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
Despite the months leading up to my current marital precipice, I still feel fairly unprepared for all that is facing me.The funny thing about life is that oftentimes, despite how much thought or preparation you can take to plan for the future, there is still so much left in the hands of fate.For someone like me, a careful planner by nature, this element of uncertainty is such a grueling factor to take into account.Yes, I can make all the plans in the world for how I want my immediate future to unfold, but the truth of the matter is that so much of it isn’t up to me.Tomorrow, I will face a judge, present ‘my side’ of the story concerning why I am seeking a divorce from the husband, and hope that he/she will be fair and reasonable.The problem with family and divorce law is that these courts are sadly overflowing with cases.Day in and day out, these judges hear stories that would boggle the mind and most certainly make any judge swear off the vow of marriage for the rest of their lives.Isn’t it ironic how your wedding day, one of the most memorable days of your life, can be turned on its head and become something to be battled out in our legal system?When I think of how nonchalant society has become about marriage today, it does bring to mind Morrissey’s words, “Heavy words so lightly thrown”…a sad commentary, but painfully true.
You see, those who are close to me frequently remark that one of my biggest flaws is that I can be ‘too nice’ and don’t put my needs first.They say that I should ‘get tough,’ and if necessary, be mean to the husband to drive the point home that our marriage is over and that he needs to grow up, stop hassling me, and take care of himself for a change.At first, I thought this seemed like cruel and unusual punishment, so I’ve been nothing short of accommodating to the husband during our separation.Now, as months have elapsed with me living with my parents and the husband acting like a real jackass, I’ve come to realize that this tougher approach is the only way to handle him.At first, I did feel sympathy for the husband, knowing that I am the one filing for the divorce and leaving him behind.But yesterday, when I went home briefly to gather a few personal items, I completely changed my mind.
The husband was at work and had no idea that I would be stopping by my house, so I got to see firsthand exactly how the husband has been living in my home during our separation.I flung open the door and was nearly knocked down by the sweltering heat coming from the living room.I approached the thermometer only to find it set on 80 degrees with the heat blowing full blast throughout the house.Mind you, it was 65 degrees in Atlanta yesterday and hardly chilly or even cold.My beautiful home, my once perfect solace, was cluttered with dirty dishes on every table, laundry slung over the furniture and floor, and trash piled up high enough to perform an impressive Olympic high jump.Not to mention, the stench of dried food and sweaty socks permeated throughout my house, which once smelled of flowers and potpourri.I noticed new stains on the carpet, undoubtedly from the husband not letting the dog out to potty regularly, and instead allowing him to do his business on the den carpet.I surveyed the damage and thought to myself, “Is this MY house?How will I ever get it back the way it was once before?How could anyone be so thoughtless and utterly disgusting?”My appalled state of mind lasted for a few minutes before I felt rage boiling inside of me, imagining my slovenly husband sitting on his lazy ass, trashing my house and running up the gas and electric bills with no regard for the person who will actually be stuck paying for them.And then I thought about how he’s continually pleaded with me through these months not to be thrown out in the street ‘like an old dog’ with nowhere to go.Well, you know what?I simply don’t care anymore.My tenure of playing Mommy to him is finally over and it’s time to reclaim my life.
The way I see it is that the husband is single-handily responsible for sabotaging any remaining feeling I might have had for him.He’s made his bed and must now lie in it.Does that make me a ‘bad’ person for thinking this way…cold-hearted, callous?Well, I hold no degree in family or marital law, but I can hardly imagine any intelligent or rational person seeing the husband for anyone other than EXACTLY who and what he is.
As many of you know, Morrissey’s new album, ‘Years of Refusual’ is due to be released next month. Thanks to fellow fans, I was fortunate enough to be able to download the album two months early. Needless to say, there’s nothing in the world like new Moz material. For the diehard fan, it’s like having an indescribable drug administered intravenously.
Below is the video for my favorite track on the album, “All you need is me.” And Morrissey, you couldn’t have hit the nail more squarely on the head when you sing, “You bang your head against the wall and say you’re sick of it all – except for me. All you need is me.”
