A friend of mine recently went through breast cancer, treatment, and recovery. She is doing remarkably well - healthy, energized and happy. She's thrilled, of course, to be healthy again, but noted an odd side-effect: boredom. Now that her days and mind are longer filled with cancer worries, treatment and side-effects, she says she's not sure what to think about or how to fill her days.
I experienced that same disorientation immediately after finishing college. There is such a focus, such a clear goal, to the exclusion of all else. All my waking energies were directed toward one point - graduation. When I finished school, I slept for a couple of weeks, then wandered around vaguely disoriented, wondering what normal people do with their days. I still had my college waitressing job, so I worked, but then I mostly slept and hung around.
What to do when we achieve our goal?
Now that I am more or less settled into my new home and my new life as a single woman, I find I have more brain space than every before. All the energy I spent on hating the ex, wondering whether to leave my marriage and worrying what would happen if I did, and then later on selling the house and finding a new home - all that energy is now freed up.
I clearly remember one morning shortly after we separated.
That was the day I became aware of my habit of complaining to myself about the ex while unloading the dishwasher. He had too many kitchen gadgets or put them away inconsistently or oh I don't know what, but there were plenty of complaints to myself each morning. I must have done that every morning for years!
I awoke that morning as usual, made coffee and emptied the dishwasher as usual. While unloading the dishwasher I noticed my complaining because suddenly the complaints didn't fit! I had nothing to complain about! It took me a moment as I wondered, well what am I going to think about now?
Luckily I am at a more mature stage in my life than when I finished college. I am using my extra mental time for writing, cooking and yes, the occasional worry about the future.
Now I wonder, ok I've achieved my goal of separating and setting up my new life. Now what?
I realise it's time to set exciting new goals, refocus my dreams, and open up to creating a great life for myself and my family.
After all the heartache and pain, this feels like a fun reward to be able to create totally new goals and aims. I got some high-end magazines with pictures of wonderful places. I'm going to make my new dream board, full of things that make me anxiously excited as I wonder can I really ask for that? Do I deserve that? It's so much fun that the answer is always yes.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Divorce as a success
My grandmother-in-law sent us a letter telling me to reunite with my husband. I found it interesting that people who don't even know the details of my life would presume to tell me how to live it. Would assume they know best.
I'm not insulted or upset. She loves us and is motivated by love and fear. But I'm sure glad I don't feel the need for a lot of support by others, because I'm certainly not getting it from a lot of people. Maybe they think divorce is contagious ;)
But really, when I think back to a year ago, despite the confusion and upheaval I am much - much much much - happier now. Way less sense of security, although an odd sense of security comes from giving up seeking security. I no longer pretend that anything in life can be secure.
I am living the way I want with my kids, without an opposing - and often negating - point of view. Is it just coincident that all of a sudden we go for walks, cook together, read together and do yoga together? My kids who never wanted to do anything now spend lots of time with me, and it's enjoyable and healthy.
Gaining Confidence
I have a tendency to go from 0 to 60 in seconds. I express anxiety through worry. When I hear a squeak from downstairs, I instantly go to the worst that it could be. Is it a murderer, marauding mice, a water leak?
And since as we think, so we experience, I have then already experienced all those horrors in less that two seconds - whether or not they turn out true, they've already turned out true for me.
I'm torturing myself. Literally. I am putting myself through terrible experiences just so I won't be let down by life.
But this is too hard on me. I can feel the subtle signals of stress. My throat is tight, my stomach frequently upset. My back hurts in various places (no surprise; see what Louise Hay says about back pain) and I'm sleeping less deeply.
When I stop, question my thoughts and think about my present moment, I see that I am fine. My anxiety comes from wondering will I be ok as I move forward in my new life. I don't have a regular predictable source of income, but I do have enough money in the bank for at least a couple of years. I've never lived alone with children, nor have I supported myself financially in a long time.
All this is new. I am outside my comfort zone and hoping I made the right choices. I did not realize just how much I had been giving my power away to my husband, and to just about anyone for that matter.
I am learning to trust the supportive universe, but it's baby steps for me. One small setback and I want to cry, or give up, or feel sorry for myself. A moment of that, then I take a big breath, pick myself up and move on.
And I have to provide my own under-responsiveness. I have re-trained myself to stop and question panic thoughts. Yes, it may be so, I tell myself. But what is the most likely - the simplest - explanation? If everything was ok and on track, what would the source of that noise be?
It's a magic habit. That plus allowing myself to feel panicky - the way we encourage our kids to do something we know they can but they don't yet know they can. We say of course you're scared - it wouldn't be normal not to be, but I know you can do it.
That's how I talk to myself now - gently, supportively, calmly. Nice. And guess what? That's how I treat my kids now too.
And since as we think, so we experience, I have then already experienced all those horrors in less that two seconds - whether or not they turn out true, they've already turned out true for me.
I'm torturing myself. Literally. I am putting myself through terrible experiences just so I won't be let down by life.
But this is too hard on me. I can feel the subtle signals of stress. My throat is tight, my stomach frequently upset. My back hurts in various places (no surprise; see what Louise Hay says about back pain) and I'm sleeping less deeply.
