Last Chance

I don't mind getting down to the wire and taking a few chances.  Hell, it's been my life story.  The idea of "nothing to lose" is a silly fallacy I believed in when I was younger.  Our life's sum total morphs as we edge closer to the top of the mountain.  It's a lot tougher to seriously make a big change knowing that other's lives are affected.  Who are we to make a change that will shift our loved ones lives forever in addition to our own?

We are the ones that matter...that's who we are.  In the end, it's just singularly ourselves that take the chances catapulting our lives into the next level of development.  As I was taking my kids back to their father's home, they shared with me that one of their dearest friends had lost his father the day after Christmas.  This kid who I cared for like one of my own had lost his Dad.  Each of my children had thought the other one had told me...gotta love teenage communication!

It just hit me as I left them that I had jumped so far into the next level of development that if I were to die on my drive back, I would have died content knowing that I had not been afraid of taking a "last chance."  The poor man who had passed on had gone through a difficult divorce a couple of years ago with so much acrimony from both sides.  Fortunately, his son had lived part time with him as of late so they were given that time...but I'm so happy that I have forcibly taken my time back from a toxic relationship.  I sincerely hope that he had found some contentment.

My children still have much to work through.  They will learn many adult lessons in the next few years.  I'm going to try to instill in them the importance of listening to signals and really direct their lives so that they don't question themselves too much.  I may look like the basic middle aged Mom when I'm with them...but even they know a bad ass when they see one.  :-)

Yes, I plan on taking chances for at least another 48 years!  I plan on following the paths that are well lit but also the ones not yet well worn.  I'm just a single soul and the loss of not making myself fulfilled would be a dishonor for those who have not been given a "last chance."

I'm ready for you 2013...kicking, screaming, falling down, and standing my ass up again...and again...and again...and NEVER settling for anything less than butterflies in my chest, bee hives in my belly, and a freaking jump from the mountaintop of fear.  2013

Blame it on the Alcohol

Halfway through my life and I still ponder the delicacies of alcohol consumption.  How is it that individuals find it difficult to admit why they drink alcohol?

As I listen to a friend extol the virtues of getting wasted, I'm reminded of my college dorm room rather than two adults discussing the pros and cons of drinking.  Here then is the perfect example of why mid life folks need a refresher course in adulthood.  We are apparently on the boomerang cycle of idiocy.  It wasn't enough that we passed through it in our late teens and early twenties...no, we get to revisit our stupid selves again in our forties!

I'm going to extrapolate that our current actions as drunks are more dangerous than our past adolescent actions because...and here's the part that I'm finding difficult to communicate to friends...because we have responsibilities!  It's NOT okay to lose an evening to unconsciousness because those hours are filled with missteps that can alter our current life path.  Drunk driving, dialing, texting, and emailing begin the downward spiral and then it's polished off with dangerous actions.

Is someone willing to stand up and scream, "Hey, I know why everyone wants to drink?  It's because life isn't turning out like we expected and we are afraid to face that reality!"

Anyone?  No.  Twenty five years ago, our drunken selves would rail against the unknown future.  Today, too many mid lifers bemoan what the future became.  Does drinking solve the reality?  No.  What is it doing then that it has become so important in our social lives?  One strong argument is its ability to embolden us to speak our "true" minds and therefore, release some of the stress built up in our psyches.  I do believe this stress valve is helpful and this is probably why the French and Italians are such good drinkers; it's a social action for stress and not a social cry for attention.

Alas, I am finding my American compatriots to be more concerned with their need to let EVERYONE IN THE ROOM know that they are drunk and ready to spill their last secret to every stranger they meet.  Really, folks?  Really?  I don't care how lonesome you are...maybe it's because you scare away all the decent people who don't want to date drunks???!!!!  I don't care if you're overweight...maybe you wouldn't get the munchies and gain so much weight if you weren't allowing yourself drunken food freedom.  I don't care if no one in your family likes you anymore...who can like whiners that slur their words, cry crocodile tears and besmirch their loved ones.  And who, especially, can bear being around selfish men and women who try to one-up each other as they seek romantic conquests.

Why do I sound so judgmental?  Because I feel it.  And rather than go grab a drink and write about it, I'm just going to write and HOPE that my friends are woman and man enough to push back from the bottle while in large groups.  I hope they can control themselves when they drink alone and not scour the internet like drunken predators.  My hope is that they enjoy getting buzzed with someone who cares enough about them that they don't allow each other to become sots who waste their brain cells.

New Year's Eve parties bring out some of our worst qualities.  Is it truly a celebration of our year's successes and hope for the future, or is it sob fest for our weakest individuals to become codependent upon alcohol?  Yes, I feel judgmental but I won't act upon it.  At this point in my life, it is far easier to remove myself from a relationship, a room full of idiots, or circumstances that expose me to the draining negative energy of drunken and pathetic adults.

My path is selfish...I choose the quiet interludes with a few select friends who can hold their liquor, their tongues, and their hormones in check.  It's good to remember that being an adult who is responsible is also a lot of fun...after all, we get to enter the sober world the next day without the burden of expressing apologies for things we can't remember.  I want the second half of my life to be well remembered and NOT wasted...literally.

Finger wagging over.  I'll never make it as a FOX anchor...even now, after writing this...I feel bad.  I want to see the good and I want others to see the good within themselves.  Instead of railing against them, I want to help them.  Sadly, my own experience with a loved one shows this doesn't work.  It's better to just step away after a while.  No matter how much love is given...how many chances are held out in hopes of a change...there are some who will NEVER evolve.

Resolved

The last weekend of 2012...oh, I'm ready for some resolutions!

One of the things I've learned over the years is how to make sense of my yearly goals.  Writing down a detailed goal gives me a blueprint but I now know about revisions.  Overcoming my need for a perfected success was a major breakthrough.  I accept the messages from LIFE that tell me when I need to veer from the path I've chosen.

Admittedly, altering the final goal is a much tougher sell.  I don't mind skipping around those paths but I do like to get to the top of whatever mountain I've chosen!

Fortunately, I have a HUGE mid-year event that will take up my time...I'm one of five National Chairwomen for my sorority's convention.  Since it's held once every three years, if I screw this up, I'll have 36 months to hear the catcalls.  Meow...there's nothing like 50,000 + sisters telling you they hate the Swag Bag...now why did I volunteer for that one? ha ha  Expectations....  :-)

Physical

Mental

Emotional

I will have my goals set soon for each of these in the year 2013 and judging by my track record, I expect quite a journey to reach them.  yeehaw

Wide Awake

I admit it.  Although I was COMPLETELY prepared to the spend the day alone...having someone stop by made it feel like the special day it was meant to be.

And another admission...that part of me that had set in to be frozen is thawing.  Loss can do that to a person.  No matter our resolution to protect the softest parts of our psyche and hearts, our human nature begins to reject our stubborn selves and we find that "lightness of being" which hasn't disappeared after all.

“Men’s natures are alike; it is their habits that separate them.”
-Confucious

I have rediscovered a pride in myself this year and much of that centers on healthy habits.  That health hasn't just been for my body...mentally and emotionally, I'm starting to feel the payoff of six years of HARD work.  Habits kick in unconsciously...what a relief to be able to live and not waste my precious gray matter on thinking of each move!

