Then.... And Now

In taking a look at my blog, it's been quite a while since I've bothered to write. That's only half-true, really. I started a post about a year ago that still sits here in draft form that nobody has ever seen. And it's sad, because it mirrors how I've been feeling a lot in these last several weeks.

It was the story of what I was going through in my long-term relationship a little more than a year ago. And it's just so painful to see in black and white, knowing now how things have so dramatically changed. Yet so much of it remains the same....

Here's a piece of that post, taken from last February:

"Once I put it into words, it becomes real. It becomes scary. It becomes possible. And I don't want it to be real or possible. I want the joy and bliss to return to my heart. 

But right now, I'm so damn afraid of losing this man I love that the thought of putting words to paper makes me uncomfortable. If I write it all down, say it out loud, imagine the way things would be if he weren't in my life, all I can do is cry. 

Such is the danger in loving another so completely I guess. There is so much I stand to gain, should this all shake out well. But so much I stand to lose if it doesn't. A close friend of mine tells me that I'm 'borrowing worry' in thinking this way, but over-thinking things tends to be a habit of mine. In some cases, this works out well for me. 

It helps me plan, helps me make intelligent, measured decisions. But when there are circumstances outside of my control, like my long-term boyfriend reevaluating not only his life and future, but our relationship and its future, as well, I get stuck. 

This one is completely out of my control. I'm doing my best to stay out of the way and let him think. Let him muddle through the things that are holding him back. Let him seek guidance from others, to provide him with a different perspective. At the same time, I'm trying to be patient, supportive and compassionate, respectful and loving. These are all things that come naturally to me. This is just who I am. 

But this unsettled feeling? It hurts. And it scares me. And it makes me sad. And it is far too reminiscent of the not-so-distant downward spiral I experienced a few years back. 

I have come so far in the last several years; evolved into a better person (an evolution that continues daily, of course). I am stronger for it, yes. But I have also become quite comfortable in the happy. I knew sustained happiness was too good to be true, but I want it to be.  

I have never been so satisfied in love; so confident in myself and my feelings for another. So strong and bold and safe. So blessed and loved and.... happy. And he has experienced the same feelings because of me. I know this, because he's told me on numerous occasions. Our love is palpable. 

So what's the problem? The magnitude of our relationship is scary for him. When we set out on this journey two and a half years ago, it was not something either of us could fathom. And whereas I tend to jump all-in, he is more guarded. And the seriousness of our life together and our ages has him questioning his future; his goals, dreams, desires. We're comfortably reaching the middle of our lives, and I believe this is part of the reason for his recent introspection. 

It's given me some time to think, too. But I already knew what I wanted. And I'm far more decisive, calculated and sure when I make decisions. There's little I do without a plan. This too, is just my nature. So when I embarked on this journey with him, I did so open to the possibilities that a life with him would bring. And I'm open to all of it. 

I'm more in love with him than I've ever been with anyone (romantically). It's a passionate love that lets me fly, yet tethers me. And it's reciprocated, which is the most important key to that equation. 

It's this love and joy and bliss that I've come to rely on. For the first time in so many years, I have family in the city where I live. His family has become my family. I love them, and they love me back. I didn't even realize how much I missed having my own family here until I fell in love with his."

It was hard then, and it is hard now, facing the reality of having now lost my adopted family and the great love of my life. He is gone, after all. Our relationship ended a few weeks ago. After nearly four years, I've lost the beautiful love I once had. There will be no 'happily ever after' for me.

But I'm different now than a year ago; I'm not as shell-shocked as I was then. I was so taken aback then, and terrified of having given so much of myself to another, yet again. But now I am simply resigned. There will be no downward spiral this time; I won't allow it. The ache in my chest comes and goes. Sleep continues to provide no comfort, as the dreams of what will never be haunt me while I rest.

You should know this - yes, I'm sad. There's a sadness so deep in my heart, that sometimes it is hard to breathe. I am working every day to not let my sadness become the biggest part of me. My heart is broken. It will never be the same. Ever. There will never be a time that I don't wish that it would somehow magically work out.

And though I continue to ache for what I no longer have, I am grateful. Grateful for the person I've become. Grateful that I'm healthier than I've ever been in my life. Grateful that I've learned just how valued and amazing I can be. That's what keeps the smile on my face and prevents me from crying all the time. He made me a better person.  And he taught me the true meaning of this beautiful quote by Lao Tzu:

Being loved deeply by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.

