It has always amused me that the more things change, the more they stay the same. I’ve climbed the proverbial corporate ladder for nearly twenty years now and the adventure in hysteria and ultimately, amusement, continues to unfold before me with each new professional adventure. I’ve discovered that there will always be ‘characters’ in each office with their inevitable stereotypes, quirkiness, and overall clueless existence, just sitting there…waiting and needing to be written about. And that, I’m certain, is my calling.
I recently visited Denver for the first time to attend a conference sponsored by my current company. Like most conferences and trade shows, all sorts of personalities attend and put on their best ‘game face’ to meet customers, prospects and network with partners. The networking and nurturing of those partner relationships is what facilitated my attendance at the conference in the first place. You see, I am often the invisible marketing ‘Wiz’ behind the corporate curtain, crafting the brand message, and spoon-feeding the blind B2B masses much like feeding broccoli to a seven year-old. And if the truth be told, I’ve discovered that if you cover anything with enough cheese, someone will ultimately eat it.
The majority of those in attendance were men in their 40s and 50s, sporting their receding hairlines and stuffing their beer-bellied midriffs into the required, company-branded golf shirt. To put it bluntly, these men are starved for female attention. The overwhelming majority are married with either teenage or college-bound children, and operate their personal lives with the same boring, predictable precision they present in the workplace. Unimaginative, robotic clones who somehow believe that the story of how they caught the prize-winning trout in their local fishing competition will bring women hopelessly to their knees. And it never fails that these men are utterly captivated by the bubbly and otherwise vacant blonde whose actual purpose is to flirt mindlessly with these men and somehow help assuage their own personal shortcomings. This conference was no exception to the rule and that blonde….and come on, we all know who she is at every company….was there in all her flighty magnificence.
Ironically, despite my ability to see these women for who they actually are rather than what they pretend to be, I am inherently a nice person and get along with nearly everyone. And at my company, this blonde to which I am referring, I will hereby call The Flight Attendant. Bless her sweet soul, she is dripping in Southern accolades as well as physical beauty, and her syrupy accent is all that’s required to lure men under her spell.
After the conference closes on the last afternoon, a handful of co-workers decide to let off some steam and meet up at a local Denver bar and club for some drinks. I receive a call around 5pm in my hotel room from The Flight Attendant: “Mozzie, are you up for it? Come on and go out with us, girl!” Despite my feet aching worse than an Irish clogger, I reluctantly agree to join them. I arrive at the bar around 9pm and the festivities are well underway. The strobe light is flashing, the hip hop is blasting, and The Flight Attendant is on the dance floor, surrounded by an overwhelming group of male admirers, most still dressed to the nines in their company golf shirt. Bless their hearts.
I make my way to the bar, order a double vodka tonic and scan the room for cohorts and partners in crime. I feel the overwhelming sense of relief when I spot a great buddy of mine who is nursing his third or fourth drink, and wave him over to my direction. We chit chat, share some laughs and begin what turns out to be one of the most hilariously funny nights I’ve experienced in quite some time. Before too long, we’re throwing back shots of Grey Goose and cackling at the quasi-American Bandstand maneuvers we’re witnessing on the dance floor. The Flight Attendant is in her element…shaking her money maker and batting her eyelashes in every direction. By the end of the night, I’m fairly certain she will need not only an interpreter from her advanced state of intoxication, but also an escort to find her way back to her hotel room. Naturally, I help her back safely to the hotel, politely say good night and that I will see her the next morning around 8am.
7am arrives and I can’t pretend that it doesn’t kick my nearly 40 year-old ass. But, I shower, get my act together and head over for the last morning of the conference. It’s 8:30am and there’s no sign of The Flight Attendant. I excuse myself, step outside, and call her mobile number and then her hotel room. No answer. Yikes.
I quickly make my way back to the hotel and begin knocking on her door. I hear groaning on the other side and then the door swings open with the naked Flight Attendant peeking around the corner. She’s hungover. She’s completely overslept and she’s limping. She wails in pain only to look down and discover bruised and bloody toes. “Mozzie, what the hell happened? OMG, my foot kills! I was dancing with some guy last night and he kept stomping on my toes. Help me…I can’t walk!” I do my best to contain the uncontrollable laughter swelling up inside me and tell her to get her act together, clean up and head over to the conference if she wants to keep her job. Tough love…sometimes, we all need it.
Later that afternoon, we all depart for the airport, most of us on separate flights, and I don’t see The Flight Attendant until the following day at the office. She arrives, late as usual, on crutches with apparently two broken toes from her late night Denver escapade. Upon seeing her, I race for the bathroom or anywhere private because I know I am going to lose it. I laugh for at least half an hour at the sheer comic gold that is unfolding before me. Like I’ve said many times before, often real life is funnier and more entertaining than fiction.
Several days pass and The Flight Attendant receives flowers in the office from the Toe Stomper. She is touched and agrees to a dinner date with him. I can’t help but chuckle at the irony of the entire situation. Later, she sends me a text on my mobile: “Mozzie, you won’t believe how nice of a guy he is! After my divorce, I was convinced there were no nice guys left out there for me. I really like him and think he might be the one.”
So there you have it, my friends. A possible answer to the age-old question: How do you mend a broken heart? Answer: Go dancing and have someone break your toes. You might just fall in love.
Okay okay, I know the title of this entry is a cheesy, 1980’s music reference, but sometimes a lyric not only nails a situation, but can make you chuckle as well. And for those of you, sitting in front of your computer monitors and scratching your heads right about now, that reference was to a song by the band Air Supply. And yes, they do require crackers prior to listening. 😉
Many of you have written and inquired as to the lapse in my blog entries, and up until now, I really haven’t had a suitable explanation for it. The truth of the matter is that I love writing these entries as much as you enjoy reading them. So, why the months of silence then? Well, for the past six months, things in my life have sucked…and I mean, royally and equivocally. Unemployment woes, dodging credit sharks, and dancing the ‘rob Peter to pay Paul’ tango has become a full-time occupation for me. And to add insult to serious injury, I developed insomnia in the midst of it all. Talk about the proverbial ‘being kicked while you’re down’! Being sleep deprived when your stress level is growing by leaps and bounds is the cherry on top of the cake. Sleep is my haven and my refuge, or at least it was before everything in my life began accelerating downhill, so this really hit below the belt. During all this uncertainty and and sleep deprivation, I came to realize that I have allowed my dire circumstances to keep me from doing the things that I truly enjoy and make me happy, like writing this blog. It’s almost as if I internalized things so much that I felt I didn’t deserve to enjoy anything. Since everything sucks, why not just acquiesce and throw in the towel? Why bother…right?
I’d be dishonest if I didn’t admit that I fight these thoughts about every other day. Some days, I really allow myself to wallow in the misery of it until I’m so exhausted that I can’t think about anything anymore. After months of behaving this way, I began to realize that the only person I’m harming is myself. Yes, I feel like crap over all the things in my life that I wish were different and better, but what is wallowing in it going to accomplish other than making me feel worse than I already do? Absolutely nothing.
I’m going through some difficult and heartbreaking changes in my life right now, but I will endure them. I will come out on the other side, perhaps bruised and battered, but as a survivor. One day, I hope to be able to look back on these times and say, ‘Wow. I can’t believe I went through what I did and lived to tell about it.’ A loved one recently said to me, “Mozzie, things are awful right now, but you will get through it and be a stronger person because of it. These difficult struggles build character.” At first, I grimaced at this person’s remarks and thought of Morrissey’s lyrics, “How can anyone possibly say they know how I feel?” But then I took a step back, gave it some thought, and realized what this person was saying to me was right on the money.
