Amuse Bouche

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I am not a foodie. I thought about it for a time when I dated a guy that knew how to create an amazing meal from the most random ingredients, but it didn’t really stick. Let’s face it, when I’m hungry, I eat. That doesn’t leave much room for artful concoctions or presentations as I tend to nibble the ingredients away first:)

Plus, I have an amazing ability to eat the same thing over and over. For years. My current obsession? Sweet and spicy popcorn. I invented it (okay, probably not really, but I doubt there’s a patent anywhere) after one of my students was talking about cinnamon sugar toast and my gluten free belly got jealous. Here’s the completely not-fit-for-a-cookbook recipe:

1) Make popcorn – I put kernels in a plain brown lunch bag, fold the top over a few times, and put in the microwave. Look ma, chemical-free microwave popcorn!

2) Melt a little bit of coconut oil and drizzle over popcorn.

3) Top with salt, stevia, cinnamon and….chili powder.

Serious yum. Just don’t ask me for proper wine pairings.

During my brief foray into foodieism, I was treated to a meal like no other – endless courses paired with matching cocktails that ignited areas of my palate I didn’t know existed. The entire restaurant held less than a dozen tables and the chef, as though on a stage, occupied a central kitchen. It was an amazing, and entirely foreign, experience for me.

I was also introduced that night to a concept familiar to those in the restaurant world – amuse bouche.

An amuse bouche is a little tidbit, a morsel, that the chef prepares while you’re waiting for your first course. It is intended to awaken the palate and to highlight the chef’s talent. The term literally translates to “mouth amuser.”

What a cool idea.

The amuse bouche is never intended to be a stand alone meal. It is not designed to meet all of your nutritional needs nor will it ever fill you up.

It is just a little smile, a hint of anticipation, a distraction from your rumbling belly.

Looking back, much of my dating (aka Match Madness) was like a series of amuse bouches (the plural may be completely grammatically incorrect but you get the idea) – little dates that were never intended to fulfill the needs of a real relationship. Distractions from my rumbling brain. Hints of what was to come when it was time for the real thing.

Amuse redez-vous.

It’s okay to smile while waiting you’re waiting for the real thing.

 

 

 

 

Excuses

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Our brains are rather comical creatures. Have you ever noticed how they have a tendency to throw up excuses faster than a juggler’s balls in the final act rather than simply face reality? Have you observed the energy expended as your children come up with one creative reason after another to avoid homework or cleaning their room when simply addressing the task at hand would often be easier? Do you get frustrated with friends or family when they complain about a situation and yet fail to make any changes?

Do you ever notice your own excuses?

It’s okay.

We all make them.

You can admit it here.

Sometimes it can be helpful when someone calls us out on them.

(Assuming we’re willing to listen, of course.)

Often others see what we cannot.

But sometimes, you’re on your own. Maybe others do not register your excuses. Or maybe they perceive you as too fragile to tackle them head on or they are too timid themselves. Or perhaps they’re busy creating their own excuses as well.

Regardless, sometimes you have to push your own head down into the metaphorical bucket of cold water. To wake up. To stop the stutter of excuses.

When these excuses get in the way of moving forward, I call  them healing hangups. They are beliefs and perceptions that hold us back.

I caught myself in two healing hangups after the divorce and it wasn’t until I addressed them both that I was able to unhook from the pull of the past.

The first hangup I had was the belief that in order to heal, I would have to find understanding. I was so blindsided that I felt a desperate need to understand why my husband could do those things. I needed to to know what drove his actions. I grasped at labels for a time, seeking comprehension in a diagnosis. I read books. I talked to others. I was always searching for elusive “why.”

I now see it as a snipe hunt; there was no label, no information that would really answer the question that my heart cried out for – How can you betray someone you claim to love? How can hold me so closely while planning your escape? How can leave me when you swore you would protect me? There are no answers. No understanding.

No answer that would make it okay.

It was a slow process, that shift from wanting to know why to learning how to find peace in spite of. Part of it was creating my own understanding without worry for its veracity.Some of it was realizing that if I could understand why he did what he did, it would mean that I was capable of the same. And part of it was realizing that I was using that as an excuse to delay healing –

“I’ll be okay once I understand why.”

But if I held on to that excuse, I would never be okay. And, at some point, I realized that it was more important for me to be okay than to understand.

