And...I'm...single...

I know, I know. I’ve blogged about the great relationship…the great guy…the building a life together…his relationship with my kids. And well, it has ended. We have respectfully parted ways as friends, thanked each other for the time we spent together, all the fun we had as a couple, and all the good that came out of our relationship. As he stated, we “high roaded it” out of the relationship. To part with peace and kindness is the only way to go.

The break-up caused two major issues in my life. Well, not issues – more like four alarm fires.  The first was that I found myself unemployed. I worked for my boyfriend. He’s been kind enough to keep me on staff for two months giving me time to find a job and health insurance through the transition. Kindness.

The other issue is that I need a place to stay when I am not with my kids. (My children “nest” in a house, my ex and I move in and out when it is our time with them. When I wasn't with my kids I was with my boyfriend. Eventually I need to blog about the nest.) Thanks to the kindness of two friends, I have a space to live in when I want to be in town near my girls, and a space with one of my besties for when I can get away. The arrangements could not be more perfect. These fabulous women have welcomed me into their homes and just as important as the roof over my head is the friendship they provide.

So given these are two substantial issues, I immediately circled the proverbial wagons solved the housing issue AND have started the job search. I have many friends far and wide and even across cyberspace. These contacts have been very helpful offering to act as references, providing information on specific jobs, and have promised to lend their support to my applications. Not bad for just over a week. But there is other work to be done. 

I am committed to only looking forward and making this one amazing year. It’s time I live through what most women do when they get divorced. I need to find my identity outside of a relationship. I didn't give myself much time to breathe out of my divorce and jumped into a relationship…and then this last one. Now, I need…want…crave….and will relish the space. I feel as if it is a gift that has been given to me and I will cherish it.

A few nights ago I found a great 100 day program book. The preliminary work is extensive but I am slowly moving through it and then I’ll pick my “day 1.” I’ve thought clearly about all of the things that have been on my list for so long, and well now, with some extra time on my hands, by golly it is time to get rolling. Look for future announcements.

 I also have a few items on my agenda to help build a life for myself and not around someone else. It’s quite simple, I sit in the center of my life and the first ring around me is filled with my children (usually flying around me at top speed needing a ride somewhere and being fabulous). The next rings should be filled with my family, friends, and community that I put in place for myself. Over the last several years, I have allowed those rings to be filled with the friends, family, and community of my significant others. Turns out, a relationship is about sitting next to each other and merging rings. So, I need my own set of rings.

For many non-discussable reasons, I have not had that much contact with my family over the last several years. Both sides tried in our own ways to come together but nothing worked. Finally, this year, I made it my New Year’s Resolution to fix the mess and tremendous progress has been made. My kids have played with their cousin, I have had lunch with my parents…we are in contact. What a great start to the year it has been. Ring two is building.

So as I get settled, I am jumping out of my skin to re-establish myself in my community. I gave it up, running away after my divorce. The bitchy gossipers were too much for me to deal with – I lost friends and lost hope that I can be happy here. I was so harshly judged that I shrunk and convinced myself there was very little for me in town. I kept a few close really good friends but otherwise disappeared. I have this joke that I live under a rock. Ya know what, worms live under rocks – I hate worms. As I have learned it is also dark under rocks – and I was meant to dance in the sun (ok, well not actually dance because according to my children that is majorly embarrassing). And, as it turns out, there are a whole bunch of people that I would love to get to know. I’ve made new friends being the Divorce Welcome Wagon and there are other friends to be found. That’s exciting. Ring three. Community, ring four.

 So I’m single, and quite excited about the future. The next year will be full of endless possibilities and I’m sure a few obstacles. Clearly I know who my go-to people are in the world and am quite confident more will be added to my posse. Who knows what I will find and discover along the way…endless possibilities…endless excitement.

I’m not particularly sure how I will use this blog during the next year. I like the fact that it is focused on being a single mom. In the meantime I’ve started to track the progress of my 100 day  journey on another blog (trying out Wordpress). Not sure when it will be ready for public consumption….I’ll keep you posted.

The "Brooks" Moment After Your Divorce

This post was written by one of my favorite social media friends...Ginny Otte.  I am honored to share my sacred blog space with her....

