Had a sit-down with EE last evening.  The initial conversation was about finances and refinancing the house and my cut and all that.  We sussed it out.  It took some negotiation.  It also took me: not backing down and politely standing up for myself.  In the past, I would have acquiesced to his requests and demands.  It would have been easier.  I did not.  And when I say demands I do NOT mean he was demanding.  The conversation was extremely civil and kind.

We then moved onto sharing vacation stories and pictures.

Then … EE brought up the ending of our marriage.  He said how “If you had just been, as you are now…through our marriage…I would’t have had concerns and would never have said those things.”

“Ok…don’t kill him” kinda ran thru my head…

For the first time, ever, I explained to him in clear, thoughtful, frank words: He gently smothered me with his “protecting me” and I learned to not…do what I wanted.  Not… try new things.  Not ask him to accompany ME on adventures.  Just accompany him on adventures.  I learned to put my personality and self into a box, in the attic … and tried to be what he seemed to want.  I also explained that this was MY problem as well.  I allowed this to happen. It is not all on him.

For the first time…I didn’t cry.  I didn’t get emotional.  I was just able to explain that I am now a, generally, happy person.  I still have hard times and I know I still will in the future.  I don’t expect my life to be problem-free from this moment on.  I know I will still feel sad now and again; lonely now and again; frustrated and angry now and again.  I will also have more happiness, joy and self-fulfillment in my life than I have had in recent YEARS.

I didn’t leave EE’s house feeling sad or upset.  I left with a clear conscious. EE was sad and I wish him nothing but the best… but he is not really in the same place, emotionally, that I am in.  This will take him time and I really hope he gets there.  I don’t know if he will.

For now I will enjoy my life.  I will experience my emotions and work through them.  I will be open to possibilities.  I will live.

I will thrive.

 

or… How I Fell on It.

OK..so maybe there is a bit of snark in both titles.

When out on my vacation I traded life stories with one gentleman.  He told me his, I told him mine.  And when it came time to talk about current events I, of course, mentioned my friend who is 19 years my junior.  The gentleman looked at me, eyes a bit widened, and said “So that makes you a cougar?!” and then he smiled and told me good job.  (Um…I didn’t apply for the job..and I really didn’t do this on purpose…but OK I guess)

But I got to thinking.  Am I a real cougar?  Yes, I am seeing a younger man but I don’t feel that the age-group is the only dating pool available to me.  I would be happy dating someone my age if they were as lively and independent as I feel and not ass-holes-who-just-want-someone-to-take-care-of-them kinda guys.

So I was chatting with a friend about this and I told her I think I should write a book “The Accidental Cougar”  and she said that was a lousy title … the title should be “How I Fell On It”  I dunno.  I rather disagree, for myself, with that assessment.  I do think that might just, mebbe … be able to be the title of like… Chapter 5.

anyway, I am giving some serious thought into looking into writing a book and seeing how that goes…Maybe not just about my Cougar status … but about life.  I might just be THAT narcissistic enough to think someone might read it.  Not really sure.  We shall see.

EDIT: Nee chapter to me book. Chapter 11: The Vision. Thanks to my friend JJF.

Awoke this morning in my own bed. And that was a good feeling, of course, but also tinged with something … missing. The birds.

This past week I awoke to bird song most mornings. It was so lovely; peaceful.

I made coffee and went outside and got my bird song for the day.

I head back to work tomorrow. First days back are always a busy and stressful but I’m feeling up to the challenge.

I found the time alone, this past week, to be: rejuvenating, lonely, peaceful, frightening, boring, glorious, sad and a whole myriad of other fleeting emotions I can’t name. And while some of the aforementioned words may not seem to be good ( in and of themselves) all in all the experience was positive.

I found I’m OK alone. Not happy-happy-joy-joy OK … more like at-peace joy. I think this was important for me to find out. To discover. It is something I have feared.

Sure, I know I don’t desire a solitary life I desire companionship… but being alone won’t kill me. I will not only survive but I can thrive as well.