I don’t know what the future holds for me, but I have faith in the promise of tomorrow and tomorrow’s tomorrow. So, I’m cashing in my one-way ticket to Wallowsville and banking my frequent flier points for a destination still unknown.
“When life gives you lemons, squeeze the juice into a squirt gun and squirt it into someone’s eye. It’ll make you feel better.”
As much as I’d love to be able to take credit for that statement, I hardly can. Henrik Ibsen, a remarkable 19th century Norwegian poet and playwright, penned that statement even before the turn of the 20th century. I can remember first reading that when I was about fifteen years-old, and feeling the complete brilliance and truth of it sitting squarely on my shoulders. You see…for a writer, there couldn’t possibly be any statement more at the heart of the matter. Not to sound exclusive, but it’s a difficult thing to explain to someone outside of this reality; to someone who hasn’t spent the majority of their life trying to make sense of their existence year after year, through each stroke of their pen. The funny thing about being a writer is that it’s very much a feast or famine talent. You may go through periods in your life where the words seem to leap from you faster than you are able to write or type them. And other times, you lull through months or even longer where you simply cannot find the words, no matter how desperately you need to.
Certainly, I cannot speak for every writer on this planet. But, in my thirty-six years on this earth, this is exactly how it has been and continues to be for me. I’ve often found myself wondering why this is…why are there times and periods in my life where I cannot stop writing and others when the pen sits frozen in my hand? Is it a type of possession that temporarily takes hold of you until you’ve said all you feel you can say on the subject? Or, is it a God-given gift that like any type of talent should be nurtured and fertilized each and every day in order for it to continue to grow and flourish?
I really couldn’t say one way or the other, and I hardly have a definitive answer on the subject. However, there is one thing that I know for certain; one thing that I hold dear and true. Henrik Ibsen was right. “To write is to sit in judgment on oneself.” And perhaps, it is this self-scrutiny, and this personal dissection, that makes our writing ebb and flow. At times, this self-reflection is a necessary evil for our own understanding and personal growth. And at other times, the cruelty of sitting beneath a microscope of self-analysis is simply more than a person can withstand.
I don’t think the admission of this duality makes me less of a writer, really. I think it’s what makes me a human being.
“If I’m trying to sleep, the ideas won’t stop. If I’m trying to write, there appears a barren nothingness.”
~ Carrie Latet
“Writing is utter solitude, the descent into the cold abyss of oneself.”
~ Franz Kafka
“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
~ Ray Bradbury
Okay, okay. So, I’m not immune to peer pressure either. Given that it’s been nearly a month since my last entry and many of you have written inquiring as to my status as ‘alive or dead,’ I figured it is only the polite thing to do to post an updated entry. Truth be known, I haven’t felt terribly inspired or creative in the past few weeks, and keeping my head above water has been my prime directive. Yes, I am still looking for a job with little success, but, as you all know from reading my words, I always believe in holding on to hope. I’ve found that as grim as things may appear in your situation, things are always worse for others. Though I take no comfort in the suffering of others, this notion often keeps my toes warm at night.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the ideal of ‘happiness’ and all that it entails. And yes, I refer to it as an ‘ideal’ because I honestly think this description encapsulates the esoteric nature of it. In my life, I’ve found that happiness isn’t really a state of being, but rather the moments by which we judge our lives. I mean, how often has someone asked you, “Are you happy?” and you think to yourself, ‘Well, I suppose I am…at least at this moment in time.’ Do you ever wonder why we often think this way and why it is so difficult to reply with a resounding, ‘YES?!’ After giving it considerable thought, I think it has something to do with difficult times and worries overshadowing the positive things in our lives. When we’re burdened, we often feel like the world is ultimately against us and nothing ever seems to work out as we hoped. I can say this because I am guilty of this mentality perhaps more than anyone else.
The point of my rambling here is that happiness is something we must pursue. It does not exist in a vacuum or by chance. It’s built through our relationships, our kindness shown to others, and our ability to love and give of ourselves. This is the seed of happiness. And if given enough care and sunlight, it can grow into a garden of possibilities.
“We tend to forget that happiness doesn’t come as a result of getting something we don’t have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have.”
– Frederick Koening
“Happiness is not a brilliant climax to years of grim struggle and anxiety. It is a long succession of little decisions simply to be happy in the moment.”
A week has elapsed since I lost my job. Truly, it took nearly three days just for the shock to dissipate and the full irony of the situation to settle into my subconscious. I mean, really…what are the odds of being laid off as many times as I have and now in the worst of economic times? Surely, they must rival the lottery by now. To be completely honest, yes, losing my job gutted me. But, it has happened to me so many times now I can hardly be shocked when I hear ‘the speech’ again and again. I placed first in the national ‘I’ve been laid off’ competition, reciting the speech verbatim in my sleep, standing on one toe, and washing my hair simultaneously.
I really have no idea what I will do now except keep trudging along as I always have in this situation. I’ll keep networking, sending out hundreds of emails in the hope that they don’t land in someone’s ‘spam’ folder, and maybe, hopefully, something will come my way before I starve to death. Isn’t it a sad commentary on the state of the world today when a college degree, fifteen years’ experience, and handfuls of personal testimonies to your abilities can’t even land you secure and steady employment? If this is happening to me and millions of other capable professionals, what hope do today’s graduates have when they walk off that stage, degree in hand, hoping to land the job they’ve been preparing for?
One of the most ironic things I’ve found about the corporate arena is that the crummier a person you actually are, the higher up the ladder you seem to climb. I know you may shake your head in disbelief at this, but I can assure you, it’s so entirely true. As I’ve progressed through the rungs, one painful step at a time, the more corrupt and dishonest people seem to be. Why is this? Does it take this type of person to be able to keep the wheels of capitalism spinning? Do you have to be a self-centered loser to do well professionally? Perhaps that is the root of my problem. You see, I am neither of these things and couldn’t be even if I gave it a hero’s effort. As sarcastic as I appear, I am a painfully nice girl and actually do care about others. I realize that into every life a little a-hole must fall, but wouldn’t it be grand if there were a place where people actually treated one another as they wished to be treated? What an absolute utopia that place would be.
And if I found that place some day, that place of genuine goodness and sincerity where being a good person meant that a good life would befall you, well…who knows.
Yesterday at 10am, I lost my rockstar job. The job I was so proud of, the job that was going to help me finally get my life in order, the job I felt would secure my future career, was gone in the blink of an eye, without warning, reason, or explanation. I spent the entire afternoon at home yesterday, in a state of utter shock and disbelief, fighting back not only tears but the feeling of complete rejection that enveloped me. Why did this happen? What did I possibly do to deserve this at a point in my life when I’m facing the future on my own? Am I the butt of some cruel joke that a power greater than myself has masterminded, and if so, why me? I wish I could understand, but I don’t. The Good Book says that difficult times and trials serve to build personal character, but haven’t I been through enough?
What wounds me most is the way that I was treated yesterday. I was baited into HR’s office by my supervisor to “sign a document,” and backed into a steel trap without any hope of escape. I was told they appreciated my work at the company thus far, but they’ve decided not to continue my employment. After I struggled to pick my jaw off the floor, I proceeded to ask why and got little to no valid explanation for my termination. The irony of it is that two days ago I received a positive appraisal on my 60-day evaluation with my supervisor. The whole situation makes no sense, and quite frankly, stinks of something dishonest. If budget cuts and the economy are such a strain that my job can be deemed ‘superfluous,’ then by all means, tell me that. Don’t shuffle me out the door, with my personal belongings in hand, and make me feel as if I did something to deserve being treated like a second class citizen, or even worse, a criminal. I suppose honesty and integrity are dead on the vine along with chivalry and fidelity. It does seem that the harder I work at my job, the kinder I am to accommodate the needs of others and go beyond the call of duty, the more consistently I get shafted. It breaks my spirit and makes it difficult to believe in the general decency of mankind. I live my life by the Golden Rule: Always treat others how you would want to be treated. The inherent problem here is that in the corporate arena, no one else subscribes to this antiquated ideal. It’s dog-eat-dog and every man for himself…climb the ladder and it doesn’t matter who you have to step on to get to the top. He who has all the gold wins, right? BARF.
