Battlegrounds

"The easiest period in a crisis situation is actually the battle itself. The most difficult is the period of indecision - whether to fight or run away. And the most dangerous period is the aftermath. It is then, with all his resources spent and his guard down that an individual must watch out for dulled reactions and faulty judgement." - Richard Nixon

I have spent the last several days feeling incredibly introspective - my nerves made raw from some faulty decisions that I've made. Up until today, I had refused to admit that my divorce was, in fact, a battle. That's not entirely accurate. It wasn't so much that I refused to admit it, but Nixon was right - going through it was the easy part. It's behind me now, and my reactions have been dull, my judgement faulty.

I spent the day fighting battles of an altogether different nature, and it was exhausting. Later this evening, I had to spend a couple of hours with my ex-husband. He is bitter, and angry and sullen. It's not about me, and his anger has not been caused by me. It's his nature. It's who he is and who he has always been. Seeing that, then really understanding that it was never about me was a relief.

The battle IS in fact behind me. And with that realization, I let it go and set myself free. It's done. I can learn from it, promise myself to never go back and release it. Phew. That feels better. :)

Recently, I was asked to write something about violations of Human Rights. I tried to formulate a plan - create a point of view, and to do so, I began to research human rights violations online. Now, don't misunderstand - I can easily rattle off 20 subjects that move me tremendously. But I am neither smart nor compelling enough to expound on why the issues that affect my soul the most profoundly are those that everyone else should concern themselves the most with.

So I was looking for perspective for a story. A point of view. Maybe someone else's story, because, frankly I haven't been able to write anything of any substance for quite some time now.
I found someone else's story - not online, but deep in the recesses of my mind - where it had been stowed and stashed away due to the abject horror it evokes. I've spent two days writing that story, and I doubt that I'll ever share it.

It is the story of someone very close to me. It reminded me that while history does repeat itself, history is not destined or doomed to repeat itself.

It also helped me to focus in on one undeniable fact: ALL violations of human rights ultimately are a violation of the most basic human right - the right to self-determination.

When we lose the ability to take control of our own lives, when we are prevented from acting in the manner in which we must to fulfill our individual destinies, when we are disallowed from being the soul we are meant to be, that's when we are the most subjugated and the most betrayed by life.

Our repsective Gods never impose this on us, when we think they do, it is merely man behaving a fool while using God's name as a tool for his own perverse agenda. Only man can rob another man of the right to self-determination, only man can rape another's soul so violently.

It has taken me 35 years to find my voice, and I'm still learning how to use my voice. My dearest friend recently pointed out to me that I often use my voice a bit too much. I suspect that at times she is right.

But guess what? I can write again! As soon as my children are tucked in comfortably, I plan to tuck myself in with a cup of hot tea and write furiously...and if I do that until the sun comes up, I'll be a very happy woman. A woman with a voice, and the ability to share that voice whether anyone is listening or not.

Patience

"All of life and human relations have become so incomprehensibly complex that, when you think about it, it becomes terrifying and your heart stands still." - Anton Chekov

If I can give myself credit for nothing else in the world, I can tell you with 100% certainty that I've worked diligently to create my own life.

Dreams I've had have manifested. Wings have been given feet.

I fucking hate this standstill I find myself in, completely dependent on the actions of others, the desires and needs of others. It's so frustrating for a "doer".

But wait...what?...there's two sides to every story? Indeed.

I love my life right now.

I'm 35 with 36 bearing down quickly. I'm a divorced mother of two children. I have a small but amazing group of friends. I have a career that I love. I'm having so much fun I can barely sit still.

Yes, there is more in life. I can't be a 36 year old party girl forever. Hell, I probably shouldn't be her now.

But I'm having so much fun. And really, it's not all that complex!

Coupling

"Let there be spaces in your togetherness." - Kahlil Gibran, from The Prophet

So, there is this couple I know vaguely. Their daughter is in class with my daughter and they work out at the same gym that I do. The wife is a little bit overweight. Nothing extreme. Average, really. She's an attractive woman, dresses well, seems to have her act together, appears to be a good mother.

The husband is more fit than she is, but to be honest, they are very well matched in appearances. You know, one isn't extremely better looking than the other. They fit.

She's in the gym every day, sweating her ass off, working out hard. Really hard. MUCH, much harder than I ever would. Ever.

Dickhead is standing around, doing not much of anything, berating her the entire time. I swear, I want to punch him. They end up arguing all day every day, and she's practically in tears by the time its over. She probably can't lose any weight because she probably goes home and eats a pint of ice cream in the shower, just to extend the time away from him and feed the pain.

