Let’s be in Jelly Beans

307 Marbles –
Common sense is the collection of prejudices acquired by age eighteen.
Albert Einstein

    I had a cry last night.  I was missing Ex-man.  He was my first love, my friend since I was fourteen.   Sure, I spend a good deal of my time being frustrated with our failed attempts at relationship, but underneath it all is just a big heap of sadness. 
    My daughter  came into my room and saw me crying.  She tried to console me and I told her it was normal for me to be sad sometimes.  I’ve loved her father since the moment I saw him when I was still a girl.  She said to me, “Mom, I don’t know why you’re so sad.  Daddy still loves you.  You still love Daddy. You’re just not in a ‘relationship.’ If it weren’t for the label, you’d see that nothing has really changed.” 

   The sad me said, “Of course things have changed.  We aren’t the same to each other.  It will never be the same.” 

   “You know," she said,"If we said ‘jelly beans’ instead of ‘relationship,’ things would be different,” she smiled. 

   I imagined a breakup of 'jelly beans' with her Dad.  It sure didn't feel as heavy.  Then I imagined my daughter's wedding invitation and said, “The parents of X & Y would like to cordially invite you to a jelly bean party.  Please come dressed appropriately.” We had a laugh over this.
    “You think I’m crazy,” she said.
    “No way. I think you’re wise and a free-thinker.”
    “There’s no room in the world for a free-thinker,” she answered.
    “Hah, that’s what you think. Free thinkers make room for themselves and so will you."

'Divorce' and 'breakup' are such heavy words.  Maybe we brought our jelly beans together and shared them for a while, but then the flavors started clashing and it was time to sort through and separate.  What would it take for your breakup to feel less heavy? 

Green with Jealousy

308 Marbles
Don't waste time on jealousy.  Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. 
Mary Schmich

    Today I found out that my ex-husband’s wife is going on a trip to the Virgin Islands.  I told her, “I’m green with jealousy,” but as soon as I said it, I realized it wasn’t true.  Sure, a tropical vacation would be nice but I was happy for her. What I acknowledge is that I want to be at the point where I'm able to go on more of those vacations myself. 
    I used to get so tied up in a knot when good things happened to others and not to me.  I’d make comparisons and think that it left less of the pie for me.  Somehow, I’ve managed to overcome that mentality and make peace with the idea that everyone’s path looks different.  What I do know is that I’m on the right path for me and my only areas of concern are getting through this breakup, sorting my finances and my career (the latter two seem to go hand in hand).  When I look up from my own path to check out where someone else is, I remind myself to focus on where I’m headed, not where anyone else is going. 
    That isn’t always easy.  I remember several years ago when a woman with whom I went to school came into the restaurant and sat in my section.  I saw her sit down and I sat in the back, dreading the idea of having to serve her.  I voiced my concern to a co-worker who offered to take the table, but I decided against it as the woman would inevitably see me serving tables.  My ego was shattered  - here I was twenty years after high school serving lunch to a woman with whom I’d been on the honor roll.  I could already see her smirk. 
    I bit the bullet.  I went over and said hello and told her the specials.  We caught up and I found that she was a lawyer – no surprise.  She asked what I was up to.  I told her I had three kids and I was going back to university to study Creative Writing.  As the lunch progressed, she divulged how she was miserable practicing law and that she had always wanted to be a journalist.  With keen interest, she asked me questions about my life and her parting comment to me after she had paid her bill, “You’re living my dream life.” My jaw dropped and then I smiled at the ironical change of tide.  A few years later, I saw her again and she was happily married and going to school for journalism.  She was living her dream life too. 
    I have a friend who thinks it's okay to be jealous and not okay to be envious so I had to go to Aristotle to try to understand the difference - "Jealousy is both reasonable and belongs to reasonable men, while envy is base and belongs to the base, for the one makes himself get good things by jealousy, while the other does not allow his neighbor to have them through envy."  Sounds like jealousy can be used as a motivator while envy is just stewing in negativity. 
    What I do know is that the feeling of envy makes me feel stingy-hearted.  It has the opposite feel of goodwill.  So, let’s test this realization out with Ex-man . . . yep – part of me wants him to do well, to be financially secure and to be able to be there for the kids.  But if he’s planning on making any wads of cash or falling in love, I hope he has the decency to wait a while.

Margaret Atwood says, "You can only be jealous of someone who has something you think you ought to have yourself." Are there certain jealousy triggers for you?  In the spirit of Aristotle, can you use those triggers to help you move towards getting those good things for yourself? 

Cooking for Kids

309 Marbles
Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat.
F. Scott Fitzgerald 

   My kids are a tough culinary crowd.  Ever since Ex-man has moved out, there has been nothing but complaints every time I experiment with a new meal.  My little hecklers often start in with, "I'm not eating this," and proceed to versions of, "This sucks."
   I’m getting pretty tired of putting energy into coming up with something different only to serve it up to an audience who doesn’t like variety.  I’m also missing Ex-man’s constant appreciation when food was prepared for him.  With him out of the house, it’s a bit of a thankless job.  Tonight, after a particularly challenging mealtime, I relented, "That's it.  There are about a dozen dishes that you'll eat without complaining.  From now on, that's what you're getting." Cheers from the hecklers.
   But first I had to let go of the notion that being a good mom means exposing my kids to a well rounded and expansive menu. The reality is that my kids are not intrepid gourmands so I made that list of the thirteen meals that my kids will eat and enjoy.  Since they are with Ex-man half of the time, this list gives me about a three week rotation.  The new system isn’t very creative, nor does it give a great deal of variety, but it makes our dining experience so much more enjoyable.  It’s consistent and stable and maybe that is just what they need right now: no experimental changes, just what they know and love. 
   The good news is, I know this tried and true method of meal planning won’t last forever.  At the restaurant where I work I do run into the odd child with adventurous taste buds, but more often than not, children from around the world often resort to monochromatic white food - pasta with butter, pasta with cream sauce, chicken fingers and fries.  As adults, most people grow out of opting for bland and into enjoying the wide variety of food options.  So I know even if my kids are having a limited menu post breakup, eventually they will have more well-rounded experimental palates. It may not be the best solution, but for now it's what I need to do to cope. 

Are there areas of your life causing you stress that you could easily simplify? Would you have to let go of certain judgments in order to do so?  Is it time to let go and KISS - Keep it Simple, Sista? 

Bus ride

310 Marbles 
Hope is the feeling you have that the feeling you have isn’t permanent.  
Jean Kerr

   I took the bus home after work tonight.  I was so tired that I leaned against the window and uncomfortably tried to fall asleep with my head reverberating against the hard, cold surface of the window.  I knew I couldn’t relax completely and risk missing my stop, heading all the way over the bridge far away from my home, so I fell into a light sleep.  
   I woke up when we hit the hairpin turn a few blocks before my house.  Right in front of me was a woman, asleep and leaning against the man she loved.  They both looked so comfortable – he with his role as the stalwart one, she nestled securely in his arms.  Man, do I want one of those, not necessarily a man, but someone who has my back. 
   My running partner tells me that I send mixed signals: At one moment I’m independent and awesome, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound while distilling meaning from the universe; at the next moment I’m wanting to be the pedicured Principessa girl, admired and adored.  Yeah, so what?  Isn’t that normal? 
   I don’t think that just because that woman was leaned up against her man that she was feeble and needy in her waking hours.  But I have to wonder, when does the man get to fall asleep?