So I'm just going to ride out these feelings...I'm going to count on my subconscious to lead me wherever it thinks my heart should go.  I'm going to trust my gut instinct and not bother with self analysis.  This blog will be as much as I do in that department.

When I jump without a net on this, I may just slam into the asphalt with the potential for permanent scars.  This time though, I'm wide awake.  I know how to get back up, brush myself off, and set forth on a new path...except this path seems so right...it gives me secret smiles.  :-)

Wide Awake Video

Smiley Me

Maybe I'm repressing something?  I know I'm expected to fret today, cry about days gone by, miss the family unit...but, I don't feel any of that.  I feel as free and light as a feather or a leaf flying in the wind.

This blog isn't called "a feathery leaf" for nothing, folks. These symbols have appeared in my jewelry, clothing, housewares, etc. throughout my life. :-)

My beautiful children returned to their father's home this Christmas morning.  Our own celebration was as special as I hoped it would be...funny presents...silly food...ridiculous television!  They were hesitant about leaving me but I waved them on their way.  My job has been to help them spread their wings and I know how hard it will be for them the rest of this day.  For their first Christmas without an intact family, their father decided to invite his girlfriend and her daughter to share Christmas dinner.  I have known for so long that his needs have to come first...I ache for my two children as they come to accept this too.  I can't answer the "why" to their questions as I truly don't know so I simply defer those answers to him.  If he learns too late which relationships need the most attention...well, it is no longer my worry and I am FREE to fly.  Whether or not they end up flying away from him is thoroughly up to the three of them.

And so, as this day is spent alone...well, with a cat...maybe a movie..some junk food, television, and internet...I can say honestly that it's one of my best Christmases ever!  The year has been book ended in the most amazing way.  At the beginning of 2012, I was haunted by the storm I was facing.  At the end, I am emboldened by my possibilities and by the knowledge that I have a core of steel.  I can be bent but I can be hammered back into shape...even if I have to hold the hammer myself!  hee hee hee

Cheers to Christmas.  Cheers to my strong and  resilient children.  Cheers to me.

Pondering....

"Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for." -Bob Marley

Thanks, Bob.  

A Year Ago...

Wow...just found this...had written it out a year ago.  Ever forward.
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Make the most of yourself...for that is all there is of you.   Ralph Waldo Emerson

Courage doesn't always roar; sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying "I will try again tomorrow."  M. A. Rammacher

Laughter gives us distance.  It allows us to step back from an event, deal with it and then move on.  Bob Newhart

When I let go of what I am, I become what I may be. Lao Tzu

Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see a shadow.  Helen Keller

 Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.  Emily Dickinson

A person isn't who they are during the last conversation you had with them - they're who they've been throughout your whole relationship.    - Rainer Maria Rilke

The one who loves the least, controls the relationship. - Robert Anthony

Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood. - Helen Keller

It is far better to be alone, than to be in bad company. - George Washington

God made mud, God made dirt, God made boys so girls can flirt.   - Anonymous

Love me when I least deserve it, because that is when I really need it. - Swedish Proverb

Being silent isn't being strong, it's being a victim.   -  Jane Powell

There are two mistakes one can make along the road to truth - not going all the way and not starting. - The Buddha

The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek. - Joseph Campbell

Patterns

“Controlling people control others to feel secure.”  Does your own self-doubt find comfort with an insecure and possessive mate?

My newest friend and I had a great discussion about this topic today.  Both of us are wary of falling into an old pattern with a potential date mate that resembles the relationship we left behind.  We could blame our nurturing natures, our rather low key approach to time demands, and a myriad of other reasons...but in the end, women are prone to be peace keepers.  As society has changed, so too has this expectation.   


We have entered the era of the "grey divorce" and the baby boomers are going BOOM...we are done with this!  If only that were true....  What I've learned about myself and others is that old habits can be hard to break.  As we seek out our new partners, we end up fighting the same old attractions.  It's taken therapy and self-reflection to help me recognize these tendencies and I've successfully made the pivot and turned away from some controlling individuals.

It's HARD to feel secure as a middle aged, divorced woman!  Even my own mother reminded me before I signed the divorce papers..."you're not a spring chicken anymore; you might not ever have another man."  Okay, that's a clear generational divide!  Her era has/had a different need for men...yep, it still makes me chuckle...but, in a way, she touched on a truth.  I may NOT be able to cross a certain divide...self doubt about myself??  Arrrggggghhhh!  I suppose it's the mystery of whether a broken and scarred heart can heal enough to feel love....  

Another generational divide?  Not really as this is a question as old as mankind.  Does healing of the heart take place before it beats again or does it actually take someone new to get it going again?  Hmmm, chicken or egg?  The good thing about my era...I can google it!  :-)  

When you know....

When you know, you know.

As answers hit us, their clarity is sometimes so pure, we don't let ourselves see them.  Instead, we allow cloudy thoughts to hide what we know is truth.

Developing the ability to accept our gut feelings can take a lifetime.  During that time, we are assailed with doubt and unanswerable questions.  Our instinct is to see the problems instead of the truth and we are drawn into this idea:

"If it's too good to be true, then it's not...."

I've spent an entire year learning hard lessons, seeking truth, and accepting myself with all the flaws and attributes.  Before I set forth exploring my goals for 2013, I've already accepted one simple truth without doubt and recriminations.

"Following an unknown outcome from my gut instinct is FAR MORE valuable than following my doubts."

When I know...I know.   Gives me the shivers to think about it and in a GOOD way.   :-)

No Way

Several hours of rest and I receive a reboot of thought.  No way am I going to submit to fragility!  No way!  Even when my crystal goblet has been shattered, I picked up the pieces and clumsily glued them back together.  I will admit that it was painful to heal that way...but it's the ONLY way.  I am not going to be fragile!

To give credence to my dearest friend and also my counselor, I will allow myself to become vulnerable at times.  I will allow others in more often and I will allow myself those weak moments when I need to release some steam...some pain.  But fragility?  Naaaah.

"You can't know where you're going unless you know where you've been."  That credo has been with me since childhood when I spent countless hours at the family cemetery.  Yes, I was the nerd who documented the family headstones, wrote the childish stories of what I thought my ancestors had been like, and set myself forward to honor them for the rest of my life.  What I have learned is that I am from hardy stock...NOT fragile stock!  The women in my family have always stood up, taken the broken pieces and refused to let weakness rule our lives.

My body may be fragile at times; my heart and psyche may feel on the verge of shattering during weak moments...but the core of me is strong.  Countries, communities, families, relationships are built on these foundations and I'm here and willing to keep being strong.  Not fragile.  Sorry, folks, that tomboy force is strong within me!  :-)

Fragility

As a little girl, the word "little" didn't fit me.  Once I started growing, I was as big and bigger than my rough and tumble brothers.  Although I fit in more with the boys because of my size and strength, I was the ultimate girl during private time.  I loved the trappings of femininity but life as a tomboy didn't allow me to express that until much later.

So it was with surprise that fragility happened upon me as an adult.  In college, I lost a third of my body mass and became a wisp.  My warped idea at the time was that it took strength to resist food and it took strength to walk endless miles daily.  How silly the youth and how weak the body and psyche....

