Clean Up, Aisle 5

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I received a notice in the mail yesterday that I have to report to court to settle one of the financial messes that my ex left behind. I have known that this was coming, but that does not make its arrival any easier.

I’m angry. Angry that he continues to dodge his responsibilities while I, as a tax-paying citizen who holds a job and a valid driver’s license, gets to deal with the mess he so casually left behind.

I’m anxious. Even now, almost three years out from the initial blow, I’m still half-waiting for another explosion.

But, most of all, I feel ashamed. I don’t know why, but this is my response when I feel like people are judging me, even when their assumptions are untrue. These people don’t know anything of my story, nor do they care. I want to walk in there, head held high, with the “innocent spouse” letter from the IRS fastened to my collar, an anti-scarlet letter. I want them to know that I am the one cleaning up the mess, not the one who left it there in the first place.

But, I guess it doesn’t matter. Part of marriage is cleaning up after your spouse. My clean-up duties just happen to extend beyond the matrimony. I’ll walk in there, keep my story to myself, and take care of business, leaving me with one less of his messes to clean up.

I Was Lucky

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was lucky. I never spent time in a decaying marriage. The lies that destroyed the relationship protected me for its duration, keeping me cloaked in relative comfort.

I was lucky. I never had to wrestle with the question of should I stay or should I leave? That decision was made for me.

I was lucky. I never had the pain of hoping for or trying for reconciliation. You cannot reconcile with someone who has become a ghost in his own life.

I was lucky. We did not have children. I did not have to see the pain on their faces, nor engage in a battle for them through the courts.

I was lucky. I had a clean, sudden amputation of my life, my marriage. The trauma was near-fatal, but I was left with a clean cut.

I know not all of you are so lucky. You may be deciding if your marriage can be saved. You may be hoping that it can still work out, alternating between hope and despair. You may be subject to painful contact with your ex. You may have to tuck your kids in, wishing you could take their pain away.

Even if your marriage did not end in a sterile amputation, you still have some control over how it heals. Take care to keep the wound clean and expose it to fresh air. Tight bandages may hide the damage for a time, but the wound will only fester when it is kept in the dark. Do not worry at the healing skin. Leave the scabs until they fall off of their own accord; they provide needed protection. Be gentle with the new skin, the new growth, for it is still fragile with its pink-tinged hope. Sooth the wound with the balm of your friends and family, your pets, your passions. And know that the scars only serve to make you even more beautiful.

R.I.P. All Terrain Pug

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I received the sad, yet not unexpected news today that Max, my beloved pug dies this past fall.  My ex and I got Max when she was just a little puppy, 2 pounds of spunk and attitude.  She managed to pack the personality and courage of a mastiff into her little body, making sure that everyone knew that mighty Max was around.

One of my favorite early memories of her was when she was around 10 weeks old.  She could still fit in the palm of one hand.  We came home and found her curled on a pillow on top of the couch.  This was a surprise, as she had been placed in the bathroom with a babygate blocking the doorway.  The gate was still in place, but the dog was not.  Puzzled, we placed her back in the bathroom and sat outside the gate to watch.  She climbed the gate as though it was a ladder, teetered on her fat little belly on the top, and jumped/fell unto the floor.  She waddled towards us, so proud of her accomplishment.

She was a very smart dog (and extremely food motivated).  I once taught her to “crawl” in the time it took my ex to take a shower.  In her heyday, she knew the names of over 40 toys and would fetch the appropriate one.  That same food drive got her into trouble.  We only made the mistake of leaving a bag of food within her reach once.  On that day, we came home to find a half empty 30 lb bag of previously unopened dog food on the floor with a very fat pug sleeping just inside the walls of the bag.

We used to take her camping, hiking, and swimming.  Her enthusiasm and determination on these outings earned her the nickname “All Terrain Pug.”  I’ll never know how her stubby little legs managed those tough trails.  Catching deer was never her strong point, though; she would walk right by them and never even notice their presence.

