BLOOM! Where You are Planted!

I'm writing you all from a bedroom normally occupied by two girls, ages 5 and 3. A Justin Bieber poster sits to my right and a pink castle tent is to my left. Why am I here you ask? Well the joy, my friends, is in the journey. I needed to get out of town, I needed a break, I needed to de-stress and unwind. I got in a fender bender earlier this week, I've been scraping by trying to pay the bills, the rent and work. I've been exhausted from a seven year battle over my son, with my ex-husband. Trying to keep my head above water, trying to put my brave face on, trying to breathe. All of the chaos surrounding me was a sign that I needed to exit life, only if momentarily. I needed a change of scenery, a break in my day to day routine. You know that saying be careful what you wish for? Well, that certainly applies.

So there I am, ipod blaring, sun roof open, flying down the freeway and all the sudden—I get a flat! So I pulled over and called a friend to walk me through changing my tire. Now I am no pansy when it comes to such things, I have changed tires before, just not on this particular vehicle. I am huffing and puffing my way through the change, and two nice men stopped to help this damsel in distress. We unloaded the spare, finished unscrewing the lug nuts and went to put the spare on when we discovered that viola'! My spare was also flat. So I called my insurance for roadside assistance, a coverage I had the foresight to pay for. I wait on the phone for a good thirty minutes to get an actual human to talk to. This someone was a foreigner, who didn't comprehend what part of the state I was actually in. He kept asking me questions I didn't know the answer to like where I wanted to be towed to. An actual address! I thought Hell if I know dude! I am off the interstate past this exit, mile marker 26, can you help me or not? Honestly! After this point I was so exasperated I told him I would find my own damn tow truck and hitch hike back into town if I had too. Utter ridiculousness!!! I could not believe my luck. Finally Brian, a very nice man, married four times, with cobalt blue eyes, came with his rig to save the day. My son and I climbed up into his rig and rode to the next town where he had a shop and was able to fix my flat. I of course had to empty my wallet and fork over a good chunk of change, and with a sigh thought to myself, I guess there will be no retail therapy on this trip!

         The girlfriend I had come to stay with while running away is Hillary. Hillary and I have been members of the Single Mom's Club for quite a few years. We both married cheaters, and our sons are a year apart. Hillary is my cousins best friend. We met in our teenage years when my cousin came to visit her and stayed at my house. Hillary has not had an easy life by any means. When she was around 21 she was in an awful collision that nearly ended her life. She had to start over from scratch, learn to walk and talk again. Shortly after my divorce she relocated to my home town to attend a college there, because she was going back to school after her own divorce. I remember nights staying up talking and laughing and sometimes crying. Hillary is like a sister and we can get on each other's nerves. No matter what though, she is there for me.

         She momentarily exited the single Mom's Club and married spouse number 2. By all intents and purposes Husband number 2 seemed like a good idea at the time. He was pretty handsome, the physical attraction was strong, he has a son close in age to her son, had a nice house, made a decent living and seemed like a great catch. I attended the small wedding and was very happy that Hillary had found her prince charming. I was so, so wrong, and so was she. It's hard to pin point the exact moment when a marriage is doomed. If I had to pin point the exact moment for Hillary I am not sure what it would be. I do know that on their honeymoon he tried to change who she was, how she dressed and things about her that are perfectly fine. He wanted her to be a superficial supermodel type. Hillary has the body, but she is not high-maintenance. Hillary would rather plant a garden than get a pedicure, or shop for books, than shop for shoes. She is simplistic. She is stylish and she's no slouch, don't get me wrong. All of her stylish and athletic ways were simply overlooked by him. Spouse number 2 wanted her to wear trendy clothes—tighter shirts, low cut jeans, and she was perfectly content and quite attractive in her Levi 501's and her Old Navy t-shirt, thank you very much! Fast forward a few months later and Hillary had surgery on her nose. There she is trying to recuperate from an unexpected operation and her husband comes in expecting her to make dinner and telling her she's snoring. Wow! What a catch right? Sign me up for that guy! So a few years and 2 husbands later, Hillary and I remained friends. Last night after she met us at the towing company to make sure we were able to get to her house safely, by leading the way, Hillary is flying ahead of me. She is texting me calling me a 'Grandma Driver,' telling me to speed up. So I speed up, cause it's dark and I don't know where the hell we are! As soon as I speed up I see red and blue lights flashing in my rear view. I got pulled over, and through tears try in vein to explain to the officer that I have had one of the worst nights of my life. He takes my information and runs a check on me. Luckily I have not killed anyone or laundered money so I know I'm good there. He comes back to my window and hands me a speeding ticket saying "I hope you have a better weekend." Oh you too officer! Thank you so much! This will only add excitement to my life as I have to pay more for insurance because of the damn fender bender I was in this week! UGH! I bawled all the way to Hillary's house.