So, what will I do now? I suppose I will do what I’ve become so good at doing. I’ll pick myself up by my weathered boot straps, dust myself off, and start again. The most honest and simple thing about me is that I just want to be somewhere that I will be treated with dignity, honor, respect and appreciation for my talent and work ethic. That’s it, in a nutshell. And for whatever reason, that is such a difficult nut to crack.
After months of anticipation on my part, the day finally arrived last Saturday for the bad husband’s departure. He packed his things (and his bruised ego) and made his trek back to his home town. I stopped by my home last Friday night to check on things while he was out, and for the first time in such a long time, I could see the semblance of my home beneath all the clutter and junk that I was forced to live with during our marriage. The shadow of my once beloved solace lingered beneath the piles of boxes, and I felt giddy by the thought of actually being able to return home again. And at 11am last Saturday morning, that’s exactly what I did. I gathered my things from the parental units’ home where I’ve been living these past months, and headed home.
When I arrived, there was an eerie silence in the house…a thickness that you could almost feel hanging in the air. I gazed around and was overcome with a range of emotions. At first, I felt such relief and excitement at the realization that I was actually going to be able to be home again; the home I worked so diligently to have and maintain all these years. As I assessed the surroundings, I felt a horrible sinking feeling creeping up from the pit of my stomach and felt tears well up in my eyes. Even though I had waited for this moment for months, the realization of finality swept over me like a tidal wave. I cried for about an hour, realizing later that this was and is simply part of the process of grief, acceptance, and ultimately, recovery. Despite how nonchalant my tone may appear at times throughout the blog, don’t let it fool you. Divorce is a horribly gutting experience and one that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. And if you’re like me, prone to wear your heart on your sleeve, the experience affects you even more so than the ‘Average Joe’ who may think of divorce as an ‘easy’ solution to a seemingly insurmountable problem. Solution? Sometimes. Easy? Not hardly.
So, for the past four days and with the unbelievable help and support of my family, I’ve moved back not just into my house, but my home. As the old proverb says, “Home is where the heart is.” I couldn’t agree more.
“Always be careful when you abuse the one you love
the hour or the day no one can tell
but one day ‘goodbye’ will be ‘farewell’…”
Okay readers, here’s your chance to have your say in the future of the ‘Bad Husband’ Chronicles blog. So, please vote in the poll and let me know what you’re thinking. Should I stay or should I go now? Don’t fret, I’m fairly thick-skinned and can handle rejection. *boo hoo*
Feel free to leave any comments, suggestions or ideas on the direction you’d like (or not) to see the blog take in the future. Thank you for your feedback, and as always, your faithful readership.
Do you ever find yourself looking back at a situation or relationship and asking, “How did I ever fall for that?” Lord knows, if I had a dime for every time I’ve thought this way, I’d be living off my millions on a tropical oasis by now. The worst part about it is the realization that you’ve allowed yourself to be ‘snookered’ once again by someone close to you. You bought into the ideal that they would always be there for you, always be helpful and supportive, and most of all, that they would always love you. It seemed such an easy thing to hear and accept at the time, but later you realize that this is a much more difficult task for some and not others.
I’ve said it so many times before: ‘Love’ is a verb, not an adjective. Love is represented in our daily actions, however small and insignificant they may appear at the time. Loving someone is knowing how to be a partner in every aspect of the word, not just when it’s convenient or easy. It’s being the missing puzzle piece to another person’s soul and existence. Through truly loving another person, we are not only fulfilled but provide fulfillment as well. At its best, love is entirely a two-way street. Given this, why is this ideal such a diminishing notion in today’s world? Have people become so self-absorbed that they’ve lost that loving feeling?
Perhaps I’m the wrong person to consult on matters of the heart, given my poor track record. Yes, I’ve made two terrible mistakes in the span of my adult life where love and marriage were concerned, and quite frankly, I have become jaded by the ideal of ‘true love.’ Does it still exist? Can someone actually say what they mean and mean what they say…forever? I really don’t know anymore, but I’d certainly like to think so. Without that possibility, where is joy to be found?
I suppose I am not only seeking closure and answers to my questionable mistakes, but I’m also hoping that true love can and does still exist out there. I want to believe in it, but through the process of ‘raking up my mistakes,’ it is a terribly difficult dream to hold on to.
“Honestly” by Annie Lennox
“The beauty that you gave
Has turned upon itself
And all the things you said
Evaporated
Evaporated …
Was I blind
Deaf and dumb
To the words slipped from your tongue?
Honestly … honestly … honestly
Alone in my bed
The things that you said
Go round in my head … still
It seems to be true
That nothin’ I do
Can influence you …
I tried and tried again
(Don’t you know I tried and tried again
to make you listen to me
But everything I said it always seemed to go right through you)
To make you notice me
(I turned myself into a person that I didn’t like
But please believe me when I say I know it wasn’t right)
But talking to myself
(I never thought that things would
get to be so complicated
I never thought that you and me would end up o frustrated)
Won’t catch you attention I see …
(You’d think that something had to come from all those good intentions
But in the end I needed something more than intervention)
Was I mad?
Was I mad?
Foolish me
Foolish me
To succumb so easily
To succumb
Easily
So easily
So easily
Honestly… honestly… honestly…
(Alone in my bed
The things that you said
Go round in my head … still
It seems to be true
That nothin’ I do
Can influence you… still)
Fools like me get so easily taken
And fools like me can be so mistaken
Honestly… Honestly… Honestly
The promise that you gave
(Don’t you know the promise that you
gave just turned it’s back upon me
I stopped believing but you couldn’t take the whole thing from me)
Has turned it’s back
(I never thought I’d have to pay the price to set you free)
And all you represented
Was just my projection you see…
(You know I never thought I’d ever
live a day without you
And that’s the reason why
it makes me sad to think about you
and you know I never thought
I’d make it if you wasn’t there
And now I’m tryin’ to eject myself
from this despair)
People come
People go…
Never say I “told you so”
Honestly
Everything I know you said
Goin’ round inside my head
Never thought I’d see the day
Always got a price to pay
It’s strange, but I was certain that when the ‘final judgment’ was made in my divorce case, both the husband and I would feel a sense of closure to the entire situation. I must say that I certainly felt a shift in my attitude when the judge uttered the words, “Well folks, that’s it. You’re all done.” It was as if an insurmountable albatross was lifted from around my neck, an incredible weight released from my heart and chest, and I was able to take my first breath in months, if not longer.I drove home from the courthouse reeling from the entire afternoon, recounting the rational nature by which the judge systematically divided and conquered each unsettled item of our marriage.I realize that our legal system must take this approach due to the overwhelming number of divorce cases they see every day, but the manner in which your personal matters are resolved is almost laughable.The judges and mediators trudge through your issues decidedly and quickly, almost as if they have a ‘Divorce checklist’ that they follow and check off as each item is satisfactorily handled.Even though this approach threw me for a loop at first, ultimately, I was grateful that the case was handled much like the dissolution of a business or partnership, rather than an enormous emotional battle of ‘He said, She said.’And, when all was said and done, all of that really didn’t matter anyways.