When life began in earnest and the security of Kentucky was left behind, strength transformed itself into endurance.  Grinding my way through life away from all familiarity and kinship required a strength  that I didn't know existed within me.  Fragile?  Not part of my belief system....

And yet, here I am being reminded by people who care for me that I am fragile.  A crystal goblet is fragile.  Aren't I just a plastic tumbler?  :-)  But humor doesn't work so much anymore.  After two years of being jacked up on some self imposed confidence, maybe it's time to recognize that I can stand down now.

The boogie man has been exorcised.  The MS monster has been denied success.  The kids are settling in nicely on the runway of life....  Maybe I have some time to soften up?

"Are you just being brave, Lisa?" my counselor asked me today.  Well, yes, because what other option is there?  The funny thing about fragility is that it takes a brave person to be weak as well as strong, vulnerable as well as resolute.

The shell I've built is so multi-layered and thick that it may be the greatest feat I can accomplish in 2013...the ability to drop the shell and expose myself to fragility.  TBD

Dear MS

Dear MS,

You make me angry and sad and all the things that cause people to hide away in utter fear!  Except I'm not going to hide.  I'm going to have my little "blow up" at you and then I'm going to keep doing the right things to stay on track.

I hate what I've lost when it comes to peace of mind.  I hate the fog that settles on my future when you rear your mean, ugly MS head.  I hate the self-doubt and the recriminations that assault me when I question if there is something else I could be doing.

But the hate of you, my monster named MS, isn't going to consume me.  Hate in itself is a monster.  Instead, I will just keep going...step after step after step.  And if I have to deal with your naughtiness again on Wednesday, I will.  Stomp after stomp after stomp...

Dear MS, figure it out...I'm not going to hide in fear.  I'm going to write about you and talk about you and make you part of a public discussion.  Fear is being quiet.  ROAR

Moments

Have I lost you?

The thought that a single meeting would affect another person in such a manner that they feel "loss" from never seeing me again is a bit too close to the fire.  What in their past has caused them to fall so far into this kind of illusion?  And how did I contribute to it for just one evening?

Freedom and fear are bedfellows.  Having fought SO HARD for my freedom, I have to face the flip side of that happiness.  Being naive about dating can get me into serious trouble.  Today I asserted that I did not want to be good at serial dating.  But I suppose that if I were...then, I wouldn't expose myself to men who are too susceptible to the simple acts of being treated well.  I would recognize their vulnerability and steer clear of it.

The answer to the question, then....

You never had me. You are a stranger.  All I gave you was the kindness and tenderness that one should expect from a date.  Actually, I want to treat each person I meet with kindness and respect.  Tenderness is reserved for the moment when one decides...do I feel a romantic connection?  Is the chemistry between us worth a second look?  And no, it was not worth a second look for me. 

Why can't that answer be enough?  

If I have to engage in opening myself to countless strangers to gauge a romantic interest...my freedom will be for naught.  I will feel trapped again because my nature is NOT to be open to so many.  sigh  

Have you lost me?  With another attitude and another man, the question will be...have you found me?  Good thing I have a positive attitude....  

Time of Year

Christmas is absolutely a fun time.  Yes, I know it will be hard to face some of those rituals alone but I HOPE that it is also a time to build new rituals.

My daughter just informed me that she's NOT interested in having the four of us spend any time together at the holidays.  With guilt, I'm relieved.  I don't want to hang out with her Dad and I definitely don't want the stress of remembering old times...good and bad.

I think December just brings me to a realization that I survived the year.  Next year, it will be a realization that I ENJOYED the year...no survival necessary.  The storm of 2012 is passing and I am incredibly grateful for everything that I learned from it...I'm grateful that I have a few more weeks of it left to appreciate that I made important "forward" moves.

I don't expect happiness to be right around the corner...it's already here!  I have it.  I live it.  I cycle through the dark moments and come out to the bright side.  Christmas and its twinkling lights remind me that hope isn't just a fleeting moment...it's a living, breathing entity that carries me through to the next year.

2013...here I come!

Mr. Dreamy for Miss Polite

Here goes nothing...or maybe, it's the "something" that will make a real difference in my future romantic partner.  In the spirit of which I was asked, I will think about aspects of a man that I haven't consciously thought about in a couple of decades.  Men just didn't show up on my radar until the divorce was imminent.

Appearance

Yes, I'm one of those tall, dark, and handsome ninnies!  I love the fur, the big schnoze, the swarthy features and throw in a great body and I'm smitten.  But, that isn't my reality.  I've typically dated the all-American good looking fellow...not extreme in any fashion but nice to look at and comfortable to snuggle.  A man doesn't have to be physically gorgeous for me to want him...he just has to love his appearance and be confident...that makes a woman purr.


Personality

Laughter is contagious and I love to laugh.  If a gentleman wants to entertain me, he can take me for a walk and give me a running commentary on the hilarity of life.  When the occasion demands solemnity, it would be a blessing to share deeper insights with someone who can appreciate the fragility of happiness and who is mature enough to embrace the need for personal growth.

I want to find someone who has control of his temper or is working on overcoming that weakness.  Since I boil a little hot, one of us needs to keep a cool head!  And I definitely do NOT want to date a man who "knows" everything about everything.  It's exhausting to argue point after point and I can easily slip into the peace-maker mode and let the anger build up.  Hopefully, I will meet someone who doesn't care how many times he's right...instead, he will gently steer me to his side.  Ohhhhhh, I want a diplomat! :-)


Ambition/Career

I hear it a lot..."My career is not the most important thing..."  Actually, it's been scientifically proven that for the majority of men, his work does come first.  I think ambitious men find it hard to turn that off so I accept that it makes up a major component of their lives.  The tricky part...if they can turn it off when they get home or when they're on a date.
I believe that a successful career can create a happy man because being a "provider" is part of their DNA.  But I will never settle again for a man who lets it take over his life, thereby ruining his closest relationships.


Priorities

I don't need dating so that I have a man to "take me places," but I do want to be with someone as I enjoy life's treasures.  I've had the relationship that gave me "stuff," whether I wanted it or not, and I know that things don't bring happiness.  Time and effort are the greatest gifts

My top priority for a man then is his attention.  Fortunately for him, it doesn't mean I have to be in his constant physical presence.  It just means that he has to "touch base" with me regularly.  I ended up hyper sensitive to being ignored and some kind of daily contact will make me melt.  Let's hope he can see well enough to text! ha ha  Emoticons will be my man's friend...smiley faces for smiley me!

Another top priority, I expect to be introduced to his circle of family and friends and I expect him to want to meet mine.  I will not drift into his personal time but I hope our lives merge more than they diverge...otherwise, why even date?  I like company and if he doesn't...is there even a purpose to being with someone?  Not for me.

Miss Polite

Online dating is weird!

I'm being open.  I'm being Miss Polite.  I'm being bombarded.  It's been six months since I was a member of Match.com and after 3 days of reactivation...I've watched my "in" box fill up with countless queries.  In fact, the little "ding" of "you've got mail" is pinging as I type.

Just for ego's sake, I kept the counter running...almost 3,000 hits.  What that means of course is what all women know.  Looks matter to men no matter what they argue.  They're visual creatures and can't be faulted for that...I like to look good for them!  ha ha  Does that make me a sell-out to feminism?  I suppose it depends on the generation of feminist.  Some women really do want to be cherished for nothing but their brain and I respect that.  It's just not something I believe in.  My experience has shown that the brain and the body can make for a tremendous relationship! ;-)

Couples are a chemical soup.  If our flavors complement each other, it's important to add a little salt and stir, boil, cover and simmer for a while.

