Behind This Wheel

I used to feel like I was at a crossroads.   Stopped, engine idling, but so very unsure of where to go.   Did I stay straight (and narrow), the easiest, most obvious path?   Or did I diverge somehow?   Fully, consciously, turning the wheel either one of the 'lesser' directions, the off the beaten path direction or the other?

For months, no years, I struggled with that decision.   I sat, my car essentially in park, as I pondered which road to take.   Miles of people lined up behind me.   Many were patient and waited for me to make my decision, while others politely and silently just eased on by.    There were a few though who weren't content with anything other than honking their horns incessantly and waving their clenched fists my direction.

I let those people really derail my decision, I must confess.

Time has passed and I let my engines cool and in the end, I chose my path.   I eased my foot off the brake, ever so gently, and turned the wheel in the least likely direction I would have ever imagined or chosen for myself.

I didn't plod onward.  I'd already tried that method for miles and miles and endless miles.   And while the ride was mostly smooth and agreeable, the scenery was monotonous and painful and mind and soul numbing.   With ALL due respect to my driver, or passenger, however you view it, I just could not continue down that road any longer.

I looked left and seriously pondered the road in that direction.   Just past the turn was a bend in the road and the trees shrouded the path into the unknown.   My heart squirmed, perhaps danced a bit, at the prospect of heading down that path.   But something stronger made me look in the opposite direction.

To the right.   The right.    I saw a road that unfurled, gloriously, before me.   With eyes full of wonder and hope and not much prodding, my car veered in that direction.   The road I saw held hope and wonder and bumps and treacherous curves, but still I ventured onward.     To the right, I saw my future, all of my untold dreams, unrealized hopes, all of the things in my life that I'd known were home but had never quite found the direction towards.

A few impatient people behind me blew past in a huff.   Many more sat behind me, honking their horns non stop.   But finally, and with no doubt at all in my mind, I turned right.

Right.

And I've never felt more at home behind this wheel.

Finding Forty; Sunday Blues

I've got a mean case of the Sunday blues.   The storm clouds blew in this afternoon around 4 and since then I just can't seem to get myself out from under their ominous shadow.

Crying didn't help, nor did snacking (does it ever?), offering to watch a movie with the boys, folding laundry, walking aimlessly around the house, etc, etc.

When I get this way, admittedly, it's hard for me to snap out of it.   I tend to start dwelling in my head, with my heart bearing the full brunt of the thoughts that sneak in.

I know I'm sad about having to sit in an all day meeting tomorrow.   The truth is, I'm not ready for school to start back up just yet.   I've had a very hard summer in many ways and having the freedom to spend my days leisurely has most likely been my saving grace.    Each day that passes signals the end of this era, this small chapter in my life and typically, I'd embrace that, but on this Sunday evening, I don't.

I'm sad about changes in my life of late.  

I feel so bad about my marriage ending.   I miss A's friendship and support.   For all of our mishaps and misfortune, he was a great person and a good friend and I threw that away.   I feel really stupid.

  I miss having someone to help me remember to water the grass, unload the dishwasher, touch in the middle of the night.  I miss J.   During the parts of the week that we are able to be together, I'm in heaven.   Happy, satisfied, comfortable and excited to see how our relationship blossoms.

When we have to be apart, I feel lonely, lost, off track.   I hate it.

I know that I must learn to live alone.   Be alone.  And there are moments when that is a very doable and agreeable task.   But not on Sunday nights.   At least not yet.

Tonight 'm apathetic, blah, moody and tearful.  

Maybe I'll just brush my teeth, don my pajamas and go to bed.  That's one way to get past Sunday.

Finding Forty: Bubbles

I think I live in a bubble.  Self inflated, of course.  

It's finally dawning on me that A and I cannot be friends.  At least not yet.   We both need distance, space, time to let the oozing, raw wounds heal.   Time to sort our frazzled brains and pick up the pieces of our shattered hearts.

It makes sense that he would not want to see me or be around me.   And I feel selfish for letting that hurt my feelings.   I destroyed his.   The least I could do is give him some space.

When I'm in my bubble, I can pretend that life is nice and easy.  Things work out just fine.  My  happy ending is just a page or two away.

I've yet to watch a bubble float through the air and not burst.  Poof!  Gone.

I do miss him, though.   A.    I've dreamed about him the past two nights.  Sad, lonely dreams where I reach out to hug him or hold him and I'm met with cold indifference.    Do dreams really mean anything anyway?

In my waking hours, I think constantly of J, my new love.   The person whose friendship continues to deepen, whose love continues to grow.   I haven't written about him much because I cherish what we have and I don't want to jump the gun.   I don't want to be the way I was about S-impetuous, foolish, ridiculous.    I want to know.  I want to be careful.  I want the roots to be firmly planted, solid and strong.

I also want to continue to work on me.  Just being me.  Being alone.  Learning to love myself and be okay with where I am.   I honestly feel like I'm doing better with that.

I'd like to think I've learned from my mistakes.   I'd like to know that there are more to make, but that life is full of doing and being and learning and forgiveness.

I hope A feels that same way.

Finding Forty: Redemption Run

It's 1984, some random spring day.  I'm in 9th grade and our school, Elysian Fields High, is hosting a track meet.   Always wanting to be a part of the mix, I'd signed up to run track, despite having zero aptitude for competive running.    My event:  the 3200m run.