Part of me wants to scream at her, "Honey...you don't need that in your life."

Part of me wants to scream at him, "Dude, you should thank God someone is sleeping with you."

All of me is just very, very happy that it's not me anymore.

What is it about people that makes the thought of being alone worse than living like that?

I have no idea, but that won't be me - ever again.

And here's a public service announcement to the men of the world: No matter how manly you are, a tattoo on your ankle makes you look like a tool. Seriously...chicks get tattoos on their ankles, men cannot.

More

"Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things." - Bejamin Disraeli

I had two very interesting conversations today with two very different people. One, a woman who is having a torrid affair with a married man. Both caused me to reflect on my own marriage, and what I seek for the future.

I married so very young. I thought that I was so mature. I had lived this nomadic life - always leaving the people I loved. Nothing was constant, nothing was predictable, nothing was ever the same. I'd make genuine and deep connections with people - seconds before I was forced to leave them.

I craved stability and sameness. I craved roots. I married for what I thought were genuinely "right" reasons. I wanted to create a family, to build a stable and loving home, to have someone in my life that I could always rely on and that could always rely on me. So, I found the nice guy. The guy that would be a good father. The guy that would always be there. And my ex-husband was certainly all of those things - a nice person (snarky comments notwithstanding), a good father, and boy he was ALWAYS there.

Once, as a small child, I was at a car wash with my mother. I asked her if I could do it. She said sure, and handed me the high-pressure hose to rinse off the car. I pulled the trigger and the power of the water surprised me. The hose went flying out of my hand and in an instant, had wrapped itself completely around my neck, choking me. I was stunned and stood there crying, unable to breathe and getting soaked as my mother extricated me from the hose.

That's what my marriage became. A high-pressure hose wrapped around my neck. And that surprised me too.

I'll marry again, eventually. I'm sure of it. I'm a one-man sort of girl, and I always have been. I crave a deep connection. And so, I'm experimenting, trying to discover just what sort of man I want - what sort of man will allow me the freedom to connect on a deep level, without strangling me.

The next time I marry, I'm going to marry for the "wrong" reasons. I'm going to choose the man that I can't keep my hands off of. I want to become aroused the second he walks in the door. The one that pushes me a little, that forces me to explore my boundaries.

My ex-husband always told me that I was never satisfied. That no matter what, I always wanted more. He spoke the truth.

I want the man that respects that about me, that likes that I will always want more - more challenges to tackle head-on, more adventures to seek out, more risk to overcome, more of connection to each other, more professional success, more intensity, more passion.

How could that possibly be wrong?

Aeronautics

"More than anything else the sensation is one of perfect peace mingled with an excitement that strains every nerve to the utmost, if you can conceive of such a combination." - Wilbur Wright

I am completely baffled. I have no idea what's going on in my world, but I'm rapidly beginning to think something very bizarre is happening to me, and that the Gods are conspiring to tell me something big, but I cannot figure out what this meaning is.

As previously written, I met a pilot out. He and I have become quite good friends and I do enjoy our weekly coffee/dinner non-dates. Then, I meet another pilot and realize quickly that I could fall for him. My favorite friend and I are out at a bar downtown one night, and this group of very young, very little men start talking to us. All of them are pilots. She finds this all terribly amusing.

Well, my pilot isn't here and he didn't make it. I've been very honest with him about my feelings and I feel that he's being honest with me as well. I told him that I was hurt, I told him that I needed to see him again because I just have to know, I told him that I wanted him to give "us" one last chance before he makes any decisions that alter his life forever. A new angle for me, this whole honesty and openness thing - but I'm going to try this whole adult thing and see where life takes me that way. My normal tactic would have been to shut him out and move on, with my tail between my legs for a couple of weeks, until the pain subsided. I think the honesty bit was a nicer way to go.

He told me that he's in a strange place professionally at the moment and doesn't know where he's going - literally and figuratively. I told him that I understood that, too. He said that he wished he could give me better answers and that the only thing he "knew" right now was that spending time with me "feels good, and that nothing in the world is better." But apparently, something in the world is better - or at least worth exploring. He's just at a point of flux in his life...and I can completely relate. Ironic that we meet each other at what will likely prove to be simply the worst timing possible.

I want him, but I can't just snap my fingers and make that happen. And so I wait. But you know, I'm just not a very patient person. So, I'm not waiting around idly, twiddling my thumbs. I head down to an Irish pub last night with a couple friends. I beat them there, but Po is coming...so I know there's trouble brewing.