Of course, excuses rarely travel alone; they bring plenty of backup. In my case, my other healing hangup was my need for him to face consequences. Now, sometimes those were elaborate schemes dreamt up in my raging mind (how does circumcision by paper cut sound?), but most of them were a need to simply face the natural and legal consequences of his actions.

I held tightly to those excuses. I intentionally delayed trying to address the anger until after his court date for the bigamy had arrived. I was so sure that I would feel relief once he had to face the consequences – feel the blowback of his choices.

Unfortunately, that consequence proved to be a dud.

No problem. I had another excuse ready. I’ll be able to release the anger once he faces me in civil court for the divorce.

Uh, yeah. Another dud.

So, there I was. Court dates over and he escaped with only the most minor of scratches.

Again, I had a choice. I could continue to let it be an excuse holding me back or I could choose to let it go. I’ll let the title of this post let you know the selection I opted for: Why Criminal Pursuit is a Game I Refuse to Play.

There were no consequences that would make it okay.

Those choices were not easy. Taming excuses is like playing Whack-a-Mole with your mind. You gotta be fierce and determined to hit them all. And, of course, a helping hand is always advantageous.

Are there excuses that you have noticed your mind creating to shield you from the difficult and real work of moving forward? What healing hangups do you have?

Lessons From the Beginning

Posted on by stilllearning2b

One of my Twitter followers asked me if I was going to rename my blog, Lessons From the Beginning of a Remarriage now that I am going to be married again. She continued by noting how it had to be strange promoting a book about divorce while I was preparing to wed. I love the idea and the nature of the title, but the name of this blog will not be changing.

When I first found myself suddenly single, I looked online for support. I found two broad types of divorce blogs and support groups: those populated by people in the thick of the shock and pain (hereby dubbed “the purgers”) and those run by people who kept the pain at a distance (“the sanitizers”). I identified with the purgers; after all, I had plenty of anger and sadness to share myself at that time (I could kvetch with the best of them!) . However, I also recognized that spending time sharing sob stories would not help me heal. So I moved on. The sanitizers made me ill in those early months. They made divorce seem like something entirely rational or they chose to take a Pollyanna stance, making it out to be all sunshine and roses (How to Throw a Great Divorce Party!). They had some good points, but I couldn’t relate and I wasn’t willing to listen since I didn’t believe they had ever felt my pain.

I chose not to share my story until I was past the worst of it. My intent from the beginning was to help people and I needed to make sure my own oxygen mask was securely fastened before I attempted to aid others. At the same time, I knew I didn’t want to be a sanitizer. I may not have felt the pain myself anymore (true at least most of the time), but I certainly hadn’t forgotten its sting. I write about the early pain so those who are there don’t feel alone and those who are healing know that I understand the anguish. I write about the healing process to give support and assistance for those who are struggling. Finally, I write about dating and remarriage to give hope to all.

My topics of choice have naturally evolved as I’ve moved on. I no longer talk as much about my personal divorce experience and I bring in more about love after divorce. That’s natural and I have to believe that the blog, like me, will continue to evolve. At this point, there is a divide between my blog and my life. I still write about divorce yet I rarely think or talk about it in my daily life. It’s really not that different than the math I teach. Even though I may solve equations all day at work, I do not bring them home with me (even though my students seem to think I do math all evening for fun!).

(There are exceptions. For example, just today, my coworker mentioned that many of our students this coming year are in single parent homes. She knew I was divorced but didn’t know any of the story. She said she had a hard time understanding why someone would divorce, especially with children in the picture. She is coming from her experience where divorce is very rare. I shared with her my story and some of the stories that have been shared with me. By the time we parted, I think she had more understanding and compassion as well as a little insecurity when she realized that no marriage is divorce-proof.)

It is strange sometimes writing about divorce while a wedding contract sits beside my computer. But it’s strange, not bad. On a personal level, I can still learn from looking back at my own experiences and hearing about those of my readers. Even more importantly, I want to show other people that you can laugh again after crying, trust again after betrayal and love again after divorce.

I will still write about divorce from the perspective of someone who has been there and moved on. After all, for every ending, there is a new beginning. Maybe the most appropriate title for the blog would be, Lessons From the End of a Marriage, the Middle of Healing and the Beginning of a Remarriage. But that would be one hell of a URL! 🙂

The Four Agreements in Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b

As a homework assignment for my recent girl’s weekend, I was asked to read The Four Agreements. I was fully willing, but somewhat skeptical, since as the only child of a counselor, I was raised on a steady diet of self-help. I think I overdosed.