My previous online dating foray introduced me to men of all ages...in one week, I dated a 33 year old and a 60 year old.  When is that ever going to be an option again in my life?  ha ha  I've met professionals and highly skilled tradesmen, the handsome and the quirky, and mostly, I've met hopeful gentlemen.

Here's the tough part...I dash the hopes of 95% of these fellows.  The good part...I'm positive whether through online dating or local venues, I will meet the guy who shares my hopes.  Miss Yogi the Counselor wants me to make a wish list for the type of gentleman I hope to pair with...someone like me, I hope.  And what is that?

Teacher

Who's teaching who?  The longer I am a parent, the more I realize the roles are being reversed as I watch my children share their lessons of youth.

My daughter is showing incredible grit as she faces the basketball court each day.  Her team's chance of winning grows less and less as the season progresses.  Still, she gives 110% each game and stays hopeful that things will turn around.  110%   That kind of effort keeps me motivated.  I certainly haven't felt like facing my challenges lately and yet, how can I think of giving less than what my daughter does as she faces her losing season.

Perhaps her biggest lesson is showing me how to relax in front of the boob tube.  Who knew that watching RuPaul's Drag Race, a transgender beauty contest, could collapse us into a ball of girlish giggles as we wish for our very own Gay Man Best Friend for Christmas.  Not a chance...ha ha ha!

My son will admit that he has lived a privileged life and still, he has a sense of what he must do to replicate it as an adult.  Finding his passion in the martial arts has given him a dilemma that he faces a few times a week. The kid who drove a BMW and a DeLorean in high school, now takes the city bus to his beloved karate studio.  It's a 3 hour trek round trip.  Sure, choosing public transportation is something countless students do daily and may not be counted as special but seeing my kid accept it without complaint so that he can continue his passion gives me great hope.  The lesson is simple...the path to a passion lies in the wanting of it, not in the way we get to it.  The wanting carries us even as obstacles lie in our path.

Car Wreck

Seeing someone you love make poor choices is incredibly HARD to watch.  It's the equivalent of watching a car wreck in slow motion.  The end result is never good and the pain of it blasts a hole in your heart.

We seek partners who will be "caution" signs as we travel this weird highway of life.  As either one of us veers too close to the edge or starts to cross the center line, our partner steers us back into the proper lane.  At least it's supposed to work like that.

2012 has certainly been among the toughest stretches of highways I have had to traverse and done it without a partner.  I haven't been alone...friends and family have been incredible aids, but humans seem to really want a partner; our loneliness is matched only by our recklessness as we seek our other halves.

In the year since I've been dealing with my life transition, I've tried to stay in my lane.  My counselor has helped propel me through the roughest patches.  Without her guidance, I'm sure I would literally be in a ditch somewhere.  But I'm not and I won't be.  As I learn to listen to my instincts again, I feel safe knowing that I am avoiding the car wrecks that others are getting perilously close to...and there's nothing I can say or do that seems to help them.

So I question myself.

"Am I giving up too soon on a potential partner?"
"How many times should I ignore what my gut is telling me?"
"Do I feel like a better person by having them in my life?"

Answers that I have come to....

"There is a time limit on patience as I see a lack of motivation to evolve."
"If I keep ignoring those messages, they will eventually dull again and I'll be trapped in a dead end relationship."
"Worrying about someone too much takes away the joy I've worked so hard to find.  It should be a mutual and a natural joy that I find with someone."

Ever forward...I'm choosing to keep moving forward in the correct lane and avoiding those ditches no matter how many around me choose to drive into them.

Follydays

It's a grand thing to sit in this beautiful Florida warmth and know that the follydays are just around the corner.   I have no sentimental yearnings for snow and ice as I navigate my way through the next couple months.  I love the warmth of the sun versus the sting of cold air.

Feeling the tug at my heart during this year's Halloween, I'm actually worried now about my reaction to not having my kids all through the Thanksgiving and Christmas season.

Part of it is finding my nest emptying and the other part...just a nostalgia for simpler times.  I don't miss the compulsive nature of my old mate when it comes to meal, party, or gift preparation.  I can sense that my kids miss me as part of the craziness at their house.  What they can't understand is how toxic those critiques of my efforts slowly corroded my self esteem.

I can happily screw up now and be a part of a holiday that isn't so stressful or perfect.  Was it just folly that I thought it would get better one day?  Maybe not folly...after all, it is getting better!

Pl(f)acebook

Social media is freakish for we introverts.  Namely, it allows us to finally expose our true selves...or does it?  In the name of keeping my far flung friends/family informed of my daily life, I've succumbed to the lure of Facebook and Twitter.

I thought that it would be helpful as I navigate my new life.  Instead, it spurs more questions.  Part of me wants to abandon the sites...I think that may be impossible though.  As a closet introvert, I've found myself "coming out" more than ever and am wondering if this is how extroverts feel.  Do they freely touch others with such abandon?

My closest friends know that I purposely push myself out of the box.  I'm a true believer in the motto:  "Fake it til you make it"

I thought this sense of modesty and shyness would be easier to overcome with age.  It isn't.  In order to bridge the gap between my sense of shyness and the big awful world...I'm getting worried that there is no "make it" to get to.  This is probably just how I am going to be.  Yikes...probably halfway through life and I'm just now figuring this out? haha

The General

I ache for General Petraeus and his wife tonight.  Bad news doesn't get any better with age so he came clean as soon as it was apparent that his affair was going public.  

The horrible and incomprehensible wars that our country has endured lately have been in the hands of this man.  He has been an "alpha" male in every sense of the word.  Alas, being an alpha puts a man in positions where his ego gets stroked on a regular basis and eventually, he needs stroking of another kind.  Not knowing what has transpired with his wife, it becomes even more necessary to give them the benefit of the doubt.

It's something I did not get...the benefit of my side of the story.  Because I left the family home and did not try to force friends to "choose" between the ex and myself, I'm sure many of them believe I was the root cause of the divorce.  And although I wasn't the initial cause, my lack of gumption to force a resolution years ago led to my rapid-fire decision to get the bad news out and the pain settled as quickly as possible.  The world I had been living in didn't appreciate that and in trying to keep some semblance of privacy for our children, I was left hanging out to dry in many cases.

A man as honorable as General Petraeus may never fully recover emotionally from this slide into dishonor.  That is a shame.  He has undoubtedly suffered as he brought pain to his loved ones and those who have held him in high esteem.  All of us are human, though and are filled with regrets when we cause others to suffer.  Even though my ex put me through years of agony, I still feel bad that I have caused him hurt.  I cannot understand why some ex-wives actually enjoy making their exes suffer.  It's a simple formula...what we put out is what we get back.  

I want to put out compassion and hope that somehow it will come back to me from someone.  Sounds juvenile, but really, sanity requires it.  Hurting someone else on purpose is the epitome of evil...hard for me to comprehend.

I don't know when the General will feel better.  Folks tell me that it gets easier every day...I suppose...and I hope.  Most days I just hate feeling alone and vulnerable.  Having a mate can be both stressful and a de-stressor.  It's a fine line known as love and passion and veering on either side of it can send either person into a tailspin.  My head is dizzy because the tailspin has arrived.

