Fourteen years ago, I was preparing to marry you. I was so excited but, even more, I was so sure. Sure that we were so good together. Sure that we would continue to weather any storm. Sure that we would be together forever.
My belief in our marriage lasted until the day you left. I remember my shock, my disbelief so clearly. I couldn’t understand how you, my beloved husband, could do those things. Even now, four years later, I still don’t understand the choices you made. I suppose I never will.
In an instant, you went from the man I adored to a stranger I feared. In many ways, you have been dead to me since you left. I remember you as you were since I can’t comprehend what you’ve become. It’s almost as though you are two completely separate men to me — the one I was married to and the one who betrayed me. I just can’t understand how you could be both my protector and my persecutor.
Several weeks ago I let myself get down about my upcoming summer. I was in the midst of the end of school year crazies and a planned camping trip had to be canceled (along with several other weekends worth of activities) due to the constant rain that drenched Atlanta this past spring. I felt like I had nothing to look forward to this summer and all I could envision was hours spent working in front of the computer (which was pretty much how I spent last summer while finishing the book!). I allowed myself to be grouchy about the whole situation and found myself grumbling about the adventures that others had planned. Not exactly an attractive mood nor one that is likely to improve my outlook.
All I can say is that it is amazing what a different a few weeks and some awesome people can make. Well, that and some actual sunshine!
It started with my mom coming to my rescue after my whiny post. I had already booked a trip to San Antonio to see her in June but she knew that I needed more of a “vacation” feel than just visiting my hometown. She and our close family friend, Kay, worked to book a trip to the gulf coast while I’m in Texas. Not only is this precious beach time (Atlanta is pretty landlocked!) but it’s also a rare opportunity for the three of us to be together. For most of my latter childhood, it was just my mom and I. Well, two people, especially when one is a hormonal teenager, alone can get to be a bit much. Kay was frequently added to our family. She is like a sister to my mom and a cool aunt to me. She brought in needed energy and helped to mediate between my mom and me when it was needed. The last time we were together was two years ago when I last visited Texas. We went on a tour of various Hill Country Wineries. We sampled jalapeno wine, nicknamed a miniature donkey outside a wine tasting room a “burrito” and laughed more than is socially acceptable. All I can say is that Texas better watch out for this go round:)
Sardinian Miniature Donkey, Kew Gardens. (Photo credit: Jim Linwood)
Just having that coast trip on the horizon to look forward to was enough to break my funk. Sometimes it’s amazing how much of an impact a small adjustment can make. Just knowing how three days of my summer were to be spent made me see the entire expanse in a different light. I hope I can remember that lesson next time.
In the span of a few weeks, this has gone from a summer that I dreaded would be monotonous to one that is full of reconnection with my past and new adventures. And all I’ve had to do is say, “yes” to the opportunities that resented themselves. I’m reconnecting with old friends and teammates in Atlanta as we take advantage of the opportunity to leisurely lunch without cafeterias full of kids. I’m meeting up with my old boss and friend in San Antonio whose family adopted me for many holidays and birthday celebrations (he and his wife are two of my love mentors). I’m going to see Austin and Lake Travis (where I spent some time in college) from a new angle as I zipline over the lake (thanks to Kay!). And Brock and I will be returning to St. Marys (where we first talked marriage last summer:) ) to stay with our friends (and other love mentors) there.
Yippee!!!
On a more emotional front, I’m going to visit the youngest dog from my former life, who was adopted by a friend’s parents and now lives on a farm in Alabama. I’m excited about this, but also nervous, as I have not seen her (or any of the dogs, for that matter) since that life ended four years ago. I think tears will be guaranteed.
Glottis
On the new front, I spent yesterday tubing with a new group of friends. I will be going skydiving for the first time with another group of friends once I return from Texas (assuming I live through the ziplining!). I have my first girl’s weekend of my life in Tybee Island at the end of the month with an impressive group of women, only one of whom I really know.
I’ve gone from feeling grumpy to feeling grateful (and delightfully nervous about the sky high adventures!). I feel so incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such amazing people.
