Tuesday, October 30, 2012

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

Monday, October 29, 2012

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.

Saturday, October 27, 2012

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

Thursday, October 25, 2012

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.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

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.


Saturday, October 20, 2012

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.


Friday, October 19, 2012

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!  :-)

Thursday, October 18, 2012

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

  

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

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.

Monday, October 15, 2012

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.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

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.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

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