Four days have elapsed since our divorce settlement and the husband continues to call and text as if nothing much has changed.I’ve urged him to get his affairs in order, begin packing and making arrangements for his departure in a few weeks, but I sense that he is still living in an emotional cloud of denial, regret and sadly, reminiscence as well.He still tells me how much he misses me and my smiling face to greet him each morning and evening, the way I always took care of him, and how I made everything in his life beautiful.Most of the time, I respond either in silence or do my best to change the subject.Despite my feelings or lack thereof towards him now, I do not want to add to his pain or suffering as he is obviously coming to grips with his own demons now.And on occasion, he will tell me how sorry he is that things came to end how they did and that he wasn’t a better husband.Ironically, I do sense the sincerity in his apologies now, even though they don’t change an iota of how I feel about him.I suppose you can chalk it up to the old adage:‘It’s a little too late’ for regret now.
If there is one thing I can pass on to others from this whole catastrophic experience, it is this:
If there is an area of your life or relationship where you know you are falling short, DO something to change it.Don’t expect the situation to miraculously improve if you are unwilling to contribute your share to the betterment of the relationship.If things do not work out favorably or as you hoped, you will have the peace of mind in knowing that you put forth a truly valiant effort.You did all that you could.Once you accept this, you can acknowledge the loss, and ultimately, move on with your life.
And one more bit of unsolicited advice:Don’t say you’re ‘sorry’ once all is said and done.Sorry’s are a dime and dozen, and as Morrissey says…
“Sorry doesn’t help”
Sorry’s pour out of you
All wide-eyed simple smiles
certain to see you through
like a QC full of fake humility
you say:
“Oh, please forgive…”
you say:
“Oh, live and let live…”
but sorry doesn’t help us
and sorry will not save us
and sorry will not bring my teen years back to me (any time soon)
Forced back, it springs right out
seasoned, you have no doubts
you lied about the lies that you told
which is the full extent of what being you is all about
you say:
“Oh, please forgive…”
you say:
“Oh, live and let live…”
but sorry doesn’t help us
sorry will not save us
sorry will not bring my love into my arms (as far as I know…)
sorry doesn’t help us
sorry will not save us
sorry is just a word you find so easy to say… so you say it anyway
sorry doesn’t help us
sorry won’t protect us
sorry won’t undo all the good gone wrong
As the old Southern saying goes, I am dreading this week “with a purple passion.” Thursday is the first court hearing scheduled for the husband and me in our divorce case. Mind you, this has been a long time coming and even though the husband has had months to prepare, you would think that I just sprung this on him in the last few days. As the hearing date approached, the husband’s phone calls, text messages and never-ending email tirades have increased ten-fold. It undoubtedly frustrates him a great deal not having me as his ‘beck and call girl’ to rant, vent and make culinary requests of me 24/7. Additionally, being relinquished of the power to wake me at 3am to “talk” when I have to rise for work at 5:30am is, by all accounts, really getting under his skin. Those of you who have been faithful readers since the blog’s launch in September of last year know that I always believe in trying to keep a positive attitude and a sense of humor amidst life’s trials and tribulations. However, even the brightest of stars can creep beneath a lackluster shadow after months of treading water on dark, turbulent seas. I have tried to keep my eye on the end goal, and continue to do so, but navigating a process like this is just about the most difficult thing in the world.
I’ve read many times that a divorce is very much like experiencing the death of a loved one, and having been through this before, I can definitely attest to that. When husband #1 decided to walk the wide road of infidelity and end our marriage, it was the most painfully heart-wrenching experience of my life. Even though it’s been nearly ten years now, the memory of that loss still haunts my dreams far too frequently than it should. And now, facing yet another loss in the marriage arena, I can only imagine how much Xanax and therapy it will take to put Mozziestar back together again.
When you are going through a divorce, despite whether you desire it or not, you feel almost as if you cannot breathe or think clearly at times. It’s very much like being a passenger on a volatile roller coaster ride, with the rises and falls representative of your personal ability to be strong and endure. Some days, you’re at the top of the coaster, feeling strong and certain in your path and what is facing you ahead. And then other days, you can actually feel the wind knocked out of you as the coaster plummets below, with you holding tightly and squarely to the railings. Occasionally, you’re able to catch your breath when the coaster is gliding between destinations, but you always know that the unexpected is right around the corner and that fear grips you every day until it’s finally over. So, those of you who are inclined to think, “Just kick ‘em out and divorce ‘em! You’ll be better off without that loser!” should think before you speak. It’s always easier to give advice and comment on someone else’s life when you’re watching from a safe distance.
Never assume that things for others are as easy as they appear and always be mindful of another person’s situation and circumstances before you open your mouth to speak or offer unsolicited advice. Chances are, the recipient already knows what you are going to say. They are already aware of what and how they should handle things without you giving them a blow-by-blow debriefing. The best thing you can do as a friend or loved one is to support them and give them time to think, grieve, and sort through all the mental clutter that is trapping them. When all is said and done, I (and countless others) will survive and will learn to stand on my own two feet again, even if it takes training wheels at first. Eventually, the roller coaster will stop and we will all finally be able to step off, catch our breath, acclimatize, and most importantly, take that first step forward.
“The Power of Good-bye” by Madonna
“Your heart is not open, so I must go
The spell has been broken, I loved you so
Freedom comes when you learn to let go
Creation comes when you learn to say no
Walk away…
You were my lesson I had to learn
I was your fortress you had to burn
Pain is a warning that something’s wrong
I pray to God that it won’t be long
Walk away…
There’s nothing left to try
There’s no place left to hide
There’s no greater power than the power of good-bye
Your heart is not open, so I must go
The spell has been broken, I loved you so
You were my lesson I had to learn
I was your fortress…
There’s nothing left to try
There’s no place left to hide
There’s no greater power than the power of good-bye
There’s nothing left to lose
There’s no more heart to bruise
There’s no greater power than the power of good-bye
Learn to say good-bye
I yearn to say good-bye”
Despite being busy and preoccupied with my new job, I spend so much of my time internalizing and contemplating my personal situation. I think about my bad husband, the heartbreak of divorce, and the task of starting my life over again on my own. If I am truly honest with myself, I’ve been alone even in my marriages. I enjoyed several blissful years with Husband #1 before he became a slave to his pocket compass and travelled the road of infidelity. So, I know the beauty of a truly fruitful relationship, even though the memory has become faded over the years and through the natural progression of time. Do you ever find yourself wondering why some people ‘get lucky’ and find their ideal match in life while others fall into peril? I in no way mean to appear flippant as if I do not take any responsibility for my poor decisions, but I can’t help but ponder how there appears to be no rhyme or reason to it. I’ve known others, like myself, who carefully dated their spouse for years before taking the walk down the plank, only to discover an intricate web of deception once they were married. Then, on the other hand, there are those who are swept into a whirlwind romance of only a few months before marriage and are STILL happily married many years later. This just proves to me that there is truly no magic formula involved.
Despite the hardship the husband has caused me over the years, I do care for him and wish for his happiness. As I’ve mentioned before, he still doesn’t ‘get it’ and grieves over the loss of me and our marriage. He emails or texts me lamenting messages of how he is miserable without me and general tales of ‘Oh Woe is me’ on a daily basis. How do you deal with a situation like this? It seems responding to his repeated cries only makes things worse and perhaps the best route is avoidance. I am not the one who can ease his pain and comfort him. That can only be something that he must learn to find within himself.
It reminds me of one of my favorite scenes from the movie ‘The Way We Were.’ Katie, a headstrong and opinionated gal, has lost her true love, Hubbel, and he moves out to stay with a friend. He’s gone for only a few hours and she picks up the phone, out of sheer torture and habit, and pleads for him to come home and stay with her until she can fall asleep. She says, “You see, Hubbel. You are my best friend and I need to talk to my best friend about someone we both know. So, will you, Hubbel? Will you come and see me through tonight? I promise I won’t touch you or beg you or embarrass you. So Hubbel, could you come over right away? Please…please?” This scene has always touched me, but I truly understand the meaning of it now in my own life. As Morrissey says, “I’ve seen this happen in other peoples’ lives, but now it’s happening in mine.”
