I was chatting with a colleague at an after-hours event, when he asked me how things were going. He was divorced, and I knew he was asking about my personal life.
“Ah, it’s all right,” I moaned. “There is light at the end of the tunnel.”
He looked at me and asked, “Have you ever been afraid you’d always be alone?”
“No,” I replied. “But thank you for introducing that suggestion into my impressionable mind.”
“I remember one night when I was home alone, shortly after I’d moved out . . . it suddenly dawned on me that I might be alone forever. It was a terrifying realization.”
Truthfully, this thought had never occurred to me. As I explained to my colleague, I have my children and my friends, and I always just assumed that life was going to be better once he was gone. I mean emotionally better, lighter. How could I possibly fear being alone when I was lonelier in my marriage than I can ever remember feeling before?
Sure, I had plenty of fears — I had been terrified of telling our children, our close-knit neighborhood and family members. Being alone wasn’t one of them…yet.
We sat down in the living room on a snowy Saturday morning to tell the children that we didn’t want to be together anymore, and that Daddy would be moving out. It should have been obvious to me that he would throw me under the bus: he clarified, “this is what Mommy wants.”
My younger was emotional; my older merely shrugged. The discussion was over almost before it began, and I later wondered why I had held so much fear about this moment. It was certainly something I had never wanted to do. I never wanted to have to tell my children that what they knew as a family could no longer remain intact. And yet somehow, at least my oldest, had known it was coming.
The children and I put on our wraps and went out to play in the snow. My older child, my daughter, was met at the playground by her best friend who, upon hearing the news, lamented, “That is so sad. My parents promised never to get a divorce.”
“Yes,” I said. “It is very sad.” I explained that I never would have wanted this for my children nor for myself. “You see the way your parents treat one another: they talk with each other, touch and laugh together. Your parents are best friends. I would have loved that kind of partnership. But, as you’ve seen, we didn’t have that.”
Children have such a beautiful and authentic way of expressing themselves. I did my best to match that authenticity in sharing with my daughter’s friend, and on a level that all three children might hear and understand. In so doing, I was immediately reassured that the three of us, my children and I, would be all right after all.
I knew there would be difficult conversations, hurt and pointed questions from my children. What I did not anticipate was my own confidence and clarity in speaking to them. My own honesty and directness in this and other teaching moments has been a pleasant door open to trust and dialogue.
I haven’t posted for a few days, partly because I’ve been making some major transitions (in real time), which I’ve alluded to in recent posts. So here it is: I left my job. Wednesday was my last day. And I haven’t written since earlier in the week because I’ve struggled with what to say about that.
To briefly recap the past year of my life: I got divorced, turned forty and quit my job. On the surface, this may appear to be a mid-life crisis. I am officially a cliche. Ewwww!
And another funny thing about this is that I’ve been jumping back in forth in time and, in telling the story of my failed marriage, I haven’t even gotten to the part about my fortieth birthday. Man, good luck following all this!
I’ve seen so many people do this: they get divorced, and then they realize that everything else in their life rubs them wrong, as well. It’s like they need to shed their skin or other things in life become like a proverbial rash. They redecorate, job hop, screw around or whatever seemingly immature or crazy things they need to do to lash out.
And now I’m realizing that maybe, just maybe, all those fools I’ve seen behave in this cliched way simply decided that life is too short to be unhappy. Yes, this is also a cliche. I seem to be full of them today. So once they’ve made the step of deciding they don’t need to be unhappy in their primary relationship, they begin to look at the other aspects of their life that are causing them grief and make changes in those areas, too.
For me, my ex finally got a job. It’s a small step and a small job. But I’m hoping it leads to him regaining his confidence and becoming the force of talent, skill and creativity he once was. This man has a lot of gifts — unfortunately, he undercuts himself all the time. But the point is, he got a job and can, ostensibly, provide a small amount of child support to me and cover the children’s health insurance and that lifted just enough weight from my shoulders so that I no longer felt confined.