For today, I am stronger than I have ever been, more courageous than I knew I could be, and just as in love with him now as ever.

And so it will be. All the days of my life.

Ruminations: Seventeen Years of Survival

As we've now passed the anniversary of my grandfather's death and rapidly approach my recovery anniversary, I've fallen into quite a familiar pattern of introspection and reevaluation of my life and its direction.

This time of year makes me emotional, but don't mistake that for a bad thing. The emotions I'm experiencing are a combination of things; the grief of so many things I experienced in 2010, culminating with the loss of my grandfather in such a tragic way and the reminder of the downward spiral that followed, but also the overwhelming gratitude, joy and love that continues to flow in and out of my heart as I've recovered.

I'm not speaking only of my recovery from the eating disorders that nearly took my life 17 years ago - I'm referring also to my recovery from the sequence of events that took place in the last several years.

I have no interest in rehashing said events here, as I'll save that for the novel I'm writing (which is a slow-going process, as I find limited time to write, and difficulties writing the hardest parts). What I want to focus on most is the realization that I am finally living the life I was born to lead.

It's a bold statement. It's an overwhelming feeling. And sometimes, I feel that I'm bursting at the seams with love, gratitude and peace.

You've probably heard me say that God saved me from myself 17 years ago in the bathroom of that dorm suite. What you don't know is that my relationship with God is very personal, and also very deep. And though I always do my best to give credit where credit is due, I don't make it a habit of trying to convince others of my relationship with God. It's in my heart, and that's where it matters. But as usual, I digress.

Each year around my anniversary, I look at my life and I ask myself if I'm really honoring the gift of borrowed time that He has bestowed upon me. Did I survive years of eating disorders so I could BE this? DO this? LIVE like this?

And as I've grown, as I've experienced more of life, as I've evolved, as I've survived, as I've been tested over time, I couldn't always answer those questions in the affirmative. But this year, with conviction, I shout a resounding yes.

Who I am today, the woman and mother I've become (and the nine year old who's responsible for that), the man I've chosen to share and spend my life with - these are the reasons I survived. The family I was born with, the family I've chosen on my own, my professional outlook, confidence, potential. These are the reasons I thrive.

They give me so much: endless supportive love, strength, courage, patience, kindness, security. They are my safe harbor and my perspective. They have given me a place to call home, a place to run to, a place to learn. They are, simply put, everything to me.

But how to honor these people, this peace, this love? I choose to believe in myself. To be at home in the body I inhabit, with all its imperfections. To be kind and compassionate, loyal and grateful. To be trusting and to have faith. I choose to love with reckless abandon. To work every day to be at peace. To be fair and giving and understanding. To be honest with myself about my own flaws, but to never stop trying to do better.

And as my father taught me, I choose to never give up. Not on me and not on them. There's so much to see, so much to experience and so much love to give.There's just far too much to live for.

And this? This life full of happiness, love and gratitude? This is the life I was meant to lead.

Heart Song

For some time, and for the first time in many years, all aspects of my life have harmonized into a beautiful concerto that has lulled me into a state of bliss.

The amazing man I told you about before is firmly implanted in my life and has been for quite a while now. I spend less time each day taming that inner Alpha Bitch I mentioned, and it's given way to an alluring and glorious love that I could not have conceived on the day of that sold-out baseball game in 2011.

I'm not one for resolutions, other than resolving not to make them. I haven't done it in years. I see no point in starting my year by setting myself up for failure or disappointment.

Instead, I focus every day on trying to be a better person than the day before; kinder, more patient, more generous.... But at the start of this new year, I do find myself reflecting on the past year and realizing what a fantastic journey I've traveled.

The beginning of 2012 started with an explosion in my work life. I lost my job, filed for unemployment, started interviewing, took a consulting position and found a temporary home with an organization that I found to be a comforting change of pace. Between working for a worthy mission, the kindness of the team I worked with and the faith they had in me to do my job, they renewed my spirit and my professional confidence.

