Significant Moments In Our Lives

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Sometimes I wonder if it is really true that we can count the exact moments something truly significant happens in our lives. I know in my life this appears to be true. Those moments for me seem to revolve around loss, death, birth (or seeing my children’s faces for the first time and knowing they were meant to be a part of our family) and really intense conversations such as when B said he may want a divorce. They are moments in which I can still recount conversations, almost word for word, and the feelings that accompanied those exchanges. I remember the smells, the background noise, and the stillness of the air as the force of the words hit me; sometimes driving me downward and sometimes making me soar. Pain and joy are what I have found at these times; usually one or the other but rarely both.

I have come to understand that we recognize these momentous moments because they seem to have a life of their own, rising up to meet us, with the force of a tsunami, and we have no choice but to acknowledge their arrival. For me, recognition has often come in the form of  a swift deep ache in the pit on my stomach which threatened to drop me to my knees.It can happen with a look or with the first word. I can count on both hands those moments which sent a shiver up my spine which then exploded into my brain. A realization that something was about to change because of what I was experiencing or witnessing right before my own eyes and the fear that often accompanied it.

Yet, as I have aged I have also come to see that sometimes we only recognize the significance of these momentous moments later on down the line in our lives. Those for me are the hardest…these later recognitions because often I think I would have chosen to do things differently or respond in a different manner if I had understood how life altering that space in time would become later on. This recognition is making me examine how I respond to things NOW so I don’t miss those really important and few chances that we have to step on a different path in the future because of how we behave in those moments of the here and now.

Sometimes I wonder if it would be better or worse to have more of these momentous moments. Would they come mundane if they were to occur more often? Would we fail to feel that deep love or sense of failure if these occasions showed up in our lives too often? Would we forget that sense of appreciation? And if these moments only happened once in our lives would we always wonder if THIS WAS THAT MOMENT and never just live in the moment? Would we feel a sense of disappointment if that was all there was and we knew there were no more possibilities for these moments to occur?

I don’t have the answers to these questions but this I know…that whether we look for these moments or not and whether we recognize them for what they are; they are the moments that invite us to change if we just have the courage to do so. How we respond is up to us and so is what we take away from these times. We have the power to make these moments whatever we choose and we also know that because life is fluid how we view them in the future may be quite different than in the past. And lets hope that we give them the attention they so deserve.

Copyright CLD 4/4/16

Getting Back To Life

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When I started this blog I made a promise to myself that I would write everyday and have pretty much stuck to that come hell or high water. I made this commitment out of a primal need to express myself after B had talked about a “maybe” divorce. This was/is my safe place to vent those things weighing heavily on my mind. It was/is a place I could use to say the words I needed to say but not always to B because they were too painful and raw. Blogging was my escape from life in the sense I could look at my life as if I was an outsider and consider it as such. I thank everyone who has read what I have written and given me a nudge, a kind word, or pointed things out that I needed to consider. So many people have helped me on this journey.

Recently however, I have decided I must get back in the game of my life. In my “real” life I write magazine articles and since the “maybe divorce” I put those assignments on hold. I also stopped working on the three novels and a child’s picture book that are all in various forms of disarray. While the blog has been helpful in that it helped ensure that I didn’t check out all together, it has also taken up time that I probably need to use to complete what I started and finish SOMETHING… ANYTHING. So while I will continue writing, maybe still on a almost daily basis, I have decided to allow myself a little flexibility. We shall see what happens!

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Of course, now that I have written this I will probably blog more than ever…go figure!

 

 

Christmas This Year..Think Heifer International

Yeah, I know, this post is going to sound like one of those poor-oh-so-whiny and  spoiled American blogs and today that is what is truly is. I know. I get it. But today I will put myself out there and hang my head in shame if it gets just one of you over to the Heifer site to make a donation to this worthwhile organization. Thanks.

Christmas has become a fiasco in this house. Every year the pile of presents seems to get bigger while the actual needs get smaller. The holiday had become grand that no one can remember exactly what they received because there was just too much to process and catalog at one time.