So, how long does a tear take to dry? I think, for some, it takes an eternity.
Well, today was the first day of ‘official’ business for me in The Big Apple. So, I put on my game face this morning as I am here representing my company at a large tradeshow. I am by far in the minority here on two levels: 1.) 80% of the attendees are male and 2.) .001% are from the South! Nevertheless, I am managing to hold my own, keep my head up high and shine my hospitable nature to everyone. In case you’re just tuning in, I am a hardcore supporter of ‘The Golden Rule.’ And no, not the one that says, “he who has the gold makes the rules,” but rather, “Always treat others how you want to be treated.” Trust me folks, you can never go wrong with this approach. Like frowning, it takes much more energy to be negative or rude to someone than to be kind to them. Both of you feel better in the long run and you’re much more likely to make a lasting impression on someone by practicing this approach. If you don’t believe me, give it a try. It will put an immediate pep in your step, pinky swear.
Of course, being a young woman traveling alone always causes the parental units to shift into code orange on the worry and concern scale. Even though I’ve been doing this for years now, my sweet yet sheltered Mom is constantly thinking that I’m either going to be abducted by a cab driver or will get lost and not be able to find my way back to my hotel. Seriously, am I the only one who sees the humor in this? You would think I am a 12 year-old who got lost from their parents in a store or kidnapped at the bus stop! Ma, if you are reading…relax. Nothing is going to happen to me. And if a sketchy situation presents itself, remember that I am a trained master in all of Mr. Miyagi’s best karate moves from watching ‘The Karate Kid’ so many times. If danger approaches….HIII-YAAA!!! That will teach ’em to mess with Mozziestar! 🙂
As far as the husband goes, he still in clueless land of trying to figure out why we are getting divorced. Even though I have explained it to him countless times, it’s a bit like talking to a brick wall. You talk and talk, but nothing gets through. So, I stopped trying to explain in futility and hope that eventually, down the road, he will realize why our marriage failed. If not, he will spend the rest of his life wondering what went wrong and how he played the starring role in it. I do hope for his sake that this isn’t the case for him, but knowing his clueless and eternally blameless nature, I doubt he will ever figure it out.
So friends, thank you sincerely for your continued support, faithful readership, and thoughtful comments and emails. It means more to me than I could possibly express in words. For me, inspiration is a two-way street. I hope to inspire each of you to live your life to the fullest, but in the process, you inspire me as well. Stay golden and keep shining.
Well friends, this Southern Belle is currently in New York City on her first business trip with the new rockstar job. I’ve been to NY many times before, but for some unknown reason, I am enjoying this trip so much more than usual. I had a hilarious co-worker with me the past few days who really showed me a good time and unbelievably, is a Morrissey fan as well. ‘Thanks, Big JC. I owe you one for that.’ He departed this morning, so now I’m on my own. It’s so ironic to me that there are so many European tourists here with what I consider to be much more interesting accents than mine, but my Southern accent appears to be the fascination of everyone around. I’m guessing they must get a lot of foreign travelers here, but maybe not too many from the heart of the South or those who know about the Mason-Dixon line. Either way, it has been fairly entertaining to the locals to listen to me talk. Go figure.
Yesterday, I met a fantastic guy from outside of London who is also here on business. When I first heard him speak, naturally I asked him if he was from Alabama. It took a moment for my corny sense of humor to register with him, but once it did, we struck up a terrific conversation. And yes, I know what your next question is…did I mention that I am a huge Morrissey fan? WELL, YAH! He was too cute and said, “Wow, I’ve never met an American Morrissey fan, much less one with your accent!” I chose to take that as a compliment and hopefully, he didn’t immediately phone home and tell his family what a nutty berry he met in NY. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time!
What really strikes me about this city is the hustle and bustle that seems to come so easily to everyone here. Being from the South, I was born and bred on Southern hospitality, waving and saying hello to everyone I pass. Well, after several of times of doing this out of pure habit, I started to notice all the strange looks I was receiving from my friendly actions. The people seem stunned, almost put off, that I am speaking to them for no apparent reason other than being friendly. Do they think I am a crack dealer or just escaped from the local mental institution? Either way, I am who I am and I firmly believe in always being friendly and hospitable to people I meet. No doubt, I would never survive living in a city like this, nor would I want to. It’s just not this gal’s style.
So, I’m enjoying myself and trying to stay below the radar and not attract too much attention to myself. And to add insult to injury, NONE of the women here look anything like me or my physical features. I’ve noticed most of them are dark haired and skinned, and a bit weathered around the edges. No offense ladies, but just say ‘yes’ to proper skin care! 😉
While I was awaiting my turn in the nail salon this afternoon, I started to space out and think about how it’s 2009 and another year has come and gone before my eyes. I began to recollect the day when I was 22 that my parental units told me how life would really start to fly for me now. They explained how once you graduate from college, get married and settle down, secure your first professional job, etc., everything begins to zoom past you at lightening speed. I remember shrugging at this notion, feeling invincible and forever young at 22. Now, nearly 36, I completely understand what they meant by this. I mean, wasn’t it just yesterday that we had this conversation? Wasn’t it just last week that I graduated from college, degree in hand, ready to put that first foot out in front of me? Where in the world has all the time gone and what do I have to show for it?
Being pegged quite frequently as the eternal pessimist, naturally asking these sorts of questions usually lands me in a depressive stupor. So, I choose to take an objective look in retrospect. Yes, professionally I have done very well for myself in the past decade, despite the whirlwind storms of layoffs and rehires. I’ve climbed the corporate ladder, one painful step at a time, and finally it seems, have a real opportunity with a dynamic and stable company. I can only be thankful and grateful for that. Personally, however, I’ve managed to do a bang-up job at marrying the wrong person (twice) and making a royal mess of things. As Morrissey says, “It’s my life to wreck my own way.”
When I look back on my relationships, yes, there were signs and things I did notice before saying ‘I do,’ but I chose to overlook them, even if it was often done on a subconscious level. I thought that love could conquer all and that if I worked hard enough at the relationships, they would survive and endure. After years of living this way, I finally owned up to the fact that it takes two to tango. If you both aren’t equally committed to making one another happy, you will spin your wheels until there simply isn’t any steam left in your little engine. I certainly have.
So, what now? Well, I choose to close the chapter of 2008, and for once in my life, look forward to the new chapter ahead: the chapter of 2009 and new beginnings. A chapter where I will learn to stand on my own again, let go of the hurt and blame for my own and others’ failures, learn from my mistakes and endeavor not to repeat them, strive to be a better judge of character, and hope to always be a better friend and person. But, most of all, to learn to forgive and forget. I truly believe that it isn’t until we let go of the past that we can begin to embrace our future.
The year was 2003 and it was two years before the husband and I took the proverbial ‘walk down the plank’ and became an official Mister and Missus. At that time, the husband was living in a two bedroom apartment with his eldest son, and after giving it a whole two minutes of heavy consideration, the husband decided to adopt a dog in hopes to add a little joy and companionship to his routine. Knowing that I had a sweet little dog who I carefully trained to not only be loyal, but incredibly affectionate, the husband enlisted my assistance in selecting the best canine candidate from the Humane Society to add to his household. The trip to the Humane Society was a gutting one; cage after cage of precious little dogs who all want you to take them home with you and shower them with love. I have to tell you that I think it’s wonderful when people choose to adopt or rescue an animal who would otherwise be facing certain euthanasia, but having to see this reality firsthand was not an easy thing for me.