Eckhart Tolle wrote, “Wherever you are, be there totally. If you find your here and now intolerable and it makes you unhappy, you have three options: remove yourself from the situation, change it, or accept it totally.”  A breakup is a removal from the situation and my job over the next 310 Marbles is to accept where I am totally whilst changing the parts of my life that aren't working for me or my kids. Whereas the bus ride showed me that I still have hope for finding someone who has my back, in the meantime I also realize what David Hume so succinctly said,"He is happy whose circumstances suit his temper; but he is more excellent who can suit his temper to any circumstances."  What would it take for me to feel that my back is taken care of right now? 

Self-doubt 201

311 Marbles
A person who doubts himself is like a man who would enlist in the ranks of his enemies and bear arms against himself. He makes his failure certain by himself being the first person to be convinced of it.
Alexandre Dumas

    I’ve been pulling up the self-doubt card in my imaginary tarot deck.  My friend Rayana says it's a good sign, “It shows that you’re getting closer to your goals.” It’s a great thought but, surprise, I doubt it’s true. 
    My biggest doubt comes in this form, “What if I'm not cut out to be a writer?  When are you going to move on to Plan B?”  Hmmm, this sounds suspiciously familiar – like Ex-man’s, “You’re putting all your eggs in one basket.”  He leaves.  The doubt stays.  Lousy. 
    I was recently talking to my friend Melissa about this pestilent thought.  Her answer to me was, “But you love your basket.”  Simple, but true.  I do love writing.  It took me 24 years to decide I wanted to write, another 12 years to decide to go back to school and continue to learn and develop more skill.  Before that I dabbled in painting, floral arranging, photography, and always the restaurant business.  I know that if I focused my energy in any one of these areas, I could make a career of it, but writing is the only area that I can take all the “No’s.”  I write, I edit, and I wait for the No’s to turn into Yes’s. 
    The self-doubt card doesn’t like this blind faith.  I say, who cares.  Does my writing hurt anyone? No.  Am I getting better? Yes.  So full steam ahead. But writing is based on the audacious presumption that I have something to say about life, and the human experience -that my way of seeing the world deserves some air time.  There are demons that have to be addressed – feelings of inadequacy, the familiar refrain that “I read into things too much.” 
    Here’s where my tenacity comes in handy.  Often, it’s the personality trait that is a liability in some situations becomes a great asset in others.  I’ll admit that I’m stubborn and I’ve been described as a pit bull because when I get something in my jaw, I don’t let go.  This tendency has been detrimental to relationships but it could be that it’s the very quality (given to me by one of Sleeping Beauty’s three fairies) that will help me succeed. 
    Success to me means providing a home for myself and my family and doing something I enjoy.  So yes, I love my basket, but I believe this is the basket I was meant to love.

Are you doing what you love to do?  Joseph Campbell was famous for saying,"Follow your bliss. Find where it is and don't be afraid to follow it." A breakup can be a great time to renovate your life. If you're not enjoying how you spend your time on the planet, make moves to change the way you spend your time. Campbell also said, "'What will they think of me?' must be put aside for bliss."

Scents and Smells

312 Marbles

   After Ex-man dropped the kids off at my house today, I kissed my little son’s curly locks and noted the different smell - not shampoo but the smell of another person’s home.  “Your hair smells like your Dad’s place,” I said to him.  “Is that good or bad?” he asked me looking up.  “Neither,” I responded, “Just different.”  No longer the smell of our home together but a unique scent - no longer the smell of home. 
      Every home has a slightly different smell.  I find it a bit of olfactory overload in the hall of an apartment when I pick up scents from so many homes in such a small area.  Each home is a medley of scents including the colognes/shampoos/personal scents of the people living in it, the foods cooked/baked in the space, smoke, how alive/stagnant a space is, fresh flowers, cleaning supplies, incense, etc.  I remember being a kid and going over to friends’ houses and noting how they just didn’t smell like home. 
    Similarly, every person has a slightly different smell that can be a blend of personal scent, perfumes/colognes, shampoos, personal chemistry, foods eaten, etc.  What I’ve noticed each time that I’ve gotten into a new relationship is that there is a slight changes in my own personal smell - it’s like the two individual’s scents intermingle to create a new aroma unique to the relationship.  These are the slight changes that I have been aware of at a relationship’s inception that I have become accustomed to as time goes on.  Likewise when a relationship terminates, there is an untangling of the blend and a reclaiming of personal aromas. 
   I remember when Ex-man and I reunited in our twenties.  He was a smoker and despite the fact that I have never liked the smell of smoke, I started enjoying the scent of smoke on him (what sly trickery attraction can be).  As time went on, my natural inclinations reemerged and the smell of cigarette smoke became an annoyance.   Jennifer Aniston once said, “The best smell in the world is the man that you love.” It can be equally true that the worst smell in the world is the smell of the man whom you’ve just divorced because there’s no nerve more emotionally sensitive than the olfactory nerve. 

Nabokov once wrote, “Nothing revives the past so completely as a smell that was once associated with it.”  Consider your past life with your ex.  Are there scents that you remember fondly?  Are there those that evoke disdain?  What would it take to release the charge around those smells?  What would it take to get olfactory freedom from your past? 

The Wet Spot

313 Marbles
Lord, make me chaste - but not yet.
St. Augustine

    I woke up this morning with the damp realization that the closest thing I’ll have to sleeping in the wet spot is when my littlest son comes in my bed at night and pees in it (like he did last night).  UGH! Yes, I know that the wet spot used to be the area of the bed that was avoided, but at this point, with 313 more marbles of chaste living to go, a little wetness is looking pretty good to me. 
    I know a woman who used to make her husband get up after they had sex and help her change the “dirty” sheets.  I couldn’t imagine myself in post-conjugal relaxation mode being told by my lover to get up and perform a housekeeping chore. When I heard about her OCD behavior I told her that I thought she might want to work on it and was happy to hear recently that she has broken her compulsive tendency.  The whole story makes me feel sorry for all the hang-ups we have about sex as humans and especially as women.
    It’s Springtime where I am in time and space and I waffle between the longing for the wetness of sex and the idea that I could be celibate for life.  Part of me is content with the ease of life on my own with my kids but it is the season of bare limbs in skimpy clothes.  At times “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” runs a musical loop in my mind and I counter with a version of St. Augustine’s prayer, “Lord, I can be chaste when I’m dead, but I’m not dead yet.” Then I remind myself of the reasons why I'm celibate and I take the 365 Marble Commitment again.  UGH!

Ahhhh, the good news is that five years after the writing of this post I am happy and well and have an amazing lover who helps me keep the wet spots coming, bluntly speaking.  The desert-like dry spell post breakup did not last forever.  Amen.

