Letting It Go

Ah! Another of the lessons life offered me as I slogged through the dee-vorce of which I am oft reminded.

In the midst of all the rejection and feelings of abandonment, there were things (possessions) that seemed very important to hold on to. Those items were part of my life and history and story…my identity. I was trying very hard to hold on to something that would show who I had been, who I was.

Some of those things went with the X, rightly or wrongly. (On the other hand, I find it amusing that there were some effects that I told him he HAD to take, that I didn’t want, and the sooner he packed up, the better!) The things I kept, that I held on to, now, six years down the road, little by little have fallen away, worn out, or been traded up.

After all, things are just things. Their power comes mostly from what they symbolize. What I was holding onto was the marriage, the relationship, and the identity I received through all of that. I was holding onto the story and history of my adult life, my dream of ‘happily-ever-aftering’. It was very hard for me to see those dreams, and visions of how I saw myself, disintegrate. I wanted to hold onto something…anything…for a while longer.

There were other, more intangible, ‘things’ to let go of, too. Those I journaled about in a list of things I had to give up to a power greater than myself. I was full of fear of being on my own financially. There was much grief and rejection about getting tossed for someone else (a 15-yr younger someone else…). I had much apprehension over what the future would look like. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. The tough years of returning to school, raising the kids, plowing our way through the early years of the careers were over, and the more enjoyable, ‘coasting years to retirement’ were starting. Or were suppose to be…

Fact: Out of my control. Nothing I could do to change him, or the situation. I had to let it go.

Reality: On some level, I realized this, and desired to get past it. But this was not an overnight miracle. I rehashed a lot of it in my mind and heart…over and over. I verbally spewed on a lot of people, some pretty unsuspecting, like the poor young woman who helped me set up my new ‘un-jointed’ bank account. But I wanted to get past this. I didn’t want to grow old with this bitterness in me towards the X. I didn’t want it for me, and I didn’t want to continue to give the X that power.

I have learned that my first part is willingness. I wanted it. I kept working at letting it go, practicing…well, pretending, really. Little by little, I’ve lost most of the resentment, bitterness, and anger. What’s left is not directed at the X, but at myself. (And that’s for another post.)

Today, I practice this lesson daily, driving in traffic, at work, with my kids/stepkids.

I find my peace when I can let my stuff go, and live life on life’s terms.
Life is not meant to be a perfect ride.

Lessons on Life from Star Trek

During the marriage melt-down and the subsequent Dee-vorce, I was emotionally overwrought. I could not listen to music about relationships, or see movies about relationships, or watch TV shows about relationships, or read books about relationships.

I had known the X since my freshman year in college, and we had been married for over 25 years. We had made it through the ‘rough times’ (I thought), and the living was supposed to get easier at this point. Apparently this ‘living happily ever after’ stuff was a bunch of crap-ola, though, and I didn’t want to hear, or see, or watch, or read about a bunch of ninnies thinking they had life and love all figured out! Because if I didn’t, I was sure they didn’t either!!

Due to a series of circumstances (all of it fascinating! but for another post), the X lived with me at the house from the time he told me he thought “we should go our separate ways”, until he found another position out of state to take, almost 11 months. We did not share the same space, however. My bedroom became my sanctuary, to which I retreated nightly, especially in those early months. I read many self-helpy type books, spiritual journey type books, and did my divorce recovery homework. I journaled like a crazy woman, from which I maybe was only a few steps away. But then, exhausted, I would want to watch some TV.

What to watch that would not bring out all my cynicism and jadedness?

STAR TREK!!!! I have always enjoyed Star Trek, and here was a show almost practically relationship free. I remember on Wednesday nights, in particular, I could see re-runs at 7, 9, 10, and 11, of Next Generation twice, Voyager, and Deep Space Nine. Ahh….the ecstasy of pure escapism!

There was one episode in particular I remember. It addressed the issue about going back in our lives and changing things, doing things differently, making things better. At this point in my life, I was wishing there were a few things I could have some re-dos on. (like accepting that engagement ring…)

So anyway, we find out that Captain Picard has an artificial heart stemming from a fight he had as a young, impulsive, brash ensign. This artificial heart fails, and Picard, slipping into a void, admits, that given the opportunity, he would do things differently, meaning he would try to avoid the circumstances that led to the fight the led to the necessity of the artificial heart, which was failing and leading to his untimely demise. He is given that chance, and as the story goes, changing those circumstances changes friends and opportunities and outlooks and then he isn’t the captain that saves the galaxy on numerous occasions, but a lowly astrophysics officer that ‘doesn’t stand out’…and well, he understands why he is the man he is…uh…today, or then, or in the future. Agh!….I am so confused with these space time continuums!

