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.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
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.
"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.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
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.
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.
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