While waiting for a permanent position to solidify with that organization, I applied for a permanent position elsewhere, where I was subsequently hired. I focused, for the first time, on the quality of life, the culture and the people of the organizations I was considering. And from the first phone interview with my new boss, I knew it would be a great place for me. Like my new position, she and I are a perfect fit as boss/employee relationships go. And within the few months that I've been working with her, she has also become my friend. For these things, I am truly grateful.

Though the burden was heavier on some days than others, it has been eased by my faith in God, my child's precious face (and hugs), my loved ones and the intensely supportive love of this man who came into my life two summers ago. His family has become a fixture in my life, too, and I love them as if they were my own.

Most days, I find myself overwhelmed by the amount of love I have in my heart - for him, my child, my family, my friends. But it's not just the abundance of love I'm sending out into the universe that overwhelms me - it's the love I feel in return flowing back to me that makes my heart sing. It's the sincere and genuine depth of his love that I feel all around me. It protects me. Encourages me. Emboldens me. Strengthens me.

Regardless of how often we are together (which admittedly, is not nearly as often as either of us would like - but such is the life of two working adults, one of whom is a parent), there is little I see or hear or do that doesn't remind me of him and fill my heart with joy - sometimes to the point of overflowing.

He complements me in ways I'm not sure he even realizes. We teach each other, learn from each other and love one other with mutual respect. Family members and friends have commented on what a great team we make - something that had been missing from my life for quite some time, and I suspect his as well. 

So instead of a resolution for what is to come, I'd like to give thanks for what has already come to pass. Thank you 2012, for being infinitely better than I could have dreamed a year ago. Thank you, my love, for being everything you are and loving me so completely. Thank you to my child, whose hugs and love made even the tough days sweet. And thank you God, for answered prayers.

As we begin 2013, I have only to resolve to keep the lessons, trust in love and relish in the harmony of the music.

Seeing Me

There's one window, in the hallway near the elevator bank in my office building that shows me an accurate reflection of myself. No other window or mirror shows me quite the same thing, but this one offers an honest (and kind) image of what i must look like to the rest of the world.

I find myself staring at that person every day as I wait for the ding of the elevator, trying to make her see me, too. I want to have a conversation with that me in the window. Nothing else has given me quite the same perspective on my self-image. I'm dying to know what else she knows and what else I can learn from her.

For she is a thing of beauty. A mere whisper of me, yet strong and firm in her existence. Confident in her movement, assured in her ability. She is a delicate and formidable character with little regard for the trappings of trendsetters and impervious to the shallow obsessions of those who fear themselves.

And somehow, I know she is me. I am her. And we? Together, we will thrive.

Positivity, With Purpose

I've always been good at giving others advice. I know this, because I'm intuitive. I've been through enough silliness in my 34 years to be able to relate to situations and stories that others are going through. Obviously, I haven't experienced everything and don't claim to, but I am compassionate with very permeable ego boundaries (thanks Dr. Julia T. Wood, for identifying this in your book), which helps me put myself in other people's shoes and really feel what they're going through.

But what I often find more challenging, is taking advice - my own, or that sought from others. I'm getting better at it though. As I've relinquished control over many aspects of my life over time in the last many years (having a child will do that to you), I've learned to listen and internalize the advice given to me from outside sources.

For my sage advisers, it's important to me that you know that even if I don't actively follow your advice immediately, your words almost always stick with me.

Which leads me to today's post.... An old friend suggested that I keep writing.... That even if I only write for me, it's worthwhile. That perhaps my stories (rather personal in nature) or my writing style (I write the way I speak - or at least the way I think) will inspire others. I can't say I'm sure how that would happen, but the ultimate point was - there is a purpose. And that purpose, is positivity.

With every word that I write, my mind becomes more clear, my heart lighter. Any internal burden is lessened and my outlook becomes a bit more rosy.

When my thoughts are trapped and twisted inside my head and I have difficulty expressing them, I find that I'm able to work out the kinks when I put pen to paper (or, these days, fingers to keyboard).

Today is not one of those days, it's just this nagging feeling that I should follow that advice and keep writing.

Maybe it's that Spring is here, breathing new life into the same old city... I've always felt most inspired by the blooming of the season, before the oppressive heat begins. Maybe it's because I am regaining my confidence as a writer. Maybe it's because I'm so overwhelmed with love that I want to share it.

Whatever the reason, for whatever life brings, in its infinite opportunities, endings and new beginnings - I hope, that at least for someone (even if that someone is me), my writing serves a purpose.

