21 posts tagged “divorce”
I confess...I watched the playoff round of the U.S. Open today off and on from about the 9th hole. Yes, I was at the office today, and yes, it's not exactly kosher that I did it, but it's not like I was only watching the simulcast. I was also working, multitasking just as I would from home, and really it didn't hurt anyone or anything, not even my productivity. Still...I think I shall refrain in future.
But, man, what a story! Tiger's great, but really it was the whole package--the super underdog against the injured titan, going head to head, trading the lead...just think of the tale that Mediate gets to tell. "I once finished second in the U.S. Open, and I lost by one stroke to Tiger Woods." As with NBA ball, I don't follow golf religioiusly or even, really, much at all though I do like the playing of golf--I'm still learning, I still suck. I grew up with my dad and grampa watching it all the time, and even though I mostly hated the world because they wouldn't let me change the channel, it certainly did build an appreciation for the sport in me. More than watching, they played too. My grandfather was one of the founding members of a local golf club. He played every other day and in tourneys all his life until he started getting ill. My dad still plays-and even had the opportunity to play Torrey Pines this year. (He said it was beautiful, and painfully hard.)
***
A lesson in things that don't work out, but kind of work out in the end...
After work I bolted to try to get to my bike clinic on time, but alas it wasn't to be. First, I forgot my water bottle this morning. While that sucked, it just meant I wouldn't be able to get a quick drink on the go. I bought a G2 at lunch and figured oh well. Then, when I went to change my clothes right before I left the office, I discovered that my socks were nowhere to be found. I thought, eh, what the hell, I'll ride without them. But just 2 minutes walking to my car in the sweltering heat made me realize that I would be in for blisters if I did that. So I made great time home, ran inside, grabbed my socks from the floor where they'd apparently fallen out of my bag this morning, and ran back outside to get my bike out of the car and take off. (I'd decided I would just ride towards the start point and catch up with the group there, having made up what I missed in biking from my house instead of driving to the start point and trailing behind them.)
Well, it's a good thing I went home first because as soon as I had my bike out, I realized that the front brake was messed up again. That same damned spring was popping over the little metal piece (I don't know the technical term) that keeps the tension for the brake. This is the same issue that I've dealt with before, but this time was worse and I had to get out my pliers and an allen wrench to take the brake apart, reshape the spring, and tighten the hell out of the screw that holds the brake in place. While I managed to fix the brake it made me thirty minutes late to my ride!
I knew the group would have passed where I could have met up with them, so I just headed out to 5 mile dam park expecting to see them already on their return leg. Well, I never saw them...until I was making my turnaround at the park. They were doing timed sprints of the loop at that runs by the park. Bummer of bummers, I missed my chance to be timed, but I did really bust my butt to get there and had planned to do so going back--riding all the way to the original start point and then back down to my house to make up the distance. Again, though, it wasn't to be...one of the women on the ride became lightheaded and couldn't ride back. I was the closest to a car, so I rode back to the house to get the car to go back to the dam to pick up the rider. I was bummed because I knew there wouldn't be enough light left for me to finish the rest of the ride.
When I zipped around the corner to my house I saw that the gentleman who was coming to give me a landscaping estimate was 30 minutes early! If I hadn't made it to the house when I did, I would have missed him. I asked him to wait while I went to pick up the downed rider, and so off I went again back to the dam. But about a third of the way there, tada, here comes the entire rest of the group of riders include the overheated one. They were taking the ride very slowly and she said she was fine to finish it out, so then back I went to the house to meet with the landscaper--his name is Mario. I liked both him and his price and so he will be coming by on Thursday to do take care of the yard for the first time. [Yup, I've bitten the bullet and hired someone to help with the lawncare. Neither time nor my allergies were in favor of me trying to keep it up on my own this summer, and I finally decided to throw in the towel. Besides, I have painting to do!] He's also going to give me an estimate for re-doing my brick patio in the back--it's sunken toward the house over the last year and now water is collecting in a pool near the foundation when the weather is stormy.