So, we are at the Humane Society and I point out several medium-sized dogs that seem to have good temperments and no behaviorial issues. Given that the husband is always correct and completely unflawed in his thinking, he argues that a large dog is best for him since that is what he ‘grew up with.’ Naturally, living in a two bedroom apartment with no backyard is a great living environment for a large dog that requires substantial exercise daily. After no deliberation, the husband selects a lab mixed breed who is still just a puppy. I take a look at the large size of the puppy’s paws and tell the husband, “You know, you might want to reconsider about getting a smaller dog. This dog is going to be a giant and is still growing. Not to mention, puppies require substantial training, discipline and attention. They are full of energy and are a lot like babies in the beginning.” The husband confidently replies, “Oh, I know plenty about dogs. This one will do just fine.”
Knowing that the husband is as stubborn as a mule, I decide to give his dog selecting abilities the benefit of the doubt and keep my opinions to myself. The husband then completes the necessary paperwork, puts the puppy in the car, and we head back to his apartment. When we first arrive, the puppy is so excited by his new home; jumping, frolicking and sniffing every nook and cranny. After giving the place a thorough look, the puppy then becomes interested in everything else that is cluttering the husband’s floor. After only ten minutes in his new home, the puppy reveals that he is going to be quite a handful in terms of keeping him out of trouble. I recommend to the husband that he purchase the puppy some appropriate chew toys and dog bed or crate so that the puppy can familiarize himself with his area and what is acceptable for him to play with in the house. The husband responds, “Nah, I never bought my dogs toys before. He’ll be fine without them.” With this, I say goodnight to the husband and his new puppy before making my way back home.
The next day is a work day and I am scheduled to see the husband that evening directly after work. So, I manage through an otherwise uneventful day at the office before signing off to head over to the husband’s place after work. On my way there, I get a call from the husband on my cell. He says, “You aren’t going to believe this, but I think I’ve been robbed! I just got home and my place is completely destroyed! I better go so I can call the police and report this. I will see you in a little bit, ok?” Naturally, I’m concerned and horrified for the husband and continue on my way over to his place. After several mintues pass, the police arrive and the husband phones me to tell me he has not been robbed after all. I’m confused by this and ask him, “Why? What happened to make you feel otherwise?” He responds, “Well, I noticed the dog is kinda hiding from me and has dirt on his face. One of my plants has been knocked over in the living room. You see, I wasn’t robbed. It was just that damn dog that destroyed my apartment! I’m gonna kill him!!!”
Firstly, let me apologize for the delay between Thursday’s blog entry and today’s. I realize that I left so many of you hanging and I was stunned by the number of email inquiries jamming my inbox once I returned online. To answer your burning questions…yes, I am still alive and kicking and yes, I had the third interview for the rockstar job opportunity on Friday.
To preface, I am a seasoned professional when it comes to being laid off in the corporate arena and then forced into the hell phase of endless interviewing for a new job. Given this fact, I’ve become a bit convoluted in my judgment when it boils down to whether or not I feel I’ve got a job in the bag once I’ve completed the final interview process. I’ve left many interviews with the gut feeling that I would receive an employment offer because of positive comments the potential employer made to me during the interview. I would wait with baited breath for the offer to come and for some unknown reason, it never would. So, I eventually got to the point where I stopped trying to ‘guesstimate’ whether or not I felt I would get the job. I know this may seem like a negative way to think, but I’ve found that if you don’t expect anything, you’re not as deeply disappointed if it doesn’t pan out for you. Nevertheless, my point in all of this is to say that the final interview went fantastic and I’m very hopeful that an offer will be made before the holiday break. Do I expect one? Yes and no. Yes, because there is absolutely NO reason why they shouldn’t pick me for this position given how tailored my experience fits the niche they require. And no, because of the expectation bit that I just explained in the prior sentences. But, let’s just say that I hope to be pleasantly surprised for a change.
Since I’ve been temporarily taking refuge at the home of my parental units, I’ve purposely tried to distance myself from the husband so that he can familarize himself with the idea of not having me around. I know that getting used to not having your spouse there is not entirely possible when you’ve spent years with them as the center of your universe. When that center falls out, it completely disorients your entire reality. Having been the one who was abandoned in my first marriage, I thought about why distancing myself from the husband is ultimately the best course of action for us both as we are going through this process. When I reflect on my first marriage, I recall all too well what it felt like when my ex-husband told me he didn’t want to be married to me anymore, yet still hung around the house as if the declaration of his intent to bail shouldn’t affect my daily living pattern. How can anybody think this way?! This is the epitome of being a self-centered bastard who is thinking only of himself and his own comfort. Telling your spouse that you desire to end your marriage, but staying in your residence with them during the process is the proverbial cherry on top of the cruel and unusual punishment cake. If you have any love or compassion for your spouse and desire to inflict the least amount of collateral damage possible, then living in separate residences while you are getting divorced should be the only option. It is the fastest route to self-reliance for both of you.
The ironic part about me purposely distancing myself from the husband is that he actually thinks that I’m being selfish by not calling him and keeping him company in his lonely state. I mean, “I obviously don’t care (and have never cared) about him if I am able to be remove myself so easily from our marriage.” And yes, that’s a direct quote from the husband’s mouth. He actually is dense enough to think that I’m allowing him to live in my home with my dog while I live with my parents because I “don’t care about him.” After all, doesn’t everyone want to live with their parents when they are in their mid-30s and they’ve been independent for years?!
So, when the husband makes these and other ridiculous and unfounded comments, I choose the path of least resistance and ignore them rather than respond to them. When push comes to shove, what good comes from banging your head against a brick wall that can’t comprehend any measure of reasoning? And this, in a nutshell, is the husband. Yes, the lights are on, but no one’s home.
Well, this has been a hectic week to say the very least. When I woke on Monday, I had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing everything that is facing me presently. When I actually allow myself to think about it longer than say thirty seconds, I find myself swimming in an ocean of despair. So, I always try to put my ‘happy happy, joy joy’ hat on and face the world with the hope and mission of tackling my adversities.
I met with my attorney this week to sign the dreaded ‘D’ papers, and despite the fact that I know I am making the right decision for my long-term happiness, it is still a gut-wrenching process. It doesn’t matter what circumstances led you to this precipice or how horrible your situation has become. When you are sitting there, staring at the finality of your broken dream in black and white, it knocks the breath out of you. You begin to reflect on the good times the two of you once shared, how you fell in love with your spouse, and the plethora of promises you made to one another when it seemed like you would conquer the world together. I will always cherish these memories and despite my heartache from another failed marriage, I will hold on to the good times we shared. This is the only way to move forward without becoming a victim to raging hostility and dislike of the other person. Hating and blaming your spouse may seem easier for you to progress, but ultimately, the person who suffers the most from harboring this resentment is you.
To get back to my story, my week was off to a rocky start and I was certain that things could not get any worse than they currently are. I found myself falling into the habit of holding a pity party for one, until I realized that absolutely nothing positive could arise from thinking and feeling this way. I do have much to be thankful for and those are the things I should embrace now. My wonderful and completely selfless family, my cherished inner circle of friends, and last but never least, my adorable snaggled-tooth puppy of 11 years. Once I began to channel my negative energy into the positive aspects of my life, I received a call for a second interview for the most rockstar job I could ever dream of. The company is fantastic, stable and profitable. The job itself is an eerie match to my talents and 14 years’ experience in the industry. When I went back to meet the rest of the team that I would be working with, I felt an instant rapport with them. Not only were they incredibly bright and intelligent, but they each had such a great sense of humor. Let me just say this…a sense of humor should be a requirement for the field in which I have worked all of these years. It’s a high stress, demanding, visible position where you are held to a higher standard than most of your peers. Without getting into too much detail, let’s just say that it’s a fairly niche type of position. Not many people fit this role or have the patience (or talent) to truly do well. Ironically, I fit this niche which has always made me more marketable in the job arena than many others with a more generalized background. However, on the flip side of the coin, these type of positions are few and far between so it’s entirely up to you to sell yourself, your talents, your merits, and most of all, why they should select you above all other candidates.