Cavendish, Interrupted

This one's going to be a bit different. Instead of a specific story to tell you, I feel compelled to put out a random stream of consciousness to help me clear my head. Bear with me.... and if you get lost or bored, I completely understand.

No surprises, but I've been doing a lot of talking lately. Perhaps not to the right people or person, but I'm trying to work through some issues that I have that I refuse to let take over my life or ruin one of the most special and amazing relationships I've had in quite a long time.

The issues at hand? Well, apart from being haunted by my grandfather's death (and the associated guilt I've had but didn't realize - another story, another time), there are a couple of things that I've identified that I must, unequivocally, eradicate immediately. Control. Disruption. Jealousy.

I was at the bookstore the other week and I stumbled across a book in the self-help section, not really sure what I was looking for. While it wasn't THE PERFECT book I needed, I was drawn to its title, "Taming Your Alpha Bitch...." by Christy Whitman. At first I just thought it was funny, but as I read through some of the sections, I recognized myself in the pages - and I was captivated.

I guess because I've been analyzing myself and my behavior lately, I was perhaps more open and receptive to seeing the truth, and there it was. I am in some ways (and perhaps I shouldn't even admit this in writing) both a Controlling and Disruptive Alpha Bitch - at least according to the things I read in this book. It's not news to me that I have control issues. I have for years. And after a significant amount of conversation and analysis, I think I've identified some of the root causes.

"I WANNA BE THE ONE.... IN CONTROL" - J. Jackson-1986
(SN: please don't shoot me for this - I am really not BLAMING anyone but me. I am cognizant of the reality that only I can control my reactions and behavior. I do not blame anyone or anything else for what I have experienced in this life).

Many moons ago when my mother left, I was a very young teenager. That's key, because I hadn't quite yet learned how to handle my emotions and express myself in healthy ways. At the time I felt like my life was spiraling out of control and although it wasn't a conscious decision at an attempt to control something (I learned this much later), I turned, eventually, to anorexia. As you already know, the anorexia morphed over time to bulimia. No matter how  you slice it, a lot of the psychosis of eating disorders revolves around control. I felt like I had little control over much of anything at that time in my life, but food and exercise? I could definitely control that. And I did - with a bit of an OCD-like mania. But I digress.

Years later, I recovered from my eating disorders with a significant amount of help, but without hospitalization or institutionalization. I once considered after I graduated from college, checking myself into a hospital/treatment facility for eating disorders, as I was struggling with the significant changes in my life yet again (I don't recall sharing this bit of information with anyone, so my apologies if this comes as a shock). I was terrified to my core that I would relapse then, but I persevered. I struggled for some time, but didn't relapse.

My point in mentioning  the hospitalization aspect is that I think I could have and would have greatly benefited from the focused attention to the underlying issues. In retrospect, I am not entirely sure that I found a healthy outlet for (or solution to) the control issues that I had to let go of when I said goodbye to my (not-so-dear) friend bulimia. So with the void left by my bulimia, I did find other ways to occupy my time and energy - but not my control issues. Over time, I think these issues have manifested themselves in my relationships and I've attempted to control my interactions and other people instead of focusing on me. And would you believe that it wasn't really until I saw some of that Alpha Bitch book that I even recognized it?

There were great insights in that book, which helped me see with precision, the mistakes I've made in past relationships. I'm not only referring to romantic ones, but friendships as well. So to those of you who have loved me, put up with me or been subject to my controlling nature, I humbly apologize. I hereby take ownership and accountability for the foolishness, discomfort or outright pain I may have inflicted. I vow to do better.

I've always loved the saying, "Let go and let God." There's certainly a lot to be said for it. I must internalize it - and just let go. As I've gotten older, I have been able to let go of my OCD-ish tendencies to a great extent. Now it's time to let go of the rest of it. Don't they say that admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery? If so - I'm all over that.

"SO-CALLED CHAOS" - A. Morissette-2004
I'll keep this one shorter, because ultimately both the disruption and the jealousy stem from control, or rather, a lack thereof.

The Disruptive Alpha Bitch involves a flair for the dramatic and thriving on chaos. I actually DON'T enjoy drama. Until the last two and a half years, I hadn't HAD drama in my life for the previous 10 years. I enjoyed the tranquility. Granted, there were a lot of events that happened in our lives during that time, but no soap-opera-like drama that was self-inflicted.

