On parenting and the speed of time…

IMG_3076-1

I was just speaking with someone who has a six year old.

It brought back memories of those days—long and full of Legos and questions and battles over getting in the bath followed by battles over getting out of the bath. Nights were filled with cuddles and kisses and remembrances of the day, as if the day had been a fairytale set in a long ago time with vibrant characters and morals easily extracted. Having witnessed that innocence so intimately brings me to tears, even now, especially now.

Six years old. That was my younger son’s age when my ex and I split, when we attempted to penetrate his naive determination that things are like this or like that, with an alternate reality, that things are really about to be a whole other way. An inconceivable way.

It’s impossible for me to know if time would have sped up otherwise, but our world spun off its axis and sparked a sort of chaos and warped speed that never slowed. It’s felt like skipping and tripping and sprinting and juggling ever since. Even in my quietest moments I don’t feel I have caught up to the present. It’s better. I’m closer to being in my skin again, like the younger me but with more humility and willingness to cede control.

My kids now tower over me (both more than 6 feet tall) with deep voices and man gestures. I find myself daily saying out loud, “who are you and where did you come from?”

And I think maybe that’s just how parenting goes, no matter how present you are, no matter how conscious of the adage that “time flies so fast,” there is no way to avoid the inevitable moment where you wonder where the time went and how these adult looking people are lumbering through your house, with insatiable appetites and distinct, passionately espoused interests and world views.

I’ll never know how things would have evolved if my marriage hadn’t ended. Life knocks us all on our asses in multiple ways. Perhaps there’s just a limit for how long one can remain in what feels like an intact, manageable existence, to the extent that time doesn’t seem to be running ahead of us.

You tell me? Do you relate? Is this part and parcel to raising kids in general? Specific to divorcees? I can only assume any trauma or upheaval can have such an effect. I’m interested to know how other parents have experienced the passage of time…

Divorce, Shame and What Century Are We In?

I have these bouts of feeling back in my skin. Thinking I’ve found my new normal and having regained my confidence, I put myself out there in one way or another — professionally, socially, romantically. Before long, I find myself cowering in my cave, wanting to shelter myself from the inevitable slings and arrows of real life.

I’m in the cave stage at the moment. Continue reading

There’s Something About a Wedding …

Beautiful flower wedding decoration
Since my husband and I split up, I’ve become a bit cynical about love, monogamy and marriage. But, yesterday as I sat under the ornate high pitched ceiling of an old Catholic Church awaiting the entrance of the bride, the anticipation summoned a youthful optimism and simple delight that only weddings can conjure. Continue reading

Death, Divorce and “The War of Art” …

It’s been over five years now since my husband and I split up and about three and a half since I gave up any hope for reconciliation.

Looking back, what fascinates me most is how I could have possibly sunk so low, how my identity and sanity could have been so rattled by the unilateral move of another human being. It’s not that I don’t understand intellectually—my family is everything to me. But, how could I have forgotten the inevitability of loss and suffering in some form? How could I have deemed myself immune from having my reality shattered in one way or another? Continue reading

All you need is love … Bum bum ba da dum

MediaFile_269By now, I’m not supposed to be a romantic. My heart has been broken to the point of what I thought unfixable.

But, I still believe in love.

Continue reading

Holy shit! I’m making a date. To mediate!

So, in light of all of my recent angst and the ever-mounting signs from the universe that I should finally get my divorce proceedings started, I am making an appointment with a mediator for next week!!!

It’s been over four years since my husband dropped the bomb and after countless, sometimes humorous, more often pathetic, attempts to salvage my marriage, I am finally ready.

I’m terrified. But the lure of autonomy and being “actually divorced” instead of perpetually “about to be divorced” is too strong to resist.

This is going to get interesting.

Will I end up living in my parents’ house? Will I move to a new city? Will work opportunities magically appear because I’m finally on the right track? Will my ex use our kids as emotional pawns? Will it get worse before it gets better?

I have no idea. But I’m going to hang on tight and plow ahead. And I’m going to continue to share my journey here so that I can have an outlet and work through it and especially so that you or whomever can get a good laugh or cry out of it. And maybe someone will read and relate and chime in.

Stay tuned…

Regrets, I’ve had a few, but then again …

Young woman with a cocktail.When you look back on your life, you’ll regret the things you didn’t do more than the ones you did. -H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

The other day, I heard a similar sentiment articulated on the radio and I wondered, am I unique in that I think this is bullshit? Continue reading

Men are Oblivious and Women are Impossible…

Yes, that’s a gross but equal opportunity generalization.

I realize that there are exceptions and nuances in every relationship, but, for the purpose of this conversation, I’d appreciate your acceptance as I generalize a bit.

When I was desperately trying to save my marriage, I went to the best resource on earth, Google, and typed in “Save my marriage.” Continue reading

What was my part? And why it matters …

Woman admiring sunset from mountain topWithout fail when I meet a guy who’s divorced, he refers to his ex as a “psycho” and when I meet a woman who’s divorced, she refers to her ex as an “asshole.” So either there are an excessive number of assholes marrying psychos (quite possible) or there are two sides to every story (even more likely). Continue reading

Sex and the Single-ish Girl

I’ve been wondering lately how the hell I’m ever going to attract a decent guy into my life. I mean, I’ve dated a bit, but it’s been quite a parade of misfits I’ve wasted my precious nights off with.

Continue reading