Glow in the Dark Stars

217 Marbles
    Today I purchased a large canvas for the ceiling of my sons’ room then painted it the colors of the night sky (in lieu of painting the ceiling of our rented home).  I found a kit of glow-in-the-dark stars and planets so when the paint was dry, me and my youngest son affixed the planets onto the canvas.
    Then came the stars.  We decided to go with constellations so we looked up the constellations of everyone in the family: Libra, Cancer, Leo, Pisces, and even Ex-man’s Aquarius (he is their Dad).  We carefully arranged the stars so that they were in their proper formation and affixed the canvas to the ceiling.  Then we arranged a spot light so that the stars could get “charged” before we turned the lights out. 
    My son was thrilled to have his whole family looking down on him, giving off light even in the dark. As we lay on the top of his bed, admiring our work, my son said, “We are all connected, forever.”

One of the most challenging things about the breakup is knowing that their hearts have been affected because Ex-man and I couldn’t get it right.  What can I do to make this breakup easier on my kids? 

Broken Pieces VI - Not Good Enough

218 Marbles
It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.
C.S. Lewis

    Like many functioning people walking this planet, I sometimes recognize that I have an inferiority complex.  And like most people, you wouldn’t notice it to look at me.  But I can feel it and sense it when I brush up against situations in which I contract myself like when I go to a fancy spa or hotel and I somehow feel like an impostor. 
    The stories that feed this inferiority complex are ones like this (buckle up, this is going to be annoying)… When I was little and I wanted a new bike for Christmas.  I pictured a purple and pink bike but I got an ugly brown, used, hand-painted one.  I got teased when I rode it to school and I was embarrassed. . . Seriously? Is that the best I can come up with?  Why am I not recalling the stories about when I got exactly what I wanted?  And what do any of these stories have to do with who I am?  Did I actually think that when I got what I wanted it proved that I was worthy and when I didn’t, it proved I was somehow unworthy?  (That’s putting a lot of weight on situations outside of myself.)  Besides, I’m sure I’m not the only one that gets tired when even animated cartoons resort to childhood tales of woe to explain the faults of the bad guy.  Which stories do we choose to steep in and how long do we have to steep in our stories? 
    Recently I heard a woman talking about being invested in stories.  Her point of view was the purpose of stories is to expand awareness.  She suggested a few questions when you find yourself stuck in stories, “If you weren’t telling the story, what would you be aware of?”  In the example above, I’d be aware that I was disappointed to not get what I wanted and somehow I translated that disappointment  to mean something about me.  In addition, my embarrassment indicated that I bought into the notion that if you didn’t have money, you were somehow inferior to those who did have money (I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in this one).  Another excellent question, “If you extracted all the facts from the story, could you use the facts to tell another story?”  Hmmm, I’ll have to remember that one but again, in my example I could tell the story of how my parents managed to get me a bike that needed some work and my Dad took the time to paint it (to him, the importance of color wouldn’t even be on his radar).  The present was a gift of love and had nothing to do with who I was or what I deserved as a daughter.  As a parent, I completely get this. 
    Here’s the rub of being a person born into sensitive skin - often we take the events that happen and take them personally when there is really nothing personal about them.  I think it’s time to hatch through all the broken pieces of shell and learn to fly. 

Albert Einstein wrote, “I speak to everyone in the same way, whether he is the garbage man or the president of the university.” Are you willing to let go of the idea of superiority and inferiority? 

Stories that Don’t End Well aka Broken Pieces V

219 Marbles 
And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after? I will not, for no one ever does. But there was happiness. And they did live. 
Stephen King, "The Dark Tower"

    When I look around at my family, I see mental illness, estranged relationships, anger, resentment, disappointment, and divorce.  I’ve seen too many happily-ever-after weddings end up in a lawyer’s office (including mine).  I’ve witnessed too many marriages that should have ended, stumble along till-death-do-they-part when an earlier parting could have meant more life.  I don't see one example of someone living their dream life filled with love, creativity, and abundance.  Maybe I should appreciate that my family has taught me about drama.  As Bugs Bunny said, “Well what did you expect in an opera?  A happy ending?” My family - the opera. 
     I want to shift this legacy in my life.  I’m aware of an unspoken loyalty to my family yet that allegiance has come at too great a cost to my personal happiness. Could I be caught in family patterns because of a misunderstanding of what it means to be loyal to family? What about loyalty to myself? I want my own children to look at me as an example of how to live, not an example of how not to live. 
    Last night my friend was over for dinner and while the kids were doing the dishes, I told him about my uncle who was an alcoholic for years.  When my cousins were young, my aunt was constantly dealing with him going to bars and getting loaded.  His life was in turmoil and he literally lost the family farm.  But then he stopped drinking and his life turned around.  He and my aunt’s relationship improved dramatically.   When their kids grew up, my aunt and uncle were so cute – they would tour around the country on their motorcycles.  I was telling this story when all of a sudden I realized – my uncle has a happy ending.
    Perhaps I’m in no position to comment on the outcome of anyone else’s life but my own.  The life I’m living now doesn’t exactly feel like a happy ending – I’m juggling school, I’m single with three kids to support, I pay our bills by serving tables at a restaurant.  Yet when I was dusting the arm of a chair the other day, the realization came to me, “This is the beginning of the happy beginning.”   

Are you willing to let go of all the stories about broken pieces to make way for new beginnings? 

Broken Pieces III The Bad-Ass Root

220 Marbles
Behind every b*tch is a girl who got tired of being broken.
Unknown

    There was an ugly, barren, salmonberry bush in the backyard that is taking over the trampoline with its prickly branches.  Before Ex-man moved out he cut down the bush and left the huge, serpentine root-ball.  I’ve passed by it for months and now I notice it starting to sprout again.  It’s time to take it out. 
    I borrowed an axe from a friend’s mother and started the back-breaking work of hacking away at the twisted root-ball.  Each piece is connected to another piece and they all seem intent on staying securely attached to the ground. The process seems like a perfect metaphor for examining my broken pieces and deciding if I really need to have them rooted in my being anymore.  Wouldn’t it be better to take out the diseased and ugly to plant something that grows what I like?  What about a lilac bush or two? 
    This sounds way easier than it is, both metaphorically and realistically.  As I spent a couple of hours this afternoon chopping away at the insistent roots and shoots, I thought of one of my nastier broken pieces - my mean-ass tongue.  The story goes like this: I was brought up to believe that anger and strength/power were synonymous.  My older sister (who was steeped in that lie before me) used to berate and criticize me frequently.  I would be left in tears thinking to myself that one day, I would be as “strong” as her, one day I wouldn’t be the one crying. 
    Fast-forward a dozen years and my wish was granted and I learned to use my tongue as a weapon.  I know that when I get mean-tongued, it’s because I feel vulnerable and unprotected.  I feel like a cat that’s been backed into a corner but instead of sharp claws, I have a sharp tongue.  But is this really working for me and do I really want to connect to this story anymore?  The answer is no.  The price for my mean-tongue is too high, the benefits too low.  It was used to manipulate situations and people in the worst possible way.  Bottom line: it damages relationships with others and it damages my relationship with myself as I always feel lousy for being such a snag. 
    The desire to acquire this “skill” was built on a lie of anger and power and the belief that what was fragile could be easily broken.  The other night when I was awake in the middle of the night, I thought to myself, “What if you didn’t have to get angry today?” It was such a liberating thought and there was so much lightness to it.  When I got up in the morning, I was aware that I had choices in how I could react.  I didn’t have to use anger or meanness as a way to keep my kids in line.  I am not my father.  I am not my family.  I am me and I have infinite choice regarding what to plant and what to grow.
    Back in the garden, I continue to hack away at the ugly roots that don’t produce fruit.  