I think I've just had yet another revelation as I was writing this. I can tell you that what happened more than two years ago was that my (now ex-) husband and I separated. Could it be that the Disruptive Bitch returned, since there was nobody else to control? That because there was no one over whom I could exercise control, I sought out situations (and people) that would stimulate my need for chaos? After all, where there is chaos, there is the need for someone to step in and take control, yes? By George, I think I've got it.

"HEY JEALOUSY" - Gin Blossoms-1992
Oh my.... This one could take a while. If you're still with me, well, thank you. I'm going to try to reign it in.

Predicated on the presupposition that I do in fact, have control issues - and I have (which I will deny to my ex-husband until I'm blue in the face) come to terms with the fact that I am a bit melodramatic sometimes, and on occasion, have a penchant for creating chaos from nothing.... We have the final issue I am trying to work out at this particular juncture: Jealousy.

In between said ex-husband and the aforementioned current relationship I am in right now, there was another (though short-lived in the grand scheme of life) romantic entanglement. It is the one that had the most negative affect on me, and left some emotional scars behind.

In a nutshell, his behavior (carrying on with 10 women at the same time, while being in a relationship with me - talking on the phone, chats through social media, text conversations; planning trips, making promises and lying to us all) evoked paranoia and distrust. Once I discovered all of this (and a myriad of other issues that need not be discussed here), I got him out of my state and cut him out of my life. There was some toying with my emotions and fear for a while, and it was quite an unpleasant experience for me. Nonetheless, he's gone. Has been for a long time.

But what he left behind is a distrust of men and of women. Again, let me reiterate, I'm aware that this is MY issue, and I take ownership of that. I'm not casting blame here, it's my personal reaction to the circumstances that is the problem.

I am currently in a relationship with a wonderful man. One whom I love, and loves me back. He is patient. He is kind. He is a great communicator. He is perceptive, loving and smart and (as my daughter puts it) the funniest man in the world. He's honest, loyal and (mostly) thoughtful, and generally speaking, a fantastic human being. But if I'm not careful, and do not get my own nonsense under control, I may very well drive him away.

That is, of course, the last thing I want to do. So you can see the quandary, yes? He embodies all of the things I could ever want in a partner, but never thought to ask. I'm not claiming here that he's perfect; he's not. But he's perfect.... for me.

His line of work is one that involves constant interaction with other people. And while I love to watch him work (he's quite the entertainer and a lot of fun to be with), I often find myself jealous over the dumbest things (and usually it presents itself under the influence of adult beverages). It's quite silly actually, because as I've been reexamining our interaction, I can honestly say he has never given me cause to believe that he would ever do anything that would jeopardize our relationship.In fact, he has, time and again, given me every reason - in both words and actions - to believe that he loves me.

Then why, oh why, do I continue to expect the worst? Why the jealousy? Partially, this is because of my personal past experience. It's also, I am learning, about control.

I cannot control, nor should I want to, other people's behavior. I don't want to. I wasn't even aware that I was trying. Instead, I recognize what I SHOULD be doing is controlling my own reactions by careful, thoughtful means. Arguably, there are few traits more hideous than jealousy - and I adamantly refuse to carry on that way.

Absolutely, I have a right to express myself, and I do. I also appreciate that nobody wants to be treated like a caged animal; it stifles the spirit. It takes away our individuality, and the reasons for which we love other people in the first place.

You might immediately assume that it's more focused on insecurity - which may be on some level. I don't want to dismiss that one. But I think we've previously established that I have a pretty high opinion of myself. Hopefully not in an arrogant kind of way, but I do believe that I am a good person. I have come to love myself in what I hope is a healthy way; I'm comfortable in my own skin. I know that I'm smart, kind, compassionate, thoughtful and attractive. I'm level-headed and financially responsible and as generous as they come. These are things I know to be empirical facts.

The challenge is making myself understand that he sees these things, too. If he didn't, I don't believe he'd be with me. And if he didn't see those things, then I shouldn't want to be with him.

The rest is simply out of my control. And you know what?

I think I'm comfortable with that.