"...just the best for you..."

When the conversation begins with a statement from a friend with the idea of "just the best for you," then it's time to stiffen one's spine and expect a lecture.  Some friends are like that...their concern for you during rough times becomes somewhat frenetic.

The multitude of opinions concerning my love life have come forth in droves.  As one friend shared, "Lisa, you've won the jackpot!  You're free to date as much as you want.  You don't have to deal with an asshole for more than one date!  Because you paid your dues, you now have the money and time to do whatever you want to do...."  And then I get the advice of what I should do.

Living away from friends and family for all these years has added an element of mystery to my life.  Regardless of what I share, they always suspect there is more going on with me.  They've been right!  Dear friends who are teetotalers never heard about the crazy parties in the neighborhoods.  My crazy friends in those cul de sacs didn't believe how angelic I could be.  The jock group loved how I was Miss Rough and Tumble and could be in the sports scene so easily.  My girlie girls raved about my ability to be uber feminine.  And oh, those business people...I couldn't have been a better corporate wife, a more professional volunteer and reliable contractor in the decorating scene.

So I've paid my dues and have the time and money to be whoever I want now?  Funny, to make everyone else happy, I've just been the person they want me to be.  We are all chameleons to a point...I've just had the luxury of leaving my personas behind.  Almost like the new kid in school, I've been able to alter myself just enough to fit in anywhere.  Where that leaves me now is pondering how to be simply me.

All those joyous friends of mine "just want the best for me" and have strong opinions of what that might be...they just don't realize how many people I've had to be to simply survive this crazy life.  Who they knew was probably different than the Lisa in a previous state.  And so it goes as they pass judgment on who I ought to see now romantically...the professional, the jock, the educator...endless suggestions with introductions at the ready.  After all, everyone knows somebody who has moved to Florida!

I'm disappointing these friends now as I dodge their introductions from afar.  I'm choosing to indulge myself...no more acting.  This time I get to be a bit of every Lisa without committing to just one.  I get to choose someone that is willing for me to be versatile...goofy, distracted, enthusiastic and sometimes, sad.  I get to be sad now with support...it's incredibly difficult to be the "happy person" for two plus decades.  What a relief.  :-)

Bender

It just doesn't do much for women...excess alcohol.  The health benefits of a daily glass have been proven, but I can't find anything touting the benefits of over-indulging on a regular basis.

Looking at myself this morning, I see an exhausted body that had to contend with too much alcohol...something I had not asked it to deal with for six years!  My system is carefully balanced with medicine, body mass, and exercise.  By introducing excessive toxins into that frail system, I've sent it into rebellion!

And now as I hydrate myself with beautiful, clean, purified water...I vow to NOT hurt my body again.  I forgive myself for this transgression (silly girl) and look forward to many more enjoyable events minus the alcohol..."blame it on the alcohol" haha

Release the Fantasy

I have a placard hanging on the wall beside my bed..."All Things are Possible if you BELIEVE."  It sounds sappy but it deserves merit.  Sometimes, stretching our belief system is the only way to convince ourselves that we will reach what seems an implausible goal.

Making room in my psyche to release the fantasy of "happily ever after" occurred long ago when it came to my marriage.  Fortunately, I still BELIEVE it can happen with someone else...maybe a few someones...after all, I expect to live to 100+ which means I may outlive a couple more men!  ha ha

Banishing an unhealthy fantasy has been difficult lately.  I've allowed someone to stay closely connected to me throughout this divorce process who has clouded my vision.  Because of the pain and disillusionment, I  didn't let myself see this as a toxic relationship.  I convinced myself that the boundaries we had set up were adequate.  They weren't.  And now that I've firmly communicated how the lines are drawn, the friendship has been withdrawn.

Maybe I projected a fantasy onto this person that made them into a character I wanted as my friend.  One would think that the number of life altering events I've been through would better prepare me for handling outside influence.  It hasn't.  It didn't.  Instead, I try to keep my sunniest attitude that a person's actions don't always reflect their true character...their circumstances keep them from being their best....

It's time I face the fact.  I haven't had the best character myself during this process and it's meant that I've drawn people to me who are also lacking in character.  Character is what one does when no one else is looking...I'm looking at myself now and I want boundary lines drawn.  I want there to be distance between myself and people who are consciously making those poor decisions.

The time for character is now in my life.  If I have to be without certain "friends" to achieve that, I will.

Eyes Cried Shut

It's been so long since I "cried my eyes out," that I didn't recognize what was wrong with them last night.  Red, scratchy, swollen...maybe I'm allergic to my own tears!

Regardless of the multiple times I've been advised about emotional surges, until it actually happens...until the bottom is truly reached, it's difficult to comprehend.

My surge trigger came about after my daughter spent every night with me for a week as her father traveled.  Having her with me daily for those few hours after school/practice gave me that modicum of normality we had missed.  And then the week was over and tears arrived.  It was book ended with "man issues" and in this state of mind, it was simply too much to bear.  I felt failure as a mother because I can no longer be with my children daily and I felt failure as a woman because I am at a loss as to making a relationship work....

The tears hover near the surface.  Writing takes the edge off but I'm fearful of what will turn the faucet back on.  Reading the below article at least helped with my sanity:

Tearing Up

Home

There are moments in life when the only thing that will help is going home.  The adage of "home is where the heart is" rings true but when one's heart has taken such a beating, it's hard to know where that is anymore.

I opted to leave the "family home" versus making my ex sell it.  I knew that my children needed the stability of a building as they had yet to learn that it is the people within it that make it a real home.  Their desire to "hang" with Mom at my place because their "home" is morphing is one step towards the lesson...a house is just a place to hang your hat...a home is a place of love and safety.

For all my bravado, I still have days when the heartache is so intense that all I can hope for is a feeling of home.  Although I have been successful at helping my children feel anchored, I'm still adrift. My feeling of safety was utterly shattered years ago.  I don't want the kids to have that feeling ever.  

As I look around this little safe nest that I've struggled to feather...a tiny space compared to the McMansions I've inhabited...I'm thankful to just hunker down and lick my wounds here.  I know I can't go to my childhood home for help...it's all on me to deal with...and move forward.  But today, I will just sit still, hug myself, and know that heartache passes.  At least it dulls somewhat.  It's survivable.

Express Yourself or Expose Yourself?

In the pursuit of a "perfect" costume for the Halloween season, it's a choice of skin or MORE skin! haha  I don't have a problem showing skin but I gotta ask...is it in the spirit of fun or hook-ups?

Funny costumes are mostly worn by the men now.  What a shame!  Some of my best ones were the funny versus the sexy ones.  Now that I watch my semi-grown children choose their costumes, I figure I won't see funny again for a while.  Even the youngest girls are going for the provocative and my son is going to be an uber masculine martial artist.

Why is it so necessary to push the sex?  Are we all that horny?  What excuses do we have for wanting to show off sexually?

