I’ll Survive If It Kills Me

What is it they say? Change is good. You go first.

Well, this starting over thing is getting to  me. I got used to life being a certain way… then the rug was pulled out from under me. Only it wasn’t all at once, like the old tablecloth trick, where the dishes remain intact. This was gradual, slow and painful, and I would liken it more to quicksand. I lost my footing, found nothing to hold onto… and eventually, I was swallowed up.

Now it’s as if I came out on the other side, an Alice in her own surreal wonderland, where nothing is as it should be, or as it appears. I have distanced myself, heart and mind, from my old life… it doesn’t hurt as much that way. But looking around, even in familiar places, I often don’t know where I am. More importantly, I don’t know WHO I am. I always defined myself as a wife and mother. Now the wife role is one I no longer play. I miss it. I don’t know if I would do it again. But now, as I take it on alone, I am grateful for the little things that put a smile on my face. I don’t think much about the future. I can’t. The fact that I am on my own sinks in a little more every day… and that is enough.

Worry takes me over sometimes. Everything from financial stress to concern over Dylan’s health and future. I try to hide it, but lately I don’t know that I’m doing too well. Because being alone and feeling totally responsible for my son is new and a little scary, even for me.

My husband is struggling too, having finally realized that it is not going to work out. That I don’t have it in me. I am done. I’m tired. Even though in some ways, it would be the more comfortable, but lazy, thing to do, I still can’t do it. I would rather take the chance that I may find some happiness, and be lucky enough to find love again. It is sad that after all these years, we now have different paths to take. But I choose to climb toward a new beginning, rather than hike through an unfriendly wilderness. I know I am going alone, but even with all the baggage, I am determined to avoid the quicksand.  

 

Facing The Past And Looking Forward

Today is my son’s 17th birthday. What a difference a year makes.

Last year, my husband, son and I were in a Destin, Florida townhouse on the bay celebrating his birthday with his first lobster. Laying by the pool, feeling the sun on our faces. A life taken for granted. A life now gone.

Today, my husband and I are not together, and divorce is down the road. I was downsized for a second time, and just started ANOTHER job. Between my unemployment and the high cost of living, all our money is gone… there won’t be any more trips for a long time. I am broke until I get my first paycheck Friday.

My son Dylan is recovering from a much-needed surgery, which is the only silver lining in the dark clouds I face every time I stop and let myself think. 

I know that analyzing yesterday isn’t as important figuring out tomorrow. But it is overwhelming. After 22 years of security, contentment, love and companionship, it’s hard to just see one car in the driveway. When Stephen was in Ohio, I knew he was coming home. This time he isn’t.

The details of all that led up to this seem trivial now; they are the same things that break up marriages every day… because while all divorces are different, they are essentially the same. They are the end. They hurt. They are the death of a family.

I watch my son shutting out his father, but there is a conflict I cannot fix. I cannot heal their relationship. I can only hope that one day they find their way back to each other. Tonight, Stephen is coming by to see Dylan for his birthday, but I don’t know what to expect. I can only hope at some point, they can be close again.

For me, it’s the letting go that’s hard… not so much saying goodbye to the past, but losing dreams I shared with Stephen, for our future. That is what I grieve the most. Knowing that next year, when my son is feeling better, the three of us won’t be back in Destin to have more lobster. And all the other things we will never do. It breaks my heart.

But like I said, what a difference a year makes. After everything life has taught me, I wouldn’t dare guess what could happen by the time he turns 18. I just know with time, I feel… I hope… and I HAVE TO BELIEVE that as he recovers, my heart will also mend. And we’ll both be able to see through the clouds. Maybe even feel the sun on our faces again. 

 

The Waiting Game

I really miss the guy I married. I guess somewhere inside my husband, that guy still remembers me. But it’s been a long long time. And a lot of mean, twisted, ugly things have been said, accusations hurled, limits  reached. We somehow turned each other into people we didn’t even like.

But I still miss him. I wish I could ask him to just come lay with me, and he would. Just to hold me… not talking about problems or solutions or the past or the future, except what the weather will be like in the morning. I miss my old life when I took everything for granted, even the security of his arms around me.

So much drama… talk of “working on our relationship,” making positive changes, good intentions. Time will tell. And like Tom Petty said, waiting is the hardest part. I refuse to hope. I refuse to invest my already broken heart in a sinking ship. I refuse to be in the position I was once in: clueless, trusting, naive. The truth is easy to talk about but hard to live. Once it’s gone, it will take everything else with it. If things don’t work out, I cannot afford to be destroyed. I am a mother. I will be a strong woman, even if it kills me.

Even so, it sure would feel good to be held again. To see the eyes of the man I loved so many years ago looking back at me. To be able to feel the love I lived with for so long, and then lost. Love I remember like a blue sky, a sweet taste, a warm blanket. As much a part of me as my blood and lungs.

I wonder if I can live without him.