          Now, I know that there are people out there who have it far worse than I. I know that there are burn victims, and cancer patients, and children starving in third world countries. Sometimes, I just need a break. I just need something to work! Anything! Luckily I slept like a baby at Hillary's and enjoyed a leisurely bath in her gigantic jetted tub. Things always look clearer when you're soaking in a jetted tub. As for the rest of my conundrum, I'll forge ahead, like I usually do. I'll find a way, like I always do, and I'll cry when I need to, thank you very much! One thing is for certain, no one can steal my joy any longer! I will fight to stay sane, and I will chose to be happy.

           My Father had a quote on his mirror for most of his life that read: "We can make ourselves miserable, or we can make ourselves happy, the amount of work is the same." My Father was bi-polar and he fought his demons and atoned and worked harder than anyone I've ever known to get passed his mental illness, and stumbling block. He fell down, a lot, he struggled a lot, but he never quit trying. My mother and father separated the same year I married the mistake of my life, and they were separated for an entire year. I knew most of the reasons their marriage seemed doomed at the time because I witnessed most of them, even though they thought I couldn't see. My parents grew together and became closer than I think they had ever been in their some three decades together. My Father acknowledged his faults, my Mother acknowledged hers, and neither gave up on each other. Whether you are in a relationship, married, or going it alone; it takes work. So much work we question whether or not it's better to be working with someone or to be alone. Only you can answer that question for yourself.

          Susan, that I mentioned in an earlier post, was sealed in the Latter Day Saint temple to her husband today, and that's what this trip—turned hellish adventure---was focused on. My whole goal was to get to the temple and take some photos for their special day. So did I make it there on time? No! Did we have lunch together and go back to the temple after for pictures? Yes! Did anyone care? Was anyone upset? Nope. Cause Susan and Brent are amazing! They are my heros and I hope to be just like them someday. They are a living breathing example that if you do the work, there are great rewards in store. Do you think going to school full time and sharing custody with two ex-spouses and 9 children is easy? No way! But they have made it all look like bliss. How? I'm not exactly sure, I'll have to get back to you on that one. I think they make it work because they love each other and understand the major challenges and road blocks and how to avoid the marriage pot holes and perils on the road to happiness.

        I dated someone last summer that was not a good fit for me. He was divorced, with four children, he recently relocated back to the state and was in love with me. He was good looking, and caring, and at first won me over fairly easily. He got his old job back as a truck driver making decent money, but he didn't yet have a car or a residence. He would mostly live in his truck cause he drove across the United States, and occasionally with me. The shit hit the fan for so many reasons, and I didn't see a lot of them coming. Ya, laugh if you want to, but I thought he had such a good heart and a wise soul that it would make up for all that he lacked. Of course I was wrong, of course it ended in disaster, but I learned a few important lessons along the way. He and I talked a lot and I posed the question of: "How do we make this work." He simply answered saying that: "Things either work or they don't, you don't make them work." Well I am calling bull shit on that one. What do you possess in your life that "just works?" Does a garden just grow, or do you have to weed it? Does a car just run or do you have to maintain it? Does a house just function or do you have to keep up on repairs? Everything in this life is a gift. Waking up with enough air in your lungs to breathe, is a gift. Having a roof over your head, food in the fridge, hell, even having a fridge is a gift. We have to live in the moment because that is all any of us really has.

I talked at great lengths about this with my tow truck hero, Brian. He said that there are no guarantees in life, and I believe him, cause I know this to be true. Life is a gift and having someone to share that life with is a huge blessing, and a privilege, but it's not everything. I think I am so accustomed to heart break that I expected men to let me down, to hurt me, to abuse me in some way. What I found out along the way is that I put myself up there on the cross, and allowed them to crucify me. I have recently realized that I don't have to take their crap! I reached my bull shit quota a long time ago. I don't allow my son to disrespect me, I don't allow my employer to take advantage of me, I don't even take crap from the cranky clerk at the grocery store or the disgruntled driver impatiently passing me in the wrong lane. Um hello? That's what your middle finger is for. So why did I allow these men to treat me so badly, why did I think that's all I deserved?

        It's taking me a long time to answer these questions, it's taken me nearly a decade to get to this place in life. I found out though, that we don't have to shrink in a garden so others can bloom around us. We don't have to stay back in the shadows so that others can feel the sun. We are all beautiful flowers and we are all striving desperately to bloom. We do have to do the work and water the garden, and weed, and fertilize, and sow seeds. We are both the gardener and the flower. I don't have all the answers, I just have a few things figured out. I love my life, even though it's never been easy, and probably never will be. It takes work, the ficade is lust. The ficade and the world will tell you that physical attraction is enough to build a relationship on, that's what matters. Reason will tell you (and I tend to agree) that youth fades, intimacy becomes less important , all the material possessions and money in the world cannot buy you love. You simply cannot replace the hand' that holds yours on your darkest day, or the kindness from a stranger in your deepest despair.

