Scheduled Smiles

Posted on by stilllearning2b
smiles

It’s all too easy to believe that happiness is fixed. Unchangeable. Set in place by internal or external factors that feel beyond our control.

We may not control all of the strings on the marionette of our lives, but we do have the ability to manipulate the ones that produce a grin.

And all it takes is a calendar. Some intention. And some follow through.

Studies consistently show that our happiness increases when we are anticipating a trip or other exciting, planned event. We experience this. We revel in its gleeful power and, then, we all too often face a symmetrical slump on the far side of the vacation.

I used to see this pattern – up echoed by down – as inevitable.

Until my divorce.

He left days before an anticipated trip to the coast. That trip was my motivator and smile generator all summer.

And then it disappeared, a mirage replaced by hell.

For those first several weeks, I simply struggled to survive. Any smiles were spontaneous, fleeting whispers of joy teasing my lips.

One night, I opened a calendar. The only entries were for legal proceedings and work related deadlines. I knew I was looking at a tough year ahead and the calendar certainly confirmed it.

And then I got angry. I felt like he stole the one little vacation from my year.

Yet I was the one that had allowed him to erase all of the entries of happiness.

Over the next few weeks, I got busy.

I started with the big things – scheduling a trip to San Antonio over Christmas and to Seattle over spring break. I also planned one more big-ticket item – a 3 day meditation and yoga retreat for that fall.

My wallet was empty at that point, but my heart felt a little more full as I saw those plans printed on the page.

But I wasn’t done.

I penciled in hikes for weekends that should have good weather. I looked up festivals and wrote them down. I visited the websites of local bands and marked down their concert dates. I followed with release dates for books and movies and museum openings. I researched gluten free friendly restaurants and marked them down on the page as well. No event was too small.

Related: Goal Post

The timing of some of the events was dictated by necessity, but others I intentionally placed just before or after events I was dreading.

Sometimes, we chaff at the idea of having to schedule pleasantries. Think of the advice for busy couples to schedule a regular date night or regular sex. We feel like we shouldn’t have to plan it, that it should just happen.

But then we get busy.

And it doesn’t happen.

If it’s important, plan it.

Of course, I still enjoyed the unexpected smiles. I made a commitment that year to say yes to every invitation, to every query of, “Do you want to…?” I loved those spontaneous smiles. They created some of my best memories. But they lack the guiding power of anticipation.

Even though I am no longer in hell, I still make sure my calendar is heavy with scheduled smiles. Instead of feeling let down at the end of the wedding week, I am looking forward to meeting a blog buddy for the first time, going to see Lewis Black, an annual Octoberfest weekend with friends and an upcoming visit with a childhood friend that I haven’t seen in 15 years. I don’t have time to be morose.

My life used to be cluttered with to-do lists. Notations of what tasks needed to be accomplished and what responsibilities needed tending.

They’re still there. After all, stuff still needs to get done.

But now, I make sure that two more important lists are more prominent:

The gratitude list that reminds me of all that I have to be thankful for (I love that I had to shrink the font on this one to get it to fit on the page!) and

The calendar that lists the upcoming smiles.

And that makes me happy:)

My challenge to you today – open up that calendar. Find a week with nothing fun planned and find something to add that you can anticipate. Bonus points if it also involves bringing anticipation to another.

And then enjoy the little happiness boost that comes from scheduling a smile.

 

 

 

I Leave You With…

Posted on by stilllearning2b

The wedding is just a few short days away.

We won’t be stopped by the government shutdown (even though we have had to create a backup plan to the original national park location). Nor will tropical storm Karen put a damper on our plans even if she makes us damp (here’s the one time I’m not happy about wedding dresses being white!).

As we all know, those are little things, speed bumps, but not stop signs.

We have been through much more stringent challenges to get here.

And now we’re ready.

I’m ready.

photo-75

I tried on my dress the other night for the first time since I bought it a year ago. The sight made the upcoming marriage feel real. Tangible. I looked at my reflection and reflected on the last time I wore white, 14 years ago. I am no longer that woman. I am more awake, mindful of all that is. I am more aware of both the good and the potential for pain. I am more grateful for everything after losing everything. And, dare I say it, I am more excited. My first marriage felt like the inevitable conclusion to a good relationship. This marriage feels like a hard-won victory after years of facing struggle. The triumph of love over loss. Trust over betrayal. And peace over pain.