My neighbor came out of her house right as Mario was leaving and we got to chatting. She came inside to see my paint swatches--the living room still doesn't seem gold or mustard-ish enough to me--and to offer me some advice on a couple of other renovations. As we walked back outside I excitedly mentioned that the eggs in the bird nest above my door had hatched today--I heard them chirping earlier and they sounded so cute, etc. when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. It was already dark out so I thought it was a small frog, but sadly it was a baby bird. It had fallen out of the nest and was chirping and wiggling on my welcome mat.
And so began Operation Save Baby Bird. I thought it was dead a number of times, and certainly it was in shock. I used one of the paint chip cards to pick it up--carefully scooting it onto the card with another one--and used a stool to try to put it up into the nest. Unfortunately, the mama and daddy bird flew out and past me as I was standing there and I...dropped the baby. I felt horrible! It was still alive though, so I went in and grabbed my ladder to give me a better vantage point. In the end I had to put on a glove and pick up the little guy to get it to climb into the nest. The good news is that it did hoist itself onto the nest with its little clawed feet. The bad news is that the nest was so crowded with baby birds I am now wondering if I didn't completely screw with natural selection by putting it back up there. What if they had pushed it out? What if it was the weak link and their entire family was at risk if he stayed? I feel bad about the whole thing, but hey, I did the best I could, was careful not to contaminate it with my touch, and hopefully they made room for him after all...and he made it. Keep your fingers crossed. If I walk out to work tomorrow morning to find a shower of carcasses, I may well have a weeping breakdown. Anthropomorphizing the world's creatures really can be a problem. "Hello. My name is Vanessa. And I'm an animal-rescue-oholic." Seems one is never completely safe from a relapse. At least I didn't try to adopt it.
Now it's late and I'm tired and glad to be so. It's been a day of small adventures. I still have so much to do though! Oh well, they will keep for another time...because I have a new romance novel to read. That's right--trashy romance novel reading Vanessa is back. Trust me, she's a lot of fun. In and out of bed. (Hee. Sorry. Had to try out a little sexual innuendo just to see what it feels like again. Kinda' nice...)
And on that note, I am meeting with a reputable local jeweler tomorrow who will be taking a look at my engagement ring and wedding bands to make me a purchase offer. I am selling my rings. It feels strange, but not bad. I paid for at least half of them, monetarily, and I paid for them in other ways too, so I feel mostly grateful to have the opportunity to sell them. I plan to put whatever money I can get for them--provided the price is right--into a CD. (I promised my Grandma that's what I would do with some of the money she gave me, but my debt and car repairs ate up more than I had anticipated.) I'm still planning to find a part-time job to take care of the student loans, so I don't have to touch this money. I want the ring money to be the start of something new for me, not just some maudlin cliche of a romantic end.
On a final note, we are at t-minus 26 days until I head to Dallas to see George. I'm thinking of making a weekend of it--I wonder if the skating rink in the Galleria is open in summer--but either way I'm extremely excited. If that's not the start of something good, I don't know what is.
in the twist and turn of random occurrences and memories jarred from their craggy resting places, i remembered today that we met fifteen years ago. today. today you kissed me for the first time. today i was kissed for the first time at all. you dazed me, drugged me, with chemical reactions and synapses firing in rapid succession of teenage lust and the hum of another more powerful force i'd only read about it books. "strange, baby, don't you think i'm looking older." today i learned the feel of your arms around me, the taste of your tongue, the strange electric sensation of loving, and being loved by, you. today, this time, was my hawaii, my dream trip. my time to look back on and shake my head in wonder at, knowing it would never be that way again, but knowing that every day could be, might be, sometimes almost was and then, sometimes, really was...even better. but you took it away, and took it away, and took it away again. and i gave it away, and gave it away, and then, i held on for dear life, heels in the sand, rope burns on my hands, my arms, and around my waist where i tied it off and tried to anchor you to life. the rope might have held, was holding, but you turned and sliced it between us. leaving me. to untie the rope and tend to my hands.
dripping with irony, or perhaps just coincidence, you and the universe have worked to take you back there, to that--to this--place in time. "there and back again." today. today you were there. you tried hard to look past the stairs. you glanced absently at the courtyard and the fountain that once carried our dance of hollywood lovers. you shut out the smell of my hair and the hesistant first touches i finally dared to reach for, to take from you, to give to you. you tried hard to leave me, to erase me, replace me even with something or someone else, like work or a cause or a body absent of my faults and gifts. and perhaps you almost succeeded...perhaps you count this as a sign, that things are for the best, never meant to be, never really happened, never really there.
but...
i remind you. we were here and we are there and the walls and roads are soaked with memories of our looks and secrets and pains and dreams.
in an empty landscape of night and desert sky, the blazing liquid gold of a river of fire burns down the mountainside.
and you.
cannot.
forget.