Marble Recycling

314 Marbles 

    My friend, Lisa P, recently gave me an article from the magazine Real Simple entitled “6 New Uses for Marbles.” She thought that I’d have a use for it if I decide not to keep dropping my marbles into the garden, day by day.  The article recommends using marbles for:
1.  Floral arranging – marbles put at the bottom of a clear vase makes a fun display for flowers and everyone needs to buy themselves flowers once in awhile after a breakup.  I also like the idea of having marbles as the base for growing lucky bamboo. 
2.  Weighing down curtains – slitting the seams of billowing curtains and popping a few marbles into the hem then sewing the opening up will help keep curtains in place.  I’m not so sure that I’ve ever experienced billowing curtains as a particular problem, in fact one of my favourite watercolours when I was young was by Brent Heighton and it was billowing curtains in front of a framed vase of flowers.
3.  Soothing Muscles – not a bad idea for 365 marble year, putting a handful of marbles in the freezer (or in the microwave for two-three minutes) placing them in a sock, then rolling them across sore muscles for a do-it-yourself massage.  I think this works particularly well as a foot roller, or in my case, lying on my back, underneath my shoulders. 
4.  In a Spray Bottle – an ingenious way to get those last drops of liquid out of a spray bottle, put a few marbles in the bottle to raise the level of the liquid. 
5.  A Heart-cake – this is a great Valentine’s idea for my kids (or when there’s a new Valentine in my life) fill a cupcake liner with batter and then wedge a marble between the liner and the pan to make a heart-shaped cupcake.
6.  Slime Stopper – putting a few marbles on the soap dish will help the soap and the dish from getting slimy. This has never been big on my list of annoyances.

If you're experiencing the challenges of a breakup and you don't mind adopting the slightly OCD style of using 365 Marbles as an active meditation for change, pick up some actual marbles and dispose of one a day.  Know that when the marbles are done, you'll feel like a different person. Guaranteed. 

What to do with the disposed of marbles?  I drop mine in my garden as little metaphorical seeds. I've also used some in a wide-mouthed vase with water to grow hyacinths and paperwhites. 

Diamonds are Forever?

315 Marbles 

A diamond is a chunk of coal that is made good under pressure. 

Henry Kissinger

    I’ve fallen in love with diamonds.  I’m taking an Earth and Ocean Sciences course and we’re studying how diamonds form – they start out as lumps of coal that sink about a hundred miles into the earth’s surface to be exposed to the extreme pressure and temperatures needed to recreate the bonds.  Then when the diamond is created it has to rise to the earth’s surface at just the right speed through a pipe of molten rock.  If it comes up too slowly, the decrease in pressure would cause the diamonds to convert to graphite - a high grade of coal and definitely not something you could ever wear set in gold. The specific conditions required to create a diamond make me appreciate how truly rare they are; If there are any missing links in the creation of a diamond or in its delivery to the earth’s surface, the result is no diamond at all.
    For years I’ve heard slogans such as “Diamonds are Forever” and we all clearly know that a diamond engagement ring on the finger doesn’t guarantee any longevity to the relationship but somehow the romance marketing continues.  I’ve seen many women at the restaurant who use affectations of the hands to highlight their wedding rocks (Bless their hearts, they're usually from Texas where the hair and the diamonds are big).  Landing a big gem may be a huge accomplishment but no guarantee of forever - look at Liz Taylor’s 69.42 karat diamond given to her by Richard Burton, one of her seven husbands (although arguably her favorite). Diamonds are tough survivors and whereas the relationships may not last, the diamond itself is forever.  
   Personally I’ve never really cared for diamonds until now but somehow they’ve acquired a new likable position of the elitist underdog. Somehow through a fragile process of extreme pressure and temperature, a rather ugly dark substance emerges as a light refracting diamond.  It’s like a heroine’s story of going deep into the bowels of the earth, re-arranging the atomic bonds and reemerging as a rare and valued crystal.  Somehow the process sounds slightly familiar although I know that it takes a diamond more than 365 marbles for its transformation. 

Can you view this post breakup time as a period of transformation?  A breakup has all the elements to create something valuable and sparkly - pressure, dark feelings, and depth.  Take the time you need to let your diamonds emerge. 

Inshallah

316 Marbles 
You may be disappointed if you fail, but you are doomed if you don’t try.
Beverly Sills

    I’m reading the book Three Cups of Tea.  It’s a non-fiction account of how Greg Mortenson’s failed attempt to climb K2 brought him to a village that was in desperate need of a school.  The book describes the arduous process of him building one school and how his humanitarian spirit was ignited in such a way that he went on to build fifty-five schools. 
    This book has me thinking a lot about disappointments and failure.  It was after his“failure” at K2 that Mortenson found the path that led him to the village where he promised to build his first school.  It was in this time when his body had been beaten to a pulp and his spirit was steeped in disappointment that he stumbled upon his true path. 
    For most people, big breakups are large letdowns.  You start out thinking you’re headed in one way, to the summit of the “happily ever after” when at some point, it becomes obvious that the peak is unattainable and you’re suffering from altitude sickness.  Sometimes the only way out is to bail, but the decision usually comes with feelings of defeat.  
   The Muslims in the book are prone to the saying “Inshallah” – God willing.  Sure, I’m not Muslim, and perhaps it could be viewed as appropriation, but I’ve taken to silently saying Inshallah every time I make plans.  One of my jobs at this point in my life, when I’ve failed at another attempt with Ex-man, is to stay open and be aware of the cosmic “x”, the unknown variable in the equation of my life.  Maybe the failed attempt at the peak of the happy relationship is only a twist in the journey, a planned detour on my true path.  Despite my myopic vision only being able to see failure, it could all be part of the master plan.  

Are you steeped in the feelings of disappointment and failure post breakup?  If so, what would it take to view your relationship in a new way? Maybe there was no imaginary summit, and the real accomplishment was in the journey.  Marc Twain once said,“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” So the real question is, "Did you explore, dream, and discover?"

Intuition

317 Marbles 
The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.
Albert Einstein

   There are a few things I know in life for certain – one is that I have an inner compass that tries to keep me on course.  It warns me if I’m heading down a tricky path, not in Jiminy Cricket style, but more as an inner knowing.  What I also know about this compass is that ever time I’ve gotten into trouble in my life, it’s because I’ve not heeded that sotto voce.  Every time some minor catastrophe has come my way – a speeding ticket, an unnecessary argument – it’s because my mind vetoed the silent voice with a “What do you know?” or my body would say, “I want to do it anyway.” The result - the frustration from ignoring my inner wisdom. 
   I first became ubër conscious of my intuition when I became a mother.  I would seem to be able to predict the difficulties my babies would have.  My inner voice would warn, “Better move that before . . . “ and Shmack, my son would trip over a chair.  I became quick to heed this voice and I learned to trust it more.  It seemed to say that there is a force that wants you and your children to be safe and happy. 
   Most men I know prefer to call this instinct their gut.  I was just listening to an agent at school who said his gut told him whose work to pick up.  Guts do sound more masculine than intuition, but I think they’re the same divine guidance finding it’s way into human form. 
   Post breakup, I’m finding it challenging to keep believing in my own guidance after all, it was myself that got me into this whole sordid business in the first place.  Yet I try to remember that our society often promotes the idea that anything that breaks down is a failure but sometimes without the breakdowns there are no breakthroughs. 
   And maybe the role of my intuition isn’t really to keep me safe.  When I graduated from high school, the yearbook quote I chose was, “A ship in a harbour is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.” So even on stormy high seas of a breakup, my intuition acts more like a compass, guiding me through.  It’s the soft voice of the jedi heard through the loud breathing of Darth Vader. 