Haunted

It's been several months now, and it's not that I haven't had much to say. Quite the opposite. I just haven't been able to talk about it. Not in an "I-just-don't-want-to-deal-with-it" sort of way, but because there are legal reasons that now prevent me from being able to do so.

It's funny how when things start going well in one area of your life, other pieces just fall apart. That was the case for me back in the late fall, shortly after my recovery anniversary (Nov. 7). My work situation took a ridiculous turn and at the start of the new year, just as I was hoping for a better start, well - I lost my job. It's a convoluted story, but not one that really matters anymore. It took its toll on my psyche, that's true - but it seems that my friends and family were right. It WAS a blessing in disguise – the stress and anxiety I experienced has dissipated. My outlook is far brighter, and I am a happier me. 

But there's one thing that keeps bothering me. It's far more personal. You see, during late fall in 2010, my grandfather died. An old man with the beginning stages of Parkinson's, Alzheimer's and a myriad of other issues. But it was none of those things that took his life. 

Instead, on the morning of November 4, as he crossed his country road in the rain to get his morning newspaper, he was struck by a car and killed. According to the reports, it was nearly instantaneous. I'll spare you the details, but I've heard them all, against my better judgment. 

His death haunts me and I'm not sure why. I'm trying to work it out, but it eludes me. But sometimes at night when I'm out and about, otherwise having a wonderful time, I see the headlights of oncoming cars in the city streets and I freeze. It's not at all the same situation; it's not morning, not raining, not a country road – yet I'm frozen, staring into the headlights. 

And in that moment, I think about the trauma of it all. What he must have experienced at the moment he was struck. How that must have felt. What it would be like to die that way and on a dime, change the lives of everyone who loves you. 

Did he know it was coming? The report indicates that he must not have seen the vehicle, but who's to know for sure? Did he feel the shock? The impact? The pain? Did he know it was the end? Were those last moments an eternity? 

And the poor woman who was driving the car. She wasn't speeding. She wasn't asleep. She wasn't under the influence of anything. She swerved to avoid him, but couldn't. And thus, unintentionally (and of no fault of her own) snuffed out the life of the patriarch of my family. I ache for her, too. For the anguish she felt and the traumatic effect it had on her. 

It was my sister who called me that morning to tell me the news. In fact, she called one of my dearest friends, who was also my supervisor at the time. He sat me down in his office to take the call; she had already told him the news. 

My very first thought when I heard my sister on the phone, hysterically in tears, was that our father was dead. My mouth went dry and I was weak, but ready to run as far away from that office as possible. But as I waited for the devastating news, I heard her say "grandpap was hit by a car this morning...." and my world came back into focus. I was in shock and couldn't think of much to say. She told me what she knew at that point and somehow we ended the conversation, though I don't remember how. 

It was days before I cried. The tears wouldn't come. I was restless and couldn't sleep. And even the executive team at my company sent me home. What they didn't understand is that inaction is not good for me in that kind of situation. Probably just an avoidance tactic or a state of denial; that if I go about my work as usual, I can delay the inevitable. 

So I went home. Sat there for about 18 hours before I decided to drive 700 miles to pick up my sister in her southern state. I needed her. Needed to be with her - and couldn't remain idle. Even while driving though, I fended off thoughts of my current reality with all genres of music. I talked to people on the phone, but when the conversation got too serious I made up excuses to end the calls. I wanted to talk, but couldn't. Just like writing, not being able to talk is not only rare, but debilitating for me.

My sister was worried that the tears hadn't yet come, but I knew they were welling up inside me like a tsunami. And it wasn't until the first viewing at the funeral home that the tears finally came. 

For the first time in days, the numbness went away and my body was racked with pain and grief. The next few days, surrounded by my extended family was a welcome change. I do not enjoy the numbness, but it's my body's temporary response - one that's quite common, I'm sure. As I've already told you, for me, pain is a reminder that I am alive. One that is at least a pleasant reminder that my body continues to function even when my heart doesn't feel like it can. 

Those were dark days, marked by the haunting strains of Taps replaying in my head. I can still hear the wailing drowning out parts of that song of honor. It took me quite some time to realize the wailing was coming from me.

So why is it that nearly a year and a half later I find myself paralyzed by headlights in a city street, taken back to an event for which I wasn't even present? I don't know that I'm going to find an answer today, but I think I'm getting close.

Perhaps my absolution is on its way.