I’ve actually been working, on the creative level, at finding a new job for several weeks. I was noticing how many people seem to have more balance and more income, and I’ve decided that I can be one of those people. They are not inherently smarter or more educated than I am — it’s simply a matter of re-packaging my transferrable skills. And I wanted to give myself the time to really focus hard on the type of opportunity I’m seeking, rather than rashly jump into something thinking of it as a foot in the door.
So I jumped ship. I am blessed to be able to manage for a couple of months before I need to do something desperate. And I’m likely to be more open and available to spot broader opportunities by giving myself this space.
Send positive vibes! And send contacts if you know of mentors I should talk to or connections I should make. I’m both terrified and thrilled for this next chapter in my life.
It’s a little frightening to contemplate this, but… I learned as much about what I want in a man in one afternoon with a decent chap than I learned about what I don’t want in a decade of marriage to my ex.
Sure, love is something we feel. But, more importantly, it’s something we do.
It’s something Stephen Covey talks about in his 7 Habits training. And there are actually several books by this title.
But I’m here to write about how this applies to men.
Men can be very charming and sweet and well-intended. They’ll say things that make your heart swoon. And the truth is, they often mean those things when they say them . . . it’s just that they maybe got busy with something else and forgot. We’ve all met guys who can talk smooth and woo any woman they meet.
And that’s exactly why you have to pay attention to their actions.
One of my neighbors is burly, acerbic and gruff. In fact, he’s more than a little intimidating before you get to know him. By all accounts, this is not the type of man one might consider even dating. But he is married to a sweet and strong woman who adores him. How is this? If you could just imagine he had a volume and you turned it all the way down, you would see that his actions are constantly full of love. He has remodeled their home on evenings and weekends; he is obsessed with the quality of the lawn; he took three days vacation to plan, prepare and host his wife’s 40th birthday party; he does anything she asks. In short, he treats her like a queen.
In your next interaction, don’t get so caught up in the words. Sure, his words are cues, and the conversation has got to be good. But his actions will tell you everything you need to know. Does he have great manners? Do you feel completely amazing when you’re with him because of how he behaves toward you? Does he speak kindly of others? Step back from the passion and fantasy and infatuation and really observe. How he treats you, treats others and treats his family are important signs of how he’s going to treat you and others in the future.
Love is blind. I was so in love with my husband during our courtship that I took him for his word and missed important cues that might have saved me (or at least prepared me for) a lot of heartache later. If I had been paying closer attention to what he was doing than what he was saying, I might have seen some of those disasters coming.
I learned a lot in a decade of marriage to my ex. I developed several positive habits, and I loved the feelings I would get early in our relationship when I realized some wonderful change my husband had brought about in me. Love transforms. And that’s beautiful.
But relationships can also wreak great damage and destruction.
We all come with baggage, expectations or perspectives imposed or imprinted upon us through our upbringing, life experiences and major relationships.
Following are examples of the emotional baggage from my marriage that I need to shed:
I’ve let myself go and am undesirable.
I’ve come clean about the fact that I’ve put on a few pounds (like nearly 30) since having a second child or turning 35 or whatever reason / excuse I give myself. My ex used to tell others (I learned after I ended our marriage) that I “had let myself go.” He constantly judged others based on their weight. He made a joke of taking photos of me only when I was eating (as if to show that was all I did). And his lagging libido didn’t exactly make me feel desirable, either. One way he could feel good about himself was his body — he was sexy and fit and attractive, even at more than a decade my senior.
Truth is, I am well-proportioned and attractive — I come from good stock, and my DNA allows me the blessing of being able to wear a few extra pounds better than most people can. I’ve had more than a few guys (and a few gals) indicate that they find me sexy or attractive. Sure, I’d like to release some extra poundage, but I don’t let that stand in the way of living to the fullest. I accept myself for the sexy, curvy woman that I am, while working to create positive, healthy change from here.