If you're not already aware of your gift of intuition, start to become acquainted with your own soft voice of knowing.  Ingrid Bergman said, "You must train your intuition - you must trust the small voice inside you which tells you exactly what to say, what to decide." Learn to shut out the loud voices of "should's" and "must's" and tap into your inner well of knowing.

Talking Donkeys

318 Marbles

Why
Just ask the donkey in me
To speak to the donkey in you,

When I have so many other beautiful animals
And brilliant colored birds inside
That are all longing to say something wonderful
And exciting to your heart?...

~ Hafiz translated by Daniel Ladinsky

    Hafiz is one of my favorite poets and although he lived 700 years ago, the lines of his poems touch something that is eternal.  This particular poem is how I felt being with Ex-man.  I knew that he had such brilliance within him, as I do in me, but when we related to each other, it was often only our stubborn idiot donkeys that would be taking over the conversations. 
    Why this happened is a bit of a mystery to me.  Some people say it is because we were the wrong pairing of astrological signs.  In China they say you should never attempt to pair two people born under the year of the fire-horse.  A numerologist once told me our numbers weren’t well suited.   I’ve also been told that we were similar in the areas we should have been different and different in the areas where we should have been similar.  The bottom line is that it didn’t work out; Our donkeys didn’t get along. 
    I’ve seen other couples who manage to navigate better:  When one of them brings their donkey out, the other one brings out their peacock and before you know it, the partner's donkey turns into a peacock too.  It’s a beautiful thing to watch and a good skill to learn.  So in my next relationship, only one of us at a time is allowed to be an ass.

Ambrose Bierce wrote, "In each human heart are a tiger, a pig, an ass and a nightingale.  Diversity of character is due to their unequal activity." Consider which one is your default.  Are you happy with your personal animals or is it time to make a shift?

Resistance Training

319 Marbles
The greatest conflicts are not between two people but between one person and himself.  
Garth Brooks

    I’ve had a tumultuous relationship with my own body starting with my teenage attempts to starve myself to my twenties filled with OCD style of exercising .  After three pregnancies, somewhere along the way I’ve made peace with my body.  Yipee! 
    When I look at my relationships with other bodies, it’s not surprising that some of them have been equally challenging.   Some of the relationships I’ve had have been like a workout at the gym – too much resistance training.  Ex-man was often like the weights I use to get my biceps stronger, but similar to lifting weights, I’d be thinking, “There must be an easier way.”  It’s a pity gravity wasn’t enough of an opposing force, but it wasn’t. 
   I like to think that the relationships struggles were external but what if they are really only internal struggles?  Maybe we really ask our friends and partners to hold aspects of our self-image that we’re uncomfortable with.   “Hold my self-doubt, will you?  It’s too heavy for me to carry. Voice my self-deprecation so I don't have to hear it only in my own brain.” So what seems on the surface like conflict with another is really those opposing parts of the self that are trying to get a good work out.
   I don’t know exactly if this is true but I do notice that the more at peace I become within myself, the more peaceful and supportive my relationships with other bodies become.

Mahatma Gandhi once said,"Nobody can hurt me without my permission." Consider your challenging relationships with others.  Are there aspects within yourself that hook you into the relationship? Are you using them to mirror a conflict that already exists within yourself? Bottom line: The people in your life that support you can make you stronger, the people who resist you can make you stronger; Life supports growth. 

Family Place

320 Marbles 

The family.  We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together.  

Erma Bombeck

    There’s a great family drop-in center in the area where I used to live with Ex-man.  Although my kids have outgrown "Family Place", I went there this morning to drop off some outgrown clothes for the clothing exchange. 
    It was awkward, or I should say I was awkward.  I saw all the old caregivers and other mothers that have known my kids and my family for eight years.  So much has changed in the months since I stopped taking my youngest there.  Some of the people know of the breakup of my family and my old sense of failure cropped up again.  
   One of the caregivers I saw is a mother whose husband recently died unexpectedly.  The only thing that was apparent to me when I talked to her (feeling her loss) was how strange it is that people like me and Ex-man choose to lose each other, while others are unwillingly torn apart.  We seemed frivolous. 
    My heart squeaks shut at those moments when I feel the acute loss of my dream of family.  Socially, a family includes mother, father, and kids, right?  The truth of course is that I do have a family and whereas I may feel a tad displaced at the moment, over time we’ll create a new image of family.  
   Perhaps it is the word family that is causing such distress because it carries with it expectations of how it should look.  Then I read Terri Guillemets' prayer of gratitude, "And thank you for a house full of people I love. Amen."  All of a sudden there is lightness again.  We are a house full of people who love each other bound by blood and a common thread.  Family by any other name would be as sweet. 

Einstein once wrote, "Rejoice with your family in the beautiful land of life!" Is it time to let go of an old understanding of what family should be and be open to creating a new post breakup family?  Allow your family to be an exploration into the beautiful land of life and love. 

The Address Book

321 Marbles 

    Today I worked on re-writing my (formerly our) address book.  The old one had been around the block and was carrying the remnants of connections that were no longer valid in my new post breakup life.  

   I bought a new book that suited my style and also has a special spot to note my friend’s and family’s birthdays and favorite flower (give me a break).  Then I systematically went through the contacts and only transferred the people who I can see needing or wanting to contact now or in the future.  Those connections that were only because of Ex-man stayed in the old book. The people who made the cut have their names written in ink in my new book because it isn’t often that someone gets cut from my circle.  All the addresses get written in pencil as I find that people move houses more often than they move out of my life. 
   I have children with Ex-man so his family remains in my new book.  I don’t expect that we will maintain close ties, but I do think that they would be on my Christmas card list (let's face it, the years that I do get around to Christmas cards).  

   In any major breakup, there is the separation of two root systems that have grown together over time.  My new address book is all about deciding the garden that I want to create around me and my family through this transplanting process.  The process I am partaking in is not about letting go of the old connections and making way for the new.  When I am done, I feel lighter and more open to new connections in the future.

Is it time to go through your phone, computer, and/or address book and delete contacts that are no longer pertinent to your new life?  There may be those connections that you will miss. Are there those that you never really enjoyed spending time with? Mourn the former.  Celebrate the latter. 

Were you and your ex connected through Facebook?  Is unfriending former "friends" your style? 

A Malignant Glass of Wine

322 Marbles
Every human being has... an attendant spirit.... If it does not always tell us what to do, it always cautions us what not to do.  
Lydia M. Child

    So I called the dude from the restaurant (5 marbles ago) and left a message on his phone.  My intent was to show him that while I appreciated his gesture, I recently left a relationship and wasn’t inclined to even a benign glass of wine. Case closed. 
    Not quite.  He called back and left a message for me.  While he understood where I was, if I ever changed my mind down the road and felt comfortable to give him a call, he’d be more than happy to take me out.   
    He sounded sweet and sincere, but this is where the benign turns malignant.  First, my body kicks in (my body isn’t convinced about this whole celibacy experiment).  I enjoy sex – I’ll admit it, though I’m not good at sex without a connection.   And what if I’m not just celibate for one year?  What if it’s eight years?  Or twenty?  Sometimes you get started on these things and it’s difficult to stop - I’m not getting any younger.  Is there an expiry date on a sex life?
    Then my mind plays tricks on me.  What if I’m passing up an amazing opportunity?  What if he turned out to be an awesome guy and we were super compatible?  Thankfully my inner cynic kicks in before the term “soul mate” gets thrown around.
   There’s a strong part of me that wants to phone back to see – an exploration mission of sorts – you just never know.  But I have to be harsh with myself.  I’m a relationship-oholic and I know the phone call is my bottle.  The only relationships I need to cultivate now are with me, my kids, and of course Dana (my androgynous shower massage;) 

Check in with your "attendant spirit" when you're making decisions about what to do. If it were up to my ego here, I would have definitely gone out with the flattering dude from the restaurant.  It would have been an awesome balm for my wounded post-breakup ego.  Thankfully, not all decisions have to be ego based. 

