Ten Lessons I am Still Learning

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Boston - Boston Common: Parkman Plaza - Learning
Boston - Boston Common: Parkman Plaza - Learning (Photo credit: wallyg)

One of the things I love most about my partner is that he sees himself as a perpetual student; he is always willing and eager to learn something new, even in an area where he is considered an expert.

Last year, we were out at dinner with a group of friends.  One of our friend’s 8 year son opened the conversation with my boyfriend.

“Do you have a black belt?” the boy asked eagerly.

“I do,” came the reply.

“Actually, he has several,” interjected the boy’s dad.

“Wow!  Does that mean you know everything?”

“Actually, a black belt means that you are ready to begin learning.”

I loved that response.  It serves as a reminder to me to always be open to learning more, especially in those areas where I already have knowledge.

In that spirit, here are ten lessons that I am still learning:

1) Life doesn’t just have two speeds – on and off.  It is not only possible to go slowly, but sometimes it is preferable.

2) It is okay not to be the first one at work; stuff still manages to get done even if I arrive after the custodians.

3) I’m working on learning to sleep past 6:00 am and considering the possibility of mastering the power nap.

4)  A messy kitchen does not mean a chaotic life.  It just means that people actually live in our house.

5) Sometimes it is okay for the play to come before the work.  (I got this one from my dog)

6) I am still working on going downhill on wheels (bikes, skates, etc.).  I just don’t  trust those things!

7) Stretching is worthwhile exercise even if is doesn’t work up a sweat.

8) It is okay to relax.

9) Money will be there; I don’t need to get too stressed about it.

10) Always take time to appreciate what you have and remember to express your gratitude.  Especially when the kitchen is messy.

Reaction

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It has been tough reading some of the responses on the Huffington Post piece.  Many people are supportive, lots have questions, and others seem resolved to point fingers and assign blame.  I knew that this would be a result of choosing to make my story public; I chose to share intimate details of my life and divorce knowing the mudslinging would come.  What disheartens me is that others in similar situations face the same vitriol even though they choose to keep their stories out of the public eye.

Divorce is devastating to anyone who crosses its path.  It is equally damaging to men as to women.  It is agonizing to the divorcer and the divorcee.  It is hard without children and even harder with them.  It is a torturous loss of what was and what could be.  None of us is immune to its touch, regardless of the stories we like to believe.  It may never happen to you (and I hope that you are able to escape its singular pain), but it may touch a parent, a child, a sibling, a friend.  At some time, in some way, one that you love and care for will be facing the devastation of divorce.  It is so tempting to reduce the end of a relationship to simplistic terms, but that is never an accurate portrayal.  People are complicated and multi-layered and relationships even more so.  The only way that any of us can learn from tragedy is from approaching everything with an open mind and open heart.  Listen to each other.  You just might learn something.

Why I Became a Tough Mudder

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When I told my family last year that I had signed up (and paid good money) for an 11 mile obstacle run, I think their first response was to shuffle through their contacts looking for the psychiatrist I saw in the early months of the divorce.  “You’re doing WHAT?  Why?,” I heard repeatedly, usually followed with a resigned head shake, “You’re crazy.”  Crazy I may be, but I felt compelled to do the event and I am so glad that I did.  Tough Mudder was more to me than a run.

A few months after the July disaster of my marriage, I signed up for my very first race ever: a half marathon.  This was a bit preemptive, since not only had I never competed, I still was weak and skinny.  I went into that race only having completed the distance once before.  That was the worst race of my life (cold, rain, illness), but I endured and made it through.  It was exactly the confidence boost I needed at that point.

Over the next several months, I ran more races, but none of them required me to dig all that deep into myself.  None of them gave me the sense of triumph over adversity that I was seeking.

Then came Mudder.  My boyfriend was the one who actually found this race and he proposed that we enter together.  I loved the idea immediately. With a shared purpose, we hit the gym with renewed vigor and not a little trepidation.

The event itself was unbelievable.  It turned out that it was slated to be held in a dry county, so the money that normally went towards beer instead paid for a longer track – almost 15 miles up and down (did I mention up?) a motocross track.  The temperature was cold, and the water obstacles were colder, as volunteers emptied flats of ice into the streams.

It was an amazing challenge for my boyfriend and I to tackle together.  It gave a true sense of working together and overcoming adversity.  My other races had been alone; it was beautiful to have someone to share this with.  It helped me learn to trust him, learn that he was not going to abandon me when the going got tough.  We pushed each other, encouraged each other, lifted each other, and even shared some muddy, sweaty kisses.  It was amazing.

I think everyone, especially those re-centering after trauma, should do their own version of Tough Mudder. Something that pushes you further than you comfortably want to go.  Something to show you what you can accomplish.  Something to show you that discomfort is temporary.  Something to show you that the support of friends can help get you through when you want to quit.  When the big picture of what you have to overcome is too big, it helps to have a little Mudder to think back on and realize, “I can do this.”

Tough Mudder logo
Image via Wikipedia

Wanted: The Ronald McDonald House for the Recently Separated

Posted on by stilllearning2b
English: The Ronald McDonald House (1705 Clinc...
Image via Wikipedia

The Ronald McDonald House is an organization that provides free or low-cost housing for families who have a child undergoing treatment in a hospital in a city away from their hometown.  The homes are designed to be welcoming and comfortable, providing a haven for the family while they are dealing with stress and uncertainty.

I think that same model could work for the recently separated.

When my ex left,  I found myself with I home a could not afford (literally or emotionally), no family in the city where I was employed, and I knew that I should not live alone (not that I was in any shape to go apartment hunting).  I was fortunate.  Very fortunate.  A friend and her husband immediately offered their spare bedroom, even though they had just brought home an adopted preemie that had problems of her own.  I went from 2000 square feet to 200.  It was perfect.

That home, which I was in for a year,  was a key component of my healing.  It was a safe place, filled with the sounds and energy of family.  It was space where I could cry, scream, and curse.  It was a house that provided normalcy, as my friend and I engaged in our usual debates.  It was a place for gaining strength, the baby and I both placed on weight-gaining diets.  It was a home that welcomed me, as I  was.

Not everyone undergoing a divorce has the opportunity to be in such a place.  But maybe they should.  Perhaps we could have transitional homes for those who are leaving one life behind and unsure of what the new life will entail.  Homes where discussions of depositions, custody, and infidelity are just normal nighttime ramblings.  Spaces where we can scream the anger out and cry the hurt out, until we are ready to leave intact, ready to face the world again.

I don’t see Ronald McDonald taking up this cause, so let’s help each other by creating safe spaces for those navigating the pain of an unanticipated and unwanted major life renovation.

Why I Run

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I run not to get away,  but to get through.

I run not to become out of breath, but to gain breath.

I run to be social and I run for solitude.

I run to connect and I run to disconnect.

I run not to avoid work, but to inspire work.

I run to feel empowered and I run to remind myself that I am still weak.

I run to meditate and I run to ruminate.

I run not to lose weight, but to gain balance.

I run because it is what I do.

Because I run, I can be who I am.

And that is why I run.