When I stop, question my thoughts and think about my present moment, I see that I am fine. My anxiety comes from wondering will I be ok as I move forward in my new life. I don't have a regular predictable source of income, but I do have enough money in the bank for at least a couple of years. I've never lived alone with children, nor have I supported myself financially in a long time.
All this is new. I am outside my comfort zone and hoping I made the right choices. I did not realize just how much I had been giving my power away to my husband, and to just about anyone for that matter.
I am learning to trust the supportive universe, but it's baby steps for me. One small setback and I want to cry, or give up, or feel sorry for myself. A moment of that, then I take a big breath, pick myself up and move on.
And I have to provide my own under-responsiveness. I have re-trained myself to stop and question panic thoughts. Yes, it may be so, I tell myself. But what is the most likely - the simplest - explanation? If everything was ok and on track, what would the source of that noise be?
It's a magic habit. That plus allowing myself to feel panicky - the way we encourage our kids to do something we know they can but they don't yet know they can. We say of course you're scared - it wouldn't be normal not to be, but I know you can do it.
That's how I talk to myself now - gently, supportively, calmly. Nice. And guess what? That's how I treat my kids now too.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Leaping into thin air
Well I turned down a job today. I am taking one of the biggest risks in my life, or so it seems, by deciding to follow my heart and write. I am going to take a season to adjust to my new life, to support the kids and to teach.
I turned down a job doing something I can do well and easily, but in a field in which I am no longer active, and no longer interested. It stresses me out because I am not up to date and am not willing to put in the effort to get up to date, and yet I have been able to fake it up to now. I still could fake it but no longer want to.
I keep reaching this point in my life but have never moved beyond it into complete freedom. I've always choked at last minute and taken a job, thinking of that as more safe than doing what moves me.
I turned down a job doing something I can do well and easily, but in a field in which I am no longer active, and no longer interested. It stresses me out because I am not up to date and am not willing to put in the effort to get up to date, and yet I have been able to fake it up to now. I still could fake it but no longer want to.
I keep reaching this point in my life but have never moved beyond it into complete freedom. I've always choked at last minute and taken a job, thinking of that as more safe than doing what moves me.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Flatlining
Well now the excitement of house selling, packing & moving, unpacking & settling, is all done. We are settled. For the time being. Not sure what the future holds; all I know is there is no security.
All the action stuff is done. Now the reality of a new life is settling upon us. Me and the kids. The ex seems to have lost interest in his kids - does fly-by five minute visits, full of reasons he has no time, yet telling us of exciting new social events he attends. He doesn't hear the irony.
Now what? It's like a death; there is that initial flurry of activity and support, then a lifetime of that relationship no longer existing.
Now I'm on my own, with two young children who miss their dad and having a dad. They miss the certainty of their old life, and they miss feeling secure. Their life has changed hugely. I am their only functional parent.
And life stretches out before me like a saskatchewan highway.
I know it will get interesting again. I know it will rise up to meet me, challenge me, reward me. But right now everything just feels kind of flat.
All the action stuff is done. Now the reality of a new life is settling upon us. Me and the kids. The ex seems to have lost interest in his kids - does fly-by five minute visits, full of reasons he has no time, yet telling us of exciting new social events he attends. He doesn't hear the irony.
Now what? It's like a death; there is that initial flurry of activity and support, then a lifetime of that relationship no longer existing.
Now I'm on my own, with two young children who miss their dad and having a dad. They miss the certainty of their old life, and they miss feeling secure. Their life has changed hugely. I am their only functional parent.
And life stretches out before me like a saskatchewan highway.
I know it will get interesting again. I know it will rise up to meet me, challenge me, reward me. But right now everything just feels kind of flat.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
on being the neighborhood divorcee
Looking back over the past six months, I notice that many friends deserted. They didn't offer extra help with the kids, or to take me out for a dish session. When I saw them on the street or at the school they told me how terrible - terrible! - this whole divorce was and how they had thought I'd be with my husband forever.
I patiently explained that my husband and I get along much better when we don't share a house; when there are no expectations except explicit ones. That we both are nice people who had a great marriage and now it needs to take another form. That he and I will always be family, because of our kids. (My joke at the time was "Just like family - people you love but don't want to spend too much time with")
I told them how much happier I am, and that my husband must be too, without having me breathing down his neck about everything.
I espoused my theory that family doesn't have to mean man, wife, children, picket fence. That love and family are where you find them.
My so-called friends would listen, nod and agree. Then they'd reiterate how terrible this all was, and walk away and never call.
Initially, I was hurt. And thanks for the couple of besties who stuck around and listened to my fears and pain.
But these other friends; these (mostly) women who were married with kids; whose lives resembled my own - they backed away like I was contagious. They of all people should understand my frustration and lost dreams. Wouldn't they most be able to sympathize, to know the bad that outweighed the good in my marriage? We had previously listened and consoled each other as we moaned about husbands, households, kids. They best knew the frustrations of marriage and the times when you think I just can't take it anymore. They knew my marriage had been going downhill for years. Where were they now?