Depression?

323 Marbles 
Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.
Hermann Hesse
 
   I woke up early this morning feeling completely depressed- a strange feeling for me.  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been sad before but I’ve always been able to have hope for the future.  Today, I can’t feel the hope.  I feel like Pandora with a completely empty box.
   I had a dream early in the night that Ex-man and I were making love.  Our two children were toddlers and they were in the room watching us.  Our daughter was wide-eyed and I sensed that she was taking in everything about how two people love each other.  In the dream I got pregnant and the fetus was too big so I had to ingest something to kill it. My son wanted to keep the baby and cried when the fetus died.  When I woke up I felt bereft.  The baby was our relationship and we killed it.  I miss Ex-man’s love and I feel the huge responsibility of modeling how to love to my children. So far, I can't say that the modeling has been optimal. 
   When I went back to sleep, I had another dream.  I was being pulled over for negligent driving.  I stopped my car and a van of officers were writing me a ticket.  I was stopping traffic so I moved my car and when I did, I lost the police officers but when I got out and looked for them, they were gone.  What I found instead was a new friend - someone I knew but didn’t know.  I told her that Ex-man and I had broken up and she said, “That’s great news!” What? Great news? I was feeling sad.  She said, "You have your freedom now.  You're breaking old patterns and you can walk into the future."  I don’t feel so free but her excitement was almost contagious. 
   Yet I woke up in the morning feeling depressed.  When I sat in the feeling I realized I am trying to hold onto people and old ways of being.  I know I am in a liminal phase when the old hasn’t completely left and the new hasn’t completely come in.  I am in pain because I’m holding onto the old.  The words “Let go” kept coming into my mind and as I tried to release my sticky fingers from everything that I’m trying to hold onto, I felt more at peace knowing that empty space is okay, at least for today.  

Peter Senge wrote, "People don't resist change.  They resist being changed."  This breakup will change you.  Are there things/people/places that you need to pry from your sticky fingers?  What would it take to let go?

Breakdown

324 Marbles  

 I believe there’s hope because the breakdown and the repair are happening simultaneously. 
Kathryn Bigelow

   After I picked the kids up from school today, the car broke down and so did I.  The engine died at a traffic light and I sat there, with the hazard lights on as honking cars streamed past.  I didn’t want the kids to get out of the car as we were in the middle lane with cars passing on either side.  I felt very vulnerable sitting motionless in the car.  Why didn’t I have a shower this morning?
   I sat there trying to think who to call and the only person who came to mind was Ex-man.  Damn.  I hate feeling like a victim.  I reluctantly called him and found out he was away in Whistler with a friend.  He told me to call BCAA and tell them to tow it to his mechanic then walk to his house and borrow his camper to drive home.  Simple.  But as I sat and waited in the car, tears streamed down my face.  

 “Why are you crying?” my daughter asked.  “I don’t know,” I answered, but I did know: I cried because my relationship had broken down; because I didn’t know if I had the strength to push us to safety; because I didn’t want my kids to get hurt; because I didn’t know what it would take to get us back on the road.  The breakdown was the perfect metaphor for my breakup.
   As we waited, a stranger slowed down and rolled down his window, “It’s going to be okay,” he said, “Do you need any help?” “No,” I sniffled back, “I’ve called for a tow.”  At that point I was feeling pretty pathetic that he thought a simple car breakdown could have me so worked up. 
   Soon another man with a nametag "Ed" from a local hardware store helped me move the van to the side of the road.  The kids thought he was Superman – so strong.  I thought he was an earthbound angel dressed in a hardware store vest.  Sometimes when you’re at a standstill surrounded by whizzing traffic, it’s the little gestures that save you. 
   After the tow truck arrived, we walked to Ex-man’s house.  As we walked, I asked the kids all the things that were great about that experience. 
  “The man who pushed the car to the side,” said my daughter.
   “The tow truck – it was cool,” said my son. 
   “I’m grateful that we’re walking twenty minutes in sunshine after weeks of having rain.  I’m grateful that I had my cell phone to call for help  (I almost left it on the counter).  I’m grateful that Daddy answered his phone and that we have a camper to drive.  I’m grateful for BCAA.” Then remembering the kind man who rolled down his window, “I’m grateful that’s it’s all going to be okay.”  The breakup, the breakdown, et al.

Are there areas of your life that feel like they're breaking down? Cherrie Moraga writes, “Sometimes a breakdown can be the beginning of a kind of breakthrough, a way of living in advance through a trauma that prepares you for a future of radical transformation.” Remain open to transformation...

A Lawyer

325 Marbles  
Remember where you came from, where you're going, and why you created the mess you got yourself into in the first place.
Richard Bach
   
   A lawyer is a good thing in many big breakups but I am relieved to say that I have not had to employ one for the breakups in which I have partaken.  True, there weren’t the large assets that needed disbursing, but there were children involved and those are sometimes delicate negotiations. 
   I find that frequently the first thing people do when there is a major breakup or divorce is find a lawyer.  This often sets an acrimonious tone for the separation as lawyers are meant to work on their client’s behalf to negotiate the client’s interests.  Maybe this is a necessary step for most people to take life from an “us” negotiation to a “me” negotiation but I wonder if it wouldn’t be better to employ a mediator whose goal is to negotiate for the whole family unit as it disbands. 
   Sometimes I think it would be good to subcontract my anger to a lawyer.  I’d delegate and say, “Look, he’s been an asshole and I’m pissed, and I deserve . . .” The lawyer could take my blame and sense of entitlement, don some boxing gloves and head into the ring we call court.  It’s a bit of a fantasy, but it’s not for the financially challenged, and I’m sure it would only cause me more pain and alienation. 
   Don’t get me wrong – I’ve asked for what I’ve needed and Ex-man is helping me financially until I finish school in eighteen months.  In addition, he is responsible for our kids for half the time and he pays for half of their expenses, including half of their education funds.  This was an expense that we had already established, but post breakup it is even more important.  Consider the desire to help our children through college in a decade or so.  By then, who knows what the configuration of the family will look like - other spouses? Other half-siblings?  It was essential to both of us that we knew that our children were taken care of and that their education goals would be covered. 

  When my ex-husband and I divorced, the judge sent back the papers twice and his lawyer had to call me into his office to make sure that I understood the rights that I was forgoing in the divorce - the right to support payments, half of his assets (which were family assets), etc. I understood that I was giving up these "rights" but I also understood that I was a capable woman who would always have my ex's support in raising our child.  There was no victim and given the same situation today, I would make the same choice. 
  Similarly, I think the deal Ex-man and I struck is a fair deal, given that we never bought any real estate together.  My sister and my boss think I’m crazy to not go for more of his assets as we lived in and fixed up his house and had kids together.  But he came into the relationship with the house and I never intended it to be my house if he were no longer in the picture.  When I get into fear, I second-guess myself - I think, “What if all my dreams come to nothing and I end up retiring a waitress at 65.” The thought of this sends me reeling but that’s when a clear, calm voice says to me, “Let it go.  Any wealth you will have in this lifetime will not come from this man.”