A tongue is an amazing instrument: it can be used to sing, to connect with others using language, to taste flavors in food, to make music, to make love.  What would it take for you to use your tongue in positive ways?  If you use anger to control others, what would it take to stop? 

Broken Pieces II – The Girl in the Flannelette Nightie

221 Marbles 
It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.
Frederick Douglass

    Ex-man was a distancer.  When things got heated, he retreated.  Often he would leave – get in his car and take off like he was Archie Bunker going to Kelsey’s in the old show All in the Family.  This used to make me extremely anxious, although at the time, I wasn’t conscious as to why.  Now I know. 
    When he would leave, Ex-man triggered the little girl in the flannelette nightie.   I was 11 and my sister was graduating from high school.  My Dad had a huge fight with her and he packed his bags and was going to leave.  He kept saying, "I'm tired of being the bad guy." My mother was beside herself and I knew she wasn't strong enough to manage the family on her own.  I was frightened at the prospect of my father leaving so I took matters into my own hands and ran after him in my bare feet to fling myself on his car.  I wouldn't get off until he got out of the car and carried me into the house.
    I got him to tuck me in and to promise that he wouldn't leave us in the middle of the night. He promised. I secured his promise by the line, "You wouldn't lie to a little girl, would you?" (This was a line I had heard on the Partridge Family - perhaps I watched too much TV).  I knew I was being sneaky, but I also thought I was saving my family.  In hindsight I know nothing.
    What I do know is that there is a little girl who still thinks that she will not be okay when someone chooses to walk away.  I have been tender with her. I have reminded her what  my ex–husband wisely said when we were deciding the fate of our marriage . . . I asked him, "What will happen if we decide to split?" "We will be okay," he answered.  "What will happen if we decide to stay together?" "We will be okay," he answered.  He was right, on both counts. 

Are there parts of you that feel ill-equipped to provide for yourself/your family on your own family without a man/partner?  Is this your point of view or is it your mother's?  If you let go of that point of view, are you aware of the lightness of expanded possibilities? 

Do you feel safer/more secure with a man/partner in your life?  Why? 

Broken Pieces

222 Marbles 
I have woven a parachute out of everything broken.
William Stafford

    My son broke a plate tonight at dinner and it smashed into a million little pieces.  I got him and his siblings out of the room to safety then spent some time trying to sweep up all the little shards of glass so they wouldn’t hurt anyone, including myself.  But that’s what this year is all about really.  Sweeping up the broken pieces  so they don’t continue to hurt me or anyone else.   
    So what are my broken pieces?  Good question.
    I was at a yoga workshop a while ago with the amazing teacher Seane Corn.  She was talking about how we can be going along and how someone may do or say something that triggers a hurt from childhood and immediately we are transported to that little person despite the fact that we still look like an adult.  Ha, I knew this one well.   Most of my friends knew or sensed my broken pieces and had the compassion to circumvent them.   Ex-man was an expert at doing vinegar dives right into those old wounds. 
    I asked Seane Corn, "Are those hurts from the past or could we have come in with them?"  She said, “That’s something you’ll have to answer for yourself.” In other words, not an easy answer but she went on to describe how she, as a Polish Jew, had come in with her ancestor’s fears around financial security.  Ever since she was young, she knew that she had to take care of herself and she invested every penny making sure that all her relatives were beneficiaries to the security that she was creating.  When the stock market bottomed out in the nineties, she saw everything she worked for dwindle to nothing and she realized that the fear she had around money wasn’t even hers. It was something inherited; It was also something that could be changed.
    I gave a great deal of contemplation to my broken pieces that Ex-man so expertly triggered.  One of the bigger ones was around voice.   I was the baby of the family and when I was growing up my father was older and tired from raising five daughters (barely surviving the clash of the sexual revolution and his Catholic religious beliefs).  As a baby, whenever I became noisy at the dinner table, my father would take me and put me in a room with closed doors.  I would start crying and my sisters would try to sneak in and console me.  Eventually I learned to stay quiet.  When I grew up, I learned that what I thought was not tolerated at the dinner table or anywhere else in my home.  I learned to be shy.  When I got married, I would whisper my opinions into my husband’s ear and he would convey them to the group.  Yet I would get frustrated, as they were usually good insights and he would get the credit.   We agreed that he would use the precursor, “Lisa thinks that . . . “ Obviously this charade couldn’t last forever.  For a writer, a voice is essential. 
    Back to Ex-man.  Sometimes when we’d argue he’d put his hands over his ears and say “La, la, la, I’m not listening.” Yes, not only was this childish but for me, it was like stepping on a broken shard of glass, that little girl that thought  that she had no voice.  It made me angry.  In hindsight it was almost comical, but for a writer who had spent her life trying to find a safe place for her voice, it was an assault on the spirit.  So I had said that my other friends had the compassion to circumvent those old wounds.  Maybe Ex-man had enough compassion to dive right in.

Ernest Hemingway wrote, "The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."  Do you know your broken places? 