While I loved the workouts and being with my best friends, I hated the track meets.   I wasn't good, had zero faith in myself, and felt embarrassed and horrified every single, slow, laborious step around all 8 laps of the track.

On that particular day, I was feeling worse than usual.   It could have been teenage angst or the fact that my heart was about to beat out of my chest because of the diet pills I was taking in an effort to lose weight.   Regardless, on that day, I was miserable.

The race was like all the others in my track career.   Painful and humiliating.   I hated being so slow, feeling like all eyes were on me, pitying my performance.   Rather than endure and perservere, in a moment of impulisivity, I stepped off the track, mid run, and quit.

As soon as my foot hit the grass, I instantly regretted not finishing the race, not seeing through to the end something I'd begun.   I was ashamed and felt like I'd let people down...my coach, my parents, my friends, and more importantly, myself.

Over the years, I've never let go of that moment, despite having now run a full marathon, six half marathons, and a thousand more miles on the streets of my neighborhood and around Austin.

In a moment of self revelation and introspective talk with my oldest son, I told him the story of me not finishing this race and how I'd always regretted that decision.

Without blinking an eye or hesitating, he said, "Well Mom, I think you should run those two miles again the next time we go visit Aunt Michelle."    And I knew that he was onto something.

Fast forward 28 years and I'm standing on the starting line of the Elyisan Fields track.   It's a humid Friday morning in August and this time I'm alone.  I'm 42, not 14 and I'm scared.   I've run two miles a ton of times, but I feel nervous.   I wonder if my legs will be lead, if my self talk will remind me of my failure, if I'll flashback to those moments of loathing and insecurity.

I start my RunKeeper app on my phone and set off.   There will be no wind assistance, but I do get to listen to some of my favorite songs on my running playlist.    Mostly though, I'm listening to myself.

And what I hear is amazing.  

Instead of self hate and doubt, I find that I am awash with love and respect for the woman I've grown to be.

I have a friend who teases me about making everything a metaphor for life, but in this moment, I can't think of a better example.

With each step I take, I am more sure of this.

I'm jogging 2 miles, determined to finish and give it my all.   I have 3 amazing children, 1 marriage that has 'run' it's own beautiful, bittersweet, heartbreaking course,  a heaping handful of regrets, and a lifetime of infinite possibilities.

In this moment, despite the sweat that's pouring into my eyes, salty and wet, I am okay.  Dare I say, even happy?

My life is much like a long distance run.   There are periods of anguish, dull aching pain, free spirited leaps and bounds, and the elusive 'runner's high'.     There are a series of starting guns and personal bests, but also days when walking, crawling, or even staying in bed are the choices I make.

I've learned that there's not just one finish line.   As soon as you cross one threshold, life presents you with another opportunity to decide which path you will take, which course you will traverse.   

My path has been varied, full of moments of heartbreaking pain and happiness so intense you think you can't breathe.   I've known love that overwhelms and overflows.   I am blessed.

The finish line for this particular race on this day looms ahead and I surge towards it.   I know that I'm doing well (for me) and as I step across the line, I'm quite pleased.

I've just run 2.04 miles in 17:06.   Not too shabby for this old girl.   I smile, big and beaming, and pretend I"m 14 again and I've just finished that race, the one I thought I couldn't handle all those years ago.   

There are more finish lines in the distance, more running to do, so much more life to live with all it's pain and glory.

And there I'll be.   Taking it one step at a time.   Moving forward, not stepping off.   

Finding Forty: Hope for the Hopeless

The sadness is seeping in, ever so slightly, ever so slowly.   Ironically, it is in some of my most happy moments that I suddenly become acutely aware of a melancholy lurking deep and dark within me.

Could it be guilt?   I have definitely moved forward in many ways.  Am I feeling guilty for moving on? Or do I just miss the friendship I shared with A?

The other day, he sent me a text saying he needed to talk to me.   He seemed adamant that we talk in person and wouldn't elude to what the topic was.   Immediately, my stomach lurched and churned.   I'm divorced now, free, so to speak, and I still felt like I'd done something wrong.   Or was it something else?

Did he want to tell me about a new girlfriend?   Had he had a one night stand on his business trip last week?  Did he discover something about me and my new relationship that he needed answers about?  Even though I have no claim to him now and I moved on, those thoughts still haunt me at times.  The possibilities were endless and it bugged me.

All night I tossed and turned.   Finally, at 2:48 a.m. I typed an email telling him the ambiguity of his comment was distressing to me.   I needed to know what he wanted to talk about.

The morning dawned and we exchanged a few more texts about the boys.   He said nothing of the email.   I asked him to lunch to see if he wanted to talk then.   He told me he'd already made lunch plans with co workers.   He then texted that he didn't think we needed to talk anymore.

What?  

At this point, I was frustrated.  It was all sort of starting to feel passive aggressive and manipulative.  

Then I got an email, a response to the one I'd sent in the wee hours of the night.

Basically, he was having a hard time with something about me, about us and he hasn't yet figured out the nature of our relationship or what he even wants it to be, other than co-parents.

My heart broke a bit more as I read those words.   How selfish of me, I know.   I ripped his out and moved right on and I have the nerve to be upset because he's not ready to be my friend.