So, I went into this second interview and did just that. I didn’t hold back or allow myself to be too intimidated not to ‘toot my own horn.’ And the interview went off better than I could have expected. When I put that first foot on the floor this morning, I felt hope swelling inside of me. Hope that this fantastic opportunity will pan out for me, hope that I can conquer a new life on my own, hope that I can be around others who appreciate me for who I am rather than who they think I ought to be and hope for a more promising tomorrow. After coffee this morning and a few nibbles to settle my growling stomach, I received a call from this company to return tomorrow for a final, third interview to meet the CEO and partners. Naturally, I am thrilled beyond measure.
What is the moral of Mozzie’s story? Hope is a good thing, perhaps the best of things…and a good thing never dies.
I’ve been thinking deeply these last few months about the old proverb, “It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” I have to be honest and tell you that I really struggle with this notion. When I look back over my life, I can say whole-heartedly…Yes, I have loved much and loved completely. I have felt the joy that only arises from true love, the anticipation of spending every waking moment with that other person, and ultimately, the abject bliss of sharing the promise of spending the rest of your lives together. However, having been through marriage twice now (I am so thrilled to admit), I honestly feel that marriage in and of itself is just that: a promise. It is a promise that you will love the other person utterly and completely with everything you are, respect them even when they aren’t at the top of your ‘likeable’ list, take care of them when they are sick and unable to care for themselves, and help shoulder the burden when your family of two falls on difficult times. Above all, it is a promise of partnership; a vow that you will always contribute everything you can to the other person, your life together, and to your future.
My point with this elementary explanation is that if I am totally honest with myself, I’ve never experienced marriage as it should be. In both instances, I gave more than I received, loved more than I was loved, and held on to that promise with more zeal and respect than the other partner involved. So, by the most basic definition, I have loved and lost. Many people I know often comment that I’m just ‘jaded’ by my experiences and that it isn’t like this for everyone. Believe me, I know it isn’t. I have family members who have sustained happy and fulfilling marriages longer than I have been on this earth. Is there some great secret that they are aware of that I was never told? Are they that much better judges of character than I am when it comes to choosing their life partner? Or, did they just get ‘lucky?’ I think it’s probably a combination of these things and quite frankly, the idea of marriage for my generation is much different that it is/was for the generations before me. Marriage wasn’t viewed as a potentially temporary situation where one party could bail if they got bored with the other person, thought they could get a younger and hipper model, or just simply got tired of being around them. They realized that they were making a lifetime commitment to the other person and it was the most sacred covenant they could possibly ever make, perhaps other than parenthood. But today, in our easy-come easy-go society, people are disposable and promises are made simply to be broken. Nothing guts me more than this behavior.
I know many of you are thinking, “Wait a second, Mozzie, isn’t that what you are doing by divorcing your husband? Aren’t you breaking your promise to him?” I suppose on the surface, yes, I am. But, it is so much deeper and more involved than that. When I look back on my marriages, it wasn’t me who broke the promises. It wasn’t me that vowed to be one way when we said “I do,” but ended up acting and living a life contrary to that. I was the one who gave everything and sacrificed all that I was. I was the one who fought tooth and nail to make the marriages work and for the other person to see what needed to be rectified in the relationship in order to have a happy life together. I did all the praying, made all the counseling appointments, initiated all the talks, and pleaded for understanding from the other person. And in both marriages, nothing was gained from my efforts but loss and heartbreak. In both instances, I loved completely, and ultimately, lost everything.
So, is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I really can’t say at this point in my life. Perhaps in ten years, I will feel differently and be able to answer unequivocally ‘yes.’ But right now, with so much loss consuming me, I simply don’t feel that it is. Jaded? Maybe. Or maybe I just allowed myself to fall so deeply that I wasn’t able to see the whites of their lies.
I spent the weekend with a dear friend whose sense of humor and genuine support is a welcomed distraction from my current reality. Perhaps what I like most about this friend is that they don’t bombard me with a littany of questions about my situation with the husband. Yes, they are naturally concerned for my well-being, however, they almost seem to ‘know’ that I’m just not equipped to answer certain questions right now. Does this make any sense? Probably not, however, I will do my best to explain.
You see, being a private person, my innate instinct is to keep my personal business to myself. Even among my closest loved ones, I prefer to share what is necessary and keep the details to myself. First and foremost, it’s really not anyone else’s business to know the intricasies of my life, daily routine and personal situation. I’ve found that the more you ‘invite’ others into this space, the more crowded your reality becomes…eventually, too close for even your own comfort. So, I share what I must to reassure my friends and loved ones that I am ‘okay’ and they need not worry about me 24/7. I got myself into this situation and yes, I am working towards finding my way out. I often find myself wondering why those closest to you feel the need to ask every little emerging question about your situation. ‘‘What are you going to do? Why can’t you kick him out? When is he going to leave and why don’t you make him? What does he say to you when you talk? Why did you marry him anyways? (Sheesh!)”…etc etc. I do understand that these are reasonable questions, but why do others expect what they feel is an acceptable answer to these questions when I am unable and unwilling to address them? How do they feel this scrutiny is helpful even in the slightest regard?
I suppose my point with all of this is that sometimes the greatest gift I can give a friend or a loved one is simply listening and being supportive. This entails hearing what they have to say without opinion or judgment, and easing their mind by reminding them that they can still laugh without being overwhelmed by their current situation. People have no idea what a gift this is to another soul who is struggling with divorce, death, or even life in general. If a friend is troubled and seeks your advice or opinion, they will ask you for it. Don’t assume that you have free liscense to inquire about the ins and outs of their personal situation or tragedy. Trust me, your friend is having a difficult enough time navigating these waters on his own, searching for answers and understanding that often takes months and years to emerge.
So, for this particular friend to whom I am referring: Thank you for being exactly what I need right now. Thank you for listening without constant commentary. Thank you for reminding me to laugh when I feel it’s impossible. Thank you for expecting nothing more but what I am able to give. Thank you for seeing me for who I am and not who you feel I ought to be. And most of all, thank you for being my friend.
As you are all painfully aware, I am navigating through a sufficient doo-doo storm right now in my life. I am at the mercy of the legal system in terms of receiving an expeditious divorce, struggling to find a job, and living in between the parental units’ home, my home and the homes of several close friends. Sometimes, I find myself infuriated and frustrated with the limbo land I’m currently in, but then I remind myself that getting upset and worried about it won’t change the situation or make it come to a conclusion any faster. I really do understand why many people, once they decide to reclaim their life after a horrible marriage, simply flee with a few items and leave the rest behind. The idea of this is incredibly intoxicating and tempting at times, particularly when you feel like your life is in a constant holding pattern and it must be…it has to be…BETTER somewhere else. The inherent problem with running away from your problems or situation is that the only thing that really changes is geography. The residual effect of the problem from which you sought to escape tends to follow you to your new destination. At least, in my case it seems this way.
So, I’m attempting to look at my current situation in a different way than I typically have in the past. Yes, I want it to be over and I want to be happy again, but being patient (not complacent, however), is a vital requirement for your own sanity. I try and tackle each day and the problems contained therein with a positive outlook and as an opportunity to learn something new about myself and what I want the remainder of my life on this earth to entail. After giving this approach much thought, I think I’ve finally pinpointed what my personal keys to happiness are. They may seem childish and rudimentary on the surface, but I feel they encompass a much greater good…a much better goal than obsessing about the impedending calamity of current events.