After the first few pages, my skepticism was replaced with excitement and understanding. This was one book that made sense to me.

The premise is simple: four agreements that, if followed, will change your life. The book is short and the agreements are extremely simple but nowhere near easy. They are applicable to every area of life and manage to be general and still useful all at once. They are interconnected; one always leads to another.

As part of my own work with The Four Agreements, I am drilling down and applying them to various areas of life. Here is my take on The Four Agreements in marriage:

Be Impeccable With Your Word

In essence, this agreement is your promise to say what you mean and to avoid speaking against yourself or others in fear, pain or blame. In a marriage, this means to refrain from using words such as “always” or “never” when referring to your partner’s actions. The agreement suggests that speaking in blame is not being impeccable since the underlying motivation does not match the message. When speaking to others about your spouse, avoid endless complaining, as this only serves to reinforce those beliefs. Also, avoid speaking against yourself, saying words that diminish your value and worth.

I am working on this agreement in my current relationship. When I get frustrated, I find myself running an internal (sometimes it slips out!) dialog cataloging his wrongs and missteps. Or, I berate myself endlessly for my role in some screw up. To be impeccable, however, is to speak in love and kindness, forgiving both he and I in the interest of a better relationship. To help with this, whenever I am frustrated with him, I intentionally catalog his gifts and blessings or my own, if I am speaking against myself. In this way, the words and the intent match.

Don’t Take it Personally

No spouse enters into a marriage as a blank slate. They have a lifetime of hurts and fears that they carry with them. Any reaction they have is filtered through their unique experiences and views. It is so easy to react to every word or action as being directed to you, but the reality is that they are operating from their own place. You are not the center of their world; they are. It’s strange, it’s easy for us to identify the multitude of factors that influence our own thoughts yet we seem to think that our partners somehow don’t posses that complexity. When you feel attacked by your partner, don’t take it personally. Try not to be defensive by realizing that they are projecting their own fears and wounds. If you can remain open, it is possible to work down to the root cause of the verbal strike.

I’ve shared my struggle with this issue with Brock. I am learning not to take it personally when he needs distance; it is not about me. Likewise, he does not take it personally when I need time alone to decompress and recharge.

Taking things personally has been my biggest challenge of all of these. As life so often does, it is making sure that I get repeated lessons here. By choosing to share my writing (and my life) publicly, I have been the target of many attacks. I have come to learn that when someone (especially a stranger) is so threatened or incensed by my words, that they are really a trigger of some other event in their life. It’s not about me.

Don’t Make Assumptions

My 8th grade social studies teacher had the following bumper sticker posted on his board: “Never assume because all you do is make an ass out of u and me.” I’ve never forgotten that message, although, like all of the agreements, it is easier said than done:)

In a marriage, assumptions allow us to feel judged and can keep us in a victim role (not exactly an attractive trait in a partner). It’s easy to assume you know your partner’s motivations and to assume that they understand yours. Before you respond, ask. Find out their perspective. And then listen. The worst part of assumptions is that they prevent us from really listening to our partners. It’s amazing how much your attitude can be transformed once you release assumptions and become open to possibilities.

I find at times that I will predict Brock’s response to something before I even bring it up. Then, I respond to these assumptions, at times getting upset before I’ve ever given him a chance. Crazy, right? But does it sound familiar?

Do Your Best

One of my favorite aspects of yoga training is that you are encouraged to do your best on that day; it recognizes that “best” is subjective and movable. In a marriage, be gentle yet firm with yourself. Expect your best and accept where you are in that moment. Recognize that your spouse is doing his or her best, even when it may not feel that way. Part of doing your best is to do things for your spouse without any expectations. You do your best for you, not for recognition.

This is an area where Brock has really helped me. I used to be too hard on myself and not forgiving of periods of anger or sadness. He helped me accept that I was doing what I could at that moment and that the moment would eventually pass.

So, don’t take it personally, but do your best to check out the book (don’t assume you know what it says) and see if I’ve been impeccable with my word:)

Next up, the four agreements in divorce (that’s gonna be fun!) and in health/wellness. Okay, maybe I’m a little obsessed at the moment:)

Marathon Recap: I Won :)

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Injured, tired, and happy

Reposted in honor of National Running Day:)

No, not in terms of time. In fact, technically, it was the worst race I’ve ever run. I’m sure you’d have to scroll though thousands of pages to even find my finish time. But that was never what it was about. I completed the 26.2 miles while having an amazing time running (and walking) through a beautiful city on a gorgeous day with awesome people and (mostly) good music and I crossed the finish line into the arms of an unbelievable man. I’d say I won the race:)

When I got into the car (very) early yesterday morning, my boyfriend handed me several folded notes, each with a mileage indicator. I was to open the notes along my run. It was like an advent calendar of marathon motivation. Unbelievable. That gesture and those notes set the tone for the whole day.