Consider the process of getting a lawyer.  Is it the best alternative for your particular breakup?  Sometimes a breakup is so charged that a lawyer is the best way to help get to clarity of vision.

Is it possible that a mediator could work to encourage reason and fairness when negotiating the terms of the breakup? A mediator can often set a less charged tone to the negotiations.  

Consider what you need to support you post breakup.  Which needs should be part of the separation agreement?  Which ones do you need to cover yourself?

Ostensibly, you once loved this person with whom you have split.  Can you stay out of hate and hurt as you work towards a fair settlement? 

You Get What You Need

326 Marbles
    You can’t always get what you want   
    But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.  
    Mick Jagger

    When Ex-man graduated from high school and got his first good paycheck, he bought a pair of earrings for the daughter he dreamed of having an a Rolex watch for his future son.  I often thought of this story while we were together and noted the absence of a gesture for his future wife/partner, presumably the mother of the kids, namely myself.  My observation wasn’t consumer-driven, but more sensitive to the lack of place made for me. 
    When we split, the angry thought crossed my mind, “He’s gotten everything he wanted – the daughter and son of his early manhood dreams.”  Why would I be angered?  Because I felt sidelined – like a womb-on-a-stick.  For a man who prizes himself in being “self-made”, clearly having children was something he couldn’t do by himself.  Perhaps he was never really there for me because I wasn’t really part of his master plan. 
    Now, there could be some truth in this line of thinking, but it only makes me pissed off, and that’s not a great way to feel.  What I am noticing after forty marbles is that maybe I also got what I needed, even if this is not what I consciously wanted.  As I’ve settled into my new life, I’ve gotten over the acute longing for the kids while they are at their Dads’ houses.  What I have is two fathers for my kids that are active participants in their lives.  I have more free time – a break from mothering, and time to write, and although I don’t have the relationship that I had wanted, perhaps I have the perfect life for me.  I have the life that I need. Cue Mick Jagger. 

Can you objectively draw back from the breakup and start to glean what the relationship taught you and has brought you?  Are there benefits from the breakup and having your freedom?  Even if you find yourself in a reality with full-time kids and very little temporal freedom, the reality that you create for your family can be based on what you believe to be true. 

A Benign Glass of Wine?

327 Marbles

   It’s my birthday week so last night I went out for dinner with my son’s Aunt Cathy to a little wine bar that serves great food in the most cramped quarters possible.  Just after our Mussels and Navaho bread, a man came up to me and said, “I think you’re absolutely gorgeous.” – I’ll interrupt here to say that I’m interesting looking, perhaps, and definitely spirited, but in the now forty-one years I’ve been on the planet, I’ve never had a stranger approach me in this manner.  My first thought was that he’s a gay makeup artist who has been studying my features and is thinking of doing a makeover a la Kevin Aucoin, turning me into, say, Prince.  But no, he continued, “If you ever would like to go out say, for a glass of wine, please give me a call.”  Here’s where he slipped me his number and his name (Doug) and believe me, he should have quit while he was ahead cuz his last line, “I’m older than I look – I’m 36” proved that he had me pegged for older than him. I smiled and thanked him, after all, overall it was flattering. 
   The most remarkable part of the evening is when he and his friends got sat right beside us.  I couldn’t help but overhear him talking about his ex-girlfriend and how she had left him for a woman.  I find it curious that, of all the woman in the room, he zoned in on me, the one who has left a man in the past to be with a woman, the one who is currently wondering if another woman might be in the cards.
   I don’t plan on going out with him, though I might call just to decline and explain my recent breakup.  I won’t go into the marbles and celibacy pact.  Cathy suggested that I go out and have fun, but I’m not ready.  Nor do I think that it’s wise for him to be attracted to me by my looks.  Looks are surface deep and thus, the flattery is equally as shallow.  Mr. Doug doesn’t know me, so how could he know if I’m truly gorgeous?
   I confess, my mind did go on a date with Mr. Doug briefly, but I can’t picture a stranger in my life right now.  The whole scene gets a red light.  I can’t picture anyone in my space except me and my kids. I hope this feeling doesn’t last forever or I’ll fall quickly and quietly into the old crone stage.  But for now, there’s no such thing as a benign glass of wine.

If you're post breakup and have been following real time, it's been forty marbles.  Where do you stand on dating?  Is it still cleanup time? Do you believe you could go into dating open-heartedly without carrying baggage from your breakup?

The World on my Shoulders

328 Marbles
Stress is like an iceberg. We can see one eighth of it above, but what about what’s below?
Author Unknown

   In Greek mythology, Zeus punished the Titan Atlas by giving him the world to carry on his shoulders.  Now, I may not be burdened with the weight of the world, but I am toting the weight of my family and man, are my shoulders ever sore. 
   Everyone has that body part where they hold their stress - for my daughter it’s her calves, for me, it’s my shoulders.  It feels like I’m a spinning top that’s been wound up but not released.  At this point,  I’m even afraid of what I’d find if the release happened; The sore shoulders may be just the tip of the iceberg. 
   So what are my options to help release the tension in my shoulders?  Sex used to help but I can’t say that my forays with the shower massage have quite the same effect.  I do have an awesome massage therapist that I go to four times a year - the maximum amount covered by my extended health insurance- but I think I need something a little more regular.  My kids are great at receiving massages, but not so great at giving.  What I need is a kindly, platonic shoulder rub every once and awhile.   So I’m putting it out there, I could use a friend who likes to massage shoulders.  It’s not like I wouldn’t return the favor. 
   There is a Chinese Proverb that says, “Tension is who you think you should be.  Relaxation is who you are.”  Apparently, there is a gaping chasm between who I think I should be and who I am and my shoulders are the ones who are paying for it.  So in the meantime, while the marbles help me bridge that gap, I could use a non-lover who is good with his/her hands. 

Take a moment to check in with your body and scan it for areas of tension.  What can you do in this post breakup time of stress to care for yourself? 