The Regular

223 Marbles 

    So there’s this "regular" who has been coming into my work for years.  When he found out I was single, he started creeping on me (I think it’s called flirting).  He would comment on how fit I was and tell me what an amazing mother I was (no way he’d know this to be true, by the way).  Last week, I told him that I hike with a group of friend up a local mountain every Monday (Marble 253).   Wouldn’t you know it, this week he showed up on the hike. 
    He’s a nice enough guy: he’s a stuntman, he’s always well dressed, he exercises and takes care of himself, he’s got that incendiary Scorpio vibe going on, and he loves his mother just the right amount.  But I’m just not feeling it.  Is it because of the marbles commitment that I’m not finding him the least bit enticing?  Or is it because of the breakup that I’m not feeling ready to date?  Despite my physical needs, I think it’s the latter.  I’m not ready to open up to another person (the waters are still murky and not azure clear).  Timing is everything and I’m simply not emotionally ready.  I’ve heard women described as swinging monkeys - never letting go of the security of one relationship before having the next vine (aka man/woman) safely in hand.  My days of being a swinging monkey are over. 
    It’s important for me to discern between my physical readiness for intimacy and my emotional readiness.  Physically, there are several times during the month (thanks hormones) that I’d like nothing more than to invite a lover into my bed. Unfortunately that is how a relationship can be unconsciously started.  It’s for that reason that I remain celibate (forever hopeful that the skill is like riding a bike;)

Where are you at in the relationship readiness continuum?  Are you physically ready to be intimate with another human?  Are you emotionally ready to be vulnerable in a relationship?    Dr. Suess wrote, “You can get help from teachers, but you are going to have to learn a lot by yourself, sitting alone in a room.”  Have you spent enough time in that room? 

There’s Nothing of Value That He Can Take from Me

224 Marbles 

    When I look back now at my concern over Ex-man coming and “plucking” the various things from my home (Marbles 349 & 273), I think, “I should have just let him have the darn lamps.”  The truth is that there is nothing of value that he can take from me.  All those possessions (e.g. the music, the picture frames, the friggen’ lamps) all of those are things that I can acquire again if I so choose.  Their meaning comes from the sentimental value that I associated with them.  All the things of real value he cannot take from me (the privilege and right to be mother to our children, my self-respect, my inner resources, my ability to love, my freedom to create a future of my own choosing, etc.) all of these are mine for the keeping.  Yippee!
    So why did I place so much importance on the lamps?  Well, for a number of reasons.  Firstly, I didn’t feel that he was respecting my boundaries at a time when I was conscious of establishing separate boundaries from him.  Secondly, the time around the breakup felt like a death in which my energy contracted.  It is challenging to be magnanimous in those circumstances.  I have experienced other breakups that didn’t plunge me into every-man-for-himself, scarcity mode, but this wasn’t one of them. 
    The things of value that died with our relationship included my dream of a family unit (whatever that means), our potential as a couple, our intimate moments, and a connection to our shared history.  These are the things that I mourn.  I am in the process of letting go of these and that’s what these marbles are all about.  In this process, it helps me to repeat my new mantra: There’s nothing of value that he can take from me. 

Can you make a list of all the things that didn’t die when your relationship ended?  Were there things that were born when your relationship died (e.g. The freedom to choose and create your own future)?  When you weigh these things in, how important are the shared possessions? 

The Tightrope Act

225 Marbles

   
    Today Ex-man came over and helped clear some of his stuff from my garage.  There was a 30-year-old electronic piano, old shelves, landscaping equipment, and a wide assortment of trash.  What I notice about Ex-man is he has a difficult time letting go of things, even if he no longer has any use for them.  What I notice about myself is that I have a difficult time letting go of people, even if they are not good for me. 
    I notice myself performing the tightrope act of maintaining balance along the tensioned wire of our breakup.  There’s still an assortment of his belongings in the garage with some in the rafters.   On the one hand, a cooperative stance keeps the peace as we still regularly deal with each other in regards to our children.  On the other hand, I want him to deal with his stuff and not use me as a storage locker.  The items in the rafters, I don’t mind so much as I don’t have to maneuver around them.   The items on the ground I’ve asked him to take to his house after all, I wouldn’t expect him to keep my belongings at his house nor would he want to. 
    It was his choice to set me free and now he must tend to the physical things that still tie us together.  It’s not vindictiveness, it’s clarity.  Can you hear the faint sound of my foot coming down? 
   
The phrase, “Choose your battles” can be used ad nauseam in the post breakup landscape, especially when dealing with shared children. Yet, it doesn’t have to be a minefield.  Which issues can you let go of?  Which issues are important to you?  If you fast forward a year into the future, will those “important” issues be equally as weighted? 

Fear vs. Fun

226 Marbles

People living deeply have no fear of death.

Anaïs Nin

    Yesterday I went with my son and his friend to the amusement park.  As we waited in line for the large wooden roller coaster (that my son said looked like it was being held together by toothpicks), I noticed that I was feeling nervous despite the fact that I’d been on that rollercoaster several times since I was a child.  My son and his friend were nothing but excited. What was I afraid of - an untimely and grisly death? 
    The question came to mind, “Do you know the difference between fear and excitement?” They both feel slightly anxious, yet one is steeped in the worst case scenario, and the other is injected with fun.  I realized that it only took a slight shift to let go of the fear and get into the boys’ excitement of the adventure.  (All of this was an internal shift because they couldn’t see me sweat - I had talked them into the rollercoaster in the first place.)
    Our cart came along and we were buckled in for the wild ride – me in the front, the boys behind.  The first hill was huge and I laughed all the way down.  I could hear the boys yelling and I turned around to see the smiles on their faces.  In a couple of minutes we were done.  As we climbed out of our cart, my son’s friend said, “I survived. Now I can tell all my friends that I rode on the wooden rollercoaster.” He took away a survival story steeped in fun and bravery. I took away a reminder to be aware to shift from fear to excitement whenever possible. 

When you go into fear, stop and ask, "Could I shift into the energy of excitement?"  How many occasions do you experience fear when it is not an appropriate response? (Fear when being chased by a Tyrannosaurus Rex is appropriate, but that’s just not going to happen;)  Wouldn’t life be more fun if you shifted into excitement more often? The magician Robert Heller said, "Fear is excitement without breath."  Breathe into your fear and transform it into excitement.  

Voice in the Night

227 Marbles
Always say “yes” to the present moment. What could be more futile, more insane, than to create inner resistance to what already is? What could be more insane than to oppose life itself, which is now and always now? Surrender to what is. Say “yes” to life — and see how life suddenly starts working for you rather than against you.