I confess this is all my fault. Unlike my ex-brother-in-law who takes his kids shopping for a new toy every Friday (ugh); I am one of those parents who rarely buys something for my kids unless it is their birthday or Christmas. The rest of the year…forget it.  Yet, I have discovered that this parenting philosophy of mine also works to my disadvantage because I guilt myself into believing I have to make up for all those “NO’S” during the rest of the year and so at Christmas I am like Santa on steroids…disgusting…especially when there are so many children in the world just wanting to have a meal to fill their empty stomachs. Over the years my travels have pressed into my psyche the enormous needs throughout the world and in this country too.Buying toys or providing food…the seriousness of this weighs heavily on my mind during the holiday season and throughout the year. Really a child going hungry should not be happening anywhere in this day and age. But it does all too often and we all suffer because of it because who is to say what that child could have grown up to achieve? Perhaps they would have been the one to provide the missing “ingredient” to make sustainable cold fusion a reality? Or maybe they would have become a person who promotes unity and healing throughout the world? Maybe someone like Gandhi? Or maybe they would have practiced the art of a local healer whose ability to diagnose keeps her community alive? So much potential talent snuffed out and wasted due to weather, politics, poor infrastructure, greedy middlemen or assholes who intentionally starve their citizens while their pockets and bellies grow fat.

While I cannot change all the problems in the world I can change them in my little corner. So after much decision and debate this year we are trying something new. Each child will get four presents; one in each category: SOMETHING I WANT; SOMETHING I NEED, SOMETHING TO WEAR and SOMETHING TO READ. They will also pick out a animal to donate through Heifer International to a family whose life will be changed because they now have a way to sustain themselves and make money as their animals procreate and grow. And if you are interested you can contribute too. Visit Heifer International and learn more about this worthwhile charity. Or do something for your neighbors in need. Whatever we each do we will be making the change that we all want to see and that is the best gift we can give ourselves in a world gone mad.

http://www.heifer.org/

 

Renovation

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As the months have gone by I have come to realize that a “maybe divorce” is analogous to the dismantling of a house. Most “maybe divorces” appear to me to work in this way:

1.You take down the house slowly brick-by-brick until you reach the foundation and realize that no amount of structural engineering can save it. You then buy two very civilized but individual abodes one stuffed with everything from the marriage and the other devoid of all that it stood for.

2. You blow up the entire structure leaving a giant gaping smoldering hole in the ground with both parties going their separate ways clutching whatever they could find in the ruins. Little is wanted or salvageable.

3. Or you renovate over time; adding on a little here or taking way something there, until something new materializes that you recreated together.

Our “maybe divorce” appears to be going the renovation route which is in some ways not surprising. After all, we have built two houses and a winery during our time together. Our shared history includes a hand-dug out basement using just shovels, our bare hands and a wheelbarrow crafted just like smugglers tunneling underneath the US boarder.We are good at sawing, hammering, planting and building huge retaining walls to hold back all the dirt. We excel at seeing one thing and turning it into another. Our life together has been one big “honey-do” list. And then, just as a project came to fruition, we would always move for the sake of B’s career. All the time and effort down the drain but at the same time offering a chance to start over and reinvent our lives.

Today we live in a tract home. It’s identical to so many others on our street. Nothing outside gives an impression of who lives under the eaves. Being architecturally unique is no longer part of who we are and I miss that. Our renovation seems anti-climatic as we chip away at the old broken tile that covers the surface of our lives and pull up the carpet hoping against hope that there is an undiscovered wood floor residing beneath. And while we find some cool relics from the past as we dig around, the treasure we seek seems to be so well hidden that sometimes it seems as if we may never find it despite our best intentions.

Of course, all this renovation comes with a price. The foundation we once thought stable needs shoring up. We fight among ourselves over what we keep and what we let go. The professional “fixers”charge by the hour and cost overruns are the norm. Load bearing walls stay high while other less-necessary walls come down only to go up in some different form again. And the construction dust/debris covers every surface of our lives as we work within the confines of the boundaries of the house to create something that has a better flow. And so it goes.

Yet, recently it came to my attention that with all the care we are putting into our new creation we did forget one tiny but important detail.  We forgot to ask the real question…the most important one…is this the right house in the right location in first place?

I suspect only time and the heart will tell.

 

 

 

YELLING AT MY TOMBSTONE

As you know when I started this blog it was because my husband came to me and stated he might want a divorce. One of his main issues with me and my relationship with my family is that I was YELLING…a lot.

If the truth be told I had just gotten into a habit of relating to my family members that way. It was a bad habit and a habit that was destructive to everyone’s psyches in this family. So I vowed to change.

I am pleased to say that being mindful, meditating, doing personal self care and personal work on my own inner being has helped me tremendously. Since the end of July I have yelled just 5 times and out of those times  twice I caught and stopped myself after only a few words. It has not been easy. Yet, the rewards are huge. Not only do I feel better about myself and my life, I see a softness in my family that was not there before. Paul is less depressed….can I say that not yelling has helped him. Absolutely. There is a much calmer atmostphere here and the kids no longer feel like they are walking on eggshells around me.