And that’s something to celebrate.

And celebrate I shall. I will be taking a hiatus from the blog and its associated platforms for the next week or so. I want to focus on my new husband. My family. And my friends.

And maybe even sneak in a nap:)

I want to spend a week celebrating where I am with no thought as to how I got here.

Even though this is certainly a case where the ends justify the means.

Love Doesn't End

I’m not locking the door of the blog; please feel free to poke around and maybe even stay for awhile. There are well over 600 hundred posts here, so there’s no need to get bored:)

Please keep commenting and sharing. I’ll pick up when I get back.

But I also want to leave you with something.

Hope.

Hope that no matter how bad the pain is now, it can get better.

Hope that no matter how much you have lost, you can regain even more.

Hope that no matter how piercing the betrayal, you can learn how to trust again.

Hope that breaks heal and make you stronger than before.

Hope that you can build a new family and a new life.

Hope that you are not damaged beyond repair and that you can love and be loved.

Hope that you can be happy. Really and truly happy.

your story

Your happy ending may look different than mine.

But picture the happy ending you want. The finish line that says you’ve completed your divorce journey.

And then walk towards it. One step at a time.

See you all soon:)

Lisa

photo-66

The Bathroom Drawer

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I was giving a tour of the new home.

“And this is Brock’s bathroom.”

“He gets the master bath?” my friend inquired, surprised.

“Yup. In this case, it’s a key to marital bliss. That way my blind self doesn’t trip over his detritus and I don’t wake him up when I get ready at the crack of dawn,” I explained.

She nodded, understanding.

“I am envious of these drawers, though,” my hand already beginning to open one of the six drawers built into the cabinet.

As my arm began to pull, my brain stuttered. I realized that I had no idea at all what was contained within that drawer. I hoped that it was nothing that would be embarrassing to reveal.

Luckily, the drawer only contained the usual bathroom items (along with a couple remnants of the paining work we had done).

But it also contained a lesson for me.

In my old life and my old home, I knew (or, more accurately, thought I knew) what resided behind every closed drawer. I thought I knew everything about my ex husband, that there was no uncharted territory. I believed there were no secrets, even of the unintentional kind.

And so, whenever a drawer (both real and metaphorical) was opened, I saw what I expected to see.

It’s never been that way with Brock. Perhaps because of my background or maybe because we’re coming together in mid-life after living separate lives for many years, he remains at least somewhat mysterious to me. Even though we share stories of our pasts, they are just samples, not the entire spread. Although we share space, we each have out own territory and I don’t feel the need to be an explorer on an expedition to his office.

I don’t think I know what he is going to say.

So I listen.

I don’t have any expectations of what I will see.

So I look.

At first, this felt a bit scary to me. I wondered if I would ever feel like I knew him as well as I knew my ex.

But then I realized, I only thought I knew my ex.

The comfort in that was the wool over my eyes.

I like the dash of mystery.

The reminder that he is Brock before he is my husband.

A reminder to listen. To see.

Rather than assume.

And also a reminder not to open drawers in fron of someone without verifying its contents first:)

 

Cheers

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My mom is off to Italy soon on her dream trip of a lifetime (may the cobblestones be smooth, the blisters scarce and the lines short).

She sent wedding gifts in advance of her departure since she will be overseas during the celebration (toss a coin into the Trevi fountain for me, please!)

The last one took me by surprise.

As I battled with the endless folds of cardboard and the mobius-like twists of extra strong packing tape, I realized that the box contained a frame. Or actually, several. One of those displays that is comprised of many attached picture frames.

As I victoriously tore away a sticky note-sized piece of cardboard, I saw my grandmother’s familiar face. She had a glass in one hand and a smile on her lips.

I tore some more.

And saw my mom, stepdad and his mom, all with glasses and smiles.

They seemed like strange photos to select.

But then I revealed a bit more.

A family friend, aunt really, who was clinking a steel wine goblet against a toaster.