        After my road trip from hell, and my stay with Hillary, I moved on to my stay with Angel. Angel has two beautiful daughters, one step daughter and a husband that adores her. None of that just happens. Angel works hard, she works seven days on, and seven off, she works from sun down to sun up. She loves her family with her life. She is always running around in cut-offs in the Summer, and hanging up stockings and baking cookies in the winter. She works, and she works, and she works. Angel learned a long time ago that hard work and dedication apply just as much outside the home as they do inside of it. She tells me I aml welcome here anytime, she picks up beer from the gas station and she hands me one. She overhears me singing lullabies to my son, soothing him to sleep. Angel understands that being a mother defines me, and I value the evenings spent singing softly to my son.

          I have found that even when I am at my loneliest, I am never alone. Even when I am single that doesn't have to equal lonely. The hand you hold doesn't need to be the same hand that hits you. The mouth you kiss doesn't need to be the same mouth that degrades you. You don't even need a partner, all the time. You need, what we all need; to find yourself. You need to hold whomever close to you that loves you without condition or pause. Turn to your friends and family, turn to your children, turn to the heavens and wait. Persevere, grow. With just enough sunlight and just enough water you will bloom, brighter and bigger than you could have ever imagined. If you do the work, if you choose to bloom, if you want to work towards happiness, if you choose to find your own peace. I promise you will BLOOM, just you wait and see.

Lia's Story

A good friend of mine is starting the divorce process, thanks to my divorce advocacy. In short, her marriage wasn't 'the worst' by most peoples' standards (no cheating, physical abuse, etc), but she has been unhappy in her marriage for quite some time.

Disclaimer: Just so everyone is clear on my stance, I do not, nor will I ever judge the severity of someone's gloom. We do NOT have the right to specify what does and does not make another person happy, and we do NOT reserve the right to specify the circumstances under which a person should stay in or leave a relationship. My posts include vague guidelines for keeping your sanity, your composure, and your identity only. *wink*

Anyway! A few months ago, my friend told her husband (we'll call him 'Tony') she wanted a separation, which he didn't agree to. Since then she started dating someone new - seriously dating or not, it doesn't matter because she had asked for a separation - and is now proceeding to file divorce papers. Not because of the new guy, but because she has realized that she doesn't miss Tony and no longer wants to be married.

Lia and Tony have a 2-year old daughter together and custody has been as stable as possible. Their family has been living in a small town, Tony working full time in town and Lia traveling 20 miles for school and her job in a bigger city; baby girl is in daycare full time. When the marriage began falling apart and Lia asked for a separation, she felt she had no choice but to leave their home. So she stayed at a friend's student apartment in the city and went back home each night to spend time with her daughter. Basically both parents spend an equal amount of 'awake' time with the daughter, she just happens to sleep at home with dad because daycare is nearby. Lia has since found her own apartment in the city and is keeping baby girl over night.

So last night Lia called in tears because Tony has scared her shitless. Apparently he came to the city to pick baby girl up for visitation, and threw a tantrum because Lia and baby were at the new boyfriend's apartment. Tony says she is cheating, selfish, tells her he is going to get full custody if she files divorce papers, etc.

Here's what I had to say about that: Lia asked for a separation. By definition, she is allowed to date who she wants, kiss who she wants, sleep with who she wants, and be temporarily single. The other half of the relationship does not have to, and usually will not, agree to the separation. But they don't have to agree for it to be binding, as long as she stated her desire for a break. No one needs permission to escape a relationship.

I must say that I admire Lia's honesty with Tony. She truly cares about the guy and has hid nothing from him. She told him about the new boyfriend, about his past, she tells Tony where she's staying and who she's staying with. Her greatest fear is that he has a case against her, that she will lose her daughter.

The truth is, Tony doesn't have a case against Lia. She is allowed to move on from him and their marriage. Tony's pride is hurt, and he has no way of justifying her leaving (and her getting over it) besides undermining her as a woman and as a parent.

Lia is exactly where I was 18 months ago in my marriage. She is brainwashed to believe that he is a good man, that he would never do any wrong, that he will understand why she's leaving and let her go. I told her to get a grip!!! He's a MAN! He will whine, piss and moan until the papers are signed by a judge. He is NOT going to be nice to her, and she has no reason to be nice to him. He will try to obtain full custody for no reason other than to protect his pride. She needs a clean break. She needs to be selfish and focus on her and baby girl's happiness. Tony will try to take her for everything she's got because he can't handle rejection by a smart, beautiful, talented, independent woman! He doesn't have the nuts to be with her.

So Fuck You, Tony. Fuck You.

P.S. I'd like to start a 'Fuck You' section of the blog where we can all scream derogatory comments about our worthless excuses for ex-husbands and -boyfriends. Anyone up for that??