So back to me. Setting aside the years my daughters were concieved, for I would go through at least those years again in a heartbeat to have my children, I have truly struggled with the time spent in that relationship, and my unhealthy behavior and reactions. Why did I do what I did, put up with what I put up with, and for so long? How did I miss the boat so completely? How could I have been so clueless?

There may be answers to those questions that will help me avoid repeating the same issues in the future and that is very good. But if I am going to use them as weapons against myself for not having done the past perfectly, then I say they do not matter.

Who I am today is because of what I have lived through. If ‘I regret the past and wish to shut the door on it’, I lose some of the best of me. Surely there were some not so good times with the X, and there were some times I am not proud to share, but those times serve a particular purpose in making me who I am today, and who I will be tomorrow. I am sure that part of the reason that Wonderful Guy and I have such a terrific relationship is directly attributable to some of the touch lessons of this previous one.

I am still working on this truth. There is still some figuring out to do here, but I am making real progress.

Practicing Gratitude

In the throes of the dee-vorce, I found many things for which to be thankful. And I was genuinely grateful, from the bottom of my heart, for these blessings.

I was very grateful for a supportive family of origin. The emotional support I received from them humbles me today. I was so very grateful for my daughters, who brought a joy into my life that helped eased the heartache to almost bearable.
I was thankful for my health, and for a job that gave me the opportunity to pay the mortgage and the utilities, and gave me health insurance. (Even if that was about all I was able to pay!)
I was grateful for my kitties, for my yard and garden, for my friends at work and in my divorce recovery group.

Indeed, I had many positive things in my life that I could be, and was sincerely full of gratitude for. In my reading, however, (and there was SO much reading and searching at this time), I discerned a thread that seemed to lead to a deeper level. And that was to being grateful for all that life brings our way, for therein lies our best lessons. I believe now it is through those lessons my higher power (God, universe, spirit, (fill in your blank)) brings me a level of wisdom and peace and serenity, providing I am open to learning.

Well, I surely didn’t want to repeat this grade. I wanted to learn whatever there was for me to learn in this sloggy, mucky mess I was in. So I was going to be grateful for everything?? All the sh*t? Well, okay... I started writing in my journal line by line…(and, honestly, weeping as I wrote)….

Thank you for him leaving me…
Thank you for their relationship they built that convince him he know longer cared for me….
Thank you for loss and rejection and shame and humiliation ….
Thank you for not having anyone’s hand to hold….
Thank you for them having each other and being happy….
Thank you for not having a partner to call on in an emergency…

There were about twenty five of these. And the next month, I did it again, as well as the next month, and again the month after. It just worked out that I felt I needed to repeat the exercise. There wasn’t a plan to do every month. I had an insight to put this list into a word doc, and even put some space after the individual entries (for some note making), because after the 2nd and 3rd month, I saw some of them starting to slip off the ‘painful’ list in a interesting way.

When I take an opportunity to reflect back on this list, now 6 years after making it, I am brought to my knees. There is not one item that I have listed that I am not now absolutely, 100%, completely and authentically grateful for the lesson involved, and how I have grown through it.

It is a humbling and amazing lesson to remember in my daily life, but one so very worth the effort.

Self Image

During the year of the Dee-vorce, I lost weight. I was pleased with this. I have always been thin. I have always been very, very thin, as a child, and after having 3 children. Being small and thin has been a part of my identity. When I did put on a few pounds (and I mean only a few), this caused consternation. I can see now this frayed the edges of my identity. Then some stress would enter my life and pounds would fall away, and I would be back to my usual. Ahhh….all was right with the world.

So now, six years after I received those final dee-vorce papers in the mail (in the mail!), and my lowest weight since high school, I now weigh more than I did when I was pregnant. And yet, AND YET! I am eating much healthier, nutrition and calorie-wise, than I have in my entire life (thanks to the Wonderful Guy), and I exercise diligently and properly. What gives? It began when I got happy (no, really!), I started gaining some poundage, but that was okay…because, after all, I was way too thin….at least that is what I said, but down deep, I liked wearing those size 2 jeans. But size 4 was okay, too, I guessed. But I kept gaining, and Middle Daughter’s wedding was coming up, and the X was going to be there with the new, younger version he had married very shortly after that fateful mail day. What I was concerned about was nothing to be concerned about. Really. It was in my mind, comparing myself to others expectations, to my own ideas about what I should be, about what I had always been. I was concerned about 117lbs.