I'm getting ready to go back in for new modeling shots and I'm sure they're going to push the pin-up style.  True, it's something I do well and it sells but...part of me wonders if basic shots would get me anywhere.  I know the answer...NO.  I hate the modeling stuff but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do...it helps with Uncle Sam so no complaints.  Shoulders back...chin down...spread 'em and "Click...Cover Girl"...or maybe it should be "Go get covered up, girl!"  ha ha

Master Meeter

Having a social life is a lot of work!  My existence has centered on the rest of the family's social life for the last eighteen years.  I managed play dates, served as special events chairperson for multiple groups, organized neighborhood gatherings, etc.

Most of all, I served as a super hostess for corporate events and made my guests feel welcomed and special.     

Because my last name is Stewart, I even convinced some folks that Martha was my cousin and entertaining was "in the family."  Yes, I eventually told them the truth but it was a fun way to break the ice.

The fact is that I haven't focused on making sure I have a good time for such a long time that I've forgotten how to do it!  What even makes me have a good time?  ha ha  I convinced myself that the "joy" of giving fun to others was all I needed for my own joy.  Busted!  I brain-washed myself into believing that crap rather than do the work to find out what made me feel joyous.  I hurt myself by not giving to myself.  Guilty and not even Jewish to blame for it...where did this refusal to take part in my own social development come from?

That answer is TBD and not something I'm even going to explore; I have far too much playing to do.  And I have to go play by myself which is intimidating but necessary.  It was far easier to hide behind the needs of others' than to advocate for my own.  Now it's just me who determines the direction of the compass and I'm scared of floundering.

Joining Meet-up groups has helped me pass some humps.  I don't feel so inadequate about finding fun things to do when surrounded by others who must have the same affliction.  Most of us are going through a life transition and find ourselves out of our normal element of meeting people and arranging fun.  We're making our own play dates and setting up the tea parties hoping we won't be the only ones at the table.

Incredibly, I feel the stirrings of selfishness because of these Meet-ups.  I am easing into saying NO to social ideas of others that don't mesh with mine.  I'm losing the "easy going" Lisa to embrace the "I'd rather go this way" Lisa and it's starting to show.  If I attend an event that is slogging through a process, I simply leave.  It is not going to help me to waste precious time doing boring things with questionable individuals.

And for those who choose to do things without me, I've gotten comfortable with the idea that it is their loss.  My children once ran from the idea of being out with their Mom for fun...until they saw me taking charge of gathering fun for just me and NOT them.  Turns out that even a "walk in the park" for my own enjoyment is getting as popular as hanging at the mall with friends...the kids and their friends want to tag along with me now to see what I do.

So this weekend I will shoot, I will dance, I will drink (in moderation), and I will converse with a lot of strangers who may become friends.  As my circle widens, my choice to seek joy for the sake of myself is becoming magnetic to others.  I must remember to tell them to go find their own fun at times...following someone else to make sure they have fun is really...NO FUN AT ALL!  Experience knows and shows.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Pissy MS

As the "poster child" for what a successful MS patient looks like, I rarely allow myself to wallow in pity.  The work I've done on my physical, mental, and emotional stability to deal with this diagnosis is second to none.  When I walk through the doors of my neurologist for my monthly "juice," they see an eager and cooperative patient.  Smiles, laughter, and conversation make the 90 minute ordeal simple for everyone and times passes quickly...except it's all an act and I anxiously await the end of the dripping medicine.

I discovered early on with this malady that rather than a squeaky wheel getting oiled, it's the charming bee who gets the honey.  Medical staff like happy patients because it's so rare in their environment.  The stress ridden atmosphere they inhabit swirls with disappointment and hopelessness.  Positive outcomes have mostly been left outside the front door.  I suppose the individuals who receive good news from their myriad of tests keep their joy quiet until they leave the building...who wants to be joyous exiting a waiting room filled with walkers, wheel chairs, and canes?

Because I put on a "happy face" with such regularity, when a problem does occur, the medical staff respond promptly to my problems.  I have never been turned down when I request a last minute "emergency" appointment.  Fortunately, the emergencies have been rare and mild.  I'm sure that my participation in a 2 year drug trial cemented my status among this group as I submitted myself to constant medical scrutiny.  And I did all that with a happy face....

But tomorrow, I plaster on the smile, hook up the juice and charm my way through another treatment.

I hate MS.  I'm thankful for the medicine.  I'm glad that my presence will boost their mood tomorrow for a little while.  And they won't even notice that I probably cried before I walked in.  They'll have no idea that the tears start in the car on the drive home.  MS is pissy.  Acting happy and positive on meds day can be a struggle but I know if I can get through one day, I have at least another 29 days to be happy without acting...just being.

Blind Faith

Being with a large population of the blind tonight brought back a flood of memories.  I found myself remembering how to walk beside them using my shoulder as a guide.  When we were close to their table or chair, I remembered to tap on it loudly rather than pull them by their arm toward it.

I skirted canes and dog paws all while carrying two plates and edging my new acquaintances around the ends of sharp tables.  Finally, I just let myself react and forced nothing...it was as if I had been transported back to an old role...that of a blind man's girlfriend.

For a two years, I participated in a blind life.  It became second nature to clear the paths, narrate facial features of speakers, and a myriad of other tasks that would allow him to function as normally as possible in a sighted world.  That part of his life didn't bother me.  I never felt taken advantage of and I certainly didn't have a martyr complex.  It was just life.

But I could never help him over his biggest hump...his ego.  As much as he had in life, he would wander into that darkness of self pity that no one could pierce.  He reached the pinnacle of success in college with the highest of accolades, a campus filled with people who loved him, and fulfillment in politics locally and state wide.  Anyone would have wanted to graduate with a resume like his...and yet, without sight, it wasn't enough.  I left him because he tried to drink his despair away and with it came the poorest of choices in his private life.

Oftentimes, we would be stopped and his buddies would ask him how he got so lucky to be dating me.  "No, I'm the lucky one," I would admonish them.  I believed that until his excuses became so lame that even I wondered why I dated him.  Alcohol was his real lover.  She eased him into a zone that the scandalous became acceptable behind closed doors and he expected to be forgiven for his lapses with other women, his emotionless requests for assistance, and his attitude that I was somehow "less" than he.

But beyond the cruelty brought upon him by blindness, his sweetness allowed him to be forgiven over and over.  I saw the busy fingers of the people tonight and I remembered how often my old lover had traced my features.  He knew my face, my body better than I did.  Forget hiding a zit, changing my hairstyle, or wearing something new without him knowing.  His fingers always knew.  Changing my soap or perfume was cause for discussion...any weight gained or lost, he knew.  A lot of memories came back tonight and most made me smile.  He has a family and career now that would make anyone proud...I hope it is enough for him but I wonder if his ego will let him be satisfied.  I hope his liquid lover has been vanquished and he can just enjoy life rather than chase despair.

Lonely?

How many Friday nights spent alone do I have to look forward to in my life?  And why am I smiling about what sounds like a desperate situation?

Maybe it is settling in that I have the choice to spend my Friday nights alone versus forcing myself to appear content and engaged.  There is no one else in this apartment and I am o-k-a-y with that!  I'm okay!  I feel completely empowered with the strength of a woman who is living life on her own terms.  So, my plans didn't work out for the evening.  Looking at my options, it wouldn't have taken much of a scramble to fill my newly free hours with another person.  But I made the right choice.  I chose me.