I regret that I didn’t take this path a long time ago. The damage my yelling has caused (no, I never did the “you are stupid” calling names type of yelling but the “why do I have to tell you a 100 times to pick up your shoes” kind) is immense. And for that I am sorry. For I don’t want to have an epitaph that reads “SHE WAS THE WORLD’S GREATEST YELLER” written across my tombstone. What I want is “SHE WAS A HAPPY PERSON” engraved on it equipped with a built-in motion detector laser so when anyone walks by, the song DON’T WORRY, BE HAPPY automatically plays. And I think I am finally on my way to living up to those things I do want memorialized about myself when I pass on.

P.S. Yesterday I saw this on Facebook and thought it was just perfect. So the explanation says whenever my mother was asked for her special Christmas cookie recipe she would say “Over My Dead Body”

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Hatred Is Not The Answer-Terrorists

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I’ve been to Paris three times during my life. The first was almost thirty years ago during our honeymoon, the second time was about five years later and recently we went two summers ago. Like most major cities, I have tended to avoid Paris because there are just too many people in too small of a place. I feel the same way about London, Beijing and New York. So when I frequent these places, I am already on edge. But usually then I meet people who have stories to tell, tears to fall and a love of life that is extraordinary and somehow these big cities become almost magical because I am reminded just how similar we all are in our shared dreams and in our desires.

The last time we were in Paris we were traveling with our children. Around the corner from our hotel was a bank of small restaurants and sandwich-to-go types of places. We entered one of the latter. It was a small place and behind the counter were three men who appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent and spoke Arabic to one another. When they heard us talking with our distinctive American accents immediately their faces hardened. Then when I went to order for our family all of a sudden the place was CLOSED. They were no longer serving they told us. Yet, after we walked outside all of a sudden they were serving again to the lady who ordered a tomato baguette. So I went back in to order only to be told again that they were not open even though there were more new customers being helped. I was mad and sad about the situation but what was worse is that my children were witnessing this and wondered why they would not let us buy their food. And so I told them this:

“For some reason these men do not like us. I do not know why and neither do you. If I had to guess I would say that they were probably hurt or their relatives were probably hurt in some way by American policies or forces. They are probably still upset or angry by this. Of course, we will never know the real reason and I am guessing only to try to understand why someone would hate us even though we have never ourselves done anything to them. So this is why we cannot hate because hatred begets hatred. Anger creates more anger and people do things to one another that they should not. So I want you remember today not because of what happened but because of how we will handle it. For if we let it, the small thing they did to us will someday make us think that we can do something to someone we think has wronged us. But what is most important here is that we must remember that our lives as human beings are linked together in so many mysterious and interesting ways to people we know and people we don’t. If we allow this link of distrust and anger into the chain of humanity that we carry with us it will only create sorrow both for us and others that we will unintentionally effect by this hostility. So we must smile at those men and show them that we see their humanity even though they do not see ours.”

And so we did.

I wish I could say something changed and one of the men smiled back but that did not happen.

Tonight as I sat and watched the news pouring out of the City Of Lights I was dismayed as I listened to the political pundits demanding retribution, retaliation and encouraging a decrease in our hard fought freedoms (as if that will make things safer!) so the world will be a “better place” and I wished that they had been with us that day in Paris. For while the experience of being hated just because of where you come from was a bitter disappointment; I also know that my children learned a valuable lesson on that street in Paris that day. They realized that hatred is not the answer. I hope that calm heads will prevail in Paris and that human beings throughout the world will remember this truth too as they struggle to find a way through the carnage that they have seen and endured.

Sit with the Frustration

frus·tra·tion
frəˈstrāSH(ə)n/
noun
  1. the feeling of being upset or annoyed, especially because of inability to change or achieve something.

As I go back over the notes I have written during my therapy sessions one thing is abundantly clear. My therapist keeps reinterating that I need to sit with the frustration I am feeling and just be. Another thing that remains abundantly clear is I STILL struggle with this. I guess I am rather like a two year old… I want what I want, when I want it. And this means NOW.images-2

Coming from a family where life and death hung in the balance by only the newest that science could offer; that lack of control and unsettledness continues to effect me in ways that I am still unpacking and just beginning to understand. When you have life-threatening illness at your doorstep for years it doesn’t stop banging on the door just because the patient is doing better. In my case I was not the very ill child, my sister was. But in those days parents tried to protect their other children from “the truth” believing that they shouldn’t have those burdens put on them at such a young age. However, in my case, the lack of true understanding and knowledge lead to envisioning things in my mind that were probably worse than any real facts would have been. And basically since that time I have spent my life trying to mitigate surprises and always planning ahead. Frankly, this just doesn’t appear to be compatable with sitting in the silence, sitting with the unknown or sitting with frustration very well. I want purpose and I want action…NOW DAMN IT!