Another of the ways my ex made up for his own insecurities (he was not a good earner) was to scorn me for having wants and desires. Anyone who knows me is aware that I’m not a bigger- or more-is-better kind of gal. I live lean and green. I like having things around me that are nice, that function, that are beautiful and give me feelings of comfort, peace and security. I want a new car not because my old one is not good enough, but because it’s falling apart and I don’t feel safe. I’d like to take some road trips, and I’m not comfortable venturing outside of the city in the current state of my jalopy. I like receiving gifts because I feel considered. I like wearing nice sunglasses because I’m more likely to keep track of and take care of them than I am a drugstore pair, which ultimately saves money in the long run. I like to travel internationally and consider the experience an investment.
My ex never cared to understand or accept these things and tried to make me feel small for my innate tendencies. And now I have to learn to let go of his judgment and allow myself to want things, and to know that it’s okay to have wants, and to share my wants and desires. Because I feel pretty sure there are others out there who will help me in my path, rather than stand in the way.
I suspect there are more ugly bags that I’ll find and release over the next months, and probably some that I won’t locate until I’m in another relationship. I hope, by then, that I’ve developed the wisdom and insight and tools to manage to clean them up in a way that’s mature and respectful. But in the mean time, I think I’ll use a sledgehammer on these old, worn-out beliefs…if I can only figure out how to do it!
I have some pretty major transformations planned for the coming year, as I mentioned earlier. So I thought creating a vision board would be a smart way to begin my New Year, a visual reminder of all the goals and dreams and desires I’ve been jotting down for myself. So many of us, myself included, often respond more deeply to a combination of words and imagery. Also, for an impatient soul like myself, for whom changes cannot come quickly enough, I’m hoping it will help me manifest more quickly and effortlessly. I plan to hang this board in my room as a daily reminder of the new energy I’m welcoming.
I’ve included imagery to reflect changes I’d like to make in my career and income, relationships, health (more vegetables and more yoga!), home, experiences, friendships and romantic relationships. I’ve included words to describe the best of my qualities, those I’d like to emphasize — such as savvy, resilient, optimistic, authentic, soft, irreverent, confident and captivating. Yeah, I like that last one, too!
Creating this vision board was a time-consuming process and a labor of love. I spent literally hours cutting words and images from old magazines and catalogs, focusing on those that evoke feelings I want more than actual things. I would like to remodel my bathroom, but rather than spell it out, I simply included a photo of a sleek, modern bathroom. I used words like “warm” and “comfort” for my home. I allowed myself to include photos of two very specific wants: and iPad and new car, in part because I feel certain and confident in wanting these. For some of my less tangible desires — socialization and community — it resonates more to use aspirational words, combined with my heartfelt intent, to ask for the universe’s help in welcoming what’s right into my life.
For relationships, I cut out a wide swath of material — even including diamonds and diamond rings, and the words “engagement” and “commitment.” When it came time to paste these to my poster, I realized that words like “romance,” “unforgettable moments” and “touch” resonated the most with what I feel comfortable welcoming into my life for the coming year, along with the words “trust, thoughtful, kindness and good humor” to describe the qualities in a man I’d love to invite into my life. I left off the diamonds for now.
Right in the middle of my collage, I placed two key themes: “choose wisely” to keep myself focused and “receive more than you imagined possible” to remind myself to be open to the divine plan.
When I awoke that first morning and went to visually absorb my work, I had to take several deep breaths to process through some fear. Why? Well… I want a lot! Having suppressed so many of my desires for so long while in my dysfunctional marriage, it feels a little scary to let myself want again. I’ll have to erase a few scripts — e.g. “to want things is materialistic” — that came with the relationship and release my fears as I go.
I have enough left over verbiage clipped from magazines to craft several crude ransom notes — some of it stronger, bolder language than I felt comfortable using just now. I think I’ll keep these for next year’s vision board. I might feel better about opening myself to even more abundance and possibility next year — maybe even those words and images that welcome and invite a partner into my life.