Thing is, I can't fathom him not being in my life.   For 24 years this man has been there, at least in some ways, and I don't want to lose that.

I know he needs time.  We all do.

And so, the sadness seeps in as the friendship fades.

Is there hope for the hopeless?

Finding Forty: Summer Swells

Is this normal?

I feel happy.   There is a smile that is perched just behind my lips, hidden.   But I feel it dwelling in my cheeks.

It's been four days since my divorce was finalized and I've yet to have those storm clouds and summer swells engulf me, suffocate me, drown me in sorrow.

Instead, I move with an ease through the day, my step a little lighter, my thoughts a bit brighter.

I can't help but feel a bit guilty about this.   While I'm not rejoicing and I do respect the gravity of the situation, I also have this underlying sense that we did the right thing for us.

The main problem I am having is how to let people know that this has happened.   I certainly don't want to post it on Facebook or Twitter.   Yesterday I googled "divorce announcements" and my search resulted in several hateful, spiteful, negative cards.  

I don't feel any of those ways.    I am sorry that my marriage of almost 20 years ended, I have regrets for sure, but I also feel a peace about it.   And it's not a peace that needs to be flaunted or waved about like some sort of flag.  I want to take my victory lap as quietly and amazingly content as possible.

I suppose for now, I will just sit with this new knowledge and let the reality slowly dawn on me.  There is really no need to inform people, other than my HR department and well, I actually can't think of anyone else.

When the time is right or the need arises, I will just politely, calmly tell people.  

Until then, I'll keep coasting on this wave of quiet resolution.

Finding Forty: Divorced

It's done.   I'm divorced.   After years of soul searching, tears, hurtful actions...the end has come.

Tonight I am numb.   Today, in front of the judge, I cried.   I'd like to say that as I stood next to A our years, our time together, the memories we created flashed by.   But in that moment, it didn't.   I don't know if it was nerves or fear or shock, but I wasn't overly nostalgic.

As an uncontested divorce,  I must confess that the entire process was fairly painless.   We were in and out of the lawyers office and the courthouse in less than an hour and a half.

Since we are still amicable, we rode together and even went for lunch afterwards.   It was pleasant and daresay, at times, light hearted.   That lightness is a blessing that I cherish when it is around.   I know it's not always there, so when it is, I'm happy.

When A dropped me back at home, I changed into comfy clothes and have pretty much vegged all night long.   I can't seem to get out of bed.   I've only just cried about it, but I fear the tears will be coming in storm sized waves soon.

Divorced.   Divorced.   I keep saying it to myself to see if it makes any sort of sense at all and it really doesn't.   It's a very strange feeling.

I don't want to dwell on our years past.  At least not tonight.   I don't think I could bear the weight of the hopes we fostered, the love we shared, the lives we nurtured.    In due time, I will reflect and smile through tears about those days, long gone now.

I am not quite ready to think of the future either.   Too vast, too broad, too scary and unknown.   Soon enough, I'll be ready to start dreaming and planning.   And that's exciting.

Tonight I'm content to just be here, in the now.   Breathing in and out as best I can.

Divorced.

Choices

My face is sticky and salty.   The tears have surely stained their way down and are pooling right under my chin.

I'm sad today.

A and I have our court date to finalize our divorce.   July 12.   After all this time, it's finally here and my heart is breaking.

He is such a good man, I feel devastated that I broke him like I did.   My mind cannot grasp how I could have done something so horrible, so wrong, so incredibly hurtful to a person who's only 'sin' was staying busy and not knowing how to reach me in a way that I could comprehend.

If ever you find yourself feeling unhappy, unsure, in a state of unrest about your relationship, please know that having an affair is not the answer.   Nothing good will ever come from the lies and hurt that result due to a relationship outside of your marriage.   Nothing.

I've taken 24 years of friendship and trust and completely thrown it away.  

I'm not saying that our marriage was strong enough to stand the test of time, but it might have been.   We had something special, we always felt so different, we were a team-until I got lost and drifted away.

I should have been honest, upstanding, handled myself with grace and integrity and  instead I chose the path of lies and destruction.  I'm so ashamed.

Saying I'm sorry doesn't come anywhere close to how remorseful I am.

This may very well be my biggest regret ever.  

Finding Forty: Unraveling

Yesterday A and I met to talk about the details of our divorce.   Despite hurt feelings and anger that boils to the surface every so often, we can sit across from one another at the kitchen table for two hours and discuss the logistics related to the unraveling of our more than two decades together.

When the doorbell rang, I opened the door to find him standing there in flat front khakis and a blue, plaid button up shirt that matched his eyes perfectly.   My heart skipped a beat.  Before me stood the boy of 18 I'd fallen in love with so many lifetimes ago.

I offered him some ice water and we sat down to get to the business at hand.  The more we can agree on together, the less money we will spend having the attorney prepare the legal documents.   Talking through everything is mostly easy enough, but I think it's because it seems so abstract, so completely foreign to me.

We can agree on how we want to divide our time with the boys,  right down to divvying up holidays and weekly switch offs from one house to the other.   Our assets, while a bit more complicated, are also fairly cut and dry.   They are just numbers on paper that add up to this and that which will be sorted through the years as situations change.   Easy enough, in most regards, to follow.

