craziness after craziness….but like Clark Griswold’s Christmas decorations…..all turned out beautiful.

Sitting in my chair at the reception, drinking a glass of fine red wine….I reflected on the day……wondering how I was going to get through the rest of the evening with me on one side and the X on the other…..with His and Hers family and friends on either side of the dance floor. Then…….I remembered…..I had brought them after all……my cherry galoshes are under the gift table….waiting. I looked at the Man and said, “It’s time for the galoshes.” Slipping them on was such a freeing moment…….galoshes with a stunning red dress……that is soooo Becky Pruitt…… I grabbed the Man’s hand, stepped out onto the dance floor and splashed in every puddle life gave me that day.

Let's Do the Time Warp.....Again

It's astounding, time is fleeting
Madness takes its toll
But listen closely, not for very much longer
I've got to keep control

It’s a Jump to the left….and a step to the right…….

We all know the dance……some of us all too well. Hearing that song ushers me back to the first time I saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show at age 16. I had never experienced anything so fun and interactive in all of my 16 years.

The Time Warp……..that place where our body is in the present, but our mind and emotion are in the past…..a sort of “Back to the Future.” I know the Time Warp well…….

It happens with my parents, aunts and uncles, cousins, grandparents, old classmates……that place where I am an adult but somehow am stuck in perpetual childhood/adolescence in someone’s mind. How often have I said, “I am 40 years old, I think I can handle it…..” How often has my OWN child said, “I am 20 years old, I think I can handle it….” It’s the Time Warp.

Relationships are much the same. We get stuck in a certain “time frame” with others and use that point of reference to judge actions, motives, and even outcomes. The X did that to me during our marriage and it was so very frustrating. No matter how hard I would try to tweak those annoying traits of mine, he was still ticked off at past behavior. Progress was seen as failure because I hadn’t “arrived” yet….I hadn’t completed the inner journey to fix the problem (if only I had a Star Trek transporter to put me where I needed to be).

Honestly, I do the same with him. If he is late with something, I assume he is still being irresponsible….if he shows confidence in something (even HELPING me fix my plumbing), I see it as proof that he is still arrogant. If he is busy…….well, holy cow….he is still busy…..so I won’t even go there…….

We tend to see each other through the lense of “experience,” however, that is not conducive to reacting appropriately to each other’s change. When I trained horses, I always looked for the, “smallest change and the slightest try.” In training, if I overlook the “tries” the horse becomes dull and unresponsive. Conversely, when I reward the smallest try (by a simple release of pressure), the horse becomes eager to try again, try more quickly and the desired outcome of our partnership becomes easy and seamless.

In horse training, I have to be willing to always start at level 1. If I know that it will always take level 54 to get my horse to do something, and start there, I am taking away his ability to better himself. In human terms, if I know that I have to really get on Junior’s case to mow the lawn and I start at that place, we will never have the benefit of finding that good place to work together….that place of partnership. Capiche?

So for me…..I am looking to find those places with the X where I can work with him as a person instead of the X-husband….to see where he really tries and to really appreciate those things. Life is just so much better that way!

The Ending of a Marriage is a Strange Thing

The ending of a marriage is a strange thing. One would think it is a relief, a celebration, an event to look forward to after months or even years of turmoil…….but when the time comes, it is a bittersweet moment. The moment when my pen touched the first paper to start the process, I had to stop and put the pen down - - “is this really what I want?”

Your soon to be X-spouse is part of your family - albeit a family member that you don’t want to see often and talk much to - but a family member all the same. Somehow putting pen to paper to end the relationship seems almost like the reverse process - instead of the pen writing, it is erasing - erasing all of the good memories of a life shared. It seems as if divorce has a way of stealing those precious memories away.

My friend, Michelle, wrote this beautiful note on facebook about her memories of her marriage……I felt compelled to share it…..and she has graciously consented….

For those of you that know me well, you will know that what I am about to share is VERY much out of character for me...yet, I feel compelled to share anyway....

Today I received a draft version of my final divorce papers. And, as I was sitting and reading these papers, it occurred to me how much life can change with just a couple of signatures. Flashes of the last 8 1/2 years of my life started to go through my head and I began to wonder...how am I ever supposed to sign these? It seems like signing these papers are like saying that the last 8 1/2 years of my life that I have worked so hard to build mean nothing and this thought makes me sad beyond belief.

Don't get me wrong, my soon to be ex and I have had our share of rough times. We have screamed at each other and both done things that I am sure we could take back. But there have been so many good times too...

1. The time that he sent me flowers for no reason at all after only 2 weeks of dating (so out of character for my ex).
2. The time that he surprised me for valentines day and bought tickets to a fancy dinner at the zoo, along with all of the fancy clothes we both needed to wear to the event.
3. When he used to make me breakfast in bed every morning, because he knew I was not a morning person, but thought I needed to eat breakfast anyway.
4. How excited we were when we decided that we were ready to start trying to have kids.
5. The birth of both of our beautiful children.
6. Crying together when his grandmother died.
7. Crying together when my grandfather died.
8. Trying not to kill each other when Owen had acid reflux and cried non-stop for the first 4 months of his life.