Keep A Stack of These In Your Purse!

Pre-First Date Questionnaire

1. How would you describe yourself? (References required if you answer 'd')
    a. Commitment-phobe loser
    b. Needy bastard
    c. Selfish prick
    d. Self-proclaimed 'nice guy'

2. Do you have a car?
    a. Yes
    b. No

3. Do you have a job?
    a. Yes
    b. No

4. What is your living arrangement?
     a. I live in my Mother/Grandmother/co-dependent relative's basement.
     b. I sorta, kinda, maybe live with the girl I said is my ex, but we're really great friends, we sleep           side by side and never ever touch, ever. Just until I can move in with you as long as this date goes well.
     c. I live in my truck/rv camper/tent/yurt.
     d. I have my own place and I pay the rent on time every month, thank you very much!

5.. Do you have children?
    a. Yes
    b. No

6. What is custody arrangement of children?
    a. My ex is a psycho controlling bitch face and it's all her fault I never get to see the kids.
    b. My ex is a psycho bitch face and it's all her fault I have to work all the time to afford these       kids, and child support!
    c. My ex and I get along for the most part and agree to disagree for the greater good of the children.
    d. My ex and I get along so well that we might accidentally trip and fall into bed together.
    e. Oh you have to have an ex to date again? I thought this was a team sport.


Thank you! Upon completion of this questionairre, you may proceed to Date #1.

*****Only you can decide what you're willing to put up with ladies!!! And what the right and wrong answers are for you!******

To: All the Women In My Life

I know I'm a little late for a Mothers Day post, but I'm gonna post it anyway. I need to post about all the fantastic mother figures in my life. I had a hard childhood, harder than some, anyway. At the end of the day I was lonely, I was scared, and I hated myself. Not much parenting went on at our house, and I found our home to be only a place of discomfort.

Oddly enough, once I left my family circle, I found strong, supportive women everywhere. So many friends' mothers have been there for me emotionally and as caretakers, too. My friend Lori's mom was the one who taught me to straighten my hair and apply makeup. My friend Lacey's mom taught me to respect my body. Jenn B's mom has taught me that no matter how hard my life is, I have more to give, and I still have room to love and help others. A great gift the art of compassion is!

My family is not closely bonded, we fake it at Christmas and birthdays and heave a sigh of relief when we finally escape each others' company. I have learned that for me, best friends make the best family. I love my friends like sisters and I love their mothers like moms. The way people describe their families as close-knit and unconditionally loving is the way I describe my friendships. I have so many women to be thankful for, and so much support at the time in my life when I truly need it. I'm amazed at the hard times I overcame alone, but single parenthood has definitely been the hardest (yet most freeing) part of my life so far.

So THANK YOU to all the moms out there who have been there for me, who have taught me to love and respect myself, who are, selflessly, amazing mothers to other peoples' daughters!

Ode to My Mother for Mother's Day

 
 The funny thing about us as women is we think we're hideous. Every single one of us looks in the mirror and silently does a little rendition of "nip and tuck" or prays that the collagen fairy of youth sprinkles anti-aging dust on our skin during the beauty rest we can never seem to get enough of. We want smaller thighs, fuller lips, 6 pack abs and hair extensions. The beauty industry is capitalizing on all our weaknesses. Don't get me wrong I am the makeup hoarder Queen and I will defend my eye shadow collection to the death! But just because I like makeup doesn't mean I need to pile it on all day every day or even when I go camping and fishing. I am comfortable au naturale. So what I feel happens as women, is we become desensitized to the makeup mask. We begin to see through our own ficade of carefully applied eye liner and flawless foundation. What happens when we don't t like the person we see in the mirror anymore?
     
         I come from a long line of beautiful women, strong women, courageous women. My Grandmother on my mother's side lived through The Great Depression and was widowed in her early thirties with seven children. She survived a car crash that broke her neck and left her in a halo brace for months. She could have let all of those things defeat her, she could have given up, but she never did. Now she is close to 90, has a beautiful peaches and cream complexion and does her hair every single day. She has pride in her appearance.
         
     My own mother grew up in the Seventies and was a self proclaimed hippie. She played the guitar and sang, met famous musicians such as Carlos Santana and hitch hiked her way across the United States at 15. At 19 she met and married my father in 1978 and my birthday is almost a year to the day of their one year anniversary. I don't remember many days where I haven't seen my mother without makeup. She always has at least the essentials on--mascara and lipstick. She has chronic illness and pain and has to walk with a cane most of the time. She has endured sickness, infection, survived a coma, birthed five children, and survived the death of her husband for three decades,  and has lived to tell the tale! For awhile she loved certain things about herself---her flawless teeth and beautiful smile, her strong legs and athletic body.
         