A little crumpled and sweat stained, but they’re still beautiful to me:)

I spent the drive to the start line arranging Gu, chapstick, and the above mentioned notes. I applied Glide wherever skin met fabric and I double-checked my shoe laces. I was ready.

I had over two hours to wait at the corrals before the race. It was chilly, but bearable, and I loved the look of historic Savannah under the almost-full moon. I met a woman in her 60’s who was working on running 100 marathons (this was 94). I asked her what her favorite one had been. Number two on her list blew me away: The Great Wall of China. What an amazing experience that would be!

We finally took off. I was feeling great and enjoying the music (especially the bagpipes around mile 6!) and the amazing support from the spectators. The local people were amazing – dancing, singing, and even blessing us as we ran by. The energy was infectious. And so was the motivation. Every person there had a reason for running marathons or that race in particular. As the Rock n Roll series raises money for cancer, there were thousands of runners with signs on their backs of loved ones they had lost. Others ran for different losses. I met many recent divorcees, people who ran to celebrate their recovery, and one woman who runs a marathon a year to maintain and celebrate her 160 lb weight loss.  It was impossible to not be inspired.

Mile 7 was my game-changer. I injured my IT band almost two years doing Tough Mudder (and a 1/2 marathon the next weekend). I rehabed it and it hasn’t bothered me much in the past year or so. Until yesterday, that is. I felt the familiar pain and pull along the outside of my left leg. I spent a few miles using anything at my disposal to try to coax the fascia into loosening. I repeatedly used traffic cones to dig into the soft tissue and I even borrowed a broom from a volunteer so that I could roll my IT band with the handle. It wasn’t helping, nor was the Tylenol, ice, and wrap from the medical tent. By about mile 12, I had given up on this being the race I wanted. I realized that the leg would not get better and that my ability to run was severely hindered. Those were the tough miles. I gripped the 15 mile note from my boyfriend from mile 12 until it was time to open it. At that point, the course took us through the Savannah State campus and even around their track where the dance team and cheerleaders encouraged us on. That was great timing. As my pace slowed, I found myself amongst the running wounded and the more mature marathoners. That was okay with me. There is a spirit there in the back of the pack that felt right to me. I met a great man, Dennis, at the 24 mile marker. He was also hurting and, like me, was slowly giving up running in favor of walking. He said he would pull me across the finish line if I did the same for him. We both made it, limping and grinning.

Going into this race, I knew that it was going to be a mental game. I think it’s impossible to tackle that kind of distance and not have to dig into to your mental reserves. What surprised me; however, is that the race was very emotional. I first teared up at mile 5 at the kind words of a volunteer. From that point on, the tears hit every mile or so for just a few moments. The waterworks continued into the afternoon and evening as I recounted pieces of the race to my boyfriend and they even sit near the surface today. I’m not a crier and not prone to over-emotion, so this has been a surprise.

At the finish line. Finally!

The marathon was more symbolic of life and its struggles than I expected, as well. I went into the race expecting to run. I didn’t plan on the injury, but once it occurred, I had no choice but to accept it. I could have given up. In fact, there were times when the pain was so bad, I wanted to simply collapse where I was. But instead, I chose to continue. It wasn’t the journey I planned for, but it was a beautiful experience nonetheless. In my life, I never expected to be divorced. I didn’t plan for that injury either. But just like yesterday, I had a choice. And I chose to continue and even though it is not the life I anticipated, it is beautiful. Yup, I’d say I won:)

And, on a related note, I was happy to hear on Friday evening that mayor Bloomberg decided to cancel the New York marathon for this weekend. I understand the frustration of planning (and training, in the case of the runners) for so long and having to cancel at the last minute, but it was the right thing to do. And, as I’ve learned, marathoners understand that you can plan and prepare all you want, but that ultimately, you cannot control the outcome. I have the utmost respect for the runners who are using their pre-purchased trips to NY to assist in storm relief. You may not have run your race, but you certainly deserve a medal in my eyes.