Absence is a funny thing.In some cases, particularly in love, it can make the heart grow fonder and cause us to swell with giddy feelings of infatuation and anticipation.Yet, in other instances, it allows us a great deal of clarity once we separate ourselves from a person or situation and can view things with a more objective eye than when we are immersed completely in it.You can say that staying with the parental units during my divorce proceedings with the husband has ultimately been a positive thing because it has allowed me this level of clarity.Unfortunately, it has not proven to be so for the husband.He is still restlessly flopping around in between ‘no-man’s land’ and the land of ‘why are we doing this?’It amazes me how the reasons are so blatantly clear to me and others, yet so oblivious and obscure to him.In a way, it’s ironically representative of our marriage.I have always been on one page while he has clearly been on another, with the pages rarely overlapping.I suppose that his confusion and misunderstanding with the dissolution of our marriage is no great surprise to me in that regard.I can’t help but wonder if the light will ever ‘switch on’ and he will one day say, “Oh, NOW I finally get it.”Either way, it’s not really my concern in the long run.
Our first hearing is scheduled for the end of this month and the husband pesters me on a daily basis to meet him and discuss the details beforehand because it is in “my best interest” that he knows everything about my current and future financial situation so that “I won’t get stuck paying him alimony.”Once again, I find this incredibly humorous because he has never taken any remote interest in my or our financial standing, even when we were poverty-stricken and on the verge of losing everything.Isn’t it coincidentally ironic how he is now so unselfishly concerned for my ultimate well-being and financial security given that he has directly contributed to me being flushed down the proverbial can too many times to count?In addition to being apprised of my financial standing in order for me not to have to pay him alimony (AS IF), he reminds me during each conversation how much he misses and loves me.Misses me?Perhaps.Loves me?Not even remotely.What so many people fail to realize is that love is verb, an action word, and actions always speak louder than words.Sure, you can easily tell someone that you “love” them, but when push comes to shove, it’s the daily actions that either prove or disprove this.And even I, the most avid lover of language, recognize the fallacy of this term and have learned to take it with a grain of salt.Anyone can pledge love and devotion, but it’s the rare gem that can actually walk the talk.
So, what do I want most from my situation with the husband?Ultimately, I want closure.I want us both to move on to the next phase of our lives and chalk our marriage up to what it was: a bad judgment call on my part and two people who make absolutely no sense being married to one another.Yes, there are memories (though distant now) that will always be cherished, but it isn’t until you let go of the old that you can learn to embrace the new.Sure, I hope that the husband will reflect on our marriage fondly, but what I really want is for him to put the memory and ideal of me and us away and start to focus on his future without me.In essence, I want him to remove me from his daily thought process and stream of consciousness.You cannot learn to run before you learn to walk, and the husband hasn’t even begun to take baby steps yet.Only this time, I will not be there to break his fall.
“Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in.Forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day and you shall begin it well and serenely.”
– Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)
“Acceptance of what has happened is the first step to overcoming the consequences of any misfortune.”
– William James (1842-1910)
“The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; it is dearness only that gives everything its value. I love the man that can smile in trouble; that can gather strength from distress and grow.”
I don’t mind,
I don’t mind if you forget me
Having learned my lesson,
I never left an impression on anyone
So now you send me your hardened ‘regards’
when once you’d send me ‘love’
Sincerely I must tell you,
Your mild ‘best wishes’
They make me suspicious
But I don’t mind
I don’t mind if you forget me
Having learned my lesson,
I never left an impression on anyone
The pressure to change, to move on
Was strange and very strong
So this is why I tell you
I really do understand
BYE BYE
I don’t mind if you forget me
no no no no no no no
REJECTION IS ONE THING
BUT REJECTION FROM A FOOL IS CRUEL
REJECTION IS ONE THING
BUT REJECTION FROM A FOOL IS CRUEL
And I don’t mind if you forget me
I don’t mind if your forget me
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.
I just received this adorable link and had to share it with everyone. There is nothing that touches me more than the innocent and loving spirit of animals and children. Enjoy!
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?”
The "Bad Husband" Chronicles 