             My Mother loved the outdoors and hiking, she still brought her guitar along and we would gather round the campfire on various camping trips and sing. She taught all five of her children to value themselves, develop their strengths, forgive easily and overlook their weaknesses and to not ever give up. All the while, she has always been the makeup diva and can apply her makeup flawlessly, even now when her hands shake, and she drops the eyeliner and she can't wear fancy shoes because they've been replaced by diabetic nurse looking ones that she loathes. She had to have all her teeth surgically removed because they kept breaking, due to neuropathy and a nerve disorder. Her once strong legs have become scarred and discolored, her feet misshapen and painful. Through the years she has lost a part of herself that defined her individuality to the very core. She feels ugly, she feels dependent, instead of strong and capable. All of the waterproof mascara doesn't keep her from breaking down from time to time and feeling insecure. It may not look like she has cried under the eye makeup and concealer, and the emergency Visine in her purse, but I can still tell.
           I've tried to tell my mother that I still see her the same way, strong and fearless, capable and strong. The Mom you could---and still can talk to about anything. She still sings, she still enjoys the occasional camping trip outdoors, she still laughs her contagious laugh, and often at her own jokes or expense. She brings hope and light to all she meets. To know her, is to love her. On a recent weekend hospital stay she asked me to bring her a comfortable sweat suit. As I am at her house, on my cell phone she patiently describes the matching shirt hanging in her closet and the coordinating pants down stairs in the laundry room. I am trying to gather all of the things she's asked me to find, and I am getting frustrated. In my mind I am thinking 'Mother, you don't have to look perfect all the time! life isn't about perfection, or appearances, you're in the freaking hospital! It's okay to have a bad day and look the part.' Than it dawns on me that she does these things for herself, to maintain her composure, to feel radiant. She needs to reconnect with her familiar self every morning as she sits in her chair and applies her makeup. Her makeup is not a mask, but rather a window. She feels better about life, when she feels better about herself. She isn't hiding who she is, but enhancing the part of her that she can. She may never run for miles again or hike mountains, or even enjoy a bowl of popcorn with her own teeth. Her beauty is something that defines her and something she has control over.
         I recently lost a close friend who was a definite diva. I never saw her without designer clothes, and accessories. Her son always wears Nike's, she always had gorgeous hair and a flawless appearance. Few people knew the battle she was really facing was lupus and lymphoma ( a type of cancer). Few people knew that she struggled to make ends meet, provide a better life for her son, and keep her own sanity in tact, without losing the part of herself that matters. I remember her mother visiting one day and asking her to run an errand. She became more and more impatient as my friend applied her perfect "cat eye" eyeliner and rouge lipstick. She wasn't about to go run an errand looking like a total slouch. She had a reputation to uphold! Recently when I attended her viewing, she lay there in the casket looking gorgeous and flawless, even still. She looked peaceful and content, her hair a halo of curls, with her makeup applied to perfection. I recall speaking to several of our mutual friends and through tear-rimmed eyes telling each other how good we looked--even in our grief and despair! I sat and looked through the photos, many of which I had taken, and admired her beauty. No one would dispute her attractiveness. Did she feel that way herself? Did she know how admired she was? I ran into a gorgeous mutual friend of ours at the funeral and told her how beautiful she looked. She smiled and said: "The reason we all look so good today is because she taught us how to. She taught me how to do my hair and makeup like this." And so is the legacy she leaves. Her beauty lives on in her memory, in the photos, in her son's eyes,  and when I see her mother and family. 
          
           Why hate yourself? Why resent the face you see in the mirror? Why wish for a different hair color and save your pennies for liposuction and plastic surgery when perhaps the only person who notices your flaws is yourself. You are beautiful and strong and capable. You are fearless. My mother recently told me how proud she was of the women I'm becoming, of this blog, of the mother I am to my own son. She told me that sometimes it's hard to look in a mirror and be reminded of yourself at so many different stages of life. False teeth, cane, flawless makeup, or not, I do not see her for what she lacks. I see a woman of great confidence and faith. I see someone who loves unconditionally and has never turned her back on me---not even for a moment, not even when I asked her to leave. I see my best friend. She is my number one supporter, my harshest critic, and the best mother I have ever met. My childhood was not perfect, and we have spoken of those times as well. The truth is, we are all a product of our parents successes and failures. We as children are a source of pride and disappointment, contention and confidence. I feel so blessed to have been raised and continue to be so close to such an amazing woman, because she is nothing short of amazing. She is the foundation I have learned to build my life on, the voice of reason and reassurance in times of despair, and the comfort of love and home when I need it. My favorite quote is: "If at first you don't succeed, go back and do it the way your mother told you." I have found this to be true, time after time.
          My mother is patient, she is kind, she is all things to all people, and she never says the worst thing anyone could ever say to me: "I told you so." She simply smiles, holds my hand and offers support, advice and the freedom to make my own mistakes. She knows that whether I fail or whether I win, she will be there on the sidelines cheering me on and making sure I know how amazing she thinks I am. Looking in the mirror doesn't have to define you, we define each other. Sometimes, when you look closely you realize, just like my mother realizes with me, that we are not all as flawed as we think we are, and even our scars our beautiful.