I feel like I’ve reversed my 20s and 30s in many ways. While touring a new friend’s college campus yesterday, it really struck me how I never did my 20s. I went to school, yet only lived the campus life for one year and even then, I was the one who would make all of the 8:00 am classes on time and would get annoyed when spontaneous parties broke out in the house. The rest of my college experience was spent working and going to school, often commuting quite a ways to reach the campus. Through all of that, I was with my ex. I never dated in my 20s. We bought a fixer-upper house at 22 and I was more concerned with the best toilet gasket to buy than finding the best blues and brews bar in town. I had friends but work and/or school was always my bigger priority. I stayed busy with occasional binges of fun, usually while on vacation.
Now, solidly in my 30s, my life has shifted. I now put more effort into finding, creating and maintaining relationships. I’ve learned that there is value in relationships and that time spent cultivating them is time well invested. I make sure fun is on the to-do list (and apparently get grumpy when it is absent!). At a time when many of peers are settling down and leaving the craziness of their 20s behind, I am welcoming some of that craziness into my own life and not just on vacation.
I don’t regret not living the life of the typical twenty something. I was happy with my choices. But there’s no rule that says that life has to take some predetermined path. That the 20s are about finding yourself and fun and the 30s are about settling down and getting serious. Besides, I’ve always found that I enjoy play more after the hard work has been done. I’m just getting better and sprinkling the play into the long sessions of work.
I feel silly now that I let myself get down. That I allowed myself to wallow in self pity. I may not have the finds that my student’s families do that allow elaborate vacations. I may not have the big family that rents a beach house for a month every year. But I have what I need and I have amazing people around me that remind me every day about what is important and make me aware of how rich my life is. My grumpiness has been replaced with gratitude and excitement (and a little healthy fear!).
It’s okay to have fun. It’s okay to set work aside for awhile. It’s okay to create things to look forward to. It’s okay to say “yes.”
And if you hear any screams coming from South Texas this week, don’t worry; It’s only me going down the zipline:)
I’ve spent the morning writing about some pretty heavy stuff and I just learned some very upsetting news about a friend. I’m ready to lighten the mood a bit. So, now for something completely different:
Ten Embarrassing Truths Revealed (Many for the very first time)
1) I am absolutely terrible about getting haircuts. I just had my first one since September. I don’t know why I’m so bad about them. I always intend to be better, but…
2) I can barely ride a bike (discussed in Learning to Go Downhill). It’s shameful since my dad is an uber bike rider and I’m so athletic.
3) Sometimes at night I pig out on a concoction of Greek yogurt, peanut butter, Splenda brown sugar and chocolate chips. In large quantities.
4) I wear this pair of sweatpants all the time around the house. They’re way too big and don’t even stay up. Even plumbers would be embarrassed.
5) My sneeze sounds like a barking chihuahua, in volume, sound and duration. All heads turn when my sinuses let go.
6) I gave up on cleaning my car about 6 years ago. In all other areas of my life, I am neat and clean. My car, however, is covered with black stuff on the outside and dog hair on the inside. Luckily, Tiger is my primary passenger.
7) Since I received my Kindle, I’ve started reading trashy novels. I pretend that it’s only because I can get them for free through Amazon or the library, but that’s just a rationalization.
8) I only learned how to pronounce “caprese” a couple months ago and I order caprese salads all the time.
9) I’m never sure how to spell “restaurant.”
10) I only know the names of a handful of my “gym buddies.” I’m bad about not paying attention to their names when we meet and then becoming friends with them later.
Okay, so there’s my embarrassing laundry for all to see:) Anyone else willing to share theirs?
No, not in terms of time. In fact, technically, it was the worst race I’ve ever run. I’m sure you’d have to scroll though thousands of pages to even find my finish time. But that was never what it was about. I completed the 26.2 miles while having an amazing time running (and walking) through a beautiful city on a gorgeous day with awesome people and (mostly) good music and I crossed the finish line into the arms of an unbelievable man. I’d say I won the race:)
When I got into the car (very) early yesterday morning, my boyfriend handed me several folded notes, each with a mileage indicator. I was to open the notes along my run. It was like an advent calendar of marathon motivation. Unbelievable. That gesture and those notes set the tone for the whole day.
A little crumpled and sweat stained, but they’re still beautiful to me:)
I spent the drive to the start line arranging Gu, chapstick, and the above mentioned notes. I applied Glide wherever skin met fabric and I double-checked my shoe laces. I was ready.