She was our dog, but she was more mine.  My ex moved across the country for work and it was 7 months before Max and I were able to follow.  In that time, she and I bonded even more as we waited for our family to be reunited.  She was with me through my entire marriage, my entire young adulthood.

When my ex left, I was not able to care for her or the other dogs.  My friends and family helped to find homes for them.  Max was the challenge.  She was 14 years old at the time and already deaf and almost blind.  The pug rescue group was full and she was not adoptable.  I didn’t know what we were going to do; it wasn’t time to put her down, but I could not take of her myself.  A wonderful woman stepped up and agreed to take her.  She has provided a wonderful, loving home for my baby for the past few years. It was more than I could have ever hoped for.

Today, I am saying goodbye to my Max for the second time.  I always thought I would be there with her at the end and it is hard to know that I couldn’t.  My tears are for her passing, but mainly for the gratitude I have for her second mom, who gave her a home when I couldn’t.

 

Alone

Posted on by stilllearning2b

It is not unusual to experience loneliness during and after a divorce.  After all, you have not only lost your life partner, but often extended family and friends, as well.  Adding to that, divorce can be isolating.  It is all-consuming and others often tire of its dominance in your life.  It seems a cruel joke; when we need others the most, we can easily find ourselves alone.

I realized how alone I was when I could go places without needing to leave a message of when I would be back.  I would pick up the phone to share something I saw and realize that I had nobody to share it with.  When I was sick, there was nobody to send to the store for Gatorade and Sudafed.  The bed felt empty.  My heart felt emptier.

I very intentionally surrounded myself with people.  At first, this made me feel even more alone, as I felt like an interloper, a pariah with my pain.  I played the part, acting as though I felt included, until I actually did.  I realized that the feeling of isolation was my perspective, not reality, and I can change my perspective.

The Three Factors of Loneliness | The Emotionally Sensitive Person.

States of Matter

Posted on by stilllearning2b
English: The liquid helium is in the superflui...
Image via Wikipedia

Which state of matter best describes you?

Solids are comprised of tightly packed molecules.  They are rigid, holding their own shape.  The atoms that make up a solid are stuck, their movement compromised by the proximity of their neighbors.  If you are a solid, you are fixed in your life.  Your environment does not impact your shape, as you resist influence from your surroundings.  If too much resistance is applied, a solid crumbles and fragments, but it takes quite a bit for this to occur.  Solids are consistent, yet their stalwart nature can make them vulnerable to fragmentation or erosion.

The particles that form liquids are freer to move, yet they posses cohesive properties that encourage them to remain in proximity to each other.  The defining characteristic of a liquid is that it takes the shape of its container.  If you are a liquid, you allow the environment to shape you, yet you maintain a a sense of self held in the solidarity of your component parts.  You naturally flow, yet can move against the pull of gravity when effort is applied.  You are resistant to pressure, yet accepting of influence.

Gasses are the free spirits of the chemical world; their particles enjoy total freedom at the expense of identity.  The atoms and molecules in a gas will expand to fill its container as they bounce around with no thought to each other.  If you are gas, you push against the constraints of your environment, constantly looking for a way out.  The application of pressure simply intensifies this effect.  You are free, open to anything, yet may not have a developed sense of self, as your component parts do not blend.

States of matter can be changed.  Apply enough heat to a solid and it softens, liquifies.  Apply too much perhaps, and you lose your substance as it evaporates.  On the other hand, compress freely moving molecules hard enough, and you transition them to a liquid and eventually a solid.

In my own life, I strive to be a liquid.  I want to be unified and have a definable self, yet I want to be open to influence.  I desire to be able to relax and go with the flow, yet also be able to move against the current at will.  The pressures I have faced have forced internal cohesion and the warmth from those around me has kept me soft and pliable.  I try to monitor the dials and switches on my internal chemistry set to maintain this optimal balance despite the impact of the environment.