We are all in this together!

'I do what I can wherever I end up, I keep giving my good love, and spreading it around,Cause I've had my fair share of "take care's," and "goodbye's, " I've learned how to cry and I'm better for that.'---Sara Bareilles.


            I have been on quite a journey of self-awareness. One might think it would be exhausting to realize all your strengths and weaknesses and how they play and feed off of each other simultaneously. It's actually not exhausting at all, it's liberating. How better to help one's self than to realize what you do wrong and what you also do very, very right. I think for most of us, it's painful to be accountable. To realize that we made the choices we made, out of hope, or desperation, fear or loneliness, pain or confusion. Whatever the reason, there is always a reason. I am a why person. I think I mostly annoyed my parents with my overwhelming curiosity and robust zest for life. My trips to the emergency room can attest to that. Years later, although I  may be less clumsy and more self-aware my zest for life and my hope are unending. I want to do so many things, and I do! I have a million and one things I do right and a handful of things I generally struggle with. Stumbling blocks that knock me on my ass from time to time.  I think the more I learn about myself and struggle and feel my way through the proverbial shit storm of life the better I can be. I truly believe that we are all human and we all have talents, dreams, hopes and fears. We limit ourselves because of our surroundings. We are limited by and limited to our experiences. We are only as aware as the things we have lived through.
           
           Though I have been through my fair share of drama, broken hearts, fear and pain I haven't experienced all the grief life has to offer. I have never struggled with alcohol or drug addiction, I've never been kidnapped, I've never had a near death experience. My lack of experience does not prohibit my ability to understand the emotions acquainted with these experiences. I don't have to go through hell to know that it is a very real, very scary place. I don't have to become an addict to sympathize with someones struggle to overcome a life free from substance abuse. I do however feel a strong kinship with women who have endured, and are enduring the pain and heartache, loneliness and confusion of single motherhood. When I first got divorced I was 27, and my son wasn't even a year old. I was left, heart in hand, thinking: 'Uh, I got it from here?!' It was not part of my life plan to marry a man and only be married for a few short years before he decided to leave. It wasn't my intention to bring a beautiful child into this world---conceived of love, only to have his heart be broken by the continual absence of one parent. The ever present financial struggle, emotional break downs, heartbreak and loneliness wreaked havoc on my heart. I cried, I prayed, I sunk lower than I ever thought possible into the depths of despair. I looked for the light at the end of the tunnel, and like the popular Metallica song says,  it is often just a 'freight train headed your way.'

            Where was the justice in my situation? Why did it come to this? Why me? Why NOW? WHY? WHY? WHY? All I knew for certain is how I felt about the situation and how confused and alone I felt. The only other women I knew that were divorced were well in their forties, and we didn't exactly have much to talk about. The only single women I knew were well in their twenties and not too interested in hanging out at McDonald's playground with a toddler on Friday nights. That wasn't their idea of a good time. So I guess I made it my mission in life to befriend and find other people like myself. It wasn't until my Dad died, 3 years after my divorce that I felt I had found a real true friend. At last I had someone to relate too! Someone that knew my story, and shared my heartbreak and could relate to it, at least in part. I met Diana when I was a nanny for a very wealthy family. I met her at church at a popular vacation spot. She was married and must have sensed my awkward loneliness or somehow knew I needed someone to talk to when she approached me. I learned that she had family in the same town my parents. We had lunch, we laughed, a bond was formed. Fast forward two children,  three marriages and divorces later, and we were living in the same town again. Her mother had worked with my father and she called to see how I was coping with the loss. I poured out my heart to her about all the pain in my life. I am not sure all that was said but I am sure collectively it probably could've boiled down to: "Woas me! THIS SUCKS!" Now it has been nearly four more years, and we have raised our children together, laughed, cried, screamed and yelled, experienced and related to each other over and over again.
           Most of the women I come into contact with these days are all mothers, most of whom are single. Most of these women and I share a common bond, one that not many others understand. We know what it's like to make two dollars look like two hundred, to walk because we don't have the gas money, and to be grateful for food stamps and a good cup of tea (thank you health and welfare!). We aren't here to bitch and moan and cry, well, not exclusively anyway. We are here to hold one another's hands through it. To look one another in the eyes and say "I'm here for you." Just the other day I hung out with two good friends, Jenn A, who co-writes this blog, and a former co-worker( might I add hands down best cook I've ever known) Sam. We spoke about not getting walked on, pushed down, and standing up for ourselves when it comes to men. Not taking advantage of anyone, and not allowing anyone to take advantage of us. My chef-extraordinaire (Paula Dean you have been warned!) friend Sam mentioned a time when she was at a real low point in her life. She called me up one night truly upset about things that had been bothering her and I asked how I could help. She needed cigarettes and could not muster the courage to get them herself. I went and brought her a pack, and she hugged me. She in return has helped me when I was in a pinch for child care, taught me some fabulous recipes, and opened my eyes to different creative outlets, and helped me make some gorgeous jewelry (one of her other amazing talents).
             When I was shopping with my friend Susan (mentioned in a an earlier post) I reminded her of a time when I had just moved into an apartment and had no money, because I had used it all to move and set up my utilities. She selflessly brought me groceries to fill my cupboards and fridge. When I reminded her of this, she didn't even remember doing it, just as I had forgotten about the cigarettes. We are natural caregivers. Our first instinct is to help others. I do not know many selfish women. Of course my viewpoint is a little skewed because the women I choose to associate with are incredibly strong and extremely giving. I can't tell you how many times I have reached out to the woman behind me in the grocery store line or next to me on the playground while we both push our toddlers in the swings. We touch on nearly every subject---our relationships, our children, our careers, the weather, the news, etc; and usually end with an introduction. "By the way I guess you know my life story but I failed to introduce myself. I am Jenn B, I hope to see you again at the playground." Sometimes we exchange numbers, sometimes we meet up for play dates, but more often than not, we give each other hope. Hope is my favorite drug of choice. Hope is infectious. Hope is relief. Hope is worn and weathered, tattered and torn. Hope is a belief, both an adjective and a verb. It requires action, and stillness, peace, and spontaneous combustion, relief, and response.

