Memories and Moments

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This morning marks one year since I said “I do” again.

Even though I always knew I wanted to be married again, it was still a scary decision to actually do it.

To take that risk.

To be vulnerable.

But I am so glad that I did.

 

We celebrated our anniversary this past Friday with a room on the 55th floor of the Westin downtown. As we watched the Atlanta traffic from the vantage point of our room, I told Brock about my obsession with the fluid dynamics theory of traffic, a viewpoint my ex always teased me about. Brock not only didn’t make fun of me, he agreed. And we even had some fun watching and observing the arterial flow from 600 feet above.

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Later that night, after an amazing dinner at the Sun Dial, we watched some of Princess Bride from our bed. That was my favorite movie in high school and one my ex and I watched countless times together. And Brock didn’t even get mad at me for quoting the entire movie. Inconceivable.

 

I realized much of what I mourned at the end of the first marriage was not so much the loss of him but the loss of the shared history. The memories and the moments.

And what I’m now realizing is that those memories and moments can be built again. That they can exist apart from my ex.

That I didn’t lose as much as I thought.

And that what I have gained is worth more than what is gone.

 

I believe in marking moments. In recognizing landmarks and anniversaries. It’s a way of remembering. Of experiencing gratitude. And celebrating the good.

It’s a reminder to treasure the moments because someday they may only be memories.

 

Thank you all for all the kind words about Tuesday’s post. I hope the kiddos and fuzzballs enjoyed the extra love. I know mine did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So the Wind Blows

The storm pummeling Atlanta today has been described already as “historic.” I’m not sure if that will be the case but the howling wind and pelting ice outside my window certainly sound as though they are harbingers of the winter apocalypse.

I keep having flashbacks to the only other major ice storm I’ve been through. It was in 2000, 6 months after I’d moved to Atlanta and just over a month after I got married. My husband had just had a vasectomy the day before the storm hit. At least he was able to enjoy his Playstation and ice his wound for a day before we lost power! We ended up spending 3 days without power in an all-electric 3rd floor apartment without a working fireplace. We played board games in the living room during the day and slept (with the dog and cat) in the only interior room – the bathroom. I remember clearly the gunshot cracks of the 80 foot tall pine trees as they snapped one by one under the weight of the ice. Within two days, the surrounding woods looked as though a picky tornado had thinned them.

So here I am again, a newlywed awaiting the ice storm. I’m glad that this time I have lower floors to occupy, gas water heater and a working fireplace with plenty of wood ready to go. Oh, and a husband who didn’t just have surgery:) One way I’m less prepared? Books. I don’t have many really ones anymore and Kindle batteries don’t last forever. I may end up reading the backs of everything in the pantry:)

I couldn’t sleep last night. I do that when I’m concerned about something. I don’t know why. It’s not as if I can keep the trees standing simply by being awake. I gave up a little while ago and decided to enjoy coffee and a real breakfast, not knowing what the future may hold (have a feeling it may be a diet of protein bars and faked coffee – thank goodness for camping supplies).

Since I may be out of commission for a while, I pulled three pieces from the vault for you. See if any of them tickle your fancy.

While you’re reading, I’m going to enjoy a hot bath and a good (non-Kindle) book and pretend that the creaking trees are the masts of wooden boat sailing the Caribbean.

Pardon Me, Ego. I Need to Get Through

Ego:

the “I” or self of any person; a person as thinking, feeling, and willing, and distinguishing itself from the selves of others and from objects of its thought. (from dictionary.com)
Ever since we first begin to see ourselves as separate, sentient beings in childhood, our egos define how we interpret the world around us.  That sense of self may actually be holding you back from healing from your divorce.  Do you see yourself in any of the following patterns?
It’s All About Me
When I first realized the extent of my husband’s betrayals, I kept asking, “How could he do this to me? To the one he was supposed to love?”  I saw his actions directed towards me as an arrow towards a target.  I assumed he was thinking about me as he made these decisions.  He lied to me.  He cheated on me.  He stole from me. That pattern kept me fully anchored in a victim state, the recipient of all the pain and deceptions.
Slowly, I realized that it wasn’t all about me.  He lied and cheated and stole, yes.  But he did those things because of whatever demons had him in their grasp.  He didn’t do those things because of me.  He most likely wasn’t even thinking of me while they occurred.  He did them and I was in the way.
I shifted my thinking. When he hurt me, he was acting to protect his own sense of self rather than trying to wound mine.  I began to let the anger go.
It is not easy to remove the ego from interpreting the actions of one so intimate to you. Try looking at the situation with an open mind, letting go of your own ego, and see how your perspective shifts.

Of Teddy Bears and Security Systems

For most of my married life, I felt secure. I had a husband that I trusted. I owned a home and had been at the same job for many years. I felt comfortable in my life; I trusted that change, if desired, would come from intention. It was predictable and I liked that. If you had asked me where I would have been five years down the road, I would have answered without hesitation.

That feeling of security and blind trust is what allowed me to become complacent. Too comfortable. I was petrified of losing that feeling of security. I was very conservative in my decisions, choosing to avoid risk whenever possible.