But it continued, and I was outgrowing clothes, and I kept approaching limits, then bypassing them. Youngest Daughter’s wedding was approaching. I took a new approach. With the Wonderful Guy, I had been eating and cooking healthier, but I never had to count calories. My research told me it was important to be informed about exactly what one’s caloric intake was. The internet has wonderful tools for this information, and I start using some of them, along with a journal. I kept track of everything for several months, even using one website to enter my own recipes so I could see exactly what calorie count my tuna noodle casserole (for example) was carrying. I logged intake faithfully, and kept to about 1600-1900 calories/day. This was coupled with maintaining exercise my exercise 5-6 days/week. I quit gaining, and even dropped a couple of pounds the first few weeks. I believed I was going to be able to be down to 120lbs by the wedding.

Uhhhh...wrong answer. Nothing else happened. Wedding came and went, and I wore a ….size 6! Shock!! Horror!!!! I look at the photos and I think I have such a roll around my middle. Really. I think that. My sisters have no sympathy for me, and if by chance anyone is reading this, you may not either. That’s ok. That’s not my point to all this.For my next birthday, Wonderful Guy gave me a new bicycle, and I started riding to work a few times a week. It is approximately a 16.5 miles round trip, and that first summer, I rode an estimated 900 miles. Those handy dandy little internet tools I talked about previously told me I was exercising very vigorously, burning up all sorts of calories, and not taking in outrageous amounts of calories. I should have been dropping poundage like crazy, if the math was right. Well, I didn’t. Nothing budged…not weight, not pants size, not nothing! Now I was enjoying myself and feeling good, and found the morning ride exhilarating, and evening ride bearable, but geez! Somebody, throw me a bone here!

Where am I going with this? It's that I think I need to be thrown a bone. I weigh 130-135lbs on any given day. I have kept track of my diet and eating patterns to know that I am eating healthy and nutritious foods most of the time in proper amounts. I exercise pretty darn well, especially for a middle-aged woman. There is absolutely nothing unhealthy in any of that. And I am in the middle of all the charts for weight and BMI. I am normal, finally average. Why is it so hard for me to accept me this way, at this stage of my life?

Because it’s hard not to be caught up in what I used to be, thinking something is wrong if I am not looking the same way, the same size I was way back when. There is a roll over my jeans when I sit that didn’t use to be there, and I don’t see me as being skinny. I have always been prideful of that, and if I am not skinny anymore, maybe I have lost a part of my identity. That is not sound thinking.

I am going to work very hard this year to continue to eat well, exercise regularly, and accept my body just as it is. This is something I have struggled with for a couple of years, and it is really time to lay this one down. I‘ve become educated to know what’s healthy eating and what’s not, what is good to do and what’s not, and I am free to make those choices. I want to be okay with my body because it is really is OKAY.

Ready, Set, Go!

Here goes nothing! Or maybe everything. My space, my thing, and maybe no one will ever know about it. One more level of creativity, of learning, of soaring. Remember that? Stretch out and reach.
That is one thing I want to include in this journal...bit and pieces of my walk over the last few years. I remembered this morning that 7 years ago I was celebrating my 25th anniversary with the X. At the time, I thought that was IT! And yet, I was in so much pain....
In the last 7 years, I have grown to see myself more honestly than ever, and understand unconditional love, peace, and serenity in deep ways. These avenues of growth likely would not have happened if the old way of living had continued. I am truly grateful for the opportunity, as grimly painful and traumatic as the X choosing to leave was. And as I face new challenges, I am reminded they are only new opportunities for deeper lessons about me and love and trusting my higher power.
I am now married to a wonderful man that I consider my best friend. I am committed to him, and understand and trust his love and committment to me. Seems silly to have to spell it out, but you see, that was not part of my belief system before.
Enough of that....in addition to lessons of my recovery, I want to include knitting, hiking, family, sewing and quilting, travel, gardening, photography, and maybe some homemaking and cooking, too. That ought to be a broad enough scope for this little New Year's challenge!