I get to eat what I want.  I get to enjoy lounging around in an old and unattractive dress.  My cat and I are eyeing the bed but really, isn't it too early?  ha ha  It would be fun to be with my kids, but their plans with others take precedence at this age.  I have some girlfriends who would come over or go out with me...but hanging with just myself on a traditional date night is a gift that I've worked toward and I will not denigrate its importance.  I don't have to pretend I'm happy while in the presence of another person...instead, I'm alone and I AM HAPPY!

Friday nights with just me, Lisa, are going to be enjoyable for a while.  I will keep my eyes open for that special person to begin sharing them again.  I was meant to walk in tandem with another but for now, watching baseball, eating popcorn instead of dinner, and sucking down some chardonnay make for a fabulous Friday night spent all alone!  :-)

Wacko Encounter

How many times must women cycle through the "mean girl" phase?  The potential to be one of those girls starts as the brat in kindergarten, develops into the know-it-all in elementary school, progresses to the popular snot in high school and crescendos as the snobbish tramp in college.

Think it's over once school ends?  No, women are good at their chosen roles; the mean ones move it into the workplace and start the process all over again with the interns and first year hires.  How lucky for the office when the mean girl matures into a stay at home mom....  The playground will look familiar to her when she enters the stroller zone for the first time.  If she encounters her kind, they'll bond and soon be the mean girl patrol for play dates and parties.

And so on, and so on until they end up being a mean girl on a social network.  A grown ass woman being snarky and mean in front of the world and forever documented on the world wide web shows that mean girls don't really change...they just switch venues.

My encounter with an online wacko hasn't given me pause...it's given me confirmation that certain individuals are predisposed to be mean and that blood of nastiness runs through their veins lifelong.  There is an upside...inner ugliness breeds outer ugliness eventually.  That's why all the sweet, pretty old ladies are so nice and the wrinkled fat loudmouths are so very U-G-L-Y!! ha ha ha

  

A Calming of the Waters

When life transitions occur, we say our boat has been rocked.  And typically that's because life's waters are inevitably stormy...a cycle of calm and chaos that keep us gripping the sides of our flimsy boats.

I have a sense that smoother waters are on my horizon.  Is it because I've become a better navigator or just dumb luck that I've rounded a peninsula into calmer waters?  Probably both and not worth questioning when I can spend the time enjoying the undisturbed seas!

It's been hard to accept that I am adrift.  Really hard to acknowledge that I have no firm plan of my immediate or long term future.  I didn't allow myself to think beyond rearing my children and now that I've put myself in this position two years earlier than expected, I find myself ill-prepared for what comes next.

The persona of preparedness has been my moniker for so long that I find it difficult to stand down, as if I've been in battle and suffering from some sort of PTSD.  I know that soldiers or survivors of traumatic incidents are real sufferers...and then I remember that I suffered a trauma.  And the divorce was just the consequence of events that caused my life to be turned into a battleground.

Allowing myself to fall into Lake Virginia has brought forth so much angst.  Its symbolism is strong because it highlighted a lifelong fear.  And that fear isn't necessarily water...instead, it is trust in myself.  I have to face the fact that no matter the perception of others about my "bravery," I'm still that scared kid who is afraid to reveal a weakness and wary of trusting loved ones to help her get over the fear.  Daddy issues!  haha

Even though I can swim, my comfort had been in small pools with clear boundaries and in waters that aren't so deep that I can't push off the bottom and get to that beautiful oxygen.  And I have to wonder, is that symbolic of my life?

To be determined.

Whither thou goest...

Seeing and feeling the angst of teenage girls as they got ready for a Homecoming dance was the stuff of my 80's chick flick movies.

It was Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink, and St. Elmo's Fire all rolled into one and there was absolutely nothing I could do but watch in awe.  No words of encouragement would assuage their anxieties.  Actually, it was part of their mosaic of fun.  Every misstep of make-up, dress, shoes, clutch, and HAIR was monumental!  Their trio of support, encouragement, and criticism had enough lines to fill up the first half of the movie...the second half...gut wrenching observations of the evening and its characters.

I didn't have an opportunity to attend these kinds of dances in high school.  I certainly didn't have the support of young women like these until I went to college and joined my sorority and the fun factor...these girls are years ahead of where I was!

Watching them evolve, slip up, recover, and succeed will be a highlight in life for me the next two years.  Whither thou goest...I'm honored to be invited and relive some of my own youthful exuberance.

Murky Victory

Why question the teacher?

I literally went into the drink...Lake Virginia...and I hated it.  I hated the thought that I would be perceived as weak when I wanted to be seen as strong.  I detested that I did not know what my reaction would be once the dunking happened.  Splash.

Freak out.  Agitation.  Embarrassment.  And then focus.  I found my focus and felt my determination rise up. This issue I have with large bodies of murky water has haunted me since high school. I have been scared.  I tried to overcome it by taking classes and then forcing myself into the water with my children but it's remained a fearful whisper all these years.

Paddle boarding looked interesting.  And it is fun.  And I'm not so scared anymore.  Actually, I'm excited to explore this new hobby.  The characters who tend to do this sport are eclectic.  Perhaps because it is outside the norm of water sports, it draws a more adventurous spirit to try it!  I took the bait.  I felt like a conqueror when I finished the class and I may have gotten a C had I been graded as I did fall in.  But for the grade most necessary in life, the grade of effort...I definitely earned an A+ because I conquered it rather than letting it overwhelm me.

If the teacher is fear, then let me learn from fear everyday and evolve ever forward.

Active Singles?

What is an active single?

This is a strange entity to me because I've learned it somehow applies to me!  Now that I'm single, I suppose I have two choices...active vs. inactive.

Being active in a single life means dating.  I'm not sure though of how much dating I am supposed to be doing.  Where is the handbook for divorcees in their forties?  When I dated last, a girl who dated more than one fellow at a time was a ho.  Now, we're encouraged to date a wide variety of men at the same time...so we can "learn" what we like and don't like....

I think the men who are doing the dating really like this concept!  haha  In fact, I know they like it because they've told me they believe it's the time again to sow their wild oats.  Come on, fellas, your wild oats aren't wild anymore.  They're vintage!

I spent a long time in the latter years of my marriage finding out what I don't like.  I'm learning a lot of what I do like.  Unfortunately...by being an "active" single, I find these bits and pieces in different men.  Too bad that cut and paste doesn't work with dates.  If it did, I suppose I could have the perfect date/man.  Hmm, perfect sounds bland...something pretty to sit on a shelf.

I'd really like someone who didn't like sitting on that shelf...the same way I didn't like shelf sitting.  It was lonely.  I became dusty.  No one really came along to play with me.  I became invisible.

Active single?  I'd like to actively find someone who doesn't mind falling off the shelf and mucking around in the floor with me!  HA

Let Them Eat Cake!

For the last forty years, the numbers on the bathroom scale have stared back at me with a stark reality I find discomforting.  It doesn't matter if they are near my "alarm" number or if they are near my lowest number.  Neither end of the spectrum will please me.

"Dear Scale, 

 

It's no longer your fault that I hate you.  It's my fault.  When your LED digits teeter too high, I worry about my butt.  Will I fit into my jeans?  Is a muffin top sure to appear soon?  How many calories do I have left today?

As your number fell to a decade's low, my happiness was tempered by the appearance of saggy and crepe laden skin.  WHAT?  Losing weight doesn't mean attractiveness anymore?"

