CHEATER LIVES…WHILE I SLOWLY DIE

I have spent the past week in Texas taking the kids to one doctor appointment after another. It has been trying.Leaving my kids is the hardest thing I have ever done and they are depressed and worried…I can’t even process their sadness because it feels like a tidal wave knocking me down deep into the sand. And several times, suddenly, when we hug the waterworks start even though I try to be brave in front of them. I guess that is life. Floods start where they wish and end at some far remote location and rarely can we control them. Mother Nature’s way of cleaning out some stuck areas on the earth.

My fibromyalgia has also been kicking my butt…stress does that to you.

Meanwhile, B is busy calling NHI. What he doesn’t know is that one of her friends disapproves and has been letting me know what is happening. Appears that they will be getting married soon after we divorce.

One thing that has shocked me this week is that Paul said to me, “you know you don’t have to join Facebook to see profiles.” Seems he had searched for the mistress quite a while ago and found her. He said to me, “I look at how poor she was when you met and now all the nice things she has thanks to Dad. She is a GOLD DIGGER and he is going to lose his retirement.” Of course, B wanted to blame me  but like I told him…”her pages said it all. The pics of you two together, the engagement ring you gave her, her Yves St. Laurent boxes with expensive birthday presents.” The lovely thing is that I don’t have to say anything because Paul saw it all for himself and sees her for who she is and for what she is. All thanks to her own words.

Tonight I will start the long drive home driving a UHaul and towing my car behind. It pisses me off that B refuses to pay for this move and won’t spring for a POD so I don’t have to drive a huge UHaul. Really…after all the cheating, lies and moves and 32 years of marriage and he won’t do the right thing to make this just a tad easier on me.

But truly what hurts the most is that I am so easily replaceable. One woman out and another woman in. I am losing my family, my life, my happiness…everything…while he destroys our family with no price to pay. He’s in love, has our kids, has our house, and life looks pretty rosy for him while I am left driving a UHaul…alone…the wind withering and plucking away at my soul on Interstate 10 due to five years of lies and chaos. But I have promised myself that while I may feel weak at the start of this trip with each passing mile I will gain strength and clarity as I crest the hills heading for my home and my new life.

 

Marine Layer-10 Minute Poem Challenge

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The Marine Layer

Sleeps out past the shore

Creating a demarcation

Where the horizon meets the sea

It is a layer of dense, still clouds

Which lay alongside each other

In protective layers

Like you and me

Bonded together in the same place

At the same time

With an invisible line

That keeps us

One from the other

 

Dark and gloomy

You are and will ever be

Waiting for the darkness of night

When you can come

Back to the land

Unnoticed and unseen

Except for me

Waiting in a life raft

To pull you out of yourself….

And your self-imposed middle-aged crisis

 

Alas, I cannot reach you

Because the glow from the prism

Of the lighthouse

Is extinguished

Leaving a rudderless craft

Which bangs against the sharp rocks

Of your soul

A piece of you

That wants to see my boat

Splinter into a thousand wooden toothpicks

So that I drown in the light-less waters

Of your silent cruelty

Which wants to live alone

Or just without me

 

Down To The Wire

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Since my marriage is coming to an end it is odd how everything seems magnified. Often it feels like I am looking at life through a kaleidoscope no longer filled with vibrant and colorful pieces of glass but rather with carbon…cold, dark and black, which, under the right conditions could turn into diamonds but in reality are just lumps of coal.

Everything now seems to be on a time warp…minutes moving quicker towards the end of this relationship and my family as I know it. Because of this what I seem to be consumed with what will be seen as the LASTS. The movie we just took the kids too which will be our LAST seen together as a family. The dinner we went to last Friday the number of which that will take place in the future quickly dwindling down to nothing. The countdown to Christmas which will be the LAST holiday that we spend together as an intact unit.

Last night Gracie had her Christmas Concert at school. I had saved a seat for B who was running late but reluctantly gave it up to an old lady who there to watch her granddaughter play the cello. I thought that I might as well because soon B would not be sitting beside me sharing our lives together in these soft and lovely sorts of ways. I might just as well get used to it now I reckoned. And so I sat alone, my eyes squeezed tightly shut so that the tears could not dance down my face to strains of the Nutcracker led by a slightly off-key bass cello .

I took off my wedding ring the other day for it has become too painful to look at throughout the day. For instead of the brilliant glow it once cast out into the world now it seems as if only failure shimmers bright when the light hits the stone. It sits on my dresser in a dull brassy Chairman Mao box that I bought while in Jinan at a flea market. I wanted to buy it then, not because it was beautiful, but because it represented a time where individuality and beauty were eliminated and voices of those with “strong personalities” were buried in graves deep within the earth. Personalities like mine that were considered forceful and threatening by people like the “Great Leaders” and “My Husband” who did not want truth, authenticity and questioning authority to prevail.