I lost all semblance of security when he left. Everything was in question; nothing was sure. I didn’t have time to let it scare me. I simply had to survive. I was operating at the base level of Maslow’s hierarchy: eating, sleeping and breathing were my priorities.

I started tiptoeing back into life. I branched out but much was still unknown. I could not even imagine where I would be five years hence. And I was okay with that.

Read the rest of Of Teddy Bears and Security Systems.

 

Trigger Points

As a runner and weight lifter, I am very familiar with trigger points – painful balls of muscle or fascia caused by acute or repeated trauma. They are  hyperirritable, overresponding to even the slightest pressure or pull. They cause intense pain at their source and can often lead to referred pain in a distant area, frequently occurring along predictable pathways.

As a survivor of a traumatic divorce, I am also very familiar with emotional trigger points – painful memories and associated responses caused by repeated or acute trauma. They are areas of hyperirritability where the response far outweighs the preceding factors. They cause intense pain at the time of their trigger and can cause referred pains in seemingly unrelated areas.

I am consistently amazed at the magnitude and quantity of my emotional triggers. A snippet of a song last night brought me to tears as it reminded me of one of the dogs in my other life. Nothing is safe – smells, sights, words, movies, a date on the calendar. Sixteen years is a long time and it doesn’t leave much untouched. Triggers are like a black hole through space-time, pulling me back to a place of fear and pain.

Read the rest of Trigger Points.

Black Ice

One of the worst car accidents I’ve ever seen happened on black ice. It was several years ago, in front of the school where I used to work. It was a cold morning, well below freezing, but there had been no precipitation for days and so there was no expectation of ice. It turned out that an in ground sprinkler system at the front of a neighborhood had ruptured, spilling water out onto the road in the predawn hours. The water soon froze in the frigid air, becoming an unseen sheet of ice under the shadow of trees. The location was particularly treacherous, as it was not only on a hill, but also an area where people braked hard to turn into the school.

From my vantage point at a red light a block away, I saw one car after another cross the slick terrain, lose control and barrel into oncoming traffic. The engines were revving faster than reaction times so the ping-pong actions of the cars went through several iterations before traffic came to a standstill. Thankfully, on the morning in question, there were no serious injuries, yet the damage was severe. Dozens of cars were totaled. A power line was down. An overturned milk truck’s spilled contents added to the icy mess. And the road was blocked for hours.

Yet nobody involved left their house that morning afraid of the roads. No one took precautions for potential ice. It was business as usual. Until it wasn’t.

I just returned from a walk around my area of iced-locked Atlanta. The roads are still covered in 1/4″ thick sheets of glassy ice, their sides (and sometimes centers) littered with abandoned cars and even school buses. But there is some traffic moving today, the cars carefully maintaining a steady speed and avoiding sudden turns. The folks out today knew to be cautious, the ice is a known danger and they are implementing proper precautions. There are certainly accidents occurring, but few of the severity of the one I witnessed years ago.

Life’s challenges often have this distinction. Some are unanticipated and unforeseeable while others are more easily anticipated. We often berate ourselves when faced with a challenge we did not forecast. I know I did that with my divorce, wasted energy wishing that I had seen it coming so that I could prepare my bug-out bag.

But would it really have been better if I had anticipated it?

Sometimes, even when we know a challenge is coming, we can not prevent it or, like the politicians in Atlanta this week, we take a gamble and choose to not implement those preventative measures. Just the knowledge that my marriage was ending may not have been enough to change the outcome. Or, perhaps I would have gambled on things working out and chosen not to prepare.

Regardless, like the drivers on the roads today, I would have been scared, aware of the potential dangers around every bend. I would have been wary of every step, armed with the knowledge that each one taken could be one that sweeps out my life from under me. Hell, let’s be honest. If I had known that the end of the marriage was in sight, I probably would have been so scared that I would have been frozen in place. Iced in.

Black ice is treacherous because of its ability to hide. Yet its rarity means that we don’t walk around fearing its danger.

It’s funny. I used to view the tsunami nature of the end as one of the worst parts. Now? I’m thankful for it. It was a helluva wreck, but at least I wasn’t scared to drive. And even though the damages were great, there were no fatalities.

Thankful to be warm and home after an adventurous trek home from work yesterday that included a three hour drive followed by a three hour hike (and an awesome husband that met me halfway on my walk with hiking boots and hot coffee!). Many in the metro were not so lucky and spent the night in stranded cars, schools or in emergency shelters. Even though the surrounding cities screwed this up, the stories of the individuals stepping up to help others is amazing. Challenges are so much easier when we have help.

Ramblings From a Crazed Mind

Something about living amongst boxes makes me feel as though I’m scatterbrained. At least it’s temporary. I hope.

I’m a bit too scattered to compose a complete and cohesive post, so I’ll share some of my random thoughts with you today.

This is the birthday gift my dad sent me.