What's not on any divorce decree is how to fight the loneliness you feel as you make a frozen dinner for yourself on a night that you don't have the kids or the helplessness you feel as the washing machine overflows from the laundry room into the kitchen.   No where in the decree is there a place to list your sins and the remorse you feel for them or pledge that you will always be friends once the divorce is finalized.

Will the judge want to know who gave up first (me) or who tried harder to make things work (him)?   How can over twenty years of weaving a life, a family together be dismantled and then sorted again by one single legal document?

In my heart, I know this is for the best.  But that thought gives little comfort when you look into the hurt eyes of someone you promised to love and cherish forever.

The ice in our cups melted as we talked through the details.   When he got up to leave, I walked him out the door.  Standing in the street as the sun was setting behind him, I apologized again and told him that while I knew this was for the best,  there would always be a small part of me that regretted how I'd let things get out of control.   As tears silently streamed down my face, I told him that I couldn't imagine him not being in my life in some way, as the father of our children but also as a friend.

He smiled and replied, "The funny thing is, you just never know how life will turn out."

Friends believe things like that...

Finding Forty: Beginning Again

Last September I wrote about my attention span.   And almost as if to prove a point,  I stepped away and turned my mind elsewhere.

I wish I could say that my comings, goings, ins and outs were all wonderful and that I've been so happy that I haven't had time to be here.   Some of it has, but the rest of it has been what most would call pretty crappy.

So much lies between then and now, I scarcely know where to begin.

I can say with 100% certainty that S is completely out of my life and my mind.   I suppose somewhere, in a dusty little corner of my heart, thoughts of him are lying, dormant and discarded.   I don't think I want to forget him forever.  I need to remember everything I lived through with him, because of him,  and after him to know that who and where I am today is a gift.  I never dreamed there would come a day when I could look back on that time in my life and feel thankful.   But, today, I do.

A is also more and more out of my life.   He filed for divorce in May and everything should be settled in less than a month's time.   For years I've struggled with our relationship, what to do, how to do it, wondering if I was making the right choice, fearing a regret unlike any I've ever known.  And now I sit on the brink of the end of our marriage and still hold the slightest bit of fear.  I also feel a blanket of sadness that covers me like a thin veil.  

We share our children and the memories of what we once were, the hopes for what we thought we could become and the realization that life holds unexpected twists and turns along the way.   He will forever be a part of me and I give thanks untold for his presence in my life and the beautiful and amazing children we created.

And yet, the heart remains full of surprises.   Despite being broken, confused,  and scared to death, it has found love again.  J and I have been friends for many years, but the relationship we share now is definitely a new beginning.  We are exploring unchartered territory and it's an adventure that is breathtaking, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once.

 I don't think he fully knows the love I feel for him.  Does he know the way my heart flips and dips when he's near, the way my body quivers at his touch, the way I can see the lines on his face, his piercing eyes, his half smile as I lay in bed at night with eyes closed?  Surely not.  Even I am amazed by the depth of emotion he brings forth in me.

I am being as careful and cautious as my reckless heart can be.  I know going slow is best.   I know I've got much healing to do.   We all do.   I also know that he makes me feel unlike anyone has ever been able to do before, both good and bad,  and I think that truly means something.   He already makes me a better person.   He's my best friend and I do love him.

So, with one foot in the past and my other firmly in the here and now, moving into the future, I boldly step forward and set forth.

Beginning again is nice.

It's finally time...

Finding Forty, Day 466; ADD

I've diagnosed myself as having adult ADD.   I'm not 100% sure, but man, it really seems like I have it.   The forefront symptoms are impulsivity and inattentiveness.  

Impulsivity continues to plague me.   I speak before I think, I act before I consider, I live my life in a constant state of regret and apology.    I truly, sincerely believe that there is something physiologically wrong with me.

My inattention has always been with me.  Daydreams plague me, occupying most of my waking thoughts. I am forgetful, distracted, disorganized beyond belief, despite my best efforts to stay on top of things.

I go to bed each night feeling disappointed with who I am, always pledging to do better the next day.  

This weekend has come to an end and I haven't done the work I brought home.  I will awake tomorrow and scramble into my classroom, doing my best to get things in better order for my students.  I have my plans done, my copies made, but there is still more I could and should have done.  

Constantly, I fight this urge to find and do something fun and exciting.   I feel like a child, wanting my whims and fancies to be met in an instant.

My logical, intelligent brain knows how absurd this sounds.   I get it.  Except I can't overcome it.

Not much has changed in my personal life.   I am living with A, but still pay for my empty, abandoned apartment each month.   We are good, but not great.    We live in the moment.   Nothing seems to really surprise us, move us, upset us, exalt us.  

S creeps into my thoughts on a daily basis.   While not overwhelmed with emotion, I still wonder about him.  

A is still unemployed.   He recently applied for jobs out of state.   While slightly shocked, there is a very small part of me that wonders what it would be like if he did, in fact, take a job multiple states away.  What effect would that have on our marriage?
 
I really can't imagine.

And besides, my attention span can't handle that thought.  There's too much other stuff in there already.

Finding Forty, Day 453; Down with Gravity

Gravity.  Brevity.  Reality.

Something has been pulling me down lately.   Possibly it's work and the new pressures of wanting and needing to perform better than I have in a long time.   Possibly it's the fatigue and mental stress of worrying about A not having a job yet.   Possibly it's just that no matter how I try, I can't shake certain aspects of who I am that simply just weigh me down.