While watching the Shawshank Redemption recently, I had an epiphany during the scene when Brooks becomes overwhelmed by the big world outside and hangs himself in his hotel room. He was surrounded by the trappings of freedom, yet still a prisoner of sorts--a prisoner of fear, a prisoner of the unknown,  a prisoner of being thrust into a world where you don't have to ask for permission or advice for every last step of your life.

Many people can't see themselves in this scenario. Many can.  Brooks is all of us, in one way or another.  All of us have had some level of that moment, when they realize that they are on their own.  They are captains of their own ships.  Some of us, after the fact, understand this.  Others become petrified by fear because they sense it right away, before they are able to deal with it.

I see the similarities between Brooks and divorce...specifically, divorce after a marriage of many years.  I was married for 27 years.  I was married for 24 of those before I knew the marriage was over, although I would learn later it had ended long before that for my ex.

This would be an opportunity to lament my married life, compare my marriage in hindsight to a prison term; to lay blame on my ex, and be highly insulting, small-minded, closed-hearted and mean-spirited.  In my case, the marriage ended with an affair on his part...but there was so much more before that.  So much, I won't get into.  You see, as with many parts of life, to paraphrase Andy in the Shawshank Redemption...you either get busy living, or you get busy dying.  To lament my past and lay blame on my former spouse, to discuss everything from divorce-imposed poverty to ruined credit, lost housing and lost belongings, lost family and lost friends...I would be getting busy dying.  Negativity has no place in an honest, upright life.

Instead I got busy living, eventually.

But that was after my Brooks moment.  

Like Brooks for me there was that time, that blur of confusion and pain, where everything was unfamiliar.  I had married at the age of 18.  My entire adult life was invested in something that was now the ash of my past.  In the quarter of a century or so from 18 to my Brooks moment, I had created tradition for a family; traditions that now were dead. They were now tradition that will be nothing more than memories of childhood holidays for my adult children.  Now solo, I saw that the world had moved on without me.  Childhood pals were grown and gone.  Some had passed away.  Some were grandparents already. Hangouts from my youth no longer existed and in some cases, the buildings themselves were gone.  

I was alone, with no safety net.  I was Brooks.

I did the motions for a while:  work, home, work, home.  While home I lost myself in the alternate reality of computer gaming.  While working I lost myself in the one thing left in my life that still made sense.  Work was my happy place.  My desk became my happy thought when I was stressed.

I was stuck, and couldn't figure out how to get busy living again.

I had moments when I wondered how I was going to move on.  I had to move out of the house.  I had to save money for that.  I had to act as my own attorney for a divorce because I suddenly realized I had no assets.  I paid for my divorce by selling my wedding band and every piece of jewelry that my ex had given me, which was a very small amount:  the ring, a pair of earrings, a necklace and a bracelet.  My distaste for personal adornment didn't serve me well, when I had to raid my possessions to sell.  There was almost nothing of monetary value.

Women with younger children get on living far sooner out of necessity:  they have to; they have small children to care for.  My baby was 17 and had the triple  whammy of high school drawing to a close, childhood drawing to a close, and life as she knew it drawing to a close all at once.  Rather than drawing together, I felt that we had drifted apart during this time.  This I feel was my fault; as I simply couldn't see through my own pain to see what parts were her normal 17 year old growing up, or my 40-something growing up.  Eventually, we got back together as a mother daughter unit...as adults.

But that was after my Brooks moment.

One night, tormented by abject emotional poverty from being alone, and longing to have any--just ONE--human being on the planet to whom I could have a conversation, come home to, share moments with... I placed an ad at a singles site.  That act of hitting that send button...that was my Brooks moment.  I made the decision to captain my own ship, and make my own life.

I was petrified.

It was my Brooks moment:  I could get busy dying, or I could get busy living.  I chose to keep looking, keep sharing, and keep trying.  The worst had happened.  It was all uphill from here, true...but, once I got to the top of that hill, how wonderful the view would be.

...and I was right.

Like Red, walking on a beach in Mexico toward Andy; eventually I met another.  And when I did, I did as a whole person, not half of a whole.  I survived my Brooks moment.  I got busy living.

I found my own redemption.