            Saturday evening I attended a birthday party for Diana's children. I had every intention of helping her organize the chaos and calamity that is a child's party. I did help some, but not much. I ran into an old friend who I knew from a previous job. I loathed working for this particular company with every fiber of my being, and seeing this woman was a bright spot in many bleak weeks of monotony and torture. She had shared my story, she had lived through the pain. She was married for quite some time, ten or more years when her husband had an affair. I met her when she was in her mid thirties and was dating someone in their late-twenties. I have always thought this woman was extremely beautiful. She has three small children and they are also very beautiful. She ended up marrying this younger man and she just had another child with him a few months ago. We talked and laughed and nearly cried for almost two hours! We laughed because she said the last thing her husband said to her before she left was: "Don't stay and talk to anyone!" She had assured him she didn't know anyone at the party and would be right home, that is, until she stopped to listen, and give me hope. It's nice to know that I too can someday have a second chance at a husband and family, and possibly have another child. I want a second shot at the dream I have so long wanted to come true. I know that the second time around I will not be afraid, I will not expect perfection. I will work hard, and be fierce, and fearless. I will weed the garden and cry and laugh. I won't settle for a man who be-Little's me and tells me I'm unattractive. I won't settle for a man that thinks child-rearing is "women's work." I won't settle for a partner that pushes me to the breaking point and tells me my dreams aren't worth dreaming. I won't settle for someone who yells and screams and hits me or throws me across the room. I won't settle for someone who tells me how to spend my hard earned money, and won't allow me anything nice for myself. I won't settle for someone who watches porn and degrades my own self esteem. I won't settle for someone who doesn't understand that love isn't about perfection and marriage is not always bliss. I will keep fighting, I will keep surviving and I will work hard. One thing is for damn sure, he'll have to work just as hard and keep thriving and trying and laughing right along with me. There will be hard times, there will be sadness, and I am certain I'll probably need time away, time alone, and some nights I might even sleep on the couch. But I will no longer be afraid. I will not let my fears define me. I will rise up, rise above and soar above my own expectations. My future is waiting.

           So the very next time you recognize the look of despair in a fellow sister's eyes, listen to what she has to say, and find that common bond. Hold her child while she looks for change, laugh at the situation of life, and offer hope. None of us exclusively holds all the keys to the locks that will provide the answers for another's life. We are women and we have a wealth of knowledge and are rich with influence and experience. We are the voice of reason, the solution to so many problems. I believe we have everything when we have each other. I believe the joy is in the journey and we need to learn how to sing the song in our hearts when we've forgotten the melody. We need hope, we need each other, and we can get through this together.

Here's What I've Learned About Myself This Year

I spend a lot of time thinking about the order of things on this planet, most of all the true nature and purpose of men and women. I know that women are biologically the best caretakers, yet we have so many other things to offer besides taking care of people and things. But what are men good for - besides sperm donation - from a biological standpoint?

I consider this topic often. I wonder if my upbringing has permanently damaged my view of men and their worth. (I find it ironic that men are usually the ones lacking value in women). People say my mother had three sons (she actually had two daughters and one son). We were raised without a father, and without a clue as to what a household would do with a man in it - we've all been completely self-sufficient from early ages, and even our dog was a girl. It's no wonder to me that I had literally no expectations of my former husband, but eventually exhausted myself taking care of him. I have always, and I fear, will always do things by myself, for myself and my kids, and no one will ever get in the way of that.

