The Five Year Plan

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I had a friend (hopefully the first of many to grace this house!) over to the new home last night to check out the place and to enjoy some post-run refreshments. We were both in somewhat of a reflective mood, as she has just taken major steps into the next phase of her life and is moving on from the end of a relationship and I am looking around at where I am and contrasting it with where I was.

I looked over at her. “You know, if anyone had posed the question, ‘Where do think you’ll be in five years?’ to me five years ago, I would never have imagined this,” shaking my head with a bemused smile. “How about you, how would you have responded?”

Our answers were telling.

On my part, I was (or actually, thought I was) happily married five years ago. I was enjoying our new deck and hot tub and marveling at how much the trees I had planted had grown over the previous summer. I was frustrated in my job, but had no desire to leave teaching. Rather, I was contemplating the (very scary) decision to make the leap to switch to another school.  My life was stable and so was my five year plan.

I saw me at a new school. Perhaps my husband at a new company. I saw the final tweaks on the home we created, freeing up money for more travel. I saw the marriage continuing as it was, solid yet far from boring. I envisioned myself with more balance, yet I was not making any life adjustments to make it happen. I pictured my life continuing in a linear fashion, the future being a slightly better version of my present.

Of course, life laughed at my plans, turning my linear progression into a chaotic mass of ups and downs. It’s funny, though, as I reflect today, I’ve actually ended up pretty much where I wanted. I am just a few weeks shy of being happily married. I have a home I love and I am enjoying the process of personalizing it. I have made a positive change in my job and I certainly have much more balance. And, the crazy part is that the reality of now is so much better than what I could have imagined five years ago.

As for my friend, a five year rewind took her to the time of her divorce. In contrast to my stability at that period, hers was a time of upheaval and change. Her five year plan at the time had her remarried to a man who would take care of her, emotionally and financially. Like me, life laughed at her plans. She has dated, but not yet married. Her financial security has been tested as she left one career to return to school for another. Now that she is making inroads on her own business, she is realizing that success you create on your own is so much more satisfying than relying on the income of another.

As we sat out on the porch, we contemplated where the next five years will take us. It’s funny, when I pose that question to my thirteen year old students, they respond with such certainty. They still believe in the power of wishes. Even when I answered that same question five years ago, I thought I could control the trajectory of my life.

Now?

I have no freaking clue where I’ll be in five years.

I know what I want. I want to be in a thriving marriage (with Brock, let me just clarify that one for you, oh weaver of life!). I want us to still be in good health and to continue to enjoy our active lifestyle. I want my home to be filled with the laughter of friends and the love of a good dog. I want to sit on my porch and marvel at how the plantings have grown. I would love to be done with teaching, but to be okay if I still am. I want to have the resources to travel but to always want to come home. I want balance and peace.

The truth? The only items on the list I can control are the last two. I can find balance and peace regardless of the rest. But, please, don’t make me have to!:)

The evening concluded with a decision to pen our five year plans and to bury them in the yard, to be opened five years hence. I’m sure our time capsule will reveal many surprises and laughs, with plenty of bemused head shaking. All assuming that I still have the same yard, of course:)

 

 

And Exhale

Posted on by stilllearning2b

We are finally moved in. The movers carried in our furniture yesterday and we carried out the last box not long after. Other than a few details on the main levels (and a basement man room project Brock is working on), the house is as finished as it can be (after some amazing teamwork getting to this point). I’m finished too. My body let me know in no uncertain terms last night that I have been pushing too hard for too long and that I needed to rest. Why do I always force this issue?

Even though I don’t know all of the light switches and I feel like I’m on mind-altering drugs while attempting to cook in an unfamiliar kitchen, this already feels like home. Brock and I welcomed our first sunrise here yesterday morning on the porch. Heaven.

I feel at home. At peace. Comfortable. Unguarded. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.

I can really unpack, both my stuff and my heart. I’m not going anywhere.

They say you can never go home again. I disagree. Home may change but the feeling can be recaptured. I lost my old home in the tsunami that tore away my marriage. Now, I have a new home and, in a few short weeks, a new marriage, both built deliberately and with extra doses of faith and trust. It wasn’t easy and it was scary as hell but, right now, it just feels good.

And I’m going to relax and enjoy it. Much like Tiger and kitty:)

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Finding Love After Loss

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I came across this article last night and it really resonated. The author gives some great tips on how to move on again after loss of any kind. I hope that you also find his advice useful and enlightening.  I urge you to read it even if a new relationship seems unfathomable in the current moment. After all, the way you feel right now is not the way you will always feel.

Finding Love After Loss: 7 Steps For Moving Forward

We all have “baggage.”  It comes with being human — and with having relationships.

By age 18, most of us have discovered that relationships can be a source of great joy, satisfaction and meaning when our needs for love, affection and companionship are met. Or a source of heartache and sorrow when they’re not.

Few things in life are as uplifting as being in a loving relationship. Or as painful as losing someone we love. Whether we lose them as the result of death or a “living loss” like separation, divorce, infidelity, alcohol, drug addiction, illness, injury or something else, moving on can present some daunting challenges. Facing these challenges, taking the necessary time to get our footing and opening the doors to finding love again is best achieved when we balance patience with courage.