I grew up in a houseful of books, and I’m certain I’d read just about everything on the shelves at least once by the time I was 13. By this I mean Anna Karenina, Jane Eyre, books by Wharton, Austen, Dickens, etc. — all before achieving a level of emotional maturity or ability to discuss and interpret the themes found in several of these novels.
Combine this with my parents’ off-and-on tumultuous relationship, and it’s no wonder I’ve grown up believing that tragic love is the norm. In fact, I think I’ve always expected that love would be romantic, passionate, dramatic, heart-wrenching and that there would be obstacles to be overcome.
The early part of my relationship with my husband was full of these things. My love for him was ferocious, we pined for one another when we were apart, and I was certain we could overcome anything.
And then our life together became routine and steady. Ultimately, it was the boring, staid comfort of sharing daily life that I loved the most. For many years, I loved going home to him, the warmth of his body next to mine in bed each night, communicating in the shorthand we developed over time, his scent each morning when we hugged in the kitchen.
I’d like to believe that I’ve learned and matured enough to turn around and run if love comes with drama, tragedy and the kind of obstacles with lingering effects. Sure, I’m still hoping for a little romance, chemistry and excitement in my future, but I’ll be holding out for loving behaviors tempered by steadiness, companionship and responsibility.
While traveling together, a co-worker asked, “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure,” I said, “but I may decline to answer…”
“What will you do with your ring?”
Without hesitation (I’ve thought about this before), I replied, “I’m going to have the stones re-set into a new, ‘Let Freedom Ring’ for my right hand.”
“That is so awesome!” she exclaimed. “And unexpected. The second I blurted it out, I regretted asking in the first place. And your answer makes me so glad I did. Good for you!”
It may be awhile before the “Let Freedom Ring” becomes a priority (or a financial possibility). But my ring meant a lot to me when I wore it. It was difficult to make the decision to take it off. I invested a lot of love and tears into the commitment those diamonds symbolized, and I intend to continue wearing them — but, going forward, they will symbolize my commitment to myself.
Yesterday I dumped a guy. Damn! I had forgotten how good that feels!
I suspect this sounds a little harsh. The truth is, I cancelled a date with a reasonably nice guy because he doesn’t have what I want. Yes, I know I need to practice dating again. And I’ve decided that I can accomplish this within certain parameters. It felt good to recognize that this guy was not in line with the direction I’m going in life, and to say, “Sorry. I don’t want to do this.” Making an empowered choice, one that nurtured my highest self, was deeply satisfying.
In small ways like this, I am rediscovering the power of affirmative choice. I spent nearly a decade developing great clarity about what I don’t want — this part is usually pretty easy. I’ve heard many women say, “I don’t want to be alone.” I’ve probably said similar things myself in the past. Transitioning to a positive vision of what we want — e.g. “I want to share myself with someone truly special” — is a deeper, more profound, knowing.
So I’m going to adopt the philosophy I take into the fitting room while shopping for clothes. I don’t buy it unless I’m in love. True, I fall pretty easily. But I need more clothes than I need men or hobbies or other diversions and flirtations that get between me and my ultimate bliss.
This challenge goes beyond being able to vote “YES!” to myself without hesitation. It requires discipline. I’ve always considered myself a bit of an opportunist — dreamy and flowing and allowing myself to be blown in the direction of the wind. More recently, I’ve also become easily distracted, possibly even developed (or come to recognize in myself) adult Attention Deficit Disorder.* So I’m going to have to stay focused, work my plan and keep my eyes on the prize. Here’s what I intend to do:
Develop and refine a clear vision of what I want
Believe that it’s out there and that it’s available to me
Stay focused; don’t get caught up with distractions (no matter how pretty and shiny they may be)
What pretty, shiny distractions are standing in the way of you having what you want or being the person you want to be? Which of these are simply and easily eliminated — dumped — by stating your truth?
*I realize the legitimacy of this condition and, no, I have not been diagnosed.
the life and loves of Alisa B 