I saw Sex and the City (minor, possible spoilers ahead) tonight at the 12:01 a.m. showing with my sis and her boyfriend. Of course, I needed a 15 minute power nap in the car first while they went in and found seats, but hey, there's no shame in my game, I stayed awake and enjoyed the movie instead of being a sleepy grump-ass.
I'm not sure if the movie could stand lone. As a fan who did see all the episodes, I think I benefited from already having the characters developed and knowing their backstories. I don't think that newbies would get as much out of it--despite the very well done title sequence and intro that cleverly recaps the high points of the series, I don't think the events in the film would have as much impact if you hadn't been on the whole journey with the girls. [The best way I can describe it is this. Imagine that you read The Return of the King without reading Fellowship and Two Towers first. You would perhaps enjoy the action, adventure, and mighty feats of all the players in RofK, but would you understand their sacrifices and their growth? Would you know why Eowyn and Faramir's quiet love at the end was so important? Would you really understand why the magic and memory in Frodo's Morgul wound continued to plague him? I'm not sure that you would.]
That said, I think the film did do an excellent job of examining some big relationship issues--sex, trust, adultery, expectations, disappointment, forgiveness--in big ways.
There was a point about 1/3 to 1/2 through the film where I found myself quickly exiting the theater and seeking refuge in the bathroom for the second time in my life, also the second time in the last year. (The last time was during Knocked Up. There's a post in my archive somewhere about that.) It wasn't so much a sequence or a scene that set me off, but rather just a look. It was the expression that Carrie has on her face when she removes her large sunglasses and looks at her reflection in the mirror. The look in her eyes, on her face, well, Miss Sarah Jessica Parker nailed the shock and exhaustion that comes with a certain kind of pain that I know a little about. (I really am trying not to spoil it, especially for friends who I know read this, are SATC fans, and haven't seen the movie yet.) What I saw, or rather, what I recognized was an expression that I knew very well at one point, and that stayed in my eyes for a long time.
So I bolted to the bathroom in tears, surprised and embarrased and confused at my reaction. Leaning my weight into my hands against the stall door, I cried as a montage of images of my own 'love lost' reflection in the glass flashed through my head. After a moment, I realized how very strange it was to be crying like that. I hadn't cried about it in a long time. Harder days than others, sure, but nothing more than a little melancholy. And thus began my inner dialogue: "Why are you crying?...Do you miss him?" Sort of, I guess, but not him now, I miss him then. "Do you want him back, is that it?" No, not exactly. "So why are you crying?" It was her face. I recognized her face, and I remembered the pain. "So, it's not the pain, but the memory of the pain?" Keep talking. "Well, what are you feeling? Are you in pain right now? Do you feel bad? Or do you feel bad that you once felt that bad?" And then it clicked. I took a breath and stopped crying. I didn't feel bad. I wasn't in pain. I was just remembering what it had been like, and I could snap myself out of it.
It was just a movie, and it did its job. It touched me, but that's it. So, I dried up and went back to the theater and watched the rest of flick...and really liked it.
[I'm home now and taking a few minutes to write again so that I get my intial impressions down. There's one more bit of news: did you know they have remade The Women? It's a classic b&w with Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford in the lead roles. The dialogue is great, it's over the top--and I think it's pre-code too--and though they figure into the story, not a single male character ever appears on screen. It's one of my favorites, and I recognized the plot just a few seconds into the teaser trailer. I'm not sure if I should be pleased or appalled. Methinks that a version with Meg Ryan and Eva Mendes in the leads isn't going to have quite the same dramatic impact as the first film. But I'm still going to go see it.]