Anger Management

329 Marbles 
Anger always comes from frustrated expectations.
Elliott Larson

    Dear Reader, there are many things that I’m not proud of doing in my past, and I’d like those moments to quietly slink into the shadows, but if you are going to know me at my brightest, insightful moments, you may as well know me at my darkest moments, so here goes…I used to get so angry when Ex-man withdrew (abandonment was a big trigger for me).  One night as he was making an escape in his car, I took the bottle of Cristal champagne that we were keeping for a special occasion and threw it out the door after him (not at him).  The bottle did some amazing flips on the lawn, jumping over the sidewalk until it landed, remarkably unharmed, on the boulevard.  This got his attention.  We both looked at the bottle and looked at each other.  The bottle may have been indestructible but our relationship, not surprisingly, was not.
    The good news is that in my relationship with Ex-man, I learned to control my anger and we worked through the dramatic stage characterized by events such as the above.  My father used to tease me, “You came into the world with your fists up,” and indeed, my baby picture shows me as a little boxer.  This fighter quality has been great at times as I tend to never roll over and admit defeat, but it was challenging in relationship with Ex-man.  Situations like the above made me realize that I needed anger management and I learned about the anger mountain: how anger tends to escalate on an incline until it hits an apex and a blowout.  I’ve learned how when I’m tired or stressed, my fiery-self starts higher up the mountain so it’s easier to reach that apex.  I learned not to throw things or shake Ex-man to get his attention when he withdrew.  I reluctantly allowed him his cave and learned that it wasn’t always about me.  My behavior changed but he kept withdrawing.  The Roman author, Publilius Syrus, wrote, “You should make a woman angry if you wish her to love.”  In Syrus’ books, we played our cards right.
    Larson wrote that frustrated expectations are at the root of anger and this makes sense to me with Ex-man; I used to expect him to be present with me and when he couldn’t or wouldn’t, I would get angry.   But in hindsight, maybe it was less about what he was doing and more about the expectation I had about what I thought he should be doing.  Withdrawal was his MO; abandonment was my trigger: two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together for the work of healing.  Yikes!
    I still have anger towards Ex-man for the ultimate withdrawal of the breakup, but if I examine it, what seeps through the cracks is immense sadness: sadness of failure, sadness that two good people could have been such jerks to each other at times, sadness of lost promise and possibility, and sadness for my children.  Most of all I’m sad that my friend and the first person I ever fell in love with is gone.  Sometimes I’m so sad that it makes me feel mad. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.”  What would it take to apply these words post breakup?.

Lighting a Candle

330 Marbles 
People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is light from within.
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

    I cleaned my house today and while I was working, I lit a candle and placed it in the sand of my candle table.  Twenty years ago, I designed this table to go with my wrought iron bed.  It was partly reminiscent of my days growing up in the Catholic church but it also had the silica sand that is more common in my ex-husband’s Greek church.  Over the years, I’ve added a few items to the table: a jade Ganesh (remover of obstacles), a stone Buddha, a Virgin Mary candle, a wolf clan carving, photos of my ancestors.  It’s become a hodgepodge of religious paraphernalia not unrelated to my melange of beliefs. 
   These days when I light a candle, there’s no coin in a box, nor a specific prayer or entreaty for divine intervention.  Instead, I say a silent “Thank you” and I ask for Spirit to come to me, to come to my home.  It is a quiet moment that I take to remind myself that I am not just my body.  It helps me remember that I am way more than this breakup and this moment in time.  It allows me to connect to that part of me that is eternal and divine.  

Hmmm, I can only really comment on what fortifies my spirit and sometimes the ritual of lighting a candle does the trick.  What fortifies your spirit?  Maybe it's simply dancing, having a bath, or going for a nature walk. Can you find some time for a date with spirit?  

The Heart’s Two Sides

331 Marbles 

    There are two sides to the heart: the atria receive blood and the ventricles pump it out to the body.  Obviously the system is vital to our very existence and when it’s not working, we know about it. 
    There are also two sides to the non-atomical heart (the heart that has less to do with pumping blood, and more to do with pumping love): the one side of the heart receives love from others, the other side is all about circulating love for the self.  The whole system is vital to our wellness and if it’s not working, we become out of balance. 
    When the part of the heart that is meant to love oneself has atrophied, It can manifest in sentiments such as, “I love him/her so much (in small print – that I’ll put up with an unhealthy amount of bad behaviour just to be with him/her).”  But where is the love for the self in this statement?  I’ve been in unhealthy situations that I can shake my head at now.  At a distance, I can ask myself,“How could I have stayed?” The answer at the time was, “Because I loved him.” But again, where was the love for myself?
    What I’m noticing for myself after this break up is that I’ve really only ever focused on the part of my heart that deals with others.  Sure, I’ve done things to care for myself like eating right and exercising, but on a fundamental level, the self-love side of my heart is weaker and at the moment,  filled with blockages. 
    Maybe a breakup is like a metaphorical heart attack and like a physical heart attack it can be just as life threatening and life altering.  Like a real heart attack survivor, my job over the next 331 marbles is to get rid of all the elements that damage my heart, and seek out ways that support it.  My job is to strengthen and balance my heart.

Take a few moments to draw a picture of your heart.  Draw the left side to be the part that loves others.  Draw the right side to be the part that loves yourself.  Are both sides balanced?  If not, what would it take to make both sides of your heart balanced and working in harmony?

Anger

332 Marbles
Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.
Buddha

   It’s been over a month since Ex-man left.  I recall standing in front of the answering machine, listening as he told me that he was staying at his new place.  Poor, confused me.  We had lived together for nine months after our breakup and I had suffered the discomfort of the final trimester of wanting him out of our shared space.  But, standing by the answering machine, all I wanted was an obstetrician that could push him back in.  
   As the days progressed, my anger has grown.  What?  No exit interview?  No note of good-bye after over twelve years together?  No closure? I think my mind and heart would have an easier time feeling that there was closure if I didn’t have to see him all the time.  I devised a way to communicate with him about the kids using a notebook.  It is a safeguard- if something comes out wrong, I can rip out the page. 
   Even still, I remain angry at his standoffishness.  Yep, I do realize that a breakup is more than a standoff – it’s a walk away.  But somehow his exit strategy depicted everything that went wrong in our relationship: his tendency to draw away and cut off all forms of communication, my tendency to try to communicate.  
   This was (and apparently still is) our pattern.  In keeping with it, when I saw him today I said, "So I guess this is the way a relationship ends?” (Yes, I realize that it sounds like a line from a bad soap.)  He answered, “You’re too angry to talk with me.” My response, “You don’t get it, it’s your complete withdrawal that makes me angry. “ And so you have it, our particular version of the chicken or the egg. 
   I kind of see the point: What’s the use of standing at the scene of a car crash, deciding exactly what happened?  All the curious neck-craning only ever leads to more crashes.  Better to climb out of the wreckage, attend to my injuries, my kids’ injuries.  The investigating can wait. The investigating is part of the job of the marbles. 

Again, no answers here, only the questions that I ask myself, “What will help me accept that it is over, let go, and move on with my life?”  "What will help me let go of the hot coal of anger?"

Routine Day

333 Marbles

I began to realize how simple life could be if one had a regular routine to follow with fixed hours, a fixed salary, and very little original thinking to do.

Roald Dahl

    My father grew up on his family’s dairy farm in the Prairies.  When he was young, he was given a journal/diary.  Excited, he started out by chronicling his experiences – “Today I got up at five a.m., milked the cows, and delivered the milk.  Then I went to school.”  The second day read similarly.  The third day was remarkably the same.  By the fourth day, he took to writing the date then scribbling “Routine Day.”  Those two words seemed to say it all for the young boy who grew up on a farm, craving adventure.  As a young man, his perception of the monotony of routine drew him to a career in the blossoming airline business, traveling the world. 
    Since Ex-man’s move out, I’ve pondered what it means to have a "Routine Day," as many of my routines were those of a couple.  I’ve had more time to analyze what is really important to me and how I want my routine days to be like. One change that has improved my quality of life is to take more relaxing baths than showers ;) ;).  The other change is that I now grocery shop at one of my local markets instead of the mega grocery store where I used to shop.  Sure, the prices may not be quite as good in some areas, but I’m lucky that the city where I live has so many affordable options to the grocery megastores.  I’ve switched to organic milk and eggs because it makes me feel good and, ironically, they are closer to the natural products that my father would have delivered almost seventy years ago.  And I’ve taken to buying a high fat yogurt that I eat as a treat along with fruit.  Small changes that make a routine day feel more like my routine day. Yet, even as I establish new patterns that are more aligned with my own proclivities, I am also mindful of what my father's intrepid spirit instilled in me and what Amos Bronson Alcott so succinctly wrote, "The less routine, the more life."

