Shaken, Not Stirred

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I mentioned a couple months ago that I’m in the process of taking a class that could potentially have huge (and awesome) repercussions for my life. I completed the coursework over the winter break and scheduled the final exam for the end of January.

I felt confident.

I have an image of myself as a good student, built up over a lifetime’s worth of data points. I generally do well at school, scoring at the top in my class and passing tests with near perfect scores. It’s not as good as it sounds. Yes, that ability makes school easy, but I don’t always do so well with the real life application where success is more about taking risks than memorizing facts. In other words, you want me on your team for Trivial Pursuit but you may not want me by your side if we have to build a survival shelter.

Regardless, I felt comfortable going into the final exam. I was consistently making high As on my practice tests and knew the material in the textbook. I was nervous, sure, but I just reminded myself of all of the times I was nervous before a test and walked out smiling.

I turned on my computer and my volunteer proctor opened the exam file for me. The first few questions were easy. They were either exactly the same as some of the course and test preparation material or closely related.

And then came number 7. A few short sentences that failed to trigger any recognition in my brain. I searched my memory files frantically, looking for any clues that could help me with this question. There were none.

By the end of the 150 question exam, I estimated that a full third of the questions were not addressed in the textbook or highlighted in the course materials. I was nervous.

Steeling myself, I clicked submit.

The little wheel seemed to turn endlessly. Finally,

“Congratulations. You passed.”

“Score: 77%”

My first thought? Relief. That hoop was successfully jumped.

My second thought? 77?? I haven’t scored that low on any exam since algebra II in 10th grade (yes, and now I teach math. I know!).

If that was the end of it, I would be okay. After all, in the real world, scores don’t matter. Just the end result.

But it’s not the end of it.

Now, I have to take the state exam.

Normally, I would just see it as another hoop.

But now my confidence is shaken. My internal narrative that paints myself as a good student and test taker is being questioned due to that single data point.

It’s interesting how much we struggle when our self-image is called into question. When I fell repeatedly while skiing this winter, it didn’t cause my confidence to stumble because I have never formed a picture of myself as a skier. Yet one metaphorical fall on a test, and everything is called into question.

The state exam is in three weeks. I borrowed an additional book to help me prepare. I have scheduled study times on certain days leading up to the exam. I have the website of a cram course cued in case of emergency. I’ve verified the suitability of my calculator and checked to see what forms of identification are required.

Everything is in place to make sure I know the material and can meet the testing requirements.

But I’m still shaken.To those around me, I’ve laughed it off. Pretended it didn’t bother me.

But it does.

One of the lasting side effects of betrayal is that you don’t always trust your ability to interpret data points accurately. I want to dismiss this score as an an outlier, but I don’t know if that’s accurate.

So preparation for this exam is twofold: study my butt off and work to rebuild my confidence.

I’m shaken, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it stir me.

Introducing the Thriver’s Club

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Days after my tsunami divorce, my mom turned to me and told me I would survive.

I actually got angry and responded rather strongly, “No, I will not survive. I will thrive. To do anything less is to remain his victim.”

I saw surviving as the bare minimum; the mere intake of breath and food in order to go through the motions of life. I refused to settle for that. I wanted more. It felt insurmountable, yet the vision and hope remained intact.

I know many of you have that same spirit. That same dogged determination to not just exist, but to live loudly and with joyous exuberance. To prove that when life knocks you down, you do not just have to stand up again. You can jump up and dance and sing from the rooftops. To live fully and passionately despite the pains of the past.

spirit

And so I introduce to you The Thriver’s Club.

A place to celebrate life after loss.

A place to share our joys and triumphs.

A place to bring hope to those still trying to find their way.

There are no annual dues. No special handshakes. No one is denied entry due to age or gender or religious beliefs. In order to be a member, all you have to do is share one example of how you have thrived after divorce. It can small or grand. A sign of truly moving on or as fleeting as a moment where the sun broke through the clouds.