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Making this “sitting with frustration” even worse is that I am suppose to wait until B makes his own discoveries about himself and his own truths instead of spoon feeding my perception of the truth to him. His process is suppose to be his own process but like a famous Hollywood director I have the script already written and filmed in my mind about how the scene is suppose to go. And because feelings are on the periphary for him which makes any sort of immediate action of self-discovery difficult; I am afraid that this film is going to be WAY OVER BUDGET both emotionally and financially.

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And so I sit. Tired and frustrated. Tired of sitting. Tired of waiting. Tired of thinking about all this sitting when suddenly it occurs to me that B is probably just as tired of waiting for me to just sit. What a gift it could be it I could just be comfortable being in this limbo and in doing so freeing him up to make his own discoveries on his own timetable instead of feeling the silent pressure of my discomfort in sitting having to sit with my frustration. This realization sends a shiver of freedom down my stiff spine as I contemplate what it would be like to let others set their own timetables instead of trying to get them run on mine. And just like a passenger waiting for a delayed train getting annoyed at the situation isn’t going to change a thing and it certainly isn’t going to get the train there any faster. So today..a breakthrough… I finally “get” that I must tolerate this frustration without disappointment or anger because in the end I am not in control of it anyway.

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Minimum Days

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All across my school district

I hear the mothers sigh

Another minimum day for the kids

Oh why…oh why… oh why?

If they are forced to wake them up

Before the birds do fly

Surely the district can keep them there

Until the afternoon arrives

But no you will bring your kids

For half a day at best

Then you will turn around and fetch them

While your house remains a mess

The usually quite afternoon

Becomes quite the verbal brawl

As kids run and out of the house

Poor mom, the referee of all

And so I would curse the district

This idea put into place

But I’m too tired and weary

As I run back and forth in haste

Trying To Find Our New Roles In Life

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Throughout our lives we have roles we take on. Some have been forced upon us and some we take on willingly. Many of these roles we discard as time goes by, some we reinvent in a slightly different form, while some we seem to keep until the day we die. Somehow the latter seem to be the ones that we like the least and yet we retain them the longest.

This weekend was difficult for us. I think that when you are over 50 and going through a “maybe divorce” that one of the biggest issues is the discarding of roles and the discovery of new slots out of which you are now going to behave. After operating from one set of expectations for thirty years it is difficult to recognize and accept new patterns of doing things and unfamiliar ways of thinking. Years of acting one way are difficult to channel into something else and difficult for “the other” to accept.

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I know that in your 50’s it is suppose to be a time of gains. Money, richer relationships, second homes, etc. For me, it feels like a time of discarding stuff including those parts of myself I no longer need or wish to operate from. As I take out this “stuff” I am forced to really look at it and contemplate whether it is of value to me anymore. As a result, I am feeling lighter and freer than I ever have before. But that doesn’t mean it is easy especially for the other person involved. Honesty, in the form of being true to myself, has moved to the forefront of my life which at times hurts B. And while I dislike seeing B feeling uncomfortable and knowing that I have caused his discomfort; at this point in my life I am not sure that I care anymore as long as I know that the truth of who I am…who he is…will make things better in the long run. But what exactly is BETTER? What does that mean?

I guess I won’t know the definition of BETTER until we reach the end of whatever all this is. And I’m okay with that because either way whatever changes I have made I suspect will have led me to a more authentic me.

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And this relationship? It will either be or it won’t but in the end I will be all that I have envisioned and right now that is what feels important.

Cameras on Stop Lights

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The other day I noticed that a recently installed stop light had a camera nestled on top of the cross beam. This got me concerned so I decided to pay more attention to my surroundings. As I drove around town, I was amazed at the number of mounted “spy cameras” I noticed throughout the city. When did this happen I wondered? When did I, as a citizen of this city and as a citizen of the United States, give up my right to travel freely throughout my city without “Big Brother” watching me. I didn’t vote to allow this. I didn’t sign some sort of waiver. I didn’t agree to a bond measure that would pay for these mounted cameras…so how did this happen? When did it happen?  And more importantly, how are these shots being used by my police department?

Today it is cameras on lights. What will it be tomorrow? Who controls this information that is obtained and what do they do with it? How long is it stored?

I am sad. I am disturbed and disillusioned. And I wonder who forgot to ask us if this type of intrusion on our personal lives is okay. No one asked me but if they had I would say NO it is not okay to monitor me, my friends and my loved ones. This is the United States of America. Home of the free…at least it is suppose to be.