Eckhart Tolle

    Many of the changes that have happened in the last year have been uncomfortable – including my father’s death and Ex-man moving out.  It feels like I’ve experienced a lot of loss and it would probably be different if I had chosen the loss, for example, if I had been the one initiating the breakup (but then again, maybe not -besides, some things you just can’t have control over, like someone’s death). 
    I haven’t been sleeping well the last few nights - my nights have been restless and despite me trying to move on with my life, I have the distinct feeling that I’m clenching onto something - even my jaw is tight and clenched. I know that I’m consciously in the process of letting go of my relationship with Ex-man.  It’s happening and I feel way better than I did 138 Marbles ago, but still there’s the clasping and grasping.  
    Last night I heard a voice in my head when I woke up (yes I know that disembodied voices are thought to be signs of insanity, but this voice was calm and clear and there was nothing crazy about it).  It said, “You are spending so much energy on resisting change that you’re leaving little energy for what you’re good at – drawing things in.”  Hmmm, I wondered, “What could that mean?”  As I tossed and turned back to sleep, I was reminded of a T-shirt I once read, “Even if the voices aren’t real, they have some pretty good ideas.” Could it be that I’m trying to hold on because I don’t want the future to be as challenging as the past year has been?  Sure, holding onto the past and present is a futile endeavor but it doesn’t mean that I won’t give it a try. 
    When I woke up this morning, I thought of Newton’s Third Law – “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”  If it’s true that I’m spending so much energy by resisting change, how much more force will the universe have to use to send me good things?  And why do I assume that all change will be negative?  Even magnetically, how could I ever draw good things in if I’ve created a forcefield of resistance to keep them away? 
    While I don’t know the answers to these questions, what I’m conscious of is how I’ve been unconsciously trying to protect myself by pushing things away.  I’m like that kid in PE class who was once hit during dodgeball and now cringes every time a ball comes her way.  Why don’t I just reach out my arms and grab the damn ball?
    While I still stand by the celibacy goal of not drawing any potential lovers or partners, I am going to try to make a habit of envisioning good things coming my way with my work, finances, and friendships. Admittedly, I have difficulty seeing the future as positive, but that’s a whole other marble. 

Victor Hugo wrote, “The future has several names.  For the weak, it is impossible, for the fainthearted, it is the unknown, for the thoughtful and valiant, it is ideal.”  What would it take for you to let go of the past and let go of any resistance to the present?  What would it take for you to view the future as ideal? 

Blue Jobs/Pink Jobs?

228 Marbles

  
    There was no escaping it anymore – I had to mow the lawn.  It was one of those jobs that Ex-man did and up until a few weeks ago, it wasn’t an issue.  But the weather got warmer and the grass started growing. The problem was, Ex-man took the mower with him and last week when I took the landlord’s mower out and it wasn’t working.  I took it into get fixed and they told me it would be better for me to buy a new mower than to repair it. 
    Then I got to thinking: I don’t really like gas mowers - they’re noisy and they seem too complicated to me.  I fondly remember my Dad using a push mower on our yard when I was growing up  – the grass smell over the gas smell, the quiet operation, the physicality of the process.  A push mower it is. 
    They’ve got some pretty fancy push mowers these days but they still run less than half the price of a gas mower.  I chose one and was almost excited to get home and put it to use. 
    Now I’m not saying that my job was as good as Ex-man’s job with his gas mower and professional edging job, but hey, it looked pretty darn good.  I was proud to find a way to manage the “man’s job” that had previously been managed by my Ex-man.

Are you underestimating your ability to handle things that were once in your X's domain?  Is what you believe you are capable of doing limited by gender stereotypes?  Is it time to expand your own ideas of what's possible? 

Friends?

229 Marbles –
Breaking up is a natural evolution when you try to figure out what you want in life. If you’re with an individual who isn’t moving in the same direction and at the same rate that you are, it isn’t going to work.
Usher Raymond

    My daughter is starting to give me attitude.  I think she’s felt the breakup the hardest of the kids.  She found out about the breakup by hearing Ex-man and me argue behind closed doors about when to tell them.  He wanted to wait.  I wanted to tell them because I believed they were picking up on the tension and pretending that everything was okay would not be respecting their awareness.  Our daughter got out of her bed and came downstairs to hear our hushed argument.  She found out the hard way. 
    I understand why my daughter is frustrated, disappointed, and confused but it is starting to translate into disrespectful behavior.  I needed someone to talk to and I called my clear-thinking friend, feeling guilty that I’ve leaned on her too much in the past few months.  She relayed how she saw me, how challenging this past year has been with my father’s death, the breakup, juggling school, work, handling my Mom’s affairs.  She wasn’t trying to cast me in a victim role as much as much as confirm that it’s been a bit of a rough patch.  Together, we talked through some strategic ways to handle my daughter’s moods while supporting her during this time of transition. 
    It was such a relief to have a sounding board, a soft place to fall, a good friend.  It made me think of Ex-man and my relationship in a new light.  Sure, we’d known each other and been “friends” since we were fourteen, but were we really friends?  In a universal sense, maybe yes.  He had been one of my biggest challenges.  He had criticized me at times when all I needed was to have someone on my side.  He has said really lousy things to me but hey, I’ve said nasty things to him as well (and yes, we were probably voicing each others' insecurities).  But are these actions of the type of friend who I want to have in my life? The type of friend/partner that I want to be? No. 
    Realizing this was a bit of a revelation.  Ex-man has said that he missed our friendship, but that friendship may have been the expression of the friend he could be, not an expression of the type of friend I needed.  I have some good friends in my life and I am always humbled by their compassion, generosity, and love.  

    Then I remembered my mother’s old refrain whenever I expressed frustration about my father’s inability to connect, “You don’t understand your father.  He can only give what he can give.” And she was right.  When I was little I could only take what I was given but now I can ask for a partner that is able to give more. The type of friend that I need.
    Mark this day on the calendar – 229 Marbles – the day I realized that my father wasn’t really the type of father that I needed and surprise – Ex-man wasn’t the type of friend and partner that I wanted.

I fell for Ex-man and then started feeding on whatever it was he was cooking up. What would it take for me to decide what I want from a relationship and then invite the person who matches that to come into my life? What would it take for you to do the same?

A Bed of One’s Own

230 Marbles
I give you this to take with you:
Nothing remains as it was. If you know this, you can
begin again, with pure joy in the uprooting.
Judith Minty, "Letters to My Daughters"

    Tonight, a girlfriend helped me move out the old bed that Ex-man and I used to share.  Yes, it should have been done marbles ago, but my bed (which has been stored in the garage) is a four-poster rod iron bed - very heavy.  (I don’t think my friend had any idea what she had volunteered for when she offered to help me resurrect my old bed from the dead.)  
    Getting the conjugalish bed out was easy.  Getting my bed in was a chore. It took us a great deal of muscle and some help from my inner handyman.  When we finally had it assembled and cleaned , I looked around my room with new eyes.  I decided that I needed a full-length mirror for the corner.  I tidied up my sandy candle-table (the one I designed after frequenting Greek churches).  I lit a candle to my jade Ganesh – the remover of obstacles.  I dusted off the photo of my Dad in front of the airplane he once navigated.

    Once my friend had gone home, I made my bed and I lay in it, feeling pretty good about where I am, 135 marbles post breakup.  This bed was the first piece of furniture that I ever bought for myself.  It is my independence bed.  My kids were conceived in the bed and my youngest son was born in it.  Most of my writing is done in bed.  What else will happen in this bed?  

