Like It Never Happened

My life is generally divided into B.D. (before divorce) and A.D. (after divorce). I divvy up experiences, locations and even relationships between these two categories. I am (often painfully) aware of this division, this singular event that has fractured my life in two.

Last night, for a magical few hours, that mental division was erased and the crevice between my selves felt filled.

It was just a simple evening at an outdoor concert with friends – two couples, one with a kid. One from B.D. and the other (at least for me) from A.D. These blendings of friends are rare in my life due to the twin constraints of busy lives and Atlanta traffic (my B.D. friends live a minimum of 45 minutes away).

It felt great to join the two groups, but that wasn’t the magic. That’s where the kid comes in.

The B.D. friends, Sarah and Curtis, are extremely special to me (they are the ones who opened their home to me in the first year A.D. – Wanted: The Ronald McDonald House for the Recently Separated). They have been in my life for the past decade. Due to Curtis’s schedule, Sarah, my ex and I used to enjoy events together – everything from a King Tut exhibit to the annual Brew at the Zoo. We were thrilled for them when they started the adoption process almost five years ago. Although my ex and I never wanted our own children, we both enjoyed playing the avuncular role with other’s offspring.

Sarah and Curtis received the wonderful news in April of 2009 that they had a baby girl waiting for them. She was still in the NICU and would be for several more weeks due to prematurity and other complications. In their eyes, she was perfect. She came home that May. She was still quite fragile and was tethered to tubes and alarms that kept Sarah anchored in a corner of the master bedroom for the first couple weeks.

On her first Saturday home from the hospital, I made plans to visit. My ex declined to accompany. I thought it was strange for him to miss meeting this child that meant so much to our friends. I thought it was strange, but I brushed it off. In retrospect, he didn’t want to meet her because he knew his days in that life were numbered.

I’m glad they never met. That tiny, fragile infant has since grown into a spirited four year old (Let’s Go On An Adventure) that embodies a Botticelli beauty. A child that has no memory of my life B.D. and a child with whom I have no memories associated with my ex.

I loved watching her with Brock last night as he taught her how to walk Tiger on a leash (unfortunately, no photos were taken but just picture this 30 pound girl walking a 95 pound pit bull through a crowded park – the looks we got were priceless!) and she gifted him a “friendship rock.” He has fully embraced the uncle role with her, even though they do not see each other often. Brock may not have been there for those years waiting for the adoption and the first year of her life, but he’s here now. And, as far as she will know, he is the only husband (okay, so he’s not that yet, but soon:)) that I have ever had.

Brock and Tiger - two peas in a pod:)
Brock and Tiger – two peas in a pod:)

A quick side note here – Is it weird that I love watching Brock interact with kids even though I don’t want them? I just love seeing how comfortable he is and how he understands how to communicate with them at various developmental levels. Makes me smile.

Last night, the harsh distinction (that exists more in my mind that anywhere else) between B.D. and A.D. blurred as I sat with friends who have made the journey with me and friends that have only known me after. As I looked around the group gathered on our tarp, it didn’t feel A.D.

It just felt right.

Finding Love Again

When we are young and our hearts are relatively intact, love seems to be an easy endeavor. Potential partners are everywhere and the possibilities seem endless. As we get older (or, as I prefer to think of it, wiser), love no longer seems so simple. We are more aware of the pitfalls and are more critical of potential partners. Our hearts are laced with cracks and we fear any other breakages. We become more accustomed to our ways and less likely to want to change them.

Finding love again is possible but it takes a different approach than before. First, you have to be ready to allow yourself to love again. This means choosing to move through the fear of being vulnerable again, to release the trepidation of another broken heart. Since life isn’t a romantic comedy, simply welcoming love is not sufficient to make that special person appear; you have to be an active participant in life and engage in opportunities that will allow you to meet people. Once you find that connection, it needs to be nurtured. It will take deliberate action to create the relationship that you want. I have found that this is an ongoing cycle: I continually have to work to allow myself to be open and to not let fear close me in. I am always actively seeking the love I want (now within the context of a relationship instead of on the dating scene 🙂 ); I hold a vision of what I want. And, finally, I am consciously working to create and maintain the vision.

I’m often told that I’m lucky to have found love again. Sure, there is an element of serendipity but there is also quite a bit of choice and deliberate action.

I screwed a lot of things up on the way to love. I had a tendency to act married immediately upon meeting someone (what can I say, I knew how to be married, but I had no idea how to date!). I looked to men for escape or validation. I confused dates with old friends, looking to them for emotional support. I walled myself off, using my strength and survival skills to keep men at arm’s length. I didn’t always listen to my gut. I let my anger get the best of me. I dated before I had fully dissected my role in the end of my marriage. I overlooked certain things that I probably shouldn’t have. I hurt feelings carelessly and I failed to listen to advice (that damn defensiveness!).

But I also did a lot of things right. I saw dating as practice and I made sure to get plenty of it. I was patient with myself and others. I said “yes” more than I said “no,” and, as a result, I opened myself up to new people and experiences. I made time to play and I didn’t take myself or dating too seriously. I may have been angry with my ex, but I never transferred that animosity to all that carry the XY chromosome. I didn’t let my natural introverted nature keep me inside, buried in a book.  I approached everything as a learning experience and I allowed myself to be open to change. After some false starts, I accepted the value of baby-steps and taking a relationship as it comes.

Here’s what I learned from my journey to love again. Maybe this list can save you from some of my mistakes 🙂

Intention: Know what you want. Have a mental vision board. If something or someone doesn’t fit, it may be best to let them go.

Step Out: Step out of your comfort zone. Step outside. Step out of your routine. Step out of your normal group.

Acknowledge: Accept your fear. Your doubt. Your hesitations. Acknowledge them but don’t let them control you.

Practice: You won’t get it right at first. No one does. Try again.

Patience: Be gentle with yourself. And others. Most people are doing the best they can in that moment. Be patient in your search. Enjoy the journey.

Openness: Say “yes.” Remove barriers. Explore new ideas and new experiences. Withhold judgment. Replace it with reflection.

Forgiveness: Forgive yourself. You are not damaged goods. You are whole and okay as you are. You are worthy of love.

Levity: Have fun. Laugh. Everything is better with a smile.

Effort: Love isn’t passive. You have to be willing to be an active participant and to make an effort.

Listen: It’s amazing what you can learn.

Grow: Let your successes and not-quite-successes fuel your development.  

Love is worth it. Allow it in, seek it out and create it in your own life.