Consider your routines.  Are there things that you hate doing that you could replace with a more agreeable alternatives?  Are there little adjustments in time management that could open up the space for more life?

Owning the Female Gaze

334 Marbles 
If an Arab in the desert were suddenly to discover a spring in his tent, and so would always be able to have water in abundance, how fortunate he would consider himself; so too, when a man who ... is always turned toward the outside, thinking that his happiness lies outside him, finally turns inward and discovers that the source is within him.
Søren Kierkegaard

    My eldest son surprised me yesterday by referring to a girl from school as a slut after her behavior at a school dance.  I was curious about the label because I know what it meant thirty years ago, but I don’t know what it means now.  He told me that now, there was such a thing as a male slut, and I noted a marginal improvement from when I was growing up when such a term was nonexistent.  We had a discussion about labels and sexuality that reminded me of an experience I had after “church” one day… 
    A dozen years ago, I went with a friend to her pseudo-church on the scenic Granville Island.  After the service we went to the farmer’s market for a coffee.  As we were seated, several people joined us at our table, and finally a young, hot couple sat down.  The girl had just gotten a belly-button-piercing and was commenting on how much it hurt.  The men at the table all showed interest and wanted to see her new piercing.  She rolled up her shirt and lowered her pants to reveal her new piercing.   She was lovely.  There where "Oohs" and "Aahs," statements of approval, and general gawking from the men at the table.  
    A short time later, her boyfriend said that he recently got a tattoo on is upper arm.  My friend blurted, “Let’s see.” The atmosphere at the table shifted: the girlfriend got silently indignant as her boyfriend rolled up his shirt to expose his inked pipes.  He was lovely.  The discomfort at the table was palpable.  We left shortly after. 
    As we walked away, I asked my friend, “Did you have to do that?” “Do what?” she asked.  “The thing with the tattoo.”  “Why was that any different than those lascivious boys with the belly button?” I knew it was different, but I didn’t have an answer for her. 
    I have an answer now – the male gaze.  The male gaze is the accepted way of viewing the world through the lens of hetero male desire.  It’s what makes females objects of fantasy,  movie making, and advertising.  Even our mytholog justifies this view by relating how at the beginning of time, the first woman, Eve, made her own decision based on her own desire and that led to nothing but trouble (except for the subsequent fashion industry, of course). 
    So what is the female gaze?  Some argue that it doesn’t exist.  I tend to think that it’s an internal value for the self and the body that isn’t related to external factors.  It’s what happens when the moon starts shining from the inside and doesn’t just reflect the light from the sun. I believe it is our journey as women because, inevitably, our "looks" fade and we better have something of substance to replace that particular currency. 

Our job, post breakup, is to draw back our light so, when the time is right, we will shine forth with luminosity.  The trick is, as Kierkegaard's quote suggests, be the well. (Yep, I know I'm mixing metaphors here.  It's a habit of mine.)

Rage-o-mon

335 Marbles

   This morning was not a great morning.  My youngest son’s mood could best be described as Rage-o-mon - one of those Japanese manga characters known for his violent outbursts.  He was pissed off about everything: his curly hair, his claim that I always believe his sister over him (they both say this), what was for breakfast, the list went on.  When he finally broke down in tears and morphed back into his more characteristic sweet self, I felt tired and his anger tweaked the inner chord of anger in me.  It was a rocky road to get them to school. 
   Then I had to talk to Ex-man and he was extremely cheery which made me more pissed off.  If he’s not dumping his latest mini-disaster on me (his car heater breaking down, his neighbour ruining his view by cutting down all the shrubbery on their property, blah, blah, blah) he’s maintaining a veneer of cheeriness.  Maybe he got laid.     
   I take my marble from the closet and hold it in my hand a little longer today before I pass it through the kitchen window into the garden below.  My neighbour’s window is near mine, so I hope that they don’t think I’m completely OCD.  I check my calendar and determine that, unfortunately, it’s too early for PMS. 
   My intent is weak today.  I think how if Ex-man asked, I would take him back.  Yikes!  What the hell is wrong with me?
   So I do laundry, not as therapy, but as a necessity.  As I load all the darks into the washing machine, I stare at the front loader as the water seeps in, and the garments begin to tumble.  As I sit watching my laundry, sadness seeps up through my anger.  The sadness I can sit with.  The sadness I can hold. 
   I lie down and have a good cry and feel the release.  Then I remember my little Rage-o-mon this morning and smile at how kindred we are; For the first time all day, I feel like smiling. 

If you are holding a lot of anger post breakup, can you tap into the sadness that often sits underneath the veneer of anger? Anger can sometimes be used as protection, a shield to protect the vulnerability of feeling sad but most often, it is the sadness that wants to be felt. 

Musical Friends

336 Marbles 
If your happiness depends on what somebody else does, I guess you do have a problem.
Richard Bach

    A breakup can sometimes bring to mind a nasty game of musical chairs.  The music is playing along and then it stops- abruptly- and while everyone grabs a seat, the breakup survivor is left standing: The cheese stands alone (yep, I know I’m mixing two childhood nursery games here).
    There’s always some re-adjustment with friends and family after a breakup.  In my experience, there are friends who socialized with Ex-man and me as a couple, who can’t seem to make the transition to connecting with me as a separate entity.  There are his friends, who after over a dozen years, became my friends but more like library-style-friends because now it seems that I have to return them (turns out they were only borrowed).  Thus, the breakup becomes a multi-edged sword as the loss is felt not only with Ex-man, but with my whole social circle, including Ex-man’s family.  
    Today, I received an email from one of Ex-man’s family saying that she hoped I was doing well and that she wanted to maintain connection.  The email brought me great comfort because I really miss her and her daughter.  The rest of his family has remained ominously silent but it's to be expected;  They're Irish Loyalists.     
    The good news is, my friends are making themselves apparent – calls to check in, dropping by work to connect - an emotional safety net for me and my kids.  One friendship, however, I’ve declared  a “short-burning-star” as its lifespan seems complete.  The timing is lousy as the Super Nova of Ex-man and me has just imploded, but it’s okay to release this friend as I don’t want to be on anyone’s “have to do” list.  
…
    Ironically, my short-burning-star just called me.  Apparently she’s not ready for release and maybe I'm too raw to make these kinds of decisions right now.  Perhaps the whole game of musical chairs is just an illusion and there are enough chairs for everyone.  But what I do know is that true friendship doesn't have to be proven.  It just is. When I look around me, I see my friends - the cheese isn't alone after all.  

Okay, so it's lousy but breakups do generally involve losing more than just the person with whom you had the romantic attachment.   Think of the wash-aways as detritus: Loose fragments or grains that have been worn away from rock.  The good news is that you are the rock!  Can you surrender to the effluence and allow for the inflow of connections that will support your new life?