I've had a couple of really hard weeks lately.   Weeks where there have been moments when I came thisclose to emailing S.  Luckily, in the moment of weakness, I was able to start madly texting my closest friends so that I could be pulled back from the abyss.

Gravity.

It's weighing me down.   I know if I venture too close, the laws of science will take me over the edge.

Why would I want to reach out to S?   I know it won't change anything at all.   Here are the only reasons I can figure out.

He was my escape.  When 'real life' got hard, it was comforting to have S to play with, to laugh with, to give me a break from the yuck of life.  

Even as I type this, I know I sound like an ass.  Everyone has a yucky life in some way or another.  Everyone wants to escape from time to time.

I guess the good thing is that before, I let myself be pulled under and now, at least, I know that isn't the answer either.

Another reason I am frustrated is because A still doesn't have a job.    I want to ask daily what, if any, progress he's made.   But I know that is ridiculous.  All that will do is create resentment.   And yet, at what point do I get to really voice my thoughts on his unemployment?   How long is long enough?  When will it be time to go out and get a job, any job, so that we can pay our bills?

The thing is, now I'm scared to talk to him about things.   I don't want animosity, I don't want arguing.  I don't think I have any tears left to cry.

I'm tired again and weary.    This gravity is pulling me down.

Finding Forty, Day 425 Crazy, Stupid Love.

The impending beginning of work is consuming me.  I've been working hours each day preparing my classroom, reading about best practices in teaching, spending money I don't really have to spend on materials and supplies to make this new job easier.   It's almost, exclusively, all I think about anymore.

In many ways, I'm happy to have a distraction, a new passion, a healthy outlet for my obsessive tendencies.   I'm still scared, though.   Prepping a room and your mind is vastly different than actually teaching, day in, day out.    And yes, I've done this before, but this time, I want to really, truly, get it right and feel great about what I'm doing more often than not.

During the evenings and on the weekends, when I can't be in the classroom, A and I have struck  up an old habit of ours, which is watching television or movies together.  This summer, we've probably seen more movies with one another than we ever have in our history.   When I was unhappy and searching for reasons to prove we were incompatible, I used to point out that watching t.v. was a 'pretend' togetherness.   Sitting in the dark, next to someone, wasn't really being together.   How wrong could I have been?

Each night, climbing into bed together, we lay side by side, sleeping.    If that's not being together, I'm not sure what is.  Sure, there is love making or pillow talk, but most of the time, it's two tired, haggard bodies sharing a space.   Nothing more, other than the togetherness of that.

I'm sure loved ones who hold a bedside vigil with a sick partner would argue the togetherness of such a seemingly solitary event.

I was wrong.

I love going to the movies with A.   Yesterday we saw Crazy, Stupid Love.   I knew it would make me cry.   The previews hinted at far too many familiar plot twists and story lines to leave my wretched heart alone.   And cry we did.   But I haven't had much of a chance to talk about it with him.   Or I've been too scared.

Even though we are moving on, there are some wounds that are still too fresh, too raw to pick at just yet.

It was enough to just curl into bed, with him reading beside me, close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

Finding Forty, Day 407: Today, This Day...

Yesterday I had an interesting email from a friend of mine on Facebook.   I really only know this person via my sister and we've met just once, but she is one of those people with whom you feel instantly comfortable.


She reached out to me, asking why I'd gone back to A, which I'm sure she'd figured out because of posts and status updates on Facebook.


It's hard to answer a question like that in a private message on a social networking site.   I'd have much preferred to sit with her over a cup of coffee and fill her in on the events that led to my change of heart.


But, as I typed my long winded response to her, I knew I believed every word.   It has taken me a long time to get to where I am today and although it's been messy and nasty at times, I feel it's been worthwhile.


Here is what I told her:

We separated in October after about a year and a half of crap. I had the affair in spring 2009 and even though it ended, I would not stop having contact with the guy (emails, phone, rarely in person as he lives near Dallas). I just was NOT trying in my marriage and could only find fault in everything A (my husband) did. I was miserable and wanted change. I wanted excitement and to feel alive. I wanted to be with someone who acted like they wanted me and cherished me.

Well, first mistake was thinking that an asshole who would cheat on his wife is the one who could give me all those things I needed. He was confused just like the rest of us, but also not willing to commit to me, my kids, and a long distance relationship.

I was devastated, heartbroken. I'd already ruined my marriage for this person.  A, as you can imagine was 1000x more heartbroken and upset than me. I broke him. There was no trust, no understanding, nothing. It was just a shell of a relationship, so eventually we split up.

We lived apart (and technically still do) for several months with little to no contact. It was wonderful, but also lonely and sad. I honestly thought I had moved on from A and had moved on from affair guy (b/c he'd not left me any other choice).

I had several dates with a guy I met on Match.com who was a super nice,  good guy (but quite boring and HORRIBLE in the sack).    I just knew, also, besides all that, that he wasn't right for me anyway.   It never felt right, being with him.

I had a week long fling with that 28 year old that was hitting on me the night I first met you when you were in town, but truthfully, he was an idiot. I don't do stupid well at all. :)

Then March came around and two things happened. 