I feel the very attractive man at the end of the bar staring at me, so I pull up a stool next to him and his friend. This is new for me too, but hey...I'm taking some chances. I thought it might cheer me up a little to flirt and laugh with this guy, and we're wearing the same watch. ;-)

It doesn't take long before he strikes up conversation. He's hilarious. He's from out of town. Perfect. A very casual flirtation. We're drinking. Quickly and heavily. Perfect. My pilot begins to slip out of my mind ever so slightly.

The Bostonian starts talking about how much he travels for work. Hmmm....no. Say it isn't so. I'm thinking, "I don't even want to ask. I can't handle hearing it." So, I ask his pal if they work together. "Affirmative." No, please don't use words like that. Please. Finally, my friend asks the question that I really didn't want to know the answer to.

And yep, pilots. Long story short - I feel like a flipping sorority girl that just met the coolest frat boy ever as we made out in the bar like a couple of idiots.

Oh well, it was fun. He invited me to Chicago with him tonight - but there's no way I was getting on that flight - the pilots were hammered! ;-)

Sacrifice

"When you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and the evil passions with which you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of your mind; and on top, beautifully aired, are your prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on." - From Peter Pan

I had an amazing day with my son today. It's late, I'm sleepy. But I have to write about the conversations we had before I sleep, before the prettier thoughts replace it.

My boy is 7 and terribly astute. He suffers a great deal from a learning disability, dyslexia, but he's a creative and quick thinker. Friday night, we had an incredible conversation about God and religion that began with him saying, "Mom, I just don't get it. How was God born?" There's something terribly refreshing about looking your child straight in the eye and saying, "Yeah, babe...it doesn't make sense to my brain either."

Ultimately, we spent an hour discussing what each of us believed, Faith and the need to respect the beliefs of others, even if they were contradictory to our own. It was a great chat.

I wake this morning to find both of my children snuggled up under a blanket together on the couch, watching television. It brings me so much pleasure to see how close they are. I need to know that, despite the choices I made to leave their father, that they will always have each other. I told them we were heading out to the lake for the day, to visit my parents, and they quickly dressed and readied themselves - their independence bringing me much joy too, even though I know it's been thrust on them by the divorce and by my own desires to ensure that should something ever happen to me, they will be competent and capable wee people.

Once at the lake, my parents, my aunt and uncle, my children and I jumped in the pool for some rowdy water volleyball. We're all laughing hysterically, having a genuinely great time when we notice the boat pulling the parasail. We all stop and fixate on it and I say, "I promised myself I was going to do that this year." and felt a little sad as I realized that summer is ending, and I had probably missed my chance. My son pipes up, "I'm going to do that too."

My stepmother says, "If you both want to do it, I'll call them right now and see if they'll pick you guys up at the dock."

An hour later, my son and I are being strapped into our harnesses for our ride into the sky. I can tell my son is nervous, and I'm trying to act nonchalant for his benefit, but my heart is beating a bit faster, too. The couple that runs the operation is amazing and while I'm watching them interact, I'm thinking...these two are truly in love and they love what they do. I was comforted by their easy natures.

The next thing you know, my 7 year old boy and I are being propelled through the air at a height of 250 feet by a thread and the view was awesome. The sun was beginning to set - my favorite time of day - casting that beautiful orange glow over the world. The lake was calm and quiet and the breeze was just the perfect temperature to cool your skin without causing a chill. It was silent and peaceful and utterly breathtaking being that high, that vulnerable, looking out over Austin and the lake and being next to my little man.

"Momma, I'm pretty scared." He said, shortly after we reached altitude.

"I know baby. Me too. But I'm going to be really honest with you, OK?" I said.

"Sure, Mom."

"I spent my life wanting to try things like this and being scared to do them. I would never have done this when I was married to your Dad because I was so afraid of everything. But, I'm learning that everything in life that's really worth experiencing is a little bit scary, because there's always a little bit of risk involved. But, baby, this is fucking cool, don't you think?" I was surprised that I used that word, but it fit at the moment and really, it was fucking cool.

"Yeah, I guess so, Mom. Why were you so afraid of everything before?"

"Sweetie, I don't really know. But what I do know is that I'm not going to let my fear stop me from trying things anymore. And I don't want you to let fear stop you from trying things, either."

"But I'm too young to die." He said.  I smiled and giggled.