As I continue to deconstruct the “us” post breakup, it is not my intention to erase Ex-man from my life completely.  I encourage him to have healthy connections with our kids (he has them half the week, they call him every night before bed when they’re at my house, and they have a photo of him in their bedroom).  I still have an “us” with our kids, he still has an “us” with our kids, we just don’t have an “us” together.  Is there anything else that I could be doing to make this breakup easier on our kids?

Mama is a Squeezebox

231 Marbles
Why stay we on the earth except to grow?
Robert Browning

    Yesterday’s little incident with Ex-man has made me conscious of how often I contract myself in everyday situations.  The common feeling of “being punched in the stomach” is synonymous with a turtle consistently retreating into its shell at any sign of perceived danger.  It’s as if my stomach and environs get knotted up (it’s not a great feeling). As I said, this can happen at random; yesterday it happened when I perceived that I was being excluded from an event.  Regardless of the whys of my ability to be the incredible shrinking woman, I’m becoming aware that it is a choice that I make to get small. 
    I’m not exactly sure how I decided that this particular adaptation was a good idea.  When I ask the question, I see a familiar scene of my older sister engaged in a fight with my father when I was young.  I would often hide under the bed to avoid the fallout (maybe I’ve been hiding ever since).  Regardless of the hows of this adaptation, I’m becoming aware that it is a choice in my present day to get small or to remain big. 
    I wonder if it is a lack of confidence that makes me so affected by my environment and the people around me.  Confidence is defined as firm trust, the feeling of certainty, and boldness.  Sometimes I associate with these attributes and sometimes I don’t - it depends on whether I’m feeling big or small.  Is it possible that I could stay confident regardless of what’s happening around me? 
    I have often been described as being sensitive.   I now know that it doesn’t mean that I’ll break out in tears with the least provocation but more that I’m aware of the underlying energy in situations.  As a result, I’m like an accordion:  I get big, I get small, I get big, I get small.  The worst part about it is all of this expanding and contracting doesn’t even produce a good tune. 
   
How much do you choose to allow other people’s behavior (including X’s) affect how you're feeling?  What would it take for you to not let them/him have that power?  What would it take for you to stay big and present no matter what is happening around you? 

Past Forward

232 Marbles
Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is to not stop questioning.
Albert Einstein, "Relativity: The Special and the General Theory"

    It’s funny how a quick phone call to Ex-man to discuss a couple of issues with the kids can end up making me feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.  (Yes, I normally would text or email him to avoid such opportunities but his phone screen is broken and he can’t retrieve either.) 
    He’s going out tonight to a festival film about one of the families we knew in high school.  The family had numerous children but the daughter was in my all-girl’s school and the son was in Ex-man’s boy’s school.  The two siblings were both in our grade, and we formed a group of six friends who spent full summers together at their family’s spacious home, swimming in their pool and playing in their games’ room.  The girl was one of my best friends during high school and she will be there tonight and it would have been great to see her after so many years.  It would have been a nice gesture for him to give me the heads up about the film so that I’d have the opportunity to see it while it’s playing.  I had expectations about how Ex-man should have behaved (never a good place to find myself post breakup).  Bottom line - I felt cut off from my past/our shared past.  
    After I thought about it, I phoned Ex-man back and left him a message, “Despite us being exes, that family is as much of my history as it is yours and it would have been a nice gesture for you to tell me about the film.”  When I hung up, I felt okay about expressing myself but knew that I was asking the impossible: Ex-man never understood me when we were together, how could I expect him to understand me now that we’re apart?
    When I got quieter, I knew that no one could cut me out of my history.  More importantly, I have my present and my future and from this place of certainty, I can release the need to cling to the past.

How much do you cling to the past?  What would it take for you to release it?  In doing so, how much energy would be freed for you to be more fully in the present? 

Holiday by the Sea

233 Marbles

    Last night I had a dream that Ex-man and I were on a white, sandy beach lying on beach chairs in the tropical sun.  I was so happy to be there with him (clearly he wasn’t EX-man yet) and I turned to him and said, “Thank you so much for bringing me here.” Then I KISSED him.  All of this seemed perfectly normal in my dream and it was so real that when I woke up, I was hot like I’d been sitting in the sun and I was sure that my shoulders were sunburnt.  Darn!  The sheer terror sets in - the realization that despite my efforts, I obviously have not let go of Ex-man yet. 
    Yet this dream holds more significance.  Not that long ago when we were still together, Ex-man went away with a buddy to a five-star resort in the Caribbean, paid for by the buddy for a landscaping job Ex-man had done.  When he returned, he was rejuvenated and promised that he’d take me away to a resort so we could enjoy some time together.  I was keen on the idea as we hadn’t been away together in years.  He started looking for deals and I opened my mouth and suggested that if I added some of my savings to the pot, we could upgrade our accommodations.  This didn’t go over well,  I was told that I was not being gracious and that I was making him feel inadequate.  His wound of inadequacy crashed with my wound of trying to prove my worthiness and killed the whole idea of the vacation. 
    Yet there we were in my subconscious mind of my dream, sitting on the beach, without kids, in love?  Baffling, really.  My subconscious self was appreciative for being where he took me, maybe not just on a holiday, but in life.  Ex-man fathered two of my kids and I couldn’t have gone on that particular trip with my particular kids without him. For that, he deserves my gratitude. Hey, I'm not saying that I'm able to give it to him right now, but I'm aware that I'd like to get to the place where I can. 

Do you need to be grateful for where you’ve been before you can let go and be where you are?  Where are you going? What would it take for you to stay in gratitude for X?

Walk of Shame?

234 Marbles
No sex is better than bad sex.  
Germaine Greer

    I was making my bed this morning when a pink rabbit flopped out of the duvet.  Apparently I had come home from work and gone to sleep with my battery-operated device.  I went to bed stone sober so I shouldn’t have been surprised to find it there on the empty side of the bed - I was merely shocked that I hadn’t put it away and thankful that my kids were at their Dad’s (that would have been an interesting to try to explain if my son had jumped in bed with me this morning).  And, let’s face it, the rabbit looks way less attractive in the glare of the morning light. 
    I noted a modicum of morning-after shame as I performed ablutions before I tucked the rabbit away in my drawer.  A small part of me wondered – “So is this what it has come to?”  I know that this time of celibacy is self-imposed, but let’s face it, I’m not getting any younger.  Is it really a good idea for me to be celibate a whole 365 marbles? Besides, what if it isn’t like riding a bike?  What if I forget how to do it? 
    My only consolation comes from knowing a woman in her eighties who recently lost her husband.  Among all the things that she misses about him, she misses their sex life together.  The thought of her somehow comforts me into knowing that passion doesn’t have to fade even as the marbles tick by.

In our culture, it is expected that men will satisfy themselves sexually when they are with a partner or when they are completely solo.  Can you claim this act for yourself and lose the shame? Can you let go of the expectation that there always has to be someone else with you for me to express your sexuality?