First of all, I drank too much one night and contacted affair guy. I knew he was in town for something and I started calling him and texting. It got all Fatal Attraction and he ended up calling me a stalker. When I emailed to apologize a few days later, he accepted my apology, but said again, in no uncertain terms MOVE ON. It was if I heard it for the very first time and it sunk in.   Finally, there was nothing more to ever say to him.  I suppose it was the beginning of me hitting rock bottom, as they say.

A few weeks later, I landed, with a thud, definitely in the pits of despair.   I found myself in a situation where I felt alone, scared, sad and broken beyond belief.   Crying uncontrollably, I knew there was only one person I could reach out to.    And that person was A.

I texted and called him at 4 a.m. so he could talk me thought my crisis, which he did.  In that moment, something clicked and  I just knew that I'd never been loved by anyone quite like him.

Meeting secretly in a Wal Mart parking lot to make out, sneaking calls and text in stolen moments, intense physical attraction ( which I definitely had with the affair guy), that is all fun and exciting, but it doesn't equal love. 

Love is taking a call at 4 a.m. from a distraught sobbing friend.  It's getting up in the middle of the night to change your baby's diaper, or bringing your wife water while she nurses your newborn.   It's telling her she looks beautiful when her gray roots are showing and she's sporting a huge zit on her face-and actually meaning it.  It's eating Chinese when what you were really craving is Mexican or listening to the 100th story about some band from the 80's that you could care less about.   It's all those things and so very much more.  All those things A has been doing in my life for the past 23 years.

I finally opened my eyes to the gifts I had in my life and I didn't want to lose them.

Are things perfect now? No.

Does he still annoy me and not give me the attention I crave? Yes, some of the time.

But I have learned so much about how to ask for what I want and need.

And I have learned so much about how to give, readily and happily, to someone else.

As I said, we aren't officially back "together". I have an apartment still (although I haven't been there all summer, which is crazy, stupid financially), but until he asks me to move back in for real, I am fine with this.

We don't talk about forever anymore. We talk about today. And for today, this day, we are good.

And we are.

Finding Forty; Day 402; Blood Work

The doctor's office called with the results of my blood work.  Everything was fine.   How incredibly warped is it that I was slightly disappointed to hear that?  

Trust me, I'm not looking for something horrible or life threatening, but low iron counts or an under active thyroid, well, those were things I could have jumped on board with.

At least I would have had answers for why I feel so sluggish and exhausted all the time.

I recall, in the midst of the affair and it's aftermath, sort of wishing for the same thing.   I know that A wished that I could have been diagnosed with a personality disorder or something,  so that we could pin the blame for my erratic and unusual behavior on that.

In both cases, turns out, it's just me.

The same empathetic, caring, nurturing woman who cries at Hallmark commercials and dedicated her professional life to helping children is the same one who cheated on her husband and lied to the innocent faces of her friends and family.

The same healthy, vibrant,  body who birthed three boys naturally and has run a marathon and six half marathons can barely move these days without heaving and huffing and wanting to curl in bed for hours at a time.

There is no diagnosis or explanation for either that allows me to remove the spotlight from myself and my own actions.

But I'm not complaining.  I realize things won't always be this way.   Every day I try to do something to help myself physically.

I was diagnosed with vertigo and have my first appointment with a physical therapist on Monday.   Hopefully that will help improve my situation so I can move about again without fear of falling.

My knee is injured, but if one more week of therapy doesn't help then I will have minor surgery and move forward.

In many ways I miss the old me.   The nice one who enjoyed working out.   The happy one who liked to move her body.

In time, in time.  This I know.

Finding Forty, Day 400; Recipe for Success

When I was growing up, it seemed my mom had a limited rotation of dinners that she cooked.   You could almost predict which night would be tuna casserole, although she was never quite that structured.   We ate spaghetti and meat sauce (she always mixed the noodles with the meat sauce despite my pleas to leave each separate like at the Italian restaurants), chicken fried steak, salmon croquettes, hamburgers, and tuna casserole.

This isn't a blog about my mom's cooking.  She was actually excellent in the kitchen and I'd bet my life we ate a more varied diet than the above, but the rotation cycle definitely stands out to me now that I'm a mom.

I do the same in my own kitchen on a bi weekly basis.   My staples are tacos, grilled fish, fajitas, sushi, and brinner (breakfast for dinner).   Of course that's not all we eat, but in a pinch, I'm usually good for any of the above.

It occurred to me tonight that life is like the dinner rotation cycle.  Or at least mine is.  There are certain constants that creep into my reality, no matter how many times I plan or try to deviate from them.

Much like the presence of ground beef somehow showcasing a weekly dinner or two, I regularly spend time during the week in a very severe state of self loathing.   Even though I like to try ground turkey or the more exotic grass fed buffalo meat, I always settle on lean beef more times than not.   I don't want to hate on  myself or feel disgusted when I look in the mirror, but inevitably, at least once a day, I give myself a negative self talk that somehow seems to stick.   It grows weary, but is so well known.

Likewise, despite wanting to branch out and try new, exciting, scintillating recipes, I still find myself concocting what I know in the kitchen.   Same goes for my thinking of S.   It is as if I move forward, like a jet taking off an airplane runway, but then air traffic control calls me back in for an emergency landing.  I'm a passenger held hostage fighting feelings of fear and annoyance all at once.