Ahhh, got it:)

My suspicions were confirmed as the last of the cardboard sheath fell to floor, revealing almost a dozen pictures, containing 28 family members, all raising a toast to our wedding.

Some were dressed up. Others were casual. Some had juice. Or beer. Or wine. One precious little one drank to our happiness from her baby bottle. And a furry one toasted with her favorite toy.

The pictures are from Texas. And Wisconsin. And Washington. And Oregon. And even California.

Some of the family members I see every couple years. While, with others, it’s much longer between visits.

It’s such an amazing feeling to gaze upon those pictures and feel the support of so many, even when they are far away.

And that’s what family is. I only share blood ties with a handful of those in the frame (I had to chuckle when describing the relationships to a visiting friend last night while showing her the gift. “I guess it’s a modern family,” I said.), we are tied by a sense of belonging. Of support. It doesn’t matter how the ties were formed. Once there, they’re not broken.

And in less than two weeks, Brock and I will officially become family. I feel a sense of belonging. Of support. It doesn’t matter what led up to this. We’re family now.

And I’ll toast to that:)

Re(s)training Order

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I had to take out a restraining order yesterday.

Nope, not on my ex.

Or some crazy blog stalker.

But on myself.

You see, I have a certain behavioral tendency that I don’t like and that I want to change. And I had a chance to practice yesterday.

I came in the door at my usual 5:00. Brock and I exchanged a quick hug and a few words before he ran off to the gym and I ran off to..well, to a run. Our time was brief, but totally normal.

I came back from the run around 6:15 to find Brock tackling the garage, the one area in the house that was still unusable. He was working quickly, I guess to try to beat the clock before he had to leave for ju jitsu. But more than that, he felt distant. Unreachable. Of course, that’s my mind putting its own spin on it:)

I hung around for a few minutes to try to help before giving up. I retreated upstairs to take care of Tiger and some other evening chores.

My instinct is to press to find out what’s wrong. To question. To poke at it. I’m looking for reassurance that it’s not something to do with me and I am also looking for something I can fix.

I panic. I don’t know why. We all get frazzled. We all get overwhelmed. Lord knows, I come into the house plenty of times still carrying the frantic energy of my day and some of that bleeds out even though it has nothing at all to do with Brock. I also am very familiar with the fixation that can occur when trying to accomplish a task quickly. Hell, I did it today. I was short with a coworker when she interrupted me while I was trying to complete a study guide in the 5 minutes before the bell.

I get it mentally. But my emotions are a slow learner.

I find myself taking very frequent temperature checks of the relationship. Which is good. But it also means that I can get false readings or see a trend when there is nothing there.

I know this is a remnant of the divorce. My first marriage ended and I saw no signs. I’m petrified of missing signs again. I can be not unlike a lost driver with poor eyesight (okay, that would frequently be me:) ), slowing down and squinting at every street sign, afraid of missing the one spelled out in the directions.

But this isn’t my first marriage. I missed signs partly because they were covered and partly because I didn’t believe they could exist. That’s not the case now. I can relax. Not into full autopilot but also not the intense drive of one on a new and treacherous course.

So last night, I took out a restraining order on myself. I asked once if he was okay and then I disengaged. I trusted. I relaxed. I let him be and I let it be.

And, you know what?

It was okay.

A friend of ours came over while he was still at ju jitsu. The friend and I spent time on the porch (shocking, right?) talking about his recent trip and his relationship. By the time Brock came home, all was well. The garage was done, another item ticked off the list. Ju jitsu was enjoyed. And he was back.

Not that he ever left.

With practice, I’ll teach my brain not to create mountain ranges (yeah, I go big time) out of molehills. I’ll continue to check the temperature but also work to realize that sometimes a reading has nothing to do with anything (for some reason, this makes me think of the scene in Ferris Bueller where he uses the heating pad to fake a fever. yup, child of the 80s here). I’ll work to take the ego out of it (what, you mean something may not have to do with me???) and think of times when I am frazzled, focused or distant. I’ll apply restraint and keep myself from poking at it like some sticked-arm kid with a flattened squirrel (gross, but just about as pointless).

Just like I can still teach my old cat some new tricks, I can still learn as well. Although my retraining doesn’t necessitate the use of kibble:)