This past week I sought no company outside of conversation and the joy of meeting new and varied people. It was wonderful. Hearing people’s stories. Leaning new things. Finding new places.

I feel that this past week will help me get through the upcoming weeks and subsequent divorce next month. I hope this is true. I feel it is likely.

I’ll admit there is still some general anxiety in my soul. Fluttering around. Just waiting to pop out… when I least expect or need it. But… that’s life really. No matter how happy you may feel … bad things happen, unwanted thoughts and situations happen. I need to learn to get thru them, learn from them and then move on

Onto the day…

It is Thursday morning. I have been traveling since Sunday.

I have had a lot of time on my own. More time to come. It has been an interesting experience.

I have been lonely a bit… but the sensation has not been terrible.

I’ve had time to stop and just BE. Long time since I have done that. I feel dam good.

Visiting with my niece last night and today. I’m going to do some laundry and get a very much needed mani-pedi today. Sit out in the sun a bit and bake. Get my oil changed.

Then I’ll head out again tomorrow.

I will do this again. It is worthwhile.

I love animals. I tend to gravitate to animal attractions. I need to stop this.

I’m at a Kentucky Down Under Zoo.

I haven’t gone to some roadside attraction in years. I remember why.

It is 96 degrees out here. I’m expiring as o drown in my own sweat.

The animals do have shelters and they are so in them.

I don’t blame them.

Even if it were totally cool biz weather … I just feel so sorry for the apathetic animals.

When you go to a well tended Zoo. Where the animals take priority… it can be a joy.

I feel horrible that I have contributed to this place.

I must remember this for the future.

I look back. One year ago.

My world shattered. I shattered. But I had been so very broken for so long before that. I had been barely living.

I would NEVER thought that one year later I would be happy most days. That I would look at my body and appreciate any part of it. That I would find enjoyment out of simple things again … like watching fireflies and imagining they are fairies. That I would leave on a solo adventure and be scared and thrilled all at the same time. That … so many other things.

So I have more good moments now … today … in the present than I remember in past years. So I have bad days and moments, doubts and anxieties… we all do Get on with it. So I’m still broken. But there is glue, tape, spit… whatever it takes to slowly put these pieces together again.

Then my friend shared a piece of his story with me. About the loss of his children. The days his life was shattered. It’s very present these days. Right around the time of one of their birthdays. And he has good days. And bad days. And it is so very hard and he is still so broken from that. But he goes on.

My heart broke a bit when I heard the story. And I wanted to fix the hurt. But I couldn’t. I could just listen. Touch a leg and be present. Witness. Feel the pain coming off him and just be. For that moment I was a safe place. And that is all I could do/be.

Later in the night I pondered. How lucky I have been. I have had those safe places/people. The ones who listened to me rant, rave, cry, scream. Who could only be present. Touch. Allow me to die a little bit. How lucky I have been. One year ago … I would have said I would never be the same again. And I was right. I’m not. I’m not fixed. I’m not whole. But I’m not the same. I’m better. So how lucky is that?

I cannot put into words my empathy for my friend. Those words don’t exist. I hope I helped. Just being a momentary safe haven

I don’t compare my story to his. There is NO comparison except the fact of being shattered and trying to get on with life… a moment at a time.

Thank you my friends. Thank you for being my haven. I’m not done. I’ll still need you now and again. Hopefully less and less as the months go by. But there will never be a time when I won’t appreciate you. Be thankful for you. And … if you need … be your haven.

I love you. Thank you.

Just watched this movie. I had wanted to see it for a while now but had … avoided it

To sum up: About a wife who was a kingmaker… and lived a lie. And she was drowning.

Hope that isn’t too much of a spoiler for you.

I was a wife. I was no kingmaker. But I lived a lie. I was drowning.

The “facts” of the story bear no resemblance to the facts of my story. But the lie. The living of my life, changing who I was, pretending what I wanted…presenting a front that would (I thought) make my husband happy … oh those pieces of the story resonated with Quasimodo’s bells.