Lately, the S thinking has been getting me down.   I used to think I would die, truly wither up and cease to exist, if he weren't in my life.   Now such thoughts make me laugh and flush with embarrassment all at once.   And yet, the thoughts of never speaking to him again or never seeing him again still pierce my heart and make me choke back tears.

On an intellectual level, I truly understand how wrong he was for me and how I sacrificed more of myself than was ever humanly necessary for him.   But the emotional level still has some sort of hold that, at times, tightens her grip and threatens to choke me silently.

I have no one to talk to about this.

I would never tell A that lingering thoughts persist or have resurfaced.   He is amazing and, in my estimation, trying harder to make us work.   I have crushed him once, twice, there is no way I could live with myself if I crushed him again.

And anyway, S doesn't give a shit about me.  I refuse to make an ass of myself any longer for someone like him.

It doesn't mean the feelings are gone, it just means I act on them in completely different ways now.

Routines.  So ingrained we hardly think about them.   Familiar favorites are nice, homey, welcome.  I doubt I'll ever deviate from the tried and true.   But I will also try new things, in a sincere effort to break free from the once new but eventually mundane habits that never were and never will be healthy.

There's a recipe for success out there and I'm determined to find it.

Finding Forty; Day 392; Letter to My Best Friend

In the days since I've last written, my life has been full of great and beautiful things.   Our road trip to Destin produced my children's laughter, stolen moments of aloneness with A,  crashing waves on sugar white sand, miles of new scenery, and time spent with the people I love most.   The vacation was many things...trying, tiring, amazing, worthwhile, but we created memories that will last a lifetime.


Now that I am home a sort of malaise has befallen me.   I think this email to my best friend says it best of all.

"Good morning!   I hope you found your bath to be both relaxing and meditative.   I truly hope it was.   I have not been in a really relaxed, contemplative state in quite a while.   Yes, I've had moments of peace and true relaxation, but in the past week or so something has happened.

I hate that it's so hard to pinpoint the source of my feelings or to even be able to articulate them.    First of all, I am exhausted.   I can barely move or do anything without feeling like I want to sleep for days.   It makes me apathetic about everything and minor chores or activities seem like climbing Mount Everest.  I'm dizzy all the time, anytime I move or shift my head or body positions.   Actually, it's vertigo because the room spins.   I just have to close my eyes and hold onto something until it passes.   Both of these have really bummed me out, so I find myself crying more this week about not feeling good.   I have a  dr. appointment tomorrow morning, so that should help some (or at least I hope it does).

Also, I have realized lately that my feelings have evened out.   In the beginning, when I realized I did want to be with A for the rest of my life,  I felt like this was a good thing and I still do see the merit of being level headed and not all over the place with my emotions, but I also almost feel numb.   That isn't like me and that bothers me too.    

I'm not sure if I've matured emotionally or if the sheer exhaustion of my past two years has finally caught up with me or if I have a genuine health condition that is causing this or what?

And it's the not knowing that possibly bugs me the most.

The fear is creeping in as well about our future.   Will A and I make it?  Do we have what it takes?  Is he really in this?  How much DOES he love me and want to be with me?  How much do I love him and want to be with him (a ton, btw, provided I get what I need in return)?   What will happen with our finances?  When will we declare personal bankruptcy?  What will I do with the apartment?  Will I move back in to the house?  What can we afford?  How will I pay my bills?   What if I am sick?  What about my new job?  How will that be?  Can I really do it and do it well?  

And so on and so on and so on.

On top of all of this are these random thoughts about S.   I just can't seem to make him get out of my mind permanently.   I realize he's gone and I've made no efforts to contact him and it's been 15 weeks (I'll stop counting someday, right?).   I'm better off and I know that, but I still do miss him in this unhealthy sort of way and there is no one in this world I could confess that to except you.   I just know you understand.

I know you aren't going through the same in terms of exact worries, but I know your heart and mind are heavy or at least I sense they are in some way.    What are we going to do?

I so wish you lived close.  If I knew we could get together after work and just laugh things off a bit, I think that would be priceless therapy.   Instead, lately, I've let my busy life and efforts to refocus on my family push you further out and that makes me sad.   I miss you too.

Please let me know how you are doing and what's going on.   And as always, thanks for letting me vent.

Can't wait to see you in August!!!"

I just know friends understand.

Finding Forty, Day 374; Achilles' Heel

Constantly I search for visible signs that I've grown and changed.   I suspect strongly they're present, I just can't see them from the outside.   I know I feel it on the inside.

Today I was reminded how far I have actually come.

To say that I am 100% over S would be a lie.   The truth is, I think about him every single day in some small way.   Maybe I'll drive past the place where we first kissed (okay, I do that everyday as it's right across the highway from our house), or a particular song will come on the radio and I'm transported back.   I wonder about him, what he's doing, if he ever thinks of me.   And then I snap back to my reality, the reality I am truly enjoying.

 I know I've inched further down the path because how those things affect me is less intense and not debilitating anymore.

There was, in fact, a time when I believed people do die from broken hearts.    Now I see the walking wounded all around me, stronger than before.

But, I digress.

Here is how I know I've grown today.

My sister has a conference in Dallas from Sunday to Tuesday and she will be alone.   We live 5 hours apart and Dallas is halfway.   She invited me to stay with her and genuinely wanted me to come.   At first, I said yes.    Then I started thinking about it.