Musical Musings

235 Marbles -

    The culling continues - today I attack my CD cabinet, letting go of music that I no longer want to keep.  It’s hard to believe that less than two months ago (Marble 289), I was annoyed with Ex-man for coming and taking CDs from the cabinet at my house.  Today, as I let go of old CDs from my past, I wonder why I was unable to let them go with more ease?
    Alfred Tennyson once wrote, “I am part of all I have met.” I believe it is equally true that I am part of all music I have listened to and all music I have listened to is part of me.  There are certain CDs that I am unable to hear without being transported back to a certain time and place in my relationship with Ex-man.  These are some of the CDs that I abandon into the donation pile.  It can’t deny that the music and experiences have shaped who I am but it’s time to make more space for who I will be. 
    I’ve heard it said that the olfactory nerve is the most sensitive as a trigger for memories but for me what enters my ear via music trumps what enters my nose via scents.  An older melody has the power to remind me of who I was while I was listening to that song.  In letting go of the music, I am letting go of outdated versions of myself.  As always, this process makes more room - releases more oxygen for the present day me to breathe. 

Are you still holding on to your “past life connections,” memorabilia from your pre-breakup days?  Do these things feel heavy or light?  If they feel heavy, ask if it is time to let them go. 

Love Letters

236 Marbles

    Today I went through a bunch of old paperwork in the attic and put everything that belonged to Ex-man in a box – tax info, instruction manuals, photos, etc. Then I stumbled across two heart-shaped boxes of love letters, mine and his and stopped for a moment to consider what should be done with them.  I put all my letters to him in his bin - he should decide what he wants to do with them.  The letters he wrote to me, I put on the fireplace grate and burnt them. 
    It might seem like a drastic and melodramatic move, but I wasn’t upset or angry about it.  I was clear.  Clear that I wanted to let go of my past connection with Ex-man, clear that I wanted to sever clingy emotional ties, clear that it was my next step in the process of letting go.
    Okay, there was a bit of sadness when I saw them go up in flames.  Our relationship had started with so much love and such good intentions and somewhere along the way it got severely off track.  Now the only love letters that remain are our children.

Are there letters that you're holding onto from your past relationship that you could release?  The space this action creates can also be liberating. 

The Momento Box?

237 Marbles

    The detritus from my relationship with Ex-man continues – today I tackled our momento box.  We had four boxes in our garage – one for each of the kids and one for “us”.  The kids’ boxes were filled with report cards, programs from school plays, bits of first haircuts.  “Our” box was filled with Mother’s and Father’s Day cards, tickets to events we’d gone to, photos, etc.  For months this box has been staring at me each time I parked the car - at times it has felt like a reminder of failure. Today I had the energy to do something about it. 
    More sorting, some things are obvious – mementos from Ex-man’s childhood go straight to him – but other things from our time shared together were a little more challenging to sift through.  Some of the items bring back sweet memories that I release to his pile. 
     I had labeled the boxes with large, decorative print with the names of each of the kids,  our box was labeled “Ex-man” & Lisa. It’s funny how, at the time,  I never thought that one day I’d be sorting through and separating the “his” from the “hers”.  I’ll give him back what is his and he can do with it what he chooses.  It’s not my job to be the keeper of the memories anymore.
    From where I stand, I’m not sure the purpose of mementos.  A memento is defined as an item that serves to remind one of a person, or past event.  It is synonymous with a keepsake or souvenir.  As a mother, I understand that I’m keeping a few things for my kids in case they ever want to connect to places where they’ve been and parts of themselves that they don’t remember.  I’m not sure that I grasp the importance of holding onto things from the past in a relationship.  It’s not from a place of cynicism.  Could it be I’ve outgrown memento boxes? 

Are there mementos you’re holding onto from your past relationship that it might be time to let go of?  Will letting go allow for more space in your life?  Could it be that holding on to mementos hinders you from living in the moment?

Spring Cleaning

238 Marbles

    It’s spring where I am at in the marble process and I’ve definitely got the spring cleaning bug.  There’s so much stuff that left along with Ex-man when he moved out but I’m ready now to do some assessments of what I want let go of and what I want to keep. 
    I’ve been going through my house, cupboard by cupboard, drawer by drawer, getting rid of clutter and everything that I no longer use.  Some things go into a donation pile and some things get thrown away; It’s incredibly liberating to get rid of the stuff that I’ve been holding onto - it frees up space and energy for more flow.   Sometimes when I go to put them in the donation pile, I get a sense of a friend who would really enjoy a certain item so I put it aside for her.  There have been some awesome pairings of items to new owners and that makes me happy. 
    I’m also noticing that I am able to have better "stuff management": I’ve found things that I didn’t know I had and I’ve been able to put them to use (who knew I had silver cleaner?); I’ve moved things around so they are closer to the areas where they get used (all those little lotion samples  I put in the car where my hands always get dry); and I’ve seen gaps - things that I need to purchase (I need new tea towels).
    The culling of the clothes closet has been interesting.  I’ve gotten rid of a flowery dress that Ex-man sent me when he was living in another city ("sentimental" value).  I’ve gotten rid of overcoats of my Dad’s that I couldn’t donate after he died (again, sentimental).  Too many pairs of capris didn’t make the cut and I realized that I was holding onto that particular look because Ex-man had once commented that he thought it suited me.  Really?  Did I unconsciously do that?  At the end of the process when I had empty hangars, I knew I wanted to buy more dresses.  I like dresses and my old ones no longer suited me. 
    Then I turned my eyes on my kids drawers.  My youngest son doesn’t really have attachments to clothes so it was just a matter of donating the ones that no longer fit.  My daughter didn’t want to let anything go but when I opened her drawers, they were packed with clothes she didn’t wear, mainly hand-me downs and consignment finds. When I suggested that she let go of the clothes that she didn’t enjoy wearing she replied, “Then I wouldn’t have anything in my drawers.”  That made me a bit sad.  I said, “It’ll make room for getting what you do want.  We’ll buy you some new clothes that you love.”  She looked at me and said, “But we can’t afford it.”  It’s odd - I don’t talk to my kids about not being able to afford things because I think it’s my job to figure out how I can get them what they need.  She is so sensitive that she has absorbed that I don’t make a great deal of money. I looked her in the eye and told her that we could afford it and she started to tear up, “No, I don’t need anything, I don’t need anything.”  I replied, “It’s okay to need things, Honey.” She looked at me tentatively at first but then started helping in the process of letting go of the things she didn’t love. 
    And that’s the essence of a breakup: letting go of what you no longer love or what no longer fits and making way for what you do love/will love. 

Are there things you’ve held onto post breakup that you can let go of now?  Is it time to cull your room/apartment/cottage/house and discard/donate belongings that no longer have a purpose in your life?  The extra space can be quite liberating. 