Having coached countless hundreds of clients seeking to find love after a loss, there are some proven steps for regaining your strength, trust, faith, confidence and moving forward:

1. Take Small Steps  

Above all else, be patient. Trying to get back into “the game” by jumping back into a relationship before your mind is clear and heart is sufficiently healed is a formula for disaster. Some of us can barely stand on our own two feet and yet, we’re looking for love (in all the wrong places) to fill the void.  Read the rest on eHarmony.

Some of my related pieces:

One Step at a Time

Finding Love Again

Love After Divorce: A Reflection on a Journey

Dating After Divorce: Ten Tips for Success

Ten Lessons I am Still Learning

Posted on by stilllearning2b

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I took a break from the work of moving this past Sunday morning to sit on my new screened in porch with Tiger, both of us enjoying the view and the serenity (although I think he appreciated the squirrels more than I). Being able to take that break when there was so much to do was progress for me, a sign that I am indeed still learning. It prompted me to dust off this oldie but goodie from the archives – Ten Lessons I Am Still Learning. It’s funny when I look at this list now – I have downhill skied, learned how to relax more and even fallen in love with stretching in the form of yoga. I’m straddling two homes at the moments, both with extremely cluttered kitchens (and other rooms!). It’s a sign that we are always evolving and changing. I guess I need to come up with some new lessons soon:)

Ten Lessons I Am Still Learning (originally published winter of 2012)

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 (now soon to be husband!).

“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.

Nothing More to Say

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was catching up with an old friend the other day when she asked the inevitable question about my ex.

“Do you think you’ll ever see him again?”

“Well, actually, I have,” I replied and proceeded to give her a brief synopsis of the encounter this past April.

“I would have yelled in his face,” she shared, her tone and body language suggesting residual anger. “How did you resist?”

I thought about it for a moment. On that day, I had no desire to approach him, much less confront him. All I wanted was for him to go away. But it’s more complex than that, as a particular post starting brewing soon after. Apparently, I didn’t want to talk to him there but I still had more to say.

One of the most painful aspects of a tsunami divorce is that its abruptness takes away any opportunity for discourse. I remember feeling so angry and so impotent at my voice being stolen.

In my early attempts at reaching him, I still believed that I would receive a response. Fear and anger fought for top billing in my mind. The following email was sent less than 24 hours after I received the text:

I’ve been mentally composing this for hours to try to not make it sound too angry. Coming home to a “dear John” letter and finding that you had cleared out while I was away fueled my fire again. I just keep thinking that your last employer got a sit down meeting when you quit while I got a text. You have been telling me, through words and actions, that it was okay & then this? You say you want to be supportive, but I can’t see that right now. I can’t think of a more painful way to do this. I can’t believe you stranded me across the country with this news, with no money, and the responsibility of the dogs. I may well bounce back, but this has shattered me to the core. I gave you time & opportunity before – why do it like this? I would like to think that your love & respect for me would override your cowardice. Please show me that respect now by talking to me – it is time to stop hiding.

You will need to come back soon from wherever you are so that we can disentangle our lives. As much as you may want to shirk responsibilities, we have a house, etc. that we need to make decisions about and I guess we need to file paperwork. I don’t know my plans yet, but can’t stay in the home we built together.

Days passed. Phone calls and emails were not returned. I was starting to understand that they never would. As the depths of the betrayals became clear, my anger grew. I entertained fantasies of tying him down and screaming at him; I wanted to force him to face the pain he created. I sent another email, copying what I thought was his girlfriend.

Uganda is an interesting choice.

You were right about two things: you are a coward and you certainly did let me down.

You can never run away from who you are or the knowledge of what you have done. Even Africa is not far enough.

I wonder how long it will take Amanda to see you for what you are?

You have taken away 16 years of my life, my dogs (true innocents whose lives are now completely changed), my home, my financial security, and what I thought was a wonderful marriage. You stole my youth, my innocence, my love. You hurt me in the ways in which you knew I was the most vulnerable. I refuse to let you have any more.

At least I can be at peace with who I am and the decisions that I have made.

I will not attempt to contact you again unless I find out this week that I have contracted an STD from you. That would be one more thing to weigh on your conscience.

Your betrayal and lies have pierced me to the core. I have never felt such pain, such sadness, such anger. The one I trusted and adored deceived and abandoned me.

I held back in that message. I expressed a sanitized version of my pain and anger. It wasn’t enough. The words I needed to say still ate away at me. Awake at 3:00 a.m., I composed another message, part of which is included below.

You were right.