Those bells hurt.

But the end of the movie … in all of its glorious tragedy … there is hope. It is quiet. It’s not a Hallelujah Chorus of hope. It’s a small speck. And it’s just a story.

I don’t recommend this movie for someone who doesn’t like to think. Even if your life bears no resemblance to the movie. It is painful to watch. Glenn Close was, for me, riveting to watch. Her anger and passion through out was so powerful. And quiet. So very quiet.

I was so very quiet.

I’m not her character. I didn’t live that story. But I do resemble her character a bit. Or, let’s hope … I did.

Here is my hope. It’s not a Hallelujah Chorus either. It’s a speck. I am now working on living my life. I will never again smother who I am just to make someone else happy. It’s frightening and lonely at times. But at other times it is exhilarating and joyful.

My story isn’t done. And I’m learning to make my own noise again. Just one speck at a time.

So… on Sunday I am headed out on an adventure.

I’ll pack my camping stuff. Cooler full of water and some foods. Drive off into the day… first stop Mammoth Caves, Kentucky.

Alone.

My general trip will involve tenting at night and meandering during the day.

Alone.

Now I am looking forward to this trip. And I truly believe that going alone is a good idea. I need to reset a bit. I’m often lonely (and yet not often alone) but this trip is about exploring and discovering… anything.

I’m kinda scared. Not about traveling solo… that’s no biggie. But for about a week I won’t be with anyone I know. It’s intimidating and a bit exhilarating at the same time.

I already spend too much time in my head … but I’m hoping this intentional alone time will help me and my priorities. Help me find a bit of balance? Maybe I’m expecting too much … I don’t know.

This upcoming trip is full of possibilities. I’m trying not to have any expectations. Just go with the moment and enjoy.

Wish me luck and good fortune.

I had three people tell me I look tiny today.

I’m not quite sure how I feel about that.

I’m not tiny. I still weigh 265 pounds. That is not a tiny number. But is the loss of 75 pounds really so significant that I look tiny?

I don’t want to be tiny. Tiny, to me, is potentially vulnerable. And I don’t like someone thinking I may be vulnerable.

Now… I know that these lovely people don’t know what the connotation of that word is for me. So they intended no harm. And so I take no offense. But it still gives me great pause.

And this is why I sometimes wish I were a single-celled organism. Then I really wouldn’t have a brain. And I could just stop thinking quite so much. Sense a trend?

I do.

EDIT: So was speaking with 15 last evening and he had a very interesting question.  He ask if, when we are horsing-around and he lifts me … does this bother me in the same way as being called tiny does.

Hmmmmm.  Ok…that is a very valid question.

The answer is not.  And then I got to thinking.  When I am laying and being, simply, held… I feel small in his arms.  And I like that feeling.

So… I had to work that out a bit.  I believe it has to do with trust and comfort. As a child we generally find comfort in our parents arms… so we come into adulthood (or I did!) conditioned to find comfort in being held.  And our parents were, for a long time, larger than us…their arms encircling our bodies.  Holding.  Rocking.  So, as an adult, if I am being held by someone I trust…and I feel small…its OK.

But… someone I don’t know in that way.  Someone I do not trust…calling me small or tiny.  That feels threatening.

Yup..took me most of the night to do this thinking.  Which was good because I was freaking up anyway!

Again. Why am I awake???

It’s like my mind betrays me. And I wake up… thinking …. and cannot stop.

I try thinking of something inconsequential. Nope.

I try thinking of something hopeful. Nope.

I try thinking of something funny. Nope.

I even try meditation. Nope.

I had a lovely two and a half hour talk with a dear friend earlier this past eve. I believed this would put my demons to rest for the night. Nope.

And so … here I sit. Awake far too early. And sleep eludes me. It’s worse than trying to catch fish with WD40 coating my hands.

Ahh well. My lot. My life.