I had over two hours to wait at the corrals before the race. It was chilly, but bearable, and I loved the look of historic Savannah under the almost-full moon. I met a woman in her 60’s who was working on running 100 marathons (this was 94). I asked her what her favorite one had been. Number two on her list blew me away: The Great Wall of China. What an amazing experience that would be!
We finally took off. I was feeling great and enjoying the music (especially the bagpipes around mile 6!) and the amazing support from the spectators. The local people were amazing – dancing, singing, and even blessing us as we ran by. The energy was infectious. And so was the motivation. Every person there had a reason for running marathons or that race in particular. As the Rock n Roll series raises money for cancer, there were thousands of runners with signs on their backs of loved ones they had lost. Others ran for different losses. I met many recent divorcees, people who ran to celebrate their recovery, and one woman who runs a marathon a year to maintain and celebrate her 160 lb weight loss. It was impossible to not be inspired.
Mile 7 was my game-changer. I injured my IT band almost two years doing Tough Mudder (and a 1/2 marathon the next weekend). I rehabed it and it hasn’t bothered me much in the past year or so. Until yesterday, that is. I felt the familiar pain and pull along the outside of my left leg. I spent a few miles using anything at my disposal to try to coax the fascia into loosening. I repeatedly used traffic cones to dig into the soft tissue and I even borrowed a broom from a volunteer so that I could roll my IT band with the handle. It wasn’t helping, nor was the Tylenol, ice, and wrap from the medical tent. By about mile 12, I had given up on this being the race I wanted. I realized that the leg would not get better and that my ability to run was severely hindered. Those were the tough miles. I gripped the 15 mile note from my boyfriend from mile 12 until it was time to open it. At that point, the course took us through the Savannah State campus and even around their track where the dance team and cheerleaders encouraged us on. That was great timing. As my pace slowed, I found myself amongst the running wounded and the more mature marathoners. That was okay with me. There is a spirit there in the back of the pack that felt right to me. I met a great man, Dennis, at the 24 mile marker. He was also hurting and, like me, was slowly giving up running in favor of walking. He said he would pull me across the finish line if I did the same for him. We both made it, limping and grinning.
Going into this race, I knew that it was going to be a mental game. I think it’s impossible to tackle that kind of distance and not have to dig into to your mental reserves. What surprised me; however, is that the race was very emotional. I first teared up at mile 5 at the kind words of a volunteer. From that point on, the tears hit every mile or so for just a few moments. The waterworks continued into the afternoon and evening as I recounted pieces of the race to my boyfriend and they even sit near the surface today. I’m not a crier and not prone to over-emotion, so this has been a surprise.
At the finish line. Finally!
The marathon was more symbolic of life and its struggles than I expected, as well. I went into the race expecting to run. I didn’t plan on the injury, but once it occurred, I had no choice but to accept it. I could have given up. In fact, there were times when the pain was so bad, I wanted to simply collapse where I was. But instead, I chose to continue. It wasn’t the journey I planned for, but it was a beautiful experience nonetheless. In my life, I never expected to be divorced. I didn’t plan for that injury either. But just like yesterday, I had a choice. And I chose to continue and even though it is not the life I anticipated, it is beautiful. Yup, I’d say I won:)
And, on a related note, I was happy to hear on Friday evening that mayor Bloomberg decided to cancel the New York marathon for this weekend. I understand the frustration of planning (and training, in the case of the runners) for so long and having to cancel at the last minute, but it was the right thing to do. And, as I’ve learned, marathoners understand that you can plan and prepare all you want, but that ultimately, you cannot control the outcome. I have the utmost respect for the runners who are using their pre-purchased trips to NY to assist in storm relief. You may not have run your race, but you certainly deserve a medal in my eyes.
If you’re anything like me, you find that your life’s to-do list grows longer each year while your available time seems to grow shorter. Perhaps you make the same resolutions each season (lose weight, eat better, stress less… sound familiar?) only to find that you do not have the freedom in your schedule to fulfill them. I know I find that the longer I live, the more I want to accomplish, and yet the responsibilities I carry continue to grow. The following are five strategies that I have used to transform my life that don’t take much time (or money!).
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 