Breakup as Change

239 Marbles
Change in all things is sweet.
Aristotle
Accept - then act. Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it.
Eckhart Tolle

    I am becoming aware of how resistant I can be when it comes to change.  What if a breakup is nothing but a change?  What if I relinquished the idea that all change is bad?  What if this breakup could be looked at as the beginning of a new exciting chapter in my life?  In my kids lives? 
    What would happen if I focused less on the loss?  The story goes, along with losing Ex-man I lost the dream of a family but what if the story is based on my myopic vision?  Is my family really lost? The answer: no.  What if my family hasn’t been broken apart but broken open?  What if the breakup has really allowed more space for me?  More space for my kids? 
    I’ve held onto the idea that because there was love (and sexual compatibility) that we should have been able to make it work.  We weren’t compatible, it’s true, but we were two decent people so what the heck?  What if we were only supposed to enter each other’s lives to give each other the gift of family?  What if we were trying to hold something together that wasn’t meant to be permanent?  Could that have been part of the frustration?  Furthermore, is my attachment to resistance making this breakup more challenging than it needs to be? 
    I have put a heck of a lot of significance on breaking up.  Breakup up as failure.  Breakup as loss.  Breakup as disappointment.  Breakup as rejection.  Breakup as letting down my kids.  Breakup as financial constriction.  That last one is a funny one because on paper, there is one less person to contribute to the family income. But what if Ex-man not being around gives me more freedom to tap into the creativity that will expand my income?  
    And the bonus question are: Have I been attaching too much significance around a relationship?  Can  who I am ever be defined in relation to someone else?  If a relationship ends, can it ever threaten who I really am?  The fact is, the relationship died, but things die all the time.  Now what will grow in its place?   More of me? 
    John A. Simone, Sr. noted, “If you’re in a good situation, don’t worry, it’ll change.  If you’re in a bad situation, don’t worry, it’ll change.”  But what if I’ve been categorizing this breakup as a bad situation when it is really neither good nor bad, just change and opportunity?  Mr. Simone also said, “The key to wisdom is knowing all the right questions.”  Could it be that I’m starting to ask the right questions?

Maya Angelou wrote, “If you don’t like something, change it.  If you can’t, change your attitude.”  Is it time to change your attitude around this breakup?  

eBay Addiction

240 Marbles

    The winter before Ex-man moved out, I found eBay.  It was an evangelical experience and I became completely obsessed.  My main focus was the designer Betsey Johnson whose clothes I loved despite their price tags.  On eBay, gently used clothes could be found at a fraction of the price and since I knew my size and what I liked, all I had to do was bid and wait. 
    I spent a good month making eBay my second home but I realized that I was spending more money than I had.  I was experiencing the financial equivalent of “a minute on the lips, forever on the hips.”  I was fast to pull the reins in and start rethinking my new obsession. 
    As the days past without me visiting my new friend, eBay, I tried to analyze what made it so enticing.  I’m not normally the gambling type.  I’ve had to be frugal (especially since going back to school) and there are always too many ways for money to be spent.  What made me fall for eBay?
    What I came up with are the five cornerstones of my eBay phenomena:

1. The obvious one is the shopping from the comfort of my own home.  I love fashion but I don’t go shopping very much so it was fun to have access to fashion at my fingertips.
2. The competition – I bid on something and I have the chance of winning.  I can be competitive so this seemed like a healthy (?) way for that attribute to manifest.  Better to compete with random strangers in cyberspace than with my own kids playing an innocent board game.
3. Getting something in the mail – who doesn’t like getting a package the old-fashioned way?  It’s like a present and a package rolled into one. 
4. Feedback – perhaps my First Grade teacher set up the dynamic of being a sucker for anything with gold stars attached.  On eBay, vendors give feedback based on the transactions. Because of my tendency to make payments quickly and to write succinct emails, I earned a gold star and 100% positive feedback.  Really?  This was valuable to me?
5. I knew that Ex-man was about to move out and that I would soon have to be the sole provider for my family.  My month on eBay was my last hurrah of frivolous spending for a while - a little retail therapy.

    An interesting side note is that a google search for eBay addiction brings up pages of hits.  Apparently I was not alone in my weakness.

Are there things you have done/are doing post breakup that have the addiction or obsession feel to them?  It’s so easy when things aren’t going well to anesthetize with short-term highs.  What would it take to find something that is a real contribution to your post breakup life? 

Water Skiing

241 Marbles –

    My Ex-husband used to tell me, “You read too deeply into things.”  I confess – I do.  I often wished that I could look at the world as he did – to take things at their surface value.  Yep, sometimes a weathered chair is just a weathered chair (Marble 294), but I see metaphors in many things.  It’s how I tap into my awareness. 
    I wish I could be a water skier – having fun while skimming the surface of the water.  Or maybe it’s just that I want to have more fun - have sex for fun - dance for fun -but so far, I’m not so good at that.  I’m the scuba diver that pops her head above the surface, sees what’s happening and dives below the surface to see what’s really happening.  My son often says of my insights, “Wow, Mom, that’s deep” (he might be more like his father).
    I’m not sure why I am the way I am – if it’s my star sign (pisces), my Chinese sign (fire horse), my numerological aspects, my position in my family (the baby), my past life experiences. or perhaps a hearty stew of all of the above.  All I know is that it’s no use fighting it – I am who I am.  My goal, however, is to have more fun. 
    Last night I took the kids to the park to kick the soccer ball around (I’ve overcome the idea that this is a Dad’s job).  It was the kids against me and they beat me.  This morning my daughter said, “That was fun last night.  You laughed a lot.”  I did. 
Something to be grateful for:  Not being able to kick the ball because I’m laughing so hard.

Can you appreciate who you are in the world regardless of how/why you got that way?  What would it take to have more fun in your life? 

The Pendulum

242 Marbles
The simplest questions are the most profound:
Where were you born?

Where is your home?

Where are you going?

What are you doing?

Think about these once in awhile, and watch your answers change.
 Richard Bach

    Lineage fascinates me, not in the family tree kind of way but how one generation affects the next generation.  We learn about who we are in the world by looking at our ancestors;  We can see how who they were affected who we have become.  I often note how people can either align with their parents/family (and grow up to become like them in morals and world view) or they can reject their family and swing the other way (often producing a different looking outcome).  It’s like a pendulum in which you can swing towards the parent or away from them but it seems that in this paradigm, actions are always a reaction to what you have experienced.  You swing one way, you swing the other, but never the equilibrium position of choosing what is right for you. 
    Is it possible to extricate ourselves from the family history from which we came?  Perhaps not entirely, but I do believe that we each arrive with awareness.  I remember being a child and going to mass at the Catholic church in which my parents were deeply ensconced.  I recall as a young girl not being able to recite many passages that I didn’t believe to be true, for example the Nicene Creed which, among other convictions, claims that the church is the “One Universal” church.  I knew this not to be true because I imagined people around the world (with different beliefs) who also had a relationship with God, equally as reverent and valued.  I knew that the way my parents saw the world was not the way I came into the world seeing it. 
    So what if we chose from that position of equilibrium?  We’d have to let go of the judgment that what our parents have done is either right or wrong.  We’d have to make choices based on what we believe.  We’d have to be conscious. 