These are big and small moments that make up a life. They are a history and a family that two people build together. How am I supposed to sign papers that seem to minimalize these events down to who pays for what and who gets what items in the house? Does life really just come down packed boxes and broken promises? It all just seems so sad.

Her note inspired me to share some of my favorite memories - - as a reminder of the beautiful friendship that the X and I shared……..once upon a time

1. Playing cards…..canasta, hearts, spades, speed…until the wee hours of the night
2. body surfing in the ocean with waves that were less than spectacular…..but laughing for hours about it all
3. The time he wore a goofy hat (with the ears hanging down) at Disney and following Lauren around the park talking to her in his goofy voice
4. lying on the couch for hours eating popcorn and watching movies
5. All the times he made no-bake cookies for me when I was stressed
6. sitting for hours listening to him play guitar
7. the hours spent in the tractor together while plowing, planting, or harvesting our crops in the fields
8. shoe shopping with him - when I would try to decide between two pairs….he would grin….look at me slyly, and say, “buy both!” (Trust me - I miss that terribly!!!!)

After contemplating the memories of my marriage for a few days……I have decided that the memories give me hope…..hope that someday I will be making new memories with someone special…….adding to the gallery of happy times. I will not take the old memories off that gallery wall - I will cherish them for what they are……and continue to paint on the canvas that is my new life.

Would You Like Some Salsa with That Chip?

There is nothing I like more than a good Mexican restaurant…..it’s my little slice of heaven! I go because I can get my fill of chips and salsa (and then take my dinner home in a “to go” box). Normally, I am not a chip eater, but give me a little fresh, chunky salsa and I will eat basket after basket after basket.

What is it about those chips that keep me coming for more, even though I know they aren’t good for me?? Why don’t I just eat the salsa with a spoon for goodness sake?? There is just something about the crunchiness and the saltiness that relieves my stress - that conquers my frustration for the moment…..that just plain tastes good.

I am typically a happy person - my disposition is sunny 90% of the time…I smile…I bubble…..I laugh…..unless, of course, I have to deal with my X. Now, I try really hard to not have a chip on my shoulder about our marriage…..I really do. The X and I can be in the same room, we can sit by each other at Junior’s games, we can make polite conversation - - BUT if we need to work together in any capacity, my frustration hits Defcon 5 in a matter of minutes. I get defensive…..I get frustrated……I get impatient…..I want to throw my Blackberry across the room and jump up and down like a three year old. In short, the sunny disposition flies right out the window.

Last week, I spoke with the X about Junior’s visitation schedule…..well...he is older and we don’t really have a schedule….which is probably part of the problem…. My expectations were not being met (do you hear the chips crunching?)…. I was determined to have a polite conversation about the amount of time they were spending together. During the conversation, I felt he was not taking my concerns seriously (crunch)….to which he responded defensively…(crunch..crunch…crunch)….and my response was not much better (crunchcrunchcrunchcrunchcrunch)… Our conversation ended with him declaring, “Becky, you can no longer tell me what to do!”

Waitress…..could I have some more salsa please?????

Bitterness is like that - it changes your perspective - gives you funky glasses to look through (in my case funky glasses with rhinestones curving over the top)…. Bitterness changes everything. Just listen to people talk after an election….if their candidate didn’t win, the world is going to hell in a hand-basket. The newly elected official is second cousin to the devil once removed - nothing they ever do will be right. I have asked many a friend, “how can you hate someone you don’t even know?”

Marriage and Divorce can be like that, too. Expectations are not met and bitterness sets in……which turns in to gripiness and complaints….which turns into anger….and then even hate. But why? What does it solve? If I have a chip on my shoulder when I deal with my X, how does that improve my situation? Oh, it might feel good for a moment to “give him a piece of my mind..” but then what?? I have eroded any goodwill we may have created in the months past - I have set myself up for future failure. So why not just accept that he is human and has faults (oh does he ever)….just like I am human and have faults (very few I might add)…

Push the basket of chips aside….forgo the salsa…..and just enjoy life.

The Grande Pity Party

Now I have been known to throw a pretty good party. As a matter of fact, it could possibly be one of my favorite things…..it doesn’t matter if the party is at my house or a venue, thrown for a couple of people or for a hundred - it makes me happy. I have even been known to thrown a pretty darn good pity party when the mood strikes……these parties are the ones I try to keep on the QT……there is just no pretty dish to make what I am serving there more palatable.

Nothing puts me into full throttle pity party mode than guilt - single-divorced parent guilt to be exact. You know the kind - the guilt that starts will little Junior getting a bad report from a teacher and ends with the finely tuned orchestra in your head playing yet another rendition of, “If you were a better parent, Junior would be an angel…” I know that song well.