"Yes, baby you are. And so am I. But we're also too young to not live our lives." I looked over at him and he was smiling. He had released his death-grip on the harness and was waving at a passing boat. I thought that he might not have heard me.

When we landed, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and said, "Mom, I'm glad we're living our lives." I pulled him in for a long hug and held him tightly. I said nothing, but I thought, 'Me too, baby. Me too.'

He immediately called his father to share the experience. His father asks to speak to me. His father says, "I'm surprised you had the balls to do it."

His snarky comments still wound me. I don't know why. I guess I'm still coming to terms with so much about the time we shared. One of the things I struggled with up there was why I was so afraid of everything when I was married and why I'm so unafraid now. I don't have an answer, but it's high on my list of "Things To Ponder".

We left my parents house fairly late for a long drive back. My boy gabbed on and on the whole drive, until a song I love came on. "Babe, let's not talk for just a couple minutes, let's listen to this song, OK?" The song is called "Sacre Coeur" by Tina Dico. The chorus is:

I could go home, to my love
And live the life I've always wanted
or I could go on running off
Into the night, lonely and haunted
and the strange thing is, I don't know
which I'd prefer.

My son says, "Duh. Go home to love." And I'm smiling to myself about how simple a choice that was for him, and I'm happy that's his choice. Of course, I'm also thinking about which I would make and I'm just worn out from a long day, amped up from the adventure, thoughtful, dreamy and really enjoying my child's brain. The song ends and I turn the radio down.

"What about you, Mom. Which would you choose?" and I actually have to ponder it for a minute. That's the strange limbo I'm in right now. Of course I want the love, but I just chose the running off. I want to answer him honestly, so I'm genuinely considering my answer, and I'm giggling at the question.

"Mom, what's sacrifice?" He pipes up.

"Sacrifice is giving up something for something else. Sometimes you sacrifice something really great for something that could be great, good, so-so or even bad in the end. Most of the time, you don't know how things will turn out."

"Dad has made lots of sacrifices in his life." He said.

I was floored. I was going to ask why the topic of "sacrifice" had come up, but now I had my answer. I needed to tread lightly and allow him to reveal himself to me.

"Most people have, baby. What did your Dad sacrifice?" I'm thinking that he's going to say, 'A new guitar so that I could have Pok-E-Mon cards.' or some such nonsense, but no...it's worse. Much worse.

"Well, Dad could have made lots, and I mean LOTS, of money if it weren't for you and us. But, he sacrificed it all to marry you and to have us. He told me. He could have been a famous drummer making millions of dollars but he sacrificed it for you."

I calmly reply, "Yes, baby. We all make sacrifices in life for different sorts of things." but I'm raging mad inside.

So now, if you'll all indulge me in this open rant to my ex-husband (I'd never say it to him because it would accomplish exactly nothing, but I need to get it off my chest):

First of all, what millions of dollars? Hate to be the one to point it out to you, Buddy, but I'm pretty sure your latest gigging band had long since dried up when we met. Further, you fucked up every decent band you were in because of your ego. So, we're a year and a half our from that and - you've still never played a live gig, I'm pretty sure there's no demo tape, oh wait...YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A FUCKING BAND.

Yeah, yeah...I never supported your dreams. I'm all about supporting the dreams of my partner and helping each other to be better versions of ourselves. But, I can't support your dreams when they exist in the realm of conversation while you won't get your scrawny ass off the couch. To put a finer point on it, I'd give anything to have someone with dreams worth supporting, but I refuse to support pipe dreams.

And on the topic of pipes...can I get a hit off the fucking crack pipe you surely must be smoking to think that's OK to say something like that to a 7 year old?

It's fine. You just keep making your snarky little comments to me, while you deepen the depression your butt is making in the recliner. You'll always have The History Channel.

Rant to ex is now over and I just had an amazing revelation. I know exactly why I was so afraid of trying new things during my marriage. 

I was afraid that if something were to happen to me, he'd be left alone to pursue his "dreams" while my children languished in the mire. I was afraid that if I stopped making the household work, it would collapse like the proverbial House of Cards that it really was, and more than anything I was afraid of allowing myself sensation that might awaken the "me" that had been forced to lie dormant for so many years. The relatively new act of feeling has caused me pain, grief, and sorrow. It has also brought me wisdom, exquisite joy and unimaginable pleasure. At long last, I'm wide awake and I'm feeling every moment of my life.

I'm going to take a sleeping pill followed by a long, hot shower - and look forward to waking with my prettier thoughts all freshly aired for the morning.