Are you living the life that you want to live?  Are you making choices as a reaction to what other people value or what society/culture dictates?  Are there choices that you made, that made partnership easier, but didn't align with who you are? What would it take for you to make choices for you based on your own awareness? 

Butterfly Necklace

243 Marbles
The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.
Richard Bach

Run, my dear,
From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.  
Run like hell my dear,
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.
Hafiz

    The death of a parent can be tricky for the whole family and I remember having difficulty with one of my sisters after the funeral.  I disagreed with the integrity of some of her handling of funeral expenses and it caused a rift between us.  In my point of view, she was being selfish and money-grubbing. The rift wasn’t a silent one - it was a vocal one and a passive aggressive one and I came home from the funeral with the sense that I had buried both a parent and a sister. 
    Unfortunately, after returning home from the short trip for the funeral, I had to go to work.  As I was cycling into work, I went over the events of the proceeding days and I relived the trauma and the loss.  Instead of staying in that place of my emotions, I knew enough to let it go.  As I got closer to work, I left the past behind me and I tried to tap into my lightness of being.  My grief would take a while to process, but the drama of the funeral was released. 
    When I arrived at work, I was happy to see a regular customer who I had known for several years.  She gave me a big hug.  The next time I went by her table, she was gone and I thought it odd that she didn’t say good-bye.  Within a few moments, she had returned with a package for me.  She gave me the small gift saying,”You were meant to soar.  From the moment that I met you, I knew that you were meant for great things.  Don’t let anyone or anything get you down.  Don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise.  You were meant to soar.” 
    I looked at her with tears of gratitude in my eyes.  She had no idea what a challenging week I had experienced - the loss of a parent, the stress with my sister.  When I opened the packet, it was a jade butterfly on a gold chain.  The customer helped me fasten the chain around my neck and said, “I don’t think that I have ever introduced myself before…” And to my disbelief, she shared the exact name with my sister (not a particularly common name). 
    I was told that jade was used to ward off harm and the butterfly is the eternal symbol of transformation.  I wear this necklace everyday as a talisman of magic. Sometimes life can be filled with such grace and I am humbled to be part of the dance.

Richard Bach wrote, "The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly." How much of you is a caterpillar viewing this breakup as a tragedy?  What would it take for you to see with butterfly eyes?

Orphan Syndrome

244 Marbles 
Most critical is the resolution of the orphan dilemma, which allows Magicians to trust and submit to a power greater than themselves saying, “Thy will be done.”
Carol S. Pearson “The Hero’s Journey”

    Losing a parent is mostly inevitable but not easy.  After mine died, I was sad and feeling quite alone and Ex-man’s independent nature was difficult for me to take.  I’d phone him when I was having a bad moment, and he wouldn’t answer his phone.  This was particularly difficult for me because I remembered when we first got together and how there was never one of my calls that he would miss. I tried to be clear with him,  expressing my needs, telling him that it would be great if he could just check his phone every once in a while to see if I had called, or better yet, call me to check in to see how I was doing - once a day - that’s it.  Or maybe he could call to see if there was anything I needed. He couldn’t.
    The situation was worsened because I had an expectation surrounding my parent’s death.  I had once heard someone say that he never really bought into his marriage until his wife’s parent died.  When I heard this, I thought to myself, this is what will happen with my relationship too.  We may not gel now, but when I am alone, there is no way that we won’t take each other in and become a real couple.  I felt like Pinocchio but with a wooden relationship, thinking that the death of my parents would make my relationship real.  It didn’t, and Ex-man (who had a knack for sniffing out expectations and running the other way) became more distant rather than closer.  
    Perhaps he felt like he would be crushed by an avalanche of my needs, but he needn’t have worried about that.  I’m normally a pretty high functioning individual.  I was just going through a rough patch.  I remember having a moment with him at that time.  He told me that he didn’t need me.  He didn’t need anything from me.  He didn’t need me.  I remember crying, “But I need.  I need.” I was beside myself trying to procure a drink of water from a rock.  It was crazy making. 
    In hindsight, maybe I was expecting too much.  Maybe the grief I felt from the loss of my parent was too overwhelming for him. He who was given up for adoption and put in foster care for the first year and a half of his life.  He who may never really have processed what the loss of his birth mother meant to him. I was trying to lean on the wrong person.  And maybe empathy was never built into our relationship.  

What would it take for you to let go of all the disappointed moments with X? 

What would it take for you to have a relationship with someone who could empathize?

One Person’s Garbage

245 Marbles

    It was a sunny day today after several rainy days so I took myself out for a run.  As I ran down my alley, I saw two pieces of furniture sitting out by the garbage.  I stopped for a moment to see if they were in good working condition but seeing as I had a run on my mind, I continued on.  I figured if they were there when I got back from the run, they were meant to be mine. 
    After I had been running for about fifteen minutes, I thought, “Hey, I was looking for something to hold all my books, school textbooks, etc. Those pieces would be perfect.”  As it is now, my numerous books are piled beside and underneath my bed in unsightly piles.  A bedside bureau and shelf were on my most-wanted list, but now that they were right in front of me I ran right by them?  So I turned around and, thankfully, they were still in the lane waiting for me. 
    I’m not a fan of cheap, particle furniture and these pieces were real wood. But what if they weren’t meant to be taken?  I tried knocking on the house but there was no answer.  I figured that I could ascertain that because of their proximity to the garbage, the furniture was there for the taking.  But how would I get them to my house?  I ran up the lane and got my son’s wagon to use as a dolly and with a bit of a balancing act, got them into my yard.  The one piece I carried in, the other I waited for my eldest son’s help. 
    Life answered my need for some bedroom furniture.  I felt immense gratitude as I organized my books neatly into the shelves and cupboards.  There wasn’t a feeling of scarcity of having someone’s garbage, there was a feeling of abundance, the realization that life is always in flow.  I wrote a thank you card to my neighbour down the way, thanking him/her for the furniture that was being put to good use (and leaving them my phone number just in case I had taken them in error).  When I didn’t hear back from them I knew that person’s garbage is the answer to another woman’s mess.

What do you do when the things you ask for show up in front of your face?  Do you recognize them?  Receive them? Appreciate them?  What would it take for you to receive them more easily?