Hurt at the time, I didn't understand. I thought maybe they were sick of my depression and fears. I did avoid social situations, feeling like I didn't have much else to talk about. Divorce, like loss or illness, takes over your life for a while, and becomes the only topic.
Maybe it was my fault - I'm not the best at asking for help, or accepting it when it comes. I know there's a thin line between reaching out and uncommitted bitching*, so I'm always a little leery of over-sharing or of going on and on without action.
*Uncommitted complaining, as introduced to me by a Landmark course, is consistently complaining about a thing or situation without the faintest intention of ever doing a thing about it. It's the reason I had dropped a few friends over the years, once I realised that they had no intention of changing the things they bitched about the most. Bitching as a way of asking for help is one thing, but bitching just to complain and not admitting your own contribution to the situation is just annoying.
I was hurt at the time, but with the clarity of retrospective, I see that those whose situation most closely resembles my own are the ones who mostly disappeared. Those with unconventional relationships or attitudes stuck around.
A lot of people were shocked when I announced our separation. People thought we had an ideal marriage and were the best of friends. "Living the dream" had often been used by others to describe my marriage.
I think that when an outwardly great-seeming relationship breaks down, those who idealized it are shaken to the core. If a couple that seems so established breaks up, it casts doubt on their own marriage - is there hope? They turned away from me and huddled tighter, keeping the divorce demon from the door.
I patiently explained that my husband and I get along much better when we don't share a house; when there are no expectations except explicit ones. That we both are nice people who had a great marriage and now it needs to take another form. That he and I will always be family, because of our kids. (My joke at the time was "Just like family - people you love but don't want to spend too much time with")
I told them how much happier I am, and that my husband must be too, without having me breathing down his neck about everything.
I espoused my theory that family doesn't have to mean man, wife, children, picket fence. That love and family are where you find them.
My so-called friends would listen, nod and agree. Then they'd reiterate how terrible this all was, and walk away and never call.
Initially, I was hurt. And thanks for the couple of besties who stuck around and listened to my fears and pain.
But these other friends; these (mostly) women who were married with kids; whose lives resembled my own - they backed away like I was contagious. They of all people should understand my frustration and lost dreams. Wouldn't they most be able to sympathize, to know the bad that outweighed the good in my marriage? We had previously listened and consoled each other as we moaned about husbands, households, kids. They best knew the frustrations of marriage and the times when you think I just can't take it anymore. They knew my marriage had been going downhill for years. Where were they now?
Hurt at the time, I didn't understand. I thought maybe they were sick of my depression and fears. I did avoid social situations, feeling like I didn't have much else to talk about. Divorce, like loss or illness, takes over your life for a while, and becomes the only topic.
Maybe it was my fault - I'm not the best at asking for help, or accepting it when it comes. I know there's a thin line between reaching out and uncommitted bitching*, so I'm always a little leery of over-sharing or of going on and on without action.
*Uncommitted complaining, as introduced to me by a Landmark course, is consistently complaining about a thing or situation without the faintest intention of ever doing a thing about it. It's the reason I had dropped a few friends over the years, once I realised that they had no intention of changing the things they bitched about the most. Bitching as a way of asking for help is one thing, but bitching just to complain and not admitting your own contribution to the situation is just annoying.
I was hurt at the time, but with the clarity of retrospective, I see that those whose situation most closely resembles my own are the ones who mostly disappeared. Those with unconventional relationships or attitudes stuck around.
A lot of people were shocked when I announced our separation. People thought we had an ideal marriage and were the best of friends. "Living the dream" had often been used by others to describe my marriage.
I think that when an outwardly great-seeming relationship breaks down, those who idealized it are shaken to the core. If a couple that seems so established breaks up, it casts doubt on their own marriage - is there hope? They turned away from me and huddled tighter, keeping the divorce demon from the door.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Six months ago
I can't believe it! I can't believe I'm actually here! In this life I visualized several years ago; nice house, loving family, self-actualized, joyful.
If I look back to where I was this time last year - even six months ago - I never would have guessed I'd be here in my life. Wow. It's actually been six months and three days since I said those fateful words, and who knew I would be here already? Sure it felt like a long time at the time, but looking back - as it always does - it seems rapid.
I love my life and while I am not sure what the future holds, it holds love and joy. For me and all of us. Everything we need.
If I look back to where I was this time last year - even six months ago - I never would have guessed I'd be here in my life. Wow. It's actually been six months and three days since I said those fateful words, and who knew I would be here already? Sure it felt like a long time at the time, but looking back - as it always does - it seems rapid.
I love my life and while I am not sure what the future holds, it holds love and joy. For me and all of us. Everything we need.
Settling Down
We are settled already into our new home. Me and the kids. Love the close neighbors, the cute house, our lives. We are busy, social and active. Taekwondo takes over three days of our week. We swim, shop, clean, visit and play. The house is comfortable - very easy to live in.
I am loving my new life. The freedom, the joy.
I am loving my new life. The freedom, the joy.
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