To answer your nagging question, yes, there are many things I want in my life. Would I like to love again? Certainly. However, instead of premptively planning the future in my own mind, I choose to take each day as it presents itself. By not setting expectations in your own psyche, you are much less likely to suffer from disappointment when those expectations fall short. My keys to happiness are to be the very best friend, sister, daughter, and person that I can possibly be. In doing this and through sharing my own compassion and care with others, I know I will find the sense of fulfillment I’ve always searched for. In essence, let go of past regret and welcome new opportunities and experiences. As Morrissey says, “let the right one slip in.”
Let the right one in
Let the old dreams die
Let the wrong ones go
They cannot
They cannot
They cannot do what you want them to
Oh…
Let the right one in
Let the old dreams die
Let the wrong ones go
They do not
They do not
They do not see what you want them to
Oh…
Let the right one in
Let the old games fade
Put the tricks and schemes (for good) away
I will advise
Until my mouth dries
I will advise you to…
let the right one slip in
Slip in
Slip in
And when at last it does
I’d say you were within your rights to bite
The right one and say, “What kept you so long?”
“What kept you so long?”
I was thinking earlier today about a conversation I had with a close friend several days ago.We were discussing the notion of being a good ‘communicator’ and successfully being able to verbalize one’s emotions.I suppose what led up to this conversation was my confession to her that I’ve always been an extremely private person, sharing very little of my ‘true’ self with the vast majority of my acquaintances.I’ve typically been the reserved wallflower in the back of a crowded room, never offering my voice unless it was specifically asked of me.Granted, this personality characteristic was much more prevalent during my childhood and adolescent years, and most people who know me as an adult today would never in a million years believe I was even remotely introverted.I suppose that years of playing hardball within the corporate business arena taught me how to disguise this tendency.
Obviously, my fascination with words and language first sprouted roots during childhood when I discovered a solace within the blank pages of my composition notebook.It was within these pages that I not only found my voice, but learned not to be afraid of it.I realized that I did have something to say, even if it was something that I often had trouble verbalizing when facing another human being.So, when the words wouldn’t ‘come out,’ I transferred these thoughts and feelings to paper where I would attempt to make sense of them.If I had a disagreement with a friend or loved one, I would write it in a note or a letter to them.If I wanted to tell them how fantastic I thought they were or to thank them for a thoughtful gesture, I would be scribble it on a piece of paper and either stick in their backpack or within the slots of their locker at school.Always safe, and always on my own comfortable terms.
As an adult, however, I came to realize the importance of being able to express myself verbally.I used to think that if I couldn’t say exactly what was going through my mind, I shouldn’t say anything at all.This is a terrible fallacy because before you know it, you’ve accumulated a lifetime of moments and opportunities where you could have, and should have, told someone exactly what you were thinking and feeling about them.These moments are precious and fleeting, and we should take every opportunity to embrace them and tell others how precious they are to us.I have a very simple motto by which I live my life:“Say what you mean and mean what you say.”Don’t over-analyze every thought and emotion to the extent that you don’t even know how to communicate your feelings anymore.Just say what you’re thinking and most importantly, MEAN it.If you are moved to tell someone that you love them, then by all means, MEAN it when you say it.I guarantee that the person on the receiving end is taking you at your word, so don’t throw it around casually.Mean it when you say it.
If you are in a relationship and your partner consistently does something that upsets you or makes you feel undervalued, then TELL them.Don’t wait until the ‘right’ words come to mind or procrastinate until you reach the point that you feel they won’t be interested in what you have to say.Relationships are built on trust and communication.Without one of these ingredients, the whole house will tumble.The beauty of expression through the written word is a prized talent, however, the exercise of verbal expression is a vanishing art form in daily life. Thoreau wrote, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”Why is this?I think it’s rather simple.Most people don’t know how to communicate their thoughts, feelings and dreams to those close to them.After years of keeping these thoughts to themselves, they eventually reach a point where they are convinced that no one is interested or wants to hear them.What a sad commentary on life this is.
So, where am I going with all of this?Yes, words sometimes get in the way of us being able to effectively communicate what is on our minds.Yes, we sometimes retreat within an isolated cloud where we keep our thoughts and feelings to ourselves, fearing that no one could possibly understand or relate to what we are thinking.The point is…SO WHAT?Nothing ventured, nothing gained so just SAY it even when the words won’t ‘come out.’Say what you mean and mean what you say and I guarantee that not only will others listen, but they will respect you even more because of it.
I’ve spent the past four days with the parental units in an effort to escape the chaos, hysteria and generally horrendous cloud hanging over my home right now.They say that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ huh?I think absence makes the will grow stronger, personally.Obviously, I’ve known the appropriate course of action to take in my marriage for quite some time now, however, simply stepping outside of the situation for a few days can do wonders to clarify and solidify your feelings.If you doubt me, give it a whirl.One of two things will happen and you will either say:1. “I’m an idiot for thinking that way.My situation isn’t nearly as bad as it seemed.” or 2. “I cannot believe I’ve been living this way. What in the world have I been thinking all of these months and years?!”I don’t think it takes a brain surgeon to decipher which of these two responses I fall under.Perhaps the most difficult part for both me and others is in understanding why it took me so long to see this for myself.
It hasn’t been an easy situation, trying to explain to the husband why I feel the need to have time to myself and for us to be living separately.For months, he’s been in a state of denial as far as my intent to end our marriage, and it seems that only in the past few weeks has he started to realize that this is actually going to happen and there isn’t anything he can do about it.In short, “This chic is toast…game over, man.Game over.”I realize some of you might be inclined to think that I am unforgiving or half-heartedly committed to my marriage by being able to say this rather tongue-in-cheek.Actually, that could not be farther from the truth.For years, I’ve done everything…been everything…put in 150% day in and day out, only to be met by broken promises and disappointment after disappointment.The most ironic thing about my ‘bad marriage’ track record is that you will never meet anyone who believes in love and the beauty of what marriage is intended to be more than I do.I’ve grown up with the most wonderful examples of it, my parents and even my grandparents.But, even with the best example presented to you throughout your life, your marriage is only as good as what each partner is willing to put into it.I’ve been married two times now.Both times, I married men who were unable to meet me half-way on the spouse spectrum.Both times, I married men who promised one thing at the altar, yet behaved an entirely different way once we came home.C’est la vie, indeed.
I in no way intend this to sound like a pity party on my behalf, as I’m just as accountable in the situation for not making a wiser decision in the first place.I know what you are thinking:‘Didn’t you know your husband was like this before you married him?Surely, there were signs, weren’t there?’ The answer to these questions are no and yes.No, I didn’t know my husband was like this until after we married and yes, there were signs that I should have paid more attention to.It’s like I’ve said a million times before:I am a human being who makes stupid mistakes like each and every person.I am just as fallible and accountable for my decisions.
All of this makes me reflect on The Beatles’ lyrics, “All you need is love.Love is all you need.”Do you need love to sustain a happy and lifelong marriage?Absofreakin’ lutely.Is this ‘all’ you need?No way…not even remotely.A long and happy marriage also requires trust, mutual respect, and the ability to give even when you feel like you’ve already contributed more than your fair share.
I will leave you with a quote from an article I read recently that stuck in my mind.“Most people think marriage is 50/50. It’s not. It’s 60/40. You give 60. You take 40. And that goes for both of you.Love is a four-letter word spelled G-I-V-E.”
The "Bad Husband" Chronicles 