 

 

 

 

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Yeah, he’s pretty damn cool. And funny:)

I’m making regular trips to Goodwill lately as we are purging while packing. It makes me wonder how much of the stuff from my former life made it there. Used items contain so many stories, don’t they. Houses are much the same. Brock made me laugh when he explained his desire to repaint the master bedroom in the new house (even though it looks just fine) as a need to “piss on the walls” of his new home to make it his. Boys will be boys:) and I’m sure Tiger would fully support his sentiment.

Speaking of paint…I thought I was done with the Great Paint Chip Choosing of 2013 but then Brock made a statement that made it clear he wasn’t really paying attention when I ran the choices by him a couple weeks ago. Deep breath.

We are set to close this Friday (lots of deep breaths!) and take possession on Monday. I’m ready to do this thing rather than exist in the crazy-making in-between. I just bought Brock a housewarming present to put in his man cave  – a personalized wall-mounted bottle opener. There’s a selfish twist to it too – it has a cap catcher so I don’t have to deal with bottle caps scattered about:) We’re both excited about creating our spaces – man cave theater for him and back yard/porch for me.

I’ve also had some fun this morning planning a few wedding details. I found a restaurant with a dog-friend patio for us to eat at after the wedding. I bought him a small wedding gift and started planning a special dinner at the cabin the night before the wedding which will include his favorite crabcakes flown in from Baltimore. I made crabcakes for him from scratch for his birthday a few years ago. Yeah, that was not any easy task for a lifelong vegetarian. Ugh.

FYI – these are meant to be surprises. If you know him, mum’s the word, please:)

Meanwhile, this weekend has allowed me a few moments to breathe before the moving and painting begin. I traveled across town yesterday to visit with the great and wonderful Sarah and her daughter, Kayla. The latter promptly covered me with stickers and said they were my badges:) Love that kid.

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Today, I’ve enjoyed the sun. Atlanta has been impersonating Seattle all summer, so today is a welcome change. The deck and a newly available library book are calling my name.

And, finally, in case you’re not on my Facebook page (and, why aren’t you?:) ), I thought I’d share this thought here as well:

It’s important to acknowledge that healing is not linear. Although you may generally be doing better each day, there will be some setbacks when a trigger is encountered. It’s wild how certain things can take you back to the raw pain of the beginning. As you heal, those triggers will be fewer and further between and the pain they induce will lessen. I’ve always hated the platitude, “Time heals all wounds.” But it’s true. I feel like I owe time a thank you note:)

Happy Sunday, ya’ll and I’ll see ya on the flipside.

Gotta Have Faith

This house crush is proving to be an emotional affair.

We saw the house this morning. There were no fatal flaws. Just great big spaces and bigger questions. We were not ready to fall in love. The money isn’t yet fully saved. The current lease is not final.

Yet the house is ready.

We spent all day courting the house. We had friends-in-the-know (a realtor and a former contractor) check it out and give us their opinions (gotta love a freebie on-the-spot mini inspection!). We researched loan options. Finally, we worked with a friend of a friend to start the process to get preapproved for a mortgage. Assuming the numbers work, we put in a bid tomorrow.

Wow.

It has been a whirlwind.

It’s scary. There are so many unknowns. It’s such a big financial commitment. We will probably be house poor for the first 6-12 months, a position I hate being in. It’s scary but the possibilities are tantalizing.

Brock has been amazing. After the initial walkthroughs, when we were just sitting down to talk it through, Brock posed a question. “Does this, buying a house that will need some remodeling, trigger you emotionally at all since that is what you did before?”

Wow.

I was speechless. It was a great question; my ex and I purchased a house when we were first married that needed similar types of work. Remodeling that home was a big part of my marriage. I took the time to mull it over. Yes, the house and process brought up memories. But they were matter of fact.  There were no emotions triggered. All the emotion I feel today is about the present situation, not the past.

Brock was willing to walk away if the house triggered me emotionally.

Wow.

Even the financial stuff wasn’t too bad. I still have such shame and anxiety over the mess that I have. The friend of a friend that we worked with on the approval process didn’t make me feel bad as he asked about each item. I had some anger flare at my ex for putting me in this place, but overall, I was okay. That was a weight lifted, as I have been nervous about trying to buy a house for years.

The timing is not what we planned. The house is bigger than we planned. It needs more work than we planned. But the location is perfect. The features check every box. I can see Brock and I and our amazing friends in the space (after we host a few painting parties, that is!). The value is excellent. And the price is acceptable.

I don’t know how this is going to come together. I don’t know how we’ll make it work. Especially with a wedding around the corner as well.

This is one of those times when you just have to let go and trust that it will work out. I was in a similar position 3 years ago (Recalculating) when I had no employment, no place to live and only a few weeks into a new relationship. I wasn’t worried then. It felt right to stay in Atlanta and give my relationship with Brock a chance. I’ve never regretted it.

I’ve just gotta have faith.

Faith that no matter how this works out, it will be okay.

If we get the house, we will find a way to move sooner than expected. If we don’t get the house, we will find another when it’s time.

 

Yup, just gotta have faith.

And maybe a glass of wine to relax:)