S lives just outside of Dallas.   Two years ago, I would have jumped at this opportunity and would have spent time on the phone planning with him when I might be able to sneak over to see him or meet him somewhere.  

Wow, just writing about it makes me feel horrible.

One year ago, I would have not been able to tell him I was coming but would have still driven past his office, stopped at the same convenience store he stops at every morning, been out and about where I thought he might be and most likely have called him and told him I was nearby, hoping he'd "let" me stop and say a painful, heartbreaking hello.

Writing that makes me feel worse than horrible.

This year, I texted my sister and told her I couldn't meet her in Dallas.   Not only is the price of gas atrocious and we are leaving for Florida in 4 days, but I didn't want to make that trip and put myself through any temptation or misery.

I can't say that I wouldn't do any of the above if left to my own devices while she attends her conference.   I don't want to know how weak I am or might be.   And even if I didn't do anything, I don't want to even have the conversation I would surely have with myself about it.

I want to be here, at the house, googling Gulf Coast routes and packing duffle bags for boys.

It pains me that S is my Achilles' Heel, but more than that, I'm overjoyed that I recognize it now and can make healthy decisions.

My family deserves that.   Hell, I deserve it.

And that feels pretty good.

Finding Forty; Day 372; 30 Rock Monster

The green eyed monster took a huge bite out of my dimpled ass and poisoned me this week.    I hate being jealous, but I am.

We've been watching a lot of 30 Rock reruns this summer and I find myself amazed and in awe of the level of creativity on that show.

I understand their sort of humor is an acquired taste, but it's a flavor my family relishes.   As I sit and listen to the absurd lines that are both written and expertly delivered, I yearn to do something that brilliant.

I'm actually funny in "real life", with a quick wit and a sharp tongue.  But when I sit down to write, all that pours forth are ponderings and deep thoughts.   I'm the Jack Handey of my generation, full of useless nuggets of wisdom, worry, and whatnot.

When I read other writers who are able to channel funny into their blogs or scripts, I crave that sort of giftedness and yet I can't escape my head.

I want to write about stupid things I've said or done that day, but instead I use this platform to work out my more melancholy and serious thoughts.   I know I want and need to write more this summer, so maybe I'll make a concerted effort to work on the humor.    It doesn't mean the somberness will dissipate, but I will try to balance more.

The characters on 30 Rock resonate with me.   I am at once Liz and Jenna combined; quirky and nerdy with a penchant for embarrassing myself while at the same time craving attention.   I think that is why I love the show as I do.   In so many ways, I think I could have written those lines because I've lived them.

So, funny it is.   Which is really so NOT funny.   The fact that I'm whining about wanting to be funny just emphasizes how far I have to go.

Oh well...at least I'm not crying about asshole men or my obsessive tendencies or drunk texting.   Although, I suspect there's huge humor in those moments too.   It's all in how you spin it.

Back off, Green Eyed Monster, I'm done with you.

Stay tuned for the summer experiment....

Finding Forty, Day 367; A New Year

I'm two days past my first anniversary of this blog.   I suppose that means I should redefine, rename, refocus in some way.   At some point I probably will, but just can't be arsed with it for now.

My mind is fluttering, flittering elsewhere.

To begin with, I was "unofficially" offered the teaching job!  The hiring committee selected me as their first choice, but I've not yet signed any paperwork.   I found out earlier this week and danced a jig in the middle of the aisle in Target.   It was a silent, solitary moment of pure happiness and relief.   With my shopping excursion thrown completely off track, I quickly paid for my few items and rushed to tell A the good news.  With business and consequent personal bankruptcy looming, me having a solid job is a lifesaver.   Many thanks were whispered, shouted, uttered through tears that evening.

Since finding out, I've enjoyed daydreaming about my new school, my new crop of kids, my fellow teacher and future friends and confidantes.   I'm happy to get a fresh start with people who don't know me and the baggage I haul.   In time, I'm sure they'll find out, but when and what I choose to share will come from a more tranquil, healed place.

I like new beginnings.

The other thoughts occupying my mind is our upcoming summer vacation.   We are making a road trip, with two other families, to Destin, Florida in a little less than two weeks.

Crazy?  Probably.   But we are all so very excited.  I am an extensive list maker and it's been so much fun to ponder all of the things we need to pack and bring.   Last summer, we went to the Texas coast but A and I were deep in the midst of turmoil.  We shared a bedroom, but little else.  I was angry, resentful, lonely.   I found fault in just about everything he did, from spending too much time with the kids to chewing noisily.    In short, I was an asshole.

For his part, he was angry and hurt and had no reason or desire to let me in.   It was a feeble attempt to create some false sense of family, as if by pretending to walk on the beach together would instantaneously bond us together.

It was a colossal failure and shortly after, we separated.

Technically, we live apart still.   I pay rent to a 1200 sf apartment that is almost as expensive as our mortgage payment.    And yet, I am writing this from the bedroom we shared for 12 years and are slowly beginning to share again.  

I can't type this without crying.   I love him so much, I can't believe I was so willing to throw it away in a haze of shortsighted stupidity.

My new secret dream is for us to remarry each other.   Although we aren't divorced, I broke our vows and I want to recommit my heart and life to him.

Now isn't the time.  I can't yet tell him I want to do this.   But hopefully, someday.

Maybe this year's trip to the beach will bring forth a new beginning of another sort.