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Perhaps someday I will take that ring and combine it with another to create something that is truly reflective of who I am today. Something tarnished and slightly jaded but also sassy, beautiful, and oh-so unique. A ring whose light shines true within a circle of knowledge about myself that is pure and unbroken and who has once again become a woman secure in the belief that her light should be celebrated not wasted on those who do not see her true value. For I know without a doubt that someday in the near future that a new creation will be sitting on the finger of this woman, who has survived all the pressure needed to create something and someone who is ever-lasting, strong and priceless out of something that once felt just a lump of coal. I look forward to that day.

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Veterans of War

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Last night I eyed the little old man sitting across from me in the Taco Bell. He was wearing a WWII veteran cap full of medals and although almost ancient he sat ramrod straight as if an officer might call him out for sloppy posture. In his hand was a Sudoku book and he was busy placing the numbers when he wasn’t looking around the place. Suddenly, he looked directly at me, his shiny blue eyes piercing my soul and gave me a smile that warmed my breaking heart. Then he went back to his game.

I had come to Taco Bell after sitting alone at a table in a restaurant waiting for my fellow book lovers to show up for our annual party and book exchange. As I waited tears would well up as I thought about the previous evening when B and I decided to divorce after I realized there was no hope that his feelings for me would ever change. I was devastated and contemplating life alone or, God forbid, someday dating.

Sitting there in a room full of strangers I felt more alone than I have in my entire life. Crazy thoughts of “my family would be better off without me than putting them through this ” circulated around in my brain, and although I knew I would never act upon them, tears leaked silently as I contemplated how my 30+ year marriage had reached such a gut-wrenching low. As I scanned the email to ensure I was at the right place I realized I was a week early and decided I needed to escape all the holiday merriment going on around me. That is how I ended up at the Taco Bell across the street.

I watched the old veteran for several minutes. He looked happy yet I felt a sense of loneliness cradling his well-worn soul. I decided to take a chance and invite myself to dinner. When I asked if I could join him he looked delighted. He introduced himself.

“Ken?” I asked, wishing that my soon-to-be hearing aids had arrived.

“No Kent,” came the reply. “Like Clark Kent, superhero, although I am afraid the red suit would look a little wrinkly at my age.”

We both chuckled.

Kent was 92. He had been married to Doris for 65 years and she had died four years ago. They used to come to Taco Bell and sit across from one another enjoying each other’s company while playing Sudoku. He missed her and the life they had built together.

“What is my purpose here?” he asked me soon after introductions were made. “I just want to know why I am still here and what am I supposed to do with the rest of my life. I have no clue.”

“Well, that is obvious,” I replied. “You are suppose to be sitting here eating dinner with a sad middle-aged woman and telling me the story of your life.”

And so he did. He spoke of being too young to join the war when the United States was attacked on December 7, 1941, and how two years later, on December 7, 1943, the principal of the school told all the young men that he would grant them their diplomas, a semester shy of graduation, if they would only go and serve their country. Being the good All-American boy that he was; Kent went and signed up that day.

When he went home to tell his father, a WWI veteran that he enlisted; his father told him that he would regret it, but he didn’t believe him until his first Christmas far away from home, with guns firing in the distance, with regrets that flew fast and furious like bullets around his head. On that wintry night narrowly escaping death he realized his old man was right after all. He just wanted to be home.

“When staring death in the eye, men act in three different ways. There are those who want to flee, those who cry, and those who pray. I was one of the later but if I am honest there were times I experienced all three as I fought in the Pacific,” he explained.

Kent still marveled at his first airplane ride and laughed as he re-counted his complete and utter embarrassment at getting air sick and throwing up in a hat in front of the pilot. He talked about endless days at sea and wondering if their big boat would be someone’s prize target. And he narrated the story of a fellow veteran who was in the Merchant Marine, whose ship was stopped by the Japanese, after delivering supplies to the troops. For an entire hour the enemy shined a light on the American boat until turning off the light and slipping into the night.

“Why didn’t they kill us?” his friend asked the commander.

“We were high in the water so they knew we didn’t have any supplies and they didn’t want to waste their ammo on us. They just wanted to give us a bit of a scare,” came the reply.

Eventually, Kent ended up in Saipan surrounded by water and the Japanese. He recalled how the enemy would slip into camp and night with a wire garrote and strangle an unsuspecting solider and how they learned to walk with their back to the huts so no one could attack them from behind. But by far the saddest day of the war for Kent was the day a plane load of soldiers were flying home soon after the war had ended. As the plane took off over the base personnel could hear the sputtering of the plane and watched as soldiers tried to parachute to safety only to hit the roofs of the buildings because there was not enough time for their chutes to open.  The ones who didn’t jump drown as the plane went down.