You were right. I will never understand. I will never understand how you could be so cruel to someone you once loved. How you could repeatedly lie, even to direct questions for many months and years. How you could say goodbye at the airport, knowing it was for good, yet telling me that the week would go quickly and we would see each other soon. How you could continue to act like everything was okay (making plans for the future, sending loving texts, saying you missed me, having sex, even putting your $#&^%^@ dirty clothes in the basket before you left town), all the while knowing what you had done, were doing, and were planning to do. How you could betray my trust: financially, sexually, and in every other way. How you could make me feel sorry for you (sick in Brazil?) while you were *^$#*%@  your girlfriend all the while and spending thousands of dollars from OUR account? How you could continue to lie in your text (talk to you in a few days) and letter (I didn’t drain the account) to string me along as long as possible. Every piece I find out is a knife right through the gut (and trust me, I have found out quite a lot)…. You not only stole my present, you robbed me of my past: I can no longer look back on any of our relationship with any degree of fondness. Was any of it real? I don’t want to understand what you have done because in order to understand I would have to be deceitful and despicable too. I could never do the things you did.

…You are wrong to think that you can run away from your past – the house of cards has collapsed and it will follow you. You are wrong to think that this will make you happy. You were wrong thinking that I would continue to fall for your lies. You are wrong thinking that you can block out what you have done – it takes more than shutting me out of your e-mail. You were wrong to block out your feelings that led to this. You were wrong to think that you could handle this on your own. You were wrong to abandon our dogs in the basement and me across the country with no money to return. You were wrong to destroy 16 years with a *%#@($#  text message. You were wrong to steal money from our accounts – I guess fraud alert doesn’t work when it is from within the home. You were wrong to ask me not to contact your work; I certainly don’t owe you any favors. You were wrong to have sex with me, exposing me to unknown risks. You were wrong to seek my sympathy. You were wrong to pretend, to lie, to hide. You were wrong to do this to me.

I feel raped. Violated. Dirty. You have shamed me with your lies and your deeds. I was living with and loving an illusion, carefully crafted to take advantage of my trust. What did I do to deserve this treatment? Love too much, trust too much? The level of cruelty you have shown is astounding. The only word for it is “mindf***” – from kindness to cruelty, protection to persecution, connection to abandonment. There are no words that adequately describe the vileness of your actions. Everything you have touched is poisoned.

You know what’s sad? I still find myself wanting to share things with you.

We were such a good team, a good partnership. Unfortunately, a marriage takes two to make it work and only one to destroy it. You certainly destroyed it, and in the process, destroyed part of me. I will never be able to love or trust as innocently again. You stole that from me.

You cannot rest easy. Your creditors will find you. The IRS will find you. From what I have seen, the law may even find you. You cannot run from your health issues – did you even get your lab results? You won’t have health insurance soon. How long will your employers put up with your deceptions? They won’t like creditors, lawyers, law enforcement calling them. You better hope Amanda stays put – it seems as though you are going to be rather dependent upon her soon. I wonder what lies you have told her? You have no one else to support you – you have pushed them all away and betrayed their trust. You are alone.

Are you still interested in the devil and angel tattoo? Make sure to leave off the angel – we know who you’ve been listening to.

I felt somewhat better after sending it. I was able to express my anger and pain, but the problem was that I didn’t know if he ever read it. As the court cases (bigamy and divorce) approached, I held on to the thought that I would get a chance to take the stand and speak to him as a captive audience. When neither case allowed that to happen, I felt cheated again. Perhaps that was one of the core reasons why I chose to write and share my story. Even if he wouldn’t listen, others would.

By the time I was finishing the book, I was ready to write to him again, this time from a place of more compassion born from time and perspective.  Since I did not have an email address (nor did I actually want to attempt to contact him directly ever again), I included the letter in the book.

…I still have such a difficult time reconciling what happened to the man I loved. I wish you would have gotten help years ago. I would have joined the fight with you. Instead, I’ve been forced to fight against you. I wish I would have noticed how far you had strayed. I wish I had managed my anxiety better. I wish we could have worked together on our marriage the way we worked together on everything else. The results have been so tragic.

None of that matters now. We’re here. Wishes won’t change that.

You have brought me the greatest joys and the greatest sorrows in life, but I am not dependent upon you for either. I am responsible for my own happiness in life; I choose to make my life meaningful and joyful, regardless of the hell you dragged me through. I refuse to be defined by or limited by your choices; I am only limited by myself. July was my rebirth. But it was a terrible delivery.

I really hope that, wherever you are, you’re okay. I hope that you are making choices that do not harm you or anyone else around you. I hope that you are taking responsibility for the harm you’ve done. I hope that you are shedding whatever demons overshadowed you and that your true self is able to see the sun again.

…Your actions shocked and hurt me more than you can probably imagine. I’ve changed. Possibly so much that you wouldn’t even know me now. Your choices pruned me back to the core, but I have been able to grow new branches from the wounds. Life is beautiful.

I hope that you have been able to find beauty in your life and that you can help bring it to others.

With that letter, I thought I was done. Until I saw him this past spring. WIth my upcoming nuptials on the horizon,  I realized that I still had more to say. I wrote the controversial post, A Letter to My Ex On the Eve of My Wedding for the Huffington Post.

And then I was done. That last letter was the final catharsis, releasing him from me. I no longer feel as though my voice has been stolen. I no longer feel the need to be heard by him. I have said what I needed to say and I no longer care if it has been received. I am at peace now.

I have nothing more to say.