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.  

 

The ‘Dead To Me’ List

Sometimes it just isn’t worth the effort. Sometimes people grow apart… once loyal and devoted friends, with whom you shared private jokes, similar opinions or mutual hatred of your boss disappear into the mist of time. Memories cloud. New people, new problems, new distractions come into your lives.

It’s not that you didn’t want to pick up the phone… but you look up and six months have gone by.

Sometimes, I am not the best friend in the world. Like my hero Stephen Colbert, I have my own  ”Dead To Me” list, and looking at the latest additions to it, I barely have any friends left. Not that I am not on their list somewhere as well. This includes one of my best friends for 10 years, an old bandmate who owes me money, a man I might have been able to love in another time or place, and a more recent ”friend” who wanted to brag about her engagement ring while I was crying about my husband. There are others, but not even worth mentioning. But letting them go is like putting ghosts on a raft and pushing them off into the ocean, and watching them float away finds me exhaling in relief.

I am, at best, a mediocre friend. I don’t respond quickly to emails. And sometimes I don’t realize that I sound unconcerned about something that is monumentally important to my friends. I also hate being the type of person who is complaining to those close to me, so I don’t stay in touch when things are not going well. But lately there hasn’t been a lot of good news or breathtaking information to share. Who wants to be on the other end of the phone when I tell them that lately I am not crying EVERY day?

I have found that going through a tough personal situation will show you how many friends you really have. Or don’t. Not that I expect anyone to lie awake at night worrying about me, but it seems that the support I am getting comes from unexpected people… and not the ones I thought I could count on. Enlightening if nothing else.

On the other hand, I am well aware that you have to be a friend to have a friend. I am one of those people that do well with just an important few who would report me missing. I don’t have a close relationship with most of my family, except my cousin Ashley and my grandmother. Because my husband and I are having problems, his mother has chosen to stop calling, basically ignoring me & her grandson. I am accustomed to her being a cold bitch at this point. She has the compassion of a Nazi. Were she to show geniune concern, I would be stunned.

Her husband, Dylan’s grandfather, is another story. They are complete opposites. I know if I need anything, I can count on him. I don’t mean financially … I’m trying to handle that on my own. It’s the fact that he expresses love and concern about Dylan. He is the only decent grandparent my son has.

While losing my marriage, it is probably a terrible time to be deleting people from my phone, and blocking MySpace users. But life is short and when you know you aren’t going to talk to someone again or you are tired of being stalked… it’s kind of cleansing. A new beginning. More space in my address book. More time in my life for people who really matter.

 

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.