 Sigh.  Weight gain and weight loss must take a back seat to skin laxity.  How long will it take me to become an expert on this dilemma and where can I buy a skin scale?

Anxiety Observer

By reading all these self help books, one would think I would be prepared for an encounter with an anxiety ridden divorced man.  Alas, I was taken completely by surprise when I observed a poor fellow encounter his own divorce demon...a demon chanting "I'm not ready for this" silently in his head while he tried to enjoy his evening.

Seeing this first hand, I wonder at my own preparedness.  If I get a clamoring from my inner demons, will I have the guts to simply call a stop to the date and declare, "I'm not ready for this" or will I sit there tied up in anxiety ridden knots until I can escape into the evening?  

As a good friend pointed out, my divorce was simply an end to a long painful process.  This gentleman, who was taken by surprise at his marriage's end, is entering his process of pain.  He's embarrassed by his perceived weakness so I don't get a chance to reassure him.  Were I to get the chance, I might say something like this:

"It's really okay.  Even though my experience at dating is just a couple months longer than yours, that short period of time has been ripe with poignancy and comedy.  One date at a time will teach you much about yourself and a lot about the opposite sex.  Don't give up on the process.  When you figure out that you ARE ready again, just remember that folks who are divorced at our age have more in common than not.  It's really okay."

   

Ah, vanity...

Autumn has arrived again.  Poignancy for the turning of the leaves and chilling of the air hits many Floridian transplants this time of year.

I had my moments of reflection for the third season last week in Washington, DC when the temperature dipped below fifty degrees.  I watched the birds flying south...I made the obligatory stop at an apple stand...I donned a cardigan and now, I'm happily done with reminiscing about autumn.

Instead, I will give into my vanity and thank my lucky stars that Florida is beginning the first of its many months of lower humidity.  Autumn and winter will be "good hair" seasons.  Let the celebration begin and the vanity indulgence take over.  Good hair.  Good hair.

Oh, wait, shouldn't I be more concerned with the upcoming Presidential election?  Isn't that more important than pleasant temperatures and good hair?  Perhaps the two go together as a happier female electorate is more likely to get out and vote thereby truly influencing the direction of the country's policies.

But it's really just about getting good hair...vanity and honesty...strange but satisfied bedfellows.

Jumping

Living without a net is a choice made unknowingly in childhood...we are given the freedom to jump or pause and forgiven for it because "we're just kids," right?

Each time I castigate myself for weakness, I come back to my net choice.  How many times did I use the net in my life?  Did I choose the path less traveled or the path well lit?  Okay, I honestly chose the less traveled path but I carried a lantern because the dark did scare me a bit.  That was acceptable.  Even a free flier has to give herself some slack!

When I chose to jump from marriage to divorce, it was with the realization that no one would catch me when I fell.  And I knew I would fall.  A lot.  In fact, the joy of net free living is taking the dive face first into the mud.  I accept these falls with grace knowing that mud is an exfoliant!  It scrapes off dead stuff that keeps the radiance from shining through.  Plus, science tells us that dirt is a great immunity booster.  Uh huh...practice has meant that I'm getting better at avoiding that mud but when I do take it in the smacker...I just  lick it off my lips and appreciate the taste.  And oh, how my skin is glowing....

I'm encountering numerous individuals now who live with a net.  Ideally, they would learn to loosen up and understand that even with falls, the best part of the process is catching life's cross winds.  Those winds mark the difference between mediocrity and breathlessness.

Adrenaline junkie?  No.  Full on life flier?  Absolutely.

Lessons? Learned?

"Have you learned your lesson?"

"Did this teach you a lesson?"

"Don't you think you should have learned that lesson by now?"

We parents are guilty of these phrases as we deal with the fallout from the countless predicaments our children encounter.  They expect us to "know better," correct them, declare a lesson learned and move on.  The parental code of lesson teaching is passed down from generation to generation as grandparents nod knowingly with their "I told you so" looks...again, bestowing a lesson onto their own children!

I am now encountering a whole different kind of lesson teacher who has no perceivable objective with being in my business other than just BEING IN MY BUSINESS.  Traversing a path in the land of Singledom by myself will be seemingly impossible.  So many comments, looks, and conspiratorial whispers are sent my way that memories of my school years come flooding back.

"You have to read this book.  It taught me so many lessons about being divorced."

"Oh, I'm sure you won't try doing that again.  Haven't you learned your lesson about men yet?"

"Let me give you some advice...."

If I had the time to read and discuss all there is to know about newly divorced women, I would have too little time to worry about the consequences of divorce.  Heck, I would probably have to hire a tutor to help me slog through the mountains of homework I'm expected to do as I "work on myself" and become a better divorced person.

"You need to be by yourself so you can learn about you."

Isn't that the reason I got divorced?  I was by myself so much that I reached down deep, found myself and catapulted to freedom.

Maybe these lesson teachers are just looking for students because they're addicted to their own stories. Maybe the biggest lesson I learned is I have to do it on my own because NO ONE ELSE will do it for me.

Lesson learned.

As a novice in all things of divorce, I embark upon this blogspot with some skepticism.  The entire realm of singledom hasn't proven to be as easy to navigate as the fairy tale magazines would lead one to believe.  Unlike the articles in Cosmo, I am not finding myself to be mired in daily choices of designer clothes, designer men, and trendy careers.

Instead, I look to start filling a schedule book with mindless but supposedly productive activities that will give me confidence, composure, and a hormone free way of looking at things.  As we said in the eighties...right!  The ex was certain that I would turn into a sniveling lump of mediocrity by giving up the "perfect" life I had endured with him.  And the term "perfect" kept coming up in a conversation recently with a date mate as he referred to a star athlete..."he has the perfect life."

My counsel...what looks perfect probably isn't.  There has to be something that makes it imperfect.  Of course, by throwing the "perfect" life back into the Lake of Reality, I may be asking for karma to hit me dead in the face.  Perfection by its definition leaves no room for error.  It is the smooth surface of a mirror reflecting back the unattainable and the unimaginable.  What woman alive could look into that mirror and say, "Ah ha...perfection at last!"  No, there is always a flaw and now, I navigate those flaws as I embark on the "less perfect" life that others around me think they have been living.

One of my favorite sites is www.sciencedaily.com because it is a clearinghouse for scientific research that usually makes it to a reporter's desk but not often in the daily review of Joe Schmoe.  Hello, my name is Joe and I secretly love to read science.  It's not romantic but its realism hums with a global need for information dissemination.  BTW (before the web), we hoarders of information got our willies from PBS, National Geographic, and NPR.  In just a click, we can now feed on it as often and much as we like.  Hello, my name is Joe and science is my middle-aged, divorced woman's porn.

I figure if enough of us read from this scientific candy store, one of us will be lucky enough to tie a subject area together and discover a nugget of use simply by virtue of unique perspective.  Maybe my perspective will be better than everyone else and I can be the hero that solves a scientific puzzle.  It's a pursuit that jolts me more than finding the perfect outfit, the perfect mate, or the perfect job.  If I can find a perfect solution to a problem, then my job as Joe Schmoe is done and I can then rest on my laurels of mediocrity...or maybe rest on a lily pad in the Lake of Reality planted square in the land of Singledom.