With a twinge of unhealthy satisfaction, I read that my ex-husband lost his bid for city council back home. The emotions are complicated...a split second moment of imagination wondered if he might reach out to me in his loss, just as I remarked in my head that his photo in the paper didn't look very attractive. I recognized his resigned expression though...if he'd put half of the energy of his political efforts into our marriage...but that's neither here nor there now, and really, I suppose he could say the same about me. What is the saying? That truth only exists in the moment...once it is observed and retold, it is no longer the truth but just a story of what the truth might have been.
...
I have always loved the scent and taste of honeysuckle. I remember picking the flowers from the playground walls and sucking out the stems when I was only in first grade. I've been using a honeysuckle perfume from Whole Foods for the last year. And my favorite part of the neighborhood is the long fenceline of the property behind my house, along the road, that blooms with yellow and white honeysuckle in the spring. Sometimes the scent is heavy on the air and sometimes you just catch it lightly on the breeze and can't tell where it's coming from. It always seems to lift my spirits, relax me, and make me feel...clean and pretty and just better. I thought it was just something I liked, but I read recently that honeysuckle is purported to have medicinal properties for relieving tension and clearing the mind. I went out and purchased some Bach's Honeysuckle Flower Essence and now I try to drink a couple of drops everyday, and have been doing so for a couple of months. I left it at home on my trip to Nashville and now I'm curious if that might have had something to do with my melancholy.
...
The little dog bite on my hand is healing, but it's ugly and it looks like it's going to leave a scar. I've started dressing it with lavendar oil in the hope that the scar will fade even as it's forming. In much the same way, my honeysuckle, my triathlon training, my new habits and rituals, and my pointed breaking of those habits, are not just a means of keeping busy, but a way of fading the inevitable scars that are forming over heart and mind. I know they're there...I think sometimes that I've escaped without them, and then I read about my ex in the paper and a little smirk of satisfaction drips into my soul, and I realize I'm not getting off that easy.
So, it's a been a big few days for me and I found myself suddenly overcome with sleepiness at about 5:30 pm today. I sat down on the sofa for just a minute and ended up taking a mid-evening nap. I had the strangest dream...
I peed in my backyard (!)...just squatted down and 'went' in each of the three different sections of the yard.
Interestingly, I did not remember this dream until several hours later while in mid-conversation with a friend, who commented that I must have been "marking my territory."
I laughed my ass off.
Squat. My house! Squat. My house! Squat. Mine. Mine. Mine!
Funny how the mind works, huh?
Despite the nap, it's time for bed. I'm still a tired girl. G'night!
Papers signed. Records filed. Name changed at Social Security office and with DPS. Check, check, check and check!
Wanna hear something funny? I overslept...by hours! That's what I get for staying up late and working 'til 3 a.m. I woke up in instant panic realizing there was no way I had woken up on my own at a quarter-to-seven. It was 9:30! I'd slept through three alarms! In the end I made it to court just before 10 am--and still looking fabulous, by the way. Turns out I didn't miss anything because my attorney was 'dealing' with his attorney in the interim. I made a brief concession to some language I'd wanted to add, but it was ultimately just a matter of sign here, here, and here.
We had just a little bit of casual interaction at his attorney's office afterwards to sign some additional paperwork dealing with the house, and then again a few minutes after at the County Records Office where we had to file them. I finished first, and stuck around to say good-bye. Ready for a handshake, he instead pulled me in for a hug--stiff on my part, I mean, I'm sorry, but it wasn't really a huggable moment for me, you know?--kissed the top of my head, and I said simply "I wish you the best in everything." He turned away without another word, choking up a bit.
I ask you, what sort of silly man divorces a woman he still seems to love?
The answer? My ex-husband.
I am strangely cheery...unexpectedly and blessedly cheery. And relieved and joyful and peaceful at heart. It's a beautiful sunny day outside--the sun came through the clouds just after I left the Social Security office. It matches my hopes and my dreams and I am so terribly proud and thankful to have made it through this last year that I just don't know what to do with myself...oh yeah...I have a conference call to jump on right now. Guess that's what I'll do. ;-)
You see...life goes on.