“A whole plane load of boys who had survived the war and were jubilant to be going home only to die as they were taking off. It never made sense to me,” Kent said with a far-away look in his eyes.

We spent two hours talking about the mundane: weather, walnuts (he was a farmer) and dogs and important topics like war and marriage.

When asked how he stayed married for 65  years he offered this advice:

“You wake up every morning, look in the mirror and tell yourself that come hell or high water, and am going to love this person no matter what. When you get to be my age you realize you just don’t remember those bad days but you do remember the good and the good far outnumber the bad anyway. Why hang onto bad feelings when you don’t have to?”

I told him my story. Married 30+ years, six kids, travel, building houses together and multiple moves to a man I had adored until he no longer adored me and did everything in his power to try to get me to leave. The night before, I had read him what he had written a year ago about how he loved to feel my touch and how much it meant to him. When I asked if he still felt that way he said, “No I don’t…. I’m just being honest”  which is his newest mantra. It was then I knew that it was time to end, what had been for the most part, the happiest years of my life with the person I adored most in the world. This veteran of marriage was being discharged.

“That husband of yours must be crazy,” Kent said quietly as he leaned forward and looked into my eyes. “Too bad he doesn’t realize that he’s got a good woman if she comes up and invites an old man to dinner. My wife used to do that too. Believe me when you are my age you are lonely and you appreciate someone taking the time to show you a little love and concern. But don’t worry, a nice good-looking gal like you will find love again. Just don’t waste your love on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.”

Sometimes it is amazing how God puts someone who we need right in our path when we need them which implants a beautiful facet of multi-colored lights within our soul.Yet, I have found that most of the time it is up to us to seek out for ourselves what it is that we need whether it be companionship, a safe haven or the quite assurance of a hug. For it is in the seeking that we find out what we truly need, that we become confident and brave, and it’s how we realize that we are never alone in this world even though it often feels that way.

Thank you Kent for being my guiding star last night. Your light helped to lead me out of the darkness into a world that is open to possibilities for this old broad. Your purpose in life seems fairly obvious to me…you are a beacon of hope offering your light to those that will take the time to listen.  I can hardly wait to see you next week when we meet for dinner again.  You truly are a great first “date” and you have given hope for the future.

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Woodie 2

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You want to make love to me.

I……. see

Is this to bring us closer?

Or to confirm to yourself that the fireworks are not there?

Is this to see what you have already promised yourself?

That nothing I can do is good enough

Including sex

Or are you just horny?

A horny man with a wife

Laying beside you

And heaven forbid

You would not want to break your marriage vows

But you have if only in your head

You want all life can offer

A fifty-five year old man

The sex, the admiration, and everything your way

You want love passion and more fireworks

Yet, you have none for me

No love, no passion

Only a big fat woodie

Or do you really have a hooker in your bed

And is that woman me?

If so…

Leave the $1,000 on the bedside table

And get the fuck out

Lost At Sea

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We are all sailors on the sea. We are told that we are captains of our own ships. We have the ability to sink our vessels or fight the high winds and 30 ft squalls to bring ourselves into port safely.I used to think this anyway. With this “maybe divorce” looming I am not so sure that I am my own captain anymore. Unfortunately, it appears that I let someone else take my wheel and they are slowly taking me down with my own ship.

For numerous years I have been lucky. The storms that have hit my married life have been small and few.They have been manageable and by hoisting a few sails we swiftly left those muddy ripples and sailed into calm waters. But should we have? Should we have taken every escape that came available to us instead of staying in the deep seas and bailing the waters that might capsize us? In fighting mother nature do you learn lessons about togetherness and working as a team that we missed by spending our time in spring showers rather than hurricanes? Maybe we would have known what to do when this single but mighty hurricane hit had we fought more side-by-side battles while at sea.

You would think I would know what to do. That surviving at sea would be in my blood; for I come from a long line of fishermen. Strong, brave folk who fought the weather and the ocean creatures to eek out a living stuffing cod into barrels. More than half of those men died young leaving young widows and children behind. Their names decay on plaques that dot the landscape in fishing towns throughout Canada and New England. They were Lost At Sea and so am I. Wheelless and rudderless I am sucked down into the riptides of a marriage that knows not where it’s going, but if it sinks, will ultimately leave the children behind and washed over by sadness.

Yet today, I refuse to abandon ship, standing by the captain as the waves wash over us. And I am scared, wet and shivering with buckets of tears rolling down my face, the saltwater stinging my skin, and I am, wanting for one brief second, just to feel the warmth that used to be an everyday part of my life envelop me once more.

Finally I pray… like most cowards looking into the eyes of the scary unknown…wanting some sort of guarantee that it all was for naught and there is some sort of salvation in the end.

“Our Father…” I begin, my teeth chattering…seawater filling my lungs as the waves toss me… separating me from the captain… slowly taking me under… and then… finally a long way away.

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