I guess the reason this subject came to mind this time is because I have been seriously considering what kind of marriage I want next time. It's been a year since my divorce, and I'm finally feeling like I could possibly get married again. Not anytime soon, but someday. 


I want to post about a recent mind-changing, seven-month long experience.


 Excerpt From My Journal - February 23, 2012

My (new found since divorce) theory is that a man has the potential for a first date, six months, or seven years. If he's made it past the first date, he is not intensely annoying or a complete dumb ass. If he's made it to six months, he has more good qualities than bad, but there are the dog-shit-in-the-brownie deal breakers that cannot be compromised. If he's made it past six months, he is potential husband material. That said, let me describe my most recent relationship.


I began dating a certain someone in early October. In the beginning, we accepted the 'relationship' title mostly as an agreement that we would get to know each other exclusively. I'll say in complete honesty that I don't think I had any feelings whatsoever for him until early December. Things that would normally piss me off didn't phase me in the least, which is a clear sign that I don't care much one way or the other about someone. I did like his creativity though, which is one of two things that held my attention long enough to develop feelings, lucky for us. (The other was brains, of course). I guess you could say that the relationship started out more as a friendship and grew from there.

I finally started to feel something about the second week of December. It was a pleasant surprise when he came back from California after Christmas break and his crude comments and general bad behavior had lessened considerably. Now that I love the guy (and he is much better behaved and clearly cares about me more than he did the first couple months), I don't have all those annoying quirks to deal with. So I have to say it was nice to let him straighten up a bit before I started caring. Ha.

So here's where I get confused about my 'role' - if such a thing exists - as a woman on this planet. I am good at housekeeping. I'm good at laundry and cooking and parenting too, and I find all those things fulfilling. But I'm also good at math, I'm creative, and I enjoy working outside the home. In my head it has never been an option to not work. I remember being ten years old knowing that I would make decent money, and the family thing was always wishy washy. The job thing might just be my distaste for vulnerability. As far as I know, the second you expect anything, it's not there. So I find it terrifying to consider putting myself in a position where I am under someone else's control, financially. I also find the thought of someone else controlling my income terrifying. Not that I wouldn't share, but I want to make the choice to share. 

But here's the thing: I've lived that life before. I have been the breadwinner while being the housekeeper, chef, parent, and wife. And it was hard. Five years of that life has seasoned me for any sleep deprivation, starvation, dehydration, or exhaustion the CIA could ever throw at me.

It startles me that the thought is even crossing my mind of someone wanting to take care of me. And it surprises me even more that I'm comforted and relieved by the idea of not having to do it all, because I'm so accustomed to doing it all. I can't remember a single time in my life where I have trusted (or even had hope) that someone could make my life easier. But that's how I feel about this certain someone. Or at least I'm starting to feel that way. 

At first it was just not annoying that he rinsed his own dishes - I fully anticipated having to clean up after him, like I do everyone else who enters my house. Nowadays he helps out with dishes and cooking, and he helps out and interacts with my kids. And I don't feel stressed and anxious before his arrival. I don't feel like my children should be seen and not heard, or that I need to censor his words and actions around my kids. I don't feel guilty for having messes when he comes over. I feel comfortable in my own skin, and... *gasp*... I think I might be developing an appreciation for men. Is this what real men do? They make their significant other feel important and they actually contribute to the well-oiled machine that is our household? 
I don't even know what to do about this recent development besides acquaint myself with feelings of ease and start to forget about loneliness. I must have been lonely my entire life because this kind of comfort is completely new to me. 


My original ideas about gender roles were formed mostly by religious people and by my husband. A close friend and family member once told me that I had to choose between being a good mother and wife (by that she meant staying home) or being selfishly fulfilled at a job. And for the longest time it really felt that way. I can have one or the other but I can't have both. In reality, I can't do both alone, and I should not wonder why I wasn't a complete success at anything when I attempted to do and be everything simultaneously.

I've realized now that maybe things aren't so black and white and that I don't have to choose. My idea of balance is both parties in the relationship contributing outside and inside the home. I don't need a stay-at-home husband or a nanny in order to be a success at work, and I don't have to be a stay-at-home mom to fulfill my role as a mother. I just need someone who appreciates the amount of physical labor required to run a household, and who is willing to pitch in. Even if things don't work out with this certain someone, I have found hope and a new expectation for a future relationship, and I feel more content with my desire to work.

I find it strange and sad that our perception of reality is so thoroughly based on comparisons between others and ourselves, and on others' opinions. Just food for thought.

*   *   *

The relationship I spoke of has since fallen apart, but the point is that I have new hope for men. I have hope for myself, and I have expectations. I don't have to settle or be anyone's adult babysitter. I can have a balance that's right for ME, and I will settle for no less.