Yesterday a friend came over to fix my mower and help me tackle the yard for the first time this spring. Normally I can handle it on my own, but rain and warm weather led to a bit of a back yard jungle. So we worked for about 4 hours: pulling weeds, trimming, edging, and cleaning up in general...he even hacked apart the Christmas tree I'd left to shrivel up in the back yard back in January. (I know, I know...at least I took my lights down early, ok?) And when we were done, voila, a beautifully manicured, lush, (mostly) green oasis emerged.
So today after going to mass, I took myself outside to have some cereal and do some computer work in the sun, glare and all. The heat climbed a bit and I decided to slap on my bikini and lay out for a little while. I had a wonderful long chat with my grandma on the phone that ended abruptly when my dangling feet collided with a bee. After a moment to grab an ice cube I ran to my neighbors' for some bendadryl...about 20 minutes later, back out in the yard and reading my romance novel, I fell asleep. Dead asleep. So asleep that when I woke up I found that one of the dogs, Goldie, had grabbed my cell phone from right under my nose and taken it out into the grass by the trees. I'd been asleep for over an hour! The cell phone is fine, but my whole backside is burnt to a vivid lobster red. So much for dodging that skin cancer bullet. (However, I do wear a 30 SPF minimum on my face and I don't even have a hint of a tan there from my little nap.)
I used the rest of the day's light to head to the Kyle HEB for some colorful plants and flowers. They have an excellent selection of drought hardy varieties and I eventually--after roaming the "Texas Backyard" section for an hour--picked a few, including an orange honeysuckle plant, for the planter area near the 'robots' in the front yard.(The robots are the utility boxes of various shapes and sizes that, for some reason, are planted smack in the middle of everyone's front yards in my neighborhood. The builders said the city made them do it, but I don't see that anywhere else in Kyle. All of the residents, myself included, make valiant but futile efforts at hiding them with islands of shrubs and blooms.) Made it home with just enough light to plant my lovelies in the ground and hang out with Evita at dusk.
All in all, it was a lovely Sunday, and just what I needed to prepare my mind and spirit for the morning...I'm heading to court at 9 a.m. My understanding is that by this time tomorrow I will have been several hours divorced. We're both going to be there, but it should all just be a formality because our decree has basically been finalized. I'm glad to be so near what everyone tells me will bring some closure to all of this, and yet...
I guess I just want to get through the day. I'm glad I'll have to head to work as soon as it's done...and I'm glad for a lovely home to come back to and animals to greet me when I walk in the door, with good friends just a stone's throw away, and a whole lifetime of possibilities still ahead for a much more hopeful, joyful me. Sigh. My grandmother told me that she prays every day for my cousin Michelle and me, for us to be happy and to heal, and for our "marriages that were blessed by God but destroyed by man." I think it's a good sign that the writer in me thrilled to the poetry in that language as much as the romantic in me was touched by the sorrow in its tone. Let's accentuate the positive, shall we?
I was telling my best friend last night how I still truly believe that he could walk back in the door at any moment...how I do believe we could move past this and count this time apart as a great trial, but that divorce is not what was meant for us.
He left one year ago today. The pace of work had led me to overlook the timeline briefly, but he brought it back to my mind this morning.
Something compelled him in the last several days to reach out with a couple of brief email notes, the last one near midnight. He seems to want to commiserate on this as some sort of shared anniversary, a milestone if you will, and I'm not certain why. Perhaps it's just the nature of my still healing self right now, but I read his words and chafe again at his casual remarks..."hard to believe it's been a year...tomorrow will be a year, I remember where we were and how tomorrow would inevitably play out." I replied that inevitable is not the word I would have chosen, and I left it at that.
I'm not sorry I've believed...I'm not sorry I've been straddling past, present, and future with this faith...and I don't feel that believing, even as I do now, is wrong. Truly anything is possible, and what is a little misplaced faith in the long run. I still have my moments of anger, but they are almost always expressions of pride bucking against humility, followed by tears when I release the tension and just accept the grace that lets me say that I forgive him and I love him even as I disagree with his decisions.
I've lived as fully in this moment as I can, and I owed it to myself to do it, but soon it will be time to count the moment passed...and to live fully in the next.