Please don’t comment on this post. These joys deserve to be featured, not hidden away in some distant piece. Please head on over to the new page and share how you have thrived after your split. Don’t be shy; smiles are meant to be shared not hidden away.

I Was Wrong

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was wrong.

Very wrong.

And I couldn’t be happier about it.

When we were house hunting last summer, Brock expressed his lifelong dream of converting a basement into a theater. I responded with my not-a-lifelong fear of basements.

No, really. Read this.

As the house hunt became a home reality, this became a source of tension as he was responding with excitement about the proposed entertainment room and I was countering with trepidation.

That damned basement in my old life has almost a personified flavor of evil in my mind. It contained the molted skins of the man I loved as he morphed into some dark creature. It hid his secrets. It protected him as he carried out his nefarious deeds. It swallowed him for ever increasing hours as the marriage sped towards its inevitable and spectacular end. I was living atop a portal to hell.

And I was afraid that another basement might also serve as a conduit of corruption. That my new husband might also fall sway to whatever whispers arise from the blackness beyond the concrete walls. That he would be swallowed and return changed. That a new portal hell would be opened and new demons welcomed in.

But I was wrong.

Completely and spectacularly wrong.

He was largely on his own on this project due to my schedule and my general hesitancy about the undertaking.

And he has done a great job, turning a half-finished grubby former office into a slick and comfortable theater.

A theater for us.

For our friends.

It is not a place to hide.

It is a place to connect.

In fact, even with my stupidly early bedtimes, he rarely goes down there alone.

It wants to keep it special.

And it is.

I was wrong.

Very wrong.

And I couldn’t be happier.

The only demons in this space are imagined on the screen. And those can only hurt me if I allow them to.

A Flexible Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I really hope that no one ever judges me based on how I was in 7th grade – chubby cheeks, bad perm, a chronic case of math ineptitude and an embarrassing obsession with Bon Jovi. Of course, some of my core traits are largely unchanged but, the 7th grade me was a beta version on a good day and a mere prototype on the bad.

photo-13
Not Jon Bon Jovi, but another one of my obsessions – Kyle from Pariah:)

For people that have known me since 7th grade, our relationships have changed, altered by time and mutual growth. The core bond is still there, but some of the details have been altered based upon individual refinements.

I wrote a piece recently on the need for adaptation to the dating world for the newly single. That’s not the only place that adaptation is required. In fact, for anyone or anything to survive a changing environment, adaptation is a necessity.

And that includes marriage.

We often here about the key traits of successful unions: communication, respect, honesty. Those are all true. Yet I add another to the list.

Flexibility.

Marriage exist in a larger world that provides ever changing challenges for the union. The marriage that works for young and childless twenty-somethings who live in town won’t work ten years later in a suburban neighborhood with two kids. And the marriage that works while raising kids won’t work once they are gone. The marriage that evolved for one partner to work will have to adapt when both are employed. The marriage that negotiated a balance between a timid partner and a stronger one must be revamped when confidence is found.

If a marriage is to survive, it has to adapt to its environment.

Marriages are often pictured as inflexible strongholds. The problem with that is image is that it is identical to that of a prison. A marriage that is strong but unbending does not allow for change within itself or its partners. When it no longer matches the needs of the environment, it becomes a jail.

And no one wants to be locked down.

Instead of the ball and chain image, think of bungie cords – strong enough to support a life hurling from the skies yet flexible enough to wrap around your wrist.

Strong yet flexible.

We resist this. We easily relax into the status quo. We fear change. We want to think that the the it is is the way it will always be. It’s scary to realize that your partner will change. It’s scary to contemplate how environmental pressures may challenge your marriage. But a head in the sand won’t make change go away. It just means you can’t respond.

Sometimes what a marriage needs is not more time in the weight room building up its strength but some time on the yoga mat, stretching and releasing.

Longevity is found with flexibility and and adaptation. If it’s going to last, it has to change.

And that includes my bad perm.

 

This post was inspired by a piece by Vicki Larson over at OMG Chronicles about acting divorced while you’re married. Check it out!

Happily Ever After

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Happily Ever After