As a single parent, I often feel as if I am playing the role of both parents - being both cheerleader and disciplinarian…coach and line judge….windshield and bug. At times, I try to convince the world (and myself) that I am a good parent. The cycle is predictable - worry…guilt….defensiveness…..guilt….crabbiness…irritation…..more guilt…anger…..phone call to the X….more defensiveness….more anger…more guilt… emotional exhaustion

What I have learned in the last year is that I cannot coerce, manipulate or otherwise guilt my X into being the picture of what I consider a good and proper Charles Ingalls dad to be. He has his own picture (possibly of Fred Flintstone) that he is emulating. Any attempt to coerce, manipulate, guilt or even reason him into my “picture” is met with a resistance of grand proportion. Our vision of parenting was not the same in marriage…so I am not sure why in the world I would think that if I just talked long enough…and passionately enough, he would “buy into” my vision. Honestly, I am sure he is on the other side of the phone thinking…..just shut up…..but he is typically somewhat polite and waits for the opportune moment to flee.

Being a single parent is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. It’s not just the quiet house or the strain of being both household parent figures - - I feel alone on the journey. There is no one to brainstorm with, to be the voice of reason, to collaborate punishment options….. Although the X and I never really saw eye to eye in the parenting realm, I do miss our conversations about the kids - the sharing of dreams and disappointments….the feeling that we were Bonnie and Clyde…..going in no holds barred and then running for our lives in fear.

Looking back over the last year, there have been times where I have failed as a parent - I have been crabby out of sheer exhaustion, I have been too quick to mentally blame their father for their actions, I have both over-reacted and under-reacted. This year, I have been too busy….too needy….too tired. What I need to learn is to cut myself some slack - give myself a break - and then do likewise to my kids and my X. When there is slack in the rope, there is no push/pull….and then you have a partnership.

Lost the Series

The thing that frustrates me most about myself is that I am geographically challenged - - I am in a constant state of trying to figure out where in the heck I am. It doesn’t matter if I have been there a million times, maybe the leaves have fallen off the trees, maybe there is snow on the ground, maybe someone moved a planter a half an inch - it suddenly looks different and I am lost……again.

When I was married, I would call the X. He would laugh and give me directions - - more importantly, he would give me detailed directions before I walked out the door. I would still end up calling him because I was lost, but at least I was a more informed lost. Now that I am divorced, there is nothing I hate more than being lost - - well, maybe being lost and late - - but that is still lost. It is my own personal challenge to arrive on time and without much extraneous driving around.

Yesterday, I was driving to the Smaller Indiana Hole in the Wall group lunch. I knew exactly(ish) where this place was. I pulled up the map and looked at it. It seemed to be a piece of cake - even by my standards. The tavern was at Pleasant Run and Meridian. In Indianapolis, you don’t get more basic than Meridian - it is the main street of Indianapolis…..hence the name….Meridian.

Since I was on the northeast side of town, I decided to hop up Keystone Avenue which parallels Meridian about a mile-ish away. As I drove up Keystone, I called my girlfriend to deconstruct my last encounter with the X. It was quite a deep and involved conversation - but that’s okay - - I know where I am at, I know where I am going and I will arrive at my location early!!

Keystone turns into Rural (holy cow) and unsure of where I am, I turn off onto Southeastern. The road name itself should have told me that it does not run north or south nor does it run east and west, but I was deep in conversation about how I was right and the X was the devil (just kidding….he’s not the devil, but I am right). I end up back at the center of Indianapolis - at the mall. Now I know where I am - but I am late. I see Meridian like a beacon and am happy because I feel strong and confident and capable.

I turn down Meridian, happy as a lark. Suddenly, the road jogs a bit - - I look up and I am on *&^*% Madison Avenue. HOW did this happen???? Meridian goes practically all the way to Kentucky - it’s a Highway for goodness sake. Did I misread the sign?? Did I turn off without knowing it? I drive and drive and drive (because there is no way to turn) and go through a part of town I have never been. I am seeing factories and graffiti and smokestacks…. I get on the phone to a friend - and proceed to melt down - I am completely and absolutely lost with no way to turn and NO idea which direction I am driving. I am ready to go home and get back into bed…….my stress level is DEFCON 5 (which usually calls for procedures of chocolate, wine, and very loud music). I make a right turn (thank you David!!). Suddenly, I see Pleasant Run - the corner street of the tavern……and my heart jumps for joy!! Then I see Meridian - beautiful, beautiful Meridian…..and then…the tavern…..Hooray!!! I am happy!!! LATE…but happy!!!

I walk in to door, am greeted by smiling, friendly faces and suddenly, my life is good again. As I enjoy the light conversation and my hearty beef stew, I remind myself that getting lost is not a character flaw and does not mean I am not a strong, capable woman. It does not prove that I am unworthy nor does it mean that my X is somehow superior to me because he can get to point A to point B without much ado. It is a quirk….I get lost….period. At the tavern, I am surrounded by great people who are interesting, creative and kind and the food and the company were well worth the extra half hour. Life is good!