I'm up with a sore throat. Ugh. I am not getting sick, I am not getting sick, I am not getting sick!
My throat is kinda' killing me.
When I swallow I feel it up into my stuffy ears. I don't know what happened...six hours ago I was fine, then all of a sudden a small tickle in my throat, a little congestion, and whammo...please just let it be a cold and not the flu again.
Oh well, nothing to do about it now. So now to recap...
Despite a breakdown on its lone rainy day, this has been an extremely productive and positive week for me.
Work wise I've crossed a number of tasks off my list and I feel like I'm hitting my stride with a few of my business sponsors and with this beast of a product database that is involved in most of my projects, thank goodness.
On the home front, I've been purging the house of old papers and assorted junk, recycling what I can, and finally have ditched all the old clothes that are, thankfully, now several sizes too big for me. They're in bags in the car waiting to be taken to Goodwill tomorrow on the way to San Antonio. I also sent all my Easter cards out on time and planned ahead to have a little basket to give to my grandma when I see her tomorrow.
In cleaning up and organizing I've also started to turn my eye toward decorating too. I replaced the garnet colored candles on the living room mantle with saffron-colored tapers, and I'm on the lookout for just the right shade of bright, filmy gold curtains for the windows. I'm tackling one room at a time in an attempt to both simplify and beautify the 'feel' of each.
Lastly, in a calm and reflective manner I sorted through and organized the photos and mementos that have been haunting my home since I stuffed them away almost a year ago. Not everything went into boxes, though--there are a number of things I've chosen to keep as part of my decor, mostly gifts of one sort or another...like the little crystal turtles he gave me on our wedding day and first anniversary, and the carved quartz cat we bought in Monterrey. The most important thing that went into boxes were the few special dresses I saved over the years---what I wore the night he proposed, the night of our wedding shower at his parents' house, and his favorite dress--the one I wore so many times on special occassions and on our honeymoon too. No tears at all, just the occassional distant flash of anger and lots of head shaking. I still, after all this time, cannot quite believe it.
There's another dress I kept...a dress I've never worn and have been keeping at the back of my closet. I bought it in October at a little boutique in Nashville. It's a summery, blousy ivory number, short but not too short, with little flower appliques and cutouts at the neck, nape, and hemline. It's lovely and simple and I bought it because I loved it and because I wanted to do something tangible to express my faith. You see, as soon as I saw it I knew it should be a wedding dress, the dress I would wear when we renewed our vows, when we found our way back together. I don't know if I'll ever wear that dress, but I'm not throwing it out. It's too lovely. Perhaps I'll save it for some other special day. I'm not sorry I bought it. I'm glad I believed so strongly that I felt in my heart I would have the opportunity to wear it.
It's much later now and exhaustion is finally winning out over the sore throat. I'm off to bed. G'night.
While it's been coming down all day, it suddenly seems rainy inside and out. I need to rant, so heads up.
As I've stated before, I strongly dislike that I am in the position of being the one to move this divorce along. While my husband is otherwise occupied with running for office (a move I have already expressed my opinion on) and continues to blame the attorney he capriciously picked out of the phone book for not responding, I get an email today wondering what the delay is on my end.
But here's the rub, if I don't move it along, it may linger on endlessly. If I do move it along, I get to throw up in my mouth a little bit every day at being complicit to this unwanted end.
As I've been writing this out though, I'm wondering whether this is really the best approach to take. Maybe I should just take a deep breath and stick with the attitude that I'm doing what's best for me--financially, if nothing else--by finishing this and taking ownership of it.
This is my divorce. This is my divorce. This is my divorce.
This is something I want.
No. No it's not. Those words stick in my throat just writing them out.
I don't want it, but I have it. I've done everything I can to push it away, to put it off, to hope for more time, time that might change his mind and his heart. It's still here.
He's just not who I thought he was...whatever else may have happened between us...no matter how I hurt him and he hurt me...he didn't love me enough...he didn't love me enough to forgive me those hurts...he didn't love me enough to see past them.
I'm going to want this. I'm going to force myself to want this. I'm going to force myself not to want him.
I'm going to give up.
I'm going to give up.
I'm going to give up.
